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 JUDAS ISCARIOT 
 
 OR 
 
 KINGS and TRAITORS 
 
 Wilber Allen CampbeU 
 
 
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JUDAS ISCARIOT; 
 
 «♦* OR «♦» 
 
 KINGS AND TRAITORS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 A LECTURE 
 
 -BY- 
 
 REV. WILDER ALLEN CAMPBELL. 
 
 PRESS OF CURTS & JENNINGS, 
 CHICAGO, J897. 
 
PS /^sz. 
 
 e C * c r "^ * ' 
 
 Copyrigrht, 1897, by 
 WILBER AI^LEN CAMPBEI.I.. 
 

 :^- 
 
 JUDAS ISCARIOT; 
 
 •OR- 
 
 KINGS AND TRAITORS. 
 
 ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 In opening this lecture I will present for your 
 study brief biographical pictures of the three trai- 
 tors of history : Benedict Arnold, the Duke of 
 Marlborough, and Judas Iscariot. 
 
 Shakespeare tells us that 
 
 " The evil that men do lives after them, 
 The good is oft interred with their bones." 
 
 But I have noticed that that depends largely upon 
 which they do last. A doer of good may at the 
 last day of his life by one fell stroke overturn the 
 good deeds of a lifetime. While a doer of evil may 
 on his last day, in penitence and repenitance, recom- 
 pense fourfold the evil deeds of a lifetime. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive of darker, blacker 
 crimes than those committed by King David : adul- 
 tery, perfidy, murder ! And all from the vilest 
 motives. Yet the heart that plotted murder, and 
 the ruin of Bathsheba afterwards repented in sack- 
 
6 
 
 cloth and ashes; and the hand that killed, and that 
 crucified virtue afterwards gathered the gold and 
 the silver for the Temple, and indited the Psalms; 
 and the heart of David became so tender and affec- 
 tionate that he would gladly have died for the 
 unnatural Absalom. 
 
 Not so Benedict Arnold. The good which he 
 had done was smothered by the venomous breath of 
 treachery; and the fair name which he had won for 
 himself was by his own hand exchanged for a 
 traitor's pottage. 
 
 It has been truly said that Benedict Arnold was 
 as brave a man as ever lived. It was but the turn 
 of a die that made him ''Arnold the traitor" instead 
 of ''Arnold the patriot." But it was his own 
 hand that turned that die. Benedict Arnold saw 
 the ladder of fame stoop to take him upon its 
 shoulders; he saw the gilded chariot of honor pause 
 at his threshold to invite him to its purple seat; and 
 he gazed upon the laurel wreath of victory which 
 a new nation was about to place upon his brow. 
 But the ladder of fame he spurned; and the chariot 
 of honor he challenged; and the laurel wreath of 
 victory he brushed aside, to see it afterwards ex- 
 changed for a crown of guilt. 
 
 This man was so great a lover of independence 
 that he gave his private fortune of seventy-five 
 
7 
 
 thousand dollars to equip the American army of the 
 Revolution. More than that, he offered his life- 
 blood upon the altar of American independence. 
 He was one of the first in the field ; he led his 
 troops like a king ; he fought like a demon ; he 
 charged at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and by his 
 matchless manoeuvering they fell; he took St. Johns; 
 Washington selected him from among all his gener- 
 als and sent him across the trackless jungles of 
 Maine to take Quebec. His army waded through 
 sloughs of despond, and carried the army impedi- 
 menta hundreds of miles, in the dead of winter, 
 over rough quarries, rocks, hills and precipices, and 
 never halted until Quebec was reached. And on all of 
 that lonely march Arnold was not in the rear, but in 
 the lead. Their food became exhausted; starvation 
 stared them in the face; the hour arrived when the 
 last ration was to be measured out, an ounce of pork 
 to each man, which ounce of pork was to sustain 
 life only until the morrow, when, with the mocking 
 kisses of the morning sun, that stalwart army was 
 to fall upon its face and die in the pangs of hunger 
 and starvation. Then it was that Benedict Arnold 
 rose to his loftiest manhood, and dividing his own 
 ounce of pork with two of his soldiers, he com- 
 manded them to keep their faces westward; and 
 rising to the full stature of a conqueror, he shouted: 
 
8 
 
 ** On to Quebec! Washington and America!" and 
 he safely led his troops into camp at the Canadian 
 fort. 
 
 When Washington bowed his head in anguish, 
 bereft of hope, it was Benedict Arnold who lifted 
 up his arms, and who held his head above the 
 drowning waters of despair. 
 
 But alas for Arnold ! On a single night he 
 quenched his spark of hope that shined so brightly; 
 he heaped upon his victories the ignominy of a 
 revenge so black, that it mocks the color of the 
 starless night; and those dearly won titles, ''Victor,*' 
 ** Hero,'' '' Conqueror," he exchanged for a cross of 
 infamy, with the superscription: ** Traitor!" On 
 that fateful night, when America was sleeping peace- 
 fully, and entrusting her liberty and her wives and 
 her children to his safe-keeping, Benedict Arnold 
 stooped himself into the shriveled Mr. Hyde, and 
 whispered to the red-coat spy: *' Here are the keys to 
 West Point." And when Mr. Hyde got through with 
 him he kicked him over onto English soil, where he 
 died a few years later, pennyless and without a 
 friend. 
 
 Those last sad years in London were years of 
 self-reproach and bitter remorse. The iron frame 
 which had withstood so many battles and weary 
 marches through the wilderness at last broke down 
 
under the torture of lost friendships and merited 
 disgrace. And now, as, broken in spirit and weary 
 of life, he felt the last sad hour coming on, his mind 
 kept reverting to his friend and lover, Washington — 
 Washington, who stayed by the ship and she never 
 went down! — and he called for his American uni- 
 form, and he put it on; and he decorated himself in 
 those epaulettes and swordknots which Washington 
 had given him after his victory at Saratoga. 
 
 He was in a rude, cold garret. I have read that 
 an old, gray-haired divine kneeled at his side. It 
 was his death hour. 
 
