EVERY MAN'S NATURAL DESIRE TO BE SOMEBODY ELSE
EVERY MAN'S NATURAL DESIRE TO BE SOMEBODY ELSE, by Samuel McChord Crothers, from his “The Dame School of Experience,” 1920.
Samuel McChord Crothers （1857-1927）, American essayist and Unitarian clergyman. In 1894 he went to Cambridge, Massachusetts, as pastor of the First Parish. He has kept alive the literary traditions of old Boston—the earnest culture, the whimsical imagination, the pleasant aloofness from the mad rush of the Gilded Age. The delightful whimsicality of Charles Lamb and the genial optimism of Holmes invest Mr. Crother's essays with a charm that defies analysis.
Several years ago a young man came to my study with a manuscript which he wished me to criticize.
“It is only a little bit of my work,” he said modestly, “and it will not take you long to look it over. In fact it is only the first chapter in which I explain the Universe.”
I suppose that we have all had moments of sudden illumination when it occurred to us that we had explained the Universe, and it was so easy for us that we wondered why we had not done it before. Some thought drifted into our mind and filled us with vague forebodings of omniscience. It was not an ordinary thought, that explained only a fragment of existence. It explained everything. It proved one thing and it proved the opposite just as well. It explained why things are as they are, and if it should turn out that they are not that way at all, it would prove that fact also. In the light of our great thought chaos seems rational.
Such thoughts usually occur about four o'clock in the morning. Having explained the Universe, we relapse into satisfied slumber. When, a few hours later, we rise, we wonder what the explanation was.
Now and then, however, one of these highly explanatory ideas remains to comfort us in our waking hours. Such thought is that which I here throw out, and which has doubtless at some early hour occurred to most of my readers. It is that every man has a natural desire to be somebody else.
This does not explain the Universe, but it explains that perplexing part of it which we call Human Nature. It explains why so many intelligent people, who deal skilfully with matters of fact, make such a mess of it when they deal with their fellow creatures. It explains why we got along as well as we do with strangers, and why we do not get on better with our friends. It explains why people are so often offended when we say nice things about them, and why it is that, when we say harsh things about them, they take it as a compliment. It explains why people marry their opposites and why they live happily ever afterwards. It also explains why some people don't. It explains the meaning of taste and its opposite.
The tactless person treats a person according to a scientific method as if he were a thing. Now, in dealing with a thing you must first find out what it is, and then act accordingly. But with a person, you must find out what he is and then carefully conceal from him the fact that you have made the discovery. The tactless person can never be made to understand this. He prides himself on taking people as they are without being aware that that is not the way they want to be taken.
He has a keen eye for the obvious, and calls attention to it. Age, sex, color, nationality, previous condition of servitude, and all the facts that are interesting to the census-taker, are apparent to him and are made the basis of his conversation. When he meets one who is older than he, he is conscious of the fact, and emphasizes by every polite attention the disparity in years. He has an idea that at a certain period in life the highest tribute of respect is to be urged to rise out of one chair and take another that is presumably more comfortable. It does not occur to him that there may remain any tastes that are not sedentary. On the other hand, he sees a callow youth and addresses himself to the obvious callowness, and thereby makes himself thoroughly disliked. For, strange to say, the youth prefers to be addressed as a person of precocious maturity.
The literalist, observing that most people talk shop, takes it for granted that they like to talk shop. This is a mistake. They do it because it is the easiest thing to do, but they resent having attention called to their limitations. A man's profession does not necessarily coincide with his natural aptitude or with his predominant desire. When you meet a member of the Supreme Court you may assume that he is gifted with a judicial mind. But it does not follow that that is the only quality of mind he has; nor that when, out of court, he gives you a piece of his mind, it will be a piece of his judicial mind that he gives.
My acquaintance with royalty is limited to photographs of royal groups, which exhibit a high degree of domesticity. It would seem that the business of royalty when pursued as a steady job becomes tiresome, and that when they have their pictures taken they endeavor to look as much like ordinary folks as possible—and they usually succeed.
The member of one profession is always flattered by being taken for a skilled practitioner of another. Try it on your minister. Instead of saying, “That was an excellent sermon of yours this morning,” say, “As I listened to your cogent argument, I thought what a successful lawyer you would have made.” Then he will say, “I did think of taking to the law.”
If you had belonged to the court of Frederick the Great you would have proved a poor courtier indeed if you had praised His Majesty's campaigns. Frederick knew that he was a Prussian general, but he wanted to be a French literary man. If you wished to gain his favor you should have said that in your opinion he excelled Voltaire.
We do not like to have too much attention drawn to our present circumstances. They may be well enough in their way, but we can think of something which would be more fitting for us. We have either seen better days or we expect them.
Suppose you had visited Napoleon in Elba and had sought to ingratiate yourself with him.
“Sire,” you would have said, “this is a beautiful little empire of yours, so snug and cozy and quiet. It is just such a domain as is suited to a man in your condition. The climate is excellent. Everything is peaceful. It must be delightful to rule where everything is arranged for you and the details are taken care of by others. As I came to your dominion I saw a line of British frigates guarding your shores. The evidences of such thoughtfulness are everywhere.”
Your praise of his present condition would not have endeared you to Napoleon. You were addressing him as the Emperor of Elba. In his own eyes he was Emperor, though in Elba.
It is such a misapprehension which irritates any mature human being when his environment is taken as the measure of his personality.
The man with a literal mind moves in a perpetual comedy of errors. It is not a question of two Dromios. There are half a dozen Dromios under one hat.
How casually introductions are made, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to make two human beings acquainted! Your friend says “I want you to know Mr. Stifflekin,” and you say that you are happy to know him. But does either of you know the enigma that goes under the name of Stifflekin? You may know what he looks like and where he resides and what he does for a living. But that is all in the present tense. To really know him you must not only know what he is but what he used to be; what he used to think he ought to be and might be if he had worked hard enough. You must know what he might have been if certain things had happened otherwise, and you must know what might have happened otherwise if he had been otherwise. All these complexities are a part of his own dim apprehension of himself. They are what make him so much more interesting to himself than he is to anyone else.
