Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

'84 WOTTON EEINFEEDdoes not seem to like him over much,—a thing Ihardly blame him for, but you yourself shall judge.'*And his aunt?' inquired Wotton. *A fadeddame of quality, who will not recollect that autumnis no summer. She has been fascinating once, nay,is so still, for she is lively, clever, and by help of thetoilette even pretty. She has some real virtues, andmany graces ; but if old age overtake her, as is likeit must, she will surely go distracted, unless, indeed,she take to saintship, or bluism which is worse.'*I profess a kind of enmity to cant, wherever Imay find it, but on the whole I think the poor Blueshave hard measure among us.'*We forgive the fashionable woman many follieswhile she courts distinction in the sphere of commonvanity ; why should we refuse a similar tolerance tofolly in the sphere of literature ? The motive is thesame in both cases, self-conceit^ and undue love ofpraise, while the means in the latter case are oftenthe more innocent.''After all,' said Williams, 'cant is the greatcosmetic and enamel of existence, the cheap andsovereign alchemy for making crooked things straightand rough places plain ; why should I quarrel with it,am forced to use it ?*You are no friend to Blues, then ? 'I that need it so much myself, nay, so many times'You?' said Wotton; 'surely of all the men I haveever met with, you seem the most free from cant.'