Book '"P g / THE AMERICAN UNION SPEAKER; CONTAINING STANDAED AND RECENT SELECTIONS - PROSE AND POETRY, FOR RECITATION AND DECLAMATION, IN SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES AND COLLEGES. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS ON ELOCUTION. EXPLANATORY NOTES. By JOHN D. PHILBRICK, SUPERINTENDENT OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OP BOSTON. BOSTON: TAGGARD AND THOMPSON. 1865. *P S Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by z John D. Philbrick, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE! STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. PREFACE The design of this book is twofold, — to meet the present demand for new selections suited to the spirit of the hour, and also to furnish a*choice collection of standard pieces for elocutionary exercises on which time has set its lasting seal. In the execution of this design no pains have been spared in selecting and preparing the best pieces, both new and old. The extracts from recent productions, numbering about one hundred, by more than fifty different authors, are now for the first time presented in a Speaker. They are for the most part the eloquent utterances of our best orators and poets, inspired by the present national crisis, and are therefore " all compact of the passing hour," breathing " the fine sweet spirit of nationality, — the nationality of America." They give expression to the emotions excited, the hopes inspired, and the duties imposed by this stormy and perilous period. They afford brilliant illustrations of the statesmanship of the crisis. Sumner exposes the origin and mainspring of the rebellion, Douglass strips off its pretext, Everett paints its crime, Boutwell boldly proclaims its remedy in emancipation, and Banks pronounces a benediction on the first act of reconstruction on the solid basis of freedom to all. They furnish also an epitome of the conflict of arms. Bryant utters the rallying cry to the people, Whittier responds in the united voice of the North, Holmes sounds the grand charge, Pierpont gives the command " Forward ! " Longfellow and Boker immortalize the unconquerable heroism of our braves on sea and land, and Andrew and Beecher speak in tender accents the gratitude of loyal hearts to our fallen heroes. These new pieces will for a time receive the preference over old ones, and some of them will survive the period which called them forth. But to insure for the work, if possible, a permanent value as a Standard Speaker for students of common schools, higher seminaries and colleges, the greater part of the selections, nearly three hundred in number, have been chosen from those of acknowledged excellence, and of un- questionable merit as exercises for recitation and declamation. This department comprises every variety of style necessary in elocutionary culture. iv PREFACE. Another important feature of the collection is the introduction of those masterpieces of oratory — long excluded from books of this class, though now rendered appropriate by the new phase of public opinion, — which advocate the inalienable rights of man, and denounce the crime of human bondage. Aware of the deep and lasting power which pieces used for decla- mation exert in moulding the ideas and opinions of the young, it has been my aim to admit only such productions as inculcate the noblest and purest sentiments, teaching patriotism, loyalty, and justice, and firing the youthful heart with ambition to be useful, and with heroic devotion to duty. The text of the extracts has been made to conform to that of ftie most authentic editions of the works of their authors. Some pieces which have heretofore been presented in a mutilated form, are here restored to their original completeness. Where compression or abridg- ment has been necessary, it has been executed with caution, and with strict regard to the sentiments and ideas of the authors. Fully convinced that elaborate treatises on elocution more appro- priately form separate publications, nothing of the kind has been included in this volume. A summary of practical suggestions to teachers and students was thought to form a more useful introduc- tion. For the sake of artistic beauty in the page, as well as for the con- venience of the student, the notes and explanatory remarks necessary for the proper understanding of the pieces, have been thrown together at the end of the volume, and so arranged that reference to them can be easily made. This work, the preparation of which has been a recreation rather than a labor — an agreeable diversion from the daily routine of a laborious office, — is the embodiment of the experience and observa- tion of twenty-five years, with reference to this description of lite- rature. It originated in a desire to contribute something to the fur- therance of the right education of the young men of my country, and the extent to which it promotes this object, will in my estimation, be the measure of its success. Boston, July 4, 1864. CONTENTS. Introductory Remarks on Declamation STANDARD SELECTIONS. PROSE. PAGB 1. The Noble Purposes of Eloquence Lord Brougham 3 2. Rolla to the Peruvians R- B. Sheridan 4 3. Invective against Warren Hastings R. B. Sheridan 5 4. The Bible the best Classic T. S. Grirnke 6 5. What we owe to the Sword T. S. Grirnke 8 6. Duty of Literary Men to their Country T. S. Grirnke 9 7. America's Obligations to England Isaac Barre 11 8. Webster's Plea for Dartmouth College C. A. Goodrich 12 9. The Founders of Boston Pres. Quincy 14 10. The American Sailor R. F. Stockton 16 11. The Foundation of National Greatness W. E. Charming 17 12. Intemperance W. E. Charming 18 13. Inconsistent Expectations Mrs. Barbauld 19 14. The Patriot's Sword vindicated T. F. Meagher 21 15. On being found Guiltv of Treason T. F. Meagher 23 16. Address to the American Troops at L. I Washington 24 17. Character of Chatham H. Graltan 25 18. The Press and the Union R. Choate 27 19. American Literature and the Union -ft. Choate 28 20. The Love of Reading -ft. Choate 29 21. Eloquence of the American Revolution R. Choate 30 22. Tribute to Webster R. Choate 32 23. Skilful Labor and Cultivated Intellect R. Choate 33 24. The Empire of Mind -ft. Choate 35 25. The City of our Liberty R. Choate 36 26. Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis Mrs. L. M. Child 37 27. Webster in the Dartmouth College Case G. 8. Hillard 38 28. The Ambition of Webster G. S. Hillard 39 29. The Danger of Exclusive Devotion to Business. . G. S. Hillard 40 30. Speech in the Convention of Delegates of Virginia P. Henry 41 31. The Same Concluded P. Henry 43 32. Reply to the Duke of Grafton Lord Thurlow 44 33. The Prospects of California Nathaniel Bennett 44 34. In Prospect of War Robert Hall 46 35. The American Indians J. Story 47 86. Classical Learning J. Story 48 vi CONTENTS. PAOK 37. An Appeal in Behalf of Patriotism and Loyalty. J. Story 49 38. Our Duties to the Republic J. Stovy 50 39. Spartacus to the Gladiators E. Kellogg 52 40. No Extension of Slave Territory R. C. Winthrop 54 41. National Monument to Washington R. C. Winthrop 56 42. The Perfect Orator Anonymous 57 43. Necessity of a Pure National Morality L. Beecher 58 44. On the Irish Disturbance Bill D. 0' Connell 59 45. Caesar's Pause upon the Rubicon J. S. Knowles 60 46. Gustavus Vasa to the Dalecarlians Anonymous 61 47. Nobilitv of Labor 0. Dewey 62 48. Salathiel to Titus G. Croly 63 49. An Appeal to the Loyalty of South Carolina. ... A. Jackson 64 50. The Same Concluded , A. Jackson 65 51. Burr and Blennerhassett W. Wirt 66 52. Cause for Indian Resentment W. Wirt 69 53. Speech on the British Treaty F. Ames 70 54. Speech against a Libeller Griffin 72 55. New England and the Union S. S. Prentiss 74 56. On sending Relief to Ireland S. S. Prentiss 75 57. The New England Common School S. S. Prentiss 76 58. Christianity the Source of Reform E. H. Chapin 78 59. Northern Laborers C. Naylor 79 60. Brougham's Attack on Canning described Anonymous 80 61. South Carolina during the Revolution R. Y. Hayne 82 62. Incompetency of Parliament W. C Plunkett 83 63. Washington C. Phillips 85 64. Education C. Phillips 86 65. Character of Napoleon Bonaparte C Phillips 87 66. A Collision of Vices G. Canning 88 67. " Measures not Men " G. Canning 89 68. Parliamentary Reform -. . . Lord Brougham 91 69. Denunciation of Slavery Ijord Brougham 92 70. The Teachers of Mankind Lord Brougham 93 71. The Greatness of Washington Lord Brougham 95 72. Washington a Man of Genius E. P. Whipple 96 73. Irish Aliens and English Victories R. L. Sheil 97 74. The Iliad and the Bible Dr. Wayland. 99 75. On admitting California into the Union W. H. Seward. 100 76. A Highway to the Pacific T. H. Benton 102 77. Address to* Polish Exiles in London L. Kossuth 103 78. Kossuth on his Credentials L. Kossuth 105 79. The Ides of March L. Kossuth 106 80. The Same Continued L. Kossuth 107 81. The Same Continued L. Kossuth 109 82. The Same Concluded L. Kossuth 110 83. The Mayflower and the Pilgrims E. Everett. . Ill 84. The Discovery of America E. Everett 112 85. Adams and Jefferson E. Everett 113 86. The Indian Chief to the White Settler . ; E. Everett 114 87. The Men of u Seventy-Six " E. Everett 116 88. The Same Concluded E. Everett 117 89. Our Common Schools E. Everett 119 90. Webster's greatest Parliamentary Effort E. Everett 120 91. What Good will the Monument do ? E. Everett 122 92. Emancipation of the Catholics of Ireland J. P. Curran 123 93. The Public Informer J. P. Curran 124 94. Red Jacket's Speech to the Missionary Cram 126 95. Partition of Poland C J. Fox 127 96. National Disgrace C J. Fox 128 97. A Political Pause C.J. Fox 129 98. Washington's Sword and Franklin's Staff J. Q. Adams 131 99. The Right of Petition by Woman J. Q. Adams 132 CONTENTS. vii PASS 100. Value of Popularity Lord Mansfield 134 101. Scorn to be Slaves J. Warren 135 102. Loss of the Arctic H. W. Beecher 136 103. The Glory and Grandeur of Peace C. Sumner 138 104. Ancient and Modern Productions C. Sumner 139 105. The Abolition of the Slave Trade W. Pitt 141 106. " Let there be Light " H.Mann 143 107. True Eloquence D. Webster 144 108. South Carolina and Massachusetts D. Webster 145 109. African Slave Trade D. Webster 147 110. Supposed Speech of John Adams D. Webster 149 111. The Same Concluded D. Webster 151 112. Influence of the Character of Washington D. Webster 152 113. Public Opinion D. Webster 154 114. The Murderer's Secret D. Webster 155 115. The Same Concluded D. Webster 156 116. Defence of American Clergymen v . D. Webster 157 117. Peaceable Secession impossible D. Webster 158 118. Liberty and Union D. Webster 160 119. Events Great, because of their Results D. Webster 161 120. The Future of America D. Webster 163 121. Liberty of Speech D. Webster 164 122. Washington to the Present Generation D. Webster 165 123. The Platform of the Constitution D. Webster 166 124. The Veterans of the Battle of Bunker Hill D. Webster 168 125. Reply to the Reflections of Mr. Walpole Lord Chatham 170 126. Speech against the American War Lord Chatham 171 127. Speech against Employing Indians in War .... Lord Chatham 172 128. Honorable Ambition H. Clay 174 129. The Noblest Public Virtue H. Clay 175 130. Plea for the Union H. Clay 176 131. National Glory H. Clay 178 132. Brutus on the Death of Caesai Shakspeare 179 133. Hamlet's Address to the Players Shakspeare 180 134. Falstaff's Description of his Soldiers Shakspeare 181 135. Soliloquy on Character Shakspeare 182 136. Death of Hamilton Dr. Nott 183 137. Invective against Mr. Flood H. Graitan 184 138. Reply to Mr. Corry H. Graitan 187 139. Speech of Titus Quinctius to the Romans Anonymous 188 140. The Boston Massacre John Hancock 190 141. Enterprise of New England E. Burke 191 142. The Right of England to Tax America E. Burke 192 143. Description of Junius E. Burke 193 144. True Statesmanship E. Burke 194 145. The Queen of France and the Spirit of Chivalry E. Burke 195 146. Peroration of Opening Speech against Hastings E. Burke 196 147. Peroration of Closing Speech against Hastings E. Burke 198 148. The Crisis of the Nation Cicero 199 149. Extract from Demosthenes Demosthenes 200 150. Extract from Demosthenes on the Crown Demosthenes 202 151. Queen Elizabeth J. Mackintosh 203 152. The Free Press J. Mackintosh 205 153. The Liberty of the Press Lord Erskine 206 154. British Tyrannv in India Lord Erskine 207 155. Declaration of Right H. Graitan 209 156. Politics and Religion ' J. M. Mason 210 viii CONTENTS. POETRY. PA01 157. The Star Spangled Banner F. S. Key 211 158. Aspirations of Youth J. Montgomery 212 159. The Love of Country and of Home J. Montgomery 213 160. The Bells E. A. Poe 214 161. The Baven E. A. Poe 217 162. Spirit of Patriotism Sir W. Scott 220 163. Lochinvar Sir W. Scott 221 164. Marmion taking leave of Douglas Sir W. Scott 222 165. Highland War-Song Sir W. Scott 224 166. David's Lament for Absalom N. P. Willis 225 167. " Look not upon the Wine " N. P. Willis 226 168. The Leper N. P. Willis 227 169. Parrhasius and the Captive N. P. Willis 230 170. Casabianca Mrs. Hemans 232 171. The Bended Bow Mrs. Hemans 234 172. The Better Land Mrs. Hemans 235 173. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers Mrs. Hemans 236 174. Bernardo Del Carpio Mrs. Hemans 237 175. Bernardo and King Alphonso J. G. Lockhart 240 176. The Bridge of Sighs T. Hood 242 177. Song of the Shirt T. Hood 245 178. Look Aloft J. Lawrence 248 179. Press On P. Benjamin 249 180. Kindness Sergeant Talfourd. . 250 181. How 's my Boy ? S. Bobell 251 182. Excelsior H. W. Longfellow. . . 252 183. A Psalm of Life H. W. Longfellow... 253 184. The Launching of the Ship H. W. Longfellow. . . 255 185. The Negro's Complaint W. Cowper 257 186. Loss of the Royal George W. Cowper 259 187. Slavery W. Cowper 259 188. The Seminole's Reply G. W. Patten 261 189. The Three Beats G. W. Patten 262 190. The Battle of Ivry Lord Macaulay 263 191. The Soldier from Bingen - Mrs. Norton 265 192. " Give me three Grains of Corn, Mother" Miss Edwards 267 193. Tell's Apostrophe to Liberty J. S. Knowles 269 194. William Tell among the Mountains J. S. Knowles 270 195. The Baron's Last Banquet A. G. Greene 271 196. The Water Drinker E. Johnson 273 197. Chamouni S. T. Coleridge 274 198. How they brought the Good News R. Browning 277 199. The Sword Miss Landon 279 200. The Fireman Anonymous 280 201. Speak Gently Anonymous ...: 281 202. The Passions W. Collins ... 283 203. New England J. G. Percival 285 204. Song for Saint Cecilia's Day J. Bryden 287 205. The Sailor's Song B.W. Proctor 289 206. Napoleon J. Pierpont 290 207. Warren's Address at Bunker Hill J. Pierpont 291 208. Thanatopsis W. C. Bryant 292 209. The African Chief. W. C Bryant 294 210. The Battle-Field W. C. Bryant 296 211. Hallowed Ground T. Campbell 298 212. The Exile of Erin T. Campbell 300 213. Lord Ullin's Daughter T. Campbell 301 214. Fall of Warsaw T. Campbell 303 215. Hohenlinden T. Campbell 305 CONTENTS. ix PAGB 216. War-Stag of the Greeks, 1822 T. Campbell 306 217. The Flight of Xerxes Miss Jeivsbury 307 21S. ( )ld Ironsides 0. W Holmes 308 219. Charee of the Light Brigade A. Tennyson 309 220. Arnold Winkelreid J. Montgomery .... 311 221. New England's Dead /. M'Lellan 312 222. Never Give Up Anonymous 314 223. Marco Rozzaris F. G. I/alleck 314 224. The American Flag T. R. Drake 317 225. The Widow of Glencoe W. E. Aytoun 318 226. Burial of Sir John Moore C Wolfe 321 227. The Maniac Leiois 322 228. Rienzi to the Romans Miss Mitford 324 229. The Bell of the " Atlantic " Mrs. Siuourney 326 230. The Struggle for Fame C Mac'kay. . .'. 328 231. The Sailor-Boy's Dream Dimond 329 232. Entry of the Austrians into Naples T. Moore 331 233. Rattle Hymn of the Berlin Landsturm Korner 332 234. The Main Truck, or a Leap for Life G. P. Morris 333 235. Catiline on his Banishment G. Croly 334 236. Apostrophe to the Ocean Lord Byron 335 237. Rattle of Waterloo Lord Byron 337 238. The Destruction of Sennacherib Lord Byron 339 239. Speech of Moloch Milton 339 240. Antony's Address to the'Romans Shakspeare 341 241. Hamlet's Soliloquy Shakspeare 344 242. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle Shakspeare 345 243. Perseverance keeps Honor bright Shakspeare 346 244. Macbeth's Soliloquy Shakspeare 347 245. Romeo in the Garden Shakspeare 348 246. Polonius to Laertes Shakspeare 349 247. Wolsey, on being cast off by the King Shakspeare 350 248. Wolsey to Cromwell Shakspeare 351 249. Griffith's Description of Wolsey Shakspeare 352 RECENT SELECTIONS. PROSE. 250. The Orators of Revolutions R. Choate 355 251. The Eloquence of Revolutions R. Choate 356 252. American Nationality R. Choate 358 253. The Same Continued R. Choate 358 254. The Same Concluded R. Choate 359 255. The National Ensign R. C Winthrop 360 256. The Cause R. C Winthrop 361 257. The Assault on Charles Sumner A. Burlingame 363 258. Strength of the Government T. Parsons 365 259. The Higher Law : A. P. Peabody 366 260. " Step to the Captain's Office and Settle " G. B. Cheever 367 261. The Murder of the Soul R. Hildreth 368 262. Judicial Tribunals C. Sumner 369 263. The Mainspring of the Rebellion C. Sumner . 371 264. Abolition of Slaverv in District of Columbia . . • C Sumner 372 265. The Same Concluded C Sumner 374 x CONTENTS. PAGE 266. Farewell Address at New Orleans B. F. Butler 375 267. Conclusion of Address at New Orleans B. F. Butler 376 268. Reconstruction of the Union B. F. Butler 378 iSO. Speech at the Union Square Meeting D. S. Dickinson 379 270. The Perpetuity of the Union D. S. Dickinson 381 271. Our Reformers J. C. Fremont 382 272. Public Rumor R. H. Dana, Jr 383 273. Enfranchisement of the North R. H. Dana, Jr 385 274. The Education of the War G. Putnam 387 275. Washington's Birthday, Feb. 22, 1864 G. Putnam 388 276. Our Heroic Dead J. A. Andrew 390 277. Honor to our Heroes J. A. Andrew 391 278. The Significance of the Contest G. S. Hillard 393 279. Military Capacity of the People A. L. Stone 394 280. Limit of Human Dominion L. Swain 396 281. The Battle of Civilizations W. Phillips 397 282. Secession the Death of Slavery W. Phillips 399 283. Commencement of Anti-slaverv Movement W.Phillips 400 284. " Touch not Slaverv " , Carl Schurz 401 285. Ohio G. Bancroft 403 286. The Controversv A. Lincoln 404 287. The Pretext of Rebellion S. A. Douglass 406 288. No Neutrals; only Patriots or Traitors S. A. Douglass 407 289. The Ordinance of Secession A. H. Stephens 408 290. " Hireling Laborers " of the North *. . H. Wilson 410 291. The Death of Slavery the Life of the Nation . . H. Wilson 412 292. The Fanaticism of Massachusetts H. Wilson 414 293. Defence of Massachusetts H. Wilson 41 5 294. Emancipation H. C Deming 417 295. Protection for Tennessee A. Johnson 418 296- The Submissionists J. Holt 420 297. Address to Kentucky Volunteers J. Holt 421 298. The American Question in England G. Thompson 423 299. Patriotism G. W. Curtis 425 300. Political Morality G. W. Curtis 426 301. Ideas the Life of a People G. W. Curtis 428 302. The Same Concluded G. W. Curtis 429 303. The War Policy of the President A. H. Bullock ... 430 304. The Dutv of the Hour R. Johnson 432 305. The first Gun fired at Sumter O. W. Holmes 433 306. Our Country's Call O. W. Holmes 434 307. Manhood and Country O. W. Holmes 435 308. Our Country's greatest Glory Bishop Whipple 436 309. Our National Anniversary A. H. Rice 438 310. Southern Usurpations R. Busteed 439 311. Monumental Honors E. Everett 440 312. The Crime of the Rebellion E. Everett = . 441 313. A Tribute to the Honored Dead H. W. Beecher 443 314. On the Confiscation Bill L. Trumbull 445 315. The Crittenden Compromise L. Trumbull 446 316 Reply to Senator Breckinridge E.D.Baker 448 317. Emancipation — Its Necessity and Justice G. S. Boutwell 449 318. The Reconstruction of Louisiana N. P. Banks 451 319. The Bible — Its Influence T. Parker 453 320. The Bible — Its Deep and Lasting Power T. Parker 454 321. Support of Government by Force S. K. Lothrop 455 CONTENTS. xi POETRY. PAOX 322. Our Country's Call W. C. Bryant 457 323. Not Yet....* W. C. Bryant 459 324. The American Flag G. W. Curtis 400 325. Am I for Peace ? Yes Anonymous 461 326. The Great Bell Roland T. Tilton 462 327. The Massachusetts Line Robert Lowdl 46') 328. On the Shores of Tennessee E. L. Beers 466 329. A Battle Song of Freedom G. Hamilton 468 330. The Voice of the North J. G. Whittier 470 331. The Watchers J. G. Whittier 471 332. Barbara Frietchie J. G. Whittier 473 333. Fro Patria T. B. Aldrich 475 334. The Cavalry Charge F. A. Durivaae 476 335. The Cumberland H. W. Longfelbw ... 478 336. United States National Anthem W. R. Wallace 480 337. The Fisherman of Beaufort Mrs. F. D. Gage. ... 481 338. The Flower of Liberty O. W. Holmes 482 339. An Appeal 0. W. Holmes 383 340. The Last Charge 0. W. Holmes 484 341. Voyage of the Good Ship Union 0. W. Holmes 485 342. The Stripes and the Stars E. D. Proctor 488 343. Who 's Ready ? E. D. Proctor 489 344. Mitchell W. F. Williams 490 345. War Song W. W. Story 491 346. The Black Regiment at Port Hudson G. H. Boker 493 347. Forward J. Pierpont 496 HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. PEOSE. 348. Plea of Sergeant Buzfuz C. Dickens 499 349. Mr. Puff's Account of Himself R. B. Sheridan 502 350. Lyceum Speech of Mr. Orator Climax Anonymous 503 351. Bullum vs. Boatum G. A. Stevens 505 352. Pleading Extraordinary Anonymous 507 353. Fuss at Fires Anonymous 509 354. Mr. Pepperage's Peroration Anonymous 510 355. Fourth of July Oration C. F. Brown 511 POETRY. 356. The Duel T. Hood 513 357. Music for the Million T. Hood 515 358. Ode to my Boy, aged three Years T. Hood 519 359. The Height of the Ridiculous 0. W.Holmes 521 360. The September Gale O. W. Holmes 522 361. Love and Murder Anonymous 524 362. The Removal Anonymous 526 363. Nongtongpaw C Dibdin 527 364. The Swell's Soliloquy on the War Vanity Fair 528 365. The Alarmed Skipper J. T. Fields 529 366. The Cold-Water Man J. G. Saxe 530 xii CONTENTS. 867. Whittling J. Pierpont 532 368. Hotspur's Account of a Fop Shakspeare.^ 533 369. How to have what we Like Horace Smith 535 370. The three Black Crows Byrom 536 371. Helps to Read Byrom 537 STANDARD DIALOGUES. 372. Prince Arthur of Bretagne Shakspeare 541 373. Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius Shakspeare 546 874. Dogberry's Charge Shakspeare 548 375. Indigestion Anonymous 551 376. The Two Robbers Dr. Aiken 553 377. The Miser Fielding 555 378. The Letter Anonymous 557 379. The Frenchman's Lesson Anonymous 558 380. How to tell Bad News Anonymous 559 381. The Choleric Father R. B. Sheridan 561 382. Rolla and Alonzo Kotzebue 564 383. The English Traveller Anonymous 566 384. The Embryo Lawyer Allingham 569 INDEX OF AUTHORS. Page Adams, J. Q 131, 132 Aiken, Dr 553 Aldrich, J. B 475 Allingham 569 Ames, F 70 Andrew, J. A 390, 391 Anonymous . .57, 61, 80, 280, 281, 314, 461, 503, 507, 509, 510, 524, 626, 551, 557, 558, 559, 566. Aytoun, W. E 318 Baker, E. D 448 Bancroft, G 403 Banks, N. P 451 Barbauld, Mrs 19 Barre, Isaac 11 Beecher, U. W 136, 443 Beecher, Lvman 58 Benjamin, P 249 Bennett, Nathaniel 44 Benton, T. H 102 Boker, G. H 493 Boutwell, G. S 449 Brown, C. F. (A. Ward) 511 Browning, R 277 Brougham, Lord 3, 91, 92, 93, 95 Brvant, W. C. .292, 294, 296, 457, 459 Bullock, A. H 430 Burke, E. . .191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 198 Burlingame, A 363 Busteed, R 439 Butler, B. F 375, 376, 378 Byrom 536, 537 Byron, Lord 335, 337, 339 Campbell, T. . .298, 300, 301, 303, 305, 306 Canning, G 88, 89 Charming, W. E 17, 18 Chapin, E. H 78 Chatham, Lord 170, 171,172 Cheever, G. B 367 Child, Mrs. L. M 37 Choate, R. . .27, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 36, 355, 356, 358, 359 Cicero 199 Clay, H 174, 175, 176, 178 Coleridge, S. T 274 Collins, W 283 Page Cowper, W 257, 259 Cram, (Red Jacket) 126 Crolv, G 63, 334 Curran, J. P 123, 124 Curtis, G. W. . . .425, 426, 428, 429, 460 Dana, R. H. Jr 383, 385 Darning, H. C 417 Demosthenes 200, 202 Dewey, 62 Dibdin, C 527 Dickens, C 499 Dickinson, D. S 379, 381 Dimond 329 Dobell, S 251 Douglass, S. A 406, 407 Drake, J. R 317 Dryden, J 287 Duriv.age, F. A 476 Edwards, Miss 267 Erskine, Lord 206, 207 Everett, E. Ill, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117, 119, 120, 122, 440, 441 Fielding 555 Fields, J. T 529 Fox, C. J 127, 128, 129 Fremont, J. C 382 Gage, Mrs. F. D 481 Goodrich, C. A 12 Grattan, H 25, 184, 187, 209 Greene, A. G 271 Griffin 72 Grimke, T. S 6, 8, 9 Hall, Robert 46 Halleck, F.G 314 Hamilton, G 468 Hancock, John 190 Hayne, R. Y 82 Hemans, Mrs. . .232, 234, 235, 236, 237 Henrv, P 41,43 Hildreth, R 368 Hillard, G. S 38, 39, 40, 393 Holmes, O. W. 308, 433, 434, 435, 482, 483, 484, 485, 521, 522 Holt, J 420, 421 Hood, T 242, 245, 513, 515, 519 XIV INDEX OF AUTHORS. Page Jackson, A 64, 65 Jewsbury Miss 307 Johnson," A 418 Johnson, E 278 Johnson, R 432 Kellogg, E 52 Kev, F. S 211 Knowles, J. S 60, 269, 270 Kbrner 332 Kossuth, L. . ..103, 105, 106, 107, 109, 110 Kotzebue 564 Landon, Miss 279 Lawrence, J 248 Lewis 322 Lincoln, A 404 Lockhart, J. G 240 Longfellow, H. W. . .252, 253, 255, 478 Lothrop, S. K 455 Lowell, R 465 Macaulay, Lord 263 Mackay, C 328 Mackintosh, J 203, 205 Mann, H 143 Mansfield, Lord 134 Mason, J. M 210 M'Lellan, 1 312 Meagher, T. F 21, 23 Milton 339 Mitford, Miss 324 Montgomery, J 212, 213, 311 Moore, T 331 Morris, G. P 333 Naylor, C 79 Norton, Mrs 265 Nott, Dr 183 ! O'Connell, D 59 i Parker, T 453, 454 I Parsons, T. 365 ! Patten, G. W 261, 262 Peabodv, A. P 366 Percival, J. G 285 I Phillips, C 85, 86, 87 Phillips, W 397, 399, 400 Pierpont, J 290, 291, 495, 532 Pitt, W 141 Plunkett, W. C 83 Poe, E. A 214, 217 Prentiss, S. S 74, 75, 76 Page Proctor, B. W. 289 Proctor, E. D 488, 489 Putnam, G 387, 388 Quincy, Pres 14 Rice, A. H 438 Saxe, J. G 530 Schurz,Carl 401 Scott, Sir W 220, 221, 222, 224 Seward, W. H 100 Shakspeare . . . 179, 180, 181, 182, 341, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 349, 350, 351, 352, 533, 541, 545, 548 Sheil, R. L 97 Sheridan, R. B 4, 5, 502, 561 Sigourney, Mrs 326 Smith, H 535 Stephens, A. H 408 Stevens, G. A. . ; 505 Stockton, R. F 16 Stone, A. L 394 Storv, J 47, 48, 49, 50 Storv, W. W 491 Sumner, C. . . 138, 139, 369, '371, 372, 374 Swain, L 396 Talfourd, Sergeant 250 Tennyson, A 309 Thompson, G 423 Thurlow, Lord 44 Tilton, T 462 Trumbull, L 445, 446 Vanity Fair 528 Wallace, W. R 480 Warren, J 135 Washington 24 Wayland, F 99 Webster, D. . . 144, 145, 147, 149, 151, 152, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 160. 161, 163, 164, 165, 166, 168 Whipple, E. P 96 Whipple, Bishop 436 Whittier, J. G 470, 471, 473 Williams, W. F 490 Willis, N. P 225, 226, 227, 230 Wilson, H 410, 412, 414, 415 Winthrop, R. C 54, 56, 360, 361 Wirt, W 66, 69 Wolfe, C 321 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS ON DECLAMATION. It is not my purpose to present here a theory of elocution, or a systematic treatise on the art of speaking. My object will be accom- plished if I succeed in furnishing a summary of practical suggestions and hints on the subject of declamation which shall prove useful both to students and to such teachers as have not made the study of elo- cution a specialty. That a correct and impressive elocution is a desirable attainment, few will venture to deny. In my judgment it is the crowning grace of a liberal education. To the highest success in those professions which involve public speaking, it is, of course, indispensable. No person, whatever is to be his destination in life, who aspires to a respectable education and to mingle in good society, can afford to dis- pense with this accomplishment. If a young man means to succeed in life and attain distinction and influence, he should spare no pains in the cultivation of the faculty of speech. The culture of his vocal organs should keep pace with the culture of his mental powers. While acquiring a knowledge of literature and science, he should also form the habit of speaking his vernacular with propriety, grace, ease, and elegance, sparing no effort to acquire what has been aptly called " the music of the phrase ; that clear, flowing, and decided sound of the whole sentence, which embraces both tone and accent, and which is only to be learned from the precept and example of an accomplished teacher." As a means of acquiring an appropriate, effective, and graceful elo- cution for the purposes of conversation, reading, and public speaking, the exercise of declamation, when properly conducted, cannot be too highly valued. It must be confessed, however, that the practice of declaiming as managed in some institutions, is comparatively useless, if not posi- tively injurious. Hence arises the prejudice against it which exists in some quarters. And it is not surprising that the results of declamation should be unsatisfactory, considering the defective methods of conduct- ing it, which are still prevalent in not a few places. What can be xvi INTRODUCTORY REMARKS expected of declamation which consists in repeating on the stage a few pieces, — injudiciously selected and imperfectly committed, — without previous or accompanying vocal training ? The remarks of Dr. Rush, on this topic, though made more than a quarter of a century ago, are still to some extent applicable. " Go to some, may I say all, of our col- leges and universities, and observe how the art of speaking is not taught. See a boy of but fifteen years sent upon the stage, pale and choking with apprehension, in an attempt to do that, without instruction, which he came purposely to learn ; and furnishing amusement to his class- mates, by a pardonable awkwardness, which should be punished in the person of his pretending but neglectful preceptor with little less than scourging. Then visit a conservatoire of music ; observe there the orderly tasks, the masterly discipline, the unwearied superintendence and the incessant toil to produce accomplishment of voice ; and after- ward do not be surprised that the pulpit, the senate, the bar, and the chair of the medical professorship are filled with such abominable drawl- ers, mouthers, mumblers, clutterers, squeakers, chanters, and mongers in monotony; nor that the schools of singing are constantly sending abroad those great instances of vocal wonder, who draw forth the intelligent curiosity and produce the crowning delight and approba- tion of the prince and the sage." This eminent writer's great work on the Philosophy of the Human Voice has done much to correct the evil which he so graphically described. There are now some schools and colleges to be found in which elocution is taught with much skill and success. Among the disciples of Dr. Rush who have most successfully cul- tivated the art of elocution in America, the foremost place belongs to Professor "William Russell, whose valuable and protracted labors in this department of education, both as an author and a practical in- structor, merit the highest commendation. As the first of my recommendations, I would, at the outset, strenu- ously insist on the importance of systematic vocal culture, which im- plies the training of the ear to perceive the various qualities and modi- fications of vocal expression, and the training of the voice to produce them. All the different functions of the voice employed in speech should be analytically exemplified by the teacher, and practised by the pupil, in the reading or recitation of short passages in which they are well illustrated, such as may be found in any good manual of elocution. This kind of teaching is to elocution what practice upon the scale is to music, and what the practice of the eye upon the har- mony and contrast of colors is to painting. This course of training naturally divides itself into two depart- ON DECLAMATION. xvii ments : — first, that which is mechanical ; and, secondly, that which relates to the expression of thought and emotion. I. THAT WHICH IS MECHANICAL. Breathing. The human voice is a musical instrument, — an organ of exquisite contrivance and adaptation of parts. Breath being the material of its sound, vocal training should begin with the function of breathing. Vigorous respiration is as essential to good elocution as it is to good health. To secure this it is necessary, in the first place, to attend to the posture, taking care to give the utmost freedom, ex- pansion, and capacity to the chest, and then to exercise and develop all the muscles employed in respiration, so that they may be habitually used with energy and power, both in the inhalation and expulsion of the breath. Whenever the voice is to be used in speaking, reading, singing, or animated conversation, the pupil should be required to assume the proper position, and to bring into exercise the whole mus- cular apparatus of the vocal organs, including the muscles of the abdomen, of the back, of the ribs, and of the chest. Elocutionary exercises, especially that of declamation, thus practised with a due regard to the function of breathing, become highly beneficial in a hygienic point of view, imparting health and vigor to the whole phys- ical system. The want of this kind of training is the cause of much of the bronchial disease with which clergymen and other public speak- ers are afflicted. In the excellent work on Elocution, by Russell and Murdock, the following exercises in breathing are prescribed and explained : — " Attitude of the body and position of the organs ; deep breathing ; diffusive or tranquil breathing ; expulsive or forcible breath- ing ; explosive or abrupt breathing ; sighing ; sobbing ; gasping ; and panting." Experience has proved that the respiratory organs are susceptible of a high degree of development, and it is well known that the strength of the voice depends on the capacity, health, and action of those organs. It is therefore of paramount importance that elocutionary culture should be based on the mechanical function of respiration. And while the elocutionist trains his pupils in such, breathing exer- cises as are above named, he is at the same time giving the very best part of physical education ; for the amount of vital power, as well a? the amount of vocal power, depends upon the health and vigor of the respiratory process. Few are aware how much may be effected by these exercises, judiciously practised, in those constitutions where the chest is narrow, indicating a tendency to pulmonary disease. In all such cases, regularly repeated deep inspirations are of the highest value. It should be observed that these exercises are best performed xviii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS in the open air, or, at least, in a well-ventilated room, the windows being open for the time. But no directions however wise or minute, can supersede the necessity of a competent teacher in this branch of physical and vocal training, and I cannot dismiss this topic without expressing my high appreciation of the value of the labors of that great master of the science of vocal culture, Prof. Lewis B. Monroe, of Boston, who is probably unsurpassed in this, or any other country, as a practical teacher of the mechanism and physiology of speech. Already the benefit of his instruction in this department of education is widely felt, and I omit no opportunity to advise teachers to avail themselves of a longer or shorter course of his admirable training. For if there is any accomplishment which a teacher should be unwilling to forego, it is that of skill in elocution. Articulation. A good articulation consists in giving to each letter its appropriate sound, and to each syllable and word an accurate, for- cible, and distinct utterance, according to an approved standard of pronunciation. This is what constitutes the basis of all good delivery. It has been well said that good articulation is to the ear what a fair hand or a clear type is to the eye. Austin's often-quoted description of a good articu- lation must not be omitted here. " In just articulation, the words are not to be hurried over, nor precipitated syllable over syllable; nor as it were melted together into a mass of confusion. They should be neither abridged nor prolonged, nor swallowed, nor forced ; they should not be trailed, nor drawled, nor let to slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfinished. They are to be delivered out from the lips as beau- tiful coins newly issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due succession, and of due weight." Good articulation is not only neces- sary to the speaker, as a condition of being heard and understood, but it is a positive beauty of delivery, for the elementary sounds of speech, when properly uttered, are in themselves both agreeable and impres- sive. For the attainment of this desirable accomplishment, three classes of exercises are necessary. 1. Upon the separate elementary sounds of the language, both vowels and consonants. 2. Upon their various combinations, both such as constitute syllables and such as do not, and especially the more difficult combinations of consonants ; and, 3. Upon words ; spelling them by sounds, that is, uttering the elementary sounds separately, and then the whole word. Respecting these exercises, Dr. Rush observes : — " When the ele- ments are pronounced singly, they may receive a concentration of organic effort, which gives them a clearness of sound, and a definite- ness of outline, if I may so speak, at their extremes, that make a fine ON DECLAMATION. xix preparation for a distinct and forcible pronunciation of the compounds of speech." By elementary sounds is here meant the forty-two sounds of the language which are represented by the twenty-six letters of the alphabet. They are represented in the following TABLE OF ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. 1. c, eve. 2. i, in. 3. a, ale. 4. c, end. 5. a, air. 6. a, and. 1. p, rope. 2. b, robe. 3. /, safe. 4. v, save. 5. m, seem. 6. to, way. 7. t, feet. 8. d, feed. VOWELS. 7. a, arm. 8. a, all. 9. o, on. 10. e, err. 11. o, own. 12. u, un. CONSONANTS. 9. th> bath. 10. th, bathe. 11. s, buss. 12. s, buzz. 13. Z, feel. 14. r, fear. 15. n, seen. 16. y, yea. 13. o, move. 14. ' m, full. 15. tt, tune. 16. i, isle. 1 7. oi, oil. 18. om, our. 1 7. eft, etch. 18. dg> (/) edge. 19. shy rash. 20. <7, (z^) rouge. 21. k, rack. 22. g, rag. 23. n^, sing. 24. h, hay. Pronounce the word eve, for example, slowly and distinctly, observing the sounds which compose the word, and the movements of the organs in producing them. Then enunciate singly the sound which the letter stand- ing on the left has in the word. When a distinct idea of each sound has been acquired, the practice on the separate elements may be continued without pronouncing the words. I have heard these sounds given with distinctness by children five or six years of age. Indeed they should always be taught with the alphabet. The next step in articulation proceeds with the combinations of the elementary sounds. The most common combinations of consonantal sounds in pairs are those represented in the following TABLE OF COMBINED CONSONANTS. pi If zm zn kr vd rth bl lv mp In pr zd nth fl It mf rn rp gd thz vl Id mt nt rb bz thr tl Is md nd rf vz thn xx INTRODUCTORY REMARKS dl lz mz ns rv dz lch si Ik pn nz rt gz rch zl lg fn P. r rd nk nch kl lm vn br rz ks nd g (J) gl In tn fr rk kt shr IP rm dn tr r g St ndg lb sm sn dr bd sp ndz When the simpler combinations have become familiar, the more difficult, consisting of three or four consonants, should be practised upon. Finally, words should be pronounced simply as words, giving attention solely to the articulation. Not that the first steps are expected to be perfect before the succeeding ones are attempted, but that atten- tion should be given to only one thing at a time, a grand maxim in education, when rightly understood. These exercises should be com- menced with the first steps in reading, and continued until the articu- lation is perfected, and the student has acquired facility as well as precision, grace as well as force, and distinctness and ease have been united and permanently secured. I would not be understood to affirm that the mode here pointed out is the only one by which a good articulation can be acquired. If a child is brought up among persons whose articulation is good, and if, from the earliest years, he is trained to speak with deliberation and distinctness, he will in most cases have a good articulation for conver- sational purposes, without special drilling on the elements. II. THAT WHICH RELATES TO THE EXPRESSION OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS, INCLUDING THE QUALITIES AND MANAGEMENT OF THE VOICE. This branch of vocal gymnastics comprises, first, the appropriate discipline of the voice for its formation and development, by strength- ening it, by extending its compass, and by improving its quality so as to render it full, sonorous, and agreeable ; and, secondly, the train- ing of the voice in those modifications which are used in the expression of thought and feeling, including all that variety of management which appears in the delivery of a good speaker. Strength. To secure the requisite strength of voice should be our first aim in a course of vocal culture. So important was this element of elocutionary training considered by the Athenians, that they had a class of teachers who were wholly devoted to it as a specialty. The zeal and perseverance of Demosthenes in correcting the natural defi- ciencies of his voice, have passed into a proverb. How he was accus- tomed to run up the steepest hills, and to declaim on the sea-shore, when the waves were violently agitated, in order to acquire strength of voice and force of utterance., is known to every school-boy. ON DECLAMATION. xxi If strength of voice is of paramount importance to the speaker, it is also an element which is very susceptible of cultivation. Professor Russell says, — " The fact is familiar to instructors in elocution, that persons commencing practice [in vocal gymnastics] with a very weak and inadequate voice, attain, in a few weeks, a perfect command of the utmost degrees of force." As has already been intimated, the strength of the voice depends directly upon the condition and use of the respiratory organs, including the larynx, and indirectly upon the general health and vigor of the whole physical system. The volume of breath which can be inhaled, and the force with which it can be expelled, determine the degree of energy with which vocal sounds are uttered. This fact affords a clear indication of the proper mode of developing the strength of the voice. It is evident that the exercises which have for their object the strengthening of the voice, should also be adapted to develop and perfect the process of breathing. The stu- dent should be frequently trained in set exercises in loud exclamations, pronouncing with great force the separate vowel sounds, single words, and whole sentences, and at the same time taking care to bring into vigorous action, all the muscular apparatus of respiration. Shouting, calling, and loud vociferation, in the open air, both while standing, and while walking or running, are, with due caution, effective means of acquiring vigor of utterance. Children when at play are instinctively given to vociferation, which should be permitted, whenever practi- cable. One of the most remarkable examples of the extent to which the power of voice may be developed, is that of the Rev. Mr. White- field, the celebrated itinerant preacher. Having listened to his preaching in the open air, in Philadelphia, on a certain occasion, Dr. Franklin found by computation, that he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand auditors. It is said that the habit of speaking gave to the utterance of Garrick so wonderful an energy, that even his under-key was distinctly audible to ten thousand people. Dr. Porter sums up this matter thus : — " The public speaker needs a powerful voice ; the quantity of Voice which he can employ, at least can employ with safety, depends on his strength of lungs ; and this again depends on a sound state of general health. If he neglects this, all other pre- cautions will be useless." Compass. When a person is engaged in earnest conversation, his voice spontaneously adopts a certain key or pitch. This is called the natural or middle key, and it varies in different persons. Pitt's voice, it is said, was a full tenor, and Fox's a treble. When a speaker is incapable of loud and forcible utterance on both high and low notes, his voice is said to be wanting in compass. Webster's voice was remarkable for the extent of its compass, ranging with the utmost ease, from the xxii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS highest to the lowest notes, required by a spirited and diversified delivery ; and such was said to be the versatility of Whitefield's vocal power, that he could imitate the tones of a female, or the infant voice, at one time, and at another, strike his hearers with awe, by the thunder of his under-key. The want of compass is more frequently the result of bad habits of speaking and imperfect training than of incapacity of the vocal organs. Mr. Murdock, the well-known actor and elocutionist, tells us that, by appropriate vocal training, he gained, within the space of some months, to such an extent, in power and depth of voice, as to add to its previous range a full octave ; and this improvement was made at a period after he supposed himself nearly broken down in health and voice, by over-exertion on the stage. A command of the low notes is essential to the fullest effect of impressive eloquence. The strongest and deepest emotions can be expressed only by a full, deep-toned utterance. Speaking on one key, with only slight variations, either above or below it, is perhaps the most common, and, at the same time, the most injurious fault both of declaimers and of public speakers. As a means of acquiring compass of voice, the student should pro- nounce with great force the vowel sounds on both the highest and lowest notes he can reach. This elementary drill should be followed by practice in reading and declaiming selections requiring the extreme notes of the compass. For practice on the low notes, passages should be selected expressing deep solemnity, awe, horror, melancholy, or deep grief. The following fine simile affords an excellent example for practice on the low notes : — " So when an angel, by divine command, With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Brittania passed, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, ■ Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." The development of the top of the voice requires practice upon passages expressing brisk, gay, and joyous emotions, and the extremes of pain, f tar, and grief . The following examples may serve as illus- trations : — Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addressed : But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain, ON DECLAMATION. xxiii They saw, in Tempi's vale, her uative maids, Amidst the festal-sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing; While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, Love framed with Mikth a gay fantastic round. Strike — till the last armed foe expires ; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires, — God — and your native land! Quality. A voice may possess the properties we have considered, strength and compass, and yet be very far from perfection. It may be neither loud, nor round, nor clear, nor full, nor sweet. While, on the other hand, it may be hollow, or aspirated, or guttural, or nasal, or possibly it may be afflicted with a combination of these faults. As one of the most important conditions of success in the cultivation of the voice, it is necessary that the student should acquire a distinct conception of the qualities and characteristics of a good voice, as a standard, a beau-ideal, which he may strive to reach. This must be derived mainly from the illustrations of the teacher, or from listening to the speaking of an accomplished orator. No mere description is adequate to convey it to the learner without the aid of the living voice. And yet, such a quaint and charming description of both the negative and positive qualities of a good voice, as the following, from a colloquy between Professor Wilson and the Ettrick Shepherd, is worth studying : — North. (Professor Wilson.) " James, I love to hear your voice. An Esquimaux would feel himself getting civilized under it — for there 's sense in the very sound. A man's character speaks in his voice, even more than in his words. These he may utter by rote, but his ' voice is the man for a' that,' and betrays or divulges his peculiar nature. Do you like my voice, James ? I hope you do." Shepherd. (James Hogg.) " I wad ha'e kent it, Mr. North, on the tower o' Babel, on the day o' the great hubbub. I think Socrates maun ha'e had just sic a voice — ye canna weel ca 't sweet, for it is ower intellectual for that — ye canna ca 't saft, for even in its aigh notes there 's a sort o' birr, a sort o' dirl that betokens power — ye canna ca 't hairsh, for angry as ye may be at times, it 's aye in tune frae the fineness o' your ear for music — ye canna ca 't sherp, for it 's aye sae nat'ral — and flett it cud never be, gin you were even gi'en ower by the doctors. It 's maist the XXIV INTRODUCTORY REMARKS only voice I ever heard, that I can say is at ance persuawsive and commanding — you micht fear 't, but you maun love 't ; and there 's no a voice in all his Majesty's dominions, better framed by nature to hold communion with friend or foe." The quality of Voice to which I would here call special attention, is called pure tone, which, in its perfection, accompanied with strength and compass, comprises nearly all the requisites of a good voice. " True utterance and pure tone," says Professor Russell, " employ the whole apparatus of voice, in one consentaneous act, combining in one perfect sphere of sound, — if it may be so expressed, — the depth of effect produced by the resonance of the chest, the force and firmness im- parted by the due compression of the throat, the clear, ringing property, caused by the due proportion of nasal effect, and the softening and sweetening influence of the head and mouth." The orotund quality which is so effective in impassioned utterance, and in the expression of deep, forcible, and sublime emotions, is nothing more than pure tone increased in extent of volume, and in intensity of force. This modification of pure tone is very full, very round, very smooth, and very highly resonant or ringing. It is what Dr. Rush regarded as the highest perfection of speech-voice, and as the natural language of the highest species of emotion. Volume and energy are its distinguishing characteristics. The piece from Webster, on page 160, is a good illustration of its use. In cultivating purity of tone, it is necessary, in the first place, to ascertain the elements of impurity, and their causes and remedies. To this negative process must be added the positive, namely — attention to the due and proportionate employment of all the vocal organs. Depth is increased by the expansion of the pharynx ; round- ness and volume are promoted by the enlargement of the oral cavity, especially its back part ; and smoothness is the result of the free vibration of the vocal chords, while resonance is produced by thfe proper expan- sion of the chest. Modulation. This has reference, not to the qualities of the voice itself, but to its management in delivery. It includes those modifications and variations which are requisite for the expression of thoughts and feel- ings, and are therefore denominated by some elocutionists, the elements of expression, in distinction from the elements of utterance, which we have already considered under the preceding heads. The principal expressive modifications of the voice, are pitch, force, rate, pause, and inflection. The voice should be exercised on these elements sepa- rately, till each can be produced in all its varieties and degrees. The middle pitch, or key-note, is that of common discourse, but by ON DECLAMATION. xxv practice it may be rendered effective in public speaking. Neglect to cultivate and develop the power of speaking on this key, often leads speakers to adopt the high, shouting note, which is heard so commonly, and with so much disapprobation, at exhibitions of declamation. Every one can speak on a high key, although without training few can do it pleasingly ; but command over the low notes of the voice is a rare accomplishment, and an unequivocal characteristic of the finished speaker. It is well to pay some attention to the very high and very low notes, not so much for their own utility in public speaking as for the purpose of giving strength and firmness to the notes which are intermediate between the natural pitch and either extreme, and which an 1 designated as simply high and low, without any qualifying term. After accustoming the ear and voice to the different notes, the student should learn to make sudden transitions from one key to another. Force. The principal degrees of force requiring attention, are three : the moderate, the declamatory, and the impassioned. The degrees lower than moderate are, the suppressed and the subdued ; and those higher than impassioned are, shouting and calling. But these are not very important in practical delivery. Rate has reference to the kinds of movement in delivery, including the rapid, the moderate, and the slow. Mrs. Siddons's primary rule for good reading was, " take time." Excessive rapidity of utterance is, undoubtedly, a very prevalent fault, both in speaking and in con- versation. Deliberate speech is usually a characteristic of culture and good - breeding. This excellence is greatly promoted by giving due quantity, or prolongation of sound, to the vowels. Pauses. Besides the pauses required by the syntactical structure of the sentence, and denoted by grammatical punctuation, there are the pauses of passion, and the pauses at the termination of the clusters into which words are grouped in good speaking. The pauses of emotion occur in impassioned delivery. They usually consist in lengthening the stops indicated by the punctuation marks, especially those of the points of exclamation and interrogation, and the dash. Pauses of this description constitute one of the most im- portant of the elements of emphatic expression, and yet they are, by many speakers, altogether neglected, or so abridged as to destroy their effect. The young student is particularly apt to disregard them. The pauses lohick mark the grouping of words according to the sense, and afford rests for taking breath, should generally be introduced before the nominative, if it consists of several words, or if it is one important word ; before and after an intermediate clause ; before the relative ; before and after clauses introduced by prepositions ; before conjunc- tions; and before the infinitive mood, if any words intervene betwixt it and the word governing it. XXVI INTRODUCTORY REMARKS Inflections. The two chief inflections or slides are the rising and the falling. The voice, when properly managed, usually rises or falls on each emphatic syllable. These upward and downward movements of the voice are what we mean by inflections. The student should practice on them till he can inflect with ease and in a full sonorous voice. Persons who are deficient in tune do not readily perceive the difference between the rising slide and loudness of voice, or the fall- ing and softness. It is a very useful exercise to pronounce the long vowel sounds giving to each first the rising then the falling slide. The prolongation of these sounds is most profitably connected with the slides, the voice being thus strengthened in its whole range of compass, and, at the same time, accustomed to utter the musical sounds of speech •with due quantity. In inflecting the vowels, the voice, in order to rise, begins low ; and, in order to fall, it begins high. The rising and falling slides combined form the circumflex, or wave, which is a very impressive and significant modification of the voice. It is chiefly used in sarcasm, raillery, irony, wit, and humor. It well deserves careful study and practice. The monotone, is the repetition of nearly the same tone on successive syllables, resembling the repeated strokes of the bell. This element belongs to very grave delivery, especially where emotions of awe, sub- limity, grandeur, and vastness are expressed, and is peculiarly adapted to devotional exercises. The following example well illustrates its use : — " He bowed the heavens also, and came down ; and darkness was under his feet, — And he rode upon a cherub and did fly ; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his secret place ; his pavilion round about him were dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies." In practical delivery, the elements of expression are never used independently of each other, two or three being always combined, even in the utterance of the shortest passage. The perfection of vocal training, therefore, requires a command, not merely of each individual modification of the voice, but of all their numerous combinations. The following example requires the union of declamatory force, low pitch, slow rate, monotone, and orotund quality : — " High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand, Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat." What has been said thus far, relates wholly to preparatory training in the elements of elocution. I have dwelt upon this theoretical depart- ON DECLAMATION. xxvii ment of my subject, because of its transcendent importance. But I do not mean to imply, in anything that has been presented, that the pupil should be confined exclusively to this disciplinary drill, for a long period, without attempting practical exercises in reading and decla- mation. On the contrary, I would recommend that this practice on the vocal and expressive elements be carried forward together with practice in speeding pieces. Exercises in vocal gymnastics, such as I have now indicated, should be commenced with the first stages of education, and continued, with gradations adapted to the age and progress of the pupil, through the whole course of instruction, whether longer or shorter. The value of thorough elementary training is well illustrated by the following anecdote respecting the education of the ear and the singing voice : — " Porpora, one of the most illustrious masters of Italy, having con- ceived a friendship for a young pupil, exacted from him the promise that he would persevere with constancy in the course which he should mark out for him. The master then noted upon a single page of ruled paper, the diatonic and chromatic scales, ascending and descending ; the inter- vals of third, fourth, fifth, &c. This eternal page occupied master and pupil until the sixth year, when the master added some lessons in articulation and declamation. At the end of this year, the pupil, who still supposed himself in the elements, was much surprised when Por- pora said to him, * Go, my son, you have nothing more to learn ; you are the first singer of Italy, and of the world.' The master had spoken the truth, for this singer was Caffarelli, the greatest singer of the eighteenth century." EXPRESSION. This term is used here, not in its limited and technical meaning, but in its largest sense, as a convenient one to denote the practical appli- cation of the principles of vocal culture which I have recommended. We will suppose the student to be thoroughly trained in enunciation, that his utterance is distinct and his pronunciation is correct, and that his voice is fully developed and well modulated. The question now arises, How is he to be guided in the right use of his powers of speech in the delivery of a given piece ? On this point there is a wide differ- ence of opinion among writers on elocution. On the one hand there are those who contend that, in the delivery of every sentence, the application of emphasis, pause, pitch, inflection, &c, should be gov- erned by definite rules. In accordance with this theory, they have formed complex systems of elocutionary rules, for the guidance of pupils in reading aloud and in declamation. On the other hand, there are authorities of eminence, who regard all specific rules for the man- xxviii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS agement of the voice in speaking as not merely useless, but positively injurious. Most prominent among the latter class is Archbishop Whately, who, in speaking of the method of teaching expressive delivery by rules, says : — " Such a plan not only directs us into a circuitous and difficult path, towards an object which may be reached by a shorter and straighter, but also in most instance* completely fails of that very object, and even produces oftener than not, effects the very reverse of what was designed." Reprobating very emphat- ically all systematic attention to elocution as an art, this eminent author advocates what he calls the natural manner of speaking, for the attainment of which he prescribes the rule, " not only to pay no studied attention to the voice, but studiously to withdraw the thoughts from it, and to dwell as intently as possible on the sense, trusting to nature to suggest spontaneously the proper emphasis and tones." The true course seems to me to lie midway between these two oppo- site extremes. While it is useless to attempt to reduce to exact system all the modifications of voice to be employed in the delivery of both plain and rhetorical language, still there are many important elocutionary rules and principles which are eminently useful for the guidance of the student. Because Walker fell into the error of attempting to carry his principles too far, and perplexed the student with an endless list of rules, it does not follow that all rules should be disregarded. His rules for inflections are, no doubt, too complex and artificial for ordinary instruction in elocution, but those found in the works of Dr. Porter and Professor Russell are calculated to afford important aid; and Professor Mark Bailey, in his Introduction to " Hillard's Sixth Reader," has still further simplified the subject. The following principles which he lays down for regulating the in- flections are at once comprehensive and practical. " The ' rising ' and ' falling ' slides separate the great mass of ideas into two distinct classes ; the first comprising all the subordinate, or incomplete, or, as we prefer to name them, the negative ideas ; the second comprising all the principal, or complete, or, as we call them, the positive ideas. " The most important parts of what is spoken or written, are those which affirm something positively, such as the facts and truths asset'ted, the principles, sentiments, and actions enjoined, with the illustrations, and reasons, and appeals, which enforce them. All these may properly be grouped into one class, because they all should have the same kind of slide in reading. This class we call ' positive ideas.' " So all the other ideas which do not affirm or enjoin anything posi- tively, which are circumstantial and incomplete, or in open contrast with the positive, all these ideas may be properly grouped into another single ON DECLAMATION. xxix class, because they all should have the same kind of slide. This class we call ' negative ideas.' " Positive ideas should have the falling slide ; Negative ideas should have the rising slide. " All sincere and earnest, or, in other words, all upright and downright ideas demand the straight, or upright and downright slides. " All ideas which are not sincere or earnest, but are used in jest, or irony, in ridicule, sarcasm, or mockery, in insinuation or double-mean- ing, demand the crooked or circumflex slides." These rules taken in connection with the accompanying brief but clear and precise explanation of the meaning attached to the words positive and negative, constitute the most admirable generalization that I have met with in elocutionary works of more recent date than that of Dr. Rush. And, indeed, Professor Bailey's whole treatment of that part of elocution now under consideration, is the best illustration I can name of the middle course which I recommend. Avoiding alike the ultra " artificial " system of Walker, and the ultra " natural " system of Whately, he combines in his instruction the excellencies of both, without their faults. He is both philosophical in his theory, and practical in its application. He attempts only what is practicable. He insists on analysis, but his analysis is at once simple and comprehensive. He classes the different kinds of composition with respect to the emotions, as follows, — 1. Unemotional ; 2. Bold ; 3. Animated or joyous ; 4. Subdued or pathetic ; 5. Noble ; 6. Grave ; 7. Ludicrous or sarcastic, 8. Impassioned, — and then indicates the modifications of voice appropriate for each. Now such a course of training based on such principles, especially if pursued under a competent instructor, cannot fail to be highly bene- ficial. Experience has proved it. Whately is evidently in error in wholly proscribing attention to the voice in speaking. In learning to dance, the pupil must pay attention to the motions of his limbs, but when practice has made the movements familiar, his mind is withdrawn from them. They then become natural. Just so with the student of elocution. In his disciplinary exercises he must attend to his voice. He must become accustomed to the correct application of tones and in- flections in the delivery of passages which illustrate them. But when he comes to practical delivery, then the mind should be withdrawn from the manner of utterance, and concentrated intensely upon the matter, — the thoughts and feelings to be expressed. In private rehearsals, the management of the voice will be a very prominent object of atten- tion. Declamation is a sort of transition stage, or intermediate exer- cise between private rehearsal and practical delivery at the bar, in the pulpit, or on the platform, and will require more or less attention xxx INTRODUCTORY REMARKS to the voice, in proportion to the progress already made by the pupil. Judicious practice will gradually carry him to that point where he will wholly cease to think of his manner, and become entirely absorbed in his subject. He then becomes natural. But even the most accom- plished orator must occasionally give some thought to his voice. When he rises to address an audience in a new place he must consider the circumstances, — the capacity of the apartment, the nature and temper of his auditors, &c., and pitch his voice accordingly. In other words, the speaker must on all occasions give a general attention to his voice, — sufficient, at least, to adapt it to the requirements of the position in which he is placed, modifying it in the progress of the discourse, as the necessity of the case demands. If the matter of his discourse is very familiar, the skilful speaker may greatly augment the effective- ness of his delivery by more particular attention to the manner, while he will seem wholly absorbed in the spirit and sense of what he utters. GESTURE. The limited space allotted to this introduction will not permit a full discussion of this topic, and I must content myself with presenting a few general observations concerning it. The little child, in the unconscious freedom of childhood, before his actions and manners have been modified by the restraints of artificial life, affords the best model of gesture. His instinct prompts him to that visible expression of his thoughts and feelings " Which we are toiling all our lives to find." And it may be assumed as a general fact, that external expression, unless repressed by habit or design, usually corresponds with internal emotion. The great desideratum in gesture is to make the visible expression in delivery harmonize with the audible, or, as Shakspeare has it, to " suit the action to the word, and the word to the action." Professor Russell, in his excellent analysis of this subject says, " The true speaker must have a true manner ; and of the five great attributes of genuine expression in attitude and action, truth stands first, fol- lowed by firmness, force, freedom, and propriety. Grace, which is sometimes added as a sixth, is, in all true manly eloquence, but another name for the symmetry which flows from appropriateness ; and, in masculine expression, should never be a distinct object of at- tention." In order to speak well, the orator must be able to stand well, that is, he should assume a firm but easy and graceful attitude, the weight of the body resting principally on one foot. The distance between the ON DECLAMATION. xxxi feet should be such as to give both Jirmness and freedom to the posi- tion. One foot should be in advance of the other, the toes being turned outward. The attitude should vary with the thoughts and emo- tions expressed. Unemotional thoughts require an attitude of repose, the body resting on the retired foot. Bold and impassioned language requires the reverse of this. The body is thrown forward, resting on the foot advanced. In turning from side to side, the toes should be kept apart and the heels together. The principal feature of bodily action consists in the proper use of the hands. " Have not," says Qnintilian, " our hands the power of exciting, of restraining, of beseeching, of testifying approbation, ad- miration, and shame ? Do they not, in pointing out places and persons, discharge the duty of adverbs and pronouns? So amidst the great diversity of tongues pervading all nations and peoples, the language of the hands appears to be a language common to all men." We stretch forth and clasp the hands when we importunately entreat, sue, beseech, supplicate, or ask mercy. To put forth the right hand spread open is the gesture of bounty, liberality, and a free heart ; and thus we reward, and bestow gifts. Placing with vehemence the right fist in the left palm is a gesture commonly used to mock, chide, insult, re- proach, and rebuke. To beckon with the raised hand is a universal sign of craving audience and entreating a favorable silence. To wave the hand from us, the palm outward, is the gesture of repulsion, aver- sion, dismissal. To shake the fist at one signifies anger and defiance and threatening. The hands are clasped or wrung in deep sorrow, and outstretched with the palms inward to indicate welcoming, approv- ing, and receiving. In shame, the hand is placed before the eyes ; in earnestness and ardor, the hands reach forward ; in joy, they are thrown up, widely apart; in exultation and triumph, the right hand is waved above the head. " In the rhetorical actions of the hand, the happy medium ought to be observed ; for the action of the hand should be full of dignity and magnanimous resolution, making it a liberal index of the mind." A French writer admirably remarks that we should move the arms be- cause we are animated, but not try to appear animated by moving the arms. The countenance, especially the eye, should be made to speak as well as the tongue. It is said of Chatham, that such was the power of his eye, that he very often cowed down an antagonist in the miist of his speech, and threw him into confusion. It is through the eye, scarcely less than through the tones of voice, that intercourse of soul is carried on between the speaker and hearers. To secure this intercourse the speaker should let his soul beam from his eye. Nor xxxii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS should he fail to look at his hearers, if he would have his hearers look at him. Among the faults to be avoided in the management of the eye, Dr. Porter notices particularly that unmeaning look which the eye " bent on vacuity " has, resembling the inexpressive glare of the glass eve of a wax figure ; that indefinite sweep of the