spiced language of the Orient, than any
supposed nastiness, on account of which they are classed among the
prohibited. To these, and the readers of Amelie Rives's books, or other
intensely realistic literature, I need not imitate the warning of
Ansonius, who warned his readers on the threshold of a part of his book
to "stop and consider well their strength before proceeding with its
lecture." Metaphorically speaking, the general theatre-going, or modern
literature-reading public, can be considered pretty callous and morally
bullet proof. I shall therefore make no apology.
Some fault may, perhaps, be found with some of the occasional style of
the book, or with some of the subjects used to illustrate a principle.
To the extremely wise, good, and scientific, these illustrations were
unnecessary; this need hardly be mentioned; and the passages which to
some may prove objectionable were not intended for them, either with the
expectation of delighting them or with the purpose of shocking them.
These passages, they can easily avoid. This book, however, was written
that it might be read: not only read by the Solon, Socrates, Plato, or
Seneca of the laity or the profession, but even by the billy-goated
dispositioned, vulgar plebeian, who could no more be made to read cold,
scientific, ungarnished facts than you can make an unwilling horse drink
at the watering-trough. Human weakness and perversity is silly, but it
is sillier to ignore that it exists. So, for the sake of boring and
driving a few solid facts into the otherwise undigesting and unthinking,
as well as primarily obdurate understanding of the untutored plebeian, I
ask the indulgence of the intelligent and broad-minded as well as the
easily inducted reader. Cleopatra was smuggled into Caesar's presence in
a roll of tapestry; the Greeks introduced their men into Troy by means
of a wooden horse; and the discoverer of the broad Pacific Ocean made
his escape from his importunate creditors disguised as a cask of
merchandise. So, when we wish to accomplish an object, we must adopt
appropriate means, even if they may apparently seem to have an entirely
diametrically opposite object. The Athenian, Themistocles, when wishing
to make the battle of Salamis decisive, was inspired with the idea of
sending word to the Persian monarch that the Greeks were trying to
escape, advising him to block the passage; this saved Greece.
There is a weird and ghostly but interesting tale connect
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