What Is Man? and Other Essays eBook

O.M.  Yes, the half-dozen others are modifications of the extremes.  But the law is the same.  Where the temperament is two-thirds happy, or two-thirds unhappy, no political or religious beliefs can change the proportions.  The vast majority of temperaments are pretty equally balanced; the intensities are absent, and this enables a nation to learn to accommodate itself to its political and religious circumstances and like them, be satisfied with them, at last prefer them.  Nations do not think, they only feel.  They get their feelings at second hand through their temperaments, not their brains.  A nation can be brought—­by force of circumstances, not argument—­to reconcile itself to any kind of government or religion that can be devised; in time it will fit itself to the required conditions; later, it will prefer them and will fiercely fight for them.  As instances, you have all history:  the Greeks, the Romans, the Persians, the Egyptians, the Russians, the Germans, the French, the English, the Spaniards, the Americans, the South Americans, the Japanese, the Chinese, the Hindus, the Turks—­a thousand wild and tame religions, every kind of government that can be thought of, from tiger to house-cat, each nation knowing it has the only true religion and the only sane system of government, each despising all the others, each an ass and not suspecting it, each proud of its fancied supremacy, each perfectly sure it is the pet of God, each without undoubting confidence summoning Him to take command in time of war, each surprised when He goes over to the enemy, but by habit able to excuse it and resume compliments—­in a word, the whole human race content, always content, persistently content, indestructibly content, happy, thankful, proud, no matter what its religion is, nor whether its master be tiger or house-cat.  Am I stating facts?  You know I am.  Is the human race cheerful?  You know it is.  Considering what it can stand, and be happy, you do me too much honor when you think that I can place before it a system of plain cold facts that can take the cheerfulness out of it.  Nothing can do that.  Everything has been tried.  Without success.  I beg you not to be troubled.

THE DEATH OF JEAN

The death of Jean Clemens occurred early in the morning of December 24, 1909.  Mr. Clemens was in great stress of mind when I first saw him, but a few hours later I found him writing steadily.

“I am setting it down,” he said, “everything.  It is a relief to me to write it.  It furnishes me an excuse for thinking.”  At intervals during that day and the next I looked in, and usually found him writing.  Then on the evening of the 26th, when he knew that Jean had been laid to rest in Elmira, he came to my room with the manuscript in his hand.