These and other cases which have come under my observation have convinced me that people are more proud of their afflictions than of their blessings, and that the most common use of adversity is to make life miserable for others.
I am, Sir,
Edward Easyman.
THE SCIENCE OF MAKING ENEMIES
To the Editor of The Idler.
Dear Sir: As I am about to open a school of an unusual nature, I have determined not only to secure for the same as much publicity as possible, but also to explain to the public the nature of the instruction which will be furnished in my new academy. My course of study is, I think, unique; and I fear that without explanation it would probably prove quite incomprehensible to the public at large and to those who may chance to hear of the school through friends or to read my advertisements in the press.
In this connection, it seems to me not out of place to acquaint you, in some sort, with the reasons which led me to settle upon the plan of my proposed course of instruction, and this I shall accordingly do to the best of my ability.
I entered at an early age upon my present profession, which is, as you may have surmised, that of an educator. I became, in turn, an instructor, a tutor and a professor of sociology. I have ever been of an independent character of mind, and in the course of my work I have been prone to draw my own conclusions without, I confess, much consideration of, or regard for, the opinions of others who assume, or have assumed, to be authorities upon the subject. Society, I believe, is a subject which must be studied at first hand. Text-books and treatises may be well enough as stimulants to study, but the real essential is a knowledge of people. I, therefore, devoted myself to the study of mankind, and I studied the students of my classes with more enthusiasm and with more application, I dare say, than my students studied their text-books. But I did not stop with the study of others, I also studied myself. I studied myself as an isolated individual, and I studied myself in relation to others, and it was as a result of this study that I finally made a most disconcerting discovery—a discovery which was not made until I had entered upon my professorship, and which shocked me inexpressibly and bade fair, for a time, to put an end to my career as a teacher.
Though at first it was only a suspicion, it soon became a conviction. I discovered that I was unpopular. Not unpopular with a few only, for all of us are that, but generally and hopelessly unpopular; a man without any friends and with a great many enemies. I do not now recall what first called my attention to this matter, but I do remember that I gave it a great deal of thought and attention and I studied the case in the same impartial manner that I would study any other case of social phenomena. I took careful note of the demeanor and behavior of my students and my fellow members of the faculty, and I soon settled beyond any reasonable doubt all question as to my popularity. I had never established myself upon a footing of familiarity or friendship with my students and I now came to see the reason why this was so. My students did not like me and they would have nothing more to do with me than was absolutely necessary. It was the same with the members of the faculty. I was retained in my position because I was an able instructor and an indefatigable worker. There was no sort of favoritism in my case and I knew that my colleagues as well as my students would have been glad to see me guilty of some blunder which would justify my removal.
As you may suppose, this was not only a hard blow to my vanity, but a very painful thing to think upon. Like most men, I had always assumed that people were glad to know me and to have me about, and it distressed me exceedingly to learn that this assumption was without foundation or justification. It is one of the enigmas of human nature—this conviction of personal popularity. No man can conceive of himself as a pariah, nor even as a very unpopular person, until he actually finds himself in that situation. Even the greatest bores seldom realize that they are bores. But most bores are not sociologists.