as too much given to 'cold morality.' Quietly, as one propounding mere matter-of-fact or truths which, when once announced, must be self-evident, he shows the absurdity, not only of kings and aristocrats, but of government in general. Democracy is the least bad system, but it is at best a makeshift on the way to anarchy. We are to have no parliaments, no states, no laws. He sorrowfully admits that it may be right at the moment to resist a murderer by force, but punishment is essentially unreasonable. Force is not argument; it is as foolish to be indignant with a murderer as to be indignant with his knife; and reason is (or ought to be) omnipotent. We ought to convince the scoundrel of his mistake instead of sending him to prison. All restraints are bad, even when self-imposed. Promises in general are therefore bad, and marriage so obviously absurd that it can be demolished in a paragraph. Moreover, all the 'private affections' are bad, for they imply partiality and therefore injustice. Reason tells me to save the life of a virtuous Fénelon rather than the life of his valet. If the valet be my father or brother, that little accident can make no difference in the eye of pure reason. Gratitude is thus a vice, because it tends to gross partiality.
