And when the soul has gone toward full-orbed splendor and stands forth
clothed with full manhood the sage condenses the wisdom of a thousand
volumes into four maxims, "Act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry
never."
The principle of acting frankly demands truth in the hidden parts, rebukes
him whose method is "the iron hand in a velvet glove," smites the
Machiavelian policy of smiling gently while arranging instruments of death.
In their ignorance shrewd men advise the youth to cloak his keen desire
beneath an outer indifference. But small men use lying artifices and
disguises to protect themselves. Conscious of weakness, inferiority fears
frankness. Great men are as open as glass bee-hives and as transparent as
the sunbeams, for they are conscious of their enormous reserves. Nature
permits no flower or fruit to conceal its real self. The violet frankly
tells its story; the decaying fruit frankly reveals its nature. No flaming
candle pretends to light while emitting rays of blackness. Victories won by
concealment are lying victories. All these battles must be fought over
again. The law of frankness is the law of truth, that is at once the
foundation of character and crowns the structure with strength and beauty.
Vast issues also are involved in the injunction "to talk gently." Noise is
weakness. Bluster is inferiority rising into consciousness. The rattle of
machinery means waste power somewhere. Rushing forward at the rate of
thousands of miles an hour, the planets are noiseless as sunbeams, because
they represent power that is harnessed and subdued. Silently the dewdrop
falls upon some crimson-tipped flower. Yet the electric energy necessary to
crystallize that drop would hurl a car from Cambridge to Boston. Those
forces manifest in thunder are nature's weakest forces. Her monarch
energies work silently in the roots and harvests, or lift, without rattle
of engine or noise of wheel, countless millions of tons of water from ocean
into the air. For gentleness is not weakness. Only giants can be gentle.
Fronting an emergency weakness is agitated, but strength is calm and cool.
Gentleness is controlled strength. The giant _is_ gentle, because his vast
energies are restrained, subdued, and wisely used. The test of all great
work is the ease with which it is done. Scott writes one of his priceless
chapters before breakfast. Ruskin says Turner finished a whole drawing in a
morning, before going out to shoot, without strain or struggle. The highest
eloquence also is not a spasmodic effort, but the quiet manifestation of
years of preparation. But this easy effort has infinite reserve lying back
of it. There is a profound philosophy in this injunction, "Talk gently,"
and act quietly.