diff options
Diffstat (limited to '23092-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 23092-8.txt | 4202 |
1 files changed, 4202 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/23092-8.txt b/23092-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1864846 --- /dev/null +++ b/23092-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4202 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Simple Life, by Charles Wagner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Simple Life + +Author: Charles Wagner + +Translator: Mary Louise Hendee + +Release Date: October 20, 2007 [EBook #23092] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SIMPLE LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Sarah Jensen, Matt Mello and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE SIMPLE LIFE + + By CHARLES WAGNER + _Author of The Better Way_ + + _Translated from the French by Mary Louise Hendee_ + + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + Publishers, New York + + + Copyright, 1901, by + McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. + + + + + CONTENTS + + Page + + I. OUR COMPLEX LIFE 1 + + II. THE ESSENCE OF SIMPLICITY 15 + + III. SIMPLICITY OF THOUGHT 22 + + IV. SIMPLICITY OF SPEECH 39 + + V. SIMPLE DUTY 52 + + VI. SIMPLE NEEDS 68 + + VII. SIMPLE PLEASURES 80 + + VIII. THE MERCENARY SPIRIT AND SIMPLICITY 96 + + IX. NOTORIETY AND THE INGLORIOUS GOOD 111 + + X. THE WORLD AND THE LIFE OF THE HOME 128 + + XI. SIMPLE BEAUTY 139 + + XII. PRIDE AND SIMPLICITY IN THE INTERCOURSE OF MEN 151 + + XIII. THE EDUCATION FOR SIMPLICITY 167 + + XIV. CONCLUSION 188 + + + + +THE SIMPLE LIFE + +I + +OUR COMPLEX LIFE + + +At the home of the Blanchards, everything is topsy-turvy, and with +reason. Think of it! Mlle. Yvonne is to be married Tuesday, and to-day +is Friday! + +Callers loaded with gifts, and tradesmen bending under packages, come +and go in endless procession. The servants are at the end of their +endurance. As for the family and the betrothed, they no longer have a +life or a fixed abode. Their mornings are spent with dressmakers, +milliners, upholsterers, jewelers, decorators, and caterers. After that, +comes a rush through offices, where one waits in line, gazing vaguely at +busy clerks engulfed in papers. A fortunate thing, if there be time when +this is over, to run home and dress for the series of ceremonial +dinners--betrothal dinners, dinners of presentation, the settlement +dinner, receptions, balls. About midnight, home again, harassed and +weary, to find the latest accumulation of parcels, and a deluge of +letters--congratulations, felicitations, acceptances and regrets from +bridesmaids and ushers, excuses of tardy tradesmen. And the +_contretemps_ of the last minute--a sudden death that disarranges the +bridal party; a wretched cold that prevents a favorite cantatrice from +singing, and so forth, and so forth. Those poor Blanchards! They will +never be ready, and they thought they had foreseen everything! + +Such has been their existence for a month. No longer possible to +breathe, to rest a half-hour, to tranquillize one's thoughts. _No, this +is not living!_ + +Mercifully, there is Grandmother's room. Grandmother is verging on +eighty. Through many toils and much suffering, she has come to meet +things with the calm assurance which life brings to men and women of +high thinking and large hearts. She sits there in her arm-chair, +enjoying the silence of long meditative hours. So the flood of affairs +surging through the house, ebbs at her door. At the threshold of this +retreat, voices are hushed and footfalls softened; and when the young +_fiancés_ want to hide away for a moment, they flee to Grandmother. + +"Poor children!" is her greeting. "You are worn out! Rest a little and +belong to each other. All these things count for nothing. Don't let them +absorb you, it isn't worth while." + +They know it well, these two young people. How many times in the last +weeks has their love had to make way for all sorts of conventions and +futilities! Fate, at this decisive moment of their lives, seems bent +upon drawing their minds away from the one thing essential, to harry +them with a host of trivialities; and heartily do they approve the +opinion of Grandmamma when she says, between a smile and a caress: + +"Decidedly, my dears, the world is growing too complex; and it does not +make people happier--quite the contrary!" + +* * * * * + +I also, am of Grandmamma's opinion. From the cradle to the grave, in his +needs as in his pleasures, in his conception of the world and of +himself, the man of modern times struggles through a maze of endless +complication. Nothing is simple any longer: neither thought nor action; +not pleasure, not even dying. With our own hands we have added to +existence a train of hardships, and lopped off many a gratification. I +believe that thousands of our fellow-men, suffering the consequences of +a too artificial life, will be grateful if we try to give expression to +their discontent, and to justify the regret for naturalness which +vaguely oppresses them. + +Let us first speak of a series of facts that put into relief the truth +we wish to show. + +The complexity of our life appears in the number of our material needs. +It is a fact universally conceded, that our needs have grown with our +resources. This is not an evil in itself; for the birth of certain needs +is often a mark of progress. To feel the necessity of bathing, of +wearing fresh linen, inhabiting wholesome houses, eating healthful food, +and cultivating our minds, is a sign of superiority. But if certain +needs exist by right, and are desirable, there are others whose effects +are fatal, which, like parasites, live at our expense: numerous and +imperious, they engross us completely. + +Could our fathers have foreseen that we should some day have at our +disposal the means and forces we now use in sustaining and defending our +material life, they would have predicted for us an increase of +independence, and therefore of happiness, and a decrease in competition +for worldly goods: they might even have thought that through the +simplification of life thus made possible, a higher degree of morality +would be attained. None of these things has come to pass. Neither +happiness, nor brotherly love, nor power for good has been increased. +In the first place, do you think your fellow-citizens, taken as a whole, +are more contented than their forefathers, and less anxious about the +future? I do not ask if they should find reason to be so, but if they +really are so. To see them live, it seems to me that a majority of them +are discontented with their lot, and, above all, absorbed in material +needs and beset with cares for the morrow. Never has the question of +food and shelter been sharper or more absorbing than since we are better +nourished, better clothed, and better housed than ever. He errs greatly +who thinks that the query, "What shall we eat, and what shall we drink, +and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" presents itself to the poor alone, +exposed as they are to the anguish of morrows without bread or a roof. +With them the question is natural, and yet it is with them that it +presents itself most simply. You must go among those who are beginning +to enjoy a little ease, to learn how greatly satisfaction in what one +has, may be disturbed by regret for what one lacks. And if you would see +anxious care for future material good, material good in all its +luxurious development, observe people of small fortune, and, above all, +the rich. It is not the woman with one dress who asks most insistently +how she shall be clothed, nor is it those reduced to the strictly +necessary who make most question of what they shall eat to-morrow. As an +inevitable consequence of the law that needs are increased by their +satisfaction, _the more goods a man has, the more he wants_. The more +assured he is of the morrow, according to the common acceptation, the +more exclusively does he concern himself with how he shall live, and +provide for his children and his children's children. Impossible to +conceive of the fears of a man established in life--their number, their +reach, and their shades of refinement. + +From all this, there has arisen throughout the different social orders, +modified by conditions and varying in intensity, a common agitation--a +very complex mental state, best compared to the petulance of a spoiled +child, at once satisfied and discontented. + + * * * * * + +If we have not become happier, neither have we grown more peaceful and +fraternal. The more desires and needs a man has, the more occasion he +finds for conflict with his fellow-men; and these conflicts are more +bitter in proportion as their causes are less just. It is the law of +nature to fight for bread, for the necessities. This law may seem +brutal, but there is an excuse in its very harshness, and it is +generally limited to elemental cruelties. Quite different is the battle +for the superfluous--for ambition, privilege, inclination, luxury. Never +has hunger driven man to such baseness as have envy, avarice, and thirst +for pleasure. Egotism grows more maleficent as it becomes more refined. +We of these times have seen an increase of hostile feeling among +brothers, and our hearts are less at peace than ever.[A] + +After this, is there any need to ask if we have become better? Do not +the very sinews of virtue lie in man's capacity to care for something +outside himself? And what place remains for one's neighbor in a life +given over to material cares, to artificial needs, to the satisfaction +of ambitions, grudges, and whims? The man who gives himself up entirely +to the service of his appetites, makes them grow and multiply so well +that they become stronger than he; and once their slave, he loses his +moral sense, loses his energy, and becomes incapable of discerning and +practicing the good. He has surrendered himself to the inner anarchy of +desire, which in the end gives birth to outer anarchy. In the moral life +we govern ourselves. In the immoral life we are governed by our needs +and passions. Thus little by little, the bases of the moral life shift, +and the law of judgment deviates. + +For the man enslaved to numerous and exacting needs, possession is the +supreme good and the source of all other good things. It is true that in +the fierce struggle for possession, we come to hate those who possess, +and to deny the right of property when this right is in the hands of +others and not in our own. But the bitterness of attack against others' +possessions is only a new proof of the extraordinary importance we +attach to possession itself. In the end, people and things come to be +estimated at their selling price, or according to the profit to be drawn +from them. What brings nothing is worth nothing: he who has nothing, is +nothing. Honest poverty risks passing for shame, and lucre, however +filthy, is not greatly put to it to be accounted for merit. + +Some one objects: "Then you make wholesale condemnation of progress, and +would lead us back to the good old times--to asceticism perhaps." + +Not at all. The desire to resuscitate the past is the most unfruitful +and dangerous of Utopian dreams, and the art of good living does not +consist in retiring from life. But we are trying to throw light upon one +of the errors that drag most heavily upon human progress, in order to +find a remedy for it--namely, the belief that man becomes happier and +better by the increase of outward well-being. Nothing is falser than +this pretended social axiom; on the contrary, that material prosperity +without an offset, diminishes the capacity for happiness and debases +character, is a fact which a thousand examples are at hand to prove. The +worth of a civilization is the worth of the man at its center. When this +man lacks moral rectitude, progress only makes bad worse, and further +embroils social problems. + +[A] The author refers to the unparalleled bitterness of the conflict in +France between Dreyfusards and anti-Dreyfusards. + + + * * * * * + +This principle may be verified in other domains than that of material +well-being. We shall speak only of education and liberty. We remember +when prophets in good repute announced that to transform this wicked +world into an abode fit for the gods, all that was needed was the +overthrow of tyranny, ignorance, and want--those three dread powers so +long in league. To-day, other preachers proclaim the same gospel. We +have seen that the unquestionable diminution of want has made man +neither better nor happier. Has this desirable result been more nearly +attained through the great care bestowed upon instruction? It does not +yet appear so, and this failure is the despair of our national +educators. + +Then shall we stop the people's ears, suppress public instruction, close +the schools? By no means. But education, like the mass of our age's +inventions, is after all only a tool; everything depends upon the +workman who uses it.... So it is with liberty. It is fatal or lifegiving +according to the use made of it. Is it liberty still, when it is the +prerogative of criminals or heedless blunderers? Liberty is an +atmosphere of the higher life, and it is only by a slow and patient +inward transformation that one becomes capable of breathing it. + +All life must have its law, the life of man so much the more than that +of inferior beings, in that it is more precious and of nicer adjustment. +This law for man is in the first place an external law, but it may +become an internal law. When man has once recognized the inner law, and +bowed before it, through this reverence and voluntary submission he is +ripe for liberty: so long as there is no vigorous and sovereign inner +law, he is incapable of breathing its air; for he will be drunken with +it, maddened, morally slain. The man who guides his life by inner law, +can no more live servile to outward authority than can the full-grown +bird live imprisoned in the eggshell. But the man who has not yet +attained to governing himself can no more live under the law of liberty +than can the unfledged bird live without its protective covering. These +things are terribly simple, and the series of demonstrations old and new +that proves them, increases daily under our eyes. And yet we are as far +as ever from understanding even the elements of this most important law. +In our democracy, how many are there, great and small, who know, from +having personally verified it, lived it and obeyed it, this truth +without which a people is incapable of governing itself? Liberty?--it is +respect; liberty?--it is obedience to the inner law; and this law is +neither the good pleasure of the mighty, nor the caprice of the crowd, +but the high and impersonal rule before which those who govern are the +first to bow the head. Shall liberty, then, be proscribed? No; but men +must be made capable and worthy of it, otherwise public life becomes +impossible, and the nation, undisciplined and unrestrained, goes on +through license into the inextricable tangles of demagoguery. + +* * * * * + +When one passes in review the individual causes that disturb and +complicate our social life, by whatever names they are designated, and +their list would be long, they all lead back to one general cause, which +is this: _the confusion of the secondary with the essential_. Material +comfort, education, liberty, the whole of civilization--these things +constitute the frame of the picture; but the frame no more makes the +picture than the frock the monk or the uniform the soldier. Here the +picture is man, and man with his most intimate possessions--namely, his +conscience, his character and his will. And while we have been +elaborating and garnishing the frame, we have forgotten, neglected, +disfigured the picture. Thus are we loaded with external good, and +miserable in spiritual life; we have in abundance that which, if must +be, we can go without, and are infinitely poor in the one thing needful. +And when the depth of our being is stirred, with its need of loving, +aspiring, fulfilling its destiny, it feels the anguish of one buried +alive--is smothered under the mass of secondary things that weigh it +down and deprive it of light and air. + +We must search out, set free, restore to honor the true life, assign +things to their proper places, and remember that the center of human +progress is moral growth. What is a good lamp? It is not the most +elaborate, the finest wrought, that of the most precious metal. A good +lamp is a lamp that gives good light. And so also we are men and +citizens, not by reason of the number of our goods and the pleasures we +procure for ourselves, not through our intellectual and artistic +culture, nor because of the honors and independence we enjoy; but by +virtue of the strength of our moral fibre. And this is not a truth of +to-day but a truth of all times. + +At no epoch have the exterior conditions which man has made for himself +by his industry or his knowledge, been able to exempt him from care for +the state of his inner life. The face of the world alters around us, its +intellectual and material factors vary; and no one can arrest these +changes, whose suddenness is sometimes not short of perilous. But the +important thing is that at the center of shifting circumstance man +should remain man, live his life, make toward his goal. And whatever be +his road, to make toward his goal, the traveler must not lose himself in +crossways, nor hamper his movements with useless burdens. Let him heed +well his direction and forces, and keep good faith; and that he may the +better devote himself to the essential--which is to progress--at +whatever sacrifice, let him simplify his baggage. + + + + +II + +THE ESSENCE OF SIMPLICITY + + +Before considering the question of a practical return to the simplicity +of which we dream, it will be necessary to define simplicity in its very +essence. For in regard to it people commit the same error that we have +just denounced, confounding the secondary with the essential, substance +with form. They are tempted to believe that simplicity presents certain +external characteristics by which it may be recognized, and in which it +really consists. Simplicity and lowly station, plain dress, a modest +dwelling, slender means, poverty--these things seem to go together. +Nevertheless, this is not the case. Just now I passed three men on the +street: the first in his carriage; the others on foot, and one of them +shoeless. The shoeless man does not necessarily lead the least complex +life of the three. It may be, indeed, that he who rides in his carriage +is sincere and unaffected, in spite of his position, and is not at all +the slave of his wealth; it may be also that the pedestrian in shoes +neither envies him who rides nor despises him who goes unshod; and +lastly, it is possible that under his rags, his feet in the dust, the +third man has a hatred of simplicity, of labor, of sobriety, and dreams +only of idleness and pleasure. For among the least simple and +straightforward of men must be reckoned professional beggars, knights of +the road, parasites, and the whole tribe of the obsequious and envious, +whose aspirations are summed up in this: to arrive at seizing a +morsel--the biggest possible--of that prey which the fortunate of earth +consume. And to this same category, little matter what their station in +life, belong the profligate, the arrogant, the miserly, the weak, the +crafty. Livery counts for nothing: we must see the heart. No class has +the prerogative of simplicity; no dress, however humble in appearance, +is its unfailing badge. Its dwelling need not be a garret, a hut, the +cell of the ascetic nor the lowliest fisherman's bark. Under all the +forms in which life vests itself, in all social positions, at the top as +at the bottom of the ladder, there are people who live simply, and +others who do not. We do not mean by this that simplicity betrays itself +in no visible signs, has not its own habits, its distinguishing tastes +and ways; but this outward show, which may now and then be +counterfeited, must not be confounded with its essence and its deep and +wholly inward source. _Simplicity is a state of mind._ It dwells in the +main intention of our lives. A man is simple when his chief care is the +wish to be what he ought to be, that is, honestly and naturally human. +And this is neither so easy nor so impossible as one might think. At +bottom, it consists in putting our acts and aspirations in accordance +with the law of our being, and consequently with the Eternal Intention +which willed that we should be at all. Let a flower be a flower, a +swallow a swallow, a rock a rock, and let a man be a man, and not a fox, +a hare, a hog, or a bird of prey: this is the sum of the whole matter. + +Here we are led to formulate the practical ideal of man. Everywhere in +life we see certain quantities of matter and energy associated for +certain ends. Substances more or less crude are thus transformed and +carried to a higher degree of organization. It is not otherwise with the +life of man. The human ideal is to transform life into something more +excellent than itself. We may compare existence to raw material. What it +is, matters less than what is made of it, as the value of a work of art +lies in the flowering of the workman's skill. We bring into the world +with us different gifts: one has received gold, another granite, a third +marble, most of us wood or clay. Our task is to fashion these +substances. Everyone knows that the most precious material may be +spoiled, and he knows, too, that out of the least costly an immortal +work may be shaped. Art is the realization of a permanent idea in an +ephemeral form. True life is the realization of the higher +virtues,--justice, love, truth, liberty, moral power,--in our daily +activities, whatever they may be. And this life is possible in social +conditions the most diverse, and with natural gifts the most unequal. It +is not fortune or personal advantage, but our turning them to account, +that constitutes the value of life. Fame adds no more than does length +of days: quality is the thing. + +Need we say that one does not rise to this point of view without a +struggle? The spirit of simplicity is not an inherited gift, but the +result of a laborious conquest. Plain living, like high thinking, is +simplification. We know that science is the handful of ultimate +principles gathered out of the tufted mass of facts; but what gropings +to discover them! Centuries of research are often condensed into a +principle that a line may state. Here the moral life presents strong +analogy with the scientific. It, too, begins in a certain confusion, +makes trial of itself, seeks to understand itself, and often mistakes. +But by dint of action, and exacting from himself strict account of his +deeds, man arrives at a better knowledge of life. Its law appears to +him, and the law is this: _Work out your mission._ He who applies +himself to aught else than the realization of this end, loses in living +the _raison d'être_ of life. The egoist does so, the pleasure-seeker, +the ambitious: he consumes existence as one eating the full corn in the +blade,--he prevents it from bearing its fruit; his life is lost. +Whoever, on the contrary, makes his life serve a good higher than +itself, saves it in giving it. Moral precepts, which to a superficial +view appear arbitrary, and seem made to spoil our zest for life, have +really but one object--to preserve us from the evil of having lived in +vain. That is why they are constantly leading us back into the same +paths; that is why they all have the same meaning: _Do not waste your +life,_ make it bear fruit; learn how to give it, in order that it may +not consume itself! Herein is summed up the experience of humanity, and +this experience, which each man must remake for himself, is more +precious in proportion as it costs more dear. Illumined by its light, he +makes a moral advance more and more sure. Now he has his means of +orientation, his internal norm to which he may lead everything back; and +from the vacillating, confused, and complex being that he was, he +becomes simple. By the ceaseless influence of this same law, which +expands within him, and is day by day verified in fact, his opinions and +habits become transformed. + +Once captivated by the beauty and sublimity of the true life, by what is +sacred and pathetic in this strife of humanity for truth, justice, and +brotherly love, his heart holds the fascination of it. Gradually +everything subordinates itself to this powerful and persistent charm. +The necessary hierarchy of powers is organized within him: the essential +commands, the secondary obeys, and order is born of simplicity. We may +compare this organization of the interior life to that of an army. An +army is strong by its discipline, and its discipline consists in respect +of the inferior for the superior, and the concentration of all its +energies toward a single end: discipline once relaxed, the army suffers. +It will not do to let the corporal command the general. Examine +carefully your life and the lives of others. Whenever something halts +or jars, and complications and disorder follow, it is because the +corporal has issued orders to the general. Where the natural law rules +in the heart, disorder vanishes. + +I despair of ever describing simplicity in any worthy fashion. All the +strength of the world and all its beauty, all true joy, everything that +consoles, that feeds hope, or throws a ray of light along our dark +paths, everything that makes us see across our poor lives a splendid +goal and a boundless future, comes to us from people of simplicity, +those who have made another object of their desires than the passing +satisfaction of selfishness and vanity, and have understood that the art +of living is to know how to give one's life. + + + + +III + +SIMPLICITY OF THOUGHT + + +It is not alone among the practical manifestations of our life that +there is need of making a clearing: the domain of our ideas is in the +same case. Anarchy reigns in human thought: we walk in the woods, +without compass or sun, lost among the brambles and briars of infinite +detail. + +When once man has recognized the fact that he has an aim, and that this +aim is _to be a man_, he organizes his thought accordingly. Every mode +of thinking or judging which does not make him better and stronger, he +rejects as dangerous. + +And first of all he flees the too common contrariety of amusing himself +with his thought. Thought is a tool, with its own proper function: it +isn't a toy. Let us take an example. Here is the studio of a painter. +The implements are all in place: everything indicates that this +assemblage of means is arranged with view to an end. Throw the room open +to apes. They will climb on the benches, swing from the cords, rig +themselves in draperies, coif themselves with slippers, juggle with +brushes, nibble the colors, and pierce the canvases to see what is +behind the paint. I don't question their enjoyment; certainly they must +find this kind of exercise extremely interesting. But an atelier is not +made to let monkeys loose in. No more is thought a ground for acrobatic +evolutions. A man worthy of the name, thinks as he is, as his tastes +are: he goes about it with his whole heart, and not with that fitful and +sterile curiosity which, under pretext of observing and noting +everything, runs the risk of never experiencing a deep and true emotion +or accomplishing a right deed. + +Another habit in urgent need of correction, ordinary attendant on +conventional life, is the mania for examining and analyzing one's self +at every turn. I do not invite men to neglect introspection and the +examination of conscience. The endeavor to understand one's own mental +attitudes and motives of conduct is an essential element of good living. +But quite other is this extreme vigilance, this incessant observation of +one's life and thoughts, this dissecting of one's self, like a piece of +mechanism. It is a waste of time, and goes wide of the mark. The man +who, to prepare himself the better for walking, should begin by making a +rigid anatomical examination of his means of locomotion, would risk +dislocating something before he had taken a step. You have what you