Manner - Art : Part 5

Character
by Samuel Smiles

(Page 13 of 18)

But the Prince shared this defect with some of the greatest of Englishmen. Sir Isaac Newton was probably the shyest man of his age. He kept secret for a time some of his greatest discoveries, for fear of the notoriety they might bring him. His discovery of the Binomial Theorem and its most important applications, as well as his still greater discovery of the Law of Gravitation, were not published for years after they were made; and when he communicated to Collins his solution of the theory of the moon's rotation round the earth, he forbade him to insert his name in connection with it in the 'Philosophical Transactions,' saying: "It would, perhaps, increase my acquaintance - the thing which I chiefly study to decline."

From all that can be learnt of Shakspeare, it is to be inferred that he was an exceedingly shy man. The manner in which his plays were sent into the world - for it is not known that he edited or authorized the publication of a single one of them - and the dates at which they respectively appeared, are mere matters of conjecture. His appearance in his own plays in second and even third-rate parts - his indifference to reputation, and even his apparent aversion to be held in repute by his contemporaries - his disappearance from London (the seat and centre of English histrionic art) so soon as he had realised a moderate competency - and his retirement about the age of forty, for the remainder of his days, to a life of obscurity in a small town in the midland counties - all seem to unite in proving the shrinking nature of the man, and his unconquerable shyness.

It is also probable that, besides being shy - and his shyness may, like that of Byron, have been increased by his limp - Shakspeare did not possess in any high degree the gift of hope. It is a remarkable circumstance, that whilst the great dramatist has, in the course of his writings, copiously illustrated all other gifts, affections, and virtues, the passages are very rare in which Hope is mentioned, and then it is usually in a desponding and despairing tone, as when he says:

"The miserable hath no other medicine, But only Hope."

Many of his sonnets breathe the spirit of despair and hopelessness. He laments his lameness; apologizes for his profession as an actor; expresses his "fear of trust" in himself, and his hopeless, perhaps misplaced, affection; anticipates a "coffin'd doom;" and utters his profoundly pathetic cry "for restful death."

It might naturally be supposed that Shakspeare's profession of an actor, and his repeated appearances in public, would speedily overcome his shyness, did such exist. But inborn shyness, when strong, is not so easily conquered. Who could have believed that the late Charles Mathews, who entertained crowded houses night after night, was naturally one of the shyest of men? He would even make long circuits (lame though he was) along the byelanes of London to avoid recognition. His wife says of him, that he looked "sheepish" and confused if recognised; and that his eyes would fall, and his colour would mount, if he heard his name even whispered in passing along the streets.

Nor would it at first sight have been supposed that Lord Byron was affected with shyness, and yet he was a victim to it; his biographer relating that, while on a visit to Mrs. Pigot, at Southwell, when he saw strangers approaching, he would instantly jump out of the window, and escape on to the lawn to avoid them.

But a still more recent and striking instance is that of the late Archbishop Whately, who, in the early part of his life, was painfully oppressed by the sense of shyness. When at Oxford, his white rough coat and white hat obtained for him the soubriquet of "The White Bear;" and his manners, according to his own account of himself, corresponded with the appellation. He was directed, by way of remedy, to copy the example of the best-mannered men he met in society; but the attempt to do this only increased his shyness, and he failed. He found that he was all the while thinking of himself, rather than of others; whereas thinking of others, rather than of one's self, is of the true essence of politeness.

Finding that he was making no progress, Whately was driven to utter despair; and then he said to himself: "Why should I endure this torture all my life to no purpose? I would bear it still if there was any success to be hoped for; but since there is not, I will die quietly, without taking any more doses. I have tried my very utmost, and find that I must be as awkward as a bear all my life, in spite of it. I will endeavour to think as little about it as a bear, and make up my mind to endure what can't be cured." From this time forth he struggled to shake off all consciousness as to manner, and to disregard censure as much as possible. In adopting this course, he says: "I succeeded beyond my expectations; for I not only got rid of the personal suffering of shyness, but also of most of those faults of manner which consciousness produces; and acquired at once an easy and natural manner - careless, indeed, in the extreme, from its originating in a stern defiance of opinion, which I had convinced myself must be ever against me; rough and awkward, for smoothness and grace are quite out of my way, and, of course, tutorially pedantic; but unconscious, and therefore giving expression to that goodwill towards men which I really feel; and these, I believe, are the main points."

Washington, who was an Englishman in his lineage, was also one in his shyness. He is described incidentally by Mr. Josiah Quincy, as "a little stiff in his person, not a little formal in his manner, and not particularly at ease in the presence of strangers. He had the air of a country gentleman not accustomed to mix much in society, perfectly polite, but not easy in his address and conversation, and not graceful in his movements."

Although we are not accustomed to think of modern Americans as shy, the most distinguished American author of our time was probably the shyest of men. Nathaniel Hawthorne was shy to the extent of morbidity. We have observed him, when a stranger entered the room where he was, turn his back for the purpose of avoiding recognition. And yet, when the crust of his shyness was broken, no man could be more cordial and genial than Hawthorne.

About the Author

Born in Haddington, Smiles was the eldest of eleven children. He left school at the age of 14 and was apprenticed to a doctor, eventually enabling him to study medicine at the University of Edinburgh. While studying and after graduating he campaigned for parliamentary reform, contributing articles to the Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle and the Leeds Times.