of industry who is faithfully and honestly organising the
labour of thousands, and regarding his task as a moral duty; the rich
man who, with all the means of enjoyment at his feet, devotes his
energies 'to make some nook of God's creation a little fruitfuller,
better, more worthy of God--to make some human hearts a little wiser,
manfuller, happier, more blessed,' always received his admiration and
applause. No one, on the other hand, spoke with more contempt of a
governing class which had ceased to govern; of titles which had lost
their original meaning, and no longer implied or expressed duties
performed; of wealth that was employed solely or mainly in selfish
enjoyment or in idle show. It was Carlyle's deep conviction that the
best test of the moral worth of every nation, class, and individual,
is to be found in their standard of work and in their dislike to a
useless and idle life. As is well known, he had no sympathy with the
prevailing political ideas. He believed that men were not only not
equal, but were profoundly unequal; that it was the first interest of
society that the wisest men should be selected as its leaders, and
that the popular methods of finding the wisest were by no means those
which were most likely to succeed. 'No British man,' he complained,
'can attain to be a statesman or chief of workers till he has first
proved himself a chief of talkers.' 'The two greatest nations in the
world, the English and American, are all going to wind and tongue.' He
believed much more than his contemporaries did that there was need and
room in our modern English life for strong Government organisation,
guidance, discipline, reverence, obedience, and control. 'Wise
command, wise obedience,' he wrote in one of his 'Latter-day
Pamphlets,' 'the capability of these two is the best measure of
culture and human virtue in every man.'
There is another class of workers to which he himself belonged--the
men who are the teachers of mankind. He taught them by his example as
well as by his precepts. Whatever else may be said about Carlyle, no
one can question that he took his literary vocation most seriously. He
was for a long time a very poor man, but he never sought wealth by
advocating popular opinions, by pandering to common prejudices, or by
veiling most unpalatable beliefs. In the vast mass of literature which
he has bequeathed to us there is no scamped work, and every competent
judge has recognised the untiring and consc
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