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by hurling the javelin, and by enduring every kind of military labor." *

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But the Roman, who was taught the Glory of war, was also told, as a last resort, to shun the evils of the world by taking his own life, by falling on his sword, like Brutus, or opening his veins, like Seneca. Suicide was honorable, glorious. A grave historian has recorded the melancholy end of Marcus Cato at Utica, the general features of whose death are so familiar to English readers from Addison's tragedy; first, the calm perusal of Plato's Dialogue on the Immortality of the Soul; then the plunging of the dagger into his body; the alarm of friends; the timely presence of aid, by which the wound was closed; then, when the determined patriot was again left alone, a further ferocious persistence in his purpose till life was extinct; all this is crowned by the statement, that Cato, even by his death, gained great Glory.†

Other stages of Progress show still other elements of renown. The Huns bestowed Glory upon the successful robber; the Scandinavians, upon the triumphant pirate; while in Wales petty larceny and grossness of conduct were the foundations of Fame. There is a Welsh tale, called The Mabinogion, a monument of the early manners of that mountainous district which so long withstood the power of England, in which a mother gives to her son the rules of conduct which shall secure an honorable name. "Now, hear," says the ambitious mother to her child, "if by chance thou comest by a church, there chant thy Pater Noster. When thou seest victuals and drink to satisfy thy appetite, help + Dion Cassius, Lib. XLIII. c. 11.

* De Officiis, II. 13.

thyself thereto. If thou shouldst hear a cry of distress, go and know the cause; but in particular, if it is the voice of a female. Should any precious jewel attract thy eyes, take it. Thus shalt thou acquire Fame." The processes of Fame, which are thus rudely displayed, were refined by the age of chivalry; but the vivid pages of Froissart show, that, while courtsey was introduced as a fresh and grateful element, the petty triumphs of petty personal encounters with the spear and the sword were the honorable feats by which applause was won and a name extended after death. And we may learn from old Michael Drayton, the poet who has pictured the battle of Agincourt, the inhuman renown which was there obtained:

Who would have Fame full dearly here it bought,
For it was sold by measure and by weight;
And at one rate the price still certain stood,—
An ounce of honor cost a pound of blood.

It appears from the early literature of Spain, where chivalry found a favorite haunt, that brutality, assassination, and murder were often accounted glorious, and that adventure in robbery and promptitude in vengeance were favorite feats of heroism. The Life of the Valiant Cespedez, a Spanish knight of high renown, by Lope de Vega, reveals a succession of exploits, which were the performances of a brawny porter and a bully. All the passions of a rude nature were gratified at will. Sanguinary revenge and inhuman harshness were his honorable pursuit. With a furious blow of his clenched fist, in the very palace of the Emperor at Augsburg, he knocked out the teeth of a heretic,- an achievement which was hailed with honor

and congratulation by the Duke of Alva, and by his master, Charles the Fifth. Thus did a Spanish gentleman acquire Fame in the sixteenth century!

Such have been some of the objects of praise in other places and times. Such has been the Glory achieved. Men have always extolled those characters and acts, which, according to their knowledge or ignorance, they were best able to appreciate. Nor does this rule fail in its application to our day. The ends of pursuit vary still, in different parts of the globe and among different persons; and Fame is awarded, in some places or by some persons, to conduct which elsewhere or by others is regarded as barbarous. The North American savage commemorates the chief who is able to hang at the door of his wigwam a heavy string of scalps, the spoils of war. The New-Zealander honors the sturdy champion who slays, and then eats, his enemies. The can nibal of the Feejee Islands - only recently explored by an expedition from our shores-is praised for his adroitness in lying; for the dozen men he has killed with his own hand; for his triumphant capture, in bat tle, of a piece of tapa-cloth attached to a staff, not unlike one of our flags; and when he is dead, his club is placed in his hand, and extended across the breast, to indicate in the next world that the deceased was a chief and a warrior.t This is barbarous Glory! But among the nations professing Christianity, in our day, there is a powerful public opinion which yields honor to conduct from which we turn with disgust, as we dis

* Sismondi's Literature of the South of Europe, Vol. IV. pp. 5-19. + Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition, Vol III pp. 76, 80, 98.

renown.

cern it among the savages of our forest, or the cannibals of the Pacific. The triumphs of animal strength and of brutish violence are hailed as worthy sources of With a perverse insensibility to the relative value of different services, the chances and incidents of war are exalted above all the pursuits of peace. Victors, from fields moistened with a murdered brother's blood, are greeted with the grateful salutations that are justly due to those only who have triumphantly fulfilled the grand commandments on which hang all the law and the prophets.

Such is the controlling public opinion of our age and country. A people which regards success rather than those sacred objects for which alone success is worthy of desire, which has not yet discerned the beauty of humble and disinterested labors in the great causes by which the welfare of mankind is advanced, which has not yet admired the golden link of harmony by which all efforts of usefulness are bound together, which has not yet recognized as a vital truth the peculiar Christian sentiment of Human Brotherhood, regardless of any difference of country, color, or race, which does not feel, in the concerns of state, as of private life, the enkindling supremacy of those principles of Justice and Benevolence, which irradiate, with heavenly influences, the home of the poor, the minds. of the ignorant, and the solitude of the prison; which reveal the degradation of the slave, and the wickedness of war, while they exalt scholarship, invigorate eloquence, extend science and all human knowledge, such a people, not unnaturally, sends the reflection of its applause upon conduct less in harmony with truth,

virtue, goodness, than with its own imperfect spirit. And this is what is called reputation, Fame, Glory,fickle as a breeze, unsubstantial as a shadow. Well does the master poet of Italy say,

Naught is this mundane Glory, but a breath

Of wind, that now comes this way, and now that,
And changes name because it changes place.*

--

II. In determining that Glory is but a form or expression of public opinion, valuable, of course, only according to the character of those from whom it proceeds, the way is prepared for the consideration of the second question,- To what extent, if any, is it a proper motive of conduct or object of regard?

In the clear light of those Christian precepts which ordain exalted duties as the rule of life, this inquiry might be shortly answered. It may be well, however, to observe it in other aspects.

The subject of Glory occupied the minds of the philosophers of antiquity, who disputed much on its value. Chrysippus and Diogenes expressed for it unbounded contempt, declaring that it was not worth so much as the reaching forth of a finger.t Epicurus, under the natural guidance of his principles, enjoining repose and indifference to all public affairs, necessarily inculcated a similar contempt. His views were sententiously expressed in the precept of his school, Conceal thy life, and he did not hesitate to counsel his disciples to avoid regulating their conduct by the opinion of others or the reputation of the world. But it has been pleasantly

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* Dante, Purgatorio, Canto XI. 100. + Cicero, De Finibus, Lib. III. c. 17.

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