Carlyle. The curious thing was that a man of such fine literary sense should have so entirely miscalculated the effect upon his readers. He fancied that he was providing a pedestal for the object of his reverence, when he was really placing him on a pillory. Ardent Carlyleans thought that he must have known what he was doing, and imagined that he was satisfying some covert resentment. Froude, I think, committed certain errors which I cannot here discuss. But I fully believe that his intentions were what he avowed. He was, no doubt, fully sensible of his master's failings. Froude, with his refined and sensitive temperament, was the very man to be shocked by Carlyle's rough and masterful dogmatism. When, for instance, Carlyle told him that Newman had the brain of a moderate-sized rabbit, Froude could not but feel that the estimate—if half humorous—showed a certain crudeness. The new guide was a little hard upon his predecessor. But then it was also satisfactory to have a master who could be so thoroughly confident. The dogmatism was delightful and comforting, and gave a sense of security. Froude liked to shield himself behind the uncompromising champion. The biography throughout shows that he was even keenly sensible to Carlyle's
