just, less loyal because unshackled by imitation, lack of originality,
and affectation? Why, then, should I deprive myself of honest happiness
for fear opinion should turn against me?
Why should I bow to circumstances which I have not created? Why, once
more, should I not be myself?
The desire for general approbation is a sign of weakness, a defect of
the mind and conscience. It is allowing someone else to know your duty
better than yourself and force upon you preconceived notions, neutral,
limited ideas of action and thought.
Woe betide those who fall under such influence. They resign themselves
to an existence of mental wretchedness, painfully dragging out their
days in hesitation and spiritual cowardice, never able to realise that
public opinion has no moral worth, but, though varying according to
country, conditions, and training, is nevertheless intolerant, mean, and
arbitrary everywhere.
The careless judgments given by public opinion always assume too much,
and are not the result of harmony between conduct and principle on the
part of those who form them. We should show ourselves fearlessly for
what we are, speak our own language with sincerity, express our thought
directly to-day, to-morrow, the day after to-morrow. Even if we
contradict ourselves on certain points, that is but a proof of our
readiness to be better, more just. To be true to oneself is the great
secret of personality, and prevents all fear of our neighbour.
A matured, steadfast spirit, a sound brain given to meditation, a
conscience sharpened by training, constitute a character which can
afford to despise public opinion, and command an entrance for itself to
all the paths of life.
This state of individualism does not imply systematic opposition to the
customs of the day. It is not hostile to society, but it enables one to
shake off the yoke of public opinion, and assert with sweetness his
personality.
PREJUDICES
Prejudices, or preconceived opinions adopted at random, subsist
indefinitely. Like creeds, they are a malady of weak minds which
unquestioningly accept relative moral laws, formulas which the reason
cannot admit, and errors which live and propagate faster than truths.
Those are persons without judgment or discernment who profess to do as
all the world does, because they have not the force to form an
independent opinion, undergo the discipline of thought, examine their
own actions, and confess the absurdity of their own weaknesses.
It is not to be denied that minds trained by mental gymnastics have
little to say to prejudices. Their judgment being independent, they
require perfect freedom of action, and they cannot permit a host of
trifling considerations to hinder them in their way of living and
thinking.
Prejudices--a form of mental aberration--are a standard by which the
least intelligent claim to estimate the capacities of others. And those
prejudices which proceed from stupid customs, absurd fears, silly
superstitions, have led to the most annoying assertions.
It is a matter of general belief, for instance, that the number 13 is
unlucky, that the song of a black bird is a sign of death, that three
lights bring misfortune; and the belief is not less general that persons
of high birth are inevitably lacking in great intelligence. It has been
decided once for all that they are unfit for intellectual work, and
capable only of being pleasant company, as superficial as useless. If
these persons take up any intellectual pursuit, be it the publishing of
books, or devoting themselves to art, they are misjudged, there is an
outcry at the unreality, the gross impossibility; for it has been
decided that high birth should be a patent of incapacity.
Prejudice thus destroys beforehand the proof of intelligence and
tarnishes reputation. At the same time, in the form of conventional,
generally-received opinions, it overawes timid spirits.
It is in frivolous society that prejudices are most ineradicable. They
creep into conversation, obtrude themselves in all their bareness and
ugliness into the midst of chatter and compliments.
Even if some strong personality appears, and disposes of some prejudice,
it shoots up again directly the disturber is gone. Born of folly and
fear, prejudices are parasitic plants whose roots are in the brain, and
which are transmitted, like an heirloom of ignorance, from one century
to another.
Prejudices, so numerous in these days, fall foul of everything: art,
science, law, the liberty of the individual, conscience, truth.
Is it not regarded as a fact, in certain circles, that the Jew is
incapable of fine intelligence? Now, for the last twenty-five years
dramatic art has given the lie flatly to such an assertion. Has not the
man of science, in spite of every proof of his capacity, been attacked
by prejudiced people who see in him an insulter of the Divinity?
Is not the education of the people regarded in many cases as a danger to
society? Is not the creation of new laws, designed for ensuring the
rights of all, considered monstrous? Now that human consciousness has
developed, now that the will is being trained to righteousness, now that
personal responsibility has entered our life conditions, and moral
education has become rational, it is really strange to see people who
claim intelligence, and who pass for well informed, accept the absurd
prejudices in vogue.
Women, it must be said, are for the most part hostile to progress.
Through heredity, through habit, they take up prejudices with a fervour
that deludes their superficial minds. Two pernicious elements, jealousy
and envy, conduce to this. Prejudiced men are no less dangerous, for,
being incapable of thinking for themselves, and not willing to think
through others, they are unable to correct their own errors.
My conclusion is that all slaves of prejudice should be compelled to
live together, separated from the living and thinking world, until the
day comes when, being no longer satisfied with themselves, they will
begin to be endurable to others.
