ing to fling such facts in our faces, but they were too ignorant,
and besides, their opinions did not signify, because we were able, if we
liked, to exterminate them. The Hindoos also have doubtless had their
rancours against us and still entertain enough ill-will to make
unfavourable remarks on our character, especially as to our historic
rapacity and arrogant notions of our own superiority; they perhaps do
not admire the usual English profile, and they are not converted to our
way of feeding: but though we are a small number of an alien race
profiting by the territory and produce of these prejudiced people, they
are unable to turn us out; at least, when they tried we showed them
their mistake. We do not call ourselves a dispersed and a punished
people: we are a colonising people, and it is we who have punished
others.

Still the historian guides us rightly in urging us to dwell on the
virtues of our ancestors with emulation, and to cherish our sense of a
common descent as a bond of obligation. The eminence, the nobleness of a
people depends on its capability of being stirred by memories, and of
striving for what we call spiritual ends--ends which consist not in
immediate material possession, but in the satisfaction of a great
feeling that animates the collective body as with one soul. A people
having the seed of worthiness in it must feel an answering thrill when
it is adjured by the deaths of its heroes who died to preserve its
national existence; when it is reminded of its small beginnings and
gradual growth through past labours and struggles, such as are still
demanded of it in order that the freedom and wellbeing thus inherited
may be transmitted unimpaired to children and children's children; when
an appeal against the permission of injustice is made to great
precedents in its history and to the better genius breathing in its
institutions. It is this living force of sentiment in common which makes
a national consciousness. Nations so moved will resist conquest with
the very breasts of their women, will pay their millions and their blood
to abolish slavery, will share privation in famine and all calamity,
will produce poets to sing "some great story of a man," and thinkers
whose theories will bear the test of action. An individual man, to be
harmoniously great, must belong to a nation of this order, if not in
actual existence yet existing in the past, in memory, as a departed,
invisible, beloved ideal, once a real