One of the reasons why we may withdraw from the entire idea of becoming more confident are the images we carry in our minds about what a confident person might be like. Confidence can seem synonymous with brash arrogance and unthinking boosterism; with the chiselled-jaw jock we knew from university or the garrulous financier we met on holiday. We can end up taking counterproductive pride in underselling ourselves and staying quiet because we cannot find any confident characters with whom we would remotely seek to identify. Hence the importance of a group of people sitting on a lawn in a square in central London in 1915. They belonged to what we now know as the Bloomsbury Group, the most influential intellectual movement of their age responsible for pioneering developments in literature, science, economics and art. Part of what distinguished these avant garde thinkers was the extremely cautious and outwardly modest way in which they carried out their revolution. Many were known for their manners and their shyness. The painter and costume designer Duncan Grant mumbled ‘sorry’ whenever he could; the biographer Lytton Strachey (with the beard) spoke in a low, respectful mumble; and the artist Vanessa Bell tended always to ask others questions to downplay her own intelligence. Nevertheless, these men and women took a sledgehammer to the stifling verities of the Victorian age and ushered in the modern world. The economist John Maynard Keynes invented the welfare state; Virginia Woolf remade the novel, Vanessa Bell introduced abstraction into British art. But they did so with confidence of a particular sort, a kind compatible with politeness, humility, smiles — and tea. We may be in danger of gravely neglecting our potential so long as we continue to operate with a brittle concept of what confidence might look like. We can, in reality, be quiet and confident, gentle and confident, thoughtful and confident. We can remain ourselves even as we adopt an underlying steeliness that infuses our projects with power and our thoughts with resolve. We can change the world without having to be bullies — or lose our manners.
At present, our culture is dominated by a Romantic outlook; its predecessor, and in many ways its more deserving alternative, is a Classical view of life. Classicism is founded upon an intense, pessimistic awareness of the frailties of human nature and on a suspicion of unexamined instinct. The Classical attitude knows that our emotions can frequently over-power our better insights, that we repeatedly misunderstand ourselves and others, and that we are never far from folly, harm and error. In response, Classicism seeks via culture to correct the failings of our minds. Classicism is wary of our instinctive longing for perfection. In love, it counsels a gracious acceptance of the ‘madness’ inside each partner. It knows that ecstasy cannot last, and that the basis of all good relationships must be tolerance and mutual sympathy. Classicism has a high regard for domestic life; it sees apparently minor practical details as deeply worthy of care and effort; it doesn’t think it would be degrad...

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