Writing of Thomas Carlyle, the last words must not be censorious
comments on a weakness; we all owe too much to his strength; he is too
large a benefactor. Despite over-fondness for Frederick and the like,
and what may be termed a pathological drift towards political
despotism, how many quickening chapters has he not added to the
"gospel of freedom"? Flushed are his volumes with generous pulses,
with delicate sympathies. From many a page what cordialities step
forth to console and to fortify us; what divine depths we come upon;
what sudden vistas of sunshine through tempest-shaken shadows; what
bursts of splendor through nebulous mutterings. Much has he helped the
enfranchisement of the spirit. Well do I remember the thirst
wherewith, more than thirty years ago, I seized the monthly "Frazer,"
to drink of the spiritual waters of "Sartor Resartus." Here was a new
spring; with what stimulating, exhilarating, purifying draughts, did
it bubble and sparkle! That picture, in the beginning, of the "doing
and driving (_Thun und Treiben_)" of a city as beheld by
Professor Teufelsdroeckh from his attic--would one have been surprised
to read that on a page of Shakespeare?
A marvelous faculty of speech has Mr.
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