It is this consciousness of the inadequacy of our knowledge which makes us so embarrassed when we offer any service to another. Will he take it in the spirit in which it is given?
That was an awkward moment when Stanley, after all his hardships in his search for Dr. Livingstone, at last found the Doctor by a lake in Central Africa. Stanley held out his hand and said stiffly, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” Stanley had heroically plunged through the equatorial forests to find Livingstone and to bring him back to civilization. But Livingstone was not particularly anxious to be found, and had a decided objection to being brought back to civilization. What he wanted was a new adventure. Stanley did not find the real Livingstone till he discovered that the old man was as young at heart as himself. The two men became acquainted only when they began to plan a new expedition to find the source of the Nile.
The natural desire of every man to be somebody else explains many of the minor irritations of life. It prevents that perfect organization of society in which everyone should know his place and keep it. The desire to be somebody else leads us to practice on work that does not strictly belong to us. We all have aptitudes and talents that overflow the narrow bounds of our trade or profession. Every man feels that he is bigger than his job, and he is all the time doing what theologians called “works of supererogation.”
The serious-minded housemaid is not content to do what she is told to do. She has an unexpended balance of energy. She wants to be a general household reformer. So she goes to the desk of the titular master of the house and gives it a thorough reformation. She arranges the papers according to her idea of neatness. When the poor gentleman returns and finds his familiar chaos transformed into a hateful order, he becomes a reactionary.
The serious manager of a street railway company is not content with the simple duty of transporting passengers cheaply and comfortably. He wants to exercise the functions of a lecturer in an ethical culture society. While the transported victim is swaying precariously from the end of a strap he reads a notice urging him to practice Christian courtesy and not to push. While the poor wretch pores over this counsel of perfection, he feels like answering as did Junius to the Duke of Grafton, “My Lord, injuries may be atoned for and forgiven, but insults admit of no compensation.”
A man enters a barber shop with the simple desire of being shaved. But he meets with the more ambitious desire of the barber. The serious barber is not content with any slight contribution to human welfare. He insists that his client shall be shampooed, manicured, massaged, steamed beneath boiling towels, cooled off by electric fans, and, while all this is going on, that he shall have his boots blacked.
Have you never marveled at the patience of people in having so many things done to them that they don't want, just to avoid hurting the feeling of professional people who want to do more than is expected of them? You watch the stoical countenance of the passenger in a Pullman car as he stands up to be brushed. The chances are that he does not want to be brushed. He would prefer to leave the dust on his coat rather than to be compelled to swallow it. But he knows what is expected of him. It is a part of the solemn ritual of traveling. It precedes the offering.
The fact that every man desires to be somebody else explains many of the aberrations of artists and literary men. The painters, dramatists, musicians, poets, and novelists are just as human as housemaids and railway managers and porters. They want to do “all the good they can to all the people they can in all the ways they can.” They get tired of the ways they are used to and like to try new combinations. So they are continually mixing things. The practitioner of one art tries to produce effects that are proper to another art.
A musician wants to be a painter and use his violin as if it were a brush. He would have us see the sunset glories that he is painting for us. A painter wants to be a musician and paint symphonies, and he is grieved because the uninstructed cannot hear his pictures, although the colors do swear at each other. Another painter wants to be an architect and build up his picture as if it were made of cubes of brick. It looks like brickwork, but to the natural eye it doesn't look like a picture. A prose writer gets tired of writing prose and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose.
You go to the theater with the simple-minded Shakespearean idea that the play is the thing. But the playwright wants to be a pathologist. So you discover that you have dropped into a gruesome clinic. You sought innocent relaxation, but you are one of the nonelect and have gone to the place prepared for you. You must see the thing through. The fact that you have troubles of your own is not a sufficient claim for exemption.
Or you take up a novel expecting it to be a work of fiction. But the novelist has other views. He wants to be your spiritual adviser. He must do something to your mind, he must rearrange your fundamental ideas, he must massage your soul, and generally brush you off. All this in spite of the fact that you don't want to be brushed off and set to rights. You don't want him to do anything to your mind. It's the only mind you have and you need it in your own business.
But if the desire of every man to be somebody else accounts for many whimsicalities of human conduct and for many aberrations in the arts, it cannot be lightly dismissed as belonging only to the realm of comedy. It has its origin in the nature of things. The reason why every man wants to be somebody else is that he can remember the time when he was somebody else. What we call personal identity is a very changeable thing, as all of us realize when we look over old photographs and old letters.
The oldest man now living is but a few years removed from the undifferentiated germ plasm, which might have developed into almost anything. In the beginning he was a bundle of possibilities. Every actuality that is developed means a decrease in the rich variety of possibilities. In becoming one thing it becomes impossible to be something else.
The delight in being a boy lies in the fact that the possibilities are still manifold. The boy feels that he can be anything that he desires. He is conscious that he has capacities that would make him a successful banker. On the other hand, there are attractions in a life of adventure in the South Seas. It would be pleasant to lie under a bread-fruit tree and let the fruit drop into his mouth, to the admiration of the gentle savages who would gather about him. Or he might be a saint—not a commonplace modern saint who does chores and attends tiresome committee meetings, but a saint such as one reads about, who gives away his rich robes and his purse of gold to the first beggar he meets, and then goes on his carefree way through the forest to convert interesting robbers. He feels that he might practice that kind of unscientific charity, if his father would furnish him with the money to give away.
But by and by he learns that making a success in the banking business is not consistent with excursions to the South Seas or with the more picturesque and unusual forms of saintliness. If he is to be in a bank he must do as the bankers do.
Parents and teachers conspire together to make a man of him, which means making a particular kind of man of him. All mental processes which are not useful must be suppressed. The sum of their admonitions is that he must pay attention. That is precisely what he is doing. He is paying attention to a variety of things that escape the adult mind. As he wriggles on the bench in the schoolroom, he pays attention to all that is going on. He attends to what is going on out of doors;he sees the weak points of his fellow pupils, against whom he is planning punitive expeditions; and he is delightfully conscious of the idiosyncrasies of the teacher. Moreover, he is a youthful artist and his sketches from life give acute joy to his contemporaries when they are furtively passed around.
