Chapter VI: Front Matter (6)

Tanto major famæ sitis est quam
Virtutis! Quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam,
Præmia si tollas?

JUVENAL, _Sat._ X. 140-142.

Wealth and children are the ornament of this present life; but
good works, which are permanent, are better, in the sight of thy
Lord, with respect to the reward, and better with respect to
hope.--_Koran_, tr. Sale, Ch. 18.

For ages mingled with his parent dust,
Fame still records Nushirovan the Just.

From the PERSIAN, by Sir William Jones: _Life_, p. 98.

Then Peredur returned to his mother and her company, and he said
to her, "Mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights."
Then his mother swooned away.--_The Mabinogion_, tr. Lady Charlotte
Guest, Vol. I. p. 300.

One day he met a poor woman weeping bitterly; and when he inquired
the cause, she told him that her only brother, her sole stay and
support in the world, had been carried into captivity by the
Moors. Dominick could not ransom her brother; he had given away
all his money, and even sold his books, to relieve the poor; but
he offered all he could,--he offered up himself to be exchanged
as a slave in place of her brother. The woman, astonished at
such a proposal, fell upon her knees before him. She refused
his offer, but she spread the fame of the young priest far and
wide.--JAMESON, _Legends of the Monastic Orders: St.
Dominick_.

Lord! what honor falls to a knight that he kills many men! The
hangman killeth more with a better title. It were better to be
butchers of beasts than butchers of our brethren, for this were
more unnatural.--WYCLIFFE, _Of the Seven Deadly Sins_.

Gueres ou peu il s'est aydé des gens d'espée en ses ambassades,
si-non que de ses gens de plume, ayant opinion que l'espée ne sceut
tant bien entendre ses affaires, ny les conduire et démesler, comme
la plume.--BRANTÔME, _Vies des Hommes Illustres et Grands
Capitaines François_, Discours XLV.

He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.

SHAKESPEARE, _Titus Andronicus_, Act I. Sc. 2.

Honors thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers.

_All's Well that Ends Well_, Act II. Sc. 3.

The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation: that away,
Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

_Richard II._, Act I. Sc. 1.

'Tis death to me to be at enmity:
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.

_Richard III._, Act II. Sc. 1.

Never any state
Could rise or stand without this thirst of glory,
Of noble works, as well the mould as story.
For else what governor would spend his days
In envious travel for the public good?
Who would in books search after dead men's ways?

F. GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE, _Fame and Honor_.

Boccaline has this passage of soldiers. They came to Apollo to have
their profession made the eighth liberal science, which he granted.
As soon as it was noised up and down, it came to the butchers, and
they desired their profession might be made the ninth. "For," say
they, "the soldiers have this honor for the killing of men: now we
kill as well as they; but we kill beasts for the preserving of men,
and why should not we have honor likewise done to us?" Apollo could
not answer their reasons, so he reversed his sentence, and made the
soldier's trade a mystery, as the butcher's is.--SELDEN,
_Table Talk: War_.

The soldiers say they fight for honor, when the truth is they have
their honor in their pocket.--_Ibid._

Certainly, as some men have sinned in the principles of Humanity,
and must answer for not being men, so others offend, if they be
not more.... For great constitutions, and such as are constellated
unto knowledge, do nothing, till they outdo all; they come short
of themselves, if they go not beyond others.... A man should be
something that all men are not, and individual in somewhat beside
his proper name.

SIR THOMAS BROWNE, _Vulgar Errors: Of Credulity and Supinity_.

Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed,
And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds;
On both his wings, one black, the other white,
Bears greatest names in his wild aëry flight.

MILTON, _Samson Agonistes_, 971-974.

The extremes of glory and of shame,
Like East and West, become the same;
No Indian prince has to his palace
More followers than a thief to the gallows.

BUTLER, _Hudibras_, Part II. Canto I. 271-274.

Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the name,
And free from Conscience, is a slave to Fame.

DENHAM, _Cooper's Hill_, 129, 130.

The secret pleasure of a generous act
Is the great mind's great bribe.

DRYDEN, _Don Sebastian_, Act V. Sc. 1.

On pend un pauvre malheureux pour avoir volé une pistole sur le grand chemin, dans son besoin extrême; et on traite de héros un homme qui fait la conquête, c'est-à-dire qui subjugue injustement les pays d'un état voisin.... Prendre un champ à un particulier est un grand péché; prendre un grand pays à une nation est _une action innocente et glorieuse_.--FÉNELON, _Examen de Conscience sur les Devoirs de la Royauté_, Direction XXV.

Content thyself to be obscurely good;
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honor is a private station.

ADDISON, _Cato_, Act IV. Sc. 4.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call;
She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all.

POPE, _Temple of Fame_, 513, 514.

To glory some advance a lying claim,
Thieves of renown and pilferers of fame.

YOUNG, _Sat._ III. 87, 88.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar?

BEATTIE, _Minstrel_, I. 1.

I would wish for immortality on earth for no other reason than for the power of relieving the distressed.--MARIA THERESA: Coxe's _History of the House of Austria_, Vol. II. Ch. 44.

Adieu, mon cher et illustre maître; nous avons fait un beau rêve, mais il a été trop court. Je vais me remettre à la géométrie et à la philosophie. Il est bien froid de ne plus travailler que pour la gloriole, quand on s'est flatté pendant quelque temps de travailler pour le bien public.--CONDORCET, _à Voltaire_, 1776: _OEuvres_, Tom. I. p. 115.