 **Would you die in the faith of a Christian?'' 
 faltered the minister, kneeling upon the damp floor. 
 
 The white lips of the death-stricken sufferer 
 moved. He struggled to a sitting posture : ''Chris- 
 tian?" he echoed. ''Will it give me back my honor? 
 Come with me, old man, come with me far over the 
 waters. Ah, we are there! This is my native town. 
 Yonder is the green where I sported when but a 
 boy ; yonder the church where I knelt at my 
 mother's knee. But another flag waves yonder than 
 the flag when I was a child. Listen, old man: Were 
 I to pass along those streets as I passed when but a 
 boy, the very babes in the cradles would raise their 
 tiny hands and curse me ; the graves in yonder 
 churchyard would shrink from my footstep ; and 
 
10 
 
 yonder flag would rain a baptism of blood upon my 
 head. Faith? Will it give me back my honor?" 
 Then his mind wandered. '' Hist! Silence along the 
 lines there, silence along the lines! Not a word, on 
 the peril of your lives! Hark you, we will meet 
 them, Montgomery, in the center of the town; we 
 will meet them there, in victory or death. Now, on 
 my boys, now on! Now, now, one more blow and 
 Quebec is ours! On, on ! Faith of a Christian? 
 Will it give me back my honor?" 
 
 And himself tottering to an old chest he took from 
 it an old American flag, tattered with the shots of the 
 enemy, and spotted with the reddest, hottest blood of 
 American independence; and winding the stars and 
 stripes about him, he said : '' Let me die in the 
 uniform in which I fought my battles; may God 
 forgive me for ever putting on any other!" And 
 thus died Benedict Arnold, the traitor. 
 
 *'0h that our own true Washington had been there 
 to sever that good right arm from the corse, while the 
 dishonored body rotted in the dust ; to bring home 
 that noble arm and embalm it among the holiest 
 memories of the past. For that right arm struck 
 many a gallant blow for freedom : Yonder at Que- 
 bec, at Champlain and Saratoga, Crown Point and 
 Ticonderoga. That arm, yonder beneath the snow- 
 white mountains in the deep silence of the river of 
 
11 
 
 the dead, first raised into light the banner of the 
 stars/' 
 
 The Duke of Marlborough. There have been 
 few characters so conspicuous in history as the 
 untutored John Churchill, afterwards Duke of Marl- 
 borough. This man, because of his great military 
 genius, long found apologists among the English 
 historians, and many admirers among the common 
 people, who paid the penalty for his advancement. 
 But a bare recital of living facts convicts him of 
 numerous treasons committed under the most 
 aggravated circumstances of ingratitude. His whole 
 life is one panorama of crime and treachery. 
 
 John Churchill began life as page to the Duke of 
 York; the Duke of York became King James IL 
 John Churchill delivered his own virtuous, innocent 
 sister to be debauched as mistress and harlot to the 
 King ! Churchill received in exchange, estates 
 and titles of nobility. Then, when the open follies 
 of King James began to threaten the legs of his own 
 throne, Churchill with his own hand struck those 
 legs the fatal blow; and stealing the King's army 
 went over into the field of the enemy, the Prince of 
 Orange. Then, when the Prince of Orange had 
 rewarded his perfidy with an earldom, the vile 
 treachery of Churchill led him to betray his second 
 
12 
 
 benefactor, and he essayed to go back to the exiled 
 James. He went instead to the tower of London. 
 But unfortunately he was released; and a few years 
 afterward he died, a model nobleman of the English 
 peerage, upon the summit of political patronage. 
 
 Marlborough was a personal favorite; but secretly 
 he was a roue. Marlborough was a statesman, but 
 he was a robber. Marlborough was a hero, but he 
 was a traitor ! And the titled blood of Blenheim 
 castle to this day is tainted and spotted with the 
 unforgiven sins of crime and treachery, and the 
 barter of estates and titles for the unpardonable 
 sacrifice of a sister's virtue. 
 
 The third picture which I present for your study 
 is that of Judas Iscariot, who sold his Lord for 
 thirty pieces of silver. 
 
 Jesus and the twelve disciples became a perma- 
 nent society, wandering and ministering up and 
 down through Palestine and Perea; and as they 
 received many contributions from the public, which 
 they in turn gave to the poor, a treasurer became a 
 necessity. So Judas, possibly because of his fitness 
 for the position, or possibly because of his solicita- 
 tion, was made treasurer. Then, having access to 
 the treasury, it was but a question of time when 
 Judas was to become a miser, an embezzler, a traitor. 
 
13 
 
 At Bethany he laments the anointing with oil of the 
 feet of Jesus by Mary who loved him. He said: 
 *Why this needless waste? This ointment might 
 have been sold for 300 pence, and the money given 
 to the poor." But we see that the canker worm had 
 already begun to gnaw at the heart of Judas in the 
 one simple line of comment of the Apostle: ** Now 
 Judas had the bag and was a thief." 
 
 During the last week in the life of Jesus, Judas 
 seems to have concealed from the disciples his 
 treachery. He goes with Jesus and the disciples 
 every morning to Jerusalem and back again to Beth- 
 any at night. He looks upon the acted parable of 
 the withered fig tree, and pretends not to know that 
 himself is that withered fig tree; under a mask he 
 talks confidentially with his Master; and he shares 
 the vigils in Gethsemane. The Last Supper is pre- 
 pared; Judas is at the table; he still would have 
 them believe him faithful; his feet, with the feet of 
 the rest of the disciples, are washed by the Master; 
 he hears the fateful words: "Ye are clean, but not 
 all; one of you shall betray me." One by one they 
 ask: ''Master, is it I? Is it I?" He too must ask or 
 seem guilty; he has already sold his Lord for thirty 
 pieces of silver, and has whetted the spear that is 
 to pierce his tender heart; yet he dares to sit at his 
 table, to dip from his dish and to insinuate honesty 
 
14 
 
 by asking: '' Master, is it I?" He hears the condem- 
 nation: ''What thou doest, do quickly." While sit- 
 ting in the silence of pretended reverence the anxious 
 heart of Judas is pumping to his fevered brain 
 the blood of guilt; instead of feasting he is but 
 counting the seconds when the cock shall crow that 
 sounds the knell that summons him — not to heaven, 
 but to hell. A paroxysm of guilt seizes him; he 
 rushes from the chamber; with hair streaming and 
 eyes glaring from their sockets he rushes down the 
 by-path, under the trees, and emerges from the 
 thicket into the open space which has long been the 
 resort of the Savior, where await him his cohort of 
 executioners. He whispers to the leader: ''They 
 come." And clutching the thirty pieces of silver in 
 the trembling hand of a maniac, he paces wildly up 
 and down the open space awaiting the oncoming of 
 his friend and Master. Slowly, silently, mournfully 
 he comes. Now, upon the action of Judas depends 
 the destiny of a life; the destiny of a people; the 
 destiny of a race; the destiny of a nation; the des- 
 tiny of a world; the destiny of a soul. Look, look, 
 see. Hiding the sweaty silver in the bosom of his 
 gown, he rushes and with a lying ecstasy greets his 
 Master with the fevered kiss of betrayal. Hark, 
 listen! That kiss sounds to every corner of creation; 
 it echoes against the rocks of the hills and the dome 
 
15 
 
 of the firmament; the celestial harps are silenced; 
 the angels fall down at the feet of the mighty Om- 
 nipotent and implore arrest of this high treason; and 
 in the throbbing silence of the great God, heaven 
 and earth cry out: ''It is finished, it is finished!" 
 The Savior is led to the Praetorium, to Golgotha, to 
 the cross, to death! And thus is paid the penalty 
 for the sins of the world. 
 
