TENNYSON 1

THOMAS CARLYLE

Alfred is the son of a Lincolnshire Gentleman Farmer, I think; indeed, you see in his verses that he is a native of "moated granges," and green, fat pastures, not of mountains and their torrents and storms. He had his 5 breeding at Cambridge, as if for the Law or Church; being master of a small annuity on his Father's decease, he preferred clubbing with his Mother and some Sisters, to live unpromoted and write Poems. In this way he lives still, now here, now there; the family always within reach of 10 London, never in it; he himself making rare and brief

visits, lodging in some old comrade's rooms. I think he must be under forty, not much under it. One of the finestlooking men in the world. A great shock of rough dustydark hair; bright-laughing hazel eyes; massive aquiline 15 face, most massive yet most delicate; of sallow-brown complexion, almost Indian-looking; clothes cynically loose, free-and-easy;-smokes infinite tobacco. His voice is musical metallic,

fit for loud laughter and piercing wail, and all that may lie between; speech and speculation free 20 and plenteous: I do not meet, in these late decades, such company over a pipe!

1 From The Carlyle-Emerson Correspondence, ed. C. E. Norton, II, 66-67. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, 1892.

DANIEL WEBSTER1

THOMAS CARLYLE

Not many days ago I saw at breakfast the notablest of all your Notabilities, Daniel Webster. He is a magnificent · specimen ; you might say to all the world, This is your Yankee Englishman, such Limbs we make in Yankeeland! As a Logic-fencer, Advocate, or Parliamentary Hercules, 5 one would incline to back him at first sight against all the extant world. The tanned complexion, that amorphous crag-like face; the dull black eyes under their precipice of brows, like dull anthracite furnaces, needing only to be blown; the mastiff-mouth, accurately closed: - I have not 10 traced as much of silent Berserkir-rage, that I remember of, any other man.

in

1 From The Carlyle-Emerson Correspondence, ed. C. E. Norton, I, pp. 260-261. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, 1892.

THOMAS DE QUINCEY1

THOMAS CARLYLE

He was a pretty little creature, full of wire-drawn ingenuities; bankrupt enthusiasms, bankrupt pride; with the finest silver-toned low voice, and most elaborate gentlywinding courtesies and ingenuities in conversation: "What 5 would n't one give to have him in a Box, and take him out to talk!" (That was Her criticism of him; and it was right good.) A bright, ready and melodious talker; but in the end an inconclusive and long-winded. One of the smallest man-figures I ever saw; shaped like a pair of 10 tongs; and hardly above five feet in all: when he sat, you would have taken him, by candlelight, for the beautifullest little child; blue-eyed, blonde-haired, sparkling face, had there not been a something, too, which said, "Eccovi, this Child has been in Hell!"

1 From Reminiscences, pp. 202-203. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1881.

TWO PORTRAITS BY RAEBURN1

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

One interesting portrait was that of Duncan of Camperdown. He stands in uniform beside a table, his feet slightly straddled with the balance of an old sailor, his hand poised upon a chart by the finger tips. The mouth is pursed, the nostril spread and drawn up, the eye-brows very highly 5 arched. The cheeks lie along the jaw in folds of iron, and have the redness that comes from much exposure to salt sea winds. From the whole figure, attitude and countenance, there breathes something precise and decisive, something alert, wiry, and strong. You can understand, 10 from the look of him, that sense, not so much of humour, as of what is grimmest and driest in pleasantry, which inspired his address before the fight at Camperdown. He had just overtaken the Dutch fleet under Admiral de Winter. "Gentlemen," says he, "you see a severe winter 15 approaching; I have only to advise you to keep up a good fire." Somewhat of this same spirit of adamantine drollery must have supported him in the days of the mutiny at the Nore, when he lay off the Texel with his own flagship, the Venerable, and only one other vessel, and kept up active 20 signals, as though he had a powerful fleet in the offing, to intimidate the Dutch.

1 From "Some Portraits by Raeburn," in Virginibus Puerisque (Thistle Edition), pp. 129-131. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York,

1895.

Another portrait which irresistibly attracted the eye, was the half-length of Robert M'Queen, of Braxfield, Lord Justice-Clerk. If I know gusto in painting when I see it, this canvas was painted with rare enjoyment. The tart, 5 rosy, humorous look of the man, his nose like a cudgel, his face resting squarely on the jowl, has been caught and perpetuated with something that looks like brotherly love. A peculiarly subtle expression haunts the lower part, sensual and incredulous, like that of a man tasting good Bor10 deaux with half a fancy it has been somewhat too long uncorked. From under the pendulous eyelids of old age, the eyes look out with a half-youthful, half-frosty twinkle. Hands, with no pretence to distinction, are folded on the judge's stomach. So sympathetically is the character con15 ceived by the portrait painter, that it is hardly possible to avoid some movement of sympathy on the part of the spectator.