St Ignatius College - Ignatian Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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1U THE IGNATIAN of battle we were not shockedg we were not horrifiedgiwe were inspired by that same mysterious, irresistible emotion. We felt that such a death is glorious. Come to the- bridal chamber, Death, Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake's shock, the ocean storm, And thou art terrible! , But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. We tell his doom without a sighg For he is Freedom's now, and Fame's- One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die. In more mature years, as we emerged from the fanciful days of childhood, as we learned to appreciate the purpose of various wars, and as we began to realize what great causes, what great principles, what great blessings are won and lost through the cruel arbitrament of the sword, then our enthu- siasm was increased, our thrilling interest in war was intensi- fied. The Crusades were fought that the sacred soil of Palestine might be purged of the sacrilegious, scoiiing Sara- cen. Are we disgusted at the .cost in blood and in life of those holy wars? No, we are aflame with the holy cause. Our revolution was fought that our nation might be free. Do we not thrill at the recollection of each sad event of that sorrowful time? Our Civil War was fought that our nation, conceived in liberty, might endure. It was fought to spread the cause of freedom through the world. just as we have felt the thrill of war, so people of every century have been influenced by the same subtle emotion. We are not surprised therefore to End that war is the pre- dominant note in all literature. Poets and orators, thrilling ., if .wwuiamwvw f- f Wi, - w? .

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THE GLAMOUR OF WAR 9 maddened action of the battlefield. War crushes the thriving cities and leaves a desolate ruin, a fruitless field, a dreary waste. Many civilizations there have been, epoch-making triumphs of mankind, the growth of evolutionary develop- ment. They have held their allotted sway upon the earthg they have reached heights in arts, in science, never known before. But even these vast civilizations have found their ruin by the sword. War has shaken their lirmarnent until, like the falling stars, they have plunged from the very zenith of glorious achievements down into the abyss of degradation, This is the record of war. When we consider War's direful pictureg those scenes of grieving families, broken homes, ruined cities, wasted nations and tottering civilizations, we fully realize that war is terrible. Yet, strange to say, in spite of all this horror, there is a glamour, a fascination, an almost inexplicable witchery, that inspires us with admirationg there is a thrill which makes our hearts beat quickly. Let us consider for a while this thrill, its effect on literature and the cause of the thrill. We all remember how in days of childhood we listened with beaming eyes and with a feverish emotion of youth to those strange old tales of battles and of wars, of brave deeds and valiant men. How our young breasts thrilled at such inspiring stories. How we loved to hear our parents at eventide tell us of Richard the Lion-Hearted and his bold Crusaders, or of the daring knights of the Round Table, or of Napoleon's lightning strokes. How we loved to paint with the rich coloring of the youthful mind those glorious scenes. just as, long ago, the boy Spartacus, sitting at the feet of his aged grandsire, heard with throbbing temples and cheeks aglow with a mysterious ardor, those rousing tales of Marathon and Leuctra, so we in childhood days desired to hear those stirring tales of wars and heroes. . We were thrilled not only with the deeds, but even with the death of heroes. Yes, even at tales of death in the ranks

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.1 THE GLAMOUR OF WAR 11 with the spirit of war, have gloried in the war theme. We have no time to even mention the hundreds of stirring war anthems and songs and odes and tales and speeches of every nation, so we shall give our attention to a few of the more eminent authors. Homer, the master poet of all ages, has painted with unfading colors the ten years' war of Troy. As the pure waxen lily bursts from the stagnant pond, as the silken corn with grains of living gold springs from corruption, so also the beautiful works of Homer have taken being from the blood-soaked fields of Troy. The characters of the Homeric poems have been an in- spiration to all succeeding ages. There is the wise Ulysses, fertile of resources, indomitable of will. His .love-like wis- dom and unconquerable will are ever at the service of his country. He is ever planning new schemes to help the Grecian cause. Now in the assembly of kings he stands to offer godlike wisdomg now amid the brawling soldiery he stirs up wild enthusiasm. Although he has suffered greatly for his native land, both with those that loved him, and alone, on shore, and when through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades vext the dim seag yet he finds it dull to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use. mighty Achilles grieving Beside a snow-white tent sits over an injustice done him. Without his aid the tide of battle turns against the Greeks. But when he hears of the slaughter of his friends, he enters into battle and none dare stand against him. To avenge the death of his friends he seals the doom of Troy, and amid the glory of the con- quest yields up his own life for those he loves. Homer not only arouses admiration for the numerous selfless heroes and heroines of the war, but holds up to everlasting contempt the selfish slackers. When the cox- comb, Paris, fled from battle he sought refuge among the