A Yorkshire Almanac Comprising 366 Historical Extracts, Red-letter Days and Customs, and Astronomical and Meteorological Data
Jane Welsh Carlyle. 1894. Letters and Memorials. Ed. Thomas Carlyle and James Anthony Froude. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Get it:
.The Bradford gentlemen on the platform were like Bess Stodart’s legs, “no great things.” But the Bradford men, filling the hall to suffocation, were a sight to see! to cry over, “if one liked” such ardent, earnest, half-intelligent, half-bewildered countenances. A man of the people mounted the platform, and spoke; a youngish, intelligent-looking man, who alone, of all the speakers, seemed to understand the question, and to have feelings as well as notions about it. He spoke with a heart-eloquence that “left me warm.” I never was more affected by public speaking. When he ceased I did not throw myself on his neck, and swear everlasting friendship; but, I assure you, it was in putting constraint on myself that I merely started to my feet, and shook hands with him. Then “a sudden thought” struck me: this man would like to know you; I would give him my address in London. I borrowed a pencil and piece of paper, and handed him my address. When he looked at it, he started as if I had sent a bullet into him-caught my hand again, almost squeezed it to “immortal smash,” and said, “Oh, it is your husband! Mr. Carlyle has been my teacher and master! I have owed everything to him for years and years!” I felt it a credit to you really to have had a hand in turning out this man; was prouder of that heart-tribute to your genius than any amount of reviewer-praises, or aristocratic invitations to dinner.
To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:
See the Bradford Observer of July 19th for the resolutions passed and a report.
Who was the young man? Bess Stodart was a friend of Jane Carlyle and the wife of the Scottish minister David Aitken.
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I suppose Forster has sent you a Bradford paper containing the report of our meeting for ‘Roman Liberty.’ It went off very successfully as a meeting; but did not bring in to Forster all the ‘virtue’s own reward’ he anticipated, and he was out of humour for twenty-four hours after. In fact, the Bradford gentlemen on the platform were like Bess Stodart’s legs, ‘no great things.’ But the Bradford men, filling the hall to suffocation, were a sight to see! to cry over, ‘if one liked’ such ardent, earnest, half-intelligent, half-bewildered countenances, as made me, for the time being, almost into a friend of the species and advocate for fusion de biens.[Editor: The St. Simonian recipe.] And I must tell you ‘I aye thocht meikle o’ you,’ but that night I ‘thocht mair o’ you than ever.'[Editor: John Brown’s widow (of her murdered husband) to Claverhouse’s soldiers.] A man of the people mounted the platform, and spoke;-a youngish, intelligent-looking man, who alone, of all the speakers, seemed to understand the question, and to have feelings as well as notions about it. He spoke with a heart-eloquence that ‘left me warm.’ I never was more affected by public speaking. When he ceased I did not throw myself on his neck, and swear everlasting friendship; but, I assure you, it was in putting constraint on myself that I merely started to my feet, and shook hands with him. Then ‘a sudden thought’ struck me: this man would like to know you; I would give him my address in London. I borrowed a pencil and piece of paper, and handed him my address. When he looked at it, he started as if I had sent a bullet into him-caught my hand again, almost squeezed it to ‘immortal smash,’ and said, ‘Oh, it is your husband! Mr. Carlyle has been my teacher and master! I have owed everything to him for years and years!’ I felt it a credit to you really to have had a hand in turning out this man;-was prouder of that heart-tribute to your genius than any amount of reviewer-praises, or aristocratic invitations to dinner. Forster had him to breakfast next morning. I shall have plenty of things to tell you when we meet at leisure, if I can only keep them in mind; but in this wandering Jew life I feel no time on hand, even for going into particulars.
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