We talked of the ills which threaten
democracy and which are derived from the legal fiction at the root of
it. Surely the remedy consists in insisting everywhere upon the truth
which democracy systematically forgets, and which is its proper
makeweight--on the inequalities of talent, of virtue, and merit, and on
the respect due to age, to capacity, to services rendered. Juvenile
arrogance and jealous ingratitude must be resisted all the more
strenuously because social forms are in their favor; and when the
institutions of a country lay stress only on the rights of the
individual, it is the business of the citizen to lay all the more stress
on duty. There must be a constant effort to correct the prevailing
tendency of things. All this, it is true, is nothing but palliative, but
in human society one cannot hope for more.
_Later_.--Alfred de Vigny is a sympathetic writer, with a meditative
turn of thought, a strong and supple talent. He possesses elevation,
independence, seriousness, originality, boldness and grace; he has
something of everything. He paints, describes, and judges well; he
thinks, and has the courage of his opinions. His defect lies in an
excess of self-respect, in a British pride and reserve which give him a
horror of familiarity and a terror of letting himself go.
Pages:
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614