SENSITIVENESS VERSUS INDEPENDENCE.
THE ordinary professional man who works very hard for his living usually has little opportunity for acquaintance with what are called "public men." As a rule he does not envy them, and in quiet times he thinks little about them—less perhaps than he should. But quiet times are over for the present, public men stand out against a lurid background, and the reader of newspapers finds himself constantly wondering how they feel, exposed as they are to the bitter east wind of comment. Do they very much mind ? Do they live a life of exquisite dis- comfort ? Do they dread the injustice, the often deliberate mis- understanding, to which they are exposed ? Do they burn with Indignation against the inconsequence of their critics, who turn from eulogy to vituperation as a man urging a horse may turn from caress to spur, or are they indifferent to it all Do some of them even rather like it, and feel it to be an agreeable advertise- ment? We suppose it is a matter of temperament. A few must suffer very acutely, sufficiently to impair their usefulness. A man cannot do his best when he lives in fear of neuralgia or tooth- ache. On the other hand, it is very common not to care. Could we not divide our acquaintance into those who resent criticism and those who do not, those who are preoccupied for the safety of their reputations and those who never give them a thought One is apt at first sight to decide that what we usually call sensitiveness Is a weakness, unfortunate in private, disastrous in public life. We doubt very much whether this generally received opinion is correct. A man indifferent to report has probably some great qualities, but serious defects not infrequently appertain to them. The sensi- tive man has, no doubt, some weakness in his character, but he may have powers which the man made of sterner stuff is without. He can accept suggestion, and appropriate not only in appearance but in reality the moral and mental inspirations of other men. He has more power of development than stiffer natures possess. He is subject to change—more often for better than for worse. Even among public men we should imagine that in a democratic country it is uncertain which type is the more useful. A man sensitive to criticism is sure to study his entice, and is likely to have more Intuitive knowledge of their mental processes than one for whom they do not exist. He is a better representative than a more naturally independent person can be, and representatives are quite as necessary as leaders. Also, he may have a stronger feeling for justice. Unless he is an ill-conditioned man, he will try not to give to the innocent the pain which he, being innocent, has received. He may try very hard to be just, even though he yields, when his resentment becomes excruciating, to the temptations of that malig- nant justice which we call revenge. On the other hand, the man who does not mind injustice will sometimes do injustice. Strong men are not always just men. In this respect they get far more credit than they deserve. Indomitable prejudice is a common corollary of strength. The man who is above resenting what is said of him is above revenging himself. He will not take offence, but he will not unseldom take the offensive, and that unjustly.
The curious form of mental independence against which criticism and report are powerless may be the result of many causes. It may be an innate quality, in which case it comes of one of two very different things—of egotism, or of what we might call, for want of a better word, sheer godliness. We do not mean that an atheist might not have this quality, but that it comes only to a man who holds himself answerable to no tribunal but the highest, whether he calls the judge in that supreme Court his God or his conscience. In both these cases, as we have said, a man is born Independent, and in the latter case he is, of course, born good. Without doubt the very best men that the world produces never fear comment. Whether egotism is a vice or not depends upon
the ego. is a narrow quality at all times, but it is by no means always bad. If it were, it would be synonymous with selfishness, which it is not. Those who are born with it may be saints or sinners, but they can never get rid of it. They are, in a sense, wrapped up in themselves, and they can never get out, but within pertain spiritual limits they may attain to something like perfection. There is a theory abroad, for which a man of great dramatic genius Is responsible, that they are unlovable. It is always venturesome to differ from the acknowledged great, but the present writer's experience of life would lead him to say that this is wholly untrue. They are often immensely loved, and not only by those who do not recognize their limitations. The outline of the human soul, like the outline of the human body, is in itself an extraordinarily beauti- ful and fascinating thing. In the egotist it is always clearly marked and easily distinguished, and the artist who cares for human nature may possibly be greatly delighted with it. Who does not love Louis Stevenson ? Or, to take a completely opposite type of egotist, who did not love—in the days that are no more—the hero of the "Idylls of the King" ? Just now he is dead—no, he has "passed." King Arthur was a Victorian hero, and his turn will come again. The egotist is never an amorphous character, and his characteristics are quite as often beautiful as ugly.
As we have said, however, this sort of independence is not always generic. There are people who are absolutely indifferent to what even their friends say of them, because custom has made them content to be misunderstood. This very often happens where a particular member of a family is unlike all the rest. From his cradle he has learned not to expect sympathy. He may have been surrounded by love and be without the slightest bitterness; but he has learned to live alone, and to be tolerant of incompre- hension. He does not think that any man's goodness or badness, ability or stupidity, depends upon the power to enter into his particular ideas. He would as soon have his mind to himself. He may even have come to value his mental solitude, and almost, if it were possible, to regard injustice as an extra lock upon the door of his castle. Complete reserve of this kind is rare, but it exists. We heard the other day of a wise old Jew who used to say that he hated reserve. He used to compare it to a whited sepulchre full of dead souls' bones. The really reserved men who heard him probably thought to themselves that he had mistaken a sarcophagus for a casket and confused treasure with dust. They took no offence, but were rather pleased to see how completely their secret was still their own. To such men the yells of the public are not altogether unpleasant. They are like the raging elements without, which enhance the peace of the fireside. It is not rare to find a man who takes such pleasure in notice that even blame is agreeable to him. It is a peculiarity often to be seen in children. A keen desire to " figure " is an irritating and undignified trait in any character, but it is not an actual fault—it is a puerility.
A few men and women who do demand sympathy, and do care about making a favourable impression, are too naturally exclusive to mind about public criticism in the least. They may belong to the great world, or they may be poor people living in the crowd, but their real life is among the few. To them life resembles those second-rate scenic effects we see at " Exhibitions " which are pro- duced by using real objects and figures with extreme economy. The men and women in the foreground are real ; those further off are painted, or are dummies, or are moving dolls. A vast number of marionettes antic round them and speak words of praise or abuse. They are interested in the words, but the speakers do not live. Perhaps as many as half-a-dozen persons in the circle of their acquaintance are quite real to them—and to their criticism they may even be morbidly sensitive. As for the world, it lieth in artifi- ciality, and its joys and its sorrows, its anger, its wit, and its hate, are counterfeited. This view of life proves a man to be ill-endowed with imagination, but that is what absolute indifference to criticism more often than not means. But sometimes it goes with a single- ness of purpose, a penetration, an enthusiasm, and a courage which are greater things than that idolatrously worshipped gift.
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