need +to walk with, then forward! Take care not to fall, and use your forces +with discretion. Potterers and scruple-mongers are soon reduced to +inaction. It needs but a glimmer of common sense to perceive that man is +not made to pass his life in a self-centered trance. + +And common sense--do you not find what is designated by this name +becoming as rare as the common-sense customs of other days? Common sense +has become an old story. We must have something new--and we create a +factitious existence, a refinement of living, that the vulgar crowd has +not the wherewithal to procure. It is so agreeable to be distinguished! +Instead of conducting ourselves like rational beings, and using the +means most obviously at our command, we arrive, by dint of absolute +genius, at the most astonishing singularities. Better off the track than +on the main line! All the bodily defects and deformities that orthopedy +treats, give but a feeble idea of the humps, the tortuosities, the +dislocations we have inflicted upon ourselves in order to depart from +simple common sense; and at our own expense we learn that one does not +deform himself with impunity. Novelty, after all, is ephemeral. Nothing +endures but the eternal commonplace; and if one departs from that, it is +to run the most perilous risks. Happy he who is able to reclaim himself, +who finds the way back to simplicity. + +Good plain sense is not, as is often imagined, the innate possession of +the first chance-comer, a mean and paltry equipment that has cost +nothing to anyone. I would compare it to those old folk-songs, +unfathered but deathless, which seem to have risen out of the very heart +of the people. Good sense is a fund slowly and painfully accumulated by +the labor of centuries. It is a jewel of the first water, whose value he +alone understands who has lost it, or who observes the lives of others +who have lost it. For my part, I think no price too great to pay for +gaining it and keeping it, for the possession of eyes that see and a +judgment that discerns. One takes good care of his sword, that it be not +bent or rusted: with greater reason should he give heed to his thought. + +But let this be well understood: an appeal to common sense is not an +appeal to thought that grovels, to narrow positivism which denies +everything it cannot see or touch. For to wish that man should be +absorbed in material sensations, to the exclusion of the high realities +of the inner life, is also a want of good sense. Here we touch upon a +tender point, round which the greatest battles of humanity are waging. +In truth we are striving to attain a conception of life, searching it +out amid countless obscurities and griefs: and everything that touches +upon spiritual realities becomes day by day more painful. In the midst +of the grave perplexities and transient disorders that accompany great +crises of thought, it seems more difficult than ever to escape with any +simple principles. Yet necessity itself comes to our aid, as it has done +for the men of all times. The program of life is terribly simple, after +all, and in the fact that existence so imperiously forces herself upon +us, she gives us notice that she precedes any idea of her which we may +make for ourselves, and that no one can put off living pending an +attempt to understand life. Our philosophies, our explanations, our +beliefs are everywhere confronted by facts, and these facts, prodigious, +irrefutable, call us to order when we would deduce life from our +reasonings, and would wait to act until we have ended philosophizing. It +is this happy necessity that prevents the world from stopping while man +questions his route. Travelers of a day, we are carried along in a vast +movement to which we are called upon to contribute, but which we have +not foreseen, nor embraced in its entirety, nor penetrated as to its +ultimate aims. Our part is to fill faithfully the rôle of private, which +has devolved upon us, and our thought should adapt itself to the +situation. Do not say that we live in more trying times than our +ancestors, for things seen from afar are often seen imperfectly: it is +moreover scarcely gracious to complain of not having been born in the +days of one's grandfather. What we may believe least contestable on the +subject is this: from the beginning of the world it has been hard to see +clearly; right thinking has been difficult everywhere and always. In the +matter the ancients were in no wise privileged above the moderns, and it +might be added that there is no difference between men when they are +considered from this point of view. Master and servant, teacher and +learner, writer and artisan discern truth at the same cost. The light +that humanity acquires in advancing is no doubt of the greatest use; but +it also multiplies the number and extent of human problems. The +difficulty is never removed, the mind always encounters its obstacle. +The unknown controls us and hems us in on all sides. But just as one +need not exhaust a spring to quench his thirst, so we need not know +everything to live. Humanity lives and always has lived on certain +elemental _provisions_. + +We will try to point them out. First of all, humanity lives by +confidence. In so doing it but reflects, commensurate with its conscious +thought, that which is the hidden source of all beings. An imperturbable +faith in the stability of the universe and its intelligent ordering, +sleeps in everything that exists. The flowers, the trees, the beasts of +the field, live in calm strength, in entire security. There is +confidence in the falling rain, in dawning day, in the brook running to +the sea. Everything that is seems to say: "I am, therefore I should be; +there are good reasons for this, rest assured." + +So, too, mankind lives by confidence. From the simple fact that he is, +man has within him the sufficient reason for his being--a pledge of +assurance. He reposes in the power which has willed that he should be. +To safeguard this confidence, to see that nothing disconcerts it, to +cultivate it, render it more personal, more evident--toward this should +tend the first effort of our thought. All that augments confidence +within us is good, for from confidence is born the life without haste, +tranquil energy, calm action, the love of life and its fruitful labor. +Deep-seated confidence is the mysterious spring that sets in motion the +energy within us. It is our nutriment. By it man lives, much more than +by the bread he eats. And so everything that shakes this confidence is +evil--poison, not food. + +Dangerous is every system of thought that attacks the very fact of life, +declaring it to be an evil. Life has been too often wrongly estimated in +this century. What wonder that the tree withers when its roots are +watered with corrosives. And there is an extremely simple reflection +that might be made in the face of all this negation. You say life is an +evil. Well; what remedy for it do you offer? Can you combat it, suppress +it? I do not ask you to suppress your own life, to commit suicide;--of +what advantage would that be to us?--but to suppress _life_, not merely +human life, but life at its deep and hidden origin, all this upspringing +of existence that pushes toward the light and, to your mind, is rushing +to misfortune; I ask you to suppress the will to live that trembles +through the immensities of space, to suppress in short the source of +life. Can you do it? No. Then leave us in peace. Since no one can hold +life in check, is it not better to respect it and use it than to go +about making other people disgusted with it? When one knows that certain +food is dangerous to health, he does not eat it, and when a certain +fashion of thinking robs us of confidence, cheerfulness and strength, we +should reject that, certain not only that it is a nutriment noxious to +the mind, but also that it is false. There is no truth for man but in +thoughts that are human, and pessimism is inhuman. Besides, it wants as +much in modesty as in logic. To permit one's self to count as evil this +prodigious thing that we call life, one needs have seen its very +foundation, almost to have made it. What a strange attitude is that of +certain great thinkers of our times! They act as if they had created the +world, very long ago, in their youth, but decidedly it was a mistake, +and they had well repented it. + +Let us nourish ourselves from other meat; strengthen our souls with +cheering thoughts. What is truest for man is what best fortifies him. + +* * * * * + +If mankind lives by confidence, it lives also by hope--that form of +confidence which turns toward the future. All life is a result and an +aspiration, all that exists supposes an origin and tends toward an end. +Life is progression: progression is aspiration. The progress of the +future is an infinitude of hope. Hope is at the root of things, and must +be reflected in the heart of man. No hope, no life. The same power which +brought us into being, urges us to go up higher. What is the meaning of +this persistent instinct which pushes us on? The true meaning is that +something is to result from life, that out of it is being wrought a good +greater than itself, toward which it slowly moves, and that this painful +sower called man, needs, like every sower, to count on the morrow. The +history of humanity is the history of indomitable hope; otherwise +everything would have been over long ago. To press forward under his +burdens, to guide himself in the night, to retrieve his falls and his +failures, to escape despair even in death, man has need of hoping +always, and sometimes against all hope. Here is the cordial that +sustains him. Had we only logic, we should have long ago drawn the +conclusion: Death has everywhere the last word!--and we should be dead +of the idea. But we have hope, and that is why we live and believe in +life. + +Suso, the great monk and mystic, one of the simplest and best men that +ever lived, had a touching custom: whenever he encountered a woman, were +she the poorest and oldest, he stepped respectfully aside, though his +bare feet must tread among thorns or in the gutter. "I do that," he +said, "to render homage to our Holy Lady, the Virgin Mary." Let us offer +to hope a like reverence. If we meet it in the shape of a blade of wheat +piercing the furrow; a bird brooding on its nest; a poor wounded beast, +recovering itself, rising and continuing its way; a peasant ploughing +and sowing a field that has been ravaged by flood or hail; a nation +slowly repairing its losses and healing its wounds--under whatever guise +of humanity or suffering it appears to us, let us salute it! When we +encounter it in legends, in untutored songs, in simple creeds, let us +still salute it! for it is always the same, indestructible, the immortal +daughter of God. + +We do not dare hope enough. The men of our day have developed strange +timidities. The apprehension that the sky will fall--that acme of +absurdity among the fears of our Gallic forefathers--has entered our own +hearts. Does the rain-drop doubt the ocean? the ray mistrust the sun? +Our senile wisdom has arrived at this prodigy. It resembles those testy +old pedagogues whose chief office is to rail at the merry pranks or the +youthful enthusiasms of their pupils. It is time to become little +children once more, to learn again to stand with clasped hands and wide +eyes before the mystery around us; to remember that, in spite of our +knowledge, what we know is but a trifle, and that the world is greater +than our mind, which is well; for being so prodigious, it must hold in +reserve untold resources, and we may allow it some credit without +accusing ourselves of improvidence. Let us not treat it as creditors do +an insolvent debtor: we should fire its courage, relight the sacred +flame of hope. Since the sun still rises, since earth puts forth her +blossoms anew, since the bird builds its nest, and the mother smiles at +her child, let us have the courage to be men, and commit the rest to Him +who has numbered the stars. For my part, I would I might find glowing +words to say to whomsoever has lost heart in these times of disillusion: +Rouse your courage, hope on; he is sure of being least deluded who has +the daring to do that; the most ingenuous hope is nearer truth than the +most rational despair. + +* * * * * + +Another source of light on the path of human life is goodness. I am not +of those who believe in the natural perfection of man, and teach that +society corrupts him. On the contrary, of all forms of evil, the one +which most dismays me is heredity. But I sometimes ask myself how it is +that this effete and deadly virus of low instincts, of vices inoculated +in the blood, the whole assemblage of disabilities imposed upon us by +the past--how all this has not got the better of us. It must be because +of something else. This other thing is love. + +Given the unknown brooding above our heads, our limited intelligence, +the grievous and contradictory enigma of human destiny, falsehood, +hatred, corruption, suffering, death--what can we think, what do? To all +these questions a sublime and mysterious voice has answered: _Love your +fellow-men._ Love must indeed be divine, like faith and hope, since she +cannot die when so many powers are arrayed against her. She has to +combat the natural ferocity of what may be called the beast in man; she +has to meet ruse, force, self-interest, above all, ingratitude. How is +it that she passes pure and scathless in the midst of these dark +enemies, like the prophet of the sacred legend among the roaring beasts? +It is because her enemies are of the earth, and love is from above. +Horns, teeth, claws, eyes full of murderous fire, are powerless against +the swift wing that soars toward the heights and eludes them. Thus love +escapes the undertakings of her foes. She does even better: she has +sometimes known the fine triumph of winning over her persecutors: she +has seen the wild beasts grow calm, lie down at her feet, obey her law. + +At the very heart of the Christian faith, the most sublime of its +teachings, and to him who penetrates its deepest sense, the most human, +is this: To save lost humanity, the invisible God came to dwell among +us, in the form of a man, and willed to make Himself known by this +single sign: _Love._ + +Healing, consoling, tender to the unfortunate, even to the evil, love +engenders light beneath her feet. She clarifies, she simplifies. She has +chosen the humblest part--to bind up wounds, wipe away tears, relieve +distress, soothe aching hearts, pardon, make peace; yet it is of love +that we have the greatest need. And as we meditate on the best way to +render thought fruitful, simple, really conformable to our destiny, the +method sums itself up in these words: _Have confidence and hope; be +kind._ + +I would not discourage lofty speculation, dissuade any one whomsoever +from brooding over the problems of the unknown, over the vast abysses of +science or philosophy. But we have always to come back from these far +journeys to the point where we are, often to a place where we seem to +stand marking time with no result. There are conditions of life and +social complications in which the sage, the thinker, and the ignorant +are alike unable to see clearly. The present age has often brought us +face to face with such situations; I am sure that he who meets them with +our method will soon recognize its worth. + +* * * * * + +Since I have touched here upon religious ground, at least in a general +way, someone may ask me to say in a few simple words, what religion is +the best; and I gladly express myself on this subject. But it might be +better not to put the question in this form. All religions have, of +necessity, certain fixed characteristics, and each has its inherent +qualities or defects. Strictly speaking, then, they may be compared +among themselves: but there are always involuntary partialities or +foregone conclusions. It is better to put the question otherwise, and +ask: Is my own religion good, and how may I know it? To this question, +this answer: Your religion is good if it is vital and active, if it +nourishes in you confidence, hope, love, and a sentiment of the infinite +value of existence; if it is allied with what is best in you against +what is worst, and holds forever before you the necessity of becoming a +new man; if it makes you understand that pain is a deliverer; if it +increases your respect for the conscience of others; if it renders +forgiveness more easy, fortune less arrogant, duty more dear, the beyond +less visionary. If it does these things it is good, little matter its +name: however rudimentary it may be, when it fills this office it comes +from the true source, it binds you to man and to God. + +But does it perchance serve to make you think yourself better than +others, quibble over texts, wear sour looks, domineer over others' +consciences or give your own over to bondage; stifle your scruples, +follow religious forms for fashion or gain, do good in the hope of +escaping future punishment?--oh, then, if you proclaim yourself the +follower of Buddha, Moses, Mahomet, or even Christ, your religion is +worthless--it separates you from God and man. + +I have not perhaps the right to speak thus in my own name; but others +have so spoken before me who are greater than I, and notably He who +recounted to the questioning scribe the parable of the Good Samaritan. I +intrench myself behind His authority. + + + + +IV + +SIMPLICITY OF SPEECH + + +Speech is the chief revelation of the mind, the first visible form that +it takes. As the thought, so the speech. To better one's life in the way +of simplicity, one must set a watch on his lips and his pen. Let the +word be as genuine as the thought, as artless, as valid: think justly, +speak frankly. + +All social relations have their roots in mutual trust, and this trust is +maintained by each man's sincerity. Once sincerity diminishes, +confidence is weakened, society suffers, apprehension is born. This is +true in the province of both natural and spiritual interests. With +people whom we distrust, it is as difficult to do business as to search +for scientific truth, arrive at religious harmony, or attain to justice. +When one must first question words and intentions, and start from the +premise that everything said and written is meant to offer us illusion +in place of truth, life becomes strangely complicated. This is the case +to-day. There is so much craft, so much diplomacy, so much subtle +legerdemain, that we all have no end of trouble to inform ourselves on +the simplest subject and the one that most concerns us. Probably what I +have just said would suffice to show my thought, and each one's +experience might bring to its support an ample commentary with +illustrations. But I am none the less moved to insist on this point, and +to strengthen my position with examples. + +Formerly the means of communication between men were considerably +restricted. It was natural to suppose that in perfecting and multiplying +avenues of information, a better understanding would be brought about. +Nations would learn to love each other as they became acquainted; +citizens of one country would feel themselves bound in closer +brotherhood as more light was thrown on what concerned their common +life. When printing was invented, the cry arose: _fiat lux!_ and with +better cause when the habit of reading and the taste for newspapers +increased. Why should not men have reasoned thus:--"Two lights illumine +better than one, and many better than two: the more periodicals and +books there are, the better we shall know what happens, and those who +wish to write history after us will be right fortunate; their hands will +be full of documents"? Nothing could have seemed more evident. Alas! +this reasoning was based upon the nature and capacity of the +instruments, without taking into account the human element, always the +most important factor. And what has really come about is this: that +cavilers, calumniators, and crooks--all gentlemen glib of tongue, who +know better than any one else how to turn voice and pen to account--have +taken the utmost advantage of these extended means for circulating +thought, with the result that the men of our times have the greatest +difficulty in the world to know the truth about their own age and their +own affairs. For every newspaper that fosters good feeling and good +understanding between nations, by trying to rightly inform its neighbors +and to study them without reservations, how many spread defamation and +distrust! What unnatural and dangerous currents of opinion set in +motion! what false alarms and malicious interpretations of words and +facts! And in domestic affairs we are not much better informed than in +foreign. As to commercial, industrial, and agricultural interests, +political parties and social tendencies, or the personality of public +men, it is alike difficult to obtain a disinterested opinion. The more +newspapers one reads, the less clearly he sees in these matters. There +are days when after having read them all, and admitting that he takes +them at their word, the reader finds himself obliged to draw this +conclusion:--Unquestionably nothing but corruption can be found any +longer--no men of integrity except a few journalists. But the last part +of the conclusion falls in its turn. It appears that the chroniclers +devour each other. The reader has under his eyes a spectacle somewhat +like the cartoon entitled, "The Combat of the Serpents." After having +gorged themselves with everything around them, the reptiles fall upon +each other, and there remain upon the field of battle two tails. + +And not the common people alone feel this embarrassment, but the +cultivated also--almost everybody shares it. In politics, finance, +business--even in science, art, literature and religion, there is +everywhere disguise, trickery, wire-pulling; one truth for the public, +another for the initiated. The result is that everybody is deceived. It +is vain to be behind the scenes on one stage; a man cannot be there on +them all, and the very people who deceive others with the most ability, +are in turn deceived when they need to count upon the sincerity of their +neighbors. + +The result of such practices is the degradation of human speech. It is +degraded first in the eyes of those who manipulate it as a base +instrument. No word is respected by sophists, casuists, and quibblers, +men who are moved only by a rage for gaining their point, or who assume +that their interests are alone worth considering. Their penalty is to be +forced to judge others by the rule they follow themselves: _Say what +profits and not what is true._ They can no longer take any one +seriously--a sad state of mind for those who write or teach! How lightly +must one hold his readers and hearers to approach them in such an +attitude! To him who has preserved enough honesty, nothing is more +repugnant than the careless irony of an acrobat of the tongue or pen, +who tries to dupe honest and ingenuous men. On one side openness, +sincerity, the desire to be enlightened; on the other, chicanery making +game of the public! But he knows not, the liar, how far he is misleading +himself. The capital on which he lives is confidence, and nothing equals +the confidence of the people, unless it be their distrust when once they +find themselves betrayed. They may follow for a time the exploiters of +their artlessness, but then their friendly humor turns to hate. Doors +which stood wide open offer an impassable front of wood, and ears once +attentive are deaf. And the pity is that they have closed not to the +evil alone, but to the good. This is the crime of those who distort and +degrade speech: they shake confidence generally. We consider as a +calamity the debasement of the currency, the lowering of interest, the +abolition of credit:--there is a misfortune greater than these: the loss +of confidence, of that moral credit which honest people give one +another, and which makes speech circulate like an authentic currency. +Away with counterfeiters, speculators, rotten financiers, for they bring +under suspicion even the coin of the realm. Away with the makers of +counterfeit speech, for because of them there is no longer confidence in +anyone or anything, and what they say and write is not worth a +continental. + +You see how urgent it is that each should guard his lips, chasten his +pen, and aspire to simplicity of speech. No more perversion of sense, +circumlocution, reticence, tergiversation! these things serve only to +complicate and bewilder. Be men; speak the speech of honor. An hour of +plain-dealing does more for the salvation of the world than years of +duplicity. + +* * * * * + +A word now about a national bias, to those who have a veneration for +diction and style. Assuredly there can be no quarrel with the taste for +grace and elegance of speech. I am of opinion that one cannot say too +well what he has to say. But it does not follow that the things best +said and best written are most studied. Words should serve the fact, and +not substitute themselves for it and make it forgotten in its +embellishment. The greatest things are those which gain the most by +being said most simply, since thus they show themselves for what they +are: you do not throw over them the veil, however transparent, of +beautiful discourse, nor that shadow so fatal to truth, called the +writer's vanity. Nothing so strong, nothing so persuasive, as +simplicity! There are sacred emotions, cruel griefs, splendid heroisms, +passionate enthusiasms that a look, a movement, a cry interprets better +than beautifully rounded periods. The most precious possessions of the +heart of humanity manifest themselves most simply. To be convincing, a +thing must be true, and certain truths are more evident when they come +in the speech of ingenuousness, even weakness, than when they fall from +lips too well trained, or are proclaimed with trumpets. And these rules +are good for each of us in his every-day life. No one can imagine what +profit would accrue to his moral life from the constant observation of +this principle: Be sincere, moderate, simple in the expression of your +feelings and opinions, in private and public alike; never pass beyond +bounds, give out faithfully what is within you, and above all, +watch!--that is the main thing. + +For the danger in fine words is that they live from a life of their own. +They are servants of distinction, that have kept their titles but no +longer perform their functions--of which royal courts offer us example. +You speak well, write well, and all is said. How many people content +themselves with speaking, and believe that it exempts them from acting! +And those who listen are content with having heard them. So it sometimes +happens that a life may in the end be made up of a few well-turned +speeches, a few fine books, and a few great plays. As for practicing +what is so magisterially set forth, that is the last thing thought of. +And if we pass from the world of talent to spheres which the mediocre +exploit, there, in a pell-mell of confusion, we see those who think that +we are in the world to talk and hear others talk--the great and hopeless +rout of babblers, of everything that prates, bawls, and perorates and, +after all, finds that there isn't talking enough. They all forget that +those who make the least noise do the most work. An engine that expends +all its steam in whistling, has nothing left with which to turn wheels. +Then let us cultivate silence. All that we can save in noise we gain in +power. + +* * * * * + +These reflections lead us to consider a similar subject, also very +worthy of attention: I mean what has been called "the vice of the +superlative." If we study the inhabitants of a country, we notice +differences of temperament, of which the language shows signs. Here the +people are calm and phlegmatic; their speech is jejune, lacks color. +Elsewhere temperaments are more evenly balanced; one finds precision, +the word exactly fitted to the thing. But farther on--effect of the sun, +the air, the wine perhaps--hot blood courses in the veins, tempers are +excitable, language is extravagant, and the simplest things are said in +the strongest terms. + +If the type of speech varies with climate, it differs also with epochs. +Compare the language, written or spoken, of our own times with that of +certain other periods of our history. Under the old _régime_, people +spoke differently than at the time of the Revolution, and we have not +the same language as the men of 1830, 1848, or the Second Empire. In +general, language is now characterized by greater simplicity: we no +longer wear perukes, we no longer write in lace frills: but there is one +significant difference between us and almost all of our ancestors--and +it is the source of our exaggerations--our nervousness. Upon +over-excited nervous systems--and Heaven knows that to have nerves is no +longer an aristocratic privilege!