reason we will acquiesce in the existence of
policemen and lawyers, as we do in the results of arbitration, as the
lesser of two evils. The odds in war are in favour of the bigger bully;
in arbitration, in favour of the bigger rogue; and it is a question
whether the lion or the fox be the safer guardian of human interests. But
arbitration prevents war: and that, in three cases out of four, is full
reason for employing it.

On the other hand, the lap-dog condition, whether in dogs or in men, is
certainly unfavourable to the growth of the higher virtues. Safety and
comfort are good, indeed, for the good; for the brave, the
self-originating, the earnest. They give to such a clear stage and no
favour wherein to work unhindered for their fellow-men. But for the
majority, who are neither brave, self-originating, nor earnest, but the
mere puppets of circumstance, safety and comfort may, and actually do,
merely make their lives mean and petty, effeminate and dull. Therefore
their hearts must be awakened, as often as possible, to take exercise
enough for health; and they must be reminded, perpetually and
importunately, of what a certain great philosopher called "whatsoever
things are true, honourable, just, pure, lovely, and of good report;" "if
there be any manhood, and any just praise, to think of such things."

This pettiness and dulness of our modern life is just what keeps alive
our stage, to which people go to see something a little less petty, a
little less dull, than what they see at home. It is, too, the cause of--I
had almost said the excuse for--the modern rage for sensational novels.
Those who read them so greedily are conscious, poor souls, of capacities
in themselves of passion and action, for good and evil, for which their
frivolous humdrum daily life gives no room, no vent. They know too well
that human nature can be more fertile, whether in weeds and poisons, or
in flowers and fruits, than it is usually in the streets and houses of a
well-ordered and tolerably sober city. And because the study of human
nature is, after all, that which is nearest to every one and most
interesting to every one, therefore they go to fiction, since they cannot
go to fact, to see what they themselves might be had they the chance; to
see what fantastic tricks before high heaven men and women like
themselves can play; and how they play them.

Well: it is not for me to judge, for me to blame. I will only say that
there are