I am wanting in manly hardihood, and the heart in me is more vulnerable
than it ought to be. It seems to me, however, that I have grown tougher
in this respect than I used to be. The malignity of the world troubles
me less than it did. Is it the result of philosophy, or an effect of
age, or simply caused by the many proofs of respect and attachment that
I have received? These proofs were just what were wanting to inspire me
with some self-respect. Otherwise I should have so easily believed in my
own nullity and in the insignificance of all my efforts. Success is
necessary for the timid, praise is a moral stimulus, and admiration a
strengthening elixir. We think we know ourselves, but as long as we are
ignorant of our comparative value, our place in the social assessment,
we do not know ourselves well enough. If we are to act with effect, we
must count for something with our fellow-men; we must feel ourselves
possessed of some weight and credit with them, so that our effort may be
rightly proportioned to the resistance which has to be overcome. As long
as we despise opinion we are without a standard by which to measure
ourselves; we do not know our relative power. I have despised opinion
too much, while yet I have been too sensitive to injustice. These two
faults have cost me dear.
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