The sins of revenge have usually a leaven of what Bacon calls "wild justice" in them. Those of avarice are, from their very nature, notorious; but perhaps no motive has ever prompted men to such varied and singular actions as that of fear. The working of fear was singularly exhibited in the conduct of a certain Marquis of Montferrat, who lived at the period of the famous Italian wars, waged between Charles V. of Germany and Francis I. of France. The marquis was an Alpine feudatory of the former, and served him long and faithfully, till a German astrologer of high repute in those days assured him, from the stars, that the emperor would be eventually overthrown, and all his partisans utterly ruined. To avoid his probable share in that prediction, the marquis turned traitor to his friend and sovereign, for Charles had trusted him beyond most men; but the next year, the emperor was completely victorious, by both sea and land. The marquis had fallen, fighting in vain for Francis, and his fief was bestowed on a loyal vassal of the emperor.
Divines and philosophers have had many controversies concerning motives. A great dispute on this subject is said to have engaged the learned of Alexandria, about the accession of the emperor Julian, whom, says a biographer, "some of his subjects named the Apostate, and some the Philosopher." The controversy occupied not only the Christian Platonists, for whose numbers that city was so celebrated, but also the Pagan wisdom, then shedding its last rays under favor of the new emperor. Yet neither Christians nor Pagans could entirely agree with each other, and such a division of opinion had never been heard, even in Alexandria. Things were in this state, says the tradition, when there arrived in the capital of Egypt a Persian, whose fame had long preceded him. He had been one of the Magi, at the base of the Caucasus, till the Parthians laid waste his country, when he left it, and travelled over the world in search of knowledge, and, in both east and west, they called him Kosro the Wise. Scarce was the distinguished stranger fairly within their gates when the chiefs of the parties determined to hear his opinion on matter; and a deputation, consisting of a Christian bishop, a Jewish rabbi, a Platonist teacher, and a priest of Isis, waited on the Persian one morning, when he sat in the portico of a long-deserted temple, which some forgotten Egyptian had built to Time, the instructor. The rabbi and the priest were for actions. The Platonist and the bishop were motive men, but in the manner of those times, for even philosophy has its fashions, the four had agreed that each should propose a question to Kosro, as his own wisdom dictated. Accordingly, after some preparatory compliments, touching the extent of his fame and travels, the Platonist, who was always notable for circumlocution, opened the business by inquiring what he considered the chief movers of mankind.
"Gain and vanity," replied Kosro.
"Which is strongest?" interposed the rabbi, in whom the faculty of beating about in argument was scarcely less developed.
"Gain was the first," said the Persian. "Its worship succeeded the reign of Ormuz, which western poets call the golden age, and I know not when it was; but, in later ages, vanity has become the most powerful, for every where I have seen men do that for glory which they would not do for gain; and many even sacrifice gain to glory, as they think it."
"But, wise Kosro," demanded the priest, impatient with what he considered a needless digression, "tell us your opinion—Should men be judged by their motives or their actions?"
"Motives," said Kosro, "are the province of divine, and actions of human, judgment. Nevertheless, because of the relation between them it is well to take note of the former when they become visible in our light, yet not to search too narrowly after them, but take deeds for their value; seeing, first, that the inward labyrinth is beyond our exploring; secondly, that most men act from mingled motives; and, thirdly, that if, after the thought of a western poet, there were a crystal pane set in each man's bosom, it would mightily change the estimation of many."
And the bishop made answer—"Kosro, thou hast seen the truth; man must at times perceive, but God alone can judge of, motives."