218 FRESH FIELDS 



the concrete, upon actual persons and events. This 

 makes him the artist he is, as distinguished from 

 the mystic and philosopher, and is perhaps the basis 

 of Emerson's remark, that there is "more character 

 than intellect in every sentence ; " that is, more 

 motive, more will power, more stress of conscience, 

 more that appeals to one as a living personal iden- 

 tity, wrestling with facts and events, than there is 

 that appeals to him as a contemplative philosopher. 

 Carlyle owed everything to his power of will and 

 to his unflinching adherence to principle. He was 

 in no sense a lucky man, had no good fortune, was 

 borne by no current, was favored and helped by no 

 circumstance whatever. His life from the first was 

 a steady pull against both wind and tide. He con- 

 fronted all the cherished thoughts, beliefs, tenden- 

 cies, of his time; he spurned and insulted his age 

 and country. No man ever before poured out such 

 withering scorn upon his contemporaries. Many of 

 his political tracts are as blasting as the Satires of 

 Juvenal. The opinions and practices of his times, 

 in politics, religion, and literature, were as a stubbly, 

 brambly field, to which he would fain apply the 

 match and clean the ground for a nobler crop. He 

 would purge and fertilize the soil by fire. His 

 attitude was one of warning and rebuking. He was 

 refused every public place he ever aspired to, — 

 every college and editorial chair. Every man's 

 hand was against him. He was hated by the 

 Whigs and feared by the Tories. He was poor, 

 proud, uncompromising, sarcastic; he was morose, 



