We are not indulging in forms of rhetoric. To do so would only
weaken the force of our warning. What we have written is no mere
fancy work. The pictures thrown upon our canvas with all the power
of vivid portraiture that we possess are but feeble representations
of the tragic scenes that are enacted in society year by year, and
for which every, member of society who does not put his hand to the
work of reform is in some degree responsible.
We are not developing a romance, but trying, as just said, to give
from real life some warning pictures. Our task is nearly done. A few
more scenes, and then our work will be laid for the present aside.
There are men who never seem to comprehend the lesson of events or
to feel the pressure of personal responsibility. They drift with the
tide, doing as their neighbors do, and resting satisfied. The
heroism of self-sacrifice or self-denial is something to which they
cannot rise. Nothing is farther from their ambition than the role of
a reformer. Comfortable, self-indulgent, placid, they move with the
current and manage to keep away from its eddies. Such a man was Mr.
Birtwell. He knew of some of the disasters that followed so closely
upon his grand entertainment, but refused to connect therewith any
personal responsibility. It was unfortunate, of course, that these
things should have happened with him, but he was no more to blame
for them than if they had happened with his neighbor across the way.
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