o
doubt about the eloquence, the violent and unrestrained earnestness of
purpose, the unmistakable reserves of power behind the detonating words
and unforgettable phrases. But, after all, what is it that the man is
trying to say? This is certainly an unpromising beginning. Other great
prophets have prophesied in the vernacular; but "he that speaketh in an
unknown tongue speaketh not unto men but unto God; for no man
understandeth him; howbeit in the spirit he speaketh mysteries." Yet
there are some things which cannot convey their full meaning in the
vernacular, thoughts which must coin a language for themselves; and
although at first there may be much bewilderment and even irritation,
yet in the end we shall confess that the prophecy has found its proper
language.

Let us go back to the time in which the book was written. In the late
twenties and early thirties of the nineteenth century a quite
exceptional group of men and women were writing books. It was one of
those galaxies that now and then over-crowd the literary heavens with
stars. To mention only a few of the famous names, there were Byron,
Scott, Wordsworth, Dickens, Tennyson, and the Brownings. It fills one
with envy to think of days when any morning might bring a new volume
from any one of these. Emerson was very much alive then, and was already
corresponding with Carlyle. Goethe died in 1832, but not before he had
found in Carlyle one who "is almost more, at home in our literature than
ourselves," and who had penetrated to the innermost core of the German
writings of his day.

At that time, too, momentous changes were coming upon the industrial and
political life of England. In 1830 the Liverpool and Manchester Railway
was opened, and in 1832 the Reform Bill was passed. Men were standing in
the backwash of the French Revolution. The shouts of acclamation with
which the promise of that dawn was hailed, had been silenced long ago by
the bloody spectacle of Paris and the career of Napoleon Buonaparte. The
day of Byronism was over, and polite England was already settling down
to the conventionalities of the Early Victorian period. The romantic
school was passing away, and the new generation was turning from it to
seek reality in physical science. But deep below the conventionality and
the utilitarianism alike there remained from the Revolution its legacy
of lawlessness, and many were more intent on adventure than on
obedience.

It was in the midst of this co