A palavra fortuna, se significa de modo geral « acaso » , « sorte » , e por consequência pode receber epithetos oppostos, — fortuna prospera, fortuna adversa (expressões que tanto são portugue- sas como latinas) — , toma-se na nossa lingoa hodierna principal- mente em accepção benéfica. O estudo d'estas transformações de sentido chama-se Semasiologia ou Semântica. Alguns auctores Vide Otto, Die Sprichicõrter der Rõmer, Leipzig, 1890, pag. 144. - Diez, Gram. des lang. romanes Faustino Menéndez Pidal de Navascués: “así en general enunciada [la heráldica] no há tenido a veces buena fama, en parte com razón, porque mucho de lo escrito bajo este nombre no merece consideración cientíica, y en parte sin ella, porque no debió trasladarse al asunto la desestima imputada a los textos. Pero fue tanta la insistencia en aspectos de interés nulo o escaso y tantas las interpretaciones desatinadas, que algunos llegaron a juzgar imposible lograr mejores frutos en esa materia.”1 Questão, pois, de preconceito dos historiadores em relação à matéria heráldica ou aos heraldistas; e, como reacção e compensação, esplêndido isolamento destes em relação ao mundo académico. Com honrosas excepções de parte a parte, naturalmente. Mas parece sintomático que a mais recente publicação sobre historiograia de Portugal medieval tenha omitido qualquer referência à produção de trabalhos heráldicos: prova cabal de um divórcio que teima em persistir Fulfilment of the Law.”—In cases where the observance of a moral precept has led to different consequence from that expected and [pg 029] promised, and does not bestow upon the moral man the happiness he had hoped for, but leads rather to misfortune and misery, the conscientious and timid man has always his excuse ready: “Something was lacking in the proper carrying out of the law.” If the worst comes to the worst, a deeply-suffering and down-trodden humanity will even decree: “It is impossible to carry out the precept faithfully: we are too weak and sinful, and, in the depths of our soul, incapable of morality: consequently we have no claim to happiness and success. Moral precepts and promises have been given for better beings than ourselves.” 22. Works and Faith.—Protestant teachers are still spreading the fundamental error that faith only is of consequence, and that works must follow naturally upon faith. This doctrine is certainly not true, but it is so seductive in appearance that it has succeeded in fascinating quite other intellects than that of Luther (e.g. the minds of Socrates and Plato): though the plain evidence and experience of our daily life prove the contrary. The most assured knowledge and faith cannot give us either the strength or the dexterity required for action, or the practice in that subtle and complicated mechanism which is a prerequisite for anything to be changed from an idea into action. Then, I say, let us first and foremost have works! and this means practice! practice! practice! The necessary faith will come later—be certain of that!

 There are Two Classes of People who deny Morality.—To deny morality may mean, in the first place, to deny the moral inducements which, men pretend, have urged them on to their actions,—which is equivalent to saying that morality merely consists of words and forms, part of that coarse and subtle deceit (especially self-deceit) which is characteristic of mankind, and perhaps more especially of those men who are celebrated for their virtues. In the second place, it may mean our denying that moral judgments are founded on truths. It is admitted in such a case that these judgments are, in fact, the motives of the actions, but that in this way it is really errors as the basis of all moral judgments which urge men on to their moral actions. This is my point of view; but I should be far from denying that in very many cases a subtle suspicion in accordance with the former point of view—i.e. in the spirit of La Rochefoucauld—is [pg 100] also justifiable, and in any case of a high general utility.—Therefore I deny morality in the same way as I deny alchemy, i.e. I deny its hypotheses; but I do not deny that there have been alchemists who believed in these hypotheses and based their actions upon them. I also deny immorality—not that innumerable people feel immoral, but that there is any true reason why they should feel so. I should not, of course, deny—unless I were a fool—that many actions which are called immoral should be avoided and resisted; and in the same way that many which are called moral should be performed and encouraged; but I hold that in both cases these actions should be performed from motives other than those which have prevailed up to the present time. We must learn anew in order that at last, perhaps very late in the day, we may be able to do something more: feel anew.
O segundo efeito perverso da ligação da heráldica à genealogia e à nobiliarquia
prende-se com a concentração (embora não exclusiva) dos estudos heráldicos em
duas épocas históricas: a Idade Média e o Antigo Regime. O período medieval tem
sido alvo de numerosas pesquisas ligadas à génese do fenómeno, à sua disseminação
e à construção do saber heráldico. Basta observar a parte que lhe é reservada no Traité
d’Héraldique de Pastoureau ou na maior parte das actas dos colóquios internacionais
especializados14. Além dos factores atrás apontados, é possível que a concentração
dos estudos heráldicos no período medieval seja uma forma de continuidade de uma
relação preferencial tal como a escola historiográica romântica a estabeleceu no
século XIX, e que ainda não foi eicazmente contrariada. Na verdade, a manutenção
de tal predomínio poderá prender-se com o facto de ter sido essa mesma escola
romântica a promover o despertar pelos estudos heráldicos numa perspectiva
historiográica (e não técnica ou mítica); pelo que, de certo modo, acabou por moldar
o rumo que tais investigações mantiveram até muito depois da cessação de inluência
dessa historiograia. O Antigo Regime, em comparação, perila-se como uma época
relativamente menos estudada, considerando quer a quantidade de publicações,
quer a diversidade de perspectivas nelas presentes. Em ambos os períodos, no
entanto, os estudos heráldicos continuaram a centrar-se na heráldica de família

