False grandeur is savage and inaccessible: as though it sensed its weakness, it hides itself, or at least doesn't show itself abreast, and doesn't let itself be seen except when it needs to be imposing or to not seem like what it is, I mean a real smallness. True grandeur is free, sweet, familiar, popular; it let's itself be touched and handled, it doesn't lose anything from being seen close up; the more one knows it, the more one admires it. It curbs itself out of good-will toward it's inferiors, and comes back into it's natural condition without effort; it abandons itself sometimes, neglects itself, gets rid of its advantages, always able to pick them up again when it wants to; it laughs, plays, and chats, but with dignity; one approaches it with freedom and reserve together. Its character is noble and easy, inspires respect and confidence, and makes princes seem great, and very great, without making us feel small.