There is another and a higher company that thought little of praise or power, whose lives shine before men with those good works which glorify their authors. There is Milton, poor and blind, but "bating not a jot of heart or hope,"—in an age of ignorance the friend of education, in an age of servility and vice the pure and uncontaminated friend of freedom, tuning his harp to those magnificent melodies which angels might stoop to hear, and confessing his supreme duties to Humanity in words of simplicity and power. "I am long since persuaded," was his declaration, "that, to say or do aught worth memory and imitation, no purpose or respect should sooner move us than simply the love of God and of mankind."[231] There is Vincent de Paul, of France, once a captive in Algiers. Obtaining freedom by happy escape, this fugitive slave devoted himself with divine success to works of Christian benevolence,—the establishment of hospitals, visiting those in prison, the spread of amity and peace. Unknown, he repairs to the galleys at Marseilles, and, touched by the story of a poor convict, takes the heavy chains upon himself, that this fellow-man may leave to visit his wife and children; and then, moved by the sorrows of France bleeding with war, hurries to her powerful minister, the Cardinal Richelieu, and on his knees entreats,—"Give us peace! have pity upon us! give peace to France!"[232] There is Howard, the benefactor of those on whom the world has placed its brand,—whose charity, like that of the Frenchman, inspired by the single desire of doing good, illumined the gloom of the dungeon as with angelic presence. "A person of more ability," he says, in sweet simplicity, "with my knowledge of facts, would have written better; but the object of my ambition was not the Fame of an author. Hearing the cry of the miserable, I devoted my time to their relief."[233] And, lastly, there is Clarkson, who, while yet a pupil of the University, commenced those life-long labors against slavery and the slave-trade which embalm his memory. Writing an essay on the subject as a college exercise, his soul warmed with the task, and, at a period when even the horrors of "the middle passage" did not excite condemnation, he entered the lists, the stripling champion of the Right. He has left a record of the moment when this supreme duty flashed upon him. He was horseback, on his way from Cambridge to London. "Coming in sight of Wade's Mill, in Hertfordshire," he says, "I sat down disconsolate on the turf by the roadside, and held my horse. Here a thought came into my mind, that, if the contents of the Essay were true, it was time some person should see these calamities to their end."[234] Pure and noble impulse to a beautiful career!
Such are exemplars of True Glory. Without rank, office, or the sword, they accomplished immortal good. While on earth, they labored for their fellow-men; and now, sleeping in death, by example and works they continue the same sacred office. To all, in every sphere or condition, they teach the universal lesson of magnanimous duty. From the heights of their virtue, they call upon us to cast out the lust of power, of office, of wealth, of praise, of a fleeting popular favor, which "a breath can make, as a breath has made,"—to subdue the constant, ever-present suggestions of self, in disregard of neighbors, near or remote, whose welfare should never be forgotten,—to check the madness of party, which so often, for the sake of success, renounces the very objects of success,—and, finally, to introduce into our lives those sentiments of Conscience and Charity which animated them to such labors. Nor should these be holiday virtues, marshalled on great occasions only. They must become part of us, and of our existence,—present on every occasion, small or great,—in those daily amenities which add so much to the charm of life, as also in those grander duties which require an ennobling self-sacrifice. The former are as flowers, whose odor is pleasant, though fleeting; the latter are like the costly spikenard poured from the box of alabaster upon the head of the Lord.
To the supremacy of these principles let us all consecrate our best purposes and strength. So doing, we must reverse the very poles of worship in the past. Thus far men have bowed down before stocks, stones, insects, crocodiles, golden calves,—graven images, of ivory, ebony, or marble, often of cunning workmanship, wrought with Phidian skill, but all false gods. Their worship in the future must be the true God, our Father, as he is in heaven, and in the beneficent labors of his children on earth. Then farewell to the Siren song of a worldly ambition! Farewell to the vain desire of mere literary success or oratorical display! Farewell to the distempered longing for office! Farewell to the dismal, blood-red phantom of martial renown! Fame and Glory may continue, as in times past, the reflection of public opinion,—but of an opinion sure and steadfast, without change or fickleness, illumined by those two eternal suns of Christian truth, love to God and love to man.
All things will bear witness to the change, while the busy forms of wrong and outrage disappear like evil spirits at the dawn. Then shall the happiness of the poor and lowly have uncounted friends. The cause of those in prison shall find fresh voices, the education of the ignorant kindly supporters, the majesty of Peace other vindicators, the sufferings of the slave new and gushing floods of sympathy. Then, at last, shall the Brotherhood of Man stand confessed, filling the souls of all with more generous life, prompting to deeds of beneficence, conquering the Heathen prejudices of country, color, and race, guiding the judgment of the historian, animating the verse of the poet and the eloquence of the orator, ennobling human thought and conduct, and inspiring those good works by which alone we attain the summits of True Glory. Good Works! Such even now is the Heavenly Ladder on which angels are ascending and descending, while weary Humanity, on pillows of stone, slumbers heavily at its feet.
