ON VANITY, PRIDE, AND AMBITION.
We shall not weary the reader by any common-place declamations upon
these moral topics. No great subtilty of distinction is requisite to
mark the differences between Vanity and Pride, since those differences
have been pointed out by every moralist, who has hoped to please
mankind by an accurate delineation of the failings of human nature.
Whatever distinctions exist, or may be supposed to exist, between the
characters in which pride or vanity predominates, it will readily be
allowed, that there is one thing in which they both agree--they both
receive pleasure from the approbation of others, and from their own.
We are disgusted with the vain man, when he intemperately indulges in
praise of himself, however justly he may be entitled to that praise,
because he offends against those manners which we have been accustomed
to think polite, and he claims from us a greater portion of sympathy
than we can possibly afford to give him. We are not, however, pleased
by the negligence with which the proud man treats us; we do not like
to see that he can exist in independent happiness, satisfied with a
cool internal sense of his own merits; he loses our sympathy, because
he does not appear to value it.
If we could give our pupils exactly the character we wish, what
degrees of vanity and pride should we desire them to have, and how
should we regulate these passions? Should we not desire, that their
ambition to excel might be sufficient to produce the greatest possible
exertions, directed to the best possible objects; that their opinion
of themselves should be strictly just, and should never be expressed
in such a manner as to offend against propriety, or so as to forfeit
the sympathy of mankind? As to the degree of pleasure which they
should feel from their secret reflections upon their own meritorious
conduct, we should certainly desire this to be as lasting, and as
exquisite, as possible. A considerable portion of the happiness of
life arises from the sense of self-approbation; we should, therefore,
secure this gratification in its utmost perfection. We must observe,
that, however independent the proud man imagines himself to be of the
opinions of all around him, he must form his judgment of his own
merits from some standard of comparison, by some laws drawn from
observation of what mankind in general, or those whom he particularly
esteems, think wise or amiable. He must begin then in the same manner
with the vain man, whom he despises, by collecting the suffrages of
others; if he selects, with perfect wisdom, the opinions which are
most just, he forms his character upon excellent principles; and the
more steadily he abides by his first views, the more he commands and
obtains respect. But if, unfortunately, he makes a mistake at first,
his obstinacy in errour is not to be easily corrected, for he is not
affected by the general voice of disapprobation, nor by the partial
loss of the common pleasures of sympathy. The vain man, on the
contrary, is in danger, let him form his first notions of right and
wrong ever so justly, of changing them when he happens to be in
society with any persons who do not agree with him in their moral
opinions, or who refuse him that applause which supports his own
feeble self-approbation. We must, in education, endeavour to guard
against these opposite dangers; we must enlighten the understanding,
to give our pupils the power of forming their rules of conduct
rightly, and we must give them sufficient strength of mind to abide by
the principles which they have formed. When we first praise children,
we must be careful to associate pleasure with those things which are
really deserving of approbation. If we praise them for beauty, or for
any happy expressions which entertain us, but which entertain us
merely as the sprightly nonsense of childhood, we create vanity in the
minds of our pupils; we give them false ideas of merit, and, if we
excite them to exertions, they are not exertions directed to any
valuable objects. Praise is a strong stimulus to industry, if it be
properly managed; but if we give it in too large and lavish quantities
early in life, we shall soon find that it loses its effect, and yet
that the _patient_ languishes for want of the excitation which custom
has rendered almost essential to his existence. We say the _patient_,
for this mental languor may be considered entirely as a disease. For
its cure, see the second volume of Zoonomia, under the article Vanity.
