Another object of eager, ardent pursuit to a large number of our fellow-creatures is military glory. Multitudes seek the "bubble reputation" as the chief end of life, indifferent to the scenes of misery with which it is so closely connected. Few illusions, however, are in general more speedily dissipated than this. The youth who, dazzled by a brilliant uniform, allured by the gaieties and dissipation of the mess-room, or impelled by the love of adventure, quits his native country in search of "glory," soon finds his visions dispersed by the stern realities of a camp and the hardships of a military life.
In the journal of a soldier in the 72nd regiment, published at the conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars, an instance of this occurs. The author of it had been induced, in hopes of a life of pleasure, to enlist in the army and to forsake his home, greatly to the grief of his parents. A few years afterward, he was, when serving in the Peninsula, glad to be allowed to eat of the biscuits which he was employed to break for the hounds of the commander-in chief, at a time when provisions were scarce. "I ate them with tears," he says, "and thought of the Prodigal Son.”
Full of self-confidence, the young soldiers who attended Napoleon in his expedition to Moscow, shouted as they left Paris, ""We shall be back in six months!" They dreamed of conquest; but it was only the mirage. In a few months the mighty host of Napoleon, except a small remnant, was buried in the snows of Russia.
In the life of Lord Nelson it is striking to observe that, nearly at the time when the various potentates of Europe were showering down upon this hero presents of diamond-hilted swords, gold snuff-boxes, and crosses of honor, he was himself unable to enjoy his greatness, having for months been deprived of sleep by the injury done to a nerve in the amputation of one of his arms. Lally, a great French general in the last century, was rewarded by an ungrateful country with an ignominious death for his reverses in India. Suwarroff, the brave Russian general, after having served his empress and his country with great distinction, was treated in his declining years with mortifying neglect.
“On what foundation stands the warrior's pride,
How just his hopes let Swedish Charles decide;
His fall was destined to a barren strand,
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand;
He left the name, at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.”
One of the most remarkable instances, however, of the mirage of military glory and its inability, even when enjoyed to its full extent, to confer happiness on its possessor, is to be found in the life of LORD CLIVE, the founder of the British Empire in India, whom we now select as our type of The Hero.
Robert, afterward Lord, Clive, was born in Shropshire, in the year 1729, of parents in no way distinguished for opulence or rank. In early life, he displayed strong indications of those remarkable qualities which developed themselves in after years. The people of Market Drayton, it is said, long remembered stories told them by their parents of the future conqueror of India terrifying the village by climbing to the pinnacle of the church steeple and perching himself on a stone spout near the summit. Clive, so runs the tradition, organized a little regiment composed of his schoolfellows and, in the true spirit of a military commander, levied a tribute of halfpence from the shopkeepers as a species of tax for protecting their windows from being broken. It is related also by Clive's biographer that on one occasion when a dam broke which the boys had made across the street, for the purpose of overflowing the shop of a refractory tradesman who had probably declined payment of the tribute just mentioned, Clive, unhesitatingly, threw his body across the aperture in the work, and thus remained until the breach was repaired.
At an early period of his life Clive proceeded as a mercantile clerk to India, having received employment in the East India Company's service. The possessions of that body were then small and limited, and its troops scarcely numerous enough to man a few batteries. Madras was the point to which the youthful hero first bent his steps. On his arrival there he soon gave marks of his determined spirit and insensibility to fear. He chastised a person who had been the bully of his regiment and gained a reputation for energy and decision of character. Amongst the various requisites, however, for true success which he had taken with him to India, one was forgotten: the fear of God was not before his eyes. Dejected by some trifling disappointment, he twice attempted to commit suicide. Twice the pistol was raised to his head, but twice the trigger refused to move. Shortly afterward a friend came in, and Clive desired him to fire the same pistol out of the window. He did so, and the weapon was discharged with ease. Clive was filled, not with gratitude at the forbearing mercy of God, but with selfish elation. "I see," he exclaimed, "that I am reserved for something great." Soon after this, he resigned his situation as a clerk and obtained an ensigncy in a regiment of foot.
It would be impracticable, even if it were desirable, to give in this work a sketch of his wonderful career. When a mere youth, he signalized himself by raising with a handful of men the siege of an important city. The whole of his force consisted of 200 Englishmen and 300 native soldiers. Of the eight officers who accompanied him only two had before been in action. The weather was stormy; but Clive pushed on, through rain, lightning and thunder, to the gates of the city. The besieging party, in alarm, withdrew on his approach without striking a blow. Afterward, however, they returned to the attack, and, with elephants whose heads were armed with iron plates, endeavored to batter down the gates of the city, but in vain. They next tried to starve Clive and his garrison; and it was then that the Hindu soldiers under his command made their memorable speech: "Give us," they said, "as provisions are failing, give us the water in which the rice is boiled; it is sufficient for our support. Let the Europeans take the grain.”
Such was the commencement of Clive's military career, and the remainder corresponded with it. He laid the foundation of the British Empire in India, and displayed, although untaught in the art of war, a genius equal to that of the most experienced commanders. Victory succeeded victory. His history is one roll of successes. No scruple of conscience, however, was allowed to check him when expediency appeared to demand an opposite course. "He no sooner," says Mr. Macaulay, "found himself matched against an Indian intriguer, than he became himself one, and descended to falsehood, to hypocritical caresses, to the substitution of documents, and to the counterfeiting of signatures." He had aimed, however, at worldly greatness, and he gained his end. Wealth was heaped upon him in piles. One Indian prince gave him a pension of £30,000 a year, and on another occasion added to it a present of £300,000. There was indeed no limit to his acquisitions but his own moderation. "Had you seen," said he, on one occasion, "the treasury of the Nabob and the piles of gold, silver and diamonds, amidst which I walked, you would have thought me moderate in taking the above sum.”
He gained the highest honors also. When a youth of twenty-seven, he received from the East India Company a diamond-hilted sword, and was thrice appointed by it to the highest offices at its disposal. His sovereign elevated him to the peerage; and the great Earl of Chatham praised him in the British senate as a distinguished genius and a master of the art of war. "The whole kingdom," wrote his father, "is in transports at the glory and success you have gained. Come away, and let us rejoice together.”
Laden with honors, with wealth, which he used not ungenerously, and with glory, Clive returned to England in the prime of life, intending to devote himself to the enjoyment of his immense fortune. Here, then, it may be thought, was one, at least, whose acquisitions were substantial— who had found the substance and not the shadow. Alas! it was only the mirage. The years of enjoyment to which he had looked forward were filled with melancholy and dissatisfaction. Some important reforms which he had introduced into the government of India provoked opposition and raised up bitter enemies. An impeachment against him, contemplated in the House of Commons, threatened to strip him of all his wealth. It was with some difficulty quashed, but Clive's spirits never recovered the blow. Having sought prosperity without reference to the favor of God, his mind, in the retrospect of life, could find no point of satisfaction on which it might repose. Wedded to glory, and pluming himself on his vast achievements, his pride was wounded and his feelings lacerated by the ungrateful treatment which he had received. Broken health, too, began to afflict him. He, who had conquered so many provinces, was unable, apparently, to subdue his own spirit; and poor amidst abundant wealth—wretched amidst a load of honors—the soldier of fortune terminated his life by his own hand. Such was the end of a military career brilliant with success, but uncontrolled by Christian principles. He had pursued "glory" as his end in life, and he had found it the mirage.
“Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches: but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth Me, that I am the Lord which exercise lovingkindness, judgment and righteousness, in the earth" (Jer. 9:23-2423Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man glory in his riches: 24But let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord. (Jeremiah 9:23‑24)).