his Majesty entered. The King advanced genially toward him and began a conversation, but Liszt merely bowed with a polished but icy reserve.
"Do you still remember," said the King, "that you played at my house when you were but a boy and I Duke of Orleans? Much has changed since then."
"Yes, sire," replied Liszt dryly, "but not for the better."
The King showed his royal appreciation of the repartee by striking the great musician's name off the list of those who were about to receive the Cross of the Legion of Honor.—H. R. Haweis, "My Musical Memories."
(2869)
SELF-ESTIMATE
John the Baptist said of Christ, "He must increase but I must decrease." Scott's attitude toward Byron was similar.
It is characteristic of Scott that he knew
perfectly well when Byron began to write his
day was over. He quietly said Byron had
"bet him," and he never sang again. Without
a touch of jealousy, with simple manliness,
Scott admitted that a greater poet than
himself had come, and instead of waging a
losing battle for his lost supremacy, he
praised his rival, and then left the arena
with all the honors of war. There are few
men who could have done this. That Scott
did it, and did it easily, is at once a proof
of the sturdy manliness of his nature, and
of the robust common sense and generosity
which marked his character.—W. J. Dawson,
"The Makers of English Poetry."
(2870)
That we should try to see ourselves as others see us is a rule well illustrated by R. H. Haweis in what he says on learning to play the violin:
I had found means to make the flimsiest
strings yield up sounds which I need not
here characterize, and to such purpose that
it became a question of some interest how
long such sounds could be endured by the
human ear. I do not mean my own. All
violinists, including infants on the eighteen-penny
ones, admit that to their own ear the
sounds produced are nothing but delightful;
it is only those who do not make them who
complain.
(2871)
Self-examination—See Self-inspection.
SELF-FLATTERY
We are all of us susceptible to the good opinions of others, and sometimes we are apt to fall into the bad habit of lauding ourselves. An illustration of this is seen in the following:
Once when Moltke heard himself compared
to Cæsar, Turenne, Marlborough,
Wellington, and others, he remarked: "No;
I have no right to rank with such great captains,
for I have never commanded a retreat"—which
at the same time conveyed a
subtle compliment to himself. Bismarck was
equally subtle when he was asked whom he
thought to have been the ablest plenipotentiary
at the Congress of Berlin. "I don't
know about the ablest," he replied with a
grim smile, "but the next ablest was certainly
Lord Beaconsfield." (Text.)
(2872)
SELF-FORGETTING
The first principle of Christianity is to forget
one's self. When Wilberforce was
straining every energy to get his bill for the
emancipation of slaves passed, a lady once
said to him, "Mr. Wilberforce, I'm afraid
you are so busy about those slaves that you
are neglecting your own soul." "True,
madam," he said; "I had quite forgotten that
I have one." That remark contains one of
the deepest truths of Christianity. (Text.)
(2873)
SELF-HELP
At one time in a battle between the English
and French, the Prince of Wales became
the center of the enemies' attacks. As
the Germans, men of Savoy, and other fierce
foreigners broke through the royal division,
a messenger was despatched in haste to the
King, entreating his aid. The British ruler
had taken his stand on a hill to watch the
battle at a safe distance.
The King replied, "Return to him and to them that sent you hither and tell them from me that they do not send to me again or look for my coming so long as my son shall live. Suffer him this day 'to win his spurs.'"
At the time of evening vespers, the prince had wrought a victory. The King, followed by his entire battalion, left the hill and advanced to meet the Prince of Wales. He embraced him and kissed him, saying, "Sweet son, God give you grace. You have acquitted yourself well."
