found only
contradictions, impediments, suffering, and sorrow. Always
complaining, always refractory, always angry, they spent the time in
crying and fretting; were these creatures happy? Authority and
weakness conjoined produce only madness and wretchedness. One of two
spoiled children beats the table, and the other has the sea lashed.[3]
They will have much to beat and to lash before they are satisfied with
life.

If these ideas of authority and of tyranny make them unhappy from their
very childhood, how will it be with them when they are grown, and when
their relations with others begin to be extended and multiplied?

Accustomed to seeing everything give way before them, how surprised
they will be on entering the world to find themselves crushed beneath
the weight of that universe they have expected to move at their own
pleasure! Their insolent airs and childish vanity will only bring upon
them mortification, contempt, and ridicule; they must swallow affront
after affront; cruel trials will teach them that they understand
neither their own position nor their own strength. Unable to do
everything, they will think themselves unable to do anything. So many
unusual obstacles dishearten them, so much contempt degrades them.
They become base, cowardly, cringing, and sink as far below their real
self as they had imagined themselves above it.

Let us return to the original order of things. Nature has made
children to be loved and helped; has she made them to be obeyed and
feared? Has she given them an imposing air, a stern eye, a harsh and
threatening voice, so that they may inspire fear? I can understand why
the roar of a lion fills other creatures with dread, and why they
tremble at sight of his terrible countenance. But if ever there were
an unbecoming, hateful, ridiculous spectacle, it is that of a body of
magistrates in their robes of ceremony, and headed by their chief,
prostrate before an infant in long clothes, who to their pompous
harangue replies only by screams or by childish drivel![4]

Considering infancy in itself, is there a creature on earth more
helpless, more unhappy, more at the mercy of everything around him,
more in need of compassion, of care, of protection, than a child? Does
it not seem as if his sweet face and touching aspect were intended to
interest every one who comes near him, and to urge them to assist his
weakness? What then is more outrageous, more contrary to the fitness
of