 The innocent is led to the slaughter like a crimi- 
 nal; while the criminal sneaks away unpursued, yet 
 chased by the conscious fires of hell, and the hate 
 of those who bought his soul for thirty pieces of 
 silver. Stung by remorse he goes and hurls the 
 sweaty silver into the sanctuary, and quickened by 
 the sight of the holy altar, he flies, crying: 
 
 *'My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condemns me for a villian: 
 Perjury, perjury in the highest degree, 
 Murder, stern murder in the direst degree, 
 All several sins, all used in each degree. 
 Throng to the bar of justice crying all. 
 Guilty, guilty! '* 
 And rushing forth he hangs himself ; and, dying a 
 suicide, he sees, in the thousand fantasies of a 
 frenzied brain, his own ally, Satan, thrusting him 
 through and through; and as the cursed steel comes 
 back, he hears his fiendish : *'Ha, ha ! and if one 
 
16 
 
 spark of life be still remaining, down, down to hell, 
 and say I sent thee thither." 
 
 And thus have passed into their graves the three 
 traitors of history — three hissing serpents, three ar- 
 rows of poison. In far-off India there grows a poison 
 ivy; but wherever that ivy has grown, God, in his 
 wisdom and in his love, has planted by the side of 
 it an herb for antidote. So I have noticed that wher- 
 ever in history there has grown up the poison ivy of 
 treachery, God has raised up beside it the antidote 
 of Truth and Kingship. 
 
 For Ahab and Jezebel, there was the Prophet 
 Elijah. 
 
 For John Tetzel and Rome, there was Luther's 
 thesis. 
 
 For the British at Orleans, there was a Joan of 
 Arc. 
 
 For Napoleon Bonaparte, there was a Wellington 
 and a Waterloo. 
 
 For English bigotry, there were the Pilgrim 
 Fathers, who, with trembling hands, pushed their tiny 
 barks out upon the stormy deep to plant the free 
 church on the rock-bound coast of Massachusetts. 
 
 For Voltaire, there was a Whitefield. 
 
 For Benedict Arnold, there was a Washington. 
 
 And for Judas Iscariot there was — there is. there 
 will always be — a Saul of Tarsus. 
 
17 
 
 Now, I wish to show you that over against traitors 
 and treachery there stand kings and kingship. The 
 natural illustration is the kingship of David, the 
 first great, true king of history. 
 
 When the children of Abraham entered the land 
 of Canaan they found that kingdom without an 
 organized government and without religon; conse- 
 quently their occupation was warfare, and their 
 practices were idolatry. This state of affairs continued 
 over four hundred years. The Israelites were ruled 
 by judges, prophets and priests. At length the 
 Philistines preyed upon them and were about to 
 consume them. They then petitioned their chief 
 priest and prophet, Samuel, to give them an organ- 
 ized government, an organized army, and a king to 
 lead them. Samuel heard them, and selected Saul, 
 a brave, daring, brilliant young man, from the army. 
 And Saul was anointed and crowned king of Israel; 
 and the people rejoiced, and all seemed well. But 
 Samuel at once had forebodings of the result. He 
 saw in Saul crowned, a different man from Saul the 
 citizen; he saw in Saul crowned, that ambition which 
 makes men kill for glory, and which turns kings into 
 despots. And his worst anticipations were fulfilled; 
 for in ten short years Saul had run a course of sin 
 and crime, and had rejected the Word of the Lord. 
 
18 
 
 And the Lord sent Samuel to Saul, and he said to 
 him: ''Because thou hast rejected the Word of the 
 Lord, therefore hath the Lord rejected thee from 
 being king in Israel." And then and there was 
 turned down one of the most courageous and bril- 
 liant young men of the whole army, who might have 
 become the first king of sacred history; but he de- 
 vastated his privileges, and turned his opportunities 
 into crime, and in shame and disgrace he ended his 
 life upon his own sword. 
 
 But the Lord had another king ready. He did not 
 have to wait a single day. David, the shepherd boy, 
 had already been anointed. But the only reputation 
 he had, and the only stock he had in trade, was, that 
 ^* David was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful counte- 
 nance, and goodly to look to." But the Lord seeth 
 not as man sees: *'Man looketh upon the outw^ard 
 appearance; but the Lord looketh upon the heart." 
 Although David still had his shepherd's crook in 
 his hand, the Lord saw in his heart the stuff that 
 kings are made of. And he was crowned King of 
 Israel. And David was a king, both on the field of 
 battle, and in the church of God. He started 
 rightly. He accepted the Word of the Lord, which 
 Saul had rejected. Those words — accept^ reject — 
 sound very much alike; but one led up to the throne 
 of Grace; the other led down to the river of Death. 
 
19 
 
 Contrasted with Saul, David was Hyperion to 
 a satyr. He launched his reign as auspiciously 
 as did Bolingbroke, when Richard H was forced to 
 abdicate in his tavor. Richard took the golden 
 crown from his own head, and extending it to 
 Bolingbroke he said : 
 
 *' Now is this golden crown like a deep well 
 That owes two buckets, filling one another, 
 The emptier ever dancing in the air, 
 The other down, unseen, and full of water: 
 That bucket down, and full of grief, am I, 
 Drinking my tears, while you mount up on high." 
 
 And thus Saul sank, full of grief and drinking his 
 tears, until, at last, he sank into a suicide's grave, 
 cursed by God and unwept by man. While David 
 mounted, and continued to mount, until at last, 
 laying aside his Godly record beside his Psalms of 
 praise, he mounted into the firmament of God, where 
 awaited him a brighter, a perpetual crown of glory. 
 
 So much for the kingship of David. But I have 
 noticed that there are other kings. There are still 
 kings in Canaan. There are kings in America. There 
 are kings for my auditors. For it is possible for 
 every man, every boy, every girl and every woman 
 to be a queen or a king. For, mark you, a king does 
 not have to come from royal blood — he must come 
 
20 
 
 of loyal blood. A king does not have to be rocked 
 in a cradle of ebony, nor fed from a golden spoon. 
 He may come from the common people. In time of 
 necessity he may be made. 
 
