all the abilities requisite to the discharge of his
duty, will find his powers at first impeded by a timidity which he
himself knows to be vicious, and must struggle long against dejection
and reluctance, before he obtains the full command of his own attention,
and adds the gracefulness of ease to the dignity of merit.
For this disease of the mind I know not whether any remedies of much
efficacy can be found. To advise a man unaccustomed to the eyes of
multitudes to mount a tribunal without perturbation, to tell him whose
life was passed in the shades of contemplation, that he must not be
disconcerted or perplexed in receiving and returning the compliments of
a splendid assembly, is to advise an inhabitant of Brasil or Sumatra not
to shiver at an English winter, or him who has always lived upon a plain
to look from a precipice without emotion. It is to suppose custom
instantaneously controllable by reason, and to endeavour to communicate,
by precept, that which only time and habit can bestow.
He that hopes by philosophy and contemplation alone to fortify himself
against that awe which all, at their first appearance on the stage of
life, must feel from the spectators, will, at the hour of need, be
mocked by his resolution; and I doubt whether the preservatives which
Plato relates Alcibiades to have received from Socrates, when he was
about to speak in publick, proved sufficient to secure him from the
powerful fascination.
Yet, as the effects of time may by art and industry be accelerated or
retarded, it cannot be improper to consider how this troublesome
instinct may be opposed when it exceeds its just proportion, and instead
of repressing petulance and temerity, silences eloquence, and
debilitates force; since, though it cannot be hoped that anxiety should
be immediately dissipated, it may be at least somewhat abated; and the
passions will operate with less violence, when reason rises against
them, than while she either slumbers in neutrality, or, mistaking her
interest, lends them her assistance.
No cause more frequently produces bashfulness than too high an opinion
of our own importance. He that imagines an assembly filled with his
merit, panting with expectation, and hushed with attention, easily
terrifies himself with the dread of disappointing them, and strains his
imagination in pursuit of something that may vindicate the veracity of
fame, and shew that his reputation was not gained by chance. He
considers
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