Children, who are habituated to the daily and hourly food of praise,
continually require this sustenance unless they are attended to; but
we may gradually break bad habits. It is said, that some animals can
supply themselves at a single draught with what will quench their
thirst for many days. The human animal may, perhaps, by education, be
taught similar foresight and abstinence in the management of his
thirst for flattery. Young people, who live with persons that seldom
bestow praise, do not expect that stimulus, and they are content if
they discover by certain signs, either in the countenance, manner, or
tone of voice, of those whom they wish to please, that they are
tolerably well satisfied. It is of little consequence by what language
approbation is conveyed, whether by words, or looks, or by that
silence which speaks with so much eloquence; but it is of great
importance that our pupils should set a high value upon the
expressions of our approbation. They will value it in proportion to
their esteem and their affection for us; we include in the word
_esteem_, a belief in our justice, and in our discernment. Expressions
of affection, associated with praise, not only increase the pleasure,
but they alter the nature the of that pleasure; and if they gratify
vanity, they at the same time excite some of the best feelings of the
heart. The selfishness of vanity is corrected by this association; and
the two pleasures of sympathy and self-complacency should never, when
we can avoid it, be separated.
Children, who are well educated, and who have acquired an habitual
desire for the approbation of their friends, may continue absolutely
indifferent to the praise of strangers, or of _common_ acquaintance;
nor is it probable that this indifference should suddenly be
conquered, because the greatest part of the pleasure of praise in
their mind, depends upon the esteem and affection which they feel for
the persons by whom it is bestowed. Instead of desiring that our
pupils should entirely repress, in the company of their own family,
the pleasure which they feel from the praise that is given to them by
their friends, we should rather indulge them in this natural expansion
of mind; we should rather permit their youthful vanity to display
itself openly to those whom they most love and esteem, than drive
them, by unreasonable severity, and a cold refusal of sympathy, into
the society of less rigid observers. Those who have an aversion to
vanity, will not easily bear with its uncultivated intemperance of
tongue; but they should consider, that much of what disgusts them, is
owing to the simplicity of childhood, which must be allowed time to
learn that respect for the feelings of others, which teaches us to
restrain our own: but we must not be in haste to restrain, lest we
teach hypocrisy, instead of strength of mind, or real humility. If we
expect that children should excel, and should not know that they
excel, we expect impossibilities; we expect at the same time,
intelligence and stupidity. If we desire that they should be excited
by praise, and that, at the same time, they should feel no pleasure in
the applause which they have earned, we desire things that are
incompatible. If we encourage children to be frank and sincere, and
yet, at the same time, reprove them whenever they naturally express
their opinions of themselves, or the pleasurable feelings of
self-approbation, we shall counteract our own wishes. Instead of
hastily blaming children for the sincere and simple expression of
their self-complacency, or of their desire for the approbation of
others, we should gradually point out to them the truth--that those
who refrain from that display of their own perfections which we call
vanity, in fact are well repaid for the constraint which they put upon
themselves, by the superior degree of respect and sympathy which they
obtain; that vain people effectually counteract their own wishes, and
meet with contempt, instead of admiration. By appealing constantly,
when we praise, to the judgment of the pupils themselves, we shall at
once teach them the habit of re-judging flattery, and substitute, by
insensible degrees, patient, steady confidence in themselves, for the
wavering, weak, impatience of vanity. In proportion as any one's
confidence in himself increases, his anxiety for the applause of
others diminishes: people are very seldom vain of any accomplishments
in which they obviously excel, but they frequently continue to be vain
of those which are doubtful. Where mankind have not confirmed their
own judgment, they are restless, and continually aim either at
convincing others, or themselves, that they are in the right. Hogarth,
who invented a new and original manner of satirizing the follies of
mankind, was not vain of this talent, but was extremely vain of his
historical paintings, which were indifferent performances. Men of
acknowledged literary talents, are seldom fond of amateurs; but, if
they are but half satisfied of their own superiority, they collect the
tribute of applause with avidity, and without discrimination or
delicacy. Voltaire has been reproached with treating strangers rudely
who went to Ferney, to see and admire a philosopher as a prodigy.
