A SUNDAY IN CHEYNE ROW 205 



Emerson's serenity and courage, and seemed to cling 

 to, while he ridiculed, that New World hope that 

 shone in him so brightly. 



The ship that carries the most sail is most buf- 

 feted by the winds and storms. Carlyle carried 

 more sail than Emerson did, and the very winds of 

 the globe he confronted and opposed; the one great 

 movement of the modern world, the democratic 

 movement, the coming forward of the people in 

 their own right, he assailed and ridiculed in a 

 vocabulary the most copious and telling that was 

 probably ever used, and with a concern and a seri- 

 ousness most impressive. 



Much as we love and revere Emerson, and im- 

 measurable as his service has been, especially to the 

 younger and more penetrating minds, I think it will 

 not do at all to say, as one of our critics (Mr. Sted- 

 man) has lately said, that Emerson is as "far above 

 Carlyle as the affairs of the soul and universe are 

 above those of the contemporary or even the his- 

 toric world." Above him he certainly was, in a 

 thinner, colder air, but not in any sense that implies 

 greater power or a farther range. His sympathies 

 with the concrete world and his gripe upon it were 

 far less than Carlyle's. He bore no such burden, 

 he fought no such battle, as the latter did. His 

 mass, his velocity, his penetrating power, are far 

 less. A tranquil, high-sailing, fair-weather cloud 

 is Emerson, and a massive, heavy-laden storm-cloud 

 is Carlyle. Carlyle was never placidly sounding 

 the azure depths like Emerson, but always pouring 