Un temps peut arriver, où les princes, lassés de l'ambition
qui les agite, et de ce retour habituel des mêmes inquiétudes
et des mêmes projets, tourneront davantage leurs regards vers
les grandes idées d'Humanité; et si les hommes du temps présent
ne doivent pas être spectateurs de ces heureuses révolutions,
il leur est permis du moins de s'unir par leurs voeux à la
perfection des vertus sociales, et aux progrès de la bienfaisance
publique.--NECKER, _De l'Administration des Finances de la
France_, Part. I. Ch. 13.

Les nations ne doivent porter que le deuil de leurs bienfaiteurs.
Les représentans des nations ne doivent recommander à leur hommage
que les héros de l'humanité.--MIRABEAU, _Éloge Funèbre de
Franklin_.

I have had occasion to know many thousand persons in the
course of my travels on this subject [of the Slave-Trade],
and I can truly say that the part which these took on this
great question was always a true criterion of their moral
character.--CLARKSON, _History of the Abolition of the
African Slave-Trade_, Vol. II. p. 460.

Not thus the schoolmaster in his peaceful vocation.... His is
a progress not to be compared with anything like a march; but
it leads to a far more brilliant triumph, and to laurels more
imperishable than the destroyer of his species, the scourge of the
world, ever won. Such men--men deserving the glorious title of
Teachers of Mankind--I have found laboring conscientiously, though
perhaps obscurely, in their blessed vocation.... Their calling is
high and holy; their fame is the property of nations; their renown
will fill the earth in after ages, in proportion as it sounds not
far off in their own times.--LORD BROUGHAM, _Speech at
Liverpool, July 20, 1835_.

Lieutenant-Colonel Wheeler, in his despatch (Camp Cudjah,
August 24, 1840) to Captain Douglas, describing the storming of
an Afghanistan fort, says: "I directed Lieutenant Paterson to
concentrate as heavy a volley as he could close to the gate:
this had the desired effect, shook the gate, and enabled the
Grenadiers of the Forty-Eighth, under that officer, to force it,
and carry the fort _in beautiful style, bayoneting all within
it_!"--HAYDON, _Lectures on Painting and Design_, Vol. II.
p. 262.

ORATION.

The literary festival which we are assembled to commemorate is called Commencement. To an interesting portion of my hearers it is the commencement of a new life. The ingenuous student, having completed his term of years--a classical Olympiad--amidst the restraints of the academy, in the daily pursuits of the lecture-room, observant of forms, obsequious to the college curfew, at length renounces these restraints, heeds no longer the summoning bell, throws off the youthful gown, and now, under the auspices of Alma Mater, assumes the robe of manhood. At such a change, the mind and heart open to impressions which may send an influence through remaining life. A seasonable word to-day may, peradventure, like the acorn dropped into propitious soil, shoot upward its invigorating growth, till its stately trunk, its multitudinous branches, and sheltering foliage become an ornament and protection of unspeakable beauty.

Feeling more than I can express the responsibility of the position in which I am now placed by your partial kindness, I trust that what I shall say may be not unworthy of careful meditation, and that it may ripen in this generous soil with no unwelcome growth. I address the literary societies of Amherst College, and my subject will naturally bear some relation to the occasion and to the assembly. But though addressing literary societies, I feel that I should inadequately perform my duty at this time, if I spoke on any topic of mere literature, without moralizing the theme; nor could I satisfy myself,--I think I should not satisfy you,--if I strove to excite merely a love of knowledge, of study, of books, or even of those classics which, like the ancient Roman roads, the Appian and Flaminian Ways, once trod by returning proconsuls and tributary kings, still continue the thoroughfares of nations. These things I may well leave to the lessons of your able instructors and to the influences of this place; nor, indeed, can I expect to touch upon any topic which, under the mingled teachings of the pulpit and the chair, has not been already impressed upon your minds with more force than I can command. Still, I may not vainly indulge the hope, by singling one special theme, to present it with distinctness and unity, so that it will be connected hereafter, in some humble measure, with the grave and the pleasant memories of this occasion.

To you now standing on the threshold of life, anxious for its honors,--more anxious, I hope, for its duties,--nothing can be more important or interesting than the inquiry, what should be your aims, and what your motives of conduct. The youthful bosom throbbing with historic examples is stirred by the praises lavished upon those who have gone before, and pants for fresh fields. The laurels of Miltiades would not suffer Themistocles to sleep. Perhaps a kindred sleeplessness consumes the early thoughts of our day, and, in those visions which it is said young men shall see, Fame and Glory too often absorb the sight. Turning the attention in this direction, we may, perhaps, ascertain the true nature of these potent attractions, and to what extent they can be justly regarded.

* * * * *

My subject is FAME AND GLORY. As I undertake this discussion, I feel that I enter upon a theme which has become a commonplace of declamation, while it has filled the aspirations of many of the noblest natures that have lived. The great Roman orator, whose essay _De Gloria_, surviving the wreck of antiquity, was lost in the darkness of the Middle Ages, cannot claim exclusive possession of the topic he had fondly made his own; nor is there enough in the chapter _De Cupiditate Gloriæ_, by the Roman historiographer,[186] to supersede inquiry, especially in a Christian age, when a speaker may hope to combine lights and illustrations which had not dawned upon the Heathen.

