THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME
Sunday, July 1st.
Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans ended.
To-day we enter on July.
In a Rome this latter month was called Quihe fifth),because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began inMarch. When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name ofQuintiles reserved, as well as those that followed--Sexteles,September, October, November, December--although these designations didnot accord with the newly arranged order of the months. At last, after atime the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was calledJulius, whence we have July. Thus this name, placed in the dar, isbee the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaphon Times highway, engraved by the admiration of man.
How many similar inscriptions are there! Seas, tis, mountains,stars, and mos, have all in succession served the same purpose! Wehave turhe whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which thestate of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great deeds.
It seems that mankind feels a y for h itself in its elees, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing heroes fromamong its own race. The human family love to preserve the memory; of theparvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great aor, or of abeor.
In fact, the talents grao a single individual do not behimself alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, foreveryone suffers or bes by his as. Genius is a lighthouse,meant to give light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock uponwhich this lighthouse is built.
I love to dwell upohoughts; they explain to me in what sistsour admiration flory. When glory has beed men, that admirationis gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride ofrace; as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples ofhumanity.
Who knows whether we do not obey the same instin submitting to thehand of power? Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, orthe sequences of a quest, the multitude delight to surround theirchiefs with privileges--whether it be that their vanity makes them thusto aggrandize one of their owions, or whether they try to cealthe humiliation of subje by exaggerating the importance of those whorule them. They wish to honor themselves through their master; theyelevate him on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him with ahalo of light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon themselves.
It is still the fable of the dog who tents himself with the andcollar, so that they are of gold.
This servile vanity is not less natural or less on than the vanity ofdominion. Whoever feels himself incapable of and, at least desiresto obey a powerful chief. Serfs have been known to sider themselvesdishonored when they became the property of a mere t after havihat of a prince, and Saint-Simoions a valet who would onlywait upon marquises.
July 7th, seven oclock P. M.--I have just now been up the Boulevards;it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in the RueLepelletier. The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossingreized the persons in some of these as we went by, aioheir hey were those of celebrated or powerful men, thesuccessful ones of the day.
Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes,whose thin black coat was threadbare. He followed with envious