In human discord is thy dire delight,
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight:
No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells.”—Pope.
Os. Surely, as war is so bad a thing, there might be some way of preventing it.
Fa. Alas! I fear mankind have been too long accustomed to it, and it is too agreeable to their bad passions, easily to be laid aside, whatever miseries it may bring upon them. But, in the meantime, let us correct our own ideas of the matter, and no longer lavish admiration upon such a pest of the human race as a Conqueror, how brilliant soever his qualities may be; nor ever think that a profession which binds a man to be the servile instrument of cruelty and injustice is an honourable calling.
The Gain of a Loss, p. [344].
EVENING XXVIII.
GREAT MEN.
“I will show you a great man,” said Mr. C. one day to his son, at the time the duke of Bridgewater’s canal was making. He accordingly took him to a place where several workmen were employed in raising a prodigious mound, on the top of which the canal was to be carried across a deep valley. In the midst of them was a very plain-dressed man, awkward in his gestures, uncouth in his appearance, and rather heavy in his countenance—in short, a mere countryman like the rest. He had a plan in his hand and was giving directions to the people around him, and surveying the whole labour with profound attention. “This, Arthur,” said Mr. C., “is the great Mr. Brindley.”
“What,” cried Arthur in surprise, “is that a great man?”