Romans,
Normans Russians, Indo-English; Founders of what we call
Aristocracies: Which indeed have they not the most 'divine
right' to found;--being themselves very truly [greek], BRAVEST,
BEST; and conquering generally a confused rabble of WORST, or at
lowest; clearly enough, of WORSE? I think their divine right,
tried, with affirmatory verdict, in the greatest Law-Court known
to me, was good! A class of men who are dreadfully exclaimed
against by Dryasdust; of whom nevertheless beneficent Nature has
oftentimes had need; and may, alas, again have need.

When, across the hundredfold poor scepticisms, trivialisms, and
constitutional cobwebberies of Dryasdust, you catch any
glimpse of a William the Conqueror, a Tancred of Hauteville or
such like,--do you not discern veritably some rude outline of a
true God-made King; whom not the Champion of England cased in
tin, but all Nature and the Universe were calling to the throne?
It is absolutely necessary that he get thither. Nature does not
mean her poor Saxon children to perish, of obesity, stupor or
other malady, as yet: a stern Ruler and Line of Rulers therefore
is called in,--a stern but most beneficent _Perpetual House-
Surgeon_ is called in, by Nature, and even the appropriate fees
are provided for him! Dryasdust talks lamentably about Hereward
and the Fen Counties; fate of Earl Waltheof; Yorkshire and the
North reduced to ashes; all which is undoubtedly lamentable.
But even Dryasdust apprises me of one fact: 'A child; in this
William's reign, might have carried a purse of gold from end to
end of England. My erudite friend, it is a fact which outweighs
a thousand! Sweep away thy constitutional, sentimental and other
cobwebberies; look eye to eye, if thou still have any eye, in
the face of this big burly William Bastard: thou wilt see a
fellow of most flashing discernment, of most strong lionheart;--
in whom, as it were, within a frame of oak and iron, the gods
have planted the soul of 'a man of genius!' Dost thou call that
nothing? I call it an immense thing!--Rage enough was in this
Willelmus Conquestor, rage enough for his occasions;--and yet the
essential element of him, as of all such men, is not scorching
_fire,_ but shining illuminative _light._ Fire and light are
strangely interchangeable; nay, at bottom, I have found them
different forms of the same most godlike 'elementary substance'
in our world: a thing worth stating in these days.