Voltaire valued his time more than he did this vulgar admiration; his
visiters, whose understanding had not gone through exactly the same
process, who had not, probably, been satisfied with public applause,
and who set, perhaps, a considerable value upon their own praise,
could not comprehend this appearance of indifference to admiration in
Voltaire, especially when it was well known that he was not insensible
of fame. He was, at an advanced age, exquisitely anxious about the
fate of one of his tragedies; and a public coronation at the theatre
at Paris, had power to inebriate him at eighty-four. Those who have
exhausted the stimulus of wine, may yet be intoxicated by opium. The
voice of numbers appears to be sometimes necessary to give delight to
those who have been fatigued with the praise of individuals; but this
taste for _acclamation_ is extremely dangerous. A multitude of good
judges seldom meet together.
By a slight difference in their manner of reasoning, two men of
abilities, who set out with the same desire for fame, may acquire
different habits of pride, or of vanity; the one may value the number,
the other may appreciate the judgment of his admirers. There is
something not only more wise, but more elevated, in this latter
species of select triumph; the noise is not so great; the music is
better. "If I listened to the music of praise," says an historian, who
obviously was not insensible to its charms, "I was more seriously
satisfied with the approbation of my _judges_. The candour of Dr.
Robertson embraced his disciple. A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid the
labour of ten years."[93] Surely no one can be displeased with this
last generous expression of enthusiasm; we are not so well satisfied
with Buffon, when he ostentatiously displays the epistles of a prince
and an empress.[94]
Perhaps, by pointing out at proper opportunities the difference in our
feelings with respect to vulgar and refined vanity, we might make a
useful impression upon those who have yet their habits to form. The
conversion of vanity into pride, is not so difficult a process as
those, who have not analyzed both, might, from the striking difference
of their appearance, imagine. By the opposite tendencies of education,
opposite characters from the same original dispositions are produced.
Cicero, had he been early taught to despise the applause of the
multitude, would have turned away like the proud philosopher, who
asked his friends what absurdity he had uttered, when he heard the
populace loud in acclamations of his speech; and the cynic, whose
vanity was seen through the holes in his cloak, might, perhaps, by a
slight difference in his education, have been rendered ambitious of
the Macedonian purple.
In attempting to convert vanity into pride, we must begin by
exercising the vain patient in forbearance of present pleasure; it is
not enough to convince his understanding, that the advantages of proud
humility are great; he may be perfectly sensible of this, and may yet
have so little command over himself, that his loquacious vanity may
get the better, from hour to hour, of his better judgment. Habits are
not to be instantaneously conquered by reason; if we do not keep this
fact in our remembrance, we shall be frequently disappointed in
education; and we shall, perhaps, end by thinking that reason can do
nothing, if we begin by thinking that she can do every thing. We must
not expect that a vain child should suddenly break and forget all his
past associations; but we may, by a little early attention, prevent
much of the trouble of curing, or converting, the disease of vanity.
When children first begin to learn accomplishments, or to apply
themselves to literature, those who instruct, are apt to encourage
them with too large a portion of praise; _the smallest quantity of
stimulus that can produce the exertion we desire, should be used_; if
we use more, we waste our power, and injure our pupil. As soon as
habit has made any exertion familiar, and consequently easy, we may
withdraw the original excitation, and the exertion will still
continue. In learning, for instance, a new language, at first, whilst
the pupil is in the midst of the difficulties of regular and irregular
verbs, and when, in translation, a dictionary is wanted at every
moment, the occupation itself cannot be very agreeable; but we are
excited by the hope that our labour will every day diminish, and that
we shall at last enjoy the entertainment of reading useful and
agreeable books. Children, who have not learnt by experience the
pleasures of literature, cannot feel this hope as strongly as we do,
we, therefore, excite them by praise; but by degrees they begin to
feel the pleasure of success and occupation; when these are felt, we
may and ought to withdraw the unnecessary excitements of praise. If we
continue, we mislead the child's mind, and, whilst we deprive him of
his natural reward, we give him a factitious taste. When any moral
habit is to be acquired, or when we wish that our pupil should cure
himself of any fault, we must employ at first strong excitement, and
reward with warmth and eloquence of approbation; when the fault is
conquered, when the virtue is acquired, the extraordinary excitement
should be withdrawn, and all this should not be done with an air of
mystery and artifice; the child should know all that we do, and why
we do it; the sooner he learns how his own mind is managed, the
better--the sooner he will assist in his own education.
