Page 553 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

them to thee.
What art thou, thou tremendous power Who dost inhab-
it us without our leave, And art, within ourselves, another
self, A master self that loves to domineer?
What? Conscience? That is a word to frighten children.
The conscience of each man is of his own making. My friend
the shark-toothed cannibal whom Staples brought in his
whaler to Sydney would have found his conscience reproach
him sorely did he refuse to partake of the feasts made sa-
cred by the customs of his ancestors. A spark of divinity?
The divinity that, according to received doctrine; sits apart,
enthroned amid sweet music, and leaves poor humanity
to earn its condemnation as it may? I’ll have none of that—
though I preach it. One must soothe the vulgar senses of the
people. Priesthood has its ‘pious frauds”. The Master spoke
in parables. Wit? The wit that sees how ill-balanced are our
actions and our aspirations? The devilish wit born of our
own brain, that sneers at us for our own failings? Perhaps
madness? More likely, for there are few men who are not
mad one hour of the waking twelve. If differing from the
judgment of the majority of mankind in regard to famil-
iar things be madness, I suppose I am mad—or too wise.
The speculation draws near to hair-splitting. James North,
recall your early recklessness, your ruin, and your redemp-
tion; bring your mind back to earth. Circumstances have
made you what you are, and will shape your destiny for you
without your interference. That’s comfortably settled!
Now supposing—to take another canter on my night-
mare—that man is the slave of circumstances (a doctrine

For the Term of His Natural Life