What Is Man?

M >> Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) >> What Is Man?

CONTENTS:

What Is Man?

The Death of Jean

The Turning-Point of My Life

How to Make History Dates Stick

The Memorable Assassination

A Scrap of Curious History

Switzerland, the Cradle of Liberty

At the Shrine of St. Wagner

William Dean Howells

English as She is Taught

A Simplified Alphabet

As Concerns Interpreting the Deity

Concerning Tobacco

Taming the Bicycle

Is Shakespeare Dead?



WHAT IS MAN?

I

a. Man the Machine. b. Personal Merit

[The Old Man and the Young Man had been conversing. The Old Man had
asserted that the human being is merely a machine, and nothing more. The
Young Man objected, and asked him to go into particulars and furnish his
reasons for his position.]

Old Man. What are the materials of which a steam-engine is made?

Young Man. Iron, steel, brass, white-metal, and so on.

O.M. Where are these found?

Y.M. In the rocks.

O.M. In a pure state?

Y.M. No--in ores.

O.M. Are the metals suddenly deposited in the ores?

Y.M. No--it is the patient work of countless ages.

O.M. You could make the engine out of the rocks themselves?

Y.M. Yes, a brittle one and not valuable.

O.M. You would not require much, of such an engine as that?

Y.M. No--substantially nothing.

O.M. To make a fine and capable engine, how would you proceed?

Y.M. Drive tunnels and shafts into the hills; blast out the iron ore;
crush it, smelt it, reduce it to pig-iron; put some of it through the
Bessemer process and make steel of it. Mine and treat and combine
several metals of which brass is made.

O.M. Then?

Y.M. Out of the perfected result, build the fine engine.

O.M. You would require much of this one?

Y.M. Oh, indeed yes.

O.M. It could drive lathes, drills, planers, punches, polishers, in a
word all the cunning machines of a great factory?

Y.M. It could.

O.M. What could the stone engine do?

Y.M. Drive a sewing-machine, possibly--nothing more, perhaps.

O.M. Men would admire the other engine and rapturously praise it?

Y.M. Yes.

O.M. But not the stone one?

Y.M. No.

O.M. The merits of the metal machine would be far above those of the
stone one?

Y.M. Of course.

O.M. Personal merits?

Y.M. PERSONAL merits? How do you mean?

O.M. It would be personally entitled to the credit of its own
performance?

Y.M. The engine? Certainly not.

O.M. Why not?

Y.M. Because its performance is not personal. It is the result of the
law of construction. It is not a MERIT that it does the things which it
is set to do--it can't HELP doing them.

O.M. And it is not a personal demerit in the stone machine that it does
so little?

Y.M. Certainly not. It does no more and no less than the law of its
make permits and compels it to do. There is nothing PERSONAL about it;
it cannot choose. In this process of "working up to the matter" is it
your idea to work up to the proposition that man and a machine are about
the same thing, and that there is no personal merit in the performance of
either?

O.M. Yes--but do not be offended; I am meaning no offense. What makes
the grand difference between the stone engine and the steel one? Shall
we call it training, education? Shall we call the stone engine a savage
and the steel one a civilized man? The original rock contained the stuff
of which the steel one was built--but along with a lot of sulphur and
stone and other obstructing inborn heredities, brought down from the old
geologic ages--prejudices, let us call them. Prejudices which nothing
within the rock itself had either POWER to remove or any DESIRE to
remove. Will you take note of that phrase?

Y.M. Yes. I have written it down; "Prejudices which nothing within the
rock itself had either power to remove or any desire to remove." Go on.

O.M. Prejudices must be removed by OUTSIDE INFLUENCES or not at all.
Put that down.

Y.M. Very well; "Must be removed by outside influences or not at all."
Go on.

