酷兔英语

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world holds suffering and misfortune in abhorrence; it dreads them



like the plague; it never hesitates between vice and trouble, for vice

is a luxury. Ill-fortune may possess a majesty of its own, but society



can belittle it and make it ridiculous by an epigram. Society draws

caricatures, and in this way flings in the teeth of fallen kings the



affronts which it fancies it has received from them; society, like the

Roman youth at the circus, never shows mercy to the fallen gladiator;



mockery and money are its vital necessities. "Death to the weak!" That

is the oath taken by this kind of Equestrian order, instituted in



their midst by all the nations of the world; everywhere it makes for

the elevation of the rich, and its motto is deeply graven in hearts



that wealth has turned to stone, or that have been reared in

aristocratic prejudices.



Assemble a collection of school-boys together. That will give you a

society in miniature, a miniature which represents life more truly,



because it is so frank and artless; and in it you will always find

poor isolated beings, relegated to some place in the general



estimations between pity and contempt, on account of their weakness

and suffering. To these the Evangel promises heaven hereafter. Go



lower yet in the scale of organized creation. If some bird among its

fellows in the courtyard sickens, the others fall upon it with their



beaks, pluck out its feathers, and kill it. The whole world, in

accordance with its character of egotism, brings all its severity to



bear upon wretchedness that has the hardihood to spoil its

festivities, and to trouble its joys.



Any sufferer in mind or body, any helpless or poor man, is a pariah.

He had better remain in his solitude; if he crosses the boundary-line,



he will find winter everywhere; he will find freezing cold in other

men's looks, manners, words, and hearts; and lucky indeed is he if he



does not receive an insult where he expected that sympathy would be

expended upon him. Let the dying keep to their bed of neglect, and age



sit lonely by its fireside. Portionless maids, freeze and burn in your

solitary attics. If the world tolerates misery of any kind, it is to



turn it to account for its own purposes, to make some use of it,

saddle and bridle it, put a bit in its mouth, ride it about, and get



some fun out of it.

Crotchety spinsters, ladies' companions, put a cheerful face upon it,



endure the humors of your so-called benefactress, carry her lapdogs

for her; you have an English poodle for your rival, and you must seek



to understand the moods of your patroness, and amuse her, and--keep

silence about yourselves. As for you, unblushing parasite, uncrowned



king of unliveried servants, leave your real character at home, let

your digestion keep pace with your host's laugh when he laughs, mingle



your tears with his, and find his epigrams amusing; if you want to

relieve your mind about him, wait till he is ruined. That is the way



the world shows its respect for the unfortunate; it persecutes them,

or slays them in the dust.



Such thoughts as these welled up in Raphael's heart with the

suddenness of poeticinspiration. He looked around him, and felt the



influence of the forbidding gloom that society breathes out in order

to rid itself of the unfortunate; it nipped his soul more effectually



than the east wind grips the body in December. He locked his arms over

his chest, set his back against the wall, and fell into a deep



melancholy. He mused upon the meagre happiness that this depressing

way of living can give. What did it amount to? Amusement with no



pleasure in it, gaiety without gladness, joyless festivity, fevered

dreams empty of all delight, firewood or ashes on the hearth without a



spark of flame in them. When he raised his head, he found himself




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