eye which ranges from one side to the other of an assembly, resting nowhere ; and that tremulous,. roving cast of the eye, and winking of the eyelid, which is in direct contrast to an open, collected, manly expression of the face. Among the faults of action to be noticed are : — 1. Want of action ; 2. Want of expression of countenance ; 3. A stiff, or a careless, attitude ; 4. Want of appropriateness ; 5. Excess of motions of the hands and arms ; 6. Too great violence of action ; 7. Too great complexity ; 8. A mechanical uniformity; 9. Tardiness, the action following the utterance, when it should accompany it, or slightly precede it. It must not be supposed that it is necessary for the pupil to receive training in a technical system of gesticulation before he commences his exercises in declamation. If the student designs to qualify himself to be a professor of elocution, he will need to study the laws of gesture in " Austin's Chironomia," and be instructed in their application by a skilful teacher. But this course is neither practicable nor necessary for the mass of students. Instruction in this department should gen- erally be of a negative nature, and qpcupy itself mainly in the correc- tion of faults. When the pupil commences his exercises in declama- tion, the less said about action the better. Freedom is the first thing to be secured, and, to attain this end, few directions should be given and few criticisms be made, at the outset. When the speaker has acquired some confidence, and freedom of action, his faults may be gradually pointed out, and his attention called to some general princi- ples of gesture, such as have been presented respecting the language of the hands. Pupils should be taught to observe accurately the action of accomplished orators, not with the view to imitating their peculiari- ties, but to learn their method of producing effect by means of atti- tude and gesture. DECLAMATION. Declamation should be attended to in all grades of educational insti- tutions, from the primary school to the college, and every pupil should be required to take his turn in the performance of the exercise. It wftuld be highly beneficial, if well taught. The reason why so many teachers have no taste for it, is because they have not taken pains to qualify themselves to teach it. Want of time is sometimes offered as an excuse for neglecting it. But if a part of the time which is devoted to teaching reading, were appropriated to declamation, the progress ON DECLAMATION. xxxiii in reading itself would be more rapid, to say nothing of other advan- tages which would result from this course. I cannot too earnestly urge upon every teacher the importance of qualifying himself for teaching well both reading and declamation. There is no accomplishment which more effectively promotes the success of the teacher than that of elocu- tionary culture, — a good voice skilfully managed in conversation and in teaching. Without special attention to the subject, teachers are apt to acquire certain characteristic faults of voice, such as nasality, sharp ness, harshness, and thinness of tone, of which they are quite uncon- scious. Whereas, by constant attention to the manner of using the voice, since they are in constant practice, it might be perfected in its modulation. For want of culture in the elocutionary art, many teachers are greatly deceived, thinking their pupils read and declaim well when they do not. In the management of declamation much care should be taken in the selection of the pieces. It is best for the pupil, in the first place, after proper advice, to exercise his own taste in the selection of his piece, which should then be submitted to the teacher for approval. If the selection is very appropriate, the pupil should be commended and told why the piece is considered suitable. If the selection pre- sented is not suitable, the pupil should be informed on what ground it is objected to, so as to aid his judgment in another attempt. If the pupil has made proper effort without success, he should be assisted by the teacher. It is very important that the selection should be suited to the capacity and progress of the pupil. Beginners should take simple pieces, and not be allowed, as is sometimes the case, to murder a pas- sage from Paradise Lost, or Macbeth. Sometimes a fault is committed on the part of the teacher, by permitting a pupil to confine his selec- tions to one favorite class. I have observed in certain schools, that one particular boy would always appear in a comic piece, another in a tragic, and so on. It would be better for the teacher to require each pupil to speak a variety of pieces, so as to secure a more general and comprehensive culture than would result from practice on a single class of selections. The choice of the piece should be determined upon a considerable period previous to the day appointed for the public performance on the stage, so as to afford ample time for preparation. The piece should be accurately committed to memory, without the variation of a syllable. It should be made familiar, so that in the delivery no effort will be required in recalling it. The young pupil should be instructed in the best method of learning his piece. It will generally be found best to take one sentence at a time. The teacher's chief work consists in at- tending to individual private rehearsals. The rehearsal should be a xxxiv INTRODUCTORY REMARKS drill. The piece should be analyzed more or less minutely, the allu- sions and difficult points being explained. It should be the first aim to make the pupil understand it, not only in its general spirit and scope, but in its particular ideas. His attention should then be turned to the emotions which it expresses. Let it be remembered that the paramount object should be to make the pupil understand the meaning and feel the spirit of the piece. If he is timid and diffident he should be encouraged. Tell him that oven Daniel Webster could not make a declamation at the first attempt ; but that he did not despair ; he did not cease his efforts ; he persevered and succeeded. After the rehearsal, the pupil should have time to practice by him- self and apply and confirm rae instruction received from his teacher. It must be impressed upon his mind that if he would attain excellence he must practice, practice, practice. He must be made to understand that the repetition of a piece three or four times is no adequate prep- aration, and that it is necessary to go over with it twenty, thirty, or fifty times, if he would excel, and take a high rank. When the declamation takes place, excepting on public occasions, the criticisms ought to be made immediately after the performance of each speaker. The faults of the diffident should be mildly criticized. It is very important to call attention to points of special excellence in any performance. It should be remembered that judicious commend- ation is a most powerful stimulant to exertion. The most difficult task in teaching declamation is to develop that indescribable fervor, that unaffected earnestness of manner which always captivates the hearers, and wins the highest marks at an exhib- ition for prizes. There will always be one speaker in a school who excels all the rest in this quality. The teacher should point out the peculiar excellence of this speaker, and show wherein it differs from loudness of voice, and violence of action, and affected passion. Let it be remembered that the perfection of declamation consists in de- livering the piece as though it were real speaking. The speaker must " put himself, in imagination, so completely into the situation of him whom he personates, and adopt for the moment, so perfectly, all the sentiments and views of that character, as to express himself ex- actly as such a person would have done, in the supposed situation." Give the speaker every other quality — let his enunciation, his modu- lation of voice, and his action be faultless, and yet without earnestness, real earnestness, — not the semblance of it, not boisterous vociferation, not convulsive gesticulation, but genuine emotion felt in the heart, car- rying the conviction to the hearers that the sentiments uttered are real, the spontaneous, irrepressible outpouring of the thought and feel- ing of the speaker, — without this sovereign, crowning quality, he ON DECLAMATION. xxxv oannot be said to speak with eloquence. To bring out and develop this highest quality of delivery, requires the highest skill in the teacher. Unless the teacher possesses some degree of this quality himself, he cannot develop it in his pupils. The best immediate preparation for speaking is rest. I have often noticed that speakers at exhibitions have in many cases failed to do themselves justice from sheer exhaustion. A day or two of repose previous to speaking, enables the speaker to bring to the performance that vigor" of the faculties which is indispensable to the highest success. Webster told the Senate, and truly, no doubt, that he slept soundly on the night previous to the delivery of his second speech on Foote's reso- lution, which is considered his greatest parliamentary effort. It is well for the speaker to remember what Mr. Everett said in allusion to this fact : " So the great Conde slept on the eve of the battle of Rocroi, so Alexander slept on the eve of the battle of Arbela, and so they awoke to deeds of immortal fame." The best training cannot make good readers and good speakers of all pupils, but it can do much. And it is a fact worthy of observation that those who are most sceptical as to the possibilities of elocutionary culture, are invariably those who are themselves unskilful teachers in this branch. BOOK FIRST, STANDARD SELECTIONS FOR RECITATION AND DECLAMATION IN PROSE AND POETRY. BOOK FIRST. STANDARD SELECTIONS, PROSE. i. THE NOBLE PURPOSES OF ELOQUENCE. TF we consider the noble purposes to which Eloquence may be made subservient, we at once perceive its prodigious import- ance to the best interests of mankind. The greatest masters of the art have concurred, upon the greatest occasions of its display, in pronouncing that its estimation depends on the virtuous and rational use made of it. It is but reciting the common praises of the Art of Persuasion, to remind you how sacred truths may be most ardently promul- gated at the altar — the cause of oppressed innocence be most powerfully defended — the march of wicked rulers be most tri- umphantly resisted — defiance the most terrible be hurled at the oppressor's head. In great convulsions of public affairs, or in bringing about salutary changes, every one confesses how impor- tant an ally eloquence must be. But in peaceful times, when the progress of events is slow and even as the silent and unheeded pace of time, and the jars of a mighty tumult in foreign and domestic concerns can no longer be heard, then, too, she flour- ishes — protectress of liberty — patroness of improvement — guardian of all the blessings that can be showered upon the mass of human kind ; — nor is her form ever seen but on ground con- secrated to free institutions. To me, calmly revolving these things, such pursuits seem far more noble objects of ambition than any upon which the vulgar herd of busy men lavish prodigal their restless exertions. To diffuse useful information, to further intellectual refinement, 4 THE UNION SPEAKER. sure forerunner of moral improvement, — to hasten the coming of the bright day when the dawn of general knowledge shall chase away the lazy, lingering mists, even from the base of the great social pyramid ; — this indeed is a high calling, in which the most splendid talents and consummate virtue may well press on- ward, eager to bear a part. Lord Brougham. ii. ROLL A TO THE PERUVIANS. ~jVT Y brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, and "^ my fame ! Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts ? — No ! You have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea, by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours. They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule ; — we, for our country, our altars, and our homes. They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate ; — we serve a monarch whom we love, — a God whom we adore. Wherever they move in anger, desola- tion tracks their progress. Wherever they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error ! Yes ; — they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection ! Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs, — covering and devouring them ! They call on us to barter all the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better, which they promise ! Be our plain answer this : The throne we honor is the Peo- ple's choice, — the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy, — the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this ; and tell them too, we seek no change ; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us ! R. B. Sheridan. STANDARD SELECTIONS. in. INVECTIVE AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS. TF, my Lords, a stranger had at this time gone into the prov- -^ ince of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since the death of Sujah Dowlah — that prince who with a savage heart had still great lines of character, and who, with all his ferocity in war, had, with a cultivating hand, preserved to his country the wealth which it derived from benignant skies and a prolific soil — if, ignorant of all that had happened in the short interval, and observing the wide and general devastation of fields unclothed and brown ; of vegetation burned up and extinguished ; of vil- lages depopulated and in ruins ; of temples unroofed and perish- ing; of reservoirs broken down and dry, this stranger should ask, " what has thus laid waste this beautiful and opulent land ; what monstrous madness has ravaged with wide-spread war; what desolating foreign foe ; what civil discords ; what disputed succession ; what religious zeal ; what fabled monster has stalked abroad, and, with malice and mortal enmity to man, withered by the grasp of death every growth of nature and humanity, all means of delight, and each original, simple principle of bare existence ? " the answer would have been, not one of these causes ! No wars have ravaged these lands and depopulated these villages ! No desolating foreign foe ! No domestic broils ! No disputed succession ! No religious, super-serviceable zeal ! No poisonous monster ! No affliction of &-ovidence, which, while it scourged us, cut off the sources of resuscitation ! No ! This damp of death is the mere effusion of British amity ! We sink under the pressure of their support! We writhe under their perfidious gripe ! They have embraced us with their pro- tecting arms, and lo ! these are the fruits of their alliance ! What then, my Lords, shall we bear to be told that, under such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a whole people, thus spurred on to clamor and resistance, were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the Begums ? After hearing the description given by an eye-witness of the paroxysm of fever and delirium into which despair threw the natives when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for breath, they tore more 6 THE UNION SPEAKER. widely open the lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution ; and while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer that the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country, — will it be said that all this was brought about by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded Zenana; or that they could inspire this enthusiasm and this despair into the breasts of a people who felt no grievance, and had suffered no torture ? What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom ? What motive ! v That which nature, the common parent, plants in the bosom of man ; and which, though it may be less active in the Indian than in the Englishman, is still congenial with, and makes a part of his being. That feeling which tells him that man was never made to be the property of man ; but that, when in the pride and insolence of power, one human creature dares to tyrannize over another, it is a power usurped, and resistance is a duty. That principle which tells him that resistance to power usurped is not merely a duty which he owes to himself and to his neighbor, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting and maintaining the rank which he gave him in his creation — that God, who, where he gives the form of man, whatever may be the complexion, gives also the feelings and the rights of man. That principle which neither the rudeness of ignorance can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish ! That principle which n^kes it base for a man to suffer when he ought to act ; which, tending to preserve to the species the original designations of Providence, spurns at the arrogant distinctions of man, and indicates the independent quality of his race. B. B. Sheridan. IV. TEE BIBLE TEE BEST CLASSIC. ri^HE Bible is the only book which God has ever sent, and the only one he ever will send into the world. All other books are frail and transient as time, since they are only the registers of time ; but the Bible is as durable as eternity, for its pages STANDARD SELECTIONS. 7 contain the records of eternity. All other books are weak and imperfect, like their author, man ; but the Bible is a transcript of infinite power and perfection. Every other volume is limited in its usefulness and influence ; but the Bible came forth con- quering and to conquer, — rejoicing as a giant to run his course, — and like the sun, " there is nothing hid from the heat thereof." The Bible only, of all the myriads of books the world has seen, is equally important and interesting to all mankind. Its tidings, whether of peace or of woe, are the same to the poor, the igno- rant, and the weak, as to the rich, the wise, and the powerful. Among the most remarkable of its attributes, is justice ; for it looks with impartial eyes on kings and on slaves, on the hero and the soldier, on philosophers and peasants, on the eloquent and the dumb. From all, it exacts the same obedience to its commandments : to the good, it promises the fruits of his labors ; to the evil, the reward of his hands. Nor are the purity and holiness, the wisdom, benevolence, and truth of the Scriptures less conspicuous than their justice. In sublimity and beauty, in the descriptive and pathetic, in dignity and simplicity of narra- tive, in power and comprehensiveness, in depth and variety of thought, in purity and elevation of sentiment, the most enthu- siastic admirers of the heathen classics have conceded their in- feriority to the Scriptures. The Bible, indeed, is the only universal classic, the classic of all mankind, of every age and country, of time and eternity ; more humble and simple than the primer of a child, more grand and magnificent than the epic and the oration, the ode and the drama, when genius, with his chariot of fire, and his horses of fire, ascends in whirlwind into the heaven of his own invention. It is • the best classic the world has ever seen, the noblest that has ever^ honored and dignified the language of mortals ! If you boast that the Aristotles, and the Platos, and the Tullies of the classic age, "dipped their pens in intellect," the sacred authors dipped theirs in inspiration. If those were the ta secretaries of nature," these were the secretaries of the very Author of nature. If Greece and Rome have gathered into their cabinet of curiosities the pearls of heathen poetry and elo- quence, the diamonds of pagan history and philosophy, God himself has treasured up in the Scriptures, the poetry and elo- 8 THE UNION SPEAKER. quence, the philosophy and history of sacred law-givers, of prophets and apostles, of saints, evangelists, and martyrs. In vain you may seek for the pure and simple light of universal truth in the Augustan ages of antiquity. In the Bible only, is the poet's wish fulfilled, — " And like the sun be all one boundless eye." T. S. Grimke. WHAT WE OWE TO THE SWORD. npO the question, " What have the People ever gained but by Revolution?" I answer, boldly, If by revolution be un- derstood the law of the sword, Liberty has lost far more than she ever gained by it. • The sword was the destroyer of the Lycian Confederacy and the Achaean League. The sword alter- nately enslaved and disenthralled Thebes and Athens, Sparta, Syracuse, and Corinth. The sword of Rome conquered every other free State, and finished the murder of Liberty in the an- cient world, by destroying herself. What but the sword, in modern times, annihilated the Republics of Italy, the Hanseatic Towns, and the primitive independence of Ireland, Wales, and Scotland ? What but the sword partitioned Poland, assassinated the rising liberty of Spain, banished the Huguenots from France, and made Cromwell jfche master, not the servant, of the People ? And what but the sword of Republican France destroyed the independence of half of Europe, deluged the continent with tears, devoured its millions upon millions, and closed the long catalogue of guilt, by founding and defending to the last, the most powerful, selfish, and insatiable of military despotisms ? The sword, indeed, delivered Greece from the Persian invad- ers, expelled the Tarquins from Rome, emancipated Switzerland and Holland, restored the Prince to his throne, and brought Charles to the scaffold. And the sword redeemed the pledge of the Congress of '76, when they plighted to each other " their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor." And yet, what would the redemption of that pledge have availed towards the establishment of our present government, if the spirit of Amer- ican institutions had not been both the birthright and the birth- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 9 blessing of the Colonies ? The Indians, the French, the Span- iards, and even England herself, warred in vain against a people, born ami bred in the household, at the domestic altar of Liberty herself. They had never been slaves, for they were born free. The sword was a herald to proclaim their freedom, but it neither created nor preserved it. A century and a half had already be- held them free in infancy, free in youth, free in early manhood. Theirs was already the spirit of American institutions ; the spirit of Christian freedom, of a temperate, regulated freedom, of a rational civil obedience. For such a people the sword, the law of violence, did and could do nothing but sever the bonds which bound her colonial wards to their unnatural guardian. They redeemed their pledge, sword in hand ; but the sword left them as it found them, unchanged in character, freemen in thought and in deed, instinct with the immortal spirit of American insti- tutions. T. S. Grimke. VI. DUTY OF LITERARY MEN TO THEIR COUNTRY. TT7E cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence ; we cannot love her with an affection too pure and fervent ; we cannot serve her with an energy of purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is our country ? It is not the East, with her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the North, with her thousand villages, and her harvest-home, with her frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the West, with her forest-sea and her inland-isles, with her luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with her beautiful Ohio and her ma- jestic Missouri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these but the sister families of one greater, better, holier family, — OUR coun- try ? I come not here to speak the dialect, or to give the counsels of the patriot-statesman. But I come, a patriot scholar, to vin- dicate the rights and to plead for the interests of American Literature. And be assured, that we cannot, as patriot-scholars, 10 THE UNION SPEAKER. think too highly of that country, or sacrifice too much for her. And let us never forget, — let us rather remember with a relig- ious awe, — that the union of these States is indispensable to our Literature, as it is to our national independence and civil liber- ties, — to our prosperity, happiness, and improvement. If, indeed, we desire to behold a literature like that which has sculptured with so much energy of expression, which has painted so faithfully and vividly, the crimes, the vices, the follies of an- cient and modern Europe ; — if we desire that our land should furnish for the orator and the novelist, for the painter and the poet, age after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war ; the glitter- ing march of armies, and the revelry of the camp; the shrieks and blasphemies, and all the horrors of the battle-field ; the deso- lation of the harvest, and the burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of cities ; — if we desire to unchain the furi- ous passions of jealousy and selfishness, of hatred, revenge, and ambition, those lions that now sleep harmless in their den ; — if we desire that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush with the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft from the land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the roar and the smoke of battle, that the very mountain-tops should become altars for the sacrifice of brothers ; — if we desire that these, and such as these, — the elements, to an incredible extent, of the literature of the Old World, — should be the elements of our literature ; then, but then only, let us hurl from its pedestal the majestic statue of our Union, and scatter its fragments over all our land. But, if we covet for our country the noblest, purest, loveliest literature the world has ever seen, — such a literature as shall honor God, and bless mankind, — a literature, whose smiles might play upon an angel's face, whose tears " would not stain an angel's cheek," — then let us cling to the Union of these States with a patriot's love, with a scholar's enthusiasm, with a Chris- tian's hope. In her heavenly character, as a holocaust self-sacrificed to God ; at the height of her glory, as the ornament of a free, edu- cated, peaceful Christian people, American Literature will find that the intellectual spirit is her very tree of life, and the Union her Garden of Paradise. T. S. GrimU. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 11 vn. AMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO ENGLAND. rilHE honorable member has asked — "And now will these "*" Americans, children planted by our care, nourished up by our indulgence, and protected by our arms, — will they grudge to contribute their mite ? " They planted by your care I No ; your oppressions planted them in America ! They fled from your tyranny to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, where they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships to which human nature is liable ; and, among others, to the cruel- ties of a savage foe the most subtle, and I will take upon me to say the most formidable, of any people upon the face of the earth ; and yet, actuated by principles of true English liberty, our American brethren met all the hardships with pleasure, com- pared with those they suffered in their own country from the hands of those that should have been their friends. They nourished by your indulgence / They' grew by your neglect of them ! As soon as you began to care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons to rule them, in one department and another, who were, perhaps, the deputies of dep- uties to some members of this House, sent to spy out their liber- ties, to misrepresent their actions, and to prey upon them; — men whose behavior, on many occasions, has caused the blood of those sons of liberty to recoil within them ; men promoted to the highest seats of justice, — some who, to my knowledge, were glad, by going to a foreign country, to escape being brought to the bar of a court of justice in their own. They "protected by your arms I They have nobly taken up arms in your defence ; — have exerted a valor, amid their con- stant and laborious industry, for the defence of a country whose frontier was drenched in blood, while its interior parts yielded all its little savings to your emolument. And, believe me, — remember I this day told you so, — that same spirit of freedom which actuated that people at first will accompany them still ; but prudence forbids me to explain myself further. Heaven knows I do not at this time speak from motives of party heat. What I deliver are the genuine sentiments of my 12 THE UNION SPEAKER. heart. However superior to me, in general knowledge and ex- perience, the respectable body of this House may be, yet I claim to know more of America than most of you, having seen that country and been conversant with its affairs. The people, I be- lieve, are as truly loyal as any subjects the king has ; but they are a people jealous of their liberties, and Avho, if those liberties should ever be violated, will vindicate them to the last drop of their blood. Isaac Barre. vm. WEBSTER'S PLEA FOR DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. fT^HE Supreme Court of the United States held its session that winter in a mean apartment of moderate size — the Capitol not having been built after its destruction in 1814. The audi- ence, when the case came on, w T as therefore small, consisting chiefly of legal men, the elite of the profession throughout the country. Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm tone of easy and dignified conversation. His matter was so completely at his command that he scarcely looked at his brief, but went on for more than four hours with a statement so lumi- nous, and a chain of reasoning so easy to be understood, and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demonstration, that he seemed to carry with him every man of his audience without the slight- est effort or weariness on either side. It was hardly eloquence, in the strict sense of the term ; it was pure reason. Now and then, for a sentence or two, his eye flashed and his voice swelled into a bolder note, as he uttered some emphatic thought ; but he instantly fell back into the tone of earnest conversation, which ran throughout the great body of his speech. The argument ended. Mr. Webster stood for some moments silent before the court, while every eye was fixed intently upon him. At length, addressing the chief justice, Marshall, he pro- ceeded thus : -r- " This, Sir, is my case I It is the case, not merely of that humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land. It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout the country, — of all those great charities founded by the piety of our ancestors to alleviate human misery, and STANDARD SELECTIONS. 13 scatter blessings along the pathway of life. It is more ! It is, in some sense, the case of every man among us who has property of which he may be stripped ; for the question is simply this : Shall our State legislatures be allowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it from its original use, and apply it to such ends or purposes as they, in their discretion, shall see fit ? " Sir, you may destroy this little institution ; — it is weak ; it is in your hands ! I know it is one of the lesser lights in the lit- erary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you do so, you must carry through your work ! You must extin- guish, one after another, all those great lights of science which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our land! " It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet, there are those who love it ." Here the feelings which he had thus far succeeded in keeping down, broke forth. His lips quivered ; his firm cheeks trembled with emotion ; his eyes were filled with tears, his voice choked, and he seemed struggling to the utmost simply to gain that mastery over himself which might save him from an unmanly burst of feeling. I will not attempt to give you the few broken words of tenderness in which he went on to speak of his attach- ment to the college. The whole seemed to be mingled through- out with the recollections of father, mother, brother, and all the trials and privations through which he had made his way into life. Every one saw that it was wholly unpremeditated, a pres- sure on his heart, which sought relief in words and tears. The court-room during these two or three minutes presented an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, w T ith his tall and gaunt figure, bent over as if to catch the slightest whisper, the deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emotion, and eyes suffused with tears. Mr. Justice Washington at his side, — with his small and emaciated frame, and countenance more like mar- ble than I ever saw on any other human being, — leaning for- ward with an eager,' troubled look ; and the remainder of the court, at the two extremities, pressing, as it were, toward a single point, while the audience below were wrapping themselves round in closer folds beneath the bench to catch each look and every movement of the speaker's face. If a painter could give us 14 THE UNION SPEAKER. the scene on canvas, — those forms and countenances, and Daniel Webster as he then stood in the midst, — it would be one of the most touching pictures in the history of eloquence. One thing it taught me, that the pathetic depends not merely on the words uttered, but still more on the estimate we put upon him who utters them. There was not one among the strong-minded men of that assembly who could think it unmanly to weep, when he saw standing before him the man who had made such an argu- ment, melted into the tenderness of a child. Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and fixing his keen eye on the Chief Justice, said in that deep tone with which he sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience, — " Sir, I know not how others feel, (glancing at the opponents of the college before him,) but, for myself, when I see my Alma Mater surrounded, like Caesar in the senate-house, by those who are reiterating stab upon stab, I would not, for my right hand, have her turn to me, and say, Et tu quoque, mi jili! And thou, too, my son ! " He sat down. There was a deathlike stillness throughout the room for some moments ; every one seemed to be slowly recov- ering himself, and coming gradually back to his ordinary range of thought and feeling. C. A. Goodrich. IX. THE FOUNDERS OF BOSTON. f\N this occasion, it is proper to speak of the founders of our ^^ city, and of their glory. Now in its true acceptation, the term glory expresses the splendor which emanates from virtue, in the act of producing general and permanent good. Right conceptions, then, of the glory of our ancestors, are to be ob- tained only by analyzing their virtues. These virtues, indeed, are not seen charactered in breathing bronze, or in living marble. Our ancestors have left no Corinthian temples on our hills, no Gothic cathedrals on our plains, no proud pyramid, no storied obelisk, in our cities. But mind is there. Sagacious enterprise is there. An active, vigorous, intelligent, moral population throng our cities, and predominate in our fields ; — men, patient STANDARD SELECTIONS. 15 of labor, submissive to law, respectful to authority, regardful of right, faithful to liberty. These are the monuments of our an- cestors. They stand immutable and immortal, in the social, moral, and intellectual condition of their descendants. They exist in the spirit which their precepts instilled, and their ex- ample implanted. It was to this spot, during twelve successive years, that the great body of those first settlers emigrated. In this place, they either fixed permanently their abode, or took their departure from it, for the coast or the interior. Whatever honor devolves on this metropolis, from the events connected with its first set- tlement, is not solitary or exclusive ; it is shared with Massa- chusetts ; with New England ; in some sense, with the whole United States. For what part of this wide empire, be it sea or shore, lake or river, mountain or valley, have the descendants of the first settlers of New England not traversed ; what depth of forest not penetrated ? what danger of nature or man not defied ? Where is the cultivated field, in redeeming which from the wilderness, their vigor has not been displayed ? Where, amid unsubdued nature, by the side of the first log-hut of the settler, does the school-house stand, and the church-spire rise, unless the sons of New England are there ? Where does im- provement advance, under the active* energy of willing hearts and ready hands, prostrating the moss-covered monarch of the wood, and from their ashes, amid their charred roots, bidding the green sward and the waving harvest to upspring, and the spirit of the fathers of New England is not seen, hovering and shed- ding around the benign influences of sound, social, moral, and religious institutions, stronger and more enduring than knotted oak or tempered steel ? The swelling tide of their descendants has spread upon our coasts, ascended our rivers, taken posses- sion of our plains. Already it encircles our lakes. At this hour, the rushing noise of the advancing wave startles the wild beast in his lair among the prairies of the West. Soon it shall be seen climbing the Rocky Mountains, and, as it dashes over their cliffs, shall be hailed by the dwellers on the Pacific, as the harbinger of the coming blessings of safety, liberty, and truth. Pres. Quincy. 16 THE UNION SPEAKER. x. TEE AMERICAN SAILOR. T OOK to your history, — that part of it which the world knows by heart, — and you will find on its brightest page the glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever his country has done to disgrace him, and break his spirit, he has never disgraced her ; — he has always been ready to serve her ; he always has served her faithfully and effectually. He has often been weighed in the balance, and never found wanting. The only fault ever found with him is, that he sometimes fights ahead of his orders. The world has no match for him, man for man ; and he asks no odds, and he cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity, or the glory of his country, calls him to fight Who, in the darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag into the very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in his den, and woke the echoes of old Albion's hills by the thun- ders of his cannon, and the shouts of his triumph ? It was the American sailor. And the names of John Paul Jones, and the Bon Homme Richard, will go down the annals of time forever. Who struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag, — which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Christendom, — drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an end to the in- famous tribute it had been accustomed to extort ? It was the American sailor, and the name of Decatur and his gallant com- panions will be as lasting as monumental brass. In the year 1812, when your arms on shore were covered by disaster, — when Winchester had been defeated, when the army of the Northwest had surrendered, and when the feeling of despondency hung like a cloud over the land, — who first relit the fires of national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of victory ? It was the American sailor. And the names of Hull and the Constitution will be remembered as long as we have left anything worth remembering. The wand of British invincibility was broken when the flag of the Guerriere came down. That one event was worth more to the Republic than all the money which has ever been ex- pended for the navy. Since that day, the navy has had no STANDARD SELECTIONS. 17 stain upon its escutcheon, but has been cherished as your pride and glory. And the American sailor has established a reputa- tion throughout the world, — in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, — for heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks from no danger, he dreads no foe, he yields to no superior. No shoals are too dangerous, no Seas too boisterous, no climate too rigorous for him. The burning sun of the tropic cannot make him effeminate, nor can the eternal winter of the polar seas paralyze his energies. R. F. Stockton. » XI. MORALITY, THE FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL GREATNESS. ~V^~HEN we look forward to the probable growth of this country ; when we think of the millions of human beings who are to spread over our present territory ; of the career of improvement and glory open to this new people ; of the impulse which free institutions, if prosperous, may be expected to give to philosophy, religion, science, literature, and arts ; of the vast field in which the experiment is to be made, of what the unfet- tered powers of man may achieve ; of the bright page of history which our fathers have filled, and of the advantages under which their toils and virtues have placed us for carrying on their work ; — when we think of all .this, can we help, for a moment, surren- dering ourselves to bright visions of our country's glory, before which all the glories of the past are to fade away? Is it presumption to say, that, if just to ourselves and all nations, we shall be felt through this whole continent, that we shall spread our language, institutions, and civilization, through a wider space than any nation has yet filled with a like benefi- cent influence ? And are we prepared to barter these hopes, this sublime moral empire, for conquests by force ? Are we prepared to sink to the level of unprincipled nations, to content ourselves with a vulgar, guilty greatness, to adopt in our youth maxims and ends which must brand our future with sordidness, oppression, and shame ? This country cannot, without peculiar infamy, run the common race of national rapacity. Our origin, institutions, and position are peculiar, and all favor an upright, honorable course. 2 18 THE UNION SPEAKER Why cannot we rise to noble conceptions of our destiny? Why do we not feel, that our work as a nation is to carry free- dom, religion, science, and a noble form of human nature over this continent ? And why do we not remember, that to diffuse these blessings we must first cherish them in our own borders ; and that whatever deeply and permanently corrupts us, will make our spreading influence a curse, not a blessing, to this new world ? I am not prophet enough to read our fate. I believe, indeed, that we are to make our futurity for ourselves. I be- lieve, that a nation's destiny lies in its character, in the prin- ciples which govern its policy, and bear rule in the hearts of its citizens. I take my stand on God's moral and eternal law. A nation, renouncing and defying this, cannot be free, cannot be great. W. E. Charming. xn. INTEMPERANCE. A MONG the evils of intemperance, much importance is given ~*^" to the poverty of which it is the cause. But this evil, great as it is, is yet light, in comparison with the essential evil of intemperance. What matters it, that a man be poor, if he carry into his poverty the spirit, energy, reason, and virtues of a man ? 'What matters it, that a man must, for a few years, live on bread and water ? How many of the richest are reduced, by disease, to a worse condition than this ? Honest, virtuous, noble- minded poverty, is comparatively a light evil. The ancient philosopher chose it, as a condition of virtue. It has been the lot of many a Christian. The poverty of the intemperate man owes its great misery to its cause. He who makes himself a beggar, by having made himself a brute, is miserable indeed. He who has no solace, who has only agonizing recollections and harrowing remorse, as he looks on his cold hearth, his scanty table, his ragged children, has indeed to bear a crushing weight of woe. That he suffers, is a light thing. That he has brought on himself this suffering, by the voluntary extinction of his reason, that is the terrible thought, the intolerable curse. Intemperance is to be pitied and abhorred for its own sake, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 19 much more than for its outward consequences. These owe their chief bitterness to their criminal source. We speak of the miseries which the drunkard carries to his family. But take away his own brutality, and how lightened would be these miseries ! We talk of his wife and children in rags. Let the rags continue ; but suppose them to be the effects of an innocent cause. Suppose his wife and children bound to him by a strong love, which a life of labor for their support, and of unwearied kindness has awakened ; suppose them to know that his toils for their welfare had broken down his frame ; suppose him able to say, " We are poor in this world's goods, but rich in affection and religious trust. I am going from you ; but I leave you to the Father of the fatherless, and to the widow's God." Suppose this: and how changed these rags! — how changed the cold, naked room ! The heart's warmth can do much to withstand the winter's cold ; — and there is hope, there is honor, in this virtuous indigence. What breaks the heart of the drunkard's wife ? It is not that he is poor, but that he is a drunkard. Instead of that bloated face, now distorted with passion, now robbed of every gleam of intelligence, if the wife could look on an affectionate countenance, which had, for years, been the interpreter of a well-principled mind and faithful heart, what an overwhelming load would be lifted from her ! It is a husband, whose touch is polluting, whose infirmities are the witness of his guilt, who has blighted all her hopes, who has proved false to the vow. which made her his ; it is such a husband who makes home a hell, — not one whom toil and disease and Providence have cast on the care of wife and children. We look too much at the consequences of vice, — too little at the vice itself. It is vice which is the chief weight of what we call its consequences, — vice, which is the bitterness in the cup of human woe. W. E. Charming. * ♦ xm. INCONSISTENT EXPECTATIONS. np HIS world may be considered as a great mart of commerce, where fortune exposes to our view various commodities, — 20 THE UNION SPEAKER. riches, ease, tranquillity, fame, integrity, knowledge. Everything is marked at a settled price, — our time, our labor, our ingenuity, is so much ready money, which we are to lay out to the best advantage. Examine, compare, choose, reject ; but stand to your own judgment, and do not, like children, when you have purchased one thing, repine that you do not possess another which you did not purchase. Such is the force of well-regulated industry, that a steady and vigorous exertion of our faculties, directed to one end, will gen- erally insure success. Would you, for instance, be rich ? Do you think that single point worth the sacrifice of everything else? You may then be rich. Thousands have become so, from the lowest beginnings, by toil, and patient diligence, and attention to the minutest articles of expense and profit. But you must give up the pleasures of leisure, of mental ease, of a free, unsuspicious temper. If you preserve your integrity, it must be a coarse-spun and vulgar honesty. Those high and lofty notions of morals which you brought with you from the schools, must be considerably lowered, and mixed with the baser alloy of a jealous and worldly-minded prudence. You must learn to do hard, if not unjust things ; and as for the nice embarrassments of a deli- cate and ingenuous spirit, it is necessary to get rid of them as fast as possible. You must shut your heart against the Muses, and be content to feed your understanding with plain household truths. In short, you must not attempt to enlarge your ideas, or polish your taste, or refine your sentiments, but must keep on in one beaten track, without turning aside either to the right or to the left. " But you say, I cannot submit to drudgery like this ; I feel a spirit above it." 'Tis well, be above it then ; only do not repine that you are not rich. Is knowledge the pearl of price- in your estimation ? That, too, may be purchased by steady application, and long solitary study and reflection. Bestow these, and you shall be learned. " But," says the man of letters, " what a hardship is it, that many an illiterate fellow, who cannot construe the motto of the arms on his coach, shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while I have little more than the common conveniences of life ! " Was it, then, to raise a fortune, that you consumed the sprightly hours of youth in study and retirement ? Was it to be rich that you STANDARD SELECTIONS. 21 grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled the sweetness from the Greek and Roman springs ? You have then mistaken your path, and ill employed your industry. " What reward have I, then, for all my labor ? " What reward ! A large, compre- hensive soul, well purged from vulgar fears, and perturbations, and prejudices ; able to comprehend and interpret the works of man, — of God ; a rich, flourishing, cultivated mind, furnished with inexhaustible stores of entertainment and reflection ; a perpetual spring of fresh ideas, and the conscious dignity of. superior intelligence. Good Heaven ! What other reward can you ask besides ! " But is it not some reproach upon the economy of Provi- dence, that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation ? " Not in the least. He made himself a mean, dirty fellow for that very end. He has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty for it ; and will you envy him his bargain ? Will you hang your head and blush in his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show ? Lift up your brow with a noble confidence, and say to yourself, " I have not these things, it is true ; but it is because I have not sought, because I have not desired them ; it is because I pos- sess something better. I have chosen my lot ; I am content and satisfied." The characteristic mark of a great and noble mind is to choose some high and worthy object, and pursue that object through life. Mrs. Barbauld. xrv. THE PATRIOTS SWORD VINDICATED. T>UT, my Lord, I dissented from the resolutions before us, for -^ other reasons. I dissented from them, because I felt that, by giving them my assent, I should have pledged myself to the unqualified repudiation of physical force in all countries, at all times, and under every circumstance. This I could not do. For, my Lord, I do not abhor the use of arms in the vindication of national rights. There are times, when arms will alone suffice, and when political ameliorations call for a drop of blood,* and many thousand drops of blood. Opinion, I admit, will operate against opinion. But, as the honorable member for Kilkenny 22 THE UNION SPEAKER. has observed, force must be used against force. The soldier is proof against an argument, but he is not proof against a bullet. The man that will listen to reason, let him be reasoned with. But it is the weaponed arm of the patriot that can alone prevail against battalioned despotism. Then, my Lord, I do not condemn the use of arms as immoral, nor do I conceive it profane to say, that the King of Heaven — the Lord of Hosts ! the God of Battles ! — bestows his benedic- tion upon those who unsheathe the sword in the hour of a nation's peril. From that evening, on which, in the valley of Bethulia, he nerved the arm of the Jewish girl to smite the drunken tyrant in his tent, down to our day, in which he has blessed the insurgent chivalry of the Belgian priest, his almighty hand hath ever been stretched forth from his Throne of Light, to conse- crate the flag of freedom — to bless the patriot's sword ! Be it in the defence, or be it in the assertion of a people's liberty, I hail the sword as a sacred weapon ; and if, my Lord, it has some- times taken the shape of the serpent and reddened the shroud of the oppressor with too deep a dye, like the anointed rod of the High Priest, it has at other times, and as often, blossomed into celestial flowers to deck the freeman's brow. Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord, for, in the passes of the Tyrol, it cut to pieces the banner of the Ba- varian, and, through those cragged passes, struck a path to fame for the present insurrectionist of Inspruck ! Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord ; for at its blow, a giant nation started from the waters of the Atlan- tic, and by its redeeming magic, and in the quivering of its crim- son light, the crippled Colony sprang into the attitude of a proud Republic — prosperous, limitless, and invincible ! Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord ; for it swept the Dutch marauders out of the fine old towns of Bel- gium — scourged them back to their own phlegmatic swamps — and knocked their flag and sceptre, their laws and bayonets into the sluggish waters of the Scheldt. My Lord, I learned that it was the right of a nation to govern herself — not in this hall, but upon the ramparts of Antwerp. This, the first article of a nation's creed, I learned upon those ramparts, where freedom was justly estimated, and the posses- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 23 sion of the precious gift was purchased by the effusion of gener- ous blood. My Lord, I honor the Belgians, I admire the Belgians, I love the Belgians for their enthusiasm, their courage, their success; and I, for one, will not stigmatize, for I do not abhor the means by whicli they obtained a citizen king, a chamber of deputies. T. F. Meagher. ♦ XV. ON BEING FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON. A JURY of my countrymen have found me guilty of the •^*~ crime for which I stood indicted. For this I entertain not the slightest feeling of resentment towards them. Influenced, as they must have been, by the charge of the lord chief justice, they could have found no other verdict. What of that charge ? Any strong observations on it I feel sincerely would ill befit the solemnity of this scene ; but I would earnestly beseech of you, my Lord, — you who preside on that bench, — when the passions and prejudices of this hour have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and to ask of it, was your charge as it ought to have been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the crown My Lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me, and perhaps it will seal my fate. But I am here to speak the truth, whatever it may cost ; I am here to regret nothing I have ever done — to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave, with no lying lip, the life I consecrate to the liberty of my coun- try. Far from it, even here — here, where the thief, the liber- tine, the murderer, have left their foot-prints in the dust ; here on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to receive me — even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked still consoles, animates, enraptures me. No ; I do not despair of my poor old country — her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country, I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up, — to make her a benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar in the world ; 24 THE UNION SPEAKER. to restore her to her native powers and her ancient constitution, — this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails the penalty of death ; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal, I deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. "With these sentiments, my Lord, I await the sentence of the court. • Having done what I felt to be my duty, — having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other occasion of my short career, — I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death ; the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies ; whose factions I have sought to still ; whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim ; whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, the life of a young heart, and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the en- dearments, of a happy and an honored home. Pronounce, then, my Lords, the sentence which the laws direct, and I will be pre- pared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execu- tion. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal — a tribunal where a judge of infinite goodness as well as of justice will preside, and where, my Lords, many, mauy of the judgments of this world will be reversed. T. F. Meagher. XVI. ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN TROOPS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. npHE time is now near at hand, which must probably deter- -*- mine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves; whether they are to have any property they can call their own ; whether their houses and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed, and themselves consigned to a state of wretchedness from which no human efforts will deliver them. The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this STANDARD SELECTIONS. 25 army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us only the choice of a brave resistance or the most abject submission. We have, therefore, to resolve to conquer or to die. Our own, our country's honor, calls upon us for a vigorous and manly exertion ; and, if we now shamefully fail, we shall become infamous to the whole world. Let us, then, rely on the goodness of our cause and the aid of the Supreme Being, in whose hands victory is, to animate and encourage us to great and noble actions. The eyes of all our countrymen are now upon us ; and we shall have their blessings and praises, if hap- pily we are the instrument of saving them from the tyranny meditated against them. Let us, therefore, animate and encour- age each other, and show the whole world that a freeman con- tending for liberty on his own ground, is superior to any slavish mercenary on earth. Liberty, property, life, and honor, are all at stake. Upon your courage and conduct rest the hopes of our bleeding and insulted country. Our wives, children, and parents expect safety from us only ; and they have every reason to believe that. Heaven will crown with success so just a cause. The enemy will endeavor to intimidate by show and appearance ; but remember they have been repulsed on various occasions by a few brave Americans. Their cause is bad, — their men are conscious of it; and, if opposed with firmness and coolness on their first onset, with our advantage of works, and knowledge of the ground, the victory is most assuredly ours. Every good sol- dier will be silent and attentive, wait for orders, and reserve his fire until he is sure of doing execution. Washington. XVII. CHARACTER OF CHATHAM. HP HE secretary stood alone ; modern degeneracy had not ■*- reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty ; and one of his sovereigns thought roy- alty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chi- 26 THE UNION SPEAKER. canery, no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for ministerial victories, sunk him to the vulgar level of the great ; but, overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded in the other the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was infinite ; and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the present age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accomplished, — always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. The ordinary feelings which make life amiable and indolent, were unknown to him. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weakness, reached him ; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, to counsel, and to decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age ; and the treasury trembled at the name of Chatham, through all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, th'at she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories ; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, answered and refuted her. Nor were his political abilities his only talents ; his eloquence was an era in the senate, peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom ; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully ; it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the un- derstanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation ; nor was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of exertion ; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by the flashings of the mind, wkich, like those of his eye, were felt, but could not be followed. Upon the whole, there was in this man something that would create, subvert, or reform ; an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds STANDARD SELECTIONS. 27 of slavery asunder ; something to rule the wilderness of free minds with unbounded authority ; something that could establish, or overwhelm empire, and strike a blow in the world, that should resound through the universe. H. Grattan. XVIJI. THE PRESS AND THE UNION. TT were good for us to remember that nothing which tends, however distantly, however imperceptibly, to hold these States together, is beneath the notice of a considerate patriotism. It were good to remember that some of the institutions and devices by which former confederacies have been preserved, our circumstances wholly forbid us to employ. The tribes of Israel and Judah came up three times a year to the holy and beautiful city, and united in prayer and praise and sacrifice, in listening to that thrilling poetry, in swelling that matchless song, which cele- brated the triumphs of their fathers by the Red Sea, at the fords of Jordan, and on the high places of the field of Barak's victory. But we have no feast of the Passover, or of the Tabernacles, or of the Commemoration. The States of Greece erected temples of the gods by a common contribution, and worshipped in them. They consulted the same oracle ; they celebrated the same na- tional festival : mingled their deliberations in the same amphic- tyonic and subordinate assemblies, and sat together upon the same benches to hear their glorious history read aloud, in the prose of Heroditus, the poetry of Homer and of Pindar. We have built no national temples but the Capitol ; we consult no common oracle but the Constitution. We can meet together to celebrate no national festival. But the thousand tongues of the press, — clearer far than the silver trumpet of the jubilee, — louder than the voice of the herald at the games, — may speak and do speak to the whole people, without calling them from their homes or interrupting them in their employments. Happy if they should speak, and the people should hear, those things which pertain at least to their temporal and national salvation ! R. Choate. 28 THE UNION SPEAKER. XIX. AMERICAN LITERATURE AND THE UNION. TN leaving this subject, I cannot help suggesting, at the hazard of being thought whimsical, that a literature of such writings as these, embodying the romance of the whole revolutionary and ante-revolutionary history of the United States, might do some- thing to perpetuate the Union itself. The influence of a rich literature of passion and fancy upon society must not be denied merely because you cannot measure it by the yard or detect it by the barometer. Poems and romances which shall be read in every parlor, by every fireside, in every school-house, behind every counter, in every printing-office, in every lawyer's office, at every weekly evening club, in all the States of this Confed- eracy, must do something, along with more palpable if not more powerful -agents, towards moulding and fixing that final, grand, complex result, — the national character. A keen, well- instructed judge of such things said, if he might write the bal- lads of a people, he cared little who made its laws. Let me say, if a hundred men of genius would extract such a body of roman- tic literature from our early history as Scott has extracted from the history of England and Scotland, and as Homer extracted from that of Greece, it perhaps would not be so alarming if demagogues should preach, or governors practice, or executives tolerate nullification. Such a literature would be a common property of all the States, — a treasure of common ancestral recollections, — more noble and richer than our thousand million acres of public land ; and, unlike that land, it would be indivisi- ble. It would be as the opening of a great fountain for the healing of the nations. It would turn back our thoughts from these recent and overrated diversities of interest, — these contro- versies about negro-cloth, coarse-wooled sheep, and cotton bag- ging, — to the day when our fathers walked hand in hand together through the valley of the Shadow of fteath in the War of Independence. Reminded of our fathers, we should remem- ber that we are brethren. The exclusiveness of State pride, — the narrow selfishness of a mere local policy, and the small jealousies of vulgar minds, would be merged in an expanded^ STANDARD SELECTIONS. 29 comprehensive, constitutional sentiment of old, family, fraternal regard. It would reassemble, as it were, the people of America in one vast congregation. It would rehearse in their hearing all things which God had done for them in the old time ; it would proclaim the law once more ; and then it would bid them join in that grandest and most affecting solemnity, — a national anthem of thanksgiving for the deliverance, of honor for the dead, of proud prediction for the future ! -R- Choate. XX. TEE LOVE OF READING. (T ET the case of a busy lawyer testify to the priceless value -^ of the love of reading. He comes home, his temples throb- bing, his nerves shattered, from a trial of a week ; surprised and alarmed by the charge of the judge, and pale with anxiety about the verdict of the next morning, not at all satisfied with what he has done himself, though he does not yet see how he could have improved it ; recalling with dread and self-disparagement, if not with envy, the brilliant effort of his antagonist, and tor- menting himself with the vain wish that he could have replied to it, — and altogether a very miserable subject, and in as unfa- vorable a condition to accept comfort from a wife and children as poor Christian in the first three pages of the " Pilgrim's Progress." With a superhuman effort he opens his book, and in the twink- ling of an eye he is looking into the full " orb of Homeric or Miltonic song ; " or he stands in the crowd — breathless, yet swayed as forests or the sea by winds — hearing and to judge the pleadings for the crown ; or the philosophy which soothed Cicero or Boethius in their afflictions, in exile, prison, and the contemplation of death, breathes over his petty cares like the sweet south ; or Pope or Horace laughs him into good humor ; or he walks with iEneas and the Sibyl in the mild light of the world of the laurelled dead; and the court-house is as com- pletely forgotten as the dreams of a pre-adamite life. Well may he prize that endeared charm, so effectual and safe, without which the brain had long ago been chilled by paralysis, or set on fire of insanity ! fi. Choate. 30 THE UNION SPEAKER. XXI. ELOQUENCE OF TEE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. "V/TEN heard that eloquence in 1776, in that manifold and mighty appeal by the genius and wisdom of that new America, to persuade the people to take on the name of nation, and begin its life. By how many pens and tongues that great pleading was conducted ; through how many months before the date of the actual Declaration, it went on, day after day ; in how many forms, before how many assemblies, from the village newspaper, the more careful pamphlet, the private conversation, the town-meeting, the legislative bodies of particular colonies, up to the hall of the immortal old Congress, and the master intelli- gences of lion heart and eagle eye, that ennobled it, — all this you know. But the leader in that great argument was John Adams, of Massachusetts. He, by concession of all men, was the orator of that Revolution, — the Revolution in which a nation was born. Other and renowned names, by written or spoken eloquence, cooperated effectively, splendidly, to the grand result, — Samuel Adams, Samuel Chase, Jefferson, Henry, James Otis in an earlier stage. Each of these, and a hundred more, within circles of influence wider or narrower, sent forth, scatter- ing broadcast, the seed of life in the ready virgin soil. Each brought some specialty of gift to the work : Jefferson, the magic of style, and the habit and the power of delicious dalliance with those large, fair ideas of freedom and equality, so dear to man, so irresistible in that day ; Henry, the indescribable and lost spell of the speech of the emotions, which fills the eye, chills the blood, turns the cheek pale, — the lyric phase of eloquence, the " fire-water," as Lamartine has said, of the Revolution, instilling into the sense and the soul the sweet madness of battle ; Samuel Chase, the tones of anger, confidence, and pride, and the art to inspire them. John Adams's eloquence alone seemed to have met every demand of the time ; as a question of right, as a ques- tion of prudence, as a question of immediate opportunity, as a question of feeling, as a question of conscience, as a question of historical and durable and innocent glory, he knew it all through and through ; and in that mighty debate, which, beginning in STANDARD SELECTIONS. 31 Congress as far back as March or February, 1776, had its close on the second and on the fourth of July, he presented it in all its aspects, to every passion and affection, — to the burning sense of wrong, exasperated at length beyond control by the shedding of blood ; to grief, anger, self-respect ; to the desire of happiness and of safety ; to the sense of moral obligation, commanding that the duties of life are more than life ; to courage, which fears God, and knows no other fear ; to the craving of the colonial heart, of all hearts, for the reality and the ideal of country, and which cannot be filled unless the dear native land comes to be breathed on by the grace, clad in the robes, armed with the thunders, admitted an equal to the assembly of the nations ; to that large and heroical ambition which would build States, that imperial philanthropy which would open to liberty an asylum here, and give to the sick heart, hard fare, fettered conscience of the children of the Old World, healing, plenty, and freedom to worship God, — to these passions, and these ideas, he presented the appeal for months, day after day, until, on the third of July, 1776, he could record the result, writing thus to his wife : "Yes- terday the greatest question was decided which ever was debated in America ; and a greater, perhaps, never was, nor will be, among men." Of that series of spoken eloquence all is perished ; not one reported sentence has come down to us. The voice through which the rising spirit of a young nation sounded out its dream of life is hushed. The great spokesman, of an age unto an age, is dead. And yet, of those lost words is not our whole America one immortal record and reporter ? Do ye not read them, deep cut, defying the tooth of time, on all the marble of our greatness ? How they blaze on the pillars of our Union! How is their deep sense unfolded and interpreted by every passing hour ! How do they come to life, and grow audible, as it were, in the bright- ening rays of the light he foresaw, as the fabled invisible heart gave out its music to the morning ! Yes, in one sense, they are perished. No parchment manu- script, no embalming printed page, no certain traditions of living or dead, have kept them. Yet, from out and from off all things around us, — our laughing harvests, our songs of labor, our com- 32 THE UNION SPEAKER. merce on all the seas, our secure homes, our school-houses and churches, our happy people, our radiant and stainless flag, — how they come pealing, pealing, Independence now, and Inde- pendence forever ! R. Choate. xxn. TRIBUTE TO WEBSTER. T j^HEY say he was ambitious ! Yes, as Ames said of Hamil- ton, " there is no doubt that he desired glory ; and that, feeling his own force, he longed to deck his brow with the wreath of immortality." But I believe he would have yielded his arm, his frame to be burned, before he would havB sought to grasp the highest prize of earth by any means, by any organization, by any tactics, by any speech, which in the least degree endangered the harmony of the system. They say, too, he loved New England ! He did love New Hampshire — that old granite w r orld — the crystal hills, gray and cloud-topped ; the river, whose murmur lulled his cradle ; the old hearthstone ; the grave of father and mother. He loved Massachusetts, which adopted and honored him — that sounding sea-shore, that charmed elm-tree seat, that reclaimed farm, that choice herd, that smell of earth, that dear library, those, dearer friends ; but the " sphere of his duties was his time country." Dearly he loved you, for he was grateful for the open arms with which you welcomed the stranger and sent him onwards and up- wards. But when the crisis came, and the winds were let loose, and that sea of March " wrought and was tempestuous," then you saw that he knew even you only as you were, American citizens ; then you saw him rise to the true nature and stature of Ameri- can citizenship ; then you read on his brow only what he thought of the whole Republic ; then you saw him fold the robes of his habitual patriotism around him, and counsel for all — for all. So, then, he served you — ? to be pleased with his service was your affair, not his." And now what would he do, what would he be if he were here to-day ? I do not presume to know. But what a loss we have in him! STANDARD SELECTIONS. 