Bracing and stimulating, as is Carlyle's strong, stern doctrine of
independence, of work, and of adherence to Truth for its own sake, we
feel the loss his character sustained, through the contempt that grew
upon him for the greater part of humanity. The Nemesis of contempt was
shown in his inability at last to see even in individuals, the
greatest things. Physical force came to be admired by him for itself.
From hero-worship, he passed "to strong rulers, and saviours of
society."
The worth of the individual, withered and changed, and Carlyle's hopes
rested finally on strength alone, just as George Eliot's thoughts
centred on the influence human beings exercised on each other, and
there is extraordinary beauty in this idea. How striking is her
conception of the good we all receive from even the simplest lives, if
they have been true lives. "The growing good of the world is partly
dependent upon unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with
you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who
lived faithfully a hidden life and rest in unvisited tombs." But some
who read her books feel an underlying tone of sadness--a melancholy
whisper as of a finality, an inevitable end to all future development,
even of the greatest personalities.
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