But the schoolmaster says sternly, “My boy, you must learn to pay attention; that is to say, you must not pay attention to so many things, but you must pay attention to one thing, namely, the second declension.”
Now the second declension is the least interesting thing in the room, but unless he confines his attention to it he will never learn it. Education demands narrowing of attention in the interest of efficiency.
A man may, by dint of application to a particular subject, become a successful merchant or real-estate man or chemist or overseer of the poor. But he cannot be all these things at the same time. He must make his choice. Having in the presence of witnesses taken himself for better for worse, he must, forsaking all others, cleave to that alone. The consequence is that, by the time he is forty, he has become one kind of man, and is able to do one kind of work. He has acquired a stock of ideas true enough for his purposes, but not so transcendentally true as to interfere with his business. His neighbors know where to find him, and they do not need to take a spiritual elevator. He does business on the ground floor. He has gained in practicality, but has lost in the quality of interestingness.
The old prophet declared that the young men dream dreams and the old men see visions, but he did not say anything about the middle-aged men.They have to look after the business end.
But has the man whose working hours are so full of responsibilities changed so much as he seems to have done? When he is talking shop is he “all there”? I think not. There are elusive personalities that are in hiding. As the rambling mansions of the old Catholic families had secret panels opening into the “priest's hole,” to which the family resorted for spiritual comfort, so in the mind of the most successful man there are secret chambers where are hidden his unsuccessful ventures, his romantic ambitions, his unfulfilled promises. All that he dreamed of as possible is somewhere concealed in the man's heart. He would not for the world have the public know how much he cares for the selves that have not had a fair chance to come into the light of day. You do not know a man until you know his lost Atlantis, and his Utopia for which he still hopes to set sail.
When Dogberry asserted that he was “as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina” and “one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him,” he was pointing out what he deemed to be quite obvious. It was in a more intimate tone that he boasted, “and a fellow that hath had losses.”
When Julius Cæsar rode through the streets of Rome in his chariot, his laurel crown seemed to the populace a symbol of his present greatness. But gossip has it that Cæsar at that time desired to be younger than he was, and that before appearing in public he carefully arranged his laurel wreath so as to conceal the fact that he had had losses.
Much that passes for pride in the behavior of the great comes from the fear of the betrayal of emotions that belong to a simpler manner of life. When the sons of Jacob saw the great Egyptian officer to whom they appealed turn away from them, they little knew what was going on. “And Joseph made haste, for his bowels did yearn upon his brothers; and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber and wept there. And he washed his face, and went out and refrained himself.” Joseph didn't want to be a great man. He wanted to be human. It was hard to refrain himself.
What of the lost arts of childhood, the lost audacities and ambitions and romantic admirations of adolescence? What becomes of the sympathies which make us feel our kinship to all sorts of people? What becomes of the early curiosity in regard to things which were none of our business? We ask as Saint Paul asked of the Galatians, “Ye began well; who did hinder you?”
The answer is not wholly to our discredit. We do not develop all parts of our nature because we are not allowed to do so. Walt Whitman might exult over the Spontaneous Me. But nobody is paid for being spontaneous. A spontaneous switchman on the railway would be a menace to the traveling public. We prefer someone less temperamental.
As civilization advances and work becomes more specialized, it becomes impossible for anyone to find free and full development for all his natural powers in any recognized occupation. What then becomes of the other selves? The answer must be that playgrounds must be provided for them outside the confines of daily business. As work becomes more engrossing and narrowing the need is more urgent for recognized and carefully guarded periods of leisure.
The old Hebrew sage declared, “Wisdom cometh from the opportunity of leisure.” It does not mean that a wise man must belong to what we call the leisure classes. It means that if one has only a little free time at his disposal, he must use that time for the refreshment of his hidden selves. If he cannot have a Sabbath rest of twenty-four hours, he must learn to sanctify little Sabbaths, it may be of ten minutes' length. In them he shall do no manner of work. It is not enough that the self that works and receives wages shall be recognized and protected; the world must be made safe for our other selves. Does not the Declaration of Independence say that every man has an inalienable right to the pursuit of happiness?
To realize that men are not satisfied with themselves requires imagination, and we have had a terrible example of what misfortunes come from the lack of imagination. The Prussian militarists had a painstaking knowledge of facts, but they had a contempt for human nature. Their tactlessness was almost beyond belief. They treated persons as if they were things. They treated facts with deadly seriousness, but had no regard for feelings. They had spies all over the world to report all that could be seen, but they took no account of what could not be seen. So, while they were dealing scientifically with the obvious facts and forces, all the hidden powers of the human soul were being turned against them. Prussianism insisted on highly specialized men who have no sympathies to interfere with their efficiency. Having adopted a standard, all variations must be suppressed. It was against this effort to suppress the human variations that the world fought. We did not want men to be reduced to one pattern. And against the effort to produce a monotonous uniformity we must keep on fighting. It was of little use to dethrone the Kaiser if we submit to other tyrants of our own making.
Notes
illumination, spiritual or mental enlightenment.
forebodings, forewarnings; presentiments.
omniscience, all-knowing; knowing everything.
relapse, slip or fall back into the former state or condition.
Human Nature, man's natural endowment or essential character.
make such a mess, do so badly; muddle up; make such mistakes.
tactless, characterized by want of tact. Tact is the nice discernment of the best course of action under given conditions, especially ability to deal with others without giving offense.
the obvious, that which is easily discovered, seen, or understood; that which is in full view.
census-taker, is he who is delegated to make an official enumeration of the population of a locality, generally with classified social and economic statistics.
disparity, difference; inequality.
in years, in age.
at a certain period in life, at an advanced age; when one is old in years.
sedentary, inactive; confined to the chair.
callow, unfledged; immature; green.
precocious maturity, matured much more rapidly than is natural;abnormal development in physical and mental traits, so that the youth is beyond what is natural.
literalist, one who is inclined to follow the letter, or literal sense, or literal interpretations.
talk shop, talk about one's business or occupation, especially when introduced unseasonably.
royalty, kings and emperors, and their immediate family.
domesticity, conforming to domestic or household life.
practitioner, one actually engaged in the practice of a profession.
cogent, appealing forcefully to the reason; convincing; telling; effective.
