Upon the ground that the interests of
the soul were paramount to all human laws and customs, I declared--or
rather, _my voice_ declared--that self-denial was a fatal error, to
which half the misery of mankind could be traced; that the passions,
held as slaves, exhibited only the brutish nature of slaves, and would
be exalted and glorified by entire freedom; and that our sole guidance
ought to come from the voices of the spirits who communicated with us,
instead of the imperfect laws constructed by our benighted fellow-men.
How clear and logical, how lofty, these doctrines seemed! If, at times,
something in their nature repelled me, I simply attributed it to the
fact that I was still but a neophyte in the Spiritual Philosophy, and
incapable of perceiving the truth with entire clearness.
Mr. Stilton had a wife,--one of those meek, amiable, simple-hearted
women whose individuality seems to be completely absorbed into that of
their husbands. When such women are wedded to frank, tender, protecting
men, their lives are truly blessed; but they are willing slaves to the
domestic tyrant. They bear uncomplainingly,--many of them even without a
thought of complaint,--and die at last with their hearts full of love
for the brutes who have trampled upon them.
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