The gospel of silence has been preached in these latter days by Carlyle, with the fervor of a seer and prophet, and the world owes him a debt for the historical discredit which he has brought upon the man of mere words as compared with the man of deeds.

Carlyle brushed Washington aside as "a bloodless Cromwell," a phrase to which we must revert later on other grounds, and, as has already been said, failed utterly to see that he was the most supremely silent of the great men of action that the world can show.
Like Cromwell and Frederic, Washington wrote countless letters, made many speeches, and was agreeable in conversation.

But this was all in the way of business, and a man may be profoundly silent and yet talk a great deal.

Silence in the fine and true sense is neither mere holding of the tongue nor an incapacity of expression.

The greatly silent man is he who is not given to words for their own sake, and who never talks about himself.