 To illustrate, I will relate to you a legend of 
 ancient Abyssinia, to show how a king was once 
 selected from the common people. 
 
 For many centuries, the legend recites, the 
 empire of Abyssinia had been ruled by one dynasty, 
 one line of kings. But now that dynasty was 
 exhausted, there was but one remnant left — an old 
 man now seated upon the throne, and childless. The 
 people were ill at ease for the future king; for their 
 superstition forbade them selecting a king from the 
 common people. But the old king told them to be 
 at rest, ''For,'' said he, ''when I shall have died I will 
 return and rule you in spirit form." And by and by 
 the old king died. And all went well for a time. 
 But soon the land was involved in famine; the 
 exchequer became exhausted; and brigands preyed 
 upon the people. The king had forgotten to return 
 in spirit form. Then the oflficers of the court called 
 together the astrologers to have them^ consult the 
 gods, whether a king should be selected from the 
 common people. The astrologers deliberated, and 
 then delivered the decree of the gods, that a king 
 should be selected from the common people, and 
 
21 
 
 that the chamberlain of the court should select him. 
 The chamberlain should go up and down throughout 
 the empire, searching until he found the king, and 
 this is the way he should know him. He is a man 
 who is able to do three things which never man has 
 yet accomplished: to feed the wild beasts from his 
 hand; to produce fire by command; and to produce 
 rain in time of drought — three things which man 
 had never yet accomplished. The chamberlain hope- 
 fully started upon his quest. But after days and 
 weeks and months of weary treading and searching, 
 tired and sick at heart, he one evening turned into a 
 rude hut in a recess of the mountain for food and 
 shelter. There met him at the door an old, gray- 
 haired man, who proved to be a philosopher. He 
 was kindly fed by the old man. And as they sat 
 by the hearthstone, in the darkness of the evening, 
 the wild beasts of the forests came prowling and 
 barking at the door of the hut, in hunger and 
 ferocity. Without saying a word the old man 
 reached to the roof of the hut, and taking from 
 it pieces of dried meat, went to the door and fed the 
 wild beasts from his hand. Upon arising in the 
 morning the old man drew back a screen from the 
 roof of the hut, and the sun shined through a 
 peculiarly formed glass, and focusing its rays upon 
 the hearthstone, the kindling burst into flame, and 
 
22 
 
 the breakfast was prepared and eaten. After break- 
 fast the old man led the chamberlain out into his 
 valley and showed him rich harvests of golden 
 grain and fruit and flower. And the courtier, 
 astonished, asked how he could have ripened grain 
 and fruit and flow^er when all the empire was in 
 famine. And the old man took him to the head of 
 the valley and showed him a great, natural reservoir 
 in the mountain filled with water; and w^here the 
 water would have escaped he had rolled a huge 
 boulder and the reservoir overflowed its banks and 
 the water, changed in its course, irrigated the valley. 
 
 The old man had fed the wild beasts from his 
 hand; he had produced fire by command; he had 
 produced rain in time of drought; the chamberlain 
 had found the king! Then he told him his quest 
 and at last persuaded him to return with him to the 
 court; and he was crowned and the empire was at 
 rest; the land was irrigated, the exchequer was re- 
 plenished and the brigands were expelled. And 
 when he died he decreed his successor from the 
 common people; and for many centuries the empire 
 of ancient Abyssinia was ruled by kings from the 
 common people, and had peace and prosperity. 
 
 The force of the illustration is plain : Kings do 
 not have to come from royal blood, but may in 
 time of necessity be made from the common people. 
 
23 
 
 Then the question comes : What is a king? 
 A king is a man who can organize, who can 
 lead, who can control. And the chief requisite of a 
 king is that he be able to control himself. It is the 
 master-wheel in machinery which furnishes the 
 power; so it is the master-wheel that makes the 
 man; but it is the balance- w^heel in m.achinery 
 which steadies the motion; so it is the balance- 
 wheel of judgment which makes the king. You 
 must be able to control yourself or you cannot con- 
 trol others; you must be able to practice your own 
 preaching — a difficult task. Portia said : 
 
 *'If it were as easy to do as to know w^hat were 
 good to do, chapels had been churches and poor 
 men's cottages princes* palaces. It is a good divine 
 that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach 
 twenty men what were good to do than to be one of 
 the twenty to follow mine own teaching." 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey very nicely taught his friend 
 and protege, Cromwell, how^ to be a king at court. 
 He said : 
 
 ''Cromwell, I charge thee to fling away ambi- 
 tion!" 
 
 But, alas for the poor cardinal, he was unable to 
 practice his own preaching, and at the court of 
 Henry VIII. he fell, like Lucifer, never to hope 
 again. 
 
24 
 
 Lady Anne stood before her subjects and pub- 
 licly cursed the man who should shed innocent 
 blood; and but a few weeks afterward Lady Anne 
 was betrothed to Richard IIL, who killed her own 
 husband. 
 
 Jesus said to Peter: ''The cock shall not crow 
 twice till thou shalt deny me thrice.'' And Peter 
 answered: ''Nay, Lord, though all men deny thee, 
 yet will not L" And the loving, the hopeful, the 
 impetuous Peter, who vowed eternal allegiance, in 
 the twinkling of an eye forsook his Master and fled. 
 
 Rule thyself and then canst thou rule thy sub- 
 jects. Napoleon Bonaparte learned to rule himself; 
 then he successfully ruled his subjects and he be- 
 came king of the second great empire. The Duke 
 of Marlborough was doubly a traitor, false and 
 treacherous to both James and the Prince of 
 Orange; yet he could rule himself, and he retrieved 
 the love of his countrymen which he had lost 
 through treachery; and to this day it is the dead 
 Duke of Marlborough who is king of England, and 
 they decorate his false and faithless tomb every year 
 in London. And but a year ago we patronized him, 
 by selling to his descendant, the young duke, a 
 homely American heiress and thirteen millions of 
 money in exchange for his title and kinship — 
 Marlborough the traitor ! 
 
