Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

WOTTON EEINFRED 97winds of this world cannot pass but they are modulatedinto music, and even their anger and their moaningbecome kindly and melodious.'* Yes,' cried Dalbrook,'there dwells in him adivine harmony, which needs but to be struck that itbe awakened. His spirit is a spirit of goodness andbrotherhood ;anger, hatred, malignity may not abidewith him, will not consort with his purer nature.Wherefore should he envy ; where shall he find onericher than he ? While the vulgar soul, isolated inself,stinted and ignoble alike in its joy and woe, mustbuild its narrow home on the sand of accident, andtaste no good but what the winds and waves of accidentmay bring it, the poet's home is on the everlasting rockof necessity, the law which was before the universe, andwill endure after the universe has passed away ;andhis eye and his mind range free and fearless throughthe world as through his own possession, his ownfruitful field ; for he is reconciled with destiny, and inhis benignant fellow-feeling all men are his brethren.Nay, are not time and space his heritage, and thebeauty that is in them do they not disclose it to himand pay it as their tribute ? What do I say ? Thebeauty that is in them ! The beauty that shinesthrough them ! Fortime and space are modes notthings ; forms of our mind, not existences without us ;the shapes in which the unseen bodies itself forth toour mortal sense ; if we were not, they also wouldcease to be.'o