Frederick the Great, Frederick II （1712-1786）, king of Prussia （1740-1786）, the man who made Prussia one of the great powers of the world. He encouraged art and architecture; he wrote much in prose; all of his writing is in French. He invited Voltaire to stay in the Prussian court, an unhappy experience it proved for Voltaire.
courtier, one in attendance at the court of a prince.
His Majesty's campaigns, Frederick the Great's success in battle.
Voltaire, Jean François Marie Arouet de Voltaire （1694-1778）, the celebrated French philosopher and author.
Napoleon in Elba. After the Treaty of Paris in 1814, Napoleon was exiled to the Island of Elba off the coast of Tuscany, from which he escaped in 1815, only to be defeated in Waterloo after his too brief Hundred Days' Reign.
British frigates, the British warships were there to keep Napoleon from escaping.
Dromios, two Dromios, twin servants to twin brothers in Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors.
Mr. Stifflekin, any other name would do as well.
Stanley, Henry M. （1841-1904） and David Livingstone （1813-1873） were both African explorers. Stanley, as correspondent of the New York Herald, found Livingstone in 1869 in the heart of Africa, after Livingstone had been reported lost for many years. Stanley tells the story vividly in his book How I Found Livingstone（1872）.
equatorial, belonging near the equator.
source of the Nile, the head of the Nile River, which flows through Egypt and empties into the Mediterranean Sea.
minor irritations, the small matters that cause momentary impatience or anger.
theologians, persons well-versed in theology, the science of God or of religion; preachers.
“works or supererogation, ” doing more than duty requires.
unexpended balance of energy, enough energy left over.
titular master, in name the master, implying that he may not be the real master, because his wife may be the actual ruler of the home.
familiar chaos. His desk was formerly in a bad mess, but he knew where everythihg was to be found. Hence, familiar chaos.
hateful order. Everything was now in proper order after the housemaid had straighten things out, but to the master that orderliness was hateful, because now he knew not where to look for his things.
reactionary, one who seeks to undo political, here household, progress; one who seeks to turn order into disorder.
ethical culture, for teaching the passengers the proper moral feelings and conduct.
counsel of perfection, advice on how to be perfect.
Junius, the pseudonym of an English political writer （1768-1777） considered by many to be Sir Philip Francis （1740-1818）. Mr. Tang Leang-li （汤良礼） calls himself Junius Sinicus （Chinese Junius） in the People's Tribune.
Duke of Grafton, Henry Augustus Fitzroy, third Duke of Grafton, censured by Junius, in the article quoted, for escorting a woman of questionable morals to the theater and thus insulting all the sisters, wives, and mothers of the regular patrons of the theater.
client, the customer who is employing the services of the barber.
stoical, not giving sign of any feeling or emotion.
Pullman car, sleeping car in American railways are called Pullman cars, after George Mortimer Pullman （1831-1897）, who invented the first Pullman car in 1859.
the offering, the tipping.
aberrations, strayings from the path; breaking of rules.
symphonies, consonance or harmony of sounds, as in an instrumental composition in sonata form for a full orchestra; also, harmony of color in painting.
swear, curse; scold:—because the colors do not harmonize.
pathologist, one skilled in the science of treating diseases, their nature, causes, progress, results.
clinic, instruction of a class by examination and treatment of patients in its presence.
nonelect, nonchosen, that is, not belonging to the group that is up to date on the latest literary developments.
exemption, release or freedom from an obligation imposed by others.
whimsicalities, tendency towards being odd, queer, fantastic, fanciful.
personal identity, personal likeness or resemblance.
undifferentiated germ plasm, the germ cells that divide but do not develop different characteristics.
South Seas, the South Sea Islands.
bread-fruit, a Polynesian moraceous tree. The tree bears a large round fruit from four to seven inches in diameter, and when baked, somewhat resembles bread. It is the staple food throughout the South Pacific Islands.
saint, a holy or godly person.
modern saint is a modern man who has to work so hard to earn a living that he has become sanctified.
admonitions, authoritative advice or warning.
escape, elude; get out of the way of.
idiosyncrasies, a person's peculiar physical or mental charaeteristics.
sketches from life, drawings of persons around him, his classmates, the teacher.
furtively, secretly; stealthily; slyly.
by dint of application, by force of paying particular attention; by fixing one's mind closely or attentively to a particular subject.
real-estate man, an agent who negotiates the sale of property, land, and houses. Landed property is known as real estate.
taken himself for better for worse, an echo of the marriage oath as pronounced in Christian churches, meaning “no matter what may happen to him.”
take a spiritual elevator, probe into what he thinks; find out what his mind is dwelling on.
He does business on the ground floor. He is there at his occupation all the time so that it is very easy to locate him and to label him.
The old prophet, Joel, in the Old Testament of the Bible, the Book of Joel, Chapter II, verse 28:
“And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.” The same words were uttered by Peter in the Book of Acts, Chapter II, verse 17, of the New Testament.
“all there, ” completely there. Is he paying his whole attention to what you are saying; is the whole of him there besides you?
“priest's hole, ” a secret place of worship, necessary in times of religious persecution.
lost Atlantis, a mythical island in the west, beyond the Pillars of Hercules （Gibraltar, at the western entrance into the Mediterranean Sea）, mentioned by Plato, Pliny, and other ancient writers, and said to have been sunk beneath the ocean by an earthquake. Lord Bacon has written a “New Atlantis” in which a British vessel is carried by contrary winds to the lost Atlantis.
Utopia, the ideal state proposed by Thomas More （1478-1535）, in a book entitled “Utopia.” The word Utopia has been applied to all the pictures of ideal states created by social philosophers and visionaries.