25 
 
 But I do not censure a foreign lord for wanting 
 to marry an American heiress. He has to have 
 money, and as a general thing he has to have it 
 right away — if he don't get it he can't keep his 
 dukedom on straight. His proposition is a fair one. 
 He says to the American heiress : "Money — no- 
 bility ! Trade even?" And the girl answers : 
 ''Yes (te he!), and thank you, too." So he takes her 
 millions — she goes along — and the first thing he 
 does, with one million he rebuilds his great-grand- 
 dam's rotten old palace ; with the second million he 
 establishes a fancy stable, don't you know, with 
 fifty spavined, ring-boned, knock-kneed trotting 
 horses, don't you know; then he entertains the 
 other dukes once; plays the races once; gets drunk 
 once; then he tells the pretty pale face that her 
 clothes smell of pork and that she had better go 
 back to the farm. And she does just what he tells 
 her to do and blows in on the next steamer with 
 busted purse, busted heart, busted liver and Texas 
 tears all running down her cheeks. But you dare 
 not censure her ''dear duke" — she will defend him 
 at the point of her — hatpin. Well, she has done the 
 best she could; for the reason that she couldn't do 
 any better. As good a reason as that for which a 
 cow slobbers. It's because she can't spit. I'll ask 
 you another question: Do you know why a hen 
 
26 
 
 sets? You know a hen will set on a dozen eggs, or 
 on one egg; she will set on a good egg, a bad egg 
 or a door-knob. A hen is often a victim of mis- 
 placed confidence. Why does she persist in her 
 setting spells ? It's because she has fever in 
 her blood and she can't help it. And the way to 
 cure a setting hen is to pump cold water on her 
 back. Girls, whenever you feel the foreign lordship 
 fever coming on, bribe your father's coachman to 
 hold you under the town pump. 
 
 I will now give you my definition for a king and 
 a traitor: A traitor is one who is not what he seems; 
 a king is one who seems what he really is. 
 
 To illustrate, I will briefly relate to you the 
 strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The 
 story is not a new one. It is the story of the dual 
 life of Dr. Jekyll, of London. Dr. Jekyll was a 
 philanthropist and a scientist. As an epitaph to his 
 memory, he left behind him many monuments of 
 noble deeds and virtue and valor; he became fa- 
 mous for his philanthropy, and the city loved him. 
 He became famous for his discoveries insience, also. 
 Among his last discoveries was that of a strange 
 drug, the ingredients of which were known only to 
 himself, and which secret died with him, which 
 
27 
 
 drug, taken into the system, would distort the 
 body, transform the features, steal away all sense of 
 moral obligation and create a morbid thirst for 
 blood; it would transform the man from his human- 
 ity into a shriveled, snarling, vicious monster. 
 
 After a few cautious experiments with his new 
 discovery. Dr. Jekyll became emboldened, and pur- 
 chasing all of the drug there was in the London 
 market, he compounded a secret antidote, w^hich 
 counter-drug, taken while under the influence of the 
 drug first mentioned, would recreate the fiend into 
 his original humanity. 
 
 Dr. Jekyll now rented a flat in a distant and crim- 
 inal portion of the city, and becoming established, 
 announced himself as Mr. Hyde, the scientist. How- 
 ever, he did not abandon his actual home, but con- 
 tinued to dwell there most of the time. Thus began 
 the dual life of this strange man, at home as Dr. 
 Jekyll, the philanthropist; and in the new quarter as 
 Mr. Hyde, the scientist. Here it was that he carried 
 on those strange experiments with his new drug. 
 Every night, measuring out a quantity of each drug, 
 the latter to be taken upon his return after a mid- 
 night excursion, which w^as always just before day- 
 light the next morning, he would disguise his cloth- 
 ing, take a heavy staff in his hand, and, swallowing 
 drug number one — which would immediately, with 
 
28 
 
 convulsions and much pain, transform him into a 
 snarling, shriveled monster, with the instincts of a 
 murderer — he would dart through a rear door into 
 the darkness, down an alley and disappear toward 
 the ill-lighted portion of the great city. 
 
 Just at this time there were many murders being 
 reported to the London police; the bodies were 
 found mutilated beyond recognition, with throat cut 
 from ear to ear and the heart plucked out and left 
 mockingly upon the breast of the victim. The 
 nearest approach to the solution of these strange 
 murders was the appearance every night at about 
 midnight of a strange, distorted form, half man, 
 half beast, scampering wildly across the common, 
 but which person or thing always skilfully eluded 
 the police. 
 
 After some months, a detective more daring than 
 the rest, discovered this person or thing in the act 
 of accosting an unarmed man by the side of a tall, 
 dark building. The fiend was chattering w^eirdly to 
 his victim, and, chuckling over the morsel he was 
 about to swallow, struck him a heavy blow with his 
 staff and killed him. As he stooped over the form 
 to further mutilate the fallen victim, the officer 
 sprang at him — he was gone — the officer in pursuit; 
 he followed him to his lair, and there, to his surprise, 
 he discovered that he was none other than Mr. 
 
29 
 
 Hyde, the pretending scientist. Mr. Hyde was so 
 overcome at the thought of being discovered that 
 he did not notice the ofificer enter behind him. Rush- 
 ing into his laboratory, he threw open the doors to 
 his cupboard to take from it the counter-drug which 
 was to recreate him into his original humanity; but 
 he threw up his hands in horror upon discovering 
 that the drug was exhausted; there was not a grain 
 left, and Dr. Jekyll was the only man in all the world 
 who could make it. And in the frenzy of despair at 
 his lost condition, he dashed wildly from one room 
 to another, crying, sobbing like a lost child, biting his 
 finger nails; and seeing his father's picture upon the 
 table, leaped where it was, seized it in his claw-like 
 fingers, tore it into shreds, threw it upon the floor, 
 stamped it with his feet; and, tearing his hair, foam- 
 ing at the mouth, he fell dead at the feet of the 
 officer. 
 
 Dr. Jekyll was Mr. Hyde, and Mr. Hyde was Dr. 
 Jekyll; two names, but the same person; two appe- 
 tites, two characters, but the same personality; a 
 philanthropist and a murderer, but the same man. 
 
 The inference from this strange bit of fiction is 
 that of the dual natures in man. I believe that 
 every man has a dual nature, that in every pound of 
 flesh and every flame of life, from the animal down 
 to the plant, there is a germ of good which draws 
 
30 
 
 upward, and a germ of evil which draws downward. 
 You have noticed that a garden left uncultivated 
 soon grows to w^eeds; a fruit tree of the finest va- 
 riety, left unpruned, runs to scrubby fruit; and cattle 
 of the finest strain of blood, left unassorted, termi- 
 nate in stunted stock; and there is in man a latent 
 force, w^hich, with a maniacal grasp, seems to drag 
 him downward to the gutter. 
 
