The Vain Man and Private Man

The Vain Man

²⁰ But the man of inferior rank cannot hope to distinguish himself by these kinds of accomplishments.

Politeness is so much the virtue of the great, that it will do little honour to anybody but themselves.

• The vain man imitates their manner and affects to be eminent by the superior propriety of his ordinary behaviour.
  • He is rewarded with a double share of contempt for his folly and presumption.
  • He might be very anxious about how he himself holds up his head or uses his arms while walking as it marks a sense of his own importance, which no other person can go along with.

The Private Man

A private man should have perfect modesty and plainness, with self-negligence consistent with the respect due to others. He must acquire dependants to balance the dependants of the great.

• He can only pay them through:
  • the labour of his body, and
  • the activity of his mind.
• He must therefore cultivate these.
• He must acquire:
  • superior knowledge in his profession, and
  • superior industry in its exercise.
• He must be:
  • patient in labour,
  • resolute in danger, and
  • firm in distress.
• He must bring these talents into public view by:
  • the difficulty, importance, and good judgment of his undertakings, and
  • the severe and unrelenting application with which he pursues them.
• Probity and prudence, generosity and frankness, must characterize his ordinary behaviour.
  • He must be forward to engage in all those situations, in which:
    • the greatest talents and virtues are required to act with propriety, and
    • the greatest applause is to be acquired by those who can acquit themselves with honour.

The Man of Spirit and Ambition

The man of spirit and ambition is depressed by his own situation. He impatiently looks around for some great opportunity to distinguish himself. He even looks forward to a foreign war or civil dissension. With secret delight, he sees the chance of drawing mankind’s attention and admiration, through all its confusion and bloodshed.

The Man of Rank and Distinction

On the contrary, the man of rank and distinction has his whole glory in the propriety of his ordinary behaviour.

• He is contented with the humble renown which this can afford him.
• To figure at a ball is his great triumph.
• To succeed in an intrigue of gallantry is his highest exploit.

He has an aversion to all public confusions:

• not from:
  • the love of mankind, nor

For the great never look on their inferiors as their fellow-creatures. the lack of courage,

For he is seldom not brave. but from a consciousness that: he has none of the virtues required in such situations, and the public attention will certainly be drawn away from him by the virtue of others

He might be willing to:

• expose himself to some little danger, and
• make a campaign when it is the fashion.

But he is horrified at any situation which demands the continual and long exertion of patience, industry, fortitude, and application of thought.

These virtues are hardly seen in men born to those high stations.

Accordingly in all governments and monarchies, the highest offices generally belong to men educated in the middle and inferior ranks of life.

These men have been carried by their own industry and abilities, though:

• loaded with the jealousy, and
• opposed by the resentment of those born their superiors.
  • The great regard them:
    • first with contempt,
    • afterwards with envy.
  • They are finally contented to truckle with the same meanness which they want to impose on the rest of mankind.

²¹ The fall from greatness so insupportable because of the loss of this easy empire over mankind’s affections

The family of the king of Macedon was led in triumph by Paulus Aemilius.

Their misfortunes made them divide, with their conqueror, the Roman people’s attention. The young royal children were insensible of their situation. Their sight struck the spectators with the tenderest sorrow and compassion amidst the public rejoicings. The king appeared next in the procession.

He seemed confounded, astonished, and bereft of all sentiment, by his great calamities. His friends and ministers followed after him.

As they moved along, they often looked at their fallen king and always burst into tears. Their whole behaviour demonstrated that they did not think of their own misfortunes, but were entirely occupied by the superior greatness of his. On the contrary, the generous Romans beheld him with disdain and indignation.

They regarded as unworthy of all compassion the man who could be so mean-spirited as to bear to live under such calamities. Yet what did those calamities amount to?

According to most historians, he was to spend his remaining days:

• under the protection of a powerful and humane people,
• in a state which seemed worthy of envy,
• in a state of plenty, ease, leisure, and security, from which it was impossible for him even by his own folly to fall.

But he was no longer to be surrounded by that admiring mob of fools, flatterers, and dependants. He was no longer:

• to be gazed upon by multitudes,
• the object of their respect, gratitude, love, and admiration.