Dogberry, the stupid constable in Shakespeare's “Much Ado About Nothing.”
Messina, in northeast Sicily, Italy, where the action of this Shakespearean play takes place.
Julius Cæsar, the great Roman general, statesman, and writer （100-44 B.C.）.
laurel crown, worn by only those Greek and Romans who have won distinction, and worn as a sign of distinction.
he had had losses in his hair; in other words, Cæsar was partially bald-headed, and he tried to arrange his laurel crown so that it concealed the bald spot on his head.
the sons of Jacob. Consult the Bible, the Book of Genesis, Chapters XLII-XLVI for the whole of this story.
audacities, qualities of being daring, adventurous, bold.
adolescence, youth, or the period between puberty and maturity.
as Saint Paul asked of the Galatians, see the Bible, the Book of Galatians, Chapter V, verse 7.
Walt Whitman （1819-1892）, American poet. In 1855 the first edition of his “Leaves of Grass” appeared, which met with very little critical approval because of its frankness and its unconventional verse form. But his influence on later generations of poets was incalculable, not only by releasing poetry from accepted traditions, but by immensely expanding the thematic material.
Spontaneous Me, the individual acting without external stimulus but wholly from an inner impulse or energy.
spontaneous switchman on the railway, switchmen on railways must obey orders as to which switch to open and when, otherwise trains will be sent crashing one into another. A spontaneous switchman, one who opens switches as and when he pleases without regard to orders from those above him who know better, would be a menace to the traveling public.
temperamental, nervous; characterized by a strongly marked physical or mental character, especially artistic or nervous; liable to peculiar moods.
playgrounds, used figuratively here to mean opportunities for indulging our other selves, just as playgrounds are provided for children to play in and expend their excess energy.
confines, limits; boundaries; demands.
Sabbath, in the Jewish calendar, the seventh day of the week, observed by Jews and Christians as a day of rest and worship. The Christians call the Sabbath Sunday.
The Declaration of Independence, the American Declaration of Independence, when the Americans, on July 4, 1776, declared themselves to be free and independent of Greet Britain.
inalienable, incapable of being estranged or taken away from them.
Prussian militarists, referring to the Prussian military leaders who controlled the destiny of the German nation previous to the Great World War which broke out in 1914.
the Kaiser, William II （1859-1941）, king of Prussia and Kaiser of Germany from 1888 to 1918 when, at the close of Great World War, he was forced to abdicate. Later he lived in retirement in Holland. The German word Kaiser and the Russian word Czar come from the Latin word Cæsar, originating with the imperialistic designs of Julius Cæsar.
