world. It is not pride, which is a more or less just estimate of one's
own power and responsibilities. It is not vanity or conceit, which
consists in pluming oneself exactly on the qualities one does not
possess. Arrogance is in essence something of far tougher fibre than
conceit. It is the sense of ability and power run riot; the feeling that
the world is an oyster, and that in opening its rough edges there is no
need to care a jot for the interests or susceptibilities of others.

A young man who has surmounted his education, gone out into the world on
his own account, and made some progress in business, is the ready prey
of the bacillus of arrogance. He does not yet know enough of life to
realise the price he will have to pay in the future for the brusqueness
of his manner or the abruptness of his proceedings. He may even fancy
that it is only necessary to be as rude as Napoleon to acquire all the
gifts of the Emperor. This conception is altogether false, though it may
be pardoned to youth in the first rush of success.

The unfortunate point is that in everyday life the older men will not in
practice confer this pardon. They are annoyed by the presumption the
newcomer displays, and they visit their wrath on him, not only at the
time of the offence, but for years afterwards.

At the moment this attitude of criticism and hostility the masters of
the field show to the aspirant may not be without its advantages if it
teaches him that justice, moderation, and courtesy are qualities which
still possess merits even for the rising young man. If so, we may thank
Heaven even for our enemies.

The usual prophecy for curbing arrogant youth on these occasions is the
sure prediction that he will come a smash. As a matter of fact, it is