The passions of nations were no longer to mould themselves upon his inclinations. This insupportable calamity bereaved the king of all sentiment.

It made his friends forget their own misfortunes. Roman magnanimity could not conceive how any man could be so mean-spirited as to bear to survive.

²² My Lord Rochefoucauld says, ‘Love is commonly succeeded by ambition; but ambition is hardly ever succeeded by love.’

Once ambition fully possesses the breast, it will not admit a rival nor a successor. All other pleasures sicken and decay to those used to ambition or even the hope of public admiration.

Many discarded statesmen have studied:

• to get the better of ambition for their own ease and
• to despise those honours which they could not attain.

How few of them have been able to succeed?

Most have spent their time in the most listless and insipid indolence. They chagrined at the thoughts of their own insignificancy.

They were incapable of being interested in private life:

• without enjoyment, except when they talked of their former greatness
• without satisfaction, except when they were employed in some vain project to recover it

Are you resolved never to barter your liberty for the lordly servitude of a court, but to live free, fearless, and independent?

There seems to be only one way to continue in that virtuous resolution:

• Never enter the place from whence so few have been able to return.
• Never come within the circle of ambition nor ever compare yourself with those masters of the earth who have already engrossed the attention of half of mankind before you.

²³ It appears very important to be in the view of general sympathy and attention. That great object:

• divides the wives of politicians, and
• is the end of half of the labours of human life.

It is the cause of all the tumult, bustle, rapine, and injustice, which avarice and ambition have introduced into this world. It is said that people of sense hate place.

They hate sitting at the head of the table. They are indifferent on who is pointed out to the company by that frivolous circumstance, which the smallest advantage can overbalance.

But no man despises rank, distinction preeminence unless:

• he is raised very much above or sunk very much below the ordinary standard of human nature, and
• he is either:
  • so confirmed in wisdom and real philosophy

It does not matter to him if he is not attended to, nor approved of. so habituated to the idea of his own meanness.

He is so sunk in slothful and sottish indifference, as to have entirely forgotten the desire for superiority.

²⁴ Prosperity has its dazzling splendour which comes from it being the natural object of mankind’s sympathetic attentions. Likewise, adversity has its gloom from our misfortunes being the naural object of mankind’s aversion. This is why the most dreadful calamities are sometimes easier to support.

It is often more mortifying to appear in public under small disasters, than under great misfortunes.

• Small disasters excite no sympathy.
• But great misfortunes call forth a very lively compassion, even if they cannot excite anything like the sufferer’s anguish.

The spectators’s feelings are narrower than those of the sufferer. Their imperfect fellow-feeling helps him support his misery. Before an assembly, a gentleman would be more mortified to appear covered with filth and rags than with blood and wounds.

• They would pity him for being wounded.
• They would laugh at him for being filthy.

The judge who orders a criminal to the pillory, dishonours him more than if he had condemned him to death.

Dishonour is the greatest evil to a gentleman. By the laws of honour, striking with a cane dishonours, but striking with a sword obviously does not.

• The great prince who caned a general officer at the head of his army, disgraced him irrecoverably.
• The punishment would have been much less had he shot him.

Among a humane people, the slighter punishments inflicted on a gentleman are seen as the most dreadful one. Therefore, they are universally laid aside with regard to gentlemen. The law respects their honour always. No European government, except that of Russia, is capable of the brutality of:

• scourging a person of quality, or
• setting him in the pillory for any crime.

²⁵ A brave man is not rendered contemptible by being brought to the scaffold. His behaviour may gain him universal esteem and admiration. The spectators’ sympathy supports him and saves him from the shame that he feels.

Shame is the most unsupportable of all the sentiments.

²⁶ The Cardinal de Retz says:

His maxim has the same foundation with what we have observed regarding punishments.

²⁷ Human virtue is superior to pain, poverty, danger, and death. It does not even require the utmost efforts to despise the latter. But the constancy of human virtue is more likely to fail when it is insulted and set up for scorn. Compared with mankind’s contempt, all other external evils are easily supported.