while cruelty to animals and ridicule of men is a sure sign of a bad
character.
One of the best tests of real kind-heartedness is the conduct of men
in the presence of long-persisting or altogether hopeless misfortune:
those who possess but little of that quality grow weary and soon
abandon the unfortunate one to his fate, perhaps with the fine
sentiment, “one must leave him alone with his God”; others, who with
a true sympathy persevere, stand the highest test of the unselfish
love of humanity. Such are ordinarily simple, poor people, while the
cultured and the rich far more rarely show themselves equal to the
test. This natural nobility of character, the most valuable of all the
natural endowments of men, is far more generally found in the lower
classes, and the “noblest of the nations” are to be sought elsewhere
than where we are wont, in the usual manner of speaking, to assume them
to be.
The basest human characteristic is innate faithlessness. When this is
present, all the other so-called good qualities do not countervail;
they but make the man the more dangerous, while faithfulness makes
some expiation for the worst failings.
A sure mark of an essentially mean man is ingratitude. It sets him
below the nobler animals, all of which are grateful. An especially
hateful form of ingratitude is that which, in order to escape the
necessity of showing gratitude, treats the acceptance of benefits as
a favor shown by the receiver and therefore an honor conferred upon
the giver for which he must feel under obligation. Benefits received
generally make only the noble-minded thankful. Others as soon as
possible seek a pretext to avoid this feeling, to them oppressive. The
paying back of borrowed money, particularly, is regarded as a merit on
their part for which the creditor owes them lifelong gratitude.
In the correct estimation of men, the most important consideration
is the caliber they possess. But caliber can not be given a man even
by the best of education and the highest of culture. Caliber is a
gift of nature; a baby cat will never become a lion, similar as they
may at first appear to be. The caliber present in a man can be but
enlarged, not changed, through the great happenings of life, through
severe sorrows, or through a very good environment, particularly if
one have faithful and very well-disposed friends, or if one make the
right marriage. We must, therefore, be careful not to wrong men by
rating them too high and so requiring too much of them; it is not in
their power to do it, but after their fashion, perhaps, they may be
good, faithful men, on whom we may count for something, and who often
accomplish more than they would if they imagined themselves to be of
more consequence than they are.
We must never seek for an intimate personal knowledge of the people
to whom we want to surrender ourselves unconditionally, or to whom we
intend to remain unconditionally hostile; for in both instances we
shall become easily disconcerted by finding characteristics in them
which will contradict our preconceived opinions. For a like reason, one
ought to learn to know one’s enemies in person, and on the other hand,
not to see one’s friends too often.
A man’s reputation is not absolutely determinative in forming an
estimate of him. Men of note, especially, are often different from what
we had fancied them to be. On the whole, however, the public judgment
passed on a man seldom goes altogether astray and is a very important
factor in making up our estimate. In particular, there is no such thing
as a complete misappreciation of a good man all his life through. The
public judgment as to men who are much exposed to such judgment is
generally subject, indeed, to continual fluctuation, like the surface
of water, but it, nevertheless, has the tendency (not to be deflected)
of ever returning again to its proper level. In the case of all good
men, we can count on their having an aristocratic nature. Democracy is
correct, as a political conviction, but as an ingrained characteristic
it has no worth.
Men who are fundamentally good we learn best to know in their time of
trouble, for then the possibilities that lie within them come more
clearly to light; but men of mediocre worth we learn best to know in
their time of prosperity and by their manner of enjoying pleasures.
All who hate men on principle are themselves egotists. On the
other hand, it is certainly a matter of experience that we do have
disillusionments even as to the best men, and as to educated people
even more than simple folk. As a general thing, one should not put
absolute trust in men, and the best and most trustworthy friendships
are those which have either sprung from a previous enmity, or have been
once (but not twice) broken off. For then alone does one see the shadow
side of his friend, and so can henceforth discount it. On the other
hand, a frequent vacillation between friendship and hostility is a mark
of a weak character.
That we learn to know our real friends only in time of need, and that
we should quietly let those go who are then unfaithful, is a truth
almost too trifling to be once more expressed.
Why it is that, when misfortune comes, we suddenly possess friends
so startlingly few, is to be explained psychologically thus: the
less generous natures are afraid they will be obliged to give actual
help, while the more generous often think they see the impossibility
of rendering any help at all and are ashamed, wrongly, to offer only
sympathy. In many cases even very well-wishing men fall into the
mistake of Job’s friends and involuntarily assume that every misfortune
is more or less one’s own fault, so that pity must be tempered by
censure and admonitions. Then the more thoughtless ones speak out
their mind, while men of finer feelings rather draw back, so as not to
be obliged to do it.
And all this is still oftener true in the case of relatives.
To be envied is a very disagreeable thing to have accompany one through
life, and it usually ceases only toward life’s end. But it is, for all
persons of real consequence, a very necessary protection against too
great a veneration on the part of others. Such veneration would do
much more harm if it were unmixed with envy. And it is generally of
little value. A dram of real friendship is worth much more than a whole
wagon-load of veneration.
One great rule for finding out men is this: give yourself out to be
frankly just what you are; above all, frankly hate wrong things on
principle, and let no opportunity of showing it pass by. Then men
will show their own cards more openly to you. Public personages, in
particular, must in their whole life be clear as glass and transparent
as crystal, so that men may see everything without reserve.
In general, as to good qualities, men like best to speak of those
they do not possess; while, as to evil qualities, the proverb speaks
truly: “With what the heart is full, with that the mouth runs over.”
People who take pleasure in speaking often of impure things and the
dangers of the world in this regard, although they may do so with
the most earnest show of disapprobation, always feel a strong secret
inclination thereto. Others, whose every third word is “benevolence”
and “good works,” have to struggle with a disposition toward avarice
or covetousness. The worst are those who are forever talking of
“uprightness” and “loyalty.”
Most fanatics for some specialty have become such because they knew
very well in the beginning that without such a heightening of their
feeling they would not persevere in it. In most cases, therefore, they
are not wholly sincere.
It is one of the best signs for a man if humble people feel confidence
and good-will toward him--little children, above all, but also
simple-hearted poor folks, and even animals. The man whom children
and animals can not endure is not to be trusted. Women, too, are good
judges--that is, if they themselves are good; otherwise they are just
the opposite. To be much with unpretending people contributes greatly
to one’s contentment with life. All great pessimists have despised
them, yet have found no satisfaction in the people of more importance
whose companionship they have sought.
Pessimism and the detestation of one’s fellow-men, when displayed by
young people, point (if they are not merely talking for effect) to
irregular habits of living. But they who keep their youth clean have a
source of unfailing delight in life.
We are not upright because men praise us; we are upright if we receive
the praise of God. Any one who has ever experienced this will also know
that, however unreliable and cheap the praise of men may be, it always
makes us a little proud and leads us away from the truth, but the
praise of God never has any such result. Of pious people who are proud
the assertion can quite safely be made that God has never praised them;
they praise themselves and let others praise them.
Pride is always mixed with a portion of stupidity. Vanity makes us
ridiculous to people, but not odious; pride, on the other hand, so
works upon others as to call out defiance mingled with contempt. As
the proverb says, pride always goes immediately before a fall. When a
man becomes proud, he has lost his game, and it may be safely counted
on that he is approaching a downfall. As soon as God forsakes us, our
own heart is lifted up.
On the other hand, the faults which have become clear to ourselves and
which have bred humility within us are often not so very perceptible to
others. They no longer put themselves so noticeably in evidence as do
the faults we will not or can not yet see. This is the first striking
reward of battling against oneself.
Every one stands in need of straight-forward but kindly criticism. This
is the reason progress is made by the simple people who, when they
make a mistake, are censured and admonished by everybody, without any
beating around the bush; while people of higher standing, after their
school years are over, seldom have the advantage of being judiciously
censured. Even their critics often only wish to show them how important
and indispensable they are to them, and attack some minor defeat of
little moment one way or the other.
It is an important thing to acquire the art of speaking of one’s
own doings in a quiet and matter-of-fact manner, if, indeed, they
have to be spoken of at all. It usually happens that some men show
themselves too vain of their accomplishments, and thereby arouse
open or secret opposition; while others speak of them with a certain
off-hand disparagement, as much as to say that they have plenty more
in stock. It is the best way to speak of one’s performances as little
as possible, and, in any case, never to introduce the subject oneself.
Vanity is always recognized, even by the simplest. The only sure means
of not passing for a vain man is--not to be vain.
If a young man is forward or even only very confident, if there is not
a little of shyness about him, he has a defective character and little
real merit; or at least he has ripened very early and will develop
no further. The widespread prepossession that, without plenty of
assurance, one can not get through the world is incorrect, unless one
is thinking of momentary success.
A very suspicious, at any rate imprudent, propensity of many people
is that of being the bearers of bad news. The motives, indeed, may
be very different; but in most cases there is mingled with it a kind
of self-elevation which takes pleasure in seeing others deeply shaken
and humbled, an ungenerous feeling that often comes very near to being
malice. This is instinctively felt on the other side, and something of
the unpleasant remembrance is ever afterward associated with the one
who caused it.
Those persons are of no worth who have never been broken by a great
sorrow or by a thorough humiliation of their self-esteem. They retain
something small, or arrogantly self-righteous, or unkind about them
which, in spite of their probity (which they ordinarily think a great
deal of), makes them disagreeable to God and man.
