The Power of Personal Influence

The only responsibility that a man cannot evade in this life is the one he thinks of least,--his personal influence. Man's conscious influence, when he is on dress-parade, when he is posing to impress those around him,--is woefully small. But his unconscious influence, the silent, subtle radiation of his personality, the effect of his words and acts, the trifles he never considers,--is tremendous. Every moment of life he is changing to a degree the life of the whole world. Every man has an atmosphere which is affecting every other. So silent and unconsciously is this influence working, that man may forget that it exists.

The one responsibility a man cannot escape in this life is the one he thinks about least: his personal influence. A man's conscious influence is very small when he puts on a show to impress those around him. But his unconscious influence is tremendous. It comes from the quiet, subtle ways his personality reaches others, from his words and actions, and from small things he never considers. Every moment of his life, he changes the life of the whole world to some degree. Every man has an atmosphere that affects everyone else. This influence works so quietly and unconsciously that he may forget it exists.

All the forces of Nature,--heat, light, electricity and gravitation,--are silent and invisible. We never see them; we only know that they exist by seeing the effects they produce. In all Nature the wonders of the "seen" are dwarfed into insignificance when compared with the majesty and glory of the "unseen." The great sun itself does not supply enough heat and light to sustain animal and vegetable life on the earth. We are dependent for nearly half of our light and heat upon the stars, and the greater part of this supply of life-giving energy comes from invisible stars, millions of miles from the earth. In a thousand ways Nature constantly seeks to lead men to a keener and deeper realization of the power and the wonder of the invisible.

All the forces of Nature, including heat, light, electricity, and gravity, are silent and invisible. We never see them. We know they exist only by seeing their effects. Throughout Nature, the wonders of the "seen" seem insignificant beside the majesty and glory of the "unseen." The great sun itself does not provide enough heat and light to sustain animal and plant life on earth. We depend on the stars for nearly half of our light and heat. Most of this life-giving energy comes from invisible stars, millions of miles from earth. In a thousand ways, Nature constantly seeks to give people a deeper understanding of the power and wonder of the invisible.

Into the hands of every individual is given a marvellous power for good or for evil,--the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life. This is simply the constant radiation of what a man really is, not what he pretends to be. Every man, by his mere living, is radiating sympathy, or sorrow, or morbidness, or cynicism, or happiness, or hope, or any of a hundred other qualities. Life is a state of constant radiation and absorption; to exist is to radiate; to exist is to be the recipient of radiations.

Everyone is given a remarkable power for good or evil: the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of their life. This influence is simply the constant radiation of what a person really is, not what they pretend to be. Simply by living, each person radiates sympathy, sorrow, gloom, cynicism, happiness, hope, or any of a hundred other qualities. Life is a constant process of radiating and absorbing. To exist is to radiate. To exist is also to receive the radiation of others.

There are men and women whose presence seems to radiate sunshine, cheer and optimism. You feel calmed and rested and restored in a moment to a new and stronger faith in humanity. There are others who focus in an instant all your latent distrust, morbidness and rebellion against life. Without knowing why, you chafe and fret in their presence. You lose your bearings on life and its problems. Your moral compass is disturbed and unsatisfactory. It is made untrue in an instant, as the magnetic needle of a ship is deflected when it passes near great mountains of iron ore.

Some men and women seem to radiate sunshine, cheer, and optimism. In their presence, you feel calm and rested. Your faith in humanity is instantly restored and made stronger. Others instantly bring out all your hidden distrust, gloom, and rebellion against life. Without knowing why, you feel restless and irritated around them. You lose your sense of direction in life and its problems. Your moral compass is disturbed and unreliable. It is thrown off in an instant, like a ship’s compass passing near great mountains of iron ore.

There are men who float down the stream of life like icebergs,--cold, reserved, unapproachable and self-contained. In their presence you involuntarily draw your wraps closer around you, as you wonder who left the door open. These refrigerated human beings have a most depressing influence on all those who fall under the spell of their radiated chilliness. But there are other natures, warm, helpful, genial, who are like the Gulf Stream, following their own course, flowing undaunted and undismayed in the ocean of colder waters. Their presence brings warmth and life and the glow of sunshine, the joyous, stimulating breath of spring. There are men who are like malarious swamps,--poisonous, depressing and weakening by their very presence. They make heavy, oppressive and gloomy the atmosphere of their own homes; the sound of the children's play is stilled, the ripples of laughter are frozen by their presence. They go through life as if each day were a new big funeral, and they were always chief mourners. There are other men who seem like the ocean; they are constantly bracing, stimulating, giving new draughts of tonic life and strength by their very presence.

Some men float down the stream of life like icebergs, cold, reserved, unapproachable, and self-contained. Around them, you pull your coat closer without thinking and wonder who left the door open. These human refrigerators have a deeply depressing effect on everyone who comes under the spell of their radiating chill. But others are warm, helpful, and friendly, like the Gulf Stream. They follow their own course, flowing without fear or discouragement through an ocean of colder water. Their presence brings warmth, life, and the glow of sunshine. It brings the joyful, invigorating breath of spring. Some men are like disease-ridden swamps, poisonous, depressing, and weakening just by being there. They make the atmosphere in their own homes heavy, oppressive, and gloomy. When they are present, the children stop playing and laughter freezes. They go through life as if every day were another big funeral and they were always the chief mourners. Other men seem like the ocean. Their presence is always refreshing and invigorating, giving others fresh doses of life and strength.

There are men who are insincere in heart, and that insincerity is radiated by their presence. They have a wondrous interest in your welfare,--when they need you. They put on a "property" smile so suddenly, when it serves their purpose, that it seems the smile must be connected with some electric button concealed in their clothes. Their voice has a simulated cordiality that long training may have made almost natural. But they never play their part absolutely true, the mask will slip down sometimes; their cleverness cannot teach their eyes the look of sterling honesty; they may deceive some people, but they cannot deceive all. There is a subtle power of revelation which makes us say: "Well, I cannot explain how it is, but I know that man is not honest."