Every body must have observed, that languor of mind succeeds to the
intoxication of vanity; if we can avoid the intoxication, we shall
avoid the languor. Common sayings often imply those sensible
observations which philosophers, when they theorize only, express in
other words. We frequently hear it said to a child, "Praise spoils
you; my praise did you harm; you can't bear praise well; you grow
conceited; you become idle; you are good for nothing, because you have
been too much flattered." All these expressions show, that the
consequences of over-stimulating the mind by praise, have been vaguely
taken notice of in education; but no general rules have been deduced
from these observations. With children of different habits and
temperaments, the same degree of excitement acts differently, so that
it is scarcely possible to fix upon any positive quantity fit for all
dispositions--the quantity must be relative; but we may, perhaps, fix
upon a criterion by which, in most cases, the proportion may be
ascertained. The golden rule,[95] which an eminent physician has given
to the medical world for ascertaining the necessary and useful
quantity of stimulus for weak and feverish patients, may, with
advantage, be applied in education. Whenever praise produces the
intoxication of vanity, it is hurtful; whenever the appearances of
vanity diminish in consequence of praise, we may be satisfied that it
does good, that it increases the pupil's confidence in himself, and
his strength of mind. We repeat, that persons who have confidence in
themselves, may be proud, but are never vain; that vanity cannot
support herself without the concurring flattery of others; pride is
satisfied with his own approbation. In the education of children who
are more inclined to pride than to vanity, we must present large
objects to the understanding, and large motives must be used to excite
voluntary exertion. If the understanding of proud people be not early
cultivated, they frequently fix upon some false ideas of honour or
dignity, to which they are resolute martyrs through life. Thus the
high-born Spaniards, if we may be allowed to reason from the imperfect
history of national character. The Spaniards, who associate the ideas
of dignity and indolence, would rather submit to the evils of poverty,
than to the imaginary disgrace of working for their bread. Volney, and
the baron de Tott, give us some curious instances of the pride of the
Turks, which prevents them from being taught any useful arts by
foreigners. To show how early false associations are formed and
supported by pride, we need but recollect the anecdote of the child
mentioned by de Tott.[96] The baron de Tott bought a pretty toy for a
present for a little Turkish friend, but the child was too proud to
seem pleased with the toy; the child's grandfather came into the room,
saw, and was delighted with the toy, sat down on the carpet, and
played with it until he broke it. We like the second childhood of the
grandfather better than the premature old age of the grandson.
The self-command which the fear of disgrace insures, can produce
either great virtues, or great vices. Revenge and generosity are, it
is said, to be found in their highest state amongst nations and
individuals characterized by pride. The early objects which are
associated with the idea of honour in the mind, are of great
consequence; but it is of yet more consequence to teach proud minds
early to bend to the power of reason, or rather to glory in being
governed by reason. They should be instructed, that the only possible
means of maintaining their opinions amongst persons of sense, is to
support them by unanswerable arguments. They should be taught, that,
to secure respect, they must deserve it; and their self-denial, or
self-command, should never obtain that tacit admiration which they
most value, except where it is exerted for useful and rational
purposes. The constant custom of appealing, in the last resort, to
their own judgment, which distinguishes the proud from the vain, makes
it peculiarly necessary that the judgment, to which so much is
trusted, should be highly cultivated. A vain man may be tolerably well
conducted in life by a sensible friend; a proud man ought to be able
to conduct himself perfectly well, because he will not accept of any
assistance. It seems that some proud people confine their benevolent
virtues within a smaller sphere than others; they value only their own
relations, their friends, their country, or whatever is connected with
themselves. This species of pride may be corrected by the same means
which are used to increase sympathy.[97] Those who, either from
temperament, example, or accidental circumstances, have acquired the
habit of repressing and commanding their emotions, must be carefully
distinguished from the selfish and insensible. In the present times,
when the affectation of sensibility is to be dreaded, we should rather
encourage that species of pride which disdains to display the
affections of the heart. "You Romans triumph over your tears, and call
it virtue! I triumph in my tears," says Caractacus; his tears were
respectable, but in general the Roman triumph would command the most
sympathy.
