No man is truly great who is great only in his lifetime. The test

“No man is truly great who is great only in his lifetime. The test of greatness is the page of history.” Thus wrote William Hazlitt, the English essayist of fierce insight and fiery prose, whose words pierced through vanity and laid bare the truth of human worth. In this solemn reflection, Hazlitt reminds us that greatness is not a momentary flame that dazzles while it burns, but a steady light whose glow endures long after the bearer has turned to dust. To be truly great is not merely to command attention in one’s own age, but to shape the ages that follow — to plant a seed in time that continues to bloom long after the sower’s hand is gone.

In Hazlitt’s view, fame and greatness are not the same. Fame is the echo of applause that fades with the crowd; greatness is the melody that endures when the world grows silent. Many have been celebrated in their lifetimes, only to be forgotten as the years sweep their names away like sand before the tide. But those whose deeds are rooted in truth and virtue — those whose works speak to the human soul — are preserved by history, that impartial judge who weighs all men not by the noise they made, but by the light they left behind.

To understand this truth, let us turn our eyes to the story of Galileo Galilei, who stood before the tribunal of ignorance and dared to whisper that the earth moved around the sun. In his own lifetime, he was condemned and silenced; his discoveries branded heresy by those who feared the dawn of reason. Yet centuries later, his name shines like a star across the firmament of knowledge, while his accusers are remembered only for their blindness. In life, Galileo was mocked; in history, he is immortal. Such is Hazlitt’s meaning — that the test of greatness lies not in the fleeting approval of contemporaries, but in the enduring truth that time reveals.

There is a quiet and noble tragedy in this understanding. For those who labor for truth or beauty rarely see their reward while they yet live. The prophets, the poets, the dreamers — they often walk through scorn and solitude. Yet, the page of history will one day turn, and their names will rise again, cleansed of the dust of misunderstanding. Van Gogh, who painted the soul of light but sold almost nothing in his lifetime, now stands among the immortals of art. Socrates, condemned to drink hemlock, now teaches the world the very philosophy his city rejected. These are the great souls who built not for applause, but for eternity.

Hazlitt’s insight also bears warning to those who chase greatness as mere glory. Many rulers have believed themselves mighty, surrounded by power, wealth, and devotion — but their greatness died with them. Napoleon, whose shadow once stretched across Europe, dreamed of empire and immortality. Yet the centuries have softened his legend and left his ambition a cautionary tale. Power fades; influence endures. The true kings of the earth are those who lift humanity, not those who trample it.

So too in our own time, we must measure success not by noise or numbers, but by depth and endurance. Ask not, “Am I admired?” but “Will my work still speak when I am gone?” To create something of worth — a poem, a kindness, a truth, a reform — is to carve one’s name upon the page of history where time cannot erase it. Greatness is not granted by the crowd, but confirmed by the ages. The applause of today is the wind; the legacy of tomorrow is the stone.

Therefore, my child of the future, let Hazlitt’s words be a compass to your spirit. Do not seek greatness in the mirror of the moment, for it reflects only what is passing. Seek instead to live with integrity, to build with purpose, to speak with truth. Live as though your life were a message sent forward to those yet unborn. For the judgment of your own time may falter, but the gaze of history is eternal — and in that gaze, only what is true will endure. Remember this: when your days are done, and the dust has settled upon your name, may your deeds still shine — not in the fleeting applause of men, but in the undying memory of humankind.