O.M. The iron's prejudice against ridding itself of the cumbering rock.
To make it more exact, the iron's absolute INDIFFERENCE as to whether the
rock be removed or not. Then comes the OUTSIDE INFLUENCE and grinds the
rock to powder and sets the ore free. The IRON in the ore is still
captive. An OUTSIDE INFLUENCE smelts it free of the clogging ore. The
iron is emancipated iron, now, but indifferent to further progress. An
OUTSIDE INFLUENCE beguiles it into the Bessemer furnace and refines it
into steel of the first quality. It is educated, now--its training is
complete. And it has reached its limit. By no possible process can it
be educated into GOLD. Will you set that down?

Y.M. Yes. "Everything has its limit--iron ore cannot be educated into
gold."

O.M. There are gold men, and tin men, and copper men, and leaden mean,
and steel men, and so on--and each has the limitations of his nature, his
heredities, his training, and his environment. You can build engines out
of each of these metals, and they will all perform, but you must not
require the weak ones to do equal work with the strong ones. In each
case, to get the best results, you must free the metal from its
obstructing prejudicial ones by education--smelting, refining, and so
forth.

Y.M. You have arrived at man, now?

O.M. Yes. Man the machine--man the impersonal engine. Whatsoever a man
is, is due to his MAKE, and to the INFLUENCES brought to bear upon it by
his heredities, his habitat, his associations. He is moved, directed,
COMMANDED, by EXTERIOR influences--SOLELY. He ORIGINATES nothing, not
even a thought.

Y.M. Oh, come! Where did I get my opinion that this which you are
talking is all foolishness?

O.M. It is a quite natural opinion--indeed an inevitable opinion--but
YOU did not create the materials out of which it is formed. They are
odds and ends of thoughts, impressions, feelings, gathered unconsciously
from a thousand books, a thousand conversations, and from streams of
thought and feeling which have flowed down into your heart and brain out
of the hearts and brains of centuries of ancestors. PERSONALLY you did
not create even the smallest microscopic fragment of the materials out of
which your opinion is made; and personally you cannot claim even the
slender merit of PUTTING THE BORROWED MATERIALS TOGETHER. That was done
AUTOMATICALLY--by your mental machinery, in strict accordance with the
law of that machinery's construction. And you not only did not make that
machinery yourself, but you have NOT EVEN ANY COMMAND OVER IT.

Y.M. This is too much. You think I could have formed no opinion but
that one?

O.M. Spontaneously? No. And YOU DID NOT FORM THAT ONE; your machinery
did it for you--automatically and instantly, without reflection or the
need of it.

Y.M. Suppose I had reflected? How then?

O.M. Suppose you try?

Y.M. (AFTER A QUARTER OF AN HOUR.) I have reflected.

O.M. You mean you have tried to change your opinion--as an experiment?

Y.M. Yes.

O.M. With success?

Y.M. No. It remains the same; it is impossible to change it.

O.M. I am sorry, but you see, yourself, that your mind is merely a
machine, nothing more. You have no command over it, it has no command
over itself--it is worked SOLELY FROM THE OUTSIDE. That is the law of its
make; it is the law of all machines.

Y.M. Can't I EVER change one of these automatic opinions?

O.M. No. You can't yourself, but EXTERIOR INFLUENCES can do it.

Y.M. And exterior ones ONLY?

O.M. Yes--exterior ones only.

Y.M. That position is untenable--I may say ludicrously untenable.

O.M. What makes you think so?

Y.M. I don't merely think it, I know it. Suppose I resolve to enter
upon a course of thought, and study, and reading, with the deliberate
purpose of changing that opinion; and suppose I succeed. THAT is not the
work of an exterior impulse, the whole of it is mine and personal; for I
originated the project.

O.M. Not a shred of it. IT GREW OUT OF THIS TALK WITH ME. But for that
it would not have occurred to you. No man ever originates anything. All
his thoughts, all his impulses, come FROM THE OUTSIDE.

Y.M. It's an exasperating subject. The FIRST man had original thoughts,
anyway; there was nobody to draw from.

