in the actions of great men a true significance, certainly not
obvious to the actors themselves. Their recognition of the eternal
laws was in one case embodied in obsolete formulae, and in the other,
it might seem, altogether unconscious. The hero's recognition of
divine purposes does not imply then that his own vision is purged from
error, or that his aim is distinctly realized. He may, like Mahomet or
the Abbot Sampson, be full of superstition. His "veracity" does not
mean that his beliefs are true; only that they are sincere and such a
version of the truth as is possible in his dialect. This is connected
with Carlyle's constant insistence upon the superiority of silence to
speech. The divine light shines through many distracting media; it
enlightens many who do not consciously perceive it. It may be
recognized because it gives life; because the work to which it prompts
is lasting. But even the hero who tries to utter himself is sure to
interpolate much that is ephemeral, confused, and imperfect; and
speech in general represents the mere perplexed gabble of men who take
words for thought, and raise a hopeless clamor which drowns the still
small voice of true inspiration. If men are mostly fools, their talk
is mostly folly; forming a wild incoherent Babel in which it is hard
to pick out the few scattered words of real meaning. Carlyle has been
ridiculed for preaching silence in so many words; but then Carlyle was
speaking the truth, and of that, he fully admits, we can never have
too much. The hero may be a prophet, or a man of letters. He is bound
to speak seriously, though not to be literally silent; and his words
must be judged not by the momentary pleasure, but by their ultimate
influence on life.

Carlyle's message to his fellows, which I have tried imperfectly to
summarize, may be condemned on grounds of taste and of morality.
Translated into logical formulae it becomes inconsistent, and it
embodies some narrow prejudices in exaggerated terms. Yet I think that
it has been useful even by the shock it has given to commonplace
optimism. It has been far more useful because in his own dialect,
Carlyle--as I think--expresses some vital truths with surpassing
force. Whatever our creeds, religious or political, he may stimulate
our respect for veracity, in the form of respect for honest work or
contempt for hypocritical conventions; our loyalty to all great
leaders, in the worlds both of thought and action; and our beli