Some men are insincere at heart, and their presence gives them away. They take a great interest in your welfare when they need you. They put on a "prop" smile so suddenly when it suits them that it seems connected to an electric button hidden in their clothes. Their voices have a false warmth that long practice may have made almost natural. But they never play their part perfectly. The mask will slip sometimes. For all their cleverness, they cannot give their eyes the look of genuine honesty. They may deceive some people, but they cannot deceive everyone. A subtle power reveals the truth and makes us say: "Well, I can't explain how, but I know that man is not honest."

Man cannot escape for one moment from this radiation of his character, this constantly weakening or strengthening of others. He cannot evade the responsibility by saying it is an unconscious influence. He can select the qualities that he will permit to be radiated. He can cultivate sweetness, calmness, trust, generosity, truth, justice, loyalty, nobility,--make them vitally active in his character,--and by these qualities he will constantly affect the world.

A man cannot escape the influence of his character, not even for a moment. He is constantly weakening or strengthening others. He cannot avoid responsibility by saying his influence is unconscious. He can choose which qualities he allows to radiate from him. He can cultivate kindness, calmness, trust, generosity, truth, justice, loyalty, and nobility. He can make them active forces in his character. Through these qualities, he will constantly affect the world.

Discouragement often comes to honest souls trying to live the best they can, in the thought that they are doing so little good in the world. Trifles unnoted by us may be links in the chain of some great purpose. In 1797, William Godwin wrote The Inquirer, a collection of revolutionary essays on morals and politics. This book influenced Thomas Malthus to write his Essay on Population, published in 1798. Malthus' book suggested to Charles Darwin a point of view upon which he devoted many years of his life, resulting, in 1859, in the publication of The Origin of Species,--the most influential book of the nineteenth century, a book that has revolutionized all science. These were but three links of influence extending over sixty years. It might be possible to trace this genealogy of influence back from Godwin, through generation and generation, to the word or act of some shepherd in early Britain, watching his flock upon the hills, living his quiet life, and dying with the thought that he had done nothing to help the world.

Honest people who try to live as well as they can often feel discouraged. They think they are doing so little good in the world. Yet small things we do not notice may be links in the chain of some great purpose. In 1797, William Godwin wrote The Inquirer, a collection of revolutionary essays on morals and politics. This book influenced Thomas Malthus to write his Essay on Population, published in 1798. Malthus' book suggested a point of view to Charles Darwin, who devoted many years of his life to it. This work led to the publication of The Origin of Species in 1859. It was the most influential book of the nineteenth century and revolutionized all science. These were only three links in a chain of influence stretching over sixty years. It might be possible to trace this chain back from Godwin, through generation after generation. It might lead to a word or action by a shepherd in early Britain. He watched his flock on the hills and lived a quiet life. He died thinking he had done nothing to help the world.

Men and women have duties to others,--and duties to themselves. In justice to ourselves we should refuse to live in an atmosphere that keeps us from living our best. If the fault be in us, we should master it. If it be the personal influence of others that, like a noxious vapor, kills our best impulses, we should remove from that influence,--if we can possibly move without forsaking duties. If it be wrong to move, then we should take strong doses of moral quinine to counteract the malaria of influence. It is not what those around us do for us that counts,--it is what they are to us. We carry our house-plants from one window to another to give them the proper heat, light, air and moisture. Should we not be at least as careful of ourselves?

Men and women have duties to others and to themselves. To be fair to ourselves, we should refuse to live in surroundings that keep us from being our best. If the fault lies in us, we should overcome it. If the influence of others kills our best impulses like a poisonous vapor, we should escape that influence. We should do so if we can possibly leave without abandoning our duties. If leaving would be wrong, we should take strong doses of moral quinine to counteract the malaria of influence. What matters is not what those around us do for us, but what they are to us. We move our houseplants from one window to another to give them the right warmth, light, air, and moisture. Should we not be at least as careful with ourselves?

To make our influence felt we must live our faith, we must practice what we believe. A magnet does not attract iron, as iron. It must first convert the iron into another magnet before it can attract it. It is useless for a parent to try to teach gentleness to her children when she herself is cross and irritable. The child who is told to be truthful and who hears a parent lie cleverly to escape some little social unpleasantness is not going to cling very zealously to truth. The parent's words say "don't lie," the influence of the parent's life says "do lie." No man can ever isolate himself to evade this constant power of influence, as no single corpuscle can rebel and escape from the general course of the blood. No individual is so insignificant as to be without influence. The changes in our varying moods are all recorded in the delicate barometers of the lives of others. We should ever let our influence filter through human love and sympathy. We should not be merely an influence,--we should be an inspiration. By our very presence we should be a tower of strength to the hungering human souls around us.

To make our influence felt, we must live our faith and practice what we believe. A magnet does not attract iron simply as iron. It must first turn the iron into another magnet before it can attract it. A parent cannot teach her children gentleness if she is cross and irritable herself. A child may be told to be truthful. But if that child hears a parent lie cleverly to avoid a small social embarrassment, truth will not seem very important. The parent's words say "don't lie," but the influence of the parent's life says "do lie." No one can escape this constant power of influence by living apart from others. No single blood cell can rebel and escape the general flow of the blood. No one is too insignificant to have influence. Every change in our moods is recorded in the sensitive barometers of other people's lives. We should always let our influence pass through human love and sympathy. We should not merely have influence. We should be an inspiration. By our very presence, we should be a tower of strength to the hungry human souls around us.