the champagne of their hopes, interpret every mischance as a necessary occurrence which must bring them nearer to their goal, their confidence flashes most brilliantly on the eve of their downfall, and the messenger of justice who officially announces to them their defeat generally finds them quarrelling as to their share in the bear's skin.[1] Hence the one-sided errors—ces erreurs d'idée fixe—which we cannot escape when we stand too near to one or the other party; either deceives, yet does it unaware, and we confide most willingly in those who think as we do. But if we are by chance of such indifferent nature that we, without special predilection, keep in continual intercourse with all, then we are bewildered by the perfect self-confidence of either party, and our judgment is neutralised in the most depressing manner. There are indeed such all-indifferent men who have no true opinions of their own, who take no part in questions of the time, who only wish to learn what may be going on, to gather all the gossip of saloons, and retail all the chronique scandaleuse of one party to the other.[2] The result of such indifferentism is that they see everywhere only persons
