to　God　in　their　straits；　in　their　extreme　need；　not　to　forsake　the　Cause　that　was　His。　　The　light　which　now　rose　upon　them；how　could　a　human　soul；　by　any　means　at　all；　get　better　light？　　Was　not　the　purpose　so　formed　like　to　be　precisely　the　best；　wisest；　the　one　to　be　followed　without　hesitation　any　more？　　To　them　it　was　as　the　shining　of　Heaven's　own　Splendor　in　the　waste…howling　darkness；　the　Pillar　of　Fire　by　night；　that　was　to　guide　them　on　their　desolate　perilous　way。　　_Was_　it　not　such？　　Can　a　man's　soul；　to　this　hour；　get　guidance　by　any　other　method　than　intrinsically　by　that　same；devout　prostration　of　the　earnest　struggling　soul　before　the　Highest；　the　Giver　of　all　Light；　be　such　_prayer_　a　spoken；　articulate；　or　be　it　a　voiceless；　inarticulate　one？　　There　is　no　other　method。　〃Hypocrisy〃？　　One　begins　to　be　weary　of　all　that。　　They　who　call　it　so；　have　no　right　to　speak　on　such　matters。　　They　never　formed　a　purpose；　what　one　can　call　a　purpose。　　They　went　about　balancing　expediencies；　plausibilities；　gathering　votes；　advices；　they　never　were　alone　with　the　_truth_　of　a　thing　at　all。Cromwell's　prayers　were　likely　to　be　〃eloquent；〃　and　much　more　than　that。　　His　was　the　heart　of　a　man　who　_could_　pray。
  But　indeed　his　actual　Speeches；　I　apprehend；　were　not　nearly　so　ineloquent；　incondite；　as　they　look。　　We　find　he　was；　what　all　speakers　aim　to　be；　an　impressive　speaker；　even　in　Parliament；　one　who；　from　the　first；　had　weight。　　With　that　rude　passionate　voice　of　his；　he　was　always　understood　to　_mean_　something；　and　men　wished　to　know　what。　　He　disregarded　eloquence；　nay　despised　and　disliked　it；　spoke　always　without　premeditation　of　the　words　he　was　to　use。　　The　Reporters；　too；　in　those　days　seem　to　have　been　singularly　candid；　and　to　have　given　the　Printer　precisely　what　they　found　on　their　own　note…paper。　　And　withal；　what　a　strange　proof　is　it　of　Cromwell's　being　the　premeditative　ever…calculating　hypocrite；　acting　a　play　before　the　world；　That　to　the　last　he　took　no　more　charge　of　his　Speeches！　　How　came　he　not　to　study　his　words　a　little；　before　flinging　them　out　to　the　public？　　If　the　words　were　true　words；　they　could　be　left　to　shift　for　themselves。
  But　with　regard　to　Cromwell's　〃lying；〃　we　will　make　one　remark。　　This；　I　suppose；　or　something　like　this；　to　have　been　the　nature　of　it。　　All　parties　found　themselves　deceived　in　him；　each　party　understood　him　to　be　meaning　_this_；　heard　him　even　say　so；　and　behold　he　turns　out　to　have　been　meaning　_that_！　　He　was；　cry　they；　the　chief　of　liars。　　But　now；　intrinsically；　is　not　all　this　the　inevitable　fortune；　not　of　a　false　man　in　such　times；　but　simply　of　a　superior　man？　　Such　a　man　must　have　_reticences_　in　him。　　If　he　walk　wearing　his　heart　upon　his　sleeve　for　daws　to　peck　at；　his　journey　will　not　extend　far！　　There　is　no　use　for　any　man's　taking　up　his　abode　in　a　house　built　of　glass。　　A　man　always　is　to　be　himself　the　judge　how　much　of　his　mind　he　will　show　to　other　men；　even　to　those　he　would　have　work　along　with　him。　　There　are　impertinent　inquiries　made：　　your　rule　is；　to　leave　the　inquirer　uninformed　on　that　matter；　not；　if　you　can　help　it；　misinformed；　but　precisely　as　dark　as　he　was！　　This；　could　one　hit　the　right　phrase　of　response；　is　what　the　wise　and　faithful　man　would　aim　to　answer　in　such　a　case。