[186] Valerius Maximus, Lib. VIII. c. 14.

Three questions present themselves: _First_, What, in the more popular acceptation, are Fame and Glory? _Secondly_, To what extent, if any, are they proper motives of conduct or objects of regard? and, _Thirdly_, What are True Fame and Glory, and who are the men most worthy of honor? Already, in stating these questions, scenes and characters memorable in history rise before us, while from a distance we discern the dazzling heights of human ambition.

I.

What, in the more popular acceptation, are Fame and Glory? In considering this question we must look beyond the verses of poets, the eulogies of orators, and the discordant voices whether of history or philosophy. We must endeavor to observe these nimble-footed phantoms from a nearer point of view, to follow their movements, to note their principle of life, and to direct upon them the light of truth. Thus we may hope to arrive at a clear perception of their character, and perhaps do something by which to disenchant their pernicious power and break their unhappy sorcery.

Fame was portrayed by the poets of antiquity as a monster, with innumerable eyes to see, innumerable ears to hear, and innumerable tongues to declare what she had seen and heard:--

"Monstrum horrendum, ingens, cui quot sunt corpore plumæ,
Tot vigiles oculi subter (mirabile dictu),
Tot linguæ, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures."[187]

[187] Æneid, IV. 181-183.

In this character her office was different from that commonly attached to Glory. She was the grand author and circulator of reports, news, tidings, good or bad, true or false. Glory seems to have escaped the unpleasing personification of her sister, Fame. These two names were often used in the same sense; but the former more exclusively designated that splendor of renown which was so great an object of heathen ambition. For the present purpose they may be regarded as synonymous, denoting, with different degrees of force, the reputation awarded on earth for human conduct.

Glory, in common acceptance, is a form or expression of public opinion. It is the judgment uttered by fellow-mortals upon our lives or acts. It is the product of their voices. It is the echo of their characters and minds. Its value and significance are, therefore, measured by the weight justly attached to this opinion. If those from whom it proceeds are enlightened, benevolent, and just, it may be the mark of honor. If, on the other hand, they are ignorant, heartless, or unjust, it must be an uncertain index, varying always in accordance with the elevation, mediocrity, or degradation of the intellectual and moral nature.

This explanation enables us to appreciate different foundations of Fame. In early and barbarous periods homage is rendered exclusively to achievements of physical strength, chiefly in slaying wild beasts or human beings termed "enemies." The feats of Hercules, filling the fable and mythology of early Greece, were triumphs of brute force. Conqueror of the Nemean lion and the many-headed hydra, strangler of the giant Antæus, illustrious scavenger of the Augean stables, grand abater of contemporary nuisances, he was hailed as hero and commemorated as god. At a later time honor was still continued to mere muscular strength of arm. The most polite and eminent chief at the siege of Troy is distinguished by Homer for the ease with which he hurled a stone such as could not be lifted even by two strong men of his day:--

"A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw,
Pointed above, and rough and gross below;
Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise,
Such men as live in these degenerate days;
Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear
The snowy fleece, he tossed and shook in air."[188]

This was Glory in an age which had not learned to regard the moral and intellectual nature, or that which distinguishes man from the beast, as the only source of conduct worthy of just renown.

[188] Iliad, tr. Pope, XII. 537-542.

As we enter the polished periods of antiquity, ambition gleams in new forms, while we still discern the barbarism that slowly yields to advancing light. The Olympic games echoed to the Isthmian in shouts of praise. All Greece joined in competition for prizes awarded to successful charioteers and athletes; and victory was hailed as a great Glory. Poets did not disdain to sing these achievements; and the odes of Pindar--the Theban eagle, whose pride of place is still undisturbed in the Grecian firmament--are squandered in commemoration of these petty or vulgar contests. In Sparta honor was the monopoly of the soldier returning with his shield, or on it. The arts of peace yielded servile precedence to the toils of war, in which were absorbed life and education. Athens, instinct with the martial spirit, did not fail to cherish the owl with the spear that belonged to her patron goddess; poetry, eloquence, philosophy, history, art, held divided empire with arms; so that this city is wreathed with a Glory other and higher than that of Sparta. And yet this brilliant renown, admired through a long succession of ages, must fade and grow dull by the side of triumphs grander and holier than any achieved by force or intellect alone.

Rome slowly learned to recognize labors not employed in war. In her stately and imperatorial tongue, _virtue_, that word of highest import, was too often restricted to martial courage. Her much-prized crowns of honor were all awarded to the successful soldier. The title to a triumph, that highest object of ambition, was determined by the number of enemies destroyed, and at least five thousand must have been slain in battle without any considerable detriment to the Roman power. Her most illustrious characters cherished this barbarous spirit. Cato the Censor, that model Roman, hearing that the Athenian ambassadors had captivated the youth of Rome by the charms of philosophy, abruptly dismissed them, and, with the spirit of a Mohawk Indian, declared his reprehension of such corrupting influence on a people whose only profession was war. Even Cicero, in his work of beautiful, but checkered morals, where heathenism blends with truth almost Christian, commends to youth the Glory of war, while he congratulates his son Marcus on the great praise he had obtained from Pompey and the whole army, "by riding, hurling the javelin, and enduring every kind of military labor."[189]

[189] De Officiis, Lib. II. c. 13.

