scipline; and such blubbering and whimpering, and soft Litany
to divine and also to quite other sorts of Pity, as we have had for a
century now,--give me leave to admonish you that that of the Ancient
Germans too was a thing inexpressibly necessary to keep in mind. If that
is not kept in mind, the universal Litany to Pity is a mere universal
nuisance, and torpid blasphemy against the gods. I do not much respect
it, that purblind blubbering and litanying, as it is seen at present;
and the litanying over scoundrels I go the length of disrespecting,
and in some cases even of detesting. Yes, my friends, scoundrel is
scoundrel: that remains forever a fact; and there exists not in the
earth whitewash that can make the scoundrel a friend of this Universe;
he remains an enemy if you spent your life in whitewashing him. He won't
whitewash; this one won't. The one method clearly is, That, after fair
trial, you dissolve partnership with him; send him, in the name of
Heaven, whither _he_ is striving all this while and have done with him.
And, in a time like this, I would advise you, see likewise that you be
speedy about it! For there is immense work, and of a far hopefuler sort,
to be done _elsewhere_.

Alas, alas, to see once the "prince of scoundrels," the Supreme
Scoundrel, him whom of all men the gods liked worst, solemnly laid hold
of, and hung upon the gallows in sight of the people; what a lesson to
all the people! Sermons might be preached; the Son of Thunder and the
Mouth of Gold might turn their periods now with some hope; for here, in
the most impressive way, is a divine sermon acted. Didactic as no
spoken sermon could be. Didactic, devotional too;--in awed solemnity,
a recognition that Eternal Justice rules the world; that at the call of
this, human pity shall fall silent, and man be stern as his Master and
Mandatory is!--Understand too that except upon a basis of even such
rigor, sorrowful, silent, inexorable as that of Destiny and Doom, there
is no true pity possible. The pity that proves so possible and plentiful
without that basis, is mere _ignavia_ and cowardly effeminacy; maudlin
laxity of heart, grounded on blinkard dimness of head--contemptible as a
drunkard's tears.

To see our Supreme Scoundrel hung upon the gallows, alas, that is far
from us just now! There is a worst man in England, too,--curious to
think of,--whom it would be inexpressibly advantageous to lay hold
of, and hang, the first of all. But we d