Littell's Living Age/Volume 127/Issue 1638/Clever People
CLEVER PEOPLE.
Is it a good thing to be clever? One would think not, judging by the manner in which many talented people are treated. In point of fact, the usage to which these are sometimes subjected is of such a character that they may readily be excused if they occasionally devoutly wish that they were stupid. Their less brilliant neighbours are continually trying to pick holes in their coats, with the view of showing the world that they are not deserving of such high praise as the world seems disposed to award them. Critics who will graciously permit persons of a commonplace character to escape the lash of censure, pounce upon a man who is popularly supposed to be above the average in point of intellectual attainments and savagely flagellate him to the extent of their power. At one time they endeavour to prove that he is a rank impostor; at another time they hint that he is a dangerous character, who is doing more harm than good in the world; and, in exceptional cases, when he outrages their selfish prejudices, they go so far as to cast a doubt upon his sanity. The individual who has made a fortune by grinding the life out of his employés and constantly getting the better of those who have had business transactions with him, will inform you, with unctuous self-satisfaction, that certain clever people are lacking in the most important of all things, viz., common sense. The person who never reads anything but the most unwholesome columns of a daily newspaper, will sneer at the productions of master minds and declare that the same are mischievous rubbish. And so it is with a large portion of mankind. Unless a man has the talent of amassing money — even though he possesses ten others which are of a higher and purer character — even though he has painted pictures, written books, made scientific investigations, and formulated systems of philosophy which represent more actual brain-work and integrity of purpose than a hundred fortunes — society deems itself at liberty to make light of him and to sneer at him if it feels disposed to do so. When it does condescend to recognize his claims, it often does so in a manner which may well inspire him with the most profound disgust. In nine cases out of ten, people exalt him — when they do so — because they wish to be exalted themselves. They would like it to be understood that they are on terms of intimacy with this man of genius, and that they have been graciously pleased to patronize that other person of talent. No doubt, indeed, there are enterprising beings who would keep a recognized man of talent about their premises, just as they keep prize cattle, if the expenditure of money would enable them to do so. At the same time nine-tenths of those who sound the praises of their clever friends — or, rather, those whom they are pleased to say are their friends — are very careful to point out that the said friends are peculiar, and eccentric, and so on, as if the "strange creatures" could do the work which they are doing, if they were continually pausing in their labours to see that they were not outraging any of the laws to which the plutocracy pay a slavish deference. Then when a man of ability comes to grief, there is a wagging of heads and a time of rejoicing. Stupid people gloat over the fact that he has not been able to look after himself better than they have been able to look after themselves; and the chances are that they begin to think themselves quite clever upon the score of his solitary failure in a matter which is, in their eyes, of paramount importance, but to which he has devoted little attention.
Clever people, in addition to being as a class disliked, are feared. Very few ordinary persons are at their ease when talking to them; and a great many consider that the less intercourse they hold with them the better will it be for their peace of mind. Often they fancy that the stupendous beings cannot take an interest in the matters which most delight ordinary natures. In all this they are very foolish. A weak mind is always benefited when it comes in contact with a strong mind; and it will be found that in numerous cases those who possess the most powerful intellects possess the gentleness and, in many respects, the simplicity of children. Of course, there are so-called clever people who will not condescend to consort with those who are assumed to be humbler mentally than themselves and make a point of snubbing those who will consent to be snubbed by them; but it will be found that these haughty tyrants are, in a general way, impostors and that their arrogant assumption of superiority to most of those with whom they are brought in contact is as unjustifiable as it is abominable. It will be well if those who are now crushed by the position and reputed knowledge of these bullies will take heart, in the event of their doing which it may happen that they will find that their adversaries are — in spite of their store of technical knowledge — as incapable of original thought as they are of consideration for the feelings of others. Unfortunately, many people are not only afraid to have much to do with clever people in their individual capacities, but they look with the most profound suspicion upon much that clever people do. As a great number of clever people are constantly making important discoveries, as they are in the habit of promulgating what appear novel ideas, and as they fail to subscribe to that comfortable doctrine that all that is is for the best and therefore do not argue that every modern institution, whether it be good or bad, should be preserved simply because it is an institution, this is not surprising. But it is to the last degree absurd that men should greet with howls of execration views of things which do not coincide with their notions and appear calculated to revolutionize a great deal of what they are accustomed to. The spirit which led to the persecution of Galileo and impeded the work of George Stephenson is as active as ever, in spite of the fact that experience tells us that the hated theory of to-day becomes the golden rule of to-morrow. Thus it happens that clever people frequently fail to reap the reward of their labours, unless they can be said to be rewarded when, after their bodies have crumbled into dust, statues are erected to their memories and other honours paid them. They scatter the seed while the winter's blast blows about their heads; others reap the harvest in the warm summer's sunshine. Every new idea has to receive a certain amount of abuse ere the popular mind becomes accustomed to it and it is carried into effect. Those who carry it into effect are lucky persons, who secure public approbation upon the strength of what other people have done. At the present time, there are men who are battling with popular prejudice which in the end will be defeated. But those who are waging the war will not gain the prize, which will fall to the lot of those who are now busily engaged in endeavouring to repel the assaults of the warriors.