arily decays. Wealth almost unlimited was at his command; he had
no motive for exertion; and he now sought in pleasure that which he had
formerly asked from romance. As his faculties and talents had no
other circle for display than that which "society" affords; so by slow
degrees, society--its applause and its regard--became to him of greater
importance than his "philosophy dreamt of." Whatever the circle we live
amongst, the public opinion of that circle will, sooner or later, obtain
a control over us. This is the reason why a life of pleasure makes even
the strongest mind frivolous at last. The lawyer, the senator, the magi
of letters, all are insensibly guided--moulded--formed--by the judgment
of the tribe they belong to, and the circle in which they move. Still
more is it the case with the idlers of the great world, amongst whom the
only main staple of talk is "themselves."
And in the last-named set, Ridicule being more strong and fearful a
deity than she is amongst the cultivators of the graver occupations
of life, reduces the inmates, by a constant dread of incurring her
displeasure, to a more monotonous and regular subjection to the judgment
of others. Ridicule is the stifler of all energy amongst those she
controls. After man's position in society is once established--after
he has arrived at a certain age--he does not like to hazard any
intellectual enterprise which may endanger the quantum of respect
or popularity at present allotted to him. He does not like to risk a
failure in parliament--a caustic criticism in literature: he does not
like to excite new jealousies, and provoke angry rivals where he
now finds complaisant inferiors. The most admired authors, the most
respected members of either house, now looked up to Godolphin as a man
of wit and genius; a man whose house, whose wealth, whose wife, gave
him an influence few individuals enjoy. Why risk all this respect by
provoking comparison? Among the first in one line, why sink into the
probability of being second-rate in another?
This motive, which secretly governs half the aristocracy--the cleverer
half, viz., the more diffident and the more esteemed; which leaves to
the obtuse and the vain, a despised and unenviable notoriety; added new
force to Godolphin's philosophical indifference to ambition. Perhaps,
had his situation been less brilliant, or had he persevered in that
early affection for solitude which youth loves as the best nurse to
its dreams, h
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