"
Perhaps a reflection or two which occurred to me after this interview
may not be out of place. Carlyle was perfectly frank, even to us of
whom he knew but little. He did not stand off or refuse to talk on any
but commonplace subjects. What was offered to us was his best. And yet
there is to be found in him a singular reserve, and those shallow
persons who taunt him with inconsistency because he makes so much of
silence, and yet talks so much, understand little or nothing of him. In
half a dozen pages one man may be guilty of shameless garrulity, and
another may be nobly reticent throughout a dozen volumes. Carlyle feels
the contradictions of the universe as keenly as any man can feel them.
He knows how easy it is to appear profound by putting anew the riddles
which nobody can answer; he knows how strong is the temptation towards
the insoluble. But upon these subjects he also knows how to hold his
tongue; he does not shriek in the streets, but he bows his head. He has
found no answer--he no more than the feeblest of us, and yet in his
inmost soul there is a shrine, and he worships.
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