Human Rights and Their Related Duties

In the present state of society, it appears necessary to go back to first principles in search of the most simple truths, and to dispute with some prevailing prejudice every inch of ground. To clear my way, I must be allowed to ask some plain questions, and the answers will probably appear as unequivocal as the axioms on which reasoning is built; though, when entangled with various motives of action, they are formally contradicted, either by the words or conduct of men.

In society as it now stands, we must return to first principles to find the simplest truths. We must also fight prevailing prejudice for every inch of ground. To clear the way, I must be allowed to ask some plain questions. The answers will probably seem as clear as the basic principles on which reasoning rests. Yet when these answers become entangled with the various motives behind people's actions, men openly contradict them in word or deed.

What acquirement exalts one being above another? Virtue; we spontaneously reply.

What quality raises one being above another? We immediately answer: virtue.

For what purpose were the passions implanted? That man by struggling with them might attain a degree of knowledge denied to the brutes: whispers Experience.

Why were passions given to us? Experience whispers: so that people, by struggling with their passions, might gain a degree of knowledge denied to animals.

Consequently the perfection of our nature and capability of happiness, must be estimated by the degree of reason, virtue, and knowledge, that distinguish the individual, and direct the laws which bind society: and that from the exercise of reason, knowledge and virtue naturally flow, is equally undeniable, if mankind be viewed collectively.

Therefore, we must judge how fully we develop our nature and how capable we are of happiness by our reason, virtue, and knowledge. These qualities distinguish individuals and guide the laws that bind society together. When we consider humanity as a whole, it is equally undeniable that knowledge and virtue naturally flow from the exercise of reason.

The rights and duties of man thus simplified, it seems almost impertinent to attempt to illustrate truths that appear so incontrovertible: yet such deeply rooted prejudices have clouded reason, and such spurious qualities have assumed the name of virtues, that it is necessary to pursue the course of reason as it has been perplexed and involved in error, by various adventitious circumstances, comparing the simple axiom with casual deviations.

With the rights and duties of humanity thus simplified, explaining such self-evident truths seems almost presumptuous. Yet deeply rooted prejudices have clouded reason, and false qualities have been called virtues. So it is necessary to trace how various outside circumstances have tangled reason in error. We must compare the simple principle with the deviations that arise from those circumstances.

Men, in general, seem to employ their reason to justify prejudices, which they have imbibed, they cannot trace how, rather than to root them out. The mind must be strong that resolutely forms its own principles; for a kind of intellectual cowardice prevails which makes many men shrink from the task, or only do it by halves. Yet the imperfect conclusions thus drawn, are frequently very plausible, because they are built on partial experience, on just, though narrow, views.

Men generally seem to use reason to justify their prejudices rather than to root them out. They cannot trace how they acquired those prejudices. It takes a strong mind to form its own principles with resolve. Intellectual cowardice is so common that many men shrink from the task or do it only halfway. Yet the imperfect conclusions they draw often seem very plausible. They are based on limited experience and on views that are sound, though narrow.

Going back to first principles, vice skulks, with all its native deformity, from close investigation; but a set of shallow reasoners are always exclaiming that these arguments prove too much, and that a measure rotten at the core may be expedient. Thus expediency is continually contrasted with simple principles, till truth is lost in a mist of words, virtue in forms, and knowledge rendered a sounding nothing, by the specious prejudices that assume its name.

When we return to first principles, vice hides from close examination, revealing all its natural ugliness. But shallow thinkers are always claiming that these arguments prove too much. They say that a measure rotten at its core may be practical. So practicality is constantly set against basic principles. As a result, truth is lost in a fog of words, and virtue is lost in empty rituals. Prejudices masquerade as knowledge, reducing knowledge to an impressive sound that means nothing.

That the society is formed in the wisest manner, whose constitution is founded on the nature of man, strikes, in the abstract, every thinking being so forcibly, that it looks like presumption to endeavour to bring forward proofs; though proof must be brought, or the strong hold of prescription will never be forced by reason; yet to urge prescription as an argument to justify the depriving men (or women) of their natural rights, is one of the absurd sophisms which daily insult common sense.

In theory, every thinking person finds it self-evident that the wisest society is founded on human nature. The idea seems so obvious that offering proof may look presumptuous. Yet proof must be offered, or reason will never overcome the stronghold of long-established custom. Still, to use custom to justify depriving men (or women) of their natural rights is absurd reasoning that insults common sense every day.

