poetaster even rushing into doggerel verse to condemn him as a
reversion to barbarism; the wealthier suspects betook themselves
to other lands or made judicious use of their money-bags among the
Spanish officials; the better classes of the population floundered
hopelessly, leaderless, in the confused whirl of opinions and passions;
while the voiceless millions for whom he had spoken moved on in dumb,
uncomprehending silence. He had lived in that higher dreamland of
the future, ahead of his countrymen, ahead even of those who assumed
to be the mentors of his people, and he must learn, as does every
noble soul that labors "to make the bounds of freedom wider yet,"
the bitter lesson that nine-tenths, if not all, the woes that afflict
humanity spring from man's own stupid selfishness, that the wresting of
the scepter from the tyrant is often the least of the task, that the
bondman comes to love his bonds--like Chillon's prisoner, his very
chains and he grow friends,--but that the struggle for human freedom
must go on, at whatever cost, in ever-widening circles, "wave after
wave, each mightier than the last," for as long as one body toils in
fetters or one mind welters in blind ignorance, either of the slave's
base delusion or the despot's specious illusion, there can be no final
security for any free man, or his children, or his children's children.






"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!
Why look'st thou so?"--"With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross!"