to regulate our existence. We need ministering angels to fly to us
from somewhere, even if it be from the depths of protoplasm. We must
bathe in the currents of some non-human vital flood, like consumptives
in their last extremity who must bask in the sunshine and breathe the
mountain air; and our disease is not without its sophistry to convince
us that we were never so well before, or so mightily conscious of
being alive.

When chaos has penetrated so far into the moral being of nations they
can hardly be expected to produce great men. A great man need not be
virtuous, nor his opinions right, but he must have a firm mind, a
distinctive, luminous character; if he is to dominate things,
something must be dominant in him. We feel him to be great in that he
clarifies and brings to expression something which was potential in
the rest of us, but which with our burden of flesh and circumstance we
were too torpid to utter. The great man is a spontaneous variation in
humanity; but not in any direction. A spontaneous variation might be a
mere madness or mutilation or monstrosity; in finding the variation
admirable we evidently invoke some principle of order to which it
conforms. Perhaps it makes explicit what was preformed in us also; as
when a poet finds the absolutely right phrase for a feeling, or when
nature suddenly astonishes us with a form of absolute beauty. Or
perhaps it makes an unprecedented harmony out of things existing
before, but jangled and detached. The first man was a great man for
this latter reason; having been an ape perplexed and corrupted by his
multiplying instincts, he suddenly found a new way of being decent, by
harnessing all those instincts together, through memory and
imagination, and giving each in turn a measure of its due; which is
what we call being rational. It is a new road to happiness, if you
have strength enough to castigate a little the various impulses that