passion, the
flow of poetry, the touches of grandeur and tenderness, and the masterly
touches by which he made the great actors stand out in their
individuality." It seemed to many to be extravagant, exaggerated, at war
with all the "feudalities of literature." Partisans of all kinds were
offended. The style was startlingly broken, almost savage in strength,
vivid and distinct as lightning. Doubtless the man himself had grown
away from the quieter moods of his earlier essays. Froude quotes this
from Carlyle's journal: "The poor people seem to think a style can be
put off or on, not like a skin but like a coat. Is not a skin verily a
product and close kinsfellow of all that lies under it, exact type of
the nature of the beast, not to be plucked off without flaying and
death? The Public is an old woman. Let her maunder and mumble."

But the extraordinary merits of the book made a great impression on the
cultivated intellects of England,--such men as Jeffrey, Macaulay,
Southey, Hallam, Brougham, Thackeray, Dickens,--who saw and admitted
that a great genius had arisen, whether they agreed with his views or
not. In America, we may be proud to say, the work created general
enthusiasm, and its republication through Emerson's efforts brought some
money as well as larger fame to its author. Of the first moneys that
Emerson sent Carlyle as fruits of this adventure, the dyspeptic
Scotchman wrote that he was "half-resolved to buy myself a sharp little
nag with twenty of these trans-Atlantic pounds, and ride him till the
other thirty be eaten. I will call the creature 'Yankee.' ... My kind
friends!" And _Yankee_ was duly bought and ridden.

Carlyle still remained in straitened circumstances, although his
reputation was now established. In order to assist him in his great
necessities his friends got up lectures for him, which were attended by
the _elite_ of London. He gave several courses in successive years
during the London season, which brought him more money than his writings
at that time, gave him personal _eclat_, and added largely to his circle
of admirers. His second course of twelve lectures brought him L300,--a
year's harvest, and a large sum for lectures in England, where the
literary institutions rarely paid over L5 for a single lecture. Even in
later times the Philosophical Society of Edinburgh, which commanded the
finest talent, paid only L10 to such men as Froude and the archbishop
of York.

But lecturing, to many