for us; we shall not know the hero when we see him;'--we
shall take the quack for a hero; and cry, audibly through
all ballot-boxes and machinery whatsoever, Thou art he; be
thou King over us!

What boots it? Seek only deceitful Speciosity, godlike Reality
will be forever far from you. The Quack shall be legitimate
inevitable King of you; no earthly machinery able to exclude the
Quack. Ye shall be born thralls of the Quack, and suffer under
him, till you hearts are near broken, and no French Revolution or
Manchester Insurrection, or partial or universal volcanic
combustions and explosions; never so many, can do more than
'change the _figure_ of your Quack;' the essence of him
remaining, for a time and times.--"How long, O Prophet?" say
some, with a rather melancholy sneer. Alas, ye _un_prophetic,
ever till this come about: Till deep misery, if nothing softer
will, have driven you out of your Speciosites _into_ your
Sincerities; and you find there either is a Godlike in the
world, or else ye are an unintelligible madness; that there is a
God, as well as a Mammon and a Devil, and a Genius of Luxuries
and canting Dilettantisms and Vain Shows! How long that will be,
compute for yourselves. My unhappy brothers!--




Chapter IX

Abbot Samson