 It is the Dr. Jekyll and the Mr. Hyde. The 
 Jekyll draws him upward, the Hyde draws him 
 downward; the Jekyll makes of him a philanthro- 
 pist, the Hyde makes of him an anarchist ; the 
 Jekyll makes of him a man, the Hyde makes of him 
 a murderer. Some listen to the noble warnings of 
 Dr. Jekyll; many listen to the whisperings of Mr. 
 Hyde, forgetting that in so doing they are placing 
 their heads beneath the millstones of destruction, 
 the stones that will grind them to powder. 
 
 When Martin Luther was caught in a terrific 
 storm of rain and lightning upon the highway in 
 Germany, he heard two voices calling him, one to 
 the right, the other to the left. Luther listened 
 only to the Jekyll voice, and taking the path to the 
 right, he found the Christ. 
 
 It w^as the Jekyll in Henry Clay that made him 
 say: ''I would rather be right than President." 
 
 The Mr. Hyde got hold of King David, and 
 
31 
 
 made him commit adultery and murder; but, thanks 
 be to heaven, David had enough sense left to take 
 the counter-drug, repentance, and king David be- 
 came what God always intended him to be, a man 
 after God's own heart. 
 
 Victor Hugo wrote the ''Hunchback of Notre 
 Dame." Quasimodo, who is the bell-ringer of the 
 Cathedral of Notre Dame, steals the little helpless 
 dancing girl. La Esmeralde, from the streets of 
 Paris, and is himself taken by the police; that was 
 the Mr. Hyde in Quasimodo, But the Dr. Jekyll 
 shows himself in even the Hunchback of Notre 
 Dame, when he afterwards rescues that same help- 
 less dancing girl from the lascivious clutch of the 
 foul Priest of Notre Dame, Claude Frollo. The 
 Jekyll and Hyde together again. 
 
 But these men saw to it that the nature which 
 predominated was the Jekyll and not the Hyde. So 
 must you see to it that the nature which predomi- 
 nates, which has you last, is the Jekyll and not the 
 Hyde. You must check the Hyde at once, kill him 
 in the shell, or the Hyde encouraged will lull the 
 Jekyll to sleep forever. 
 
 It is the Hyde encouraged which makes men 
 steal, and rob, and betray and kill. It was the Hyde 
 in the president of a great savings bank that made 
 him rob the bank the other day, and that made him 
 
32 
 
 sit at his desk and laugh at a feeble old woman who 
 rapped timidly on the bolted door, and begged pit- 
 eously for her fifty-five dollars — all she had in the 
 world. 
 
 It is the Hyde encouraged which makes the hus- 
 band false to his wife, the wife to her husband; that 
 makes the clerk rob his employer; that makes the 
 pretending Christian rob his Lord of his tithe; that 
 makes the counterfeit Christian. 
 
 But the worst Hyde of them all is the suicidal 
 Hyde. While on a lecturing tour in Colorado re- 
 cently I purchased in the city of Denver a copy of 
 Robert G. IngersoU's late booklet, "Is Suicide a 
 Sin?" I bought it for two reasons; first, to give the 
 lonely infidel another chance to shake my faith; and 
 secondly, to see if the Colonel is still as big a fool 
 as he used to be. You know that he used to try to 
 show us the mistakes of Moses; but the mistakes of 
 Ingersoll so blinded our vision that we couldn't get 
 even a glimpse of the old patriarch. For years he 
 has been trying to convince us that we are agnos- 
 tics, by telling us why he is an agnostic. And he 
 has spent a lifetime telling us that Pope and Tom 
 Paine were good men: while Pope and Tom Paine, 
 both of them, on their death-beds, told us that they 
 were going to hell. So when I read this book, this 
 was my conclusion: That it is impossible for 
 
33 
 
 Robert G. IngersoU to be as big a fool as he 
 seems, or to seem as big a fool as he really is. This 
 is his logic: Because Sampson and Saul and Aris- 
 tides and Aristotle and Nero and Antony and Brutus 
 and Cleanthes and Sappho and Cleopatra — and a 
 host of others committed suicide, therefore suicide 
 is justifiable and is not a sin. 
 
 Is that logic? Then it is no sin for me to steal: 
 for Jean Valjean stole the silver communion chalice 
 from the bishop's holy sanctum. Then it is no sin for 
 me to kill: for did not the noble Brutus stab the 
 mighty Caesar? Then it is no sin for me, or any 
 man, to ruin the fair name of Ingersoll's only 
 daughter: for did not King David betray Bathsheba? 
 Suicide not a sin? He knows it is, and he is afraid 
 to do it himself. I tell you that the man who scrib- 
 bles a hurried note, stating that he can no longer 
 bear up under the slings and arrows of misfortune 
 and goes and drowns himself, leaving his wife and 
 child to bear up under those same slings and arrows 
 of misfortune, is a coward and a poltroon. I don't 
 believe the devil himself will trust him after he 
 arrives below. I warn you, if any of you run across 
 him after death to keep your eye on him — he will 
 be Mr. Hyde down there just the same. 
 
 This, then, is the keynote of this lecture: Be 
 what you seem; or else seem what you really are. 
 
34 
 
 The cloak of Dr. Jekyll covers many a Mr. 
 Hyde; and often there is lurking about the lips that 
 whisper loyalty the kiss of betrayal; and many a 
 hand which has dipped into the bowl of hospitality 
 has afterward pressed down upon the head of its 
 benefactor a crown of thorns. Be what you seem, 
 or else seem what you really are. The monument 
 of Absalom told the world that he was a good man 
 and an upright judge. But that is what Absalom 
 said of himself; he erected that monument with his 
 own hand. The evil which lived after him was his 
 true epitaph, and it told the world that he was a 
 thief and a traitor, and that he even tried to kill his 
 own father. 
 
 I love to look upon old things, old manuscripts, 
 old books, old relics. There is something about 
 them so time-tried, so true, so genuine. A new 
 thing may change to-morrow; but a relic tried with 
 a hundred years of time and still unchanged, is just 
 what it pretended to be. In Colorado a few months 
 ago I saw some Indian corn which had been taken 
 from the home of the ancient cliff-dwellers, far up 
 in the Grand Canon of the Colorado. The Pueblo 
 Indians say that their father's father had no tradi- 
 tion, even, about those ancient people, so long have 
 they been extinct. And yet that corn, lying in an 
 earthen vessel in a niche far up in that cliff-dwell- 
 
35 
 
 er's home, hidden for hundreds of years, was just 
 as natural the day I saw it as if gathered fresh from 
 your fields but yesterday. 
 