Questions
1. What is the author's purpose in the first nineteen lines?
2. What is the author's “highly explanatory idea”? What does it explain?
3. What are the mistakes of a tactless person?
4. What is the meaning of “There are half a dozen Dromios under one hat”?
5. What is it that makes it embarrassing to offer service to another?
6. Why do we practice on work that does not strictly belong to us?
7. How does the desire to be somebody else explain many of the aberrations of artists and writers?
8. What is the origin of the desire to be somebody else?
9. Explain how the choice of a profession and specialized education makes the possibilities for self-realization less and less.
10. What becomes of the other selves? Is it desirable that they should exist? How may they be provided for?
参考译文
【作品简介】
《人人想当别人》选自塞缪尔·麦考德·克罗瑟斯1920年发表的《经验女校》一文。
【作者简介】
塞缪尔·麦考德·克罗瑟斯（1857—1927），美国散文家和一位论派牧师。1894年，他来到马萨诸塞州的剑桥，担任第一教区的牧师。他继承了昔日波士顿的文学传统——真诚的文化态度，天马行空的想象，对疯狂镀金时代的冷漠超然态度。令人愉快而又异想天开的查尔斯·兰姆和亲切乐观的霍尔姆斯[1]赋予克罗瑟斯先生的散文难以尽述的魅力。
几年前有个青年拿着一份手稿来到我书斋，希望我评论一下。
“这不过是我的一篇习作，”他说道，态度谦虚。“你很快就会看完的。实际上只有第一章，我在这一章里对宇宙做出了解释。”
我想我们每个人曾经都有过灵光一现的时候，想到自己已经对宇宙做出了解释；我们自觉易如反掌，甚至后悔为什么迟到今日才想起来做。我们的脑海里会浮现出某种想法，让我们依稀觉得无所不知，满脑袋的预感。这可不是一个寻常的想法，寻常的想法只能解释存在的碎片，而这个想法却可以对万事万物进行解释。它不仅可以从正面证明某一事物，还可以证明与该事物截然相反的事物。它解释了事物何以成为现在这个样子，假如事实证明是南辕北辙的话，它还会摇身一变来证明这一事实。依据我们伟大的想法，似乎混沌也是合理的。
诸如此类的想法通常在凌晨四点钟左右出现。我们对宇宙做出解释以后，又心满意足地睡个回笼觉。再过几小时，我们起床的时候，又想不起来那个解释是什么了。
然而，这些具有强大解释力的想法中的某一个，依然会在我们醒着的时候给予我们安慰。我在此要抛出的一个想法就属于这一种，它无疑曾在梦醒时分在我们大多数读者的脑海里出现——即人人都想做别人。
这一想法无法解释宇宙，却能解释我们所谓“人性”中令人费解的部分。它解释了为什么许多聪明睿智的人，虽然善于处理事实问题，但在处理人际关系上一塌糊涂。它解释了为什么我们与陌生人相处融洽，却不能与朋友相处得更好。它解释了为什么我们说人们好话却还常常惹恼对方，而说难听的话时他们却误以为是一种赞美。它解释了人们为什么跟自己性格截然相反的人结婚，却从此过上幸福生活。它还解释了为什么有些人跟性格相同的人结婚，反而从此过上不幸的生活。它解释了品味及其对立面的意义。
情商低的人用科学的方法来对待人，好像人是物。瞧，在对待一个东西的时候，你必须首先弄清它是什么东西，然后采取相应的对策。而在对待一个人的时候，你必须弄清他是一个什么人，然后把这一事实小心翼翼地对他隐瞒起来。可是情商低的人对此却百思不得其解。他为自己实事求是地对待别人而自豪，却意识不到别人对此并不情愿。
他善于发现那些一目了然的信息，并引起别人对此的关注。对于年龄、性别、肤色、国籍、曾服过的劳役等人口普查者感兴趣的所有事实，他都一清二楚，他谈话也围绕着这些进行。每当遇到一个比自己年长的人，他都会注意到这一点，还彬彬有礼地频频强调这一年龄差异。他有一个想法，就是当人生步入某一阶段时，会受到最高的礼遇，会被强烈请求从一把椅子移步到另一把可能更加舒适的椅子上。他就没想过有的品味是因时因事而异的。另一方面，遇到一个乳臭未干的年轻人，他就净谈些显而易见的幼稚话题，让对方厌弃。其中缘由说来也怪，因为年轻人更愿意谈话的人把自己视为少年老成。
缺乏想象力的人，一发现大多数人三句不离本行，就想当然地认为他们喜欢谈论本行。其实这是误解，他们三句不离本行是因为谈本行最容易，而他们也不喜欢让人注意到自己局限所在。一个人所从事的职业，并不必然地与其天赋或最大的意愿一致。你遇见一个高级法院的成员，你会以为他天生就具有评判是非的头脑，其实这并不一定意味着他只具备这一种才能；也不意味着他在法庭外给你下什么判断的话，也有明辨是非的头脑。
我对于王族成员的了解，仅限于他们拍过的那些照片，他们看起来特别喜欢家庭生活。这似乎让人觉得长期承担皇室工作也会令人厌倦，于是他们在拍照时便极力显得像普通人那样——而通常装得还很像。
当被误认为从事另一职业的时候，人总会感觉飘飘然。你不妨在你的牧师身上试试这招。你不要对他说“你今天上午的讲道真精彩”，你说“听你的论辩头头是道，让人心悦诚服，我当时就想你若是当律师一定会非常成功”。这时他就会说：“我的确想过从事法律工作。”
假如你是腓特烈大帝的属下，你却称赞陛下能征善战的话，证明你的确是一个情商低下的侍臣。腓特烈当然清楚自己是普鲁士将军，可他还想成为一位法国式的文豪。如果你希望博得他青睐的话，就该说你认为他比伏尔泰更胜一筹。