The Roman, taught the Glory of war, was also told, as a last resort, to balk the evils of the world by taking his own life,--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 Cato at Utica, whose philosophical suicide is 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; and when the determined patriot was again left alone, a further ferocious persistence in his purpose till life was extinct: yet this recital is crowned by the annunciation, that Cato, "even by his death, gained great Glory."[190]

[190] Dion Cassius, Lib. XLIII. c. 11.

Other stages show 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. In the Welsh tale of "The Mabinogion," where are stories of King Arthur, so famous in song and legend, Peredur, whose dead father had owned "the earldom of the North," is sent by his mother to visit where lived "the best and the boldest and the most bountiful of men." As the son is about to leave, the mother instructs him how to secure an honorable name. "Now hear," says the ambitious mother to her child. "If by chance thou comest by a church, there chant thy paternoster. When thou seest victuals and drink to satisfy thy appetite, help thyself thereto. If thou shouldest 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; and bestow on others also. _Thus shalt thou acquire Fame._"[191] The processes of Fame thus rudely displayed were refined by chivalry; but the vivid page of Froissart shows, that, while courtesy became a fresh and grateful element, petty personal encounters with spear and sword were the honorable feats by which applause was won and a name extended after death. And we learn from old Michael Drayton, the poet who has pictured the Battle of Agincourt, something of the inhuman renown 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_."[192]

[191] Southey, Chronicles of the Cid, Note 53.--In the translation
by Lady Charlotte Guest this passage is somewhat mitigated. The
Mabinogion, Vol. I. p. 300.

[192] Battle of Agincourt, st. 287.

From the early literature of Spain, where Chivalry found a favorite haunt, it appears that brutality, assassination, and murder were glorious, while adventure in robbery and promptitude in vengeance were favorite acts of heroism. "The Life of the Valiant Cespedes," a Spanish knight of renown, by Lope de Vega, reveals exploits which were little better than performances of a brawny porter and a bully. Passions of a rude nature were gratified at will. Sanguinary revenge and inhuman harshness were his honorable pursuits. A furious blow of his clenched fist, in the very palace of the Emperor at Augsburg, knocked out the teeth of a heretic,--an achievement 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![193]

[193] Sismondi's Literature of the South of Europe, Vol. IV. pp.
8-16.

Such, in other places and times, have been objects of praise. Such is the Glory achieved. Men have extolled what, according to their knowledge or ignorance, they could best appreciate. Nor does this rule fail in our day. The ends of pursuit vary in different parts of the globe and among different persons; and Fame is still awarded to conduct which reason condemns as barbarous. The North American savage commemorates the chief who hangs at the door of his wigwam a heavy string of scalps, the spoils of war. The New-Zealander honors the champion who slays and then eats his enemy. The cannibal 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 triumphant capture, in battle, of a piece of tapa-cloth attached to a staff, not unlike one of our flags; and when 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.[194] This is barbarous Glory! But among nations professing Christianity, in our day, there is a powerful public opinion exulting in conduct from which we turn with disgust, as we discern it among the savages of our forest, or the cannibals of the Pacific. The triumphs of animal strength and of brutal violence are hailed as famous. With perverse insensibility to the relative value of human acts, the chances and incidents of war are exalted above the pursuits of peace. Victors from fields moistened with a brother's blood are greeted with grateful salutations, justly due to those only who have triumphantly fulfilled the grand commandments on which hang all the law and the prophets.

[194] Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition, Vol.
III. pp. 76, 80, 98.

Such is controlling public opinion in our age and country. A people that regards success rather than those objects for which alone success is worthy of desire,--that has not yet discerned the beauty of humble and disinterested labor in the great causes by which mankind is advanced,--that has not yet admired the golden link of harmony by which all efforts of usefulness are bound together,--that has not yet recognized the peculiar Christian sentiment of Human Brotherhood, without difference of country, color, or race,--that does not feel, in the concerns of state, as of private life, the enkindling supremacy of those principles of Justice and Benevolence which send their heavenly radiance into the home of poverty, the darkness of ignorance, and the solitude of the prison, which exhibit 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, applauds 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,--

"Nought is this mundane Glory but a breath
Of wind, that comes now this way and now that,
And changes name because it changes side."[195]

[195] Dante, Divina Commedia: _Purgatorio_, Canto XI. 100-102.

II.

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

If we were ready to follow implicitly those simple precepts of Christianity which ordain exalted duties as the rule of life, this inquiry might be answered shortly. It is well to pursue it in other aspects.

Glory occupied the philosophers of antiquity, who disputed much on its value. Chrysippus and Diogenes held it in unbounded contempt, declaring that it was not worth extending a finger for.[196] Epicurus, under the natural guidance of principles enjoining repose and indifference to public affairs, inculcated a similar contempt. His views were expressed sententiously in the precept of his school, _Conceal thy life_; and he did not hesitate to warn against regulating conduct by the opinion of others or the reputation of the world. Montaigne has pleasantly remarked, that even this philosopher, when death was at hand, relaxed from the insensibility he had enjoined,--dwelling upon the memory of his teachings, and by his will ordering his heirs to provide, in every recurring January, a festival to honor the day of his birth.[197]

[196] Cicero, De Finibus, Lib. III. c. 17.

[197] Essays, Book II. ch. 16: _Of Glory_. The will is preserved in
the Life of Epicurus by Diogenes Laertius, Lib. X. c. 10. See also
Cicero, De Finibus, Lib. II. c. 30, 31.