Some people attribute to pride all expressions of confidence in one's
self: these may be offensive to common society, but they are sometimes
powerful over the human mind, and where they are genuine, mark
somewhat superior in character. Much of the effect of lord Chatham's
eloquence, much of his transcendent influence in public, must be
attributed to the confidence which he showed in his own superiority.
"I trample upon impossibilities!" was an exclamation which no
inferiour mind would dare to make. Would the house of commons have
permitted any one but lord Chatham to have answered an oration by
"Tell me, gentle shepherd, where?" The danger of failing, the hazard
that he runs of becoming ridiculous who verges upon the moral sublime,
is taken into our account when we judge of the action, and we pay
involuntary tribute to courage and success: but how miserable is the
fate of the man who mistakes his own powers, and upon trial is unable
to support his assumed superiority; mankind revenge themselves without
mercy upon his ridiculous pride, eager to teach him the difference
between insolence and magnanimity. Young people inclined to over-rate
their own talents, or to under-value the abilities of others, should
frequently have instances given to them from real life, of the
mortifications and disgrace to which imprudent boasters expose
themselves. Where they are able to demonstrate their own abilities,
they run no risk in speaking with decent confidence; but where their
success depends, in any degree, either upon fortune or opinion, they
should never run the hazard of presumption. Modesty prepossesses
mankind in favour of its possessor, and has the advantage of being
both graceful and safe: this was perfectly understood by the crafty
Ulysses, who neither raised his eyes, nor stretched his sceptered
hand, "when he first rose to speak." We do not, however, recommend
this artificial modesty; its trick is soon discovered, and its
sameness of dissimulation presently disgusts. Prudence should prevent
young people from hazardous boasting; and good nature and good sense,
which constitute real politeness, will restrain them from obtruding
their merits to the mortification of their companions: but we do not
expect from them total ignorance of their own comparative merit. The
affectation of humility, when carried to the extreme, to which all
affectation is liable to be carried, appears full as ridiculous as
troublesome, and offensive as any of the graces of vanity, or the airs
of pride. Young people are cured of presumption by mixing with
society, but they are not so easily cured of any species of
affectation.
In the chapter on female accomplishments, we have endeavoured to point
out, that the enlargement of understanding in the fair sex, which must
result from their increasing knowledge, will necessarily correct the
feminine foibles of vanity and affectation.
Strong, prophetic, eloquent praise, like that which the great lord
Chatham bestowed on his son, would rather inspire in a generous soul
noble emulation, than paltry vanity. "On this boy," said he, laying
his hand upon his son's head, "descends my mantle, with a double
portion of my spirit!" Phillip's praise of his son Alexander, when the
boy rode the unmanageable horse,[98] is another instance of the kind
of praise capable of exciting ambition.
As to ambition, we must decide what species of ambition we mean,
before we can determine whether it ought to be encouraged or
repressed; whether it should be classed amongst virtues or vices; that
is to say, whether it adds to the happiness or the misery of human
creatures. "The inordinate desire of fame," which often destroys the
lives of millions when it is connected with ideas of military
enthusiasm, is justly classed amongst the "_diseases of volition_:"
for its description and cure we refer to Zoonomia, vol. ii. Achilles
will there appear to his admirers, perhaps, in a new light.
