and of war were distinct things; and a third said that the noise of arms deafened the voice of laws, this man was not precluded from listening to the laws of civility and pure courtesy.  Had he not borrowed from his enemies the custom of sacrificing to the Muses when he went to war, that they might by their sweetness and gaiety soften his martial and rigorous fury?  Let us not fear, by the example of so great a master, to believe that there is something unlawful, even against an enemy, and that the common concern ought not to require all things of all men, against private interest: 

“Manente memoria, etiam in dissidio publicorum
foederum, privati juris:” 

["The memory of private right remaining even amid
public dissensions.”—­Livy, xxv. 18.]

              “Et nulla potentia vires
               Praestandi, ne quid peccet amicus, habet;”

["No power on earth can sanction treachery against a friend.” 
—­Ovid, De Ponto, i. 7, 37.]

and that all things are not lawful to an honest man for the service of his prince, the laws, or the general quarrel: 

“Non enim patria praestat omnibus officiis....
et ipsi conducit pios habere cives in parentes.”

     ["The duty to one’s country does not supersede all other duties. 
     The country itself requires that its citizens should act piously
     toward their parents.”—­Cicero, De Offic., iii. 23.]

Tis an instruction proper for the time wherein we live:  we need not harden our courage with these arms of steel; ’tis enough that our shoulders are inured to them:  ’tis enough to dip our pens in ink without dipping them in blood.  If it be grandeur of courage, and the effect of a rare and singular virtue, to contemn friendship, private obligations, a man’s word and relationship, for the common good and obedience to the magistrate, ’tis certainly sufficient to excuse us, that ’tis a grandeur that can have no place in the grandeur of Epaminondas’ courage.

I abominate those mad exhortations of this other discomposed soul,

              “Dum tela micant, non vos pietatis imago
               Ulla, nec adversa conspecti fronte parentes
               Commoveant; vultus gladio turbate verendos.”

["While swords glitter, let no idea of piety, nor the face even of a
father presented to you, move you:  mutilate with your sword those
venerable features “—­Lucan, vii. 320.]

Let us deprive wicked, bloody, and treacherous natures of such a pretence of reason:  let us set aside this guilty and extravagant justice, and stick to more human imitations.  How great things can time and example do!  In an encounter of the civil war against Cinna, one of Pompey’s soldiers having unawares killed his brother, who was of the contrary party, he immediately for shame and sorrow killed himself:  and some years after, in another civil war of the same people, a soldier demanded a reward of his officer for having killed his brother.