A MEMORY OF THOMAS CARLYLE.

Evening Star, Issue 8405, 5 January 1891, Page 3

A MEMORY OF THOMAS CARLYLE.

MADAME VENTURIS REMINISCENCES. The second number of the •Paternoster Review' is an improvement (says our London correspondent) on the first. It contains several noteworthy articles, but specially a most interesting reminiscence of Carlyle by Madame Venturi, the Egeria of Mazzini. Here are a few of the more telling passages:— Her first meeting with the Sage of Chelsea was as characteristic as it was amusing. She was sitting with Mrs Carlyls in the drawing room one day, when the servant ushered up a German gentleman to the silent department at the top of the house where Mr Carlyle was busy writing. AN UXLUCKV GERMAX, After a few moments they heard the precipitate steps of the unfortunate German stumbling down the stairs in full retreat, and saw him from the window rushing down Cheyne row. " Before we had had time to compose ourselves, Mr Carlylo entered the room liko a living thunderclap; he in no way acknowledged my humble presence ; I do not think he looked at me ; he certainly addressed himself neither to mo nor to his wife, but apparently to the adverse Fates, as, raising his eyes and his clenched hands to the ceiling, he passionately asked what he had done that God Almighty should send a German all the way from Weimar for no earthly or human purpose but to wrench off the handles of his cupboard doors? The tragedy of manner, voice, and gesture was worthy of GKdipus, and the unconscious comedy of the words, so ludicrously out of all proportion to the subject matter, and to the fierce glare of bis magnificent eyes, that I burst into a fit of most irreverent laughter, which I found it impossible to restrain, even when he turned upon me with the look of a lion about to spring upon and rend his prey." ALAS ! THE CUPBOARD HANDLES. Mr Carlyle turned upon her, and asked "And pray what does this little lady find to laugh at ?" " Making a desperate effort to control myself I gasped out that it really did appear to me to be an exceedingly undignified interference with human affairs on the part of God Almighty to despatch even ! the most insignificant citizen of Weimar all the way to London on so very paltry a mission as that of wrenching off the handles of anybody's cupboard doors. The extreme I absurdity of the incident itself then seemed to strike him as forcibly as it had struck mo, and he laughed at his own share in it as cordially and heartily as I had done. Mr Carlyle had received the poor man with ioy coldness; had taken from him the introductory letter in silonco, and, after reading it, had uttered no word of welcome or ovon of comment; had, in fact, simply looked at him and suid ' Well, sir, proceed !' The unfortunate missionary from Weimar rose in great embarrassment, saying that he feared he had called at au unfortunate moment, and offering tc retire. Mr Carlyle, who seemed, in relating the scene, to be perfectly unconscious of the cruelty of his own part in it, had shown his approval of the proposal by rising from his seat. The • srlcnt apartment' was octagon in form ; the doors of the cupboards were similar in size and shape to the entrance door and, when that door was shut, indistinguishable from it. Thel GermaD, eager to escape, attempted to turn the handle of one of the cupboard doors. It was locked, and in his confusion be had, in very truth, wrenched the handle off. The same thing happened on his next attempt, and then Mr Carlyle pointed out his only exit, saying, severely: 4 That, sir, is the door.' By that door his victim fled, heaven only knows in what state of mind, and Mr Carlyle remained seething inwardly, till he heard the street door shut, and then ascended to enact the part of one persecuted by Heaven, in perfect good faith, to üb. What happened to the poor German we never knew; for us, the whole thing ended in laughter. And here I may add that never have I heard any laugh like Mr Orlyle's. It was as genial, as hearty, and as guileless as the laugh of a child—loud, I but musical withal—and it had th 6 same | sympathetic and inspiriting effect upon the hearer as that produced by military music." ' Mdme. Venturi says that in talking to her 1 husband Mr Carlyle spoke French with great deliberation, and with a difficult 1 accent, but his knowledge of the language

was extremely accurate and eyea idio matioally precise. "Mt HEART IS OBEY."

After Mrs Carlylo died Madame Vcnluri went to see him t—"He wan quite alone. He looked r.p as the door opened, and, seeing me, said very gently ' Ah! is it you ?' He roee, and came forward With both hands stretched towards me, his wonderful eyes filled with teirs as he put his arms round me, saying : ' Sißter in sorrow ! Sister in sorrow 1' We both wept silently for some minutes, then, looking very pitiful at me, he said : ' Poor thing, poor thing ; your hair has gone grey. Well, well; my heart is as grey as it.'" HERO WOIISHIP AMONG THE BUS MEN. The following anecdote of Mr Carlyle and the bus men si very creditable to the conductors of tho Chelsea and Brompton omnibuses:—"ln later years he would often, after a long walk, return part of the way by omnibus. He was well known to the Cholsea and Brompton men, and it not unfrrquently happened that a conductor, who had espied him from afav, would appeal to his inside passsengetß, saying: • That is the great Mr Carlyle ahead there; most like he'll be wanting a ride ; would any of you gents be so kind as to get out for him ?' I may add, to the credit of the fjentf thus addressed, that I never knew the appeal to be made in vain. : ' MR CABLYLE'S TALKS. Madame Yenturi concludes her paper as follows :— "I passed long evenings alone with him after his wife's death. Sometimes he would talk, and his talk was like the talk of no one elso. One seemed to be sitting by the side of a mighty on-rushing river and watching its flow; the idea of differing or even answering him seemed to be as futile as it would have been to attempt to stem the lush of the river itself with a walking-stick. At other times he would Bit perfectly silent, leaning his head upon his hand, and apparently quite unconscious of my presence. But I never remember fueling dull. Ihere was an earnest, sad solemnity about Lis aspect which inspired a feeling akin to awe, and might have rendered the silence oppressive had it not been for the sympathy awakened by the mournful tenderness of the large eyes, dark as destiny, and coloied like the sea when overhung by a storm clou J. And truly the fell of the dark grey hair that overhung them was not altogether unlike a storm cloud. His beard, also grey, was rugged and untrimmed, and he was wrapped in a loose grey garment, the fittest garment for tho long large limbs. But tho most striking thing about Mr Carlyle—tho thing impossible to paint in words—was the fitful expression of his large luminous eyes ; now wrathful, now tender ; now glistoning with humor, now sad with a sadness near akin to despair. The memory of that look sufficiently explains to me the dark lines of exaggerated remorse traced by him after Mrs Carlyle's deaih."