mortal should venture to penetrate her hidden places, suspends unfinished works, and descends to the lower world for succor against the conqueror. Before the gates of Erebus, under the walls of the Stygian city,— "Ante fores Erebi, Stygiæ sub mœnibus urbis,” 1 — are sisters, monsters of the earth, representing every vice, thirst of gold, drunkenness, gluttony, treachery, detraction, envy, hypocrisy, adulation. In a distant recess is a perpetual furnace, where crimes are punished, but not with equal flames, as some are tormented more lightly and others more severely. Leviathan is in the midst of his furnace; but he drops his serpent form, and assumes the divine aspect he had worn when wishing to share the high Olympus, "Cum sidere solis Clarior intumuit, tantamque superbia mentem To him the stranger appeals against the projects of Alexander, which extend on one side to the unknown. sources of the Nile and the Garden of Paradise, and on the other to the Antipodes and ancient Chaos. The infernal monarch convenes his assembly on the plains. where agonize the souls of the wicked in undying torments, and where, as in the Inferno of Dante, ice and snow, as well as fire, are punishments. The satraps of Styx are collected, and the ancient Serpent addresses sibilations from his hoarse throat: : "Hic ubi collecti satrapæ Stygis et tenebrarum, Consedere duces, et gutture sibila rauco Edidit antiquus serpens."4 1 Lib. X. 41. 2 Ibid., 89-91. Ibid., 123, 124. 4 Ibid., 131-133. He commands the death of the Macedonian king before his plans can be executed. Treason rises and proposes poison. All Hell applauds; and Treason, in disguise, fares forth to instruct the agent. The whole scene suggests sometimes Dante and sometimes Milton. Each was doubtless familiar with it. Meanwhile Alexander returns to Babylon. The universe is in suspense, not knowing to which side he will direct his arms. From all quarters ambassadors come to his feet. In the pride of power he is universal lord. At a feast, surrounded by friends, he drinks the fatal cup. His end approaches, showing to the last grandeur and courage. The poet closes, as he began, with salutation to his patron. Such is the sketch of a curiosity of literature. It is interesting to look upon this little book, which for a time played so considerable a part; to imagine the youthful students once nurtured by it; to recognize its relations to an age when darkness was slowly yielding to light; to note its possible suggestions to great poets who followed, especially to Dante; and to behold it lost from human knowledge, and absolutely forgotten, until saved by a single verse, which, from its completeness of form and its proverbial character, must live as long as the Latin language. The verse does not occupy much room; but it is a sure fee-simple for the poet. And are we not told by an ancient, that it is something, in whatsoever place or corner, to have made one's self master of a spot big enough for a single lizard? "Est aliquid, quocumque loco, quocumque recessu, 1 Juvenal, Sat III. 230, 231. A poem of ten books shrinks to a very petty space. There is a balm of a thousand flowers, and here a single hexameter is the express essence of many times a thousand verses. It was the jest of Hamlet, conversing with Horatio in the churchyard, that the noble Alexander, returning to dust and loam, had stopped a bung-hole. But the memorable poem celebrating him, while reduced as much, may be put to far higher and more enduring use. MORAL. as AT the conclusion of a fable there is a moral, or, sometimes called, the application. There is a moral now, or, if you please, the application. And, believe me, in these serious days, I should have little heart for literary diversion, if I did not hope to make it help those just principles which are essential to the well-being, if not the safety, of the Republic. To this end I have written. This article is only a long whip with a snapper. Two verses rescued from the wreck of a once popular poem have become proverbs, and one of these is very famous. They inculcate clemency, and the common sense found in not running upon one danger to avoid another. Never was the lesson more needed than now, when, in the name of clemency to belligerent traitors, the National Government is preparing to abandon the freedman, to whom it is bound by the most sacred ties, is preparing to abandon the national creditor also, with whose security the national welfare is indissolubly associated, and is even preparing, without probation or trial, to invest belligerent traitors, who for four bloody years have murdered our fellow-citizens, with those Equal Rights in the Republic which are denied to friends and allies, so that the former shall rule over the latter. Verily, here is a case for com mon sense. The lesson of clemency is of perpetual obligation. Thanks to the medieval poet for teaching it! Harshness is bad. Cruelty is detestable. Even justice may relent at the prompting of mercy. Fail not, then, to cultivate the grace of clemency. Perhaps no scene in history is more charming than that of Cæsar, who, after vows against an enemy, listened calmly to the appeal for pardon, and, listening, let the guilty papers fall from his hand. Early in life he had pleaded in the Senate for the lives of conspirators; and afterwards, when supreme ruler of the Roman world, practised the clemency he had once defended, except where enemies were incorrigible, and then he knew how to be rigorous and firm. By example we are instructed; and from the great master of clemency we may well learn that the general welfare must not be sacrificed to this indulgence. And also from the Divine Teacher we may learn, that, even while forgiving enemies, there are Scribes and Pharisees to be exposed, and moneychangers who must be scourged from the temple. But with us are Scribes and Pharisees, and there are also criminals, worse than any money-changers, now trying to establish themselves in the very temple of our Gov ernment. Cultivate clemency. But consider well what is embraced in this charity. It is not required that you surrender the Republic into the hands of pardoned criminals. It is not required that you surrender friends and allies to the tender mercies of these same pardoned criminals. Clearly not. Clemency has limitations; and when it transcends these, it ceases to be a virtue, and is only a mischievous indulgence. Of course, one of these limitations, never to be disregarded, is the general security, which is the first duty of Government. No pardon can be allowed to imperil the nation; nor can any pardon be allowed to imperil those rightfully looking to us for protection. There must be no vengeance upon enemies; but .there must be no sacrifice of friends. And here is the distinction never to be forgotten. Nothing for vengeance; everything for justice. Follow this rule, and the Republic will be safe and glorious. Words attributed to Marcus Aurelius in a letter to his colleague in empire, Lucius Verus, are worthy to be repeated now by the chief of the Republic: "Ever since the Fates Placed me upon the throne, two aims have I Not to revenge me on my enemies, And not to be ungrateful to my friends." 1 It is easy for the individual to forgive. It is easy, also, for the Republic to be generous. But forgiveness of offences must not be a letter of license to crime; it must not be recognition of an ancient tyranny, and it must not be stupendous ingratitude. There is a familiar saying, with the salt of ages, that is addressed to us now: "Be just before you are generous." Be just to all before you are generous to the few. Be just to the millions only half rescued from oppression, before you are generous to their cruel taskmasters. Do not imitate that precious character in the gallery of old Tallemant des Réaux, "who built churches with 1 Blackwood's Magazine, Vol. XCVIII. p. 346, September, 1865. |