80 CULTURE AND SOCIETY 1780-1950

innumerable

stems fruit-bearing

and

poison-bearing.

. . . Intellect, the

power man

hasof

knowing and be

lieving, ^is

now

_nearly

_synonymous

with Logic, ^orthe

mere power

^of arranging

and communicating.

^Its

im plement

^is not Meditation,

but Argument.

^{. . .}

Our

first question

with

_regard to

any

object ^is not,

What

is it? but,

How

^{is it?}

... For

_every

Why ^{we must}

have

a

Wherefore. We have

our little theory

on aH human and

divine_things.⁷

Religion ^is

now ...

for the

most

_part, a wise

pru

dential feeling

grounded on mere

calculation . . .

whereby some

^smaller

quantum

of earthly

enjoyment may ^be exchanged

^forafar larger

quantum

^ofcelestial enjoyment.

Thus

_Religion too is Profit, a

working

^for wages.⁸

This venerationforthe_physically Strongest has spread

itself

through

Literature. . . .

We

praise awork, not as _'true',

but

as _'strong'; our highest praise ^is that it

has'affected' us. . . .9

Our

. . . 'superior morality'^is properly ^rather

an In

ferior criminality',

produced

^not

by

greaterloveofVir tue,but

by

greater perfection of Police;

and

of that far subtler

and

stronger Police, called Public Opinion.¹⁰ Inallsenses,

we worship and

^followafter

Power.

. . .

No man now

lovesTruth,as

Truth must be

_loved,

with an

infinitelove;

but

_only

with

a finite love,

and

as it

were

par amours.

Nay,

properly speaking,

he

does not believe

and know

it,

but

_only'thinks_it',

and

that'there iseveryprobability'l

He

preaches ^italoud,

and

rushes courageously^forth

with

it ifthereis amultitude

huz

zaing ^{at his} back; yet ever keeps looking over ^his shoulder,

and

theinstantthe

huzzaing

languishes,

he

too stops ^short.11

These

are the faults of the external attachment,

when viewed

inthe_{light of}the

inward

claims. But;

To

definethelimitsof these

two departments

^of

man's

activity,

which work

^into

one

_another,

and by means

THOMAS CABLTLE 8l

of

one

another, so intricately

and

inseparably,

were by

itsnature

an

_impossible

attempt

Theirrelative

impor

tance. ^. .willvaryin different times,according^tothe special

wants and

dispositionsof those times.

Mean

while, ^it

seems

clear

enough

^thatonlyⁱⁿthe_rightco ordination ofthe two,

and

the vigorous forwarding of

both, does our true line of actionlie.

Undue

cultiva tionofthe

inward

or

Dynamical

_provinceleads_{to idle,} visionary, impracticable ^{courses. . . .}

Undue

cultiva tion of the outward, again,

though

^less immediately prejudicial,

and even

forthe time productive^of

many

palpablebenefits,

must

inthe_long-run,

by

destroying

Moral

_Force,

which

is the parentof allother Force,

prove not

less certainly,

and

_perhapsstill

more _hope

lessly, pernicious. This,

we

takeit,isthe

grand

^char

acteristicofour_age.¹²

Carlyle

wants

to seearestoration ofbalance, intheterms

he

has set.

He

iswriting,not

a

rejection of^histime,

but a

criticismofit:

These dark

features,

we

are aware, belong

more

orless toother_{ages, as}wellas to ours. Thisfaith in

Mecha

nism, in the all-importance of physical things, ^is in every

age

^the

common

_refugeof

Weakness and

blind Discontent. . . .

We

are

aware

also, that, asapplied to ourselves inalltheir aggravation,they

form but

half

a

_picture. . . . Neither,

with

all these evils

more

or lessclearlybefore_us,

have we

^at

any

time despaired ofthe fortunes of_society. Despair, ^or

even despond

ency, in that respect, appears ^to us, In all cases, a groundlessfeeling.

We have

afaithinthe imperisha ble dignity of

man;

^{in the}

high

^{vocation to} which,

throughout

^{this his} earthly history,

he

has

been ap

pointed. ^{. . .} This

age

^alsois advancing. ^Itsvery

un

rest, ^its ceaseless _activity,itsdiscontentcontains

mat

terof promise.

Knowledge,

education are

opening

^the eyes ^of the humblest; are _increasing the

number

of thinking

minds

withoutlimit. Thisis asitshould be, far

not

in turning back, not ⁱⁿ resisting,

but

_only in resolutely struggling forward, does our

Me

^consist.

8& CULTURE AND

SOCIETY

1780-1950

. . .

There

isadeep-lyingstruggleⁱⁿthe

whole

fabric of society; a boundless grinding ^{collision of}the

New

with

the Old.

The French

Revolution, ^{as is}

now

visi ble

enough, was

not the parent ^{of this}

mighty move ment, but

^its offspring. ^{. . .}

The

final issue

was

not

unfolded

in that country:

nay

^{it is}not yet

anywhere

unfolded. Political

freedom

is hitherto the _{object of} these_efforts;

but

_theywillnot

and

cannotstop there.

It is

towards

_{a higher}

freedom

than

mere freedom from

_oppression

by

^hisfellow-mortal, that

man _dimly

aims.

Of

thishigher,heavenly freedom,

which

is'man's reasonable _service*, allhis nobleinstitutions, his faith ful

endeavours and

loftiest attainments, are

but

the body,

and more and more approximated emblem.

¹³

The

criticism ofthecharacteristics ofthe

age

^is

fundamen

tal,

but

the

dominant

_tone, especially of these last para graphs, ^is surely very surprising to a twentieth-century reader.

For

_us,

now,

such phrases ^{as 'the}imperishable dig nity of

man

. . . the

high

^{vocation . . .} resolutely strug gling forward* are

on one

side of the argument; ^criticism ofthe'faithin

mechanism* on

the other.

The

former argu

ment now _commonly

_neglectsthe_criticism,while the_latter, as

commonly,

^has

purged

^itself of strength

and

_hope.

The

idea of balance is not _usually

one which

_suggests itself

when we

are thinkingof Carlyle;

but

thereis genuine bal

ance

in this essay, aswell as a _fine,

and now

rare, unity of insight

and

determination.

A man who _began

inthis

way might

^well

seem

_qualified to

become

the

most

_important socialthinker of his century.

There was

a time, of course,

when

it

was

_quite

_widely

believed thatthis

was

in fact

what

_Carlyle

_became.

_{I sup} pose^that

no one

believes this

now, and

_certainlyI

do

not

wish

to

argue

^{that it is so.}

The

insight lasted in all his

work;

^athis

most

_savage

he can

_still,

on

_occasion,

uncom

fortably penetrate our

normal

assumptions.

The

limitation, as his life's

work

_continued, is to

be

seen, primarily, in a false construction of basic issues ofrelationship. In this

he

is a victim of the situation which, ⁱⁿ Signs of the Times,

he had

described, *Thisvenerationforthephysically strong-