On the other hand, Carneades maintained that Glory is to be sought for its own sake,--an opinion which has not failed to find much sympathy and many followers.[198] Aristotle regarded it as the greatest and most invaluable of external goods, and warned against two extremes, both, in his opinion, equally vicious,--excess in seeking and in avoiding.[199] But it is to the Roman orator that we are to look for the most vivid defence of this, the master passion of his youth, manhood, and age.

[198] Cicero, De Finibus, Lib. III. c. 17.

[199] Ethics, Lib. II. c. 7; Lib. IV. c. 3, 4.

The influence exerted by Cicero over the opinions of mankind renders this feature of his character important. Of a less solid understanding than Demosthenes and Aristotle,--the former of whom, in his most masterly oration, vindicated for himself a crown, the badge of Glory, while the latter, as we have already seen, was not insensible to its attractions,--he is more conspicuous than either for the earnestness and constancy with which he displays its influence, the frankness with which he recognizes it as a supreme motive and reward, and the seductive eloquence with which he commends it as an object of vehement and perpetual ambition. On his return from those studies in Athens by which his skill as an orator was so much enhanced, he consulted the Oracle at Delphi, not to learn how best his great powers and accomplishments might be devoted to the good of mankind, but by what means he might soonest arrive at the height of Glory. The answer of the Oracle, though imperfect and heathen, was in a higher mood than the inquiry. It was, "By making his own genius, and not the opinion of others, the guide of life." Arrived in Rome, he was fired by the fame of Hortensius at the bar, and commenced his forensic career in emulous rivalry of that illustrious lawyer. In all the manifold labors of subsequent life, as orator, statesman, general, rhetorician, poet, historian, critic, and philosopher, the aspiration for renown was the _Labarum_ by which he was guided and inspired. It was to him the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night.

In Cicero this sentiment was ennobled, so far as possible with a desire so selfish, by the eminent standard which he established for the Glory so much coveted. In one of his orations he characterizes it as "the illustrious and extended Fame of many and great deserts, either towards friends, or towards country, or towards the whole race of men."[200] And again, in the calmness of those philosophical speculations by which his name is exalted, not less than by the eloquence which crushed Catiline, won the clemency of Cæsar, and blasted the character of Antony, he declares that "Glory is the united praise of the good, the incorrupt voice of the true judges of eminent virtue, responding to virtue as an echo, and, being for the most part an attendant on good deeds, ought not to be disdained by good men."[201] This is the picture of True Glory; nor were there any occasion of criticism, if he had striven to do the good works to which Fame responds as an echo, without regard to his own advancement.

[200] Pro Marcello, 8.

[201] Tusc. Quæst., Lib. III. c. 2.

However elevated his conception of Glory, he sought it for its own sake. He wooed it with the ardor of a lover, and embraced it as the bride of his bosom. In that unsurpassed effort for his early teacher, the poet Archias, where the union of literary and professional studies is vindicated with a beauty equal to the cause, he makes public profession of his constant desire for Fame. In quoting his words on that occasion, I present a vindication of this sentiment which has exerted immeasurable influence over the educated world, and is, beyond question, the most eloquent and engaging that ever fell from mortal lips. "Nor is this," says he, "to be dissembled which cannot be concealed, but it is to be openly avowed: we are all influenced by the love of praise, and the best are chiefly moved by Glory. The philosophers themselves inscribe their names even in those little books which they write on contempt of Glory; in the very productions in which they express disdain of Praise and Fame they wish to gain Praise and Fame for themselves.... And now, O judges, I will declare myself to you, and confess to you my love of Glory, too strong, perhaps, but nevertheless honorable.... For virtue desires no other reward of its toils and dangers than Praise and Glory: this being withdrawn, what is there in our poor brief career of life that can induce us to undertake such great labors? Surely, if the soul did not look forward to posterity, if all its thoughts were confined within the bounds by which the span of life is circumscribed, it would neither waste its strength in labors so arduous, nor vex itself with so many cares and watchings, nor would it fight so often for life itself. But now there is in every good man a certain virtue, stirring the soul night and day with the incentive of Glory, and admonishing us that the remembrance of our name must not be suffered to pass away with our life, but should be made to endure through all futurity."[202] This certainly is frank. And in another oration Cicero sharply declares that no man exerts himself with praise and virtue in the perils of the republic who is not moved thereto by the hope of Glory and a regard to posterity.[203]

[202] Pro Archia, 11.

[203] Pro C. Rabirio, 10.

Thus distinctly recognizing human applause as an all-sufficient motive of conduct, and professing his own dependence upon it, we cannot be surprised at his sedulous efforts to fortify his Fame, nor even at the iterations of self-praise with which his productions abound. In that interesting collection of letters, so much of which is happily spared to us, disclosing the aims and aspirations of his life, there is melancholy evidence of the pernicious sway of this passion, even in his noble bosom. With an immodest freedom, which he vindicates to himself by the remarkable expression, that _an epistle does not blush_, he invites his friend Lucceius to undertake the history of that portion of his life rendered memorable by the overthrow of the Catilinarian conspiracy, his exile, and return to his country; and, not content with dwelling on the variety and startling nature of the incidents, with the scope they would naturally afford to the accomplished historian, whose Glory, he subtly suggests, may in this way be connected forever with his own, as is that of Apelles with the Glory of Alexander, he proceeds so far as to press his friend, if he does not think the facts worth the pains of adorning, yet to allow so much to friendship, to affection, and to that favor which he had so persuasively condemned in his prefaces, as not to confine himself scrupulously to the strict laws of history or the requirements of truth.[204] Thus, in the madness of his passion for Glory, would he suborn that sacred verity which is higher than friendship, affection, or any earthly favor!