To the Admirers of Objectiveness.—He who, as a child, has observed in his parents and acquaintances in the midst of whom he has grown up, certain varied and strong feelings, with but little subtle discernment and inclination for intellectual justice, and has therefore employed his best powers and his most precious time in imitating these feelings, will observe in himself when he arrives at years of discretion that every new thing or man he meets with excites in him either sympathy or [pg 110] aversion, envy or contempt. Under the domination of this experience, which he is powerless to shake off, he admires neutrality of feeling or “objectivity” as an extraordinary thing, as something connected with genius or a very rare morality, and he cannot believe that even this neutrality is merely the product of education and habit.

112.

On the Natural History of Duty and Right.—Our duties are the claims which others have upon us. How did they acquire these claims? By the fact that they considered us as capable of making and holding agreements and contracts, by assuming that we were their like and equals, and by consequently entrusting something to us, bringing us up, educating us, and supporting us. We do our duty, i.e. we justify that conception of our power for the sake of which all these things were done for us. We return them in proportion as they were meted out to us. It is thus our pride that orders us to do our duty—we desire to re-establish our own independence by opposing to that which others have done for us something that we do for them, for in that way the others invade our sphere of power, and would for ever have a hand in it if we did not make reprisals by means of “duty,” and thus encroach upon their power. The rights of others can only have regard to that which lies within our power; it would be unreasonable on their part to require something from us which does not belong to us. To put the matter more [pg 111] accurately, their rights can only relate to what they imagine to be in our power, provided that it is something that we ourselves consider as being in our power. The same error may easily occur on either side. The feeling of duty depends upon our having the same belief in regard to the extent of our power as other people have, i.e. that we can promise certain things and undertake to do them freely (“free will”).

My rights consist of that part of my power which others have not only conceded to me, but which they wish to maintain for me. Why do they do it? On the one hand they are actuated by wisdom, fear and prudence: whether they expect something similar from us (the protection of their rights), whether they consider a struggle with us as dangerous or inopportune, or whether they see a disadvantage to themselves in every diminution of our power, since in that case we should be ill adapted for an alliance with them against a hostile third power. On the other hand rights are granted by donations and cessions. In this latter case, the other people have not only enough power, but more than enough, so that they can give up a portion and guarantee it to the person to whom they give it: whereby they presuppose a certain restricted sense of power in the person upon whom they have bestowed the gift. In this way rights arise: recognised and guaranteed degrees of power. When the relations of powers to one another are materially changed, rights disappear and new ones are formed, as is demonstrated by the constant flux and reflux of the rights of nations. When our power diminishes [pg 112] to any great extent, the feelings of those who hitherto guaranteed it undergo some change: they consider whether they shall once again restore us to our former possession, and if they do not see their way to do this they deny our “rights” from that time forward. In the same way, if our power increases to a considerable extent the feelings of those who previously recognised it, and whose recognition we no longer require, likewise change: they will then try to reduce our power to its former dimensions, and they will endeavour to interfere in our affairs, justifying their interference by an appeal to their “duty.” But this is merely useless word-quibbling. Where right prevails, a certain state and degree of power is maintained, and all attempts at its augmentation and diminution are resisted. The right of others is the concession of our feeling of power to the feeling of power in these others. Whenever our power shows itself to be thoroughly shattered and broken, our rights cease: on the other hand, when we have become very much stronger, the rights of others cease in our minds to be what we have hitherto admitted them to be. The man who aims at being just, therefore, must keep a constant lookout for the changes in the indicator of the scales in order that he may properly estimate the degrees of power and right which, with the customary transitoriness of human things, retain their equilibrium for only a short time and in most cases continue to rise and fall. As a consequence it is thus very difficult to be “just,” and requires much experience, good intentions, and an unusually large amount of good sense.