der ought to be for
distinguished service. That stands to reason.

_Section 4.--Honor_.

Honor is a much larger question than rank, and more difficult to
discuss. Let us begin by trying to define it.

If I were to say _Honor is external conscience, and conscience is
inward honor_, no doubt a good many people would assent; but there
would be more show than reality about such a definition, and it would
hardly go to the root of the matter. I prefer to say, _Honor is, on
its objective side, other people's opinion of what we are worth; on
its subjective side, it is the respect we pay to this opinion_. From
the latter point of view, to be _a man of honor_ is to exercise what
is often a very wholesome, but by no means a purely moral, influence.

The feelings of honor and shame exist in every man who is not utterly
depraved, and honor is everywhere recognized as something particularly
valuable. The reason of this is as follows. By and in himself a man
can accomplish very little; he is like Robinson Crusoe on a desert
island. It is only in society that a man's powers can be called into
full activity. He very soon finds this out when his consciousness
begins to develop, and there arises in him the desire to be looked
upon as a useful member of society, as one, that is, who is capable
of playing his part as a man--_pro parte virili_--thereby acquiring a
right to the benefits of social life. Now, to be a useful member of
society, one must do two things: firstly, what everyone is expected to
do everywhere; and, secondly, what one's own particular position in
the world demands and requires.

But a man soon discovers that everything depends upon his being
useful, not in his own opinion, but in the opinion of others; and so
he tries his best to make that favorable impression upon the world, to
which he attaches such a high value. Hence, this primitive and innate
characteristic of human nature, which is called the feeling of honor,
or, under another aspect, the feeling of shame--_verecundia_. It is
this which brings a blush to his cheeks at the thought of having
suddenly to fall in the estimation of others, even when he knows that
he is innocent, nay, even if his remissness extends to no absolute
obligation, but only to one which he has taken upon himself of his own
free will. Conversely, nothing in life gives a man so much courage as
the attainment or renewal of the conviction that other people regard
him with favor; because