3§ I have read that in some hard battle, when the tide was run- ning against him, and his ranks were breaking, some one in the agony of a need of generalship exclaimed, " Oh for an hour of Dundee ! " So say I, Oh for an hour of Webster now ! Oh for one more roll of that thunder inimitable ! One more peal of that clarion ! One more grave and bold counsel of moderation ! One more throb of American feeling ! One more Farewell Address ! And then might he ascend unhindered to the bosom of his Father and his God. R. Choate. xxm. TEE FRUITS OF SKILFUL LABOR AND CULTIVATED INTELLECT. X>ERHAPS as striking an illustration on a large scale as -*~ could be desired, of the connection between the best di- rected and most skilful labor and the most cultivated and most powerful intellect, is afforded by the case of England. British industry, as a whole, is among the most splendid and extraor- dinary things in the history of man. When you consider how small a work-bench it has to occupy altogether, — a little stormy island bathed in almost perpetual fogs, without silk, or cotton, or vineyards, or sunshine, — and then look at that agriculture, so scientific and so rewarded, that vast net-work of internal intercommunication, the docks, merchant-ships, men-of-war, the trade encompassing the globe, the flag on which the sun never sets, — when you look, above all, at that vast body of useful and manly art, not directed, like the industry of France, — the industry of vanity, — to making pier-glasses and air-balloons and gobelin tapestry and mirrors, to arranging processions and chiselling silver and twisting gold into filigrees, but to cloth- ing the people, to the manufacture of woollen, cotton, and linen cloth, of railroads and chain-cables and canals and anchors and achromatic telescopes, and chronometers to keep the time at sea, — when you think of the vast aggregate mass of their manufac- turing and mechanical production, which no statistics can ex- press, and to find a market for which she is planting colonies under every constellation, and by intimidation, by diplomacy, is knocking at the door of every market-house upon the earth, — it 84 THE UNION SPEAKER. is really difficult to restrain our admiration of such a display of energy, labor, and genius, winning bloodless and innocent tri- umphs everywhere, giving to the age we live in the name of the age of the industry of the people. Now, the striking and the instructive fact is, that exactly in that island workshop, by this very race of artisans, of coal-heavers and woollen manufacturers, of machinists and blacksmiths and ship-carpenters, there has been produced and embodied forever, in words that will outlast the mountains as well as the pyramids, a literature which, take it for all in all, is the richest, most profound, most instructive, combining more spirituality with more common sense, springing from more capacious souls, conveying in better wisdom, more conformable to the truth in man, in nature, and in human life, than the literature of any nation that ever existed. That same race, side by side with the unparalleled growth of its industry, produces Shakspeare, Milton, Bacon, and Newton, all four at the summit of human thought, — and then, just below these unap- proachable fixed lights, a whole firmament of glories, lesser than they, as all created intelligence must be, yet in whose superior rays the age of Augustus, of Leo X., of Louis XIV., all but the age of Pericles, the culture of Greece, pale and fade. And yet the literature of England is not the only, scarcely the most splendid, fruit or form of the mental power and the energetic character of England. That same race, along with their indus- try, along with their literature, has built up a jurisprudence which is for substance our law to-day, — has constructed the largest mercantile and war navy, and the largest commercial empire with its pillars encircling the globe, that men ever saw, — has gained greater victories on sea and land than any power in the world, — has erected the smallest spot to the most imperial ascendency recorded in history. The administrative triumphs of her intellect are as conspicuous as her imaginative and her speculative triumphs. Such is mental power. Mark its union with labor and with all greatness ; deduce the law ; learn the lesson ; see how you, too, may grow great. Such an industry as that of England de- manded such an intellect as that of England. Sic vobis etiam itur ad astra ! That way to you, also, glory lies ! R. Ckoaie. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 33 XXIV. I THE EMPIRE OF MIND. TZ" NOWLEDGE is power as well as fame. Think of that subtle, all-embracing, plastic, mysterious, irresistible thing called public opinion, the god of this lower world, and consider what a S:ate, or a cluster of States, % of marked and acknowl- edged literary and intellectual lead might do to color and shape that opinion to their will. Consider how winged are words ; how electrical, light-like the speed of thought ; how awful hu- man sympathy. Consider how soon a wise, a beautiful thought uttered here, — a sentiment of liberty perhaps, or word of suc- cor to the oppressed, of exhortations to duty, to patriotism, to glory, the refutation of a sophism, the unfolding of a truth for which the nation may be better, — how soon a word fitly or wisely spoken here is read on the Upper Mississippi and beneath the orange-groves of Florida, all through the unequalled valley j how vast an audience it gains, into how many bosoms it has access, on how much good soil the seed may rest and spring to life, how easily and fast the fine spirit of truth and beauty goes all abroad upon the face of the world. There is an influence which I would rather see Massachusetts exert on her sisters of this Union, than see her furnish a Presi- - dent every twelve years or command a majority on any division in Congress ; and that is such an influence as Athens exerted on the taste and opinion first of Greece, then of Rome, then of the universal modern world ; such as she will exert while the race of man exists. This, of all the kinds of empire, was most. grate- ful and innocent and glorious and immortal. This was won by no bargain, by no fraud, by no war of the Peloponnesus, by the shedding of no human blood. It would rest on admiration of the beautiful, the good, the true, in art, in poetry, in thought ; and it would last while the emotions, its object, were left in a human soul. It would turn the eye of America hitherwards with love, gratitude, and tears, such as those with which we turn to the walk of Socrates beneath the plane-tree, now sere, the summer hour of Cicero, the prison into which philosophy descended to console the spirit of Boethius, — that room through whose opened window came into the ear of Scott, as he died, the murmur of 86 THE UNION SPEAKER. the gentle Tweed, — love, gratitude, and tears, such as we all yield to those whose immortal wisdom, whose divine verse, whose eloquence of heaven, whose scenes of many-colored life, have held up the show of things to the insatiate desires of the mind, have taught us how to live and how to die ! Herein were power, herein were influence, herein were security. Even in the madness of civil w*ar it might survive for refuge and de- fence ! R. Choate. XXV. TEE CITY OF OUR LIBERTY. "DUT now that our service of commemoration is ended, let us -^ go hence and meditate on all that it has taught us. You see how long the holy and beautiful city of our liberty and our power has been in building, and by how many hands, and at what cost. You see the towering and steadfast height to which it has gone up, and how its turrets and spires gleam in the rising and setting sun. You stand among the graves of some — your townsmen, your fathers by blood, whose names you bear, whose portraits hang up in your homes, of whose memory you are justly proud — who helped in their day to sink those walls deep in their beds, where neither frost nor earthquake might heave them, — to raise aloft those great arches of stone, — to send up those turrets and spires into the sky. It was theirs to build ; remember it is yours, under Providence, to keep the city, — to keep it from the sword of the invader, — to keep it from licen- tiousness and crime and irreligion, and all that would make it unsafe or unfit to live in, — to keep it from the fires of faction, of civil strife, of party spirit, that might burn up in a day the slow work of a thousand years of glory. Happy, if we shall so perform our duty that they who centuries hence shall dwell among our graves may be able to remember, on some such day as this, in one common service of grateful commemoration, their fathers of the first and the second age of America, — those who through martyrdom and tempest and battle sought liberty, and made her their own, — and those whom neither ease nor luxury, nor the fear of man, nor the worship of man, could prevail on to barter her away! R. Choate. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 37 XXVI. SPECIMEN OF TEE ELOQUENCE OF JAMES OTIS. T^NGLAND may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with -^ bulrushes as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud and firm in this youthful land than where she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like those against which we now contend, have cost one king of England his life, another his crown ; and they may yet cost a third his most flourishing colonies. We are two millions — one fifth fighting men. We are bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation, from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; but it must not, and it never can be extorted. Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ? " No ! America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds, implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True, the spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him is huge enough to darken all this fair land. Others, in sentimental style, tall^ of the immense debt of gratitude which we owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert. We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and the torch were behind us. We have waked this New World from its savage lethargy ; for- ests have been prostrated in our path ; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics, and the fires in our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid than the increase of our wealth and population. And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother-country ? No ! We owe it to the tyranny that drove us from her, to the pelting storms which invigorated our helpless infancy. 88 THE UNION SPEAKER. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from your gratitude — we only demand that you should payyour own ex- penses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? Why, the king — (and with all due reverence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real wants % of his distant subjects as little as he does the language of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concern- ing the frequency of these demands ? The ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly expended ? The cabi- net behind tKe throne. In every instance, those who take are to judge for those who pay. If this system is suffered to go into operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and dew do not depend . upon parliament ; otherwise they would soon be taxed and dried. But, thanks Jo God, there is freedom enough left upon earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty is ex- tinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. Ac- tuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. But we will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs that a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well for some proud men to remember that a fire is lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it. Mrs. M. L. Child. xxvn. WEBSTER IN THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE CASE. r.l^HE Dartmouth College case forms an important era in Mr. Webster's life. His argument in that case stands out among his other arguments, as his speech in reply to Mr. Hayne, among his other speeches. No better argument has been spoken in the English tongue in the memory of any living man, nor is the child that is born to-day likely to live to hear a better. Its learning is ample but not ostentatious ; its logic irresistible ; its eloquence vigorous and lofty. Judge Story often spoke with great animation of the effect he then produced upon the court. " For the first hour," said he, " we listened to him with perfect STANDARD SELECTIONS. 39 astonishment ; for the second hour, with perfect delight ; and for the third hour with perfect conviction." It is not too much to say that he entered the court on that day a comparatively un- known name, and left it with no rival but Pinkney. All the words he spoke on that occasion have not been recorded. When he had exhausted the resources of learning and logic, hia mind passed naturally and simply into a strain of feeling not common to the place. Old recollections and early associations came over him, and the vision of his youth rose up. The genius of the institution where he was nurtured seemed standing by his side in weeds of mourning, with a countenance of sorrow. With suffused eyes, and faltering voice, he broke into an unpremeditated strain of emotion, so strong and so deep, that all who heard him were borne along with it. Heart an- swered to heart as 'he spoke, and, when he ceased, the silence and tears of the impassive bench, as well as of the excited audi- ence, were a tribute to the truth and power of the feeling by which he had been inspired. G. S. Hillard. xxvm. . THE AMBITION OF WEBSTER. 1\/rR. WEBSTER was an ambitious man. He desired the highest office in the gift of the people. But on this sub- ject, as on all others, there was no concealment in his nature. And ambition is not a weakness unless it be disproportioned to the capacity. To have more ambition than ability is to be at once weak and unhappy. With him it was a noble passion, because it rested upon noble powers. He was a man cast in a heroic mould. His thoughts, his wishes, his passions, his aspira- tions, were all on a grander scale than those of other men. Un- exercised capacity is always a source of rusting discontent. The height to which men may rise is in proportion to the upward force of their genius, and they will never be calm till .they have attained their predestined elevation. Lord Bacon says, "as in nature things move violently to their place and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in author- ity, settled and calm." Mr. Webster had a giant's brain and a 40 THE UNION SPEAKER. giant's heart, and he wanted a giant's work. He found repose in those strong conflicts and great duties whiqji crush the weak and madden the sensitive. He thought that, if he were elevated to the highest place, he should so administer the government as to make the country honored abroad, and great and happy at home. He thought, too, that he could do something to make us more truly one people. This, above everything else, was his ambition. And we, who knew him better than others, felt that it was a prophetic ambition, and we honored and trusted -him accordingly. G. S. Eillard. xxrx. TEE DANGER OF EXCLUSIVE, DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. t I ^HIS is a world of inflexible compensations. Nothing is ever given away, but everything is bought and paid for. If, by exclusive and absolute surrender of ourselves to material pursuits, we materialize the mind, we lose that class of satisfac- tions of which the mind is the region and the source. A young man in business, for instance, begins to feel the exhilarating glow of success, and deliberately determines to abandon himself to its delirious whirl. He says to himself, I will think of nothing but business till I shall have made so much money, and then I will begin a new life. I will gather round me books and pictures and friends. I will have knowledge, taste, and cultivation, — the perfume of scholarship, and winning speech, and graceful manners. I will see foreign countries, and converse with ac- complished men. I will drink deep of the fountains of classic lore. Philosophy shall guide me, history shall instruct, and poetry shall charm me. Science shall open to me her world of wonders. I shall remember my present life of drudgery as one recalls a troubled dream when the morning has dawned. He keeps his self-registered vow. He bends his thoughts downward and nails them to the dust. Every power, every affection, every taste, except those which his particular occupa- tion calls into play, is left to starve. Over the gates of his mind he writes in letters which he who runs may read, " No admittance except on business." In time he reaches the goal of his hopes ; STANDARD SELECTIONS. 41 but now insulted Nature begins to claim her revenge. That which was once unnatural is now natural to him. The enforced constraint has become a rigid deformity. The spring of his mind is broken. He can no longer lift his mind from the ground. Books and knowledge and wise discourse, and the amenities of art, and the cordial of friendship, are like words in a strange tongue. To the hard, smooth surface of his soul, nothing genial, graceful, or winning will cling ; he cannot even purge his voice of its fawning tone, or pluck from his face the mean money- getting mask which the child does not look at without ceasing to smile. Amid the graces and ornaments of wealth, he is like a blind man in a picture-gallery. That which he has done he must continue to do. He must accumulate riches which he can- not enjoy, and contemplate the dreary prospect of growing old without anything to make age venerable or attractive ; for age without wisdom and without .knowledge is the winter's cold without the winter's fire. G. S. Hillard. XXX. SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY, IN THE CONVENTION OF DELEGATES OF VIRGINIA, If ARCH, 1775. IV/fR- PRESIDENT, — It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she trans- forms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in the great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and hav- ing ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their tem- poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, — to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided ; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know, what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentle- men have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately 42 THE UNION SPEAKER. received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss ! Ask your- selves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations, which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ! Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, # that force must be called in to win back our love ! Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, — the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of na- vies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us ; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministers have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them ? — Shall we try argu- ment? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer on the subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned, — we have remonstrated, — we have suppli- cated, — we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contend- ing, — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have STANDARD SELECTIONS. 43 pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, — we must fight ; I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us ! XXXI. TEE SAME CONCLUDED. PT^IIEY tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed ; and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three mil- lions of people armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight alone. There is a just God who presides over the des- tinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone, — it is to the active, the vigilant, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election ! If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, — but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard . on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable, — and let it come ! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace ! peace ! — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle ? W r hat is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or 44 THE UNION SPEAKER. peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Heaven ! — I know not what course others may take, but as for me, — give me liberty, or give me death J XXXII. REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 1%/F Y Lords, I am amazed ; yes, my Lords, I am amazed at his Grace's speech. The noble Duke cannot look before him, behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble peer who owes his seat in this House to his successful exertion in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as honorable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an accident ? To all these noble Lords, the language of the noble Duke is as applicable and insulting as it is to myself. But I do not fear to meet it single and alone. No one venerates the peer- age more than I do ; but, my Lords, I must say, that the peerage solicited me, not I the peerage. Nay, more ; I can say, and will say, that as a Peer of Parlia- ment, as a Speaker of this right honorable House, as Keeper of the Great Seal, as Guardian of his Majesty's conscience, as Lord High Chancellor of England, — nay, even in that character alone, in which the noble Duke would think it an affront to be considered, but which character none can deny me, — as a man, — I am, at this moment, as respectable, — I beg to leave add, I am as much respected, — as the proudest peer I now look down upon. Lord Thurlow. XXXIII. THE PROSPECTS OF CALIFORNIA. TUDGING from the past, what have we not a right to expect •^ in the future. The world has never witnessed anything equal or similar to our career hitherto. Scarcely two years ago, California was almost an unoccupied wild. With the exception of a presidium, a mission, a pueblo, or a lonely ranch, scattered here and there, at tiresome distances, there was nothing to show that the uniform stillness had ever been broken by the foot- steps of civilized man. The agricultural richness of her valleys STANDARD SELECTIONS. 45 remained unimproved ; and the wealth of a world lay entombed in the bosom of her solitary mountains, and on the banks of her unexplored streams. Behold the contrast ! The hand of agri- culture is now busy in every fertile valley, and its^ toils are remunerated with rewards which in no other portion of the world can be credited. Enterprise has pierced every hill, for hidden treasure, and has heaped up enormous gains. Cities and villages dot the surface of the whole State. Steamers dart along our rivers, and innumerable vessels spread their white wings over our bays. Not Constantinople, upon which the wealth of impe- rial Home was lavished, — not St. Petersburg, to found which the arbitrary Czar sacrificed thousands of his subjects, — would rival, in rapidity of growth, the fair city which lies before me. Our State is a marvel to ourselve^ and a miracle to the rest of the world. Nor is the influence of California confined within her own borders. Mexico, and the islands nestled in the em- brace of the Pacific, have felt the quickening breath of her enterprise. "With her golden wand, she has touched the pros- trate corpse of South American industry, and it has sprung up in the freshness of life. She has caused the hum of busy life to be heard in the wilderness " where rolls the Oregon," and but recently heard no sound, " save its own dashings." Even the wall of Chinese exclusiveness has been broken down, and the children of the sun have come forth to view the splendor of her achievements. But, flattering as has been the past, satisfactory as is the pres- ent, it is but a foretaste of the future. It is a trite saying, that we live in an age of great events. Nothing can be more true. But the greatest of all events of the present age is at hand. It needs not the gift of prophecy to predict, that the course of the world's trade is destined soon to be changed. But a few years can elapse before the commerce of Asia and the islands of the Pacific, instead of pursuing the ocean track, by way of Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope, or even taking the shorter route of the Isthmus of Darien, or the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, will enter the Golden Gate of California, and deposit its riches in our own city. Hence, on bars of iron, and propelled by steam, it will ascend the mountains and traverse the desert ; and having again reached the confines of civilization, will be distributed, 46 THE UNION SPEAKER. through a thousand channels, to every portion of the Union and of Europe. New York will then become what London now is, — the great central point of exchange, the heart of trade, the force of whose contraction and expansion will be felt throughout every artery of the commercial world ; and San Francisco will then stand the second city of America. Is this visionary ? Twenty years will determine. The world is interested in our success ; for a fresh field is opened to its commerce, and a new avenue to the civilization and progress of the human race. Let us, then, endeavor to realize the hopes of Americans, and the expectations of the world. Let us not only be united amongst ourselves, for our own local wel- fare, but let us strive to cement the common bonds of brother- hood of the whole Union. Jn our relations to the Federal Government, let us know no South, no North, no East, no West. Wherever American liberty flourishes, let that be our common country! Wherever the American banner waves, let that be our home ! Nathaniel Bennett. XXXIV. IN PROSPECT OF WAR. f~^ O forth, defenders of your country, accompanied with every ^^ auspicious omen; advance with alacrity into the field r where God himself musters the hosts to war. Religion is too much interested in your success not to lend you her aid. She will shed over your enterprise her selectest influence. While you are en- gaged in the field, many will repair to the closet, many to the sanctuary ; the faithful of every name will employ that prayer which has power with God ; the feeble hands which are unequal to any other weapon, will grasp the sword of the Spirit ; and, from myriads of humble, contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle, in its ascent to heaven, with the shouts of battle and the shock of arms. While you have everything to fear* from the success of the enemy, you have every means of preventing that success ; so that it is next to impossible for victory not to crown your exer- tions. The extent of your resources, under God, is equal to the justice of your cause. But, should Providence determine other- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 47 wise, — should you fall in (his struggle, should the nation fall, — you will have the satisfaction (the purest allotted to man), of having performed your part ; — your names will be enrolled with the most illustrious dead, while posterity, to the end of time, as often as they revolve the events of this period (and they will incessantly revolve them), will turn to you a reverential eye, while they mourn over the freedom which is entombed in your sepulchre. I cannot but imagine the virtuous heroes, legislators, and pa- triots of every age and country, are bending from their elevated seats to witness this contest, as if they were incapable, till it be brought to a favorable issue, of enjoying their eternal repose. Enjoy that repose, illustrious immortals! Your mantle fell when you ascended ; and thousands, inflamed with your spirit, and impatient to tread in your steps, are ready to swear, by Him that sitteth on the throne, and llveth forever and ever, that they will protect freedom in her last asylum, and never desert her cause, which you sustained by your labors, and cemented with your blood ! Robert Hall. XXXV. THE AMERICAN INDIANS. TF the Indians had the vices of savage life, they had the vir- tues also. They were true to their country, their friends, and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity and generosity were unconquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stopped not on this side of the grave. But where are they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth ? The sachems and the tribes ? The hunters and their families ? They have perished. They are consumed. The wasting pestilence has not alone done the mighty work. No, — nor famine, nor war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, which hath eaten into their heart-cores, — a plague which the touch of the white man communicated, — a poison, which betrayed them into a lingering ruin. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region which they may now call their own. Already the last feeble remnants of the race are preparing for their journey be- 48 THE UNION SPEAKER. yond the Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes, — the aged, the helpless, the women, and the warriors, " few and faint, yet fearless still." The ashes are cold on their native hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is upon their heels, for terror or dispatch ; but they heed him not. They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They shed no tears ; they utter no cries ; they heave no groans. There is something in their hearts which passes speech. There is some- thing in their looks, not of vengeance or submission, but of hard necessity, which stifles both ; which chokes all utterance ; which has no aim or method. It is courage absorbed in despair. They linger but for a moment. Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal stream. It shall never be repassed by them, — no, never. Yet there lies not between us and them an impas- sible gulf. They know and feel, that for them there is still one remove farther, not distant, nor unseen. It is the general bury- ing-ground of their race. J. Story. XXXVI. CLASSICAL LEARNING. rp'HE importance of classical learning to professional educa- tion is so obvious, that the surprise is, that it could ever have become matter of disputation. I speak not of its power in refining the taste, in disciplining the judgment, in invigorating the understanding, or in warming the heart with elevated sentiments ; but of its power of direct, positive, necessary instruction. There is not a single nation from the north to the south of Europe, from the bleak shores of the Baltic to the bright plains of immortal Italy, whose literature is not embedded in the very elements of classical learning. The literature of England is, in an emphatic sense, the production of her scholars ; of men who have cultivated letters in her universities, and colleges, and gram- mar-schools ; of men who thought any life too short, chiefly because it left some relic of antiquity unmastered, and any other fame too humble, because it faded in the presence of Roman and Grecian genius. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 49 He who studies English literature without the lights of clas- sical learning, loses half the charms of its sentiments and style, of Its force and feelings, of its delicate touches, of its delightful allusions, of its illustrative associations. Who that reads the poetry of Gray, does not feel that it is the refinement of classical bate which gives such inexpressible vividness and transparency to his diction ? "Who that reads the concentrated sense and melodious versification of Dryden and Pope, does not perceive in them the disciples of the old school, whose genius was inflamed by the heroic verse, the terse satire, and the playful wit of an- tiquity ? Who that meditates over the strains of Milton does not feel that he drank deep at " Siloa's brook, that flowed Fast by the oracle of God, " that the fires of his magnificent mind were lighted by coals from ancient altars ? It is no exaggeration to declare, that he who proposes to abol- ish classical studies, proposes to render, in a great measure, inert and unedifying, the mass of English literature for three centuries ; to rob us of the glory of the past, and much of the instruction of future ages ; to blind us to excellencies which few may hope to equal, and none to surpass ; to annihilate associa- tions which are interwoven with our best sentiments, and give to distant times and countries a presence and reality, as if they were in fact his own. /. Story. xxxvn. AN APPEAL IN BEHALF OF PATRIOTISM AND LOT ALT 7. f CALL upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by - 1 - the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are, and all you hope to be ; resist every object of disunion, resist every encroachment upon your liberties, resist every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or extin- guish your system of public instruction. I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman, — the love of your offspring, — teach them as they climb your knees, or lean on jour bosoms, the blessings of liberty. Swear them at 4 50 THE UNION SPEAKER. the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their coun- try, and never to forget or forsake her. I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are ; whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never comes too soon, if necessary in defence of the liberties of your country. I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go down in sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you have lived in vain. May not your last sun sink in the west upon a nation of slaves. No ; — I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, far brighter visions. We, who are now assembled here, must soon be gathered to the congregation of other days. The time of our departure is at hand, to make way for our children upon the theatre of life. May God speed them and theirs. May he, who at the distance of another century shall stand here to cele- brate this day, still look round upon a free, happy, and virtuous people. May he have reason to exult as we do. May he, with all the enthusiasm of truth as well as poetry, exclaim that here is still his country. J. Story. xxxvrn. OUR DUTIES TO THE REPUBLIC. HHHE Old World has already revealed to us, in its unsealed books, the beginning and end of all its own marvellous struggles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, " The land of scholars and the nurse of arms," where sister republics, in fair procession, chanted the praises of liberty and the gods, — where and what is she ? For two thousand years the oppressor has ground her to the earth. Her arts are no more. The last sad relics of her temples are but the barracks of a ruthless soldiery. The fragments of her col- umns and her palaces are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruins. She fell not when the mighty were upon her. Her sons were united at Thermopylae and Marathon ; and the tide of her tri- umph rolled back upon the Hellespont. She was conquered by STANDARD SELECTIONS. 51 her own factions. She fell by the hands of her own people. The Man of Macedonia did not the work of destruction. It was already done by her own corruptions, banishments, and dissen- sions. Rome, republican Rome, whose eaglee glanced in the rising and sotting sun, — where and what is she? The eternal city yet remains, proud even in her desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as in the composure of death. The malaria has travelled in the paths worn by her destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have mourned over the loss of her empire. A mortal disease was upon her vitals before Caesar had crossed the Rubicon ; and Brutus did not restore her health by the deep probings of the senate-chamber. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, — the swarms of the North, — completed only what was already begun at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought and sold ; but the people offered the tribute-money. We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experi- ment of self-government by the people. We have begun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions * have never been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the Old World. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning, — simple, hardy, intel- ligent, accustomed to self-government, and to self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between us and any formidable foe. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees of latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many products, and many means of independence. The government is mild. The press is free. Religion is free. Knowledge reaches, or may reach every home. What fairer prospect of success could be pre- sented ? What means more adequate to accomplish the sublime end ? What more is necessary than for the people to preserve what they have themselves created? Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended the Andes, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has in- fused itself into the life-blood of Europe, and warmed the sunny plains of France and the lowlands of Holland. It has touched the philosophy of Germany and the North ; and, moving onward to the South, has opened to Greece the lessons of her better 52 THE UNION SPEAKER. days. Can it be that America, under such circumstances, can betray herself? Can it be that she is to be added to the cata- logue of republics, the inscription upon whose ruins is : They were, but they a.re not ? Forbid it, my countrymen ! For- bid it, Heaven ! /. Story. XXXIX. SP ART AC US TO THE GLADIATORS. TT had been a day of triumph at Capua. Lentulus, returning A with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the sports of the amphitheatre, to an extent hitherto unknown even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry had died away ; the roar of the lion had ceased ; the last loiterer had retired from the banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were extinguished. The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dew-drop on the corselet of the Roman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters of Volturnus with wavy, tremulous light. It was a night of holy calm, when the zephyr sways the young spring leaves, and whispers among the hollow reeds its dreamy music. No sound was heard but the last sob of some weary wave, telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach, and then all was still as the breast when the spirit has departed. In the deep recesses of the amphitheatre, a band of gladiators were crowded together, — their muscles still knotted with the agony of conflict, the foam upon their lips, and the scowl of bat- tle yet lingering upon their brows, — when Spartacus, rising in the midst of that grim assemblage, thus addressed them : — " Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief, who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast that the broad empire of Rome could furnish, and yet never has lowered his arm. And if there be one among you who can say that, ever, in public fight or private brawl, my ac- tions did belie my tongue, let him step forth and say it. If there be three in all your throng dare face me on the bloody sand, let them come on! " Yet I was not always thus, a hired butcher, a savage chief of savage men. My father was a reverent man, who feared STANDARD SELECTIONS. 53 great Jupiter, and brought the rural deities his offerings of fruits and flowers, lie dwelt among the vine-elad roeks and olive groves at the foot of Helicon. My early life ran quiet as the brook by which I sported. I was taught to prune the vine, to tend the flock ; and then, at noon, I gathered my sheep beneath the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute. I had a friend, the son of our neighbor ; we led our flocks to the same pasture, and shared together our rustic meal. " One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we were all seated beneath the myrtle that shaded our cottage, my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra, and how, in ancient times, a little band of Spartans, in a defile of the moun- tains, withstood a whole army. I did not then know what war meant ; but my cheeks burned, I knew not why ; and I clasped the hand of that venerable man, till my mother, parting the hair from off my brow, kissed my throbbing temples, and bade me go to rest, and think no more of those old tales and savage wars. " That very night the Romans landed on our shore, and the clash of steel was heard within our quiet vale. I saw the breast that had nourished me trampled by the iron hoof of the war- horse ; the bleeding body of my father flung amid the blazing rafters of our dwelling. To-day I killed a man in the arena, and when I broke his helmet clasps, behold ! — it was my friend ! He knew me, — smiled faintly, — gasped, — and died. The same sweet smile that I had marked upon his face, when, in adven- turous boyhood, we scaled some lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes, and bear them home in childish triumph. I told the Praetor he was my friend, noble and brave, and I begged his body, that I might burn it upon the funeral-pile, and mourn over him. Ay, upon my knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, I begged that boon, while all the Roman maids and matrons, and those holy virgins they call vestal, and the rabble, shouted in mockery, deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale, and tremble like a very child, before that piece of bleeding clay ; but the Praetor drew back as if I were pollution, and sternly said, ' Let the carrion rot ! There are no noble men but Romans ! ' And he, deprived of funeral rites, must wander, a hapless ghost, beside the waters of that sluggish river, and look — and look — and look in vain to the bright 54 THE UNION SPEAKER. Elysian fields where dwell his ancestors and noble kindred. And so must you, and so must I, die like dogs ! " O Rome ! Rome ! thou hast been a tender nurse to me ! Ay, thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd-lad, who never knew a harsher sound than a flute-note, muscles of iron, and a heart of flint ; taught him to drive the sword through rugged brass and plaited mail, and warm it in the marrow of his foe. ! — to gaze into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian lion, even as a smooth-cheeked boy upon a laughing girl. And he shall pay thee back till thy yellow Tiber is red as frothing wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled ! u Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are ! the strength of brass in your toughened sinews ; but to-morrow some Roman Adonis, breathing sweet odors from his curly locks, shall come, and with his lily fingers pat your brawny shoulders, and bet his sesterces upon your blood ! Hark ! Hear ye yon lion roaring in his den ? 'Tis three days since he tasted meat ; but to- morrow he shall break his fast upon your flesh ; and ye shall be a dainty meal for him. " If ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen waiting for the butcher's knife ; if ye are men, follow me ! strike down yon sen- tinel, and gain the mountain passes, and there do bloody work as did your sires at old Thermopylae ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that ye do crouch and cower like base-born slaves, beneath your master's lash ? O ! com- rades ! warriors ! Thracians ! if we must fight, let us fight for ourselves ; if we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors ; if we must die, let us die under the open sky, by the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle. E. Kellogg. XL. NO EXTENSION OF SLAVE TERRITORY. li/TR. CHAIRMAN, I have no time to discuss the subject of -*-"-*- slavery on this occasion, nor should I desire to discuss it in this connection, if I had more time. But I must not omit a few plain words on the momentous issue which has now been raised. I speak for Massachusetts — I believe I speak the sen- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 55 timents of all New England, and of many other States out of New England — when I say, that, upon this question, our minds are made up. So far as we have power — constitutional or moral power — to control political events, we are resolved that there shall be no further extension of the territory of this Union, subject to the institution of slavery. This is not a matter to argue about with us. My honorable friend from Georgia (Mr. Toombs) must pardon me if I do not enter into any question with him whether such a policy be equal or just. It may be that the North does not consider the institution of slavery a fit thing to be the subject of equal distribution or nice weighing in the balances. I cannot agree with him that the South gains nothing by the Constitution but the right to reclaim fugitives. Surely he has forgotten that slavery is the basis of representa- tion in this House. But I do not intend to argue the case. I wish to deal with it calmly, but explicitly. I believe the North is ready to stand by the Constitution with all its compromises, as it now is. I do not intend, moreover, to throw out any threats of disunion, what- ever may be the result. I do not intend, now or ever, to con- template disunion as a cure for any imaginable evil. At the same time I do not intend to be driven from a firm expression of purpose, and a steadfast adherence to principle, by any threats of disunion from any other quarter. The people of New Eng- land, whom I have any privilege to speak for, do not desire, as I understand their views, — I know my own heart and my own principles, and can at least speak for them, — to gain one foot of territory by conquest, and as the result of the prosecution of the war with Mexico. I do not believe that even the abolitionists of the North, — though I am one of the last persons who would be entitled to speak their sentiments, — would be unwilling to be found in combination with Southern gentlemen, who may see fit to espouse this doctrine. We desire peace. We believe that this war ought never to have been commenced, and we do not wish to have it made the pretext for plundering Mexico of one foot of her lands. But if the war is to be prosecuted, and if territories are to be conquered and annexed, we shall stand fast and forever to the principle that, so far as we are concerned, these territories shall be the exclusive abode of freemen. R. C. Winthrqp. 5C THE UNION SPEAKER. XLI. NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. "OELLOW-CITIZENS ! Let us seize this occasion to renew ■*- to each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the American Union ; and let us recognize in our common title to the name and fame of Washington, and, in our common venera- tion for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient centripetal power, which shall hold the thick clustering stars of our con- federacy in one glorious constellation forever ! Let the column which we are about to construct, be at once a pledge and an emblem of perpetual union ! Let the foundations be laid, let the superstructure be built up and cemented, let each stone be raised and ri vetted, in a spirit of national brotherhood ! Aoid may the earliest ray of the rising sun — till that sun shall set to rise no more — draw forth from it daily, as from the fabled statue of antiquity, a strain of national harmony, which shall strike a responsive chord in every heart throughout the Republic ! Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work for which you have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument which shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole American people to the illustrious Father of his country ! Build it to the skies ; you cannot 'outreach the loftiness of his principles ! Found it upon the massive and eternal rock ; you cannot make it more enduring than his fame ! Construct it of the peerless Parian marble ; you cannot make it purer than his life ! Exhaust upon it the rules and principles of ancient and modern art ; you can- not make it more proportionate than his character ! But let not your homage to his memory end here. Think not to transfer to a tablet or a column the tribute which is due from yourselves. Just honor to Washington can only be rendered by observing his precepts and imitating his example. He has built his own monument. We and those who come after us, in succes- sive generations, are its appointed, its privileged guardians. The wide-spread Republic is the true monument to Washing- ton. Maintain its Independence. Uphold its Constitution. Pre- serve its Union. Defend its Liberty. Let it stand before the world in all its original strength and beauty, securing peace, order, equality, and freedom to all within its boundaries, and STANDARD SELECHON& 57 flhedding light, and hope, and joy, upon the pathway of human liberty throughout the world; and Washington needs no other monument Other structures may fitly testify our veneration for him; this, this alone, can adequately illustrate his services to mankind. Nor does lie need even this. The Republic may perish ; the wide arch of our ranged Union may fall ; star by star its glories may expire ; stone by stone its columns and its capitol may moulder and crumble ; all other names which adorn its annals may be forgotten; — but as long as human hearts shall any- where pant, or human tongues shall anywhere plead, for a true, rational, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall enshrine the memory, and those tongues prolong the fame, of George Wash- ington ! R- C. Winthrop. XLII. THE PERFECT ORATOR. TMAGINE to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended. How awful such a meeting ! How vast the subject ! Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great occasion ? Adequate ! Yes, supe- rior. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator ; and the importance of the subject, for awhile, superseded by the admiration of his talents. With what strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man ; and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his passions ! To effect this must be the utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature, — not a faculty that he possesses is here unemployed ; not a faculty that he possesses but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work ; all his external testify their ener- gies. "Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the pas- sions, are all busy ; without, every muscle, every nerve, is exerted ; not a feature, not a limb but speaks. The organs of the body attuned to the exertions of the mind through the kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those 58 THE UNION SPEAKER. energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one mass, — the whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice. The universal cry is, — Let us march against Philip ; let us fight for our liberties ; — let us con- quer OR DIE ! XLIII. NECESSITY OF A PURE NATIONAL MORALITY. ri^HE crisis has come. By the people of this generation, by ourselves, probably, the amazing question is to be decided, — whether the inheritance of our fathers shall be preserved or thrown away; whether our Sabbaths shall be a delight or a loathing ; whether the taverns, on that holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, or the sanctuary of God with humble worship- pers ; whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and pov- erty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land ; or whether industry, and temperance, and righteousness, shall be the stability of our times ; whether mild laws shall receive the cheerful submission of free men, or the iron rod of a tyrant com- pel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceived. The rocks and hills of New England will remain till the last confla- gration. But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the worship of God be abandoned, the government and religious instruction of children neglected, and the streams of intemper- ance be permitted to flow, and her glory will depart. The wall of fire will no longer surround her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her defence. The hand that overturns our doors and temples, is the hand of Death unbarring the gate of pandemonium, and letting loose upon our land the crimes and miseries of hell. If the Most High should stand aloof and cast not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it would seem to be full of superlative woe. But He will not stand aloof. As we shall have begun an open controversy with Him, he will contend openly with us. And, never, since the earth stood, has it been so fearful a thing for nations to fall into the hands of the STANDARD SELECTIONS. 59 living God. The day of vengeance is at hand ; the day of judg- ment has come ; the great earthquake which sinks Babylon is ■baking the nations, and the waves of the mighty commotions are dashing upon every shore. Is this, then, a time to remove the foundations, when the earth itself is shaken? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, when the hearts of men are tailing them tor fear, and for looking after those things which are to come upon the earth ? Is this a time to run upon His neck and the thick bosses of His buckler, when the nations are drinking blood, and fainting, and passing away in His wrath ? Is this the time to throw away the shield of faith, when His arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain ? — to cut from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting, and the sea and the waves are roaring, and thunders are uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the heavens, and the great hail is falling from heaven upon men, and every mountain, sea, and island is fleeing in dismay from the face of an incensed God ! L. Beecker. XLIV. ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. j" DO not rise to fawn or cringe to this House ; I do not -^ rise to supplicate you to be merciful towards the nation to which I belong, — toward a nation which, though subject to England, is yet distinct from it. It is a distinct nation ; it has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved by his- tory, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not to allow this nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the press, and of every other institution dear to Englishmen. Against the bill I protest, in the name of the Irish people, and in the face of Heaven. I treat with scom the puny and pitiful assertions, that grievances are not to be complained of, — that our redress is not to be agitated ; for, in such cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too vio- lent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer. The clause which does away with trial by jury, — what, in the ♦ 60 THE UNION SPEAKER. name of Heaven is it, if it is not the establishment of a revolu- tionary tribunal ? It drives the judge from his bench ; it does away with that which is more sacred than the throne itself, — that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your com- mons assemble. If ever I doubted before of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill, — this infamous bill, — the way in which it has been received by the House ; the manner in which its opponents have been treated ; the personalities to which they have been subjected ; the yells with which one of them has this night been greeted, — all these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those yells will be forgotten ? Do you suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills ? O, they will be heard there ! — yes ; and they will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with indig- tion, — they will say, " We are eight millions ; and you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey ! " I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout ; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive, uncalled for, un- just ; — as establishing an infamous precedent, by retaliating crime against crime ; — as tyrannous, — cruelly and vindictively tyrannous! d. O'Connell. XLV. CESAR'S PAUSE UPON THE RUBICON. \ N advocate of Caesar's character, speaking of his benevolent ■^-*- disposition, and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil war, observes, " How long did he pause upon the brink of the Rubicon ! " How came he to the brink of that river ? How dared he cross it ? Shall private men respect the boundaries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's rights ? How dared he cross that river ? — Oh ! but he paused upon the brink ! He should have perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it ! Why did he pause ? Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the STANDARD SELECTIONS. 6* point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very murderer, — his victim Bleeping before him, and his glaring eye taking measure of the blow, — strike wide of the mortal part? — Because of conscience ! 'T was that made Caesar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon. Compassion ! — What compassion ? The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder as his weapon begins to cut ! Caesar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! — What was the Rubicon ? — The boundary of Caesar's province. From what did it separate his province ? From his country. Was that country a desert ? No : it was cultivated and fertile ; rich and populous ! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity ! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste ! Friendship was its inhabitant ! — Love was its inhabitant ! — Domestic affec- tion was its inhabitant ! — Liberty was its inhabitant ! — All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon ! What was Caesar, that stood upon the brink of that stream ? — A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country ! No wonder that he paused ! No wonder if, in his imagination, wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water ; and heard groans instead of murmurs. No wonder if some Gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the spot. — But, no ! — he cried, " The die is cast ! " He plunged ! — he crossed ! — and Rome was free no more. J. S. Knowles. xlvi. ' GUSTAVUS VASA TO TIIE DALECARLIANS. Q WEDES ! countrymen ! behold at last, after a thousand dan- ^ gers past, your chief, Gustavus, here ! Long have I sighed 'mid foreign lands ; long have I roamed in foreign lands ; at length, 'mid Swedish hearts and hands, I grasp a Swedish spear ! Yet, looking forth, although I see none but the fearless and the free, sad thoughts the sight inspires ; for where, I think, on Swedish ground, save where these mountains frown around, can that best heritage be found — the freedom of our sires? Yes, Sweden pines beneath the yoke ; the galling chain our fathers broke is round our country now ! On perjured craft and ruthless 62 THE UNION SPEAKER. guilt his power a tyrant Dane has built, and Sweden's crown, all blood-bespilt, rests on a foreign brow. On you your country turns her eyes — on you, on you, for aid relies, scions of noblest stem ! The foremost place in rolls of fame, by right your fearless fathers claim ; yours is the glory of their name, — 'tis yours to equal them. As rushing down, when winter reigns, resistless to the shaking plains, the torrent tears its way, and all that bars its onward course sweeps to the sea with headlong, force, — so swept your sires the Dane and Norse ; — can ye do less than they $ Rise ! reassert your ancient pride, and down the hills a living tide of fiery valor pour. Let but the storm of battle lower, back to his den the foe will cower ; — then, then shall Freedom's glorious hour strike for our land once more ! What ! silent — motionless, ye stand ? Gleams not an eye ? Moves not a hand ? Think ye to fly your fate ? Or till some better cause be given, wait ye ? — Then wait ! till, banished, driven, ye fear to meet the face of Heaven ; — till ye are slaughtered, wait. But no ! your kindling hearts gainsay the thought. Hark ! hear that bloodhound's bay ! Yon blazing village see ! Rise, countrymen ! Awake ! Defy the haughty Dane ! Your battle- cry be Freedom ! We will do or die ! On ! Death or victory ! XLvn. NOBILITY OF LABOR. T CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobil- - 1 - ity of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say ? It is broken down ; and it has been broken down for ages. Let it then be built up again ; here, if any- where, on these shores of a new world, of a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down ? Do not men toil ? it may be said. They do indeed toil ; but they too gener- ally do it because they must. Many submit to it as in some sort a degrading necessity ; and they desire nothing so much on earth as escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the let- ter, but break it in the spirit ; fulfil it with the muscle, but break STANDARD SELECTIONS. 63 it with the mind. To some fteld of labor, mental or manual, eviTv idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of improvement Hut so he is not impelled to do, under the teach- ings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal sys- tem under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of thy dingy work-shop and dusty labor-field ; of thy hard hand scarred with service more honorable than that of war ; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors ? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and en- vious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? It is treason to Nature ; it is impiety to Heaven ; it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility. 0. Dewey. » XLvni. SALATH1EL TO TITUS. CON of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man, as I may in *-* the next be an exile or a slave : I have ties to life as strong as ever were bound round the heart of man. I stand here a suppliant for the life of one whose loss would embitter mine ! Yet, not for wealth unlimited, for the safety of my family, for the life of the noble victim that is now standing at the place of torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of abandoning the cause of the City of Holiness. Titus ! in the name of that Being, to whom the wisdom of the earth is folly, I adjure ^ou to beware. Jerusalem is sacred. Her crimes have often wrought her misery ; often has she been trampled by the armies of the stranger. But she is still the City of the Omnipotent ; and never was blow inflicted on her by man, that was not terribly repaid. The Assyrian came, the mightiest power of the world ; he plundered her temple, and led her people into captivity. How 64 THE UNION SPEAKER. long was it before his empire was a dream, his dynasty extin- guished in blood, and an enemy on his throne ? The Persian came ; from her protector he turned into her oppressor ; and his empire was swept away like the dust of the desert ! The Syrian smote her ; the smiter died in agonies of remorse ; and where is his kingdom now ? The Egyptian smote her ; and who now sits on the throne of the Ptolemies ? Pompey came : the invincible, the conqueror of a thousand cities, the light of Rome ; the lord of Asia, riding on the very wings of victory. But he profaned her temple ; and from that hour he went down, — down, like a millstone plunged into the ocean ! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish fears were upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome. Where does he sleep ? What sands were colored with his blood ? The universal conqueror died a slave, by the hand of a slave ! Cras- sus came at the head of the legions ; he plundered the sacred vessels of the sanctuary. Vengeance followed him, and he was cursed by the curse of God. Where are the bones of the robber and his host ? Go, tear them from the jaws of the lion and the wolf of Parthia, — their fitting tomb ! You, too, son of Vespasian, may be commissioned for the punishment of a stiff-necked and rebellious people. You may scourge our naked vice by force of arms ; and then you may return to your own land exulting in the conquest of the fiercest enemy of Rome. But shall you escape the common fate of the instrument of evil? Shall you see a peaceful old age ? Shall a son of yours ever sit upon the throne ? Shall not rather some monster of your blood efface the memory of your virtues, and make Rome, in bitterness of soul, curse the Flavian name ? G. Croly. XLTX. AN APPEAL TO THE LOYALTY OF SOUTH CAROLINA. Tj^ELLOW-CITIZENS of my native State ! Let me not only admonish you as the first magistrate of our common country not to incur the penalty of its laws, but use the influence that a father would over his children whom he saw rushing to certain ruin. In that paternal language, with that paternal feel- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 65 ing, let me tell you, my countrymen, that you are deluded by men who arc either deceived themselves, or wish to deceive you. Contemplate the condition of that country of which you still form an important part ! Consider its government, uniting in one bond of common interest and general protection so many different States — giving to all their inhabitants the proud title of AMERICAN citizen — protecting their commerce — securing their literature and arts — facilitating their intercommunication — defending their frontiers — and making their name respected in the remotest parts of the earth ! Consider the extent of its territory, its increasing and happy population, its advance in arts which render life agreeable, and the sciences which elevate the mind ! See education spreading the lights of religion, morality, and general information into every cottage in this wide extent of our Territories and States ! Behold it as the asylum where the wretched and the oppressed find a refuge and support ! Look on this picture of happiness and honor, and say, " We, too, are citizens of America ! Carolina is one of these proud States ; her arms have defended, her best blood has cemented, this happy Union ! " And then add, if you can, with- out horror and remorse, " This happy Union we will dissolve — this picture of peace and prosperity we will deface — this free intercourse we will interrupt — these fertile fields we will deluge with blood — the protection of that glorious flag we renounce — the. very name of Americans we discard ! " And for what, mis- taken men ! for what do you throw away these inestimable blessings — for w r hat would you exchange your share in the- ad- vantages and honor of the Union ? For the dream of a separate independence — a dream interrupted by bloody conflicts with your neighbors, and a vile dependence on a foreign power. A. Jackson. THE # SAME CONCLUDED. rpil ERE is yet time to show, that the descendants of the X Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Rutledges, and of the thousand other names which adorn the pages of your Revolutionary history, will not abandon that Union to support which so many of them fought, and bled, and died. I adjure you, as you honor their mem- 5 66 THE UNION SPEAKER. ory, as you love the cause of freedom to which they dedicated their lives, as you prize the peace of your country, the lives of its best citizens, and your own fair fame, to retrace your steps. Snatch from the archives of your State the disorganizing edict of its convention, — bid its members to reassemble and promul- gate the decided expression of your will, to remain in the path which alone can conduct you to safety, prosperity, and honor ; — tell them that compared to disunion, all other evils are light, be- cause that brings with it an accumulation of all ; — declare that you will never take the field, unless the star-spangled banner of your country shall float over you ; that you will not be stigma- tized when dead, and dishonored and scorned while you live, as the authors of the first attack on the Constitution of your coun- try, — its destroyers you cannot be. Fellow-citizens, the momentous case is before you. On your undivided support of the Government depends the decision of the great question it involves : whether our sacred Union will be pre- served, and the blessings it secures to us as one people shall be perpetuated. No one can doubt that the unanimity with which that decision will be expressed, will be such as to inspire new confidence in republican institutions ; and that the prudence, the wisdom, and the courage, which it will bring to their defence, will transmit them unimpaired and invigorated to our children. May the Great Ruler of nations grant that the signal blessings with which He has favored ours, may not, by the madness . of party or personal ambition, be disregarded and lost ; and may His wise Providence bring those who have produced this crisis, to see their folly, before they feel the misery of civil strife ; and inspire a returning veneration for that Union, which, if we may dare to penetrate His designs, He has chosen as the only means of ob- taining the high destinies to which we may reasonably aspire. A. Jackson. LI. BURR AND BLENNERHASSETT. A PLAIN man, who knew nothing of the curious transmutation which the wit of man can work, would be very apt to won- der by what kind of legerdemain Aaron Burr had contrived to STANDARD SELECTIONS. 