Part 6

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.