congregated for the purposes of education, like a spirit from another sphere; too delicately organized for the rough treatment man uses towards man, especially in the season of youth, and too resolute in carrying out his own sense of good and justice, not to become a victim.  To a devoted attachment to those he loved he added a determined resistance to oppression.  Refusing to fag at Eton, he was treated with revolting cruelty by masters and boys:  this roused instead of taming his spirit, and he rejected the duty of obedience when it was enforced by menaces and punishment.  To aversion to the society of his fellow-creatures, such as he found them when collected together in societies, where one egged on the other to acts of tyranny, was joined the deepest sympathy and compassion; while the attachment he felt for individuals, and the admiration with which he regarded their powers and their virtues, led him to entertain a high opinion of the perfectibility of human nature; and he believed that all could reach the highest grade of moral improvement, did not the customs and prejudices of society foster evil passions and excuse evil actions.

The oppression which, trembling at every nerve yet resolute to heroism, it was his ill-fortune to encounter at school and at college, led him to dissent in all things from those whose arguments were blows, whose faith appeared to engender blame and hatred.  ‘During my existence,’ he wrote to a friend in 1812, ‘I have incessantly speculated, thought, and read.’  His readings were not always well chosen; among them were the works of the French philosophers:  as far as metaphysical argument went, he temporarily became a convert.  At the same time, it was the cardinal article of his faith that, if men were but taught and induced to treat their fellows with love, charity, and equal rights, this earth would realize paradise.  He looked upon religion, as it is professed, and above all practised, as hostile instead of friendly to the cultivation of those virtues which would make men brothers.

Can this be wondered at?  At the age of seventeen, fragile in health and frame, of the purest habits in morals, full of devoted generosity and universal kindness, glowing with ardour to attain wisdom, resolved at every personal sacrifice to do right, burning with a desire for affection and sympathy,—­he was treated as a reprobate, cast forth as a criminal.

The cause was that he was sincere; that he believed the opinions which he entertained to be true.  And he loved truth with a martyr’s love; he was ready to sacrifice station and fortune, and his dearest affections, at its shrine.  The sacrifice was demanded from, and made by, a youth of seventeen.  It is a singular fact in the history of society in the civilized nations of modern times that no false step is so irretrievable as one made in early youth.  Older men, it is true, when they oppose their fellows and transgress ordinary rules, carry a certain prudence or hypocrisy as a shield along with them.  But youth is rash; nor can it imagine, while asserting what it believes to be true, and doing what it believes to be right, that it should be denounced as vicious, and pursued as a criminal.