别人对我们的现状关注太多，我们并不乐意。我们的现状也许已经很不错，尽管如此，我们还会想，还有某种更适合自己的生活。我们要么已经见识过更好的日子，要么期待更好的日子。
假定你去了厄尔巴岛拜见拿破仑，试图得到他的欢心。
“陛下，”你也许会说，“这里安全、舒适、宁静，就是您的一个美丽的小帝国。以您现在的境况而论，这样一个地方简直就是为您量身定做的。这里气候宜人，到处和平安宁。一切安排妥帖，细节有人打理，统治这样的地方，一定感到非常愉快。我刚到您的领地时，看见一排英国军舰守卫着海岸，体贴入微随处可见。”
你对拿破仑的这番赞美是不会得到他的欢心的，因为你把他视为厄尔巴岛皇帝，而在他自己眼里他就是皇帝，虽然此时身在厄尔巴岛。
以他所处的环境来衡量其个性，会让一个成熟的人恼羞成怒。
缺乏想象力的人总是在一次次地重演“错误的喜剧”[2]。那可不只是大小德洛米奥的问题，而是一个帽子下面有六个德洛米奥。
人们做介绍也太过随便啦，仿佛让两个人认识是世上最容易的事情！你的朋友会对你说，“这是斯提弗莱克先生。”于是你说真高兴认识他。但你们俩可知道隐藏在斯提弗莱克这个名字下面的谜吗？你或许知道他长得什么样，住在哪里，靠什么谋生，然而这一切都是现在的情况。要想真正了解他，你不仅必须知道他现在的情况，还要知道他过去的情况；他自以为应该怎样，假如他十分努力又应该出现怎样的结果。你必须知道，如果某些事情不是这样而是那样的话，他又会有怎样的结局。你必须知道，如果不是这么做而是那么做的话，又会发生什么。所有这些复杂的情况都是他对自己模糊认知的一部分。它们使得他在自己眼里比在别人眼里有趣得多。
正是因为我们意识到对于上面提到的种种缺乏了解，才会在提出帮助别人时感到不知所措。别人在内心深处会愿意接受我们的帮助吗？
当年，斯坦利[3]为了寻找利文斯通博士可谓历尽磨难，可是，当他终于在中非的一个湖畔找到了利文斯通博士，那一刻，两人只有尴尬。斯坦利伸出手拘谨地说：“我猜你就是利文斯通博士吧？”在此之前，斯坦利曾经勇敢地穿过那片赤道地区的森林，只为找到利文斯通，把他带回文明社会。然而利文斯通并不急于被找到，还坚决拒绝被带回文明社会。他想要开始一次新的冒险。斯坦利找到的利文斯通与预想的大相径庭。后来，他发现这个老人跟他一样，有着一颗年轻的心。当这两个男人开始计划进行一次新的探险，去寻找尼罗河源头的时候，他们才算真正认识对方了。
人人天生想当别人，就是生活中会有许多让人烦恼的鸡零狗碎的成因。社会是一个完善的体系，体系中的每一个人本应各就各位，各司其职。而人人天生想当别人的想法，却会引导我们去从事严格说来不该我们做的工作。我们人人都才华横溢，能力过人，会冲破我们狭小的职业或工作领域的限制。每个人都觉得在自己的岗位上是大材小用，一直在做着神学家们所谓的“分外之事”。
态度严肃的女佣不会满足于只干指定的活儿，她身上还有没用完的劲儿。她想成为家庭改革的总管。于是她来到主人的书桌前，进行一次彻底的改革。她按照自己的整洁理念，把那些文件资料整理了一番。可怜的男主人回到家里，发现自己貌似杂乱无章实则手到擒来的东西变得整整齐齐，却令人生厌，随即造起反来。
一位秉性严肃的有轨电车公司经理绝不会只从运送乘客，使乘客觉得便宜、舒适这一简单责任中获得满足感。他还想履行道德促进会讲师的职责。当被运载的可怜的旅客拉着车上的吊带摇摇晃晃的时候，这位经理却给他读一个布告，敦促他践行基督徒的美德，不要推搡别人。那个可怜的人思考着他关于至善的劝告，真想像朱尼厄斯回答格拉夫唐公爵那样回敬道：“大人，伤害或许可以得到补偿和原谅，但侮辱却是无法弥补的。”
一个男人走进理发店，只想刮刮胡子而已，但他遇到的却是一位志存高远的理发师。这位严肃的理发师不满足于仅仅为人们的幸福做微小的贡献。他还坚持让顾客洗头、修指甲、按摩、用热毛巾发汗、用电风扇冷却，与此同时，给顾客擦皮鞋、上鞋油。
当你看到人们为了避免伤害职业工作者的感情，耐着性子接受不想要的服务时，你就没有感到惊奇过吗？在一辆普尔曼式卧铺车厢里，当某个乘客站起来让人替他刷衣服的时候，你该注意到他脸上会露出那种坚忍的表情。他很可能并不想让人给他刷衣服，宁愿灰尘留在大衣上，也不愿意被迫吞进肚子里。可是他明白，不能让别人失望。这是旅途中的一种庄严仪式，是献礼之前的必要步骤。
人人想当别人这一事实，也是艺术家和文学家频频跨界的原因。画家、戏剧家、音乐家、诗人和小说家，与上述的女佣、有轨电车公司经理和搬运工一样，都患上了人类的通病。他们希望“尽可能地以各种方式为各种人做各种有益的事”。他们对于惯用的方式已经厌倦，想要试试新的组合方式，结果总是把事情掺和在一起。一个从事某种艺术的人，却极力想创造出其他艺术形式才能创造的效果。
于是，音乐家想当画家，把小提琴当画笔来用。他希望我们看到他琴弦下落日的光辉。画家却想当音乐家，把交响乐画出来，他却苦恼于缺乏修养的耳朵听不见他的画，尽管他笔下的色彩确实不协调。还有另一个画家想当建筑师，用垒砖的方法来画画，画出来的画在普通人眼里像是一座砖房，而不是一幅画。再如一个散文家写散文写腻烦了，转而想做一个诗人，于是他把每一行文字都用一个大写字母开头，可写出的仍旧是散文。
你走进剧院，跟莎士比亚一样，想法很简单，认为来了就是看戏。可是，剧作家却想当病理学家，这样一来，你发现自己掉进了一个可怕的诊所。你本来只来单纯地消遣消遣，却成了一个未被上帝选中的人，到了一个给你特制的地方。你还要把戏看完。虽然你有自己的烦恼，可是理由却不够充分，无法要求获得豁免。
再比如你拿起一本小说，原以为是一部虚构作品，谁知这位作家的目的却并非如此，他想当你的精神顾问。他想给你灌输新的思想，重塑你的基本观点，抚慰你的灵魂，给你彻彻底底地洗脑。尽管你并不想被他洗脑和纠偏，他还是要越俎代庖。你并不想让他干扰你的思想。你有自己的思想，你做自己的事时，只想遵从自己的思想。
不过，如果说人人想当别人的想法导致许多人行为古怪，在艺术上标新立异的话，倒不只是属于喜剧性质，不应该轻率地摒弃。这与个性有关，自有渊源。人忘不了自己曾经当别人的那段时光，是人人想当别人的原因。我们所谓的个性是一种变幻不定的东西——我们在看老照片、读旧信的时候就会意识到这一点。
就连在世的最老的老寿星，比那些千篇一律的胚质也大不了几年，这种胚质可能发育成任何东西。最初的他具有各种各样的可能性。每一种实际存在，意味着大量丰富的可能性中减少了一种。在发育成一种东西以后，它就不可能再发育成另一种东西。