O.M. It is a mistake. Adam's thoughts came to him from the outside.
YOU have a fear of death. You did not invent that--you got it from
outside, from talking and teaching. Adam had no fear of death--none in
the world.

Y.M. Yes, he had.

O.M. When he was created?

Y.M. No.

O.M. When, then?

Y.M. When he was threatened with it.

O.M. Then it came from OUTSIDE. Adam is quite big enough; let us not
try to make a god of him. NONE BUT GODS HAVE EVER HAD A THOUGHT WHICH
DID NOT COME FROM THE OUTSIDE. Adam probably had a good head, but it was
of no sort of use to him until it was filled up FROM THE OUTSIDE. He was
not able to invent the triflingest little thing with it. He had not a
shadow of a notion of the difference between good and evil--he had to get
the idea FROM THE OUTSIDE. Neither he nor Eve was able to originate the
idea that it was immodest to go naked; the knowledge came in with the
apple FROM THE OUTSIDE. A man's brain is so constructed that IT CAN
ORIGINATE NOTHING WHATSOEVER. It can only use material obtained OUTSIDE.
It is merely a machine; and it works automatically, not by will-power.
IT HAS NO COMMAND OVER ITSELF, ITS OWNER HAS NO COMMAND OVER IT.

Y.M. Well, never mind Adam: but certainly Shakespeare's creations--

O.M. No, you mean Shakespeare's IMITATIONS. Shakespeare created
nothing. He correctly observed, and he marvelously painted. He exactly
portrayed people whom GOD had created; but he created none himself. Let
us spare him the slander of charging him with trying. Shakespeare could
not create. HE WAS A MACHINE, AND MACHINES DO NOT CREATE.

Y.M. Where WAS his excellence, then?

O.M. In this. He was not a sewing-machine, like you and me; he was a
Gobelin loom. The threads and the colors came into him FROM THE OUTSIDE;
outside influences, suggestions, EXPERIENCES (reading, seeing plays,
playing plays, borrowing ideas, and so on), framed the patterns in his
mind and started up his complex and admirable machinery, and IT
AUTOMATICALLY turned out that pictured and gorgeous fabric which still
compels the astonishment of the world. If Shakespeare had been born and
bred on a barren and unvisited rock in the ocean his mighty intellect
would have had no OUTSIDE MATERIAL to work with, and could have invented
none; and NO OUTSIDE INFLUENCES, teachings, moldings, persuasions,
inspirations, of a valuable sort, and could have invented none; and so
Shakespeare would have produced nothing. In Turkey he would have produced
something--something up to the highest limit of Turkish influences,
associations, and training. In France he would have produced something
better--something up to the highest limit of the French influences and
training. In England he rose to the highest limit attainable through the
OUTSIDE HELPS AFFORDED BY THAT LAND'S IDEALS, INFLUENCES, AND TRAINING.
You and I are but sewing-machines. We must turn out what we can; we must
do our endeavor and care nothing at all when the unthinking reproach us
for not turning out Gobelins.

Y.M. And so we are mere machines! And machines may not boast, nor feel
proud of their performance, nor claim personal merit for it, nor applause
and praise. It is an infamous doctrine.

O.M. It isn't a doctrine, it is merely a fact.

Y.M. I suppose, then, there is no more merit in being brave than in
being a coward?

O.M. PERSONAL merit? No. A brave man does not CREATE his bravery. He
is entitled to no personal credit for possessing it. It is born to him.
A baby born with a billion dollars--where is the personal merit in that?
A baby born with nothing--where is the personal demerit in that? The one
is fawned upon, admired, worshiped, by sycophants, the other is neglected
and despised--where is the sense in it?

Y.M. Sometimes a timid man sets himself the task of conquering his
cowardice and becoming brave--and succeeds. What do you say to that?

O.M. That it shows the value of TRAINING IN RIGHT DIRECTIONS OVER
TRAINING IN WRONG ONES. Inestimably valuable is training, influence,
education, in right directions--TRAINING ONE'S SELF-APPROBATION TO
ELEVATE ITS IDEALS.