The ambition to rise in the world, usually implies a mean, sordid
desire of riches, or what are called honours, to be obtained by the
common arts of political intrigue, by cabal to win popular favour, or
by address to conciliate the patronage of the great. The experience of
those who have been governed during their lives by this passion, if
passion it may be called, does not show that it can confer much
happiness either in the pursuit or attainment of its objects. See Bubb
Doddington's Diary, a most useful book; a journal of the petty
anxieties, and constant dependence, to which an ambitious courtier is
necessarily subjected. See also Mirabeau's "Secret History of the
Court of Berlin," for a picture of a man of great abilities degraded
by the same species of low unprincipled competition. We may find in
these books, it is to be hoped, examples which will strike young and
generous minds, and which may inspire them with contempt for the
objects and the means of vulgar ambition. There is a more noble
ambition, by which the enthusiastic youth, perfect in the theory of
all the virtues, and warm with yet unextinguished benevolence, is apt
to be seized; his heart beats with the hope of immortalizing himself
by noble actions; he forms extensive plans for the improvement and the
happiness of his fellow creatures; he feels the want of power to carry
these into effect; power becomes the object of his wishes. In the
pursuit, in the attainment of this object, how are his feelings
changed! M. Necker, in the preface to his work on French finance,[99]
paints, with much eloquence, and with an appearance of perfect truth,
the feelings of a man of virtue and genius, before and after the
attainment of political power. The moment when a minister takes
possession of his place, surrounded by crowds and congratulations, is
well described; and the succeeding moment, when clerks with immense
portfolios enter, is a striking contrast. Examples from romance can
never have such a powerful effect upon the mind, as those which are
taken from real life; but in proportion to the just and lively
representation of situations, and passions resembling reality,
fictions may convey useful moral lessons. In the Cyropaedia there is an
admirable description of the day spent by the victorious Cyrus, giving
audience to the unmanageable multitude, after the taking of Babylon
had accomplished the fullness of his ambition.[100]
It has been observed, that these examples of the insufficiency of the
objects of ambition to happiness, seldom make any lasting impression
upon the minds of the ambitious. This may arise from two causes; from
the reasoning faculty's not having been sufficiently cultivated, or
from the habits of ambition being formed before proper examples are
presented to the judgment for comparison. Some ambitious people, when
they reason coolly, acknowledge and feel the folly of their pursuits;
but still, from the force of habit, they act immediately in obedience
to the motives which they condemn: others, who have never been
accustomed to reason firmly, believe themselves to be in the right in
the choice of their objects; and they cannot comprehend the arguments
which are used by those who have not the same way of thinking as
themselves. If we fairly place facts before young people, who have
been habituated to reason, and who have not yet been inspired with the
passion, or enslaved by the habits of vulgar ambition, it is probable,
that they will not be easily effaced from the memory, and that they
will influence the conduct through life.
It sometimes happens to men of a sound understanding, and a
philosophic turn of mind, that their ambition decreases with their
experience. They begin with some ardor, perhaps, an ambitious pursuit;
but by degrees they find the pleasure of the occupation sufficient
without the fame, which was their original object. This is the same
process which we have observed in the minds of children with respect
to the pleasures of literature, and the taste for sugar-plums.
Happy the child who can be taught to improve himself without the
stimulus of sweetmeats! Happy the man who can preserve activity
without the excitements of ambition!
FOOTNOTES:
[93] Gibbon. Memoirs of his Life and Writings, page 148.--Perhaps
Gibbon had this excellent line of Mrs. Barbauld's in his memory:
"And pay a life of hardships with a line."
[94] See Peltier's state of Paris in the years 1795 and 1796.
[95] See Zoonomia, vol. i. p. 99.
[96] V. De Tott's Memoirs, p. 138, a note.
[97] V. Sympathy.
[98] V. Plutarch.
[99] Necker de l'Administration des Finances de la France, vol. i. p.
98.
[100] Cyropaedia, vol. ii. page 303.