  Cromwell；　no　doubt　of　it；　spoke　often　in　the　dialect　of　small　subaltern　parties；　uttered　to　them　a　_part_　of　his　mind。　　Each　little　party　thought　him　all　its　own。　　Hence　their　rage；　one　and　all；　to　find　him　not　of　their　party；　but　of　his　own　party。　　Was　it　his　blame？　　At　all　seasons　of　his　history　he　must　have　felt；　among　such　people；　how；　if　he　explained　to　them　the　deeper　insight　he　had；　they　must　either　have　shuddered　aghast　at　it；　or　believing　it；　their　own　little　compact　hypothesis　must　have　gone　wholly　to　wreck。　　They　could　not　have　worked　in　his　province　any　more；　nay　perhaps　they　could　not　now　have　worked　in　their　own　province。　　It　is　the　inevitable　position　of　a　great　man　among　small　men。　　Small　men；　most　active；　useful；　are　to　be　seen　everywhere；　whose　whole　activity　depends　on　some　conviction　which　to　you　is　palpably　a　limited　one；　imperfect；　what　we　call　an　_error_。　But　would　it　be　a　kindness　always；　is　it　a　duty　always　or　often；　to　disturb　them　in　that？　　Many　a　man；　doing　loud　work　in　the　world；　stands　only　on　some　thin　traditionality；　conventionality；　to　him　indubitable；　to　you　incredible：　　break　that　beneath　him；　he　sinks　to　endless　depths！　　〃I　might　have　my　hand　full　of　truth；〃　said　Fontenelle；　〃and　open　only　my　little　finger。〃
  And　if　this　be　the　fact　even　in　matters　of　doctrine；　how　much　more　in　all　departments　of　practice！　　He　that　cannot　withal　_keep　his　mind　to　himself_　cannot　practice　any　considerable　thing　whatever。　　And　we　call　it　〃dissimulation；〃　all　this？　　What　would　you　think　of　calling　the　general　of　an　army　a　dissembler　because　he　did　not　tell　every　corporal　and　private　soldier；　who　pleased　to　put　the　question；　what　his　thoughts　were　about　everything？Cromwell；　I　should　rather　say；　managed　all　this　in　a　manner　we　must　admire　for　its　perfection。　　An　endless　vortex　of　such　questioning　〃corporals〃　rolled　confusedly　round　him　through　his　whole　course；　whom　he　did　answer。　　It　must　have　been　as　a　great　true…seeing　man　that　he　managed　this　too。　　Not　one　proved　falsehood；　as　I　said；　not　one！　　Of　what　man　that　ever　wound　himself　through　such　a　coil　of　things　will　you　say　so　much？
  But　in　fact　there　are　two　errors；　widely　prevalent；　which　pervert　to　the　very　basis　our　judgments　formed　about　such　men　as　Cromwell；　about　their　〃ambition；〃　〃falsity；〃　and　such　like。　　The　first　is　what　I　might　call　substituting　the　_goal_　of　their　career　for　the　course　and　starting…point　of　it。　　The　vulgar　Historian　of　a　Cromwell　fancies　that　he　had　determined　on　being　Protector　of　England；　at　the　time　when　he　was　ploughing　the　marsh　lands　of　Cambridgeshire。　　His　career　lay　all　mapped　out：　　a　program　of　the　whole　drama；　which　he　then　step　by　step　dramatically　unfolded；　with　all　manner　of　cunning；　deceptive　dramaturgy；　as　he　went　on；the　hollow；　scheming　＇Gr。＇　_Upokrites_；　or　Play…actor；　that　he　was！　　