ds
suffering and misfortune in abhorrence; it dreads them like the plague;
it never hesitates between vice and trouble, for vice is a luxury.
Ill-fortune may possess a majesty of its own, but society can belittle
it and make it ridiculous by an epigram. Society draws caricatures, and
in this way flings in the teeth of fallen kings the affronts which it
fancies it has received from them; society, like the Roman youth at the
circus, never shows mercy to the fallen gladiator; mockery and money are
its vital necessities. "Death to the weak!" That is the oath taken by
this kind of Equestrian order, instituted in their midst by all the
nations of the world; everywhere it makes for the elevation of the
rich, and its motto is deeply graven in hearts that wealth has turned to
stone, or that have been reared in aristocratic prejudices.

Assemble a collection of school-boys together. That will give you a
society in miniature, a miniature which represents life more truly,
because it is so frank and artless; and in it you will always find poor
isolated beings, relegated to some place in the general estimations
between pity and contempt, on account of their weakness and suffering.
To these the Evangel promises heaven hereafter. Go lower yet in the
scale of organized creation. If some bird among its fellows in the
courtyard sickens, the others fall upon it with their beaks, pluck
out its feathers, and kill it. The whole world, in accordance with its
character of egotism, brings all its severity to bear upon wretchedness
that has the hardihood to spoil its festivities, and to trouble its
joys.

Any sufferer in mind or body, any helpless or poor man, is a pariah. He
had better remain in his solitude; if he crosses the boundary-line, he
will find winter everywhere; he will find freezing cold in other men's
looks, manners, words, and hearts; and lucky indeed is he if he does not
receive an insult where he expected that sympathy would be expended upon
him. Let the dying keep to their bed of neglect, and age sit lonely
by its fireside. Portionless maids, freeze and burn in your solitary
attics. If the world tolerates misery of any kind, it is to turn it to
account for its own purposes, to make some use of it, saddle and bridle
it, put a bit in its mouth, ride it about, and get some fun out of it.

Crotchety spinsters, ladies' companions, put a cheerful face upon it,
endure the humors of your so-called benefactress, carry her lapdogs for