Part 5

But whatsoever constitutes the quality deemed essential, whether it be the commercial and industrial stability of the _bourgeois_, the true or false splendour of the nobleman’s escutcheon, or the more or less artificial halo of the Court, it is none the less true that class morality is daily obliged to yield to circumstances and bend to conditions.

Being one of the manifestations of human action, morality is necessarily subject to the law of living according to such and such an epoch. It has to adapt itself to change. For this reason personal interest, selfishness, pride of birth, and the idea of being above humanity must all, in spite of their rules, conform to new conceptions of altruism and idealism, for there is no moral finality.

To speak truly, every individual bears the moral sense within himself, but he has to remember that the sanction of moral judgment is one of the most important factors of civilisation and progress, and cannot be dissociated to-day from the scientific element.

Nothing leads men more astray than to let them believe that certain persons or certain things injurious to society are desirable.

The personal interest of the merchant is not adapted to the artisan’s life conditions; an escutcheon is not a thing to be coveted by the worker; and the right called “Divine” diminishes in no degree the right of a people. On the contrary, class morality is hostile to the new moral ideas answering to new social needs; this is the reason why its value has depreciated, because humanity is making a constant effort towards an ideal which it creates and changes according to the difficulties of the way, and because the straight road leads to righteousness.

PUBLIC OPINION

“It is easy, in the world, to live after the world’s opinion,” says Emerson; “it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who, in the midst of a crowd, keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”

In this logical rounding of his thought, the master has given us a rule of conduct based on self-confidence, the result of vigorous mind-training and the exchange of opinion.

Every slave to public opinion lives irresponsibly, because he fails to possess his own soul, is incapable of inward control, and unable to arrive at an independent view.

To be checked by public opinion means the abandonment of mental effort, the surrender of the “_I_”; it means resigning oneself to become mere reflection, a nonentity.

Not to everyone is it given to be able to brave public opinion; only a few have the force to throw off social conventions.

One of the conditions permitting of contempt of public opinion is to have no need of anyone, both from the point of view of material existence and of moral status. I am not speaking of those on whom fortune has smiled from their birth, but of the great majority who, lacking firmness of character and matured personality, obey blindly as circumstances dictate.

What is public opinion if not a collection of incongruous judgments turned to general use, rules followed from force of custom, hypocritical virtues, lies in disguise? And why should not I hold to my own private view, in spite of current opinion, if, in the consciousness of pure intention, wisdom in action, I show forth in my conduct the precepts guiding my life?

Is public opinion responsible for my mistakes? Am I less good, less 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

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.