When Dogberry brought Conrade before Leonato, the only offense he seems
to have had a clear idea of, was the one against himself: 'Moreover,
sir, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you,
let it be remembered in his punishment.' Shakspeare has, by this 'one
touch of nature,' made Dogberry kin to the whole world. It would be the
most terrible of punishments to run the gauntlet of a company, every one
of which you had called an ass; whatever may have been the original
offense, this would be the one most remembered in your punishment, I
don't think it would be possible to believe any thing good of one who
had given you this appellation; on the contrary, the reputed long ears
would be worse than the famous 'diabolical trumpet' for collecting and
distorting the merest whispers of evil against him who planted them, or
discovered them peeping through the assumed lion's skin. Apollo's music
probably sounded no sweeter to Midas after he received his 'wonderful
ear.'
But my object in introducing Dogberry was not to give a dissertation on
this greatest of insults, but to illustrate our selfishness. Our
patience will bear great _crimes_ against others, but how it gives way
under the slightest _insult_ to ourselves. Now I am not going to
denounce selfishness; I'd as soon think of denouncing gravitation. There
is, in the best of us, an under-current of selfishness; indeed,
selfishness and unselfishness are convertible terms; this is a higher
kind of that, as the upper-current of the ocean is but the under-current
risen to the surface.
Saint James says: 'The love of money is the root of all evil.' I am not
exactly prepared to agree with him; it is a great branch, almost the
trunk; but I think selfishness is the root. You know Hahnemann thought
all diseases but a modification of one disease--_psora_. However it may
be with his theory, the one moral disease is not an itching palm. This
is but a modification of selfishness, which is not merely cutaneous.
But the form it is supposed to take in the system of Yankees, is the
above-named plebeian form. The supposition may be correct. Don't we most
feel our national troubles, the shock of the great national earthquake,
when it causes an upheaval from the depths of the pocket? If Uncle Sam's
sentiments are, as they are supposed to be, only a concentration of
those of the majority, isn't his lamentation over his run-away South,
who has changed her name without his consent, that of Shylock: 'My
daughter! Oh! my ducats!'? Though not exactly connected with this branch
of selfishness, I may as well, while speaking of our national
difficulties, mention what struck me very forcibly: It is said, that on
the eminence from which the spectators of the Bull Run battle so
precipitately fled, were found sandwiches and bottles of wine; and that
these refreshments actually lined the road to Washington. From this
might be inferred that 'to-day's dinner' not only 'subtends a larger
visual angle than _yesterday's_ revolution,' but that it also subtends a
larger angle than _to-day's_ revolution. If one could ever forget one's
own personal gratifications and comforts, it would be, I should think,
in overlooking a nation's battle-field--_our_ nation's battle-field. But
it is not for a humble lay member, whose business it is to practice
rather than preach, to criticise. Are not the honorable members
representatives of the people; and when they are cheered and refreshed,
are not the 'dear people' through them cheered and refreshed? Besides,
they may have so reluctantly dropped the wine and sandwiches because
they were loth to leave them to 'give aid and comfort to the enemy.'
There are always envious people to rail at those above them; pawns on
the world's chess-board, they pride themselves on their own
straightforward course; but let them push their way to the highest row,
how soon do they exchange this course for the 'crooked policy of the
knight,' or jump over principles with queen, castle, or bishop! Woe to
the poor pawn in their way.
How I have skipped! what connection can there be between members of
Congress and crooked policy, or jumping over principles? yet there must
have been a train of association that led me off the track; doubtless it
was purely arbitrary. Well, we'll let it go; poor pawn as I am, I have
but stepped aside to nab an idea.
But to return to the Yankee. The form which selfishness takes in his
system is not that of the most intensified exclusiveness. You know the
story of Rosicrucius' sepulcher, with its ever-burning lamp, guarded by
an armor-encased, truncheon-armed statue, which statue, on the entrance
of a man who accidentally discovered the sepulcher, arose, and at his
advance, raised its truncheon and shivered the lamp to atoms, leaving
the intruder in darkness. On examination, under the floor springs were
found, connecting with others within the statue. Rosicrucius wished thus
to inform the world that he had reïnvented the ever-burning lamp of the
ancients, but meant that the world shouldn't profit by the information.
Had a Yankee reïnvented those lamps, he would have got out a patent, and
some brother Yankee would have improved upon it, and invented one
warranted to burn 'forever _and a day_.' They would probably have thus
raked together a great deal of the 'filthy lucre;' _possibly_ this would
have been their main object; but the world would have been benefited by
them. All selfishness, to be sure, but exclusive selfishness benefits
the world.
[Speaking of _filthy_ lucre, I begin to see why those who have lost it
all are said to be '_cleaned_ out.' But this is only _par parenthèse_.]
But exclusiveness is not peculiar to the Rosicrucians; there is too much
of it in even the religious sects of this enlightened age; it is too
much, 'Lord, bless me and my sect;' 'Lord, bless us, and no more.'
There are self-constituted mountain-tops that would extract all the
mercy and grace with which the winds come freighted from the great ocean
of Love, so that they would pass over beyond them hot, dry winds of
wrath. But I am glad that this is impossible; that in the moral world
there are no Andes, no rainless regions.
I fear that I have not stuck very closely to the text furnished me by
thick-headed, thick-tongued Dogberry.
Allow me to compress into closing sentences, a few general remarks....
Those lakes that have no outlet, grow salt and bitter; we all know the
ennui and bitterness of those souls that receive many blessings, sending
forth none; better drain your soul out for others, than have it become a
_Dead Sea_.... Black, that absorbs all rays, reflecting none, is an
anomaly in nature; it is true, but one earthly character has reflected
all the rays of goodness, absorbing none, making the common light 'rich,
like a lily in bloom;' yet every man can reflect at least one ray to
gladden the earth.... It is not necessary, even in the cold atmosphere
of this world, to become contractedly selfish; cold expands noble
natures as it does water.... Lastly ...
Yours, MOLLY O'MOLLY.