67 shuffle himself down to the bottom of the pack, as an accessory, and turn up poor IJlennerhnssrtt as principal, in this treason. Who, then, is Aaron Burr, and what the part which lie has borne in this transaction? lie is its author, its projector, its active executor. Bold, ardent, restless, and aspiring, his brain conceived it, his hand brought it into action. Who i.- Bleiraerhassett ? A native of Ireland, a man of let- ters, who tied from the storms of his own country, to find quiet in ours. On his arrival in America, he retired, even from the population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude in the bosom of our western forests. But he brought with him taste, and science, and wealth ; and " lo, the desert smiled ! " essing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every romantic embel- lishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have envied, blooms around him. Music, that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs is his. An extensive library spreads its treasures before him. A philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of Nature. Peace, tranquillity, and innocence, shed their mingled delights around him. And, to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplish- ment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of several children. The evi- dence would convince you, sir, that this is but a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity, — this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart, — the destroyer comes. He comes to turn this para- dise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach, and no monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortu- nate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr. Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts, by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his con- versation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. The conquest was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and credulous. Conscious of no designs itself, it suspects none in others. It wears no guards before its breast. Every door and 68 THE UNION SPEAKER. portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden, when the serpent entered its bowers ! The prisoner, in a irfore engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpractised heart of the unfortunate Blennerhas- sett, found but little difficulty in changing the native character of that heart, and the object of its affection. By degrees, he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into it the fire of his own courage ; a daring, desperate thirst for glory ; an ardor, panting for all the storm, and bustle, and hurri- cane of life. In a short time,. the whole man is changed, and every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene ; it has become flat and insipid to his taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are thrown aside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain — he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music ; it longs for the trumpet's clangor, and the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him ; and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now unfelt and unseen. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of great heroes and conquerors, — of Cromwell, and Caesar, and Bona- parte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a wilderness ; and, in a few months, we find the tender and beau- tiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately " permitted not the winds " of summer "to visit too roughly," — we find her shiver- ing, at midnight, on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness,' — thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace, — thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another, — this man, thus ruined and undone, and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason, — this man is to be called the principal offender ; while he, by whom he was thus plunged in misery, is compara- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 69 tively innocent, a mere accessory ! Is this reason ? Is it law ? Is it humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will hear a perversion so monstrous and absurd ; BO shocking to the soul ; so revolting to reason ! Wm. Wirt. LII. CAUSE FOR INDIAN RESENTMENT. "V T OU say you have bought the country. Bought it ? Yes ; -^ of whom ? Of the poor, trembling natives, who knew that refusal would be vain; and who strove to make a merit of sity, by seeming to yield with a grace what they knew they had not the power to retain. Alas, the poor Indians ! No wonder that they continue so implacably vindictive against the white people. No wonder that the rage of resentment is handed down from generation to gen- eration. No wonder that they refuse to associate and mix per- manently with their unjust and cruel invaders and extermina- tors. No wonder that, in the unabating spite and frenzy of con- scious impotence, they wage an eternal war, as well as they are able. ; that they triumph in the rare opportunity of revenge ; that they dance, sing, and rejoice, as the victim shrinks and faints amid the flames, when they imagine all the crimes of their oppressors collected on his head, and fancy the spirits of their injured forefathers hovering over the scene, smiling with fero- cious .delight at the grateful spectacle, and feasting on the precious odor as it arises from the burning blood of the white man. Yet the people here affect to wonder that the Indians are so very unsusceptible of civilization ; or, in other words, that they so obstinately refuse to adopt the manners of the white man. Go, Virginians, erase from the Indian nation the tradition of their wrongs. Make them forget, if you can, that once this charming country was theirs ; that over these fields and through these forests their beloved forefathers once, in careless gayety, pursued their sports and hunted their game ; that every return- ing day found them the sole, the peaceful, and happy proprie- tors of this extensive and beautiful domain. Go, administer the 70 THE UNION SPEAKER. cup of oblivion to recollections like these, and then you will cease to complain that the Indian refuses to be civilized. But, until then, surely it is nothing wonderful that a nation, even yet bleeding afresh from the memory of ancient wrongs, perpetually agonized by new outrages, and goaded into despera- tion and madness at the prospect of the certain ruin which awaits their descendants, should hate the authors of their mis- eries, of their desolation, their destruction ; should hate their manners, hate their color, hate their language, hate their name, hate everything that belongs to them. No, never, until time shall wear out the history of their sorrows and their sufferings, will the Indian be brought to love the white man, and to imitate his manners. Wm. Wirt. im. SPEECH ON TEE BRITISH TREATY. r pHE refusal of the posts (inevitable if we reject the treaty) is a measure too decisive in its nature to be neutral in its consequences. If any should still maintain, that the peace with the Indians will be stable without the posts, to them I will urge another reply. I will appeal directly to the hearts of those who hear me, and ask whether conviction is not already planted there. I resort especially to the convictions of the "Western gentlemen, whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, the settlers will re- main in security ? Can they take it upon them to say, that an Indian peace, under these circumstances, will prove firm ? No, sir, it will not be peace, but a sword ; it will be no better than a lure to draw victims within reach of the tomahawk. On this theme my emotions are unutterable. If I could find words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to my zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remonstrance, it should reach every log house beyond the mountains. I would say to the inhabitants, Wake from your false security ! Your cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions, are soon to be re- newed. The wounds yet unhealed are to be torn open again. In the daytime, your path through the M T oods will be ambushed. The darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of your STANDARD SELECTIONS. 71 dwellings. You are a father — the blood of your sons shall fatten your corn-field. You are a mother, — the war-whoop shall wake the sleep of the cradle. On this subject you need not suspect any deception on your feelings. It is a spectacle of horror which cannot be over- drawn. If you have nature in your hearts, they will speak a language compared with which all I have said or can say will be poor and frigid. Who will accuse me of wandering out of the subject ? Who will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our measures ? Will any one answer by a sneer, that all this is idle preaching ? Would any one deny that we are bound, and I would hope to good purpose, by the most solemn sanctions of duty for the vote we give ? Are despots alone to be reproached for unfeeling in- difference to the tears and blood of their subjects ? Are repub- licans irresponsible ? Have the principles on which you ground the reproach upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no binding force ? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, introduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, or to furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows of that State House ? I trust it is neither too presumptuous nor too late to ask, Can you put the dearest interest of society at risk, with- out guilt and without remorse ? It is in vain to offer as an excuse, that public men are not to be reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from their measures. This is very true where they are unforeseen or in- evitable. Those I have depicted are not unforeseen. They are so far from inevitable, we are going to bring them into being by our vote ; we choose the consequences, and become as justly answerable for them, as for the measure that we know will pro- duce them. By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we bind the victims. This day we undertake to render account to the widows and orphans whom our decision will make, — to the. wretches that will be roasted at the stake, — to our country, — and I do not deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God. We are answerable ; and if duty be anything more than a word of im- posture, if conscience be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make ourselves as wretched as our country. 72 THE UNION SPEAKER. There is no mistake in this case ; there can be none. Expe- rience has already been the prophet of events, and the cries of our future victims has already reached us. The Western inhab- itants are not a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice. The voice of humanity issues from the shade of the wilderness. It ex- claims, that, while one hand is held up to reject this treaty, the other grasps the tomahawk. It summons our imagination to the scenes that will open. It is no great effort of the imagination to conceive that events so near are already begun. I can fancy that I listen to the yells of savage vengeance and the shrieks of torture! Already they seem to sigh in the .western wind! Already they mingle with every echo from the mountains ! F. Ames. LIV. SPEECH AGAINST A LIBELLER. f AM one of those who believe that the heart of the wilful and deliberate libeller is blacker than that of the highway robber, or of one who commits the crime of midnight arson. The man who plunders on the highway may have the sem- blance of an apology for what he does. An affectionate Avife may demand subsistence ; a circle of helpless children raise to him the supplicating hand for food. He may be driven to the desperate act by the high mandate of imperative necessity. The mild features of the husband and father may intermingle with those of the robber and soften the roughness of the shade. But the robber of character plunders that which "not enrich- eth him," though it makes his neighbor " poor indeed." The man who at the midnight hour consumes his neighbor's dwelling, does him an injury w T hich perhaps is not irreparable. Industry may rear another habitation. The storm may indeed descend upon him until charity opens a neighboring door ; the rude winds of heaven may whistle around his uncovered family. But / he looks forward to better days ; he has yet a hook left to hang a hope on. No such consolation cheers the heart of him whose character has been torn from him. If innocent he may look, like Anaxagoras, to the heavens ; but he must be constrained to feel this world is to him a wilderness. For whither, shall he •go? Shall he dedicate himself to the service of his country? STANDARD SELECTIONS. 73 But will his country receive him ? Will she employ in her councils, or in her armies, the man at whom the " slow unmov- ing finger of scorn " is pointed ? Shall he betake himself to the fireside ? The story of his disgrace will enter his own doors before him. And can he bear, think you, can he bear the sympathizing agonies of a distressed wife ? Can he endure the formidable presence of scrutinizing, sneering domestics ? Will his children receive instructions from the lips of a disgraced father ? Gentlemen, I am not ranging on fairy ground. I am tell- ing the plain story of my client's wrongs. By the ruthless hand of malice his character has been wantonly massacred, — and he now appears before a jury of his country for redress. Will you deny him this redress ? Is character valuable ? On this point I will not insult you with argument. There are cer- tain things to argue which is treason against nature. The Author of our being did not intend to leave this point afloat at the mercy of opinion, but with His own hand has He kindly planted in the soul of man an instinctive love of character. This high sentiment has no affinity to pride. It is the ennobling quality of the soul ; and if we have hitherto been elevated above the ranks of surrounding creation, human nature owes its eleva- tion to the love of character. It is the love of character for which the poet has sung, the philosopher toiled, the hero bled. It is the love of character which wrought miracles at ancient Greece ; the love of character is the eagle on which Rome rose to empire. And it is the love of character, animating the bosoms of her sons, on which America must depend in those approach- ing crises that may " try men's souls." Will a jury weaken tfeis our nation's hope ? Will they by their verdict pronounce to the youth of our country, that character is scarce worth possessing ? We read of that philosophy which can smile at the destruc- tion of property — of thatreligion which enables its possessor to extend the benign look of forgiveness and complacency to his murderers. But it is not in the soul of man to bear the lacera- tion of slander. The philosophy which could bear it we should despise. The religion which could bear it we should not- de- spise, — but we should be constrained to say, that its kingdom was not of this world. Griffin. 74 THE UNION SPEAKER. LV. NEW ENGLAND AND THE UNION. f^i LORIOUS New England ! thou art still true to thy an- ^- > ^ cient fame, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. We, thy children, have assembled in this far-distant land to celebrate thy birthday. A thousand fond associations throng upon ' us, roused by the spirit of the hour. On thy pleasant valleys rest, like sweet clews of morning, the gentle recollections of our early life ; around thy hills and mountains cling, like gathering mists, the mighty memories of the Revolution ; and, far away in the horizon of thy past, gleam, like thy own bright northern lights, the awful virtues of our Pilgrim Sires ! But while we devote this day to the remembrance of our native land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast. We exult in the reflection, that though we count by thousands the miles which separate us from our birthplace, still our coun- try is the same. We are no exiles, meeting upon the banks of a foreign river to swell its waters with our homesick tears. Here floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish heads, except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering stars increased in number. The sons of New England are found in every State of the broad Republic. In the East, the South, and the unbounded West, their blood mingles freely with every kindred current. We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion ; in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our brothers. To us the Union has but one domestic hearth ; itsb household gods are all the same. Upon us then peculiarly devolves the duty of feeding the fires upon that kindly hearth, of guarding with pious care those sacred household gods. We cannot do with less than the whole Union ; to us it admits of no division. In the veins of our children flows Northern and Southern blood. How shall it be separated? Who shall put asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts of our nature ? We love the land of our adoption ; so do we that of our birth. Let us ever be true to both, and always exert ourselves in maintaining the unity of our country, the integrity of the Republic. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 75 Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden cord of the Union ! — thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shall propose its severance ! But no ; the Union cannot be dissolved. Its fortunes are too brilliant to be marred ; its destinies too powerful to be resisted. Here will be their greatest triumph, their most mighty development. And when, a century hence, this Crescent City shall have filled her golden horns, — when within her broad-armed port shall be gathered the products of the in- dustry of a hundred millions of freemen, — when galleries of art and halls of learning shall have made classic this mart of trade, — then may the sons of the Pilgrims, still wandering from the bleak hills of the North, stand upon the banks of the great river and exclaim with mingled pride and wonder, — " Lo, this is our country : when did the world ever behold so rich and magnificent a city, — so great and glorious a Republic ! " S. S. Prentiss. LVI. ON SENDING RELIEF TO IRELAND. \TTE have assembled, not to respond to shouts of triumph from the West, but to answer to the cry of want and suf- fering which comes from the East. The Old World stretches out her arms to the New. The starving parent supplicates the young and vigorous child for bread. There lies, upon the other side of the wide Atlantic, a beautiful island famous in history and in song. Its area is not so great as that of the State of Louisiana, while its population is almost half that of the Union. It has given to the world more than its share of genius and of greatness. It has been prolific in statesmen, warriors, and poets. Its brave and generous sons have fought successfully all battles but their own. In wit and humor it has no equal, while its harp, like its history, moves to tears, by its sweet but melancholy pathos. Into this fair region God has seen fit to send the most terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfil his inscrutable decrees. The earth has failed to give her increase ; the common mother has forgotten her offspring, and her breast no longer affords them their accustomed nourishment. Famine, gaunt and ghastly famine, has seized a nation in its strangling grasp ; and 76 THE UNION SPEAKER. unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes of the present, forgets, for a moment, the gloomy history of the past. Oh, it is terrible, in this beautiful world, which the good God has given us, and in which there is plenty for us all, that men should die of starvation ! You, who see, each day, poured into the lap of your city, food sufficient to assuage the hunger of a nation, can form but an imperfect idea of the horrors of famine. In battle, in the fulness of his pride and strength, little recks the soldier whether the hissing bullet sings his sudden requiem, or the cords of life are severed by the sharp steel. But he who dies of hunger, wrestles alone, day after day, with his grim and unrelenting enemy. The blood recedes, the flesh deserts, the muscles relax, and the sinews grow powerless. At last, the mind, which, at first, had bravely nerved itself for the contest, gives way, under the mysterious influences which govern its union with the body. Then he begins to doubt the existence of an overruling Providence ; he hates his fellow-men, and glares upon them w T ith the longings of a cannibal, and it may be, dies blaspheming! . Who will hesitate to give his mite to avert such awful results ? Surely not the citizens of New Orleans, ever famed for deeds of charity and benevolence. Freely have your hearts and purses opened, heretofore, to the call of suffering humanity. Nobly did you respond to oppressed Greece and to struggling Poland. Within Erin's borders is an enemy more cruel than the Turk, more tyrannical than* the Russian. Bread is the only -weapon that can conquer him. Let us, then, load ships with this glori- ous munition, and, in the name of our common humanity, wage war against this despot Famine. Let us, in God's name, " cast our bread upon the waters," and if we are selfish enough to de- sire it back again, we may recollect the promise, that it shall return to us after many days. S. S. Prentiss. B LVII. THE NEW ENGLAND COMMON SCHOOL. EHOLD yon simple building near the crossing of the vil- lage road! It is small, and of rude construction, but STANDARD SELECTIONS. 77 stands in a pleasant and quiet spot. A magnificent old elm spreads its broad arms above, and seems to lean towards it, as a strong man bends to shelter and protect a child. A brook runs through the meadow near, and hard by there is an orchard ; but the trees have suffered much, and bear no fruit, except upon the most remote and inaccessible branches. From within its walls comes a busy hum, such as you may hear in a disturbed bee- hive. Now peep through yonder window, and you will see a hundred children, with rosy cheeks, mischievous eyes, and de- mure faces, all engaged, or pretending to be so, in their little lessons. It is the public school, — the free, the common school, — provided by law ; open to all ; claimed from the community as a right, not accepted as a bounty. Here the children of the rich and poor, high and low, meet upon perfect equality, and commence, under the same auspices, the race of life. Here the sustenance of the mind is served up to all alike," as the Spartans served their food upon the public table. Here, young Ambition climbs his little ladder, and boy- ish Genius plumes his half-fledged wing. From among these laughing children will go forth the men who are to control the destinies of their age and country ; the^statesman, whose wisdom is to guide the Senate ; the poet, who will take captive the hearts of the people, and bind them together with immortal song ; the philosopher, who, boldly seizing upon the elements themselves, will compel them to his washes, and, through new combinations of their primal laws, by some great discovery, revolutionize both art and science. The common village-school is New England's fairest boast, — the brightest jewel that adorns her brow. The principle that society is bound to provide for its members' education as well as protection, so that none need be ignorant except from choice, is the %nost important that belongs to modern philosophy. It is essential to a republican government. Universal education is not only the best and surest, hut the only sure, foundation for free institutions. True liberty is the child of knowledge ; she pines away and dies in the arms of ignorance. Honor, then, to the early fathers of New England, from whom came the spirit which has built a school-house by every sparkling fountain, and bids all come as freely to the one as to the other, s. S. Prentiss. 78 THE UNION SPEAKER. LVIII. CnRISTTANITY TIIE SOURCE OF REFORM. ' npiIE great element of reform is not born of human wisdom : it does not draw its life from human organizations. I find it only in Christianity. " Thy kingdom come ! " There is a sublime and pregnant burden in this prayer. It is the aspiration of every soul that goes forth in the spirit of Reform. For what is the significance of this prayer ? It is a petition that all holy influences would penetrate, and subdue, and dwell in the heart of man, until he shall think, and speak, and do good, from the very necessity of his being. So would the institutions of error and wrong crumble and pass away. So would sin die out from the earth ; and the human soul living in harmony with the Divine Will, this earth would become like Heaven. It is too late for the reformers to sneer at Christianity, — it is foolishness for them to reject it. In it are enshrined our faitli in human progress, — our confidence in reform. It is indissolubly con- nected with all that is hopeful, spiritual, capable in man. That men have misunderstood it, and perverted it, is true. But it is also true, that the noblest efforts for human melioration have come out of it, — have been based upon it. Is it not so ? Come, ye remembered ones, who sleep the sleep of the just, — who took your conduct from the line of Christian philosophy, — come from your tombs, and answer ! Come, Howard, from the gloom of the prison and the taint of the lazar-house, and show us what philanthropy can do when imbued with the spirit of Jesus. Come, Eliot, from the thick forest where the red man listens to the Word of Life ; — come, Penn, from thy sweet counsel and weaponless victory, — and show us what Christian zeal and Christian love can accomplish with the rudest barbarians or the fiercest hearts. Come, Rafikes, from thy labors with the ignorant and the poor, and show us with what an eye this Faith regards the lowest and the least of our race ; and how diligently it labors, not for the body, not for the rank, but for the plastic soul that is to course the ages of immortality. And ye, who are a great number, — ye nameless ones, — who have done good in your narrow spheres, content to forego renown on earth, and seeking your reward in the Record STANDARD SELECTIONS. 79 on High, — come and tell us how kindly a spirit, how lofty a purpose, or how strong a courage, the Religion ye professed can breathe into the poor, the humble, and the weak. Go forth, then, Spirit of Christianity, to thy great work of Reform ! The Past bears witness to thee in the blood of thy martyrs, and the ashes of thy saints and heroes : the Present is hopeful because of thee ; the Future shall acknowledge thy omnipotence. E. H. Chopin. LIX. NORTHERN LABORERS. r |^HE gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and ten- dency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of Northern character, He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern laborers ! Who are the Northern laborers ? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot from your annals the words and the doings of Northern laborers, and the history of your country presents but a universal blank. Sir, who was he that; disarmed the Thunderer ; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove ; calmed the troubled ocean ; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilized world ; whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor ; who participated in the achievement of your Independence, prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last mo- ment of " recorded time ? " Who, sir, I ask, was he ? A North- ern laborer, — a Yankee tallow-chandler's son, — a printer's runaway boy ! And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was he that, in the days of our Revolution, led forth a Northern army, — yes, an army of Northern laborers, — and aided the chivalry of South Carolina in their defence against British aggression, drove the spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign invaders ? Who was he ? A Northern la- borer, a Rhode Island blacksmith, — the gallant General Greene, who left his hammer and his forge, and went forth conquering 80 THE UNION SPEAKER. and to conquer in the battle for our Independence ! And will yon preach insurrection to men like these ? Sir, onr country is full of the achievements of Northern laborers. Where is Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the North ? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names of those hallowed spots, but the blood and the struggles, the high daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern laborers ? The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of Northern laborers ! Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these ! The fortitude of the men of the North, under intense suffering for liberty's sake, has been almost godlike ! History has so recorded it. Who comprised that gallant army, without food, without pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked} in that dreadful winter, — the midnight of our Revolution, — whose wanderings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow ; whom no arts could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings disaffect ; but who, true to their country and its holy cause, continued to fight the good fight of liberty until it finally tri- umphed ? Who, sir, were these men ? , Why, Northern labor- ers ! Yes, sir, Northern laborers ! Who, sir, were Roger Sher- man, and — but it is idle to enumerate. To name the Northern laborers who have distinguished themselves, and illustrated the history of their country, would require days of the time of this House ; nor is it necessary. Posterity w T ill do them justice. Their deeds have been recorded in characters of fire ! C. Naylor. . ♦ LX. BROUGHAM'S ATTACK ON CANNING DESCRIBED. TPON that occasion, the oration of Brougham was, at the outset, disjointed and ragged, and apparently without aim or application. He careered over the whole annals of the world, and collected every instance in which genius had degraded itself at the footstool of power, or principle had been sacrificed for the vanity or the lucre of place ; but still there was no allusion to Canning, and no connection that ordinary men could discover with the business before the House. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 81 collected every material which suited his purpose, — when the mass had become big and black, he bound it about and about with the cords of illustration and of argument ; when its union was secure, he swung it round and round with the strength of a giant and the rapidity of a whirlwind, in order that its impetus and effect might be more tremendous ; and, while doing this, he ever and anon glared his eye, and pointed his finger to make the aim and direction sure. Canning was the first who seemed to be aware where and how terrible was to be the collision ; and he kept writhing his body in agony, and rolling his eyes in fear, as if anxious to find some shelter from the impending bolt. The House soon caught the impression, and every man in it was glancing his eye fear- fully, first towards the orator, and then towards the Secretary. There w r as, save the voice of Brougham, which growled in that undertone of muttered thunder, which is so fearfully audible, and of which no speaker of the day was fully master but himself, a silence as if the angel of retribution had been flaring in the face of all parties the scroll of their personal and political sins. A pen, which one of the Secretaries dropped upon the matting, was heard in the remotest part of the house; and the voting members, who often slept in the side-galleries during the debate, started up as though the final trump had been sounding them to give an account of their deeds. The stiffness of Brougham's figure had vanished ; his features seemed concentrated almost to a point ; he glanced toward every part of the House in succession ; and, sounding the death-knell of the Secretary's forbearance and prudence, with both his clinched hands upon the table, he hurled at him an accusation more dreadful in its gall, and more torturing in its effects than ever had been hurled at mortal man within the same walls. The result was instantaneous — was electric; it was as when the thunder-cloud descends upon some giant peak — one flash, one peal — the sublimity vanished, and all that remained was the small and cold pattering of rain. Canning started to his feet, and was able only to utter the unguarded words, " It is false ! " to which followed a dull chapter of apologies. From that mo- ment, the House became more a scene of real business than of airy display and angry vituperation. 82 THE UNION SPEAKER LXI. SOUTH CAROLINA DURING THE REVOLUTION. TT is with unfeigned reluctance, Mr. President, that I enter upon the performance of this part of my duty. I shrink almost instinctively from a course, however necessary, which may have a tendency to excite sectional feelings and sectional jealousies. But, sir, the task has been forced upon me, and I proceed right onward to the performance of my duty. Be the consequences what they may, the responsibility is with those who have imposed upon me this necessity. The Senator from Massa- chusetts has thought proper to cast the first stone, and if he shall find, according to the homely adage, that " he lives in a glass house," — on his head be the consequences. The gentleman has made a great flourish about his fidelity to Massachusetts. I shall make no professions of zeal for the interests and honor of South Carolina — of that my constituents shall judge. If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President, (and I say it not in a boastful spirit,) that may challenge comparison with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devo- tion to the Union, that State is South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the Revolution up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made ; no ser- vice she has hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity, but in your adversity she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs, — though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, — the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound — every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revolu- tion ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glo- rious struggle ; but great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. They espoused the cause of their brethren with generous zeal which did not suffer them to stop to calculate their interest in the dispute. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 83 Favorites of the mother country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create commercial rivalship, they might have found in their situation a guaranty that their trade would be forever fos- tered and protected by Great Britain. But trampling on all considerations, either of interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting for principle, perilled all in the sacred cause for freedom. Never was there exhibited in the history of the world, higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, mid heroic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina during that Revolution. The whole State, from the mountain to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were pro- duced, or were consumed by the foe. The " plains of Carolina " drank up the most precious blood of her citizens, — black and smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habita- tions of her children ! Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invin- cible. E. Y. Hayne. ♦ Lxn. INCOMPETENCY OF PARLIAMENT TO PASS THE UNION BILL. QIR, — I, in the most express terms, deny the competency of ^ Parliament to abolish the Legislature of Ireland. I warn you, do not dare to lay your hand on the Constitution, — I tell you that if, circumstanced as you are, you pass an act which sur- renders the government of Ireland to the English Parliament, it will be a nullity, and that no man in Ireland will be bound to obey it. I make the assertion deliberately, — I repeat it, and I call on any man who hears me, to take down my words ; — you have not been elected for this purpose, — you are appointed to act under the Constitution, not to alter it, — you are appointed to exercise the functions of legislators, and not to transfer them, — and if you do so, your act is a dissolution of the government, — you resolve society into its original elements, and no man in the land is bound to obey you. 84 THE UNION SPEAKER. Yourselves you may extinguish, but Parliament you cannot extinguish, — it is enthroned in the hearts of the people, — it is enshrined in the sanctuary of the Constitution, — it is immortal as the island which it protects. As well might the frantic sui- cide hope that the act which destroys his miserable body should extinguish his eternal soul. Again I therefore warn you, do not dare to lay your hands on the Constitution ; it is above your power. Sir, I do not say that the Parliament and the people, by mutual consent and cooperation, may not change the form of the Constitution. But, thank God, the people have manifested no such wish, — so far as they have spoken, their voice is decidedly against this daring innovation. You know that no voice has been uttered in its favor, and you cannot be infatuated enough to take confidence from the silence which prevails in some parts of the kingdom ; if you know how to appreciate that silence, it is more formidable than the most clamorous opposition, — you may be rived and shivered by the lightning before you hear the peal of the thun- der ! But, sir, we are told we should discuss this question with calmness and composure. I am called on to surrender my birth- right and my honor, and I am told I should be calm and com- posed. National pride ! Independence of our country ! These, we are told by the Minister, are only vulgar topics fitted for the meridian of the mob, but unworthy to be mentioned in such an enlightened assembly as this ; they are trinkets and gew-gaws fit to catch the fancy of childish and unthinking people like you, sir, or like your predecessor in that chair, but utterly unworthy of the consideration of this House, or of the matured understand- ing of the noble lord who condescends to instruct it ! Gracious God ! We see a Perry re-ascending from the tomb and raising his awful voice to warn us against the surrender of our freedom, and we see that the proud and virtuous feelings which warmed the breast of that aged and venerable man, are only calculated to excite the contempt of this young philosopher, who has been transplanted from the nursery to the cabinet, to outrage the feel- ings and understanding of the country. W. C. Plunkett. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 85 Lxin. WASHINGTON. O IR, it matters very little, what immediate spot may have ^^ been the birthplace of such a man as Washington. No people can claim, no country appropriate him. The boon of Providence to the human race, — his fame is eternity, and his residence, creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was % the climate that it cleared ! How bright in the brow of the firma- ment was the planet which it revealed to us ! In the produc- tion of Washington, it does really appear as if Nature was en- deavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances, no doubt there were, — splendid exem- plifications of some single qualification. Caesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Hannibal was patient ; but it was reserved for Washington to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of asso- ciated beauty, the pride of every model and the perfection of every master. As a general, he marshalled the peasant into a veteran, and supplied by discipline the absence of experience ; as a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most comprehen- sive system of general advantage ; and such was the wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that, to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the character of the sage ! A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime of blood ; a revo- lutionist, he was free from any stain of treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and his country called him to the com- mand. Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory returned it. If he had paused here, history might have doubted what sta- tion to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens or her soldiers, her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious act 86 THE UNION SPEAKER. crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. Who like Wash- ington, after having emancipated a hemisphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement of domestic life to the ado- ration of a land he might be almost said to have created ! Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven yielded to your philosophy ! The temptations of earth could not seduce your patriotism. C. Phillips. LXIV. EDUCATION. /^|F all the blessings which it has pleased Providence to allow ^^^ us to cultivate, there is not one which breathes a purer fragrance, or bears a heavenlier aspect than education. It is a companion which no misfortune can depress, no clime destroy, no enemy alienate, no despotism enslave ; at home a friend, abroad an introduction, in solitude a solace, in society an or- nament ; it chastens vice, it guides virtue, it gives at once a grace and government to genius. Without it, what is man ? A splendid slave ! A reasoning savage, vascillating between the dignity of an intelligence derived from God, and the degradation of passions participated with brutes ; and in the accident of their alternate ascendency, shuddering at the terrors of a hereafter, or- embracing the horrid hope of annihilation. What is this wondrous world of his residence ? " A mighty maze, and all without a plan : " a dark, and desolate, and dreary cavern, without wealth, or ornament, or order. But light up within it the torch of knowl- edge, and how wondrous the transition ! The seasons change, the atmosphere breathes, the landscape lives, earth unfolds its fruits, ocean rolls in its magnificence, the heavens display their constellated canopy, and the grand animated spectacle of nature rises revealed before him, its varieties regulated, and its myste- ries resolved ! The phenomena which bewilder, the prejudices which debase, the superstitions which enslave, vanish before education. Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud before the hesitating Constantine, if man follow but its precepts, purely, it STANDARD SELECTIONS. 87 will not only lead him to the vietories of this world, but open the very portals of Omnipotence for his admission. Cast your eye over the monumental map of ancient grandeur, once studded with the stars of empire and the splendors of philosophy. What erected the little State of Athens into a powerful Commonwealth, placing in her hand the sceptre of legislation, and wreathing round her brow the imperishable chaplet of literary fame ? What extended Rome, the heart of banditti, into universal em- pire ? What animated Sparta with that high, unbending, ada- mantine courage, which conquered Nature herself, and has fixed her in the sight of future ages, a model of public virtue, and a proverb of national independence ? What but those wise public institutions which strengthened their minds with early applica- tion, informed their infancy with the principles of actions, and sent them into the world too vigilant to be deceived by its calms, and too vigorous to be shaken by its whirlwinds ? C. Phillips. LXV. CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. TTE is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid J — ■- prodigy, which towered amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a scep- tered hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality. A mind, bold, independent, and decisive, — a will, despotic in its dictates, — an energy that distanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to every touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary character, — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life in the midst of a revolution that quickened every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity ! With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed into the list where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fell from him as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest, — he acknowledged 88 THE UNION SPEAKER. no criterion but success, — he worshipped no God but ambition, and with an eastern devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idola- try. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not pro- fess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate ; in the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the crescent ; for the sake of a divorce, he bowed before the cross ; the orphan of St. Louis, he became the adopted child of the republic ; and with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the pope ; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country ; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the Caesars. C. Phillips. LXVI. A COLLISION OF VICES. ll/TY honorable and learned friend began by telling us that, after all, hatred is no bad thing in itself. " I hate a Tory," says my honorable friend ; " and another man hates a cat ; but it does not follow that he would hunt down the cat, or I the Tory." Nay, so far from it, hatred, if it be properly managed, is, accord- ing to my honorable friend's theory, no bad preface to a rational esteem and affection. It prepares its votaries for a reconciliation bf differences ; for lying down with their most inveterate ene- mies, like the leopard and the kid in the vision of the prophet. This dogma is a little startling, but it is not altogether without precedent. It is borrowed from a character in a play, which is, I dare say, as great a favorite with my learned friend as it is with me, — I mean the comedy of the Rivals ; in which Mrs. Malaprop, giving a lecture on the subject of marriage to her niece (who is unreasonable enough to talk of liking, as a necessary preliminary to such a union), says, " What have you to do with your likings and your preferences, child ? Depend upon it, it is safest to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle like a blackamoor before we were married ; and yet, you know, my dear, what a good wife I made him. 7 ' Such is my learned friend's argument, to a hair. But finding that this doctrine did not appear to go down with the House so glibly as STANDARD SELECTIONS. 89 he had expected, my honorable and learned friend presently changed his tack, and put forward a theory which, whether for novelty or for beauty, I pronounce to be incomparable ; and, in short, as wanting nothing to recommend it but a slight founda- tion in truth. " True philosophy," says my honorable friend, " will always continue to lead men to virtue by the instrumen- tality of their conflicting vices. The virtues, where more than one exists, may live harmoniously together ; but the vices bear mortal antipathy to one another, and, therefore, furnish to the moral engineer the power by which he can make each keep the other under control." Admirable ! but, upon this doctrine, the poor man who has but one single vice must be in a very bad way. No fulcrum, no moral power, for effecting his cure ! Whereas, his more fortunate neighbor, who has two or more vices in his composition, is in a fair way of becoming a very vir- tuous member of society. I wonder how my learned friend would like to have this doctrine introduced into his domestic establishment. For instance, suppose that I discharge a servant because he is addicted to liquor, I could not venture to recom- mend him to my honorable and learned friend. It might be the poor man's only fault, and therefore clearly incorrigible ; but, if I had the good fortune to find out that he was also addicted to stealing, might I not, with a safe conscience, send him to my learned friend w T ith a strong recommendation, saying, "I send you a man whom I know to be a drunkard ; but I am happy to assure you he is also a thief : you cannot do better than employ him ; you will make his drunkenness counteract his thievery, and no doubt you will bring him out of the conflict a very moral per- sonage ! " G. Canning. LXVII. "MEASURES, NOT MEN." F I am pushed to the wall, and forced to speak my opinion, I have no disguise nor reservation : — I do think that this is a time when the administration of the Government ought to be in the ablest and fittest hands ; I do not think the hands in which it is now placed answer to that description. I do not pretend to I 90 THE UNION SPEAKER. conceal in what quarter I think that fitness most eminently resides; I do not subscribe to the doctrines which have been advanced, that, in times like the present, the fitness of individ- uals for their political situation is no part of the consideration to which a member of Parliament may fairly turn his attention. I know not a more solemn or important duty that a member of Parliament can have to discharge, than by giving, at fit seasons, a free opinion upon the character and qualities of public men. Away with the cant of " measures, not men ! " the idle supposi- tion that it is the harness, and not the horses, that draws the chariot along ! No, sir, if the comparison must be made, if the distinction must be taken, men are everything, measures com- paratively nothing. I speak, sir, of times of difficulty and dan- ger ; of times when systems are shaken, when precedents and general rules of conduct fail. Then it is, that not to this or that measure, — however prudently devised, however blameless in execution, — but to the energy and character of individuals, a state must be indebted for its salvation. Then it is that king- doms rise or fall in proportion as they are upheld, not by well- meant endeavors (laudable though they may be), but by com- manding, overawing talents, — by able men. And what is the nature of the times in which we live ? Look at France, and see what we have to cope with, and consider what has made her what she is. A man ! You will tell me that she was great, and powerful, and formidable, before the days of Bonaparte's government ; that he found in her great physical and moral resources ; that he had but to turn them to account. True, and he did so. Compare the situation in which he found France with that to which he has raised her. I am no pane- gyrist of Bonaparte ; but I cannot shut my eyes to the supe- riority of his talents, to the amazing ascendency of his genius. Tell me not of his measures and his policy. It is his genius, his character, that keeps the world in awe. Sir, to meet, to check, to curb, to stand up against him, we want arms of the same kind. I am far from objecting to the large military establishments which are proposed to you. I vote for them, with all my heart. But, for the purpose of coping with Bonaparte, one great, com- manding spirit is worth them all. G. Canning. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 91 lxvhi. PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. "TI/TY Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which I "*" feel for the event of this debate, because I know full well that the peace of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot look without dismay at the rejection of this* measure of parlia- mentary reform. But, grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary defeat, temporary it can only be ; for its ultimate, and even speedy success, is certain. Nothing can now stop it. Do not suffer yourselves to be persuaded that, even if the present ministers were driven from the helm, any one could steer you through the troubles which surround you, without reform. But our successors would take up the task in circumstances far less auspicious. Under them, you would be fain to grant a bill, com- pared with which, the one we now proffer you is moderate indeed. Hear the parable of the Sibyl ; for it conveys a wise and wholesome moral. " She now appears at your gate, and offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — of wisdom and peace. The price she asks is reasonable ; to restore the franchise, which, without any bargain, you ought voluntarily to give. You refuse her terms — her moderate terms ; — she darkens the porch no longer. But soon — for you cannot do without her wares — you call her back. Again she comes, but with diminished treasures ; the leaves of .the book are in part torn away by lawless hands, in part defaced with characters of blood. But the prophetic maid has risen in her demands ; — it is Parliaments by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is suf- frage by the million ! From this you turn away indignant ; and, for the second time, she departs. Beware of her third coming ! for the treasure you must have ; and what price she may next demand, who shall tell ? It may even be the mace which rests upon that woolsack ! What may follow your course of obsti- nacy, if persisted in, I cannot take upon me to predict, nor do I wish to conjecture. But this I know full well ; that as sure as man is mortal, and to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at which you must purchase safety and peace ; — nor can you expect to gather in another crop than they did who went be- 92 THE UNION SPEAKER. fore you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry, of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. But, among the awful considerations that now bow down my mind, there is one that stands preeminent above the rest. You are the highest judicature in the realm ; you sit here as judges, and decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's first duty never to pronounce a sentence, in the most trifling case, withoul hearing. Will you make this the excep- tion ? Are you really prepared to determine, but not to hear, the mighty cause, upon which a Nation's hopes and fears hang ? You are ? Then beware of your decision ! Rouse not, I be- seech, you, a peace-loving but a resolute people ! Alienate not from your body the affections of a whole Empire ! As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my country, as the faithful servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to assist, with your uttermost efforts, in preserving the peace, and uphold- ing and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort you not to reject this measure. By all you hold most dear — by all the ties that bind every one of us to our common order and our common country, I solemnly adjure you — I warn you — I implore you — yea, on my bended knees, I supplicate you, — reject not this bill ! Lord Brougham. LXIX. DENUNCIATION OF SLAVERY. f TRUST, at length the time has come, when Parliament will A no longer bear to be told, that slave-owners are the best lawgivers on slavery ; no longer suffer our voice to roll across the Atlantic in empty warnings and fruitless orders. Tell me not of rights, — talk not of the property of the planter in his slave. I deny his rights, — I acknowledge not the property. The principles, the feelings of our common nature, rise in rebel- lion against it. Be the appeal made to the understanding or to the heart, the sentence is the same, that rejects it. In vain you tell me of laws that sanction such a claim ! There is a law above all the enactments of human codes, — the same throughout the world, — the same in all times ; such as it was STANDARD SELECTIONS. 93 before the daring genius of Columbus pierced the night of ages, and opened to one world the source of power, wealth, and knowl- edge, — to the other, all unutterable woes, such is it at this day ; it is the law written by the finger of God on the heart of man ; and by that law, unchangeable and eternal, while men despise fraud, and loathe rapine, and hate blood, they shall reject with indignation the wild and guilty fantasy, that man can hold prop- erty in mai ! In vain ye appeal to treaties, — to covenants between nations. The covenants of the Almighty, whether the old covenant or the new, denounce such unholy pretensions. To these laws did they of old refer, who maintained the African trade. Such treaties did they cite, and not untruly ; for, by one shameful compact, you bartered the glories of Blenheim for the traffic in blood. Yet, in despite of law and of treaty, that infernal traffic is now destroyed, and its votaries put to death like other pirates. How came this change to pass ? Not, assuredly, by Parliament lead- ing the way ; but the country at length awoke ; the indignation of the people w T as kindled ; it descended in thunder, and smote the traffic, and scattered its guilty profit to the winds. Now, then, let the planters beware, — let their assemblies beware, — let the government at home beware, — let the Parlia- ment beware ! The same country is once more awake, — awake to the condition of negro slavery ; the same indignation kindles in the bosom of the same people ; the same cloud is gathering that annihilated the slave-trade ; and if it shall de- scend again, they, on whom its crash may fall, will not be destroyed before I have warned them ; but I pray that their destruction may turn away from us the more terrible judgments of God ! Lord Brougham. LXX. THE TEACHERS OF MANKIND. r INHERE is nothing which the adversaries of improvement are more wont to make themselves merry with than what is termed the " march of intellect ; " and here I will confess, that I think, as far as the phrase goes, they are in the right. It is a very absurd, because a very incorrect expression. It is little cal- 94 THE UNION SPEAKER. culatcd to describe the operation in question. It does not picture an image at all resembling the proceedings of the true friends of mankind. It much more resembles the progress of the enemy to all improvement. The conqueror moves in a march. He stalks onward with the " pride, pomp, and circumstance of war," — banners flying — shouts rending the air — guns thundering — and martial music pealing, to drown the shrieks of the wounded, and the lamentations for the slain. f Not thus the schoolmaster, in his peaceful vocation. He medi- tates and prepares in secret the plans which are to bless man- kind ; he slowly gathers round him those who are to further their execution, — he quietly, though firmly, advances in his humble path, laboring steadily, but calmly, till he has opened to the light all the recesses of ignorance, and torn up by the roots the weeds of vice. His is a progress not to be compared with anything like a march ; but it leads to a far more brilliant triumph, and to laurels more imperishable than the destroyer of his species, the scourge of the world, ever won. Such men — men deserving the glorious title of Teachers of , Mankind — I have found, laboring conscientiously, though, per- haps obscurely, in their blessed vocation, wherever I have gone. I have found them, and shared their fellowship, among the dar- ing, the ambitious, the ardent, the indomitably active French ; I have found them among the persevering, resolute, industrious Swiss ; I have found them among the laborious, the warm- hearted, the enthusiastic Germans ; I have found them among the high-minded, but enslaved Italians ; and in our own coun- try, God be thanked, their numbers everywhere abound, and are every day increasing. Their calling is high and holy ; their fame is the property of nations ; their renown will fill the earth in after-ages, in propor- tion as it sounds not far off in their own times. Each one of those great teachers of the world, possessing his soul in peace, performs his appointed course ; awaits in patience the fulfilment of the promises ; and, resting from his labors, bequeathes his memory to the generation whom his works have blessed, and sleeps under the humble but not inglorious epitaph, commemo- rating " one in whom mankind lost a friend, and no man got rid of an enemy." Lord Brougham. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 95 LXXI. THE GREATNESS OF WASHINGTON. /"^ REAT he was, preeminently great, whether we regard him ^^ sustaining alone the whole weight of campaigns all but desperate, or gloriously terminating a just warfare by his re- sources and his courage ; presiding over the jarring elements of his political council, alike deaf to the storms of all extremes, or directing the formation of a new government for a great people, the first time that so vast an experiment had ever been tried by man ; or, finally, retiring from the supreme power to which his virtue had raised him over the nation he had created, and whose destinies he had guided as long as his aid was required, — retir- ing with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all man- kind, in order that the rights of men might be conserved, and that his example never might be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. This is the consummate glory of Washington ; a triumphant warrior where the most sanguine had a right to despair ; a suc- cessful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly untried ; but a warrior, whose sword only left its sheath when the first law of our nature commanded it to be drawn ; and a ruler who, having tasted of supreme power, gently and unostentatiously desired that the cup might pass from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips than the most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God required ! To his latest breath did this great patriot maintain the noble character of a captain the patron of peace, and a statesman the friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs the sword which he had worn in the war for liberty, and charged them " never to take it from the scabbard but in self-defence, or in defence of their country and her freedom ; " and commanded them that, " when it should thus be drawn, they should never sheathe it, nor ever give it up, but prefer falling with it in their hands to the relinquishment thereof," — words, the majesty and simple eloquence of which are not surpassed in the oratory of Athens and Rome. It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, to let no occasion pass of commemorating this illustrious man ; 96 THE UNION SPEAKER. and, until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which our nice has made in wisdom and virtue be derived from the ven- eration paid to the immortal name of Washington ! Lovd Brougham. LXXII. WASHINGTON, A MAN OF GENIUS. XT OW many times have we been told that Washington was not a man of genius, but a person of excellent common sense, of admirable judgment, of rare virtues ! He had no genius, it seems. no ! genius, we must suppose, is the peculiar and shining attribute of some orator, whose tongue can spout patri- otic speeches ; or some versifier, whose muse can hail Columbia ; but not of the man who supported States on his arm, and carried America in his brain. What is genius ? Is it worth anything ? Is splendid folly the measure of its inspiration ? Is wisdom its base and summit ? — that which it recedes from, or tends toward ? And by what definition do you award the name to the creator of an epic, and deny it to the creator of a country ? On what prin- ciple is it to be lavished on him who sculptures in perishing marble the image of possible excellence, and withheld from him who built up in himself a transcendent character, indestructible as the obligations of duty, and beautiful as her rewards ? Indeed, if by genius of action, you mean w r ill enlightened by intelligence, and intelligence energized by will, — if force and insight be its characteristics, and influence its test, and if great effects suppose a cause proportionally great, a vital, causative mind, — then was Washington most assuredly a man of genius, and one whom no other American has equalled in the power of working morally and mentally on other minds. His genius was of a peculiar kind, the genius of character, of thought, and the objects of thought solidified and concentrated into active faculty. He belongs to that rare class of men, — rare as Homers and Miltons, rare as Platos and Newtons, — who have impressed their characters upon nations without pampering national vices. Such men have natures broad enough to include all the facts of a people's practical life, and deep enough to discern the spiritual laws which underlie, animate, and govern those facts. * E. P. Whipple. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 97 LXXIII. IRISH ALIENS AND ENGLISH VICTORIES. I" SHOULD be surprised, indeed, if, while you are doing us - 1 - wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore of Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations of their deep anxiety to do us justice ; — even Strafford, the deserter of the people's cause, — the renegade Wentworth, who gave evi- dence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny which pre- dominated in his character, — even Strafford, while he trampled upon our rights, and trod upon the heart of the country, protested his solicitude to do justice to Ireland ! What marvel is it, then, that gentlemen opposite should deal in # such vehement protes- tations ? There is, however, one man, of great abilities, — not a member of this House, but whose talents and whose boldness have placed him in the topmost place in his party, — who, disdaining all imposture, and thinking it the best course to appeal directly to the religious and national antipathies of the people of this country, — abandoning all reserve, and flinging off the slender veil by which his political associates affect to cover, although they cannot hide, their motives, — distinctly and audaciously tells the Irish people that they are not entitled to the same priv- ileges as Englishmen ; and pronounces them, in any particular which could enter his minute enumeration of the circumstances by which fellow-citizenship is created, in race, identity, and re- ligion to be aliens — to be aliens in race — to be aliens in coun- try — to be aliens in religion ! Aliens ! Good God ! was Arthur, Duke of Wellington, in the House of Lords, — and did he not start up and exclaim, "Hold ! 1 have seen the aliens do their duty ! " The Duke of Wellington is not a man of an excitable temperament. His mind is of a cast too martial to be easily moved ; but, notwithstanding his habitual inflexibility, I cannot help thinking that, when he heard his Roman Catholic country- men (for we are his countrymen) designated by a phrase as offensive as the abundant vocabulary of his eloquent confederate could supply, — I cannot help thinking that he ought to have recollected the many fields of fight in which we have been con- tributors to his renown. " The battles, sieges, fortunes, that he 98 THE UNION SPEAKER. has passed," ought to have come back upon him. He ought to have remembered that, from the earliest achievement in which he displayed that military genius which has placed him foremost in the annals of modern warfare, down to that last and surpass- ing combat which has made his name imperishable, — from Assaye to Waterloo, — the Irish soldiers, with whom your armies are filled, were the inseparable auxiliaries to the glory with which his unparalleled successes have been crowned. Whose were the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimiera through the phalanxes that never reeled to the shock of war before ? What desperate valor climbed the steeps and filled the moats at Badajos? All his victories should have rushed and crowded back upon his memory, — Vimeira, Badajos, Salamanca, Albuera, Toulouse, and, last of all, the greatest . Tell me, — for you were there, — I appeal to the gallant soldier before me, from whose opinions I differ, but who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid breast ; — tell me, — for you must needs remember, — on that day when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the balance, — while death fell in showers when the artillery of France was levelled with a precision of the most deadly science, — when her legions,, incited by the voice and inspired by the example of their mighty leader, rushed again and again to the onset, — tell me if, for an instant, when to hesi- tate for an instant was to be lost, the u aliens " blenched ? And when, at length, the moment for the last and decided movement had arrived, and the valor which had so long been wisely checked was, at last, let loose, — when, with words familiar but immortal, the great captain commanded the great assault, — tell me if Catholic Ireland with less heroic valor than the natives of this your own glorious country precipitated herself upon the foe ? The blood of England, Scotland, and of Ireland, flowed in the same stream, and drenched the same field. When the chill morning dawned, their dead lay cold and stark together ; — in the same deep pit their bodies were deposited ; the green corn of spring is now breaking from their commingled dust ; the dew falls from heaven upon their union in the grave. Partakers in every peril, in the .glory shall we not be permitted to partici- pate ; and shall we be told as a requital, that we are estranged from the noble country for whose salvation our life-blood was poured out ? r. l. Shell. o STANDARD SELECTIONS. 99 LXX1V. THE ILIAD AND %RE BIBLE. F all the books with which, since the invention of writing, this world has been deluged, very few have produced any perceptible effect on the mass of human character. By far the greater part have been, even by their contemporaries, unnoticed and unknown. Not many a one has made its little mark upon that generation that produced it, though it sunk with that gen- eration to utter forgetfulness. But, after the ceaseless toil of six thousand years, how few have been the works, the adamantine basis of whose reputation has stood unhurt amid the fluctuations of time, and whose impression can be traced through successive centuries, on the history of our species ! When, however, such a work appears, its effects are absolutely incalculable ; and such a work, you are aware, is the Iliad of Homer. Who can estimate the results produced by the incom- parable efforts of a single mind ? Who can tell what Greece owes to this first-born of song? Her breathing marbles, her solemn temples, her unrivalled eloquence, and her matchless verse, all point us to that transcendent genius, who, by the very splendor of his own effulgence, woke the human intellect from the slumber of ages. It was Homer who gave laws to the art- ist ; it was Homer who inspired the poet ; it was Homer who thundered in the Senate ; and, more than all, it was Homer who was sung by the people ; and hence a nation was cast into the mould of one mighty mind, and the land of the Iliad became the region of taste, the birthplace of the arts. But, considered simply as an intellectual production, who will compare the poems of Homer with the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments ? Where in the Iliad shall we find simplicity and pathos which shall vie with the narrative of Moses, or maxims of conduct to equal in wisdom the Proverbs of Solomon, or sublimity which does not fade away before the conceptions of Job, or David, or Isaiah, or St. John? But I cannot pursue this comparison. I feel that it is doing -wrong to the mind which dictated the Iliad, and to those other mighty in- tellects on whom the light of the holy oracles never shined. 