One must always be on one’s guard before people who do not have a
kindly nature. A natural disposition to maliciousness is very hard to
be overcome. It shows itself most easily in a tendency to making sport
of others.
It is an uncommonly pleasant thing, on the other hand, to have to
do with people who make their fellow-men feel comfortable in their
presence, who are always even-tempered, always friendly and ready to
help, never nervously unquiet or intrusive, rejoicing in the welfare
of others, sympathetic and consolatory in trouble. This does not
necessitate a clever mind; on the contrary, the very clever people
often lack just this quality, which, for the first time, would make all
their other qualities really useful and valuable.
At ordinary times it is very difficult to recognize real bravery. Yet
there is one unfailing sign. Brave people never enter a fight with
arrogance and are less afraid after a defeat than after a victory,
since every victory works some injustice to the opposing side; while
cowards show themselves arrogant after every victory. As to this
characteristic, a man best learns to know himself in his dreams. There
he sees himself as he is, being beyond the control of a better will
that does not depend upon merely physical and mental emotions.
A crafty shrewdness always lowers a man in our regard. We think of the
possibility of its being used against us. Therefore, as a proverb says,
“all foxes come to be skinned at last.” No one likes them, and in the
long run they lose their game.
Every man should perfect his own national type. When a man no longer
knows to which nation he belongs, he becomes an unedifying phenomenon.
Therefore dwellers on the border are often vacillating in their nature,
and polyglot speech is, as a rule, a mark neither of genius nor of
character. The most questionable people are those who mingle different
languages in a single sentence and who lack education besides.
Not very much, on the whole, is to be learned from the external
features of a man; the science of physiognomy is a deceptive one,
generally speaking. Yet a strong development of the lower part
of the face as contrasted with the upper, an insignificant chin,
expressionless eyes, an ever uneasy glance of the eye, and a habit of
speaking very loud in the case of women, portend nothing favorable.
Happily, these latter are never able to imitate the expression of
innocence.
The wide diffusion of photography has been very injurious for the
knowledge of human nature, since they usually make the photograph
a deceptive portrait, and one who sees it is, therefore, favorably
prepossessed.
As to human efficiency, it mostly depends upon a certain confidence a
man has with his contemporaries. God alone can give this, and, as a
rule, it appears late, in the case of men of real note. All the stones
must first be rejected by the builders before they can become the head
of the corner. This is the only right course for a man’s life to take,
and no sort of exertion can supply its place.
With men of original qualities one usually goes through three stages
of acquaintanceship. In the first stage, they please one absolutely;
in the second, they rather repel, on account of the angularities and
singularities of all sorts in their nature; in the third, however, the
whole man again pleases. But in the case of more ordinary men, one’s
first impression is slight, the second is often better, on account of
various good individual qualities, but the final impression, again,
is unsatisfying. Take it all in all, one may perhaps say that the
first impression one has of a man, provided one is himself quite
unprejudiced, is the right one.
Hardest of all it is to read human nature from the point of view of
religion. It is easiest to do so along the lines of the first epistle
of John, the first six verses of the fourth chapter, and the first five
verses of the fifth chapter. But, along with this, we must not exclude
a certain human excellence which rests upon philosophical culture, or
upon great sagacity and experience of life. All piety must make one
more friendly, or it is not genuine.
Who are to be preferred, the nice people who are not religious, or the
religious people (and there are really such) who are not (at least not
always) nice? I am afraid this is the point where our view does not
always coincide with God’s. (Luke v. 32.)
To do things on generous lines often seems, especially to the man still
young, easier than to do things along the lines of duty. Well, then, do
so at first. But when you can once do the one, then you must learn to
do the other also, else your life remains beautiful--but incomplete.
The visitation of sins unto the third and fourth generation may be
regarded from this point of view: that for so long a period God is
yet laboring with these generations. The worst that can happen to men
is not this visitation, but that God may leave them henceforth quite
to their own way and will. For the wicked, visitation is, therefore,
always a tender of amnesty, but lasting good fortune means rejection.
A temperament always equable, somewhat cool but not selfish, and
sympathetic and friendly to every one, is perhaps the happiest if one
wishes to be generally liked. Such men pass for especially amiable
people and are universally esteemed, without their often contributing
anything important and solid to the advance of the world. There are
actually people, therefore, who assume this manner from policy. But
whether these amiable people have not, after all, buried their talent,
is another question.
* * * * *
That intercourse with men which is the art of life is necessarily
based, if it is to be brought under rational rules at all, upon
a correct knowledge of men. For whoever voluntarily seeks the
companionship of men whom he knows to be bad or false is, with all his
knowledge of human nature, a fool and a suicide besides. In this point
we have departed widely from the conceptions of our grandfathers; human
intercourse has to-day become much less sentimental and much more
serious than a hundred years ago. In this matter the ever-recurring
question whether the men are by nature good or bad is beside the mark.
