represented, that men may at least learn to know in what a marvellous museum they live, what a wonder-worker is giving them an exhibition daily for nothing. Nor let art be forgotten in all its many forms; not as the antithesis of science, but as her elder or fairer sister, whom we love all the more that her usefulness cannot be demonstrated in dollars and cents. I should be thankful if every day labourer among us could have his mind illumined, as those of Athens and Florence had, with some image of what is best in architecture, painting, and sculpture, to train his crude perceptions and perhaps call out latent faculties. I should like to see the works of Ruskin within the reach of every artisan among us; for I hope some day that the delicacy of touch and accuracy of eye that have made our mechanics in some departments the best in the world may give us the same supremacy in works of wider range and more purely ideal scope.
Of voyages and travels I would also have good store, especially the earlier, when the world was fresh and unhackneyed, and men saw things invisible to the modern eye. They are fast sailing ships to waft away from present trouble to the Fortunate Isles.
To wash down the drier morsels that every library must necessarily offer at its board, let there be plenty of imaginative literature, and let its range be not too narrow to stretch from Dante to the elder Dumas. The world of imagination is not the world of abstraction and nonentity, as some conceive, but a world formed out of chaos by the sense of the beauty that is in man and the earth on which he dwells. It is the realm of might-be, our haven of refuge from the shortcomings and disillusions of life. It is, to quote Spenser, who knew it well, "the world's sweet inn from care and wearisome turmoil."
Carlyle on the Best Books.
An Unpublished Letter.
EXACTLY fifteen years ago a North-country lad who was seeking after knowledge in the midst of his work in a printer's office wrote to Carlyle for his advice on the best books. Those who have read Mr. Froude's life know already how full of encouragement and sympathy Carlyle was whenever he was appealed to in this way. This letter is no exception to the rule. With reference to one observation by Carlyle, it should be pointed out that the letter was written before Mr. Jowett "made Plato an English classic":—
5, Cheyne-row, Chelsea,
Feb. 14, 1871.
Dear Sir,—Your letter has pleased and interested me; and certainly I wish you progress in your ingenuous pursuit, which may be defined as the highest and truest for all men in all ranks of life. Evermore is Wisdom the highest of conquests to every son of Adam, nay, in a large sense, the one conquest; and the precept to every one of us is ever, "Above all thy gettings get understanding." Books are certainly a great help in this pursuit; but I know not if they are the greatest; the greatest I rather judge are one's own earnest reflections and meditations, and, to begin with, a candid, just, and sincere mind in oneself. Books, however, especially the Books of sincere and true-seeing men, are indisputably a great resource of guidance and assistance; and indeed are at present almost the only one we have left.
I have more than once thought of such a list as you speak of (for we all, in universities as well as workshops, labour under that difficulty, and in the end each of us has to pick his own way); but a good list of the kind would be extremely difficult to do; and would be both an envious and precarious one. Impossible to be right in all your judgments of Books; and still more impossible to please everybody with it if you even were! Perhaps I may try something of it some good day nevertheless.
For the rest, I can assure you that your choice of a Homer is perfectly successful: I reckon Pope's still fairly the best English translation, though there are several newer, and one older, not without merit; in regard to style, or outward garniture, neither Pope nor one of them has the least resemblance to rough old Homer; but you will get the shape and essential meaning out of Pope as well as another. In regard to Plato (Socrates didn't write anything; and he is known chiefly by what Plato and Xenophon say of him) your best resource will probably be Bohn's Classical Library (Bohn, York-street, Covent-garden), a readable translation at four or five shillings, which any country bookseller can get for you on order: and, indeed, I may say, in regard to all manner of books, Bohn's Publication Series is the usefullest thing I know; and you might as well send to him for a catalogue, which, doubtless, he would willingly send you for the postage stamp. As to English History, Hume's is universally regarded as the best; but perhaps none of them can rigorously be called good; and you will be sure to take the first book you can come at, and to read that with all your attention, keeping a map before you, and looking round you on all sides; especially looking before and after for chronology's sake,—upon which latter at least, if not upon various other things, you may find it useful to take notes. Pinkerton's Geography, even the 8vo abridgment (still more the 2 vol. 4to original), is a useful book in such studies. In Political Economy I consider Smith's "Wealth of Nations," which is the beginning of all the books since, to be still, by many degrees, the best, as well as the pleasantest to read; and in regard to that of "Political Economy," nay even to that of Plato, &c., &c., you must not be surprised if the results arrived at considerably disappoint you; and sometimes, though also sometimes not, completely deserve to do so.
Wishing you heartily well, and recommending silence, sincerity, diligence, and patience as the grand conditions of every useful success in your pursuit, I remain, yours sincerely, T. Carlyle.
