embarked can help being deeply touched by the sisterly reverence, love, and pride that pour spontaneously from her pen as she speaks here of her brother James.

Mrs. Carlyle and James Martineau met in Liverpool in 1844, when she spent an evening at his house, and in 1846 she heard him preach. He made a strong impression on her, although her judgment of him as a theologian was marred by prepossessions which dulled her insight, and led her to think him ‘a man divided against himself,' which must have been as far as possible from the truth.

Thomas Carlyle and Martineau seem to have had no personal acquaintance. Carlyle does not speak of him in any of his published letters. And indeed intellectually they were far apart, and in temper still further: Carlyle, impetuous, vivid, dramatic, oracular, with a prophet's dogmatism, and a prophet's impulse to castigate, impressing by rugged and untamed power; Martineau, reflective, calm, logical, discriminating, seeking truth with a deep and quiet passion, whose expression was quiet, exact, and luminous, keeping his personality in the background and relying on the power of rational thought to carry conviction. Of the two, Martineau was more likely to judge Carlyle fairly than Carlyle him, yet, while he saw Carlyle's power, in its effects, he did not at once feel any personal response to it. 'Carlyle's Pantheism,' he wrote, May 19, 1852, . . . is, I fear, an unmanageable object of attack. It is so wholly unsystematic, illogical, wild and fantastic, that thought finds nothing in it to grapple with. How can one refute the utterances of an oracle, or the spleen of a satirist? His power over intellectual men appears to me not unlike that of Joe Smith the prophet over the Mormons; dependent on strength of will and massive effrontery of dogma per

...

severed in amid a universal incertitude weakening other men. . . . I know not how such an influence can be met except by a positiveness as powerful and as gifted.'

The comparison with Joseph Smith is not a happy one, but Martineau is speaking, of course, of method and not of substance. His attitude shows how unlikely such a friendship between the men as Miss Martineau desired to see must always have been. Yet with what noble recognition he seriously criticized Carlyle's philosophy, in his article entitled 'Personal Influences on Present Theology' (National Review, October, 1856), is remembered by students of English thought in the nineteenth century. We are concerned just now with personal appreciation, and not with philosophic criticism. When it came to the point, with all his strong disapproval of Carlyle's theories, no one acknowledged with greater heartiness than Martineau the real dignity of Carlyle's purpose. He speaks with contempt of the artificial thought which had prevailed:

'Mr. Carlyle, among other contemporaries, certainly rose with indignant hunger from such a table of the gods, symmetrically spread with polished covers and nothing under them. . . . The very things which this desiccating rationalism flung off were to Mr. Carlyle just the essence and whole worth of the universe: and to show that beauty, truth, and goodness could not thus be got rid of, while impostors were hired to bear their name; that religion is not hope and fear, or duty prudence, or art a skill to please; that behind the sensible there lies a spiritual, and beneath all relative phenomena an absolute reality, was evidently, if not his early vow, at least his first inspiration. Surely it was an authentic appointment to a noble work: and on looking back over his quarter-century,

no one can deny that it has been manfully achieved.'

Twenty years later Martineau wrote (October 12, 1876), 'I regard it as an honour far beyond my due to be associated in any one's mind with Thomas Carlyle, a man who above all others stands amidst this age as its prophet and interpreter. He has shamed the folly and braced the nerves and touched the conscience of not a few, including some of the noblest spirits of our time. But he will leave no successor, I fear, that can bend his bow.'

It is so true that amid all differences in opinion, and even in point of view, great spirits recognize greatness.

John Sterling, Darwin, and Emerson find mention in our letter, but only Sterling more than a mention. Miss Martineau had met, but scarcely knew him. In her Autobiography she speaks somewhat elaborately of his slighting treatment of her at the Carlyles', and of his later wish to know her, when she was no longer within reach. Her note in her diary at the time (1837) is in a more attractive vein: 'To the Carlyles. John Sterling there. A young man, next door to death, they say, but if he lives a few years sure to be eminent; so wise, so cheerful, so benignant!' He lived long enough afterward to write the review of The French Revolution which Miss Martineau admired so

much, and which called forth Carlyle's note to him (29th of September, 1839): "... Mill says it is the best thing you ever wrote; and, truly, so should I, if you had not shut my mouth. It is a thing all glaring and boiling like a furnace of molten metal: a brave thing, nay a vast and headlong, full of generosity, passionate insight, lightning extravagance, and Sterlingism, — such an article as we have not read for some time past.'

Sterling died in 1844. The first life of him was written by Archdeacon Hare; the second, a last burning tribute of friendship, by Carlyle himself.

There are certainly no commonplace names here, and there is nothing commonplace in the letter. It came from a remarkable woman and it is concerned with notable people. But it touches our hearts by its humanness. The pathetic alienations that followed strengthen this impression. If Miss Martineau afterwards seems stoical and lonely and forbidding, and we cannot free her from blame for it, all the more it refreshes us to find in this letter to Mrs. Carlyle the quality that makes human intercourse a source of real joy, the spirit that gives in simple faith without grudging, and receives gladly without morbidness, taking pleasure in its friendships, and bearing its burdens with patience and hope.

I have no animosity towards Sheridan, who is a brave soldier, and whose gallantry and services I honor; but he is unjust and made vain by his military successes, and absolutely spoiled by partisan flattery and the encouragement of the conspirators. The more he defied the President, and the greater the outrages on the people of Louisiana and Texas, the more would he be praised by bad men who were imposing on his weaknesses.

From the tame, passive course which has been pursued, the administration has lost confidence and strength. It has to-day no positive, established successful policy, displays no executive power and energy, submits to insults, and we are now discussing no measure of the administration, and it is assumed that we ought to have none, that we

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must suppress our convictions, abdicate our duty, and in our helplessness trust to division among the radicals, who have a policy, and who by their presumption and our submission have crippled the executive, encroached on his prerogative, and deprived him of his constitutional rights.