JUDGMENT
Judgment is the faculty of discrimination in ideas, of establishing a
connection between the state of our conscience and reality. But as
conscience varies according to the nature of social situations, it does
not seem possible to apply a fixed rule to judgment, though it always
requires affirmation. Whatever be the degree of judgment one possesses,
one cannot exercise it in the case of others without first applying the
precept, “Know thyself”--an ancient utterance which has lost a little in
value since it has been handed down, without sincerity, from generation
to generation. This precept is, nevertheless, held in honour by the
finer spirits, for it is obvious that the appeal to our conscience
should be placed above all others. Without this, as Nicati says, “the
man who forgets to examine himself, and whose personality is effaced
thereby, counts for less than the inert matter whose very resistance
constitutes personality.”
He who lives according to his conscience, and after his own moral laws,
may be satisfied. When he comes to judge himself, he knows that his life
has been passed in the observance of his own personal principles.
We must, then, seek in ourselves a standard of judgment, remembering the
beautiful words of Thomas à Kempis: “Turn thine eyes unto thyself, and
beware thou judge not the deeds of other men. In judging of others, a
man laboureth in vain, often erreth, and easily sinneth; but in judging
and discussing of himself, he always laboureth fruitfully.”
Nevertheless, in self-judgment, it is right to apply severely to
ourselves the rules of reason and virtue so far as our own nature
permits. It is to be noted that witty people, or those with a good
memory, are not the most capable of clear and profound judgment.
Assimilation is prejudicial to reflection; memory is not thought.
When our own ideas are clear to us, we shall not judge others without
due study of their reasons for what they do, the motives by which they
have been governed, the circumstances which may have influenced their
estimate of good and evil. Thus our attitude will be more kindly, and
we shall avoid all the evils springing from injustice and false
judgment.
Our own conscience is not always in the ascendant. We often yield to
weakness, and it is only just that our knowledge of the limitations of
the human will should move us to indulgence towards our fellow-men.
Such indulgence consists in recognising our own weaknesses, and in not
condemning others for what we consider their errors.
The first condition for judging clearly and soundly is the constant
attention to our mental life, acknowledging to ourselves our own changes
of mood, ceaselessly fighting the enemy within us.
From the altruistic point of view, we should picture to ourselves the
person to be judged in the circumstances which have prompted his
action--difficult though it be to perceive the differences between
characters and shades of feeling--according to the numberless cases in
which such action takes place. This is the reason why historians, in the
act of composition, so often pass false judgments on the past. In their
desire to make the characters live again, to call up vanished scenes,
they become partisans, loving or hating those whom they have never
known. Purely in deference to their own opinion, they fail in tolerance
and indulgence. They do not estimate the worth of men of past days
according to the moral tone of the epoch in which they lived; they judge
of a society as a whole in the light of isolated documents, so that the
men of vanished ages cut but a poor figure in their eyes to-day.
Now, the truth is that men are no greater now than in the other ages of
the world. Removed from our own time by twenty-two centuries, the heroes
of Plutarch remain as noble as our heroes of to-day; and in the domain
of science, religion, and philosophy we have but changed names without
changing at all in judgment and logic, without modifying the conditions
of happiness or the outward signs of courage, and without developing the
human “_I_.”
THE FEAR OF RIDICULE
The fear of ridicule is a terrible and powerful weapon in the eyes of
many people. Cleverly handled by those who are slaves to custom and
fashion, this fear of ridicule often prevents our obeying our true
feelings, and leads us to act against our own interests.
Many persons whose social position is uncertain, or whose moral force is
but little developed, have their days embittered by the thought of “what
people will say.”
If these persons could only comprehend that nothing which is _simple_
and _sincere_ can be ridiculous, if vanity and amour-propre would permit
them to understand that criticism is inevitable, that it increases
self-confidence in well-balanced people, and in many cases helps us
towards the end we wish to attain, they would not only cease to fear the
observation of others, but no longer wish to suppress the personality of
a neighbour.
They would say with Emerson: “That which I ought to do concerns my
personality, and not what people think I ought to do.”
They would remember these words of La Bruyère’s: “‘We must do as others
do’ is a suspicious maxim, signifying nearly always ‘We must do wrong’
as soon as it extends beyond the purely outward things which result in
nothing, and which depend upon custom, fashion, and manners.”
A modern thinker, under the veil of anonymity, remarks wittily: “If one
wishes to be in good society, even with those who are not of it, need
one give up being oneself? Good society, pushed to this excess, is only
folly and trickery. What on earth have you done with your amour-propre
on these occasions? Dare to say what you think, if you _do_ think.” I
add to this: Dare to do what seems to you good, useful, and sensible;
flee preconceived opinions, do not let yourself be influenced by the
ideas of others, keep your independence in the face of new suggestions,
convince yourself of your own value, call your perceptions into play,
suppress your self-love--in a word, get rid of the fear of ridicule,
which, carried to excess by people, has spoilt fine careers, ruined the
noblest hopes; destroyed for one his dawning happiness, for another
possible fortune. Why this mean respect for _what is done_, and absurd
fear of _what is not done_? Why this foolish imitation, this holding
back of your real self? Why don’t you eat and drink what you like? Why
spoil your behaviour in public by hypocrisy? Where is the sense of this
perpetual dressing up of things which ties you down to convention not in
keeping with the real impulses of your heart and mind?
There is so much fear of ridicule in the world that one may see a man
miss an interview which might be morally or materially useful to him
because he is afraid to appear unfashionably dressed, because he has not
the latest hat, or the shoes which snobbism has decreed the correct
thing.
Women, in whom the fear of ridicule is so strong, so intimately linked
with the taste of the moment, will willingly risk their health rather
than go down in the estimation of others.
If, for example, fashion decrees thin summer clothing, a woman will
brave bronchitis and the after-effects to wear it; and she acts in a
similar spirit with regard to winter fashions, because it is not the
right thing to think with one’s own mind, feel with one’s own heart, or
live according to one’s own means, nerves, or senses!
This passive life by rule is a curious thing, and Montaigne was
right--for folly belongs to all periods--in thus speaking of it for his
own epoch: “In some sort all the opinions we have are taken on
authority, or on credit, ... Everyone is richer than he thinks, but we
go about borrowing and seeking; it suits us better to make use of others
than of ourselves.... We neither essay nor know our own faculties; we
invest in those of others, and let our own lie idle....”
Yes, truly, the fear of ridicule is one of the worst shortcomings of
education, for it destroys character, leads all our impulses towards
folly, and often incites to irreparable wrong.
How many marriages which might have been happy are prevented because of
difference in fortune, age, or birth! The fear of ridicule brings a
disintegrating element even into the quest after happiness, which is a
law of Nature.
It is the same with the fear of ridicule as with morality; everyone
should base his individual action on some good to be gained, get rid of
all constraint--in a word, be himself without depending on custom and
outward circumstances; preserving the balance between his conscience,
trained by experience and reason, and his personal faculties.
MORAL COURAGE
Moral courage is that energy of character which leads us to confess and
uphold what we think and believe. This quality, one of the rarest in
man, is nevertheless indispensable to whomsoever uses his faculties in
any public capacity, whether he be a statesman, a soldier, an artist, or
a writer; that is to say, everyone who has to take responsibility,
making nothing of opinion or criticism.
I have often heard it said that moral courage corresponds to physical
development. That is true, provided that the physical development be
attended by good health. We often see men insignificant in appearance
gifted with moral courage which athletes lack. It is because, in spite
of their physical slightness, these men possess health so robust as to
save them from mental weakness and give them perfect balance.
But there is something besides. Although there is still much to learn
about character, it is certain that we can cultivate the moral courage
which springs from instinct and temperament by the choice of our own
ideas and actions.
Never has the need of character-forming made itself felt so much as in
our days. Character is becoming rare because intellects are in disorder.
Dilettantism kills reason, æstheticism strays without direction through
the mind, ready-made opinions take the place of thought, and the caprice
of the moment serves for moral or material interests and weakens the
will.
The sign of the individual, the dominant feature of his personality, is
character, and character gives birth to moral courage. Dr. Ferrand says:
“Character assumes considerable importance in the life of the individual
and in the life of all the natural or social groups which individuals
form amongst themselves; it is, accordingly to Smiles, one of the
greatest motive powers in the world. By the unity of direction which he
impresses upon all his actions, the man of character is not only master
of himself, though that is much, but he bears naturally upon the
activity of others, and
[Illustration: THE INFANTA EULALIA AND HER TWO SONS
_Photograph by Boissonnas & Taponier, Paris._]
draws them after him, as a mighty ship draws into its track all the
craft it encounters in its course.”
There is yet another consideration. By the side of the intellectual
element, by which we estimate our thoughts and actions, there is
feeling; that is, the sensibility which modifies the judgment and
enlightens the deep thought determining our responsibility. He who obeys
feeling, when the latter is not subject to the control of thought,
commits many errors of judgment and lets himself be guided by moods
which may lead him into injustice and breach of trust. Let us not forget
that justice is truth applied to the things of life. Now, it is
precisely the absence of this idea of justice in the modern
consciousness which brings us daily face to face with a sort of failure
in moral courage, both as regards attack and defence.
Politics during the last few years have furnished us with sad examples
of this weakness; letters and the arts have also given us instances, and
they are very regrettable from every point of view.
Literary and musical criticism is to be noted particularly for many
lapses; science itself is not exempt from dealings which reason
disapproves, and it is not even to lack of education that this
shortcoming is due. And we find this lack of moral courage in
communities which have blindly turned liberty to a revolting slavery.