Y.M. But as to merit--the personal merit of the victorious coward's
project and achievement?

O.M. There isn't any. In the world's view he is a worthier man than he
was before, but HE didn't achieve the change--the merit of it is not his.

Y.M. Whose, then?

O.M. His MAKE, and the influences which wrought upon it from the
outside.

Y.M. His make?

O.M. To start with, he was NOT utterly and completely a coward, or the
influences would have had nothing to work upon. He was not afraid of a
cow, though perhaps of a bull: not afraid of a woman, but afraid of a
man. There was something to build upon. There was a SEED. No seed, no
plant. Did he make that seed himself, or was it born in him? It was no
merit of HIS that the seed was there.

Y.M. Well, anyway, the idea of CULTIVATING it, the resolution to
cultivate it, was meritorious, and he originated that.

O.M. He did nothing of the kind. It came whence ALL impulses, good or
bad, come--from OUTSIDE. If that timid man had lived all his life in a
community of human rabbits, had never read of brave deeds, had never
heard speak of them, had never heard any one praise them nor express envy
of the heroes that had done them, he would have had no more idea of
bravery than Adam had of modesty, and it could never by any possibility
have occurred to him to RESOLVE to become brave. He COULD NOT ORIGINATE
THE IDEA--it had to come to him from the OUTSIDE. And so, when he heard
bravery extolled and cowardice derided, it woke him up. He was ashamed.
Perhaps his sweetheart turned up her nose and said, "I am told that you
are a coward!" It was not HE that turned over the new leaf--she did it
for him. HE must not strut around in the merit of it--it is not his.

Y.M. But, anyway, he reared the plant after she watered the seed.

O.M. No. OUTSIDE INFLUENCES reared it. At the command--and
trembling--he marched out into the field--with other soldiers and in the
daytime, not alone and in the dark. He had the INFLUENCE OF EXAMPLE, he
drew courage from his comrades' courage; he was afraid, and wanted to
run, but he did not dare; he was AFRAID to run, with all those soldiers
looking on. He was progressing, you see--the moral fear of shame had
risen superior to the physical fear of harm. By the end of the campaign
experience will have taught him that not ALL who go into battle get
hurt--an outside influence which will be helpful to him; and he will also
have learned how sweet it is to be praised for courage and be huzza'd at
with tear-choked voices as the war-worn regiment marches past the
worshiping multitude with flags flying and the drums beating. After that
he will be as securely brave as any veteran in the army--and there will
not be a shade nor suggestion of PERSONAL MERIT in it anywhere; it will
all have come from the OUTSIDE. The Victoria Cross breeds more heroes
than--

Y.M. Hang it, where is the sense in his becoming brave if he is to get
no credit for it?

O.M. Your question will answer itself presently. It involves an
important detail of man's make which we have not yet touched upon.

Y.M. What detail is that?

O.M. The impulse which moves a person to do things--the only impulse
that ever moves a person to do a thing.

Y.M. The ONLY one! Is there but one?

O.M. That is all. There is only one.

Y.M. Well, certainly that is a strange enough doctrine. What is the sole
impulse that ever moves a person to do a thing?

O.M. The impulse to CONTENT HIS OWN SPIRIT--the NECESSITY of contenting
his own spirit and WINNING ITS APPROVAL.

Y.M. Oh, come, that won't do!

O.M. Why won't it?

Y.M. Because it puts him in the attitude of always looking out for his
own comfort and advantage; whereas an unselfish man often does a thing
solely for another person's good when it is a positive disadvantage to
himself.

O.M. It is a mistake. The act must do HIM good, FIRST; otherwise he
will not do it. He may THINK he is doing it solely for the other
person's sake, but it is not so; he is contenting his own spirit
first--the other's person's benefit has to always take SECOND place.

Y.M. What a fantastic idea! What becomes of self-sacrifice? Please
answer me that.

O.M. What is self-sacrifice?

