On Saturday, the 22nd of March, 1868, my father and
I called on Carlyle at 5, Cheyne Row, Chelsea, with
a message from one of his intimate friends.
We were asked upstairs at once, and found Carlyle
at breakfast. The room was large, well-lighted,
a bright fire was burning, and the window was open
in order to secure complete ventilation. Opposite
the fireplace was a picture of Frederick the Great
and his sister. There were also other pictures
which I had not time to examine. One of them
Carlyle pointed out. It was a portrait of the
Elector of Saxony who assisted Luther. The letters
V.D.M.I.AE. ("Verbum Dei Manet in AEternum”)
were round it. Everything in the room was in
exact order, there was no dust or confusion, and the
books on the shelves were arranged in perfect evenness.
I noticed that when Carlyle replaced a book he took
pains to get it level with the others. The furniture
was solid, neat, and I should think expensive.
I showed him the letter he had written to me eighteen
years ago. It has been published by Mr. Froude,
but it will bear reprinting. The circumstances
under which it was written, not stated by Mr. Froude,
were these. In 1850, when the Latter-day Pamphlets
appeared—how well I remember the eager journey
to the bookseller for each successive number!—almost
all the reviews united in a howl of execration, criticism
so called. I, being young, and owing so much
to Carlyle, wrote to him, the first and almost the
only time I ever did anything of the kind, assuring
him that there was at least one person who believed
in him. This was his answer:-
“Chelsea, 9th March, 1850.
“My good young friend,—I
am much obliged by the regard you entertain for me;
and do not blame your enthusiasm, which well enough
beseems your young years. If my books teach
you anything, don’t mind in the least whether
other people believe it or not; but do you for your
own behoof lay it to heart as a real acquisition you
have made, more properly, as a real message left with
you, which you must set about fulfilling, whatsoever
others do! This is really all the counsel I can
give you about what you read in my books or those
of others: Practise what you learn there;
instantly and in all ways begin turning the belief
into a fact, and continue at that—till
you get more and ever more beliefs, with which also
do the like. It is idle work otherwise to write
books or to read them.
“And be not surprised that ‘people have
no sympathy with you’; that is an accompaniment
that will attend you all your days if you mean to lead
an earnest life. The ‘people’ could
not save you with their ‘sympathy’ if
they had never so much of it to give; a man can and
must save himself, with or without their sympathy,
as it may chance.
“And may all good be with you, my kind young
friend, and a heart stout enough for this adventure
you are upon; that is the best ‘good’ of
all.
