the disadvantage which generally attaches to the
writings of an outsider in politics. They were, said the average
reader, "unpractical." Carlyle could not recommend any definite
measures; an objection easy to bring against a man who urges rather a
change of spirit than of particular measures. Yet it is noticeable
that he recommends much that has since become popular. Much of his
language might be used by modern Socialists. In 'Past and Present,'
for example (Book iii., Chapter 8), he gives the principle of "land
nationalization." The great capitalist is to be turned into a "captain
of industry," and government is to undertake to organize labor, to
protect health, and to enforce education. Carlyle so far sympathizes
with the Socialist, not only as agreeing that the great end of
government is the raising of the poor, but as denouncing the
_laissez-faire_ doctrine. The old-fashioned English Radical had
regarded all government as a necessary evil, to be minimized as much
as possible. When it had armed the policemen, it had fulfilled its
whole duty. But this, according to Carlyle, was to leave the "dull
multitude" to drift into chaos. Government should rest upon the
loyalty of the lower to the higher. Order is essential; and good order
means the spontaneous obedience to the heaven-sent hero. He, when
found, must supply the guiding and stimulating force. The Socialist,
like Carlyle, desires a strong government, but not the government of
the "hero." Government of which the moving force comes from above
instead of below will be, he thinks, a government of mere force. And
here occurs the awkward problem to which Carlyle is constantly
referring. He was generally accused of identifying "right" with
"might." Against this interpretation he always protested. Right and
Might, he says often, are in the long run identical. That which is
right and that alone is ultimately lasting. Your rights are the
expression of the divine will; and for that reason, whatever endures
must be right. Work lasts so far as it is based upon eternal
foundations. The might, therefore, is in the long run the expression
of the right. The Napoleonic empire, according to a favorite
illustration, could not last because it was founded upon injustice.
The two tests then must coincide: what is good proves itself by
lasting, and what lasts, lasts because good; but the test of endurance
cannot, it is clear, be applied when it is wanted. Hence arises an
ambiguity which o