Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

'WOTTON REINFRED 111eminent men. For the merit of these his tasteseemed true ;yet his partiaHties were regulated bythe former principle, and appeared to depend as muchon the subject as on the painter.'Cousin,' said Dorothy, with a smile, 'I grieve tosee you are still an idolater and no true worshipper inart ; with the clearest sense of what is good you donot prefer the best ; it is not the pure ideal, but theexciting real that you look for ;you want devoutness,cousin ;you reverence only power.'* 'I am without critical taste,' said Walter ; but Itell you honestly what I enjoy and what I do not.Here, for instance,' continued he, 'here is my oldfriend again ; can I help it if I like him ?*It is Cromwell's portrait,' saidWotton. ' Truly astriking picture ; and, if I mistake not, physiognomicallyexpressive of the man.''Old Noll, as he looked and lived !'said Walter.*The armed genius of Puritanism ; dark in hisinward light ; negligent, awkward, in his strengthmeanly apparelled in his pride ; base-born, and yetmore than kingly.Those bushy grizzled locks, flowingover his shoulders ; that high, careworn browthe gleam of those eyes, cold and stern as the sheenof a winter moon ; that rude, rough-hewn, batteredface, so furrowed over with mad inexplicable traces,the very wart on the cheek, are full of meaning.;Thisis the man whose words no one could interpret, butwhose thoughts were clearest wisdom, who spoke in