other. Not he! If he is cruel,
neglectful, overbearing, she is perfectly aware of it. He does not
deceive her, and she does not deceive herself. I have often thought:
If a son could look into a mother's heart, what an eye-opener he would
have! "What!" he would cry. "This cold, impartial judgment, this keen
vision for my faults, this implacable memory of little slights, and
injustices, and callousnesses committed long ago, in the breast of my
mother!" Yes, my friend, in the breast of your mother. The only
difference between your mother and another person is that she takes
you as you are, and loves you for what you are. She isn't blind: do
not imagine it.

The marvel is, not that people are such bad judges of character, but
that they are such good judges, especially of what I may call
fundamental character. The wiliest person cannot for ever conceal his
fundamental character from the simplest. And people are very stern
judges, too. Think of your best friends--are you oblivious of their
defects? On the contrary, you are perhaps too conscious of them. When
you summon them before your mind's eye, it is no ideal creation that
you see. When you meet them and talk to them you are constantly making
reservations in their disfavour--unless, of course, you happen to be a
schoolgirl gushing over like a fountain with enthusiasm. It is well,
when one is judging a friend, to remember that he is judging you with
the same godlike and superior impartiality. It is well to grasp the
fact that you are going through life under the scrutiny of a band of
acquaintances who are subject to very few illusions about you, whose
views of you are, indeed, apt to be harsh and even cruel. Above all
it is advisable to comprehend thoroughly that the things in your
individuality which annoy your friends most are the things of which
you are completely unconscious. It is not until years have passed that
one begins to be able to form a dim idea of what one has looked like
to one's friends. At forty one goes back ten years, and one says
sadly, but with a certain amusement: "I must have been pretty blatant
then. I can see how I must have exasperated 'em. And yet I hadn't the
faintest notion of it at the time. My intentions were of the best.
Only I didn't know enough." And one recollects some particularly crude
action, and kicks one's self.... Yes, that is all very well; and the
enlightenment which has come with increasing age is exceedingly
satisfactory. But yo