--words do not produce the same +impression as under normal conditions. And quite as truly, simple +language does not suffice the man of over-wrought sensibilities when he +tries to express what he feels. In private life, in public, in books, on +the stage, calm and temperate speech has given place to excess. The +means that novelists and playwrights employ to galvanize the public mind +and compel its attention, are to be found again, in their rudiments, in +our most commonplace conversations, in our letter-writing, and above all +in public speaking. Our performances in language compared to those of a +man well-balanced and serene, are what our hand-writing is compared to +that of our fathers. The fault is laid to steel pens. If only the truth +were acknowledged!--Geese, then, could save us! But the evil goes +deeper; it is in ourselves. We write like men possessed: the pen of our +ancestors was more restful, more sure. Here we face one of the results +of our modern life, so complicated and so terribly exhaustive of energy. +It leaves us impatient, breathless, in perpetual trepidation. Our +hand-writing, like our speech, suffers thereby and betrays us. Let us go +back from the effect to the cause, and understand well the warning it +brings us! + +What good can come from this habit of exaggerated speech? False +interpreters of our own impressions, we can not but warp the minds of +our fellow-men as well as our own. Between people who exaggerate, good +understanding ceases. Ruffled tempers, violent and useless disputes, +hasty judgments devoid of all moderation, the utmost extravagance in +education and social life--these things are the result of intemperance +of speech. + +* * * * * + +May I be permitted, in this appeal for simplicity of speech, to frame a +wish whose fulfilment would have the happiest results? I ask for +simplicity in literature, not only as one of the best remedies for the +dejection of our souls--_blasés_, jaded, weary of eccentricities--but +also as a pledge and source of social union. I ask also for simplicity +in art. Our art and our literature are reserved for the privileged few +of education and fortune. But do not misunderstand me. I do not ask +poets, novelists, and painters to descend from the heights and walk +along the mountain-sides, finding their satisfaction in mediocrity; but, +on the contrary, to mount higher. The truly popular is not that which +appeals to a certain class of society ordinarily called the common +people; the truly popular is what is common to all classes and unites +them. The sources of inspiration from which perfect art springs are in +the depths of the human heart, in the eternal realities of life before +which all men are equal. And the sources of a popular language must be +found in the small number of simple and vigorous forms which express +elementary sensations, and draw the master lines of human destiny. In +them are truth, power, grandeur, immortality. Is there not enough in +such an ideal to kindle the enthusiasm of youth, which, sensible that +the sacred flame of the beautiful is burning within, feels pity, and to +the disdainful adage, _Odi profanum vulgus_, prefers this more humane +saying, _Misereor super turbam_. As for me, I have no artistic +authority, but from out the multitude where I live, I have the right to +raise my cry to those who have been given talents, and say to them: +Labor for men whom the world forgets, make yourselves intelligible to +the humble, so shall you accomplish a work of emancipation and peace; so +shall you open again the springs whence those masters drew, whose works +have defied the ages because they knew how to clothe genius in +simplicity. + + + + +V + +SIMPLE DUTY + + +When we talk to children on a subject that annoys them, they call our +attention to some pigeon on the roof, giving food to its little one, or +some coachman down in the street who is abusing his horse. Sometimes +they even maliciously propose one of those alarming questions that put +the minds of parents on the rack; all this to divert attention from the +distressing topic. I fear that in the face of duty we are big children, +and, when that is the theme, seek subterfuges to distract us. + +The first sophism consists in asking ourselves if there is such a thing +as duty in the abstract, or if this word does not cover one of the +numerous illusions of our forefathers. For duty, in truth, supposes +liberty, and the question of liberty leads us into metaphysics. How can +we talk of liberty so long as this grave problem of free-will is not +solved? Theoretically there is no objection to this; and if life were a +theory, and we were here to work out a complete system of the universe, +it would be absurd to concern ourselves with duty until we had clarified +the subject of liberty, determined its conditions, fixed its limits. + +But life is not a theory. In this question of practical morality, as in +the others, life has preceded hypothesis, and there is no room to +believe that she ever yields it place. This liberty--relative, I admit, +like everything we are acquainted with, for that matter--this duty whose +existence we question, is none the less the basis of all the judgments +we pass upon ourselves and our fellow-men. We hold each other to a +certain extent responsible for our deeds and exploits. + +The most ardent theorist, once outside of his theory, scruples not a +whit to approve or disapprove the acts of others, to take measures +against his enemies, to appeal to the generosity and justice of those he +would dissuade from an unworthy step. One can no more rid himself of the +notion of moral obligation than of that of time or space; and as surely +as we must resign ourselves to walking before we know how to define this +space through which we move and this time that measures our movements, +so surely must we submit to moral obligation before having put our +finger on its deep-hidden roots. Moral law dominates man, whether he +respects or defies it. See how it is in every-day life: each one is +ready to cast his stone at him who neglects a plain duty, even if he +allege that he has not yet arrived at philosophic certitude. Everybody +will say to him, and with excellent reason: "Sir, we are men before +everything. First play your part, do your duty as citizen, father, son; +after that you shall return to the course of your meditations." + +However, let us be well understood. We should not wish to turn anyone +away from scrupulous research into the foundations of morality. No +thought which leads men to concern themselves once more with these grave +questions, could be useless or indifferent. We simply challenge the +thinker to find a way to wait till he has unearthed these foundations, +before he does an act of humanity, of honesty or dishonesty, of valor or +cowardice. And most of all do we wish to formulate a reply for all the +insincere who have never tried to philosophize, and for ourselves when +we would offer our state of philosophic doubt in justification of our +practical omissions. From the simple fact that we are men, before all +theorizing, positive, or negative, about duty, we have the peremptory +law to conduct ourselves like men. There is no getting out of it. + +But he little knows the resources of the human heart, who counts on the +effect of such a reply. It matters not that it is itself unanswerable; +it cannot keep other questions from arising. The sum of our pretexts for +evading duty is equal to the sum of the sands of the sea or the stars of +heaven. + +We take refuge, then, behind duty that is obscure, difficult, +contradictory. And these are certainly words to call up painful +memories. To be a man of duty and to question one's route, grope in the +dark, feel one's self torn between the contrary solicitations of +conflicting calls, or again, to face a duty gigantic, overwhelming, +beyond our strength--what is harder! And such things happen. We would +neither deny nor contest the tragedy in certain situations or the +anguish of certain lives. And yet, duty rarely has to make itself plain +across such conflicting circumstances, or to be struck out from the +tortured mind like lightning from a storm-cloud. Such formidable shocks +are exceptional. Well for us if we stand staunch when they come! But if +no one is astonished that oaks are uprooted by the whirlwind, that a +wayfarer stumbles at night on an unknown road, or that a soldier caught +between two fires is vanquished, no more should he condemn without +appeal those who have been worsted in almost superhuman moral conflicts. +To succumb under the force of numbers or obstacles has never been +counted a disgrace. + +So my weapons are at the service of those who intrench themselves +behind the impregnable rampart of duty ill-defined, complicated or +contradictory. But it is not that which occupies me to-day; it is of +plain, I had almost said easy duty, that I wish to speak. + +* * * * * + +We have yearly three or four high feast days, and many ordinary ones: +there are likewise some very great and dark combats to wage, but beside +these is the multitude of plain and simple duties. Now, while in the +great encounters our equipment is generally adequate, it is precisely in +the little emergencies that we are found wanting. Without fear of being +misled by a paradoxical form of thought, I affirm, then, that the +essential thing is to fulfil our simple duties and exercise elementary +justice. In general, those who lose their souls do so not because they +fail to rise to difficult duty, but because they neglect to perform that +which is simple. Let us illustrate this truth. + +He who tries to penetrate into the humble underworld of society is not +slow to discover great misery, physical and moral. And the closer he +looks, the greater number of unfortunates does he discover, till in the +end this assembly of the wretched appears to him like a great black +world, in whose presence the individual and his means of relief are +reduced to helplessness. It is true that he feels impelled to run to the +succor of these unfortunates, but at the same time he asks himself, +"What is the use?" The case is certainly heartrending. Some, in despair, +end by doing nothing. They lack neither pity nor good intention, but +these bear no fruit. They are wrong. Often a man has not the means to do +good on a large scale, but that is not a reason for failing to do it at +all. So many people absolve themselves from any action, on the ground +that there is too much to do! They should be recalled to simple duty, +and this duty in the case of which we speak is that each one, according +to his resources, leisure and capacity, should create relations for +himself among the world's disinherited. There are people who by the +exercise of a little good-will have succeeded in enrolling themselves +among the followers of ministers, and have ingratiated themselves with +princes. Why should you not succeed in forming relations with the poor, +and in making acquaintances among the workers who lack somewhat the +necessities of life? When a few families are known, with their +histories, their antecedents and their difficulties, you may be of the +greatest use to them by acting the part of a brother, with the moral and +material aid that is yours to give. It is true, you will have attacked +only one little corner, but you will have done what you could, and +perhaps have led another on to follow you. Instead of stopping at the +knowledge that much wretchedness, hatred, disunion and vice exist in +society, you will have introduced a little good among these evils. And +by however slow degrees such kindness as yours is emulated, the good +will sensibly increase and the evil diminish. Even were you to remain +alone in this undertaking, you would have the assurance that in +fulfilling the duty, plain as a child's, which offered itself, you were +doing the only reasonable thing. If you have felt it so, you have found +out one of the secrets of right living. + +In its dreams, man's ambition embraces vast limits, but it is rarely +given us to achieve great things, and even then, a quick and sure +success always rests on a groundwork of patient preparation. Fidelity in +small things is at the base of every great achievement. We too often +forget this, and yet no truth needs more to be kept in mind, +particularly in the troubled eras of history and in the crises of +individual life. In shipwreck a splintered beam, an oar, any scrap of +wreckage, saves us. On the tumbling waves of life, when everything seems +shattered to fragments, let us not forget that a single one of these +poor bits may become our plank of safety. To despise the remnants is +demoralization. + +You are a ruined man, or you are stricken by a great bereavement, or +again, you see the fruit of toilsome years perish before your eyes. You +cannot rebuild your fortune, raise the dead, recover your lost toil, and +in the face of the inevitable, your arms drop. Then you neglect to care +for your person, to keep your house, to guide your children. All this is +pardonable, and how easy to understand! But it is exceedingly dangerous. +To fold one's hands and let things take their course, is to transform +one evil into worse. You who think that you have nothing left to lose, +will by that very thought lose what you have. Gather up the fragments +that remain to you, and keep them with scrupulous care. In good time +this little that is yours will be your consolation. The effort made will +come to your relief, as the effort missed will turn against you. If +nothing but a branch is left for you to cling to, cling to that branch; +and if you stand alone in defense of a losing cause, do not throw down +your arms to join the rout. After the deluge a few survivors repeopled +the earth. The future sometimes rests in a single life as truly as life +sometimes hangs by a thread. For strength, go to history and Nature. +From the long travail of both you will learn that failure and fortune +alike may come from the slightest cause, that it is not wise to neglect +detail, and, above all, that we must know how to wait and to begin +again. + +In speaking of simple duty I cannot help thinking of military life, and +the examples it offers to combatants in this great struggle. He would +little understand his soldier's duty who, the army once beaten, should +cease to brush his garments, polish his rifle, and observe discipline. +"But what would be the use?" perhaps you ask. Are there not various +fashions of being vanquished? Is it an indifferent matter to add to +defeat, discouragement, disorder, and demoralization? No, it should +never be forgotten that the least display of energy in these terrible +moments is a sign of life and hope. At once everybody feels that all is +not lost. + +During the disastrous retreat of 1813-1814, in the heart of the winter, +when it had become almost impossible to present any sort of appearance, +a general, I know not who, one morning presented himself to Napoleon, in +full dress and freshly shaven. Seeing him thus, in the midst of the +general demoralization, as elaborately attired as if for parade, the +Emperor said: _My general, you are a brave man!_ + +* * * * * + +Again, the plain duty is the near duty. A very common weakness keeps +many people from finding what is near them interesting; they see that +only on its paltry side. The distant, on the contrary, draws and +fascinates them. In this way a fabulous amount of good-will is wasted. +People burn with ardor for humanity, for the public good, for righting +distant wrongs; they walk through life, their eyes fixed on marvelous +sights along the horizon, treading meanwhile on the feet of passers-by, +or jostling them without being aware of their existence. + +Strange infirmity, that keeps us from seeing our fellows at our very +doors! People widely read and far-travelled are often not acquainted +with their fellow-citizens, great or small. Their lives depend upon the +coöperation of a multitude of beings whose lot remains to them quite +indifferent. Not those to whom they owe their knowledge and culture, not +their rulers, nor those who serve them and supply their needs, have ever +attracted their attention. That there is ingratitude or improvidence in +not knowing one's workmen, one's servants, all those in short with whom +one has indispensable social relations--this has never come into their +minds. Others go much farther. To certain wives, their husbands are +strangers, and conversely. There are parents who do not know their +children: their development, their thoughts, the dangers they run, the +hopes they cherish, are to them a closed book. Many children do not know +their parents, have no suspicion of their difficulties and struggles, no +conception of their aims. And I am not speaking of those piteously +disordered homes where all the relations are false, but of honorable +families. Only, all these people are greatly preoccupied: each has his +outside interest that fills all his time. The distant duty--very +attractive, I don't deny--claims them entirely, and they are not +conscious of the duty near at hand. I fear they will have their trouble +for their pains. Each person's base of operations is the field of his +immediate duty. Neglect this field, and all you undertake at a distance +is compromised. First, then, be of your own country, your own city, your +own home, your own church, your own work-shop; then, if you can, set out +from this to go beyond it. That is the plain and natural order, and a +man must fortify himself with very bad reasons to arrive at reversing +it. At all events, the result of so strange a confusion of duties is +that many people employ their time in all sorts of affairs except those +in which we have a right to demand it. Each is occupied with something +else than what concerns him, is absent from his post, ignores his trade. +This is what complicates life. And it would be so simple for each one to +be about his own matter. + +* * * * * + +Another form of simple duty. When damage is done, who should repair it? +He who did it. This is just, but it is only theory, and the consequence +of following the theory would be the evil in force until the malefactors +were found and had offset it. But suppose they are not found? or suppose +they can not or will not make amends? + +The rain falls on your head through a hole in the roof, or the wind +blows in at a broken window. Will you wait to find the man who caused +the mischief? You would certainly think that absurd. And yet such is +often the practice. Children indignantly protest, "I didn't put it +there, and I shall not take it away!" And most men reason after the same +fashion. It is logic. But it is not the kind of logic that makes the +world move forward. + +On the contrary, what we must learn, and what life repeats to us daily, +is that the injury done by one must be repaired by another. One tears +down, another builds up; one defaces, another restores; one stirs up +quarrels, another appeases them; one makes tears to flow, another wipes +them away; one lives for evil-doing, another dies for the right. And in +the workings of this grievous law lies salvation. This also is logic, +but a logic of facts which makes the logic of theories pale. The +conclusion of the matter is not doubtful; a single-hearted man draws it +thus: given the evil, the great thing is to make it good, and to set +about it on the spot; well indeed if Messrs. the Malefactors will +contribute to the reparation; but experience warns us not to count too +much on their aid. + +* * * * * + +But however simple duty may be, there is still need of strength to do +it. In what does this strength consist, or where is it found? One could +scarcely tire of asking. Duty is for man an enemy and an intruder, so +long as it appears as an appeal from without. When it comes in through +the door, he leaves by the window; when it blocks up the windows, he +escapes by the roof. The more plainly we see it coming, the more surely +we flee. It is like those police, representatives of public order and +official justice, whom an adroit thief succeeds in evading. Alas! the +officer, though he finally collar the thief, can only conduct him to the +station, not along the right road. Before man is able to accomplish his +duty, he must fall into the hands of another power than that which says, +"Do this, do that; shun this, shun that, or else beware!" + +This is an interior power; it is love. When a man hates his work, or +goes about it with indifference, all the forces of earth cannot make +him follow it with enthusiasm. But he who loves his office moves of +himself; not only is it needless to compel him, but it would be +impossible to turn him aside. And this is true of everybody. The great +thing is to have felt the sanctity and immortal beauty in our obscure +destiny; to have been led by a series of experiences to love this life +for its griefs and its hopes, to love men for their weakness and their +greatness, and to belong to humanity through the heart, the intelligence +and the soul. Then an unknown power takes possession of us, as the wind +of the sails of a ship, and bears us toward pity and justice. And +yielding to its irresistible impulse, we say: _I cannot help it, +something is there stronger than I._ In so saying, the men of all times +and places have designated a power that is above humanity, but which may +dwell in men's hearts. And everything truly lofty within us appears to +us as a manifestation of this mystery beyond. Noble feelings, like great +thoughts and deeds, are things of inspiration. When the tree buds and +bears fruit, it is because it draws vital forces from the soil, and +receives light and warmth from the sun. If a man, in his humble sphere, +in the midst of the ignorance and faults that are his inevitably, +consecrates himself sincerely to his task, it is because he is in +contact with the eternal source of goodness. This central force +manifests itself under a thousand forms. Sometimes it is indomitable +energy; sometimes winning tenderness; sometimes the militant spirit that +grasps and uproots the evil; sometimes maternal solicitude, gathering to +its arms from the wayside where it was perishing, some bruised and +forgotten life; sometimes the humble patience of long research. All that +it touches bears its seal, and the men it inspires know that through it +we live and have our being. To serve it is their pleasure and reward. +They are satisfied to be its instruments, and they no longer look at the +outward glory of their office, well knowing that nothing is great, +nothing small, but that our life and our deeds are only of worth because +of the spirit which breathes through them. + + + + +VI + +SIMPLE NEEDS + + +When we buy a bird of the fancier, the good man tells us briefly what is +necessary for our new pensioner, and the whole thing--hygiene, food, and +the rest--is comprehended in a dozen words. Likewise, to sum up the +necessities of most men, a few concise lines would answer. Their régime +is in general of supreme simplicity, and so long as they follow it, all +is well with them, as with every obedient child of Mother Nature. Let +them depart from it, complications arise, health fails, gayety vanishes. +Only simple and natural living can keep a body in full vigor. Instead of +remembering this basic principle, we fall into the strangest +aberrations. + +What material things does a man need to live under the best conditions? +A healthful diet, simple clothing, a sanitary dwelling-place, air and +exercise. I am not going to enter into hygienic details, compose menus, +or discuss model tenements and dress reform. My aim is to point out a +direction and tell what advantage would come to each of us from ordering +his life in a spirit of simplicity. To know that this spirit does not +rule in our society we need but watch the lives of men of all classes. +Ask different people, of very unlike surroundings, this question: What +do you need to live? You will see how they respond. Nothing is more +instructive. For some aboriginals of the Parisian asphalt, there is no +life possible outside a region bounded by certain boulevards. There one +finds the respirable air, the illuminating light, normal heat, classic +cookery, and, in moderation, so many other things without which it would +not be worth the while to promenade this round ball. + +On the various rungs of the bourgeois ladder people reply to the +question, what is necessary to live? by figures varying with the degree +of their ambition or education: and by education is oftenest understood +the outward customs of life, the style of house, dress, table--an +education precisely skin-deep. Upward from a certain income, fee, or +salary, life becomes possible: below that it is impossible. We have seen +men commit suicide because their means had fallen under a certain +minimum. They preferred to disappear rather than retrench. Observe that +this minimum, the cause of their despair, would have been sufficient for +others of less exacting needs, and enviable to men whose tastes are +modest. + +On lofty mountains vegetation changes with the altitude. There is the +region of ordinary flora, that of the forests, that of pastures, that of +bare rocks and glaciers. Above a certain zone wheat is no longer found, +but the vine still prospers. The oak ceases in the low regions, the pine +flourishes at considerable heights. Human life, with its needs, reminds +one of these phenomena of vegetation. + +At a certain altitude of fortune the financier thrives, the club-man, +the society woman, all those in short for whom the strictly necessary +includes a certain number of domestics and equipages, as well as several +town and country houses. Further on flourishes the rich upper middle +class, with its own standards and life. In other regions we find men of +ample, moderate, or small means, and very unlike exigencies. Then come +the people--artisans, day-laborers, peasants, in short, the masses, who +live dense and serried like the thick, sturdy growths on the summits of +the mountains, where the larger vegetation can no longer find +nourishment. In all these different regions of society men live, and no +matter in which particular regions they flourish, all are alike human +beings, bearing the same mark. How strange that among fellows there +should be such a prodigious difference in requirements! And here the +analogies of our comparison fail us. Plants and animals of the same +families have identical wants. In human life we observe quite the +contrary. What conclusion shall we draw from this, if not that with us +there is a considerable elasticity in the nature and number of needs? + +Is it well, is it favorable to the development of the individual and his +happiness, and to the development and happiness of society, that man +should have a multitude of needs, and bend his energies to their +satisfaction? Let us return for a moment to our comparison with inferior +beings. Provided that their essential wants are satisfied, they live +content. Is this true of men? No. In all classes of society we find +discontent. I leave completely out of the question those who lack the +necessities of life. One cannot with justice count in the number of +malcontents those from whom hunger, cold, and misery wring complaints. I +am considering now that multitude of people who live under conditions at +least supportable. Whence comes their heart-burning? Why is it found not +only among those of modest though sufficient means, but also under +shades of ever-increasing refinement, all along the ascending scale, +even to opulence and the summits of social place? They talk of the +contented middle classes. Who talk of them? People