This　is　a　radical　perversion；　all　but　universal　in　such　cases。　　And　think　for　an　instant　how　different　the　fact　is！　　How　much　does　one　of　us　foresee　of　his　own　life？　Short　way　ahead　of　us　it　is　all　dim；　an　unwound　skein　of　possibilities；　of　apprehensions；　attemptabilities；　vague…looming　hopes。　　This　Cromwell　had　_not_　his　life　lying　all　in　that　fashion　of　Program；　which　he　needed　then；　with　that　unfathomable　cunning　of　his；　only　to　enact　dramatically；　scene　after　scene！　　Not　so。　　We　see　it　so；　but　to　him　it　was　in　no　measure　so。　What　absurdities　would　fall　away　of　themselves；　were　this　one　undeniable　fact　kept　honestly　in　view　by　History！　　Historians　indeed　will　tell　you　that　they　do　keep　it　in　view；but　look　whether　such　is　practically　the　fact！　　Vulgar　History；　as　in　this　Cromwell's　case；　omits　it　altogether；　even　the　best　kinds　of　History　only　remember　it　now　and　then。　　To　remember　it　duly　with　rigorous　perfection；　as　in　the　fact　it　_stood_；　requires　indeed　a　rare　faculty；　rare；　nay　impossible。　　A　very　Shakspeare　for　faculty；　or　more　than　Shakspeare；　who　could　_enact_　a　brother　man's　biography；　see　with　the　brother　man's　eyes　at　all　points　of　his　course　what　things　_he_　saw；　in　short；　_know_　his　course　and　him；　as　few　〃Historians〃　are　like　to　do。　　Half　or　more　of　all　the　thick…plied　perversions　which　distort　our　image　of　Cromwell；　will　disappear；　if　we　honestly　so　much　as　try　to　represent　them　so；　in　sequence；　as　they　_were_；　not　in　the　lump；　as　they　are　thrown　down　before　us。
  But　a　second　error；　which　I　think　the　generality　commit；　refers　to　this　same　〃ambition〃　itself。　　We　exaggerate　the　ambition　of　Great　Men；　we　mistake　what　the　nature　of　it　is。　　Great　Men　are　not　ambitious　in　that　sense；　he　is　a　small　poor　man　that　is　ambitious　so。　　Examine　the　man　who　lives　in　misery　because　he　does　not　shine　above　other　men；　who　goes　about　producing　himself；　pruriently　anxious　about　his　gifts　and　claims；　struggling　to　force　everybody；　as　it　were　begging　everybody　for　God's　sake；　to　acknowledge　him　a　great　man；　and　set　him　over　the　heads　of　men！　　Such　a　creature　is　among　the　wretchedest　sights　seen　under　this　sun。　　A　_great_　man？　　A　poor　morbid　prurient　empty　man；　fitter　for　the　ward　of　a　hospital；　than　for　a　throne　among　men。　　I　advise　you　to　keep　out　of　his　way。　　He　cannot　walk　on　quiet　paths；　unless　you　will　look　at　him；　wonder　at　him；　write　paragraphs　about　him；　he　cannot　live。　　It　is　the　_emptiness_　of　the　man；　not　his　greatness。　　Because　there　is　nothing　in　himself；　he　hungers　and　thirsts　that　you　would　find　something　in　him。　　In　good　truth；　I　believe　no　great　man；　not　so　much　as　a　genuine　man　who　had　health　and　real　substance　in　him　of　whatever　magnitude；　was　ever　much　tormented　in　this　way。
  Your　Cromwell；　what　good　could　it　do　him　to　be　〃noticed〃　by　noisy　crowds　of　people？　　God　his　Maker　already　noticed　him。　　He；　Cromwell；　was　already　there；　no　notice　would　make　_him_　other　than　he　already　was。　　Till　his　hair　was　grown　gray；　and　Life　from　the　down…hill　slope　was　all　seen　to　be　limited；　not　infinite　but　finite；　and　all　a　measurable　matter　_how_　it　went；he　had　been