Y.M. The doing good to another person where no shadow nor suggestion of
benefit to one's self can result from it.



II

Man's Sole Impulse--the Securing of His Own Approval

Old Man. There have been instances of it--you think?

Young Man. INSTANCES? Millions of them!

O.M. You have not jumped to conclusions? You have examined
them--critically?

Y.M. They don't need it: the acts themselves reveal the golden impulse
back of them.

O.M. For instance?

Y.M. Well, then, for instance. Take the case in the book here. The man
lives three miles up-town. It is bitter cold, snowing hard, midnight.
He is about to enter the horse-car when a gray and ragged old woman, a
touching picture of misery, puts out her lean hand and begs for rescue
from hunger and death. The man finds that he has a quarter in his
pocket, but he does not hesitate: he gives it her and trudges home
through the storm. There--it is noble, it is beautiful; its grace is
marred by no fleck or blemish or suggestion of self-interest.

O.M. What makes you think that?

Y.M. Pray what else could I think? Do you imagine that there is some
other way of looking at it?

O.M. Can you put yourself in the man's place and tell me what he felt
and what he thought?

Y.M. Easily. The sight of that suffering old face pierced his generous
heart with a sharp pain. He could not bear it. He could endure the
three-mile walk in the storm, but he could not endure the tortures his
conscience would suffer if he turned his back and left that poor old
creature to perish. He would not have been able to sleep, for thinking
of it.

O.M. What was his state of mind on his way home?

Y.M. It was a state of joy which only the self-sacrificer knows. His
heart sang, he was unconscious of the storm.

O.M. He felt well?

Y.M. One cannot doubt it.

O.M. Very well. Now let us add up the details and see how much he got
for his twenty-five cents. Let us try to find out the REAL why of his
making the investment. In the first place HE couldn't bear the pain
which the old suffering face gave him. So he was thinking of HIS
pain--this good man. He must buy a salve for it. If he did not succor
the old woman HIS conscience would torture him all the way home.
Thinking of HIS pain again. He must buy relief for that. If he didn't
relieve the old woman HE would not get any sleep. He must buy some
sleep--still thinking of HIMSELF, you see. Thus, to sum up, he bought
himself free of a sharp pain in his heart, he bought himself free of the
tortures of a waiting conscience, he bought a whole night's sleep--all
for twenty-five cents! It should make Wall Street ashamed of itself. On
his way home his heart was joyful, and it sang--profit on top of profit!
The impulse which moved the man to succor the old woman was--FIRST--to
CONTENT HIS OWN SPIRIT; secondly to relieve HER sufferings. Is it your
opinion that men's acts proceed from one central and unchanging and
inalterable impulse, or from a variety of impulses?

Y.M. From a variety, of course--some high and fine and noble, others
not. What is your opinion?

O.M. Then there is but ONE law, one source.

Y.M. That both the noblest impulses and the basest proceed from that one
source?

O.M. Yes.

Y.M. Will you put that law into words?

O.M. Yes. This is the law, keep it in your mind. FROM HIS CRADLE TO
HIS GRAVE A MAN NEVER DOES A SINGLE THING WHICH HAS ANY FIRST AND
FOREMOST OBJECT BUT ONE--TO SECURE PEACE OF MIND, SPIRITUAL COMFORT, FOR
HIMSELF.

Y.M. Come! He never does anything for any one else's comfort, spiritual
or physical?

O.M. No. EXCEPT ON THOSE DISTINCT TERMS--that it shall FIRST secure HIS
OWN spiritual comfort. Otherwise he will not do it.

Y.M. It will be easy to expose the falsity of that proposition.

O.M. For instance?

Y.M. Take that noble passion, love of country, patriotism. A man who
loves peace and dreads pain, leaves his pleasant home and his weeping
family and marches out to manfully expose himself to hunger, cold,
wounds, and death. Is that seeking spiritual comfort?

O.M. He loves peace and dreads pain?

Y.M. Yes.