who, judging from +without, think that as soon as one begins to enjoy ease he ought to be +satisfied. But the middle classes themselves--do they consider +themselves satisfied? Not the least in the world. If there are people at +once rich and content, be assured that they are content because they +know how to be so, not because they are rich. An animal is satisfied +when it has eaten; it lies down and sleeps. A man also can lie down and +sleep for a time, but it never lasts. When he becomes accustomed to this +contentment, he tires of it and demands a greater. Man's appetite is not +appeased by food; it increases with eating. This may seem absurd, but it +is strictly true. + +And the fact that those who make the most outcry are almost always those +who should find the best reasons for contentment, proves unquestionably +that happiness is not allied to the number of our needs and the zeal we +put into their cultivation. It is for everyone's interest to let this +truth sink deep into his mind. If it does not, if he does not by +decisive action succeed in limiting his needs, he risks a descent, +insensible and beyond retreat, along the declivity of desire. + +He who lives to eat, drink, sleep, dress, take his walk,--in short, +pamper himself all that he can--be it the courtier basking in the sun, +the drunken laborer, the commoner serving his belly, the woman absorbed +in her toilettes, the profligate of low estate or high, or simply the +ordinary pleasure-lover, a "good fellow," but too obedient to material +needs--that man or woman is on the downward way of desire, and the +descent is fatal. Those who follow it obey the same laws as a body on an +inclined plane. Dupes of an illusion forever repeated, they think: "Just +a few steps more, the last, toward the thing down there that we covet; +then we will halt." But the velocity they gain sweeps them on, and the +further they go the less able they are to resist it. + +Here is the secret of the unrest, the madness, of many of our +contemporaries. Having condemned their will to the service of their +appetites, they suffer the penalty. They are delivered up to violent +passions which devour their flesh, crush their bones, suck their blood, +and cannot be sated. This is not a lofty moral denunciation. I have +been listening to what life says, and have recorded, as I heard them, +some of the truths that resound in every square. + +Has drunkenness, inventive as it is of new drinks, found the means of +quenching thirst? Not at all. It might rather be called the art of +making thirst inextinguishable. Frank libertinage, does it deaden the +sting of the senses? No; it envenoms it, converts natural desire into a +morbid obsession and makes it the dominant passion. Let your needs rule +you, pamper them--you will see them multiply like insects in the sun. +The more you give them, the more they demand. He is senseless who seeks +for happiness in material prosperity alone. As well undertake to fill +the cask of the Danaïdes. To those who have millions, millions are +wanting; to those who have thousands, thousands. Others lack a +twenty-franc piece or a hundred sous. When they have a chicken in the +pot, they ask for a goose; when they have the goose, they wish it were a +turkey, and so on. We shall never learn how fatal this tendency is. +There are too many humble people who wish to imitate the great, too many +poor working-men who ape the well-to-do middle classes, too many +shop-girls who play at being ladies, too many clerks who act the +club-man or sportsman; and among those in easy circumstances and the +rich, are too many people who forget that what they possess could serve +a better purpose than procuring pleasure for themselves, only to find in +the end that one never has enough. Our needs, in place of the servants +that they should be, have become a turbulent and seditious crowd, a +legion of tyrants in miniature. A man enslaved to his needs may best be +compared to a bear with a ring in its nose, that is led about and made +to dance at will. The likeness is not flattering, but you will grant +that it is true. It is in the train of their own needs that so many of +those men are dragged along who rant for liberty, progress, and I don't +know what else. They cannot take a step without asking themselves if it +might not irritate their masters. How many men and women have gone on +and on, even to dishonesty, for the sole reason that they had too many +needs and could not resign themselves to simple living. There are many +guests in the chambers of Mazas who could give us much light on the +subject of too exigent needs. + +Let me tell you the story of an excellent man whom I knew. He tenderly +loved his wife and children, and they all lived together, in France, in +comfort and plenty, but with little of the luxury the wife coveted. +Always short of money, though with a little management he might have +been at ease, he ended by exiling himself to a distant colony, leaving +his wife and children in the mother country. I don't know how the poor +man can feel off there; but his family has a finer apartment, more +beautiful toilettes, and what passes for an equipage. At present they +are perfectly contented, but soon they will be used to this +luxury--rudimentary after all. Then Madam will find her furniture common +and her equipage mean. If this man loves his wife--and that cannot be +doubted--he will migrate to the moon if there is hope of a larger +stipend. In other cases the rôles are reversed, and the wife and +children are sacrificed to the ravenous needs of the head of the family, +whom an irregular life, play, and countless other costly follies have +robbed of all dignity. Between his appetites and his rôle of father he +has decided for the former, and he slowly drifts toward the most abject +egoism. + +This forgetfulness of all responsibility, this gradual benumbing of +noble feeling, is not alone to be found among pleasure-seekers of the +upper classes: the people also are infected. I know more than one little +household, which ought to be happy, where the mother has only pain and +heartache day and night, the children are barefoot, and there is great +ado for bread. Why? Because too much money is needed by the father. To +speak only of the expenditure for alcohol, everybody knows the +proportions that has reached in the last twenty years. The sums +swallowed up in this gulf are fabulous--twice the indemnity of the war +of 1870. How many legitimate needs could have been satisfied with that +which has been thrown away on these artificial ones! The reign of wants +is by no means the reign of brotherhood. The more things a man desires +for himself, the less he can do for his neighbor, and even for those +attached to him by ties of blood. + +* * * * * + +The destruction of happiness, independence, moral fineness, even of the +sentiment of common interests--such is the result of the reign of needs. +A multitude of other unfortunate things might be added, of which not the +least is the disturbance of the public welfare. When society has too +great needs, it is absorbed with the present, sacrifices to it the +conquests of the past, immolates to it the future. After us the deluge! +To raze the forests in order to get gold; to squander your patrimony in +youth, destroying in a day the fruit of long years; to warm your house +by burning your furniture; to burden the future with debts for the sake +of present pleasure; to live by expedients and sow for the morrow +trouble, sickness, ruin, envy and hate--the enumeration of all the +misdeeds of this fatal régime has no end. + +On the other hand, if we hold to simple needs we avoid all these evils +and replace them by measureless good. That temperance and sobriety are +the best guardians of health is an old story. They spare him who +observes them many a misery that saddens existence; they insure him +health, love of action, mental poise. Whether it be a question of food, +dress, or dwelling, simplicity of taste is also a source of independence +and safety. The more simply you live, the more secure is your future; +you are less at the mercy of surprises and reverses. An illness or a +period of idleness does not suffice to dispossess you: a change of +position, even considerable, does not put you to confusion. Having +simple needs, you find it less painful to accustom yourself to the +hazards of fortune. You remain a man, though you lose your office or +your income, because the foundation on which your life rests is not your +table, your cellar, your horses, your goods and chattels, or your money. +In adversity you will not act like a nursling deprived of its bottle and +rattle. Stronger, better armed for the struggle, presenting, like those +with shaven heads, less advantage to the hands of your enemy, you will +also be of more profit to your neighbor. For you will not rouse his +jealousy, his base desires or his censure, by your luxury, your +prodigality, or the spectacle of a sycophant's life; and, less absorbed +in your own comfort, you will find the means of working for that of +others. + + + + +VII + +SIMPLE PLEASURES + + +Do you find life amusing in these days? For my part, on the whole, it +seems rather depressing, and I fear that my opinion is not altogether +personal. As I observe the lives of my contemporaries, and listen to +their talk, I find myself unhappily confirmed in the opinion that they +do not get much pleasure out of things. And certainly it is not from +lack of trying; but it must be acknowledged that their success is +meagre. Where can the fault be? + +Some accuse politics or business; others social problems or militarism. +We meet only an embarrassment of choice when we start to unstring the +chaplet of our carking cares. Suppose we set out in pursuit of pleasure. +There is too much pepper in our soup to make it palatable. Our arms are +filled with a multitude of embarrassments, any one of which would be +enough to spoil our temper. From morning till night, wherever we go, the +people we meet are hurried, worried, preoccupied. Some have spilt their +good blood in the miserable conflicts of petty politics: others are +disheartened by the meanness and jealousy they have encountered in the +world of literature or art. Commercial competition troubles the sleep of +not a few. The crowded curricula of study and the exigencies of their +opening careers, spoil life for young men. The working classes suffer +the consequences of a ceaseless industrial struggle. It is becoming +disagreeable to govern, because authority is diminishing; to teach, +because respect is vanishing. Wherever one turns there is matter for +discontent. + +And yet history shows us certain epochs of upheaval which were as +lacking in idyllic tranquillity as is our own, but which the gravest +events did not prevent from being gay. It even seems as if the +seriousness of affairs, the uncertainty of the morrow, the violence of +social convulsions, sometimes became a new source of vitality. It is not +a rare thing to hear soldiers singing between two battles, and I think +myself nowise mistaken in saying that human joy has celebrated its +finest triumphs under the greatest tests of endurance. But to sleep +peacefully on the eve of battle or to exult at the stake, men had then +the stimulus of an internal harmony which we perhaps lack. Joy is not in +things, it is in us, and I hold to the belief that the causes of our +present unrest, of this contagious discontent spreading everywhere, are +in us at least as much as in exterior conditions. + +To give one's self up heartily to diversion one must feel himself on a +solid basis, must believe in life and find it within him. And here lies +our weakness. So many of us--even, alas! the younger men--are at +variance with life; and I do not speak of philosophers only. How do you +think a man can be amused while he has his doubts whether after all life +is worth living? Besides this, one observes a disquieting depression of +vital force, which must be attributed to the abuse man makes of his +sensations. Excess of all kinds has blurred our senses and poisoned our +faculty for happiness. Human nature succumbs under the irregularities +imposed upon it. Deeply attainted at its root, the desire to live, +persistent in spite of everything, seeks satisfaction in cheats and +baubles. In medical science we have recourse to artificial respiration, +artificial alimentation, and galvanism. So, too, around expiring +pleasure we see a crowd of its votaries, exerting themselves to reawaken +it, to reanimate it Most ingenious means have been invented; it can +never be said that expense has been spared. Everything has been tried, +the possible and the impossible. But in all these complicated alembics +no one has ever arrived at distilling a drop of veritable joy. We must +not confound pleasure with the instruments of pleasure. To be a painter, +does it suffice to arm one's self with a brush, or does the purchase at +great cost of a Stradivarius make one a musician? No more, if you had +the whole paraphernalia of amusement in the perfection of its +ingenuity, would it advance you upon your road. But with a bit of +crayon a great artist makes an immortal sketch. It needs talent or +genius to paint; and to amuse one's self, the faculty of being happy: +whoever possesses it is amused at slight cost. This faculty is destroyed +by scepticism, artificial living, over-abuse; it is fostered by +confidence, moderation and normal habits of thought and action. + +An excellent proof of my proposition, and one very easily encountered, +lies in the fact that wherever life is simple and sane, true pleasure +accompanies it as fragrance does uncultivated flowers. Be this life +hard, hampered, devoid of all things ordinarily considered as the very +conditions of pleasure, the rare and delicate plant, joy, flourishes +there. It springs up between the flags of the pavement, on an arid wall, +in the fissure of a rock. We ask ourselves how it comes, and whence: but +it lives; while in the soft warmth of conservatories or in fields richly +fertilized you cultivate it at a golden cost to see it fade and die in +your hand. + +Ask actors what audience is happiest at the play; they will tell you the +popular one. The reason is not hard to grasp. To these people the play +is an exception, they are not bored by it from over-indulgence. And, +too, to them it is a rest from rude toil. The pleasure they enjoy they +have honestly earned, and they know its cost as they know that of each +sou earned by the sweat of their labor. More, they have not frequented +the wings, they have no intrigues with the actresses, they do not see +the wires pulled. To them it is all real. And so they feel pleasure +unalloyed. I think I see the sated sceptic, whose monocle glistens in +that box, cast a disdainful glance over the smiling crowd. + +"Poor stupid creatures, ignorant and gross!" + +And yet they are the true livers, while he is an artificial product, a +mannikin, incapable of experiencing this fine and salutary intoxication +of an hour of frank pleasure. + +Unhappily, ingenuousness is disappearing, even in the rural districts. +We see the people of our cities, and those of the country in their turn, +breaking with the good traditions. The mind, warped by alcohol, by the +passion for gambling, and by unhealthy literature, contracts little by +little perverted tastes. Artificial life makes irruption into +communities once simple in their pleasures, and it is like phylloxera to +the vine. The robust tree of rustic joy finds its sap drained, its +leaves turning yellow. + +Compare a _fête champêtre_ of the good old style with the village +festivals, so-called, of to-day. In the one case, in the honored setting +of antique costumes, genuine countrymen sing the folk songs, dance +rustic dances, regale themselves with native drinks, and seem entirely +in their element. They take their pleasure as the blacksmith forges, as +the cascade tumbles over the rocks, as the colts frisk in the meadows. +It is contagious: it stirs your heart. In spite of yourself you are +ready to cry: "Bravo, my children. That is fine!" You want to join in. +In the other case, you see villagers disguised as city folk, +countrywomen made hideous by the modiste, and, as the chief ornament of +the festival, a lot of degenerates who bawl the songs of music halls; +and sometimes in the place of honor, a group of tenth-rate barnstormers, +imported for the occasion, to civilize these rustics and give them a +taste of refined pleasures. For drinks, liquors mixed with brandy or +absinthe: in the whole thing neither originality nor picturesqueness. +License, indeed, and clownishness, but not that _abandon_ which +ingenuous joy brings in its train. + +* * * * * + +This question of pleasure is capital. Staid people generally neglect it +as a frivolity; utilitarians, as a costly superfluity. Those whom we +designate as pleasure-seekers forage in this delicate domain like wild +boars in a garden. No one seems to doubt the immense human interest +attached to joy. It is a sacred flame that must be fed, and that throws +a splendid radiance over life. He who takes pains to foster it +accomplishes a work as profitable for humanity as he who builds bridges, +pierces tunnels, or cultivates the ground. So to order one's life as to +keep, amid toils and suffering, the faculty of happiness, and be able to +propagate it in a sort of salutary contagion among one's fellow-men, is +to do a work of fraternity in the noblest sense. To give a trifling +pleasure, smooth an anxious brow, bring a little light into dark +paths--what a truly divine office in the midst of this poor humanity! +But it is only in great simplicity of heart that one succeeds in +filling it. + +We are not simple enough to be happy and to render others so. We lack +the singleness of heart and the self-forgetfulness. We spread joy, as we +do consolation, by such methods as to obtain negative results. To +console a person, what do we do? We set to work to dispute his +suffering, persuade him that he is mistaken in thinking himself unhappy. +In reality, our language translated into truthful speech would amount to +this: "You suffer, my friend? That is strange; you must be mistaken, for +I feel nothing." As the only human means of soothing grief is to share +it in the heart, how must a sufferer feel, consoled in this fashion? + +To divert our neighbor, make him pass an agreeable hour, we set out in +the same way. We invite him to admire our versatility, to laugh at our +wit, to frequent our house, to sit at our table; through it all, our +desire to shine breaks forth. Sometimes, also, with a patron's +prodigality, we offer him the beneficence of a public entertainment of +our own choosing, unless we ask him to find amusement at our home, as we +sometimes do to make up a party at cards, with the _arrière-pensée_ of +exploiting him to our own profit. Do you think it the height of +pleasure for others to admire us, to admit our superiority, and to act +as our tools? Is there anything in the world so disgusting as to feel +one's self patronized, made capital of, enrolled in a claque? To give +pleasure to others and take it ourselves, we have to begin by removing +the ego, which is hateful, and then keep it in chains as long as the +diversions last. There is no worse kill-joy than the ego. We must be +good children, sweet and kind, button our coats over our medals and +titles, and with our whole heart put ourselves at the disposal of +others. + +Let us sometimes live--be it only for an hour, and though we must lay +all else aside--to make others smile. The sacrifice is only in +appearance; no one finds more pleasure for himself than he who knows +how, without ostentation, to give himself that he may procure for those +around him a moment of forgetfulness and happiness. + +When shall we be so simply and truly _men_ as not to obtrude our +personal business and distresses upon the people we meet socially? May +we not forget for an hour our pretensions, our strife, our distributions +into sets and cliques--in short, our "parts," and become as children +once more, to laugh again that good laugh which does so much to make the +world better? + +* * * * * + +Here I feel drawn to speak of something very particular, and in so doing +to offer my well-disposed readers an opportunity to go about a splendid +business. I want to call their attention to several classes of people +seldom thought of with reference to their pleasures. + +It is understood that a broom serves only to sweep, a watering-pot to +water plants, a coffee-mill to grind coffee, and likewise it is supposed +that a nurse is designed only to care for the sick, a professor to +teach, a priest to preach, bury, and confess, a sentinel to mount guard; +and the conclusion is drawn that the people given up to the more serious +business of life are dedicated to labor, like the ox. Amusement is +incompatible with their activities. Pushing this view still further, we +think ourselves warranted in believing that the infirm, the afflicted, +the bankrupt, the vanquished in life's battle, and all those who carry +heavy burdens, are in the shade, like the northern slopes of mountains, +and that it is so of necessity. Whence the conclusion that serious +people have no need of pleasure, and that to offer it to them would be +unseemly; while as to the afflicted, there would be a lack of delicacy +in breaking the thread of their sad meditations. It seems therefore to +be understood that certain persons are condemned to be _always_ serious, +that we should approach them in a serious frame of mind, and talk to +them only of serious things: so, too, when we visit the sick or +unfortunate; we should leave our smiles at the door, compose our face +and manner to dolefulness, and talk of anything heartrending. Thus we +carry darkness to those in darkness, shade to those in shade. We +increase the isolation of solitary lives and the monotony of the dull +and sad. We wall up some existences as it were in dungeons; and because +the grass grows round their deserted prison-house, we speak low in +approaching it, as though it were a tomb. Who suspects the work of +infernal cruelty which is thus accomplished every day in the world! This +ought not to be. + +When you find men or women whose lives are lost in hard tasks, or in the +painful office of seeking out human wretchedness and binding up wounds, +remember that they are beings made like you, that they have the same +wants, that there are hours when they need pleasure and diversion. You +will not turn them aside from their mission by making them laugh +occasionally--these people who see so many tears and griefs; on the +contrary, you will give them strength to go on the better with their +work. + +And when people whom you know are in trial, do not draw a sanitary +cordon round them--as though they had the plague--that you cross only +with precautions which recall to them their sad lot. On the contrary, +after showing all your sympathy, all your respect for their grief, +comfort them, help them to take up life again; carry them a breath from +the out-of-doors--something in short to remind them that their +misfortune does not shut them off from the world. + +And so extend your sympathy to those whose work quite absorbs them, who +are, so to put it, tied down. The world is full of men and women +sacrificed to others, who never have either rest or pleasure, and to +whom the least relaxation, the slightest respite, is a priceless good. +And this minimum of comfort could be so easily found for them if only +we thought of it. But the broom, you know, is made for sweeping, and it +seems as though it could not be fatigued. Let us rid ourselves of this +criminal blindness which prevents us from seeing the exhaustion of those +who are always in the breach. Relieve the sentinels perishing at their +posts, give Sisyphus an hour to breathe; take for a moment the place of +the mother, a slave to the cares of her house and her children; +sacrifice an hour of our sleep for someone worn by long vigils with the +sick. Young girl, tired sometimes perhaps of your walk with your +governess, take the cook's apron, and give her the key to the fields. +You will at once make others happy and be happy yourself. We go +unconcernedly along beside our brothers who are bent under burdens we +might take upon ourselves for a minute. And this short respite would +suffice to soothe aches, revive the flame of joy in many a heart, and +open up a wide place for brotherliness. How much better would one +understand another if he knew how to put himself heartily in that +other's place, and how much more pleasure there would be in life! + +* * * * * + +I have spoken too fully elsewhere of systematizing amusements for the +young, to return to it here in detail.[B] But I wish to say in substance +what cannot be too often repeated: If you wish youth to be moral, do not +neglect its pleasures, or leave to chance the task of providing them. +You will perhaps say that young people do not like to have their +amusements submitted to regulations, and that besides, in our day, they +are already over-spoiled and divert themselves only too much. I shall +reply, first, that one may suggest ideas, indicate directions, offer +opportunities for amusement, without making any regulations whatever. In +the second place, I shall make you see that you deceive yourselves in +thinking youth has too much diversion. Aside from amusements that are +artificial, enervating and immoral, that blight life instead of making +it bloom in splendor, there are very few left to-day. Abuse, that enemy +of legitimate use, has so befouled the world, that it is becoming +difficult to touch anything but what is unclean: whence watchfulness, +warnings and endless prohibitions. One can hardly stir without +encountering something that resembles unhealthy pleasure. Among young +people of to-day, particularly the self-respecting, the dearth of +amusements causes real suffering. One is not weaned from this generous +wine without discomfort. Impossible to prolong this state of affairs +without deepening the shadow round the heads of the younger generations. +We must come to their aid. Our children are heirs of a joyless world. We +bequeath them cares, hard questions, a life heavy with shackles and +complexities. Let us at least make an effort to brighten the morning of +their days. Let us interest ourselves in their sports, find them +pleasure-grounds, open to them our hearts and our homes. Let us bring +the family into our amusements. Let gayety cease to be a commodity of +export. Let us call in our sons, whom our gloomy interiors send out into +the street, and our daughters, moping in dismal solitude. Let us +multiply anniversaries, family parties, and excursions. Let us raise +good humor in our homes to the height of an institution. Let the +schools, too, do their part. Let masters and students--school-boys and +college-boys--meet together oftener for amusement. It will be so much +the better for serious work. There is no such aid to understanding one's +professor as to have laughed in his company; and conversely, to be well +understood a pupil must be met elsewhere than in class or examination. + +And who will furnish the money? What a question! That is exactly the +error. Pleasure and money: people take them for the two wings of the +same bird! A gross illusion! Pleasure, like all other truly precious +things in this world, cannot be bought or sold. If you wish to be +amused, you must do your part toward it; that is the essential. There is +no prohibition against opening your purse, if you can do it, and find it +desirable. But I assure you it is not indispensable. Pleasure and +simplicity are two old acquaintances. Entertain simply, meet your +friends simply. If you come from work well done, are as amiable and +genuine as possible toward your companions, and speak no evil of the +absent, your success is sure. + +[B] See "Youth," the chapter on "Joy." + + + + +VIII + +THE MERCENARY SPIRIT AND SIMPLICITY + + +We have in passing touched upon a certain wide-spread prejudice which +attributes to money a magic power. Having come so near enchanted ground +we will not retire in awe, but plant a firm foot here, persuaded of many +truths that should be spoken. They are not new, but how they are +forgotten! + +I see no possible way of doing without money. The only thing that +theorists or legislators who accuse it of all our ills have hitherto +achieved, has been to change its name or form. But they have never been +able to dispense with a symbol representative of the commercial value of +things. One might as well wish to do away with written language as to do +away with money. Nevertheless, this question of a circulating medium is +very troublesome. It forms one of the chief elements of complication in +our life. The economic difficulties amid which we still flounder, social +conventionalities, and the entire organization of modern life, have +carried gold to a rank so eminent that it is not astonishing to find the +imagination of man attributing to it a sort of royalty. And it is on +this side that we shall attack the problem. + +The term money has for appendage that of merchandise. If there were no +merchandise there would be no money; but as long as there is merchandise +there will be money, little matter under what form. The source of all +the abuses which centre around money lies in a lack of discrimination. +People have confused under the term and idea of merchandise, things +which have no relation with one another. They have attempted to give a +venal value to things which neither could have it nor ought to. The idea +of purchase and sale has invaded ground where it may justly be +considered an enemy and a usurper. It is reasonable that wheat, +potatoes, wine, fabrics, should be bought and sold, and it is perfectly +natural that a man's labor procure him rights to life, and that there be +put into his hands something whose value represents them; but here +already the analogy ceases to be complete. A man's labor is not +merchandise in the same sense as a sack of flour or a ton of coal. Into +this labor enter elements which cannot be valued in money. In short, +there are things which can in no wise be bought: sleep, for instance, +knowledge of the future, talent. He who offers them for sale must be +considered a fool or an impostor. And yet there are gentlemen who coin +money by such traffic. They sell what does not belong to them, and +their dupes pay fictitious values in veritable coin. So, too, there are +dealers in pleasure, dealers in love, dealers in miracles, dealers in +patriotism, and the title of merchant, so honorable when it represents a +man selling that which is in truth a commodity of trade, becomes the +worst of stigmas when there is question of the heart, of religion, of +country. + +Almost all men are agreed that to barter with one's sentiments, his +honor, his cloth, his pen, or his note, is infamous. Unfortunately this +idea, which suffers no contradiction as a theory, and which thus stated +seems rather a commonplace than a high moral truth, has infinite trouble +to make its way in practice. Traffic has invaded the world. The +money-changers are established even in the sanctuary, and by sanctuary I +do not mean religious things alone, but whatever mankind holds sacred +and inviolable. It is not gold that complicates, corrupts, and debases +life; it is our mercenary spirit. + +The mercenary spirit resolves everything into a single question: _How +much is that going to bring me?