Consider parliaments, study castes, look closely at groups of
individuals served by opinion, and you will see that real characters
worthy to inspire the good, the beautiful, and the true are overwhelmed
in the host occupied in ruining the popular conscience.
Individual moral courage is what makes the greatness of a people. This
form of courage tends to disappear more and more, because everyone is
losing the idea of his own responsibility, and, inspired by selfishness,
troubles himself not at all to make justice and virtue respected.
How few men we see use their authority to repair an error, punish a lie
or any villainy whatsoever! Weakness, hesitation, doubt, lack of
initiative, indifference, have taken the place of moral courage, and
that through the lack of character-training. As Emerson says: “No change
of circumstances can repair a fault of character.... What have I gained
... if I quake at opinion, the public opinion, as we call it; or at the
threat of assault, or contumely, or bad neighbours, or poverty, or
mutilation, or at the rumour of revolution, or of murder? If I quake,
what matters it what I quake at?”
Each of us, then, should in his own sphere of action become conscious of
what is right, and not hesitate to struggle, even to the detriment of
his private interests, against all false judgment attacking honour,
every opinion concealing baseness, every action which is an insult to
reason and to the liberty of the individual.
TRADITIONS
Tradition is a link of the present with the past, the transmitting of
legendary memories from century to century--memories based on real
facts, exaggerated or deformed by the popular mind in quest of the
ideal.
Traditions of pagan or religious essence are multiform. In most cases
they denote blind reverence, unconscious veneration for creeds turned
into customs; they are a sign of the passivity of the human mind, whose
chief weakness is superstition.
Whether as regards action or thought, tradition appeals to the special
organisation of certain temperaments of a primitive order, or which are
purely dogmatic.
The desire to maintain tradition implies uncontrolled deference to
custom together with the need for moral or sectarian order, and for this
reason it is detrimental to the gradual change of thought on which
progress depends.
In all ages of the world, since the period when oral narration was
handed down from generation to generation, traditions have been accepted
as truths. Now, that which was truth at the exact moment when a certain
thing occurred is no longer truth after a long lapse of time, because of
changes with regard to the original fact and the false interpretations
put upon it by the crowd.
Locke says with much truth: “A man worthy of belief bringing testimony
of a thing known to him affords a good proof; but if another man equally
worthy of credence testifies on the report of that man, his witness is
weaker; while that of a third who attests a hearsay is still less to be
considered; so that in truths that come by tradition each degree of
remoteness from the original source weakens the force of the proof; and
in proportion as a tradition passes successively through more hands, it
has ever less force and evidence.”
This is the reason that traditions, from whatsoever source they come,
constitute false propositions all the more dangerous because to many
they appear incontestable. After Christianity was established, tradition
had all the value of an idealism capable of inspiring individual
action; under different aspects it induced respect for great moral
acts, linked up more closely familiar ties (the festival of
Christmas--Noël or Yule--is a case in point), it cemented friendships,
gave value to the idea of good rewarded and evil punished, created an
atmosphere of justice and fear, inward joy and hope.
But with time, as the sense of personality developed and social friction
became more frequent, it came about that traditions were divided into
different camps, some being simply a consolation for the afflicted,
others becoming authoritative in the hands of priests and judges.
Centuries passed, changing names and beliefs, modifying desires and
interests; then tradition weakened and altered in character and
significance.
Even in our own day, however, many ancient traditions are rigorously
observed both in town and country. Still, as the social movement has
become more accentuated, more conscious, they have so weakened that they
are more like a list of festival days in the calendar than anything
else. In spite of castes which, by holding together, still maintained
tradition, the evolution of the masses gradually brought about, through
force of circumstances, the destruction of such as was useless. This is
good because, I repeat, tradition is hostile to progress in that it
makes error in the guise of custom predominate over science and
altruistic duty.
The weakening of pagan or religious traditions is very noticeable
to-day. For instance, the observance of the anniversaries of the dead is
falling into desuetude. One scarcely sees, except in the Latin countries
where civilisation is backward, the relatives in deep black coming at a
fixed date to mourn their dead from midnight to midnight. This
traditional custom, besides, has lost so much of its ancient solemnity
that the mourners do not hesitate to dance and feast directly the time
of forced grief is over. This anomaly is frequent in Spain nowadays. As
soon as the “accessories” of the tradition disappear, the tradition
itself will vanish in its turn.
Go through the villages and you will note the disappearance of numbers
of customs to which the inhabitants were slaves not long ago. Where,
to-day, are the processions in the open fields, the patronal festivals,
the inquiries at fountains, all the traces of ancient beliefs? Where, as
in Rome in times past, is the lachrymatory, in which, on days of
funerals, everyone collected his tears?