But, differ from each other as we may, there are some general
qualities--some _human_ qualities--common to most of us.
These common qualities may be split into two kinds, selfish and
unselfish.
The selfish instincts come down to us from our earlier brute ancestors.
The unselfish instincts come down to us from our later brute ancestors,
and from our human ancestors.
Amongst the strongest and the deepest of man's instincts are love
of woman, love of children, love of pleasure, love of art, love of
humanity, love of adventure, and love of praise.
I should say that the commonest and most lasting of all human passions
is the love of praise: called by some "love of approbation."
From this great trunk impulse there spring many branches. Nearly all our
vanities, ambitions, affectations, covetings, are born of our thirst
for praise. It is largely in the hope of exciting the wonder or the
admiration of our fellows that we toil and scramble and snatch and
fight, for wealth, for power, for place; for masterly or daring
achievement.
None but misers love money for its own sake. It is for what money will
buy that men covet it; and the most desired of the things money will buy
are power and display: the value of which lies in the astonishment they
will create, and the flattery they will win.
How much meaning would remain to such proud and potent words as glory,
riches, conquest, fame, hero, triumph, splendour, if they were bereft of
the glamour of human wonder and applause?
What man will bear and do and suffer for love of woman, and woman for
love of man; what both will sacrifice for the sake of their children;
how the devotee of art and science, literature, or war, will cleave to
the work of his choice; with what eagerness the adventurer will follow
his darling bent, seeking in the ends of the earth for excitement, happy
to gaze once more into the "bright eyes of danger"; with what cheerful
steadfastness and unwearied self-denial benevolence will labour for the
good of the race; is known to us all. What we should remember is that
these and other powers of our nature act and react upon each other: that
one impulse checks, or goads, or diverts another.
Thus the love of our fellows will often check or turn aside our love
of ourselves. Often when the desire for praise beckons us the dread of
blame calls us back again. The love of praise may even lure us towards
an act, and baulk us of its performance: as when a cricketer sacrifices
the applause of the crowd in order to win the praise of captain or
critics.
So will the lust of pleasure struggle against the lust of fame; the love
of woman against the love of art; the passion for adventure against the
desire for wealth; and the victory will be to the stronger.
Let us look into the human heart (the best way is to look into our own)
and see how these inherited qualities work for and against each other.
One of the strongest checks is fear; another is what we call conscience.
Fear springs sometimes from "love of approbation"; we shrink from an act
from fear of being found out, which would mean the loss of that esteem
we so prize. Or we shrink from fear of bodily pain: as those knew well
who invented the terrors of hell-fire.
There is a great deal of most respectable virtue that ought to be called
cowardice. Deprive virtue of its "dare nots," and how many "would nots"
and "should nots" might survive? Good conduct may not mean the presence
of virtue, but the lack of courage, or desire.
But, happily, men do right, also, for right's sake; and because it is
right; or they refrain from doing wrong because it is wrong.
The bent towards right conduct arises from one of two sources: