44 There are two evils, I know not which is the greater: the passionless man who is never tempted assuming the honours of virtue; and the impassioned wilfully debasing his own heart that he may not be thought by the superficial to be passionless. A man judgeth another by himself, and thinketh that he condemns justly: but, since minds are dissimilar, how can motives be the same? I have known men who considered themselves the natural enemies of their fellow-men, because they were of a different complexion, because they were not born upon the same patch of earth, because they spoke a different language or worshipped God in different words: And tyranny rejoiced in the ignorance of man. The lawlessness of brute force is yet paramount: what other superiority hath man over woman? Is the intellectual power of man more valuable than the moral worth of woman? Or, is any one thing raised by comparison with another? Doth six feet become seven, because three is less than six; and what real dignity is gained by an unjust assumption? He who exalteth himself shall be abased: self-respect is not pride or vanity, but preserveth worth rather than appearance. Truth is not sought for its own sake: the inquirer seeketh evidence in support of his own prejudices, rejecting the truth itself when opposed to his preconceived opinion. Yet is there an evil greater than all, that from the very schools of Philosophy Love is jeered at and scorned and cast out with insult as a weak and womanish and childish thing: because it hath the passionate feeling and purity of woman; because it hath the earnestness and innocence of childhood; because it hath not the ferocity of revenge. The philosopher smileth upon the loving child: but the simple is wiser than he. -One of the People. OATHS. Brutus. Give me your hands all over, one by one. Brutus. No, not an oath-if not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse; If these be motives weak, break off betimes, The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, To prick us to redress? What other bond, Than secret Romans that have spoke the word, And will not palter? and what other oath, Than honesty to honesty engaged, That this shall be, or we will fall by it? Swear priests and cowards, and such suffering souls, Nor th' insuppressive metal of our spirits, To think, that, or our cause, or our performance, Jan. 19, 1839. William Shakspere; One of the People. PRELIMINARY INQUIRIES FOR THE STUDENT IN HISTORY 1. WHETHER, since we testify an habitual indifference in verifying facts, and when we undertake that task find ourselves opposed by so many difficulties, it is reasonable to require more diligence and more success from others than from ourselves? 2. Whether, since we form false and imperfect notions with respect to what passes under our own eyes, we can expect to be better informed of what passes, or has passed, at great distances of time and place? 3. Whether, since we have more than one present example of equivocal or false facts being transmitted to posterity with all the passports of truth, we have reason to suppose that men in former times were less daring, or more conscientious in their transactions? 4. Whether, since in the midst of factions the historian is menaced by every party his writings offend, posterity, or the present age, can expect that he would make sacrifices which would be rewarded only by accusations of imprudence, or the barren honour of a funeral pomp? 5. Whether, since it would be imprudent, and almost impossible for any general to write his campaigns, any minister his negociations, or any public man his memoirs, in the face of actors and witnesses who might contradict him and ruin his reputation, posterity can expect, when those witnesses or actors are dead, and can no longer dispute the statement, that self-love, animosity, shame, distance of time, and defects of memory, should have permitted the real truth to be handed down with fidelity? 6. Whether the pretended information and impartiality attributed to posterity, be not the deceitful consolation of innocence or the seduction of flattery or fear? 7. Whether it be not true that posterity frequently collects and consecrates the depositions of the successful competitor, which silence the proofs on the part of his feeble and fallen opponents? 8. Whether, in morals, it be not as ridiculous to pretend that facts illustrate themselves by growing older, as in physics to maintain that objects become more distinct in proportion as they remove farther from us? Preface to Volney's Lectures on History. POWER OF A NATION'S WILL. LET us suppose that the majority of a nation, by however slow a progress, are convinced of the desirableness, or, which amounts to the same, the practicability of freedom. The supposition would be parallel, if we were to imagine ten thousand men of sound intellect, shut up in a madhouse, and superintended by a set of three or four keepers. Hitherto they have been persuaded (for what absurdity has been too great for human intellect to entertain?) that they were destitute of reason, and that the superintendence under which they were placed was necessary for their preservation. They have therefore submitted to whips and straw and bread and water, and perhaps imagined this tyranny to be a blessing. But a suspicion is at length by some means propagated among them, that all they have hitherto endured has been an imposition. The suspicion spreads, they reflect, they reason, the idea is communicated from one to another, through the chinks of their cells, and at certain times when the vigilance of their keepers has not precluded them from mutual society. It becomes the clear perception, the settled persuasion of the majority of the persons confined. What will be the consequence of this opinion? Is there any human understanding that will not perceive a truth like this, when forcibly and repeatedly presented? Is there a mind that will conceive no impatience of so horrible a tyranny? In reality the chains fall off of themselves, when the magic of opinion is dissolved. When a great majority of any society are persuaded to secure any benefit to themselves, there is no need of tumult or violence to effect it. The effort would be to resist reason, not to obey it. The prisoners are collected in their common hall, and the keepers inform them that it is time to return to their cells. They have no longer the power to obey. They look at the impotence of their late masters, and smile at their presumption. They quietly leave the mansion where they were hitherto immured, and partake of the blessings of light and air like other men. Godwin's Political Justice. A SONG OF THE PEOPLE. THE Hoary Dotard, Aristocracy, Shakes in his crumbling palace-halls; for, hark! Floats Liberty, prepared to disembark This English land! In glory, o'er a world of tribulation, She raiseth her bright banner-as the Sun And, with a loud and multitudinous voice, The millions of the congregated Nation They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed-- Our stolen birthright have not wrought in vain- Still bloodless be the sword we draw, O'er dull Convention, Tyranny and Wrong, Drenching with brother-blood our brother's field; With spiritual weapons for things spiritual The one soul-beacon of his mindless Age! We have not striven in vain They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed- Thomas Wade. |