100 THE UNION SPEAKER. If, then, so great results have flowed from this one effort of a single mind, what may we not expect from the combined efforts of several, at least his equals in power over the human heart ? If that one genius, though groping in the thick darkness of absurd idolatry, wrought so glorious a transformation in the char- acter of his countrymen, what may we not look for from the universal dissemination of those writings on whose authors was poured the full splendor of eternal truth ? If unassisted human nature, spell-bound by a childish mythology, have done so much, what may we not hope for from the supernatural efforts of pre- eminent genius, which spake as it was moved by the Holy Ghost? Dr. Wayland, ♦■ LXXV. ON ADMITTING CALIFORNIA TO THE UNION A YEAR ago, California was a mere military dependency of "^*~ our own. To-day, she is a State, more populous than the least, and richer than several of the greatest of our thirty States. This same California, thus rich and populous, is here asking admission into the Union, and finds us debating the dissolution of the Union itself. No wonder if we are perplexed with ever- changing embarrassments ! No wonder if we are appalled by ever-increasing responsibilities ! No wonder if we are bewil- dered by the ever-augmenting magnitude and rapidity of national vicissitudes ! Shall California be received ? For myself, upon my individual judgment and conscience, I answer — yes. Let Cali- fornia come in. Every new State, whether she come from the east or the west — every new State, coming from whatever part of the continent she may, is always welcome. But, California, that comes from the clime where the west dies away into the rising east, — California, that bounds at once the empire and the continent, — California, the youthful queen of the Pacific, in her robes of freedom, gorgeously inlaid with gold, is doubly welcome. The question now arises, shall this one great people, having a common origin, a common language, a common religion, common sentiments, interests, sympathies, and hopes, remain one political state, one nation, one republic ; or shall it be broken into two STANDARD SELECTIONS. 101 conflicting, and, probably, hostile nations or republics ? Shall the American people, then, be divided ? Before deciding on this question, let us consider our position, our power, and capabilities. The world contains no seat of empire so magnificent as this ; which, embracing all the varying climates of the temperate zone, and traversed by wide expanding lakes and long branch- ing rivers, offers supplies on the Atlantic shores to the over- crowded nations of Europe, and, on the Pacific coast, inter- cepts the commerce of the Indies. The nation thus situated, and enjoying forest, mineral, and agricultural resources un- equalled, if endowed, also, with moral energies adequate to the achievement of great enterprises, and favored with a government adapted to their character and condition, must command the empire of the seas, which, alone, is real empire. We think we may claim to have inherited physical and intel- lectual vigor, courage, invention, and enterprise ; and the sys- tems of education prevailing among us, open to all the stores of human science and art. The Old World and the Past were allotted by Providence to the pupilage of mankind. The New World and the Future seem to have been appointed for the maturity of mankind, with the development of self-government, operating in obedience to reason and judgment. We may, then, reasonably hope for greatness, felicity, and re- nown, excelling any hitherto attained by any nation, if, standing firmly on the continent, we lose not our grasp on either ocean. Whether a destiny so magnificent would be only partially de- feated, or whether it would be altogether lost by a relaxation of the grasp, surpasses our wisdom to determine, and happily it is not important to be determined. It is enough, if we agree, that expectations so grand, yet so reasonable and so just, ought not in any degree to be disappointed. And now, it seems to me, that the perpetual unity of the empire hangs on the decision of this day and this hour. California is already a State, — a complete and fully appointed State. She never again can be less than that. She never again can be a province or a colony ; nor can she be made to shrink or shrivel into the proportions of a federal dependent territory. California, then, henceforth and forever, must be, what she is now, — a State. 102 THE UNION SPEAKER. The question whether she shall be one of the United States of America, has depended on her and on us. Her election has been made. Our consent alone remains suspended ; and that consent must be pronounced now or never. W. H. Seward. LXXVI. A HIGHWAY TO THE PACIFIC. "1%/TR. PRESIDENT, I go for a national highway from the -*-"-*- Mississippi to the Pacific. And I go against all schemes of individuals or of companies, and especially those who come here and ask of the Congress of the United States to give them- selves and their assigns the means of making a road, and tax- ing the people for the use of' it. If they should make it, they are to tax us for the use of it — tax the people eight or ten millions a year for using a road which their own money built. A fine scheme, that ! But they would never build it, neither themselves nor their assigns. It would all end in stock-jobbing. I repudiate the whole idea, sir. I go for a national highway — no stock-jobbing. We find all the localities of the country precisely such as a national central road would require. The Bay of San Francisco, the finest in the world, is in the centre of the western coast of North America ; it is central, and without a rival. It will accommodate the commerce of that coast, both north and south, up to the frozen regions, down to the torrid zone. It is central in that respect. The commerce of the broad Pacific Ocean will centre there. The commerce of Asia will centre there. Follow the same latitude across the country, and it strikes the centre of the valley of the Mississippi. It strikes the Mississippi near the confluence of all the great waters which concentrate in the valley of the Mississippi. It comes to the centre of the valley ; — it comes to St. Louis. Follow the prolongation of that central line, and you find it cutting the heart of the great States between the Mississippi River and the Atlantic Ocean, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, a part of Virginia, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania, — they are all traversed or touched by that great central line. We own the country, from sea to sea, — from the Atlantic to the Pacific, — and upon a breadth equal to the length of the STANDARD SELECTIONS. 103 Mississippi, and embracing the whole temperate zone. Three* thousand miles across, and half that breadth, is the magnificent parallelogram of our domain. We can run a national central road through and through, the whole distance, under our flag and under our laws. Military reasons require us to make it ; for troops and munitions -must go there. Political reasons re- quire us to make it ; it will be a chain of union between the Atlantic and Pacific States. Commercial reasons demand it from us ; and here I touch a boundless field, dazzling and be- wildering the imagination from its vastness and importance. The trade of the Pacific Ocean, of the western coast of North America, and 'of eastern Asia, will all take its track ; and not only for ourselves, but for posterity. Sir, in no instance has the great Asiatic trade failed to carry the nation or the people which possessed it to the highest pin- nacle of wealth and power, and Avith it, to the highest attainments of letters, art, and science. And so will it continue to be. An American road to India, through the heart of our country, will revive upon its line all the wonders of which we have read, and eclipse them. The western wilderness, from the Pacific to the Mississippi, will spring into life under its touch. A long line of cities will grow up. Existing cities will take a new start. The state of the world calls for a new road to India, and it is our destiny to give it — the last and greatest. Let us act up to the greatness of the occasion, and show ourselves worthy of the ex- traordinary circumstances in which we are placed, by securing, while we can, an American road to India, central and national, for ourselves and our posterity, now and hereafter, for thousands of years to come. T. H. Benton. % LXXVII. ADDRESS TO POLISH EXILES AT LONDON. TT is eighty-one years since Poland first was quartered by a nefarious act of combined royalty, which the Swiss Tacitus, John Muller, well characterized by saying that " God permitted the act, to show the morality of kings ; " and it is twenty-four years since down-trodden Poland made the greatest — not the last — manifestation of her imperishable vitality, which the cab- 104 THE UNION SPEAKER. •inets of Europe were either too narrow-minded to understand, or too corrupt to appreciate. Eighty-one years of still unretributed crime, and twenty-four years of misery and exile ! It is a long time to suffer, and not to despair. And all along this time, you, proscribed patriots of Poland, were suffering, and did not despair. • You stood up before the world, a living statue, with unquenchable life-flame of patriotism streaming through its petrified limbs ; you stood up a protest of eternal right against the sway of imperious might ; a " Mene Tekel Upharsin," written in letters of burning blood on the walls of overweening despotism. Time, misery, and sorrow have thinned the ranks of your scattered Israel ; you have carried your dead to the grave, and those who survive went on to suffer and to hope. Wherever oppressed Freedom reared a banner, you rallied around ; — the living statue changed to a fighting hero. Many of yours fell; and, when crime triumphed once more over virtue and right, you resumed the wandering exile's staff, and did not despair. Many among you, who were young when they last saw the sun rise over Poland's mountains and plains, have your hair whitened and your strength broken with age, anguish, and misery ; but the patriotic heart kept the fresh- ness of its youth ; it is young in love for Poland, young in aspi- rations for freedom, young in hope, and youthfully fresh in deter- mination to break Poland's chains. What a rich source of noble deeds patriotism must be, that has given you strength to suffer so much and never to despair ! You have given a noble example to all of us, — your younger brother in the family of exiles. When the battle of Cannae was lost, and Hannibal was measuring by bushels the rings of the fallen Roman knights, the Senate of Rome voted thanks to Consul Terentius Varro for " not having despaired of the Com- monwealth." Proscribed patriots of Poland ! I thank you that you have not despaired of resurrection and of liberty. The time draws nigh when the oppressed nations will call their aggressors to a last account ; and the millions of freemen, in the fulness of their right, and their self-conscious strength, will pass judgment on arrogant conquerors, privileged murderers, and per- jured kings. In that supreme trial, the oppressed nations will stand one for all, and all for one. l. Kossuth. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 105 LXXVIII. KOSSUTH ON HIS CREDENTIALS. (" ET ambitious fools, — let the pigmies who live on the scanty "^ food of personal envy, when the very earth quakes beneath their feet ; let even the honest prudence of ordinary household times, measuring eternity with that thimble with which they are wont to measure the bubbles of small party interest, and, taking the dreadful roaring of the ocean for a storm in a water-glass ; — let those who believe the weather to be calm, because they have drawn a nightcap over their ears, and, burying their heads in pil- lows of domestic comfort, do not hear Satan sweeping in a hur- ricane over the earth ; — let envy, ambition, blindness, and the pettifogging wisdom of small times, — let all these artistically investigate the question of my official capacity, or the nature of my public authority ; let them scrupulously discuss the immense problem whether I still possess, or possess no longer, the title of my once-Governorship ; let them ask for credentials, discuss the limits of my commission, as representative of Hungary. I pity all such frog and mouse fighting. I claim no official capacity, — no public authority, — no repre- sentation ; — boast of no commission, of no written and sealed credentials. I am nothing but what my generous friend, the senator from Michigan, has justly styled me, " a private and banished man." But, in that capacity, I have a nobler creden- tial for my mission than all the clerks of the world can write, — the credential that I am a " man ; " the credential that I am a f patriot ; " the credential that I love with all sacrificing devotion my oppressed fatherland and liberty ; the credential that I hate tyrants, and have sworn everlasting hostility to them ; the cre- dential that I feel the strength to do good service to the cause of freedom; good service, as perhaps few men can do, because I have the iron will, in this my breast, to serve faithfully, devot- edly, indefatigably, that noble cause. I have the credential that I trust to God in heaven, — to jus- tice on earth ; that I offend no laws, but cling to the protection of the laws. I have the credential of my people's undeniable confidence and its unshaken faith ; to my devotion, to my manli- 106 THE UNION SPEAKER ness, to my honesty, and to my patriotism ; which faith I will honestly answer without ambition, without interest, as faithfully as ever, but more skilfully, because schooled by adversities. And I have the credential of the justice of the cause I plead, and of the wonderful sympathy which, not my person, but that cause, has met, and meets, in two hemispheres. These are my credentials, and nothing else. To whom this is enough, he will help me, so far as the law permits and it is his good pleasure. To whom these credentials are not sufficient, let him look for a better accredited man. LXXIX. THE IDES OF MARCH PTIO-DAY is the fourth anniversary of the Revolution in Hun- gary. Anniversaries of revolutions are almost always connected with the recollections of some patriot's death, — fallen on that day, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, martyrs of devotion to their fatherland. Almost in every country there is some proud cemetery, or some modest tombstone, adorned on such a day by a garland of evergreen, — the pious offering of patriotic tenderness. I passed the last night in a sleepless dream ; and my soul wandered on the magnetic wings of the past, home to my be- loved, bleeding land. And I saw, in the dead of the night, dark veiled shapes, with the paleness of eternal grief upon their brow — but terrible in the tearless silence of that grief — glid- ing over the churchyards of Hungary, and kneeling down to the head of the graves, and depositing the pious tribute of green and cypress upon them ; and, after a short prayer, rising with clenched fists and gnashing teeth, and then stealing away tearless and silent as they came, — stealing away, because the blood- hounds of my country's murder lurks from every corner on that night, and on this day, and leads to prison those who dare to show a pious remembrance to the beloved. To-day, a smile on the lips of a Magyar is taken for a crime of defiance to tyr- anny ; and a tear in his eye is equivalent to a revolt. And yet STANDARD SELECTIONS. 107 I have seen, with the eye of my home-wandering soul, thousands performing the work of patriotic piety. And I saw more. When the pious offerers stole away, I saw the honored dead half risen from their tombs, looking to the offerings, and whispering gloomily, " Still a cypress, and still no flower of joy ! Is there still the chill of winter and the gloom of night over thee, Fatherland ? Are we not yet revenged ? " And the sky of the east reddened suddenly, and quivered with bloody flames ; and from the far, far west, a lightning flashed like a star-spangled stripe, and within its light a young eagle mounted and soared towards the quivering flames of the east ; and as he drew near, upon his approaching, the flames changed into a radiant morning sun, and a voice from above was heard in an- swer to the question of the dead : " Sleep yet a short while ; mine is the revenge. I will make the stars of the west the sun of the east ; and when ye next awake, ye will find the flower of joy upon your cold bed." And the dead took the twig of cypress, the sign of resurrec- tion, into their bony hands, and lay down. Such was the dream of my waking soul. And I prayed ; and such was my prayer : " Father, if thou deemest me worthy, take the cup from my people, and give it in their stead to me." And there was a whisper around me like the word "Amen." Such was my dream, half foresight and half prophecy ; but resolution all. However, none of those dead whom I saw, fell on the loth of March. They were victims' of the royal perjury which be- trayed the loth of March. The anniversary of our Revolution has not the stain of a single drop of blood. L. Kossuth. LXXX. THE SAME CONTINUED. \\TE, the elect of the nation, sat on that morning busily but quietly, in the legislative hall of old Presburg, and, with- out any flood of eloquence, passed our laws in short words, that the people shall be free ; the burdens of feudality shall cease ; the peasant shall become free proprietor ; that equality of duties, equality of rights, shall be the fundamental law ; and civil, polit- 108 THE UNION SPEAKER. ical, social, and religious liberty, shall be the common property of all the people, whatever tongue it may speak, or in whatever church pray ; and that a national ministry shall execute these laws, and guard with its responsibility the chartered, ancient in- dependence of our Fatherland. Two days before, Austria's brave people in Vienna had broken its yoke ; and summing up despots in the person of their tool, old Metternich, drove him away ; and the Hapsburgs, trembling in their imperial cavern of imperial crimes, trembling, but treacher- ous, and lying and false, wrote with yard-long letters, the words, " Constitution " and " Free Press," upon Vienna's walls ; and the people in joy cheered the inveterate liars, because the people knows no falsehood. On the 14th, I announced the tidings from Vienna to our Parliament at Presburg. The announcement was swiftly car- ried by the great democrat, the steam-engine, upon the billows of the Danube, down to old Buda and to young Pesth, and while we, in the House of Representatives, passed the laws of justice and freedom, the people of Pesth rose in peaceful but majestic manifestation, declaring that the people should be free. At this manifestation all the barriers raised by violence against the laws, fell of themselves. Not a drop of blood was shed. A man who was in prison because he had dared to write a book, was carried home in triumph through the streets. The people armed itself as a National Guard, the windows were illuminated and bon- fires burnt, and when these tidings returned back to Presburg, blended with the cheers from Vienna, they warmed the chill of our House of Lords, who readily agreed to the laws we pro- posed. And there was rejoicing throughout the land. For the^ first time for centuries the farmer awoke with the pleasant feel- ing that his time w T as now his own — for the first time went out to till his field with the consoling thought that the ninth part of his harvest will not be taken by the landlord, nor the tenth by the bishop. Both had fully resigned their feudal portion, and the air was brightened by the lustre of freedom, and the very soil budding into a blooming paradise. Such is the memory of the 15th of March, 1848. L. Kossuth. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 109 LXXXI. TUE SAME CONTINUED. /^VNE year later, there was blood, but also victory, over the ^-^ land ; the people because free, fought like demi-gods. Seven great victories we had gained in that month of March. On this very day, the remains of the first ten thousand Russians fled over the frontiers of Transylvania, to tell at home how heavily the blow falls from free Hungarian arms. It was in that very month, that one evening I lay down in the bed, whence in the morning Windischgratz had risen ; and from the battle-field I hastened to the Congress at Debreczin, to tell the Representa- tives of the nation " It is time to declare our national indepen- dence, because it is really achieved. The Hapsburgs have not power to contradict it more." Nor had they. But Russia, having experienced by the test of its first inter- ference, that there was no power on earth caring about the most flagrant violation of the laws of nations, and seeing by the silence of Great Britain and of the United States, that she may dare to violate those laws, our heroes had to meet a fresh force of nearly two hundred thousand Russians. No power cheered our bravely- won independence by diplomatic recognition ; not even the United States, though they always professed their principle to be that they recognize every de facto government. We therefore had the right to expect a speedy recognition from the United States. Our struggle rose to European height, but we were left alone to fight for the world ; and we had no arms for the new battalions, gathering up in thousands with resolute hearts and empty hands. The recognition of our independence being withheld, com- mercial intercourse for procuring arms abroad was impossible, — the gloomy feeling of entire forsakedness spread over our tired ranks, and prepared the field for the secret action of treachery ; until the most sacrilegious violation of those common laws of nations was achieved, and the code of " nature and of nature's God " was drowned in Hungary's blood. And I, who on the 15th of March, 1848, saw the principle of full civil and religious liberty triumphing in my native land, — who, on the 15th of 110 THE UNION SPEAKER. March, 1849, saw this freedom consolidated by victories, — one year later, on the 15th of March, 1850, was on my sorrowful way to an Asiatic prison. l. Kossuth. Lxxxn. TEE SAME CONCLUDED. X> UT wonderful are the ways of Divine Providence. It was -^ again in the month of March, 1851, that the generous in- terposition of the United States cast the first ray of fiope into the dead night of my captivity. And on the loth of March, 1852, the fourth anniversary of our Revolution, guided by the bounty of Providence, here I stand, in the very heart of your immense Republic ; no longer a captive, but free in the land of the free, not only not desponding, but firm in confidence of the future, because raised in spirits by a swelling sympathy in the home of the brave ; still a poor, a homeless exile, but not without some power to do good to my country and to the cause of liberty, as my very persecution proves. Such is the history of the loth of March, in my humble life. Who can tell what will be the character of the next 15th of March? Nearly two thousand years ago, the first Caesar found a Brutus on the Ides or 15th of March. May be that the Ides of March, 1853, will see the last of the Caesars fall under the avenging might of a thousand-handed Brutus — the name of whom is " the people " — inexorable at last after it has been so long gen- erous. The seat of the Caesars was first in the south, then from the south to the east, from the east to the west, and from the west to the north. That is their last abode. None was lasting yet. Will the last, and worst, prove luckier ? No, it will not. While the seat of the Caesars was tossed around and thrown back to the icy north, a new world became the cradle of a new humanity, where, in spite of the Caesars, the Genius of Freedom raised (let us hope) an everlasting throne. The Caesar of the north and the Genius of Freedom have not place enough upon this earth for both of them ; one must yield and be crushed beneath the heels of the other. Which is it ? Which shall yield ? America may decide. L - Kossuth. STANDARD SELECTIONS. Ill LXXXIII. THE MAYFLOWER AND THE PILGRIMS. "\/\ ETIIINKS I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous -L'- 1 - vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks, and months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now, scan- tily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route ; and now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base ; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight, against the staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and weary from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their shipmaster for a draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter, without means, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, oh any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits of New England ? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast ? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labor and spare meals ? was it disease ? was it the tomahawk? was it the deep malady of blighted hope, a 112 THE UNION SPEAKER. ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments at the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea ? — was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a promise yet to be fulfilled so glorious ? e. Everett. LXXXIV. THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. \ FTER years of fruitless and heart-sick solicitation, after -*■-*- offering, iu effect, to this monarch and to that monarch, the gift of a hemisphere, the great discoverer touches upon a partial success. He succeeds, not in enlisting the sympathy of his countrymen at Genoa and Venice, for a brave brother-sailor, — not in giving a new direction to the spirit of maritime adventure, which had so long prevailed in Portugal, — not in stimulating the commercial thrift of Henry the Seventh, or the pious ambi- tion of the Catholic king. His sorrowful perseverance touched the heart of a noble princess, worthy the throne which she adorned. The New World, which was just escaping the subtle kingcraft of Ferdinand, was saved to Spain by the womanly compassion of Isabella. It is truly melancholy, however, to contemplate the wretched equipment, for which the most powerful princess of Christendom was ready to pledge her jewels. Floating castles will soon be fitted out to convey the miserable natives of Africa to the golden shores of America ; towering galleons will be despatched to bring home the guilty treasures to Spain. But three small vessels, one of which was without a deck, and neither of them, probably, exceeding the capacity of a pilot-boat, and even these impressed into the public service, composed the expedition fitted out under royal patronage, to realize that magnificent conception, in which the creative mind of Columbus had planted the germs of a new world. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 113 No chapter of romance equals the interest of this expedition. The most fascinating of the works of fiction which have issued from the modern press have, to my taste, no attraction com- pared with the pages in which the first voyage of Columbus is described by Robertson, and still more by our own Irving and Presoott, the last two enjoying the advantage over the Scot- tish historian of possessing the lately discovered journals and letters of Columbus himself. The departure from Palos, where, a few days before, he had begged a morsel of bread and a cup of water for his wayworn child, — his final farewell to the Old World at the Canaries, — his entrance upon the trade winds, which then, for the first time, filled a European sail, — the por- tentous variation of the needle, never before observed, — the fearful course westward and westward, day after day, and night after night, over the unknown ocean, — the mutinous and ill- appeased crew ; — at length, when hope had turned to despair in every heart but one, the tokens of land, — the cloud- banks on the western horizon, — the logs of drift-wood, — the fresh shrub, floating with its leaves and berries, — the flocks of land-bir^s, — the shoals of fish that inhabit shallow water, — the indescribable smell of the shore, — the mysterious presentiment that seems ever to go before a great event, — and finally, on that ever-memorable night of the 12th of October, 1492, the moving light seen by the sleepless eye of the great discoverer himself, from the deck of the Santa Maria, and in the morning the real, undoubted land, swelling up from the bosom of the deep, with its plains, and hills, and forests,' and rocks, and streams, and strange, new races of men ; — these are incidents in which the authentic history of the discovery of our Continent excels the specious wonders of romance, as much as gold excels tinsel, or the sun in the heavens outshines the flickering taper. e. Everett. LXXXV. ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. X^TE dismiss them not to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never be forgotten. I had almost said that they are 114 THE UNION SPEAKER. now beginning to live ; to live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their tal- ents and services were destined. Such men do not, cannot die. To be cold and breathless ; to feel not and speak not ; this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits *into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead ? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye ? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house ? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of Independence is, indeed, motionless ; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed ; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, " make it life to live," these- cannot expire ; — " These shall resist the empire of decay, When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away ; Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, But that which warmed it once can never die." E. Everett. LXXXVI. THE INDIAN CHIEF TO THE WHITE SETTLER. rilHINK of the country for which the Indians fought ! Who can blame them ? As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount Hope, that glorious eminence, that^ " throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold," — as he looked down, and beheld the lovely scene which spread beneath, at a summer sunset, the distant hill-tops glittering a STANDARD SELECTIONS. 115 with fire, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forest, — could he be blamed, if his heart burned witly'n him, as he beheld it all passing, by no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of the stranger ? As the river chieftains — the lords of the waterfalls and the mountains — ranged this lovely valley can it be wondered at, if they beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the settler's axe ? the fishing-place disturbed by his saw-mills ? Can we not fancy the feelings with which some strong-minded savage, the chief of the Pocomtuck Indians, who should have ascended the summit of the Sugar-loaf Mountain, (rising as it does before us, at this moment, in all its loveliness and grandeur,) — in company with a friendly settler, — contemplating the prog- ress already made by the white man, and marking the gigantic strides with which he was advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms and say, " White man, there is eternal Avar be- tween me and thee ! I quit not the land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods, where I bent my youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer ; over yonder waters I will still glide, unrestrained, in my bark canoe. By those dashing waterfalls I will still lay up my winter's store of food ; on these fertile mead- ows I will still *plant my corn. " Stranger, the land is mine ! I understand not these paper rights. I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was theirs ; they could sell no more. How could my father sell that which the Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon ? They knew not what they did. " The stranger came, a timid suppliant, — few and feeble, and asked to lie down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children ; and now he is become strong, and mighty, and bold, and spreads out his parchments over the whole, and says, ' It is mine.' u Stranger ! there is not room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made us to live together. There is poison in the white man's cup ; the white man's dog barks at the red man's heels. If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly ? 116 TEE UNION SPEAKER. Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pe- quots ? Shall I wander to the west, the fierce Mohawk, — the man-eater, — is my foe. Shall I fly to the east, the great water is before me. No, stranger ; here I have lived, and here will I die ; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between me and thee. " Thou hast taught me- thy arts of destruction ; for that alone I thank thee. And now take heed to thy steps ; the red man is thy foe. When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle past thee ; when thou liest down by night, my knife is at thy throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood ; thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes ; thou shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the scalping-knife ; thou shalt build, and I will burn, — till the white man or the Indian perish from the land." e. Everett. Lxxxvn. THE MEN OF "SEVENTY-SIX." TF we look only at one part of the work of the men of 76, if we see them poring over musty parchments by the mid- night lamp, citing the year-books against writs of assistance, disputing themselves hoarse, about this phrase in the charter of Charles the First, and that section in a statute of Edward the Third, we should be disposed to class them with the most big- oted conservatives that ever threw a drag-chain around the limbs of a young and ardent people. But, gracious heavens, look at them again, when the trumpet sounds the hour of resistance ; survey the other aspect of their work. See these undaunted patriots, in their obscure caucus gatherings, in their town-meet- ings, in their provincial assemblies, in their continental congress, breathing defiance to the British Parliament and the British throne. March with their raw militia to the conflict with the trained veterans of the seven years' war. Witness them, a group of colonies, extemporized into a confederacy, entering with a calm self-possession into alliance with the oldest monarchy in STANDARD SELECTIONS. 117 Europe ; and occupying, as they did, a narrow belt of territory along the coast, thinly peopled, partially cleared, hemmed in by the native savage, by the Alleghanies, by the Ohio, and the Lakes ; behold them dilating with the grandeur of the posi- tion, radiant in the prospective glories of their career, casting abroad the germs of future independent States, destined, at no distant day, not merely to cover the face of the thirteen British colonies, but to spread over the territories of France and Spain on this ^continent, over Florida and Louisiana, over New Mex- ico and California, beyond the Mississippi, beyond the Rocky Mountains, — to unite the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans, the arctic and the torrid zones, in one great network of confeder- ate republican government. Contemplate this, and you will ac- knowledge the men of Seventy-six to have been the boldest men of progress that the world has ever seen ! These are the men whom the Fourth of July invites us to respect and to imitate ; — the James Otises and the Warrens, the Franklins and the Adamses, the Patrick Henrys and the Jeffersons, and him whom I may not name in the plural number, brightest of the bright and purest of the pure, — Washington himself. But let us be sure to imitate them, (or strive to do so,) in alHheir great principles, in both parts of their noble and com- prehensive policy. Let us reverence them as they reverenced their predecessors, — not seeking to build up the future on the ruins of all that had gone before, nor yet to bind down the liv- ing, breathing, burning present to the mouldering relics of the dead past, — but deducing the rule of a bold and safe progress, from the records of a wise and glorious experience, e. Everett. LXXXVIII. THE SAME CONCLUDED. T1TE live at an era as eventful, in my judgment, as that of 76, though in a different way. We have no foreign yoke to throw off; but in the discharge of the duty devolved upon us by Providence, we have to carry the republican in- dependence which our fathers achieved, with all the organized institutions of an enlightened community, institutions of religion, 118 THE UNION SPEAKER. law, education, charity, art, and all the thousand graces of the higher culture, beyond the Missouri, beyond the Sierra Nevada ; perhaps, in time, around the circuit of the Antilles ; perhaps to the archipelagoes of the Central Pacific. The pio- neers are on the way. Who can tell how far and fast they will travel ? Who, that compares the North America of 1753, but a century ago, and numbering but little over a million of souls of European origin ; or still more the North America of 1653, when there was certainly not a fifth part of that number ; who that compares this with the North America of 1853, its twenty- two millions of European origin, and its thirty-one States, will venture to assign limits to our growth ; will dare to compute the time-table of our railway progress, or lift so much as a cor- ner of the curtain that hides the crowded events of the coming century ? This only we can plainly see ; — the Old World is rocking to its foundations. From the Gulf of Finland to the Yellow Sea, everything is shaken. The spirit of the age has gone forth to hold his great review, and the kings of the earth are moved to meet him at his coming. The band which holds the great pow- ers of Europe together in one political league, is strained to its. utmost tension. The catastrophe may for a while be staved off; but to all appearance they are hurrying to the verge of one of those conflicts which, like those of Pharsalia and Actium, affect the condition of States for twice ten centuries. The Turkish empire, encamped but for four centuries on the fron- tiers of Europe, and the Chinese monarchy, contemporary with David and Solomon, are alike crumbling. While these events are passing in the Old World, a tide of emigration, which has no parallel in history, is pouring west- ward, across the Atlantic, and eastward, across the Pacific, to our shores. The real political vitality of the world seems mov- ing to the new hemisphere, whose condition and fortune it devolves upon us and our children to mould and regulate. It is a grand, — let me say, a solemn thought, — well calcu- lated to still the passions of the day, and to elevate us above the paltry strife of parties. It teaches us that we are called to the highest, and, I do verily believe, the most momentous trust that ever devolved upon one generation of men. Let us meet it STANDARD SELECTIONS. 119 with a corresponding temper and purpose, — with the wisdom of a well-instructed experience, and with the foresight and prepa- ration of a glorious future ; not on the narrow platforms of party- policy and temporary expediency, hut in the broad and compre- hensive spirit of Seventy-six. £. Everett. LXXXIX. OUR COMMON SCHOOLS O IR, it is our common schools which gives the keys of knowl- ^ edge to the mass of the people. Our common schools are important in the same way as the common air, the common sunshine, the common rain, — invaluable for their commonness. They are the corner-stone of that municipal organization which is the characteristic feature of our social system ; they are the fountain of that widespread intelligence which, like a moral life, pervades the country. From the humblest village-school there may go forth a teacher who, like Newton, shall bind his temples with the stars of Ori- on's belt ; with Herschel, light up his cell with the beams of before-undiscovered planets ; with Franklin, grasp the lightning. Columbus, fortified with a few sound geographical principles, was, on the deck of his crazy caravel, more truly the monarch of Castile and Aragon, than Ferdinand and Isabella, enthroned beneath the golden vaults of the conquered Alhambra. And Robinson, with the simple training of a rural pastor in England, when he knelt on the shores of Delft Haven, and sent his little flock upon their Gospel errantry beyond the world of waters, exercised an influence over the destinies of the civilized world, which will last to the end of time. Sir, it is a solemn, a tender, and sacred duty, that of educa- tion. What, sir, feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger ! pamper his limbs and starve his faculties ! Plant the earth, cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the fish to tlieir hiding-places in the sea, and spread out your wheat- fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants of that body which will soon be as cold and as senseless as the poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within you, with all its glorious 120 THE UNION SPEAKER. capacities for improvement, languish and pine ! What ! build factories, turn in r.ivers upon the water-wheels, enchain the im- prisoned spirits of steam, to weave a garment for the body, and let the soul remain unadorned and naked ! What ! send out your vessels to the farthest ocean, and make battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and workshops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat that perisheth, and permit that vital spark which God has kindled, which He has intrusted to our care, to be fanned into a bright and heavenly flame, — permit it, I say, to languish and go out ! What considerate man can enter a school, and not reflect with awe, that it is a seminary where immortal minds are training for eternity ? What parent but is, at times, weighed down with the thought, that there must be laid the foundations of a building which will stand, when not merely temple and palace, but the perpetual hills and adamantine rocks on which they rest, have melted away ! — that a light may there be kindled, which will shine, not merely when every artificial beam is extinguished, but when the affrighted sun has fled away from the heavens ! I can add nothing, sir, to this consideration. I will only say, in con- clusion, Education, — when we feed that lamp, we perform the highest social duty ! If we quench it, I know not where (hu- manly speaking), for time or for eternity, — " I know not where is that Promethean heat That can its light relume ! " E. Everett. XC. WEBSTER'S GREATEST PARLIAMENTARY EFFORT. HHHE greatest parliamentary effort made by Mr. Webster, was ■*■ his second speech on Foot's resolution, — the question at issue being nothing less than this : Is the Constitution of the United States a compact without a common umpire between con- federated sovereignties ; or is it a government of the people of the United States, sovereign within the sphere of its delegated powers, although reserving a great mass of undelegated rights to STANDARD SELECTIONS. 121 the separate State governments and the people ? With those who embrace the opinions which Mr. Webster combated in this speech, this is not the time nor the place to engage in an argu- ment; but those who believe that he maintained the true prin- ciples of the Constitution, will probably agree, that since that instrument was communicated to the Continental Congress, seventy-two years ago this day, by George Washington as Pres- ident of the Federal Convention, no greater service has been rendered to the country than in the delivery of this speech. Well do I recollect the occasion and the scene. It was truly what Wellington called the battle of Waterloo, a conflict of giants. I passed an hour and a half with Mr. Webster, at his request, the evening before this great effort ; and he went over to me, from a very concise brief, the main topics of the speech which he had prepared for the following day. So calm and un- impassioued was the memorandum, so entirely was he at ease himself, that I was tempted to think, absurdly enough, that he was not sufficiently aware of the magnitude of the occasion. But I soon perceived that his calmness was the repose of conscious power. He was not only at ease, but sportive and full of anec- dote ; and as he told the Senate playfully the next day, he slept soundly that night on the formidable assault of his gallant and accomplished adversary. So the great Conde slept on the eve of the battle of Rocroi ; so Alexander slept on the eve of the battle of Arbela ; and so they awoke to deeds of immortal fame. As I saw him in the evening, (if I may borrow an illustration from his favorite amusement,) he was as unconcerned and as free of spirit, as some here have often seen him, while floating in his fishing boat along a hazy shore, gently rocking on the tranquil tide, dropping his line here and there, with the varying fortune of the sport. The next morning he was like some mighty Ad- miral, dark and terrible, casting the long shadow of his frowning tiers far over the sea, that seemed to sink beneath him ; his broad pendant streaming at the main, the stars and the stripes at the fore, the mizzen, and the peak ; and bearing down like a tempest upon his antagonist, with all his canvas strained to the wind, and all his thunders roaring from his broadsides. E. Everett. 122 THE UNION SPEAKER. xci. WHAT GOOD WILL THE MONUMENT DOf I" AM met with the great objection, What good will the Monu- -*- ment do? I beg leave, sir, to exercise my birthright as a Yankee, and answer this question by asking two or three more, to which, I believe, it will be quite as difficult to furnish a satis- factory reply. I am asked, What good will the monument do ? And I ask, What good does anything do ? What is good ? Does anything do any good ? The persons who suggest this objec- tion, of course think that there are some projects and undertak- ings that do good ; and I should therefore like to have the idea of good explained, and analyzed, and run out to its elements. When this is done, if I do not demonstrate, in about two minutes, that the monument does the same kind of good that anything else does, I shall consent that the huge blocks of granite already laid, should be reduced to gravel, and carted off to fill up the mill-pond ; for that, I suppose, is one of the good things. Does a railroad or canal do good ? Answer, yes. And how ? It facilitates intercourse, opens markets, and increases the wealth of the country. But what is this good for ? Why, individuals prosper and get rich. And what good does that do ? Is mere wealth, as an ultimate end, — gold and silver, without an inquiry as to their use, — are these a good ? Certainly not. I should insult this audience by attempting to prove that a rich man, as such, is neither better nor happier than a poor one. But as men grow rich, they live better. Is there any good in this, stopping here ? Is mere animal life — feeding, working, and sleeping like an ox — entitled to be called good ? Certainly not. But these improvements increase the population. And what good does that do? Where is the good in counting twelve millions, instead of six, of mere feeding, working, sleeping ani- mals ? There is, then, no good in the mere animal life, except that it is the physical basis of that higher moral existence, which resides in the soul, the heart, the mind, the conscience ; in good principles, good feelings, good actions (and the more disinter- ested, the more entitled to be called good) which flow from them. Now, sir, I say that generous and patriotic sentiments, senti- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 123 ments which prepare us to serve our country, to live for our country, to die for our country, — feelings like those which carried Prescott, and Warren, and Putnam to the battle-field, are good, — good, humanly speaking, of the highest order. It is good to have them, good to encourage them, good to honor them, good to commemorate them ; — and whatever tends to animate and strengthen such feelings does as much right down practical good as filling up low grounds and building railroads. This is my demonstration. E. Everett. xcn. EMANCIPATION OF THE CATHOLICS OF IRELAND. rflHIS paper, gentlemen, insists upon the necessity of emanci- pating the Catholics of Ireland, and that is charged as a part of the libel. If they had waited another year, if they had kept this prosecution impending for another year, how much would remain for a jury to decide upon, I should be at a loss to discover. It seems as if the progress of public information was eating away the ground of the prosecution. Since the com- mencement of the prosecution, this part of the libel has unluckily received the sanction of the legislature. In that interval our Catholic brethren have obtained that admission, which, it seems, it was a libel to propose. In what way to account for this, I am really at a loss. Have any alarms been occasioned by the eman- cipation of our Catholic brethren ? has the bigoted malignity x>f any individuals been crushed ? Or, has the stability of the gov- ernment, or has that of the country been weakened ? Or, are one million of subjects stronger than three millions? Do you think that the benefit they receive should be poisoned by the stings of vengeance ? If you think so, you must say to them, " You have demanded your emancipation and you have got it ; but we abhor your persons, we are outraged at your success ; and we will stigmatize, by a criminal prosecution, the adviser of that relief which you have obtained from the voice of your country." I ask you, gentlemen, do you think, as honest men, anxious for the public tranquillity, conscious that there are wounds not yet completely cicatrized, that you ought to speak this language 124 THE UNION SPEAKER. at this time, to men who are too much disposed to think that in this very emancipation they have been saved from their own Parliament by the humanity of their Sovereign? Or, do you wish to prepare them for the revocation of these improvident concessions ? Do you think it wise or humane at this moment to insult them, by sticking up in a pillory the man who dared to stand forth as their advocate ? I put it to your oaths ; do you think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men honest and bold enough to propose that measure ? to propose the redeeming of religion from the abuses of the Church — the reclaiming of three millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right to demand it — giving, I say, in the so much censured yords of this paper, " Universal Emancipation ! " I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with and inseparable from British soil — which proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced ; no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom an Indian or an African sun may have burned upon him ; no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down ; no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; — the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust ; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of Universal Emancipation. j. P. Qurran. ♦ xcin. THE PUBLIC INFORMER. T>UT the learned gentleman is further pleased to say, that the -^ traverser has charged the government with the encourage- ment of informers. This, gentlemen, is another small fact that STANDARD SELECTIONS. 125 you are to deny at the hazard of your souls, and upon the solem- nity of your oaths. You are upon your oaths to say to the sis- ter country, that the government of Ireland uses no such abomi- nable instruments of destruction as informers. Let me ask you honestly, what do you feel, when in my hearing, when in the face of this audience, you are called upon to give a verdict that every nan of us, and every man of you, know by the testimony of your own eyes to be utterly and absolutely false ? I speak not now of the public proclamation of informers, with a promise of secresy and of extravagant reward ; I speak not of the fate of those horrid wretches who have been so often transferred from the table to the dock, and from the dock to the pillory ; I speak of what your own eyes have seen day after day, during the course of this commission, from the box where you are now T sit- ting — the number of horrid miscreants who avowed upon thei* oaths that they had come from the very seat of government — from the castle, where they had been worked upon by the fear of death and the hopes of compensation to give evidence against their fellows. I speak of the well-known fact that the mild and wholesome councils of this government are holden over these catacombs of living death, where the wretch that is buried a man, lies till his heart has time to fester and dissolve, and is then dug up a witness. Is this fancy, or is it fact ? Have you not seen him, after his resurrection from that tomb, after having been dug out of the region of death and corruption, make his appearance upon the table, the living image of life and of death, and the supreme arbiter of both ? Have you not marked when he entered, how the stormy wave of the multitude retired at his approach? Have you not marked how the human heart bowed to the su- premacy of his power, in the undissembled homage of deferen- tial horror? How his glance, like the lightning of heaven, seemed to rive the body of the accused, and mark it for the grave, while his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe and death — a death which no innocence can escape, no art elude, no force resist, no antidote prevent. There was an antidote — a jurors oath — but even that adamantine chain that bound the integrity of man to the throne of eternal justice, is solved and melted in the breath that issues from the informer's mouth. 126 THE UNION SPEAKER. Conscience swings from her mooring, and the appalled and affrighted juror consults his own safety in the surrender of the victim. J. p. Curran. ♦ XCIV. RED JACKETS SPEECH TO TEE MISSIONARY. T> ROTHER, listen to what we say. There was a time when -^~^ our forefathers owned this great island. Their seats ex- tended from the rising to the setting sun. The Great Spirit had made it for the use of Indians. He had created the buffalo, the deer, and other animals for food. He had made the bear and the beaver. Their skins served us for clothing. He had scat- tered them over the country, and taught us how to take them. He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this He had done for his red children, because He loved them. If we had some disputes about our hunting-ground, they were generally settled without the shedding of much blood. But an evil day came upon us. Your forefathers came across the great water, and landed on this island. Their numbers were small. They found friends and not enemies. They told us they had fled from their own country for fear of wicked men, and asked for a small seat. We took pity on them ; granted their request ; and they sat down amongst us. We gave them corn and meat ; they gave us poison in return. The white people, brother, had now found our country. Tidings were carried back, and more came amongst us. Yet we did not fear them. We took them to be friends. They called us brothers. We believed them and gave them a larger seat. At length their numbers had greatly increased. They wanted more land ; they wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, and our minds became uneasy. Wars took, place. Indians were hired to fight against Indians, and many of our people were de- stroyed. They also brought strong liquor amongst us. It was strong and powerful and has slain thousands. Brother, our seats were once large, and yours were small. You have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, but are not satisfied ; you want to force your religion upon us. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 127 You say that you are sent to instruct us how to worship the Great Spirit agreeably to his mind ; and, if we do not take hold of the religion which you white people teach, we shall be un- happy hereafter. We are told that you have been preaching to the white people in this place. These people are our neigh- bors. We are acquainted with them. We will wait a little while, and see what effect your preaching has upon them. If we find it does them good, makes them honest, and less disposed to cheat Indiana, we will then consider again of what you have said. Brother, you have now heard our answer to your talk, and this is all we have to say at present. Cram. xcv. PARTITION OF POLAND. "TVTOW, sir, what was the conduct of your own allies to Poland ? Is there a single atrocity of the French, in Italy, in Switzer- landj in Egypt, if you please, more unprincipled and inhuman than that of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in Poland ? What has there been in the conduct of the French to foreign powers ; what in the violation of solemn treaties ; what in the plunder, devastation, and dismemberment of unoffending countries ; what in the horrors and murders perpetrated upon the subdued .vic- tims of their rage in any district which they have overrun, worse than the conduct of those three great powers in the miserable, devoted, and trampled-on kingdom of Poland, and who have been, or are, our allies in this war for religion and social order, and the rights of nations ? " Oh ! but you regretted the partition of Poland ! " Yes, regretted ! You regretted the violence, and that is all you did. You united yourself with the actors ; you, in fact, by your acquiescence, confirmed the atrocity. But they are your allies ; and though they overran and divided Poland, there was nothing, perhaps, in the manner of doing it which stamped it with peculiar infamy and disgrace. The hero of Poland [Swarrow], perhaps, was merciful and mild ! He was " as much superior to Bonaparte in bravery, and in the discipline which he maintained, as he was superior in virtue and human- ity ! " He was animated by the purest principles of Christian- 128 THE UNION SPEAKER. ity, and was restrained in his career by the benevolent pre- cepts which it inculcates ! Was he ? Let unfortunate Warsaw, and the miserable inhabitants of the suburb of Praga in particu- lar, tell ! What do we understand to have been the conduct of this magnanimous hero, with whom, it seems, Bonaparte is not to be compared ? He entered the suburb of Praga, the most populous suburb of Warsaw ; and there he let his soldiery loose on the miserable, unarmed, and unresisting people. Men, women, and children, nay, infants at the breast, were doomed to one indiscriminate massacre. Thousands of them were inhu- manly, wantonly butchered ! And for what ? Because they had dared to join in a wish to meliorate their own condition as a people, and to improve their Constitution, which had been con- fessed by their own Sovereign to be in want of amendment. And such is the hero upon whom the cause of religion and social order is to repose ! And such is the man whom we praise for his discipline and his virtue, and whom we hold out as our boast and our dependence ; while the conduct of Bonaparte unfits him to be even treated with as an enemy ? c. J. Epx. xcvi. NATIONAL DISGRACE. O IR, we may look in vain to the events of former times for ^ a disgrace parallel to what we have suffered. Louis the Fourteenth, a monarch often named in our debates, and whose reign exhibits more than any other the extremes of prosperous and of adverse fortune, never, in the midst of his most humiliat- ing distresses, stooped to so despicable a sacrifice of all that can be dear to man. The war of the succession, unjustly begun by him, had reduced his power, had swallowed up his armies and his navies, had desolated his provinces, had drained his treasures, and deluged the earth with the blood of the best and most faithful his subjects. Exhausted by his various calamities, he offered his enemies at one time to relinquish all the objects for which he had begun the war. That proud monarch sued for peace, and was content to receive it from our moderation. But when it was made a condition of that peace, that he should turn his arms STANDARD SELECTIONS. 129 against his grandson, and compel him by force to relinquish the throne of Spain, — humbled, exhausted, conquered as he was, misfortune had not yet bowed his spirit to conditions so hard as these. We know the event. He persisted still in the war, until the folly and wickedness of Queen Anne's ministers enabled him to conclude the peace of Utrecht, on terms considerably less disad- vantageous even than those he had himself proposed. And shall we, sir, the pride of our age, the terror of Europe, submit to this humiliating sacrifice of oifr honor ? Have we suffered a defeat at Blenheim? Shall we, with our increasing prosperity, our widely diffused capital, our navy, the just subject of our common exultation, ever-flowing coffers, that enable us to give back to the people what, in the hour of calamity, we were compelled to take from them ; flushed with a recent triumph over Spain, and yet more than all, while our old rival and enemy was incapable of disturbing us, shall it be for us to yield to what France dis- dained in the hour of her sharpest distress, and exhibit ourselves to the world, the sole example in its annals of such an abject and pitiful degradation ? & j m p ox . xcvn. A POLITICAL PAUSE. TXTHERE then, sir, is this war, which is prolific of all these horrors, to be carried ? Where is it to stop ? Not till we have established the house of Bourbon ! Or, at least, not until we have had due " experience " of Bonaparte's intentions'! And all this without an intelligible motive. All this because you may gain a better peace a year or two hence ! So that we are called upon to go on merely as a speculation. We must keep Bonaparte for some time longer at war, as a state of proba- tion ! Gracious God, sir ! is war a state of probation ? Is peace a rash system ? Is it dangerous for nations to live in amity with each other ? Are your vigilance, your policy, your common powers of observation, to be extinguished by putting an end to the horrors of war ? Cannot this state of probation be as well undergone without adding to the catalogue of human sufferings ? 130 THE UNION SPEAKER. " But we must pause ! " says the honorable gentleman. What ! must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out — her best blood be spilled — her treasures wasted — that you may make an experiment ? Put yourselves, oh ! that you would put your- selves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors that you excite ! In former wars a man might, at least, have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance, in his mind, the impressions which a scene of carnage and of death must inflict. If a man had been present at the battle of Blenheim, for instance, and had inquired the motive of the battle, there was not a soldier engaged who could not have satisfied his curiosity, and even, perhaps, allayed his feelings. They were fighting, they knew, to repress the uncontrolled ambition of the Grand Monarch. But if a man were present now at the field of slaughter, and were to inquire for what they were fighting — " Fighting ! " would be the answer ; " they are not fighting ; they are pausing." " Why is that man expiring ? " Why is that other writhing with agony ? What means this implacable fury ? " The answer must be, " You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive yourself — they are not fighting, — do not disturb them — they are merely pausing ! This man is not expiring with agony — that man is not dead — he is only pausing ! Lord help you, sir ! they are not angry with one another ; they have now no cause of quarrel ; but their country thinks that there should be a pause. All that you see, sir, is nothing like fighting — there is no harm, nor cru- elty, nor bloodshed in it, whatever : it is nothing more than a political pause ! It is merely to try an experiment — to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than hereto- fore ; and in the mean time we have agreed to pause in pure friendship ! " And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates of order ? You take up a system calculated to unciv- ilize the world — to destroy ordeF, — to trample on religion, — to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of a noble senti- , ment, but the affections of social nature ; and in the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devastation all around you. C. J. Fox. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 131 XCVIII. WASHINGTON'S SWORD AND FRANKLINS STAFF. rriHE Sword of Washington! The Staff of Franklin! O, sir, what associations are linked in adamant with these names ! Washington, whose sword was never drawn but in the cause of his country, and never sheathed when wielded in his country's cause ! Franklin, the philosopher of the thunder-bolt, the print- ing-press, and the ploughshare ! What names are these in the scanty catalogue of the benefactors of human kind ! Washing- ton and Franklin ! What other two men whose lives belong to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have left a deeper im- pression of themselves upon the age in which they lived, and upon all after-time ? Washington, the warrior and the legis- lator ! In war, contending, by the wager of battle, for the Inde- pendence of his country, and for the freedom of the human race, — ever manifesting, amidst its horrors, by precept and by exam- ple, his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest sympathies of humanity ; in peace, soothing the ferocious spirit of discord, among his own ccfuntrymen, into harmony and union, and giving to that very sword, now presented to his country, a charm more potent than that attributed, in ancient times, to the lyre of Orpheus. Franklin ! — The mechanic of his own fortune'; teaching, in early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way to wealth, and, in the shade of obscurity, the path to greatness; in the maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder of its terrors, the lightning of its fatal blast ; and wresting from the tyrant's hand the still more afflictive sceptre of oppression : while descending the vale of years, traversing the Atlantic Ocean, braving, in the dead of winter, the battle and the breeze, bearing in his hand the Charter of Independence, which he had contributed to form, and tendering, from the self-created nation to the mightiest monarchs of Europe, the olive-branch of peace, the mercurial wand of com- merce, and the amulet of protection and safety to the man of peace, on the pathless ocean, from the inexorable cruelty and merciless rapacity of war. And, finally, in the last stage of life, with fourscore winters upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease, return- 132 THE UNION SPEAKER. ing to his native land, closing his days as the chief magistrate of his adopted commonwealth, after contributing by his counsels under the Presidency of Washington, and recording his name under the sanction of devout prayer invoked by him to God, — to that Constitution under the authority of which we are assem- bled, as the Representatives of the North American People, to receive, in the name of them and for them, these venerable relics of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders of our great con- federated Republic, — these sacred symbols of our golden age. May they be deposited among the archives of our Government ! And may every American, who shall hereafter behold them, ejaculate a mingled offering of praise to that Supreme Ruler of the Universe, by whose tender mercies our Union has been hitherto preserved, through all the vicissitudes and revolutions of this turbulent world ; and of prayer for the continuance of these blessings, by the dispensations of Providence to our beloved country, from age to age, till time shall be no more ! J. 0, Adams. XCIX. TEE RIGHT OF PETITION BY WOMEN. rpiHE gentleman says that women have no right to petition on political subjects ; that it is discreditable, not only to their section of the country, but also to the national character ; that these females could have a sufficient field for the exercise of their influence in the discharge of their duties to their fathers, their husbands, or their children — cheering the domestic circle, and shedding over it the mild radiance of the social virtues, instead of rushing into the fierce struggles of political life. I admit, sir, that it is their duty to attend to these things. I subscribe fully to the elegant compliment, passed by him upon those members of the female sex who devote their time to these duties. But I say that the correct principle is, that women are not only justi- fied, but exhibit the most exalted virtue, when they do depart from the domestic circle, and enter on the concerns of their country, of humanity, and of their God. The mere departure of woman from the duties of the domestic circle, far from being a reproach to her, is a virtue of the highest order, when it is done STANDARD SELECTIONS. 133 from purity of motive, by appropriate means, and towards a virtuous purpose. That is the principle I maintain, and which the gentleman has to refute, if he applies the position he has taken to the mothers, the sisters, and the daughters of the men of my district who voted to send me here. The motive, the means, and the purpose of their petition will bear his scrutiny. Why, sir, what does the gentleman understand by " political subjects ? " Everything in which this House has an agency — everything which relates to peace and war, or to any of the great interests of society. Are women to have no opinions or actions on subjects relating to the general welfare ? Where did the gentleman get this principle ? Did he find it in sacred his- tory — in the language of Miriam the Prophetess, in one of the noblest and most sublime songs of triumph that ever met the human eye or ear ? Did the gentleman never hear of the deed of Jael, who slew the dreaded enemy of her country ? Has he forgotten Esther, who, by her petition, saved her people and her country ? Sir, I might go through the whole sacred history, and find innumerable examples of women, who not only took an active part in the politics of their times, but who are held up with honor to posterity for doing so. To go from sacred history to profane, does the gentleman there find it " discreditable " for women to take any interest or any part in political 'affairs ? Has he forgotten the Spartan mother, who said to her son, when going out to battle, " My son, come back to me with thy shield, or upon thy shield ? " Does he not remember Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, who declared that her children were her jewels ? And why ? Because they were the champions of freedom. Has he not read of Arria, who, under imperial despotism, when her husband was condemned to die by a tyrant, plunged the sword into her own bosom, and, handing it to her husband, said, " Take it, Paetus, it does not hurt," and expired ? To come to a later period, — what names are more illustrious than that of Elizabeth, the great British queen, and that of Isa- bella of Castile, the patroness of Columbus, the virtual discoverer of this hemisphere, for without her that discovery would not have been made ? Did they bring " discredit " on their sex by ming- ling in politics ? And what were the women of the United States 134 THE UNION SPEAKER. in the struggle of the Revolution ? Were they devoted excite sively to the duties and enjoyments of the fireside ? When the soldiers were destitute of clothing, or sick, or in prison, from whence did relief come ? From the hearts where patriotism erects her favorite shrine, and from the hand which is seldom withdrawn when the soldier is in need. The voice of our history speaks trumpet-tongued of the daring and intrepid spirit of patriotism burning in the bosoms of the ladies of that day. " Politics," sir, " rushing into the vortex of politics ! " They gloried in being called rebel ladies, refusing to attend balls and entertainments, but crowding to the hospitals and prison-ships ! And, sir, is that spirit to be charged here, in this hall where we are sitting, as being " discreditable " to our country's name ? So far from regarding such conduct as a national reproach, I approve of it, and glory in it. J. Q. Adams. c. VALUE OF POPULARITY. Il/TY Lords, I come now to speak upon what, indeed, I would have gladly avoided, had I not been particularly pointed at for the part I have taken in this bill. It has been said by a noble lord on my left hand, that /, likewise, am running the race of popularity. If the noble lord means by popularity, that applause bestowed by after-ages on good and virtuous actions? I have long been struggling in that race ; to what purpose, all- trying time can alone determine : but, t if the noble lord means that mushroom popularity which is raised without merit, and lost without crime, he is much mistaken in his opinion. I defy the noble lord to point out a single action of my life, in which the popularity of the times ever had the smallest influence on my determinations. I have a more permanent and steady rule for my conduct, — the dictates of my own breast. Those that have foregone that pleasing adviser, "and given up their mind to be the slave of every popular impulse, I sincerely pity : I pity them still more, if their vanity leads them to mistake the shouts of the mob for the trumpet of fame. Experience might inform them, that many who have been saluted with the huzzas STANDARD SELECTIONS. 