Re: Conscience
neologist wrote:Conscience - is it a spiritual gift?
Or, is this expression correct?
"Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe; our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law." - Shakespeare, Richard III
You peddle the fallacy of a false dilemna here--it appears that you suggest that there are only two choices, to wit, that concience is a spiritual gift or a sham.
William Shakespeare flourished in the reign of Elizabeth, the last of the Tudor monarchs. The Tudors came to power in 1485.
Henry V had "won" the Hundred Years war, and married Catherine, the daughter of the mad King Charles le Bien Aimé (the Beloved). That was in 1420. Within twenty-two months, his son was born, and he had died. Catherine was not overly fond of the idea of hanging around in an English convent, and eloped with Owen Tudor, a minor member of the Welsh nobility.
Henry V had come to the throne after his father, Henry IV, Henry Bolingbroke, had usurped the throne from Richard II. Richard II was the son of Edward, Prince of Wales, the Black Knight.
His father, Edward III had begun and prosecuted the Hundred Years war--but he outlived his son, and so was succeeded by Richard II. Edward's younger son John of Gaunt was the Regent for Richard in his minority. John of Guant contracted a morganatic marriage to an English commoner, and one of the children of that marriage was Margaret de Beaufort. After Owen Tudor and Catherine of France eloped, they produced a son, Jaspar Tudor, who married Margaret de Beaufort. They produced a son, Henry Tudor.
The son of Henry V was Henry VI, and he was never much of a King. He lost France, and then he was embroiled in a civil war, which was to rage for more than 30 years, and became known as the Wars of the Roses. Henry VI was murdered by Edward IV. Edward's two sons, Edward V and the Duke of York, disappeared shortly after the death of Edward IV. In the 1670's, in the reign of Charles II, the Tower of London was the scene of some serious renovations, and two skeletons of boys were found under a stair case--it was assumed that they were the remains of Edward V and the Duke of York, who were 12 and 10, respectively, when they disappeared.
They were succeeded by their uncle, Richard III. Contemporary portraits show a man who was not unpleasant looking, and who was normally formed, in terms of his physical appearance. But in 1485, Henry Tudor landed in Wales with an army. He was descended through his mother Margaret de Beaufort, with bar sinister, from the Lancastrians who had been deposed by the murder of Henry VI. He came to claim the throne. At Bosworth field, Richard III, one of the last of those old style Kings who actually took the field to fight his foes, was deserted by the Duke of Norfolk, was unhorsed, and was killed. Henry Tudor became the King of England. He married Elizabeth of York, and they had three children: Arthur, who became Prince of Wales, Henry, who just hung around and studied all the time--he was supernumary, but a potential successor--and Margaret (no doubt named for her grandmother). Margaret was married to the King of Scotland, and it was through that line that James I, the homosexual King who ordered the new translation of the Bible, came to the throne when Elizabeth died childless. Arthur died before his father, and therefore, his brother Henry became King Henry VIII. One of Henry's daughters was Elizabeth.
It was very politic of Shakespeare to make Richard III out to be a right scoundrel. Henry Tudor, descended from Edward III by way of a bastard daughter of John of Gaunt, had little claim on the throne other than having won it on the field of battle. If one reads all of the "historical" plays of Shakespeare, one will find the ones about the Kings in the period of the Wars of the Roses and the Tudor accession to be tedious and unaccountably preachy. But the preaching can be accounted for--Shakespeare was sucking up, for all he was worth. As a result, people continue to think of Richard III as an ugly hunch-back with a vile temper and vicious habits--despite the complete lack of historical evidence to that effect.
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In short, your citation is a crock of sh!t. It is entirely possible, and quite plausible, that one could have a conscience derived soley from the empathic experience of the pain and suffering of others, without reference to fairy tales about your imaginary friend.