[204] Epistolæ ad Diversos, Lib. V. 12.--The letter to Lucceius
seems to have been a favorite, as it is a most remarkable,
production of its author. Writing to Atticus, he says, "_Valde
bella est_," and seeks to interest him in the same behalf. (Ad
Atticum, Lib. IV. 6.) Pliny, who looked to the pen of Tacitus
for Fame, but in a higher spirit than Cicero, expressly declares
that he does not desire him to give the least offence to truth.
"Quanquam non exigo ut excedas actæ rei modum. Nam nec historia
debet egredi veritatem, et honeste factis veritas sufficit."--Plin.
Epistolæ, Lib. VII. 33.

A character like Cicero, compact of so many virtues, resplendent with a genius so lofty, standing on one of the most commanding pinnacles of classical antiquity, still admired by the wide world, hardly less than by the living multitudes that once chafed about the rostrum like a raging sea and were stilled by the music of his voice,--such a character cannot fail to exert a too magical charm over the young, especially where its lessons harmonize with the weakness rather than with the sternness of our nature,--with the instinctive promptings of selfishness, rather than with that disinterestedness which places duty, without hope of reward, without fear or favor, above all human consideration. It is most true that he has kindled in many bosoms something of his own inextinguishable ardors; and the American youth--child of a continent beyond the Atlantis of his imagination, and lifted by institutions he had never seen, even in his vision of a Republic--feels a glow of selfish ambition, as, in tasks of the school, he daily cons the writings of this great master.

His influence is easily discerned in the sentiments of those whose scholarly nurture has brought them within the fascination of his genius. I refer, by way of example, to Sir William Jones, a character of much purity, and of constant sympathy with freedom and humanity, not less than with various labors of learning and literature. In one of his early letters he said that he wished "absolutely to make Cicero his model";[205] while in another he shows himself a true disciple, by loyalty to the same motive of conduct which animated the Roman. "Do not imagine," says Jones, "that I despise the usual enjoyments of youth. No one can take more delight in singing and dancing than I do, nor in the moderate use of wine, nor in the exquisite beauty of the ladies, of whom London affords an enchanting variety; _but I prefer Glory, my supreme delight, to all other gratifications, and I will pursue it through fire and water, by day and by night_."[206] Here is frankness kindred to that of his Roman exemplar.

[205] Letter to H.A. Schultens, October, 1774: Life, by Lord
Teignmouth, p. 126.

[206] Letter to C. Reviczki, March, 1771: Ibid., p. 96.

It will be proper to pause, in this review of opinion, and endeavor, by careful analysis, to comprehend the just office of this sentiment, which is elevated to be the guide of conduct and aim of life.

Unquestionably, as we are constituted, Glory does exert an imperious control. Its influence is widely and variously felt, though seeming to diminish with advancing years, with the growth of the moral and intellectual nature, with the development of the Christian character, and in proportion as the great realities of existence here and hereafter engross the soul. The child is sensitive to it in earliest dalliance on a parent's knee. Here is an element of that unamiable selfishness which pervades his crude nature, rendering him jealous and envious of caress and praise bestowed upon another. His little bosom palpitates with unrestrained ardors, which in children of a larger growth animate conquerors, and those whom the world calls "great." As he mingles with playmates, the same passion enters into his sports, and attends the exercises of the school. He is covetous of evanescent applause among his peers. He struggles for this fragile Glory,--a bubble blown by the breath of boys.

In maturer years a similar solicitude continues, modified by period and circumstance. The youth putting away childish things rarely forgets the sentiment of emulation; while not insensible to the desire of _excellence_, he is animated by the desire of _excelling_. I do not mention this for any austere criticism, but as a psychological fact. And when preparation gives place to action, then this same sentiment, which absorbed the child and animated the youth, reappears in the confirmed ambition of manhood. Now, under loftier name, and with mien of majesty, it beckons to competition with the masters of human thought and conduct, filling his bosom with a pleasing frenzy. He is aroused by

"the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(_That last infirmity of noble mind_)
To scorn delights and live laborious days."[207]

[207] Milton, Lycidas, 70-72.

He burns to impress his name upon the age, and to challenge the gratitude of posterity. For this he enters the lists with voice, pen, or, it may be, the sword. Like Themistocles, he is sleepless from the laurels of those who have gone before; like Alexander, he sighs for some new world to conquer; like Cæsar, he pours fruitless tears, because, at the age of the dying Alexander, he has done nothing memorable; like Cicero, he dwells upon the applause of men, and draws from it fresh inspiration to labor; and even if he writes against Glory, it is, according to Pascal, for the Glory of writing well. This is the _Love of Glory_, a sentiment which lurks in every stage and sphere of life,--with the young, the middle-aged, and the old,--with the lowly, the moderate, and the great,--under as many _aliases_ as a culprit,--but, in all its different forms and guises, having one simple animating essence, the passion for the approbation of our fellow-men.[208] By a touch of exquisite nature, Dante reveals the suffering spirits, in the penal gloom and terror of another world, clothed in the weakness of mortal passion, and, unconscious of the true glories of Paradise, still tormented by the desire to be spoken of on earth.[209] And Pascal echoes Dante, when, with that point which is so much his own, he says that "we lose life itself with joy, provided men speak of the loss."[210]

[208] "Nulla est ergo tanta humilitas, quæ dulcedine gloriæ non
tangatur."--Val. Max., Lib. VIII. c. 14, § 5.