The civilization of the bulk of the people of Europe, is very partial; nay, it may be made a question, whether they have acquired any virtues in exchange for innocence, equivalent to the misery produced by the vices that have been plastered over unsightly ignorance, and the freedom which has been bartered for splendid slavery. The desire of dazzling by riches, the most certain pre-eminence that man can obtain, the pleasure of commanding flattering sycophants, and many other complicated low calculations of doting self-love, have all contributed to overwhelm the mass of mankind, and make liberty a convenient handle for mock patriotism. For whilst rank and titles are held of the utmost importance, before which Genius "must hide its diminished head," it is, with a few exceptions, very unfortunate for a nation when a man of abilities, without rank or property, pushes himself forward to notice. Alas! what unheard of misery have thousands suffered to purchase a cardinal's hat for an intriguing obscure adventurer, who longed to be ranked with princes, or lord it over them by seizing the triple crown!

Most people in Europe are only partially civilized. Indeed, we might ask whether they have gained virtues in exchange for innocence that make up for the misery caused by their vices. These vices have been plastered over ugly ignorance, while freedom has been traded for splendid slavery. Many things have helped crush the mass of humanity and turn liberty into a convenient slogan for false patriotism. These include the desire to dazzle others with wealth, the surest form of superiority a person can obtain. They also include the pleasure of commanding flattering sycophants and many other complicated, petty schemes born of foolish self-love. Rank and titles are held in the highest regard, and before them Genius "must hide its diminished head." So, with a few exceptions, it is very unfortunate for a nation when a capable man without rank or property pushes himself into public notice. Alas! Thousands have suffered unimaginable misery to buy a cardinal's hat for an obscure, scheming adventurer. He longed to rank among princes, or to lord it over them by seizing the triple crown!

Such, indeed, has been the wretchedness that has flowed from hereditary honours, riches, and monarchy, that men of lively sensibility have almost uttered blasphemy in order to justify the dispensations of providence. Man has been held out as independent of his power who made him, or as a lawless planet darting from its orbit to steal the celestial fire of reason; and the vengeance of heaven, lurking in the subtile flame, sufficiently punished his temerity, by introducing evil into the world.

Indeed, inherited honors, riches, and monarchy have caused such misery that sensitive men have almost spoken blasphemy to justify the workings of providence. They have portrayed man as independent of the power of the one who made him. Or they have portrayed him as a lawless planet, shooting out of its orbit to steal the heavenly fire of reason. In this account, heaven’s vengeance lurked in that subtle flame. It punished man’s boldness enough by bringing evil into the world.

Impressed by this view of the misery and disorder which pervaded society, and fatigued with jostling against artificial fools, Rousseau became enamoured of solitude, and, being at the same time an optimist, he labours with uncommon eloquence to prove that man was naturally a solitary animal. Misled by his respect for the goodness of God, who certainly for what man of sense and feeling can doubt it! gave life only to communicate happiness, he considers evil as positive, and the work of man; not aware that he was exalting one attribute at the expense of another, equally necessary to divine perfection.

Seeing the misery and disorder throughout society, Rousseau grew tired of rubbing shoulders with people made foolish by social conventions. He fell in love with solitude. As an optimist, he also argued with extraordinary eloquence that humans were naturally solitary animals. His respect for God’s goodness led him astray. God certainly gave life only to share happiness. What sensible, feeling person could doubt it? Rousseau saw evil as a real force created by humans. He did not realize that he was elevating one of God’s attributes at the expense of another, equally necessary to divine perfection.

Reared on a false hypothesis, his arguments in favour of a state of nature are plausible, but unsound. I say unsound; for to assert that a state of nature is preferable to civilization in all its possible perfection, is, in other words, to arraign supreme wisdom; and the paradoxical exclamation, that God has made all things right, and that evil has been introduced by the creature whom he formed, knowing what he formed, is as unphilosophical as impious.

His arguments for a state of nature are based on a false assumption. They are plausible, but unsound. I say unsound because to claim that a state of nature is better than civilization at its fullest possible perfection is to accuse supreme wisdom of error. It is equally unphilosophical and irreverent to make the paradoxical claim that God made everything right, but that the creature he made introduced evil, even though God knew what he was creating.

When that wise Being, who created us and placed us here, saw the fair idea, he willed, by allowing it to be so, that the passions should unfold our reason, because he could see that present evil would produce future good. Could the helpless creature whom he called from nothing, break loose from his providence, and boldly learn to know good by practising evil without his permission? No. How could that energetic advocate for immortality argue so inconsistently? Had mankind remained for ever in the brutal state of nature, which even his magic pen cannot paint as a state in which a single virtue took root, it would have been clear, though not to the sensitive unreflecting wanderer, that man was born to run the circle of life and death, and adorn God's garden for some purpose which could not easily be reconciled with his attributes.

The wise Being who created us and placed us here saw this beautiful idea. By allowing it, he willed that our passions should develop our reason, because he could see that present evil would produce future good. Could the helpless creature he brought from nothing escape his providence? Could that creature boldly learn to know good by doing evil without his permission? No. How could that passionate defender of immortality argue so inconsistently? Suppose humanity had remained forever in the brutal state of nature. Even his magical pen cannot portray that state as one in which a single virtue took root. Then it would have been clear that human beings were born to go through the cycle of life and death. They would have been born to adorn God's garden for some purpose that could not easily be reconciled with his attributes. This would not have been clear, though, to the sensitive wanderer who does not reflect.

But if, to crown the whole, there were to be rational creatures produced, allowed to rise in excellency by the exercise of powers implanted for that purpose; if benignity itself thought fit to call into existence a creature above the brutes, who could think and improve himself, why should that inestimable gift, for a gift it was, if a man was so created as to have a capacity to rise above the state in which sensation produced brutal ease, be called, in direct terms, a curse? A curse it might be reckoned, if all our existence was bounded by our continuance in this world; for why should the gracious fountain of life give us passions, and the power of reflecting, only to embitter our days, and inspire us with mistaken notions of dignity? Why should he lead us from love of ourselves to the sublime emotions which the discovery of his wisdom and goodness excites, if these feelings were not set in motion to improve our nature, of which they make a part, and render us capable of enjoying a more godlike portion of happiness? Firmly persuaded that no evil exists in the world that God did not design to take place, I build my belief on the perfection of God.

But suppose, to crown it all, rational creatures were created with abilities meant to help them grow in excellence through use. Suppose that goodness itself chose to bring into existence a creature above the beasts, able to think and improve himself. Why, then, should that priceless gift be called a curse outright? It was a gift, if man was created with the ability to rise above the state of animal ease produced by mere sensation. It might be considered a curse if our entire existence were limited to our time in this world. For why would the gracious source of life give us passions and the power to reflect, only to make our days bitter and fill us with mistaken ideas of dignity? Why would he lead us from self-love to the sublime emotions awakened by discovering his wisdom and goodness? Surely these feelings, which are part of our nature, were stirred to improve it and make us capable of enjoying a more godlike share of happiness. I firmly believe that no evil exists in the world that God did not intend to take place. I base this belief on God’s perfection.

Rousseau exerts himself to prove, that all WAS right originally: a crowd of authors that all IS now right: and I, that all WILL BE right.

Rousseau tries to prove that all WAS right originally. Many authors try to prove that all IS right now. And I try to prove that all WILL BE right.

But, true to his first position, next to a state of nature, Rousseau celebrates barbarism, and, apostrophizing the shade of Fabricius, he forgets that, in conquering the world, the Romans never dreamed of establishing their own liberty on a firm basis, or of extending the reign of virtue. Eager to support his system, he stigmatizes, as vicious, every effort of genius; and uttering the apotheosis of savage virtues, he exalts those to demigods, who were scarcely human—the brutal Spartans, who in defiance of justice and gratitude, sacrificed, in cold blood, the slaves that had shown themselves men to rescue their oppressors.

But Rousseau remains true to his original position. After a state of nature, he praises barbarism most. Addressing the ghost of Fabricius, he forgets what the Romans did when they conquered the world. They never dreamed of securing their own liberty or spreading virtue. Eager to defend his system, Rousseau condemns every effort of genius as wicked. As he glorifies savage virtues, he raises people who were scarcely human to the rank of demigods. These were the brutal Spartans. In defiance of justice and gratitude, they killed their slaves in cold blood. Those slaves had shown themselves to be men by rescuing their oppressors.

Disgusted with artificial manners and virtues, the citizen of Geneva, instead of properly sifting the subject, threw away the wheat with the chaff, without waiting to inquire whether the evils, which his ardent soul turned from indignantly, were the consequence of civilization, or the vestiges of barbarism. He saw vice trampling on virtue, and the semblance of goodness taking place of the reality; he saw talents bent by power to sinister purposes, and never thought of tracing the gigantic mischief up to arbitrary power, up to the hereditary distinctions that clash with the mental superiority that naturally raises a man above his fellows. He did not perceive, that the regal power, in a few generations, introduces idiotism into the noble stem, and holds out baits to render thousands idle and vicious.

Disgusted by artificial manners and virtues, the citizen of Geneva threw out the good along with the bad instead of examining the subject carefully. His passionate soul turned indignantly from the evils he saw. But he did not stop to ask whether they were the result of civilization or remnants of barbarism. He saw vice trample virtue and the appearance of goodness replace the real thing. He saw power turn talent to evil purposes. But he never thought to trace this enormous harm to arbitrary power. Nor did he trace it to hereditary distinctions, which clash with the mental superiority that naturally raises a man above his fellows. He did not see that, within a few generations, royal power brings intellectual weakness into noble families. Nor did he see that royal power offers temptations that make thousands idle and vicious.

Nothing can set the regal character in a more contemptible point of view, than the various crimes that have elevated men to the supreme dignity. Vile intrigues, unnatural crimes, and every vice that degrades our nature, have been the steps to this distinguished eminence; yet millions of men have supinely allowed the nerveless limbs of the posterity of such rapacious prowlers, to rest quietly on their ensanguined thrones.

Nothing makes royalty look more contemptible than the many crimes that have raised men to the highest rank. Vile plots, unnatural crimes, and every vice that degrades human nature have served as steps to this exalted position. Yet millions of men have passively allowed the feeble descendants of these greedy predators to rest undisturbed on their bloodstained thrones.

What but a pestilential vapour can hover over society, when its chief director is only instructed in the invention of crimes, or the stupid routine of childish ceremonies? Will men never be wise? will they never cease to expect corn from tares, and figs from thistles?

What but a poisonous cloud can hang over society when its chief ruler is taught only to invent crimes or follow the stupid routine of childish ceremonies? Will men never be wise? Will they never stop expecting grain from weeds and figs from thistles?

It is impossible for any man, when the most favourable circumstances concur, to acquire sufficient knowledge and strength of mind to discharge the duties of a king, entrusted with uncontrolled power; how then must they be violated when his very elevation is an insuperable bar to the attainment of either wisdom or virtue; when all the feelings of a man are stifled by flattery, and reflection shut out by pleasure! Surely it is madness to make the fate of thousands depend on the caprice of a weak fellow creature, whose very station sinks him NECESSARILY below the meanest of his subjects! But one power should not be thrown down to exalt another—for all power intoxicates weak man; and its abuse proves, that the more equality there is established among men, the more virtue and happiness will reign in society. But this, and any similar maxim deduced from simple reason, raises an outcry—the church or the state is in danger, if faith in the wisdom of antiquity is not implicit; and they who, roused by the sight of human calamity, dare to attack human authority, are reviled as despisers of God, and enemies of man. These are bitter calumnies, yet they reached one of the best of men, (Dr. Price.) whose ashes still preach peace, and whose memory demands a respectful pause, when subjects are discussed that lay so near his heart.

Even in the most favorable circumstances, no man can gain enough knowledge and strength of mind to fulfill a king’s duties when entrusted with absolute power. How much more must those duties be neglected when his very position makes it impossible for him to gain either wisdom or virtue! Flattery stifles all his human feelings, and pleasure leaves no room for reflection. Surely it is madness to make the fate of thousands depend on the whims of a weak fellow human being, whose very position NECESSARILY lowers him beneath the lowest of his subjects! But we should not bring down one power only to raise another. All power intoxicates weak human beings. The abuse of power proves that the more equality there is among people, the more virtue and happiness will prevail in society. Yet this principle, like any similar one drawn from simple reason, raises an outcry. The church or the state is said to be in danger if we do not have unquestioning faith in ancient wisdom. Those who see human suffering and dare to challenge human authority are denounced as people who despise God and hate humanity. These are bitter false accusations, yet they were made against one of the best of men, Dr. Price. His ashes still preach peace. His memory calls for a respectful pause when we discuss subjects that were so close to his heart.

After attacking the sacred majesty of kings, I shall scarcely excite surprise, by adding my firm persuasion, that every profession, in which great subordination of rank constitutes its power, is highly injurious to morality.

After attacking the sacred majesty of kings, I will hardly surprise anyone by adding another firm belief. Every profession that draws its power from a strict hierarchy of rank is highly damaging to morality.

A standing army, for instance, is incompatible with freedom; because subordination and rigour are the very sinews of military discipline; and despotism is necessary to give vigour to enterprises that one will directs. A spirit inspired by romantic notions of honour, a kind of morality founded on the fashion of the age, can only be felt by a few officers, whilst the main body must be moved by command, like the waves of the sea; for the strong wind of authority pushes the crowd of subalterns forward, they scarcely know or care why, with headlong fury.

A standing army, for example, is incompatible with freedom. This is because obedience and strictness are the very backbone of military discipline. Despotism is also necessary to give force to ventures directed by a single will. Only a few officers can feel a spirit inspired by romantic notions of honor, a kind of morality based on the fashion of the age. The main body of the army must be moved by command, like the waves of the sea. For the strong wind of authority drives the crowd of lower-ranking soldiers forward with headlong fury. They scarcely know or care why.

Besides, nothing can be so prejudicial to the morals of the inhabitants of country towns, as the occasional residence of a set of idle superficial young men, whose only occupation is gallantry, and whose polished manners render vice more dangerous, by concealing its deformity under gay ornamental drapery. An air of fashion, which is but a badge of slavery, and proves that the soul has not a strong individual character, awes simple country people into an imitation of the vices, when they cannot catch the slippery graces of politeness. Every corps is a chain of despots, who, submitting and tyrannizing without exercising their reason, become dead weights of vice and folly on the community. A man of rank or fortune, sure of rising by interest, has nothing to do but to pursue some extravagant freak; whilst the needy GENTLEMAN, who is to rise, as the phrase turns, by his merit, becomes a servile parasite or vile pander.

Besides, nothing can be more harmful to the morals of people in country towns than occasional visits from idle, shallow young men. Their only occupation is pursuing romantic conquests. Their polished manners make vice more dangerous by hiding its ugliness beneath a cheerful, ornamental disguise. An air of fashion is merely a badge of slavery. It shows that the soul lacks a strong individual character. Yet it awes simple country people into copying the young men's vices, even when they cannot master their elusive social graces. Every military corps is a chain of despots. Its members submit to authority and tyrannize over others without using their reason. Thus they become dead weights of vice and folly on the community. A man of rank or fortune is sure to advance through his connections. He has nothing to do but pursue some extravagant whim. Meanwhile, the needy GENTLEMAN, who is supposed to advance by his merit, as the phrase goes, becomes a servile parasite or a vile pander.

Sailors, the naval gentlemen, come under the same description, only their vices assume a different and a grosser cast. They are more positively indolent, when not discharging the ceremonials of their station; whilst the insignificant fluttering of soldiers may be termed active idleness. More confined to the society of men, the former acquire a fondness for humour and mischievous tricks; whilst the latter, mixing frequently with well-bred women, catch a sentimental cant. But mind is equally out of the question, whether they indulge the horse-laugh or polite simper.

Sailors, those naval gentlemen, fit the same description, except that their vices take a different and coarser form. When they are not performing the formal duties of their rank, sailors are more distinctly idle. By contrast, the soldiers’ pointless bustle may be called active idleness. Sailors are more confined to the company of men, so they develop a taste for jokes and mischievous tricks. Soldiers, meanwhile, often mix with well-bred women and pick up a habit of sentimental talk. But whether sailors indulge in loud, coarse laughter or soldiers in polite, affected smiles, the mind is equally out of the question.

May I be allowed to extend the comparison to a profession where more mind is certainly to be found; for the clergy have superior opportunities of improvement, though subordination almost equally cramps their faculties? The blind submission imposed at college to forms of belief, serves as a noviciate to the curate who most obsequiously respects the opinion of his rector or patron, if he means to rise in his profession. Perhaps there cannot be a more forcible contrast than between the servile, dependent gait of a poor curate, and the courtly mien of a bishop. And the respect and contempt they inspire render the discharge of their separate functions equally useless.

May I extend the comparison to a profession whose members certainly have more developed minds? Clergy have better opportunities to improve themselves, though their subordinate position restricts their abilities almost as much. At college, they are forced to submit blindly to established beliefs. This serves as an apprenticeship for the curate, who flatters his rector or patron by respecting his opinions if he hopes to advance in his profession. Perhaps there is no sharper contrast than that between the servile, dependent manner of a poor curate and the courtly bearing of a bishop. The contempt the curate inspires and the respect the bishop inspires make each equally useless in carrying out his duties.

It is of great importance to observe, that the character of every man is, in some degree, formed by his profession. A man of sense may only have a cast of countenance that wears off as you trace his individuality, whilst the weak, common man, has scarcely ever any character, but what belongs to the body; at least, all his opinions have been so steeped in the vat consecrated by authority, that the faint spirit which the grape of his own vine yields cannot be distinguished.

It is important to recognize that every man's profession shapes his character to some degree. A sensible man may show only a trace of his profession, which fades as you get to know him as an individual. But the weak, ordinary man has hardly any character apart from that of his professional group. At least, all his opinions have been steeped in a vat blessed by authority. The faint spirit made from the grapes of his own vine cannot be distinguished from the rest.

Society, therefore, as it becomes more enlightened, should be very careful not to establish bodies of men who must necessarily be made foolish or vicious by the very constitution of their profession.

Therefore, as society becomes more enlightened, it should be very careful not to create professions that inevitably make men foolish or corrupt.

In the infancy of society, when men were just emerging out of barbarism, chiefs and priests, touching the most powerful springs of savage conduct—hope and fear—must have had unbounded sway. An aristocracy, of course, is naturally the first form of government. But clashing interests soon losing their equipoise, a monarchy and hierarchy break out of the confusion of ambitious struggles, and the foundation of both is secured by feudal tenures. This appears to be the origin of monarchial and priestly power, and the dawn of civilization. But such combustible materials cannot long be pent up; and getting vent in foreign wars and intestine insurrections, the people acquire some power in the tumult, which obliges their rulers to gloss over their oppression with a show of right. Thus, as wars, agriculture, commerce, and literature, expands the mind, despots are compelled, to make covert corruption hold fast the power which was formerly snatched by open force.* And this baneful lurking gangrene is most quickly spread by luxury and superstition, the sure dregs of ambition. The indolent puppet of a court first becomes a luxurious monster, or fastidious sensualist, and then makes the contagion which his unnatural state spreads, the instrument of tyranny.

In the early days of society, when men were just emerging from barbarism, chiefs and priests must have held unlimited power. They appealed to the strongest motives behind the conduct of people living in barbarism: hope and fear. An aristocracy is therefore naturally the first form of government. But competing interests soon lose their balance. A monarchy and a priestly hierarchy emerge from the confusion of ambitious struggles. Feudal landholding then secures the foundation of both. This seems to be the origin of royal and priestly power, and the beginning of civilization. But such explosive forces cannot be contained for long. They find an outlet in foreign wars and uprisings at home. In the turmoil, the people gain some power, forcing their rulers to give their oppression an appearance of justice. Thus, as wars, agriculture, commerce, and literature broaden the mind, despots are forced to use hidden corruption to hold on to power once seized by open force.* This harmful, hidden rot spreads most quickly through luxury and superstition, the inevitable remnants of ambition. The idle puppet of a royal court first becomes a creature of excessive luxury or a hard-to-please seeker of pleasure. He then uses the corruption spread by his unnatural way of life as an instrument of tyranny.

(*Footnote. Men of abilities scatter seeds that grow up, and have a great influence on the forming opinion; and when once the public opinion preponderates, through the exertion of reason, the overthrow of arbitrary power is not very distant.)

(*Footnote. Talented men sow seeds that grow and have a great influence on how opinions form. Once reasoned thought brings public opinion to prevail, the overthrow of arbitrary power is not far off.)

It is the pestiferous purple which renders the progress of civilization a curse, and warps the understanding, till men of sensibility doubt whether the expansion of intellect produces a greater portion of happiness or misery. But the nature of the poison points out the antidote; and had Rousseau mounted one step higher in his investigation; or could his eye have pierced through the foggy atmosphere, which he almost disdained to breathe, his active mind would have darted forward to contemplate the perfection of man in the establishment of true civilization, instead of taking his ferocious flight back to the night of sensual ignorance.

It is the poisonous purple of royalty that makes the progress of civilization a curse and distorts understanding. It makes sensitive men doubt whether the growth of intellect brings more happiness or misery. But the nature of the poison points to the cure. If Rousseau had taken his inquiry one step further, his active mind would have leapt forward. Or he might have seen through the foggy atmosphere he almost scorned to breathe. Then he would have contemplated human perfection through the establishment of true civilization. Instead, he took a fierce flight back into the darkness of sensual ignorance.