_ and sums up everything in a single +axiom: _With money you can procure anything._ Following these two +principles of conduct, a society may descend to a degree of infamy +impossible to describe or to imagine. + +_How much is it going to bring me?_ This question, so legitimate while +it concerns those precautions which each ought to take to assure his +subsistence by his labor, becomes pernicious as soon as it passes its +limits and dominates the whole life. This is so true that it vitiates +even the toil which gains our daily bread. I furnish paid labor; nothing +could be better: but if to inspire me in this labor I have only the +desire to get the pay, nothing could be worse. A man whose only motive +for action is his wages, does a bad piece of work: what interests him is +not the doing, it's the gold. If he can retrench in pains without +lessening his gains, be assured that he will do it. Plowman, mason, +factory laborer, he who loves not his work puts into it neither interest +nor dignity--is, in short, a bad workman. It is not well to confide +one's life to a doctor who is wholly engrossed in his fees, for the +spring of his action is the desire to garnish his purse with the +contents of yours. If it is for his interest that you should suffer +longer, he is capable of fostering your malady instead of fortifying +your strength. The instructor of children who cares for his work only so +far as it brings him profit, is a sad teacher; for his pay is +indifferent, and his teaching more indifferent still. Of what value is +the mercenary journalist? The day you write for the dollar, your prose +is not worth the dollar you write for. The more elevated in kind is the +object of human labor, the more the mercenary spirit, if it be present, +makes this labor void and corrupts it. There are a thousand reasons to +say that all toil merits its wage, that every man who devotes his +energies to providing for his life should have his place in the sun, and +that he who does nothing useful, does not gain his livelihood, in short, +is only a parasite. But there is no greater social error than to make +gain the sole motive of action. The best we put into our work--be that +work done by strength of muscle, warmth of heart, or concentration of +mind--is precisely that for which no one can pay us. Nothing better +proves that man is not a machine than this fact: two men at work with +the same forces and the same movements, produce totally different +results. Where lies the cause of this phenomenon? In the divergence of +their intentions. One has the mercenary spirit, the other has singleness +of purpose. Both receive their pay, but the labor of the one is barren; +the other has put his soul into his work. The work of the first is like +a grain of sand, out of which nothing comes through all eternity; the +other's work is like the living seed thrown into the ground; it +germinates and brings forth harvests. This is the secret which explains +why so many people have failed while employing the very processes by +which others succeed. Automatons do not reproduce their kind, and +mercenary labor yields no fruit. + +* * * * * + +Unquestionably we must bow before economic facts, and recognize the +difficulties of living: from day to day it becomes more imperative to +combine well one's forces in order to succeed in feeding, clothing, +housing, and bringing up a family. He who does not rightly take account +of these crying necessities, who makes no calculation, no provision for +the future, is but a visionary or an incompetent, and runs the risk of +sooner or later asking alms from those at whose parsimony he has +sneered. And yet, what would become of us if these cares absorbed us +entirely? if, mere accountants, we should wish to measure our effort by +the money it brings, do nothing that does not end in a receipt, and +consider as things worthless or pains lost whatever cannot be drawn up +in figures on the pages of a ledger? Did our mothers look for pay in +loving us and caring for us? What would become of filial piety if we +asked it for loving and caring for our aged parents? + +What does it cost you to speak the truth? Misunderstandings, sometimes +sufferings and persecutions. To defend your country? Weariness, wounds +and often death. To do good? Annoyance, ingratitude, even resentment. +Self-sacrifice enters into all the essential actions of humanity. I defy +the closest calculators to maintain their position in the world without +ever appealing to aught but their calculations. True, those who know how +to make their "pile" are rated as men of ability. But look a little +closer. How much of it do they owe to the unselfishness of the +simple-hearted? Would they have succeeded had they met only shrewd men +of their own sort, having for device: "No money, no service?" Let us be +outspoken; it is due to certain people who do not count too rigorously, +that the world gets on. The most beautiful acts of service and the +hardest tasks have generally little remuneration or none. Fortunately +there are always men ready for unselfish deeds; and even for those paid +only in suffering, though they cost gold, peace, and even life. The part +these men play is often painful and discouraging. Who of us has not +heard recitals of experiences wherein the narrator regretted some past +kindness he had done, some trouble he had taken, to have nothing but +vexation in return? These confidences generally end thus: "It was folly +to do the thing!" Sometimes it is right so to judge; for it is always a +mistake to cast pearls before swine; but how many lives there are whose +sole acts of real beauty are these very ones of which the doers repent +because of men's ingratitude! Our wish for humanity is that the number +of these foolish deeds may go on increasing. + +* * * * * + +And now I arrive at the _credo_ of the mercenary spirit. It is +characterized by brevity. For the mercenary man, the law and the +prophets are contained in this one axiom: _With money you can get +anything._ From a surface view of our social life, nothing seems more +evident. "The sinews of war," "the shining mark," "the key that opens +all doors," "king money!"--If one gathered up all the sayings about the +glory and power of gold, he could make a litany longer than that which +is chanted in honor of the Virgin. You must be without a penny, if only +for a day or two, and try to live in this world of ours, to have any +idea of the needs of him whose purse is empty. I invite those who love +contrasts and unforeseen situations, to attempt to live without money +three days, and far from their friends and acquaintances--in short, far +from the society in which they are somebody. They will gain more +experience in forty-eight hours than in a year otherwise. Alas for some +people! they have this experience thrust upon them, and when veritable +ruin descends around their heads, it is useless to remain in their own +country, among the companions of their youth, their former colleagues, +even those indebted to them. People affect to know them no longer. With +what bitterness do they comment on the creed of money:--With gold one +may have what he will; without it, impossible to have anything! They +become pariahs, lepers, whom everyone shuns. Flies swarm round cadavers, +men round gold. Take away the gold, nobody is there. Oh, it has caused +tears to flow, this creed of gain! bitter tears, tears of blood, even +from those very eyes which once adored the golden calf. + +And with it all, this creed is false, quite false. I shall not advance +to the attack with hackneyed tales of the rich man astray in a desert, +who cannot get even a drop of water for his gold; or the decrepit +millionaire who would give half he has to buy from a stalwart fellow +without a cent, his twenty years and his lusty health. No more shall I +attempt to prove that one cannot buy happiness. So many people who have +money and so many more who have not would smile at this truth as the +hardest ridden of saws. But I shall appeal to the common experience of +each of you, to make you put your finger on the clumsy lie hidden +beneath an axiom that all the world goes about repeating. + +Fill your purse to the best of your means, and let us set out for one of +the watering-places of which there are so many. I mean some little town +formerly unknown and full of simple folk, respectful and hospitable, +among whom it was good to be, and cost little. Fame with her hundred +trumpets has announced them to the world, and shown them how they can +profit from their situation, their climate, their personality. You start +out, on the faith of Dame Rumor, flattering yourself that with your +money you are going to find a quiet place to rest, and, far from the +world of civilization and convention, weave a bit of poetry into the +warp of your days. + +The beginning is good. Nature's setting and some patriarchal costumes, +slow to disappear, delight you. But as time passes, the impression is +spoiled. The reverse side of things begins to show. This which you +thought was as true antique as family heirlooms, is naught but trickery +to mystify the credulous. Everything is labeled, all is for sale, from +the earth to the inhabitants. These primitives have become the most +consummate of sharpers. Given your money, they have resolved the problem +of getting it with the least expense to themselves. On all sides are +nets and traps, like spider-webs, and the fly that this gentry lies +snugly in wait for is _you_. This is what twenty or thirty years of +venality has done for a population once simple and honest, whose contact +was grateful indeed to men worn by city life. Home-made bread has +disappeared, butter comes from the dealer, they know to an art how to +skim milk and adulterate wine; they have all the vices of dwellers in +cities without their virtues. + +As you leave, you count your money. So much is wanting, that you make +complaint. You are wrong. One never pays too dear for the conviction +that there are things which money will not buy. + +You have need in your house of an intelligent and competent servant: +attempt to find this _rara avis_. According to the principle that with +money one may get anything, you ought, as the position you offer is +inferior, ordinary, good, or exceptional, to find servants unskilled, +average, excellent, superior. But all those who present themselves for +the vacant post are listed in the last category, and are fortified with +certificates to support their pretensions. It is true that nine times +out of ten, when put to the test, these experts are found totally +wanting. Then why did they engage themselves with you? They ought in +truth to reply as does the cook in the comedy, who is dearly paid and +proves to know nothing. + + "Why did you hire out as a _cordon bleu_? + _It was to get bigger commissions."_ + +That is the great affair. You will always find people who like to get +big wages. More rarely you find capability. And if you are looking for +probity, the difficulty increases. Mercenaries may be had for the +asking; faithfulness is another thing. Far be it from me to deny the +existence of faithful servants, at once intelligent and upright. But you +will encounter as many, if not more, among the illy paid as among those +most highly salaried. And it little matters where you find them, you may +be sure that they are not faithful in their own interest; they are +faithful because they have somewhat of that simplicity which renders us +capable of self-abnegation. + +We also hear on all sides the adage that money is the sinews of war. +There is no question but that war costs much money, and we know +something about it. Does this mean that in order to defend herself +against her enemies and to honor her flag, a country need only be rich? +In olden time the Greeks took it upon themselves to teach the Persians +the contrary, and this lesson will never cease to be repeated in +history. With money ships, cannon, horses may be bought; but not so +military genius, administrative wisdom, discipline, enthusiasm. Put +millions into the hands of your recruiters, and charge them to bring you +a great leader and an army. You will find a hundred captains instead of +one, and a thousand soldiers. But put them under fire: you will have +enough of your hirelings! At least one might imagine that with money +alone it is possible to lighten misery. Ah! that too is an illusion from +which we must turn away. Money, be the sum great or small, is a seed +which germinates into abuses. Unless there go with it intelligence, +kindness, much knowledge of men, it will do nothing but harm, and we run +great risk of corrupting both those who receive our bounty and those +charged with its distribution. + +* * * * * + +Money will not answer for everything: it is a power, but it is not +all-powerful. Nothing complicates life, demoralizes man, perverts the +normal course of society like the development of venality. Wherever it +reigns, everybody is duped by everybody else: one can no longer put +trust in persons or things, no longer obtain anything of value. We would +not be detractors of money, but this general law must be applied to it: +_Everything in its own place._ When gold, which should be a servant, +becomes a tyrannical power, affronting morality, dignity and liberty; +when some exert themselves to obtain it at any price, offering for sale +what is not merchandise, and others, possessing wealth, fancy that they +can purchase what no one may buy, it is time to rise against this gross +and criminal superstition, and cry aloud to the imposture: "Thy money +perish with thee!" The most precious things that man possesses he has +almost always received gratuitously: let him learn so to give them. + + + + +IX + +NOTORIETY AND THE INGLORIOUS GOOD + + +One of the chief puerilities of our time is the love of advertisement. +To emerge from obscurity, to be in the public eye, to make one's self +talked of--some people are so consumed with this desire that we are +justified in declaring them attacked with an itch for publicity. In +their eyes obscurity is the height of ignominy: so they do their best to +keep their names in every mouth. In their obscure position they look +upon themselves as lost, like ship-wrecked sailors whom a night of +tempest has cast on some lonely rock, and who have recourse to cries, +volleys, fire, all the signals imaginable, to let it be known that they +are there. Not content with setting off crackers and innocent rockets, +many, to make themselves heard at any cost, have gone to the length of +perfidy and even crime. The incendiary Erostratus has made numerous +disciples. How many men of to-day have become notorious for having +destroyed something of mark; pulled down--or tried to pull down--some +man's high reputation; signalled their passage, in short, by a scandal, +a meanness, or an atrocity! + +This rage for notoriety does not surge through cracked brains alone, or +only in the world of adventurers, charlatans and pretenders generally; +it has spread abroad in all the domains of life, spiritual and material. +Politics, literature, even science, and--most odious of +all--philanthropy and religion are infected. Trumpets announce a good +deed done, and souls must be saved with din and clamor. Pursuing its way +of destruction, the rage for noise has entered places ordinarily silent, +troubled spirits naturally serene, and vitiated in large measure all +activity for good. The abuse of showing everything, or rather, putting +everything on exhibition; the growing incapacity to appreciate that +which chooses to remain hidden, and the habit of estimating the value of +things by the racket they make, have come to corrupt the judgment of the +most earnest men, and one sometimes wonders if society will not end by +transforming itself into a great fair, with each one beating his drum in +front of his tent. + +Gladly do we quit the dust and din of like exhibitions, to go and +breathe peacefully in some far-off nook of the woods, all surprise that +the brook is so limpid, the forest so still, the solitude so enchanting. +Thank God there are yet these uninvaded corners. However formidable the +uproar, however deafening the babel of merry-andrews, it cannot carry +beyond a certain limit; it grows faint and dies away. The realm of +silence is vaster than the realm of noise. Herein is our consolation. + +* * * * * + +Rest a moment on the threshold of this infinite world of inglorious +good, of quiet activities. Instantly we are under the charm we feel in +stretches of untrodden snow, in hiding wood-flowers, in disappearing +pathways that seem to lead to horizons without bourn. The world is so +made that the engines of labor, the most active agencies, are everywhere +concealed. Nature affects a sort of coquetry in masking her operations. +It costs you pains to spy her out, ingenuity to surprise her, if you +would see anything but results and penetrate the secrets of her +laboratories. Likewise in human society, the forces which move for good +remain invisible, and even in our individual lives; what is best in us +is incommunicable, buried in the depths of us. And the more vital are +these sensibilities and intuitions, confounding themselves with the very +source of our being, the less ostentatious they are: they think +themselves profaned by exposure to the light of day. There is a secret +and inexpressible joy in possessing at the heart of one's being, an +interior world known only to God, whence, nevertheless, come impulses, +enthusiasms, the daily renewal of courage, and the most powerful motives +for activity among our fellow men. When this intimate life loses in +intensity, when man neglects it for what is superficial, he forfeits in +worth all that he gains in appearance. By a sad fatality, it happens +that in this way we often become less admirable in proportion as we are +more admired. And we remain convinced that what is best in the world is +unknown there; for only those know it who possess it, and if they speak +of it, in so doing they destroy its charm. + +There are passionate lovers of nature whom she fascinates most in +by-places, in the cool of forests, in the clefts of cañons, everywhere +that the careless lover is not admitted to her contemplation. Forgetting +time and the life of the world, they pass days in these inviolate +stillnesses, watching a bird build its nest or brood over its young, or +some little groundling at its gracious play. So to seek the good within +himself--one must go where he no longer finds constraint, or pose, or +"gallery" of any sort, but the simple fact of a life made up of wishing +to be what it is good for it to be, without troubling about anything +else. + +May we be permitted to record here some observations made from life? As +no names are given, they cannot be considered indiscreet. + +In my country of Alsace, on the solitary route whose interminable ribbon +stretches on and on under the forests of the Vosges, there is a +stone-breaker whom I have seen at his work for thirty years. The first +time I came upon him, I was a young student, setting out with swelling +heart for the great city. The sight of this man did me good, for he was +humming a song as he broke his stones. We exchanged a few words, and he +said at the end: "Well, good-by, my boy, good courage and good luck!" +Since then I have passed and repassed along that same route, under +circumstances the most diverse, painful and joyful. The student has +finished his course, the breaker of stones remains what he was. He has +taken a few more precautions against the seasons' storms: a rush-mat +protects his back, and his felt hat is drawn further down to shield his +face. But the forest is always sending back the echo of his valiant +hammer. How many sudden tempests have broken over his bent back, how +much adverse fate has fallen on his head, on his house, on his country! +He continues to break his stones, and, coming and going I find him by +the roadside, smiling in spite of his age and his wrinkles, benevolent, +speaking--above all in dark days--those simple words of brave men, which +have so much effect when they are scanned to the breaking of stones. + +It would be quite impossible to express the emotion the sight of this +simple man gives me, and certainly he has no suspicion of it. I know of +nothing more reassuring and at the same time more searching for the +vanity which ferments in our hearts, than this coming face to face with +an obscure worker who does his task as the oak grows and as the good God +makes his sun to rise, without asking who is looking on. + +I have known, too, a number of old teachers, men and women who have +passed their whole life at the same occupation--making the rudiments of +human knowledge and a few principles of conduct penetrate heads +sometimes harder than the rocks. They have done it with their whole +soul, throughout the length of a hard life in which the attention of men +had little place. When they lie in their unknown graves, no one +remembers them but a few humble people like themselves. But their +recompense is in their love. No one is greater than these unknown. + +How many hidden virtues may one not discover--if he know how to +search--among people of a class he often ridicules without perceiving +that in so doing he is guilty of cruelty, ingratitude and stupidity: I +mean old maids. People amuse themselves with remarking the surprising +dress and ways of some of them--things of no consequence, for that +matter. They persist also in reminding us that others, very selfish, +take interest in nothing but their own comfort and that of some cat or +canary upon which their powers of affection center; and certainly these +are not outdone in egoism by the most hardened celibates of the stronger +sex. But what we oftenest forget is the amount of self-sacrifice hidden +modestly away in so many of these truly admirable lives. Is it nothing +to be without home and its love, without future, without personal +ambition? to take upon one's self that cross of solitary life, so hard +to bear, especially when there is added the solitude of the heart? to +forget one's self and have no other interests than the care of the old, +of orphans, the poor, the infirm--those whom the brutal mechanism of +life casts out among its waste? Seen from without, these apparently tame +and lusterless lives rouse pity rather than envy. Those who approach +gently sometimes divine sad secrets, great trials undergone, heavy +burdens beneath which too fragile shoulders bend; but this is only the +side of shadow. We should learn to know and value this richness of +heart, this pure goodness, this power to love, to console, to hope, this +joyful giving up of self, this persistence in sweetness and forgiveness +even toward the unworthy. Poor old maids! how many wrecked lives have +you rescued, how many wounded have you healed, how many wanderers have +you gently led aright, how many naked have you clothed, how many orphans +have you taken in, and how many strangers, who would have been alone in +the world but for you--you who yourselves are often remembered of no +one. I mistake. Someone knows you; it is that great mysterious Pity +which keeps watch over our lives and suffers in our misfortunes. +Forgotten like you, often blasphemed, it has confided to you some of its +heavenliest messages, and that perhaps is why above your gentle comings +and goings, we sometimes seem to hear the rustling wings of ministering +angels. + +* * * * * + +The good hides itself under so many different forms, that one has often +as much pains to discover it as to unearth the best concealed crimes. A +Russian doctor, who had passed ten years of his life in Siberia, +condemned for political reasons to forced labor, used to find great +pleasure in telling of the generosity, courage and humanity he had +observed, not only among a large number of the condemned, but also +among the convict guards. For the moment one is tempted to exclaim: +Where will not the good hide away! And in truth life offers here great +surprises and embarrassing contrasts. There are good men, officially so +recognized, quoted among their associates, I had almost said guaranteed +by the Government or the Church, who can be reproached with nothing but +dry and hard hearts; while we are astonished to encounter in certain +fallen human beings, the most genuine tenderness, and as it were a +thirst for self-devotion. + +* * * * * + +I should like to speak next--apropos of the inglorious good--of a class +that to-day it is thought quite fitting to treat with the utmost +one-sidedness. I mean the rich. Some people think the last word is said +when they have stigmatized that infamy, capital. For them, all who +possess great fortunes are monsters gorged with the blood of the +miserable. Others, not so declamatory, persist, however, in confounding +riches with egoism and insensibility. Justice should be visited on these +errors, be they involuntary or calculated. No doubt there are rich men +who concern themselves with nobody else, and others who do good only +with ostentation; indeed, we know it too well. But does their inhumanity +or hypocrisy take away the value