Skip to content
← Back to poem

178, 179:—

Percy Bysshe Shelley

These are the hired bravos who defend

The tyrant’s throne.

 

To employ murder as a means of justice is an idea which a man of an

enlightened mind will not dwell upon with pleasure. To march forth in

rank and file, and all the pomp of streamers and trumpets, for the

purpose of shooting at our fellow-men as a mark; to inflict upon them

all the variety of wound and anguish; to leave them weltering in their

blood; to wander over the field of desolation, and count the number of

the dying and the dead,—are employments which in thesis we may maintain

to be necessary, but which no good man will contemplate with gratulation

and delight. A battle we suppose is won:—thus truth is established,

thus the cause of justice is confirmed! It surely requires no common

sagacity to discern the connexion between this immense heap of

calamities and the assertion of truth or the maintenance of justice.

 

‘Kings, and ministers of state, the real authors of the calamity, sit

unmolested in their cabinet, while those against whom the fury of the

storm is directed are, for the most part, persons who have been

trepanned into the service, or who are dragged unwillingly from their

peaceful homes into the field of battle. A soldier is a man whose

business it is to kill those who never offended him, and who are the

innocent martyrs of other men’s iniquities. Whatever may become of the

abstract question of the justifiableness of war, it seems impossible

that the soldier should not be a depraved and unnatural being.

 

To these more serious and momentous considerations it may be proper to

add a recollection of the ridiculousness of the military character. Its

first constituent is obedience: a soldier is, of all descriptions of

men, the most completely a machine; yet his profession inevitably

teaches him something of dogmatism, swaggering, and sell-consequence: he

is like the puppet of a showman, who, at the very time he is made to

strut and swell and display the most farcical airs, we perfectly know

cannot assume the most insignificant gesture, advance either to the

right or the left, but as he is moved by his exhibitor.’—Godwin’s

“Enquirer”, Essay 5.

 

I will here subjoin a little poem, so strongly expressive of my

abhorrence of despotism and falsehood, that I fear lest it never again

may be depictured so vividly. This opportunity is perhaps the only one

that ever will occur of rescuing it from oblivion.