8o "Have you law and justice in pigdom?" Pigs of observation have discerned that there is, or was once supposed to be, a thing called justice. Undeniably at least there is a sentiment in pig-nature called indignation, revenge, etc., which, if one pig provoke another, comes out in a more or less destructive manner: hence laws are necessary, amazing quantities of laws. For quarrelling is attended with loss of blood, of life, at any rate with frightful effusion of the general stock of hog's-wash, and ruin (temporary ruin) to large sections of the universal swine's trough: wherefore let justice be observed, that so quarrelling be avoided.
9o "What is justice?" Your own share of the general swine's-trough, not any portion of my share.
10o "But what is my share?" Ah! there in fact lies the grand difficulty; upon which pig science, meditating this long while, can settle absolutely nothing. My share—hrumph!—my share is, on the whole, whatever I can contrive to get without being hanged or sent to the hulks.
[80]: Past and present.
[81]: "For king Lackland was there, verily he; there, we say, is the grand peculiarity, the immeasurable one; distinguishing to a really infinite degree the poorest historical fact from all fiction whatsoever. Fiction, "imagination, imaginative poetry," etc., etc., except as the vehicle for truth, or fact of some sort... what is it?... Behold therefore; this England of the year 1200 was no chimerical vacuity or dream-land peopled with mere vaporous fantasms, Rymer's Fœdera, and Doctrines of the constitution, but a green solid place, that grew corn and several other things. The sun shone on it; the vicissitude of seasons and human fortunes. Cloth was woven and worn, ditches were dug, furrow fields ploughed and houses built. Day by day all men and cattle rose to labour, and night by night returned home weary to their several lairs.... And yet these grim old walls are not a dilettantism and dubiety; they are an earnest fact. It was a most real and serious purpose they were built for. Yes, another world it was, when these black ruins, white in their new mortar and fresh chiselling, first saw the sun as walls, long ago.... Their architecture, belfries, land-carucates? Yes, and that is but a small item of the matter. Does it never give thee pause, this other strange item of it, that men then had a soul,—not by hearsay alone, and as a figure of speech,—but as a truth that they knew, and practically went upon? (Past and Present, p. 65.)
[82]: It is the property of the hero, in every time, in every place, in every situation, that he comes back to reality; that he stands upon things, and not shews of things. (On Heroes, p. 193.)
[83]: Thy daily life is girt with wonder, and based on wonder; thy very blankets and breeches are miracles....
The unspeakable divine signifiance full of splendour and wonder and terror lies in the being of every man and of every thing: the presence of God who made every man and thing.
[84]: Atheistic science babbles poorly of it, with scientific nomenclatures, experiments and what not, as if it were a poor dead thing, to be bottled up in Leyden jars, and sold over counters. But the natural sense of man, in all times, if he will honestly apply his sense, proclaims it to be a living thing—ah, an unspeakable, godlike thing, towards which the best attitude for us, after never so much science, is awe, devout prostration and humility of soul, worship if not in words, then in silence. (On Heroes, p. 3.)
[85]: Wonder.