the secondary vulgar error. I do not mean to say that in practice
many persons are likely to thus bend the twig backwards; but it is
no small evil to think that it would be a right thing, and a fine
thing, to do even that which you never intend to do. So you write
an essay, or even a book, the gist of which is that it is a grand
thing to select for a friend and guide the human being who has done
you signal injustice and harm. Over that book, if it be a prettily
written tale, many young ladies will weep: and though without the
faintest intention of imitating your hero's behaviour, they will
think that it would be a fine thing if they did so. And it is a
great mischief to pervert the moral judgment and falsely to excite
the moral feelings. You forget that wrong is wrong, though it be
done against yourself, and that you have no right to acquit the
wrong to yourself as though it were no wrong at all. That lies
beyond your province. You may forgive the personal offence, but it
does not rest with you to acquit the guilt. You have no right to
confuse moral distinctions by practically saying that wrong is not
wrong, because it is done against you. All wrong is against very
many things and very grave things, besides being against you. It
is not for you to speak in the name of God and the universe. You
may not wish to say much about the injury done to yourself, but
there it is; and as to the choosing for your friend the man who has
greatly injured you, in most cases such a choice would be a very
unwise one, because in most cases it would amount to this--that
you should select a man for a certain post mainly because he has
shown himself possessed of qualities which unfit him for that post.
That surely would be very foolish. If you had to appoint a postman,
would you choose a man because he had no legs? And what is very
foolish can never be very magnanimous.