 Once I looked upon an Egyptian mummy. The 
 fine linen bandages around the body were printed^ 
 in indelible ink, with Egyptian characters, which 
 declared that the death of that man occurred four 
 thousand years before. In that mummy I saw a 
 man who had lived in the time of King Pharaoh the 
 great; who had talked with the contemporaries of 
 the king; and perhaps had witnessed Moses and the 
 children of Israel in their flight from Egyptian 
 bondage across the Red Sea. Yet through that 
 test of four thousand years of time the face and the 
 features of that mummy had remained unchanged 
 and true to nature. 
 
 That relic recalls the Pyramids of Egypt. They 
 are so old that even Moses, in the traditions which 
 he read, found no mention of them, so common they 
 were as to be unworthy of mention. And yet the 
 great granite stairways and partitions of those pyra- 
 mids have not changed nor been racked so much 
 as the distance of a hair's breadth in all of those 
 four thousand years. 
 
 Look into a kaleidoscope. As you revolve its 
 cylinder, its fifty bits of colored glass change their 
 positions and fall into a thousand different figures; 
 
36 
 
 it is a constant change, a delusion, a deception, and 
 cannot be relied upon as can the corn or the mummy 
 or the pyramid. 
 
 Again, I looked upon a chameleon; and every 
 time it changed its position or moved a muscle its 
 color changed; now a purple, now a green, now the 
 hideous streaks of a serpent. And I said, I'd rather 
 be an ugly toad, with mud upon my back, than to 
 be distinguished by the deceitful effrontery of a 
 chameleon. 
 
 Now, which are you — the old reliable pyramid, 
 or the changeable kaleidoscope? Is your color the 
 spotless white, or is it the streaks of the chameleon? 
 Are you Dr. Jekyll, or Mr. Hyde? 
 
 I have heard that the way to put the Jekyll into 
 a man is for him to marry. I don't know about that; 
 but I do know that that is the quickest way to take 
 the hide out of him. I have seen men who never 
 amounted to anything until they married. Benjamin 
 Franklin is an example. He amounted to nothing 
 until he married; but he had not been married six 
 weeks until he discovered chained lightning. Mar- 
 riage does broaden a man; the second time it broad- 
 ens him more, and the third time it flattens him clear 
 out. In a cafe in New Orleans recently, there sat at 
 my table a gentleman of quiet, sober, pensive de- 
 
37 
 
 meaner. One day I ventured to break the silence; 
 this is the conversaiion which ensued: 
 
 "Ahem! you are apparently a man of experience; 
 you are a married man, are you?" 
 
 ''Ugh! A married man? Experience? Sir, I've 
 been married three times. My first wife was rich; 
 my second was beautiful; my third was red-headed* 
 Experience? I, sir, have tasted of the world, the 
 flesh and the devil!" 
 
 Perhaps the dread of this experience is the reason 
 so many men remain single. They might regret it. 
 I recently found a couple in Chicago who did. I 
 was stopping with a friend who lives in a flat. Now, 
 the partitions in a Chicago flat are very thin, about 
 as thin as Chicago religion. On the other side of 
 this screen lived a young married couple; they had 
 gone about six weeks. We heard them laugh, and 
 we heard them quarrel; but we stood it all with an 
 humble shrug, for patience is the badge of all our 
 bachelor tribe. At last the crisis came. This Ro- 
 meo and Juliet did stab each other with tongues of 
 fire. Said Romeo: "I know what I wish; I wish I 
 was single again." Said Juliet: 'Tou do, do you? 
 I did first. That's where you belong. Do you 
 know that nine-tenths of the convicts in Joliet peni- 
 tentiary are single men?" Said Romeo (O Romeo, 
 how could you, Rom^eo!): ''Which plainly goes to 
 
38 
 
 show, that nine-tenths of the convicts in Joliet pen- 
 itentiary prefer prison life to marriage." 
 
 Well, adversity will come sooner or later to every 
 man, whether married or single; sooner if married. I 
 once heard of a man who was happy; he married; then 
 he died. His wife pestered him all of his married 
 days, and even after he lay silent, defenseless in the 
 coffin, she followed him to his grave. Their names 
 were John and Mary; the woman's name was Mary. 
 Soon she missed. John; there was no more to be 
 heard that familiar ring of the door-bell at unfa- 
 miliar hours; there was no more to be heard that 
 familiar snoring sound from the other pillow; there 
 was no more — in short, there was no more John. 
 Mary grew lonesome, despondent; she went to a 
 spiritualist; she asked him to call up John. The 
 spiritualist rapped once on the outside of the chest; 
 a rap ansv/ered from within; two more raps were 
 answered, then three, then a fluttering of wings, and 
 Mary had the connection. This followed: 
 
 **Is chat you, John?" 
 
 ''Yes, Mary; what is it?'' 
 
 **0 John, are you happy, John?" 
 
 ''Yes, Mary, happy." 
 
 "Are you very happy, John?" 
 
 "Yes, Mary, very." 
 
 "Are you happier than you were with me, John?" 
 
39 
 
 ''Yes, Mary, happier." 
 
 "O John — boo hoo — John, are you very much 
 happier?" 
 
 "Yes, Mary, much happier." 
 
 ''Where are you, John?" 
 
 "In hell, Mary." 
 
 However, do not let this trifling incident hinder 
 you from marrying. Girls, I say marry. If a good 
 man, reasonably sane, comes along and tells you 
 that he is dying to have you get in and ride with 
 him through life, get in; get in, but don't take up 
 all the seat; ay, there's the rub that makes man 
 grumble. I believe in woman taking time by the 
 forelock, but not her husband. And young man, you 
 with the wagon, two words of advice: Beware 
 of the red-headed girl, and beware of the mother- 
 in-law — marry one at a time. Often the mother-in- 
 law fears the girl will not weigh out, and she goes 
 along to make up for shrinkage. If she does in 
 your case, and it at last resolves itself into the 
 question, whether you are to let her have her w^ay, 
 or shoot yourself, don't hesitate a minute; shoot 
 her at once. 
 
 Lastly, I will speak of the demand for Kings. 
 The world is in need of kings to-day as much as in 
 the day of the rejected Saul. In all ages of social 
 
40 
 
 and religious development, leaders have been a ne- 
 cessity. In the thirteenth century, Luther dared to 
 stand alone and aloft above his opponents to pro- 
 claim religious liberty and freedom of conscience. 
 And in that, Luther became a king. 
 
 George Washington led the American army in 
 the Revolution without salary or hope of reward; 
 his only motive was Patriotism and Independence. 
 And in that, George Washington became a king. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln, while still a young man, vowed 
 that he would not close his lips in silence until the 
 black man was made free. And though he died a 
 martyr to that resolution, he himself fulfilled it. 
 And in that death he became a king. 
 
