ble figure than
the same man, in ribbon and star, bowing and smiling at an evening
party. And yet the dignified trappings of the post are what ordinary
men desire.

The next step in my own progress when confronted, as I say, with the
prospect of the possibility that I might feel bound to accept an
important position, was the consciousness of the anxious and wearing
responsibilities that it involved. I felt that a millstone was to be
bound round my neck, and that I must bid farewell to what is after all
the best gift of heaven, my liberty; a liberty won by anxious years of
hard toil.

And here I have no doubt, though I tried hard not to let it affect me,
that my desire not to sacrifice my liberty did make me exaggerate the
difficulties that lay before me; difficulties which I should probably
have unconsciously minimized if I had desired the position which was in
prospect. It was a happy moment when I found myself relieved from the
responsibility of undertaking an impossible task. I felt, too, that I
was further disqualified by my reluctance to attempt the task; a
reluctance which a near prospect of the position had poignantly
revealed to me. A great task ought to be taken up with a certain
buoyancy and eagerness of spirit, not in heaviness and sadness. A
certain tremor of nerves, a stage fright, is natural to all sensitive
performers. But this is merely a kind of anteroom through which one
must needs pass to a part which one desires to play; but if one does
not sincerely desire to play the part, it is clear that to attempt it
merely from a sense of duty is an ill omen for success. And so I felt
sincerely and humbly that I ought not to feel compelled to attempt it.
The conviction came in a flash like a divine intuition, and was
followed by a peace of mind which showed me that I was acting rightly.
I seemed too to perceive that the best work in the world was not the
work of administration and organization, but humble and individual
ministries performed in a corner without tangible rewards. For such
work I was both equipped and prepared, and I turned back to the
fallentis semita vitae, which is the true path for the sincere spirit,
aware that I had been truly and tenderly saved from committing a grave
mistake.

Perhaps if one could have looked at the whole question in a simpler and
larger-minded way, the result might have been different. But here
temperament comes in, and the very complexities and intricacies that
clou