to myself the right to alter my opinions (as I often have to do) if facts compel me to do so.  This is the St. Sulpice rule, which, in my contact with the outside world, has placed me in very singular positions, and has often made me appear very old-fashioned, a relic of the past, and unfamiliar with the age in which we live.  The right way to behave at table is to help oneself to the worst piece in the dish, so as to avoid the semblance of leaving for others what one does not think good enough—­or, better still, to take the piece nearest to one without looking at what is in the dish.  Any one who was to act in this delicate way in the struggle of modern life, would sacrifice himself to no purpose.  His delicacy would not even be noticed.  “First come, first served,” is the objectionable rule of modern egotism.  To obey, in a world which has ceased to have any heed of civility, the excellent rules of the politeness of other days, would be tantamount to playing the part of a dupe, and no one would thank you for your pains.  When one feels oneself being pushed by people who want to get in front of one, the proper thing to do is to draw back with a gesture tantamount to saying:  “Do not let me prevent you passing.”  But it is very certain that any one who adhered to this rule in an omnibus would be the victim of his own deference; in fact, I believe that he would be infringing the bye-laws.  In travelling by rail, how few people seem to see that in trying to force their way before others on the platform in order to secure the best seats, they are guilty of gross discourtesy.

In other words, our democratic machines have no place for the man of polite manners.  I have long since given up taking the omnibus; the conductor came to look upon me as a passenger who did not know what he was about.  In travelling by rail, I invariably have the worst seat, unless I happen to get a helping hand from the station-master.  I was fashioned for a society based upon respect, in which people could be treated, classified, and placed according to their costume, and in which they would not have to fight for their own hand.  I am only at home at the Institute or the College de France, and that because our officials are all well-conducted men and hold us in great respect.  The Eastern habit of always having a cavass to walk in front of one in the public thoroughfares suited me very well; for modesty is seasoned by a display of force.  It is agreeable to have under one’s orders a man armed with a kourbash which one does not allow him to use.  I should not at all mind having the power of life and death without ever exercising it, and I should much like to own some slaves in order to be extremely kind to them and to make them adore me.