not in us, all other powers become corrupt or dead; even the
love of truth, apart from these, hardens into an insolent and cold
avarice of knowledge, which unused, is more vain than unused gold.

88. These, then, are the two essential instincts of humanity: the love
of Order and the love of Kindness. By the love of order the moral energy
is to deal with the earth, and to dress it, and keep it; and with all
rebellious and dissolute forces in lower creatures, or in ourselves. By
the love of doing kindness it is to deal rightly with all surrounding
life. And then, grafted on these, we are to make every other passion
perfect; so that they may every one have full strength and yet be
absolutely under control.

89. Every one must be strong, every one perfect, every one obedient as a
war horse. And it is among the most beautiful pieces of mysticism to
which eternal truth is attached, that the chariot race, which Plato uses
as an image of moral government, and which is indeed the most perfect
type of it in any visible skill of men, should have been made by the
Greeks the continual subject of their best poetry and best art.
Nevertheless Plato's use of it is not altogether true. There is no black
horse in the chariot of the soul. One of the driver's worst faults is in
starving his horses; another, in not breaking them early enough; but
they are all good. Take, for example, one usually thought of as wholly
evil--that of Anger, leading to vengeance. I believe it to be quite one
of the crowning wickednesses of this age that we have starved and
chilled our faculty of indignation, and neither desire nor dare to
punish crimes justly. We have taken up the benevolent idea, forsooth,
that justice is to be preventive instead of vindictive; and we imagine
that we are to punish, not in anger, but in expediency; not that we may
give deserved pain to the person in fault, but that we may frighten
other people from committing the same fault. The beautiful theory of
this non-vindictive justice is, that having convicted a man of a crime
worthy of death, we entirely pardon the criminal, restore him to his
place in our affection and esteem, and then hang him, not as a
malefactor, but as a scarecrow. That is the theory. And the practice is,
that we send a child to prison for a month for stealing a handful of
walnuts, for fear that other children should come to steal more of our
walnuts. And we do not punish a swindler for ruining a thousand
fami