rt of testimonial to their force and weight and influence,
a penalty that they have to pay for being effective, a matter of
prestige and honour. Of course, an old, famous, dignified man who has
played a great part on the stage of life must necessarily be
approached by the young with a certain awe. But there is no charm in
the world more beautiful than the charm which can permeate dignity,
give confidence, awake affection, dissipate dread. But if a man of
that sort indulges his moods, says what he thinks bluntly and
fiercely, has no mercy on feebleness or ignorance, he can be a very
dreadful personage indeed!
Accessibility is one of the first of Christian virtues; but it is not
always easy to practise, because a man of force and ability, who is
modest and shy, forgets as life goes on how much more his influence is
felt. He himself does not feel at all different from what he was when
he was young, when he was snubbed and silenced and set down in
argument. Perhaps he feels that the world is a kinder and an easier
place, as he grows into deference and esteem, but it is the surest
sign of a noble and beautiful character if the greater he becomes the
more simple and tender he also becomes.
I was greatly interested the other day in attending a meeting at
which, among other speakers, two well-known men spoke. The first was a
man of great renown and prestige, and he made a very beautiful, lofty,
and tender discourse; but, from some shyness or gravity of nature, he
never smiled nor looked at his audience; and thus, fine though his
speech was, he never got into touch with us at all. The second speech
was far more obvious and commonplace, but the speaker, on beginning,
cast a friendly look round and smiled on the audience; and he did the
same all the time, so that one had at once a friendly sense of contact
and geniality, and I felt that every word was addressed to me
personally. That is what it is to be accessible!
One of the best ways in which we can keep the spirit of poetry--by
which I mean the higher, sweeter, purer influences of thought--alive
in one's heart, is by accessibility--by determining to speak freely of
what one admires and loves, what moves and touches one, what keeps
one's mind upon the inner and finer life. It is not always possible or
indeed convenient for younger people to do this, for reasons which are
not wholly bad reasons. Young people ought not to be too eager to take
the lead in talk, nor ought they
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