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.
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