"Do you think it degrading for a man to conquer and govern the
strongest, as well as the weakest impulses of his soul?" pursued his
grandfather.
"Certainly not degrading,--it is in the highest degree worthy of
praise. It is truly noble! I acknowledge it."
"And yet you deem such enjoyment as would result from this
government, tame and flat."
"I beg pardon; when I spoke of virtue, I referred to that smooth
kind which is current, and seems more passive than active,--that
soft amiability which appears to deaden enthusiasm, and to shut up
the soul in a set of opinions, instead of expanding it widely to
everything noble and generous, wherever it may be found."
"It was not genuine virtue, you referred to, then,--it was only its
resemblance."
"It was what passes for virtue. But to come at the main point,
grandfather;--where is happiness to be found, if we are to be
warring with ourselves during a lifetime, checking every natural
spring in the soul?"
"Stop there, Alfred! We only quench the streams, which prevent the
spirit's purest wells of noble and happy feelings from gushing forth
in freedom. We must wage a warfare, it is true; why conceal it? But
it does not last for ever, and intervals of gladness come to refresh
us, which the worn and blunted spirit of the man of pleasure in vain
pants for.
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