It is thus written, because it is thus in life.  Our action is overmastered and characterized above our will by the law of nature.  We aim at a petty end quite aside from the public good, but our act arranges itself by irresistible magnetism in a line with the poles of the world.

A man cannot speak but he judges himself.  With his will, or against his will, he draws his portrait to the eye of his companions by every word.  Every opinion reacts on him who utters it.  It is a thread-ball thrown at a mark, but the other end remains in the thrower’s bag.  Or, rather, it is a harpoon hurled at the whale, unwinding, as it flies, a coil of cord in the boat, and if the harpoon is not good, or not well thrown, it will go nigh to cut the steersman in twain, or to sink the boat.

You cannot do wrong without suffering wrong.  “No man had ever a point of pride that was not injurious to him,” said Burke.[127] The exclusive in fashionable life does not see that he excludes himself from enjoyment in the attempt to appropriate it.  The exclusionist in religion does not see that he shuts the door of heaven on himself, in striving to shut out others.  Treat men as pawns[128] and ninepins, and you shall suffer as well as they.  If you leave out their heart, you shall lose your own.  The senses would make things of all persons; of women, of children, of the poor.  The vulgar proverb, “I will get it from his purse or get it from his skin,” is sound philosophy.

All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished.  They are punished by fear.  Whilst I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him.  We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of nature.  But as soon as there is any departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good for me that is not good for him, my neighbor feels the wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me.

All the old abuses in society, universal and particular, all unjust accumulations of property and power, are avenged in the same manner.  Fear is an instructor of great sagacity, and the herald of all revolutions.  One thing he teaches, that there is rottenness where he appears.  He is a carrion crow, and though you see not well what he hovers for, there is death somewhere.  Our property is timid, our laws are timid, our cultivated classes are timid.  Fear for ages has boded and mowed and gibbered over government and property.  That obscene[129] bird is not there for nothing.  He indicates great wrongs which must be revised.

Of the like nature is that expectation of change which instantly follows the suspension of our voluntary activity.  The terror of cloudless noon, the emerald of Polycrates,[130] the awe of prosperity, the instinct which leads every generous soul to impose on itself tasks of a noble asceticism and vicarious virtue, are the tremblings of the balance of justice through the heart and mind of man.