of the good that others do, and that +they often hide with a modesty so perfect? + +I knew a man to whom every misfortune had come which can strike us in +our affections. He had lost a beloved wife, had seen all his children +buried, one after another. But he had a great fortune, the result of his +own labor. Living in the utmost simplicity, almost without personal +wants, he spent his time in searching for opportunities to do good, and +profiting by them. How many people he surprised in flagrant poverty, +what means he combined for relieving distress and lighting up dark +lives, with what kindly thoughtfulness he took his friends unawares, no +one can imagine. He liked to do good to others and enjoy their surprise +when they did not know whence the relief came. It pleased him to repair +the injustices of fortune, to bring tears of happiness in families +pursued by mischance. He was continually plotting, contriving, +machinating in the dark, with a childish fear of being caught with his +hand in the bag. The greater part of these fine deeds were not known +till after his death; the whole of them we shall never know. + +He was a socialist of the right sort! for there are two kinds of them. +Those who aspire to appropriate to themselves a part of the goods of +others, are numerous and commonplace. To belong to their order it +suffices to have a big appetite. Those who are hungering to divide their +own goods with men who have none, are rare and precious, for to enter +this choice company there is need of a brave and noble heart, free from +selfishness, and sensitive to both the happiness and unhappiness of its +fellows. Fortunately the race of these socialists is not extinct, and I +feel an unalloyed satisfaction in offering them a tribute they never +claim. + +I must be pardoned for dwelling upon this. It does one good to offset +the bitterness of so many infamies, so many calumnies, so much +charlatanism, by resting the eyes upon something more beautiful, +breathing the perfume of these stray corners where simple goodness +flowers. + +A lady, a foreigner, doubtless little used to Parisian life, just now +told me with what horror the things she sees here inspire her:--these +vile posters, these "yellow" journals, these women with bleached hair, +this crowd rushing to the races, to dance-halls, to roulette tables, to +corruption--the whole flood of superficial and mundane life. She did not +speak the word Babylon, but doubtless it was out of pity for one of the +inhabitants of this city of perdition. + +"Alas, yes, madam, these things are sad, but you have not seen all." + +"Heaven preserve me from that!" + +"On the contrary, I wish you could see everything; for if the dark side +is very ugly, there is so much to atone for it. And believe me, madam, +you have simply to change your quarter, or observe at another hour. For +instance, take the Paris of early morning. It will offer much to correct +your impressions of the Paris of the night. Go see, among so many other +working people, the street-sweepers, who come out at the hour when the +revellers and malefactors go in. Observe beneath these rags those +caryatid bodies, those austere faces! How serious they are at their work +of sweeping away the refuse of the night's revelry. One might liken +them to the prophets at Ahasuerus's gates. There are women among them, +many old people. When the air is cold they stop to blow their fingers, +and then go at it again. So it is every day. And they, too, are +inhabitants of Paris. + +"Go next to the faubourgs, to the factories, especially the smaller +ones, where the children or the employers labor with the men. Watch the +army of workers marching to their tasks. How ready and willing these +young girls seem, as they come gaily down from their distant quarters to +the shops and stores and offices of the city. Then visit the homes from +which they come. See the woman of the people at her work. Her husband's +wages are modest, their dwelling is cramped, the children are many, the +father is often harsh. Make a collection of the biographies of lowly +people, budgets of modest family life: look at them attentively and +long. + +"After that, go see the students. Those who have scandalized you in the +streets are numerous, but those who labor hard are legion--only they +stay at home, and are not talked about. If you knew the toil and dig of +the Latin Quarter! You find the papers full of the rumpus made by a +certain set of youths who call themselves students. The papers say +enough of those who break windows; but why do they make no mention of +those who spend their nights toiling over problems? Because it wouldn't +interest the public. Yes, when now and then one of them, a medical +student perhaps, dies a victim to professional duty, the matter has two +lines in the dailies. A drunken brawl gets half a column, with every +detail elaborated. Nothing is lacking but the portraits of the +heroes--and not always that! + +"I should never end were I to try to point out to you all that you must +go to see if you would see all: you would needs make the tour of society +at large, rich and poor, wise and ignorant. And certainly you would not +judge so severely then. Paris is a world, and here, as in the world in +general, the good hides away while the evil flaunts itself. Observing +only the surface, you sometimes ask how there can possibly be so much +riff-raff. When, on the contrary, you look into the depths, you are +astonished that in this troublous, obscure and sometimes frightful life +there can be so much of virtue." + +* * * * * + +But why linger over these things? Am I _not_ blowing trumpets for those +who hold trumpet-blowing in horror? Do not understand me so. My aim is +this--to make men think about unostentatious goodness; above all, to +make them love it and practice it. The man who finds his satisfaction in +things which glitter and hold his eyes, is lost: first, because he will +thus see evil before all else; then, because he gets accustomed to the +sight of only such good as seeks for notice, and therefore easily +succumbs to the temptation to live himself for appearances. Not only +must one be resigned to obscurity, he must love it, if he does not wish +to slip insensibly into the ranks of figurants, who preserve their parts +only while under the eyes of the spectators, and put off in the wings +the restraints imposed on the stage. Here we are in the presence of one +of the essential elements of the moral life. And this which we say is +true not only for those who are called humble and whose lot it is to +pass unremarked; it is just as true, and more so, for the chief actors. +If you would not be a brilliant inutility, a man of gold lace and +plumes, but empty inside, you must play the star rôle in the simple +spirit of the most obscure of your collaborators. He who is nothing +worth except on hours of parade, is worth less than nothing. Have we the +perilous honor of being always in view, of marching in the front ranks? +Let us take so much the greater care of the sanctuary of silent good +within us. Let us give to the structure whose façade is seen of our +fellow-men, a wide foundation of simplicity, of humble fidelity. And +then, out of sympathy, out of gratitude, let us stay near our brothers +who are unknown to fame. We owe everything to them--do we not? I call to +witness everyone who has found in life this encouraging experience, that +stones hidden in the soil hold up the whole edifice. All those who +arrive at having a public and recognized value, owe it to some humble +spiritual ancestors, to some forgotten inspirers. A small number of the +good, among them simple women, peasants, vanquished heroes, parents as +modest as they are revered, personify for us beautiful and noble living; +their example inspires us and gives us strength. The remembrance of them +is forever inseparable from that conscience before which we arraign +ourselves. In our hours of trial, we think of them, courageous and +serene, and our burdens lighten. In clouds they compass us about, these +witnesses invisible and beloved who keep us from stumbling and our feet +from falling in the battle; and day by day do they prove to us that the +treasure of humanity is its hidden goodness. + + + + +X + +THE WORLD AND THE LIFE OF THE HOME + + +In the time of the Second Empire, in one of our pleasantest +sub-prefectures of the provinces, a little way from some baths +frequented by the Emperor, there was a mayor, a very worthy man and +intelligent too, whose head was suddenly turned by the thought that his +sovereign might one day descend upon his home. Up to this time he had +lived in the house of his fathers, a son respectful of the slightest +family traditions. But when once the all-absorbing idea of receiving the +Emperor had taken possession of his brain, he became another man. In +this new light, what had before seemed sufficient for his needs, even +enjoyable, all this simplicity that his ancestors had loved, appeared +poor, ugly, ridiculous. Out of the question to ask an Emperor to climb +this wooden staircase, sit in these old arm-chairs, walk over such +superannuated carpets. So the mayor called architect and masons; +pickaxes attacked walls and demolished partitions, and a drawing-room +was made, out of all proportion to the rest of the house in size and +splendor. He and his family retired into close quarters, where people +and furniture incommoded each other generally. Then, having emptied his +purse and upset his household by this stroke of genius, he awaited the +royal guest. Alas, he soon saw the end of the Empire arrive, but the +Emperor never. + +The folly of this poor man is not so rare. As mad as he are all those +who sacrifice their home life to the demands of the world. And the +danger in such a sacrifice is most menacing in times of unrest. Our +contemporaries are constantly exposed to it, and constantly succumbing. +How many family treasures have they literally thrown away to satisfy +worldly ambitions and conventions; but the happiness upon which they +thought to come through these impious immolations always eludes them. + +To give up the ancestral hearth, to let the family traditions fall into +desuetude, to abandon the simple domestic customs, for whatever return, +is to make a fool's bargain; and such is the place in society of family +life, that if this be impoverished, the trouble is felt throughout the +whole social organism. To enjoy a normal development, this organism has +need of well-tried individuals, each having his own value, his own +hall-mark. Otherwise society becomes a flock, and sometimes a flock +without a shepherd. But whence does the individual draw his +originality--this unique something, which, joined to the distinctive +qualities of others, constitutes the wealth and strength of a community? +He can draw it only from his own family. Destroy the assemblage of +memories and practices whence emanates for each home an atmosphere in +miniature, and you dry up the sources of character, sap the strength of +public spirit. + +It concerns the country that each home be a world, profound, respected, +communicating to its members an ineffaceable moral imprint. But before +pursuing the subject further, let us rid ourselves of a +misunderstanding. Family feeling, like all beautiful things, has its +caricature, which is family egoism. Some families are like barred and +bolted citadels, their members organized for the exploitation of the +whole world. Everything that does not directly concern them is +indifferent to them. They live like colonists, I had almost said +intruders, in the society around them. Their particularism is pushed to +such an excess that they make enemies of the whole human race. In their +small way they resemble those powerful societies, formed from time to +time through the ages, which possess themselves of universal rule, and +for which no one outside their own community counts. This is the spirit +that has sometimes made the family seem a retreat of egoism which it was +necessary to destroy for the public safety. But as patriotism and +jingoism are as far apart as the east from the west, so are family +feeling and clannishness. + +* * * * * + +Here we are talking of right family feeling, and nothing else in the +world can take its place; for in it lie in germ all those fine and +simple virtues which assure the strength and duration of social +institutions. And the very base of family feeling is respect for the +past; for the best possessions of a family are its common memories. An +intangible, indivisible and inalienable capital, these souvenirs +constitute a sacred fund that each member of a family ought to consider +more precious than anything else he possesses. They exist in a dual +form: in idea and in fact. They show themselves in language, habits of +thought, sentiments, even instincts, and one sees them materialized in +portraits, furniture, buildings, dress, songs. To profane eyes, they are +nothing; to the eyes of those who know how to appreciate the things of +the family, they are relics with which one should not part at any price. + +But what generally happens in our day? Worldliness wars upon the +sentiment of family, and I know of no strife more impassioned. By great +means and small, by all sorts of new customs, requirements and +pretensions, the spirit of the world breaks into the domestic sanctuary. +What are this stranger's rights? its titles? Upon what does it rest its +peremptory claims? This is what people too often neglect to inquire. +They make a mistake. We treat the invader as very poor and simple people +do a pompous visitor. For this incommoding guest of a day, they pillage +their garden, bully their children and servants, and neglect their +work. Such conduct is not only wrong, it is impolitic. One should have +the courage to remain what he is, in the face of all comers. + +The worldly spirit is full of impertinences. Here is a home which has +formed characters of mark, and is forming them yet. The people, the +furnishings, the customs are all in harmony. By marriage or through +relations of business or pleasure, the worldly spirit enters. It finds +everything out of date, awkward, too simple, lacking the modern touch. +At first it restricts itself to criticism and light raillery. But this +is the dangerous moment. Look out for yourself; here is the enemy! If +you so much as listen to his reasonings, to-morrow you will sacrifice a +piece of furniture, the next day a good old tradition, and so one by one +the family heirlooms dear to the heart will go to the bric-a-brac +dealer--and filial piety with them. + +In the midst of your new habits and in the changed atmosphere, your +friends of other days, your old relatives, will be expatriated. Your +next step will be to lay them aside in their turn; the worldly spirit +leaves the old out of consideration. At last, established in an +absolutely transformed setting, even you will view yourself with +amazement. Nothing will be familiar, but surely it will be correct; at +least the world will be satisfied!--Ah! that is where you are mistaken! +After having made you cast out pure treasure as so much junk, it will +find that your borrowed livery fits you ill, and will hasten to make you +sensible of the ridiculousness of the situation. Much better have had +from the beginning the courage of your convictions, and have defended +your home. + +Many young people when they marry, listen to this voice of the world. +Their parents have given them the example of a modest life; but the new +generation thinks it affirms its rights to existence and liberty, by +repudiating ways in its eyes too patriarchal. So these young folks make +efforts to set themselves up lavishly in the latest fashion, and rid +themselves of useless property at dirt-cheap prices. Instead of filling +their houses with objects which say: Remember! they garnish them with +quite new furnishings that as yet have no meaning. Wait, I am wrong; +these things are often symbols, as it were, of a facile and superficial +existence. In their midst one breathes a certain heady vapor of +mundanity. They recall the life outside, the turmoil, the rush. And were +one sometimes disposed to forget this life, they would call back his +wandering thought and say: Remember!--in another sense: Do not forget +your appointment at the club, the play, the races! The home, then, +becomes a sort of half-way house where one comes to rest a little +between two prolonged absences; it isn't a good place to stay. As it has +no soul, it does not speak to yours. Time to eat and sleep, and then off +again! Otherwise you become as dull as a hermit. + +We are all acquainted with people who have a rage for being abroad, who +think the world would no longer go round if they didn't figure on all +sides of it. To stay at home is penal; there they cease to be in view. A +horror of home life possesses them to such a degree that they would +rather pay to be bored outside than be amused gratuitously within. + +In this way society slowly gravitates toward life in herds, which must +not be confounded with public life. The life in herds is somewhat like +that of swarms of flies in the sun. Nothing so much resembles the +worldly life of a man as the worldly life of another man. And this +universal banality destroys the very essence of public spirit. One need +not journey far to discover the ravages made in modern society by the +spirit of worldliness; and if we have so little foundation, so little +equilibrium, calm good sense and initiative, one of the chief reasons +lies in the undermining of the home life. The masses have timed their +pace by that of people of fashion. They too have become worldly. Nothing +can be more so than to quit one's own hearth for the life of saloons. +The squalor and misery of the homes is not enough to explain the current +which carries each man away from his own. Why does the peasant desert +for the inn the house that his father and grandfather found so +comfortable? It has remained the same. There is the same fire in the +same chimney. Whence comes it that it lights only an incomplete circle, +when in olden times young and old sat shoulder to shoulder? Something +has changed in the minds of men. Yielding to dangerous impulses, they +have broken with simplicity. The fathers have quitted their post of +honor, the wives grow dull beside the solitary hearth, and the children +quarrel while waiting their turn to go abroad, each after his own fancy. + +We must learn again to live the home life, to value our domestic +traditions. A pious care has preserved certain monuments of the past. So +antique dress, provincial dialects, old folk songs have found +appreciative hands to gather them up before they should disappear from +the earth. What a good deed, to guard these crumbs of a great past, +these vestiges of the souls of our ancestors! Let us do the same for our +family traditions, save and guard as much as possible of the +patriarchal, whatever its form. + +* * * * * + +But not everyone has traditions to keep. All the more reason for +redoubling the effort to constitute and foster a family life. And to do +this there is need neither of numbers nor a rich establishment. To +create a home you must have the spirit of home. Just as the smallest +village may have its history, its moral stamp, so the smallest home may +have its soul. Oh! the spirit of places, the atmosphere which surrounds +us in human dwellings! What a world of mystery! Here, even on the +threshold the cold begins to penetrate, you are ill at ease, something +intangible repulses you. There, no sooner does the door shut you in than +friendliness and good humor envelop you. It is said that walls have +ears. They have also voices, a mute eloquence. Everything that a +dwelling contains is bathed in an ether of personality. And I find proof +of its quality even in the apartments of bachelors and solitary women. +What an abyss between one room and another room! Here, all is dead, +indifferent, commonplace: the device of the owner is written all over +it, even in his fashion of arranging his photographs and books: All is +the same to me! There, one breathes in animation, a contagious joy in +life. The visitor hears repeated in countless fashions: "Whoever you +are, guest of an hour, I wish you well, peace be with you!" + +Words can do little justice to the subject of home, tell little about +the effect of a favorite flower in the window, or the charm of an old +arm-chair where the grandfather used to sit, offering his wrinkled hands +to the kisses of chubby children. Poor moderns, always moving or +remodeling! We who from transforming our cities, our houses, our customs +and creeds, have no longer where to lay our heads, let us not add to the +pathos and emptiness of our changeful existence by abandoning the life +of the home. Let us light again the flame put out on our hearths, make +sanctuaries for ourselves, warm nests where the children may grow into +men, where love may find privacy, old age repose, prayer an altar, and +the fatherland a cult! + + + + +XI + +SIMPLE BEAUTY + + +Someone may protest against the nature of the simple life in the name of +esthetics, or oppose to ours the theory of the service of luxury--that +providence of business, fostering mother of arts, and grace of civilized +society. We shall try, briefly, to anticipate these objections. + +It will no doubt have been evident that the spirit which animates these +pages is not utilitarian. It would be an error to suppose that the +simplicity we seek has anything in common with that which misers impose +upon themselves through cupidity, or narrow-minded people through false +austerity. To the former the simple life is the one that costs least; to +the latter it is a flat and colorless existence, whose merit lies in +depriving one's self of everything bright, smiling, seductive. + +It displeases us not a whit that people of large means should put their +fortune into circulation instead of hoarding it, so giving life to +commerce and the fine arts. That is using one's privileges to good +advantage. What we would combat is foolish prodigality, the selfish use +of wealth, and above all the quest of the superfluous on the part of +those who have the greatest need of taking thought for the necessary. +The lavishness of a Mæcenas could not have the same effect in a society +as that of a common spendthrift who astonishes his contemporaries by the +magnificence of his life and the folly of his waste. In these two cases +the same term means very different things--to scatter money broadcast +does not say it all; there are ways of doing it which ennoble men, and +others which degrade them. Besides, to scatter money supposes that one +is well provided with it. When the love of sumptuous living takes +possession of those whose means are limited, the matter becomes +strangely altered. And a very striking characteristic of our time is +the rage for scattering broadcast which the very people have who ought +to husband their resources. Munificence is a benefit to society, that we +grant willingly. Let us even allow that the prodigality of certain rich +men is a safety-valve for the escape of the superabundant: we shall not +attempt to gainsay it. Our contention is that too many people meddle +with the safety-valve when to practice economy is the part of both their +interest and their duty: their extravagance is a private misfortune and +a public danger. + +* * * * * + +So much for the utility of luxury. + +We now wish to explain ourselves upon the question of esthetics--oh! +very modestly, and without trespassing on the ground of the specialists. +Through a too common illusion, simplicity and beauty are considered as +rivals. But simple is not synonymous with ugly, any more than sumptuous, +stylish and costly are synonymous with beautiful. Our eyes are wounded +by the crying spectacle of gaudy ornament, venal art and senseless and +graceless luxury. Wealth coupled with bad taste sometimes makes us +regret that so much money is in circulation to provoke the creation of +such a prodigality of horrors. Our contemporary art suffers as much from +the want of simplicity as does our literature--too much in it that is +irrelevant, over-wrought, falsely imagined. Rarely is it given us to +contemplate in line, form, or color, that simplicity allied to +perfection which commands the eyes as evidence does the mind. We need to +be rebaptized in the ideal purity of immortal beauty which puts its seal +on the masterpieces; one shaft of its radiance is worth more than all +our pompous exhibitions. + +* * * * * + +Yet what we now have most at heart is to speak of the ordinary esthetics +of life, of the care one should bestow upon the adornment of his +dwelling and his person, giving to existence that luster without which +it lacks charm. For it is not a matter of indifference whether man pays +attention to these superfluous necessities or whether he does not: it is +by them that we know whether he puts soul into his work. Far from +considering it as wasteful to give time and thought to the perfecting, +beautifying and poetizing of forms, I think we should spend as much as +we can upon it. Nature gives us her example, and the man who should +affect contempt for the ephemeral splendor of beauty with which we +garnish our brief days, would lose sight of the intentions of Him who +has put the same care and love into the painting of the lily of an hour +and the eternal hills. + +But we must not fall into the gross error of confounding true beauty +with that which has only the name. The beauty and poetry of existence +lie in the understanding we have of it. Our home, our table, our dress +should be the interpreters of intentions. That these intentions be so +expressed, it is first necessary to have them, and he who possesses them +makes them evident through the simplest means. One need not be rich to +give grace and charm to his habit and his habitation: it suffices to +have good taste and good-will. We come here to a point very important to +everybody, but perhaps of more interest to women than to men. + +Those who would have women conceal themselves in coarse garments of the +shapeless uniformity of bags, violate nature in her very heart, and +misunderstand completely the spirit of things. If dress were only a +precaution to shelter us from cold or rain, a piece of sacking or the +skin of a beast would answer. But it is vastly more than this. Man puts +himself entire into all that he does; he transforms into types the +things that serve him. The dress is not simply a covering, it is a +symbol. I call to witness the rich flowering of national and provincial +costumes, and those worn by our early corporations. A woman's toilette, +too, has something to say to us. The more meaning there is in it, the +greater its worth. To be truly beautiful, it must tell us of beautiful +things, things personal and veritable. Spend all the money you possess +upon it, if its form is determined by chance or custom, if it has no +relation to her who wears it, it is only toggery, a domino. +Ultra-fashionable dress, which completely masks feminine personality +under designs of pure convention, despoils it of its principal +attraction. From this abuse it comes about that many things which women +admire do as much wrong to their beauty as to the purses of their +husbands and fathers. What would you say of a young girl who expressed +her thoughts in terms very choice, indeed, but taken word for word from +a phrase-book? What charm could you find in this borrowed language? The +effect of toilettes well-designed in themselves but seen again and +again on all women indiscriminately, is precisely the same. + +I can not resist citing here a passage from Camille Lemonnier, that +harmonizes with my idea. + +"Nature has given to the fingers of woman a charming art, which she +knows by instinct, and which is peculiarly her own--as silk to the worm, +and lace-work to the swift and subtle spider. She is the poet, the +interpreter of her own grace and ingenuousness, the spinner of the +mystery in which her wish to please arrays itself. All the talent she +expends in her effort to equal man in the other arts, is never worth the +spirit and conception wrought out through a bit of stuff in her skillful +hands. + +"Well, I wish that this art were more honored than it is. As education +should