LIKEABLENESS.
WHEN we say of a man that he is likeable we do not mean that it is just possible to like him ; we mean that it is almost impossible not to do so. It is difficult to analyse
likeableness, or even to find synonyms for it. It is not charm. A man may be very likeable and a little ridiculous. It is not magnetism, for he may be pie-eminently likeable and have no influence whatever. Likeableness is a quantity which cannot be accurately calculated when we come to sum up character,— elusive, yet immediately recognisable by all ; indefinable, yet the most real thing in the world ; th.e very essence of per- sonality, a force which defeats justice as surely as it defies description.
A- man born likeable is born free, or, if we must admit that every man is more or less the slave of circumstance, he is more loosely bound than his neighbours. He can say and do more nearly what he pleases. In a social sense he can come and go without restraint. The by-laws of the circle in which he may find himself are relaxed in his favour. Without offence he may hold opinions diametrically opposed to those of his milieu, for his opponents will cheerfully concede to him the privilege of being in the wrong. His friends are content to differ from him. They have a sense of an inner unity below the level of opinion, below the level of caste, below the level even of conduct. True, his convictions may correspond to their doubts, and his doubts to their convictions. He and they may differ as to what things are "taboo" in the matter of manners, and even in the matter of morals. Yet with a likeable man, men in general find an unknown point of contact which enables sympathy to flow between them, though none of the usual channels should exist. His likeableness stands him in good stead at every juncture of life from the cradle to the grave; and unless his luck be very much worse than the average, it will ensure his happiness. But, oddly enough, though the absence of this quality precludes the assumption of supreme power over men—the acme of every ambitious man's ambition—yet in a general way it by no means ensures wOrldly success. Without it a man may rise very, very near the top. There are ways in which its absence, if he be really strong, may facilitate his upward progress. It is the last step, which can hardly be taken alone, that will balk him,—the step which must be reached by the help of willing shoulders.
Likeable men, however, by no means always get on. They very often lack the qualities which make directly for success, and likeableness seems very commonly to be given, OA it were, in compensation. It is not seldom to be found apart from that mental and physical energy which is essential to much accom- plishment, and sometimes—though much less often than writers of fiction would have us believe—it accompanies a very real want of principle. A likeable man is tempted to be generous before he is just. His sense of moral proportion is sometimes faulty, and he forgets that rectitude is a more important matter than the doing of good turns. Likeable- ness flourishes best in a soil of virtue; but it is not precluded by the moderate practice of many of the vices. The only thing which certainly forbids it is that curious form of insensibility which, for want of a better word, we call cold- heartedness. This, again, is a difficult quality to describe, and though found in conjunction with the very worst faults, it is quite common in their absence, and is compatible with a dutiful disposition untainted by cruelty.
We think this strange inner frigidity is quite as common among men as women, but among the latter it is more imme- diately recognisable.. It would be untrue to say that cold- hearted women are always unattractive. On the contrary, they have sometimes a strange attraction like that which surrounds dangerous heights. A cold heart precludes worry and makes for health, and therefore for good looks. It goes, too, with a certain form of cleverness, and need not go with frivolity. There is very often a peculiar glitter, both mental and physical, particularly if she belong to the higher ranks of society, about a cold-hearted woman which prevents her presence being ignored by either sex. She is distinguished not seldom for her bright eyes, bright wits, and a kind of bard, bright polish. In circles where a show of sympathy is considered essential to the beat manners an inner frigidity is less patent ; but the frost of a cold heart is soon felt from behind the softest voice, the most unflagging attention, the most determined show of indulgence and philanthropy. Indeed, in these apparently warm wrappings the low temperature of the central ice is perhaps best preserved. Outside the cultivated class we may, of course, find many bad hearts, but icy ones are very rare, and such as
there are we are apt to overlook because their owners so often possess the qualities we like to see in those below us, and, warmed by our own consciousness of approval, we avoid all sense of chill. We wonder sometimes why such prudent and successful persons are not more popular in their own class- & class which can so ill afford to be impulsive—and it may be long before we discover the cold heart which serves to keep equals at a distance.
Now and then a cold heart will lend to a young man a certain dignity. It is a preservative against many forms of silliness. It may look very much like strength, and it is difficult, at any rate, for his contemporaries to get near enough to a cold-hearted man to feel any contempt for him. In middle life his friends fall away, chilled the more effectually by a long stay in a frosty atmosphere. An admiration for extreme composure wears off, and we learn to be content to like people and not know why. It is when we are young that we confuse self-control with absence of emotion, and it is inexperience which makes us count up qualities and seek by arithmetic to solve the problem of personality. In every really likeable character there is a primitive element. Shakespeare's words about the touch of Nature, hackneyed as they have become, still throw more light than any treatise, however long, upon the difficult question of sympathy. Some unconscious recollection of the solidarity of the race, some instinctive acknowledgment of human relationship, exists wherever likeableness is seen as a marked characteristic. It is a quality which destroys isolation, and enables a man, as we say, to enter into the life of other people. This by no means necessarily implies exceptional unselfishness. Such unselfishness is not possible apart from moral energy, and of that a likeable man is occasionally almost destitute.
Cold-hearted people, to whatever class they may belong, have about them something of sophistication. They are never simple. They are cut off from the common life of the world. They are not susceptible to those currents of emotion which are conveyed to all the branches that still draw life from the original stem. They may be good, bad, or indifferent people, useful or detrimental in the world, but whichever they are, they are always self-satisfied. They never repent, and therefore the world never forgives them ; but they do very well without its grace, and if they miss the best that life has to give, they are also spared the worst.
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