ILLUSTRATIONS REFERRED TO ON PAGE 38.
Civil War a Crime.—The terms describing civil war, employed by Roman writers, implicate both sides in its guilt and dishonor. Such phrases as the following occur in the "Pharsalia" of Lucan: "civile nefas" (Lib. IV. 172); "civilis Erinnys" (IV. 187); "crimen civile" (VII. 398). Eutropius says: "Hinc jam bellum civile successit, exsecrandum et lacrimabile." (Brev. Hist. Rom., Lib. VI. c. 19.) Of the war between Sulla and Marius Florus says: "Hoc deerat unum populi Romani malis, jam ut ipse intra se parricidale bellum domi stringeret, et in urbe media ac foro, quasi harena, cives cum civibus suis gladiatorio more concurrerent. Æquiore animo utcumque ferrem, si plebeii duces, aut si nobiles, mali saltem, ducatum sceleri præbuissent; cum vero, pro facinus! qui viri! qui imperatores! decora et ornamenta sæculi sui, Marius et Sulla, pessimo facinori suam etiam dignitatem præbuerunt." (Epit. Rerum Rom., Lib. III. c. 21.) The condemnation of the historian is aroused, not because of the wickedness of a contest among fellow-men, but among fellow-citizens, and because illustrious personages joined in it. But he is impartial in condemning both sides. Marius and Sulla alike are treated as criminals. The same judgment seems to be expressed with regard to Cæsar and Pompey. "Cæsaris furor atque Pompeii urbem, Italiam, gentes, nationes, totum denique qua patebat imperium, quodam quasi diluvio et inflammatione corripuit; adeo ut non recte tantum civile dicatur, ac ne sociale quidem, sed nec externum, sed potius commune quoddam ex omnibus, et plus quam bellum." (Ibid., Lib. IV. c. 2.) His description of what was called the Social War contains a principle which must condemn equally all strife among cognate nations or states: "Sociale bellum vocetur licet, ut extenuemus invidiam; si verum tamen volumus, illud civile bellum fuit. Quippe cum populus Romanus Etruscos, Latinos. Sabinosque miscuerit, et unum ex omnibus sanguinem ducat, corpus fecit ex membris, et ex omnibus unus est. Nec minore flagitio socii intra Italiam, quam intra urbem cives rebellabant." (Ibid., Lib. III. c. 18.)
No triumph, thanksgiving, or holiday for a conqueror in Civil War.—Valerius Maximus, in his chapter on Triumphs, shows how the victories of civil war were regarded in Rome. "Although," he says, "any one should perform illustrious and highly useful acts to the Republic in civil war, he was not on this account hailed as Imperator; nor were any thanksgivings decreed; nor did he enjoy a triumph or oration: because, howsoever necessary these victories might be, they were always regarded as mournful, inasmuch as they were obtained, not by foreign, but by domestic blood. Therefore Nasica and Opimius sorrowfully slew, the one the faction of Tiberius Gracchus, and the other that of Caius Gracchus. Quintus Catulus, after overthrowing his colleague, Marcus Lepidus, with all his seditious forces, returned to the city, showing only a moderated joy. Even Caius Antonius, the conqueror of Catiline, made his soldiers wipe their swords before taking them back to the camp. Lucius Cinna and Caius Marius, after eagerly draining the blood of citizens, did not proceed immediately to the temples and altars of the gods. So, too, Lucius Sulla, who waged many civil wars, and whose successes were most cruel and insolent, at his triumph, on the establishment of his power, carried in his procession the representations of many Greek and Asiatic cities, but of no town occupied by Roman citizens. It were grievous and wearisome to dwell longer on the wounds of the Republic. The Senate never gave the laurel to any one, nor did any one ever desire that it should be given to himself, while a part of the state was in tears." These last words deserve to be repeated in the original text: "Lauream nec Senatus cuiquam dedit, nec quisquam sibi dari desideravit, civitatis parte lacrimante." (Valerius Maximus, Lib. II. c. 8, § 7.) Florus, at the close of his chapter on the War with Sertorius, says, that the victorious leaders wished this to be regarded as a foreign rather than a civil war, in order that they might triumph: "Victores duces externum id magis quam civile bellum videri voluerunt, ut triumpharent." (Epit. Rerum Rom., Lib. III. c. 22.) Cæsar did not triumph over Pompey, although at a later day he shocked his fellow-citizens by a triumph over the sons of that leader. "All the world," says Plutarch, in his Life of Cæsar, "condemned his triumphing in the calamities of his country, and rejoicing in things which nothing could excuse, either before the gods or men, but extreme necessity. And it was the more obvious to condemn it, because, before this, he had never sent any messenger or letter to acquaint the public with any victory he had gained in the civil wars, but was rather ashamed of such advantages." (Lives, tr. Langhorne, Vol. IV. p. 387.)
