with confidence and security, and, in his hours of mirth and jollity,
used to say, 'Let us drink, my friends: we may do it with safety, for
Parmenio never drinks.' It was this same Parmenio, with whose presence
and counsel, it had been said, Alexander had gained all his victories;
and without his presence and counsel, he had never gained a single
victory. The humble, admiring, and flattering friends, whom Alexander
left in power and authority behind him, divided his empire among
themselves, and after having thus robbed his family and kindred of
their inheritance, put, one after another, every single surviving
individual of them, whether male or female, to death.
We frequently, not only pardon, but thoroughly enter into and
sympathize with the excessive self-estimation of those splendid
characters in which we observe a great and distinguished superiority
above the common level of mankind. We call them spirited, magnanimous,
and high-minded; words which all involve in their meaning a
considerable degree of praise and admiration. But we cannot enter into
and sympathize with the excessive self-estimation of those characters
in which we can discern no such distinguished superiority. We are
disgusted and revolted by it; and it is with some difficulty that we
can either pardon or suffer it. We call it pride or vanity; two words,
of which the latter always, and the former for the most part, involve
in their meaning a considerable degree of blame.
Those two vices, however, though resembling, in some respects, as
being both modifications of excessive self-estimation, are yet, in
many respects, very different from one another.
The proud man is sincere, and, in the bottom of his heart, is
convinced of his own superiority; though it may sometimes be difficult
to guess upon what that conviction is founded. He wishes you to view
him in no other light than that in which, when he places himself in
your situation, he really views himself. He demands no more of you
than, what he thinks, justice. If you appear not to respect him as he
{227} respects himself, he is more offended than mortified, and feels
the same indignant resentment as if he had suffered a real injury. He
does not even then, however, deign to explain the grounds of his own
pretensions. He disdains to court your esteem. He affects even to
despise it, and endeavours to maintain his assumed station, not so
much by making you sensible of his superiority, as of your own
meanness. He seems to wish not so much to excite your esteem for
_himself_, as to mortify _that_ for _yourself_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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