224 A SUNDAY IN CHEYNE ROW. 



and love. The savagest man, probably, in the world 

 in his time, who had anything like his enormous fund 

 of tenderness and magnanimity He was full of con- 

 tempt for the mass of mankind, but he was capable of 

 loving particular men with a depth and an intensity 

 that more than makes the account good. And let 

 nij say here that the saving feature about Carlyle's 

 contempt, which is such a stumbling-block till one 

 has come to understand it, is its perfect sincerity and 

 inevitableness, and the real humility in which it has 

 its root. He cannot help it ; it is genuine and has a 

 kind of felicity. Then there is no malice or ill-will 

 in it, but pity rather, and pity springs from love. We 

 also know that he is always dominated by the inex- 

 orable conscience, and that the standard by which he 

 tries men is the standard of absolute rectitude and 

 worthiness. Contempt without love and humility be- 

 gets a sneering, mocking, deriding habit of mind, 

 which was far enough from Carlyle's sorrowing de- 

 nunciations. " The quantity of sorrow he has, does 

 it not mean withal the quantity of sympathy he has, 

 the quantity of faculty and victory he shall yet have ? 

 * Our sorrow is the inverted image of our nobleness.' 

 The depth of our despair measures what capability, 

 and height of claim we have, to hope." (Cromwell.) 

 Emerson heard many responding voices, touched and 

 won many hearts, but Carlyle was probably admired 

 and feared more than he was loved, and love he 

 needed and valued above all else. Hence his pa- 

 thetic appeals to Emerson, the one man he felt sure 