[209]

"Però se campi d 'esti luoghi bui,
E torni a riveder le belle stelle,
Quando ti gioverà dicere: l'fui,
_Fa che di noi alla gente favelle_."

_Inferno_, Canto XVI. 82-85.

[210] Pensées, Part. I. Art. V. sec. 2: _Vanité de l'Homme_.

This desire lies deep in the human heart. It is a sentiment implanted at birth. It is kindred to other sentiments and appetites, whose office is to provide for our protection. It is like the love of wealth or the love of power, desires which all feel in a certain degree to be part of their being. Recognizing it, then, as an endowment from the hand of God, we may hesitate to condemn its influence at all times and under all circumstances. Implanted for some good, it is our duty to comprehend its true function. This is not difficult.

The Love of Glory, then, is a motive of human conduct. But the same Heavenly Father who endowed us with the love of approbation has placed in us other sentiments of a higher order, more kindred to his own divine nature. These are Justice and Benevolence, both of which, however imperfectly developed or ill directed, are elements of every human soul. The desire of Justice, filling us with the love of Duty, is the sentiment which fits us to receive and comprehend the sublime injunction of doing unto others as we would have them do unto us. In the predominance of this sentiment, enlightened by intelligence, injustice becomes impossible. The desire of Benevolence goes further. It leads all who are under its influence to those acts of kindness, disinterestedness, humanity, love to neighbor, which constitute the crown of the Christian character. Such sentiments are celestial, godlike, in their office.

In determining proper motives of conduct, it is easy to perceive that the higher are more commendable than the lower, and that even an act of Justice and Benevolence loses something of its charm when known to be inspired by the selfish desire of human applause. It was the gay poet of antiquity who said that concealed virtue differed little from sepulchred sluggishness:--

"Paulum sepultæ distat inertiæ
Celata virtus."[211]

[211] Hor., Carm. IV. ix. 29, 30.

But this is a heathen sentiment, alien to reason and to truth. It is hoped that men will be honest, but from a higher motive than because honesty is the best policy. It is hoped that they will be humane, but for nobler cause than the Fame of humanity.

The love of approbation may properly animate the young, whose minds have not yet ascended to the appreciation of that virtue which is its own exceeding great reward.[212] It may justly strengthen those of maturer age who are not moved by the simple appeals of duty, unless the smiles of mankind attend them. It were churlish not to offer homage to those acts by which happiness is promoted, even though inspired by a sentiment of personal ambition, or by considerations of policy. But such motives must always detract from the perfect beauty even of good works. The Man of Ross, who was said to

"Do good by stealth, and blush to find it Fame,"

was a character of real life, and the example of his virtue may still be prized, like the diamond, for its surpassing rarity. It cannot be disguised, however, that much is gained where the desire of praise acts in conjunction with the higher sentiments. If ambition be our lure, it will be well for mankind, if it unite with Justice and Benevolence.

[212] "Virtutum omnium pretium in ipsis est. Non enim exercentur ad
præmium; recte facti fecisse merces est."--Seneca, Epist. LXXXI. 17.

It may be demanded if we should be indifferent to the approbation of men. Certainly not. It is a proper source of gratification, and is one of the just rewards on earth. It may be enjoyed when virtuously won, though it were better, if not proposed as the object of desire. The great English magistrate, Lord Mansfield, while confessing a wish for popularity, added, in words which cannot be too often quoted, "But it is that popularity which follows, not that which is run after; it is that popularity which, sooner or later, never fails to do justice to the pursuit of noble ends by noble means."[213] And the historian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, who was no stranger to the Love of Glory, has given expression to the satisfaction which he derived from the approbation of those whose opinions were valuable. "If I listened to the music of praise," says Gibbon, in his Autobiography, "I was more seriously satisfied with the approbation of my judges. The candor of Dr. Robertson embraced his disciple. A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid the labor of ten years."[214] It would be difficult to declare the self-gratulation of the successful author in language more sententious or expressive.

[213] Rex _v._ Wilkes, 4 Burrow's Reports, 2562.

[214] Memoirs: Miscellaneous Works, p. 94.

While recognising praise as an incidental reward, though not a commendable motive, we cannot disregard the evil which ensues when the desire for it predominates over the character, and fills the soul, as is too often the case, with a blind emulation chiefly solicitous for personal success. The world, which should be a happy scene of constant exertion and harmonious coöperation, becomes a field of rivalry, competition, and hostile struggle. It is true that God has not given to all the same excellences of mind and heart; but he naturally requires more of the strong than of the many less blessed. The little we can do will not be cast vainly into his treasury; nor need the weak and humble be filled with any idle emulation of others. Let each act earnestly, according to the measure of his powers,--rejoicing always in the prosperity of his neighbor; and though we may seem to accomplish little, yet we shall do much, if we be true to the convictions of the soul, and give the example of unselfish devotion to duty. This of itself is success; and this is within the ambition of all. Life is no Ulyssean bow, to be bent only by a single strong arm. There is none so weak as not to use it.