人年少时的乐趣在于，他依然拥有各种各样的可能性，他觉得自己可以成为任何想要成为的人。他意识到自己具备潜质，可以当一名成功的银行老板。另一方面，去南太平洋冒险的生活，对他也充满了诱惑。试想，高卧在一棵面包果树下，果子正好落入口中，聚拢在周围的善良野蛮人无不称叹，岂不快活？他或许可以当一名圣徒——不是普普通通的现代圣徒，那种圣徒什么杂活都干，什么无聊的委员会会议都要参加，而是人们在书中读到的那种圣徒，遇到第一个乞丐就脱下自己昂贵的长袍，解下装金子的钱袋施舍出去，然后乐呵呵地穿过森林去感化那些有趣的强盗。他觉得只要父亲给他提供施舍的钱，他就可以做那种并不科学的慈善工作。
然而，他渐渐意识到，在银行业取得成功，与到南太平洋远足，或者当一名别具一格、非同一般的圣徒之间存在着矛盾。倘若他要进入银行业，就必须像其他银行老板一样行事。
父母和老师们齐心协力、处心积虑把他培养成人，就是要把他培养成为一种专才。为此，必须压制一切无关的思想动态。他们所有的劝诫都集中在他必须心无旁骛上，而他确确实实做到了心无旁骛。他正心无旁骛地关注着大人们没有关注到的种种。他一面在教室的座位上如坐针毡，一面却心无旁骛地关注教室外面发生的种种。他看到了同学们的弱点，计划着怎么对他们兴师问罪；他欣喜地发现了老师的种种怪癖。不仅如此，他还是一位卓有成就的小画家呢，他根据真人真事所画的漫画在同学中间悄悄传阅，让他们笑破了肚皮。
可是，老师却一脸严肃地教训他：“孩子，你得学会心无旁骛，也就是说，心里一定不要关注太多没用的东西，你只关注一点就好了，那就是第二人称词形变化。”
遗憾的是，第二人称词形变化是教室里最无趣的东西，然而倘若他不心无旁骛地学，就永远也不可能学会。为了提高效率，教育要求我们集中注意力。
一个人倘若心无旁骛地倾力于某一特定学科的话，他就完全可以成为一名成功的商人，或者一位房地产商、药剂师、教会执事济贫助理什么的。不过，他只能术业专攻，不可能在同一时间行行精通。他必须有所选择。既然在大家面前已经立下誓言，所以不管好坏他都必须坚持下去，放弃其他学科。结果呢，到了不惑之年，他就成了某种人，能够从事某种工作了。他习得了一整套实用理念，然而这些理念只适用于他所在的领域，而不是放之四海而皆准的，所以不会对他的正业产生影响。邻居们对他的活动范围一清二楚，他们不需要坐精神电梯去找他，他的工作地点在一楼。他获得了实用性的东西，却失去了趣味性的东西。
昔日的先知声称，年轻人要做异梦，老年人要见幻象，然而唯独没有提到中年人。中年人不得不心无旁骛地工作。
然而，责任重大的人，在工作时会像他那样吗？他在谈论工作时是否也能“心无旁骛”呢？我不这么认为。他身上隐藏着难以捉摸的个性。在古老的天主教徒家庭大而无当的宅邸中，有秘密隔板通往“司铎秘密藏身处”，家人可以在那里获得精神慰藉；同理，在最成功的人心里也有这样的私密空间，那里隐藏着他未酬的壮志、未竟的心愿、未能践行的诺言。他所有有望实现的梦想都隐藏在心底。他说什么也不会愿意让公众知道他多么在意那个不曾大显身手的自我。只有当你了解到他心中有他失落的亚特兰蒂斯，他的乌托邦，至今依然渴望扬帆远航，你才会了解他。
当道格培里[4]声称他的“相貌也比得上梅西那地方无论哪一个人”，说他“还有两件袍子，无论到什么地方去总还是体体面面的”时，他要表达的是，这些是不言自明的。而当他自夸说自己“不是不曾遇到过坏运气”时，那口吻就是在向你吐露衷肠了。
裘利斯·恺撒大帝乘坐战车穿过罗马大街时，在欢呼的百姓眼里，他头上的桂冠象征着他此时的尊贵。然而，有传言说，当时恺撒渴望显得更年轻，所以在抛头露面之前，把桂冠认真地整理过，以免让人看出他的头发有过损失。
大人物看起来骄矜自大，那是由于顾忌流露出平民百姓的人之常情。当雅各的儿子们看见自己哀哀求告的那位尊贵的埃及官员转身离去时，他们并不知道背后的隐情。“约瑟爱弟之情发动，就急忙寻找可哭之地，进入自己的屋里，哭了一场。他洗了脸出来，勉强隐忍。”[5]约瑟并不想成为伟人，他想做一个普通人。而情动于中却要勉强隐忍是多么艰难。
我们童年时期丧失的那些技艺，青春期失去的勇敢无畏、雄心壮志和浪漫钟情都到哪里去了？我们觉得自己与各种各样的人都休戚相关的同情心到哪里去了？早期我们对与己无关的事的好奇心都到哪里去了？我们这样问道，正如圣保罗问加拉太人：“你们向来跑得好。有谁拦阻你们？”
答案对我们倒不是完全不利。我们没能充分发挥全部天性，是因为条件不允许。沃尔特·惠特曼也许为“自发的我”而欢天喜地。可是这样自发的你是赚不上钱的。一个随心所欲的扳道工会给广大的旅客带来生命威胁。我们更喜欢性情平和的人。
随着人类文明的发展和工作专业化程度的提高，任何人在任何公认的职业里都不可能自由充分发挥自己全部的天赋才能。那么，怎么发挥我们身上其他的自我呢？回答只能是：必须在日常工作的范围之外为它们提供发挥的空间。由于工作对人们心无旁骛的要求越来越高，对关注的范围限制得越来越多，因此也更需要人们切实捍卫合法的闲暇时间。
古希伯来圣贤宣称：“智慧产生于闲暇之时。”这并非说智者肯定出身于我们所谓的有闲阶层，而是说，假如某人只有一点可以自由支配的时间，那么，他就必须利用这点时间让隐藏的自我焕发新的生机。假如安息日不能休息一整天，他必须学会捍卫“小安息日”的时间，哪怕只是十分钟。在这段时间里，他什么工作都不要做。仅仅承认与保护工作及挣钱的自我是不够的，为了我们其他的自我，世界还应变得安全。《独立宣言》上不是说，人人都有追求幸福的不可剥夺的权利吗？
要认识到人对自己的不满足，需要依靠想象力。由于缺乏想象力造成的不幸，我们曾有一个可怕的例子。普鲁士军国主义者煞费苦心地收集事实，但却鄙视人类的天性。他们的情商低得令人难以置信。他们视人如物。他们对待事实的态度极为严肃，却完全忽视人的情感。他们的特务遍布全世界，特务把看到的一切情报全都上报，可是却不考虑那些看不到的情报。于是，就在他们科学地处理一目了然的事实和武力的时候，人类灵魂中所有隐藏的力量都在与他们为敌。军国主义者启用那些缺乏同情心的高级专业人士来提高效率。在树立了一个标准以后，所有的多样性必然被压制。全世界反对的正是这种压制多样性的力量。为了反对制造枯燥乏味的单一性，我们必须继续斗争。倘若我们屈从我们自造的其他暴君的话，废黜那位德国皇帝也无济于事。
（张白桦 译）
[1]霍尔姆斯（Hom1es）应是与兰姆同时期的作家，此处为音译，不确。
[2]典出莎士比亚作品《错误的喜剧》（Comedy of Errors），指荒唐可笑的事件。下文的大小德洛米奥是剧中的一对孪生兄弟。
[3]亨利·斯坦利（1841—1904），威尔士裔美国记者、探险家，多次赴非洲探险，在以非洲营救苏格兰传教士、探险家利文斯通博士而闻名。
[4]莎士比亚剧作《无事生非》中的警吏。本段所涉典故在剧中第四幕第二场。此处引用朱生豪译文。
[5]此句典出《创世记》第43章30—31节。