consist in thinking with one's mind, feeling with one's heart, +expressing the little personalities of the inmost, invisible _I_,--which +on the contrary are repressed, leveled down by conformity,--I would that +the young girl in her novitiate of womanhood, the future mother, might +early become the little exponent of this art of the toilet, her own +dressmaker in short--she who one day shall make the dresses of her +children. But with the taste and the gift to improvise, to express +herself in that masterpiece of feminine personality and skill--_a gown_, +without which a woman is no more than a bundle of rags." + +The dress you have made for yourself is almost always the most becoming, +and, however that may be, it is the one that pleases you most. Women of +leisure too often forget this; working women, also, in city and country +alike. Since these last are costumed by dressmakers and milliners, in +very doubtful imitation of the modish world, grace has almost +disappeared from their dress. And has anything more surely the gift to +please than the fresh apparition of a young working girl or a daughter +of the fields, wearing the costume of her country, and beautiful from +her simplicity alone? + +These same reflections might be applied to the fashion of decorating and +arranging our houses. If there are toilettes which reveal an entire +conception of life, hats that are poems, knots of ribbon that are +veritable works of art, so there are interiors which after their manner +speak to the mind. Why, under pretext of decorating our homes, do we +destroy that personal character which always has such value? Why have +our sleeping-rooms conform to those of hotels, our reception-rooms to +waiting-rooms, by making predominant a uniform type of official beauty? + +What a pity to go through the houses of a city, the cities of a country, +the countries of a vast continent, and encounter everywhere certain +forms, identical, inevitable, exasperating by their repetition! How +esthetics would gain by more simplicity! Instead of this luxury in job +lots, all these decorations, pretentious but vapid from iteration, we +should have an infinite variety; happy improvisations would strike our +eyes, the unexpected in a thousand forms would rejoice our hearts, and +we should rediscover the secret of impressing on a drapery or a piece of +furniture that stamp of human personality which makes certain antiques +priceless. + +Let us pass at last to things simpler still; I mean the little details +of housekeeping which many young people of our day find so unpoetical. +Their contempt for material things, for the humble cares a house +demands, arises from a confusion very common but none the less +unfortunate, which comes from the belief that beauty and poetry are +within some things, while others lack them; that some occupations are +distinguished and agreeable, such as cultivating letters, playing the +harp; and that others are menial and disagreeable, like blacking shoes, +sweeping, and watching the pot boil. Childish error! Neither harp nor +broom has anything to do with it; all depends on the hand in which they +rest and the spirit that moves it. Poetry is not in things, it is in us. +It must be impressed on objects from without, as the sculptor impresses +his dream on the marble. If our life and our occupations remain too +often without charm, in spite of any outward distinction they may have, +it is because we have not known how to put anything into them. The +height of art is to make the inert live, and to tame the savage. I would +have our young girls apply themselves to the development of the truly +feminine art of giving a soul to things which have none. The triumph of +woman's charm is in that work. Only a woman knows how to put into a home +that indefinable something whose virtue has made the poet say, "The +housetop rejoices and is glad." They say there are no such things as +fairies, or that there are fairies no longer, but they know not what +they say. The original of the fairies sung by poets was found, and is +still, among those amiable mortals who knead bread with energy, mend +rents with cheerfulness, nurse the sick with smiles, put witchery into +a ribbon and genius into a stew. + +* * * * * + +It is indisputable that the culture of the fine arts has something +refining about it, and that our thoughts and acts are in the end +impregnated with that which strikes our eyes. But the exercise of the +arts and the contemplation of their products is a restricted privilege. +It is not given to everyone to possess, to comprehend or to create fine +things. Yet there is a kind of ministering beauty which may make its way +everywhere--the beauty which springs from the hands of our wives and +daughters. Without it, what is the most richly decorated house? A dead +dwelling-place. With it the barest home has life and brightness. Among +the forces capable of transforming the will and increasing happiness, +there is perhaps none in more universal use than this beauty. It knows +how to shape itself by means of the crudest tools, in the midst of the +greatest difficulties. When the dwelling is cramped, the purse limited, +the table modest, a woman who has the gift, finds a way to make order, +fitness and convenience reign in her house. She puts care and art into +everything she undertakes. To do well what one has to do is not in her +eyes the privilege of the rich, but the right of all. That is her aim, +and she knows how to give her home a dignity and an attractiveness that +the dwellings of princes, if everything is left to mercenaries, cannot +possess. + +Thus understood, life quickly shows itself rich in hidden beauties, in +attractions and satisfactions close at hand. To be one's self, to +realize in one's natural place the kind of beauty which is fitting +there--this is the ideal. How the mission of woman broadens and deepens +in significance when it is summed up in this: to put a soul into the +inanimate, and to give to this gracious spirit of things those subtle +and winsome outward manifestations to which the most brutish of human +beings is sensible. Is not this better than to covet what one has not, +and to give one's self up to longings for a poor imitation of others' +finery? + + + + +XII + +PRIDE AND SIMPLICITY IN THE INTERCOURSE OF MEN + + +It would perhaps be difficult to find a more convincing example than +pride to show that the obstacles to a better, stronger, serener life are +rather in us than in circumstances. The diversity, and more than that, +the contrasts in social conditions give rise inevitably to all sorts of +conflicts. Yet in spite of this how greatly would social relations be +simplified, if we put another spirit into mapping out our plan of +outward necessities! Be well persuaded that it is not primarily +differences of class and occupation, differences in the outward +manifestations of their destinies, which embroil men. If such were the +case, we should find an idyllic peace reigning among colleagues, and all +those whose interests and lot are virtually equivalent. On the contrary, +as everyone knows, the most violent shocks come when equal meets equal, +and there is no war worse than civil war. But that which above all +things else hinders men from good understanding, is pride. It makes a +man a hedgehog, wounding everyone he touches. Let us speak first of the +pride of the great. + +What offends me in this rich man passing in his carriage, is not his +equipage, his dress, or the number and splendor of his retinue: it is +his contempt. That he possesses a great fortune does not disturb me, +unless I am badly disposed: but that he splashes me with mud, drives +over my body, shows by his whole attitude that I count for nothing in +his eyes because I am not rich like himself--this is what disturbs me, +and righteously. He heaps suffering upon me needlessly. He humiliates +and insults me gratuitously. It is not what is vulgar within me, but +what is noblest that asserts itself in the face of this offensive pride. +Do not accuse me of envy; I feel none; it is my manhood that is wounded. +We need not search far to illustrate these ideas. Every man of any +acquaintance with life has had numerous experiences which will justify +our dictum in his eyes. In certain communities devoted to material +interests, the pride of wealth dominates to such a degree that men are +quoted like values in the stock market. The esteem in which a man is +held is proportionate to the contents of his strong box. Here "Society" +is made up of big fortunes, the middle class of medium fortunes. Then +come people who have little, then those who have nothing. All +intercourse is regulated by this principle. And the relatively rich man +who has shown his disdain for those less opulent, is crushed in turn by +the contempt of his superiors in fortune. So the madness of comparison +rages from the summit to the base. Such an atmosphere is ready to +perfection for the nurture of the worst feeling; yet it is not wealth, +but the spirit of the wealthy that must be arraigned. + +Many rich men are free from this gross conception--especially is this +true of those who from father to son are accustomed to ease--yet they +sometimes forget that there is a certain delicacy in not making +contrasts too marked. Suppose there is no wrong in enjoying a large +superfluity: is it indispensable to display it, to wound the eyes of +those who lack necessities, to flaunt one's magnificence at the doors of +poverty? Good taste and a sort of modesty always hinder a well man from +talking of his fine appetite, his sound sleep, his exuberance of +spirits, in the presence of one dying of consumption. Many of the rich +do not exercise this tact, and so are greatly wanting in pity and +discretion. Are they not unreasonable to complain of envy, after having +done everything to provoke it? + +But the greatest lack is that want of discernment which leads men to +ground their pride in their fortune. To begin with, it is a childish +confusion of thought to consider wealth as a personal quality; it would +be hard to find a more ingenuous fashion of deceiving one's self as to +the relative value of the container and the thing contained. I have no +wish to dwell on this question: it is too painful. And yet one cannot +resist saying to those concerned: "Take care, do not confound what you +possess with what you are. Go learn to know the under side of worldly +splendor, that you may feel its moral misery and its puerility." The +traps pride sets for us are too ridiculous. We should distrust +association with a thing that makes us hateful to our neighbors and robs +us of clearness of vision. + +He who yields to the pride of riches, forgets this other point, the most +important of all--that possession is a public trust. Without doubt, +individual wealth is as legitimate as individual existence and liberty. +These things are inseparable, and it is a dream pregnant with dangers +that offers battle to such fundamentals of life. But the individual +touches society at every point, and all he does should be done with the +whole in view. Possession, then, is less a privilege of which to be +proud than a charge whose gravity should be felt. As there is an +apprenticeship, often very difficult to serve, for the exercise of every +social office, so this profession we call wealth demands an +apprenticeship. To know how to be rich is an art, and one of the least +easy of arts to master. Most people, rich and poor alike, imagine that +in opulence one has nothing to do but to take life easy. That is why so +few men know how to be rich. In the hands of too many, wealth, according +to the genial and redoubtable comparison of Luther, is like a harp in +the hoofs of an ass. They have no idea of the manner of its use. + +So when we encounter a man at once rich and simple, that is to say, who +considers his wealth as a means of fulfilling his mission in the world, +we should offer him our homage, for he is surely mark-worthy. He has +surmounted obstacles, borne trials, and triumphed in temptations both +gross and subtle. He does not fail to discriminate between the contents +of his pocketbook and the contents of his head or heart, and he does +not estimate his fellow-men in figures. His exceptional position, instead +of exalting him, makes him humble, for he is very sensible of how far he +falls short of reaching the level of his duty. He has remained a +man--that says it all. He is accessible, helpful, and far from making of +his wealth a barrier to separate him from other men, he makes it a means +for coming nearer and nearer to them. Although the profession of riches +has been so dishonored by the selfish and the proud, such a man as this +always makes his worth felt by everyone not devoid of a sense of +justice. Each of us who comes in contact with him and sees him live, is +forced to look within and ask himself the question, "What would become +of me in such a situation? Should I keep this modesty, this naturalness, +this uprightness which uses its own as though it belonged to others?" So +long as there is a human society in the world, so long as there are +bitterly conflicting interests, so long as envy and egoism exist on the +earth, nothing will be worthier of honor than wealth permeated by the +spirit of simplicity. And it will do more than make itself forgiven; it +will make itself beloved. + +* * * * * + +More dangerous than pride inspired by wealth is that inspired by power, +and I mean by the word every prerogative that one man has over another, +be it unlimited or restricted. I see no means of preventing the +existence in the world of men of unequal authority. Every organism +supposes a hierarchy of powers--we shall never escape from that law. But +I fear that if the love of power is so wide-spread, the spirit of power +is almost impossible to find. From wrong understanding and misuse of it, +those who keep even a fraction of authority almost everywhere succeed in +compromising it. + +Power exercises a great influence over him who holds it. A head must be +very well balanced not to be disturbed by it. The sort of dementia which +took possession of the Roman emperors in the time of their world-wide +rule, is a universal malady whose symptoms belong to all times. In every +man there sleeps a tyrant, awaiting only a favorable occasion for +waking. Now the tyrant is the worst enemy of authority, because he +furnishes us its intolerable caricature, whence come a multitude of +social complications, collisions and hatreds. Every man who says to +those dependent on him: "Do this because it is my will and pleasure," +does ill. There is within each one of us something that invites us to +resist personal power, and this something is very respectable. For at +bottom we are equal, and there is no one who has the right to exact +obedience from me because he is he and I am I: if he does so, his +command degrades me, and I have no right to suffer myself to be +degraded. + +One must have lived in schools, in work-shops, in the army, in +Government offices, he must have closely followed the relations between +masters and servants, have observed a little everywhere where the +supremacy of man exercises itself over man, to form any idea of the +injury done by those who use power arrogantly. Of every free soul they +make a slave soul, which is to say the soul of a rebel. And it appears +that this result, with its social disaster, is most certain when he who +commands is least removed from the station of him who obeys. The most +implacable tyrant is the tyrant himself under authority. Foremen and +overseers put more violence into their dealings than superintendents and +employers. The corporal is generally harsher than the colonel. In +certain families where madam has not much more education than her maid, +the relations between them are those of the convict and his warder. And +woe everywhere to him who falls into the hands of a subaltern drunk with +his authority! + +We forget that the first duty of him who exercises power is humility. +Haughtiness is not authority. It is not we who are the law; the law is +over our heads. We only interpret it, but to make it valid in the eyes +of others, we must first be subject to it ourselves. To command and to +obey in the society of men, are after all but two forms of the same +virtue--voluntary servitude. If you are not obeyed, it is generally +because you have not yourself obeyed first. + +The secret of moral ascendancy rests with those who rule with +simplicity. They soften by the spirit the harshness of the fact. Their +authority is not in shoulder-straps, titles or disciplinary measures. +They make use of neither ferule nor threats, yet they achieve +everything. Why? Because we feel that they are themselves ready for +everything. That which confers upon a man the right to demand of another +the sacrifice of his time, his money, his passions, even his life, is +not only that he is resolved upon all these sacrifices himself, but that +he has made them in advance. In the command of a man animated by this +spirit of renunciation, there is a mysterious force which communicates +itself to him who is to obey, and helps him do his duty. + +In all the provinces of human activity there are chiefs who inspire, +strengthen, magnetize their soldiers: under their direction the troops +do prodigies. With them one feels himself capable of any effort, ready +to go through fire, as the saying has it; and if he goes, it is with +enthusiasm. + +* * * * * + +But the pride of the exalted is not the only pride; there is also the +pride of the humble--this arrogance of underlings, fit pendant to that +of the great. The root of these two prides is the same. It is not alone +that lofty and imperious being, the man who says, "I am the law," that +provokes insurrection by his very attitude; it is also that pig-headed +subaltern who will not admit that there is anything beyond his +knowledge. + +There are really many people who find all superiority irritating. For +them, every piece of advice is an offense, every criticism an +imposition, every order an outrage on their liberty. They would not +know how to submit to rule. To respect anything or anybody would seem to +them a mental aberration. They say to people after their fashion: +"Beyond us there is nothing." + +To the family of the proud belong also those difficult and +supersensitive people who in humble life find that their superiors never +do them fitting honor, whom the best and most kindly do not succeed in +satisfying, and who go about their duties with the air of a martyr. At +bottom these disaffected minds have too much misplaced self-respect. +They do not know how to fill their place simply, but complicate their +life and that of others by unreasonable demands and morbid suspicions. + +When one takes the trouble to study men at short range, he is surprised +to find that pride has so many lurking-places among those who are by +common consent called the humble. So powerful is this vice, that it +arrives at forming round those who live in the most modest circumstances +a wall which isolates them from their neighbors. There they are, +intrenched, barricaded with their ambitions and their contempts, as +inaccessible as the powerful of earth behind their aristocratic +prejudices. Obscure or illustrious, pride wraps itself in its dark +royalty of enmity to the human race. It is the same in misery and in +high places--solitary and impotent, on guard against everybody, +embroiling everything. And the last word about it is always this: If +there is so much hostility and hatred between different classes of men, +it is due less to exterior conditions than to an interior fatality. +Conflicting interests and differences of situation dig ditches between +us, it is true, but pride transforms the ditches into gulfs, and in +reality it is pride alone which cries from brink to brink: "There is +nothing in common between you and us." + +* * * * * + +We have not finished with pride, but it is impossible to picture it +under all its forms. I feel most resentful against it when it meddles +with knowledge and appropriates that. We owe our knowledge to our +fellows, as we do our riches and power. It is a social force which ought +to be of service to everybody, and it can only be so when those who know +remain sympathetically near to those who know not. When knowledge is +turned into a tool for ambition, it destroys itself. + +And what shall we say of the pride of good men? for it exists, and makes +even virtue hateful. The just who repent them of the evil others do, +remain in brotherhood and social rectitude. But the just who despise +others for their faults and misdeeds, cut themselves off from humanity, +and their goodness, descended to the rank of an ornament for their +vanity, becomes like those riches which kindness does not inform, like +authority untempered by the spirit of obedience. Like proud wealth and +arrogant power, supercilious virtue also is detestable. It fosters in +man traits and an attitude provocative of I know not what. The sight of +it repels instead of attracting, and those whom it deigns to distinguish +with its benefits feel as though they had been slapped in the face. + +To resume and conclude, it is an error to think that our advantages, +whatever they are, should be put to the service of our vanity. Each of +them constitutes for him who enjoys it an obligation and not a reason +for vainglory. Material wealth, power, knowledge, gifts of the heart and +mind, become so much cause for discord when they serve to nourish +pride. They remain beneficent only so long as they are the source of +modesty in those who possess them. + +Let us be humble if we have great possessions, for that proves that we +are great debtors: all that a man has he owes to someone, and are we +sure of being able to pay our debts? + +Let us be humble if we sit in high places and hold the fate of others in +our hands; for no clear-sighted man can fail to be sensible of unfitness +for so grave a rôle. + +Let us be humble if we have much knowledge, for it only serves to better +show the vastness of the unknown, and to compare the little we have +discovered for ourselves with the amplitude of that which we owe to the +pains of others. + +And, above all, let us be humble if we are virtuous, since no one should +be more sensible of his defects than he whose conscience is illumined, +and since he more than anyone else should feel the need of charity +toward evil-doers, even of suffering in their stead. + +* * * * * + +"And what about the necessary distinctions in life?" someone may ask. +"As a result of your simplifications, are you not going to destroy that +sense of the difference between men which must be maintained if society +exists at all?" + +I have no mind to suppress distinctions and differences. But I think +that what distinguishes a man is not found in his social rank, his +occupation, his dress or his fortune, but solely in himself. More than +any other our own age has pricked the vain bubble of purely outward +greatness. To be somebody at present, it does not suffice to wear the +mantle of an emperor or a royal crown: what honor is there in wielding +power through gold lace, a coat of arms or a ribbon? Not that visible +signs are to be despised; they have their meaning and use, but on +condition that they cover something and not a vacuum. The moment they +cease to stand for realities, they become useless and dangerous. The +only true distinction is superior worth. If you would have social rank +duly respected, you must begin by being worthy of the rank that is your +own; otherwise you help to bring it into hatred and contempt. It is +unhappily too true that respect is diminishing among us, and it +certainly is not from a lack of lines drawn round those who wish to be +respected. The root of the evil is in the mistaken idea that high +station exempts him who holds it from observing the common obligations +of life. As we rise, we believe that we free ourselves from the law, +forgetting that the spirit of obedience and humility should grow with +our possessions and power. So it comes about that those who demand the +most homage make the least effort to merit the homage they demand. This +is why respect is diminishing. + +The sole distinction necessary is the wish to become better. The man who +strives to be better becomes more humble, more approachable, more +friendly even with those who owe him allegiance. But as he gains by +being better known, he loses nothing in distinction, and he reaps the +more respect in that he has sown the less pride. + + + + +XIII + +THE EDUCATION FOR SIMPLICITY + + +The simple life being above all else the product of a direction of mind, +it is natural that education should have much to do with it. + +In general but two methods of rearing children are practiced: the first +is to bring them up for ourselves; the second, to bring them up for +themselves. + +In the first case the child is looked upon as a complement of the +parents: he is part of their property, occupies a place among their +possessions. Sometimes this place is the highest, especially when the +parents value the life of the affections. Again, where material +interests rule, the child holds second, third, or even the last place. +In any case he is a nobody. While he is young, he gravitates round his +parents, not only by obedience, which is right, but by the subordination +of all his originality, all his being. As he grows older, this +subordination becomes a veritable confiscation, extending to his ideas, +his feelings, everything. His minority becomes perpetual. Instead of +slowly evolving into independence, the man advances into slavery. He is +what he is permitted to be, what his father's business, religious +beliefs, political opinions or esthetic tastes require him to be. He +will think, speak, act, and marry according to the understanding and +limits of the paternal absolutism. This family tyranny may be exercised +by people with no strength of character. It is only necessary for them +to be convinced that good order requires the child to be the property of +the parents. In default of mental force, they possess themselves of him +by other means--by sighs, supplications, or base seductions. If they +cannot fetter him, they snare his feet in traps. But that he should live +in them, through them, for them, is the only thing admissible. + +Education of this sort is not the practice of families only, but also of +great social organizations whose chief educational function consists in +putting a strong hand on every new-comer, in order to fit him, in the +most iron-bound fashion, into existing forms. It is the attenuation, +pulverization and assimilation of the individual in a social body, be it +theocratic, communistic, or simply bureaucratic and routinary. Looked at +from without, a like system seems the ideal of simplicity in education. +Its processes, in fact, are absolutely simplistic, and if a man were not +somebody, if he were only a sample of the race, this would be the +perfect education. As all wild beasts, all fish and insects of the same +genus and species have the same markings, so we should all be identical, +having the same tastes, the same language, the same beliefs, the same +tendencies. But man is not simply a specimen of the race, and for that +reason this sort of education is far from being simple in its results. +Men so vary from one another, that numberless methods have to be +invented to repress, stupefy, and extinguish individual thought. And one +never arrives at it then but in part, a fact which is continually +deranging everything. At each moment, by some fissure, some interior +force of initiative is making a violent way to the light, producing +explosions, upheavals, all sorts of grave disorders. And where there are +no outward manifestations, the evil lies dormant; beneath apparent order +are hidden dumb revolt, flaws made by an abnormal existence, apathy, +death. + +The system is evil which produces such fruit, and however simple it may +appear, in reality it brings forth all possible complications. + +* * * * * + +The other system is the extreme opposite, that of bringing up children +for themselves. The rôles are reversed: the parents are there for the +child. No sooner is he born than he becomes the center. White-headed +grandfather and stalwart father bow before these