Chapter III, 8

1 Human character is individual: it is different in every person. The character of the species does indeed underlie everyone, so that its chief qualities recur in each. Yet the differences of degree, the combinations of qualities and the ways they modify one another are so considerable that we may suppose moral differences of character to equal differences of intellectual ability—which is saying a great deal—and both to be incomparably greater than the bodily differences between giant and dwarf, Apollo and Thersites. The same motive therefore has a wholly different effect on different people, just as sunlight whitens wax but blackens silver chloride, and warmth softens wax but hardens clay. Consequently, knowing the motive alone does not allow us to predict the deed: we must also know the character precisely.

2 Human character is empirical. We learn to know it through experience alone, not merely in others but also in ourselves. Hence we are often disappointed in ourselves as in others, discovering that we do not possess some quality—justice, unselfishness or courage, for example—to the degree we had so kindly assumed. When a difficult choice lies before us, our own resolution therefore remains as much a secret to us as someone else’s until the choice is decided. Sometimes we think it will fall this way, sometimes that, according to which motive knowledge holds more closely before the will to try its strength upon it. Meanwhile, “I can do what I will” produces the illusion of freedom of the will. At last the stronger motive asserts its power over the will, and the choice often turns out differently from what we first supposed. Thus no one can know how another person, or even he himself, will act in a particular situation before having been in it. Only after the test has been passed is he sure of the other person, and only then of himself as well. But then he is sure: tested friends and proven servants are reliable. In general, we treat someone we know thoroughly like any other thing whose properties we have learned, confidently foreseeing what we may and may not expect from him. Whoever has done something once will do it again when the occasion arises, for good or ill. Someone needing great and extraordinary help will therefore turn to a person who has given proofs of generosity; someone wishing to hire a murderer will look among people whose hands have already been in blood. According to Herodotus (VII, 164), Gelo of Syracuse once had to entrust a very large sum of money entirely to one man, sending it abroad with him and leaving him free control over it. He chose Cadmus, who had given proof of rare, indeed unheard-of honesty and conscientiousness. His confidence was fully justified. In the same way, acquaintance with ourselves—the basis of self-confidence or self-distrust—arises only from experience, when the occasion comes. Depending on whether we have shown presence of mind, courage, honesty, discretion, tact or whatever else a particular occasion required, or have revealed our lack of these virtues, the acquaintance we have made with ourselves leaves us satisfied with ourselves afterward, or the opposite. Only precise knowledge of one’s own empirical character gives a person what is called acquired character. Someone possesses it when he knows his own qualities, good and bad, precisely, and thus knows with certainty what he may trust himself to do and demand of himself, and what he may not. He now plays his own part—which through his empirical character he previously performed merely by natural instinct—with art and method, firmness and decorum, never, as the saying goes, falling out of character. Such a lapse always shows that, in the particular case, someone had been mistaken about himself.

Human character is: 1. individual: it is different in every person. The character of the species does underlie everyone, so the main traits recur in each person. But the degree of these traits varies so greatly, and they combine with and modify one another in so many different ways, that we can assume the moral differences between characters equal the differences between intellectual abilities. That is saying a great deal. And both kinds of difference are incomparably greater than the physical differences between a giant and a dwarf, Apollo and Thersites. The same motive therefore has completely different effects on different people. Similarly, sunlight turns wax white but silver chloride black; heat softens wax but hardens clay. So knowing the motive alone does not let us predict the action. We must also know the person's character precisely.

2 Human character is empirical. We come to know it only through experience, not just in others but also in ourselves. So we are often disappointed in ourselves, just as we are in others, when we discover that we do not have some quality—justice, unselfishness, or courage, for example—to the degree we had kindly assumed. That is also why, when we face a difficult choice, our own decision remains as much a mystery to us as someone else's until the choice is settled. Now we think it will go one way, now the other, depending on which motive our capacity for knowledge presents more closely to the will, testing its strength against it. Here the thought "I can do what I will" produces the semblance of freedom of the will. Finally, the stronger motive asserts its power over the will, and the choice often turns out differently from what we first expected. Ultimately, then, no one can know how another person, or even they themselves, will act in a particular situation until they have been in it. Only after the test can we be sure of the other person, and only then of ourselves. But then we are sure: tried friends and tested servants are dependable. In general, we treat a person we know well like any other thing whose properties we have learned. We confidently predict what we can and cannot expect from that person. Anyone who has done something once will do it again when the occasion arises, whether for good or for evil. So someone who needs great, extraordinary help will turn to a person who has shown generosity. Someone who wants to hire a murderer will look among people who already have blood on their hands. According to Herodotus's account (VII, 164), Gelo of Syracuse found himself having to entrust a very large sum of money entirely to one man. He had to send the man abroad with it, leaving him free to dispose of it. He chose Cadmus, who had given proof of rare, indeed unheard-of honesty and conscientiousness. His trust was fully justified.—In the same way, we become acquainted with ourselves only through experience, as occasions arise. This acquaintance is the basis of our confidence, or lack of confidence, in ourselves. Depending on whether we have shown good judgment, courage, honesty, discretion, tact, or whatever else a situation called for—or whether a lack of these virtues came to light—we are afterward pleased with ourselves or the opposite, because of what we have learned about ourselves. Only precise knowledge of our own empirical character gives us what is called acquired character. Someone has this when they know their own qualities, good and bad, precisely, and so know for certain what they can trust themselves to do and demand of themselves, and what they cannot. Previously, guided by their empirical character, they played their own role merely by instinct. Now they play it with skill and method, firmly and appropriately, without ever, as people say, acting out of character. Acting out of character always shows that, in that particular case, someone was mistaken about themselves.