A similar judgment of contests and battles between citizens appears in other writers. Appian, speaking of Caius Gracchus, says, that "all averted their countenances from him, as a man polluted with the blood of a citizen." (De Bellis Civilibus, Lib. I. c. 25.) The same author, in describing the triumphs of Cæsar on his return from Africa, says, that "he took care that there should be no triumphal inscription of his victories over Romans, his fellow-citizens, as both unbecoming himself, and shameful and of evil omen to the Roman people." (Ibid., Lib. II. c. 101.) We may follow this sentiment in the History of Dion Cassius. After describing the victory over Catiline, he says, "The victors themselves greatly bewailed the loss to the Commonwealth of such and so many men, citizens and allies, although justly slain." (Hist. Rom., Lib. XXXVII. c. 40.) Thus the justice of the war did not make it a source of glory. Dion says, that Pompey, after his success over Cæsar at Dyrrachium, "did not speak of it boastfully, nor did he wreathe his fasces with laurel, feeling a repugnance to doing anything of this sort on account of a victory over citizens." (Ibid., Lib. XLI. c. 52.) The manner in which he refers to Cæsar's conduct, also, after the battle of Pharsalia, is in harmony with that of the other classical writers. "Cæsar," he says, "sent no announcement of it to the people, being unwilling to appear to rejoice publicly over such a victory; wherefore he did not celebrate any triumph on account of it." (Ibid., Lib. XLII. c. 18.) But he pursued a different course with regard to his victory over the foreigner Pharnaces, which he announced in that famous epigrammatic epistle, "Veni, vidi, vici." Dion says, "Cæsar was prouder of this than of any other of his victories, although it was not very splendid." (Ibid., Lib. XLII. c. 48.) The same historian alludes to his triumph over the sons of Pompey, "having conquered no foreign enemy, but destroyed so large a number of citizens." (Ibid., Lib. XLIII. c. 42.) Crowns and public thanksgivings were decreed to Octavius Cæsar, after his victories over Antony; "but," says Dion, "they did not expressly name Antony, and the other Romans conquered with him, either at first or then, as though it were right to celebrate festivities over them." (Ibid., Lib. LI. c. 19.)
"The Tatler," in considering the Roman triumph, notices that "it was not allowed in a civil war, lest one part should be in tears, while the other was making acclamations." (No. LXIII.) And Hudibras, in a most suggestive passage, uses language applicable to all civil war:—
"What towns, what garrisons, might you
With hazard of this blood subdue,
Which now ye're bent to throw away
In vain untriumphable fray!"
Part I. Canto II. 499-502.
International War criminal, and as little worthy of honor as Civil War.—Erasmus dealt a blow at the distinction, still preserved among Christians, between civil war and foreign war. "Plato civile bellum esse putat, quod Græci gerunt adversus Græcos. At Christianus Christiano propius junctus est quam civis civi, quam frater fratri." (Erasmi Epist., Lib. XXII. Ep. 16.) The same idea is found in the Byzantine Gregoras: "Indecorum esse Christianis tanta cum acerbitate inter se armis certare, cum rationes sint conveniendi ad pacem et communes vires in impios vertendi." (Gregoras, Lib. X., De Alexandro Bulgaro, quoted by Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis, Lib. II. cap. 23, §8, No. 3, note.) Even here it is rather the Brotherhood of Christians than the Brotherhood of Man that is recognized. Assuming the latter, international war becomes criminal, and as little worthy of honor as civil war. It is a war among brothers.
Who can think of that contest between the two brothers Eteocles and Polynices without abhorrence? Who would think of awarding glory to Abel, if, in self-defence, he had succeeded in slaying his hostile brother, Cain? There is a play of Beaumont and Fletcher where two brothers are represented as drawing swords upon each other. When finally separated, they are addressed in words applicable to the contests of nations:—
"Clashing of swords
So near my house! Brother opposed to brother!
. . . . . . . Hold! hold!
Charles! Eustace!
. . . . . But these unnatural jars,
Arising between brothers, should you prosper,
Would shame your victory"
The Elder Brother, Act V. Sc. 1.
The unreasonableness of any True Glory in such a contest is felt by all at the present day, though there have been monsters or barbarians who gloried even in a kinsman's blood. Massinger, in his play of "The Unnatural Combat," has portrayed such a character. A father and son fight with each other. The father is victorious. His exultation in the death of his son is not unlike that which often attends the victories of Christian nations:—
"Were a new life hid in each mangled limb,
I would search and find it; and howe'er to some
I may seem cruel thus to tyrannize
Upon this senseless flesh, I glory in it,
. . . . . my falling glories
Being made up again, and cemented
With a son's blood."
The Unnatural Combat, Act II. Sc. 1.
The father, whose hands are wet with a son's blood, is thus addressed:—
"The conqueror that survives
Must reap the harvest of his bloody labor.
Sound all loud instruments of joy and triumph."
Ibid.
The soul revolts from such a triumph; but how does this differ from the triumphs of war? The enlightened morality of our age will yet confess that it is equally wrong to commemorate by thanksgiving or holiday any bloody success, even in a just contest, over our brother man.