When I approached the crest of the great, solitary hill I did not gaze
admiringly on the magnificent view that opened before me, nor did the
wind, blowing fresh from the beloved Atlantic, seem to exhilarate me.
My eyes were cast down and I dragged my feet like one that was weary.
Yet I was not weary, but now I began to remember that on a former
occasion I had on this mountain spoken many vain and foolish things
concerning a people about whose character and history I was then
ignorant. I also remembered with exceeding bitterness that my visit
to this land had been the cause of great and perhaps lasting sorrow
to one noble heart.
How often, said I to myself, have I repented of those cruel, scornful
words I addressed to Dolores at our last interview; and now once more
"I come to pluck the berries harsh and crude" of repentance and of
expiation, to humble my insular pride in the dust and unsay all the
unjust things I formerly spoke in my haste.
It is not an exclusively British characteristic to regard the people
of other nationalities with a certain amount of contempt, but with us,
perhaps, the feeling is stronger than with others, or else expressed
with less reserve. Let me now at last rid myself of this error, which
is harmless and perhaps even commendable in those who stay at home,
and also very natural, since it is a part of our unreasonable nature
to distrust and dislike the things that are far removed and unfamiliar.
Pages:
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350