232 A SUNDAY IN CHEYNE ROW. 



again he shares with all strong first-class men. You 

 cannot get such histories as Cromwell and Frederick 

 out of polished litterateurs ; you must have a man of 

 the same heroic fibre ; of the same inexpugnableness 

 of mind and purpose. Not even was Emerson ade- 

 quate to such a task : he was fine enough and high 

 enough, but he was not coarse enough and broad 

 enough. The scholarly part of Carlyle's work is 

 nearly always thrown in the shade by the manly 

 part, the original raciness and personal intensity of 

 the writer. He is not in the least veiled or hidden 

 by his literary vestments. He is rather hampered 

 by them, and his sturdy Annandale character often 

 breaks through them in the most surprising manner. 

 His contemporaries soon discovered that if here was 

 a great writer, here was also a great man, come not 

 merely to paint their pictures, but to judge them, to 

 weigh them in the balance. He is eminently an art- 

 ist, and yet it is not the artistic or literary impulse 

 that lies at the bottom of his works, but a moral, 

 human, emotional impulse and attraction, the im- 

 pulse of justice, of veracity, or of sympathy and love. 

 What love of work well done, what love of gen- 

 uine leadership, of devotion to duty, of mastery of 

 affairs, in fact, what love of man pure and simple, 

 lies at the bottom of " Frederick," lies at the bottom 

 of " Cromwell ! " Here is not the disinterestedness of 

 Shakespeare, here is not the Hellenic flexibility of 

 mind and scientific impartiality Mr. Arnold demands ; 

 here is espousal, here is vindication, here is the moral 