135 of a crowd one day, have received its execrations the next ; and many who by the popularity of their times, have been held up as spotless patriots, have, nevertheless, appeared upon the historian's page, — when truth has triumphed over delusion, — the assassins of liberty. True liberty, in my opinion, can only exist when justice is equally administered to all, — to the king and to the beggar. Where is the justice, then, or where is the law, that protects a member of Parliament more than any other man from the punish- ment due to his crimes ? The laws of this country allow no place, nor employment to be a sanctuary for crimes ; and where I have the honor to sit as judge, neither royal favor, nor popular applause shall ever protect the guilty. Lord Mansfield. ci. SCORN TO BE SLAVES. rj^HE voice of your father's blood cries to you from the -*- ground, " My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met the frowns of tyrants ; in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of liberty ; in vain we toiled ; in vain we fought ; we bled in vain, if you, our offspring, want valor to repel the assaults of her in- vaders ! " Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors ; but, like them, resolve never to part with your birthright. Be wise in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the preservation of your liberty. Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist yourselves under the sacred banner of reason ; use every method in your power to secure your rights ; at least, prevent the curses of posterity from being heaped upon your memories. If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the torrent of oppression ; if you feel the true fire of patriotism burning in your breasts ; if you, from your souls, despise the most gaudy dress which slavery can wear ; if you really prefer the lonely cottage, while blessed with liberty, to gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery, you may have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her whole 136 THE UNION SPEAKER accursed train, will hide her hideous head in confusion, shame, and despair. If you perform your part, you must have the strongest confi- dence, that the same Almighty Being, who protected your pious and venerable forefathers, who enabled them to turh a barren wilderness into a fruitful field, who so often made bare His arm for their salvation, will still be mindful of their offspring. May that Almighty Being graciously preside in all our coun- cils. May He direct us to such measures as He himself shall approve, and be pleased to bless. May we be ever favored of God. May our land be a land of liberty, the seat of virtue, the asylum of the oppressed, "a. name and a praise in the whole earth," until the last shock of time shall bury the empires of the world in undistinguished ruin. j. Warren. en. LOSS OF THE ARCTIC. T T was autumn. Hundreds had wended their way from pil- grimages ; — from Rome and its treasures of dead art, and its glory of living nature ; from the sides of the Switzer's moun- tains, and from the capitals of various nations, — all of them saying in their hearts, we will wait for the September gales to have done with their equinoctial fury, and then we will embark ; we will slide across the appeased ocean, and in the gorgeous month of October, we will greet our longed-for native land, and our heart-loved homes. And so the throng streamed along from Berlin, from Paris, from the Orient, converging upon London, still hastening toward the welcome ship, and narrowing every day the circle of en- gagements and preparations. They crowded aboard. Never had the Arctic borne such a host of passengers, nor passengers so nearly related to so many of us. The jiour was come. The signal-ball fell at Greenwich. It was noon also at Liverpool. The anchors were weighed ; the great hull swayed to the cur- rent ; the national colors streamed abroad, as if themselves instinct with life and national sympathy. The bell strikes ; the wheels revolve ; the signal-gun beats its echoes in upon every STANDARD SELECTIONS. 137 structure along the shore, and the Arctic glides joyfully forth from the Mersey, and turns her prow to the winding channel, and begins her homeward run. The pilot stood at the wheel, and men saw him. Death sat upon the prow, and no eye beheld him. ^Yhoever stood at the wheel in all the voyage, Death was the pilot that steered the craft, and none knew it. He neither revealed his presence nor whispered his errand. And so hope was effulgent, and lithe gayety disported itself, and joy was with every guest. Amid all the inconveniences of the voyage, there was still that which hushed every murmur, — " Home is not far away." And every morning it was still one night nearer home ! Eight days had passed. They beheld that distant bank of mist that forever haunts the vast shallows of Newfoundland. Boldly they made it ; and plunging in, its pliant wreaths wrapped them about. They shall never emerge. The last sunlight has flashed from that deck. The last voyage is done to ship and passengers. At noon there came noiselessly stealing from the north that fated instrument of destruction. In that mysterious shroud, that vast atmosphere of mist, both steam- ers were holding their way with rushing prow and roaring wheels, but invisible. At a league's distance, unconscious, and at nearer approach, unwarned ; within hail, and bearing right towards each other, unseen, unfelt, till in a moment more, emerging from the gray mists, the ill-omened Vesta dealt her deadly stroke to the Arctic. The death-blow was scarcely felt along the mighty hull. She neither reeled nor shivered. Neither commander nor officers deemed that they had suffered harm. Prompt upon humanity, the brave Luce (let his name be ever spoken with admiration and respect) ordered away his boat with the first officer to inquire if the stranger had suffered harm. As Gourley went over the ship's side, oh, that some good angel had called to the brave commander in the words of Paul on a like occasion, * Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." They departed, and with them the hope of the ship, for now the waters gaining upon the hold, and rising upon the fires, revealed the mortal blow. Oh, had now that stern, brave mate, Gourley, been on deck, whom the sailors were wont to mind — had he stood to execute sufficiently the commander's will — we 138 THE UNION SPEAKER. may believe that we should not have had to blush for the cow- ardice and recreancy of the crew, nor weep for the untimely dead. But, apparently, each subordinate officer lost all presence of mind, then courage, and so honor. In a wild scramble, that ignoble mob of firemen, engineers, waiters, and crew, rushed for the boats, and abandoned the helpless women, children, and men to the mercy of the deep ! Four hours there were from the catastrophe of collision to the catastrophe of sinking ! Oh, what a burial was here ! Not as when one is borne from his home, among weeping throngs, and gently carried to the green fields, and laid peacefully beneath the turf and the flowers. No priest stood to pronounce a burial-service. It was an ocean grave. The mists alone shrouded the burial-place. No spade prepared the grave, nor sexton filled up the hollowed earth. Down, down they sank, and the quick returning waters smoothed out every ripple, and left the sea as if it had not been. H. W. Beecher. cm. THE GLORY AND GRANDEUR OF PEACE. TTl^HATEVER may be the judgment of poets, of moralists, of satirists, or even of soldiers, it is certain that the glory of arms still exercises no mean influence over the minds of men. The art of war, which has been happily termed by a French divine, the baleful art by which men learn to exterminate one another, is yet held, even among Christians, to be an honorable pursuit ; and the animal courage, which it stimulates and de- velops, is prized as a transcendent virtue. It will be for another age, and a higher civilization, to appreciate the more exalted character of the art of benevolence, — the art of extending hap- piness and all good influences, by word or deed, to the largest number of mankind, — which, in blessed contrast with the misery, the degradation, the wickedness of war, shall shine resplendent, the true grandeur of peace. All then will be willing to join with the early poet in saying, at least, " Though louder fame attend the martial rage, 'T is greater glory to reform the age." STANDARD SELECTIONS. 139 Then shall the soul thrill with a nobler heroism than that of battle. Peaceful industry, with untold multitudes of cheerful and beneficent laborers, shall be its gladsome token. Literature, full of sympathy and comfort for the heart of man, shall appear in garments of purer glory than she has yet assumed. Science shall extend the bounds of knowledge and power, adding unim- aginable strength to the hands of man, opening innumerable resources in the earth, and revealing new secrets and harmonies in the skies. Art, elevated and refined, shall lavish fresh streams of beauty and grace. Charity, in streams of milk and honey, shall diffuse itself among all the habitations of the world. Does any one ask for the signs of this approaching era ? The increasing beneficence and intelligence of our own day, the broad- spread sympathy with human suffering, the widening thoughts of men, the longings of the heart for a higher condition on earth, the unfulfilled promises of Christian progress, are the auspicious auguries of this happy future. Aft early voyagers over untried realms of waste, we have already observed the signs of land. The green twig and fresh red berry have floated by our bark ; the odors of the shore fan our faces ; nay, we may seem to descry the distant gleam of light, and hear from the more earnest ob- servers, as Columbus heard, afte'r midnight, from the mast-head of the Pinta, the joyful cry of Land ! Land ! and lo ! a new world broke upon his early morning gaze. c. Sumner. civ. ANCIENT AND MODERN PRODUCTIONS. rriHE classics possess a peculiar charm, from the circumstance that they have been the models,. I might almost say the masters, of composition and thought, in all ages. In the contem- plation of these august teachers of mankind, we are filled with conflicting emotions. They are the early voice of the world, bet- ter remembered and more cherished still than all the interme- diate words that have been uttered, as the lessons of childhood still haunt us when the impressions of later years have been effaced from the mind. But they show with most unwelcome HO THE UNION SPEAKER. frequency the tokens of the world's childhood, before passion had yielded to the sway of reason and the affections. They want the highest charm of purity, of righteousness, of elevated sentiments, of love to God and man. It is not in the frigid philosophy of the porch and academy that we are to seek these ; not in the marvellous teachings of Socrates, as they come mended by the mellifluous words of Plato ; not in the resounding line of Homer, on whose inspiring tale of blood Alexander pillowed his head ; not in the animated strain of Pindar, where virtue is pictured in the successful strife of an athlete at the Isthmian games ; not in the torrent of Demosthenes, dark with self-love and the spirit of vengeance ; not in the fitful philosophy and intemperate elo- quence of Tully ; not in the genial libertinism of Horace, or the stately atheism of Lucretius. No! these must not be our mas- ters ; in none of these are we to seek the way of life. For eighteen hundred years the spirit of these writers has been en- gaged in weaponless contest \^th the Sermon on the Mount, and those two sublime commandments on which hang all the law and the prophets. The strife is still pending. Heathenism, which has possessed itself of such siren forms, is not yet exorcised. It still tempts the young, controls the affairs of active life, and haunts the meditations of age. Our own productions, though they may yield to those of the ancients in the arrangement of ideas, in method, in beauty of form, and in freshness of illustration, are immeasurably superior in the truth, delicacy, and elevation of their sentiments, — above all, in the benign recognition of that great Christian revelation, the brotherhood of man. How vain are eloquence and poetry, compared with this heaven-descended truth ! Put in one scale that simple utterance, and in the other the lore of antiquity, with its accumulating glosses and commentaries, and the last will be light and trivial in the balance. Greek poetry has been likened to the song of the nightingale as she sits in the rich, symmetrical crown of the palm-tree, trilling her thick-warbled notes ; but even this is less sweet and tender than the music of the human heart. C. Sumner. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 141 cv. THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE. VT^HY ought the slave trade to be abolished? Because it is incurable injustice ! How much stronger, then, is the argument for immediate than gradual abolition ! By allowing it to continue even for one hour, do not my right honorable friends weaken — do they not desert their own- arguments of its injustice ? If on the ground of injustice it ought to be abolished at last, why ought it not now ? Why is injustice to be suffered to remain for a single hour ? I know of no evil that ever has existed, nor can imagine any evil to exist, worse than the tearing of eighty thousand per- sons annually from their native land, by a combination of the most civilized nations in the most enlightened quarter of the globe ; but more especially by that nation which calls herself the most free and the most happy of them al^ Even if these miser- able beings were proved guilty of every crime before you take them off, of which however not a single proof is adduced, ought we to take upon ourselves the office of executioners? And even if we condescend so far, still can w r e be justified in taking them, unless we have clear proof that they are criminals ? I have shown how great is the enormity of this evil, even on the supposition that we take only convicts and prisoners of war. But take the subject in the other way ; take it on the grounds stated by the right honorable gentleman over the way, and how does it stand ? Think of eighty thousand persons carried away out o£ their country, by we know not what means, for crimes imputed ; for light or inconsiderable faults ; for debt, per- haps ; for the crime of witchcraft ; or a thousand other weak and scandalous pretexts, besides all the fraud and kidnapping, the villanies and perfidy, by which the slave trade is supplied. Re- flect on these eighty thousand persons thus annually taken off! There is something in the horror of it, that surpasses all the bounds of imagination. Admitting that there exists in Africa something like to courts of justice ; yet what an office of humili- ation and meanness is it in us, to take upon ourselves to carry into execution the partial, the cruel, iniquitous sentences of such 142 THE UNION SPEAKER courts, as if we also were strangers to all religion, and to the first principles of justice. But that country, it is said, has been in some degree civilized, and civilized by us. It is said they have gained some knowledge of the principles of justice. What, sir, have they gained the principles of justice from us ? Is their civilization brought about by us ! Yes, we give them enough of our intercourse to convey to them the means, and to initiate them in the study of mutual destruction. We give them just enough of the forms of justice to enable them to add the pretext of legal trials to their* other modes of perpetuating the most atrocious iniquity. We give them just enough of European improvements, to enable them the more effectually to turn Africa into a ravaged wilderness. But I refrain from attempting to enumerate half the dreadful con- sequences of this system. Do you think nothing of the ruin and the miseries in which so many other individuals, still remaining in Africa, are involved in consequence of carrying off so many myriads of people? Do you think nothing of their families which are left behind ; of the connections which are broken ; of the friendships, attachments, and relationships which are burst asunder ? Do you think nothing of the miseries in consequence, that are felt from generation to generation ; of the privation of that happiness which might be communicated to them by the introduction of civilization, and of mental and moral improve- ment ? A happiness which you withhold from them so long as you permit the slave trade to continue. How shall w T e hope to obtain, if it be possible, forgiveness from Heaven for these enormous evils we have committed, if we refuse to make use of those means which the mercy of Providence hath still reserved for us, for wiping away the guilt and shame with which we are now covered. If we refuse even this degree of compensation; if, knowing the miseries we have caused, we refuse even now to put a stop to them, how greatly aggravated will be the guilt of Great Britain ! and what a blot will these transactions forever be in the history of this country ! Shall we, then, delay to repair these injuries, and to begin rendering jus- tice to Africa ? Shall we not count the days and hours that are suffered to intervene, and to delay the accomplishment of such a work ? Reflect what an immense object is before you ; what STANDARD SELECTIONS. 143 an object for a nation to have in view, and to have a prospect, under the favor of Providence, of being now permitted to attain ! I think the House will agree with me in cherishing the ardent wish to enter without delay upon the measures necessary for these great ends ; and I am sure that the immediate abolition of the slave trade is the first, the principal, the most indispensable act of policy, of duty, and of justice, that the Legislature of this country has to take, if it is indeed their wish to secure those im- portant objects to which I have alluded, and which we are bound to pursue by the most solemn obligations. w. Pitt. cvi. "LET THERE BE LIGHT." T7R0M her earliest colonial history, the policy of Massa- -*- chusetts has been to develop the minds of all her people, and to imbue them with the principles of duty. To do this work most effectually, she has begun with the young. If she would continue to mount higher and higher towards the summit of prosperity, she must continue the means by which her present elevation has been gained. In doing this, she will not only exer- cise the noblest prerogative of government, but will cooperate with the Almighty in one of his sublimest works. The Greek rhetorician, Longinus, quotes from the Mosaic account of the creation what he calls the sublimest passage ever uttered : " God said, ' Let there be light,' and there was light." From the centre of black immensity effulgence burst forth. Above, beneath, on every side, its radiance streamed out, silent, yet making each spot in the vast concave brighter than the line which the lightning pencils upon the midnight cloud. Darkness fled as the swift beams spread onward and outward, in an unend- ing circumfusion of splendor. Onward and outward still they move to this day, glorifying, through wider and wider regions of space, the infinite Author from whose power and beneficence they sprang. But not only in the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, did he say, " Let there be light.'' Whenever a human soul is born into the world, its Creator stands over it, and again pronounces the same sublime words, " Let there be light." 144 THE UNION SPEAKER. Magnificent, indeed, was the material creation, when, suddenly blazing forth in mid space, the new-born sun dispelled the dark- ness of the ancient night. But infinitely more magnificent is it when the human soul rays forth its subtler and swifter beams ; when the light of the senses irradiates all outward things, reveal- ing the beauty of their colors, and the exquisite symmetry of their proportions and forms ; when the light of reason penetrates to their invisible properties and laws, and displays all those hid- den relations that make up all the sciences ; when the light of conscience illuminates the moral world, separating truth from error, and virtue from vice. The light of the newly -kindled sun, indeed, was glorious. It struck upon all the planets, and waked into ex- istence their myriad capacities of life and joy. As it rebounded from them, and showed their vast orbs all wheeling, circle beyond circle, in their stupendous courses, the sons of God shouted for joy. That light sped onward, beyond Sirius, beyond the pole-star, be- yond Orion and the Pleiades, and is still spreading onward into the abysses of space. But the light of the human soul flies swifter than the light of the sun, and outshines its meridian blaze. It can embrace not only the sun of our system, but all suns and galaxies of suns ; aye ! the soul is capable of knowing and of . enjoying Him who created the suns themselves ; and when these starry lustres that now glorify the firmament shall wax dim, and fade away like a wasted taper, the light of the soul shall still remain ; nor time, nor cloud, nor any power but its own perver- sity, shall ever quench its brightness. Again I would say, that whenever a human soul is born into the world, God stands over it, and pronounces the same sublime fiat, " Let there be light ! " And may the time soon come, when "all human governments shall cooperate with the divine government in carrying this benedic- tion and baptism into fulfilment. H. Jfann. cvn. TRUE ELOQUENCE. "YTTHEN public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther than as STANDARD SELECTIONS. 145 it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be mar- shalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to it ; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the out- breaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wiv«s, their children, and their coun- try, hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contempti- ble. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent ; then self-devotion is eloquent. The. clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the daunt- less spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, inform- ing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object — this, this is eloquence ; or rather it is something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action. 2X Webster. cvm. SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. n^HE eulogium pronounced by the honorable gentleman on the character of the State of South Carolina, for her Revo- utionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or distinguished char- acter, South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all, — the Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions, — Americans all, whose 10 146 THE UNION SPEAKER. fame is no more to be hemmed in by State lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and honored the coun- try, and the whole country ; and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentle- man himself bears, — does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Caro- lina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I ffrust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happens to spring up beyond the little limits of my own State or neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devo- tion to liberty and the country ; or, if I see an uncommon endow- ment of Heaven, — if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue, in any son of the South, and if, moved by local prejudice or gan- grened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof my mouth ! Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections, let me indulge in refreshing remembrance of the past ; let me remind you that, in early times, no States cherished greater harmony, both of princi- ple and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoulder they went through the Revolution, hand in hand they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false prin- ciples since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- chusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge STANDARD SELECTIONS. 147 for yourselves. There is her history ; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Con- cord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill ; and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great strug- gle for Independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every State, from New England to Georgia ; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain over the friends who gather round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. . D. Webster. CIX. AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE. f DEEM it my duty on this occasion to suggest, that the land is not yet wholly free from the contamination of a traffic, at which every feeling of humanity must forever revolt, — I mean the African slave trade. Neither public sentiment, nor the law, has hitherto been able entirely to put an end to this odious and abominable trade. At the moment when God in his mercy has blessed the Christian world with a universal peace, there is reason to fear, that, to the disgrace of the Christian name and character, new efforts are making for the extension of this trade by subjects and citizens of Christian States, in whose hearts there dwell no sentiments of humanity or of justice, and over whom neither the fear of God nor the fear of man exercises a control. In the sight of our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and a felon ; and in the sight of Heaven, an offender far beyond the 148 THE UNION SPEAKER. ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter page of our history, than that which records the measures which have been adopted by the government at an early day, and at different times since, for the suppression of this traffic ; and I would call on all the true sons of New England to cooperate with the laws of man, and the justice of Heaven. If there be, within the extent of our knowledge or influence, any participation in this traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, upon the rock of Plymouth, to extirpate and destroy it. It is not fit that the land of the Pilgrims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound of the hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those who by stealth and at midnight labor in this w T ork of hell, foul and dark, as may become the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it cease to be of New England. Let it be purified, or let it be set aside from the Christian world ; let it be put out of the circle of human sympathies and human regards, and let civilized man henceforth have no communion with it. I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, and all who minister at her altar, that they execute the wholesome and neces- sary severity of the law. I invoke the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions to the authority of human laws. If the pulpit be silent whenever or wherever there may be a sinner bloody with this guilt within the hearing of its voice, the pulpit is false to its trust. I call on the fair merchant, who has reaped his harvest upon the seas, that he assist in scourging from those seas the worst pirates that ever infested them. That ocean, which seems to wave with a gentle magnificence to waft the burden of an honest commerce, and to roll along its treasures with a conscious pride, — that ocean, which hardy industry regards, even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field of grate- ful toil, — what is it to the victim of this oppression, when he is brought to its shores, and looks forth upon it, for the first time, loaded with chains, and bleeding with stripes ? What is it to him but a wide-spread prospect of suffering, anguish and death ? Nor do the skies smile longer, nor is the air longer fragrant to him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An inhuman and STANDARD SELECTIONS. 149 accursed traffic has cut him off in his manhood, or in his youth, from every enjoyment belonging to his being, and every blessing which his Creator intended for him. The Christian communities send forth their emissaries of religion and letters, who stop, here and there, along the coast of the vast continent of Africa, and with painful and tedious efforts make some almost imperceptible progress in the communication of knowledge, and in the general improvement of the natives who are immediately about them. Not thus slow and impercep- tible is the transmission of the vices and bad passions which the subjects of Christian States carry to the land. The slave trade having touched the coast, its influence and its evils spread, like a pestilence, over the whole continent, making savage wars more savage and more frequent, and adding new and fierce passions to the contests of barbarians. I pursue this topic no further, except again to say, that all Christendom, being now blessed with peace, is bound by every- thing which belongs to its character, and to the character of the present age, to put a stop to this inhuman and disgraceful traffic. D. Webster. » ex. SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. OINK or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand ^ and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there 's a Divin- ity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good, she has obstinately persisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the Declaration ? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? Are not you, sir, who sit in that chair, — is not he, our venerable colleague, near you, — are yon not both already the proscribed and predestined objects of pun- ishment and vengeance ? Cut off from all hope of royal clem- 150 THE UNION SPEAKER. ency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of Eng- land remains, but outlaws ? If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the measures of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust ? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered into by men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives ? I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general con- flagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for the defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And, if the war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of Independence ? That measure will strengthen us : it will give us character abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain that England her- self will sooner treat for peace with us on the footing of indepen- dence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded, by submitting to that course of things which now predestinates our independence, than by yielding the points in controversy to her rebellious sub- jects. The former she would regard as the result of fortune ; the latter she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil to a national war ? And since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory ? D. Webster. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 151 CXI. TIIE SAME CONCLUDED. TF we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. A The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create na- vies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of these Colonies, and I know that resistance to British aggression is deep and settled in their hearts, and can- not be eradicated. Every Colony, indeed, has expressed its will- ingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the Declaration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for restoraiion of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the breath of life. Read this Declaration at the head of the army ; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling round it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim it there ; let them hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon ; let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Concord, — and the very walls will cry out in its support. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see, I see clearly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to the time when this Declaration shall be made good. We may die ; die colonists ; die slaves ; die, it may be, ignominiously and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven, that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But, while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free country. But, whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured, that this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may 152 *THE UNION SPEAKER. cost blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the bright- ness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it, with thanksgiv- ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exulta- tion, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it ;' and I leave off, as I begun, that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment, — Independence now; and Indepen- dence FOREVER ! D. Webster. CXII. INFLUENCE OF THE CEARACTER OF WASHINGTON. A ME RICA has furnished to the world the character of ~*-^- Washington ! And if our American institutions had done nothing else, that alone would have entitled them to the respect of mankind. Washington ! " First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen ! " Washington is all our own ! The enthusiastic veneration and regard in which the people of the United States hold him prove them to be worthy of such a coun- tryman ; while his reputation abroad reflects the highest honor on his country and its institutions. I would cheerfully put the question to-day to the intelligence of Europe and the world, what character of the century, upon the whole, stands out in the relief* of history, most pure, most respectable, most sublime ; and I doubt not, that, by a suffrage approaching to unanimity, the answer would be Washington ! The structure now standing before us, by its uprightness, its solidity, its durability, is no unfit emblem of his character. His public virtues and public principles were as firm as the earth on STANDARD SELECTIONS. 153 which it stands; his personal motives, as pure as the serene heavens in which its summit is lost. But, indeed, though a fit, it is an inadequate emblem. Towering high above the column which our hands have builded, beheld, not by the inhabitants of a single city or a single State, but by all the families of man, ascends the colossal grandeur of the character and life of Wash- ington. In all the constituents of the one, in all the acts of the other, in all its titles to immortal love, admiration and renown, it is an American production. It is the embodiment and vindi- cation of our Transatlantic liberty. Born upon our soil, of parents also born upon it; never for a moment having had sight of the Old World ; instructed, accord- ing to the modes of his time, only in the spare, plain, but whole- some elementary knowledge which our institutions provided for the children of the people ; growing up beneath and penetrated by the genuine influences of American society ; living from in- fancy to manhood and age amidst our expanding, but not lux- urious* civilization; partaking in our great destiny of labor, our long contest with unreclaimed nature and uncivilized man, our agony of glory, the war of Independence, our great victory of peace, the formation of the Union, and the establishment of the Constitution ; he is all, all our own ! Washington is ours. That crowded and glorious life, - " Where multitudes of virtues passed along, Each pressing foremost, in the mighty throng Ambitious to be seen, then making room For greater multitudes that were to come," — that life was the life of an American citizen. I claim him for America. In all the perils, in every darkened moment of the State, in the midst of the reproaches of enemies and the misgiving of friends, I turn to that transcendent name for courage and for consolation. To him who denies or doubts whether our fervid liberty can be combined with law, with order, with the security of property, with the pursuits and advancement of happiness ; to him who denies that our forms of government are capable of producing exaltation of soul, and the passion of true glory ; to him who denies that we have contributed any- thing to the stock of great lessons and great examples ; — to all these I reply by pointing to Washington ! d. Webster. 154 THE UNION SPEAKER. cxm. PUBLIC OPINION. 'T^HE time has been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, were the principal reliances even in the best cause. But, happily for mankind, a great change has taken place in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, in proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascen- dency over mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the most formidable obstruction to the progress of injustice and op- pression ; and as it grows more intelligent and more intense, it will be more and more formidable. It may be silenced by mili- tary power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irrepress- ible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary warfare. It is that impassive, inextinguishable enemy of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's angels, " Vital in every part, Cannot, but by annihilating die." Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for power to talk either of triumphs or of repose. No matter what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. In the history of the year that has passed by us, and in the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity of all triumphs in a cause which violates the gen- eral sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing that the troops of France have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz ; it is nothing that an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen be- fore them ; it is nothing that arrests, and confiscation, and exe- cution, sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. There is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of his ovations ; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, though silent, is yet indignant ; it shows him that the sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre ; that it shall confer neither joy nor honor, but shall moulder to dry ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it pierces his ear with the cry of injured STANDARD SELECTIONS. 155 justice ; it denounces against him the indignation of an enlight- ened and civilized age ; it turns to bitterness the cup of his re- joicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind. D. Webster. CXIV. TEE MURDERERS SECRET. rpHE deed was executed with a degree of self-possession and ^~ steadiness, equal to the wickedness with which it was planned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man, to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers of the night held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters, through the window already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half- lighted by the moon ; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this, he moves the lock, by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges without noise ; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him. The room was uncommonly open to the admission of light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given ! and the victim passes, without a struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death ! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work ; and he plies the dagger, though it is obvious that life has been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard. To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse ! He feels for it, and ascertains that it beats no longer ! It is accomplished. The deed is done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder. No eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The secret is his own, and it is safe ! Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret 156 THE UNION SPEAKER. can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all dis- guises, and beholds everything, as in the splendor of noon, such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by man. D. Webster. cxv. THE SAME CONCLUDED. r |^RUE it is, generally speaking, that murder " will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of Heaven by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, dis- covery must and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circum- stance, connected with the time and place ; a thousand ears catch every whisper ; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene ; shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of con- science to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed onjby a torment, which it dares not acknowledge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sympathy or assistance, either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses, soon comes to possess him ; and, like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it "breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 157 the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. ,It must be confessed ; it will be confessed ; there is no refuge from confession but suicide ; and suicide is confession. D. Webster. ■♦ CXVI. DEFENCE OF AMERICAN CLERGYMEN. X>Y this Will, no minister of the Gospel of any sect or denomi- -*^ nation whatever can be authorized or allowed to hold any office within the college ; and not only that, but no minister or clergyman of any sect can, for any purpose whatever, enter within the walls that are to surround this college. Now I will not arraign the founder of this institution or his motives for this. I will not inquire into his opinions upon re- ligion. But I feel bound to say, the occasion demands that I should say, that this is the most opprobrious, the most insulting and unmerited stigma, that ever was cast, or attempted to be cast, upon the preachers of Christianity, from north to south, from east to west, through the length and breadth of the land, in the history of the country. When have they deserved it ? Where have they deserved it? How have they deserved it? They are not to be allowed even the ordinary rights of hospital- ity ; not even to be permitted to put their foot over the threshold of this college ! Sir, I take it upon myself to say, that in no country in the world, upon either continent, can there be found a body of minis- ters of the Gospel who perform so much service to man, in such a full spirit of self-denial, under so little encouragement from government of any kind, and under circumstances almost always much straitened and often distressed, as the ministers of the Gos- pel in the United States, of all denominations. They form no part of any established order of religion; they constitute no hierarchy ; they enjoy no peculiar privileges. In some of the States they are even shut out from all participation in the politi- cal rights and privileges enjoyed by their fellow-citizens. They enjoy no tithes, no public provision of any kind. Except here and there in large cities, where a wealthy individual occasionally makes a donation for the support of public worship, what have 158 THE UNION SPEAKER. they to depend upon? They have to depend entirely on the voluntary contributions of those who hear them. And this body of clergymen has shown, to the honor of their own country and to the astonishment of the hierarchies of the Old World, that it is practicable in free governments to raise and sustain by voluntary contributions alone a body of clergymen, which, for devotedness to their sacred calling, for purity of life and character, for learning, intelligence, piety, and that wisdom which cometh from above, is inferior to none, and superior to most others. I hope that our learned men have done something for the honor of our literature abroad. I hope that the courts of justice and members of the bar of this country have done something to elevate the character of the profession of the law. I hope that the discussions above (in Congress) have done something to meliorate the condition of the human race, to secure and extend the great charter of human rights, and to strengthen and advance the great principles of human liberty. But I contend that no literary efforts, no adjudications, no constitutional discussions, nothing that has been said or done in favor of the great interests of universal man, has done this country more credit, at home and abroad, than the establishment of our body of clergymen, their support by voluntary contributions, and the general excel- lence of their character for piety and learning. The great truth has thus been proclaimed' and proved, a trutfe which I believe will in time to come shake all the hierarchies of Europe, that the voluntary support of such a ministry, under free institutions, is a practicable idea. x>. Webster. ' — . — cxvn. PEACEABLE SECESSION IMPOSSIBLE. "jV/TR. PRESIDENT, I should much prefer to have heard from every member on this floor declarations of opinion that this Union could never be dissolved, than the declaration of opinion by any body, that, in any case, under the pressure of any circumstances, such a dissolution was possible. I hear with dis- tress and anguish the word " secession," especially when it falls STANDARD SELECTIONS. 159 from the lips of those who are patriotic, and known to the coun- try, and known all over the world, for their political services. Secession ! Peaceable secession ! Sir, your eyes and mine arc never destined to see that miracle. The dismemberment of this vast country without convulsion ! The breaking up of the fountains of the great deep without ruffling the surface ! Who is so foolish, I beg everybody's pardon, as to expect to see any such thing ? Sir, he who sees these States, now revolving in harmony around a common centre, and expects to see them quit their places and fly off without convulsion, may look the next hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres, and jostle against each other in the realms of space, without causing the wreck of the universe. There can be no such thing as peaceable secession. Peace- able secession is an utter im]»ossibility. Is the great Constitu- tion under which we live, covering this whole country, is it to be thawed and melted away by secession, as the snows on the mountain melt under the influence of a vernal sun, disappear almost unobserved, and run off? No, sir! No, sir! I will not state what might produce the disruption of the Union ; but, sir, I see as plainly as I see the sun in heaven what that disrup- tion itself must produce ; I see that it must produce war, and such a war as I will not describe, in its twofold character. Peaceable secession ! Peaceable secession ! The concurrent agreement of all the members of this great republic to separate ! A voluntary separation, with alimony on one side and on the other. Why, what would be the result? Where is the line to be drawn ? What States are to secede ? What is to remain American ? What am I to be ? An American no longer ? Am I to become a sectional man, a local man, a separatist, with no country in common with the gentlemen who sit around me here, or who fill the other house of Congress ? Heaven forbid ! Where is the flag of the republic to remain ? Where is the eagle still to tower? or is he to cower, and shrink, and fall to the ground ? Why, sir, our ancestors, our fathers and our grandfathers, those of them that are yet living amongst us with prolonged lives, would rebuke and reproach us ; and our chil- dren and our grandchildren would cry out shame upon us, if we of this generation should dishonor these ensigns of the power of 160 THE UNION SPEAKER. the government and the harmony of that Union which is every day felt among us with so much joy and gratitude. What is to become of the army ? What is to become of the navy ? What is to become of the public lands ? How is each of the thirty States to defend itself? But, sir, I am ashamed to pursue this line of remark, I dislike it, I have an utter disgust for it. I would rather hear of natural blasts and mildews, war, pestilence, and famine, than to hear gentlemen talk of secession. To break up this great government ! to dismember this glorious country ! to astonish Europe with an act of folly such as Europe for two centuries has never beheld in any government or any people ! No, Sir ! no, Sir ! There will be no secession ! Gen- tlemen are not serious when they talk of secession. D. Webster. » t> CXVIII. LIBERTY AND UNION. T PROFESS, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; and though our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious foun- tain of national, social, personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recesses behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to STANDARD SELECTIONS. 161 see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union may be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying pros- pects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that 1 seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my dav. at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind ! When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored frag- ments of a once glorious Union ; on States dissevered, discord- ant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its motto, no such miserable interrogatory as " What is all this worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly, " Liberty first and Union afterwards," but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true Amer- ican heart, — Liberty AND Union, now and for ever, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. &• Webster. ♦ CXIX. EVENTS GREAT, BECAUSE OF THEIR RESULTS. ^1 REAT actions and striking occurrences, having excited a temporary admiration, often pass away and are forgotten, because they leave no lasting results, affecting the prosperity and happiness of communities. Such is frequently the fortune of the most brilliant military achievements. Of the ten thousand bat- tles which have been fought, of all the fields fertilized with car- nage, of the banners which have been bathed in blood, of the 11 162 THE UNION SPEAKER. warriors who have hoped that they had risen from the field of conquest to a glory as bright and as durable as the stars, how few that continue long to interest mankind ! The victory of yesterday is reversed by the defeat ef to-day ; the star of mili- tary glory, rising like a meteor, like a meteor has fallen ; dis- grace and disaster hang on the heels of conquest and renown ; victor and vanquished presently pass away to oblivion, and the world goes on in its course, with the loss only of so many lives and so much treasure. But if this be frequently, or generally, the fortune of military achievements, it is not always so. There are enterprises, mili- tary as well as civil, which sometimes check the current of events, give a new turn to human affairs, and transmit their con- sequences through ages. We see their importance in their re- sults, and call them great because great things follow. There have been battles which have fixed the fate of nations. These come down to us in history with a solid and permanent interest, not created by a display of glittering armor, the rush of adverse battalions, the sinking and rising of pennons, the flight, the pur- suit, and the victory ; but by their effect in advancing or retard- ing human knowledge, in overthrowing or establishing despotism, in extending or destroying human happiness. When the traveller pauses on the plains of Marathon, what are the emotions which most strongly agitate his breast ? What is that glorious recollection, which thrills through his frame and suffuses his eyes ? Not, I imagine, that Grecian skill and Gre- cian valor were here most signally displayed ; but that Greece herself was here saved. It is because to this spot, and to the event which has rendered it immortal, he refers all the succeed- ing glories of the republic. It is because if that day had gone otherwise, Greece had perished. It is because he perceives that her philosophers and orators, her poets and painters, her sculp- tors and architects, her governments and free institutions, point backward to Marathon, and that their future existence seems to have been suspended on the contingency, whether the Persian or the Greek banner should wave victorious in the beams of that day's setting sun. And as his imagination kindles at the retro- spect, he is transported back to the interesting moment, he counts the fearful odds of the contending hosts, his interest for the re- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 1G3 suit overwhelms him ; he trembles, as if it were still uncertain, and seems to doubt whether he may consider Socrates and Plato, Demosthenes, Sophocles, and Phidias, as secure, yet, to himself and to the world. D. Webster. cxx. THE FUTURE OF AMERICA. TfELLOW-CITIZENS, the hours of this day are rapidly -*- flying, and this occasion will soon be passed. Neither we nor our children can expect to behold its return. They are in the distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all-creating power of God, who shall stand here, a hundred years hence, to trace, through us, their descent from the Pilgrims, and to survey, as we have now surveyed, the progress of their country during the lapse of a century. We would anticipate their concurrence with us in our sentiments of deep regard for our common ances- tors. We would anticipate and partake the pleasure with which they will then recount the steps of New England's advancement. On the morning of that day, although it will not disturb us in our repose, the voice of acclamation and gratitude, commencing on the rock of Plymouth, shall be transmitted through millions of the sons of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs of the Pacific seas. We would leave, for the consideration of those who shall then occupy our places, some proof .that we hold the blessings transmitted from our fathers in just estimation ; some proof of our attachment to the cause of good government, and of civil and religious liberty ; some proof of a sincere and ardent desire to promote everything which may enlarge the un- derstandings, and improve the hearts, of men. And when, from the long distance of a hundred years, they shall look back upon us, they shall know, at least, that we possessed affections, which, running backward and warming with gratitude for what our an- cestors have done for our happiness, run forward also to our pos- terity, and meet them with cordial salutation, ere yet they have arrived on the shore of being. Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, where we are 164 THE UNION SPEAKER. passing, and soon shall have passed, our human duration. We bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheri- tance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government, and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science, and the delights of learning. We wel- come you to the transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the hap- piness of kindred, and parents, and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth. D. Webster. CXXI. LIBERTY OF SPEECH. TMPORTANT, sir, as I deem it to discuss, on all proper occa- sions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing fashionable, make it necessary to be explicit on this point. The more I perceive a disposition to check the freedom of inquiry by extravagant and unconstitutional pretences, the firmer shall be the tone in which I shall assert, and the freer the manner in which I shall exercise it. It is the ancient and undoubted prerogative of this people to canvass public measures, and the merits of public men. It is a "home-bred" right, a fireside privilege. It hath ever been en- joyed in every house, cottage, and cabin, in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as the right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth. Belonging to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty ; and it is the last duty which those whose representative I am shall find me to abandon. Aiming at all times to be courteous and temperate in its use, except when the right itself shall be ques- tioned, I shall then carry it to its extent. I shall place myself on the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any arm that would move me from my ground. This high constitutional privilege I shall defend and exercise within this house, and in all places ; in times of peace, and in STANDARD SELECTIONS. 165 all times. Living, I shall assert it ; and, should I leave no other inheritance to my children, by the blessing of God I will leave them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a manly, independent, and constitutional defence of them. D. Webster. cxxn. WASHINGTON TO THE PRESENT GENERATION. "PELLOW-CITIZENS, — What contemplations are awak- ened in our minds, as we assemble here to reenact a scene like that performed by Washington ! Methinks I see his vener- able form now before me, as presented in the glorious statue by Houdon, now in the capital of Virginia. He is dignified and grave ; but his concern and anxiety seem to soften the linea- ments of his countenance. The government over which he pre- sides is yet in the crisis of experiment, Not free from troubles at home, he sees the world in commotion and arms, all around him. He sees that imposing foreign powers are half disposed to try the strength of the recently established American govern- ment. We perceive that mighty thoughts, mingled with fears as well as hopes, are struggling within him. He heads a short pro- cession over these then naked fields ; he crosses yonder stream on a fallen tree ; he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose original oaks of the forest stand as thick around him as if the spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here he per- forms the appointed duty of the day. And now, fellow-citizens, if this vision were a reality, — if Washington actually were now amongst us, — and if he could draw around him the shades of the great public men of his own days, — patriots and warriors, orators and statesmen, — and were to address us, in their presence, would he not say to us, — " Ye men of this generation, I rejoice, and thank God for being able to see that our labors, and toils, and sacrifices, were not in vain. You are prosperous, — you are happy, — you are grateful. The fire of liberty burns brightly and steadily in your hearts, while duty and the law restrain it from bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. Cherish liberty, as you love it ; — cherish its securities, as you wish to preserve it. Maintain 166 THE UNION SPEAKER. the Constitution which we labored so painfully to establish, and which has been to you such a source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the Union of the States, cemented as it was by our prayers, our tears, and our blood. Be true to God, to your country, and to your duty. So shall the whole Eastern world follow the morning sun, to contemplate you as a nation ; so shall all succeeding generations honor you as they honor us ; and so shall that Almighty Power which so graciously protected us, and which now protects you, shower its everlasting blessings upon you and your posterity." Great father of your country ! we heed your words ; we feel their force as if you uttered them with life of flesh and blood. Your example teaches us ; your affectionate addresses teach us ; your ' public life teaches us your sense of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings our fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. Nor do we intend that those who come after us shall be denied the same high fruition. Our honor as well as our happiness is concerned. We cannot, we dare not, we will not, betray our sacred trust. We will not 'filch from posterity the treasure placed in our hands to be transmitted to other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds in the heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may disap- pear and fall away, in the hour appointed by the will of God ; but, until that day comes, or so long as our lives may last, no ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of Union and Liberty, which spans the continent from Washington to Cali- fornia. D. Webster. CXXIII. THE PLATFORM OF THE CONSTITUTION. A PEINCIPAL object, in his late political movements, the -*"*- gentleman himself tells us, was to unite the entire South ; and against whom, or against what, does he wish to unite the entire South ? Is not this the very essence of local feeling and local regard ? Is it not the acknowledgment of a wish and ob- ject to create political strength, by uniting political opinions geo- graphically ? While the gentleman wishes to unite the entire South, I pray to know, sir, if he expects me to turn toward the STANDARD SELECTIONS. 167 polar star, and, acting on the same principle, to utter a cry of Rally ! to the whole North ? Heaven forbid ! To the day of my death, neither he nor others shall hear such a cry from me. Finally, the honorable member declares that he shall now march off, under the banner* of State rights ! March off from whom ? March off from what ? We have been contending for great principles. We have been struggling to maintain the lib- erty and to restore the prosperity of the country ; we have made these struggles here, in the national councils, with the old flag — the true American flag, the Eagle and the Stars and Stripes — waving over the chamber in which we sit. He now tells us, however, that he marches off under the State-rights banner ! Let him go. I remain. I am, where I ever have been, and ever mean to be. Here, standing on the platform of the gen- eral Constitution, — a platform broad enough, and firm enough, to uphold every interest of the whole country, — I shall still be found. Intrusted with some part in the administration of that Constitution, I intend to act in its spirit, and in the spirit of those who framed it. Yes, sir. I would act as if our fathers, who formed it for us, and who bequeathed it to us, were looking on me, — as if I could see their venerable forms, bending down to behold us from the abodes above ! I would act, too, as if the eye of posterity was gazing on me. Standing thus, as in the full gaze of our ancestors and our posterity, having received this inheritance from the former to be transmitted to the latter, and feeling that, if I am born for any good, in my day and generation, it is for the good of the whole country, — no local policy, no local feeling, no temporary im- pulse, shall induce me to yield my foothold on the Constitution and the Union. I move off under no banner not known to the whole American People, and to their Constitution and laws. No, sir ! these walls, these columns, " shall fly From their firm base as soon as I." I came into public life, sir, in the service of the United States. On that broad altar my earliest and all my public vows have been made. I propose to serve no other master. So far as depends on any agency of mine, they shall continue United 168 THE UNION SPEAKER. States ; — united in interest and in affection ; united in every- thing in regard to which the Constitution has decreed their union ; united in war, for the common defence, the common renown, and the common glory ; and united, compacted, knit firmly together, in peace, for the cWmon prosperity and happi- ness of ourselves and our children ! d. Webster. cxxrv. THE VETERANS OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. • T^HE great event in the history of the Continent, which we are now met here to commemorate, that prodigy of modern times, at once the wonder and the blessing of the world, is the American Revolution. In a day of extraordinary prosperity and happiness, of high national honor, distinction, and power, we are brought together, in this place, by our love of country, by our admiration of exalted character, by our gratitude for signal services and patriotic devotion. And we now stand here to enjoy all the blessings of our own condition, and to look abroad on the brightened prospects of the world, while we still have among us some of those who were active agents in the scenes of 1775, and who are now here, from every quarter of New Eng- land, to visit once more, and under circumstances so affecting, — I had almost said so overwhelming, this renowned theatre of their courage and patriotism. Venerable men ! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you may behold this joyous day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your coun- try. Behold, how altered ! The same heavens are indeed over your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; but all else how changed ! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charles- town. The ground strowed with the dead and the dying ; the impetuous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resistance; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly STANDARD SELECTIONS. 169 bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and death ; — all these you have witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means of dis- tinction and defence. All is peace ; and God has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the reward of your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the name of the present generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, to thank you ! But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and the sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amid this broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only to your country in her grateful remembrance and your own bright example. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met the common fate of men. You lived at least long enough to know that your work had been nobly and successfully accom- plished. You lived to see your country's independence estab- lished, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise the light of Peace, like "another morn, Risen on mid-noon ; and the sky on which you closed your eyes was cloudless. But ah ! Him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! Him ! the head of our civil councils, and the destined leader of our mil- itary bands, whom nothing brought hither but the unquench- able fire of his own spirit ! Him ! cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; falling ere he 170 THE UNION SPEAKER. saw the star of his country rise ; pouring out his generous blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage ! — how shall I struggle with the emo- tions that stifle the utterance of thy name ! Our poor work may perish ; but thine shall endure ! This monument may moulder away ; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail ! Whereso- ever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the trans- ports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy spirit ! d. Wedster. cxxv. REPLY TO THE REFLECTIONS OF MR. W ALP OLE. OIR, the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the ^ honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny ; but content myself with wishing, — that T may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth ; and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely, age may become justly contemptible, — if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt ; and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred, — who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth, sir, is not my only crime. I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or dissimulation of my real senti- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 171 ments, and the adoption of the opinions and language of another man. In the first sense the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language : and though I may, perhaps, have some ambition, yet to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction, or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience. If any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he' deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment ; age which always brings one privilege, that of "being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part I should have avoided their censure ; the heat that offended them was the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the ag- gressor, and drag the thief to justice, — whoever may protect them in their villainy, and whoever may partake of their plunder. Lord Chatham. cxxvr. SPEECH AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR. J CANNOT, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation : the smooth- ness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine col- ors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still 172 THE UNION SPEAKER. presume to expect support in their infatuation ? Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them ? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt. " But yesterday, and Britain might have stood against the world ; now, none so poor as to do her reverence." The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied with every military ' store, have their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate enemy — and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honors the British troops than I do ; I know their virtues and their valor : I know they can achieve anything but impossibilities ; and I know that the con- quest of British America is an impossibility. You cannot, my Lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situ- ation there ? We do not know the worst ; but we know that in three campaigns, we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and ex- tend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot ; your attempts will be forever vain and impotent — doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to over- run them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devot- ing them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cru- elty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never, never, NEVER ! Lord Chatham. exxvn. SPEECH AGAINST EMPLOYING INDIANS IN WAR. F> UT, my Lords, who is the man that, in addition to the dis- graces and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savao-e ? — to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods ? — to delegate to the merciless Indian STANDARD SELECTIONS. 173 the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of this barbarous war against our brethren ? My Lords, these enormi- ties cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality ; " for it is perfectly justifiable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am aston- ished ! — I am shocked ! — to hear such principles confessed ; — to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country. My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your attention, but I cannot repress my indignation — I feel myself impelled to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity ! — " That God and nature have put into our hands " ! What ideas of God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not ; but I know, that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abomi- nable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn ; upon the learned judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, — to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your Lordships, to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I invoke the genius of the Constitution! From the tapestry that adorns these Avails, the immortal ancestor of this noble lord frowns with indignation at the disgrace of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty, and establish the religion of Britain, against the tyranny of Rome, if these worse than popish cruelties, and inquisi- torial practices, are endured among us. To send forth the merci- less cannibal, thirsting for blood ! — against whom ? — your Prot- estant brethren ! — to lay waste their country, to desolate their 174 THE UNION SPEAKER. dwellings, and extirpate their race and name, by the aid and instrumentality of these horrible hounds of war ! Spain can no longer boast preeminence in barbarity. She armed herself with bloodhounds, to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico, and we improve on the inhuman example even of Spanish cruelty ; we turn loose these savage hell-hounds against our brethren and countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can sanctify humanity. I again call upon your Lordships, and upon every order of men in the State, to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. And I again implore those holy prelates of our religion to do away this iniquity ; let them perform a lustration, to purify the coun- try from this deep and deadly sin. My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignation werfe too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vent to my eternal abhorrence of such enormous and preposterous principles. Lord Chatham. cxxvin. HONORABLE AMBITION. T HAVE been accused of ambition in presenting this meas- -^ ure — ambition, inordinate ambition. If I had thought of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I know well the perils to which I expose myself: the risk of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of making new ones, if any new ones could compensate for the loss of those we have long tried and loved ; and the honest misconcep- tion both of friends and foes. Ambition ? If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers ; if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, calculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood still and unmoved. I might even have silently gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left those who are charged with the care of the vessel of State to conduct it as they could. I have been, heretofore, often unjustly accused of ambition. Low, grovelling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating themselves to the higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism, — STANDARD SELECTIONS. 175 beings who, forever keeping their own selfish ends in view, de- cide all public measures by their presumed influence on their aggrandizement — judge me by the venal rule which they pre- scribe to themselves. I have given to the winds those false accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches my motives. I have no desire for office, not even the highest. The most ex- alted is but a prison, in which the incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the people of these States, united or separated ; I never wish, never expect to be. Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confidence and affection in the Union, and I am willing to go home to Ashland, and renounce public service forever. I should there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, midst my flocks and herds, in the bospm of my family, sincerity and truth, attachment and fidelity, and gratitude which I have not always found in the walks of public life. Yes, I have ambition ! but it is the ambition of being the humble instrument, in the hands of Providence, to reconcile a divided people ; once more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land, — the pleasing ambition of contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal people. H. Clay. exxix. THE NOBLEST PUBLIC VIRTUE. rf^HERE is a sort of courage, to which — I frankly confess "*- it — I do not lay claim ; a boldness to which I dare not aspire ; a valor which I cannot covet. I cannot lay myself down in the way of the welfare and happiness of my country. That, I cannot, I have not the courage to do. I cannot interpose the power with which I may be invested, — a power conferred, not for my personal benefit or aggrandizement, but for my country's good, — to check her onward march to greatness and glory. I have not courage enough, — I am too cowardly for that ! I would not, I dare not, lie down, and place my body across 176 THE UNION SPEAKER. the path that leads my country to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of courage widely different from that which a man may display in his private conduct and personal relations. Per- sonal or private courage is totally distinct from that higher and nobler courage which prompts the patriot to offer himself a vol- untary sacrifice to his country's good. Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness some- times impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable and offen- sive in private life, are vices which partake of the character of crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions cannot see beyond the little, petty, contempt- ible circle of his own personal interest. All his thoughts are withdrawn from his country, and concentrated on his consistency, his firmness, himself. The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism which, soaring toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought of the good and glory of one's country, are never felt in his im- penetrable bosom. That patriotism which, catching its inspira- tion from on high, and, leaving at an immeasurable distance below all lesser, grovelling, personal interests and feelings, — animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devo- tion, and of death itself, — that is public virtue ; that is the noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues. h. Clay. cxxx. PLEA FOR THE UNION. \ T a moment when the White House itself is in danger of conflagration, instead of all hands uniting to extinguish the flames, we are contending about who shall be its next occupant. When a dreadful crevasse has occurred, which threatens inunda- tion and destruction to all around it, we are contesting and dis- puting about the profits of an estate which is threatened with total submersion. Mr. President, it is passion, passion — party, party, and in- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 177 temperance — that is all I dread in the adjustment of the great questions which unhappily at this time divide our distracted country. Sir, at this moment we have in the legislative bodies of this Capitol and in the States, twenty-odd furnaces in full blast, emitting heat and passion, and intemperance, and diffusing them throughout the whole extent of this broad land. Two months ago all was calm in comparison to the present moment. All now is uproar, confusion, and menace to the existence of the Union, and to the happiness and safety of this people. Sir, I implore Senators, I entreat them, by all that they expect here- after, and by all that is dear to them here below, to repress the ardor of these passions, to look to their country, to its interests, to listen to the voice of reason. Mr. President, I have said — what I solemnly believe — that the dissolution of the Union and war are identical and insepara- ble ; that they are convertible terms. Such a war, too, as that would be, following the dissolution of the Union ! Sir, we may search the pages of history, and none so furious, so bloody, so implacable, so exterminating, from the wars of Greece down, including those of the Commonwealth of England, and the revo- lution of France — none, none of them raged with such violence, or was ever conducted with such bloodshed and enormities, as will that war which shall follow that disastrous event — if that event ever happen — the dissolution of the Union. And what would be its termination ? Standing armies and navies, draining the revenues of each portion of the dissevered empire, would be created ; exterminating war would follow — not a war of two or three years, but of interminable duration — until some Philip or Alexander, some Caesar or Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian Knot, and solve the problem of the capacity of man for self-government, and crush the liberties of both the dissevered portions of this Union. Can you, sir, lightly contemplate these consequences ? Can you yield yourself to a torrent of passion, amidst dangers which I have depicted in colors far short of what would be the reality, if the event should ever happen? I implore gentlemen — I adjure them from the South or the North, by all they hold dear in this world — by all their love of liberty, by all their veneration for their ancestors — by all 12 178 THE UNION SPEAKER. their regard for posterity — by all their gratitude to Him who has bestowed upon them such unnumbered blessings — by all the duties which they owe to mankind, and all the duties they owe to themselves — by all these considerations, I implore upon them to pause — solemnly to pause — at the edge of the preci- pice before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken into the yawning abyss -below, from which none who take it will ever return in safety. And, finally, Mr. President, I implore, as the best blessing which Heaven can bestow upon me on earth, that if the direful and sad event of the dissolution of the Union ^hall happen, I may not survive to behold the melancholy and heart-rending spectacle. Ht aay . cxxxi. NATIONAL GLORY. ~Wf E are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have shown that we have lost nothing, either in rights, terri- tory, or honor ; nothing, for which we ought to have contended, according to the principles of the gentlemen on the other side, or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the war 3 Let any man look at the degraded condition of the country before the war, — the scorn of the universe, the contempt of ourselves, and tell me if we have gained nothing by the war. "What is our present situation ? Respectability and character abroad ; security and confidence at home. If we have not ob- tained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of retribution, our character and Constitution are placed on a solid basis, never to be shaken. The glory acquired by our gallant tars on the sea, by our Jacksons and our Browns on the land, is that nothing ? True we had our vicissitudes : there are humiliating events which the patriot cannot review without deep regret ; but the great account wb^i it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our favor. Is there a man who would obliterate from the proud pages of our history, the brilliant achievements of Jackson, Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes on land and sea whom I cannot STANDARD SELECTIONS. 179 enumerate ? Is there a man who could not desire a participation in the national glory acquired by the war ? Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may be condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine patriot. What do I mean by national glory ? Glory such as Hull, Jackson, and Perry have acquired. And are gentlemen insen- sible to their deeds, to the value of them in animating the coun- try in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Ther- mopylae preserve Greece but once ? While the Mississippi contributes to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the Alleghanies to her delta, and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth of January shall be remembered, and the glory of that day shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn freemen, in driving the presumptuous invader from our country's soil. Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility to feelings inspired by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, afford no pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice of the country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has its beneficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony, the country's inheritance. They awe foreign powers ; they arouse and animate our own people. I love true glory. It is this sentiment which ought to be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will rise triumphant, and finally conduct this nation to that height, to which nature and nature's God have destined it. h. Clay. CXXXII. BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CAESAR. T> OMANS, countrymen^ and lovers ! Hear me for my cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor ; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may be the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, — any dear friend of Caesar's, — to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why 180 THE UNION SPEAKER. Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen ? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply, None ? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? With this I depart ; — that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. Shakspeare. cxxxm. HAMLETS ADDRESS TO THE PLATERS. O PEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, ^ trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with* your hand, thus ; but use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- perance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb STANDARD SELECTIONS. 181 shows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er- doing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod. I pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as it were, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judi- cious grieve ; the censure of which one, must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players, that I have seen play, — and heard others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's jour- neymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. Shakspeare. CXXXIV. FALSTAFFS DESCRIPTION OF HIS SOLDIERS. IF I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press outrageously. I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeoman's sons ; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as have been asked twice on the banns ; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of a culverin worse than a struck deer or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me none but such toasts in butter, with hearts in their breasts no bigger than pins' heads ; and they bought out their services ; and now my whole charge consists of slaves as ragged as Laza- rus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores ; discarded, unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and hostlers trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace ; and such have I to fill up 182 THE UNION SPEAKER. the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had an hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I '11 not march through Coventry with them, that 's flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on ; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There 's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half-shirt it is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host of St. Albans, or the red- nosed innkeeper of Daintry. But that 's all one ; they '11 find linen enough on every hedge. Shakspeare. cxxxv. SOLILOQUY ON CHARACTER. A S young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I "*■■*■ am boy to them all three : but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me ; for, indeed, three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, — he is white- livered, and red-faced ; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, — he hath a killing tongue, and a .quiet sword ; by the means whereof, 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, — he hath heard, that men of a few words are the best men ; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward ; but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds ; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it — purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case ; bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching ; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel ; I knew, by that piece of service, the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or their hand- kerchiefs ; which makes much against my manhood^ if I should take from another's pocket, to put into mine ; for it is plain pock- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 183 eting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service : their villany goes against my weak stomach, and there- fore I must cast it up. Shakspeare. CXXXVI. DEATH OF HAMILTON. A SHORT time since, and he who is the occasion of our sor- -*■-*- rows, was the ornament of his country. He stood on an eminence ; and glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen — suddenly, forever, fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended ; and those who would hereafter find him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and sightless is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever are those Lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often and so lately hung with transport. From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory — how humble appears the majesty of grandeur. The bubble which seemed to have so much solidity has burst ; and we again see that all below the sun is vanity. True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The sad and solemn procession has moved. The badge of mourning has al- ready been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues. Just tributes of respect ! And to the living useful. But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they ? How vain ! how unavailing ! Approach, and behold — while 1 1 lift from Jiis sepulchre its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale ! how silent ! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinated throng weep — and melt — and tremble at his eloquence ! — Amazing 184 THE UNION SPEAKER. change. A shroud ! a coffin ! a narrow subterraneous cabin ! This is all that now remains of Hamilton ! And is this all that remains of him ? — During a life so transitory, what lasting monument then can our fondest hopes erect ? My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immor- tal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten ? Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say ? He has already told you, from his death-bed, and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well- known eloquence, the solemn admonition. " Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors — Culti- vate the virtues I have recommended — Choose the Saviour I have chosen — Live disinterestedly — Live for immortality ; and would you rescue anything from final dissolution, lay it up in God." Dr. Noit. ♦ cxxxvn. , INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. FLOOD. TT is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. "^ I maintain my reputation in public and in private life. No man who has not a bad character can ever say that I deceived ; no country can call me cheat. But I will suppose such a public character. I will suppose such a man to have existence. I will begin with his character in its political cradle, and I will follow him to the last state of political dissolution. I will suppose him, in the first stage of his life, to have been intemperate ; in the second, to have been corrupt ; and in the last, seditious ; that after an envenomed attack upon the persons and measures of a succession of viceroys, and after much declamation against their illegalities and their profusion, he took office, and became a sup- porter of government when the profusion of ministers had greatly increased, and their crimes multiplied beyond example. At such a critical moment, I will suppose this gentleman to be corrupted by a great sinecure office to muzzle his declamation, to STANDARD SELECTIONS. 185 swallow his invectives, to give his assent and vote to the minis- ters, and to become a supporter of government, its measures, its embargo, and its American war. I will suppose, that with re- spect to the Constitution of his country, that part, for instance, which regarded the Mutiny Bill, when a clause of reference was introduced, whereby the articles of war, which were, or hereafter might be, passed in England, should be current in Ireland with- out the interference of Parliament — when such a clause was in view, I will suppose this gentleman to have absconded. Again, when the bill was made perpetual, I will suppose him again to have ab.-conded ; but a year and a half after the bill had passed, then I will suppose this gentleman to have come forward, and to say that your Constitution had been destroyed by the Perpetual Bill. With respect to commerce, I will suppose this gentleman to have supported an embargo which lay on the country for three years, and almost destroyed it; and when an address in 1778, to open her trade, was propounded, to remain silent and inactive. In relation to three fourths of our fellow-subjects, the Catholics, when a bill was introduced to grant them rights of property and religion, I will suppose this gentleman to have come forth to give his negative to their pretensions. With regard to the liberties of America, which w r ere insepar- able from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been an enemy, decided and unreserved ; that he voted against hei* lib- erty, and voted, moreover, for an address to send four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans ; that he called these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood with a metaphor in his mouth, and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge of the liberties of mankind. Thus defective in every relation- ship, whether to Constitution, commerce, or toleration, I will suppose this man to have added much private improbity to pub- lic crimes ; that his probity was like his patriotism, and his honor 09 a level with his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt him f and say, " Sir, you .are mistaken if you think that your talents have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and 186 THE UNION SPEAKER, personality which could have been justified only by a supposi- tion of virtue. After a rank and clamorous opposition you became, on a sudden, silent ; you were silent for seven years ; you were silent on the greatest questions ; and you were silent for money ! You supported the unparalleled profusion and job- bing of Lord Harcourt's scandalous ministry — the address to support the American war — the other address to send four thousand men, which you had yourself declared to be necessary for the defence of Ireland, to fight against the liberties of Amer- ica, to which you had declared yourself a friend. You, sir, who manufacture stage-thunder against Mr. Eden for his and- Ameri- can principles — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the immortal Hampden — you, sir, approved of the tyranny exercised against America ; and you, sir, voted four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great prin- ciple, Liberty ! But you found, at last (and this should be an eternal lesson to men of your craft and cunning), that the King had only dishonored you ; the court had bought, but would not trust you ; and, having voted for the worst measures, you re- mained, for seven year's, the creature of salary, without the con- fidence of government. Mortified at the discovery, and stung by disappointment, you betake yourself to the sad expedients of duplicity. You try the sorry game of a trimmer in your prog- ress-to the acts of an incendiary. You give no honest support either to the government or the people ; observing, with regard to both prince and people, the most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the suspicion of your Sovereign, by betray- ing the government, as you had sold the people, until, at last, by this hollow conduct, and for some other steps, the result of mor- tified ambition, being dismissed, and another person put in your place, you fly to the ranks of the Volunteers and canvass for mutiny. Such has been your conduct ; and at such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim ! The merchMit may say to you — the constitutionalist may say to you — the American may say to you — and I, / now say, and say to your beard, sir, — " you are not an honest man I " n. Grattan. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 187 cxxxvm. GRATTAWS REPLY TO MR. CORRY. TTAS the gentleman done ? Has he completely done ? He -■—■- was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call him to order, — why ? because the limited talents of some men render it impossible for them to be severe without being unpar- liamentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time. On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in treating with silent contempt anything which might fall from that honorable member ; but there are times, when the insignifi- cance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could say which would injure me. The public would not believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it when not made by an honest man. The right honorable gentleman has called me u an unim- peached traitor." I ask why not " traitor," unqualified by any epithet ? I will tell him ; it was because he durst not. It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counsellor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has abused the privilege of Parliament, and the freedom of debate, by uttering language, which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy counsellor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow. He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 188 THE UNION SPEAKER. honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords for the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove to the committee there was a physical impossibility of that report being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my conduct, whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought himself into power by a false glare of courage or not. I have returned, not as the right honorable member has said, to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an hon- orable debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a great reward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that Consti- tution, of which I was the parent and founder, from the assas- sination of such men as the right honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt, — they are seditious, — and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given to the public under the appellation of a report of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready for impeach- ment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentle- man ; I defy the government ; I defy their whole phalanx ; let them come forth. I tell the ministers, I will neither give quar- ter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of this House, in defence of the liberties of my country. cxxxrx. SPEECH OF TITUS QOINCTIUS TO THE ROMANS. "VTOU have seen it — posterity will know it ! in the fourth consulship of Titus Quinctius, our enemies came in arms, to the very gates of Rome, — and went away unchastised ! But who are they that our dastardly enemies thus despise ? — the consuls, or you, Romans ? If we are in fault, depose us, or pun- ish us yet more severely. If you are to blame — may neither gods nor men punish your faults ! only may you repent ! — No, Romans, the confidence of our enemies is not owing to their courage, or to their belief of your cowardice : they have been too often vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. Dis- STANDARD SELECTIONS. 189 cord, discord is the ruin of this city ! The eternal disputes, between the senate and the people, are the sole cause of our misfortunes. While we set no bounds to our dominion, nor you to your liberty ; while you impatiently endure Patrician magis- trates, and we Plebeian ; our enemies take heart, grow elated, and presumptuous. In the name of the immortal gods, what is it, Romans, you would have ? You desired Tribunes ; for the sake of peace, we granted them. You were eager to have Decemvirs ; we consented to their creation. You grew weary of these Decemvirs ; we obliged them to abdicate. Your hatred pursued them when reduced to private men ; and we suffered you to put to death, or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the republic. You insisted upon the restoration of the Tribuneship ; we yielded ; we quietly saw Consuls of your own faction elected. You have the protection of your Tribunes, and the privilege of appeal ; the Patricians are subjected to the decrees of the Com- mons. Under pretence of equal and impartial laws, you have invaded our rights ; and we have suffered it, and we still suffer it. When shall we see an end of discord ? When shall we have one interest, and one common country ? Victorious and triumphant, you show less temper than we, under defeat. When you are to contend with us, you can seize the Aventine hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. The enemy is at our gates, — the JEsquiline is near being taken, — and nobody stirs to hinder it ! But against us you are valiant, against us you can arm with diligence. Come on, then, besiege the senate-hi>use, make a camp of the forum, fill the jails with our chief nobles, and when you have achieved these glori- ous exploits, then, at last, sally out at the JEsquiline gate, with the same fierce spirits, against the enemy. Does your resolution fail you for this ? Go then, and behold from our walls your lands ravaged, your houses plundered and in flames, the whole country laid waste with fire and sword. Have you anything here to repair these damages ? Will the Tribunes make up your losses to you ? They will give you words as many as you please; bring impeachments in abundance against the prime men in the State ; heap laws upon laws ; assemblies you shall have without end ; but will any of you return the richer from those assemblies ? Extinguish, O Romans, these fatal divisions ; 190 THE UNION SPEAKER. generously break this cursed enchantment, which keeps you buried in a scandalous inaction. Open your eyes, and consider the management of those ambitious men, who, to make themselves powerful in their party, study nothing but how they may foment divisions in the commonwealth. CXL. THE BOSTON MASSACRE. r I ^ELL me, ye bloody butchers ! ye villains high and low ! ye wretches who contrived, as well as you who executed, the inhuman deed ! do you not feel the goads and stings of conscious guilt pierce through your savage bosoms ? Though some of you may think yourselves exalted to such a height that bids defiance to the arms of human justice, and others shroud yourselves beneath the mask of hypocrisy, and build your hopes of safety on the low arts of cunning, chicanery, and falsehood ; yet do you not sometimes feel the gnawings of that worm which never dies ? Do not the injured shades of Maverick, Gray, Caldwell, Attucks, and Carr, attend you in your solitary walks, arrest you even in the midst of your debaucheries, and fill even your dreams with terror ? Ye dark, designing knaves ! ye murderers ! parricides ! how dare you tread upon the earth which has drank in the blood of slaughtered innocents, shed by your wicked* hands ? How dare you breathe that air which wafted to the ear of Heaven the groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your accursed ambition ? But, if the laboring earth does not expand her jaws ; if the air you breathe is not commissioned to be the minister of death ; yet hear it, and tremble ! the eye of Heaven penetrates the darkest chambers of the soul ; traces the leading clew through all the labyrinths which your industrious folly has devised ; and you, however you may have screened yourselves from human eyes, must be arraigned, must lift your hands, red with the blood of those whose deaths you have procured, at the tremen- dous bar of God. John Hancock. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 191 CXLI. ENTERPRISE OF NEW ENGLAND. A S to the wealth, Mr. Speaker, which the colonies have **-*- drawn from the sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully opened at your bar. You surely thought those acquisitions of value ; for they seemed even to excite your envy ; and yet the spirit by which that enterprising employment has been exercised, ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised your esteem and admiration. And pray, sir, what in the world is equal to it ? Pass by the other parts, and look at the man- ner in which the people of New England have of late carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's Straits, whilst we are looking for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar cold, that they are at the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both the poles. We know that whilst some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue their gigantic game along the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness to their toils. Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagactity of English enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; a people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood. When I contemplate these things ; when I know that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into this happy form by the con- straints of watchful and suspicious government, but that through a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature has been suffered 192 THE UNION SPEAKER. to take her own way to perfection ; when I reflect upon these effects, when I see how profitable they have been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom of human contrivances melt and die away within me. My rigor relents. I pardon something to the spirit of liberty. E. Burke. B CXLII. THE RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA. UT, Mr. Speaker, " we have a right to tax America." Oh, inestimable right ! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right ! the assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six isl- ands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of money. Oh, invaluable right ! for the sake of which we have sacrificed our rank among nations, our importance abroad, and our happi- ness at home ! Oh, right ! more dear to us than our existence^, which has already cost us so much, and which seems likely to cost us our all. Infatuated man ! Miserable and undone country ! not to know that the claim of right, without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a right to tax America, the noble lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax America. This is the profound logic which comprises the whole chain of his reasoning. Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him who resolved to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf ! Have you considered the resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt ? No, says the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. Man has a right of dominion over the beasts of the forest ; and therefore I will shear the wolf. How wonderful that a nation could be thus deluded ! But the noble lord deals in cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of his invention ; and he will continue to play off his cheats on this House, so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so long as he has money enough at command to bribe gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a black and bitter day of reckoning will surely come ; and whenever that day comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary im- peachment, to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calami- ties the punishment they deserve. e. Burke. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 193 cxLin. DESCRIPTION OF JUNIUS. O IR, — How comes this Junius to have broken through the ^ cobwebs of the law, and to range uncontrolled, unpunished, through the land ? The myrmidons of the court have been long, and are still pursuing him in vain. They will not spend their time upon me, or you, or you. No ! they disdain such vermin, when the mighty boar of the forest, that has broken through all their toils, is before them. But what will all their efforts avail ? No sooner has he wounded one than he lays down another dead at his feet. For- my part, when I saw his attack upon the king, I own my blood ran cold. I thought he had ventured too far, and there was an end of his triumphs. Not that he had not asserted many truths : — Yes, sir, there are in that composition many bold truths, by which a wise prince might profit. It was the rancor and venom, with which I was struck. In these respects the North- Briton is as much inferior to him, as in strength, wit, and judgment. But while I expected, in this daring flight, his final ruin and fall, behold him rising still higher, and coming down souse upon both Houses of Parliament. Yes, he did make you his quarry, and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You crouched, and still crouch, beneath his rage. Nor has he dreaded the ter- rors of your brow, sir ; he has attacked even you — he has — and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the encounter. In short, after carrying away our royal eagle in his pounces, and dashing him against a rock, he has laid you prostrate. King, lords, and commons, are but the sport of his fury. Were he a member of this House, what might not be expected from his knowledge, his firmness, and integrity ? He would be easily known by his contempt of all danger, by his penetration, by his vigor. Nothing would escape his vigilance and activity. Bad ministers could conceal nothing from his sagacity ; nor could promises nor threats induce him to conceal anything from the public. E. Burke. 13 194 THE UNION SPEAKER. CXLIV. TRUE STATESMANSHIP. HPHE true lawgiver ought to have a heart full of sensibility. He ought to love and respect his kind, and to fear himself. It may be allowed to his temperament to catch his ultimate object with an intuitive glance, but his movements toward it ought to be deliberate. Political arrangement, as it is a work for social ends, is to be wrought only by social means. There mind must conspire with mind. Time is required to produce all the good we aim at. Our patience will achieve more than our force. If I might venture to appeal to what is so much out of fashion in Paris, I mean to experience, I should tell you that in my course I have known, and, according to my measure, have cooperated with great men ; and I have never yet seen any plan which has not been mended by the observations of those who were much inferior in understanding to the person who took the lead in business. By a slow but well-sustained progress the effect of each step is watched ; the good or ill success of the first gives light to us in the second ; and so, from light to light, we are conducted with safety through the whole series. We see that the parts of the system do not clash. The evils latent in the most promising contrivances are provided for as they arise. One advantage is as little as possible sacrificed to another. We ; compensate, we reconcile, we balance. We are enabled to unite into a consistent whole the various anomalies and contending principles that are found in the minds and affairs of men. From ; hence arises not an excellence in simplicity, but one far superior, an excellence in composition. Where the great interests of man- i kind are concerned through a long succession of generations, that | succession ought to be admitted into some share in the councils which are so deeply to affect them. If justice requires this, the work itself requires the aid of more minds than one age can l furnish. It is from this view of things that the best legislators have been often satisfied with the establishment of some sure, solid, and ruling principle in government ; a power like that which some of the philosophers have called a plastic nature ; and having fixed the principle, they have left it afterward to its own operation, •£• Burke. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 195 CXLV. THE QUEEN OF FRANCE AND THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. T HEAR, and I rejoice to hear, that the great lady, the other object of the triumph, has borne that day (one is interested that beings made for suffering should suffer well), and that she bears all the succeeding days — that she bears the imprisonment of her husband, and her own captivity, and the exile of her friends, and the insulting adulation of addresses, and the whole weight of her accumulated wrongs, with a serene patience, in a manner suited to her rank and race and becoming the offspring of a sovereign distinguished for her piety and her courage ; that, like her, she has lofty sentiments ; that she feels with the dignity of a Roman matron ; that in the last extremity she will save herself; and that, if she must fall, she will fall by no ignoble hand. It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glittering like the morning star, full of life and splendor and joy. Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, to con- template, without emotion, that elevation and that fall ! Little did I dream, when she added titles of veneration to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in that bosom ; little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult ? But the age of chivalry is gone ; that of sophisters, economists and calculators has suc- ceeded ; and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever. Never, never more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordi- nation of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. 196 THE UNION SPEAKER. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone ! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, which • felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage while it miti- gated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its grossness. E. Burke. CXLVI. PERORATION OF OPENING SPEECH AGAINST HASTINGS. TN the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this -*■ villany upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you. My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of national justice ? Do we want a cause, my Lords ? You have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms. Do you want a criminal, my Lords ? "When was there so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my Lords, you must not look to punish any other such delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enough in India to nourish such another delinquent. My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want ? You have before you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors ; and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral community — all the Commons of England resenting, as their own, the indignities and cruelties, that are offered to all the people of India. Do we want a tribunal ? My Lords, no example of antiquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of human imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in the mind's eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose authority you sit and whose power you exercise. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 197 We have here all the branches of the royal family, in a situa- tion between majesty and subjection, between the sovereign and the subject — offering a pledge, in that situation, for the support of the rights of the Crown and the liberties of the people, both which extremities they touch. My Lords, we have a great hereditary peerage here ; those who have their own honor, the honor of their ancestors, and of their posterity, to guard, and who will justify, as they always have justified, that provision in the Constitution by which justice is made an hereditary office. My Lords, we have here a new nobility, who have risen, and exalted themselves by various merits, by great civil and military services, which have extended the fame of this country from the rising to the setting sun. My Lords, you have here, also, the lights of our religion ; you have the bishops of England. My Lords, you have that true image of the primitive Church in its ancient form, in its ancient ordinances, purified from the superstitions and the vices which a long succession of ages will bring upon the best institutions. My Lords, these are the securities which we have in all the constituent parts of the body of this House. We know them, we reckon, we rest upon them, and commit safely the interests of India and of humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence, that, ordered by the Commons, I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and misdemeanors. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishonored. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose property he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate. I impeach him in the name, and by virtue of those eternal laws of justice which he has violated. I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured and oppressed, in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation and condition of life. e. Burke. 198 THE UNION SPEAKER. CXLTH. PERORATION OF CLOSING SPEECH AGAINST HASTINGS. "\/T ^ Lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons, -*-*-*- and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I attest the advancing generations, between which, as a link in the great chain of eternal order, we standi. — We call this Nation, we call the world to witness, that the Commons have shrunk from no labor ; that we have been guilty of no prevarication, that we have made no compromise with crime ; that we have not feared any odium whatsoever, in the long warfare which we have carried on with the crimes — with the vices — with the exorbitant wealth — ■with the enormous and overpowering influence of Eastern cor- ruption. My Lords, your House yet stands ; it stands as a great edifice ; but let me say, that it stands in ruins that have been made by the greatest moral earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered this globe of ours. My Lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in such a state that Ave appear every moment to be on the verge of some great mutations. There is one thing, and one thing only, which defies all mutation ; that which" existed before the world, and will survive the fabric of the world itself, — I mean justice ; that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, has a place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our guide in regard to ourselves, and with regard to others, and which will stand, after this globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser before the great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the tenor of a well-spent life. My Lords, the Commons will share in every fate with your Lordships ; there is nothing sinister which can happen to you, in which we shall not be involved ; and, if it should so happen, that we shall be subjected to some of those frightful changes which we have seen ; if it should happen that your Lordships, stripped of all the decorous distinctions of human society, should, by hands at once base and cruel, be led to those scaffolds and machines of murder upon which great kings and glorious queens have shed their blood, amidst the prelates, amidst the nobles, amidst the magistrates, who supported their thrones, — may you in those STANDARD SELECTIONS. 199 moments feel that consolation which I am persuaded they felt in the critical moments of their dreadful agony J My Lords, there is a consolation, and a great consolation it is, which often happens to oppressed virtue and fallen dignity ; it often happens that the very oppressors and persecutors them- selves are forced to bear testimony in its favor. The Parliament of Paris had an origin very, very similar to that of the great court before which I stand ; the Parliament of Paris continued to have a great resemblance to it in its Constitution, even to its fall ; the Parliament of Paris, my Lords, — was ; it is gone ! It has passed away ; it has vanished like a dream ! It fell pierced by the sword of the Compte de Mirabeau. And yet that man, at the time of his inflicting the death-wound of that Parliament, produced at once the shortest and the grandest funeral oration that ever was or could be made upon the departure of a great court of magistracy. When he pronounced the death sentence upon that Parliament, and inflicted the mortal wound, he de- clared that his motives for doing it were merely political, and that their hands were as pure as those of justice itself, which they administered — a great and glorious exit, my Lords, of a great and glorious body ! My Lords, if you must fall, may you so fall ! But, if you stand, and stand I trust you will, together with the fortunes of this ancient monarchy — together with the ancient laws and liberties of this great and illustrious kingdom, may you stand as unimpeached in honor as in power ; may you stand, not as a substitute for virtue, but as an ornament of virtue, as a security for virtue ; may you stand long, and long stand the terror of tyrants ; may you stand the refuge of afflicted Nations ; may you stand a sacred temple, for the perpetual residence of an in- violable justice ! E. Burhe. ♦ CXLVIII. THE CRISIS OF THE NATION. T AY hold on this opportunity of our salvation, Conscript *^ Fathers, — by the Immortal Gods I conjure you ! — and remember that you are the foremost men here, in the council chamber of the whole earth. Give one sign to the Roman peo- 200 THE UNION SPEAKER. pie that even as now they pledge their valor — so you pledge your wisdom to the crisis of the State. But what need that I exhort you ? Is there one so insensate as not to understand that if we sleep over an occasion such as this, it is ours to bow our necks to a tyranny not proud and cruel only, but ignominious — but sinful ? Do ye not know this Antony ? Do ye not know his companions ? Do ye not know his whole house — insolent — impure — gamesters — drunkards ? To be slaves to such as he, to such as these, were if not the fullest measure of misery, conjoined with the fullest measure of disgrace ? If it be so — may the gods avert the omen — that the supreme hour of the republic has come, let us, the rulers of the world, rather fall with honor, than serve with infamy ! Born to glory and to lib- erty, let us hold these bright distinctions fnst, or let us greatly die ! Be it, Romans, our first resolve to strike down the tyrant and the tyranny. Be it our second to endure all things for the honor and liberty of our country. To submit to infamy for the love of life can never come within the contemplation of a Roman soul ! For you, the people of Rome — you whom the gods have appointed to rule the world — for you to own a master, is im- pious. You are in the last crisis of nations. To be free or to be slaves — that is the question of the hour. By every obligation of man or States it behooves you in this extremity to conquer — as your devotion to the gods and your concord among your- selves encourage you to hope — or to bear all things but slavery. Other nations may bend to servitude ; the birthright and the dis- tinction of the people of Rome is liberty. Cicero. CXLIX. EXTRACT FROM DEMOSTBENES. "V7"ES, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers I of your own ruin. Lives there a man who has confidence |a enough to deny it ? Let him arise, and assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip. " But," . you reply, " what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater STANDARD SELECTIONS. 201 appearance of prosperity ? a greater face of plenty ? Ts not the city enlarged? Are not the streets better paved, houses re- paired and beautified ? " Away with such trifles ! Shall I be paid with counters ? An old square new vamped up ! a fountain ! an aqueduct ! are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magistrate under whose ministry you boast these pre- cious improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised all at once from dirt to opulence ; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honors. Have not some of these upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the most sumptuous of our public palaces ? And how have their fortunes and their power in- creased, but as the commonwealth has been ruined and impover- ished ? To what are we to impute these disorders, and to what cause assign the decay of a State so powerful and flourishing in past times ? The reason is plain. The servant is now become the master. The magistrate, was then subservient to the people : all honors, dignities, and preferments, were disposed by the voice and favor of the people ; but the magistrate, now, has usurped the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary authority over his ancient and natural lord. You, miserable people ! the mean- while, without money, without friends, — from being the ruler, are become the servant ; from being the master, the dependent : happy that these governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your own power, are so good and so gracious as to con- tinue your poor allowance to see plays. Believe me, Athenians, if, recovering from this lethargy, you woidd assume the ancient spirit and freedom of your fathers — if you would be your own soldiers and own commanders, confid- ing no longer your affairs in foreign or mercenary hands — if you would charge yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for the public, what you w r aste in unprofitable pleasures at home, — the world might once more behold you making a figure worthy of Athenians. " You would have us, then, (you say,) do service in our armies in our own persons ; and, for so doing, you would have the pensions we receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. Is it thus we are to understand you ? " Yes, Athenians, 't is my plain meaning. I would make it a standing rule, that no person, great or little, should be the 202 THE UNION SPEAKER. better for the public money, who would grudge to employ it for the public service. Are we in peace ? the public is charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or under a necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war ? let your gratitude oblige you to accept, as pay in defence of your benefactors, what you receive, in peace, as mere bounty. Thus, without any innovation — without altering or abolishing anything but pernicious novelties, introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness — by converting only for the future, the same funds, for the use of the serviceable, which are spent, at present, upon the unprofitable, you may be well served in your armies — your troops regularly paid — justice duly administered — the public revenues reformed and increased — and every member of the commonwealth ren- dered useful to his country according to his age and ability, with- out any further burden to the State. This, O men of Athens, is what my duty prompted me to represent to you upon this occasion. — May the gods inspire, you to determine upon such measures, as may be most expedient, for the particular and general good of our country ! CL. EXTRACT FROM DEMOSTHENES ON TEE CROWN. A THENS never was once known to live in a slavish, though -*^~ a secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary power. No ; our whole history is one series of noble contests for preeminence; the whole period of our existence hath been spent in braving dangers, for the sake of glory and renown. And so highly do you esteem such conduct, so consonant to the Athenian charac- ter, that those of your ancestors who were most distinguished in the pursuit of it, are ever the most favorite objects of your praise — and with reason. For who can reflect without aston- ishment upon the magnanimity of those men, who resigned their lands, gave up their city and embarked in their ships, to avoid the odious state of subjection? — who chose Themistocles, the adviser of this conduct, to command their forces ; and, when Cyrsilus proposed that they should yield to the terms prescribed, stoned him to death ? Nay, the public indignation was not yet STANDARD SELECTIONS. 203 allayed. Your very wives inflicted the same vengeance on his wife. For the Athenians of that clay looked out for no speaker, no general to procure them a state of prosperous slavery. They had the spirit to reject even life, unless they were allowed to enjoy that life in freedom. Should I then attempt to assert that it was I who inspired you with sentiments worthy of your an- cestors, 1 should meet the just resentment of every hearer. No ; it is my point to show, that such sentiments are properly your own — that they were the sentiments of my country, long before my days. I claim but my share of merit, in having acted on such principles, in every part of my administration. He, then, who condemns every part of my administration, he who directs you to treat me with severity, as one who hath involved the State in terrors and dangers, while he labors to deprive me of present honor, robs you of the applause of all posterity. For, if you now pronounce, that, as my public conduct hath not been right, Ctesiphon must stand condemned, it must be thought that you yourselves have acted wrong, not that you owe your present state to the caprice of fortune. But it cannot be ! No, my countrymen ! it cannot be you have acted wrong, in encountering danger bravely, for the liberty and the safety of all Greece. No ! by those generous souls of ancient times, w T ho were exposed at Marathon ! By those who stood arrayed at Platasa ! By those who encountered the Persian fleet at Salamis ! Who fought at Artemisium ! No ! by all those illustrious sons of Athens, whose remains lie deposited in the public monuments. CLI. QUEEN ELIZABETH. rpHE reign of Queen Elizabeth may be considered as the opening of the modern history of England, especially in its connection with the modern system of Europe, which began about that time to assume the form that it preserved till the French Revolution. It was a very memorable period, of which the maxims ought to be engraven on the head and heart of every Englishman. Philip the Second, at the head of the greatest em- pire then in the world, openly was aiming at universal domination. 204 THE UNION SPEAKER. To the most extensive and opulent dominions, the most numer- ous and disciplined armies, the most renowned captains, the greatest revenue, he added also the most formidable power over opinion. Elizabeth was among the first objects of his hostility. That wise and magnanimous princess placed herself in the front of the battle for the liberties of Europe. Though she had to contend at home with his fanatical faction, which almost occupied Ireland, which divided Scotland, and was not of con- temptible strength in England, she aided the oppressed inhabi- tants of the Netherlands in their just and glorious resistance to his tyranny ; she aided Henry the Great in suppressing the abominable rebellion which anarchical principles had excited and Spanish arms had supported in France, and after a long reign of various fortune, in which she preserved her unconquered spirit through great calamities and still greater dangers, she at length broke the strength of the enemy, and reduced his power within such limits as to be compatible with the safety of England and of all Europe. Her great heart inspired her with a higher and a nobler wisdom — which disdained to appeal to the low and sor- did passions of her people even for the protection of their low and sordid interests, because she knew, or, rather, she felt that there are effeminate, creeping, cowardly, short-sighted passions, which shrink from conflict, even in defence of their own mean objects. In a righteous cause she roused those generous affec- tions of her people, which alone teach boldness, constancy, and foresight, and which are therefore the only safe guardians of the lowest as well as the highest interests of a nation. In her mem- orable address to the army, when the invasion of her kingdom was threatened by Spain, this woman of heroic spirit disdained to speak to them of their ease and their commerce, and their wealth and their safety. No ! She touched another chord — she spoke of their national honor, of their dignity as Englishmen, of " the foul scorn that Parma or Spain should dare to invade the borders of her realms." She breathed into them those grand and powerful sentiments, which exalt vulgar men into heroes, which led them into the battle of their country, armed with holy and irresistible enthusiasm ; which ever cover with their shield all the ignoble interests that base calculation, and cowardly self- ishness tremble to hazard, but shrink from defending. J. Mackintosh. STANDARD SELECTIONS. * 205 CLII. THE FREE PRESS. f~^ ENTLEMEN, there is one point of view in which this ^-^ case seems to merit your most serious attention. The real prosecutor is the master of the greatest empire the world ever saw ; the defendant is a defenceless, proscribed exile. I consider this case, therefore, as the first of a long series of conflicts be- tween the greatest power in the world and the only Free Press remaining in Europe. Gentlemen, this distinction of the Eng- lish Press is new — it is a proud and melancholy distinction. Before the great earthquake of the French Revolution had swal- lowed up all the asylums of free discussion on the Continent, we enjoyed that privilege, indeed, more fully than others ; but we did not enjoy it exclusively. It existed, in fact, where it was not protected by law ; and the wise and generous connivance of gov- ernments was daily more and more secured by the growing civil- ization of their subjects. In Holland, in Switzerland, in the im- perial towns of Germany, the press was either legally or practi- cally free. Holland and Switzerland are no more ; and, since the commencement of this prosecution, fifty imperial towns have been erased from the list of independent States by one dash of the pen. Three or four still preserve a precarious and trembling existence. I will not say by what compliances they must pur- chase its continuance. I will not insult the feebleness of States, whose unmerited fall I do most bitterly deplore. One asylum of free discussion is still inviolate. There is still one spot in Europe where man can fully exercise his reason on the most important concerns of society, where he can boldly pub- lish his judgment on the acts of the proudest and most powerful tyrants. The Press of England is still free. It is guarded by the free Constitution of our forefathers. It is guarded by the hearts and arms of Englishmen ; and, I trust I may venture to say that if it be to fall, it will fall only under the ruins of the British Empire. It is an awful consideration, gentlemen. Every other monument of European liberty has perished. That ancient fabric which has been gradually raided by the wisdom and vir- tues of our fathers still stands. It stands, thanks be to God ! solid and entire — but it stands alone, and it stands amid ruins. Believing, then, as I do, that we are on the eve of a great strug- 206 THE UNION SPEAKER. gle — that this is only the first of a long series of conflicts be- tween reason and power — that you have now in your hands committed to your trust, the protection of the only Free Press remaining in Europe, now confined to this kingdom ; and ad- dressing you therefore as the guardians of the most important interests of mankind — convinced that the unfettered exercise of reason depends more on your present verdict than on any other that was ever delivered by a jury, — I trust I may rely with confidence on the issue — I trust that you will consider your- selves as the advanced guard of Liberty — as having this day to fight the first battle of free discussion against the most formid- able enemy that it ever encountered ! j. Mackintosh. cxm. THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. HHHE liberty of the press, on general subjects, comprehends •*■ and implies as much strict observance of positive law as is consistent with perfect purity of intention, and equal and useful society. What that latitude is, cannot be promulgated in the abstract, but must be judged in the particular instance, and con- sequently, upon this occasion, must be judged of by you, without forming any possible precedent for any other case. If, gentlemen, you are firmly persuaded of the singleness and purity of the author's intentions, you are not bound to subject him to infamy, because in the zealous career of a just and ani- mated composition, he happens to have tripped with his pen into an intemperate expression in one or two instances of a long work. If this severe duty were binding on your conscience, the liberty of the press would be an empty sound, and no man could venture to write on any subject, however pure his purpose, with- out an attorney at one elbow and a counsel at the other. From minds thus subdued by the terrors of punishment, there could issue no works of genius to expand the empire of human reason, nor any masterly compositions on the general nature of government, by the help of which the great commonwealths of mankind have founded their establishments ; much less any of those useful applications of them to critical conjunctures, by which, from time to time, our own Constitution, by the exertion of patriot citizens, has been brought back to its standard. Under STANDARD SELECTIONS. 207 such terrors, all the great lights of science and civilization must be extinguished ; for men cannot communicate their free thoughts to one another with a lash held over their heads. It is the nature of everything that is great and useful, both in the ani- mate and inanimate world, to be wild and irregular, and we must be contented to take them with the alloys which belong to them, or live without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criti- cism, but its wanderings are sanctioned by its majesty and wis- dom when it advances in its path : subject it to the critic, and you tame it into dulness. Mighty rivers break down their banks in the winter, sweeping away to death the flocks which are fat- tened on the soil that they fertilize in the summer : the few may be saved by embankments from drowning, but the flock must perish for hunger. Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings and dissipate our commerce ; but they scourge before them the lazy elements, which without them would stagnate into pestilence. In like manner, Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is : you inight pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape her into a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law, but she would then be Liberty no longer ; and you must be content to die under the lash of this inexorable justice which you had exchanged for the banners of Freedom. Lord ErsUne. CLTV. BRITISH TYRANNY IN INDIA. I" AM driven in the defence of my client, to remark, that it is mad and preposterous to bring to the standard of justice and humanity the exercise of a dominion founded upon violence and terror. It may and must be true that Mr. Hastings has repeat- edly offended against the rights and privileges of Asiatic govern- ment, if he was the faithful deputy of a power which could not maintain itself for an hour without trampling upon both. He may and must have offended against the laws of God and nature, if he was the faithful viceroy of an empire wrested in blood from the people to whom God and nature had given it. He may and must have preserved that unjust dominion over timorous and abject nations by a terrifying, overbearing, insulting superiority, if he was the faithful administrator of your government, which, 208 THE UNION SPEAKER. having no root in consent or affection — no foundation in simil- arity of interests — no support from any one principle which cements men together in society, could only be upheld by alter- nate stratagem and force. The unhappy people of India, feeble and effeminate as they are from the softness of their climate, and subdued and broken as they have been by the knavery and strength of civilization, still occasionally start up in all the vigor and intelligence of insulted nature. To be governed at all, they must be governed with a rod of iron ; and our empire in the East would, long since, have been lost to Great Britain, if civil skill and military prowess had not united their efforts to support an authority — which Heaven never gave — by means which it never can sanction. Gentlemen, I think I can observe that you are touched with this way of considering the subject, and I can account for it. I have not been considering it through the cold medium of hooks, but have been speaking of man and his nature, and of human dominion, from what I have seen of them myself among reluc- tant nations submitting to our authority. I know what they feel, and how such feelings can alone be repressed. I have heard them in my youth from a naked savage, in the indignant charac- ter of a prince surrounded by his subjects, addressing the Gov- ernor of a British colony, holding a bundle of sticks in his hand, as the notes of his unlettered eloquence. " Who is it," said the jealous ruler over the desert, encroached upon by the restless foot of English adventure — " who is it that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, and to empty itself into the ocean ? Who is it that causes to blow the loud winds of winter, and that calms them again in summer ? Who is it that rears up the shade of those lofty forests, and blasts them with the quick lightning at his pleasure ? The same Being who gave to you a country on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us ; and by this title we will defend it," said the warrior, throwing down his tomahawk upon the ground, and raising the war-sound of his nation. These are the feelings of subjugated man all round the globe; and depend upon it, nothing but fear will control where it is vain to look for affection. If England, from a lust of ambition and dominion, will insist on maintaining despotic rule over distant and hostile nations, beyond all comparison more numerous and extended than herself, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 209 and gives commission to her viceroys to govern them with no other instructions than to preserve them, and to secure perma- nently their revenues, with what color of consistency or reason can she place herself in the moral chair, and affect to be shocked at the execution of her own orders : adverting to the exact measure of wickedness and injustice necessary to their execution, and, complaining only of the excess as the immorality, considering her authority as a dispensation for breaking the commands of God, and the breach of them as only punishable when contrary to the ordinances of man ? Such a proceeding, gentlemen, begets serious reflection. It would be better, perhaps, for the masters and the servants of all such governments to join in sup- plication, that the great Author of violated humanity may not confound them together in one common judgment. LwdErakine. CLV. DECLARATION OF EIGHT. f" MIGHT, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand my liberty. I do call upon you by the laws of the land, and their violation ; by the instructions of eighteen counties ; by the arms, inspiration, and providence of the present moment — tell us the rule by which we shall go ; assert the law of Ireland ; declare the liberty of the land ! I will not be answered by a public lie, in the shape of an amendment; nor, speaking for the subjects' freedom, am I to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be to break your chain and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the Brit- ish chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked, — he shall not be in irons. And I do see the time at hand ; the spirit is gone forth ; the Declaration of Right is planted ; and though great men should fall off, yet the cause shall live ; and though he who utters this should die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the humble organ who conveys it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but survive him. H. Grattan. 14 210 THE UNION SPEAKER. CLVL POLITICS AND RELIGION. rriHAT religion has, in fact, nothing to do with the politics of many who profess it, is a melancholy truth. But that it has of right, no concern with political transactions, is quite a new discovery. If such opinions, however, prevail, there is no longer any mystery in the character of those whose conduct in political matters violates every precept and slanders every principle of the religion of Christ. But what is politics ? Is it not the science and the exercise of civil rights and civil duties ? And what is religion ? Is it not an obligation to the service of God, founded on his authority, and extending to all our relations, personal and social ? Yet religion has nothing to do with politics ! Where did you learn this maxim ? The Bible is full of directions for your behavior as citizens. It is plain, pointed, awful in its in- junctions on ruler and ruled as such : yet religion has nothing to do with politics I You are commanded " in all your ways to ac- knowledge HimP In everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, to let your requests be made known unto God.'* " And WHATSOEVER YE DO, IN WORD OR DEED, to do ALL IN the name of the Lord Jesus." Yet religion has nothing to do with politics ! Most astonishing ! And is there any part of your conduct in which you are, or wish to be, without law to God f and not under the law of Jesus Christ ? Can you persuade your- selves that political men and measures are to undergo no review in the judgment to come ? That all the passion and violence, the fraud and falsehood and corruption, which pervade the sys- tem of party, and burst out like a flood at the public elections, are to be blotted from the catalogue of unchristian deeds, because they are politics ? Or that a minister of the gospel may see his people, in their political career, bid defiance to their God in breaking through every moral restraint, and keep a guiltless silence, because religion has nothing to do with politics ? I for- bear to press the argument farther ; observing only that many of our difficulties and sins may be traced to this pernicious notion. Yes, if our religion had had more to do with our politics ; if, in the pride of our citizenship, we had not forgotten our Christian- ity ; if we had prayed more and wrangled less about the affairs of our country, it would have been infinitely better for us at this day. J. M. Mason. STANDARD SELECTIONS. POETEY. CLvn. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. i^V SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light, ^-^ What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming — Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming ! And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ; O say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ! Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream : 'T is the Star-Spangled Banner ! — O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! And where are the foes who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, A home and a country should leave us no more ? Their blood hath washed out their foul footsteps' pollution ! No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave ; And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 212 THE UNION SPEAKER. O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation ! Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a Nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, — " In God is our trust ; " And the Star- Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! F. S. Key. » CLvin. ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. TTIGHER, higher, will we climb, ■*"*■ Up the mount of glory, That our names may live through time In our country's story ; Happy, when her welfare calls, He who conquers, he who falls. Deeper, deeper, let us toil, In the mines of knowledge ; Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil, Win from school and college ; Delve we then for richer gems Than the stars of diadems. Onward, onward, may we press Through the path of duty ; Virtue is true happiness, Excellence true beauty. Minds are of celestial birth ; Make we then a heaven of earth. Closer, closer, let us knit Hearts and hands together, Where our fireside comforts sit, In the wildest weather ; ! they wander wide who roam For the joys of life from home ! j. Montgomery. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 213 CLIX. THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME. rpHERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons imparadise the night ; A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime, the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar gracej The heritage of Nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While, in his softened looks, benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ! In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found ? Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ; O ! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! J. Montgomery. 214 THE UNION SPEAKER. OLX. THE BELLS. TT EAR the sledges with the bells — -"- Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that over sprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From' the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells — Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight ! From the molten-golden notes, All in time, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! O, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells, How it dwells On the future ! how it tells Of rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, beUs, beUs, bells, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 215 Bells, bells, bells — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! Hear the loud alarum bells — Brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of time, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, Now — now to sit, or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. O, the bells, bells, bells ! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair ! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air ! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging And the clanging, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — Of the bells — . Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! Hear the tolling of the bells — Iron bells ! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright 216 THE UNION SPEAKER. At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats, Is a groan. And the people ■ — ah, the people — They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman — They are neither brute nor human — They are Ghouls ; And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells with the paean of the bells ! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells — Of the beUs : Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells — To the sobbing of the bells ; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells ; To the tolling of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells, bells ; Bells, bells, bells — To the moaning and the groaning of the bells ! E. A. Poe. o STANDARD SELECTIONS. 217 CLXI. THE RAVEN. NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " 'T is some visitor," I muttered, " tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more." Ah ! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow ; — vainly I had sought to borrow, From my books, surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore — Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door ; — This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, " Sir," said I, " or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you " — here I opened wide the door ; — Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ; But the silence was unbroken and the darkness gave no token, 218 THE UNION SPEAKER. And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, " Lenore ! " This / whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, « Lenore ! " Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. " Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my window lattice ; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore ; — 'T is the wind, and nothing more ! " Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore : Not the least obeisance made he ; not an instant stopped or stayed he ; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, — Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door, — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore ! " Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore ; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door — With such a name as " Nevermore." STANDARD SELECTIONS. 219 But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word,- as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered — Till I scarcely more than muttered, " Other friends have flown before — On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, " Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, " Doubtless," said I, u what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast, and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore — Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore Of ' Nevermore ' — ' Nevermore.' " But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, and door ; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking, " Nevermore." Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer, Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. " Wretch," I cried, u thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 220 THE UNION SPEAKER. " Prophet," said I, " thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aiden, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." " Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked, upstarting — " Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust above my door ! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door ! " Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light, o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on the floor ; And my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floor — Shall be lifted — nevermore ! e. A. Poe. CLxn. SPIRIT OF PATRIOTISM. "OREATHES there a man with soul so dead, -^ Who never to himself hath said, — " This is my own, — my native land ! " Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well, — For him, — no minstrel raptures swell ! STANDARD SELECTIONS. 221 High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung ! sir W. Scott. CLxni. LOCHINVAR. f~\ YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the West ! ^-^ Through all the wide Border his steed is the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapon had none ; — He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar 1 He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone ; He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; — But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented — the gallant came late ; For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar ! So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all. Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword — For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word — " come ye in peace here, or come ye in war ? — Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ? " " I long wooed your daughter ; — my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ! And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure — drink one cup of wine. There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar ! " 222 THE UNION SPEAKER. The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up — He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup ! She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, — With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar ; — " Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace ! While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'T were better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar ! " One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear — When they reached the hall door, where the charger stood near ; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! — " She is won ! — we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; They '11 have fleet steeds that follow ! " cried young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; Fosters, Fen wicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie lea ! But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see ! — So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ! Sir W. Scott. CLXIV. MARMION TAKING LEAVE OF DOUGLAS. rpHE train from out the castle drew ; -*- But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — " Though something I might plain," he said, " Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in.Tantallon's towers I stayed, — Part we in friendship from your land, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 223 And, noble earl, receive my hand." But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — " My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation-stone ; — The hand of Douglas is his own ; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp ! " Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire, And — " This to me ! " he said, — " An 't were not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, He w T ho does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate ! And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, E'en in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near — (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword,) I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! And if thou said'st I am not a peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " On the earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age : Fierce he broke forth : " And darest thou, then, To beard the lion in his den, — The Douglas in his hall ? And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! — 224 THE UNION SPEAKER. Up drawbridge, grooms ! — what, warder, ho ! Let the portcullis fall." Lord Mar m ion turned, — well was his need, — And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung; The ponderous gate behind him rung : To pass, there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. The steed along the drawbridge flies, Just as it trembled on the rise ; Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim : And when Lord Marmion reached his band, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, A shout of loud defiance pours, And shakes his gauntlet at the towers ! sir W. Scott. CLXV. HIGHLAND WAR-SONG. T>IBROCH of Donuil Dhu, pibroch of Donuil, -*- Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan Conuil. Come away, come away, hark to the summons ! Come in your war-array, gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and from mountain so rocky ; The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlocky. Come every hill-plaid, and true heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and strong hand that bears one. Leave untended the herd, the flock without shelter ; Leave the corpse uninterred, the bride at the altar ; Leave the deer, leave the steer, leave nets and barges : Come with your fighting gear, broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when navies are stranded : STANDARD SELECTIONS. 225 Faster come, faster come, faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; see how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume, blendecl with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, forward each man set ! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, knell for the onset ! sir W. Scott. CLXVL DAVWS LAMENT FOR ABSALOM. THE king stood still Till the last echo died ; then, throwing off The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back The pall from the still features of his child, He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth In the resistless eloquence of woe : — " Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom ! " Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee ! How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill. Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet * My father ! ' from those dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! " But death is on thee ; I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young ; And life will pass me in the mantling blush, And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; — But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom ! 15 226 THE UNION SPEAKER. "And oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token I It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, To see thee. Absalom ! " And now, farewell ! 'T is hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! — And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, IVIy lost boy, Absalom ! " " He covered up his face, and bowed himself A moment on his child ; then, giving him A look of melting tenderness, he clasped His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; And, as if strength were given him of God, He rose up calmly, and composed the pall Firmly and decently — and left him there, As if his rest had been a breathing sleep, n. P. WiUis. I CLXV1I. "LOOK NOT UPON THE WINE." T" OOK not upon the wine when it "^ Is red within the cup ! Stay not for pleasure when she fills Her tempting beaker up ! Though clear its depths*, and rich its glow, A spell of madness lurks below. They say 't is pleasant on the lip, And merry on the brain ; They say it stirs the sluggish blood, And dulls the tooth of pain. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 227 Ay — but within its glowing deeps A stinging serpent, unseen, sleeps. Its rosy lights will turn to fire, Its coolness change to thirst ; And, by its mirth, within the brain A sleepless worm is nursed. There 's not a bubble at the brim That does not carry food for him. Then dash the brimming cup aside, And spill its purple wine ; Take not its madness to thy lip — Let not its curse be thine. 'T is red and rich — but grief and woe Are in those rosy depths below. jy. p. wiUis. CLXvin. TEE LEPER. D AY was breaking, When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof, Like an articulate wail ; and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. The echoes of the melancholy strain Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off His costly raiment for the leper's garb, And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still, .Waiting to hear his doom : — " Depart ! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God ! For He has smote thee with His chastening rod, THE UNION SPEAKER. And to the desert-wild, From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague His people may be free. " Depart ! and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more ; Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er. And stay thou not to hear Voices that call thee in the way ; and fly From all who in the wilderness pass by. " Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide ; Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide ; Nor kneel thee down to dip The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, By desert well, or river's grassy brink. " And pass not thou between The weary traveller and the cooling breeze ; And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen ; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. " And now depart ! and when Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him, Who, from the tribes of men, Selected thee to feel His chastening rod — Depart ! leper ! and forget not God ! " And he went forth — alone ! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, Sick and heart-broken, and alone — to die ! For God had cursed the leper ! STANDARD SELECTIONS. J It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched The loathsome water to his fevered lips, Praying he might be so blest — to die ! Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip, Crying, " Unclean ! — unclean ! " and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the Stranger came, and bending o'er The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name — " Helon ! " The voice was like the master-tone Of a rich instrument — most strangely sweet ; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. " Helon arise ! " And he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him. Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, As he beheld the Stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow The symbol of a lofty lineage wore ; No followers at His back, nor in His hand Buckler, or sword, or spear — yet in His mien Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, A kingly condescension graced His lips, The lion would have crouched to in his lair. His garb was simple, and His sandals worn ; His statue modelled with a perfect grace ; His countenance, the impress of a God, Touched with the open innocence of a child ; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon ; His hair, unshorn, Fell to His shoulders ; and His curling beard The fulness of perfected manhood bore. 230 THE UNION SPEAKER. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, As if His heart was moved ; and stooping down, He took a little water in His hand And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean ! " And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him. N. P. Willis. CLXIX. PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. rriHE golden light into the painter's room Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole From the dark pictures radiantly forth, And in the soft and dewy atmosphere, Like forms and landscapes magical they lay. Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus — The vulture at his vitals, and the links Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh ; And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth With its far-reaching fancy, and with form And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip Were like the winged god's, breathing from his flight. " Bring me the captive, now ! My hand feels skilful, and the shadows lift From my waked spirit airily and swift, And I could paint the bow Upon the bended heavens — around me play Colors of such divinity to-day. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 231 " Ha ! bind him on his back ! Look ! — as Prometheus in my picture here ! Quick ! — or he faints ! — stand with the cordial near ! Now — bend him on the rack ! Press down the poisoned links into his flesh ! And tear agape that healing wound afresh ! " So, — let him writhe ! How long Will he live thus ? Quick, my good pencil, now ! What a fine agony works upon his brow ! Ha ! gray-haired and so strong ! How fearfully he stifles that short moan ! Gods ! if I could but paint a dying groan ! "'Pity' thee! Soldo! I pity the dumb victim at the altar — But does the robed priest for his pity falter ? I 'd rack thee, though I knew A thousand lives were perishing in thine — What were ten thousand to a fame like mine ? " But, there 's a deathless name ! A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, And, like a steadfast planet, mount and burn — And though its crown of flame Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone — By all the fiery stars ! I 'd bind it on ! " Ay — though it bid me rifle My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst — Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first — Though it should bid me stifle The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, And taunt its mother till my brain went wild — " All — I would do it all — Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot — Thrust foully into earth to be forgot ! O heavens ! — but I appall 282 THE UNION SPEAKER. Your heart, old man ! — forgive — ha ! on your lives Let him not faint ! — rack him till he revives ! " Vain — vain — give o'er. His eye Glazes apace. He does not feel you now — Stand back ! I '11 paint the death-dew on his brow ! Gods ! if he do not die, But for one moment — one — till I eclipse Conception with the scorn of those calm lips ! " Shivering ! Hark ! he mutters Brokenly now — that was a difficult breath — Another ? Wilt thou never come, O Death ? Look ! how his temple flutters ! Is his heart still ? Aha ! lift up his head ! He shudders — gasps — Jove help him — so — he 's dead." How like a mounting devil in the heart Rules the unreined ambition ! Let it once But play the monarch, and its haughty brow Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, And unthrones peace forever. Putting on The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns The heart to ashes, and with not a spring Left in the bosom for the spirit's life, We look upon our splendor, and forget The thirst of which we perish ! Oh, if earth be all, and heaven nothing, What thrice mocked fools are we ! n. P. Willis. CLXX. CASABIANCA. rpHE boy stood on the burning deck -^ Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 233 The flames rolled on. He would not go Without his father's word ; That father faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He called aloud : " Say, father, say If yet my task is done ! " He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. " Speak, father ! " once again he cried, " If I may yet be gone ! " And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair ; And shouted but once more aloud, " My father ! must I stay ? " While o'er him fast through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky. Then came a burst of thunder sound — The boy — oh ! where was he ! Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea, With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part ; But the noblest thing that perished there Was that young faithful heart ! Mrs. Eemans. 234 THE UNION SPEAKER. CLXXI. * THE BENDED BOW. T^HERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, There was sent through Britain a bended bow ; And a voice was poured on the free winds far, As the land rose up at the sound of war : Heard ye not the battle horn ? Reaper ! leave thy golden corn ! Leave it for the birds of heaven ; Swords must flash, and spears be riven : Leave it for the winds to shed, — Arm ! ere Britain's turf grows red ! And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son ; And the bended bow and the voice passed on. Hunter ! leave the mountain chase ! Take the falchion from its place ! Let the wolf go free to-day ; Leave him for a nobler prey ! Let the deer ungalled sweep by, — Arm thee ! Britain's foes are nigh ! And the hunter armed, ere the chase was done ; And the bended bow and the voice passed on. Chieftain ! quit the joyous feast ! Stay not till the song hath ceased : Though the mead be foaming bright, Though the fire gives ruddy light, Leave the hearth and leave the hall, — Arm thee ! Britain's foes must fall ! And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown ; And the bended bow and the voice passed on. Prince ! thy father's deeds are told In the bower and in the hold, Where the goatherd's lay is sung, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 235 Where the minstrel's harp is strung ! Foes are on thy native sea, — Give our bards a tale of thee ! And the prince came armed, like a leader's son ; And the bended bow and the voice passed on. Mother ! stay thou not thy boy ! He must learn the battle's joy. Sister ! bring the sword and spear, Give thy brother words of cheer ! Maiden ! bid thy lover part ; Britain calls the strong in heart ! And the bended bow and the voice passed on ; And the bards made song of a battle won. Mrs. Eemans. clxxh. TEE BETTER LAND. 66 T HEAR thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band ; Mother ! O where is that radiant shore ? — Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? — Is it where the flower of the orange blows, Ajid the fire-flies glance thro' the myrtle boughs ? " — " Not there, not there, my child ! " " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds, on starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? " — " Not there, not there, my child ! " " Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 236 THE UNION SPEAKER. And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ? " Is it there, sweet mother ! that better land ? " — " Not there, not there, my child ! " " Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair — Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, — It is there, it is there, my child." Mrs. Hemans. CLxxm. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. fMHE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, . And the woods against a'stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of Exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame ; * Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; — They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea ! STANDARD SELECTIONS. 237 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared ; — This was their welcome home ! There were men with hoary hair Amidst that Pilgrim band ; Why have they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus, afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod ! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Mrs. Eemam. CLXxrv. BERNARDO DEL CARPI 0. HHHE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; — " I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! — O ! break my father's chain ! " 238 THE UNION SPEAKER. — " Rise, rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day! Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his way." Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. And lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, With one that 'midst them stately rode, as leader in the land : " Now haste, Bernardo, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and went ; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dis- mounting, bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took — What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? That hand was cold — a frozen thing — it dropped from his like lead! He looked up to the face above, — the face was of the dead ! A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and white : He met, at last, his father's eyes, — but in them was no light ! Up from the ground he sprang and gazed, — but who could paint that gaze ? They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze ; — They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. " Father ! " at length he murmured low, and wept like child- hood then : Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! He thought on all his hopes, and all his young renown, — He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 239 Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, — u No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword for, now ; My king is false, — my hope betrayed ! My father — O ! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth ! " I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet! I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ; — for thee my fields were won ; And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son ! " Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the mon- arch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ; And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face — the king before the dead : — " Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? — Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this ? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, where are they ? If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay ! " Into these glassy eyes put light ; — be still ! keep down thine ire ! — Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my sire : Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed ! — Thou canst not ? — and a king ! — his dust be mountains on thy head." 240 THE UNION SPEAKER. He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell ; — upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place : His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : — His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. Mrs. Hemans. ♦ CLXXV. BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO. "\T^ITH some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appeared, Before them all in the palace hall, The lying king to beard ; "With cap in hand and eye on ground, He came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frowned, And flame broke from his eyes. " A curse upon thee," cries the king, " Who com'st unbid to me ! But what from traitor's blood should spring, Save traitor like to thee ? His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart, — Perchance our champion brave May think it were a pious part To share Don Sancho's grave." — " Whoever told this tale, The king hath rashness to repeat," Cries Bernard, " here my gage I fling Before the liar's feet ! No treason was in Sancho's blood — No stain in mine doth lie : Below the throne what knight will own The coward calumny ? " The blood that I like water shed, When Roland did advance, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 241 By secret traitors hired and led, To make us slaves of France ; The life of king Alphonso I saved at Roncesval — Your words, Lord King, are recompense Abundant for it all. " Your horse was down — your hope was flown — I saw the falchion shine That soon had drunk your royal blood, Had I not ventured mine ; But memory soon of service done Deserteth the ingrate ; You 've thanked the son for life and crown By the father's bloody fate. " Ye swore upon your kingly faith To set Don Sancho free ; But, curse upon your paltering breath ! The light he ne'er did see ; He died in dungeon cold and dim, By Alphonso's base decree ; And visage blind and stiffened limb, Were all they gave to me. " The king that swerveth from his word, Hath stained his purple black ; No Spanish lord will draw his sword Behind a liar's back ; But noble vengeance shall be mine, And open hate I '11 show — The king hath injured Carpio's line, And Bernard is his foe ! " — " Seize, seize him ! " loud the King doth scream ; " There are a thousand here ! Let his foul blood this instant stream ; — What ! caitiffs, do ye fear ? Seize, seize the traitor ! " — But not one 16 242 THE UNION SPEAKER. To move a finger dareth ; Bernardo standeth by the throne, And calm his sword he bareth. He drew the falchion from the sheath, And held it up on high ; And all the hall was still as death ; — Cries Bernard, " Here am I — And here 's the sword that owns no lord, Excepting Heaven and me ; Fain would I know who dares its point, — King, Conde, or Grandee." Then to his mouth his horn he drew — It hung below his cloak — His ten true men the signal knew, And through the ring they broke ; "With helm on head, and blade in hand, The knights the circle break, And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, And the false king to quake. " Ha ! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, " What means this warlike guise ? Ye know full well I jested — Ye know your worth I prize ! " But Bernard turned upon his heel, And, smiling, passed away : — Long rued Alphonso and his realm The jesting of that day ! J. G. LocHiart. CLXXVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. /^VNE more unfortunate, ^^ Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! STANDARD SELECTIONS. 243 Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair ! Look at her garments Clinging like cerements ; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing : Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully ; Think of her mournfully, Gentle and humanly ; Not of the stains of her — All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful : Past all dishonor, Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; "While wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer ono Yet, than all other ? 244 THE UNION SPEAKER. , Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful Near a whole city full Home she had none ! Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly Feelings had changed : Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence ; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. When the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood with amazement Houseless by night. The bleak winds of March Made her tremble and shiver ; But not the dark arch, Of the black flowing river. Mad from life's history Glad to death's mystery Swift to be hurled — Anywhere, anywhere, Out of the world — In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran. Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care j STANDARD SELECTIONS. 245 Fashioned so slenderly Young, and" so fair ! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, kindly, Smooth, and compose them ; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly ! .Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity, Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest. — Cross her hands humbly As if praying dumbly, Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behavior, And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour ! t. Hood. I clxxvh. SONG OF THE SHIRT. ^^ITH fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, I 246 THE UNION SPEAKER. And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the " Song of the Shirt." " Work ! work ! work ! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work, — work, — work, Till the stars shine through the roof! It 's, oh ! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work ! " Work, — work, — work ! Till the brain begins to swim, Work, — work, — work, Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream I " Oh ! men, with sisters dear ! Oh ! men with mothers and wives ! It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch, — stitch, — stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt. " But why do I talk of death, That Phantom of grizzly bone ? I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own ; It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep ; Oh, God ! -that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! STANDARD SELECTIONS. 247 " Work, — work, — work ! My labor never rings ; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, A crust of bread, — and rags. — That shattered roof, — and this naked floor, — A table, — a broken chair, — And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there ! " Work, — work, — work ! From weary chime to chime ! Work, — work, — work, As prisoners work for crime ! Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand. " Work, — w r ork, — work, In the dull December light, And work, — work, — work, When the weather is warm and bright ; While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, And twit me with the Spring. " Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet,— With the sky above my head And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel Before I knew the woes of want, And the walk that costs a meal ! " Oh ! for but one short hour, A respite, however brief! No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, 248 THE UNION SPEAKER. But only time for Grief ! A little weeping would ease my heart ; But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread ! " With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! — stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — ■ Would that its song could reach the rich ! — She sang this " Song of the Shirt." t. Hood. clxxvih. LOOK ALOFT. ■ in the tempest of life, when the waves and the gale Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, " Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. If thy friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow, With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe, Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed, " Look aloft " to the friendship which never shall fade. Should the visions which hope spreads in light to the eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, " Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. Should they who are dearest, — the son of thy heart, The wife of thy bosom, — in sorrow depart, " Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where affection is ever to bloom. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 249 And, oh ! when Death comes in his terror to cast His fears on the future, his pall on the past, In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, And a smile in thine eye, " look aloft," — and depart. J. Lawrence. CLXXIX. press on. "T)RESS on ! there 's no such word as fail ! -*- Press nobly on ! the goal is near, — Ascend the mountain ! breast the gale ! Look upward, onward, — never fear ! Why should'st thou faint ? Heaven smiles above, Though storm and vapor intervene ; That sun shines on, whose name is Love, Serenely o'er Life's shadowed scene. Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch ; He fails alone who feebly creeps ; He wins who dares the hero's march. Be thou a hero ! let thy might Tramp on eternal snows its way, And, through the ebon walls of night Hew down a passage unto day. Press on ! if once and twice thy feet Slip back and stumble, harder try ; From him who never dreads to meet Danger and death, they 're sure to fly. To coward ranks the bullet speeds, While on their breasts, who never quail, Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, Bright courage, like a coat of mail. Press on ! if Fortune play thee false To-day, to-morrow she '11 be true ; Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, Taking old gifts, and granting new. 250 THE UNION SPEAKER. The wisdom of the present hour Makes up for follies past and gone ; — To weakness strength succeeds, and power From frailty springs, — press on ! press on ! Press bravely on ! and reach the goal, And gain the prize, and wear the crown ; Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul Come wealth, and honor, and renown. To thine own self be true, and keep Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap A heavenly harvest for thy toil. p. Benjamin, CLXXX. KINDNESS. rpiHE blessings which the weak and poor can scatter -*- Have their own season. 'T is a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourned 't will fall Like choicest music ; fill the glazing eye With gentle tears ; relax the knotted hand To know the bonds of fellowship again ; And shed on the departing soul a sense More precious than the benison of friends About the honored death-bed of the rich, To him who else were lonely, that another Of the great family is near and feels. Sergeant Talfmrd. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 251 clxxxi. \ nOW 'S MY BOY? TTO, sailor of the sea ! -*■ How 's my boy — my boy ? " What 's your boy's name, good wife, And in what good ship sailed he ? " My boy John — He that went to sea — What care I for the ship, sailor ? My boy 's my boy to me. You come back from sea And not know my John ? I might as well have asked some landsman Yonder down in the town. There 's not an ass in all the parish But he knows my John. How 's my boy — my boy ? And unless you let me know I '11 swear you are no sailor, Blue jacket or no, Brass button or no, sailor, Anchor or crown or no ! Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton — " Speak low, woman, speak low ! " And why should I speak low, sailor ? About my own boy John ? If I was loud as I am proud I 'd sing him over the town ! Why should T speak low, sailor ? — " That good ship went down." How 's my boy — my boy ? What care I for the ship, sailor, I never was aboard her. 252 THE UNION SPEAKER. Be she afloat, or be she aground, Sinking or swimming, I '11 be bound, Her owners can afford her ! I say, how 's my John ? — " Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her." i How 's my boy — my boy ? What care I for the men, sailor ? I 'm not their mother — How 's my boy — my boy ? Tell me of him and no other ! How 's my boy — my boy ? s. Dobell cxxxxn. EXCELSIOR. HHHE shades of night were falling fast, "^ As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, "Excelsior!" His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath ; And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, ] " Excelsior ! " In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright ! Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; And from his lips escaped a groan, " Excelsior ! " " Try not the pass ! " the old man said ; " Dark lowers the tempest overhead. The roaring torrent is deep and wide ! " And loud that clarion voice replied, " Excelsior ! " STANDARD SELECTIONS. 253 * O, stay," the maiden said, " and rest Thy weary head upon this breast ! " — A tear stood in his bright blue eye ; But still he answered with a sigh, " Excelsior ! " " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! Beware the awful avalanche ! " This was the peasant's last good night ; — A voice replied, far up the height, " Excelsior ! " At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered their oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air, " Excelsior ! " A traveller, — by the faithful hound, Half buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device, "Excelsior!" There, in the twilight cold and gray* Lifeless but beautiful he lay ; And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, — " Excelsior ! " E. W. Longfellow. CLXxxm. A PSALM OF LIFE. T I ^ELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. 254 THE UNION SPEAKER. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us further than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting ; And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; — Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. n. w. LongfeUow. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 255 CLXXXIV. TIIE LAUNCHING OF TIIE SHIP. A LL is finished, and at length -^~ Has come the bridal day Of beauty and of strength. To-day the vessel shall be launched ! With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendors dight, The great sun rises to behold the sight. The ocean old, Centuries old, Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, Paces restless to and fro, Up and down the sands of gold. His heating heart is not at rest ; And far and wide With ceaseless flow His beard of snow Heaves with the heaving of his breast He waits impatient for his bride. There she stands, "With her foot upon the sands, Decked with flags and streamers gay, In honor of her marriage-day, Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, Round her like a veil descending, Ready to be The bride of the gray old sea. Then the Master, "With a gesture of command, Waved his hand ; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, 256 THE UNION SPEAKER. All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see ! she stirs ! She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms. And lo ! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, That to the ocean seemed to say, " Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray ; Take her to thy protecting arms, With all her youth and all her charms. ,, How beautiful she is ! how fair She lies within those arms, that press Her form with many a soft caress Of tenderness and watchful care ! Sail forth into the sea, O ship ! Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! The moistened eye, the trembling lip, Are not the signs of doubt or fear. Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife, And safe from all adversity, Upon the bosom of that sea Thy comings and thy goings be ! For gentleness, and love, and trust, Prevail o'er angry wave and gust ; And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives ! Thou, too, sail on, ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity, with all its fears, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 257 With all its hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! "We know what Master laid thy keel, What workman wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge, and what a heat, Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. Fear not each sudden sound and shock ; 'T is of the wave, and not the rock ; 'T is but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale. In spite of rock and tempest roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea. Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee : Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee — are all with thee. H. W. Longfelloiff. CLXXXV. THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. T70RCED from home and all its pleasures, - 1 - Afric's coast I left forlorn ; To increase a stranger's treasures, O'er the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, Paid my price in paltry gold ; But though slave they have enrolled me, Minds are never to be sold. Still in thought as free as £ver, What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever, Me to torture, me to task ? 17 2r>8 THE UNION SPEAKER. Fleecy locks and black complexion Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same. Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, Is there One who reigns on high ? Has He bid you buy and sell us, Speaking from His throne, the sky ? Ask Him, if your knotted scourges, Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means that duty urges Agents of His will to use ? Hark ! He answers, — wild tornadoes, Strewing yonder sea with wrecks, Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, Are the voice with which He speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations Afric's sons should undergo, Fixed their tyrants' habitation Where his whirlwinds answer — No. By our blood in Afric wasted, Ere our necks received the chain ; By the miseries that we tasted, Crossing in your barks the main ; By our sufferings since ye brought us To the man-degrading mart ; All, sustained by patience, taught us Only by a broken heart. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 25 Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the color of our kind. Slaves of gold ! whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted powers, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours. w. Cwcrper. CLXXXVI. LOSS OF TEE ROYAL GEORGE. fT^OLL for the brave ! the brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave, fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, and laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, and she was overset ; Down went the Royal George, with all her crew complete ! Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought — his work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; no tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; she ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, his fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down, with twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, once dreaded by our foes, And mingle with our cup the tear that England owes ! Her timbers yet are sound, and she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, and plow the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, his victories are o'er ; And he and his eight hundred shall plow the waves no more. W. Cowper. CLXXxvn. SLAVERY. o FOR a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, 260 THE UNION SPEAKER. Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more. My ear is pained, My soul is sick, with every day's report Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled. There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; It does not feel for man : the natural bond Of brotherhood is severed as the flax That falls asunder at the touch of fire. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not colored like his own ; and having power To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause, Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. Lands intersected by a narrow frith Abhor each other. Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one. Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; And worse than all, and most to be deplored, As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, And having human feelings, does not blush, And hang his head, to think himself a man ? I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews, bought and sold, has ever earned. No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's Just estimation prized above all price, I had much rather be myself the slave, And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. We have no slaves at home — then why abroad ? And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs STANDARD SELECTIONS. 261 Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall. That 's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, And let it circulate through every vein Of all your empire ; that, where Britain's power Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. w. Cowper. CLXXXvm. THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY. X) LAZE, with your serried columns ! - L ^ I will not bend the knee ! The shackles ne'er again shall bind The arm which now is free. I 've mailed it with the thunder, When the tempest muttered low ; And where it falls, ye well may dread The lightning of its blow ! I 've scared ye in the city, I 've scalped ye on the plain ; Go, count your chosen, where they fell Beneath my leaden rain ! I scom your proffered treaty ! The pale-face I defy ! Revenge is stamped upon my spear, And blood my battle-cry ! Ye 've trailed me through the forest, Ye 've tracked me o'er the stream ; And struggling through the everglade, Your bristling bayonets gleam ; But I stand as should the warrior, With his rifle and his spear ; — The scalp of vengeance still is red, And warns ye, — Come not here ! 262 THE UNION SPEAKER. I loathe ye in my bosom, I scorn ye with my eye, And I '11 taunt ye with my latest breath, And fight ye till I die ! I ne'er will ask ye quarter, And I ne'er will be your slave ; But I '11 swim the sea of slaughter, Till I sink beneath the wave ! g. W. Patten. CLXXXIX. THE THREE BEATS. X> OLL — roll ! — How gladly swell the distant notes From where, on high, yon starry pennon floats ! Roll — roll ! — On, gorgeously they come, With plumes low-stooping, on their winding way, "With lances gleaming in the sun's bright ray : — " What do ye here, my merry comrades, — say ? " — " We beat the gathering drum ; 'T is this which gives to mirth a lighter tone, To the young soldier's cheek a deeper glow, When stretched upon his grassy couch, alone, It steals upon his ear, — this martial call Prompts him to dreams of gorgeous war, with all Its pageantry and show ! " Roll — roll ! — " What is it that ye beat ? " " We sound the charge ! — On with the courser fleet ! : — Where 'mid the columns, red war's eagles fly, We swear to do or die ! — 'T is this which feeds the fires of Fame with breath, Which steels the soldier's heart to deeds of death ; And when his hand, Fatigued with slaughter, pauses o'er the slain, T is this which prompts him madly once again To seize the bloody brand ! * STANDARD SELECTIONS. 263 Roll — roll ! — " Brothers, what do ye here, Slowly and sadly as ye pass along, With your dull march and low funereal song ? " " Comrade ! we bear a bier ! I saw him fall ! And, as he lay beneath his steed, one thought, (Strange how the mind such fancy should have wrought !) That, had he died beneath his native skies, Perchance some gentle bride had closed his eyes And wept beside his pall ! " g. W. Patten. cxc. THE BATTLE OF IVRY. IVTOW glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! "^ And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre ! Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vales, pleasant land of France ! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters ; As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! O ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, We saw tjie army of the League draw out in long array ; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears ! There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 264 THE UNION SPEAKER. He looked upon his People, and a tear was in his eye ; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, in deafening shout, " God save our lord, the King!" " And if my standard-bearer fall, — as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre." Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin ! The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain, With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance ! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest, Ajid in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned his rein, D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish Count is slain ; Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; The flags are heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van " Remember Saint Bartholomew ! " was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, then, — " No Frenchman is my foe ; Down, down with every foreigner ! but let your brethren go." O ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ! Ho ! maidens of Vienna ! Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ! Weep, weep and rend your hair for those w 7 ho never shall return ! Ho ! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 265 That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ! Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night ! For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, And mocked the counsel of thev wise and the valor of the brave. Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are ! And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! T. B. Macaulay. ♦ CXCI. THE SOLDIER FROM RING EN. A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, -^*- There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebb'd away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said, " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine. " Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. And 'midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ; But some were young — and suddenly beheld life's morn decline ; And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! " Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage ; For my father was a soldier, and even as a child My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; 206 THE UNION SPEAKER. And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword, And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage-wall at Bingen — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! u Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gal- lant tread ; But to look upon them proudly, w T ith a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen — dear Bingen on the Rhine ! " There 's another — not a sister ; in the happy days gone by, You 'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorning, — Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ; Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen My body will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison), I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! " I saw the blue Rhine sweep along — I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; And her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk, And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine : But we '11 meet no more at Bingen — loved Bingen on the Rhine ! " STANDARD SELECTIONS, 267 His voice grew faint and hoarser, — his grasp was childish weak, — His eyes put on a dying look — he sighed and ceased to speak : His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, — The soldier of the Legion, in a foreign land — was dead ! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! Mrs. Norton. CXCII. "GIVE ME THREE GRAINS OF CORN, MOTHER." /^i IVE me three grains of corn, mother, ^-^ Only three grains of corn ; It will keep the little life I have, Till the coming of the morn. I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, Dying of hunger and cold, And half the agony of such a death My lips have never told. It has gnawed like a wolf, at my heart, mother, A wolf that is fierce for blood, — All the livelong day, and the night beside, Gnawing for lack of food. I dreamed of bread in my sleep, mother, And the sight was heaven to see, — I awoke with an eager, famishing lip, But you had no bread for me. How could I look to you, mother, How could I look to you, For bread to give to your starving boy, When you were starving too ? For I read the famine in your cheek, And in your eye so wild, 268 THE UNION SPEAKER. And I felt it in your bony hand, As you laid it on your child. The queen has lands and gold, mother, The queen has lands and gold, While you are forced to your empty breast A skeleton babe to hold, — A babe that is dying of want, mother, As I am dying now, With a ghastly look in its sunken eye, And famine upon its brow. What has poor Ireland done, mother, What has poor Ireland done, That the world looks on, and sees us starve, Perishing, one by one ? Do the men of England care not, mother, The great men and the high, For the suffering sons of Erin's isle, Whether they live or die ? There is many a brave heart here, mother, Dying of want and cold, While only across the Channel, mother, Are many that roll in gold ; There are rich and proud men there, mother, With wondrous wealth to view, And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night, Would give life to me and you. Come nearer to my side, mother, Come nearer to my side, And hold me fondly, as you held My father when he died ; Quick, for I cannot see you, mother ; My breath is almost gone ; Mother ! dear mother ! ere I die, Give me three grains of corn. Miss Edwards. STANDARD SELECTIONS. 269 t cxcin. TELVS APOSTROPHE TO LIBERTY. /^NCE more I breathe the mountain air ; once more ^-^ I tread my own free hills ! My lofty soul Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight, 'T is like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon With eye undazzled. O ! ye mighty race That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard My own proud land ; why did ye not hurl down The thundering avalanche, when at your feet The base usurper stood ? A touch, a breath. Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought Destruction on the hunter's head ; and yet The tyrant passed in safety. God of heaven ! Where slept thy thunderbolts ? Liberty I Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which Life is as nothing ; hast thou then forgot Thy native home ? Must the feet of slaves Pollute this glorious scene ? It cannot be. Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom In spots where man has never dared to tread ; So thy sweet influence still is seen amid These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee, And bow alone to Heaven ; thy spirit lives, Ay, — and shall live, when even the very name Of tyrant is forgot. Lo ! while I gaze Upon the mist that wreathes yon mountain's brow, The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes A crown of glory on his hoary head ; O ! is not this a presage of the dawn Of freedom o'er the world ? Hear me, then, bright 270 THE UNION SPEAKER. And beaming Heaven ! while kneeling thus, I vow To live for Freedom, or with her to die ! O ! with what pride. I used To walk these hills, and look up to my God And bless Him that it was so. It was free, — From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free, — Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, And plow our valleys, without asking leave ; Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, In very presence of the regal sun ! How happy was I in it then ! I loved Its very storms ! Yes, I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from His cloud, and smiled To see Him shake His lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master save His own ! Ye know the jutting cliff, round which a track Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow To such another one, with scanty room For two abreast to pass ? O'ertaken there By the mountain blast, I 've laid me flat along, And while gust followed gust more furiously, As if to sweep me o 'er the horrid brink, And I have thought of other lands, whose storms Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just Have wished me there, — the thought that mine was free, Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, Blow on ! This is the Land of Liberty ! J. S. Knowles. \ CXCIV. WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. "T7 E crags and peaks : I 'm with you once again ! I hold to you the hands ye first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, STANDARD SELECTIONS. 271 And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again ! — O sacred forms, how proud you look ! How high you lift your heads into the sky ! How huge you are! how mighty, and how free ! Ye are the things that tower, that shine, — whose smile Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I 'm with you once again ! — I call to you With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, To show they still are free. I rush to you As though I could embrace you ! Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow O'er the abyss : — his broad-expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air, As if he floated there without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will, That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively I bent my brow ; yet kept he rounding still His airy circle, as in the delight Of measuring the ample range beneath And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not The death that threatened him. I could not shoot ! — 'T was Liberty ! — I turned my bow aside, And let him soar away ! J. s. Knowles. cxcv. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET. f\ 'ER a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray, ^-^ Where, in his last, strong agony, a dying warrior lay, — The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent. " They come around me here, and say my days of life are o'er, — That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no more ; 272 THE UNION SPEAKER. They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now that I, Their own liege lord and master born, that I — ha ! ha ! must die. " And what is death ? I 've dared him oft, before the Paynim spear ; Think ye he 's entered at my gate — has come to seek me here ? I Ve met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging hot; — I '11 try his might, I '11 brave his power ! — defy — and fear him not! " Ho ! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin ; Bid each retainer arm with speed ; call every vassal in. Up with my banner on the wall, — the banquet board prepare, — Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there ! " An hundred hands were busy then ; the banquet forth was spread, And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread ; "While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume and spear, o'er the proud old Gothic hall. Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured, On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board ; While at its head, within his dark, carved, oaken chair of state, Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with gilded falchion, sat. " Fill every beaker up, my men ! pour forth the cheering wine ! There 's life and strength in every drop, — thanksgiving to the vine ! Are ye all there, my vassals true ? — mine eyes are waxing dim : Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim ! " Ye 're there, but yet I see you not ! — forth draw each trusty sword, And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board ! I hear it faintly ! — louder yet ! What clogs my heavy breath ? Up, all ! — and shout for Rudiger, ' Defiance unto death ! ' ' STANDARD SELECTIONS. 273 Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry, That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high : " Ho ! cravens ! Do ye fear him ? Slaves ! traitors ! have ye flown ? Ho ! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone ? " But I defy him ! — let him come ! " Down rang the. massy cup, , While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up ; And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head, There in his dark, carved, oaken