Exercise III: On the Excessive Desire of Esteem

Evening Preparation.—To-morrow I am to face this disposition, which may so easily dominate me. I am to find out its dangers and discover the miserable side of it. If I would not be a victim to this excessive desire of esteem, here are some of the signs by which I may detect it: uneasiness, or at least preoccupation, caused by the fear of blame. According to circumstances, either foolish joy or uncontrolled sorrow; according to temperament, discouragement, irritation, envy, jealousy, detraction, etc. What smallness it engenders, what meannesses it sanctions, what falseness it inspires! I ought to fear it because it demoralises; I ought to watch it because it is tenacious, and because great virtue alone can escape it.

MEDITATION

PRELUDE.—As in the preceding meditation, to ask the grace of illumination and great sincerity of conviction.

1. The nature and power of this tendency.—The desire for the esteem of others must not be confounded with the sentiment of self-esteem.

We meet with it, in fact, in persons who recognise their own worthlessness, and some even deliberately allow others to attribute qualities to them that they do not possess. On the other hand, some men, satisfied with themselves, disdain the opinion of others.

The desire of praise is, then, a special form of pride. "The sweetness of fame is so great," said Pascal, "that we love whatever bestows it, even death itself. We would joyfully lose our lives if only we might be spoken of. We are so presumptuous that we wish for a world-wide reputation, and so vain that the esteem of the five or six people who surround us pleases and gratifies us."

This weakness appears in the small child, and is, according to Plato, "the last garment that we lay aside."

2. Disorders to which it may lead.—A reasonable and peaceful liking for the esteem of men is not a vice: it is sometimes a personal help, and a stimulus to useful actions; this is why we may bestow praise as an encouragement.

In reality, everything good deserves to be esteemed; disorder consists in loving esteem more than goodness, in desiring it beyond what we deserve, and in seeking it with eagerness.

What does that man pursue who is dominated by the love of praise? Is it well-doing? No, but the notoriety it brings him. Thus he aims not at doing his duty, but at its accidental reward.

The vain man may be useful and generous, but only in order to appear so. Let him be misunderstood, and he loses all interest, for approbation was his support. Then depression and irritation follow, as the different crises of the same disease. Depression plunges him into the inaction of discouragement, irritation provokes him to break all obstacles, and is not very scrupulous in its counsels as to the choice of means.

On the other hand, success will produce a disorder quite as serious. The vain man, knowing himself esteemed, straightens and expands himself. He breathes more deeply in order the better to draw in the eulogies bestowed on him. Illusion envelops him as in a cloud, and the exact appreciation of things escapes him. He may easily become rash, and will "collapse" in his folly.

Is he wicked? No, but yet he appears hard. Is he unjust? No, yet he tramples on the rights of others: he has not noticed them. Is he false? No, and yet he changes his opinions, his attitude, his manner of speaking, according to the company he is in; he is by turns arrogant or flattering, as it suits him; he will even go so far as to simulate humility. He has only one aim in view: to occupy a higher place in the esteem of others. And all this is done in serene unconsciousness.

3. The folly of this tendency.—If in practice we are preserved from such excess by our contact with reality, let us cast a look into the depths of our interior, and see what is passing there.

Endless idle dreams, in which in imagination we do brilliant things with astonishing success; situations which reveal in us qualities superior to any we have exhibited under normal conditions. Already we hear murmurs of applause; we see faces lighted up with enthusiasm; we enjoy our own and others' surprise. These are dreams, and we know them for such, but they foster our weakness.

It is a pleasure, and in default of the reality we enjoy it, though in certain lucid waking moments we may cry: What a fool I am!

This vain love of praise is indeed folly, though often a sweet folly that we smile at indulgently when it shows itself; but at times it is a terrible folly, whose mistakes may destroy us!

Ah! what need we have of a clear knowledge of ourselves! What need of humility!

Let us examine the motives that have prompted us in the important decisions of our lives; those which animate us to-day in our ordinary actions.

Above all, let us consider what is the true source of our joys and our griefs. Only too often we shall find that it is praise or blame.

Let us scrutinise our conduct. Do we not favour those who flatter us? And if we imagine that a certain person does not care for us, do we not readily show ourselves hostile and unjust towards him? We must conceive a great desire for humility, being assured that we are lacking in the virtue, and therefore in moral equilibrium.

RESOLUTION.—To say to myself again and again to-day: "Suppose those about me knew how greedy I am for esteem!"