The Germans have no national pride, which shows how honest they are, as everybody knows! and how dishonest are those who, by a piece of ridiculous affectation, pretend that they are proud of their country—­the Deutsche Bruder and the demagogues who flatter the mob in order to mislead it.  I have heard it said that gunpowder was invented by a German.  I doubt it.  Lichtenberg asks, Why is it that a man who is not a German does not care about pretending that he is one; and that if he makes any pretence at all, it is to be a Frenchman or an Englishman?[1]

[Footnote 1:  Translator’s Note.—­It should be remembered that these remarks were written in the earlier part of the present century, and that a German philosopher now-a-days, even though he were as apt to say bitter things as Schopenhauer, could hardly write in a similar strain.]

However that may be, individuality is a far more important thing than nationality, and in any given man deserves a thousand-fold more consideration.  And since you cannot speak of national character without referring to large masses of people, it is impossible to be loud in your praises and at the same time honest.  National character is only another name for the particular form which the littleness, perversity and baseness of mankind take in every country.  If we become disgusted with one, we praise another, until we get disgusted with this too.  Every nation mocks at other nations, and all are right.

The contents of this chapter, which treats, as I have said, of what we represent in the world, or what we are in the eyes of others, may be further distributed under three heads:  honor rank and fame.

Section 3.—­Rank.

Let us take rank first, as it may be dismissed in a few words, although it plays an important part in the eyes of the masses and of the philistines, and is a most useful wheel in the machinery of the State.

It has a purely conventional value.  Strictly speaking, it is a sham; its method is to exact an artificial respect, and, as a matter of fact, the whole thing is a mere farce.

Orders, it may be said, are bills of exchange drawn on public opinion, and the measure of their value is the credit of the drawer.  Of course, as a substitute for pensions, they save the State a good deal of money; and, besides, they serve a very useful purpose, if they are distributed with discrimination and judgment.  For people in general have eyes and ears, it is true; but not much else, very little judgment indeed, or even memory.  There are many services of the State quite beyond the range of their understanding; others, again, are appreciated and made much of for a time, and then soon forgotten.  It seems to me, therefore, very proper, that a cross or a star should proclaim to the mass of people always and everywhere, This man is not like you; he has done something.  But orders lose their value when they are distributed unjustly, or without due selection, or in too great numbers:  a prince should be as careful in conferring them as a man of business is in signing a bill.  It is a pleonasm to inscribe on any order for distinguished service; for every order ought to be for distinguished service.  That stands to reason.