(Dr. Frank Crane might have been thinking about the already-feverish antagonisms of the 2020 campaign year when he warned a centuryu ago that nobody can be liked by everybody, that all of us have—)
THE ENEMY
Whoever you are there’s somebody that doesn’t like you.
The one constant figure on life’s stage is the enemy. He’s always there, sitting grim and silent, or busy with hostility.
“Be thou as pure as ice, as chaste as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.”
Gentle maiden, as good as fair, with a heart warm and kind to all God’s creatures, anxious to spread happiness as May to spread flowers, it seems incredible, but there is someone to whom your presence is offense, and to whom your surcease would be pleasing!
In the chemistry of souls this repellency is most curious but undeniable. No human force ever comes into the world without the opposite. Every positive has its negative. In every love is a little spot of hate. Heaven and hell, in their deeper significance, touch every human heart.
Caesar had his Brutus, Socrates his Miletus, and Jesus his envious Pharisees.
When I read any book that pleases me, human Dickens or quiet Wordsworth, the exquisitely tooled word craft of Vernon Lee or the smashing liveliness of Conan Doyle, it often comes to me—somebody doesn’t like this.
Queer, isn’t it? Sinister and strange, but true. Little dove, the hawk soars stilly watching; little fly, the spider swings ready in his web; little doe, the cougar crouches behind the bush; little soul, among the gods walks one who looks darkly at you.
And the higher you climb, the brighter you write your name upon fame’s scroll, the louder your applause and the more signal your triumph, the surer there will be, somewhere muffled in the cheering crowd, the somber figure of some “Mordecai, sitting at the king’s gate.”
Is not America a beloved country? There are those who loathe it unreservedly. Is not President Wilson a fine figure among statesmen? There are many who would rejoice at his downfall, who watch eagerly to find his mistakes and herald them.
In a way the strength of the enemy is a reliable measure of one’s success. The more you amount to, the sharper the hisses. Many a man has been elected to Congress by his enemies, and many a writer has been hounded to fame.
The best way to meet the enemy is to let him see that you do not think it worthwhile to fight him. Nothing so enrages malice as to discover that you don’t mind. Nothing so disarms attack as for you to go about your business as usual. Such defense is the most exasperating vengeance.
When in doubt, say nothing. Your enemy can answer everything you can possibly say, can retaliate against everything that you can possibly do, except one thing. That is silence.