"Light is grander than fire, it is the same in a state

of purity."

"The word Soul in some dialects is synonymous with Stomach."

And such as these might be multiplied almost to any extent by selections from these writings; for, indeed, the speech of the man is wonderfully compact -it is like whip-cord, and he rather uses it in the

same manner.

The parable utterer is in very close relationship to the proverb utterer. Carlyle's writings are full of parables; but there are some he has hung together. Here is a quaint little deliverance :—

THE PARABLE OF THE MAN WHO STOOD UPON HIS HEAD AND SAID THE WORLD WAS TURNED TOPSY-TURVY.

"Once upon a time a man, somewhat in drink belike, raised a dreadful cry at the corner of the market-place, 'That the world was all turned topsyturvy; that the men and cattle were all walking with their feet uppermost; that the houses and earth at large (if they did not mind it) would fall into the sky; in short, that unless prompt means were taken, things in general were on the high road to the Devil.' As the people only laughed at him, he cried the louder and more vehemently; nay, at last began

316

Carlyle a Verse Maker.

objuring, foaming, imprecating; when a goodnatured auditor, going up, took the orator by the haunches, and softly inverting his position, set him down on his feet. The which upon perceiving, his mind was staggered not a little. 'Ha! deuce take it!' cried he, rubbing his eyes, 'so it was not the world that was hanging by its feet then, but I that was standing on my head!' Censor, castigator morum, Radical Reformer, by whatever name thou art called! have a care-especially if thou art getting loud!"

Carlyle, in a memorable letter addressed to a very pleasant little rhymster living amongst us, Mr. W. C. Bennett, expressed himself as decidedly inimical to the verse writing form of poetry, expressing wonder that any sensible man in this day should do it. At that time Carlyle must have been astride of his own peculiar Begriff, for in that case how then would he have possessed his beloved Goethe, and his Werner, both of whose verses he has translated very charmingly? His translation also of Luther's great Psalm is our grandest; and he has also rhymed himself; verses most free, and natural, and beautiful, exciting wonder that they have never found their way into music; some of them would sing deliciously well-the following, for instance:

Carlyle a Verse Maker.

317

FORTUNA.

"The wind blows east, the wind blows west,

And the frost falls and the rain:

A weary heart went thankful to rest,
And must rise to toil again, 'gain,
And must rise to toil again.

"The wind blows east, the wind blows west,
And there comes good luck and bad;

The thriftiest man is the cheerfullest ;
'Tis a thriftless thing to be sad, sad,
'Tis a thriftless thing to be sad.

"The wind blows east, the wind blows west,
We shall know a tree by its fruit:

This world, they say, is worst to the best;
But a dastard has evil to boot, boot,

But a dastard has evil to boot.

"The wind blows east, the wind blows west; What skills it to mourn or to talk?

A journey I have, and far ere I rest;

I must bundle my wallets and walk, walk,
I must bundle my wallets and walk.

"The wind does blow as it lists alway;

Canst thou change this world to thy mind?
The world will wander its own wise way,
I also will wander mine, mine,

I also will wander mine."

CHAPTER XV.

CARLYLE'S ARTIST FACULTY AND SCENE PAINTINGS -IMAGINATION AND HUMOUR.

WE admit, if it were merely an affair of metaphysical or transcendental dreaming, our writer would not have won the right to hold our attention so long. But we cannot part with the Priest of Letters without reviewing slightly some items of the social wealth with which these works abound. We have already spoken of his imagination. This is always the unicising faculty. Carlyle's is most extraordinary. We have repeatedly expressed our conviction that "The French Revolution" will be spoken of by the side of the "Iliad" and "Heimskringla." Especially is it like the last as a narrative wild, adventurous, and wonderful, related as by one who has been there, and seen it all. But we dwelt on this at greater length already, and, therefore, now only say that this imagination is like the blue lights, which in the storm kindle up the whole scenery of rocks and waste of waves. Imagination is the exercise in union of the thinking and moral faculty; the command over moral emotion guides the perception, and

A Great City by Night.

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Mr. Carlyle has most

controls the expression. graphic power in social painting-here, for instance, in this, which the reader may translate as a true Carlylesque engraving of-say-London by night :

THE SOLEMNITY OF A GREAT CITY BY NIGHT.

Ach, mein Lieber! it is a true sublimity to dwell here. These fringes of lamplight, struggling up through smoke and thousand-fold exhalation some fathoms into the ancient reign of Night, what thinks Boötes of them, as he leads his Hunting-Dogs over the Zenith in their leash of sidereal fire? That stifled hum of Midnight, when Traffic has lain down to rest; and the chariot-wheels of Vanity, still rolling here and there through distant streets, are bearing her to Halls roofed-in, and lighted to the due pitch for her; and only Vice and Misery, to prowl and to moan like nightbirds, are abroad: that hum, I say, like the stertorous, unquiet slumber of sick life, is heard in Heaven! Oh, under that hideous coverlet of vapours, and putrefactions, and unimaginable gases, what a Fermenting-vat lies simmering and hid! The joyful and the sorrowful are there; men are dying there, men are being born; men are praying, on the other side of a brick partition men are cursing; and around them all is the vast, void Night. The proud Grandee still lingers in his perfumed saloons, or reposes within damask curtains;