MEN AS A RULE ARE SELFISH--TWO KINDS OF SELFISH MEN
There are in the world men who are devotion and self-abnegation
personified; there are women who are the embodiment of selfishness. From
this we cannot lay down a rule any more than we could if, in landing in
New York, we saw a red-haired woman, and said at once:
'The Americans are a red-haired people.'
But as, during my life, I have known more men who are selfish than
unselfish, and more women who are unselfish than selfish, I am prepared
to conclude that man is more selfish than woman.
I have known men of small income (and in their way good men they were)
belong to two or three clubs, dine at expensive restaurants, and smoke
excellent cigars all day long.
Their daughters had to give lessons in order to obtain the money that
was necessary for dressing decently, and the house had to be kept on
most economical lines.
I have known others, not worse than those I have just mentioned, allow
nothing but water on their family table, and take champagne for dinner
at the club or the restaurant.
I could divide selfish men into two classes: the man with good redeeming
features, and the execrably selfish man.
The former is good-hearted and fairly sensitive. He hates nobody,
because hatred disturbs sleep and rest. He avoids emotions for his own
comfort; he is learnedly selfish.
If you are unhappy, in distressed circumstances, don't bother him about
it. He is sorry, he cannot help it, and he would rather not hear of it.
If you are ill, do not expect a visit from him; the sight of pain or
grief affects him. If you are in want, he may send you a L5 note, but he
does not want to see you. He seeks the company of cheerful and happy
people only.
He has an income of L6,000 a year, and will tell you that nobody dies of
starvation except in novels.
He turns his head from wretches shivering with cold in the street, and
is of opinion that a good Government should suppress paupers and all
sorts of people who disturb the peace and happiness of the rich. His
friends call him 'a good fellow.'
The other type is execrable. The miseries of other people increase his
happiness. When he sees a starving-looking man or a sick one, he returns
thanks that he is rich and healthy.
He does not avoid the unfortunate: he almost seeks them. The more
horrible tales you tell him of poverty, sorrows, disease, wretchedness,
the happier he is to feel that he runs no danger of ever encountering
such calamities.
Well wrapped up in furs in a good carriage, the sight of a beggar,
benumbed with cold, sitting on the stone steps of an empty house,
doubles his comfort. He finds his carriage better suspended, and his
furs warmer.
He almost believes that the abject poor were invented to make him
appreciate his good fortune better. He is not unlike those fanatics of a
certain school who believe that the greatest bliss reserved for the
elect in heaven is to see their less fortunate brethren burn in hell. As
I have said, this type of selfish man is execrable.