Chapter 6 No.6

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 plum?,

Tot vigiles oculi subter (mirabile dictu),

Tot lingu?, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures."[187]

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 Ant?us, 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.

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]

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]

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]

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]

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.

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]