Thinking of the evil emanating from a bad man, Bunyan made Apollyon’s nostrils emit flames.  Edward Everett insists that Daniel Webster’s eyes during his greatest speech literally emitted sparks.  Had we tests fine enough we would doubtless find each man’s personality the center of outreaching influences.  He himself may be utterly unconscious of this exhalation of moral forces, as he is of the contagion of disease from his body.  But if light is in him he shines; if darkness rules he shades, if his heart glows with love he warms; if frozen with selfishness he chills; if corrupt he poisons; if pure-hearted he cleanses.  We watch with wonder the apparent flight of the sun through space, glowing upon dead planets, shortening winter and bringing summer, with birds, leaves and fruits.  But that is not half so wonderful as the passage of a human heart, glowing and sparkling with ten thousand effects, as it moves through life.  The soul, like the sun, has its atmosphere, and is over against its fellows, for light, warmth and transformation.

All great writers have had their incident of the atmosphere their hero carried.  Centuries ago King Saul sent his officers to arrest a seer who had publicly indicted the tyrant for outbreaking sins.  When the soldier entered the prophet’s presence he was so profoundly affected by the majesty of his character that he forgot the commission and his lord’s command, asking rather to become the good man’s protector.  Likewise with the second group of soldiers—­coming to arrest, they remained to befriend.  Then the King’s anger was exceedingly hot against him who had become a conscience for the throne.  Rushing forth from his palace, like an angry lion from his lair, the King sought the place where this man of God was teaching the people.  But, lo! when the King entered the brave man’s presence his courage, fidelity and integrity overcame Saul and conquered him unto confession of his wickedness.  Just here we may remember that stout-hearted Pilate, with a legion of mailed soldiers to protect him, trembled and quaked before his silent prisoner.  And King Agrippa on his throne was afraid, when Paul lifting his chains, fronted him with words of righteousness and judgment.  Carlyle says that in 1848, during the riot in Paris, the mob swept down a street blazing with cannon, killed the soldiers, spiked the guns, only to be stopped a few blocks beyond by an old, white-haired man who uncovered and signaled for silence.  Then the leader of the mob said:  “Citizens, it is De la Eure.  Sixty years of pure life is about to address you!” A true man’s presence transformed a mob that cannon could not conquer.