Life," may fall in with Deronda
and Halifax. Tragedy darkens at "the far end of the avenue." Bayard
is a social reformer in attempt, though of the safe and right type,
meaning to change men, that there may be wrought a change in
institutions. He runs a tilt with Calvinian orthodoxy as Methodism
does, and loves God and his fellow-men and a good woman, and finds no
toil burdensome if he may be of spiritual help and healing. "A
singular life" he lives; but singular because it is the gospel life,
and he merits the name the slums gave him, "The Christ-man." He is
helpful, few more so, and knows power to stir us, which in the event is
the superb quality in character. Captain Moray, in "The Seats of the
Mighty," and Henry Esmond, in "Henry Esmond," are gentlemen of military
mold, and we love them both because they make for lordly inspiration in
the soul. Esmond must always keep his hold on men as a hero. These
two soldiers need no one to remind us they know how to die; and know
that other, larger thing--how to live. Esmond, over a long stretch of
life lying in our sight, walked ever as a prince. Any national
literature might be glad for one such as he. Our imagination takes
wings when we think of him. Such cleanness, such lack of self, such
self-poise and firmness, such singleness of love and devotion, such
inaptitude for anything not noble, such tense heroic purposes, such
stalwart intention to make himself a man! He is greatness, and his
story to be read as a tonic. He recruits heroisms in the heart, and
rests us when we grow weary. Thackeray is reported by Anthony Trollope
to have called his creation, Esmond, "a prig." He might better have
called him a gentleman; for such he is, or narrowly lacks of being.
Indeed, did not Thackeray present another who is altogether gentleman,
Esmond would be catalogued as this ideal character; for he misses it so
little, if at all, and is by odds most magnetic of Thackeray's
creations. And Browning's "Caponsacchi" and Hugo's "Valjean" have the
true instincts of gentlemen. Valjean redeemed himself from worse than
galley slavery--from debauched manhood to spiritual nobility,
bewildering in holy audacity and achievement. Were there a pantheon
for souls who have struggled up from the verge of hell to stand in the
clear light of heaven, be sure Valjean would be there. Volumes are
requisite for his portrait, and we have only room for words! Of
Caponsacchi, take the pope's esti