In the growth of the individual the intellect advances before the moral powers; for it is necessary to know what is right before we can practise it; and this same order of progress is observed in the Human Family. Moral excellence is the bright, consummate flower of all progress. It is often the peculiar product of age. And it is then, among other triumphs of virtue, that Duty assumes her commanding place, while personal ambition is abased. Burke, in that marvellous passage of elegiac beauty where he mourns his only son, says, "Indeed, my Lord, I greatly deceive myself, if, in this hard season, I would give a peck of refuse wheat for all that is called Fame and Honor in the world."[215] And Channing, with a sentiment most unlike the ancient Roman orator, declares that he sees "nothing worth living for but the divine virtue which endures and surrenders all things for truth, duty, and mankind."[216]

[215] Letter to a Noble Lord: Works, Vol. VII. p. 417.

[216] Letter to James G. Birney: Works, Vol. II. p. 175.

Such an insensibility to worldly objects, and such an elevation of spirit, may not be expected at once from all men,--certainly not without something of the trials of Burke or the soul of Channing. But it is within the power of all to strive after that virtue which it may be difficult to reach; and just in proportion as duty becomes the guide and aim of life shall we learn to close the soul against the allurements of praise and the asperities of censure, while we find satisfactions and compensations such as man cannot give or take away. The world, with ignorant or intolerant judgment, may condemn; the countenance of companion may be averted; the heart of friend may grow cold; but the consciousness of duty done will be sweeter than the applause of the world, than the countenance of companion, or the heart of friend.

III.

From this survey of Glory, according to common acceptance, and of its influence as a motive of conduct, I advance to the third and concluding head,--What are True Fame and Glory, and who are the men most worthy of honor? The answer is already implied, if not expressed, in much of the discussion through which we have passed; but it may not be without advantage to dwell upon it more at length.

From the vicious and barbarous elements entering into past conceptions of Glory, it is evident that there must be a surer and higher standard. A degraded public opinion naturally fails to appreciate excellence not in harmony with its own prejudices, while it lavishes regard upon conduct we would gladly forget. Genius, too, in all ages, (such is the melancholy story of Humanity,) has stooped to be sycophant, apologist, or friend of characters never to be mentioned without disgust. Historian, poet, and philosopher, false to every sacred office, have pandered to the praise of those who should have been gibbeted to the condemnation of mankind. Lucan, the youthful poet of Freedom, offers in his "Pharsalia" the incense of adulation to the monster Nero; Quintilian, the instructor, pauses in his grave "Institutes of Oratory" to speak of the tyrant Domitian as _most holy_; Paterculus, the historian, extols Tiberius and Sejanus; Seneca, the philosopher, condescends, in his treatise on Consolation, to flatter the imbecile Claudius; while, not to multiply instances in modern times, Corneille, the grandest poet of France, prefaced one of his tragedies with a tribute to the crafty tyrant Mazarin; and our own English Dryden lent his glowing verse to welcome and commemorate a heartless, unprincipled monarch and a servile court.

Others, while refraining from eulogy, unconsciously surrender to sentiments and influences, the _public opinion_, of the age in which they Live,--investing barbarous characters and scenes, the struggles of selfishness and ambition, and even the movements of conquering robbers, with colors too apt to fascinate or mislead. Not content with that candor which should guide our judgment alike of the living and the dead, they yield sympathy even to injustice and wrong, when commended by genius or elevated by success, and especially if coupled with the egotism of a vicious patriotism. Not feeling practically the vital truth of Human Brotherhood, and the correlative duties it involves, they are insensible to the true character and the shame of transactions by which it is degraded or assailed, and in their estimate depart from that standard of Absolute Right which must be the only measure of true and permanent Fame.

Whatever may be temporary applause, or the expression of public opinion, it may be asserted without fear of contradiction, _that no true and permanent Fame can be_ _founded except in labors which promote the happiness of mankind_. If these are by Christian means, with disinterested motives, and with the single view of doing good, they become that rare and precious virtue whose fit image is the spotless lily of the field, brighter than Solomon in all his Glory. Earth has nothing of such surpassing loveliness. Heaven may claim the lustre as its own. Such labors are the natural fruit of obedience to the great commandments. Reason, too, in harmony with these laws, shows that the true dignity of Humanity is in the moral and intellectual nature, and that the labors of Justice and Benevolence, directed by intelligence and abasing that part which is in common with beasts, are the highest forms of human conduct.

In determining the praise of actions, four elements may be regarded: _first_, the difficulties overcome; _secondly_, the means employed; _thirdly_, the motives; and, _fourthly_, the extent of good accomplished. If the difficulties are petty, or the means employed low, vulgar, barbarous, there can be little worthy of highest regard, although the motives are pure and the results beneficent. If the motives are selfish, if a desire of power or wealth or Fame intrude into the actions, they lose that other title to regard springing from beauty and elevation of purpose, even if the conduct be mistaken or weak, and the results pernicious. Horne Tooke claimed for himself no mean epitaph, when he asked for himself after death the praise of good intentions. Still further,--if little or no good arises, and the actions fail to be ennobled by high and generous motives, while the means employed are barbarous and unchristian, and the difficulties overcome are trivial, then surely there is little occasion for applause, although worldly success or the bloody eagle of victorious battle attend them.