Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

;182 EXCURSION TO PAEISsoporific liquid ('Jeremy,' a laudanum preparation)from the good old lady wliich was to make me sleep.Eheu!—Merimee sat again in the drawing-room atMaurice's ;got upon German literature ;a hollow fool of the first magnitude ;''Jean Paul,*Goethe the best,but insignificant, unintelligible, a paltry kind of scribemanque (as it seemed) ':—I could stand no moreof it,but lighted a cigar, and adjourned to the street.*You impertinent blasphemous blockhead ! ' this wassticking in my throat ;better to retire without bringingit out ! such was the sin of the Jews, thought Ithe assay of so much that goes on still, ' crucify him,for which they still sell * old clothes.'he is naught '— !Good-humoured banter on my return in, Merimeebeing gone : then to bed,—and sleep, alas ! no sleep atall ! A plunging and careering through chaos andcosmos, through life and through death, all thingshigh and low huddled tragically together ; now inmy poor room at Scotsbrig (so quiet there, besidemy poor old mother !), now at Chelsea, now beyondthe moon : I did not sleep till six, and then hardlyfor an hour, such the noises, such my nerves. The* Jeremy' (ten drops of it) had rather done me mischief,the other ten I poured out of wmdow. Towardsmorning one practical thought rose in me, that I couldget home again in a day ; that I had no work here,and ought to get home ! Out after eight, up Eue dela Paix, down towards Obelisk of Luxor again ;boughtan Indicateur des Chemins de Fer. It was settled at