O.M. Then perhaps there is something that he loves MORE than he loves
peace--THE APPROVAL OF HIS NEIGHBORS AND THE PUBLIC. And perhaps there
is something which he dreads more than he dreads pain--the DISAPPROVAL of
his neighbors and the public. If he is sensitive to shame he will go to
the field--not because his spirit will be ENTIRELY comfortable there, but
because it will be more comfortable there than it would be if he remained
at home. He will always do the thing which will bring him the MOST
mental comfort--for that is THE SOLE LAW OF HIS LIFE. He leaves the
weeping family behind; he is sorry to make them uncomfortable, but not
sorry enough to sacrifice his OWN comfort to secure theirs.

Y.M. Do you really believe that mere public opinion could force a timid
and peaceful man to--

O.M. Go to war? Yes--public opinion can force some men to do ANYTHING.

Y.M. ANYTHING?

O.M. Yes--anything.

Y.M. I don't believe that. Can it force a right-principled man to do a
wrong thing?

O.M. Yes.

Y.M. Can it force a kind man to do a cruel thing?

O.M. Yes.

Y.M. Give an instance.

O.M. Alexander Hamilton was a conspicuously high-principled man. He
regarded dueling as wrong, and as opposed to the teachings of
religion--but in deference to PUBLIC OPINION he fought a duel. He deeply
loved his family, but to buy public approval he treacherously deserted
them and threw his life away, ungenerously leaving them to lifelong
sorrow in order that he might stand well with a foolish world. In the
then condition of the public standards of honor he could not have been
comfortable with the stigma upon him of having refused to fight. The
teachings of religion, his devotion to his family, his kindness of heart,
his high principles, all went for nothing when they stood in the way of
his spiritual comfort. A man will do ANYTHING, no matter what it is, TO
SECURE HIS SPIRITUAL COMFORT; and he can neither be forced nor persuaded
to any act which has not that goal for its object. Hamilton's act was
compelled by the inborn necessity of contenting his own spirit; in this
it was like all the other acts of his life, and like all the acts of all
men's lives. Do you see where the kernel of the matter lies? A man
cannot be comfortable without HIS OWN approval. He will secure the
largest share possible of that, at all costs, all sacrifices.

Y.M. A minute ago you said Hamilton fought that duel to get PUBLIC
approval.

O.M. I did. By refusing to fight the duel he would have secured his
family's approval and a large share of his own; but the public approval
was more valuable in his eyes than all other approvals put together--in
the earth or above it; to secure that would furnish him the MOST comfort
of mind, the most SELF-approval; so he sacrificed all other values to get
it.

Y.M. Some noble souls have refused to fight duels, and have manfully
braved the public contempt.

O.M. They acted ACCORDING TO THEIR MAKE. They valued their principles
and the approval of their families ABOVE the public approval. They took
the thing they valued MOST and let the rest go. They took what would
give them the LARGEST share of PERSONAL CONTENTMENT AND APPROVAL--a man
ALWAYS does. Public opinion cannot force that kind of men to go to the
wars. When they go it is for other reasons. Other spirit-contenting
reasons.

Y.M. Always spirit-contenting reasons?

O.M. There are no others.

Y.M. When a man sacrifices his life to save a little child from a
burning building, what do you call that?

O.M. When he does it, it is the law of HIS make. HE can't bear to see
the child in that peril (a man of a different make COULD), and so he
tries to save the child, and loses his life. But he has got what he was
after--HIS OWN APPROVAL.

Y.M. What do you call Love, Hate, Charity, Revenge, Humanity,
Magnanimity, Forgiveness?

O.M. Different results of the one Master Impulse: the necessity of
securing one's self approval. They wear diverse clothes and are subject
to diverse moods, but in whatsoever ways they masquerade they are the
SAME PERSON all the time. To change the figure, the COMPULSION that
moves a man--and there is but the one--is the necessity of securing the
contentment of his own spirit. When it stops, the man is dead.

Y.M. That is foolishness. Love--