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321.
The Sympathetic Ones.—Sympathetic natures, ever ready to help in misfortune, are seldom those that participate in joy; in the happiness of others they have nothing to occupy them, they are superfluous, they do not feel themselves in possession of their superiority, and hence readily show their displeasure.
322.
The Relatives of a Suicide.—The relatives of a suicide take it in ill part that he did not remain alive out of consideration for their reputation.
323.
Ingratitude Foreseen.—He who makes a large gift gets no gratitude; for the recipient is already overburdened by the acceptance of the gift.
324.
In Dull Society.—Nobody thanks a witty man for politeness when he puts himself on a par with a society in which it would not be polite to show one's wit.
325.
The Presence of Witnesses.—We are doubly willing to jump into the water after some one who has fallen in, if there are people present who have not the courage to do so.
326.
Being Silent.—For both parties in a controversy, the most disagreeable way of retaliating is to be vexed and silent; for the aggressor usually regards the silence as a sign of contempt.
327.
Friends' Secrets.—Few people will not expose the private affairs of their friends when at a loss for a subject of conversation.
328.
Humanity.—The humanity of intellectual celebrities consists in courteously submitting to[Pg 274] unfairness in intercourse with those who are I not celebrated.
329.
The Embarrassed.—People who do not feel sure of themselves in society seize every opportunity of publicly showing their superiority to close friends, for instance by teasing them.
330.
Thanks.—A refined nature is vexed by knowing that some one owes it thanks, a coarse nature by knowing that it owes thanks to some one.
331.
A Sign of Estrangement.—The surest sign of the estrangement of the opinions of two persons is when they both say something ironical to each other and neither of them feels the irony.
332.
Presumption in Connection With Merit.—Presumption in connection with merit offends us even more than presumption in persons devoid of merit, for merit in itself offends us.
333.
Danger in the Voice.—In conversation we are sometimes confused by the tone of our own voice, and misled to make assertions that do not at all correspond to our opinions.
334.
In Conversation.—Whether in conversation with others we mostly agree or mostly disagree with them is a matter of habit; there is sense in both cases.
335.
Fear of Our Neighbour.—We are afraid of the animosity of our neighbour, because we are apprehensive that he may thereby discover our secrets.
336.
Distinguishing by Blaming.—Highly respected persons distribute even their blame in such fashion that they try to distinguish us therewith. It is intended to remind us of their serious interest in us. We misunderstand them entirely when we take their blame literally and protest against it; we thereby offend them and estrange ourselves from them.
337.
Indignation at the Goodwill of Others.—We are mistaken as to the extent to which we think we are hated or feared; because,' though we ourselves know very well the extent of our divergence from a person, tendency, or party, those others know us only superficially, and can, therefore, only hate us superficially. We often meet with goodwill which is inexplicable to us; but when we comprehend it, it shocks us, because it shows that we are not considered with sufficient Seriousness or importance.
338.
Thwarting Vanities.—When two persons meet whose vanity is equally great, they have afterwards a bad impression of each other because each has been so occupied with the impression he wished to produce on the other that the other has made no impression upon him; at last it becomes clear to them both that their efforts have been in vain, and each puts the blame on the other.
339.
Improper Behaviour As a Good Sign.—A superior mind takes pleasure in the tactlessness, pretentiousness, and even hostility of ambitious youths; it is the vicious habit of fiery horses which have not yet carried a rider, but, in a short time, will be so proud to carry one.
340.
When It Is Advisable to Suffer Wrong.—It is well to put up with accusations without refutation, even when they injure us, when the accuser would see a still greater fault on our part if we contradicted and perhaps even refuted him. In this way, certainly, a person may always be wronged and always have right on his side, and may eventually, with the best conscience in the world, become the most intolerable tyrant and tormentor; and what happens in the individual may also take place in whole classes of society.
341.
Too Little Honoured.—Very conceited persons, who have received less consideration than they expected, attempt for a long time to deceive themselves and others with regard to it, and become subtle psychologists in order to make out that they have been amply honoured. Should they not attain their aim, should the veil of deception be torn, they give way to all the greater fury.
342.
Primitive Conditions Re—echoing in Speech.—By the manner in which people make assertions in their intercourse we often recognise an echo of the times when they were more conversant with weapons than anything else; sometimes they handle their assertions like sharp-shooters using their arms, sometimes we think we hear the whizz and clash of swords, and with some men an assertion crashes down like a stout cudgel. Women, on the contrary, speak like beings who for thousands of years have sat at the loom, plied the needle, or played the child with children.
343.
The Narrator.—He who gives an account of something readily betrays whether it is because the fact interests him, or because he wishes to excite interest by the narration. In the latter case he will exaggerate, employ superlatives, and such like. He then does not usually tell his story[Pg 278] so well, because he does not think so much about his subject as about himself.
344.
The Reciter.—He who recites dramatic works makes discoveries about his own character; he finds his voice more natural in certain moods and scenes than in others, say in the pathetic or in the scurrilous, while in ordinary life, perhaps, he has not had the opportunity to exhibit pathos or scurrility.
