Virtue which is the result of good intention is not worth much. Impulse or custom is the thing.
That a false hypothesis is often to be preferred to the true one is shown by the theory of the freedom of human volition. Certainly we are not free, but it requires a very profound study of philosophy not to be misled by this knowledge. Freedom is the easiest explanation, and will remain the most popular one because appearances are for it.—Lichtenberg.
The story was told how St. Dionysius, after he had been beheaded, walked two miles with his head in his hand. “Two miles?” asked one of the company. “Yes, two miles; there is not the least doubt of it,” was the reply. “I will gladly believe you,” said a lady, wittier than the others; “on such occasions it is only the first step which is difficult.”
The French ambassador came to Charles V. with the request that Milan should be ceded to his master the king. Whereupon the emperor merely replied, “The wish of my brother, the King of France, is my own.”
The Duchess of Klingston desired to be admitted to the court circle at Berlin. She requested the Russian minister to take occasion to assure the king of her high esteem, and to tell him that she had been heard to say her fortune was in Rome, her fleet at Venice, and her heart in Berlin. When the king heard this he quickly responded with, “My compliments to the Duchess, and tell her I greatly fear she has favoured us with the least of her possessions.”
A great gentleman said to his servant in a moment of caprice, “Tell me, John, supposing the devil should come to get one of us, which one do you think he would take?”
“He’d take me, without a doubt, your honour.”
“Why so, you absurd fellow?”
“Because he has some chance of losing me, but he is quite sure of you,” was the reply.
A witty king, in travelling through his lands, passed a small provincial town in which great honour was shown him by the magistrate and burgomaster, the latter greeting the monarch in a solemn address. The most conspicuous thing about the portly little man was the well-rounded expansion of his spotless white vest. The day was very cold, and the speech was interminable. Suddenly the king interrupted the speaker, and, as if concerned about his health, pointing to the snowy vest, he graciously remarked, “My dear sir, I fear your Mont Blanc will catch cold!”