curls. His lisping is +their law. A sign from him suffices. If he cries in the night, no +fatigue is of account, the whole household must be roused. The new-comer +is not long in discovering his omnipotence, and before he can walk he is +drunken with it. As he grows older all this deepens and broadens. +Parents, grandparents, servants, teachers, everybody is at his command. +He accepts the homage and even the immolation of his neighbor: he treats +like a rebellious subject anyone who does not step out of his path. +There is only himself. He is the unique, the perfect, the infallible. +Too late it is perceived that all this has been evolving a master; and +what a master! forgetful of sacrifices, without respect, even pity. He +no longer has any regard for those to whom he owes everything, and he +goes through life without law or check. + +This education, too, has its social counterpart. It flourishes wherever +the past does not count, where history begins with the living, where +there is no tradition, no discipline, no reverence; where those who know +the least make the most noise; where those who stand for public order +are alarmed by every chance comer whose power lies in his making a great +outcry and respecting nothing. It insures the reign of transitory +passion, the triumph of the inferior will. I compare these two +educations--one, the exaltation of the environment, the other of the +individual; one the absolutism of tradition, the other the tyranny of +the new--and I find them equally baneful. But the most disastrous of all +is the combination of the two, which produces human beings +half-automatons, half-despots, forever vacillating between the spirit +of a sheep and the spirit of revolt or domination. + +Children should be educated neither for themselves nor for their +parents: for man is no more designed to be a personage than a specimen. +They should be educated for life. The aim of their education is to aid +them to become active members of humanity, brotherly forces, free +servants of the civil organization. To follow a method of education +inspired by any other principle, is to complicate life, deform it, sow +the seeds of all disorders. + +When we would sum up in a phrase the destiny of the child, the word +future springs to our lips. The child is the future. This word says +all--the sufferings of the past, the stress of to-day, hope. But when +the education of the child begins, he is incapable of estimating the +reach of this word; for he is held by impressions of the present. Who +then shall give him the first enlightenment and put him in the way he +should go? The parents, the teachers. And with very little reflection +they perceive that their work does not interest simply themselves and +the child, but that they represent and administer impersonal powers and +interests. The child should continually appear to them as a future +citizen. With this ruling idea, they will take thought for two things +that complement each other--for the initial and personal force which is +germinating in the child, and for the social destination of this force. +At no moment of their direction over him can they forget that this +little being confided to their care must become _himself_ and a +_brother_. These two conditions, far from excluding each other, never +exist apart. It is impossible to be brotherly, to love, to give one's +self, unless one is master of himself; and reciprocally, none can +possess himself, comprehend his own individual being, until he has first +made his way through the outward accidents of his existence, down to the +profound springs of life where man feels himself one with other men in +all that is most intimately his own. + +To aid a child to become himself and a brother it is necessary to +protect him against the violent and destructive action of the forces of +disorder. These forces are exterior and interior. Every child is menaced +from without not only by material dangers but by the meddlesomeness of +alien wills; and from within, by an exaggerated idea of his own +personality and all the fancies it breeds. There is a great outward +danger which may come from the abuse of power in educators. The right of +might finds itself a place in education with extreme facility. To +educate another, one must have renounced this right, that is to say, +made abnegation of the inferior sentiment of personal importance, which +transforms us into the enemies of others, even of our own children. Our +authority is beneficent only when it is inspired by one higher than our +own. In this case it is not only salutary, but also indispensable, and +becomes in its turn the best guarantee against the greater peril which +threatens the child from within--that of exaggerating his own +importance. At the beginning of life the vividness of personal +impressions is so great, that to establish an equilibrium, they must be +submitted to the gentle influence of a calm and superior will. The true +quality of the office of educator is to represent this will to the +child, in a manner as continuous and as disinterested as possible. +Educators, then, stand for all that is to be respected in the world. +They give to the child impressions of that which precedes it, outruns +it, envelops it: but they do not crush it; on the contrary, their will +and all the influence they transmit, become elements nutritive of its +native energy. Such use of authority as this, cultivates that fruitful +obedience out of which free souls are born. The purely personal +authority of parents, masters and institutions is to the child like the +brushwood beneath which the young plant withers and dies. Impersonal +authority, the authority of a man who has first submitted himself to the +time-honored realities before which he wishes the individual fancy of +the child to bend, resembles pure and luminous air. True it has an +activity, and influences us in its manner, but it nourishes our +individuality and gives it firmness and stability. Without this +authority there is no education. To watch, to guide, to keep a firm +hand--such is the function of the educator. He should appear to the +child not like a barrier of whims, which, if need be, one may clear, +provided the leap be proportioned to the height of the obstacle; but +like a transparent wall through which may be seen unchanging realities, +laws, limits, and truths against which no action is possible. Thus +arises respect, which is the faculty of conceiving something greater +than ourselves--respect, which broadens us and frees us by making us +more modest. This is the law of education for simplicity. It may be +summed up in these words: to make _free_ and _reverential_ men, who +shall be _individual_ and _fraternal_. + +* * * * * + +Let us draw from this principle some practical applications. + +From the very fact that the child is the future, he must be linked to +the past by piety. We owe it to him to clothe tradition in the forms +most practical and most fit to create a deep impression: whence the +exceptional place that should be given in education to the ancients, to +the cult of remembrance of the past, and by extension, to the history of +the domestic rooftree. Above all do we fulfil a duty toward our children +when we give the place of honor to the grandparents. Nothing speaks to a +child with so much force, or so well develops his modesty, as to see his +father and mother, on all occasions, preserve toward an old grandfather, +often infirm, an attitude of respect. It is a perpetual object lesson +that is irresistible. That it may have its full force, it is necessary +for a tacit understanding to obtain among all the grown-up members of +the family. To the child's eyes they must all be in league, held to +mutual respect and understanding, under penalty of compromising their +educational authority. And in their number must be counted the servants. +Servants are big people, and the same sentiment of respect is injured in +the child's disregard of them as in his disregard of his father or +grandfather. The moment he addresses an impolite or arrogant word to a +person older than himself, he strays from the path that a child ought +never to quit; and if only occasionally the parents neglect to point +this out, they will soon perceive by his conduct toward themselves, that +the enemy has found entrance to his heart. + +We mistake if we think that a child is naturally alien to respect, +basing this opinion on the very numerous examples of irreverence which +he offers us. Respect is for the child a fundamental need. His moral +being feeds on it. The child aspires confusedly to revere and admire +something. But when advantage is not taken of this aspiration, it gets +corrupted or lost. By our lack of cohesion and mutual deference, we, the +grown-ups, discredit daily in the child's eyes our own cause and that of +everything worthy of respect. We inoculate in him a bad spirit whose +effects then turn against us. + +This pitiful truth nowhere appears with more force than in the relations +between masters and servants, as we have made them. Our social errors, +our want of simplicity and kindness, all fall back upon the heads of our +children. There are certainly few people of the middle classes who +understand that it is better to part with many thousands of dollars than +to lead their children to lose respect for servants, who represent in +our households the humble. Yet nothing is truer. Maintain as strictly as +you will conventions and distances,--that demarkation of social +frontiers which permits each one to remain in his place and to observe +the law of differences. That is a good thing, I am persuaded, but on +condition of never forgetting that those who serve us are men and women +like ourselves. You require of your domestics certain formulas of speech +and certain attitudes, outward evidence of the respect they owe you. Do +you also teach your children and use yourselves manners toward your +servants which show them that you respect their dignity as individuals, +as you desire them to respect yours? Here we have continually in our +homes an excellent ground for experiment in the practice of that mutual +respect which is one of the essential conditions of social sanity. I +fear we profit by it too little. We do not fail to exact respect, but +we fail to give it. So it is most frequently the case that we get only +hypocrisy and this supplementary result, all unexpected,--the +cultivation of pride in our children. These two factors combined heap up +great difficulties for that future which we ought to be safeguarding. I +am right then in saying that the day when by your own practices you have +brought about the lessening of respect in your children, you have +suffered a sensible loss. + +Why should I not say it? It seems to me that the greater part of us +labor for this loss. On all sides, in almost every social rank, I notice +that a pretty bad spirit is fostered in children, a spirit of reciprocal +contempt. Here, those who have calloused hands and working-clothes are +disdained; there, it is all who do not wear blue jeans. Children +educated in this spirit make sad fellow-citizens. There is in all this +the want of that simplicity which makes it possible for men of good +intentions, of however diverse social standing, to collaborate without +any friction arising from the conventional distance that separates them. + +If the spirit of caste causes the loss of respect, partisanship, of +whatever sort, is quite as productive of it. In certain quarters +children are brought up in such fashion that they respect but one +country--their own; one system of government--that of their parents and +masters; one religion--that which they have been taught. Does anyone +suppose that in this way men can be shaped who shall respect country, +religion and law? Is this a proper respect--this respect which does not +extend beyond what touches and belongs to ourselves? Strange blindness +of cliques and coteries, which arrogate to themselves with so much +ingenuous complacence the title of schools of respect, and which, +outside themselves, respect nothing. In reality they teach: "Country, +religion, law--we are all these!" Such teaching fosters fanaticism, and +if fanaticism is not the sole anti-social ferment, it is surely one of +the worst and most energetic. + +* * * * * + +If simplicity of heart is an essential condition of respect, simplicity +of life is its best school. Whatever be the state of your fortune, avoid +everything which could make your children think themselves more or +better than others. Though your wealth would permit you to dress them +richly, remember the evil you might do in exciting their vanity. +Preserve them from the evil of believing that to be elegantly dressed +suffices for distinction, and above all do not carelessly increase by +their clothes and their habits of life, the distance which already +separates them from other children: dress them simply. And if, on the +contrary, it would be necessary for you to economize to give your +children the pleasure of fine clothes, I would that I might dispose you +to reserve your spirit of sacrifice for a better cause. You risk seeing +it illy recompensed. You dissipate your money when it would much better +avail to save it for serious needs, and you prepare for yourself, later +on, a harvest of ingratitude. How dangerous it is to accustom your sons +and daughters to a style of living beyond your means and theirs! In the +first place, it is very bad for your purse; in the second place it +develops a contemptuous spirit in the very bosom of the family. If you +dress your children like little lords, and give them to understand that +they are superior to you, is it astonishing if they end by disdaining +you? You will have nourished at your table the declassed--a product +which costs dear and is worthless. + +Any fashion of instructing children whose most evident result is to +lead them to despise their parents and the customs and activities among +which they have grown up, is a calamity. It is effective for nothing but +to produce a legion of malcontents, with hearts totally estranged from +their origin, their race, their natural interests--everything, in short, +that makes the fundamental fabric of a man. Once detached from the +vigorous stock which produced them, the wind of their restless ambition +drives them over the earth, like dead leaves that will in the end be +heaped up to ferment and rot together. + +Nature does not proceed by leaps and bounds, but by an evolution slow +and certain. In preparing a career for our children, let us imitate her. +Let us not confound progress and advancement with those violent +exercises called somersaults. Let us not so bring up our children that +they will come to despise work and the aspirations and simple spirit of +their fathers: let us not expose them to the temptation of being ashamed +of our poverty if they themselves come to fortune. A society is indeed +diseased when the sons of peasants begin to feel disgust for the fields, +when the sons of sailors desert the sea, when the daughters of +working-men, in the hope of being taken for heiresses, prefer to walk +the streets alone rather than beside their honest parents. A society is +healthy, on the contrary, when each of its members applies himself to +doing very nearly what his parents have done before him, but doing it +better, and, looking to future elevation, is content first to fulfill +conscientiously more modest duties.[C] + +[C] This would be the place to speak of work in general, and of its +tonic effect upon education. But I have discussed the subject in my +books _Justice_, _Jeunesse_, and _Vaillanos_. I must limit myself to +referring the reader to them. + +* * * * * + +Education should make independent men. If you wish to train your +children for liberty, bring them up simply, and do not for a moment fear +that in so doing you are putting obstacles in the way of their +happiness. It will be quite the contrary. The more costly toys a child +has, the more feasts and curious entertainments, the less is he amused. + + +In this there is a sure sign. Let us be temperate in our methods of +entertaining youth, and especially let us not thoughtlessly create for +them artificial needs. Food, dress, nursery, amusements--let all these +be as natural and simple as possible. With the idea of making life +pleasant for their children, some parents bring them up in habits of +gormandizing and idleness, accustom them to sensations not meant for +their age, multiply their parties and entertainments. Sorry gifts these! +In place of a free man, you are making a slave. Gorged with luxury, he +tires of it in time; and yet when for one reason or another his +pleasures fail him, he will be miserable, and you with him: and what is +worse, perhaps in some capital encounter of life, you will be ready--you +and he together--to sacrifice manly dignity, truth, and duty, from sheer +sloth. + +Let us bring up our children simply, I had almost said rudely. Let us +entice them to exercise that gives them endurance--even to privations. +Let them belong to those who are better trained to fatigue and the earth +for a bed than to the comforts of the table and couches of luxury. So we +shall make men of them, independent and staunch, who may be counted on, +who will not sell themselves for pottage, and who will have withal the +faculty of being happy. + +A too easy life brings with it a sort of lassitude in vital energy. One +becomes blasé, disillusioned, an old young man, past being diverted. How +many young people are in this state! Upon them have been deposited, like +a sort of mold, the traces of our decrepitude, our skepticism, our +vices, and the bad habits they have contracted in our company. What +reflections upon ourselves these youths weary of life force us to make! +What announcements are graven on their brows! + +These shadows say to us by contrast that happiness lies in a life true, +active, spontaneous, ungalled by the yoke of the passions, of unnatural +needs, of unhealthy stimulus; keeping intact the physical faculty of +enjoying the light of day and the air we breathe, and in the heart, the +capacity to thrill with the love of all that is generous, simple and +fine. + +* * * * * + +The artificial life engenders artificial thought, and a speech little +sure of itself. Normal habits, deep impressions, the ordinary contact +with reality, bring frankness with them. Falsehood is the vice of a +slave, the refuge of the cowardly and weak. He who is free and strong is +unflinching in speech. We should encourage in our children the hardihood +to speak frankly. What do we ordinarily do? We trample on natural +disposition, level it down to the uniformity which for the crowd is +synonymous with good form. To think with one's own mind, feel with one's +own heart, express one's own personality--how unconventional, how +rustic!--Oh! the atrocity of an education which consists in the +perpetual muzzling of the only thing that gives any of us his reason for +being! Of how many soul-murders do we become guilty! Some are struck +down with bludgeons, others gently smothered with pillows! Everything +conspires against independence of character. When we are little, people +wish us to be dolls or graven images; when we grow up, they approve of +us on condition that we are like all the rest of the world--automatons: +when you have seen one of them you've seen them all. So the lack of +originality and initiative is upon us, and platitude and monotony are +the distinctions of to-day. Truth can free us from this bondage: let +our children be taught to be themselves, to ring clear, without crack or +muffle. Make loyalty a need to them, and in their gravest failures, if +only they acknowledge them, account it for merit that they have not +covered their sin. + +To frankness let us add ingenuousness, in our solicitude as educators. +Let us have for this comrade of childhood--a trifle uncivilized, it is +true, but so gracious and friendly!--all possible regard. We must not +frighten it away: when it has once fled, it so rarely comes back! +Ingenuousness is not simply the sister of truth, the guardian of the +individual qualities of each of us; it is besides a great informing and +educating force. I see among us too many practical people, so called, +who go about armed with terrifying spectacles and huge shears to ferret +out naïve things and clip their wings. They uproot ingenuousness from +life, from thought, from education, and pursue it even to the region of +dreams. Under pretext of making men of their children, they prevent +their being children at all;--as if before the ripe fruit of autumn, +flowers did not have to be, and perfumes, and songs of birds, and all +the fairy springtime. + +I ask indulgence for everything naïve and simple, not alone for the +innocent conceits that flutter round the curly heads of children, but +also for the legend, the folk song, the tales of the world of marvel and +mystery. The sense of the marvellous is in the child the first form of +that sense of the infinite without which a man is like a bird deprived +of wings. Let us not wean the child from it, but let us guard in him the +faculty of rising above what is earthy, so that he may appreciate later +on those pure and moving symbols of vanished ages wherein human truth +has found forms of expression that our arid logic will never replace. + + + + +XIV + +CONCLUSION + + +I think I have said enough of the spirit and manifestations of the +simple life, to make it evident that there is here a whole forgotten +world of strength and beauty. He can make conquest of it who has +sufficient energy to detach himself from the fatal rubbish that trammels +our days. It will not take him long to perceive that in renouncing some +surface satisfactions and childish ambitions, he increases his faculty +of happiness and his possibilities of right judgment. + +These results concern as much the private as the public life. It is +incontestable that in striving against the feverish will to shine, in +ceasing to make the satisfaction of our desires the end of our activity, +in returning to modest tastes, to the true life, we shall labor for the +unity of the family. Another spirit will breath in our homes, creating +new customs and an atmosphere more favorable to the education of +children. Little by little our boys and girls will feel the enticement +of ideals at once higher and more realizable. And transformation of the +home will in time exercise its influence on public spirit. As the +solidity of a wall depends upon the grain of the stones and the +consistence of the cement which binds them together, so also the energy +of public life depends upon the individual value of men and their power +of cohesion. The great desideratum of our time is the culture of the +component parts of society, of the individual man. Everything in the +present social organism leads us back to this element. In neglecting it +we expose ourselves to the loss of the benefits of progress, even to +making our most persistent efforts turn to our own hurt. If in the midst +of means continually more and more perfected, the workman diminishes in +value, of what use are these fine tools at his disposal? By their very +excellence to make more evident the faults of him who uses them without +discernment or without conscience. The wheelwork of the great modern +machine is infinitely delicate. Carelessness, incompetence or corruption +may produce here disturbances of far greater gravity than would have +threatened the more or less rudimentary organism of the society of the +past. There is need then of looking to the quality of the individual +called upon to contribute in any measure to the workings of this +mechanism. This individual should be at once solid and pliable, inspired +with the central law of life--to be one's self and fraternal. Everything +within us and without us becomes simplified and unified under the +influence of this law, which is the same for everybody and by which each +one should guide his actions; for our essential interests are not +opposing, they are identical. In cultivating the spirit of simplicity, +we should arrive, then, at giving to public life a stronger cohesion. + +The phenomena of decomposition and destruction that we see there may all +be attributed to the same cause,--lack of solidity and cohesion. It will +never be possible to say how contrary to social good are the trifling +interests of caste, of coterie, of church, the bitter strife for +personal welfare, and, by a fatal consequence, how destructive these +things are of individual happiness. A society in which each member is +preoccupied with his own well-being, is organized disorder. This is all +that we learn from the irreconcilable conflicts of our uncompromising +egoism. + +We too much resemble those people who claim the rights of family only to +gain advantage from them, not to do honor to the connection. On all +rounds of the social ladder we are forever putting forth claims. We all +take the ground that we are creditors: no one recognizes the fact that +he is a debtor, and our dealings with our fellows consist in inviting +them, in tones sometimes amiable, sometimes arrogant, to discharge their +indebtedness to us. No good thing is attained in this spirit. For in +fact it is the spirit of privilege, that eternal enemy of universal law, +that obstacle to brotherly understanding which is ever presenting itself +anew. + +* * * * * + +In a lecture delivered in 1882, M. Renan said that a nation is "a +spiritual family," and he added: "The essential of a nation is that all +the individuals should have many things in common, and also that all +should have forgotten much." It is important to know what to forget and +what to remember, not only in the past, but also in our daily life. Our +memories are lumbered with the things that divide us; the things which +unite us slip away. Each of us keeps at the most luminous point of his +souvenirs, a lively sense of his secondary quality, his part of +agriculturist, day laborer, man of letters, public officer, proletary, +bourgeois, or political or religious sectarian; but his essential +quality, which is to be a son of his country and a man, is relegated to +the shade. Scarcely does he keep even a theoretic notion of it. So that +what occupies us and determines our actions, is precisely the thing that +separates us from others, and there is hardly place for that spirit of +unity which is as the soul of a people. + +So too do we foster bad feeling in our brothers. Men animated by a +spirit of particularism, exclusiveness, and pride, are continually +clashing. They cannot meet without rousing afresh the sentiment of +division and rivalry. And so there slowly heaps up in their remembrance +a stock of reciprocal ill-will, of mistrust, of rancor. All this is bad +feeling with its consequences. + +It must be rooted out of our midst. Remember, forget! This we should say +to ourselves every morning, in all our relations and affairs. Remember +the essential, forget the accessory! How much better should we discharge +our duties as citizens, if high and low were nourished from this spirit! +How easy to cultivate pleasant remembrances in the mind of one's +neighbor, by sowing it with kind deeds and refraining from procedures of +which in spite of himself he is forced to say, with hatred in his heart: +"Never in the world will I forget!" + +The spirit of simplicity is a great magician. It softens asperities, +bridges chasms, draws together hands and hearts. The forms which it +takes in the world are infinite in number; but never does it seem to us +more admirable than when it shows itself across the fatal barriers of +position, interest, or prejudice, overcoming the greatest obstacles, +permitting those whom everything seems to separate to understand one +another, esteem one another, love one another. This is the true social +cement, that goes into the building of a people. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Simple Life, by Charles Wagner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SIMPLE LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 23092-8.txt or 23092-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/9/23092/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Sarah Jensen, Matt Mello and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |