Apologia DiffidentisDalton, O. M. (Ormonde Maddock)
Philosophy
Apologia Diffidentis
Dalton, O. M. (Ormonde Maddock)
Bashfulness
All this finished science of illusion is like an east wind to the
confidences of the shy, and if they stay within its range they are
blighted before their hearts have time to unfold. They long for a less
biting air, for vernal hours in sheltered dells, where without sheaths
and unguarded the hearts of flowers lie open to their neighbours and to
heaven. There was once a simple day when religion set hearts
interflowing, but now it can melt them only within the precincts; the
fire which is carried from the altar is dead at the church door. The
brotherliness of those early days is indeed often found in humble walks
of life, but these we cannot continually tread, because our intellectual
and artistic tastes find there no sufficient nurture. Among the cultured
a cold convention often reigns, behind which only a more persistent
nature than ours can pass. Unless, therefore, we find our way into some
circle of gentle scholars or lovers of the beautiful quite simple in
their tastes, a thing possible but not often granted by a niggard
fortune, we are perforce thrown back upon our own company, and move
towards the grave alone. For this we accuse none; nothing is more at
fault than our own constitution. But to us society is a school of dames,
who are not to be blamed if amid the crowd that clamours for their
teaching, they find no time for the backward scholar. We are the dunces
of the school, and are dismissed without learning the accomplishments
set forth upon the prospectus. That is why in our northern streets so
many seeming hats are cowls.
In England the loss of congenial intercourse is perhaps more certain
than in other lands. For through his national reserve the
highly-cultured Englishman has a cold perfection of good breeding to
which heartiness is vulgarity; he emanates intimidation, and in courtesy
is rather studious than spontaneous, seldom genial but in an ancient
friendship. If you knew him to the concealed heart, and were suffered to
assay the fine metal beneath this polished surface, you would win a
golden friendship; but only on a desert island would he permit the
operation. To the shy who may encumber his path his bearing seems marked
by an indifference which they magnify into aversion, and are thereby the
worse confounded. In a land where such convention reigns they go through
life like persons afflicted with a partial deafness; between them and
the happier world there is as it were a crystalline wall which the
pleasant low voices of confidence can never traverse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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