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Section 7. (e) Egoism.

It is possible that the inner character of egoism shall be as profoundly potent in legal matters as in the daily life. Goethe has experienced its effect with unparalleled keenness. "Let me tell you something," he writes (Conversations with Eckermann. Vol. 1). "All periods considered regressive or transitional are subjective. Conversely all progressive periods look outward. The whole of contemporary civilization is reactionary, because subjective.... The thing of importance is everywhere the individual who is trying to show off his lordliness. Nowhere is any mentionable effort to be found that subordinates itself through love of the whole."

These unmistakable terms contain a "discovery" that is applicable to our days even better than to Goethe's. It is characteristic of our time that each man has an exaggerated interest in himself. Consequently, he is concerned only with himself or with his immediate environment, he understands only what he already knows and feels, and he works only where he can attain some personal advantage. It is hence to be concluded that we may proceed with certainty only when we count on this exaggerated egoism and use it as a prime factor. The most insignificant little things attest this. A man who gets a printed directory will look his own name up, though he knows it is there, and contemplate it with pleasure; he does the same with the photograph of a group of which his worthy self is one of the immortalized. If personal qualities are under discussion, he is happy, when he can say,—"Now I am by nature so."— If foreign cities are under discussion, he tells stories of his native city, or of cities that he has visited, and concerning things that can interest only him who has been there. Everyone makes an effort to bring something of his personal status to bear,—either the conditions of his life, or matters concerning only him. If anybody announces that he has had a good time, he means without exception, absolutely without exception, that he has had an opportunity to push his "I" very forcefully into the foreground.

Lazarus[1] has rightly given this human quality historical significance: "Pericles owed a considerable part of his political dictatorate to the circumstance of knowing practically all Athenian citizens by name. Hannibal, Wallenstein, Napoleon I, infected

their armies, thanks to ambition, with more courage than could the deepest love of arms, country and freedom, just through knowing and calling by name the individual soldiers."

Daily we get small examples of this egoism. The most disgusting and boresome witness, who is perhaps angry at having been dragged so far from his work, can be rendered valuable and useful through the initial show of a little personal interest, of some comprehension of his affairs, and of some consideration, wherever possible, of his views and efficiency. Moreover, men judge their fellows according to their comprehension of their own particular professions. The story of the peasant's sneer at a physician, "But what can he know when he does not even know how to sow oats?" is more than a story, and is true of others besides illiterate boors. Such an attitude recurs very frequently, particularly among people of engrossing trades that require much time,—e. g., among soldiers, horsemen, sailors, hunters, etc. If it is not possible to understand these human vanities and to deal with these people as one of the trade, it is wise at least to suggest such understanding, to show interest in their affairs and to let them believe that really you think it needful for everybody to know how to saddle a horse correctly, or to distinguish the German bird-dog from the English setter at a thousand paces. What is aimed at is not personal respect for the judge, but for the judge's function, which the witness identifies with the judge's person. If he has such respect, he will find it worth the trouble to help us out, to think carefully and to assist in the difficult conclusion of the case. There is an astonishing difference between the contribution of a sulking and contrary witness and of one who has become interested and pleased by the affair. Not only quantity, but truth and reliability of testimony, are immensely greater in the latter case.

Besides, the antecedent self-love goes so far that it may become very important in the examination of the accused. Not that a trap is to be set for him; merely that since it is our business to get at the truth, we ought to proceed in such proper wise with a denying accused as might bring to light facts that otherwise careful manipulation would not have brought out. How often have anonymous or pseudonymous criminals betrayed themselves under examination just because they spoke of circumstances involving their capital I, and spoke so clearly that now the clue was found, it was no longer difficult to follow it up. In the examination of well-known criminals, dozens of such instances occur—the fact is not new, but it needs to be made use of.

A similar motive belongs to subordinate forms of egoism— the obstinacy of a man who may be so vexed by contradiction as to drive one into despair, and who under proper treatment becomes valuable. This I learned mainly from my old butler, a magnificent honest soldier, a figure out of a comedy, but endowed with inexorable obstinacy against which my skill for a long time availed nothing. As often as I proposed something with regard to some intended piece of work or alteration, I got the identical reply—"It won't do, sir." Finally I got hold of a list and worked my plan—"Simon, this will now be done as Simon recently said it should be done,— namely." At this he looked at me, tried to think when he had said this thing, and went and did it. And in spite of frequent application this list has not failed once for some years. What is best about it is that it will serve, mutatis mutandis, with criminals. As soon as ever real balkiness is noted, it becomes necessary to avoid the least appearance of contradictoriness, since that increases difficulties. It is not necessary to lie or to make use of trickery. Only, avoid direct contradiction, drop the subject in question, and return to it indirectly when you perceive that the obstinate individual recognizes his error. Then you may succeed in building him a golden bridge, or at least a barely visible sidedoor where he can make his retreat unnoticed. In that case even the most difficult of obstinates will no longer repeat the old story. He will repeat only if he is pressed, and this although he is repeatedly brought back to the point. If, however, the matter is once decided, beware of returning to it without any other reason, save to confirm the settled matter quite completely,—that would be only to wake the sleeper to give him a sleeping powder.

Speaking generally, the significant rule is this: Egoism, laziness and conceit are the only human motives on which one may unconditionally depend. Love, loyalty, honesty, religion and patriotism, though firm as a rock, may lapse and fall. A man might have been counted on for one of these qualities ten times with safety, and on the eleventh, he might collapse like a house of cards. Count on egoism and laziness a hundred or a thousand times and they are as firm as ever. More simply, count on egoism—for laziness and conceit are only modifications of egoism. The latter alone then should be the one human motive to keep in mind when dealing with men. There are cases enough when all the wheels are set in motion after a clue to the truth, i. e., when there is danger that the person under suspicion is innocent; appeals to honor, conscience, humanity and

religion fail;—but run the complete gamut of self-love and the whole truth rings clear. Egoism is the best criterion of the presence of veracity. Suppose a coherent explanation has been painfully constructed. It is obvious that the correctness of the construction is studied with reference to the given motive. Now, if the links in the chain reach easily back to the motive, there is at least the possibility that the chain is free of error. What then of the motive? If it is noble—friendship, love, humaneness, loyalty, mercy—the constructed chain may be correct, and happily is so oftener than is thought; but it need not be correct. If, however, the structure rests on egoism, in any of its innumerable forms? and if it is logically sound, then the whole case is explained utterly and reliably. The construction is indubitably correct.