As a matter of fact, men have the disposition to be both, and it is our
concern, therefore, as Paul says, not to be overcome of the evil we can
not avoid meeting, but to overcome evil with good.
If one does not always keep this before his eyes as a fundamental rule
of life, then all intercourse with the bad and weak (which is never to
be wholly evaded) will be, for men of the better sort, an evil that may
lead at last to a contempt for humanity and a desire for isolation, or
else to an indifference toward all true principles. Here, also, there
are a number of maxims taught by experience, whose observation will
make one’s intercourse with men at least more easy. They are as follows:
One gets into the best relations with men, on the whole, if he feels
a simple, natural, sincere friendliness toward every one he meets,
in much the same manner as unspoiled children do before they have
experienced the meanness of men. This manner, after many painful
experiences, can be again acquired,--at least at a certain period
in later life which may then be called, in this good sense, a second
childhood. When one has this attitude, it may even happen that he
treats evil men as if good, as they could be if they would, and as, in
their better moments, they would really like to be. And the result is
that these men forget their evil nature for a time and feel better and
happier. That, and not “the destruction of the wicked,” is a true man’s
greatest victory in this world.
At the same time it must not be forgotten that one should not put
too great stress upon a man’s behavior at the moment; for every one
can tell from his own experience how easily our moods alter, and how
changeable and uncertain our judgments of others are, so long as the
heart has not yet become constant in kindness.
All lasting human relationships rest upon reciprocity. We must never be
willing only to receive, nor must we ever be willing only to give; that
always ends in dissatisfaction.
The opportunity of rendering great favors to men is not very frequent.
On the other hand, one can quietly do any one some small pleasure,
though it be nothing more than a friendly greeting to light up, like
a sunbeam, some lonely and joyless existence. We should not begin a
day of our life without proposing to ourselves to make use of every
opportunity in this way. This friendliness is merely a matter of habit
that even men essentially kind-hearted now and then do not have, to
their great loss.
Quite ordinary natures, of course, understand only fear, not love. As
soon as they no longer fear, they become forward and intractable. For
these the proverb holds good: “Be always kind, yet not too kindly; else
the wolves will quickly grow bold.” For others, however, the proverb
is not true. On the other hand, real kindness is the ripest fruit of a
well-lived life.
Many men, by doing things in a large style, wish to compel their
fellow-men to recognize it. But they seldom succeed, since the other
man marks this purpose; and after all, egotism (though of a somewhat
different kind than usual) hides behind. They would attain their goal
far better if they paid less heed to outward show and did things more
quietly.
Many people who are really good-hearted at bottom have a way of always
finding something to blame or demur to even in matters that fall
in with their wishes. Thus they bring it about that other persons,
hearing only their “No, no,” prefer the company of more easy-going,
if also more unprincipled, people of the world. Nor should one always
be contradicting men, even where they are in the wrong; silence often
accomplishes more and does not embitter. Now and then their assertions
are not wholly in earnest, but if they experience opposition, then
they become fortified in their notions and say something that they
can no longer retract. But if one ought to contradict for the truth’s
sake, then a single contradiction is enough; when opinions are once
acknowledged and firmly fixed, continued disputation about them is
entirely fruitless.
“Whoever wishes to have his opinion find approval should express it
coldly and without passion,” says Schopenhauer, if I am not mistaken.
The word “coldly” is somewhat too strong; but to _parler sans accent_,
that is, to speak in the positive and not always in the superlative
degree, is a good custom.
Of one’s neighbor one should--so St. Maddalena dei Pazzi tells
us--“speak as little as possible, for one begins with good things, but
usually ends up with bad things. Our neighbor is a glass that easily
breaks if we take it into our hands too often.”
It is a great art in human intercourse to be able to show friendly
opposition on occasion. We should, among other things, give our
reasons--not merely for convenience simply say No, but try to convince
the other with good arguments rather than be dictatorial. All men see,
in such an appeal to their understanding, a proof of respect which
gratifies them and often quite reconciles them to the negative outcome.
A suspension of judgment is often very useful. With a “We will consider
it,” or “Let us think it over,” good-will is shown for the time being,
while the decision is put off; and with that, often enough, the whole
matter is discharged. The other man will in the mean time change his
mind; or the matter will seem to him of less importance; while, at the
moment, his desire was his very kingdom of heaven.
But all this does not apply in things indubitably wrong. Then we must
not give rise to the conception that we might finally be able to come
to an agreement in the matter or regard it as at least feasible; but on
the contrary, we must “resist the beginnings.”
The most unfortunate method of all is to yield in an unfriendly spirit;
by so doing we lose the game twice over. But with weak men this is the
usual course; they wish to hide their weakness by a little blustering
and scolding.