Randall became excited and advocated turning 'the little fellow' 2 out. The President warmed up under my remarks; his eyes flashed. 'What have we to expect [said he] from long keeping quiet? Will the Republicans, the conservative portion of them, come into our views? They are always promising, but they never perform. It may be said this will enrage them and that they will then go forward and impeach me. If they would impeach me for ordering away an officer, who I believe is doing wrong afflicting and oppressing the people instead of protecting and sustaining them if I am to be impeached for this, I am prepared.'

I asked the President if he had any information from those States as to the sentiments and feelings of the people; whether anything but the removal of the Governor of Texas and the overthrow of the municipal government in New Orleans had come to his knowledge. It would not be advisable to move in so important a matter without cause. There was sufficient [cause], but

2 General Sheridan.

weeks ago the same acts had been committed as regards the Governor of Louisiana, Attorney-General, Judge, etc. The President said there was nothing additional now, but there was universal complaint of disorganization, confusion, insecurity, and oppression.

McCulloch said he should deprecate the removal of Sheridan, because he was exceedingly popular, and it would bring down violence on the administration. He had [had] a talk with Wilson of Iowa before he left for home, who said if the President did nothing rash and (alluding to this very movement) would not disturb Sheridan, all would go well, and the extreme radicals would be defeated. A division would certainly take place.

'What,' said I, 'if Sheridan should proceed to hang some of the prominent and best men in Louisiana who differ from him? Would Wilson expect, or you advise, that he should still be continued?'

The President was called into the adjoining room, and McCulloch turning to me said he was afraid my remarks would produce great harm. To do our duty will produce harm! 'How,' I exclaimed, ‘are we subdued and humbled!'

Saturday, August 3, 1867.

I called on the President as McCulloch requested and had a free conversation with him. Said to him that while Sheridan deserved rebuke and removal, I would not be obstinate but defer to him. It might be, as things were now, impolitic or inexpedient to make the removal; that it would undoubtedly lead to a violent assault upon him; that the conspirators - extreme radicals would avail themselves of the act to be more vindictive and ferocious, and the timid would be more cowed and submissive to them; that while I had an inherent confidence in the great principles of right as the rule

of action, there was no doubt it often tried the most resolute, and required moral courage and steady persistency to make the right prevail.

'What,' said the President, ‘have I to fear, what to gain or lose, by keeping this man who delights in opposing and counteracting my views in this position? It is said that the weak radicals, the conservative ones, will join the ultras to impeach me. If Congress can bring themselves to impeach me, because, in my judgment, a turbulent and unfit man should be removed, and because I, in the honest discharge of my duty to the country and the Constitution, exercise my judgment and remove him, let them do it. I shall not shun the trial, and if the people can sanction such a proceeding, I shall not lament the loss of a position held by such a tenure.'

I remarked that Sheridan was really but a secondary personage after all in this business. He would never have pursued the course he has if not prompted and encouraged by others, to whom he looked, from whom he received advice, if not orders. Little would be attained, if only he were taken in hand.

The President said there was no doubt of that, and he was giving the subject attention. He said he had had a long interview with General Grant, in which interview they had gone over these subjects; but Grant was hesitating. He then went to his desk and brought me a letter of Grant's, elicited by the conversation which had passed between them. Grant deprecated the removal of Sheridan, who he says possesses immense popularity; thinks it is not in the power of the President to remove the Secretary of War since the passage of the Tenure-of-Office Bill, and that it would be unwise as well as inexpedient to make these movements just when Congress has adjourned.

1

The letter was not such as I should have at one time expected from Grant, was not discreet, judicious, or excusable even from his standpoint. If not disingenuous, he has, without perhaps being aware of it, had his opinions warped and modified within a year. I remarked as I finished reading the letter, 'Grant is going over.'

'Yes,' said the President, 'I am aware of it. I have no doubt that most of these offensive measures have emanated from the War Department.'

'Not only that,' said I, ‘but almost all the officers of the Army have been insidiously alienated from your support by the same influences. If you had been favored with an earnest and sincere supporter of your measures in the War Department, the condition of affairs in this country would, this day, have been quite different. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that you did not remove all of the Cabinet soon after your administration commenced; certainly some who have made it a business to thwart and defeat your measures ought to have been changed.'

He assented, with some emotion, to the last remark, but expressed a doubt whether he could have got rid of Stanton. It would, he said, be unpleasant to make the attempt and not succeed. He presumed Grant had communicated the conversation which had taken place, and that the suggestion came from Stanton himself.

I doubted if Stanton would persist in holding on as an adviser, when he understood the President wished him away, or he was requested to relinquish his office, although it was obvious he was very tenacious of his place, and clung to it from personal association. Yet I was not sure but things had about reached the point when he was prepared to leave. He was in close fellowship with the radicals [and] had the control of Congress, through that faction,

Monday, August 5, 1867.

I asked the President about the Sheridan case, remarking that I was glad, as things are, that he was giving the subject deliberate thought. He said he had dropped Sheridan for the present and gone to the fountain-head of mischief, that he had this morning sent a note to Stanton requesting him to resign. 'It is impossible,' said he, 'to get along with such a man in such a position, and I can stand it no longer. Whether he will send in his resignation is uncertain. What do you think he will do?'

'I think he will resign,' I replied, 'and not intrude himself upon you, and longer embarrass you, yet his friends are the ones who have tried to tie your tie your hands.'

"Yes, and he instigated it. He has, I am satisfied, been the prolific source of difficulties. You have alluded to this, but I was unwilling to consider it, to think that the man whom I trusted was plotting and intriguing against me.'

1 Governor of Texas.