It is
absurd to suppose that England can be free while Poland is enslaved;
Paris is _far_ from the beginnings of civilisation whilst Toobooloo and
Chicago are barbaric. Probably no ill-fated, microcephalous son of Adam
ever tumbled into a mistake quite so huge, so infantile, as did Dives,
if he imagined himself rich while Lazarus sat pauper at the gate. Not
many, I say, but one. Even Ham and I here in our retreat are not alone;
we are embarrassed by the uninvited spirit of the present; the adamant
root of the mountain on whose summit we stand is based ineradicably in
the low world. Yet, thank Heaven, Goethe was not _quite_ right--as,
indeed, he proved in his proper person. I tell you, Shiel, I _know_
whether Mary did or did not murder Darnley; I know--as clearly, as
precisely, as a man can know--that Beatrice Cenci was not "guilty" as
certain recently-discovered documents "prove" her, but that the Shelley
version of the affair, though a guess, is the correct one. It _is_
possible, by taking thought, to add one cubit--or say a hand, or a
dactyl--to your stature; you may develop powers slightly--very
slightly, but distinctly, both in kind and degree--in advance of those
of the mass who live in or about the same cycle of time in which you
live.
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