 We need more Kings; not Sauls, or Napoleons; 
 but more Davids, more Luthers, more Lincolns. We 
 need Kings in Finance, in State, and in the Church. 
 
 We need Kings in finance, in the business world; 
 men who will not only make their pound yield hon- 
 est pounds, but who have the cause of Christ at 
 heart in the use of those pounds. For the wealth of 
 the world is not ours; the gold and the silver, the 
 cattle upon the thousand hills belong to the Lord. 
 We are but tenants here. And we are not even 
 renters; we are but cropping; for the Lord has fur- 
 nished the soil, the seed, the power (heat and rain 
 from heaven) ; but, alas, it must be said that many of 
 
41 
 
 his renters are running away with the rent. For why- 
 are not all of the church debts paid? Why have 
 not all the heathen the Gospel? Why are not all 
 the poor cared for? Because the Lord is being 
 robbed of His tenth. Where are your Kings in 
 finance? 
 
 We need kings in state, in government. Men 
 who will not sell and mart their ofifices for gold and 
 patronage. Millions of the government's money go 
 that way in every Congress. Where are your kings 
 in government? 
 
 Most of all, we need kings in the church. Many 
 churches are at a standstill; and it is not all the 
 fault of the pastor. He may be a very bad man, 
 often is; but I think it is because of the company 
 he is compelled to keep. When you are looking 
 for the faults in the church, stop just before you 
 reach the pulpit — in your own pew. Many mem- 
 bers refuse, not only to lead, but to be led; they are 
 all the time pulling back on the halter. The regret 
 I have is, that those persons do not get the halter 
 around their necks. They would not be missed. 
 The Lord would raise up a David in the track of 
 each. Give us more kings in the church. 
 
 Every man and every woman may be a queen and 
 a king. There are crowns awaiting in every avoca- 
 tion; in finance, in church, in state, in the trades, in 
 
42 
 
 the professions, in the sciences, in the arts. And 
 every one is eligible; you do not have to be born a 
 king; you need not come of royal blood; kings have 
 been made of the common people. 
 
 David, with a shepherd's crook, was anointed king. 
 
 John Bunyan was a tinker, yet he became a king 
 in literature. 
 
 The boy Shakespeare was worthless in Stratford 
 upon Avon, but in kicking him out they kicked him 
 toward London, and in London he became the king 
 of poets. 
 
 Edwin Booth, at twenty-two was a failure but he 
 persevered, and at forty became the king of actors. 
 
 U. S. Grant was a failure both at the bench, and 
 on the farm — he could not raise beans; but he could 
 raise a musket, and they sent him to war; and in 
 war he became a king. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher once almost gave up the 
 ministry as a failure; but his good wife encouraged 
 him, and, by the grace of God, he became the king 
 of preachers. 
 
 And I cannot forget that other King, the lowly 
 Jesus, born in a stable and laid in a manger. He 
 was from the common people, a common man. Re- 
 cently in the city of Chicago I saw the linen sheet 
 on which Abraham Lincoln lay when he died, 
 pierced by an assassin's bullet. It was saturated 
 
43 ^ 
 
 with his blood. Instinctively I thought of the blood 
 of that other King. In His death He had no pillow 
 to His head and no cushion to His back; His rest- 
 ing place was the rough, unhewed timbers of the 
 cross; His covering was a crown of thorns, and vin- 
 egar was His drink, and in shame He died. Yet, in 
 that death He became a king, THE King, the King 
 of the world, the Messiah of God! 
 
 These were the accepted Davids. There have 
 been many rejected Sauls. There was ^^Jeroboam 
 who made Israel to sin;" and Omri; and Ahab and 
 Jezebel, that wicked pair whom the dogs ate in the 
 streets of Jezreel; and Herod who slew the babes of 
 Bethlehem. And there was yet another, the im- 
 perious Napoleon Bonaparte. It is said that, when 
 he was being laid in his grave, an exile, upon the 
 island of St. Helena, the heavens thundered and the 
 lightnings raged; and that nineteen years afterward, 
 when his body was being exhumed for removal to 
 its marble sarcophagus in Paris, again the heavens 
 thundered and the lightning raged and the waves 
 dashed upon the rocks, as if in eternal mockery and 
 condemnation of the king who had been rejected by 
 God and cursed by man. 
 
 Be a King. Be a David, a Lincoln, a Daniel, a 
 Peter, a Paul. Be a King in finance, in society, in 
 
44 
 
 the church, in the kingdom of God. There is where 
 you win the crown that will not perish. 
 
 The empire boasts its temporal kingship, its 
 throne, its king and his glory. And it forgets the 
 common equality of man; that, as dies the beggar, 
 so dies the king, and then none is so poor to do him 
 reverence. It was said of one: 
 
 **He was a king; but now he 
 Sleeps in the general all-lodging house." 
 
 And the cook who served him with wine and with 
 onions reclines at his royal side; and the beggar, 
 who trudged grudgingly behind his carriage and 
 cursed his quality, now lies at his head, an unin- 
 vited guest, yet nevertheless an eternal companion. 
 But whether in this brotherhood they have all been 
 elevated to kingship, or all leveled to beggary, it 
 matters not; for the beggar in death becomes a 
 king, and sleeps as easy as his lord; and the king 
 sinks into the caste of the beggar, and like him, is 
 too poor to wear shoes upon his tired feet. The 
 beggar and the cook and the king, all **fat them- 
 selves for maggots. And the beggar may fish with 
 the worm that hath eat of the king, and eat of the 
 fish that hath fed of that worm. And thus may a 
 king go a progress through the guts of a beggar.'' 
 
 King Richard II. said that there is no glory in a 
 temporal crown. He said: 
 
45 
 
 **Within the hollow crown 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king 
 Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, 
 Scoffing his state, grinning at his pomp, 
 Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
 To monarchize, be feared and kill with looks. 
 Thus infusing him with self and vain conceit. 
 As if this flesh which walls about our lives 
 Were brass impregnable; and, humored thus, 
 He comes at last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!" 
 
 But aim you at the crown that will not perish, 
 and which, dying, you will not leave behind. It is 
 not of gold, or of silver, or houses, or lands; not of 
 fame nor fortune, silks nor wine: 
 
 *'Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
 
 A man's a man for a' that; 
 The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor. 
 
 Is King o' men for a' that." 
 'Tis not the geld that makes the ring, 
 'Tis not the crown that makes the king; 
 For steel will make the strongest ring. 
 And Truth will make the strongest king. 
 
 ^E aE aE 
 
f 
 
 W %•«( M -a t J ir 
 
LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS