^ r N 4111 SCHOOL ORATOR; THE OR, EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION, THEORETICALLY ARRANGED ; TROM "WHICH, AIDED BY SHORT PRACTICAL RULES TO BE COMMITTED TO MEMORY, AND REPEATED AFTER THE MANNER OF RECITING THE RULES IN THE LATIN SYNTAX, STUDENTS MAY LEARN TO ARTICULATE EVERY WORD WITH PROPRIETY; BE ASSISTED In the Removal of minor Impediments ; Be taught to modulate the Voice, and to speak with Accuracy of Inflexion, from the easiest to the most difficult Specimens of English Oratorical Composition. By JAMES WRIGHT, PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LECTURER ON ENGLISH ELOCUTION ; AUTHOR OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF ELOCUTION, READINGS OF THE LITURGT, ANTI-SCEPTICISM, &C. NoTi eiiim tarn prseclarum est scire Latini^, quam tiirpe nesc're : neque tarn id mihi oratoris boni, quam civis Romani proprium videtur. — Cic. Bru. Nam in alea Venerium aliquoties jacere casus esse potest: at centies si quis eundem jaciat, nemo erit qui nou hoc ab arte aliqua dicat proficisci. — Grotius. FIFTH EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS. LONDON: WHITTAKER, TREACHER, & CO; LONGMAN, REES, ORME, & CO.; SIMPKIN & MARSHALL; HOULSTON & SON; AND S. POOLE. 1833. Gilbert & Rivington, Printers, St. John's Square, London. ,^ ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIFTH EDITION. This edition of the School Orator is consider- ably augmented. The Student is presented witK " Final Elucidations in Prose," including Parlia- mentary Debates. Page 314. a2 CONTENTS. SECTION I. Exercises in Articulation. PAGE Preliminary Remarks 1 Defects in Articulation 2 To a Mother Gay 3 To a Nobleman lb. 4 Degenerate Bees lb. 5 Man lb. 7 Eagle and the Assembly of Animals lb. 8 Bear in a Boat lb. 10 To a Coxcomb lb. 11 Hare and many Friends lb. 12 Cur, the Horse, and the Shepherd's Dog . . . , » Tb. 14 Poet and the Rose lb. 15 Turkey and the Ant lb. 16 Old Hen and the Cock lb. 17 Shepherd's Dog and the Wolf lb. 19 Miser and Plutus lb. 20 Gamester lb. 22 To a Country Gentleman lb. 23 Man, tlie Cat, the Dog, and the Fly lb. ib. Plum Cakes H. More. 28 Boy and the Rainbow WilJde. 31 Drowning Fly Langhorne 32 Hare and the Tortoise Lloyd ib. Bundle of Sticks //. More 34 Ode to Childhood Scott 36 SECTION II. Elementary Rules and Examples. Inflexion 35 Musical Scale of the Inflexions , 36 Compact Sentences 39 A Scale of the principal Inflexions in Compact Sentences 40 The principal Rule for ])ronouncing Compact Sentences 41 CONTENTS. V PAGE Examples •••• 41 Intervening Clauses and Pailes : — Pauses, or fit places for Respiration, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, & 7 43 Examples of the Compact Sentence for the practice of the first seven Rules 45 Examples of the Comimct Sentence forvied on correspondent Words. 46 Parentheses 49 Praxis 50 Action 53 Loose Sentences • • 58 A Scale of the principal Inflexions peculiar to Loose Sentences . , 59 Rules 8—10 CO Examples of the Loose Sentence • • ' • • ib. Praxis -Golden Verses of Pythagoras Fitzgerald 63 Ii'Lii'Hasis 66 Praxis. — From Antonio and Mellida ' Marston 67 Questions and Exclamations 68 Rules 13 — 15 ib. Examples of Questions 69 Rules 16— 18 70 Praxis. — All Nature, &c Anon. 71 The Man of Ross Pope 73 Beauty improved Barhauld 74 The Series and Rules 19, 20 75 Examples of the Commencing Series 77 Examples of the Concluding Series 79 Praxis. — Alpha and Omega Prior 82 Morning Hymn Milton 83 SECTION IIL Introduction to the Oratorical Speeches; Or, Exercises for Modulating and Improving the Voice. Modulation 86 Reputation Cunningham ib. May Morning Milton 88 The Shortness of Man's Life Coivley ib. The Youth and the Philosopher JVhi/ehead 90 Douglas to Lord Randolph Home 92 Douglas's account of the Hermit , Ib. 94 The Stranger described by Arnoldus Brooke 95 Philaster's Device Beaumont and Fletcher 96 Conjugal Love Marston' s Plays 98 Helena upbraiding Hermia Shakspeare ib. Hermit to Alfred Mallet 100 Lady, — From Comus Milton 101 VI CONTENTS. PAGE Hubert, concerning- Arthur's death • • . . Shahspeare 103 Griffith's description of Cardinal Wolsey Ih. 104 Seven ages lb. 1 05 Polonius to Laertes lb. 107 King Henry and the Lord Chief Justice lb. 108 The Countess Iloussillon to her son Bertram . . lb. 110 Porcius and Marcus Addison 111 Hichmond encouraging his soldiers Shakspeare 114 Exiled Duke's encouragement lb. 115 Battle of Minden Darwin 116 On the Death of Dr. Darwin Anon. 118 Scroop and Richard Shakspeare 120 Entry of Bolingbroke /&. 123 Cruelty to Animals Coivper 125 Hymn to Adversity • Grai/ 127 Ode to Truth Mason 129 To-morrow • • • • Cotton 132 Miseries of Royalty Shakspeare 134 Juba and Syphax Addison 136 Sleep Shakspeare 143 Cato's Soliloquy Addison 144 Canterbury's description of Henry V Shakspeare 145 Brutus's Soliloquy lb. 147 Hamlet 76. 148 Mental Beauty , Akenside 149 Wolsey and Cromwell Shakspeare 151 Exercises for Improving the Middle or Conversational Sounds of the Voice. Folly of Procrastination Young 154 Taste Akenside 1 56 The Pleasures arising from Novelty Ih. 158 The Character of Rumour Shakspeare 161 Alexander on passing the Granicus Lee 1 62 Zanga Young 163 Escape from Shipwreck Cottle 165 The Dying Gladiator Chinnery 167 Northumberland and Morton Shakspeare 168 Clarence's Dream lb. I7I Exercises for Acquiring Low Sounds of the Voice. Faulconbridge to King John Shakspeare 174 Mai'cian to Theodosius -, Lee ib. Zanga Young 176 Antony's Soliloquy Shakspeare ib. Marullus's Speech to the Mob Ib. 1 77 Gloucester's Speech to the Nobles • Ib. 178 CONTENTS. Vll PAGE Bishop of Carlisle's Speech Slmlcspeare 1 79 Quinctius to the Roman People 180 The Passions Collins 1 81 Ode on St. Cecilia's Day Pope 184 Satan's Address to the Sun Milton 188 The Bard Gray 190 A Pindaric Ode, prefixed to Mrs. Carter's Translation of Epictetus 105 SECTION IV. Oratorical Speeches. Oratory 190 Lord Clifford's Speech exhorting- King Henry to protect his Crown and transmit it to his Son Shakspeare ib. Volumnia exhorting her Son Coriolanus to soothe and please the Plebeians Ib. 201 Norfolk's Advice to the Duke of Buckingham to restrain Re- sentment lb. 202 John of Gaunt encouraging his Son Bolingbroke going into Banishment Ib. 203 Patriotic Exhortation from the Tragedy of Arminius. .Knight 204 Cato's Senate Addison 205 Henry the Fifth's Detection and Condemnation of Treason ShaJcs2)ea)-e 210 Buckingham going to Execution Ib. 212 Othello's Apology Ib. 213 Duke of Milan pleading his Cause before the Emperor Charles V Massinger 215 King Henry IV., Northumberland, and Hotspur. . Shakspeare 217 The Prince of Verona exhorting Old Capulet and Montague to restore the Peace Ib. 222 Malefort's Defence of himself Massinger 223 Debate in Pandaemonium Milton 225 The Eloquence of Cassius Shakspeare 229 Henry V. encouraging his Soldiers Ib. 232 Arminius encouraging his Soldiers against the Romans Knight 234 Siegmar, Arminius, Brenno, Gismar, &c. from the Tragedy of Arminius Ib. 235 Caractacus to the Roman Prisoners Mason 241 Gustavus and Dalecarlians Brooke 242 Henry V. to his Soldiers, at the Siege of Harfleur....S'/m/<:5/)^a?-(? 246 Antony's Oration over the dead Body of Julius Caesar... . . Ib. 24S Vlll CONTENTS. SECTION V. Final Elucidations in Prose. PAGE Perseverance Sir Walter Scott 253 Tlie Price of Pleasure Aikin ib. The Whistle Franklin 255 Punctuality Percy Anec. 256 Filial Obligation Ogclen 258 Confessions of a Drunkard / London Mag. 259 EyeofGod Faivcett 262 The Deity Dwight 263 Christ and Mahomet V/hite 265 Bishop Stillingfleet Plain Englishmari 268 Infidelity of Pride Barrow 272 Terms of Salvation CJiahners 273 Supremacy of Christianity Plain Englishman 274 lieligion the Guardian of Public Order Tomline 275 Christian Charity J. B. Sumner 278 The British Constitution Paley 281 Peace Clarendon 289 The Funds Plain Englishman 292 Pilgrimage across the Deserts of Africa Ali Bey 302 Description of Iceland Henderson 316 Ledyard • Encycl. Brit. 311 Parliamentary Debates. — House of Commons ............ 314 H ouse of Lords 336 EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION, The following Exercises are purposely arranged for the first class, the junior pupils. In pronouncing them, as the meaning of each will be easily expressed by the jingle of the syllables \ the little student will have 1 Such a delivery of them as the following accentuated ex- ample (vulgarly called tum-te-ti) represents, must be carefully avoided. *' Conversing with — your sprightly boys, " Your eyes have spoke — the Mother's joys ; *' With what delight — I've heard you quote " Their sayings in — imperfect note." Here, a pause is uniformly introduced exactly in the middle of each line ; the parts of speech with and in are accentuated; the former word is pronounced with the extreme falling Inflexion, and the latter with the middle rising Inflexion. But a child, having the least accuracy of ear, may easily be corrected of such a canting method. The pronouncing of the following Fables with propriety, will, therefore, be of essential service ; because, if the student be taught to articulate and read composition of this sort vjithout "sing-song" or "tone," he will be duly prepared to receive further instructions in the Elementary branches of the science. 2 EXERCISES IN nothing to divert his attention from the acquirement of distinctness of articulation ; nor will the efforts of the teacher, to give an adequate idea of all the articulations of the vowels and consonants, be impeded by the men- tion of circumstances foreign to the immediate object of the lesson. To accomplish a melodious pronunciation of the vowels, the mouth must exercise its full and easy power of extension ; and to be enabled to articulate with dis- tinctness the S ^, Sh, Th, the aspirate H, the R, L, G, (nasal as ing), V, W, &c. the enunciative organs must be rapid in their motions and changes. The H must be distinctly aspirated in the words, Who, which, what, &c. In the following words the H is mute : heir, heiress, honest, honesty, honour, honour- able, herb, herbage, hospital, hostler, hour, humble ; and all words beginning with H, whose accent is beyond the Jirst syllable ; viz. historical, heroical, &c. By the best classical writers, these words, when the article indefinite is used, are preceded by an. In articulating the liquids N, L, R, the tongue is applied to the roof of the mouth, near the teeth : they differ in as much as the voice, in articulating N, passes out at the nose, L at the mouth, and R nearly as L, but with particular vibration. In articulating the Th, as in * thee,' or * thought,' the tongue is placed between the teeth, and supplied with either audible or whispering voice. 1 The letter S after B, D, G, L, M, N, R, V, W, is pronounced like Z. Vide '* the Philosophy of Elocution," page 57, respecting the vocal and whispering consonants. ARTICULATIOX. The defect of pronouncing Th instead S, may be removed by repeatedly pronouncing such monosyllables as have the hissing sound joined with the first sound of the vowel A, viz. ace, face, base \ &c. ; that of not vibrating the R, by ^pronouncing such words as have D or T connected with R, viz. dread, tread, dray, tray, &c. TO A MOTHER. Conversing with your sprightly boys. Your eyes have spoke the Mother's joys. "With what delight I've heard you quote Their sayings in imperfect note ! I grant, in body and in mind. Nature appears profusely kind ; Trust not to that. Act you your part ; Im^Drint just morals on their heart ; Impartially their talents scan ; Just education forms the man. Perhaps (their genius yet unknown) Each lot of life's already thro-\Mi ; That this shall plead, the next shall fight. The last assert the Church's nght. — I censure not the fond intent ; But how precarious is the event ! By talents misapplied and crost. Consider, all your sons are lost. * This, however, does not usually succeed with boys at school ; tut the summary method of gently tapping the under jaw of the pupil at every articulation of S and Z , and thereby causing him to pinch a little the tip of his tongue, is rarely known to fail. B 2 EXERCISES IN One day (the tale's by Martial penn*d) A father thus address'd his friend. * To train my boy, and call forth sense, ' You know I've stuck at no expense ; ' I've tried him in the sev'ral arts, * (The lad no doubt hath latent parts) * Yet trying all, he nothing knov/s ; * But, crab-like, rather backward goes. * Teach me what yet remains undone, * 'Tis your advice shall fix my son.' TO A NOBLEMAN. Begin, my Lord, in early youth. To cherish and encourage truth : And blame me not for disrespect. If I the flatt'rer's style reject; With that by menial tongues supplied. You're daily cocker'd up in pride. The tree's distinguish' d by the fruit. Be virtue then your first pursuit ; Set your great ancestors in "\dew. Like them deserve the title too ; Like them ignoble actions scorn : Let virtue prove you nobly born. If you the paths of learning slight. You're but a dunce in stronger light ; In foremost rank the cov/ard plac'd. Is more conspicuously disgrac'd. If you, to serve a paltry end. To knavish jobs can condescend. We pay you the contempt that's due ; In that you have precedence too. ARTICULATION. Whence had you this illustrious name ? From virtue and unblemish'd fame. By birth the name alone descends ; Your honour on yourself depends : Think not your coronet can hide Assuming ignorance and pride ! Learning by study must be won ; 'Tvvas ne'er entail'd from son to son. Superior worth your rank requires ; In that mankind reveres your sires. If you degen'rate from your race. Their merits heighten your disgrace. THE DEGENERATE BEES. Consider, friends, no hour rolls on But something of your grief is gone. Were you to schemes of business bred. Did you the paths of learning tread. Your hours, your days, would fly too fast ; You'd then regret the minute past ; Time's fugitive and light as wind ! 'Tis indolence that cloys your mind ! That load from off your spirits shake ; You'll own and grieve for your mistake. Awhile your thoughtless spleen suspend ; ' Then read, and, if you can, attend. A Bee of cunning, not of parts. Luxurious, negligent of arts. Rapacious, arrogant, and vain. Greedy of pow'r, but more of gain. Corruption sow'd throughout the hive"; By petty rogues the great ones thrive. B 3 6 EXERCISES iisr As pow'r and wealth his views supplied, 'Twas seen in overbearing pride : With him loud impudence had merit ; The Bee of conscience wanted spirit; And those who foUow'd honour's rules. Were laugh'd to scorn for squeamish fools ; Wealth claim' d distinction, favour, grace ; And poverty alone was base. He treated industry with slight. Unless he found his profits by't. Rights, lavv^s, and liberties gave way. To bring his subject schemes in play. The swarm forgot the common toil. To share the gleanings of his spoil. * While vulgar souls of narrow parts, ^ Waste life in low mechanic arts, * Let us (says he) to genius born, ' The drudg'ry of our fathers scorn. * The wasp and drone, you must agree, * Live with more elegance than we. * Like gentlemen they sjiort and play ; * No bus'ness interrupts the day : ' Their hours to luxury they give, * And nobly on their neighbours live.' A stubborn Bee, among the swarm. With honest indignation warm, Tlius from his cell -with zeal replied : * I slight thy pow'rs and hate thy pride. ' The laws our native rights protect ; * OjBTending thee, I those respect. * Shall luxury corrupt the hive, * And none against the torrent strive ? ' Exert the honour of your race ; * He builds his rise on your disgrace. ARTICULATION. * 'Tis industr)' our state maintains : ' 'Twas honest toil and honest gains, * That rais'd our sires to pow'r and fame ; ' Be virtuous, save yourseh'es from shame. ' Know, that in selfish ends pursuing, * You scramble for the public ruin.' He spoke, and, from his cell dismiss'd, "Was insolently scoff'd and hiss'd. With him a friend or two resign' d. Disdaining the degen'rate kind. * Those drones' (says he) ' those insects vile, ' (I hate them in their proper style), ' May for a time oppress the state ; * They own our virtue by their hate ; * By that our merits they reveal, * And recommend our public zeal ; ' Disgrac'd by this corrupted crew, * We're honour' d by the virtuous few.' MAN. Adam, though blest above his kind. For want of social woman pin'd ; Eve's wants the subtle serpent saw ; Her fickle taste transgress'd the law : Thus fell our sires ; and their disgrace The curse entail' d on human race. When Philip's son, by glory led. Had o'er the globe his empire spread ; When altars to his name were dress' d. That he was man, his tears confess'd. The hopes of avarice are check'd : The proud man always wants respect. £ 4 S EXERCISES IN "WHiat various wants on power attend ! Ambition never gains its end. Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits and corporeal pain ? He, barr'd from every use of wealth. Envies the ploughman's strength and health ; Another in a beauteous wife Finds all the miseries of life ; Domestic jars and jealous fear Embitter all his days with care. Tliis wants an heir, the line is lost : Why was that vain entail engross' d ? Can' St thou discern another's mind ? Why is't you envy ? Envy's blind. Tell Envy, where she would annoy. That thousands want what you enjoy. THE EAGLE AND THE ASSEMBLY OF ANIMALS. As Jupiter's all- seeing eye Survey'd the worlds beneath the sky. From this small speck of earth were sent Murmurs and sounds of discontent ; For every thing alive complain' d That he the hardest life sustain' d. Jove calls his Eagle. At the word. Before him stands the royal bird. The bird, obedient, from heaven's height. Downward directs his rapid flight ; Then cited every living thing. To hear the mandates of his king. * Ungrateful creatures, whence arise * These murmurs which offend the skies ? * Why this disorder ? Say the cause : * For just are Jove's eternal laws. ARTICULATION. * Let such his discontent reveal ; * To you, sour Dog, I first appeal/ ' Hard is my lot,' the Hound replies : ' On what fleet nerves the Greyhound flies : * While I, Avith weary steps, and slow, * O'er plains and vales, and mountains go ; ' The morning sees my chace begun, ' Nor ends it with the setting sun.' * When,' (says the Greyhound,) ' I pursue, * My game is lost, or caught in view ; * Beyond my sight the prey's secure : * The Hound is slow, but always sure. ' And had I his sagacious scent, * Jove ne'er had heard my discontent.* The Lion claim'd the Fox's art ; The Fox, the Lion's force and heart. The Cock implor'd the Pigeon's flight ; Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light : The Pigeon strength of wing despis'd. And the Cock's matchless valour priz'd : The Fishes wish'd to graze the plain ; The Beasts to skim beneath the main. Thus, envious of another's state. Each blam'd the partial hand of Fate. The bird of heav'n then cried aloud, ' ' Jove bids disj)ers8 the murm'ring crowd ; * The God rejects your idle prayers ; * Would ye, rebellious mutineers, * Entirely change your name and nature, ' And be the very envied creature ? * What, silent all, and none consent ? * Be happy then and learn content : * Nor imitate the restless mind, ' And proud ambition of mankind.' B 5 10 EXERCISES IN THE BEAR IN A BOAT. A Bear of manners shag and rough. At climbing trees expert enough : For dext'rously and safe from harm. Year after year he robb'd the swarm; Tlius thriving on industrious toil. He gloried in his pilfer'd spoil. This trick so swell'd him with conceit. He thought no enterprise too great. Alike in sciences and arts. He boasted universal parts ; Pragmatic, bustling, busy, bold. His arrogance was uncontroU'd. And thus he made his party good. And grew dictator of the wood. The beasts with admiration stare. And think him a prodigious Bear. Were any com_mon booty got, 'Twas his each portion to allot : For why, he found there might be picking, Ev'n in the carving of a chicken. Intruding thus, he, by degrees, Claim'd, too, the butcher's larger fees. And now his overweening pride In ev'ry province will preside. No task too difficult was found : His blund'ring nose misleads the hound. In stratagem and subtle arts. He over-rules the Fox's parts. It chanc'd, as on a certain day. Along the bank he took his way, A boat, with rudder, sail, and oar. At anchor floated near the shore. ARTICULATION. It He stopt, and turning to his train. Thus pertly vents his vaunting strain. ' AATiat blundering puppies are mankind I * In ev'ry science always bUnd ! * I mock the pedantry of schools : * A\liat are their compasses and rules ? * From me that helm shall conduct learn, * And man his ignorance discern.' So saying, \yith audacious pride. He gains the boat, and climbs the side. The beasts astonish' d, lin'd the strand ; The anchor's weigh'd, he drives from land : Tlie black sail shifts from side to side ; Tlie boat untrimm'd admits the tide ; Borne down, adrift, at random tost. His oar breaks short, the iTidder's lost. The bear, presuming in his skill. Is here and there officious still; Till, striking on the dang'rous sands. Aground the shatter'd vessel stands. To see the bungler thus distrest. The very fishes sneer and jest. Ev'n gudgeons join in ridicule. To mortify the meddling fool. Tlie clam'rous watermen appear ; Rant, threats, and rage, insult his ear : Seiz'd, thrash'd, and chain' d, he's dragg'd to land; Derision shouts along the strand. TO A COXCOMB. That man must daily wiser grow, "\Miose search is bent himself to know j Impartially he weighs his scope. And on finn reason founds his hope j B G 12 EXERCISES IN He tries his strength before the race. And never seeks his own disgrace ; He knows the compass, sail, and oar. Or never launches from the shore ; Before he builds, computes the cost. And in no proud pursuit is lost : He learns the bounds of human sense. And safely walks within the fence ; Thus, conscious of his own defect. Are pride and self-importance checked. THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS. Friendship, like love, is but a name. Unless to one you stint the flame. The child whom many fathers share. Hath seldom known a father's care ; ^Tis thus in friendships ; who depend On many, rarely find a friend. A Hare, who in a civil way. Complied with ev'ry thing, they say. Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. Her care was never to offend. And ev'ry creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn. To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn. Behind she hears the hunter's cries. And from the deep-mouth' d thunder flies ; She starts, she stops, she pants for breath ; She hears the near advance of death ; She doubles to mislead the hound. And measures back her mazy round ; Till, fainting in the public way. Half-dead with fear she gasping lay, ARTICULATION. 13 What transport in her bosom grew. When first the Horse appear'd in view ! * Let rae/ says she, ' your back ascend, ' And owe my safety to a friend ; * You know my feet betray my flight ; * To friendship every bmrden's light. The Horse replied, * Poor honest puss, * It grieves my heart to see thee thus ; * Be comforted, relief is near, * For all your friends are in the rear.' She next the stately bull implor'd j And thus replied the mighty lord : * Since every beast ahve can tell ^ That I sincerely wish you well, * I may, without offence, pretend * To take the freedom of a friend ; * Love calls me hence ; a fav'rite cow * Expects me near yon barley-mow ; * And when a lady's in the case, * You know, all other things give place. * To leave you thus might seem unkind ; * But see, the Goat is just behind.' The Goat remark 'd, her pulse was high. Her languid head, her heavy eye ; * My back,' says she, ' may do you harm ; * The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.* The sheep was feeble, and complain' d His sides a load of wool sustain'dj Said he was slow, confess'd his fears ; For hounds eat sheep, as well as Hares. She now the trotting Calf address'd. To save from death a friend distress'd. * Shall I,' says he, * of tender age, ' In this important care engage ? 14 EXERCISES IN ' Older and abler pass'd you by ! ' How strong are those ! how weak am 1 1 * Should I presume to bear you hence, ' Those friends of mine may take offence. * Excuse me, then. You know my heart; ' But dearest friends, alas ! must part : ' How shall we all lament 1 Adieu I * For see, the hounds are just in view.* THE CUR, THE HORSE, AND THE SHEPHERD'S DOG. The lad of all-sufficient merit. With modesty ne'er damps his spirit. Presuming on his own deserts. On all alike his tongue exerts ; His noisy jokes at random throws. And pertly spatters friends and foes i In wit and war, the bully race Contribute to their oAvn disgrace. Too late the forward youth shall find That jokes are sometimes paid in kind ; Or if they canker in the breast. He makes a foe who makes a jest. A village cur, of snappish race. The pertest j)^^PPy of the place, Imagin'd that his treble throat "Was blest with music's sweetest note j In the mid-road he basking lay, Tlie yelping nuisance of the way ; For not a creature pass'd along But had a sample of his song. Soon as the trotting steed he hears. He starts, he cocks his dapper ears; ARTICULATION. 15 Away he scours, assaults his hoof. Now near him snarls, now barks aloof ; With shrill impertinence attends. Nor leaves him till the village ends. It chanc'd, upon his evil day, A Pad came pacing down the way ; The Cur, with never-ceasing tongue. Upon the passing traveller sprung. The Horse, from scorn provok'd to ire. Flung backward ; rolling in the mire, The puppy howl' d, and bleeding lay; The Pad in peace pursu'd his way. A Shepherd's Dog, who saw the deed. Detesting the vexatious breed. Bespoke him thus ; ' When coxcombs prate, * They kindle ^\Tath, contempt, or hate ; * lliy teazing tongue, had judgment tied, ' Thou hadst not, hke a puppy, died.' THE POET AND THE ROSE. I HATE the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown. Imagine that they raise their own. Thus scribblers, covetous of praise. Think slander can transplant the bays. Beauties and bards have equal pride ; With both all rivals are decried. Wlio praises Lesbia's eyes and feature. Must call her sister, awkward creature j For the kind flattery's sure to charm. If we some other nymph disarm. 16 EXERCISES IN As in the cool of early day, A Poet sought the sweets of May, The garden's fragrant breath ascends. And ev'ry stalk with odour bends. A rose he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd. Thus singing as the muse inspir'd : * Go, rose, my Chloe's bosom grace ; ' How happy should I prove, ' Might I supply that envied place * With never-fading love ! * Tliere, Phoenix-like, beneath her eye, * Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die ! ' Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find * More fragrant roses there ; * I see thy with'ring head reclin'd * AVith envy and despair ! * One common fate we both must prove ; * You die with em^', I with love.' * Spare your comparisons,' replied An angry Rose, who grew beside ; * Of all mankind you should not flout us ; * What can a Poet do without us ? In ev'ry love-song roses bloom ; * We lend you colour and perfume. ' Does it to C/dce's charms conduce, * To found her praise on our abuse ? * Must we, to flatter her, be made * To wither, envy, pine, and fade ?' THE TURKEY AND THE ANT. In other men we faults can spy. And blame the mote that dims their eye j Each little speck and blemish find. To our own stronger errors blind. ARTICULATION. 17 A Turkey, tir'd of common food. Forsook the barn, and sought the wood ; Behind her ran her infant train. Collecting here and there a grain. ' Drav/ near, my birds,* the mother cries, * This hill dehcious fare supplies ; * Behold the busy Negro race ; * See miUions blacken all the place ! * Fear not. Like me with freedom eat ; * An ant is most delightful meat. * How blest, how envied were our life, * Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife ; * But man, vile man, on turkeys preys, * And Christmas shortens all our days : * Sometimes with oysters we combine, * Sometimes assist the sav'ry chine. * From the low peasant to the lord, * The turkey smokes on ev'ry board. ' Sure men to gluttony are prone ; * For this huge sin they stand alone.' An Ant, who chmb'd beyond her reach. Thus answer'd from the neighbouring beech : * Ere you remark another's sin, * Bid thy own conscience look Vvathin. * Control thy more voracious bill, ' Nor for a breakfast nations kill.' THE OLD HEN AND THE COCK. Restrain your child ; you'll soon believe The text, which says, we spnmg from Eve. As an old Hen led forth her train. And seem'd to peck to show the grain ; She rak'd the chaff, she scratch'd the ground. And glean' d the spacious yard around. 18 EXERCISES IN A giddy chick, to try her wings. On the well's narrow margin springs. And prone she drops. The mother's breast All day with sorrow was possess' d. A Cock she met, her son she knew ; And in her heart affection grew. ' My son,' says she, * I grant your years ' Have reach'd beyond a mother's cares. ' I see you \dg'rous, strong, and bold ; * I hear with joy your triumphs told. ' 'Tis not from cocks thy fate I dread ; ' But let thy ever-wary tread ' Avoid yon well ; that fatal place ' Is sure perdition to our race. * Print this my counsel on thy breast ; ' To the just gods I leave the rest.' He thank'd her care ; yet day by day His bosom burn'd to disobey; And ev'ry time the well he saw, Scorn'd in his heart the foolish laAV : Near and more near each day he drew. And long'd to try the dang'rous view. ' Why was this idle charge ?' he cries : * Let courage female fears despise. * Or did she doubt my heart was brave, ' And therefore this injunction gave 1 * Or does her harvest store the place, * A treasure for her younger race ? * And would she thus my search prevent ? * I stand resolv'd, and dare th' event.' Tlius said, he mounts the margin's round, And pries into the depth profound. He stretch'd his neck ; and from below. With stretching neck advanc'd a foe : ARTICULATION. 19 With "wratli his ruffled plumes he rears, The foe with ruffled plumes appears : Threat answer'd threat, his fury grew ; Headlong to meet the war he flew ; But when the wat'ry death he found. He thus lamented as he drown'd : * I ne'er had been in this condition, ' But for my mother's prohibition.^ THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND THE WOLF. A Wolf, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravag'd the plains, and thinn'd the fold : Deep in the wood secure he lay; The thefts of night regal' d the day. In vain the shepherd's wakeful care Had spread the toils and watch'd the snare ; In vain the dog pursued his pace. The fleeter robber mock'd the chace. As Lighffoot rang'd the forest round. By chance his foe's retreat he found. * Let us awhile the war suspend, * And reason as from friend to friend.' * A truce,' replies the Wolf. * 'Tis done.' The dog the parley thus begun. * How can that strong intrepid mind * Attack a weak defenceless kind ? ' Those jaws should prey on nobler food, ' And drink the boar's and lion's blood; ' Great souls with generous pity melt, ' "VMiich coward tyrants never felt. ' How harmless is our fleecy care ! * Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.' ' Friend,' says the Wolf, ' the matter weigh; * Nature design'd us beasts of prey ; 20 EXERCISES IN * As sucli wlien hunger finds a treat, * 'Tis necessary Wolves should eat. * If, mindful of the bleating weal, * Thy bosom burn with real zeal, * Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech ; * To him repeat the moving speech : * A Wolf eats sheep but now and then, * Ten thousands are devour' d by men, ' An open foe may prove a curse, * But a pretended friend is worse,' THE MISER AND PLUTUS. The wind was high ; the window shakes, W^ith sudden start the Miser wakes ; Along the silent room he stalks. Looks back and trembles as he walks ; Each lock, and ev'ry bolt he tries. In every creek and corner pries. Then opes the chest with treasure stor'd. And stands in rapture o'er his hoard. But now, with sudden qualms possest. He wrings his hands, he beats his breast ; By conscience stung he wildly stares. And thus his guilty soul declares : * Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, ' This heart had known sweet peace of mind. * But virtue's sold. Good gods! what price * Can recompense the pangs of vice ? * O bane of good ! seducing cheat ! ' Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ? * Gold banish'd honour from the mind, ' And only left the name behind ; * Goldsow'd the world with every ill; * Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill : ARTICULATION. '21 * 'Tv\'as gold instructed coward hearts * In treachery's more pernicious arts. ' Who can recount the mischiefs o'er ? * Virtue resides on earth no more !' He spoke and sigh'd. In angry mood, Plutus, his god, before him stood ; The Miser trembhng lock'd his chest. The vision frown' d, and thus address' d : * Whence is this vile ungrateful rant ? * Each sordid rascal's daily cant : * Did I, base wretch, corrupt mankind ? ' Tlie fault's in thy rapacious mind. * Because m.y blessings are abus'd, * Must I be censur'd, curs'd, accus'd ? ' Ev'n virtue's self, by knaves is made * A cloak to cany on the trade ; * And power (when lodg'd in their possession) ' Grov/s t}Tanny, and rank oppression. * Thus, when the villain crams his chest, * Gold is the canker of the breast ; * 'Tis av'rice, insolence, and pride, * And ev'ry shocking vice beside. ' But when to \'irtuous hands 'tis given, * It blesses like the dews of heaven ; ' Like heav'n, it hears the orphan's cries, * And wipes the tears from widows' eyes, * Their crimes on gold shall misers lay, * Who pawn'd their sordid souls for pay ? ' Let bravos then (when blood is spilt) * Upbraid the passive sword with guilt.* How weak, how vain is human pride ! Dares man upon himself confide ? Tlie \\Tetch who glories in his gain, Amasses heaps on heaps in vain. 22 EXERCISES IN Why love we life in anxious cares, To lay in hoards for future years ? Can those (when tortur'd by disease) Cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease ? Can those prolong one gasp of breath, Or calm the troubled hour of death ? THE GAMESTER. Could fools to keep their own contrive, On what, on whom, could gamesters thrive ? Is it in charity you game. To save your worthy gang from shame ? Unless you furnish'd daily bread, Which way could idleness be fed ? Could these professors of deceit Within the law no longer cheat, They must run bolder risks for prey. And strip the trav'ller on the way. Thus, in your annual rents they share. And ^scape the noose from year to year. Consider ere you make the bet. That sum might cross your tailor's debt. When you the pilf'ring rattle shake. Is not your honour too at stake ? Must you not, by mean lies, evade To-morrow's duns from ev'iy trade ? By promises so often paid. Is yet your tailor's bill defray'd ? Must you not pitifully fawn. To have your butcher's writ withdrawn ? This must be done. In debts of jDlay Your honour suffers no delay : And not this year's and next year's rent The sons of rapine can content. ARTICULATION, gg TO A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, The man of pure and simple heart Through Hfe disdains a double part ; He never needs the screen of lies His inward bosom to disguise. In vain malicious tongues assail ; Let en\'y snarl, let slander rail. From virtue's shield (secure from v/ound) Their blunted venom'd shafts rebound. So shines his light before mankind, His actions prove his honest mind. If, in his country's cause, he rise. Debating senates to advise, Unbrib'd, unaw'd, he dares impart The honest dictates of his heart ; No ministerial frown he fears. But in his virtue perseveres. THE MAN, THE CAT, THE DOG, AND THE FLY. To my Native Country. Hail, happy land, whose fertile grounds The liquid fence of Neptune bounds ! By bounteous Nature set apart. The seat of industry and art ! O Britian ! chosen port of trade. May luxury ne'er thy sons invade ; May never minister (intent His private treasures to augment) Corrupt thy state. If jealous foes Thy rights of commerce dare oppose. 24 EXERCISES IN Shall not thy fleets their rapine awe ? Who is't prescribes the ocean law ? "Whenever neighb'ring states contend, 'Tis time to be the gen'ral friend. What is't, who rules in other lands ? On trade alone thy glory stands. That benefit is unconfin'd, Difiiising good among mankind; That first gave lustre to thy reigns. And scatter'd plenty o'er thy plains ; 'Tis that alone thy wealth supplies. And draws all Europe's envious eyes. Be commerce then thy sole design ; Keep that, and all the world is thine. When naval traflSc ploughs the main. Who shares not in the merchant's gain ? 'Tis that supports the regal state. And makes the fanner's heart elate : The num'rous flocks that clothe the land. Can scarce supply the loom's demand ; Prolific culture glads the fields. And the bare heath a hars-est yields. Nature expects mankind should share The duties of the public care. Who's born for sloth ? To some we find The plough-share's annual toil assign'd. Some at the sounding anvil glow ; Some the swift-gliding shuttle throw ; Some, studious of the wind and tide, From pole to pole our commerce guide ; Some (taught by industry) impart With hands and feet the ^vorks of art ; While some, of genius more refin'd. With head and tongue assist mankind ; ARTICULATION*. 2^ Each, aiming at one common end. Proves to the whole a needful friend. Thus, born each other's useful aid. By turns are obligations paid. > ■ The monarch, when his table's spread. Is to the clown oblig'd for bread ; And when in all his glory dress'd, Owes to the loom his royal vest : Do not the mason's toil and care Protect him from th' inclement air ? Does not the cutler's art supply The ornament that guards his thigh ? All these in duty, to the throne Their common obligation own. 'Tis he (his own and people's cause) Protects their properties and laws : Thus they their honest toil employ. And with content the fruits enjoy. In every rank, or great or small, 'Tis industry supports us all. The animals, by want oppress'd. To man their services address'd : While each pursued their selfish good. They hunger'd for precarious food ; Their hours with anxious cares were vex'd. One day they fed, and starv'd the next : They saw that plenty sure and rife. Was found alone in social life ; That mutual industry profess'd The various wants of man redress'd. The Cat, half-famish'd, lean, and weak. Demands the privilege to speak. * Well, Puss, (says Man) and what can }'ou * To benefit the pubhc do ?' c 26 EXERCISES IN The cat replies, "These teeth, these claws, * With vigilance shall serve the cause. * The mouse, destroy'd by my pursuit, ' No longer shall your feasts pollute ; ' Nor rats, from nightly ambuscade, * With wasteful teeth your stores invade/ ' I grant,' says Man, ' to gen'ral use * Your parts and talents may conduce ; * For rats and mice purloin our grain, ' And threshers whirl the flail in vain : ' Thus shall the Cat, a foe to spoil, ' Protect the farmer's honest toil.' Then turning to the Dog, he cried, ' Well, Sir ; be next your merits tried.' ' Sir,' says the Dog, by self-applause ' We seem to own a friendless cause. ' Ask those who know me, if distrust * E'er found me treach'rous or unjust ? ' Did I e'er faith or friendship break ? * Ask all those creatures ; let them speak. * My vigilance and trusty zeal ' Perhaps m.ay suit the public weal. ' Might not your flocks in safety feed, * Were I to guard the fleecy breed ? ' Did I the nightly Avatches keep, ' Could thieves invade you while you sleep ?' The Man replies, 'Tis just and right, * Rewards such service should requite. * So rare, in property, we find * Trust uncorrupt among mankind, ' That, taken in a public view, * The first distinction is your due, * Such merits all reward transcend ; * Be then my comrade and my friend.' ARTICULATION. 27 Addressing now the fly, — ' From you ' "What pubhc service can acci-ue ?* ' From me P the flutt'ring insect said ; * I thought you knew me better bred. * Sir, I'm a gentleman. Is't fit, * That I to industry submit ? * Let mean mechanics, to be fed, * By bus'ness earn ignoble bread : * Lost in excess of daily joys, ' No thought, no care, my life annoys. * At noon (the lady's matin hour) * I sip the tea's delicious flower ; ' On cakes luxuriously I dine, ' And drink the fragrance of the vine. ' Studious of elegance and ease, * Myself alone I seek to please.' The Man his pert conceit derides. And thus the useless coxcomb chides : ' Hence from that peach, that downy seat ; * No idle fool deserves to eat, * Could you have sapp'd the blushing rind, * And on the pulp ambrosial din'd, ' Had not some hand, with skill and toil, * To raise the tree, prepar'd the soil ? * Consider, sot, what would ensue * Were all such worthless things as you : ' You'd soon be forc'd (by hunger stung) * To make your dirty meals on dung, * On which such despicable need, * Unpitied, is reduc'd to feed. * Besides, vain, selfish insect, learn ' (If you can right and wrong discern) * That he, who, with industrious zeal, * Contributes to the j)ublic weal, c 2 28 EXERCISES IN ' By adding to the common good, ' His own hath rightly understood.' So saying, with a sudden blow, He laid the noxious vagrant low Crush' d in his luxury and pride. The spunger on the public died. THE PLUM CAKES. A Farmer who some wealth possess'd,. With three fine boys was also bless'd ; The lads were healthy, stout, and young. And neither wanted sense nor tongue ; Tom, Will, and Jack, like other boys, Lov'd tops and marbles, sport and toys. Tlie father scouted that false plan, Tliat money only makes the man ; And to the best of his discerning. Was bent on giving them good learning. He was a man of observation ; No scholar, yet had penetration : So with due care a school he sought. Where his young sons might well be taught. Quoth he, ' I know not which rehearses * Most properly his themes or verses ; ' Yet I can do a father's part, ' And school the temper, mind, and heart ; * The natural bent of each I'll know, * And trifles best that bent may show.' 'Twas just before the closing year. When Christmas holidays were near. The farmer call'd to see his boys. And asked how each his time employs. Quoth Will ; * There's father, boys, without : ' He's brought us something good, no doubt.' ARTICULATION. 29 The father sees their merry faces ; With joy beholds them, and embraces ; Then from his pocket straight he takes A vast profusion of plum cakes ; He counts them out a plenteous store, No boy shall have or less or more ; Twelve cakes he gives to each dear son. When each expected only one : And then with many a kind expression. He leaves them to their own discretion ; Resolv'd to mark the use each made Of what he to their hands convey'd. The twelve days pass'd, he comes once more. And brings the horses to the door. The boys with rapture see appear The poney and the dappled mare. Each moment now an hour they count ; And slash'd their whips, and long'd to mount. As with the boys his ride he takes. He asks the history of the cakes. Says Will, * Dear father, life is short, ' So I resolv'd to make quick sport ; ' The cakes were all so nice and sweet, * I thought I'd have one jolly treat. ' "WTiy should I baulk, said I, my taste ? * I'll make at once a hearty feast. * So snugly by myself I fed, * When every boy was gone to bed ; * I gorg'd them all, both paste and plum, * And did not waste a single crumb. * Howe'er, they made me to my sorrow, * As sick as death upon the morrow ; * This made me mourn my rich repast, * And wish I had not fed so fast.' c 3 ^0- EXERCISES IN Quoth Jack, ' I was not such a dunce, ' To eat my quantum up at once ; ' And though the boys all long'd to clutch 'em, ' I would not let a creature touch 'em ; ' Nor, though the whole were in my power, ' Would I myself one cake devour ; * Thanks to the use of keys and locks, * They're all now safe within my box. * The mischief is, by hoarding long, ' They're grown so mouldy and so strong, ' I find they won't be fit to eat, * And I have lost my father's treat/ ' Well, Tom,' the anxious parent cries, * How did you manage ? ' Tom replies, ' I shunn'd each wide extreme to take, ' To glut my maw or hoard my cake ; ' I thought each day its wants would have, ' And appetite again might crave. * Twelve school-days still my notches counted, * To twelve my father's cakes amounted : * So every day I took out one : * But never ate my cake alone ; * With every needy boy I shar'd, ' And more than half I always spar'd. ' One every day, 'twixt self and friend, * Has brought my dozen to an end. ' My last remaining cake to-day * I would not touch, but gave away ; ' A boy was ill and scarce could eat ; * To him it proved a welcome treat. * Jack call'd me spendthrift, not to save ; * Will dubb'd me fool because I gave ; * But when our last day came, I smil'd, * For Will's were gone, and Jack's were spoil'd * Not hoarding much, nor eating fast, ' I serv'd a needy friend at last.' I ARTICULATION. 31 THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW. One evening, as a simple swain His flock attended on the plain. The shining bow he chanc'd to spy, "WTiich warns ns when a shower is nigh ; With brightest rays it seem'd to glow ; Its distance eighty yards or so. This bumpkin had, it seems, been told The story of the cup of gold. Which fame reports is to be found Just ■\\'here the Rainbow meets the ground : He, therefore, felt a sudden itch To seize the goblet and be rich ; Hoping (yet hopes are often vain) No more to toil through wind and rain. But sit indulgent by the fire, 'Midst ease and plenty like a squire. He mark'd the very spot of land On which the rainbow seem'd to stand ; And, stepping forward at his leisure. Expected to have found the treasure. But, as he mov'd, the colour'd ray Still chang'd its place, and slipt away. As seeming his approach to shun ; From walking he began to run : But all in vain ; it still withdrew As nimbly as he could pursue. At last, through many a bog and lake. Rough craggy rock, and thoniy brake. It led the easy fool, till night Approach'd, then vanished in his sight. And left him to compute his gains. With nought but labour for his pains. c4 32 EXERCISES IN THE DROWNING FLY. In yonder vase behold a drowning fly! Its little feet how vainly does it ply ! Its cries I understand not, yet it cries. And tender hearts can feel its agonies ; Poor helpless victim ! And will no one save ? Will no one snatch thee from the threat'ning grave ? Is there no friendly hand, no helper nigh ? And must thou, httle straggler, must thou die ? Thou shalt not, while this hand can set thee free ; Thou shalt not die 1 this hand shall rescue thee ! My finger's tip shall prove a friendly shore : — There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er ; Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear ; Go join thy buzzing brothers in the air. Away it flies — resumes its harmless play. And sweetly gambols in the golden ray. Smile not, spectators, at this humble deed ! For you, perhaps, a nobler task's decreed; A young and sinking family to save. To raise the infant from destruction's wave ; To you for help the victims lift their eyes ; Oh ! hear, for pity's sake, their plaintive cries ! Ere long, unless some guardian interpose. O'er their devoted heads the flood may close. THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. In days of yore, when time was young. When birds convers'd as well as sung. When use of speech was not confin'd Merely to brutes of human kind, A forward hare, of swiftness vain. The genius of the neighbouring plain. ARTICULATION. 33 Would oft deride the drudging crowd ; For geniuses are ever proud. He'd boast his flight 'twere vain to follow ; For dog and horse, he'd beat them hollow ; Nay, if he put forth all his strength. Outstrip his brethren half a length. A Tortoise heard his vain oration. And vented thus his indignation : * O puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace * When I defy thee to the race. * Come, 'tis a match ; nay, no denial ; ' I'll lay my shell upon the trial.' 'Twas done, and done — all fair — a bet — Judges prepar'd — and distance set. The scampering Hare out-stript the wind ; The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind. And scarce had pass'd a single pole. When puss had almost reach'd the goal. * Friend Tortoise,' quoth the jeering Hare, ' Your burden's more than you can bear ^ * To help your speed, it were as well * That I should ease you of your shell : * Jog on a little faster, 'pr'y thee ; ' I'll take a nap, and then be with thee.' So said, so done ; and safely sure. For nay, what conquest more secure ? Whene'er he wak'd (that's all that's in it,) He could o'ertake him in a minute. Tlie Tortoise heard his taunting jeer. But still resolv'd to persevere : StiU drawl' d along, as who should say, * I'll win like Fabius by delay :' On to the goal securely crept. While Puss unknowing soundly slept. The bets were won, the Hare awoke ; When thus the victor Tortoise spoke : c 5 34 EXERCISES IN ' Puss, though I own thy quicker parts, ' Things are not always done by starts ; ' You may deride my awkward pace, * But slow and steady wins the race.' THE BUNDLE OF STICKS. A GOOD old man, no matter where. Whether in York or Lancashire, Or on a hill, or in a dale. It cannot much concern the tale. Had children very much like others, Compos'd of sisters and of brothers ; In life he had not much to give. Save his example how to live ; His luck was what his neighbours had. For some were good, and some were bad ! When of their father death bereft 'em. His good ad^dce was all he left 'em. This good old man, who long had lain Afflicted with disease and pain. With difficulty drew his breath. And felt the sure approach of death. He call'd his children round his bed. And with a feeble voice he said : * Alas, alas, my children dear, * I well perceive my end is near ; * I suffer much, but kiss the rod, * And bow me to the wiU of God. * Yet ere from you I'm quite remov'd, * From you whom I have always lov'd ; * I wish to give you all my blessing, ' And leave you with a useful lesson ; ARTICULATIOX. 35 ' That when I've left this world of care, * Each may his testimony bear, ' How much my latest thoughts inclined, ' To prove me tender, good, and kind! * Observe that faggot on the ground, ' With twisted hazel firmly bound.' The children tum'd their eyes that way, And \'iew'd the faggot as it lay ; But wonder'd what their father meant ; Who thus expounded his intent : * I wish that all of you would take it, * And try if any one can break it.' Obedient to the good old man, Tliey all to try their strength begaa : Now boy, now girl, now he, now she. Applied the faggot to their knee ; They tugg'd and strain' d, and tried again. But still they tugg'd and tried in vain : In vain their skill and strength exerted j The faggot every effort thwarted ; And when their labour vain they found. They threw the faggot on the ground. Again the good old man proceeded To give the instruction which they needed ; ' Untwist,' says he, ' the hazel bind, * And let the faggot be disjoin'd.' Then stick by stick, and twig by twig, Tlie little children and the big. Following the words their father spoke. Each sprig and spray they quickly broke : * There, father !' all began to cry, * I've broken mine ! — and I ! — and 1 1' Replied the sire : ' Twas my intent * My family to represent ! c6 3(^ EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. * While you are join'd in friendship's throng, * My dearest children you'll be strong : * But if by quarrel and dispute * You undermine affection's root, * And thus the strength'ning cord divide, ' Then will my children ill betide : * E'en beasts of prey in bands unite, * And kindly for each other figlit ; * And shall not every Christian be * Joined in sweet links of amity ? * If separate, you'll each be weak ; * Each, like a single stick, will break ; * But if you're firm, and true, and hearty, * The world, and all its spite, can't part ye.' The father, having clos'd his lesson. Proceeded to pronounce his blessing : Embrac'd them all, then pray'd and sigh'd, Look'd uj), and dropp'd his head — and died. ODE TO CHILDHOOD. Childhood, happiest stage of life ! Free from care and free from strife. Free from memory's ruthless reign. Fraught with scenes of former pain j Free from fancy's cruel skill. Fabricating future ill ; Time, when all that meets the "vdew. All can charm, for all is new ,• How thy long lost hours I mourn. Never, never to return. Then to toss the circling ball. Caught rebounding from the wall ; Then the mimic ship to guide Down the kennel's dirty tide j INFLEXION. 37 Then the hoop's revolving pace Through the dusty streets to chase ; O what joy ! — it once was mine. Childhood, matchless boon of thine ! — How thy long-lost hours I mourn. Never, n£ver to return. INFLEXION. Pupils of the Second Class can be taught to understand the nature of speaking sounds, to value the analysis of Walker, and comprehend the full power of Inflexion. They may be told, that one of the principal circum- stances to be regarded in first attending to the speaking voice, is its power of conveying, by one single percussion, independently of articulation, an idea of continuation or completion. In explaining to them the rising and fall- ing Inflexion, it will readily occur to their remembrance, that every conversation exhibits this distinction ; that in every part of a discourse, the upward or downward slide of the voice suggests, either that the speaker has not finished the sentence, or that he has entirely concluded the period. This recollection, enforced by elucidation, will be sufficient to prepare the ear to judge of inflexions as simple sounds, i. e. unaccompanied by the utterance of syllables ^ : but as there are some words in sentences ^ As all qualities are better imagined and felt by speaking of their contraries, or by presenting them to the eye in one point of view, so may the nature of Inflexion be better understood by producing the Monotone, The Monotone is one continued quality 38 INFLEXION. succeeded by pauses, which eveiy reader of this class cannot fail to pronounce of himself, with suitable In- flexions, it, perhaps, will facilitate the progress of each Pupil, to point out such words in a given sentence, show their precise signification, and, after reading the line, explain the advantage of imitating nature in similar instances, by adopting this or that Inflexion. ' Nothing valuable can be gained without labour.' Students will perceive that, in pronouncing this sen- tence. Rising Inflexions (upward slides of the voice, or tunes of continuation), are particularly observable on the words 'valuable,' and 'gained;' that the former of tliem is^;pronounced in a higher voice ; and, in the whole sentence, 'labour,' is the only word accompanied by an of sound without either elevation or depression, and may be well expressed on paper by the straight line '. Inflexion is sound departing from the Monotone in one continued elevation or depression, and, as opposed to the Monotone, may be represented on paper thus : — Mon ton (t -^s^iJ-- ^'''''"^^'^fZ Monotone ' Tnfiex ion- COMPACT SENTENCES. 39 accentuated Falling Inflexion, or that voice signifying completion \ The two Inflexions may be further exemplified by asking a question beginning with a verb, having two particulars, separated by the disjunctive, ' or^' as : Is it A or B ? The former letter has the Rising, the latter the Falling Inflexion. COMPACT SEXTEXCES. When each clause or portion of a sentence is connected in signification with that which has preceded, and the meaning of the speaker or writer cannot be kno'^vn until 1 The distance of each Inflexion is governed by the exciting feeling: in melancholy, the accents are not inflected above a quarter of a musical note ; but supposing the mind to be in a state of ti'anquillit}' when pronouncing the above sentence, and ou this occasion an Inflexion to occupy the distance of a Musical fifth, the tunes of the words * valuable,' ' gained,' and ' labour,' might bear the same proportions to each other as the slides ex- emplified by the following scale : — ^ ^ ^ Birds, when they are supposed to cry ' sweet,' exemplify In- flexion. Inflexion- may be further understood by attending to a violin performer, when he is sliding to what is termed the shift ; or by listening to any Musical Instrument while in the act of being tuned. 40 COMPACT SENTENCES. the concluding accent of the hast word is repeated or read, the whole is called a Compact Sentence. — Exaynple : * Having already shown how the fancy is affected by the works of nature, and afterwards considered in general both the works of nature and of art, how they mutually assist and complete each other, in forming such scenes and prospects as are most apt to delight the mind of the beholder, 1 shall now throw together some reflections on that particular art, which has a more immediate tendency than any other to produce those primary pleasures of the imagination which have hitherto been the subject of this discourse.' A Scale of the principal Inflexions in Compact Sentences. Is it A or B ? ^. '^A J} ? >^ The voice in pronouncing ' A'l * Is it' are two unaccentuated ascends from the middle of the syllables of the former oratori- scale to the top; in pronounc- cal word ; — ('isita?) 'or' is the ing 'B' it descends from theiunaccentuated syllable of the middle to the bottom : they are 'oratorical word ' orbe '.' called, therefore, the extreme Rising and Falling Inflexions. \ Pupils should be taught to pronounce the whole Alphabet in this manner, until the ear be rendered perfectly familiar to both these Inflexions. Is it A or B ?— Is it B or C ? — Is it C or D ? &c. &c. ^ Vide the * Philosophy of Elocution,' respecting oratorical words. COMPACT SENTENCES. 41 In this and all compact sentences there are two prin- cipal constructive parts ; the former terminates and the latter commences where the meaninof bescins to be formed. To pronounce such sentences with propriety, every accent should be supported by suitable suspen- sions of the voice ^ : the Inflexions should rise gradually to the last accent of the former division ; the speaker should then pause ; and afterwards sink the voice by degrees to the end of the sentence. TO BE COMMITTED TO MEMORY. A Compact Sentence is composed of a number of words so placed as not to convey the meaning of the writer until the whole be read or pronounced. As, 1st. ' The men who can be charged with the fewest failings, either with respect to abilities or virtue, are generally most ready to make allowances for them.' 2d. " Nothing will ever be attempted, if all possible objections must first be overcome.' 3d. 'As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so is decency of behaviour a concomitant to virtue.' There are two principal parts in a Compact Sentence, separated by a pause, called the ' long pause :' the former part ends, and the latter commences, where meaning begins to be formed. Question. — Where does meaning generally begin to be formed in Compact Sentences ? Answer. — In the example, ' The men who can be ^ Unless there be sufficient reason to the contrary. 42 COMPACT SENTENCES. charged,' &c. meaning begins to be formed at ' virtue,' and in all sentences of similar construction, it begins to be formed at the end of the words or clauses belong- ing to the nominative case. In all examples constructed like " Nothing will ever be attempted, if all possible objections must first be overcome,' — meaning begins to be formed just before the qualification. — In sentences formed on correspondent words either expressed or un- derstood,, like ' As the beauty of the body,' &c. mean- ing begins to be formed at the correspondent word \ Question. — In a Compact Sentence, which word is pronounced with the highest suspension of voice ? Answer. — The word before the long pause, i. e. where meaning begins to be formed. Question. — How should the voice be modulated ia pronouncing sentences of this sort? Answer. — By elevating it gradually to the long pause, and then depressing it by degrees to the cadence or ex- treme falling Inflexion. Rule 1st. In a Compact Sentence, the longest ^ pause, and the highest suspension of the voice, (the jittest jjlace for resinration) take place where the mean- ing begins to be formed. [Observation. — The following arrangement of Com- pact Sentences must be read carefully aloud, until the Rules belonging to them be fully understood and exem- plified ; then the Sentences must be committed to me- mory, and pronounced with action, according to subse- quent direction.] ^ The first two rules are applicable, also, to every member of a Loose Sentence but the last. See the Scale and observation re- specting Loose Sentences. COMPACT SENTENCES. 43 Truth is the basis of excellence. Nothing valuable can be gained \vithout labour. True wisdom is the greatest pleasure of the mind. Every art is improved by the emulation of competitors. Such is the constitution of man, that labour may be styled its own reward. Nothing wiU ever be attempted, if all possible objections must first be overcome. No evil is insupportable, but that which is accompanied with consciousness of wrong. A ^vise and good man is never so amiable, as in his un- bended and familiar intervals. The predominance of a favourite study affects all the sub- ordinate operations of the intellect. TVe are inclined to believe those whom we do not know, because they have never deceived us. To choose the best among many good, is one of the most hazardous attempts of criticism. When Sentences are more complex, the grammatical order of the words is frequently interrupted by inter- vemng clauses : in oral discourse, nature, on these occasions, is bountiful in assisting the construction by pausing and altering the voice. Intervening Clauses. Intervening Clauses are of two sorts ; one is called tlie Modifying Clause^ the other the Parenthesis, 44 COMPACT SENTENCES. A Modifying Clause qualifies or aiFects the meaning of the sentence. Example : — * A man, consincuous in a high station, who multiplies hopes that he may multiply dependents, maybe considered as a beast of prey.' Rule 2d. — Modifying Clauses, adverbial phrases, words or phrases in apposition, the case absolute, must all be separated by short pauses ; and the student having availed himself, if requisite, of the advantage of taking breath, they must be commenced with a lower voice than the preceding part of the sentence ; the voice must after- wards rise gradually to the end of the clause, phrase, or case absolute. A Parenthesis is a clause inserted in part of a Com- pact or Loose Sentence, wliich does not affect the con- struction. Examj)le : — ' If there's a power above us, (and that there is, all nature cries aloud through all her works) he must delight in virtue.' Rule 3d. — The whole Parenthesis must be pro- nounced with a depression of voice, and a little faster than the rest of the sentence : In the example, ' If there's a power above us, (and that there is, all nature cries aloud through all her works), he must delight in virtue :' — the highest Inflexion of voice is at ' above us.* Rule 4th. — A Pause usually occurs immediately after the nominative case : but it is not requisite to rest so long after a simple nominative, as when the case may be said to consist of many words. Rule 5th. — When the adjective follows the sub- COMPACT SENTENCES. 45 stantive, and is succeeded either by another adjective, or words equivalent to it, which form what may be called a descriptive phrase, it must be separated from the sub- stantive by a short pause. Examiile : — ' He was a man learned and polite.^ Rule Gth. — Relatives either modify or echo the meanings of their antecedents : when the relative modi- fes, it is requisite that its antecedent should be pro- nounced with the rising inflexion ; when it merely echoes the meaning, the antecedent should be j^ronounced with the falling inflexion. Rule 7th. — When a noun or pronoun is followed by a relative which modifies it, the noun or pronoun should have an accent. EXAMPLES OF THE COMPACT SENTENCE FOR THE PRACTICE OF THE FIRST SEVEN RULES. To hear complaints with patience, even when complaints are vain, is one of the duties of friendship. He that thinks he can ajBford to be negligent of his ex- penses, is not far from being poor. Among the uncertainties of the human state, we are doomed to number the instabilities of friendship. The two powers, which, in the opinion of Epictetus, con- stitute a wise man, are those of bearing and forbearing. Of all the diversions of life, there are none so proper to fill up its empty spaces, as the reading of useful and entertain- ing authors. The men who can be charged with fewest failings, either 46 COMPACT SENTENCES. with respect to abilities or virtue, are generally most ready to make allowances for them. The hypocrite would not be at so much pains to put on the appearance of virtue, if he did not know it was the most proper and eflfectual means to gain the love and esteem of mankind. Irresolution on the schemes of life which offer themselves to our choice, and inconstancy in pursuing them, are the greatest and most universal causes of all our disquiet and un- happiness. A settled conviction of the tendency of every thing to our good, and of the possibility of turning miseries into happiness, by recei^dng them rightly, will incline us to bless the name of the Lord, whether he gives or takes away. It was a very common inquiry among the ancients, why the number of excellent orators, under all the encourage- ments the most flourishing states could give them, fell so short of the number of those who excelled in all other sciences. Man, who, when considered on his probation for a happy existence hereafter, is the most remarkable instance of di\'ine wisdom, if we cut him off from all relation to eternity, is the most wonderful and unaccountable composition in the whole creation. Criticism, though dignified from the earliest ages by the labours of men eminent for knowledge and sagacity, and since the revival of polite literature, the favourite study of European scholars, has not yet attained the certainty and sta- bility of science. Compact Sentences formed on correspondent Words, either expressed or understood. As ttte beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so is decency of behaviour a concomitant to virtue. COMPACT SENTENCES. 47 As men are often esteemed who cannot be loved, so the poetry of some \\Titers may sometimes extort praise, when it gives little pleasure. If we hope for things which are at too great a distance from us, it is possible that we may be intercepted by death in our progress towards them. As the excellence of every power appears only in its opera- tions, not to have reason, and to have it useless and unem- ployed, is nearly the same. As no man can enjoy happiness, without he thinks he en- joys it, the experience of calamity is necessary to a just sense of better fortune. If it be difficult to persuade the idle to hurry, it is not easy to convince the busy, that it is sometimes better to be idle. Though laughter is looked upon by the philosophers as the property of reason, the excess of it has been always consi- dered a mark of folly. If we hope for thmgs of which we have not thoroughly considered the value, our disappointment will be greater than our pleasure in the fruition of them. As laws operate in civil agency, not to the excitement of virtue, but the remission of wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect can hinder faults, but not produce excellence. "Would a vain man consult his own heart, he would find, that if others knew his weaknesses as well as he himself does, he would not have the impudence to expect the public esteem. If a man considers his being as circumscribed by the un- certain term of a few years, his designs will be contracted into the same narrow span he imagines is to bound his existence, WTiether it be that life has more vexations than comforts. 48 COMPACT SENTENCES. or, what is in event just the same, that evil makes deeper im- pressions than good, it is certain that few can review the time past, without heaviness of heart. As hfe and all its enjo}Tnents would be scarce worth the keeping, if we were under a perpetual dread of losing them, it is the business of religion and philosophy to free us from all tinnecessary anxieties, and direct our fear to its proper object. As in the works of nature, no man can properly call a river deep, or a mountain high, without the knowledge of many mountains and many rivers, so, in the productions of genius, nothing can be styled excellent, till it has been compared with other works of the same kind. As no one can be said to enjoy health, who is only not sick, without he feel within himself a lightsome and invigo- rating principle, which will not suffer him to remain idle, but still spurs him on to action, so, in the practice of every virtue, there is some additional grace required, to give a claim of excellence in this or that particular action. It is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that if all the mis- fortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think themselves the most unhappy, would prefer the share they are already possessed of, before that which would fall to them by such a division. As beauty of body, with an agreeable carriage, pleases the eye, and that pleasure consists in observing, that all the parts have a certain elegance, and are proportioned to each other, — so does decency of behaviour, which a})pears in our lives, obtain the approbation of all with whom we converse, ■■ — from the order, consistency, and moderation of our words and actions. Notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily examples of losses and misfortunes which life forces rARENTIIESES. 49 upon our observation, such is the absorption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, such the resignation of our reason to the empty hopes of future fehcity, or such our unwillingness to see what we dread, that every calamity comes ■suddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burthen, but crushes us as a blow. As, on the one hand, we are soon ashamed of loving a person whom we cannot esteem, so, on the other, though we are truly sensilile of a man's abilities, we can never raise ourselves to the warmths of friendship, without an affection- ate good-will towards his person. PARENTHESES. [Ocs. — In reading the following sentences, it is re- quisite to pause just before the parenthesis, cast the eye over the whole, or as much of it as may be convenient, look towards one or two of the nearest of the audience? and then in a low voice pronounce as familiarly as thouo;h the intervenino; clause were one's own : the reader should then raise the voice nearly correspondent to the Inflexion accompanying the last accent before the parenthesis.] Death (says Seneca) falls heavy upon him, who is too much known to others, and too little to himself. Pride, in some particular disguise or other (offeii a secret to the proud man himself), is the most ordinary spring of action among men. The man who does not know how to methodize his ' thoughts, has always (7o borrow a phrase from the dispen- sary) * a barren superfluity of words.' The fruit is lost amidst the exuberance of leaves. He puts us in mind that Socrates (uohOy in the judgment of o 50 PRAXIS. Apollo, was the wisest of men) was not only a professed admirer of dancing in others, but learned it himself when he was an old man. I shall now, to let the world see what may be expected from me (first begging Mr. Spectator's leave that the world may see it) briefly touch upon my chief observations, and then subscribe myself your humble servant. But, among all the letters that are come to my hands, there is none so handsomely written as the following one ; which I am the more pleased with, as it is sent me from a gentleman who belongs to a body which I shall always honour, and where (I cannot speak it without a secret j)ride) my Speculations have met with a very kind reception. To be regardless of those phaenomena that are placed within our view, on purpose to entertain our faculties, and display the wisdom and power of their Creator, is an affront to Providence of the same kind (I hope it is not impious to make such a simile) as it would be to a good poet, to sit out his play without minding the plot, or the beauties of it. PRAXIS. FALSE INDUCTION. Be not too hasty to erect general theories from a few par- j ticular observations or experiments. This is what the Logi- ■ cians call a False Induction. When general observations are drav/n from so many particulars as to become certain and indubitable, these, comprehending great treasure in little room, are jewels of knowledge. But a hasty determination of some universal principles, without a due survey of all the particular cases which may be included in them, is the way to lay a trap for our own understandings in their pursuit of any subject. As NiveOj in his youth, observed, that on three Christmas PRAXIS. 51 days together, there fell a good quantity of snow, he MTOte in his Almanack, as a part of his wise remarks on the weather, that it will always snow at Christmas. Euron, a young lad, took notice, ten times, that there was a sharp frost when the wind was in the north-east ; therefore in the middle of last July, because the \veather cock showed him a north-east "wind, he almost expected it should freeze. It is the same hasty judgment that hath thrown scandal on a whole nation for the sake of some culpable characters belong- ing to several particular natives of that country. As every Frenchman is not gay and airy, nor every Itahan jealous and revengeful, so is not every Englishman over-run with the spleen. TRUTH. Truth (to use the expression of a celebrated writer) is the offspring of unbroken meditations, and of thoughts often revised and corrected. It requires, indeed, great patience and resolution to dissipate that cloud of darkness which sur- rounds her ; or (if you will allow me to go to an old philo- sopher for my allusion) to draw her up from that profound well in which she lies concealed. There is, however, such a general connection in the opera- tions of nature, that the discovery even of a single truth, opens the way to numberless others. But there is nothing, perhaps, more evident than that our intellectual faculties are not formed by one general standard. Diversity of opinions, therefore, is of the ^-^ry essence of our natures. It seems probable that this disparity extends even to our sensitive powers. Though we agree, indeed, in giving the same names to certain visible appearances, as whiteness, for in- stance, to snow ; yet it is by no means demonstration, that the particular body which affects us Math that sensation, raises the same precise idea in any two persons who shall happen to contemplate it together. Happy had it been for the peace of the world, if our main- D 2 52 PRAXIS. tainers of systems had conducted their several debates -udtli the full impression of this truth upon their minds. Genuine philosophy is ever the least dogmatical ; and I am always inclined to suspect the force of that argument which is ob- truded with arrogance and sufficiency. Philo, a lad of tolerable parts, fancied that he could prove atoms to be indestructible ; hence he was silly enough to conclude, that the world would never be destroyed. Could, however, the truth of the premise be established, (most certainly it cannot) still the conclusion of Philo was il- logical. In reasoning upon topics of this sort, students and Jovers of wisdom cannot be too circumspect. We cannot be too modest in our philosophical speculations. * The elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth, also, and the works that are therein, shall be burned iip.' This is the language of an inspired Apostle : and it is decisive. I am wonderfully pleased with a passage I met with the other day, in the Preface to Mr. Boyle's Philosophical Essays, and would recommend that cautious spirit by which he professes to have conducted himself in his physical researches, as worthy the imitation of inquirers after truth of every kind. * Perhaps you will wonder,' says he, ' that in almost ' every one of the following essays, I should use so often» * perhaps, it seems, it is jJrbbable; which argue a diffidence of * the truth of the opinions I incline to : and that I should be * so shy of laying down principles, and sometimes of so much ' as venturing at explications. But I must confess, that * having met with many things of which I could give myself * no one probable cause, and some things of which several ' causes may be assigned so differing, as not to agree in any * thing, unless in their being all of them probable enough j I ' have found such difficulties in searching into the causes * and manner of things, and I am so sensible of my own dis- ' ability to surmount those difficulties, that I dare speak con- fidently and positively of very few things, except matter of ACTION. 53 ' fact. And when I venture to deliver any thing by way of * opinion, I should, if it were not for mere shame, speak yet * more diffidently than I have been wont to do. Nor have my * thoughts been altogether idle — in forming notions and at- * tempting to devise hypotheses. But I have hitherto (though * not always, yet not unfrequently) found that what pleased * me for a while, was soon after disgraced by some farther or * new experiment. And indeed, I have the less envied many t (for I say not all) of those writers who have taken upon * them to deliver the causes of things, and explicate the mys- ' teries of nature, since I have had opportunity to observe * how many of their doctrines, after having been for a while * applauded and even admired, have afterwards been con- *" fiited by some new phaenomenon in nature, which was * either unknown to suchwriters, or not sufficiently con- * sidered by them.' If positiveness could become any man in any point of mere speculation, it must have been this truly noble philosopher, who was delivering the result of his studies in a science, wherein, by the united confession of the whole world, he so eminently excelled. But he had too much generosity to pre- scribe his own notions as a measure to the judgment of others, and too much good sense to assert them with heat or confi- dence. Whoever, Philotes, pursues his speculations with this humble unarrogating temper of mind, and with the best ex- ertions of those faculties which Providence has assigned him, though he should not find the conviction, never, surely, can he fail of the reward of Truth. ACTio:^r. In suiting the action to the word, there are four prin cipal rules. D 3 54 ACTION. First : It should keep time with the percussion of voice, whether accentual or emphatic : * Caesar deserved blame, not fame ! ' I'll be in men's despite a monarch.' Secondly : It should imitate the inflexions of the voice whether rising or falling : * By turns tliey felt the glowing mind, * Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd.' [Obs. — There is a natural coincidence between sound and motion. At present, it is only requisite for the student to be convinced of the ludicrous efFect» occasioned by moving the hand in opposite directions upon the words ' rais'd' and ' rejin'd,' in the two lines quoted from Collins. If ' rais'd' had been the last word in the sentence, that Inflexion called the extreme ■falling, or musical fifth below the medium, would have been adopted, and then the falling action would have been correnct ; for motion and sound are equally expres- sive of continuation and completion. On this head, maybe considered the action which will assist in rendering the grand divisions of sentences more evident to the understanding of an auditor ; these should be distinguished by appropriate motions of the head, the arms, and the hands, where the meaning begins to be formed. This can be exemplied, by pronouncing what Walker has very properly called a Compact Sentence, formed with two principal constructive parts, and known. by correspondent conjunctions either expressed or under- stood.] * If men of eminence are exposed to censure on the ACTION. 55 one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. ^ In this sentence, the words ' one' and ' other,' being placed in contradistinction, and consequently emphatical, are places which should be marked by Action. Every accent accept that on the last word, is accompanied with a rising Inflexion ; the hand, there- fore, may correspondently rise once and fall once ; but as the highest accentuated Inflexion takes place v/here the meaning begins to be unfolded, i. e. where the correspondent word is understood, — the motion of the hand (if action be convenient) should there imitate, more particularly, the sound of the voice ; and, then, the pause ^, the longest in the sentence, will afford not only the auditor an opportunity of recollecting himself, but also, if required, give the speaker time to shift his action. Thirdly : Action should so far enter into the mean- ing of words, phrases, and sentences, as to imitate or describe what is intended to be conveyed. * Upon the word, * Accoutred as I was, I 'plunged in, ' And bade him follow.' The word marked in Italics should be particularly characterized with Action. 1 The hand may either remain up during the pause, and so fall with the last word, or, if convenient, it may drop at the pause, and the other hand may be suffered to rise and finish with the sentence^ In exemplifying this rule, redundancy must be avoided : for, as the feet, in dancing, do not keep pace with every demisemiquaver of the violin, so the gestures in speaking do not imitate every ac- centuated Inflexion of the voice. D 4 50 ACTION. [Obs. — Action^ expressive of motion, is adopted by liatural imitation ; but action, expressive of certain general feeling, which also comes under the class of imitative words, phrases, and sentences, is subservient to the genius and custom of the people. Without reverting to the custom of the Greeks and Romans, such as stamping the feet^ heating the thigh^ striking the forehead, I shall present the student with the fol- lowing concentration as adopted by the best English speakers :] Truth and Virtue seem to be properly denoted by the right hand being placed over the left breast. Hope raises the hands, as if receiving the object desired ; and Aversion, gives an opposite direction to the face and arms, or in other v/ords, the face declines from the motion of the hand. Space, distance, or extent may be described by appropriate curvatures of Action : and ideas of sublimity, loftiness, and heavenliness, may be suitably conveyed by elevated countenance and gesture ; and vice versa. Fourthly : As it is possible for gesture to mark the accentuation, imitate the meaning of certain words, imi- tate the rising and falling of the voice, and describe the objects of discourse, and yet be very inelegantly exe- cuted, it must be remarked, that Action should he 'per- fectly easy, graceful, and natural. N. B. — The whole of the Compact Sentences should now he repeated, in portions, from memory, accompanied with gesture and action. ACTION. 57 [Obs. — The Greeks and Romans practised their youths in athletic exercises, and sent them to schools called the Palaestra, designed exclusively for the cul- tivation of their Gesture and Action. Dr. Ward, with Mr. Walker and others, seem to think, that our dancing schools are of similar utility. * Those move easiest who have learn'd to dance ^' Pope. ^ An observation on the affected graces of a dancing-master, which I recollect to have extorted from the late celebrated Mon- sieur Roland, father of the present gentleman of that name, teacher of the small sword, — is extremely apposite, and may be interesting to repeat. ' Supposing a letter were presented to a, dancing-master among his room full of pupils, he would necessa- rily point the toe in putting his kit on the table ; he would then, perhaps, take out his box, and furnish himself with a pinch of snuff; then, after having opened the billet-doux, vvould curve his arms exactly in a parallel direction, inclining towards the light, point his toe, and, perhaps, not comprehending the meaning on the first perusal, thus spell out the contents.' * But,' I observed, * supposing a fencing-master were to receive a letter, how would HE conduct himself?' ' De same you, de same any gentleman.' Upon requiring an explanation, he gave me to understand, that his reading would not have been accompanied with manner : in observing him, I should perceive, by the symptoms of earnestness and attention depicted in his countenance, that his mind was in action. — And, in truth, were we to compare the one with the other, we should discover, in the dancing-master, all manner, atti- tude, point and curvature ; in the fencing-master, ease, grace, and intellect. — The reason is obvious ; all the intellectual functions are active before an adversary in a fencing assault, and this is discover- able from the Expression of the Intellectual muscles. In dancing, we have only to take notice of the vacant stare of the minuet dancer, to convince us that all is insipience, and that not a breath of thought is seen to move. d5 [If 58 LOOSE SENTENCES. I do not mean to assert, that suppleness is not given to the limbs from the Art of Dancing ; but I must say, more grace, elegance and ease are diffused all over the body from the use of the Foil and Single-stick. The elegance of the Fencing salutes, the frequent practice of thrusting Carte and Tierce, and exercise in the assault, would improve the Gesture and Action of senior i^wpils in elocution, and contribute greatly to the accomplishment of the fourth rule for ' suiting the actionio the 7VGrd.*~\ LOOSE SENTENCES. A Loose Sentence consists of two or more members to complete the period; which members form meaning independently of each other ; and these portions require to be separated either by colons or semicolons. [Obs. — The following sentences, though proceed- ing from the easy to the difficult, require precisely simi- lar Inflexions : but as each member of a loose sentence If it be acknowledged, that fencing characterizes the look and gesture witii appearance of intellectual vigour, and that it facili- tates the graceful and ornamental motions of the arms and wrists ; students should, most certainly, avail themselves of the advantage of practising the art. I advise pupils to acquire, also, the use of the broad-sword. The practising of these arts would supersede the necessity of re- marking to students in elocution, that neither the breast nor sto- mach should be thrust out, and of motioning that the shoulders should sink easily to their places : it would, also, supersede the necessity of enumerating the awkward motions of an unskilful speaker, and of preparing the student against ' sawing the air with the hand;' that he may escape the sarcasm, related in the Brutus, of the coarse yet humourous Sicinius against Curio. LOOSE SENTENCES. 59 contains perfect meaning, and is not modified or altered in signification by the succeeding, it does not, like the first part or division of a compact sentence, require the rising Inflexion, but such an Inflexion as to indicate that meaning is formed ; yet signifying that something is to follow to complete the period ; and this Inflexion, for the sake of distinction, is called the middle falling Inflexion. JExarnple. Death which is considered as the greatest evil, happens to all ; the greatest good, be it what it will, is the lot but of a part. In this sentence the words ' all' and ' part' have, both of them, falling Inflexions ; but the former should be pronounced in a higher compass of the voice than the latter. A Scale of the principal Inflexions in Loose Sentences of two Members. Is it A or B; or B or ^? Pupils may easily be taught to pronounce the Alphabet in this way. JSliLsical Seal J 3t ®^ d6 60 LOOSE SENTENCES. A and C are the two extreme Inflexions as before explained ; the voice, in pronouncing the former B, descends from the top of the scale to the middle ; and, in pronouncing the latter B, it ascends from the bottom to the middle : the two B's are, therefore, called middle Inflexions.] In a loose sentence, the middle falling^ Inflexion implies that meaning is formed, but that something is going to be added in illustration; the middle rising Inflexion prepares the ear for the cadence or extreme falling Inflexion. Rule 8th. — The middle falling Inflexion signifies, that a portion of meaning is formed, but that something more is to be added. Rule 9th. — The middle rising Inflexion prepares the ear for the cadence, or entire conclusion. Rule lOtli. — The extreme falling Inflexion implies that the sentence is complete. [Obs. — In repeating these and all the following sen- tences, the same order must be preserved as Vv^hen re- peating the Compact Sentences : they must be first care- fully read, and then committed to memory and recited, as before, ivith Action.^ Nothing can atone for the want of modesty; without which, beauty is ungraceful, and wit detestable. * See Walker's Elements of Elocution, page 94. It is there called the Disjunctive Inflexion. LOOSE SENTENCES. 61 Things may be seen differently and differently shown j but actions are visible, though motives are secret. While the Romans were poor ', they robbed mankind ; and as soon as they became rich, they robbed one another. Some desire is necessary to keep life in motion ; and he whose real wants are supplied, must admit those of fancy. The opinions of every man must be learned from himself; concerning his practice, it is safest to trust the evidence of others, . If we hope for what we are not likely to possess, we act and think in vain ; and make life a greater dream and shadow, than it really is. Those who attempt nothing themselves, think every thing easily performed ; and consider the unsuccessful always as criminal. Wit, like other things subject by their nature to the choice of man, has its changes and fashions : and at different times takes different forms. The utmost we can hope for in this world, is contentment ; if we aim at any thing higher, we shall meet with nothing but grief and disappointment. Life, however short, is made still shorter by waste of time ; and its progress towards happiness, though naturally slow, is yet retarded by unnecessary labour. There is a vigilance of observation, and accuracy of distinction, which books and precepts cannot confer; and from this, almost all original and native excellence pro- ceeds. By forbearing to do what may innocently be done, we ^ Rule 1st is applicable, also, to almost every member of a loose sentence but the last. 62 LOOSE SENTENCES. may hourly add new vigour to resolution ; and secure the power of resistance, when pleasure or interest shall lend their charms to guilt. It is of the last imjiortance, to season the passions of a child with devotion ; which seldom dies in a mind that has received an early tincture of it. The obedience of children to their parents is the basis of all government ; and set forth as the measure of that obe- dience which we owe to those whom Providence has placed over us. Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion of his own dignity ; he is better content to want diligence than power, and sooner confesses the depravity of his wiU, than the im- becility of his nature. It should be an indispensable rule in life, to contract our desires to our present condition ; and, whatever may be our expectations, to live within the compass of what we actually possess. Youth is of no long duration ; and in maturer age, when the enchantments of fancy shaU cease, and phantoms of delight dance no more about us, we shall have no comforts but the esteem of wise men, and the means of doing good. The most difficult province in friendship is letting a man see his faults and errors ; which should, if possible, be so contrived, that he may perceive our advice is given him, not so much to please ourselves, as for his own advantage. To refuse credit to what is surprising, confers, for a moment, an appearance of superiority; which every little mind is tempted to assume, when it may be gained so cheaply as by withdrawing attention from evidence, and de- chning the fatigue of comparing probabilities. Tully was the first who observed, that friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubUng of our joy. PRAXIS. 63 and the di\dding of our grief : a thought, in which he hath been followed by all the essayers upon friendship that have written since his time. The foundation of content must spring up in a man's ovm mind ; and he who has so little knowledge of human nature, as to seek happiness by changing any thing but his own dis- position, will waste his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove. Adversity has ever been considered as the state in which a man most easily becomes acquainted with himself; and this effect it must produce by withdrawing flatterers, whose business it is to hide our weaknesses from us, or by giving loose to malice, and hcence to reproach. I consider a human soul without education like marble in the quarry ; which shows none of its internal beauties, till the skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it. We frequently fall into error and folly, not because the true principles of action are not known, but because, for a time, they are not remembered ; he may, therefore, be justly numbered among the benefactors of mankind, who contracts the great rules of hfe into short sentences, that they may be easily impressed on the memory, and taught, by frequent recollection, to recur habitually to the mind. PRAXIS. GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS. First, the Supreme doth highest rev'rence claim ; Use with religious awe his sacred name : 64 PRAXIS. Assur'd he views thy ways ; let nought controul The oath thou once hast bound upon thy soul. Next, to the heroes — hear a grateful mind. Whose glorious cares and toils have blest mankind. Let just respect and decent rites be paid To the immortal manes of the dead. Honour thy parents and thy next of kind : And virtuous men wherever thou canst find. In the same bond -of love let them be join'd. Useful and steady let thy life proceed Mild ev'ry word, good natur'd every deed ; Oh, never ^^dth the man thou lov'st contend ! But bear a thousand frailties from thy friend. Rashly inflam'd, vain spleen, and slight surmise. To real feuds, and endless discord rise. O'er lust, o'er anger, keep thy strictest reign. Subdue thy sloth ; thy appetite restrain. With no vile action venture to comply, — Not, tho' unseen by ev'ry mortal eye. Above all witnesses thy conscience fear. And more than all mankind thyself revere. One way let all thy thoughts and actions tend. Reason their constant guide, and truth their end. And, ever mindful of thy mortal state. How quick, how various, are the turns of fate. How here, how there, the tides of fortune roll. How soon impending death concludes the whole. Compose thy mind, and, free from anxious strife. Endure thy portion of the ills of life : Though still the good man' stands secure from harms, Nor can misfortune wound, whom virtue arms. Discourse in common converse, thou wilt find Some to improve, and some to taint the mind ; PRAXIS. 65 Grateful to that, a due obsen^ance pay ; Beware lest this entice thy thoughts astray And bold untruths, which thou art forc'd to hear. Receive discreetly with a patient ear. Would'st thou be justly rank'd among the wise. Think, ere thou dost ; ere thou resolv'st advise ; Still let thy aim with sage experience square. And plan thy conduct with sagacious care ; So shalt thou all thy course with pleasure run. Nor wish an action of thy life undone. Among the various ends of thy desires, *Tis no inferior place thy health requires. Firmly for this from all excess refrain. Thy cups be mod'rate, and thy diet plain : Nor yet inelegant thy board supply. But shun the nauseous pomp of liixury. Let spleen by cheerful converse be withstood. And honest labours purify the blood. Each night, ere needful slumber seals thy eyes. Home to thy soul let these reflections rise ; Hoiv has this day tny duty seen expressed? What have Idone, omitted, or transgressed ? Then grieve the moments thou hast idly spent : The rest will yield thee comfort and content. Be these good rules thy study and delight ; Practise by day, and ponder them by night : Tims all thy thoughts to virtue's height shall rise. And truth shall stand unveil'd before thy eyes. Then all around compassionately view The wretched ends which vain mankind pursue ; Toss'd to and fro by each tempestuous gust. The rage of passion, or the fire of liist ; No certain stay, no safe retreat they know. But bhndly wander through a maze of woe. 66 EMPHASIS. Meanwhile congenial vileness works within. And custom quite subdues the soul to sm. Save us from this distress. Almighty Lord, Our minds illumine, and thy aid aflford 1 EMPHASIS : OR, Words in Contradistinction, The following arrangement is respecting Sentences which have parts corresponding to parts. This cor- respondence, whether in Compact or Loose Sentences, either expressed or understood, is what is justly called Emphasis \ Rule 11th. — Words in contradistinction, either expressed or understood, should be pronounced with emphases. Without hope there can be no caution. Those that are past shame are past hope. No one loves Mnij that loves only himself. Some men are made poor by their own faults; some by the faults of others. K friend exaggerates a man's virtues ; an enemy inflames his crimes. We should esteem virtue, though in Rfoej and abhor vice, though in a. friend. In things difficult, there is a danger from ignorance ; in things easy, from confidence. ^ Emphatic force may be either simple or double, according to the nature of the contradistinction. PRAXIS. 67 Hypocrisy is the necessary burden of villainy ; affectation^ part of the chosen trappings of folly. If misery be the effect of virtue, it ought to be reverenced : if of ill fortune, it ought to be pitied. Integrity without knowledge is weak, and generally useless j and knowledge without integrity, is dangerous and dreadful. Many men mistake the I6ve for the practice of virtue, and are not so much goodrnQn, as Xhe friends of goodness. A TCidiTi's first care should be to av6id the reproaches of his own heart j his next to escape the censures of the world. He that is loudly jarafsec?, will be clamorously censured j he that rises hastily into fame, will be in danger of sinking suddenly into oblivion. Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation thanw;i7; and gives a certain air to the countenance which is more amiable than beauty. In every work, one part must be for the sake of others j a palace must h.2ive its passages, ^ijjdem must have its tran- sitions. Rule 12th. — Sentences or phrases in contradistinc- tion to any general meaning or feeling of the mind, must be pronounced with emphases. PRAXIS. FROM ANTONIO AND MELLIDA. (The speaker, Feliche, is asked if he envies not the Court ;) I WONDER it doth not envy me. Why, man, I have been borne upon the spirit's wings. The soul's swift Pegasus, the phantasy ; And from the height of contemplation. 68 QUESTIONS AND EXCLAMATIONS. Have view'd the feeble joints men totter on. I envy none j but hate or pity all. For when I view, with an intentive thought. The creSituYe fair, hut proud J rich, hut sot j The other vntty, but unmeasured arrogant j Him great, yet boundless in ambition j Him high-born, but of base life; f other fear^d^ Yet, feared, /ear5, and fears to be ynost lov'd j Him. wise, hut ma.de a fool for public-use J The other learn'' d, but s,e\i-opinionate, — When I discourse all these, and see myself "Nor fair, nor rich, nor witty, great, nor feared j Yet amply suited with all full content ; Oh, how I clap my hands, and smooth my brow, Rubbing my quiet bosom, tossing up A grateful sj)irit to Omnipotence ! Harris has divided Questions into two Classes, — ' definite and indefinite ; definite when the question be- gins with a verb, requiring, perhaps, only the answer of yes or no : indefnite when it begins with either an interrogative pronoun or adverb, requiring frequently a whole sentence to explain the answer. Rule 13th. — A Question, having in it but one par- ticular, and beginning with a verb, or auxiliary, requires its terminating accent to be accompanied with the rising inflexion of voice. Example : — Is it A ? Questions, beginning with verbs, having in them two particulars, separated by ' or,' terminate sometimes with the rising Inflexion, and sometimes with the falling Inflexion, — 'Is it A or B V In this question, if we QUESTIONS AND EXCLAMATIONS. 6^ imagine the speaker to understand, that it is neither of the letters, he uses the word ' or' conjunctively, and pronounces B with the rising Inflexion ; as if he had said ' can you imagine, that it is either A or B?' — But if he sujDpose the question to contain one of the letters, he would use the word ' or' disjunctively y ' Is it A or B ^ V as if he had said, it is A or B : therefore, Rule 14th. — Questions, beginning with verbs or auxiliaries, and having in them two or more particulars separated by the disjunctive ' or,' terminate with the falling Inflexion. / Example : — Is it A or B ? Rule 15th. — Questions, beginning with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, terminate with the falling In- flexion. Example : — ' Which is the letter ?^ examples. Would 2 an infinitely wise Being make such glorious beings for so mean a purpose ? Can he delight in the production of such abortive intelhgence, such short-lived reasonable be- ings ? Would he give us talents that are not to be exerted, capacities that are not to be gratified ? Shall we in your person crown the author of the pubhc calamities, or shall we destroy him ? ^ This comes under the class of indefinite questions. — N.B. All questions repeated a second time are pronounced like quotations. 2 The following words are not printed in Italics to signify either accentual or emphatic force; hut merely to refer to the Rules 13, 14, and 15. 70 QUESTIONS AND EXCLAMATIONS, Is the goodness, or the wisdom of the Divine Being, more manifested in this his proceeding ? What actions can express the entire purity of thought which refines and sanctifies a virtuous man ? — that secret rest and contentedness of mind, which gives him a perfect enjoy- ment of his present condition : that inward pleasure and com- placency which he feels in doing good ; that delight and sa- tisfaction which he takes in the prosperity and happiness of another ! — These and the like virtues are the hidden beauties of a soul ; the secret graces, but cannot be discovered by a mortal eye, but make the soul lovely and precious in his sight from whom no secrets are concealed. Has a wise and good God furnished us with desires which have no correspondent objects, and raised expectations in our breast, v/ith no other \aew but to disappoint them ? Are we to be for ever in search of happiness, without arriving at it, either in this world or the next? Are we formed v/ith a pas- sionate longing for immortality, and yet destined to perish after this short period of existence ? Are we prompted to the noblest actions, and supported through life, under the se- verest hardships and most delicate temptations, by the hopes of a reward, which is visionary and chimerical, by the expec- tation of praises, of which it is utterly impossible for us ever to have the least knowledge or enj oyment ? But should these credulous infidels after all be in the right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable, from believing it what Imria would ensue? — Would it render princes more tyrannical, or subjects more ungovernable ; — ^The rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly ? — Would \t make worse parents or children; husbands or wives; masters or serv^ants; friends or neighbours ? or would it not make men more vir- tuous, and, consequently, more happy in every situation ? Rule 16th. — Supplications require their terminating PRAXIS. 7X accents to be accompanied with suitable rising or falling inflexions of voice \ Rule 17th. — A Compact Sentence, or any member of a Loose Sentence considered as an appeal, requires its terminating accent to be accompanied v.'itli the rising Inflexion of the voice ^. Rule 18. — Exclamation declares the emotion of the speaker : the Inflexion at the concluding accent is either rising or falling according to the signification of the m.ember or sentence to which it is subjoined. EXAMPLES. Will you for ever, Athenians, do nothing but walk up and dovv'n the city, asking one another. What news ? What news ! is there anything more new than to see a man of Ma- cedonia become master of the Athenians, and give laws to aU Greece ? Whither shall I turn ? Wretch that I am ! to what place shall I betake myself ? Shall I go to the capitol? Alas ! it is overflowed with my brother's blood ; or shall I retire to my house ? yet there I shall behold my mother plunged in mi- sery, weeping and despairing ! ALL NATURE ATTESTS THE DEITY. Hast thou beheld the glorious sun. Through aU the sky his circuit run ; At rising morn, at closing day. And when he beam'd his noontide ray ? ^ Vide the Philosophy of Elocution, p. 161, and also the Adver- tisement of this Edition of the " School Orator." ^ Ibid, page 169. 72 PRAXIS. Say, didst thou e'er attentive view The evening cloud, or morning dew ? Or after rain, the wat'ry bow Rise in the east, a beauteous show ? When darkness had o'erspread the skies. Hast thou e'er seen the moon arise ; And, with a mild and placid light. Shed lustre o'er the face of night ? Hast thou e'er wandered o'er the plain. And view'd the fields and waving grain. The flowery mead, the leafy grove. Where all is melody and love ? Hast thou e'er trod the sandy shore. And heard the restless ocean roar ; When, rous'd by some tremendous storm. Its billows roll in dreadful form ? Hast thou beheld the lightning stream Through night's dark gloom a sudden gleam, While the bellowing thunder's sound RoU'd rattling through the heavens profound ? Hast thou e'er felt the cutting gale. The sleety shower, the biting hail ; Beheld bright snow o'erspread the plains ; The water bound in icy chains ? Hast thou the various beings seen That sport along the valley green ; That sweetly warble on the spray. Or wanton in the sunny ray ? That shoot along the briny deep. Or under ground their dwellings keep ; That through the gloomy forest range, Or frightful wilds and desarts strange ? PRAXIS. 73 Hast thou the wondrous scenes sui'vey'd That all around thee are display'd ? And hast thou never rais'd thine eyes To Him, who caus'd these scenes to rise ? 'Twas God, who form'd the concave sky, And all the shining orbs on high ; "V\nio gave the various beings birth, Tliat people all the spacious earth. 'Tis He, that bids the tempests rise. And rolls the thunder from the skies : His voice the elements obey ; Through all the earth extends his sway. His goodness all his creatures share ; But man is his peculiar care. Then, while they all proclaim his praise. Let man his voice the loiidest raise. THE MAN OF ROSS. B Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow ? From the dry rock who bade the waters flow ? Not to the skies in useless columns tost. Or in proud falls magnificently lost. But clear and artless pouring through the plain. Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ? "IlYlq Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread : He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state, Where age and want sit smiling at the gate ; 74 PRAXIS. Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans blest. The young who labour, and the old who rest. Is any sick ? The man of Ross relieves. Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes and gives. Is there a variance ? Enter but his door, Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. Despairing quacks with curses fled the place, And vile attorneys, now a iiseless race. Thrice happy man ! enabled to pursue What all so wish, but want the power to do ! Oh, say, what sums that gen'rous hand supply ? What mines to swell that boundless charity > Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear. This man possess'd — five hundred pounds a year. Blush, grandeur, blush ! proud courts, withdraw your blaze ! Ye little stars ! hide your diminish'd rays. BEAUTY IMPROVED. When blooming beauty in the noon of power. While offer'd joys demand each sprightly hour ; When she, whose name the softest love inspires. To the hush'd chamber of disease retires. To wait and weep beside a parent's bed. Catch the faint voice, and raise the languid headi What mix'd delight each feeling heart must warm ! An angel's office suits an angel's form ! Thus the tall column graceful rears its head To prop some mould'ring tow'r with moss o'erspread. Whose stately piles and arches yet display The venerable graces of decay : Thus round the wither'd trunk fresh shoots are seen To shade their parent with a cheerful green. SERIES. 75 More health, dear maid ! thy soothing presence brings Than purest skies and salutary springs. That voice, those looks, such healing virtues bear. Thy sweet reviAdng smiles might cheer despair ; On the pale lips detain the parting breath. And bid hope blossom in the shades of death. Beauty like thine, could never reach a charm So powerful to subdue, so sure to warm. On her lov'd child behold the mother gaze ! — In weakness pleas'd, and smiling through decays, — And leaning on that breast her cares assuage ; — How soft a pillow for declining age ! For this, when that fair frame must feel decay," (Oh Heaven, protract it to a distant day !) Some pious hand shall thy weak limbs sustain, — And pay thee back these generous cares again ; Thy name shall flourish by the good approv'd, Tliy memory honour'd, and thy dust belov'd. THE SERIES. The enumerating of particulars in either Compact or Loose Sentences, is called — Series. Theraaretwo sorts, Commencing and Concludinfr. Rule 19th. — When the enumeration occurs in the « former part of a Compact Sentence, or in ^the former division of any of the members of a Loose Sentence, it is called the Commencing Series, and requires the rising Liflexion ^ Example. — * How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, ^ This is contrary to the practice of Walker. E 2 76 SERIES. in form and moving ho\y express and admirable, in action how lilie an angel, in apprehension how like a God, — is man/ Rule 20th. — When each particular of the enumera- tion forms meaning, the whole is called A Concluding Series, and requires \\\e falling Inflexion. Example. — * What a piece of work is man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and moving how express and admirable ! in action how like an angel ^ ! in apprehension how like a God !' The natures of both Series, commencing and con- cluding, and the parts of the sentences to which they belong, point out the precise manner in which they should be delivered. ' In order, however, to mark these particulars distinctly, they must not be suffered to blend with each other ; and at the same time to show that they have a common relation to the whole sentence, they must not be pronounced entirely difierent. The similitude and diversity in the pronunciation should be an exact picture of the similitude and diversity in the composition. For as a climax in writing ought to rise in force as it proceeds, so the voice, in pronouncing it, ought gradually to increase its force upon every subsequent member. Here is the diversity; but as the members have a similar form, and stand equally related to the object of the sentence, they ought to have a similar in- flexion of the voice : here is the uniformity^.' ^ In the Concluding Series, the last accent of the penultimate particular frequently has tlie vising Inflexion, to prepare the ear for the cadence. 2 IValher. 77 EXAMPLES OF THE COMMENCING SERIES. [For the convenience of the Student, each particular is printed separately, and marked with the semicolon ; towards the end of the Examples, the arrangement is otherwise.] The miser is more industrious than the saint ; the pains of getting ; the fear of losing ^ ; and the inability of enjoying his v/ealth, have been the mark of satire in all ages. When ambition pulls one way ; interest another ; inclination a third ; and perhaps reason contrary to all, a man is likely to pass liis time but ill, who has so many different parties to please. To play with important truths ; to disturb the repose of estabhshed tenets ; to subtilize objections ; and elude proof, is too often the sport of youthful vanity, of which maturer experience commonly repents. Were the miser's repentance upon the neglect of a good bargain ; his sorrow for being over-reached ; Jiis hope of improving a sum ; and his fear of falling into want ; directed to their proper objects, they would make so many Christian graces and virtues. \\Tiat innumerable multitudes of people lie confused to- ^ Rule 9th must, on tlus*and similar occasions, be carefully ap- plied, which saySi — ' The middle rising Inflexion.' &c. E 3 78 COMMET^CING SERIES. getlier tinder tlie pavement of an ancient cathedral ; how men and women ; friends and enemies ; priests and soldiers ; monks and prebendaries, are crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass ! how beauty, strength, and youth ; with old age ; weakness ; and deformity, lie undistinguished, in the same promiscuous heap of matter. The bounding of Satan over the walls of Paradise, his sit- ting, in the shape of a cormorant, upon the tree of life, which stood in the centre of it, and overtopped all the other trees in the garden ; his alighting among the herd of animals, which are so beautifully represented as playing about Adam and Eve ; together with his transforming himself into different shapes, in order to hear their conversation, are circumstances that give an agreeable surprise to the reader, and are devised with great art, to connect that series of adventures, in which the poet has engaged this artifice of fraud. To find the nearest way from truth to truth ; or from purpose to eflfect : not to use more instruments where fewer will be sufficient ; not to move by wheels and levers, what will give way to the naked hand, is the great proof of a health- ful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with helpless igno- rance, nor overburdened with unwieldy knowledge. A guilty or a discontented mind, a mind, ruflfled by ill for- tune, disconcerted by its own passions, soured by neglect, or fretting at disappointments, hath not leisure to attend to the necessity or reasonableness of a kindness desired, nor a taste for those pleasures which wait on beneficence, which demand .a calm and unpolluted heart to relish them. 79 EXAMPLES OF THE CONCLUDING SERIES. The chief security against the fruitless anguish of impati- ence, must arise from frequent reflection, on the wisdom and goodness of the God of nature ; in whose hands are riches and poverty ; honour and disgrace ; pleasure and pain, and life and death. It is the most agreeable talent of an historian, to be able to draw up his armies and fight his battles in proper expres- sions ; to set before our eyes the divisions, cabals, and jealousies of great men ; to lead us step by step, into the several actions and events of his history. A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the fierce- ness of a party ; of doing justice to the character of a deserving man ; of softening the envious ; quieting the angry ; and rectifying the prejudiced ; which are all of them employments suited to a reasonable nature, and bring great satisfaction to the person, who can busy himself in them with discretion. The most open, instructive, and imreserv^ed discourse, is that, which passes between two persons, who are familiar and intimate friends. On these occasions, a man gives a loose to every passion and every thought that is uppermost ; discovers his most retired opinions of persons and things ; tries the beauty and strength of his sentiments ; and exposes his whole soul, to the examination of his friend. The ill-natured man, though but of equal parts, gives himself a larger field to expatiate in, than the good-natured E 4 80 CONCLUDING SERIES. man can reconcile to his feelings : lie exposes those failings in human nature which the other would cast a veil over ; laughs at vices, which the other either excuses or con- ceals ; gives utterance to reflections which the other stifles ; falls indifferently upon friends or enemies ; exposes the person who has obliged him ; and, in short, sticks at nothing that may establish the cha- racter of a wit. As virtue is the most reasonable and genuine source of honour^ we generally find, in titles, an intimation of some l^articular merit, that should recommend men to the high stations v^^hich they possess : holiness is ascribed to the pope ; majesty to kings ; serenity, or mildness of temper, to princes; excellence, or perfection, to ambassadors ; grace to archbishops ; honour to peers ; worship, or venerable behaviour, to magistrates ; and reverence, v/hich is of the same import as the former, to the inferior clergy. For my part, I freely indulge my soul in the confidence of its future grandeur : it pleases me to think that I, who know so small a portion of the works of the Creator, and with slow and painful steps, creep up and down on the surface of this globe, shall ere long shoot away with the swiftness of imagination ; trace out the hidden springs of nature's opera- tions ; be able to keep pace with the heavenly bodies in the rapidity of their career ; be a spectator of the long chain of events, in the natural and moral worlds ; visit the several apartments of the creation ; know how they are furnished and how inhabited ; comprehend the order and measure, the magnitude and distances of those orbs, which, to us, seem disposed without any regular design, and set all CONCLUDl-NTG SERIES. 81 in the same cii'cle ; observe the dependence of the parts of each system ; and (if our minds are big enough) to grasp the theory of the several systems upon one anotlier, from whence results the harmony of the universe. If we v^'oald have the kindness of others, we must endure their follies. He who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a multitude of tyrants : to the loiterer, who makes appointm.ents he never keeps — to the consulter, who asks advice he never takes — to the boaster, v/ho blusters only to be praised — to the com- plainer, who whines only to be pitied — to the projector, whose happiness is only to entertain his friends with expectations, which all but himself know to be vain — to the economist, who tells of bargains and settlements — to the pohtician, who predicts the fate of battles and breach of alliances — to the usurer, who compares the dif- ferent funds — and to the talker, who talks only because he loves talking. The care of the oratorical critic should be to distinguish error from inability, faults of inexperience from defects of nature. Action irregular and turbulent, may be reclaimed ; vociferation, vehement and confused, may be restrained and modulated ; the yell of inarticulate distress, m.ay be reduced to human lamentation ; all these faults should be, for a time, overlooked, and aftenvards censured with gentleness and candour : but if in a speaker there appears an utter vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid languor, a torjiid apathy ; the greatest kindness that can be shown him, is a speedy sentence of expulsion. E o 82 PRAXIS. ALPHA AND OMEGA. Now, when my mind has all this world survey'd. And found that nothing by itself was made ; "When thought has rais'd itself by just degrees. From valleys crown'd with flowers, and hills with trees. From smoking min'rals, and from rising streams, From fatt'ning Nilus, or victorious Thames; From all the living, that four-footed move Along the shore, the meadow or the grove ; From all that can with fins or feathers fly Through the aerial or the wat'ry sky ; From the poor reptile with a reas'ning soul. That miserable master of the whole ; From this great object of the body's eye. This fair half round, this ample azure sky. Terribly large, and wonderfully bright. With stars unnumber'd, and unmeasur'd light ; From essences unseen, celestial names, Enlight'ning spirits, and ministerial flames. Angels, Dominions, Potentates, and Thrones, All that in each degree the name of creature owns ; Lift we our reason to that sov'reign cause, — Who blest the whole with 11/6, and bounded it with laws ; Who forth from nothing — called this comely frame ; His will and act, his word and work, the same ; To whom a thousand years are but a day ; Who bade the light her genial beams display. And set the Moon, and taught the Sun his way ; Wlio, waking Time, his creature, from the source Primeval, order'dhis predestin'd course. Himself as in the hollow of his hand. Holding, obedient to his high command, The deep abyss, the long continu'd store. Where months, and days, and hours, and minutes pour Their floating parts, and thenceforth are no more ; — PRAXIS. 83 Tliis Alpha and Omega, First and Last, — Who, hke the potter, in a mould has cast Tlie world's great frame, commanding it to be Such as the eye of Sense and Reason see. Yet, if he wills, may change or spoil the whole. May take yon beauteous, mystic, starry roll. And burn it — like a useless parchment scroll ; May from its basis in one moment pour This melted Earth Like liquid metal, and like burning ore ; WTio, sole in pow'r, at the beginning said, * Let sea, and air, and earth, and heav'n be made,' — And it was so And when he shall ordain In other sort, has but to speak again, — And THEY SHALL BE NO MORE : of tliis great theme. This glorious, hallow' d, everlasting name. This God, I would discourse. MORNING HYMN. These are thy glorious works. Parent of good I Almighty ! thine this universal frame. Thus wondrous fair! thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heav'ns. To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowliest works : yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light. Angels ; for ye behold Him, and with songs And choral s}Tiiphonies, day without night. Circle His throne rejoicing ; ye in heav'n ; On earth ; join all ye creatures to extol Him first. Him last. Him midst, and mthout end. Fairest of Stars, last in the train of night, e6 84 TRAXIS. If better thou belong not to the dawn; Sure pledge of day, that crown' st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul. Acknowledge Him thy greater ; sound His praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. Moon, that now meet'st the Orient Sun, now fly'st With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies ; And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move In mystic dance, not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix. And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, ■ In honour to the world's great Author rise. Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky. Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers. Rising or falling still advance His praise. His praise, ye winds, — that from four quarters blow. Breathe soft or loud ! and wave your tops, ye pines. With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow. Melodious murmurs, v.-arbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living soids ; ye birds. That singing up to heaven-gate ascend. Bear on your wings, and in your notes. His praise. Ye that in v/aters glide, and ye that walk The earth, that stately tread, or lowly creep \ Witness if I be silent, m.orn or even. I PRAXIS. . 85 To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade. Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise. Hail, Universal Lord ! be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gather' d aught of evil, or conceal' d. Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. INTRODUCTION TO THE ORATORICAL SPEECHES; OR, Exercises for Modulating and Improving the Voice, MODULATION. In speaking, Modulation signifies an agreeable ar- rangement of the tunes or inflexions of the voice, with- out destroying the ideas. The principles are Order and A^ariety. Modulation depends, therefore, upon heightening and lowering the inflexion by degrees, according to the rules for pronouncing the Compact Sentence and Series : and, likewise, U]3on diversifying the key or scale of the Inflexions, at every detached member of a Loose Sentence, and every new period of whatever construction, whether Compact or Loose. [Obs. — In pronouncing the following Exercises, the accents or signs of Inflexions, and the Rules to which the figures refer, must be carefully observed.] REPUTATION. To travel far as the wide world extends, 1 Seeking for objects that deserv'd their care, 4 8 Virtue set forth, with two selected friends, 9 5 10 Talent refin'd, and reputation fair. 1 As they went on in their intended round, 8 Talent spoke first : * My gentle comrades, say. EXERCISES FOR MODULATING, &C. 87 ' Where each of you may probably be found, 15 ' Should accident divide us on the way ? 3 ] * If torn (she added) from my lov'd allies, * A friendly patronage I hope to find ^, 9 * Where the fine arts from cultivation rise, 10 ' And the sweet Muse hath harmoniz'd mankind. Says Virtue, * Did sincerity appear, ' Or meek-eyed Charity among the great, 1 ' Could I find courtiers from corruption clear, * ^Tis among these I'd seek for my retreat "^ : * Could I find i)atriots for the pubhc weal * Assiduous, and without their selfish crews ; 9 ' Could I find priests of undissembled zeal, 10 ' ^Tis among these my residence I'd choose. ' In glitt'ring domes let Luxury reside, 8 ^ ' I must be found in some sequestered cell 1 It should seem almost unnecessary to remind the student that the Inflexion accompanying the accent of ' find' is lower than that of the word ' allies,' but higher than the middle rising Inflexion, or that compass of Inflexion with which the word ' rise^ is pronounced ; and ivhich prepares the ear for the cadence. The sinking of the voice by degrees to the cadence, and the pronouncing of the suc- ceeding period in a different tone, comprise the two leading prin- ciples of modulation. 2 The closing accent of this line is on the emphatic word * these ;' The Inflexion of the last w^ord is governed by the emphatic word * ?w^»' 88 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 9 * Far from the paths of Avarice or Pride, 10 * Where home-bred Happiness dehghts to dvv'ell.* 8 * Ye may be trac'd, my gentle friends, 'tis true : 3 * But v/ho (says Reputation) can explore 15 * My slipp'ry steps ? — Keep, keep me in your viev/ j 10 * If I'm once lost, you'll never find me more.' MAY MORNING. 2 Now the bright Morning star. Day's harbinger. Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 6 The flow'ry Mky, who from her green lap throws 9 10 The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. '18 Hail, bounteous May ! that dost inspire 8 Mirth, and youth, and warm desire : 8 Woods and groves are of thy dres-sing ; 9 10 Hill and dale, do boast thy blessing. 9 Thus we salute thee with our early song, 10 And welcome thee, and wish thee long. THE SHORTNESS OF MAN'S LIFE. 18 Mark that swift arrow, how it cuts the air, — How it out-runs the following eye ! Use all persuasions now, and try If thou canst call it back, or stay it there. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 89 9 That way it went, but thou shalt find 10 No track is left behind. Fool ! 'tis thy hfe, and the fond archer thou. Of all the time thou'st shot away I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday. And it shall be too hard a task to do. Besides repentance what cans't find, 15 That it hath left behind ? Our life is carried with too strong a tide ; A doubtful cloud our substance bears, 8 And is the horse of all our years : 9 10 Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride. 9 We and our glass run out, and must 10 Both render up our dust. But his past life, who without grief can see. Who never thinlcs his end too near, 1 But says to Fame, thou art mine heir ; 10 That man extends Life's natural brevity. 9 This is, this ^ is the only way 10 To outhve Nestor in a day. 1 A rest, or short pause. 90 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHER. 2 A Grecian Youth, of talents rare. Whom Plato's philosophic care Had form'd for Virtue's nobler view, 1 By precept and example ^ too, Would often boast his matchless skill, 8 To curb the steed and guide the wheel ; And as he pass'd the gazing throng. With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong, 9 The idiot wonder they express'd ]0 Was praise and transport to his breast. At length, quite vain, he needs must show 8 His master what his art could do ; And bade his slaves the chariot lead 10 To Academus' sacred shade. 20 (o) 2 The trembling grove confess'd its fright. The wood-nymphs startled at the sight, 9 The muses drojjt the learned lyre, 10 And to their inmost shades retire. 1 Rule 1st applies to the former member of this loose sentence. See the scale. 2 The mark (o) signifies that the voice is to be lowered. Wonder, surprise, amazement, terror, &c. are expressed by low voices ; upon such and other occasions, when it is requisite to lower the voice, the same mark will be adopted. AND IMPROVIXG THE VOICE. 91 2 Howe'er, the youth, with forward air 8 Bows to the sage, and mounts the car ; 20 The lash resounds, the coursers spring ', 8 The chariot marks the rolHng ring ; And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyes, 9 10 And shouts, pursue him as he flies ^. Triumphant to the goal return'd, 8 With nobler thirst his bosom burn'd : And now, along th' indented plain, 8 The self-same track he marks again ; Pursues with care the nice design, 10 Nor ever deviates from the line. (o) Amazement seiz'd the circling cro^vd; The youths with emulation glow'd : Ev'n bearded sages hail'd the boy, 10 And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy. 2 For he, deep-j adging sage, beheld 8 With pain the triumphs of the field ; And, when the charioteer drew nigh, 1 And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye ; 1 If we wish to infer that the conjunction, * and,' is to be un- derstood at the end of a member of this sort, the rising inflexion must be adopted. - Pause a little, and alter the voice. 92 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING ' Alas ! unhappy youth !' he cried, 8 * Expect no praise from me,' (and sigh'd) ; * With indignation I survey 10 * Such skill and judgment thrown away. * The time profusely squander'd there * On vulgar arts beneath thy care, * If well employ'd, at less expense, ' Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense ; 9 * And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate, 10 * To govern men, and guide the state.' DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH. 8 My name is Nerval : on the Grampian hills 8 My father feeds his flock ; — a frugal swain, 4 Whose constant cares were to increase his store, 10 And keep his only son, myself, at home. For I had heard of battles, and I long'd 8 To follow to the field some warlike lord ; 9 10 And Heaven soon granted what my sire denied. 2 This Moon, which rose last night, round as my shield. Had not yet fiU'd her horns, v/hen, by her light, A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills, 9 Rush'd, like a torrent, down upon the vale, L AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 93 10 4 Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled 10 For safety and for succour. I alone. With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd 8 C The road he took ; then hasted to my friends, Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, 10 I met advancing. The pursuit I led. Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber 'd foe ,• 10 We fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn, G An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief, 10 Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd 8 The shepherd's slothful life ; and having heard That our good King had summoned his bold peers To lead their warriors to the Carron side, I left my father's house, and took with me 8 A chosen seiTant to conduct my steps : — 6 Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers; And, heaven-directed, came this day i, to do 9 10 The happy deed, that gilds my humble name. 1 A short rest, or pause. 94 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF THE HERMIT. 2 Beneath a mountain's brow, tlie most remote And inaccessible, by shepherds trod, 1 In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, A hermit liv'd; — a melancholy man, 10 "Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains. Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, 20 Did they report him ; the cold earth his bed, Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. 8 4 I went to see him ; and my heart was touch' d 10 With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake, Andj entering on discourse, such stories told 10 As made me oft revisit his sad cell. For he had been a soldier in his youth. And fought in famous battles, when the peers Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led. Against th' usurping infidels display'd 10 The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire His speech struck from me, the old man would shake 8 His years away, and act his young encounters ; Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down, AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 95 10 And, all the live-long day, discourse of war. To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf 20 He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts, Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use, 20 Of the deep column and the lengthen'd line, 20 8 The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm : For all that Saracen or Christian knew 9 10 Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. THE STRANGER DESCRIBED BY ARNOLDUS. This stranger, that dehghts to dwell with darkness, Unkn6^vn, unfriended, compass' d round with wretchedness, 9 Conceals some mighty purpose in his breast, 10 Now lab'ring into birth. Six moons have chang'd upon the face of night, 8 Since here he first arriv'd, in servile weeds, — 10 8 Bufyet of mien majestic. I observ'd him, — And ever as I gaz'd, some nameless charm, 1 A wondrous greatness, not to be concealed, 9 10 Broke through his form, and awed my soul before him. 8 Amid these mines he earns the hireling's portion. 96 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING His hands out-toirtlie hind, — while on his brow. Sits patience, bath'd in the laborious drop 10 Of painful industry. I oft have sought. With friendly tender of some worthier service, 8 To win him from his temper ; but he shuns 8 9 All offers, — yet declin'd vath graceful art, 10 Engaging beyond utterance . And at eve. When all retire so some domestic solace, 9 He only stays, and, as you see, the earth 10 Receives him to her dark and cheerless bosom. PHILASTER'S DEVICE. I HAVE a boy, 8 Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent, — 10 Not yet seen in court. Hunting the buck, 8 I found him sitting by a fountain's side, 8 Of which heborrow'd some to quench his thirst ; 9, 10 But paid the nymph again as much in tears. 4 A garland lay by him, made by himself. Of many several flowers, bred in the bay. Stuck in that mystic order, that the rareness 8 Delighted me j but ever when he turn'd AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 97 9 His tender eyes upon them, he would weep, 10 As if he meant to make them grow again. Seeing such pretty, helpless innocence 8 Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story; He told me that his parents gentle died, — Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, — "Which gave him roots ; and- of the crystal springs, — 9 Which did not stop their courses ; and the sun, 10 Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light. Then took he up his garland, and did show E^ What every flower, as country people hold. Did signify ; and how all, order' d thus, Express'd his grief ; and, to my thoughts, did read Tlie prettiest lecture of his country art 8 9 That could be v/ish'd ; so that methought, I cculd 10 8 Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd him, — 8 He was as glad to follow ; and have got 9 The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy, 10 That ever master kept. Him will I send 9 10 To wait on you,and bear our hidden love. ■98 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING CONJUGAL LOVE. If love be holy, if that mystery Of co-united hearts be sacrament ; If the unbounded goodness have infus'd A sacred ardour of a mutual love Into our species ; if those amorous joys, ' Those sweets of life, those comforts even in death. Spring from a cause above our reason's reach ; 1 If that clear flame deduce its heat from he'aven, 8 ^Tis Hke its cause, eternal ; always one, — As is the instiller of divinest love, — XJnchang'd by time, immortal, maugre death. 20 But, oh, 'tis grown a figment; love a jest; A comic posey : — the soul of man is rotten, 10 Even to the core, — no sound affection. Our love is hollow, vaulted, stands on props 10 Of circumstance, profit, or ambitious hopes. HELENA UPBRAIDING HERMIA. Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid ! Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd 13 To bait me with this foul derision ? Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, AND IMPROVIXG THE VOICE, 99 The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent. When we have chid the hasty-footed time 13 For parting us ; oh ! and is all forgot ? 13 All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 8 Created with our needles both one flower. Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion ; Both warbling of one song, both in one key, — 9 As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 10 Had been incorp'rate. Lo, we grew together, 8 Like to a double cherry, — seeming parted. But yet a union in partition ! 8 Two lovely berries, moulded on one stem ; 8 So with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 9 Two of the first, like coats in heraldiy, 10 Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. And will you rend our ancient love asunder, 13 To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? 8 It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 9 Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, 10 Though I alone do feel the injury. F 2 100 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING HERMIT TO ALFRED. 2 Last night, when, with a draught from that cool fountain, 1 had my wholesome, sober supper crown'd, 2 1 As is my stated custom, forth I walk'd. Beneath the solemn gloom and glitt'ring sky, 8 To feed my soul with pray'r and meditation : And thus to inward harmony compos' d, 2 That sweetest music of the grateful heart, 9 Whose each emotion is a silent hymn, 10 I to my couch retir'd. Straight on mine eyes S A pleasing slumber fell ; whose mystic power 10 Seal'd up my senses, but enlarg'd my soiil. 1 Led by those spirits, who disclose futurit)-, 8 I liv'd through distant ages ; felt the virtue. The great, the glorious passions that will fire 8 Remote posterity ; when guardian laws Are by the patriot in the glowing senate Won from corriiption ; when th' impatient ann 5 Of liberty invincible, shall scourge The tyrants of mankind — and when the deep, 9 Through all her sv/elling waves, from pole to pole, 10 Shall spread the boundless empire of thy sons. AND IMrROVIXG THE VOICi:. 101 9 I saw tliee, Alfred, too — But o'er tliy fortunes 10 Lay clouds impenetrable. Remember well, 8 The noble lessons by affliction taught : Preserve the quick humanity it gives. The pitying, social sense of human weakness j Yet keep thy generous fortitude entire, — 9 The manly heart, that to another's v.'oe 10 Is tender as superior to its own. 8 10 Learn to submit : yet learn to conquer fortune. Attach thee firmly to the virtuous deeds 8 And offices of life : to life itself. With aU its vain and transient joys, sit loose. 12 Chief, let devotion to the sovereign mind, A steady, cheerful, absolute dependance 10 On his best, wisest government, possess thee. , LADY. From the Mask of Comus. 2 My brothers, when they savv^ m.e wearied out 2 With this long way, resohdng here to lodge 1 Under the spreading favour of these pines, Stepp'dj as they said, to the next thicket side, F 3 102 EXERCISES rOR MODULATING 9 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit, 10 As the kind hospitable woods provide. They left me then, when the grey-hooded Even, 2 Like a sad votarist in pahner's weeds, 8 Bore from the hindm.ost wheels of Phoebus' wain ,• But where they are, and why they come not back, 8 Is now the labour of my thoughts j 'tis likeliest 8 They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far; This is the place, as well as I may guess. Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 8 Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear; 10 Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 15 WTiat may this be ? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory. Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, 9 And airy tongues, that syllable men's names 10 On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well, but not astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 10 By a strong siding champion, — conscience. Oh, welcome, pure-ey'd faith, white-handed hope, Tliou hovering Angel, girt with golden wings, — k AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 103 And thou unblemisli'd form of chastity, I see you visibly, and now beUeve 3 That he, the Supreme Good, (to whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance) 9 Would send a glist'ring guardian, if need were, 10 To keep my life and honour unassail'd. HUBERT, Concerning Arthur's Death. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night. Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion. Old men and beldams in the streets, 10 Do prophesy upon it dangerously. 8 Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ; And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 8 And whisper one another in the ear ; 8 And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, 9 Whilst he that hears makes fearful action 10 With ^vrinkled brows, mth nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus. The whilst his iron did on the an\-il cool, - ' 8 With open mouth swallo^\dng a tailor's news j f 4 104 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 2 Standing on shppers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet. Told of many thousand warlike French, That were embattled and rank'd in Kent: Another lean, unwash'd artificer, 9 10 Cuts oflf his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. GRIFFITH'S DESCRIPTION OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. [To prevent monotony in pronouncing this speech, the middle falling Inflexion must be carefully modulated.] 8 Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 10 We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good word ? — ^ This Cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 8 Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle ; 8 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one : 20 8 Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; Lofty and sour, to them that lov'd him not, 8 But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer ; And though he v»'ere unsatisfied in getting. 1 A short pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. ■ 105 3 (Which was a sin) yet in bestowing ', Madam, 8 He was most princely ; ever witness for him Q Those twins of learning that he raised in you, Ik Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell \;dth him, 8 Unwilling to out-live the good he did it : The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 9 So excellent in art, and still so rising, 10 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 8 His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 8 And found the blessedness of h'/mg little : And to add ijreater honours to his age 9 " 12 10 Tlian man could give him, he died fear'mg God. SEVEN AGES. All the world's a stage, o o And all the men and women merely players They have their exits and their entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts, 1 A minute pause. r 5 106 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 10 His acts being seven ages. And first the infant. Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel. And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then the soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Zealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel : 9 Seeking the bubble reputation Ev'n in the cannon's mouth. And then ihe justice, In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd ; With eyes severe and beard of formal cut : Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 8 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. Turning again towards childish treble S pipes 1 A short pause AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 107 10 And whistles in the sound, (o) Last scene of all. That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness, and mere obli'sdon, 9 10 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, — sans every thing. POLONIUS TO LAERTES. There, — my blessings with you ; 9 And these few precepts in thy memory 10 Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 8 Nor any unproportion'd thought his act : 8 Be thou familiar, but by no msans vulgar : The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 8 Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 10 Of each new-hatch' d, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 8 Of entrance to a quarrel : but being in, 10 Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit, as thy purse can buy ; — But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy j 9 10 For the apparel oft proclaims the man. F 6 108 EXEECISES FOR MODULATINO Neither a borrov/er, nor a lender be, 8 For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 10 And borromng dulls the edge of husbandry. 12 This above all, — To thine ownself be true 2 9 And it must follow, as the night the dav, 10 Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell ; my blessing season this in thee. KING HENRY AND LORD CHIEF JUSTICE. Ch. Just. I AM assur'd, if I be measur'd rightly, , 17 Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me ! K. Heiiry. No ! might a Prince of my great hopes forget 13 So great indignities you laid upon me ? What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to pi-ison / 18 13 Th' immediate heir of England ! was this easy ? 13 May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten ? o i) Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your father ; 8 The image of his power lay then in me : And in the administration of his lay\% 2 "While I was busy, for the commonwealth, 20 Your Highness pleased to forget my jilace ; The majesty and power of law and justice ; AND IMrROVIXG THE VOICE. 109 The image of the King whom I presented, 8 And struck me in my very seat of judgment ; 2 Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority, 10 And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 2 Be you contented, wearing now the garland, 20 To have a son set your decrees at noiight ; To pluck down justice from your awful bench ; To trip the course of law, and bkint the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person : 9 Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image, 10 And mock your working in a second body. 8 Question your royal thoughts, — make the case yoiu's ; 20 Be now the father, and propose a son ; Hear your own dignity so much proftm'd ; See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted ; Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd, 9 And then imagine me taking your part, 10 And in your power so silencing your son. 8 K. Henri/. Your are right. Justice ; and you weigh this well 10 Therefore stiU bear the balance and the sword. And I do wish your honours may increase. Till you do live to see a son of mine 110 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING o O Ofjfend you, and obey you, as I did : 10 So shall I live to speak my father's words. Happy am I that have a man so bold That dares do justice on my proper son. And no less happy, having such a son. That would deliver up his greatness so 10 8 Into the hands of Justice — You committed me ; For which I do commit into your hand The unstain'd sword that you have us'd to bear j With this remembrance, that you use the same With a like bold, just, and impartial spirit. As you have done against me. There is my hand You shall be as a father to my youth ; My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, 9 And I will stoop and humble my intents 10 To your well-practis'd, \vise directions. THE COUNTESS ROUSILLON TO HER SON BERTRAM. Be thou bless'd Bertram ! and succeed thy father 4 In manners as in shape ! Thy blood and virtue 9 Contend for empire in thee 1 and thy goodness 10 Share with thy birthright ! Love all ; trust a fe'w ; AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. Ill 8 Do wrong to nons : be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend 8 Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence, 10 But never tax'd for speech. What heav'n more will, 9 That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, 10 10 Fall on thy head ! Farewell. PORCIUS AND MARCU5. On the Success of Ccesar. Porcius. The dawn is over-cast, the morning low'rs. And heavily in clouds brings on the day. The great, th' important day, big with the fate 10 Of Cato and of Rome. — Our father's death 9 Would fill up all the guilt of civil war, 10 And close the scene of blood. Already Cassar Has ruin'd more than half the globe, and sees 8 Mankind grown thin by his destructive sword : 9 Should he go further, numbers would be wanting 10 To fonn new battles, and support his crimes. Ye Gods, what havoc does ambition make 18 Among your works ! Marc. Thy steady temper, Porcius, 112 EXEi^ciSES ia; modulating Call look on guilt ^ rebellion, fraud, and Caesar, 8 In the calm lights of mild philosophy : 11 I'm tortur'd, ev'n to madness, when I think On the proud victor : every time he's nam'd Pharsalia rises to my view ; 1 see Th' insulting tyrant prancing o'er the field 8 Strew'd with Rome's citizens, and drench'd in slaiighter ; 18 His horse's hoofs wet with Patrician blood 1 Oh, Porcius, is there not some chosen curse. Some hidden thunder in the stores of Heaven, Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man "Who owes his grea.tness to his country's ruin ? Tore. Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious greatness. And mix'd with too much horror to be envied : How does the lustre of our father's actions. Through the dark cloud of ills that cover him. Break out, and burn with more triumphant brightness ! His sufPrings shine, and spread a glory round him ; Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause * The student is to remember, tliat these four rising Inflexions are not to be of the same tune ; they must be modulated gradu- ally ; the meaning begins to be formed at ' Coesar,' according to the Second Example of the Compact Sentence : viz. " Nothing ivill ever he attempted,^^ Sec. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 113 20 ^ 10 Of Honour, Virtue, Liberty, and Rome. 8 His sword ne'er fell but on the gtiilty head ; 19 9 Oppression, tyranny, and pov.er usurp' d, 10 Draw all the vengeance of his arm upon them. 15 4 Marc. "WTio knows not this ? But what can Cato do Against a world, a base degen'rate M^orld, 15 That courts the yoke, and bows the neck to Caesar ? Pent up in Utica, he vainly forms A poor epitome of Roman greatness, — And, cover'd with Numidian guards, directs 8 A feeble army, and an empty senate, — 10 Remnants of mighty battles fought in vain. By Heav'n, such virtues, join'd with such success, 18 9 Distract my very soul ! our father's fortune 10 Would almost tempt us to renounce his precejDts. 8 Tore. Remember what our father oft has told us ; 8 The ways of Heaven are dark and intricate : Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors. Our understanding traces tiiem in vain, 8 Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search : 9 Nor sees with how much art the windings run, 10 Nor where the regular confusion ends. 114: EXERCISES IN MODULATING RICHMOND ENCOURAGING HIS SOLDIERS AGAINST RICHARD THE THIRD. Thus far into the bowels of the land 8 Have we march' d on without imiiediment ; 4 2 Richard, the bloody and devouring boar, 2 "Whose ravenous appetite has spoil' d your fields, 2 Laid this rich country v/aste, and rudely cropp'd 9 Its ripen'd hopes of fair posterity, 10 Is now even in the centre of the isle. 8 Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, — 8 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted : 9 10 The very weight of Richard's guilt shall criish him. 10 Then let us on, my friends, and boldly face him. In peace ^ there's nothing so becomes a man 8 As mild behaviour and humility ; 4 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 10 Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 8 Shall be this body on the earth's cold face ; 9 But if we thrive ^, the glor}-- of the action 10 The meanest soldier here shall share his part of. 1 A short pause. 2 A short pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 115 20 Advance your standards, draw )'oiir willing swords, 8 Sound drums and trumjDets, boldly and cheerfully. The words * St. George, Richmond, and Victory.' EXILED DUKE'S ENCOURAGEMENT TO EXILES. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile. Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 13 Than that of painted pomp ? are not these woods 13 More free from peril than the envious court ? 8 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference : as the icy fang. And churlish chiding of the winter's wind. Which, when it bites and blows upon my body. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, 8 9 This is no fli\ttery : these are counsellors 10 That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity. Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, 8 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head : And this our life, exempt from public haunt. Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 9 10 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 116 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING. BATTLE OF MINDEN. Now stood Eliza on the wood-crown'd height, 8 O'er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight ; Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife, 8 Her dearer self, the partner of her life ; From hill to hill the rushing host pursued. And view'd his banner, — or believ'd she view'd. Pleas'd with the distant roar, with quicker tread Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led ; And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm, 8 Slept on her 'kerchief, cradled by her arm ; (o) "While round her brows bright beams of honour dart. And Love's warm eddies circle round her heart : 20 — Near and more near the intrepid Beauty press'd. Saw, through the driving smoke, his dancing crest. Heard the exulting shout, * They run ! they run ;' — 10 'Just Heav'n I' she cried, 'he's safe, the battle's won 1" (o) A ball nov/ hisses through the airy tides, (Some ^ Fury wing'd it, and Daemon guides !) Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck, 8 Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck ; ^ This is an instance where it is requisite that the parenthesis, contrary to the general rule, should be pronounced in a little hidier voice than the rest of the sentence. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 117 The red stream, issuing from her azure veins, 10 Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.— - (o) * Ah me ! ' she cried, and sinking on the ground, 8 Kiss'd her dear babes, regardless of the wound ; ' Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn ! * Wait, gushing life, oh, wait my love's return !' — (o) Hoarse barks the wolf, the \^ilture screams from far. The angel. Pity, shuns the walks of war ! ' Oh, spare, ye Vv'ar-hounds, spare their tender age : 8 ' On me, on me,' she cried, ' exhaust your rage I' Then with weak arm her weeping babes caress'd, 10 And sighing hid them in her blopd-stain'd vest. (o) From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies ; (Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes ;) Eliza's name along the camp he calls, 8 Eliza echoes through the canvass vv'alls ; Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps tread, (O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,) Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood ! (o) Lo ! dead Eliza weltering in her blood ! — Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds j "With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds : 118 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING * Speak low,' he cries, and gives his little hand, * Mamma— she sleeps upon the dew-cold sand/ Poor weeping babe with bloody fingers press' d, 8 And tried, with pouting lips, her milkless breast : ' Alas ! we both with cold and hunger quake — ' Why do you weep ? — Mamma ^vill soon awake.' — * She'll wake no more !' the hopeless mourner cried, Upturn'd his eyes, and clasp'd his hands, and sigh'd : Stretch'd on the ground awhile entranc'd he lay. And press' d warm kisses on the lifeless clay ; And then upsprung with wild con\'ulsive start. And all the father kindled in his heart : 18 16 * Oh, Heavens !' he cried, ' my first rash vow forgive ! IG * These bind to earth, — for these I pray to live !' 9 (o) Round his chill babes he wrapp'd his crimson vest, 10 And clasp'd them sobbing to his aching breast. ON THE DEATH OF DR. DARWIX \ Thy sun, O Darwin, sets in awful gloom, 18 Uncheer'd by hope that points beyond the tomb ! * Dr. Darwin may be fidy styled the poet of Materialism; for it appeared to be his favourite aim to promote tliis doc- AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 119 5 And Faitli Heaven-born forsakes thy shaded urn, 18 Though science, genms — all the Muses mourn! 19 Had thy soul bow'd before Rehgion's shrine, 19 Had thy vast powers imbibed her ray di\ane ; Pure had thy lay's attractive music flow'd. And not alone the flowers of taste bestow' d, — Sweet flowers^ but bath'd in springs of low desire, 8 Sweet strains, but glowing with unhallow'd fire ; Misled by Fancy's ineffectual beam, (Organic life, its birth and laws thy theme !) Attempting depths beyond our utmost reach. Too proud to learn what God hath deign'd to teach. In endless maze thy wasted genius stray'd, 10 Shone meteor-like, and flourish'd but to fade. (o) O ! had that genius, led and curb'd by Truth, Taught, in its lovehest guise, our blooming youth. Taught them to trace her soul-ennobling themes, 1 To the pure fount of all her countless streams, trine, — not only in his Philologia, but in his Botanic Garden and Zoonomia. The account published of his death stated, that it was without any belief in immortality, and that his end was hastened by a fit of passion ; this latter circumstance his friends have since denied. The uncommon beauty of his versification appears to have given his works a celebrity, which otherwise they ill deserved. 120 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Danvin 1 tliy works in distant ages read. Delighted sires before their sons had spread ; No matron's fears the pohsh'dpage had clos'd, 8 No virgin bhish'd to see that page expos'd : 9 1 Then had thy fame been fame that never dies, 10 And thy sunset beneath unclouded skies. SCROOP AND RICHARD. Scroop. More health and happiness betide my Liege, 16 Than can my care-tun' d tongue deliver him ! 8 King Richard. My ear is open and my heart prepar'd : The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. Say, is my Kingdom lost ? Why 'twas my care ; And what loss is it to be rid of care ? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God, We'll serve him too, and be his fellov/ so. Revolt our subjects ? That we cannot mend ; 11 Tliey break their faith to God as well as us ! 19 Cr}'' woe, destruction, rain, loss, decay 9 10 The worst is death, and death will have his da}'. 1 The memorial of virtue is immortal. Eccles. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 121 Scroop. Glad am I that your highness is so ann'd To bear the tidings of calamity. (o)Like an unseasonable stormy day. Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 1 As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears ; So high above his Umits swells the rage Of Bohngbroke, — covering your fearful land With hard bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel. White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps 20 Against thy Majesty; boys, with women's voices. Strive to speak big, and clasp their female joints In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown : The verj' beadsmen learn to bend their bows Of double-fatal yew against thy state : Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills : 9 , Against thy state both young and old rebel, 10 And all goes worse than I have power to tell. King Richard. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so ill. Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? Where is he ? And where, alas ! are all my bosom friends ? — No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : Let's talk of graves, and worms, and epitaphs: G 12^ EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 9 Make dust our paper, and mth rainy eyes, 10 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth ! Let's choose executors, and talk of wills ; And yet not so — for what can we bequeath. Save our deposed bodies to the ground ; Our lands, our lives, and all are Bohngbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, — 9 And that small model of the barren earth 10 Which ser\^es as paste and cover to our bones. For Heav'n's sake let us sit upon the ground. And tell sad stories of the death of Kings, — 20 How some have been depos'd ; some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they dispossess'd ; Some poison'd by their wives ; some sleeping kill'd : All murder' d : — for v/ithin the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a King Keeps death his court; — and there theantick sits. Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene. To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks ; Infusing him with self and vain conceit. As if this flesh which walls about our life AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 123 Were brass impregnable; and humour 'd thus. Comes at the last, and with a little pin, o Bores through his castle-walls, and farewell King ! — Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence : throw away respect. Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty ; For you have but mistook me all this while. I hve on bread like you, feel want like you ; Taste grief, need friends, like you : subjected thus, 18 How can you say to me, I am a King ? THE ENTRY OF BOLINGBROKE INTO LONDON. Duke and Duchess of York. Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, AVhen weeping made you break the story off, 10 Of our two cousins coming into London. 15 York. Where did I leave ? Duch. At that sad stoj), my lord. Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window tops. Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. 2 York. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, G 2 124 EXERCISES FOPv MODULATING 2 Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, 8 With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course ; 18 'V^^lile all tongues cried, * God save thee, Bolingbroke !' You would have thought the very ^^'indows spake. So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes 8 Upon his visage : and that all the walls, AVith painted imagery, had said at once, 18 18 Good Heaven preserve thee ! welcome Bolingbroke ! 2 Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 8 Bespoke them thiis : ' T thank you, countrymen 1' And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 15 Duch. Alas ! poor Richard, where rides he the while r YorJc. As in a Tlieatre, the eyes of men. After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage. Are idly bent on him that enters next, 1 Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Ev'n so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 10 11 18 Did scowl on Richard : no man cry'd God save him ! No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ; 8 But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; "VSliich with such gentle sorrow he shook off, AND IMTROVING THE VOICE, 125 3 (His face still combating with tears and smiles. The badges of his grief and patience), 2 That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 8 The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted; 10 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 9 But Heaven hath a hand in these events, 10 To whose high will we bound our calm contents. CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. I WOULD not enter on my list of friends, 3 (Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, a Yet wanting sensibility) the man, 10 Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail. That crawls at evening in the public path ; • But he that has humanity, forewarn' d. Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 2 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 2 And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 2 A visitor unwelcome, into scenes Sacred to neatness and repose, th* alcove, 1 8 The chamber, or refectory, may die ; G 3 126. EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 9 10 A necessary act incurs no blame. Not so, when held within their proper bounds. And guiltless of oflfence, they range the air. Or take their pastime in the spacious field : 7 Tliere they are privileg'd. And he that hunts 20 Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong ; 20 Disturbs th' economy of nature's realm, 9 10 Who, when she form'd, design'd them an abode. The sum is this ; if man's convenience, health. Or safety, interfere ', his rights, and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are, — As free to live, and to enjoy that hfe, 8 As God was free to form them at the first, 9 10 Who, in his sovereign wisdom, made them all. 1 Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons To love it too. The spring time of our years Is soon dishonour'd and defil'd, in most. By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand To check them. But alas ! none sooner shoots. If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth, . ^ A short pause. ANP IMPROVING THE VOICE. 127 Than cmelty ; most devilish of them all. Mercy to him that shows it, is the nile And righteous hmitation of its act, 8 By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man ; And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 9 And conscious of the outrage he commits, 10 Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, 2 AMiose iron scourge and tort'ring hour 18 The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain. The proud are taught to taste of pain. And pui-ple tyrants vainly groan. With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. "WTien first thy sire to send on earth 1 Virtue, his darling child, design' d. To thee he gave the heav'nly birth. And bade thee form her infant mmd. Stern, rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore ; g4 128 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Wliat sorrow was ^ thou bad'st her know. And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood. Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, 10 And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the fiatt'ring foe ; By vain prosperity receiv'd, J) 10 To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. (o) Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, Immers'd in rapturous thought profound. And Melancholy, silent maid. With leaden eye, that loves the ground. Still on thy solemn steps attend j Warm charity, the general friend, 9 With justice, to herself severe, IG And pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, 9 16 Dread goddess, lay thy chast'ning hand 1 ^ A short pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 120 Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad. Nor circled with the vengeful band 3 (As by the impious thou art seen) AVith thund'ring voice and threatening mien. With screaming Horror's funeral cry. Despair, and fell disease, with ghastly Poverty j 16 Thy form benign, oh. Goddess, wear. Thy milder influence impart. Thy philosophic train be there, 16 To soften, not to wound my heart ! 16 The gen'rous spark extinct revive, 16 Teach me to love and to forgive. Exact my own defects to scan, 9 What others are, to feel, and know myself a man I ODE TO TRUTH. Say, \vill no white- rob'd son of light, Swift darting from his heav'nly height. Here deign to take his hallov/'d stand r Here wave his amber locks, unfold His pinions cloth'd with downy gold ; Here smiling stretch his tutelary wand ? G 5 130 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING And you, ye hosts of saints, for ye have known Each dreary path in hfe's perplexing maze. Though now ye circle yon eternal throne. With harpings high of inexpressive praise ; Will not your train descend in radiant state, To break, with mercy's beam, this gathering cloud of fate ? 10 'Tis silence all. No son of light Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height ; 9 10 No train of radiant saints descend. ' Mortals, in vain ye hope to find, ' If guilt, if fraud, have stain'd your mind, ' Or saint to hear, or angel to defend.* 10 So Truth proclaims. I hear the sacred sound Burst from the centre of her burning throne. Where aye she sits with star- wreath' d lustre crown' d : 9 10 A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone. « So Truth proclaims ; her awful voice I hear,- 9 10 With many a solemn pause it slowly meets my ear. * Attend, ye sons of men ; attend, and say. Does not enough of my refulgent ray Break through the veil of your mortality ? AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 131 Say, does not reason, in this form descry Unnmnber'd, nameless glories, that surpass Tlie Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph's glowing grace ? Shall then your earth-born daughters vie With me ? Shall she, whose brightest eye, But emulates the diamond's blaze. Whose cheek but mocks the peach's bloom. Whose breath the hyacinth's perfume. Whose melting voice the warbUng woodlark's lays. Shall she be deem'd my rival ? Shall a fonn Of elemental dross, of mould'ring clay. Vie with these charms imperial ? The poor worm Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day Shall pass, and she is gone : while I appear 9 Flush'd with the bloom of youth thro' Heav'n's eternal 10 year. * Know, Mortals, know, ere first ye sprung, Ere first these orbs in aether hung, 8 I shone amid the heavenly throng ; These eyes beheld creation's day, 9 This voice began the choral lay. And taught Archangels their triumphant song. g6 132 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 20 * Pleas'd I surveyed bright nature's gradual birth. Saw infant light with kindling lustre spread. Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flowering earth. And Ocean heave on its extended bed ; 9 Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky, 10 The tawny lion stalk, the rapid eagle fly. * Last, Man arose, — erect in youthful grace, Heav'n's hallow'd image stampt upon his face ; And, as he rose, the high behest was giv'n, 9 *' 'fliat T alone of all the host of heav'n, 10 *' Should reign protectress of the godhke youth." 8 9 10 Thus the Almighty spake ; he spake, and call'd me Truth.* TO-MORROW. To-MORRoWj, didst thou say! Methought I heard Horatio say. To-morrow ! Go to — I will not hear of it — To-morrow ! It is a sharper, — who stakes penury Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash. And pays thee nought, but -wishes, hopes, and promises, 10 The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt. That gulls the easy creditor ; — To-morrow ! AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 133 It is a period no where to be found In all the hoary registers of time, — Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 8 'Tis fancy's child, and folly is its father ; Wrought of such stuff as dreams are ; and baseless 10 As the fantastic visions of the evening. But soft, my friend, arrest the present moments; 8 For, be assur'd, they all are arrant tell tales ; And tho' their flight be silent, and their paths Trackless as the wing'd couriers of the air, 8 They post to Heaven, and there record thy folly — Because, tho' station'd on the important watch Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel. Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd. And know, for that thou slumber'st on the guard. Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar For every fugitive ; and when thou thus Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 18 Of hood-winkt Justice, who shall tell thy aiidit ? Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio j 134 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings, 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 10 Than all the crimson treasures of life's foimtain. Oh ! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like 9 The good old patriarch upon record, 10 Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. THE MISERIES OF ROYALTY. O HARD condition, and twin-born with greatness. Subject to breath of ev'rj' fool, whose sense No more can feel but his own wringing. What infinite heart-ease must kings neglect. That private men enjoy ! and what have kings That privates have not too, save ceremony ? And what art thou, thou idle ceremony ? "WTiat kind of God art thou, that suflfer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers ? What are thy rents ? — Wliat are thy comings-in ? IC O, Ceremony, show me but thy worth : What is thy soul of adoration ? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form. Creating awe and fear in other men, — AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 1^5 "Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, 13 Than they in fearing ? TNTiat drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, 9 But poison'd flattery ? O, be sick, great greatness, 10 And bid thy ceremony give thee ciire. Think' st thou the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation ? Will it give place to flexure and low bending ? Can'st thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee. Command the health of it ? — No ! thou proud dream. That play'st so subtilly with a king's repose, 8 I am a king that find thee : and I know 19 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball. The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. The entre-tissued robe of gold and pearl. The farced title running 'fore the king, Tlie throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp lliat beats upon the high shore of this world : No ; not all these thrice-gorgeous ceremonies. Not aU these, laid in bed majestical. Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave, Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind. Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread : 136 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, But like a lacquey, from the rise to set. Sweats in the eye of Phoebus : and all night Sleeps in Elysium ; next day after dawn Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse ; And follows so the ever-running year With profitable labour to his grkve : And (but for ceremony) such a wretch. Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, 8 Hath the fore-hand and 'vantage of a king ; The slave, a member of the country's peace. Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots 8 ' What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace ; 10 WTiose hours the peasant best advantages. JUBA AND SYPHAX. Juba. Syphax, I joy to meet thee, thus alone ; I have observ'd of late thy looks are faU'n, O'ercast with gloomy cares, and discontent ; Tlien tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee tell me, 9 What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns, 15 And turn thine eyes thus coldly on thy prince ? AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 13? Syphax. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face, « "W^ien discontent sits heavy at my heart ; 10 I have not yet so much the Roman in me. JvM. Why dost thou cast out such ungen'rous terms 15 Against the lords and sov'reigns of the world ? Dost thou not see mankind fall down before them, 13 And own the force of their superior virtue ? Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric, Amidst our ban*en rocks and burning sands, 13 That does not tremble at the Roman name ? Syphax. Gods ! Where's the worth that sets this people up 15 Above your own Numidia's tawny sons ? 13 Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow ? Or flies the jav'lin s%vifter to its mark, 13 Launch' d from the vigour of a Roman arm ? WTio, like our active African, instructs The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand. Or guides in troops th' embattled elephant, 15 Loaden with war ? These, these are arts, my prince. In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Juha. These aU are virtues of a meaner rank ; 8 Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nen''es : 138 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 8 A Roman soul is bent on higher ^aews : 20 (o) To civihze the rude, unpoHshed world. To lay it under the restraint of laws ; To make man mild, and sociable to man j To cultivate the wild licentious savage With wisdom, disciphne, and lib'ral arts, — Th' embellishments of life : virtues like these Make human nature shine, reform the soul, 10 And break our fierce barbarians into men. SypJiax. Patience, just Heav'ns — excuse an old man's waraith ! TMiat are these wond'rous ci^-ibzing arts, — This Roman polish, and this smooth beha^dour, 15 That render man thus tractable and tame ? Are they not only to disguise our passions. To set our looks at variance with our thoughts. To check the starts and sallies of the soul, 13 And break oflf all its commerce with the tongue ? In short, to change us into other creatures. Than what our nature and the gods ^ design'd us ? Juba. To strike thee dumb : turn up thine eyes to Cato. * For the reason of this falHng inflexion, vide " The Philosophy of Elocution," page 154. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 139 There may'st thou see to what a god-Uke height 10 The Roman virtues lift up mortal man. While good, and just, and anxious for his friends, 8 He's still severely bent against himself : Renouncing sleep, and rest, and food, and ease. He strives with thirst, and hunger, toil, and heat : And when his fortune sets before him ^ aU 9 The pomps and pleasures that his soul can \vish, 10 His rigid virtue will accept of none. SypJiax. Believe me, prince, there's not an African That traverses our vast Numidian deserts In quest of prey, and hves upon his bow. But better practises these boasted virtues. Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chace. Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst. Toils all the day, and at tli' approach of night On the first friendly bank he throws him down, — 8 Or rests his head upon a rock till morn : 8 Then rises fresh, pursues his wonted game ; And if, the following day, he chance to find 9 A new repast, or an untasted spring, 10 Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury. * A short pause. 140 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Jiiha. Thy prejudices, Sypliax, won't discern 8 Wliat \drtues grow from ignorance, — and choice ; 10 Nor how the hero differs from the brute. But grant that others could -with equal glory, Look down on pleasure and the baits of sense ; Where shall we find a man that bears affliction, 15 Great and majestic in his griefs, hke Cato ? Heav'ns ! with what strength, what steadiness of mind. He triumphs in the midst of all his sufferings ! 9 How does he rise against a load of woes. And thank the gods that threw the weight upon him ! 8 Syphax. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul : I think the Romans call it Stoicism. Had not your royal father thought so highly 1 Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause. He had not falFn by a slave's hand, inglorious : Nor would his slaughter' d army ^ now have lain 9 On Afric's sands disfigur'd with their wounds, 10 To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. 15 Jiiba. TNTiy dost thou call my sorrows up afresh ? My father's name brings tears into my eyes. ^ A short pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 141 Sypliax. Oh» that you'd profit by your father's ills. By laying up his counsels in your heart ! 8 Jiiha. His counsels bade me yield to thy directions : Then Sj'phax, chide me in severest terms. Vent all thy passion, and I'll stand its shock, 9 Calm and unniffled as a summer's sea, 10 When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface. Sypliax. Alas, my prince, I'd guide you to your safety : 15 Juha. I do believe thou would' st; but tell me how ! Syphax. Fly from the fate that follows Caesar's foes. Juba. My father scorn'd to do it — Syphax. And therefore died. Juba. Better to die ten thousand thousand deaths, 10 Tlian wound my honour. Syphax. Rather say your love. Juba. S)^)hax, — Pve promised to preserve my temper— Why will thou urge me to confess a flame 15 I long have stifled, and would fain conceal ? Syphax. Believe me, prince, though hard to conquer love, 'Tis easy to divert and break its force : Absence ihight cure it, — or a second mistress Light up another flame, and put out this. 142 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING The glo^ving dames of Zama's royal court 8 Have faces flusli'd with more exalted charms : The smi, that rolls his chariot o'er their heads. Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks : Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripen'd beauties of the North. Juha. 'Tis not a set of features, a complexion. The tincture of a skin, that 1 admire ! Beauty soon grows familiar to the lo^'er, 8 Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex : True she is fair, (oh how divinely fair ! ) But still the lovely maid improves her charms, 9 With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, 10 And sanctity of manners. Cato's soul Shines out in every thing she acts and speaks. While %vinning mildness and attractive smiles 9 Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace, 10 Soften the rigour of her father's Aartues, Syphax. How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise I AND IMPROVING THE VOICE; 143 SLEEP. How many thousands of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O gentle Sleep ! Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee. That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids do^^^l, And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! Why rather. Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs. Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee. And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber. Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great. Under the canopies of costly state, 15 And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile. In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch A watch-case to a common 'larum bell ? Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast. Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 13 In cradle of the rude imperious surge ? And in the \'isitation of the winds. Who take the ruffian billows by the top. Curling their monstrous heads ^ and hanging them 1 A short pause. 144 EXERCISES FOPw MODl'LATING With deaPning clamours in the shpp'ry shrouds, 13 That, with the hurly. Death itself awakes? Canst thou, oh partial Sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude. And in the calmest and the stillest night. With all appliances and means to boot, ^13 (o) Deny it to a King ? Then, happy, lowly cl6v*n ! 10 , , Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown ! CATO'S SOLILOQUY. It must be so — Plato, thou reason' st well — (o) Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, ITiis longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror. Of falhng into nought ? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? (()) 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis Heav'n itself, that points out an hereafter. And intimates eternity to man. Eternity 1 thou pleasing, — dreadful thought ! Thro' what variety of untried being, Thro' what new scenes and changes must we pass ! AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 14( The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me ! 10 But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us, 3 > ^^^ {And that there is, all nature cries aloud Through all her works) he must delight in virtue ! And that which he delights in, must be happy. But when, or where ? — This world was made for Caesar. I'm weary of conjectures — This must end them. Thus am I dotibly arm'd — My death and life. My bane and antidote, are both before me. This in a moment brings me to an end ; But this informs me I shaU never die. (o) The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point, (o) The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in ye?rs. But thou shalt flourish in immortal yoiith. Unhurt amidst the war of elements. The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. t CANTERBURY'S DESCRIPTION OF HENRY V. The king is full of grace and fair regard. And a tme lover of the holy chiirch. H 146 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING The courses of his youth promis'd it not ; The breath no sooner left his father's body. But that his ^vildness, mortified in him, Seem'd to die too ; yea, at that very moment. Consideration, hke an angel, came. And whipp'd th' oflfending Adam out of him ; 9 Leaving his body as a paradise, 10 To invelope and contain celestial spirits. 8 Never was such a sudden scholar made : Never came reformation in a flood, 8 With such a heady current, scouring faiilts ; Nor ever hydra-headed wilfulness 9 So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 10 9 10 As in this king. We're blessed in the change. Hear him but reason in divinity. And, all-admiring, with an inward wish. You would desire the king were made a prelate. Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs. You'd say it had been all his study : List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle render'd you in music : Turn him to any course of policy, 9 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. HT 10 Familiar as his garter. Wlien he speaks. The air, a charter'd libertine, is still ; 9 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears 10 To steal his sweet and honied sentences. BRUTUS'S SOLILOQUY UPON KILLING CESAR. 8 It must be by his death : and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him ; 8 But for the general. He would be crown' d — How that might change his nature, there's the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder ; And that craves wary walking : — crown him — that ^ ! — 9 And then I grant we put a sting in him, 10 That at his will he may do danger with. Th* abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 8 Remorse from power : and, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections sway'd More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof. That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 8 Whereto the climber upwards turns his face ; And when he once attains the utmost round. * i. e. do tliat. H 2 148 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING He then unto the ladder turns his back. Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 8 By which he did ascend ; so Ccesar may : 9 10 Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel Will bear no colour for the thing he is. Fashion it thus, — that what he is, augmented, 8 Would run to these, and these extremities : And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, 9 Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,- 10 And kill him in the shell. HAMLET. 18 Oh, what a ^n•etch and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here. But in a fiction, in a dream of passion. Could force his soul so to his ov\m conceit. That, from her working, all his visage warm'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 13 With forms his conceit ? and all for nothing ; 18 For Hecuba ! Wliat's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 149 13 That he should weep for her ? wliat would he do. Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have ! He would drown the stage with tears, 20 And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; 8 Make mad the guilty, and appal the free ; 9 Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed 10 The faculty of eyes and ears. MENTAL BEAUTY. Thus doth beauty dwell, Tliere most conspicuous, even in outward shape. Where dawns the high exjiression of a mind. By steps (o) conducting our enraptur'd search To that eternal Origin, whose pow'r. Through all th' unbounded symmetry of things, 9 Like rays effulging from the parent sun. 10 This endless mixture of her charms diffas'd. Mind, mind alone, bear witness, earth and heav'n ! The living fountains in itself ^ contains Of beauteous and sublime : here, hand in hand, 1 The words, * in itself,' belong to ' fountains ;' they must be separated from the word ' contains' by a short pause, according to the Rules 1 and 4. H 3 150 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Sit paramount the Graces : here, enthron'd. Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, 10 Imdtes the soul to never-fading joy. Look then abroad through nature, to the range Of Planets, Suns, and Adamantine spheres. Wheeling, unshaken, through the void immense ; And speak, O man ; does this capacious scene With half that kindling majesty * dilate 4 Thy strong conception ; as when Brutus rose. Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate. Amid the crowd of patriots, ,and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove, When guilt brings down the thunder, cali'd aloud On TuUy's name, and shook his crimson steel. And bade the father of his country hail ? For lo ! the tyrant prostrate on the dust. And Rome again is free ! (o) Is aught so fair In all the dewy landscapes of the spring. In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn. In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair As virtuous friendship ; as the candid blush ^ A short pause — tlie same as at intervening clauses. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 151 Of him who strives with fortune to be just ? The graceful tear that streams for others* woes ; Or the mild majesty of private hfe, Where peace, with ever-blooming olive, crowns The gate ; where honour's liberal hands effuse Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings Of innocence and love protect the scene ! WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ! — To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms. And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, — And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root ; And then he falls as I do. I have ventur'd. Like Uttle wanton boys that swim on bladders. These many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blo^^^l pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me. Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 9 10 Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. h4 152 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 8 Vain pomp and glory of the M'orld, I hate ye ! 10 I feel my heart new-opened. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to. That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin. More pangs and fears than war or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. {_Enter Cromwell.'] Why, how now, Cromwell ? Cromwell. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. AVhat, amaz'd 13 At my misfortunes ? Can thy spirit wonder 9 A great man should decline ? Nay, if you weep, 10 I'm fall'n indeed, Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me. Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, — And when I am forgotten, as I shall be. And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee — Say, Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, — AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 153 Found thee a way, out of his v>rreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, though thy master nuss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me : 8 Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then, (Tliough the image of his Maker) hope to win by*t ? Lore thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 9 10 Cormption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace. To silence envious tongues. Be jiist and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Tliy God's, andTriith's ; then, if thou fall'st, O CromweU, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the King— And 'pi-'ythee lead me in There, take an inventory of all I have ; 9 10 To the last pe'nny, 'tis the King's. Yiy robe, 9 And my integrity to heav'n, is all 10 I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my Kina, he would not in mme age 10 Have left me naked to mine enemies. b5 154 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING [This and two or three of the following exercises will be found useful for improving the middle or conversational sounds of the voice.] FOLLY OF PROCRASTINATION. Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer ; Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 10 Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time ; Year after year it steals, tiU all are fled. And to the mercies of a moment ^ leaves 10 The vast concerns of an eternal scene. Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, *" That all men are aboiit to live;" For ever on the brink of being born. . All pay themselves the compliment ^ to think They, one day, shall not drivel ,• and their pride, — On this reversion takes up ready praise, 11 At least; their own, —their future selves applauds. How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! 11 Time lodg'd in their own hands is Fd%'5 vails ; ^ A pause. 2 Pause as long after ' compliment' as after the word ' think.* AND IMPROVING THE VOICE, 155 Thatlodg'd in Fate's, to wisdom they consign; 10 The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone. 11 11 'Tis not in Folly , not to scorn a fool ; 10 And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All Promise is poor dilatory man. And that through every stage. When young, indeed. In full content, we sometimes nobly rest, Unanxious for ourselves ; and only wish, 9 10 As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty, man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty, chides his infamous delay. Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve. In all the magnanimity of thought, 10 Resolves, and re-resolves : then dies the same. And why ? because he thinks himself immortal ; 8 All men think all men mortal but themselves : 9 Themselves ', when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread ; 1 Walker was of opinion that this word should have the falling In- flexion ; hut as the same word, requiring the faUing Inflexion, occurs immediately before, the meaning of the whole passage may be bet- ter expressed, and the cadence more successfully preserved, by the . Inflexion of Rule 9. H 6 156 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 5 But their hearts wounded, hke the wounded air, 10 Soon close ; where past the shaft, no trace is found. (o) As from the wing no scar the sky retains. The parted wave no furrow from the keel. So dies in human hearts the thought of death : Ev'n with the tender tear which nature sheds 9 10 O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. TASTE. Say, what is taste, but the internal pow'rs Active, and strong, and feelingly ahve To each fine impulse ? a discerning sense Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust From things deform'd, or disarrang'd, or gross In species ? This, nor gems, nor stores of gold. Nor purple state, nor culture can bestow; But God alone, when first his active hand Imprints the sacred bias of the soul. He, mighty parent ! wise and just in all, 9 Free as the vital breeze or light of heav'n, 10 Reveals the charms of nature. Ask the swain. Who journeys homeward from a summer-day's AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 157 Long labour, why, forgetful of his toils And due repose, he loiters ^ to behold The sunshine gleaming, as through amber clouds. O'er all the western sky ? Full soon, I ween. His rude expression and untutor'd airs. Beyond the power of language 2, will unfold Tlie form of beauty smiling at his heart, — How lovely ! how commanding ! But, though Heav'n In every breast hath sown these early seeds Of love and admiration, yet in vain, 2 Withoiit fair Culture's kind parental aid Without enlivening suns and genial showers And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope 9 The tender plant should rear its blooming head, 10 Or yield the harvest promis'd in its spring. Nor yet will every soil with equal stores Repay the tdler's labour ; or attend His mil, obsequious, whether to produce The olive or the laurel. Different minds Inchne to diflfrent objects : one pursues" The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild : 9 Another sighs for harmony, and grace, \ A short pause. 2 ^ sliort pause. 158 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 10 And gentlest beauty, (o) Hence, when lightning fires The arch of heav'n, and thunders rock the ground ; When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, 2 And Ocean, groaning from his lowest bed. Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky j 2 2 Amid the mighty uproar, while below Tlie nations tremble, Shakspeare, looks abroad From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys The elemental war. But Waller longs, AH on the margin of some flow'ry stream. To spread his careless limbs amid the cool Of plantain shades, and to the list'ning deer. The tale of slighted vows, and love's disdain. Resounds, soft warbhng, all the live-long day : Consenting Zephyr sighs ; the weeping rill Joins in his plaint, melodious ; mute the groves ,• And hill and dale with all their echoes moiirn. Such and so various are the tastes of men. h'-f^'. THE PLEASURES ARISING FROM NOVELTY. Call now to mind what high capacious powers Lie folded up in man : how far beyond AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 159 Tlie praise of mortals may th' eternal growth 9 Of nature, to perfection half divine 10 Expand the blooming soul. ^Tiat pity then Should Sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth Her tender blossom : choke the streams of life. And blast her spring ! far otherwise design'd Almighty wisdom : Nature's happy cares Th' obedient heart far otherwise incline. Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active pow'r To brisker measures ; witness the neglect Of all famihar prospects, though beheld With transport once : the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment, the sober zeal Of age commenting on prodigious things. For such the bounteous providence of Heav'n, In every breast implanting this desire Of objects new and strange, to urge us on With unremitted labour i to pursue 9 Those sacred stores that wake the ripening soul, 10 In Truth's exhaustless bosom. WTiat need words — ^ A short pause. 160 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING To paint its pow'r ? For this the daring youth iV ' -^ Breaks from his weeping mother's anxious arms. In foreign chmes to rove : the pensive sage. Heedless of sleep, or midnight's harmful damp, *■ p Hangs o'er the sickly taper : and untir'd ^ • The virgin follov/s, with enchanted step. The mazes of some wild and wondrous tale. From morn to eve ; unmindful of her form. Unmindful of the happy dress ^ that stole The wishes of the youth, when every maid With envy pin'd. (o) Hence, finally, by night. The ^dllage matron, round the blazing hearth. Suspends the infant-audience with her tales. Breathing astonishment ! of witching rhymes And evil-spirits ; of the death-bed-call To him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd The orphan's portion : of unquiet souls Ris'n from the grave to ease the heavy guilt Of deeds in life conceal' d ; (o) of shapes that walk At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave The torch of hell around the murd'rer's bed. ^ A sliort pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE, IGl At eveiy solemn pause, the crowd recoil, /'^, ^ tu/n^ Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd With shivering sighs ; till eager for th' event Around the beldam all erect they hang. Each trembhng heart with grateful terrors quell'd. RUMOUR PAINTED FULL OF TONGUES. Open your ears : for which of you will stop The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour spealcs I, from the Orient to the drooping We'st, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride. The which in every language I pronounce. Stuffing the ears of men with false reports ; I speak of peace, while covert enmity. Under the smile of safety ^, wounds the world : And who but Rumour, who but only I, ^lake fearful musters and prepar'd defence. While the big ear, swoln with some other griefs, 9 Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 1 A short pause. 162 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 10 And no such matter. Rumour is a pipe. Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures : And of so easy and so plain a stop. That the blunt monster, with uncounted heads. The still-discordant, wav'ring multitude Can play upon it. The posts come tiring on. And not a man of them brings other news • Than they have learnt of me. From Rumour's tongues 9 They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true 10 wrongs. ALEXANDER ON PASSING THE GRANICUS. Witness, ye heavenly powers, how Alexander Honours and loves a soldier, — Oh ! my Clytus, "Was it not when we pass'd the Granicus Thou didst preserve me from unequal force ? It was ; when Spithridates and Rhosaces Fell both upon me with two dreadful strokes. And clove my temper'd helmet quite asiinder ; Then, I remember, then thou didst me service : And I am prouder to have pass'd that stream Than that I drove a million o'er the plain. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 163 Can none remember ? Yes, I know all must — When glory, like the dazzling eagle, stood Perch' d on my beaver in the Granic flood j When fortune's self my standard trembling bore. And the pale fates stood frighted on the shore ; When the immortals on the billows rode. And I myself appear' d the leading God. ZANGA. JOY, thou welcome stranger ! twice three years 1 have not felt thy vital beam : but now It warms my veins, and plays around my heart; A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground And I could mount — (o) the spirits numberless Of my dear countrymen, which yesterday Left their poor bleeding bodies on the field. Are all assembled here, and o'er-inform me — (o) O bridegroom ! great indeed thy present bliss. Yet ev'n by me unenvied ; for be sure It is thy last, thy last smile, that which now Sits on thy cheek; enjoy it while thou may'st; Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak to-morrow. 164 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING 9 Thus far my deep-laid plots and dark designs 10 Go well — Ah ! what is well ? O pang to think 1 O dire necessity ; is this my province ? Whither, my soul, ah ! whither art thou sunk Beneath thy sphere ? Ere while, far, far above Such little arts, dissemblings, falsehoods, frauds ; C The trust of villainy itself, which falls 10 To cowards and poor wretches wanting bread. Does this become a soldier ? this become Whom armies foUow'd, and a people lov'd ? 9 10 My martial glory withers at the thoiight. But great my end ; and since there are no other. These means are just, they shine with borrow'd light. Illustrious from the purpose they pursue. And greater sure my merit, who, to gain A point sublime, can such a task sustain ; To wade through ways obscene, my honour bend. And shock my nature to attain my end. Late times shall wonder ; that my joys will raise. For wonder is involuntary praise. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 165 [Obs. It is presumed, that Students have made consi- derable progress in the knowledge and j^ractice of accen- tuated Inflexion ; the plan, therefore, of notifying the principal rules, by placing fgiires over the accents, will be discontinued.] ESCAPE FROM SHIPWRECK. The storm increases ! — by the light Of heaven's fierce radiance, I behold The mariners, once brave and bold, Chain'd stedfast to the deck in strange affright ; Tlirough Distraction's starting tear. They see their wives and children dear ; Whom they had fondly hop'd ere long to greet. With all a husband's, all a father's joy. And taste domestic comforts sweet. The end of all their toil, without alloy : But now (whilst those they love rejoice In the bless'd interview at hand. And every heart and every voice Ah'eady hails them to their native land) Tliey mark the unruly sails ' disdain The weak control of mortal rein ; Dissever'd on the winds they see them ride, Then — sink into the ocean's tide ! WTiilst languid hope points to one glimmering beam, Forebodings stern disclose their wretched state, Tliey view the sails plung'd in the raging stream. And read their own inevitable fate. ITie lightnings, as they flash, display The fatal shore, to which they onward dri^'e ; In vain with destiny they strive. Whilst ocean fierce demands his coming prey : ^ A short pp.use. 166 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Now swifter borne before the hurrying blast, (Their last brave anchor vainly cast) They view dismay'd the white wave's glare at hand. Foaming o'er the rocky strand ; To the near cliffs their course they urge. In dark funereal terrors dress'd ; Ere long, and in the wrathful surge Each palpitating heart must rest ! Still nearer now the vessel draws. Fear suspends their labouring breath ! A horrid pause ! One moment more ! Amid the roar, — Methought I heard the shriek of death ! Ah bless'd deceit ! the winds arise ! Mercy to aid the sufferer flies ! Borne from destruction's precincts pale. They bid the beetling rocks adieu. And \^dth tumultuous transports new The road of safety hail ! Ye sires ! o'er death who lately hung, O'ersvhelm'd with agony and fear. Whilst blessings trembled on your tongue For those who then were doubly dear : Ye yet shall Uve with gladness crown'd ! To view your smiling infants round ! The lover now shall greet the maid. To whom his fervent vows were paid ! To her once more the husband fly. In whom his earthly treasures lie ! "VMiilst ye who seek the peaceful dale. Speed to your homes and happy be ; And there, beside your own hearths, tell God's mercy in the stormy sea ! AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 167 THE DYING GLADIATOR Will then no pitpng hand its succour lend. The Gladiator's mortal throes to end ? To free the unconquer'd mind, whose generous power Triumph's o'er nature in her saddest hour ? Bow'd low and full of death, his head declines. But o'er his brow indignant valour shines. Still glares his closing eye vnth angry light. Now glares, now darkens with approaching night ! Think not, "s\dth terror heaves that sinewy breast ; 'Tis vengeance ^-isible and pain supprest ; Calm in despair, in agony sedate, His proud soul wrestles ^^^th o'eiTnastering fate ; That pang the conflict ends ! he falls not yet ! Seems every nerve for one last effort set : At once by death, death's lingering power to brave. He will not sink, but pliinge into the grave — Exhaust his mighty soul in one last sigh. And rally all life's energies — to die ! Unfear'd is now that cord, which oft ensnar'd The baffled rival, whom his falchion spar'd : Those clarions mute, which, on the murderous stage, Rous'd him to deeds of more than martial rage : Once pois'd by peerless might, once dear to fame. The shield, which could not guard, supports his frame j His fixed eye dwells on his faithless blade. As if in silent agony he pray'd : " O might I yet by one avenging blow, " Not shiin my fate, but share it with my foe !" Vain hope ! the streams of life-blood fast descend ; That giant arm's up-bearing strength must bend : 168 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Yet shall lie scorn, procumbent to betray One dastard sign of anguish or dismay, "With one weak plaint to shame his parting breath, In pangs sublime, magnificent in death. But his were deeds unchronicled ; — his tomb No patriot wreaths adorn ; to cheer his doom. No soothing thoughts arise of duties done. Of trophied conquests for his country won ; And he, whose sculptur'd form gave deathless fame To Ctesilas ; he dies — without a name ! Haply to grace some Caesar's pageant pride. The hero-slave, or hireling champion died ! When Rome, degenerate Rome, for barbarous shows Barter'd her virtue, glory, and repose. Sold all that freemen prize, as great and good. For pomps of death and theatres of blood ! NORTHUMBERLAND AND MORTON. North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title leaf. Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood Hath left a ^\'itness'd usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? Mort. 1 ran from Shi-evv'sbury, my noble lord. Where hateful Death put on his ughest mask To fright our party. North. How doth my son and brother ? Thou tremblest ! and the whiteness in thy cheek ' Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so wobegone. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 1G9 Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd • But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue ; And I my Percy's death, ere thou report' st it. This thou would'st say : your son did thus and thus : Your brother, thus : so fought the noble Douglas : Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds. But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed. Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, — Ending with, brother, son, and all are dead ! Mort. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet ; But for my lord, your son North. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath ! He that but fears the thing he would not know. Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes. That what he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet, Morton, speak ; Tell thou thy earl, his di^'ination lies ; And I will take it as a sweet disgrace. And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. Mort. You are too great to be by me gainsaid : Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. North. Yet for all this, say not that Percy's dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye : Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so : The tongue offends not that reports his death : And he doth sin, that doth beUe the dead. Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd, tolling a departed friend. Bardolph. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. Mort. I am sorry I should force you to believe Tliat which I would to Heav'n I had not seen, I 170 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd. To Henry Monmouth : whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth. From whence, with hfe, he never more sprung up. In few : his death (whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp) Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper' d courage in his troops. For from his metal was his party steel'd : Which once in him rebated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself. Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed ; So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss. Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear, . That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim. Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety. Fly from the field. Then was that noble Wor'ster Too soon ta'en prisoner : and that furious Scot, The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain th' appearance of the king, 'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backs ; and in his flight, Stumbhng in fear was took. The sum of all Is, that the king hath won ; and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord. Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic ; and this news. That would, had I been well, have made sick. Being sick, hath in some measure made me well. And as the wretch, whose fever- weaken'd joints. Like strengthless hinges buckle under life. Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire AND IMrROVIXG THE VOICE. 171 Out of his keeper's arms : ev'n so my limbs, Weaken'd v/ith grief, being now enrag'd with grief. Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch ; A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this hand. And hence thou sickly quoif. Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, "VA'Tiich princes, flush'd with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron, and approach The rugged'st hour that time and spite dare bring To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland ; Let heav'n kiss earth ! Now let not nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd, let order die. And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a ling'ring act : But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set . On bloody courses, the rude scene may end. And darkness be the burier of the dead. CLARENCE'S DREAM. Clarence and Brahenhury. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ? Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night. So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams. That as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; So full of dismal terror was the time. ^ Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you telFme. Clar. Methought that I had broken froiu the tow'r And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy, — And in my company my brother Glo'ster ; I 2 172 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING I Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times. During the wars of York and Lancaster, Tliat had befallen us. As we pass'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Glo'ster stumbled, and, in falling, Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard. Into the tumbhng billows of the main. Oh I Heav'n ! methought what pain it v\'as to dro"\vii ! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! I thought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl. Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep. And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death. To gaze upon the secrets of the deep ? Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood, Kept^in my soul, and would not let it forth To find the empty, vast, and Avandering air ; But smother'd it within my panting bulk, ^'^ Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony ? Clar. No, no ; my dream was lengthen' d after life ; then began the tempest of my soul : 1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood. With that grim ferryman which poets write of. Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger-soul. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 1/3 Was my great fatlier-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cried aloud, *' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?" And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an angel ; with bright hair Dabbled in blood, and he shriek' d out aloud, ** Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, Tliat stabb'd me in the field Jiy Tewkesbury : Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments !" AVith that, metliought, a legion of foul fiends Environed me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that with the very noise I, trembling, wak'd ; and for a season after Could not believe but that I was in hell : Such terrible impression made my dream. Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you ; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. Clar. I pr'ythee, Brakenbury, stay by me : My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. In all earnest and vehement addresses, the voice of the speaker ascends with the imagination : upon such occasions, to recover the medium of the voice, the Orator is obliged to change the passion for one which requires low sounds to express it. [The remaining Exercises of this Section, aided by the mark (o) signifying that the voice is to be lowered, and by the mark (*), signifying that it is to be raised, will further the progress of each pupil in the valuable acquisition of speaking energetically in the under voice, or that part of the voice below the medium.] I3 174 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING FAULCOXBRIDGE TO KING JOHN. But v/herefore do you droop r why look you sad? Be great in act as you have been in thought : (o) Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye : (*) Be ^ stirring as the time : be fire ^vith fire : Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow Of bragging hoiTor : (o) so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great. Grow great by your example, and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution. (*) Away, and glitter like the God of ^var, T\^ien he intendeth to become the field : Shew boldness and aspiring confidence. What ! shall they seek the lion in his den. And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ? (o) Oh, let it not be said. (*) Forage and run. To meet displeasure farther from the doors ; And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. MARCIAN, HAVING DISARMED THEODOSIUS. Now, Sir, where are you ? What, in the name of all our Roman spirits. Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate ? Has he not cut me off from all my honours ; ^ As often as the leading passion returns, the high voice: should be resumed. The Inflexions in both voices, high and low, must be carefully modulated. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 175 Torn my commissions, sham'd me to the earth, Banish'd the court a vagabond for ever ! Do not the soldiers liourly ask it from me ? Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge them ? What hinders now, but that I mount the throne ? And make, besides, this purple youth my footstool } The armies court me ; and my country's cause. The injuries of Rome and Greece persuade me ; Shew but this Roman blood which he has dra^vn. They'll make me emperor v.'hether T will or no ; Did not, for less than this, the latter Brutus, Because he thought Rome wrong'd, in person head Against his friend a black conspiracy. And stab the majesty of all the world ? Did not the former Brutus, for the crime Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom ? And shall this prince too, by permitting others To act their wicked will and lawless pleasures. Ravish from the empire its dear health. Well-being, happiness, and ancient glory ? Go on in this dishonourable rest ? Shall he, I say, dream on, while the starv'd troops Lie cold and waking in the mnter camp ; And, like pin'd birds, for want of sustenance. Feed on the husks and berries of the fields ? (o) O temper, temper me, ye gracious gods ! Give to my hand forbearance, to my heart Its constant loyalty ! I would but shake him. Rouse him a little from this death of honour. And shew him what he should be. I 4 176 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING ZANGA ENCOURAGING ALONZO TO KILL HIS WIFE. You have resolv'd your faithless bride shall die : That's truly great. What think you 'twas set up The Greek and Roman name in such a lustre. But doing right in stern despite to nature, — Shutting their ears to all her little cries. When great, august, and godlike jiistice call'd ? At Aulis, one pour'd out a daughter's life. And gain'd more glory than by all his wars ; Another y in just rage, his sister slew : A thirdf the theme of all succeeding times, Gave to the cruel axe a darling son : Nay, mbrey for justice some devote themselves , As he at Carthage, an immortal name ! Yet there is one step left above them «ZZ, Above their hisfry, above their /«6?e; A wifey bride, mistress of your heart — (o) do that And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory. ANTONY'S SOLILOQUY OVER CESAR'S BODY. O PARDON me, thou bleeding piece of earth. That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times, (o) Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood : Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — (Which, hke dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,) A curse shall hght upon the line of men : Domestic fury and fierce civil strife, Shall cumber all the parts of Italy : AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 177 Blood and destruction shall be so in use. And dreadful objects so familiar. That mothers shall but smile, when they behold Their infants quarter' d by the hands of M'^ar : All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds : And Cpesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, "With Ate by his side, come hot from hell. Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry hdvock, and M slip the dogs of war, (o) That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men groaning for biirial. MARULLUS'S SPEECH TO THE MOB IN JULIUS CESAR. AVherefore rejoice ? that Caesar comes in triumph ? What conquests brings he home ? What tributaries follow him to Rome To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things 1 O you hard hearts ! you cruel men of Rome ! Knew you not Pompey ? many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements. To towers, and windows, yea to chimney-tops. Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day with patient expectation To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome : And when you saw his chariot but appear. Have you not made a universal shout. That Tiber trembled underneath his banks To hear the replication of your sounds. Made in his concave shores ? And do you now put on your best attire ? And do you now call out a holiday ? I 5 178 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING And do you now strew flowers in Ms way. That comes in triumph over Pompey^s blood ? (o) Be gone • Run to your houses, fall upon your knees. Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude. GLOUCESTER'S SPEECH TO THE NOBLES. Brave Peers of England, pillars of the state. To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief. Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people, in the wars : Did he so often lodge in open field. In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat. To conquer France, his true inheritance ? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got ? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, and Salisbury, victorious Warwick, Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy ? Or hath my uncle Beaufort, and myself. With all the learned council of the realm. Studied so long ; sat in the council house Early and late, debating to and fro How France and Frenchmen m.ight be kept in awe ? And was his highness, in his infancy. Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes ? And shall these labours and these honours die ? Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance. Your deeds of war, and all our council die ? (o) O, Peers of England ! shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage : cancelling your fame. AND IMPFiOVING THE VOICE. 179 Blotting your names from books of memory Razing the characters of your renown ; Defacing monuments of conquer'd France, Undoing all, as all had never been. BISHOP OF CARLISLE'S SPEECH IX DEFENCE OF KING RICHARD II. Worst in this royal presence may I speak. Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. Would Heav'n, that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard ; then true nobleness would Teach him forbearance from so foul a wrong. Wliat subject can give sentence on a King ? And who sits here that is not Richard's subject ? Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear. Although apparent (/itilt be seen in them : (o) And shall the figure of God's majesty. His captain, steward, deputy elect. Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath. And he himself not present ? O, forbid it, Heav'n, Tliat in a Christian climate, souls refin'd Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! I speak to subjects, and a subject i speaks, Stirr'd up by Heav'n, thus boldly for his king. My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king : Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : And if you cro^vn him, let me prophesy — (o) The blood of Enghsh shall manure the ground. And future ages groan for this foul act : 1 A short pause. I 6 180 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels ; And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny. Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. Oh ! if you rear this house against this house. It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth. Prevent, resist it ; let it not be so. Lest children's children cry against you — woe ! QUINCTIUS IRONICALLY ENCOURAGING THE ROMAN PEOPLE TO EXCESSES. 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 .'Esquiline is near being taken, and nobody stirs to hinder it. But against us you are valiant, against us you can arm with all dili- gence. Come on then, besiege the senate house, make a camp of the forum, fill the jails with all our chief nobles : and when you have achieved these glorious exploits, then at the least sally out at the /Esquiline gate with the same fierce spirit against the enemy. (*) Does your ' resolution fail you for this? (o) 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 any thing here to repair these damages ? Will the Tribunes make up your losses to you ? Tliey will give you words as many as you please : bring impeachments in abundance 1 In a very high voice. 2 An increasing high voice until the mark for lowering. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 3 81 against the prime men in the state: heap laivs npon laws : as- semblies you shall have without end: but will any of you return the richer from these assemblies ? — (o) Extinguish, O Ro- mans ! these fatal divisions ; generously break this cursed enchantment, which keeps you buried in a scandalous inac- tion ; 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. THE PASSIONS. When Music, heavenly maid, was young. While yet in early Greece she sung. The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell. Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting. Possessed beyond the muse's painting : (o) By turns they felt the glov/ing mind Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd, — Till once, His said, when all were fir'd, FiU'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd. From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of soiind j And, as they oft had heard, apart. Sweet lessons of her forceful art. Each, for madness rul'd the hour. Would prove his own expressive pow'r. First Tear i, — his hand, its skill to try. Amid the chords bewildered laid. And back recoil' d, he knew not why, Ev'n at the sound himself had made. 1 In contradistinction to the other Passions. 182 EXERCISES rOR MODULATING Next Anger — rusli'd — his eyes on fire — In lightnings own'd— (o) his secret stings ; In one ricde clash he struck the lyre. And swept ^vith hurried hand the strings. (o) With woeful measures, wan Despair — Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'd : A solemn, strange, and mingled air, — 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, Hope ! with eyes so fair, — What was thy delighted measure : Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure. And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail : Still would her touch the scene prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale. She caU'd on echo still through aU the songj And where her sweetest thenie she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close ; And Hope, enchanted, sniil'd, andwav'd her golden hair. And longer had she sung — but, with a frown. Revenge — impatient rose : He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down. And, with a withering look. The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread — (o) Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe : (*) And ever and anon he beat The doubling-drum with furious heat : And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity at his side. Her soul-subduing voice applied. Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien. While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his* head, ■ AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 183 (o) Thy numbers, Jealousy^ to nought were fix'd ; — • Sad proof of thy distressful state ; — Of differing themes the veering song was mix*d ; And now it courted Love, — now raving call'd on Hate. (o) With eyes uprais'd, as one inspired. Pale MelancJwly sat retir'd. And from her wild sequester' d seat. In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And dashing soft from rocks around. Bubbling runnels join'd the sound : (o) Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole (o) Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay. Round a holy calm diffusing. Love of peace and lonely musing. In hollow murmurs died away. (*) But oh, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone ! When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew ; Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, — • The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known : The oak-crown'd sisters and their chaste-eyed queen. Satyrs and Sylvan boys, were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green. Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear. And Sport leap'd up, and seized his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial ; He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand address'd. But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loy'd the best :- 184 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING (o) They would have thought, who heard the strain. They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids. Amidst the festal-sounding shades. To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings. Love fram'd with mirth a gay fantastic round ; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; And he, amidst his frolic play. As if he woiild the charming air repay. Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. ODE ON ST. CECILLVS DAY. Descend, ye Nine ! descend and sing, (o) Tlie breathing instruments inspire. Wake into voice each silent string. And sweep the sounding lyre ! In a sadly pleasing strain Let the warbling lute complain : Let the loud trumpet sound. Till the roofs all around The shrill echoes rebound ; (o) While in more lengthen' d notes and slow. The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. Hark ! the numbers soft and clear Gently steal upon the ear : Now louder, and yet louder rise. And fill with spreading sound the skies : Exiilting in triumph, now swell the bold notes ; In broken air, trembling, the wild music_^floats j Till, by degrees, remote and small. The strains decay. And melt away. In a dying, dying fall. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE, ' 18 5 By Music, minds an equal temper know. Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arise. Music her soft assuasive voice applies ; Or when the soul is press' d with cares. Exalts her in enliv'ning airs. Warriors she fires with animated sounds ; Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds, (o) Melancholy lifts her head, Morpheus rouses from his bed. Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, List'ning envy drops her snakes ; Intestine war no more our Passions wage. And giddy factions hear away their rage. But when our country's cause provokes to arms. How martial music every bosom M'arms ! (o) So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas, High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain, While Argo saw her kindred trees. Descend from Pehon to the main ; Transported, demigods stood round. And men grew heroes at the sound, — Enflam'd with glory's charms : Each chief his sev'n-fold shield display'd. And half unsheath'd the shining blade : And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! (o) But when thro' all the infernal bounds Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds. Love, strong as Death, the poet led To the pale nations of the de'ad. What sounds were heard. What scenes appear'd 186 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING' O'er all the dreary coasts ? Dreadful gleams. Dismal screams. Fires that glow Shrieks of woe. Sullen moans. Hollow groans. And cries of tortur'd ghosts ? But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre ; / And see ! the tortur'd ghosts resph'e ; See, shady forms advance ! Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still, Ixion rests upon his wheel, And the pale spectres dance ! The furies sink upon their iron beds. And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads. By the streams that ever flow. By the fragrant winds that blow O'er the Elysian flow'rs; By those happy souls that dwell In yellow meads of Asphodel, Or Amaranthine bow'rs j By the hero's armed shades, Glitt'ring through the gloomy glades ; By the youths that died for love, Wand'ring in the myrtle grove, — Restore, restore Eurydice to life ; OhJ take the husband, — or return the wife ! He sung, and hell consented To hear the Poet's prayer : Stern Proserpine relented. And gave him back the fair. Thus song could prevail O'er death and o'er hell, A conquest how hard, and how glorious I AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 187 Though fate had fast bound her. With Styx nine times round her. Yet music and love were victorious. But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes : Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ? No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love, (o) Now, under hanging mountains. Beside the falls of fountains. Or where Hebrus wanders. Rolling in meanders. All alone. Unheard, unknown. He makes his moan ; And calls her ghost. For ever, ever, ever lost ! Now with furies surrounded. Despairing, confounded. He trembles, he glows. Amidst Rhodope's snows : See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies ; Hark ! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries — Ah see, he dies ! Yet ev'n in death, Eurydice he sung, Eurydice still trembled on his tongue, Eurydice the woods, Eurydice the floods, Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. Music the fiercest grief can charm. And fate's severest rage disarm : Music can soften pain to ease. And make despair and madness please ; Our joys below it can improve. And antedate the bliss above. 188 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING This the divine Ceciha found. And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound, (o) When the full organ joins the tuneful quire. Til' immortal pow'rs incline their ear : Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire. While solemn airs improve the sacred fire. And angels lean from Heav'n to hear. Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell. To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n ; His immbers rais'd a shade from helly Hers lift the soul to heav'n. SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN. O THOU, that with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st, from thy sole dominion, like the God . Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads ! to thee I call. But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, Sun ! to tell thee how I hate thy beams. That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell ; how glorious once above thy sphere, (o) Till pride, and worse ambition, threw me down. Warring in heav'n against heav'n's matchless King. Ah, wherefore ? He deserv'd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise. The easiest recompence : and pay him thanks. How due 1 Yet all his good prov'd ill in me. And wrought but malice : lifted up so high, I 'sdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and, in a moment, quit AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 189 The debt immense of endless gratitude. So burdensome, still paying still to owe ; Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd ; And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd : what burden then ? (o) O had his powerful destiny ordain'd . Me some inferior Angel, I had stood Then happy, no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not ! some other power As great might have aspir'd, and me, though mean, Drawn to his part : but other pow'rs as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from v/ithin Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free will and povv'er to stand ? Tliou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what t' accuse But Heav'n's free love, dealt equally to all? (*) Me, miserable : which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep. Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide. To which the hell I suffer seems a heav'n. O then, at last reie'nt ! (o) Is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? None left but by submission ; and that Vvord Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, (o) boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. (*) Ah me ! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain. Under what torments inwardly I groan. While they adore me on the throne of hell ; With diadem and sceptre high advanc'd. The lower still I fall, only supreme 190 EXERCISES FOR MODrLATIFG In misery : (o) such joy ambition finds. But say I cculd repent, — and could obtain By act of grace my former state, how scon Would height recall high thoughts — how soon unsay What feign' d submission swore ! Ease would recant Vows made in pain as violent and void : (o) For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep \Miich would but lead me to a worse relapse And hea\'ier fall : so should I purchase dear Short intermission, bought with double smart. This knows my punisher ; therefore as far From granting he as I from begging peace : All hope excluded, thus, behold, instead Of us outcast, exil'd, ^ his new delight. Mankind created ; and for him this world. (o) So farewell, hope ! and ^\dth hope, farewell fear I Farewell, remorse ! All good to me is lost : Evil, be thou my good ! By thee, at least Divided empire with Heav'n's King I hold ; By thee — and more than half perhaps will reign ; (o) As man, ere long, and this new world shall know. THE BARD. RUIN seize thee, ruthless King! * Confusion on thy banners wait ; Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson 'wing, * They mock the air with idle state ! Helm, nor hauberk's tmsted mail. Nor ev'n thy virtues. Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears. From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !' ' A sliort pause. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. l9l Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay. As doTVTi the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side ' He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout GWster stood aghast in speechless trance. To arms ! cried Jfor/imer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance. (o) On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of woe. With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd hke a meteor to the troubled air ;) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire. Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. ' Hark how each giant-oak, and desert-cave ' Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! * O'er thee, O King ! their hundred arms they wave, * Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; ' Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, * To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellju's lay. 1 * Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, ' That hush'd the stormy main : * Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed : ' Mountains, ye mourn in vain * Modred, whose magic song * Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head. * On dreary Arvon's shore they he ; * Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale ; * Far, far aloof, th' aflfrighted ravens sail ; * The famish'd eagle screams and passes by. 1 Let the voice raise by degrees to sounds expressive of the deeply pathetic ; — * Dear lest,' &-c. 192 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING * Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, * Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, ' Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, 1 ' Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — ' No more I weep. They do not sleep. * On yonder cliiFs, a grisly band, * I see them sit, they linger yet, * Avengers of their native land : ' With me in dreadful harmony they join, * And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. ' Weave the warj), and weave the woof, * The winding-sheet of Edward's race ; * Give ample room, and verge enough, * The characters of hell to trace ; (o) * Mark the year, and mark the night, ' When Severn shall re-echo with affright ' The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring, ' Shrieks of an agonizing King ! ' She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs * That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, * From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs ' The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait ! * Amazement in his van, with flight combin'd, * And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind. * Mighty victor, mighty lord, * Low on his funeral couch he lies ! * No pitying heart, no eye afford * A tear to grace his obsequies ! * Is the sable warrior fle'd ? * Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 1 Alter the voice. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 193 ' The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born ; ' Gone to saUite the rising morn. * Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, * AVhile, proudly riding o'er the azure realm, * In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; * Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm : * Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, * That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his ev'ning prey. * Fill high the sparkling bowl, * The rich repast prepare, ' Reft of a crov/n, he yet may share the feast : (o) * Close by the regal chair, ' Fell Thirst and Famine scov.d * A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. 1 ' Heard ye the din of battle bray, * Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? ' Long years of havock urge their destin'd course, * And through the kindred squadrons mow their way. * Ye 1 tow'rs of Julius, London's lasting shame, * With many a foul and midnight murder fed, * Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, * And spare the meek usurper's holy head. ' Above, below, the rose of snow * Twin'd with her blushing foe we spread ; ' The bristled boar, in infant gore, * Wallows beneath the thorny shade. * Now, Brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, * Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. * Edward, lo ! to sudden fate ' (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) ' Half of thy heart we consecrate. * (The web is wove. The work is done.) — - 1 Alter the voice. K 194 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING * Stay, oh stay ! nor thus forlorn * Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn : ' In yon bright track, that fires the western skies, ' They melt, they vanish from my eyes, (o) ' But oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height * Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll ! (*) * Visions of glory ! spare my aching sight 1 * Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! * No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. * All hail, ye genuine Kings ! Britannia's issue, hail ! * Girt with many a baron bold * Sublime their starry fronts they rear ; * And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old, * In bearded majesty appear. * In the midst a form divine ! * Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line ; * Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, * Attemper' d sweet to virgin grace. * "What strings symphonious tremble in the air ! ' What strains of vocal transport round her play ! * Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear ; * They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. * Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, * Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings. * The verse adorn again * Fierce War, and faithful Love, * And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest : * In buskin'd measures move, * Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, * With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. ' A voice, as of the cherub-choir, * Gales from blooming Eden bear ; * And distant warblings lessen on my ear, * That lost in long futurity expire. AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 195 ' Fond, impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine clou d * Rais'd by thy breath, has quench' d the orb of day ? * To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, * And warms the nations with redoubled ray. ' Enough for me : with joy I see * The different doom our fates assign. * Be thine Despair, and sceptered Care : ' To triumph, and to die, are mine/ (o) He spoke, and headlong, from the mountain's height. Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night. A PINDARIC ODE. Come, Epictetus ! arm my breast With thy impenetrable steel. No more the wounds of grief to feel. Nor mourn by others' woes deprest. ! teach my trembling heart To scorn Afl[liction's dart : Teach me to mock the tp-ant. Pain ! For see, around me stand A dreadful murd'rous band ; 1 fly their cruel power in vain ! Here lurks Distemper's horrid train. And there the Passions lift their flaming brands ; Tliose, with fell rage, my helpless body tear. While these, with daring hands Against the immortal soul their impious weapons rear. Where'er I turn, fresh evils meet my eyes ; Sin, Sorrow, and Disgrace Pursue the human race ! There, on the bed of sickness. Virtue hes ! See Friendship, bleeding by the sword Of base Ingratitude 1 K 2 196 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING See baleful Jealousy intrude. And poison all the bliss that Love had stor'd : Oh I seal my ears against the piteous cry Of Innocence distrest ! Nor let me shrink, when Fancy's eye Beholds the guilty wretch's breast Beneath the tort'ring pincers heave : Nor for the numerous wants of Mis'ry grieve, Which all-disposing Heav'n denies me to relieve ! No longer let my fleeting joys depend On social or domestic ties ! Superior let my Spirit rise : Nor in the gentle counsels of a Friend, Nor in the smiles of love expect delight : But teach me in myself to find Wliate'er can please or fill my mind. Let inward beauty charm the mental sight : Let god-like Reason, beaming bright. Chase far away each gloomy shade. Till Virtue's heav'nly form display'd Alone shall captivate my soul. And her divinest love possess me ivhole ! But ah 1 what m.eans this impious pride. Which heav'nly hosts deride ! Within myself does Virtue dv/ell ? Is all serene and beauteous there ? What mean these chilling damps of fear ? Tell me. Philosophy ! thou boaster, tell ! — "This god-like, all-sufficient mind. Which, in its own perfection blest. Defies the '>^ oes or malice of mankind. To shake its self-possessing rest. Is it not foul, weak, ignorant and blind ? Oh man ! from conscious virtue's prais3 Fall'n, fail'n — what refuge canst thou find ? AND IMPROVING THE VOICE. 197 What pitying hand again will raise From native earth thy grovelling frame ! Ah, who will cleanse thy heart from spot of sinful blame ? (o) But, see ! what sudden glories from the sky To my benighted soul appear. And all the gloomy prospects cheer ! (o) What awful fonn approaches nigh ? Awful, yet mild, as is the southern wind. That gently bids the forest nod. Hark ! thunder breaks the air, and angels speak. Behold the Saviour of the World 1 Behold The Lamb of God I Ye sons of Pride, behold his aspect meek ; Tlie tear of pity on his cheek ! See in his train appear Humility and Patience sweet ; Repentance, prostrate at his sacred feet. Bedews with tears, and wipes them with her fiovv^ing hair. (o) What scenes now meet my wond'ring eyes. What hallow' d grave. By mourning maids attended round. Attracts the Sa\'iour's steps ? What heartfelt wound His spotless bosom heaves with tender sighs ! Why weeps the Son belov'd. Omnipotent to save ? (o) But, lo ! he waves his awful hand ! The sleeping clay obeys his dread command. Oh, Lazarus ! come forth ! — Come forth, and see The dear effects of wondrous love ! He, at whose word the seas and rocks remove^. Thy friend, thy Lord, thy ^Maker, weeps for thee 1 Tliy walls, Jerusalem, have seen thy King, In meekness clad, lament thy hapless fate ! Unquench'd his love though paid mth ruthless hate I O lost, relentless Sion 1 Didst thou know Who thus vouchsafes thy courts to tread, K 3 198 EXERCISES FOR MODULATING, &C. What loud Hosannas wouldst tliou sing ! How eager crown his honour'd head ! Nor see unmov'd his kind paternal woe ! Nor force his tears, his precious blood, for thee to flow 1 No more repine, my coward soul. The sorrows of mankind to share. Which He who could the world control Did not disdain to bear ! Check not the flow of sweet fraternal love. By Heav'n's high King in bounty giv'n, Tliy stubborn heart to soften and improve. Thy earth-clad spirit to refine. And gradual raise to love divine. And wing its soaring flight to Heav'n ! 199 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. "OXov Se ecrri rb i-X'^^ "PX')''' '^^*- f^^'^ov, kciI TeXevvfjv. Arist. THE business of an Oratou, is to Delight that he may Instruct, and Instruct that he may move the Passions : all addresses which do not yield to this ana- lyzation are more or less imperfect. Many examples of sacred as well as profane Ora- tory might be mentioned, and suitable arguments educed from them to prove the justness of the position. Those have been faithfully imitated by the poets ; from Ho- mer and Virgil, to Milton, Shakspeare, and others of the Moderns. [The following arrangements will not fail to be ex- tremely interesting to students ; the progressive order of the speeches will lead them imperceptibly forward. Students will at length arrive at the finest specimen of Oratorical Composition, — and, for repetition, the most difficult Example, perhaps, in either Ancient or Modem Language.] Si vis mejlere, dolendum est Primum ipsi tibi; — HoR. LORD CLIFFORD EXHORTING HENRY VL TO PROTECT HIS CROWN AND TRANSMIT IT TO HIS SON. My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. K 4 200 ORATCmCAL SPEECHES. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? Kot to the beasts that would usurp their den 1 Y/hose hand is that the forest bear doth lick ? Not his that spoils her young before her face ! Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ? Not he that sets his foot upon her back ! The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on : And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown. Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows ; He, but a duke, would have his son a king. And raise his issue, like a loving sire> Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son. Didst yield consent to disinherit him ; Which argued thee a most unloving father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young : And though man's face be fearful to their eyes. Yet, in protection of their tender ones. Who hath not seen them (even with those wings W^hich sometime they have us'd in fearful flight) Make war with them that climb'd unto their nest. Offering their ovv^n lives in their young's defence ? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent ? Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birth-right by his father's fault ; And long hereafter say unto his child, — * What my great-grandfather and grandsire got. My careless father fondly gave away !' Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy : And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart. To hold thy own, and leave thy own to him. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 201 VOLUMNIA EXHORTING HER SOX CORIOLANUS TO SOOTHE AND PLEASE THE PLEBEIANS. 'Pray, be counselPd ; I have a heart as little apt as yours. But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger To better vantage. You are too absolute : » Though therein you can never be too noble. But when extremities speak. I have heard you say. Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' the war do grow together : grant that, and tell me. In peace, what each of them by the other lose. That they combine not there ? If it be honour in your wars, to seem The same you are not, (which for your best ends You adopt as policy,) how is it less, or worse. That it should hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war ; since that to both It stands in like request ? Nov/ it lies v.^ith you to speak to the people : Not by your ov/n instruction, nor by the matter Which your heart promps you to ; but v\'ith such v/ords That are but roted on your tongue, but bastards and syllables. Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. Now this no more dishonours you at all. Than to take in a town with gentle words. Which else would put you to your fortune, and J The hazard of much blood. — I would dissemble with my nature, where My fortunes and my friends, at stake, required I should do so in honour : I am in this. Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles : E 5 202 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. And you will rather sliow our general louts How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon them. For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguai'd Of what that want might ruin. I pr'ythee now, my son. Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand 1 And thus far having stretch' d it (here be with them,) Thy knee bussing the stone (for in such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than the ears,) waving thy head. With often thus correcting thy stout heart. Now humble as the ripest mulberry. That will not hold their handling : or say to them. Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils. Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame Thyself forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person. 'Pr'ythee now, Go, and^be rul'd ; although I know, thou hadst rather Follow thy enemy in a fiery gulf. Than flatter him in a tower. NORFOLK'S ADVICE TO THE DUKE OF BUCKING- HAM TO RESTRAIN RESENTMENT. I ADVISE you, (And take it from a heart that wishes towards you Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read Your enemy's malice and his potency Together : to consider further, that What his high hatred would effect, wants not A minister in his power. You know his nature. That he is revengeful ; and I know his sword ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 203 Hath a sharp edge ; it's long, and it may be said It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend. Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel. You'll find it wholesome. Let your reason with your choler question "WTiat 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full -hot horse ; who being allow' d his way. Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you : be to yourself As you would to your friend. Be advised : Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. We may outrun, By violent swiftness, that we do run at. And lose by over-running. Know you not. The fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'er. In seeming to augment it, wastes it ? Be adns'd ; I say again, there is no English soul Who's stronger to direct you than yourself; If with the sap of reason you would quench. Or but allay, the fire of passion. JOHN OF GAUNT ENCOURAGING HIS SON BO- LINGBROKE GOING INTO BANISHMENT. All places that the eye of Heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus : There is no virtue like necessity. Think not the king did banish thee; But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit. Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. k6 204 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Go say — I sent tliee forth to purchase honour. And not — the king exil'd thee : or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air. And thou art flying to a fresher chme. Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To he that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st ; Suppose the singing birds musicians ; The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd ; The flowers, fair ladies ; and thy steps, no more Than a delightful measure, or a dance ; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it, and sets it hght. PATRIOTIC EXHORTATION. From the Tragedy of Armlnius. "Why then Revolt and Freedom be the word: No peace with Rome, no unsubstantial league, No commerce Vv-ith her artful, treacherous sons. No pity for Germania's polish'd foe. • Go, go, my son, and lift thy manly voice In courts and palaces where wisdom sleeps ; Tell the rough apes of Roman luxury. Who poison drink and call the draught refinement, — Tell them, that one pure burst of untaught virtue Outweighs the proudest boasts of Roman reason. When knov/ledge walks with terror and injustice ; — Tell them, no safety can be found with conquerors. Slaves of false glory and unsated passions : Tell them, the first just victims of oppression Are those who pander to their country's ruin ; And last of all, should kings refuse thy bidding, ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 205 Spread through the land the kindHng name of Freedom, And kings must learn the sources of their powder : Tlie heart of man is ours, my noble boy. And we vriH guide it to a holy purpose. CATO'S SENATE. Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in council; Caesar's approach has summon'd us together. And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. How shall we treat this bold aspiring man ? Success still follows him, and backs his crimes : Pharsalia gave him Rome : Eg}q3t has since Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's. "Why should I mention Juba's overthrow. And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands Still smoke -with blood. ^Tis time we should decree What course to take. Our foe advances on us. And enA^ies us even Libya's sultry deserts. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts : are they still fix'd To hold it out and fight it to the last ? Or are your hearts subdu'd at length, and wrought By time and ill success to a submission ? Sempronius, speak. Sempron'nis. My voice is still for war. Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate "Which of the two to choose, slav'ry or death ? No ; let us rise at once, gird on our swords. And at the head of our remaining troops. Attack the foe, break through the thick array Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him. Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the rest. May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. Rise, fathers, rise ! 'tis Rome demands your help ; 206 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens. Or share their fate 1 The corpse of half her senate Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we Sit here delib'rating in cold debates. If we should sacrifice our lives to honour. Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame 1 Our brothers of Pharsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud — To battle ! Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow. And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us ! Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason : True fortitude is seen in great exploits That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides : All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction. Are not the lives of those who draw the sword In Rome's defence entrusted to our care ? Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter. Might not the impartial world with reason say, We lavished at our deaths the blood of thousands, To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ? Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. Lucius. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace ; Already have our quarrels fill'd the world With widows, and with orphans ; Scythia mourns Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome : 'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare mankind. It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers. The gods declare against us, and repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, (Prompted by blind revenge, and mid despair,) Were to refuse th' awards of Providence, ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 207 And not to rest in Heaven's determination. Already have v/e shewn our love to Rome ; Now let us shew submission to the gods. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves. But free the commonwealth ; when this end fails, Arms have no further use : our country's cause. That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands. And bids us not delight in Roman blood, Unprofitably shed ; what men could do Is done already : heav'n and earth will witness. If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident; Immod'rate valour swells into a fault ; And fear admitted into public councils. Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both. Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs Are grown thus desp'rate : we have bulwarks round us : Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun : Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us. Ready to rise at its young Prince's call. While there is hope, do not distrust the gods ; But wait at least till Caesar's near approach Force us to yield. ^Twill never be too late To sue for chains, and own a conqueror. Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time ! No, let us draw her term of freedom out In its full length, and spin it to the last. So shall we gain still one day's liberty ; And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment, A day, an hour of virtuous liberty. Is worth a whole eternity — in bondage. [Enter Marcus.'] Marcus. Fathers, this moment as I watch' d the gate. 208 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Lodg'd on my post, a herald is arriv'd From Cesar's camp, and with him comes old Decius, The Roman knight : he carries in his looks Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato. Cato. By your permission, fathers — bid him enter. Decius was once my friend, but other prospects Have loos'd those ties, and bound him fast to Caesar. His message may determine our resolves. [Enter Decius.'] Dec. Caesar sends health to Cato. Cato. Could he send it. To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be welcome. Are not your orders to address the Senate ? Dec. My business is with Cato ; Csesar sees The straits to which you're driven ; and, as he knows Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. Would he save Cato ? Bid him spare his country. Tell your dictator this : and tell him, Cato Disdains a life which he has power to offer. Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Csesar ; Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more. Who check'd his conquests, and denied his triumphs. Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend ? Cato. Those very reasons thou hast urg'd forbid it. Dec. Cato, I've orders to expostulate. And reason with you, as from friend to friend ; Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head. ORATORICAL SPEECHES, 209 And threatens ev'ry hour to burst upon it ; Still may you stand high in your country's honours : Do but comply and make your peace with Ccesar, Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato, As on the second of mankind. Cato. No more; I must not think of hfe on such conditions. Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues. And therefore sets this value on your life : Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship. And name your terms. Cato. Bid him disband his legions. Restore the commonwealth to liberty. Submit his actions to the public censure. And stand the judgment of a Roman Senate ; Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend. Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom — Cato. Nay, more, — though Cato's voice was ne'er em- ploy'd To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes. Myself will mount the Rostrum in his favour. And strive to gain his pardon from the people. Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror. Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman. Dec. "What is a Roman, that is Caesar's foe ? Cato. Greater than Caesar : he's a friend to virtue. Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, And at the head of your own httle senate ; 210 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. You don't now thunder in the Capitol, With all the mouths of Rome to second you. Cato. Let him consider that who drives us hither ; 'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little. And thinn'd its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light, "Which conquest and success have thrown upon him ; Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black With murder, treason, sacrilege, and — crimes That strike my soul with horror but to name them. I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes; But, as I love my country, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be hke that Caesar. Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Caesar, For all his gen'rous cares and proffer 'd friendship ? Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain : Presumptuous man ! the gods take care of Cato. Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul. Bid him employ his care for these my friends, And make good use of his ill-gotten power. By shelt'ring men much better than himself. Dec. Your high unconquer'd heart makes yo u forget You are a man. You rush on your destruction ; But I have done. When I relate hereafter The tale of this unhappy embassy. All Rome will be in tears. HENRY THE FIFTH'S DETECTION AND CONDEMNATION OF TREASON. The mercy that was quick in us but late. By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd : ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 211 You must not dare for shame to talk of mercy. For your own reasons turn upon your bosoms. As clogs upon their masters, worrying you. See you, my Princes and my noble Peers, These English monsters ! My Lord Cambridge here, — You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with all appertinents Belonging to his honour ; and this man Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd. And sworn into the practices of France To kill us here in Hampton. To the which. This Knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O ! What shall I say to thee. Lord Scroop ! Thou cruel. Ungrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels. That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, Tliat almost might'st have coin'd me into gold, AA^ould'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use ? May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger ? ^Tis so strange. That, though the truth of it stand off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. Oh, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance ! I will weep for thee ; For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like Another fall of man : — But hear your sentence ; You have conspir'd against our royal person ; Join'd with an enemy ; and from his coffers Received the golden earnest of our death : WTierein you would have sold your King to slaughter ; His Princes and his Peers to servitude ; His subjects to oppression and contempt. And his whole kingdom unto desolation. Touching our person, seek we no revenge : 212 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, "Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws We do dehver you. Go therefore hence. Poor miserable wretches, to your death ; The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give You patience to endure, and true repentance Of all your dire offences. Bear them hence. BUCKINGHAM GOING TO EXECUTION. All good people. You that thus far have come to pity me. Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment. And by that name must die ; yet Heav'n bear witness I And if I have a conscience, let it sink me. Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! You few, that lov'd me. And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, — His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying ; Go with me, like good angels, to my end : And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me. Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice. And lift my soul to Heaven. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham ; now poor Edward Bohun. Yet I am richer than my base accusers. That never knew what truth meant. I now seal it ; And with that blood will make them one day groan for't. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, .^ -) Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard, Ji:»« f$ Flying for succour to his servant Banister, Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd. And without trial fell : Heav'n's peace be with him 1 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 213 Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying My father's loss, like a most royal Prince, Restor'd to me my honours, and, from ruins. Made my name once more noble. Now his son, Henry the Eighth, Hfe, honour, name, and all That made me happy, at one stroke has taken For ever from the world. I had my trial. And, must needs say, a noble one ; which makes me A little happier than my wretched father. Yet thus far we are one in fortune — both Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd : A most unnatural and faithless service ! Heav'n has an end in all. Yet you that hear me. This from a dying man receive as certain — Where you are lib'ral of your loves and counsels. Be sure you are not loose : those you make friends And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in 3-our fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again But where they mean to sink ye. All good people. Pray for me ! I must leave ye : the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell ! and, when you would say something sad. Speak how I fell, — Remember Buckingham ! OTHELLO'S APOLOGY. Most potent, grave, and reverend Signiors,_ My very noble and approved good masters. That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter It is most true : true I have married her. The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in speech. And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ; For, since these arms of mine had seven years' pith 214 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd Their dearest action in the tented field ; And little of this great world can I speak. More than pertains to feats of broils and battles ; And, therefore, little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms. What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,) I won his daughter with. Her father lov'd me, oft invited me ; Still question'd me the story of my life From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes. That I have past. I ran it through, even from my boyish days. To the very moment that he bade me tell it. Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances ; Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hair-breadth 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach ; Of being taken by the insolent foe. And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence. And with it all my travel's history : Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle. Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heav'n. It was my hint to speak. All these to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline. But still the house affairs would draw her thence ; Which ever as she could with haste despatch. She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse : which I obser^-ing. Took once a phant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. That I would all my pilgrimage dilate. Whereof by parcels she had something heard. But not distinctively. I did consent. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 215 And often did beguile her of her tears, "WTien I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer' d. My story being done. She gave me for my pains a world of sighs. She said, in truth, 'twas strange, — 'twas passing strange, ^Twas pitiful, — 'twas wondrous pitiful ; She wish'd she had not heard it — yet she wish'd That Heav'n had made her such a man : — she thank'd me. And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. On this hint I spake ; She lov'd me for the dangers I had past ; And I lov'd her, that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have us'd. DUKE OF MILAN PLEADING HIS CAUSE BEFORE THE EMPEROR CHARLES THE FIFTH. I COME not. Emperor, t'invade thy mercy. By fa^vning on thy fortune ; nor bring with me Excuses, or denials. I profess (And with a good man's confidence, ev'n this instant That I am in thy power) I was thine enemy : Thy deadly and vow'd enemy ; one that wish'd Confusion to thy person and estates ; And with my utmost pow'rs and deepest counsels. Had they been truly follow'd, further'd it ; Nor will I now, although ray neck were under The hangman's axe, with one poor syllable Confess, but that I honour'd the French king More than thyself, and all men. Now, give me leave (My hate against thyself, and love to him Freely acknowledg'd) to give up the reasons That made me so affected. In my wants 216 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. I ever found him faithful : had supphes Of men and money from him : and my hopes. Quite sunk, were by his grace buoy'd up again. He was, indeed, to me as my good angel. To guard me from all dangers. I dare speak (Nay must and will) his praise now, in as high And loud a key, as when he was thy equaL The benefits he sow'd in me, met not Unthankful ground, but yielded him his own With fair increase, and I still glory in it. And, though my fortunes (poor compar'd to his. And Milan, weigh'd with France, appear as nothing) Are in thy fury burnt ; let it be mentioned. They serv'd but as small tapers to attend The solemn flame at this great funeral ; And with them I will gladly waste myself. Rather than undergo the imputation Of being base or unthankful. If that, then, to be grateful For courtesies receiv'd, or not to leave A friend in his necessities, be a crime Amongst you Spaniards (v/hich other nations That, like you, aim'd at empire, lov'd and cherish'd Where'er they found it) Sforza brings his head To pay the forfeit. Nor come I as a slave, Pinion'd and fetter'd, in a squalid weed. Falling before thy feet, kneeling and howling. For a forestall'd remission : that were poor. And would but shame thy victory ; for conquest Over base foes, is a captivity. And not a triumph. I ne'er fear'd to die. More than I wish'd to live. When I had reach'd My ends in being a duke, I wore these robes. This crown upon my head, and to ray side This sword was girt : and witness truth, that now 'Tis in another's power, when I shall part ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 217 With them and life together, Pm the same : My veins did not then swell with pride ; nor now They shrink with fear. — Know, sir, that Sforza stands Prepared for either fortune. But if example Of my fidelity to the French (whose honours. Titles, and glories are now mix'd with yours ; As brooks devour'd by rivers lose their names) Has power t'invite you to make him your friend That hath given evident proof, he knows to love. And to be thankful, this my crown, now yours. You may restore me, and in me instruct lliese brave commanders (should their fortune change. Which now I wish not) what they may expect From noble enemies for being faithful. The charges of the war I will defray. And what you may (not without hazard) force. Bring freely to you ; Pll prevent the cries Of murder'd infants, Which, in a city sack'd, call on Heav'n's justice. And stop the course of glorious victories. And when I know the captains and the soldiers. That have in the late battle done best service. And are to be rewarded, I myself, « According to their quality and merits. Will see them largely recompens'd. — Pve said : And now expect my sentence. KING HENRY IV. NORTHUMBERLAND, AND HOTSPUR. King Henry. My blood hath been too cold and temperate^ Unapt to stir at these indignities ; And you have found me : for, accordingly. You tread upon my patience : but, be sure, I will from henceforth rather be myself, L 218 ORATORICAL STEECHES. Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition; Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down. And therefore lost that title of respect. Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. North. My good lord. Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded. Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took. Were, as he says, not with such strength denied As was deliver'd to your Majesty. Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners : But I remember, when the fight was done, \\Tien I was dry with rage and extreme toil. Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword. Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd. Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home. He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'tsvixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose ! and stiU he smil'd, and talk'd ; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by. He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly. To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me : amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. I, then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold. To be so pester'd with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what — He should or should not — for he made me mad. To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet. And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 219 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (Heaven save the mark !) And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth Was spermaceti for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was. This villanous salt-petre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth. Which many a good tall fellow has destroy'd So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns. He would himself have been a soldier,— This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answer'd, indirectly, as I said ; And, I beseech you, let not this report Come current for an accusation. Betwixt my love and your high majesty. North. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord. Whatever Harry Percy then had said To such a person, and in such a place. At such a time, mth all the rest re-told. May reasonably die ; and never rise To do him ^vrong, or any way impeach. What then he said, so he unsay it now. K. Henry. Why yet he doth deny his prisoners ; But with proviso and exception. That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ; Who, on my soul, hath wilfuUy betray'd The lives of those that he did lead to fight Against the great magician, old Glendower ; Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then. Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home ? Shall we buy treason, and indent with fears. When they have lost and forfeited themselves ? No; on the barren mountains let him starve; L 2 220 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. For I shall never hold that man my friend Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Morthner. Hot. Revolted Mortimer ! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege i. — But by the chance of v/ar — to prove that true. Needs but one tongue ; for all those wounds. Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took. When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank. In single opposition hand to hand. He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendovv'er : Three times they breath' d, and three times did they drink. Upon agreement, of sweet Severn's flood ; Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks. Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds. And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank. Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. Never did base and rotten policy Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; Nor ever could the noble Mortimer Receive so many, and all willingly : Then let him not be slandered with revolt. K. Henry. Tliou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him; He never did encounter with Glendower : 1 * He never did fall off, my sovereign liege.' This is a direct period. — ' But by the chance of war' — Hotspur is proceeding with the qualification, stops short and corrects himself by a beautiful display of the Aposiopesis — * To prove that true,' S:c. i. e. that he never did fall off. — This emendation accords with the passion of Anger. Upton, in his Essay on ShaJcspeare, approves of this reading. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 221 He durst as well have met-Uiu ild'i'tT alone As Owen Glendower for an enemy ! Art not asham'd ? But, sirrali, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer ; Send me your prisoners with the speediest means. Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. — My Lord Northumberland, We license your departure with your son. — Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. lExit K. H. Hot. I will not send them — I will after straight. And tell him so : for I will ease my heart. Although it be with hazard of my head. North. ^Miat ! drunk with choler ? Stay and pause awhile. Hot. Not speak of Mortimer ! Yes I will speak of him ; and let my soul Want mercy if I do not join with him : Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins. And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust. But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i'the air as this unthankful king. As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. He said, he would not ransom Mortimer ; Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer j But I will find him when he lies asleep. And in his ear I'll halloo Mortimer ! Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him. To keep his anger still in motion. North. My son, farewell — No further go in this. Than I by letter shall direct your course. When time is ripe, (which vnW. be suddenly,) l3 222 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer ; Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once (As I will fashion it) shall happily meet. To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms. Which now we hold at much uncertainty. Hot. Father, adieu ! O let the hours be short. Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our sporti THE PRINCE OF VERONA EXHORTING OLD CAPULET AND MONTAGUE TO RESTORE THE PEACE. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profanersof this neighbour-stained steel, — Will they not hear ! — What ho ! you men, you beasts. That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, — On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons on the ground. And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word. By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ; And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast up their grave beseeming ornaments. To wield old partizans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate. If ever you disturb our streets again. Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away ; You, Capulet, shall go along with me ; And, Montague, come you this afternoon. To know our further pleasure in this case. To old Free-town our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 223 MALEFORT'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. -Live I once more To see these hands and arms free 1 these, that often In the most dreadful horror of a fight. Have been as sea-marks to teach such as were Seconds in my attempts, to steer between The rocks of too much daring, and pale fear. To reach the port of victory ! When my sword, Advanc'd thus, to my enemies appear'd A hairy comet, threat'ning death and ruin To such as durst behold it ! These the legs. That, when our ships were grappled, carried me With such swift motion from deck to deck. As they that saw it with amazement cried. He does not run but flies, — Now crampt with irons. Hunger and cold, they hardly do support me ! But I forget myself. — O my good lords. That sit there as judges to determine The life and death of Malefort, where are now Those shouts, those cheerful looks, those loud applauses With which, when I return'd laden with spoil. You entertained your Admiral ? All's forgotten j And I stand here to give an account for that Of which I am as free and innocent. As he that never saw the eye of him For whom I stand suspected.—- The main ground, on which You raise the building of your accusation. Hath reference to my son : should I now curse him. Or wish, in the agony of my troubled soul. Lightning had found him in his mother's womb. You'll say, 'tis from the purpose . l4 224 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Did never loyal father but myself Beget a treacherous issue ? Must it follow Because that he is impious, I am false ? I would not boast my actions, yet 'tis lawful To upbraid my benefits to unthankful men. Who sunk the Turkish galleys in the Straits, But Malefort ? Who rescued the French merchants. When they were boarded, and stow'd under hatches By the pirates of Algiers, when every minute They did expect to be chained to the oar. But your now doubted Admiral ? Then you fill'd The air with shouts of joy, and did proclaim. When hope had left them, and grim-look'd despair Hover'd, ^vith sail-stretch'd wings, over theu* heads. To me, as to the Neptune of the sea. They owed the restitution of their goods. Their lives, their liberties. O can it then Be probable, my lords, that he, that never Became the master of a pirate's ship. But at the main-yard hung the captain up. And caus'd the rest to be thrown over-board. Should, after all these proofs of deadly hate. So often express'd against them, entertain A thought of quarter with them ? But much less (To the perpetual ruin of my glories) To join with them to lift a wicked arm Against my mother country, this Marseilles, Which, with my prodigal expense of blood, I have so oft protected ! — — What have I Omitted in the power of flesh and blood. Even in the birth to strangle the designs Of this hell-bred wolf my son ? Alas ! my lords, I am no god, nor like one could foresee His cruel thought, and cursed purposes : Nor would the sun, at my command, forbear ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 221 To make his progress to the other world. Affording to us one continued light ; Nor could my breath disperse those foggy mists. Covered with which, and darkness of the night. Their navy undiscern'd, without resistance Beset our harbour. Make not that my fault. Which you in justice must ascribe to fortune. But if that, nor my former acts, nor vrhat I have dehver'd, can prevail with you To make good my integrity and trath ; — Rip up this bosom and pluck out the heart That hath been ever loyal. DEBATE IN PANDiEiMONIUM. Satan, Moloch, and Belial. Satan. Pow'rs and dominions ! deities of heaven I For (since no deep v/ithin her gulph can hold Celestial vigour, though opprest and fallen) I give not heav'n for lost. For from this descent Celestial virtues rising will appear More glorious, and more dread, than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me thought just right, and the fix'd laws of heav'n Did first create your leader, — next, — free choice. With what beside in council, or in fight. Hath been achiev'd of merit ; yet this loss Thus far, at least, recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe, unenvied throne Yielded with full consent. The happier state In heav'n which follows dignity, might draw Envy, from each inferior ; but who here Will en\^% whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the thund'rer's aim l5 226. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain ? AVith this advantage, then. To union and firm faith, and firm accord. More than can l^e in heav'n, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old. Surer to prosper, than prosperity Could have assur'd us, and by what best way, T\Tiether of open war, or covert guile. We now debate. Who can advise, may speak. Moloch. My sentence is for open war : of wiles. More unexpert, I boast not : then let those Contrive, who need ; or when they need ; not now, For while they sit contriving, shall the rest. Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit ling'ring here, Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame. The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay ! No, — let us rather choose, Arm'd with hell-flames and fury, all at once O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer ; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder ; and, for lightning, see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels : and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire. His own invented torments. — But perhaps The way seems difficult, and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe : Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still. That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat j descent and fall ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 227 To US is adverse. Who but felt, of late. When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear. Insulting, and pursued us through the deep. With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low ? — The ascent is easy then : Th' event is fear'd— should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction ; if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroy'd. — What can be worse Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn' d In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; \Miere pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us %vithout hope of end. The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the torturing hour Call us to penance ? — More destroy'd than thus. We should be quite abolish'd, and expire. What fear we then ? — What doubt we to incense His utmost ire ? Which to the height enrag'd, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential, — happier far. Than miserable to have eternal being 1 — Or if our substance be indeed divine. And cannot cease to be, we are, at worst. On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel Our pow'r suflficient to disturb his heaven. And with perpetual inroad to alarm, Tliough inaccessible, his fatal throne ; Which, if not ^'ictory, is yet revenr/e. Belial. I should be much for open war, O Peers, As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd Main reason to persuade immediate war. Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; "\Mien he who most excels in fact of arms, lG 228 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Ta what he counsels, and in what excels. Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair. And utter dissolution, as the scope Of all his aim, — after some dire revenge. First, what revenge ? The tow'rs of heav'n are fiU'd With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable ; oft on the bord'ring deep Encamp their legions : or, with obscure wing. Scout far and wide into the realm of night. Scorning surprise ; or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound Heav'n's purest light ; yet our great enemy. All incorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted ; and th' ethereal mould. Incapable of stain, would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire. Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair ; we must exasperate Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage. And that must end us ; that must be our cure ; To be no more. Sad cure 1 for who would lose, Tiiough full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity. To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night. Devoid of sense and motion ? And who knows (Let this be good) whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever ? How he can Is doubtful, that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire. Belike through impotence, or unaware. To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless ? * Wherefore cease we then ?' (Say they, v/ho counsel war) * we are decreed. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 229 Reserv'd, and destin'd to eternal woe ; TvTiatever doing, what can we suffer more ; 'WTiat can we suffer worse ?' Is this then worst. Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us ? This hell then seem'd A refuge from those wounds ! or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? That sure was worse. "Wliat if the breath that kindled those grim fires, Awak'd, should blow them into seven-fold rage. And plunge us in the flames ? or, from above. Should intermitted vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us ? What if aU Her stores were open'd, and this firmament Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire. Impending horrors, threat'ning hideous fall One day upon our heads ; while we, perhaps Designing or exhorting glorious war. Caught in the fiery tempest, shaU be hurl'd Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of racking whirlwinds ; or for ever sunk Under yon boihng ocean, -wrapt in chains ; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd. Ages of hopeless end ? This would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike My voice dissuades. THE ELOQUENCE OF CASSIUS. Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Ccesar for their king. 2f30. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Cas. Ah, do you fear it ? Then must I think you would not have it so. Bru. I would not, Cassius ; yet I love him well. But wherefore do you bring me to this place. What is it that you would impart to me ? If it be aught to ward the general goody Set honour in one eye, and death i'th' other. And I v/ill look on death indifferently : For let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of Honour more than I fear Death. Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. — I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life ; but for my single self, I had as lief not be, as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as — Caesar ; so were you : We both have fed as well ; and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he. For once upon a raw and gusty day. The troubled Tiber chafing with his shores, Caesar says to me, ' Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood. And swim to yonder point?' — Upon the word. Accoutred as I was, I plunged in. And bade him follow ; — so indeed he did.— The torrent roar'd, and we did buflfet it AVith lusty sinews : throwing it aside. And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere he could arrive the point propos'd, Ceesar cried, * Help m.e, Cassius, or I sink 1' I, as ^neas, our great ancestor. Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 231 The old Ancliises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired C^sar : and this man Is now become a god ,• and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. — He had a fever when he was in Spain, — And, when the fit Avas on him, I did mark How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their colour fly, — And that same eye whose bend does awe the world, Did lose its lustre ; I did hear him groan : Aye, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas ! it cried — ' Give me some drink, Titinius' — As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. Bru. Another general shout ! I do believe, that these applauses are For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. Cas. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus ! and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates : The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars. But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus — and Caesar — what should be in that Caesar B Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? Write them together : yours is as fair a name ; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure with them, Bnitus ^^d^ start a spirit as soon as Ceegar. 232 ^ ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Now, in the names of all the gods at once. Upon what meat does this our Caesar feed. That he is grown so great ! Age, thou art sham'd : Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods. When went there by an age, since the great flood. But it was fam'd with more than with one man ? When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, That her wide walls encompass'd but one man ? Oh ! you and I have heard our fathers say. There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd Th' eternal devil, to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king. Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous : What you would work me to, I have some aim : How I have thought of this, and of these times, I shall recount hereafter ; for this present, I vv^ould not (so with love I might entreat you) Be any further mov'd. What you have said I will consider : M^hat you have to say, I mil with patience hear ; and find a time Both meet to hear, and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this ; Bnitus had rather be a villager. Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under such hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us. Cas. I am glad that my weak words Have struck but thus much shew of fire from Brutus. HENRY V. ENCOURAGING HIS SOLDIERS. What's he that wishes for more men from England, My cousin of Westmoreland ? — No, my fair cousin. ORATORICAL SPEECHES, 233 If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our countr)'' loss : and if to live. The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Heav'n's will ! I pray thee wish not one man more. In truth, I am not covetous of gold. Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost : It yearns me not if men my garments wear ; Such outward things dv/ell not in my desires ; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul aUve : No, good my Lord, wish not a man from England Heav'n's peace ! I would not ose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me, For the best hopes I have. Wish not one more . Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host. That he who hath no stomach to this fight. Let him depart, his passport shall be made. And crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the feast of Crispian ; He that outlives this day, and comes safe home. Will stand on tip-toe when this day is nam'd. And rouse him at the name of Crispian ; He that shall live this day, and see old age. Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours. And say. To-morrow is Saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars : Old men forget ; yet shall not all forget. But they'll remember with advantages What feats they did that day. Then shall our names. Familiar in their mouths as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, AYar^vick and Talbot, Salisbury, Glo'ster, Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. This story shall the good man teach his son. 234 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by. From this day to the ending of the world. But we in it shall be remembered ! We few, we happy few ; we band of brothers : For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile. This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England, now in bed, /Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here. And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speak That fought with us upon St. Crispian' s day. ARMINIUS ENCOURAGING HIS SOLDIERS AGAINST THE ROMANS. Soldiers and friends! we soon shall reach the ground Where your poor country waits the sacrifice. The holiest offering of her children's blood ! Here have we come, not for the lust of conquest, Not for the booty of the lawless plunderer ; No friends, we come to tell our proud invaders That we will use our strength to purchase freedom! Freedom, prime blessing of this fleeting life. Is there a man that hears thy sacred name And thrills not to the sound with loftiest hope. With proud disdain of tyrant whips and chains 1 Much-injur'd friends, your slavish hours are past I Conquest is ours ! not that your German swords Have keener edges that the Roman falchions, — Not that your shields are stouter, nor your armour Impervious to the swift and deadly lance, — Not that your ranks are thicker than the Roman ; No, no, they will out- number you, my soldiers ; — But that your cause is good ! they are poor slaves ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 235 Who fight for hire and plunder, — pamper' d ruffians ; Who have no souls for glory ; ye are Germans ; Who here are bound, by oath indissoluble. To keep your glorious birth-rights or to die ! This is a field where beardless boys might fight. And looking on the angel Liberty, Might put such mettle in their baby- arms That vet' ran chiefs would ill ward off their blows. I say no more, my dear and trusty friends ! Your glorious rallying-cry has music in it To rouse the sleepiest spirit from his trance, — For Freedom and Germania ! SIEGMAR, ARMINIUS, BRENNO, GISMAR, DELEGATES, &c. From the Tragedy of Arminius. Seig, My brave and reverend warrior ! I am here To counsel with you on the jjublic safety ; I yet may speak with all the honest freedom That best becomes the leader of the free ; I yet may feel as one who has a country. Nor own my conscience in a Roman's keeping. How long this blameless pride may still be mine I know not. On the Weser's farther bank. Where once our German neighbours built their huts, Till'd their poor fields in unobtrusive peace. And found their wealth in many a simple joy ; In woods where once the God of the Suevi Receiv'd the incense of a ^drtuous nation. There, even there, now stands a Roman camp, Hemm'd in with vice, oppression, fraud, and ruin. You know, my people, that the King Segesthes 236 ORATORICAL SrEECHES. Courts these destroyers, calls their yoke an honour. Yields his poor country to the plunderer. And asks of me to join this high alliance. I understand the issue, — shame or war. Which do you choose, my people ? Gismar speak. Gismar. Two moons are past, since to the Suevian camp I bore the solemn message of my king. There did I see a tyrant in authority Rob a poor German of his lowly meal ; There did I see a heartless Roman ruffian Strike a defenceless German to the earth ; There did I see a pamper'd slave of passion Drag a sweet maiden to his shameless bed ; Rather than feel such outrage I would die. My counsel is for battle, brave Cherusci. Brenno. I am a Suevian : and that bare avowal Will tell you why I sit in your assembly. Rank and command were mine, but they were worthless Whilst Rome was arbitress of my deserving. Doubt ye of peace or war ? oh ! know ye not The pangs which yielding honesty must prove. When vice and tyranny demand its homage ? Gods ! could I smile with Varus : smile when Germans Dragg'd the triumphal car of their disgrace, Gap'd on his trappings, and believ'd the name Their fathers gave them was a rank dishonour ! True, my king smil'd ! I could have torn him from his throne for smiUng. Mine was a barren loyalty and hateful. Here then I came and profter'd my allegiance. Where, with obedience, I might give my conscience. Where right and wrong retain' d their ancient meanings. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 237 Where 'twas no shame to call myself a German. I would not hold my life on such a tenure As Rome would ask me as the price of living ; Much less put on the baubles she would give And barter with me as the price of virtue. Friends ! there are none of you but think as I do ! 1st. Del. Hail, noble Brenno ! 2d. Del. Welcome to our counsel ! Arm. Chieftains and friends ! the awful time is come When Tyranny has bar'd his shameless front, Stripp'd the thin gilding from his iron sceptre. And scar'd immortal Justice from the earth ! Ye have been wont, my friends, to give your homage Where right and mercy mingled with authority ; If that the conqueror's law, the sway of passion. The proud, remorseless, swoop of fell ambition. If these be worthier thai a lawful rule. The change is easy. Bow to Roman Varus ! 1st. Del. Death were a better change ! 2d. Del Death! 3d. Del Death! Omnes. Ay Death ! Arm. I know your hearts ! I would but move their sweet responsive chords. With the bold breath of truth. — When loss of life And base inglorious chains are weigh'd together. Who would not rush upon the certain freedom ! Chains ! were they made for Germans ? Gods ! what chains Shall bind the towering spirit in the dust. 238 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. For Roman slaves to tread upon your necks ! They ask your friendship, 'tis no trifling boon ; Eternal war were better than such concord ; — Go, give it, my Cherusci, if with peace You think it light to yield your rugged freedom. Your claim to feel, and think, and act as men. Your pri\dlege to eat the bread you've toil'd for ! Jst. Del. No peace with Rome! (they rattle their shields .) Priest. Silence ! he speaks again. Arm. Oh ! I have liv'd among these shewy robbers. Learnt much that noble natures have unfolded. And stor'd up something to improve my country ; But I have seen, in Rome, unholy power Set up the pageants of its proud ambition, And spread around its maddening dreams of conquest. For star\dng, brawling citizens to feed on — They call you barbarous, and think it kindness To send their legions to improve your natures. And teach you how a slave may be polite. Germans ! what answer will ye send to Rome ? Gismar. The heads of our invaders ! Arm. Nobly spoken ! And should Rome wonder at your German language, Arminius will interpret for her,, — thus : Romans ! your country hath an inward greatness Might satisfy whate'er an honest pride Would treasure for its birth-right. Yours is wealth To minister to every just desire ; Yours is an uncontested, lawful power To build the walls of your security ; Yours are the arts, the blameless luxuries. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 239 The pomp, the grace, the wisdom of refinement. Think ye, the gods bestow'd these gifts upon you To poison all your cup of happiness. And make your boasted greatness your disgrace ? Think ye, they sent them that your bloated pride Might lead you forth to range the untrod wilds And solemn woods of rude Germania ? To strip the rugged freeman of his meal. Devour his fields and plunder his poor hovel ? Oh senseless Romans ! you mistake your glory ; Let Germans teach you that a nation's safe-guards Are liberty, content, and principle : — Should these be lessons that ye cannot brook. Our swords, at least, may tell you what it is To tempt the energies of native virtue ! Cherusci, do I speak your German feelings ? Gismar. Yes, brave Arminius ! battle, instant battle ! Omnes. Battle ! instant battle ! Sieg. Then, my people, I have a solemn purpose to disclose. The cause, the glorious cause ye have espous'd Demands a champion fit for noble deeds. It is no hght thing. Sirs, to hurl the bolt Of justice at a tjTant's guarded head ; To guide the risings of indignant nature : To make the wavering firm, the timid strong, Th' incautious prudent ; 'tis no easy thing To mould a people to new warlike arts. Such as triumphant enemies may teach ; It is a solemn charge to count one's self The last avenger of insulted freedom ; — To stand upon a solitary shoal. Whilst all around is one dark cheerless waste. 240 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. And there to buffet with the tyrannous waves. Cherusci ! I am old, unskilPd in arts To turn his power upon the conqueror ; I can but lead you as my German fathers. And set your strength against the Roman cunning ; I would, my people, that some bolder spirit. Rich in the honours of a well-tried virtue. Warm in the generous might of youthful daring, School'd in the lessons by which Rome has conquer'd — I would that such a man might be your leader. Choose such a chief; my father's sword is his. Gismar. We know him ! he is with us ! 'Tis Arminius. Omnes. Arminius for our leader ! brave Arminius, Sieg. I thank you, friends : your warm consenting voices Have sanctified a father's swelling hopes. Arminius will be faithful to your trust. Take then, my son, this sword of well-tried strength, 'Tis what your great progenitors have worn ; With this did Ariovistus, the Suevian, Dash back the legions of insulting Caesar ; Dpng he gave it to your ancestor ; Heroes and kings have wielded it with glory ; Your father never sheath'd it m dishonour. (delivers the sword to Arm.) Arm. My sire ! I vow — be witness, fellow-soldiers, Arminius here receives this honour'd pledge. Not as a bauble to command obedience, To cut the check-strings of a blind ambition, Or wanton with the life-blood of his country ! O sacred weapon, grow to my firm arm. Till not a Roman shall pollute Germarna ; Soldiers ! we'll march to-morrow. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 241 Omnes. To night ! to night ! Arm. Germans, we stand upon an eminence "Which puny souls below will gaze upon. With fear and admiration. O'er the world. In climes as far as venturous men have rang'd, Rome holds an undivided, awful sway ; It is a rule of terror and oppression, — The lust of empire struggling with the fears. And jealousies, and vices of mankind. Rome once was free, ennobled and ennobling ; Queen of the nations, favour'd of the Gods The nurse of mighty deeds, the kindling soil Of heroes and of poets. She is fallen, .^ >'-•%-' , Her empire stands upon a mouldering base ; t^ / *^ The vnW of despots, the proud pamper' d rule Of heartless tyrants blots out all her virtues. And makes her wisdom wortliless. Here her legions Come to instmct us in her Cesar's humours. — Germans ! the law of one inflated man Was never meant to stand instead of reason. To trample on his own submissive land. Much less to lord it over distant nations. Or v/herefore is this holy spark within us, Wliich lights up all the soul against oppression ; Or whence this honest pride of untaught nature. Which binds us to the circle of our country ! Gods ! ye have planted in these lonely wilds Souls that will vindicate your injur'd justice ! Strike we one honest blow of Germ.an vengeance. And Rome's proud empire crumbles into ruin I CARACTACUS TO THE ROMAN PRISONERS. Pause ye yet awhile. They seem of bold demeanor, and have helms, M 242 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. That speak them leaders. Hear me, Romans, hear 1 That you are captives, is the chance of war : Yet captives as ye are, in Britain's eye You are not slaves. Barbarians though you call us, "We know the native rights, man claims from man. And therefore never shall we gall your necks With chains, or drag you at our scythed cars. In arrogance of triumph. Nor, till taught By Rome (what Britain sure should scorn to learn) Her avarice, will we barter ye for gold. True ye are captives, and our country's safety Forbids we give you back to liberty: We give ye, therefore, to the Immortal Gods ! To them we lift ye in the radiant cloud Of sacrifice ! Tliey may in limbs of freedom Replace your free-born souls, and theii high mercy Haply shall to some better world advance you ; Or else in this restore that golden gift. Which lost, leaves life a burden. Does there breathe A wretch so pall'd with the vain fear of death Can call this cruelty ? 'Tis love, 'tis mercy ; And grant, ye gods, if e'er I'm made a captive, I meet the like fair treatment from the foe. Whose stronger star quells mine. Now lead them on. And, while they live, treat them, as men should men. And not as Rome treats Britain. GUSTAVUS AND DALECARLIANS. 1st Dale. Let us all see him! 2c? Dale. Yes, and hear him too. 3d Dale. Let us be sure 'tis he himself. 4th Dale. Our general. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 24S hth Dale. And we will fight while weapons can be found — Qth Bale. Or hands to wield them. Gustavus. My countrymen! 15/ Bale. Ho ! hear him. 2d Bale, Peace! 3c? Bale. Peace ! Uh Bale. Peace ! Gus, Amazement I perceive hath fiU'd your hearts. And joy for that your lost Gustavus, 'scap'd Through wounds, imprisonments, and chains, and deaths. Thus sudden, thus unlookM for, stands before ye. As one escap'd from cruel hands I come. From hearts that ne'er knew pity; dark and vengeful; "Who quaff the tears of orj)hans, bathe in l)lood. And know no music but the groans of Sweden. Yet, not for that my sister's early innocence. And mother's age now grind beneath captivity ; Nor that one bloody, one remorseless hour Swej)t my great sire, and kindred from my side ; For them Gustavus weeps not; though my eyes Were far less dear, for them I will not weep. But oh, great parent, when I think on thee ! Thy numberless, thy nameless, shameful infamies. My widow'd country ! Sweden ! when I think Upon thy desolation, spite of rage — - And vengeance that would choke them — tears will flow. Anderson. Oh, they are villains, ev'ry Dane of them. Practis'd to stab and smile ; to stab the babe That smiles upon them. M 2 244 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Arnoldus. What accursed hours Roll o'er those wretches, who to fiends like these In their dear liberty, have barter'd more Than worlds will rate for ? Gus. Oh, Liberty, Heav'n's choice prerogative. True bond of law, thou social soul of property. Thou breath of reason, life of life itself ! For thee the valiant bleed. Oh, sacred Liberty ! Wing'd from the summ^er's snare, from flattering ruin. Like the bold stork, you seek the wintry shore. Leave courts, and pomps, and palaces to slaves. Cleave to the cold and rest upon the storm. Up-borne by thee, my soul disdain'd the terms Of empire — offer'd at the hands of tyrants. With thee I sought this fav'rite soil ; with thee These fav'rite sons I sought : thy sons, oh, Liberty : For e'en amid the wilds of life you lead them, Lift their low-rafted cottage to the clouds. Smile o'er their heaths, and from their mountain tops Beam glory to the nations. All. Liberty ! Liberty 1 Gus. Are ye not mark'd, ye men of Dalecarlia, Are ye not mark'd, by all the circling world, As the great stake, the last effort of liberty ? Say, is it not your wealth, — the thirst, the food. The scope and bright ambition of your souls ? Why else have you, and your renown' d forefathers. From the proud summit of their glitt'ring thrones. Cast down the mightiest of your lawful kings That dar'd the bold infringement ? What, but liberty, Through the fam'd course of thirteen hundred years. Aloof hath held invasion from your hills. And sanctified their shades ? — And Avill ye, will ye ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 245 Shrink from tlie hopes of the expecting world ; Bid your high honours stoop to foreign insult. And in one hour give up to infamy The harvest of a thousand years of glory ? 1st Dale, No. 2d Dale. Never, never. 3d Dale. Perish all first. 4th Dale. Die all ! Gus. Yes, die by piecemeal ! Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane may triumph ! Now from my soul I joy, I joy, my friends, To see ye fear'd ; to see that e'en your foes Do justice to your valours ! — There may be The pov/ers of kingdoms, summ'd in yonder host. Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to assail ye. And, oh, when I look round and see you here. Of number short, but prevalent in virtue. My heart swells high, and burns for the encounter. True courage but from opposition groivs j And what are fifty, what a thousand slaves. Match' d to the sinews of a single arm That strikes for liberty ! That strikes to save His fields from fire, his infants from the sword. And his large honours from eternal infamy ? l^Hiat, doubt we then ? Shall we, shall we stand here Till motives that might warm an ague's frost. And nerve the coward's arm, shall poorly serve To wake us to resistance ? — Let us on ! Oh, yes, I read your lovely, fierce impatience : You shall not be withheld ; we will rush on them — This is indeed to triumph, where we hold Three kingdoms in our toil ! Is it not glorious, JNI 3 246 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. Thus to appal the bold, meet force with fury, And push yon torrent back, till ev'ry wave Flee to its fountain ? 3d Dale. On, lead us on, Gustaiiis : one word more Is but delay of conquest. Gus. Take your msh. He who wants arms may grapple with the foe. And so be furnish'd. You, most noble Anderson, Divide our pow'rs, and with the fam'd Olaus Take the left route — You, Eric, great in arms ! With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the right. And skirt the forest down : then wheel at once, Confess'd to view, and close upon the vale : Myself and my most valiant cousin here, Th' im^ncible Arvida, gallant Sivard, Arnoldus, and these hundred hardy vet'rans, Will pour directly on, and lead the onset. Joy, joy, I see confess'd from ev'ry eye. Your limbs tread vigorous, and your breasts beat high I Thin though our ranks, though scanty be our bands. Bold are our hearts and nervous are our hands. With us, truth, justice, fame and freedom close. Each, singly, equal to a host of foes ; I feel, I feel them fill me out for fight. They lift my limbs as feather'd Hermes' light ! Or like the bird of glory, tow'ring high. Thunder within his grasp, and lightning in his eye 1 HENRY THE FIFTH TO HIS SOLDIERS, AT THE SIEGE OF HARFLEUR. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more j Or close the wall up with our English dead. ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 247 In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humiUty ; But when the blast of war blows in our ears. Then imitate the action of the tiger ; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood ; Disguise fair nature with liard-favour'd rage ; • Tlien lend the eye a terrible aspect ; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it. As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd mth the wide and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril vn.de ; Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. Now on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fetch'd from fathers of war-proof ; Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. And sheath' d their swords for lack of argument : Be copy now to men of grosser blood. And teach them how to war : and you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, shew us here The mettle of your pasture : let us swear. That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not j For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes ; — I see you stand like greyhounds in the sHps, Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot ; FoUow your spirit ; and, upon this charge. Cry, Heav'n for Harry, England, and St. George ! M 4 248 OPvATORlCAL SPEECHES. MARK ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE DEAD BODY OF JULIUS CESAR. * Suadceqiie Medulla.'' Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears ! I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Csesar. — The noble Brutus Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious ; If it Vv-ere so, it was a grievous fault ; — And — grievously hath Ceesar answer'd it. — Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, (For Brutus is an honourable man : So are they all, all honourable men,) Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. — He was my friend, faithful and just to me ; But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransom did the general coffers fill ; Did this in Cassar seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept ; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff : Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. Y^ou all did see, that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And, sure, he is an honourable man ! I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke. But here I am to sjieak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause ; ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 249 What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? ^'*'^0 judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts. And men have lost their reason ! — Bear -with me — My heart is in the coffin there with Ca?sar, And I must pause till it come back to me. But yesterday, the \vord of C^sar might Have stood against the world : now lies he there, : «^"^^ "*^'^ And none so poor to do him reverence. masters ! If I were dispos'd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong. Who, you all know, are honourable men : I will not do them v/rong ; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you. Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Ceesar, I found it in his closet, His his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, 0\liich, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds. And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. And, dying, mention it within their wills. Bequeathing it as a rich legacy. Unto their issue : But friends. It is not meet you know hmv Csesar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It would inflame you, it would make you mad : ^Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For if you should, O, what would come of it ! — If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.— You all do know this mantle ; I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on, — ji 5 250 ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent. That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through ; — See what a rent the envious Casca made ; — Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd. And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow' d it ! As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd, If Brutus so unkindly knock' d, or no ; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. Judge, oh ye gods ! how dearly Cassar lov'd him ! This, this was the unkindest cut of all ; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab. Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms. Quite vanquish' d him ; then burst his mighty heart ; And, in his mantle muffling up his face. Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Wliich all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Tlien I, and you, and all of us fell down, TMiilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. — O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel The dint of pity ; these are gracious di'ops. Kind souls ! — what ! weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ! Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, by traitors. — Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To any sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable ; t^ " ' ^' 'What private griefs they have, alas, I know not. That made them do it ; they are wise and honourable. And will, no doubt, \Adth reasons answer you. - / I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; I am no orator, as Brutus is : But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man. That love my friend ; und that they know full well ORATORICAL SPEECHES. 251 That gave me j^ublic leave to speak of him : For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. Action, nor utt'rance, nor the power of speech. To stir men's blood ; I only speak right on : I. tell you that which you yourseh'es do know ; Shew you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cassar, that should move Tlie stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. H 6 252 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. Elocutionary science, exemplified by poetic read- ing and declamation, is interesting to the intellectual student. By means of approved and selected specimens of written composition in rhythm and verse, he is finally conducted to those elucidations of the true theory of elocution, which will be practically useful to him, in his future intercourse with society. Being improved in distinctness of articulation, hav- ing attended to the nature and structure of sentences, and perceived the intimate connexion which subsists between sense, sound, and motion, between inflexion, accent, and emphasis, and gesture and action, — having carefully and successfully repeated the " Oratorical Speeches," as well as " the Exercises for modulating and impro-ving the voice," the student is now called upon to apply what he has learnt and practised to the reading and repetition of prose, — to the speaking and conversa- tion of real life ; and wdiether his rank hereafter, as a speaker, be public or private, the student is neverthe- less to be reminded, that it should be his constant aim, while communicating his sentim.ents, to render his pronunciation, voice, and manner, easy and natural ; to imitate, as closely as possible, the sensible, the correct, and easy utterance, the expressive, but, at the same time, unobtrusive delivery of a scholar and a gentleman. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 253 PERSEVERANCE. King Robert Bruce, the restorer of the Scottish monarchy, being out one day reconnoitring the enemy, lay at night in a barn belonging to a loyal cottager. Tn the morning, still reclining his head on the pillow of straw, he beheld a spider climbing up a beam of the roof. The insect fell to the ground ; but immediately made a second essay to ascend. This attracted the notice of the hero, who, with regret, saw the spider fall a second time from the same eminence. It made a third unsuccessful attempt. With mixture of concern and curiosity, the monarch beheld, twelve times, the insect baffled in its aim ; but the thirteenth essay was crowned with success : it gained the summit of the barn ; when the King, starting from his couch, exclaimed, " This despicable insect has taught me perseverance ! I will follow its example ; have I not been twelve times defeated by the enemy's force ? on one fight more hangs the independence of my countr}'." In a few days his anticipations were fully realized, by the glorious result to Scotland of the Battle of Bannockburn. THE PRICE OF PLEASURE. " I THINK, I will take a ride," said the little Lord Lin- ger, *' after breakfast. Bring me my boots, and let my horse be brought to the door," The horse was saddled, and his lordship's spurs were put- ting on — ** No," said he, " I'll have my low chair and the iDonies, and take a drive round the park." The horse was led back, and the ponies were almost har- nessed, when his lordship sent his valet to countermand them. He would walk into the corn-field, and see how the new pointer hunted. 254 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. " After all," said he, " I tliink I will stay at home, and play a game or two at billiards." He played half a game, but could not make a stroke to please himself. His tutor, who was present, now thought it a good opportunity to ask his lordship, if he would read a little. " Why, I think I will ; for I am tired of doing nothing. What shall we have ?" *' Your lordship left off last time in one of the finest pas- sages in the ^Eneid. Suppose we finish it." '' Well — Ay! — But no — I had rather go on with Hume's History. Or, suppose we do some geography ?" " With all my heart. The globes are on the study table.'* They went to the study ; and the little lord, leaning upon his elbows, looked at the globe, then twirled it round two or three times, and then listened patiently while the tutor ex- plained some of its parts and uses. But whilst he was in the midst of a problem, " Come," said his lordship, " now for a little Virgil." The book was brought : and the pupil, with a good deal of help, got through twenty lines." " AVell," said he, ringing the bell, " I think we have done a good deal. Tom ! bring me my bow and arrows." The fine bow, in its green case, with all its appurtenances, was brought, and his lordship went down to the place where the shooting butts were erected. He aimed a few shafts at the target ; but not coming near it, he shot the remainder at random, and then ordered out his horse. He sauntered, with a servant at his heels, for a mile or two through the lanes, and came, just as the clock struck twelve, to a village-green, close by which a school was kept. A door flew open, and out burst a shoal of boys, who, spread- ing over the green, with immoderate vociferation, instantly began a variety of sports. Some fell to marbles j some to trap-ball ; some to leap-frog : in short, not one of the whole crew but was eagerly employed: every thing was noise. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 255 motion, and pleasure. Lord Linger, riding slowly up, espied one of his tenant's sons, who had been formerly admitted as a playfellow of his, and called him from the throng. " Jack," said he, *' how do you like school ?" " O, pretty well, my lord !" " What, have you a good deal of play ?" " O no ! we have only from twelve to two for playing and eating our dinners ; and then an hour before supper." " That is very little indeed!" *' But we play heartily when we do play, and work heartily when we work. Good bye, ray lord ! It is my turn to go in at trap." So saying, Jack ran off to his playmates. " I wish I was a schoolboy !" cried the little lord to him- self. THE WHISTLE. When I was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturb- ing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind of what good things I might have bought %\4th the rest of the money ; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation ; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impres- sion continuing on my mind ; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some umiecessary thing, I said to myself^ 256 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. " Don't give too mucli for the whistle ;" and so T saved my money. As I grew up, came into the world, and obsen^ed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for " the whistle." When I saw any one too ambitious of court favours, sacri- iicing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, "This man gives too much for his whistle.'' AVhen I saw another fond of popularity, constantly em- ploying himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect ; '' He pays, indeed," said I, '' too much for his whistle." If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth ; " Poor man," said I, " you do indeed pay too much for your whistle." YVTienlmeet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere cor- poreal sensations; ** Mistaken man," say I, ''you are pro"\dding pain for yourself instead of pleasure : you give too much for your whistle." If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equi- pages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison; "Alas," say I, "he has paid dear, very dear, for his v/histle." In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles. PUNCTUALITY. The most industrious dispositions often prove of little avail, for the want of a habit of very easy acquirement— FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 257 punctuality, the jewel on which the whole machineiy of successful industry may be said to turn. When Lord Nelson was lea\'ing London, on his last, but glorious, expedition against the enemy, a quantity of cabin furniture was ordered to be sent on board his ship. He had a farewell dinner-party at his house ; and the upholsterer having waited upon his lordship, with an account of the completion of the goods, was brought into the eating-room, in a corner of which his lordship spoke with him. The upholsterer stated to his noble employer, that every thing was finished, and packed, and would go in the waggon, from a certain inn, at six o'clocJc. " And you go to the inn, Mr. A., and see them off?'* *' I shall, my lord ; I shall be there punctually at six." "A quarter hefore six, Mr. A., (returned Lord Nelson) be there a quarter before six. To that quarter of an hour I owe every thing in life.'* Mr. Scott, of Exeter, travelled on business till about eighty years of age. He was one of the most celebrated characters in the kingdom for punctuality, and by his methodical conduct, joined to uniform diligence, he gradu- ally amassed a large fortune. For a long series of years, the proprietor of every inn he frequented in Devon and Cornwall knew the day, and the very hour, he would arrive. A short time before he died, a gentleman, on a journey in Cornv/all, stopped at a small inn at Port Isaac, to dine. The waiter presented him with a bill of fare, which he did not approve of ; but observing a fine duck roasting, " I'll have that," said the traveller. ** You cannot. Sir," said the land- lord, " it is for Mr. Scott, of Exeter." ** I know Mr. Scott very well," rejoined the gentleman, '* he is not in your house." ''True, Sir," said the landlord, "but six months ago, when he was here last, he ordered a duck to be ready for Mm this day, precisely at two o'clock:" and, to the astonishment of the traveller, he saw the old gentleman jog- ging into the inn-yard, about five minutes before the appointed time. 258 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE FILIAL OBLIGATION. We may venture to assert, that if a man has any well- wishers, any benefactors on earth, to whom he is bound by indissoluble ties of gratitude, his Parents are the per- sons. Indeed, one is willing to think, that many of those young people, whose behaviour is so blameable, are not sensible of the uneasiness it occasions, nor at all aware how much anguish is endured on their account. They run heedlessly forward in the broad and open path, and have no thought but of the pleasure they are pursuing. Yet stop, young man, we beg, a little, to look towards thy poor parents. Think it not too much to bestow a moment's reflection upon those, who never forgot thee. Recollect what they have done for thee ! Remember all — all indeed thou canst not : alas ! ill had been thy lot, had not their care of thee began, before thou couldest remember, or know any thing. Now so proud, self-willed, inexorable, thou couldest then only ask by wailing, and move them with thy tears. And they were moved. Their heart was touched with thy distress ; they relieved and watched thy wants, before thou knewest thine own necessities or their kindness. Tliey clothed thee ; thou knewest not that thou wast naked : thou askedst not for bread, but they fed thee. And ever since, in short, for the particulars are too many to be recounted, and too many surely to be all utterly forgotten, it has been the very principal endeavour, employment, and study of their lives, to do service to thee. And remember, for this too is of moment, it is all out of pure unfeigned ajQfection, Other friends mostly expect their civilities to be repaid, and their kind offices returned with interest ; but parents have no thoughts like these. They seek not thine, but thee. Their regard is real, and hearty FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 259 and undesigning. They have no reflex ^iews upon them- selves, no obhque glances towards their own interests. If by all their endeavours they can obtain their child's welfare, they arrive at the full accomplishment of their wishes; they have no higher object of their ambition : be thou but happy, and they are so ! And now tell me, is not something to be done, I do not say for thyself, but for them ? If it be too much to desire of thee to be good, and wise, and virtuous, and happy, for thy o^vTi sake ; yet be happy for theirs. Think that a sober, upright, and let me add, religious life, besides the blessings it will bring on thy own head, will be a fountain of unfail- ing comfort to thy declining parents, and make the heart of the aged sing for joy. What shall we say ? ^yhich of these is happier, — the son that maketh a glad father ; or the father, blessed with such a son ? Fortunate young man ! who hast a heart open so early to virtuous dehghts ; and canst find thy own happiness, in returning thy father's blessing upon his own head ! And, happy father ! whose years have been prolonged, not, as it often happens, to see his comforts fall from him, one after another, and to become at once old and destitute ; but to taste a new pleasure, not to be found among the pleasures of youth, reserved for his age ; to reap the han'est of all his cares and labour, in the duty, afiection, and feli- city of his dear child ! CONFESSIONS OF A DRUNKARD. Could the youth, to whom the flavour of his first wine is delicious as the oj)ening scenes of life, or the entering upon some newly-discovered paradise, look into my desolation, and be made to understand what a dreary thing it is when 2G0 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IX PROSE. a man shall feel himself going down a precipice with open eyes and a passive will, — to see his destruction, and have no power to stop it, and yet to feel it all the way emanating from himself; to perceive all goodness emptied out of him, and yet not to be able to forget a time when it was otherwise ; to bear about the piteous spectacle of his own self-ruins : — could he See my fevered eye, feverish with last night's drinking, arid feverishly looking for this night's repetition of the folly ; could he feel the body of the death out of which I cry hourly with feebler and feebler outcry to be delivered, — it were enough to make him dash the sparkling beverage to the earth, in all the pride of its mantling temptation. O if a wish could transport me back to those days of youth, when a draught from the next clear spring could slake any heats which summer suns and youthful exercise had power to stir up in the blood, how gladly would I return to thee, pure element, the di'ink of children, and of child-like holy hermits. In my dreams, I can sometimes fancy thy cool refreshment purling over my burning tongue. But my vv'aking stomach rejects it. That which refreshes innocence, only makes me sick and faint. But is there no middle way betwixt total abstinence and the excess which kills you ? — For your sake, reader, and that you may attain to my experience, with pain I must utter the dreadful tinith, that there is none, none that I can find. In my stage of habit (I speak not of habits less confirmed — for some of them I believe the advice to be most prudential) in the stage which I have reached, to stop short of that measure which is sufiicient to draw on torpor and sleep, the benumb- ing apoplectic sleep of the drunkard, is to have taken none at all. The pain of the self-denial is all one. And what that is, I had rather the reader should believe on my credit, than know from his own trial. He will come to know it, when- ever he shall arrive at that state, in which, paradoxical as it may appear, reason sliall only visit Mm tJirovgJi intoxication: for it is a fearful truth, that the intellectual faculties by re- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 261 peated acts of intemperance may be driven from their orderly- sphere of action, their clear day-light ministeries, until they shall be brought at last to depend, for the faint manifestation of their departing energies, upon the returning periods of the fatal madness to which they owe their devastation. The drinking man is never less himself than during his sober in- tervals. E^^l is so far his good. Behold me then, in the robust period of life, reduced to imbecility and decay. Hear me count my gains, and the profits which I have derived from the midnight cup. Twelve years ago I was possessed of a healthy frame of mind and body. I was never strong, but I think my con- stitution (for a weak one) was as happily exempt from the tendency to any malady as it was possible to be. I scarce knew what it v/as to ail any thing. Now, except when I am losing myself in a sea of drink, I am never free from those uneasy sensations in head and stomach, which are so much worse to bear than any definite pains or aches. At that time I was seldom in bed after six in the morninff, summer and v/inter. I awoke refreshed, and seldom without some merry thoughts in my head, or some piece of a song to welcome the nev/-born day. Now, the first feeling which besets me, after stretching out the hours of recumbence to their last possible extent, is a forecast of the wearisome day that lies before me, with a secret wish that I could have lain on still, or never awaked^ Life itself, my waking life, has much of the confusion, the trouble, and obscure perplexity, of an ill dream. In the day time I stumble upon dark mountains. Business, Vvdiich, though never particularly adapted to my nature, yet as something of necessity to be gone through, and therefore best undertaken with cheerfulness, I used to enter upon with some degree of alacrity, now wearies, afi^rights, perplexes me. I fancy all sorts of discourage- ments, and am ready to give up an occupation which gives me bread, from a harassing conceit of incapacity. The 262 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE*: slightest commission given me by a friend, or any small duty which I have to perform for myself, as giving orders to a tradesman, &c. haunts me as a labour impossible to be got through. So much the springs of action are broken. The same cowardice attends me in all my intercourse with mankind. I dare not promise that a friend's honour, or his cause, would be safe in my keeping, if I were put to the ex-^ pence of any manly resolution in defending it. So much the springs of moral action are deadened within me. My favourite occupation in times past, now cease to enter- tain. I can do nothing readily. Application for ever so short a time kills me. This poor abstract of my condition was penned at long intervals, with scarcely any attempt at connexion of thought, which is now difficult to me. The noble passages which formerly delighted me in his- tory or poetic fiction, now only draw a few weak tears, allied to dotage. My broken and dispirited nature seems to sink before any thing great and admirable. I perpetually catch myself in tears, for any cause, or none. It is inexpressible how much this infirmity adds to sense of shame, and a general feeling of deterioration. These are some of the instances, concerning which I can say with truth, that it was not always so with me. Shall I lift up the veil of my weakness any further ? or is this disclosure sufficient? THE EYE OF GOD. Mex are visible observers, and audible reprovers. We read indignation in their eye, we hear it in their voice, we see it in their manner. The Divine Spectator is unseen ; he keeps perpetual silence. Whether we act well or ill, no expression of his approbation, or displeasure, is presented to our senses. When cruelty tramples upon innocence, no thunders murmur, no lightnings flash, no earthquakes rock the angry ground. Or when an act of generosity is per- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 263 formed, which kindles all the rapture of gratitude, and all the enthusiasm of applause, no celestial glories encircle the head of him that did it ; there comes no voice from heaven to say, *' It is well done." We should, how- ever, reflect, that although we can neither see nor hear the Di\'ine disapprobation, when we do wrong, it does as actually exist the moment we do it, as the indignation that frowns upon the brow, that flashes from the eye, of man ; that a pure and holy Witness of all we do, is as truly present upon the spot where we act, overlooking every motion both of our bodies and our minds, as if we lieheld a miraculous manifestation of his presence. The regular and \d\dd recollection of this truth is the best shield that can be held before the heart of man, to repel the attacks of temptation. Were a dissipated youth, in an hour of riot and folly, by some circumstances, led, during a pause in the uproar, to call up before him the image of his absent father, venerable in age, strict in manners, severely virtuous ; whose doctrine had " distilled as the dew" upon him, in the days of his innocence and purity; were he strongly to imagine the holy man an indignant and disappointed spectator of his son's degeneracy ; I cannot but figure him to myself, holding down his head, for a moment at least, in the presence of the angry apparition ; and blushing before the offended and afflicted shade. Let him, then, who would preserve himself pure and spotless, as he passes through, this dangerous world, never forget, that He who is holier than all, never for one instant takes off" his eye from his in- most thoughts 1 ON THE DEITY. The power which gave existence, is power which can know no limits. But to all beings, in heaven, and earth, and hell, he gave existence, and is therefore seen to possess power which transcends every bound. The power which 264 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. upholds, moves, and rules the universe, is clearly illimitable. The power Vv'hich is necessary to move a single world, transcends all finite understanding. No definite number of finite beings possess sufficient power to move a single world a hair's breadth ; yet God moves the great world, which we inhabit, sixty-eight thousand miles in an hour ; two hundred and sixty times faster than the swiftest motion of a cannon ball. Nor does he move this world only, but the whole system, of which it is a part ; and all the worlds, which replenish the immense stellary system, formed of suns innu- merable, and of the planets which surround them. All these he has also moved from the beginning to the present moment ; and yet he fainteth not, neither is weary. Nor is this a full description of his amazing agency. He works every moment in every part of this vast whole, moves every atom, expands every leaf, finishes every blade of grass, erects every tree, conducts every particle of vapour, every drop of rain, and every flake of snow — guides every ray of light, breathes in every wind, thunders in every storm, wings the lightning, pours the streams and rivers, empties the volcano, heaves the ocean, and shakes the globe. In the universe of minds, he formed, he preserves, he animates, and he directs, all the mysterious and wonderful powers of knowledge, virtue, and moral action, which fill up the infinite extent of his immense and eternal empire. In his contrivance of these things, their attributes, and their opera- tions, is seen a stupendous display of his imm.easurable knowledge and wisdom. All these existed in the immense, eternal mind, as in a vast storehouse of glorious ideas and designs, and existed from everlasting. In them the end- lessly diversified character of uncreated wisdom, beauty, and greatness has begun to be manifested, and will continue to be manifested with increasing splendour for ever. What, we cannot but ask, must be the knowledge of him, from whom all created minds have derived both their power of knowing and the innumerable objects of their FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 2G5 knowledge ? What must be t"he wisdom of him, from whom all beings derive their wdsdom ; from whom the emmet, the bee, and the stork, receive the skill to provide, without an error, their food, habitations, and safety ; and the prophet and the seraph imbibe their exalted aticws of the innumer- able, vast, and sublime wonders of creation, and of creating glory and greatness ? What must be the excellence of him, who gives birth to all other excellence ; and will improve, refine, and exalt that excellence in every virtuous mind, throughout ages which will begin for ever ? CHRIST AND MAHOMET. Considered in all its circumstances, the history of Christ shrinks not from comparison with the most partial and lofty representation of the prophet of Arabia. Of both vv^e find, that the earlier part of life, before the publication of their respective missions, passed away in si- lence, private and undistinguished. The first years of Ma- homet were buried in the cares of merchandize ; till, return- ing to his native city, he devoted to solitude and retirement the leisure v/hich his opulence had procured. The youth of Jesus was spent in domestic privacy, and was remarkable only for aiFectionate and dutiful submission to his parents : unless, indeed, when in the Temple, he, by his ready answers to the questions of the Rabbins, and his skilful exposition of the Scriptures, astonished those that heard him, and gave an omen of his future greatness. The designs of Mahomet were gradually and cautiously unfolded : and in order to prepare the minds of his country- men for the reception of his faith, he first artfully persuaded his own relations and domestics, and drew to his side the most powerful of his neighbours. Jesus walked forth by the Sea of Galilee, and saw fishers casting their nets. These were his first converts and disciples. Though they were destitute of riches and of j^ov/er. K 266 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. he found in them, what his ministry required, an honest and a willing spirit. He won them neither by subtle arguments, nor crafty persuasions ; but bade them forsake their nets and follow him, to see his humble dwelling, to hear his heavenly discourses to the people, and witness the wonders he was going to perform. Jesus called his hearers to repentance, but Mahomet to conquest. At their first appearance, they were both compelled to avoid the rage of the multitude, who would have destroyed them ; but Mahomet escaped by a secret, ignominious flight ; Jesus by a public miracle. The revelation of the Arabian prophet Vv'as inconsistent ; a system of contradiction, continually shifting with the views of his pohcy, and the necessities of his imposture ; now look- ing towards Mecca, and now towards Jerusalem. Widely different was the conduct of Christ. He did not seek to accommodate his doctrine to fortuitous changes in his ex- ternal circumstances ; he did not at one time revoke what he had asserted, or contradict what he had enjoined, at another. Every part of his teaching was regular and consistent in the objects to which it was directed, and the language in which it was conveyed. Mahomet allured his followers with the glories of a visible monarchy, and the splendour of temporal dominion. In him we behold the lord of war, and the destroyer of mankind, riding in triumph over the spoils of thousands, who fell by his desolating sword : la}dng cities in flames; carrying mi- sery and bloodshed through the earth; and pursued in his victorious career by the lamentations and curses of its inha- bitants. In Jesus we see the adorable Prince of Peace, the Friend and Saviour of the world, riding meekly to the holy city, hailed with the acclamations and blessings of much people, whom he had rescued from sin and death, wiping the tears from all eyes, and healing every sickness and every disease. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 267 And here the comparison must cease. The events which followed in our Saviour's life are too august to be placed in competition with any mortal power, and can be compre- hended only by minds habituated to the contemplation of heavenly objects. Let VIS consider the Passion of our Lord, and the magnifi- cent scenes of his Resurrection and Ascension ; and then ask, in what part of all the history of Mahometism any pa- rallel or resemblance can be found ? Let us consider the last days of Christ's continuance upon earth, and how does the prophet of Mecca sink in the com- jDarison ! Let us in imagination hear and see the blessed Jesus, when he gives his Apostles authority to go forth and baptize all nations, and preach in his name repentance and remission of sins ; when he empowers them to cast out evil spirits, to speak with new tongues, and to work wonders; when he holds up to them the promise of the Comforter, and power from on high ; and when, having blessed them, he ascends into heaven, vv'here he is for ever seated in glory at the right hand of God. But chiefly, what raises Christ and his religion far above aU the fictions of Mahomet, is that awful alternative of hopes and fears, that looking-for of judgment, which our Christian , faith sets before us. At that day when time, the great arbiter of truth and falsehood, shall bring to pass the accomplishment of the ages, and the Son of God shall make his enemies his foot- stool; then shall the deluded followers of the great impostor, disappointed of the expected intercession of their prophet, stand trembling and dismayed at the approach of the glori- ► fied Messiah. Then shall they say, '* Yonder cometh in the clouds that Jesus, whose religion we laboured to destroy, whose temples we profaned, whose servants and followers we cruelly oppressed ! Behold, he cometh ! but no longer the humble son of Mary ; no longer a mere mortal prophet, the equal of Abraham and Moses, as that deceiver taught us ; N 2 268 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. but the everlasting Son of the everlasting Father ! the Judge of mankind ! the Sovereign of angels ! the Lord of all things both in earth and heaven 1'* BISHOP STILLINGFLEET. If we have selected for the subject of our present memoir an ancestor whose memory is held in just veneration by his descendants, our preference is fully borne out by the dis-. tinguished place which his writings still maintain in the estimation of the public. A life devoted to the advancement of the interests of the church of England, which he defended with eminent zeal and ability, against the host of enemies by which it was assailed, desers-es to be recorded among the worthies of this nation. Edward Stillingfleet was descended from the ancient family of the Stillingfleets, of Stillingfleet near York. He was born at Cranbourne in Dorsetshire, April 17, 1635, and, after receiving his preparatory education at Ringwood in Hampshire, he was entered, in Michaelmas 1648 at St. John's College, Cambridge. He soon gave proof of the diligence and ability with which he pursued his studies. In 1652 he obtained the degree of Bachelor of Arts; and such was the estimation of his abilities, that in the following year, though only 18 years of age, he was elected Fellow of his college. He appears to have early acquired the friend- ship of Sir Roger Burgoyne, by whom (soon after he had taken orders) he was presented to the living of Sutton in Bedfordshire. Previously to this, he had been tutor to Francis Pierrepoint, brother to the Marquis of Dorchester, at Nottingham, and, while thus occupied, had employed his leisure in the composition of his first work, called *' Ireni- cum, a Weapon-salve for the Church's Wounds," the object of which was to bring back to the church that part of the clergy who scrupled to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the episcopacy. The profound learning displayed in this FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 269 able work obtained him high reputation, though the violence of the two parties defeated the conciliatory purpose for ■which it was designed. Mr. Stillingfleet devoted himself to the pastoral duties of Sutton with exemplary attention ; and, prosecuting his studies in that retirement, produced in 1662 his next work, called " Origines Sacrae, or a rational Account of the Christian Faith." As this great work may not be as familiar to our readers as to ourselves, we may afford them some idea of its value by relating the following anecdote : — The young author being presented to Bishop Sanderson, at his visitation, that celebrated prelate asked him if he was any relation to the great Stillingfleet, who wrote the ** Origines Sacree," and when modestly informed that he was the very man, the Bishop welcomed him with great cordiality, saying, ** he expected rather to have seen one as considerable for his years as he had already shown himself for his learning." This work has always been esteemed one of the ablest defences of revealed religion that had then appeared in any language. In consequence of this. Bishop Sanderson, as a special mark of his respect, granted the author a licence to preach throughout his diocese. Tlie following year he published, at the suggestion of Henchman, Bishop of London, " A rational Account of the Grounds of the Protestant Religion ;" and the reputation which he thus acquired led him to rapid promotion, his talents and learning being too important to the service of the Church to be longer buried in retirement. He was appointed preacher to the Rolls Chapel, and shortly after Rector of St. Andrew's, Holborn, and lecturer at the Temple Church. This acquired him the friendship of Sir Matthew Hale, one of the most able and pious men who has ever sat upon the seat of justice. Mr. Stillingfleet was distinguished for his oratory in the pulpit. His discourses were deli- vered mthout book, except when, as one of the Royal Chaplains, he preached before the King. On such occa- sions he always read his sermon, and when questioned by n3 270 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. his Majesty as to this practice, he rephed that he would not risk the proper delivery of his discourse, through any embarrassment occasioned by his presence. ** But, 'pray," added Stillingfleet, ** will your Majesty permit me to ask, why you read your speeches to Parliament, when you have no such reason ?," *' Truly, Doctor," replied Charles, ** your question is very pertinent, and so shall be my answer. I have asked them so often, and for so much money, that I am almost ashamed to look them in the face." It may be observed here, that the lavish expenditure of that monarch bore a striking contrast to the economy of his late Majesty, in whose reign the future expenditure of the Sovereign was limited by Act of Parliament to a very moderate sum. In 1668 Mr. Stillingfleet took his degree as Doctor in Divinity, and two years after he was appointed Canon Residentiary of St. Paul's. In 1677 he became Archdeacon of London, and the following year was advanced to the Deanery of St. Paul's. To all these distinctions he had recommended himself by the ability with which, in his various writings, he had opposed the enemies of the established church. In 1685 appeared another important work, called " Ori- gines Britannicag, or the Antiquities of British Churches," which displayed such surprising knowledge of civil and ecclesiastical antiquities, as would appear to have been the study of his whole life. The period was now approaching when all ranks of men were called to the exercise of a nice and difficult question of conscience, respecting the deposition of King James II., who began lo betray a purpose of overthrowing the constitu- tion of the Church of England, by the introduction of the popish communion, which he had now openly embraced. The unwarrantable steps which that monarch proceeded to take for the furtherance of this favourite object soon alienated the minds of all zealous Protestants ; and while some of the clergy hesitated as to the conduct they should pursue. Dr. StiUingfleet, with others of the most dis- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 271 tinguislied of its members, drew upon themselves tlie royal displeasure by resisting these innovations. Being summoned to appear before the Ecclesiastical Commission, he had the boldness to publish a discourse on the illegaUty of that commission, a measure which must have inevitably led to his ruin had the Papists finally prevailed. On the Revolution, King William was not tardy in rewarding the fidelity of the Dean of St Paul's ,• who was raised to the dignity of Bishop of Worcester on the 13th Oct. 1689, and from that time devoted himself, with his habitual zeal, to the welfare of his diocese. He was soon after appointed one of the Commissioners for reviewing the Liturgy, and, when attending his duty in Parliament, was distinguished by the force and gracefulness of his speeches in the House of Lords. His last work was addressed to Mr. Locke, relative to some passages in his celebrated *' Essay on the Human Understanding," which produced some degree of asperity between these two eminent men '. He died at his house in Park-street, Westminster, on the 27th of ^larch, 1699, and his body, being conveyed to Worcester, was deposited in the choir of the cathedral of Worcester, beneath a handsome monument, bearing an eloquent inscription, from the pen of the learned Dr. Bent- ley, who was one of his lordship's chaplains. ' In his first letter to the Bishop of Worcester, Locke affirmed the inference of the arguments in his Essay, respecting the imma- teriality of the Soul, to he the highest probability and opinion that the thinking thing in us is immaterial. In his last letter, page 31, he " gratefully acknowledged the favour done him by Stillingfleet, for being guarantee for his intentions," " which," said Locke, *' you can have no reason to repent of. For as it was not my in- tention, to write any thing against truth, much less against any of the sacred truths, contained in the Scriptures ; so I will be an- swerable for it, that there is nothing in my Book, which can be made use of to other purposes, but what may be turned upon them, who so use it, to shew their mistake and error." — {The Author.) N 4 272 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN TROSE. On a review of the laborious and active life of this distin- guished prelate, it may appear that his learning and talents were too much wasted in controversial discussions, and that they would have been more successfully applied to the illustration of the Sacred Writings, and enforcing the practical duties of Christianity : and had he lived in our times, we should fully concur in this opinion ; for we are persuaded that nothing has done more prejudice to the interests of true religion than the acrimonious disputes respecting peculiar points of doctrine, the discussion of which rarely terminates in the conviction of either party, while it casts upon Christianity the discredit of perpetual dissensions, and encourages its enemies to declare that our religion is little else than a series of party squabbles. But Stillingfleet lived at a period when the Church of England was shaken to its foundations, by the open assaults of Popery on the one side, and by the more secret attacks of the Puritans on the other, who strove to undermine those bulwarks which they were unable to overthrow, and en- deavoured to corrupt the garrison they could not vanquish. Against such enemies, open and concealed, this great man opposed himself with a vigour and a firmness which appalled his antagonists. He confounded them with his learning, and overwhelmed them witli his arguments ; and instead of spreading his shield above his own head, and acting only on the defensive, he carried the war into the enemy's camp, and drove them from all their positions. INFIDELITY OF PRIDE. He that is wise in his own conceit, will hug that conceit, and thence is uncapable to learn. ** There is,^' saith Solo- mon, '*more hope of a fool than of him." And he that afFecteth the praise of men, will not easily part with it for the sake of truth. ** How," saith our Lord, *' can ye FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 273 believe, who seek glory one of another? How can ye endure to become Novices, who pass for Doctors ?" He that is thus conceited of his own wisdom, strength of 13arts, and improvement in knowledge, cannot submit his mind to notions which he cannot easily comprehend and penetrate. He will scorn to have his understanding baffled -or puzzled by sublime mysteries of faith. He will not easily yield any thing too high for his wit to reach, or too knotty for him to unloose. How can these things he? What reason can there be for this ? I cannot see how this can be true. So he treateth the dictates of faith, not considering the feebleness and shallowness of his own reason. Hence not many wise men according to the jiesh, (or who were con- ceited of their own wisdom, relying upon their natural faculties and means of knowledge,) — not many scribes, or disputers of this world, did embrace the Christian truth, it appearing absurd and foolish to them, — it being needful that a man should be a fool, (that is, have an humble opinion of himself,) that he might, in this regard, become wise. THE TERMS OF SALVATION. The outlaws of an offended Government may be faithful to each other, but this will not restore them to favour with their Sovereign. So the alienation of the heart from God will certainly be followed by eternal punishment, whatever may be the character we bear in the world, for honour, and integrity, and benevolence to our fellows. But suppose a deed of grace were issued to these outlaws, upon certain conditions, and they were to turn their backs on the gracious offer, how much would this aggravate their guilt, and call forth our wonder at their folly and ingrati- tude? Yet this is the folly and ingratitude of us, who, being condemned sinners, refuse to accept the terms of divine pardon. N 5 274 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. If a crirainal under sentence was to be offered pardon by tlie judge after conviction, what should we think of his folly if he refused this, and still insisted on his personal merits for absolution ? SUPREMACY OF CHRISTIANITY. Christianity is the only system which requires truth in the inward parts, which leaves no subterfuge, no compro- mise for sin. It is therefore the only true religion. All false religions substitute ceremonies, expiations, sacrifices, in the place of Faith, Repentance, and Righteousness. Christianity will accept nothing but the whole heart. Look at the lustrations and processions of Greece and Rome — the ablutions, and penances, and pilgrimages of the Hindoo and the Mahomedan — the sacrifices to idols, among the present heathen nations, — nay, the penances and purgatory of Popery. What are all these but substitutes for the Christ- ian obedience of the heart ? Every system of morals among ancient philosophers was defective. It is not ti*ue, as has been asserted, that from all together the whole morality of the Gospel may be collected ; but even if it were, each separate system must be taken with its defects, which at once destroys its authority. The advo- cates of modern infidel systems httle reflect how much each is indebted to Christianity for what is good in each of their respective codes. The pomp and external splendour of the false religions of antiquity, could not be put down as long as they were countenanced by those of the Jewish Church, which were permitted during the infancy of the world ; but when our Sa"sdour told the woman of Samaria, that the hour was coming when they were thenceforward to worship in spirit and in truth, \\ithout reference to place or form, there was an end of the plea of ceremonial worship. While the knowledge of another world was so obscure and uncertain, people had little interest in sacrificing their present enjoy- ments to the doubtful promises of eternity. The philoso- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 275 phers who talked about Styx and Acheron, showed no example in their own conduct. No nation except the Jews publicly professed or built upon a belief of a future state, before Christ positively declared it. His resurrection and ascension confirmed it ; and this single fact has changed the nature of religion throughout the world ! In every age since Christianity has been promulgated, this blessed wisdom has shed its divine influence on thousands and tens of thousands who (as the excellent Bishop Home has remarked) cut no figure in the page of the historian. History, for the most part, is but a register of the vices, and follies, and quarrels, of those who are unceasingly em- ployed in disturbing the rest of mankind ; — insomuch that Socrates, the wisest of the heathens, obsers'es, at the close of his work, " if men were honest and peaceable, historians would be undone for want of materials." RELIGION THE GUARDIAN OF PUBLIC ORDER. The awful character of the times in which \ve live may justly be considered as originating from that extraordinary revolution, which took place in a neighbouring kingdom at the close of the last century, when principles were for the first time publicly propagated, which threatened destruction to every civil and ecclesiastical establishment throughout the world. Though, through the mse exertions of our Govern- ment, under the favour of Divine Pro'S'idence, those princi- ples made less progress in these dominions than in most other countries of Europe, yet we were far from entirely escaping the general infection ; and though we are no longer suffering under the evils and horrors of war, or apprehensive of any formidable disturbance of public tranquillity, the return of peace has not brought with it the full enjoyment of our former comforts and blessings. The storm has indeed ceased, and left the main pillars of our constitution standing erect and uninjured,- but its long-continued violence has in some de- li 6 276 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. gree impaired the foundation, upon which alone Government can safely rest — has shaken and weakened that system of subordination, without which human society cannot exist. Some of the seeds of irreligion and anarchy, which were so profusely and industriously scattered, fell upon ground, where they have taken root, and are now bringing forth their natural and bitter fruits. Every engine having been set at work, which could mislead the wayward will of man, pervert his understanding, or inflame his passions, and all the re- straints of power and authority, so necessary to hold in check the turbulent propensities of the human mind, having been loosened, an immediate restoration of things to their original state could scarcely be expected. A spirit is still manifest among us, producing an impatience of control, a reluctance to acknowledge superiority, and an eagerness to call in ques- tion the propriety and expediency of established forms and customs, Tliese effects must be obvious to those, who recol- lect the state of society in this island before the promulga- tion of the disorganizing principles of the modern philosophy; and this unfavourable cliange in our national habits and sen- timents, this tendency to discontent, disaffection, and dis- order, this relaxation of the bonds of civil and religious obligation, may be most efiectually counteracted by the judi- cious exertions of the parochial clergy. I shall not, I trust, be understood as recommending or authorizing any mixture of party politics or personal allusions with the pure and unvarying doctrines and commands of Christ's holy religion ; but I consider it as strictly pertaining to our office of guardians of the highest interests of the public at large, for preachers to dv>^ell frequently and earnestly upon those duties which their hearers are most apt to disregard, and upon those vices and sins which do most easily beset the generation in v.'hich they live. There were occasions on which our Saviour himself gave directions for the conduct of men in relation to the govern- ment of the country J and his Apostles made it the subject of PINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 277 clear and positive precepts. They expressly founded civil obedience upon religious principles. Surely then we cannot be justly censurable for enforcing, in general terms, the duty of submission to legal power, and for endeavouring to correct opinions injurious to the peace and welfare of society. In these days there is no need to guard against the abuse of a doctrine, which in former times has been brought for- ward to support the unjust exercise of arbitrary power. The danger now is of an opposite nature — lest we use our liberty as a cloak of maliciousness. I shall therefore only observe, that the fair and candid interpretation of numerous passages in Scripture will warrant our asserting, that the spirit Avhich leads men jealously to seek the point where resistance may lawfully begin, which exaggerates every political evil, which is always upon the watch for some ground of complaint, and which is perpetually inculcating a distrust in all who are placed in authority, is not a Christian spirit; and conse- quently the ministers of the Gospel, in fully and faithfully discharging their duty, will lay the surest foundation of tran- quillity and order, and will erect the firmest barrier against the approaches of anarchy and confusion. They will implant a principle of obedience far more efficacious than human laws; and they will supply a motive for shunning those crimes and vices, destructive of social comfort and happiness, with respect to which the magistrate bears the sword in vain. If it be incumbent upon you to use the heavenly-tempered weapons of our profession in defence of objects connected only with this transitory world, of how much higher import- ance must it be, to preserve the souls committed to your care from the contagious influence of opinions, which lead directly to everlasting misery in the world to come ? Never has there been in this kingdom an age so strongly charac- terized as the present, by the daring attacks of blasphemers upon the fundamental principles of all rehgion and all mora- lity, in open defiance of the laws — never before were blas- phemers pubhcly protected and supported by Englishmen. 278 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. In former days, infidelity was confined to the higher ranks ; but now attempts are made, both secret and avowed, to ex- tend the evil among the middle and lower classes of the com- munity. As, however, heretofore there were not wanting those, who exposed the fallacies of misapplied learning and unsound criticism to the disgrace of their authors, and the more firm estabhshment of the truth, so I trust the pre- sent generation may indulge a consoling hope, that proper antidotes will be found against the poison, which is now dif- fused more generally and in a diflferent shape. CHRISTIAN CHARITY. My brethren, Ave are now upon earth, masters of our own conduct, and accountable to no one here for the tempers which we cherish, or the dispositions we show. We may hate our enemies, and refuse to forgive an injury ; we may pass hy on the other side while our neighbour is in grievous want ; we may spend our substance in selfish gratifications, or lay it up for our children, and refuse meanwhile to bestow any portion of it upon the bodies or the souls of our poorer brethren ; and, at the same time, none have a right to call us to account, except by a friendly warning : God leaves us to follow our own bent : no fire comes down from heaven to consume the churlish or the malicious ; the sun shines alike on the merciful and on the uncharitable ; and the rain ferti- Uzes alike those fields which spread their bounty upon God's needy creatures, and those which enrich no one but their covetous owner. We are free to use as we like, the gifts of Providence ; and this freedom affords the opportunity by which our characters are formed and displayed. But it will not be always so. There will be a time w^hen we must render an account ; when all superiority of strength, or talent, or influence, or place, or fortune, will be levelled; when the strongest, and the cleverest, and the greatest, and the richest, must yield up and return their several gifts to Him FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE, 279 who lent them; and with their gifts must return an account of the way in which they have used them. The question will be. Have you used your strength to injure, your wit to insult, your power to oppress ? Have you, like the rich man in the parable, kept to yourself your good things, and taken no care to lay up for yourself a good foundation against the time to come ? Have you never thought of spreading around you, as far as your opportunities allowed, temporal comfort and reh- gious knowledge? Have you suffered the fatherless and wi- dows to lie unfriended in their affliction, when you might have supported or consoled them ? Has the ignorant man, as far as concerned you, continued in his ignorance, and the wicked died in his sin ! Then you have shown yourself wanting in that quality which most certainly distinguishes the followers of Jesus : you have borne the name, but you have not pos- sessed the spirit of a Christian : you have not been merciful in your generation ; and now you have no claim to mercy, when nothing else can snatch you from the wrath to come. No doubt, the scrutiny of the great day vn[\ extend much farther, and relate to other qualities, besides the grace of cha- rity. Those on the right hand, which shall hear the summons. Come ye blessed children of my Father, must be humble, and penitent, and meek, and pure in heart, as well as mercifuL But the very prominent place which our Lord has assigned to charity in this awful description of the tribunal, where he Avill himself appear in his glory as Judge, and before him shall be gathered all nations, shows thus much, at least, that this virtue is indispensable ; is one by which the Christian must often examine himself, and prove his own soul; inasmuch as, without it, his Saviour mil not acknowledge him : he shall not obtain mercy. Not that charity, or any other virtue, can redeem us from the punishment of sin, or entitle us to the reward of heaven ; eternal life is the gift of God through Jesus Christ^. It would be a miserable error for a man to suppose 1 Rom. vi. 23. 280 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. that by giving an alms he could atone for a crime, or by excus- ing his debtor here, clear his own account with God. Forgive- ness and pity are necessary parts of that character which Christ will save ; but cannot alone save us, or be placed in the stead of Christ. But as I observed, they are necessary features in that character which Christ will save. Without these, it will be in vain for a man to cry unto him in that day. Lord, Lord, have ive not been called by thy name ? He will still answer. You could not have a proper sense of the mercy which I showed, in bearing your sins in my own body on the tree '^, when you showed no mercy towards your own brethren, who had not offended you by ten thousand times as heavily as you have offended against your Almighty Fa- ther. Neither could you value your knowledge of my Gospel, when you have em.ployed no pains to give others that knowledge ; neither could you love your brethren, as I com- manded you to love them, when you refused to do unto them as ye would they should do unto you : therefore, yours is not the character which shall obtain mercy , nor the character for which my heavenly kingdom is prepared. My brethren, if any of you are conscious that you have not forgiven a neighbour when he trespassed against you ; if any of you are conscious that you have taken a malicious pleasure in making a brother's offences known, and injuring his credit ; if any have pushed your rights to an extreme, and insisted on severity of justice, when you might rather have shown mercy and pity ; if any have no feeling for their fellovv'-creatures' wants, and are contented to enjoy them- selves, without bestowing a thought on those who have in this life evil things j you plainly perceive that the blessing bestowed on the merciful is not addressed to you : you must expect judgment without mercy, if you have showed no mercy. Pray therefore to the Lord Jesus Christ, that He who first set the most beautiful example of charity, and dis,- 1 1 Pet. ii. 24. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN TROSE. 281 played his almighty power, not by ^emo^dng mountains or destroying cities, but went about doing good, reforming the sinner, and curing the diseased, and relieving the distressed, and blessing those who persecuted him, may *' pour into your hearts that most excellent gift of charity, without which all other quahties are nothing worth." Whenever you are tempted to resent an injury, reflect with yourselves, has God no account against you ? When you are inclined to speak, or to think, hardly of your neighbour, who may have fallen into sin, reflect. Am I so without sin, that I can venture to cast tlie first stone against another ? When you are unwilling to take some trouble, or to spare some little of your substance, to relieve another's wants, remember the sentence of your Lord and Judge, Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of the least of these, ye did it not unto me ^ THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. The Government of England, which has been sometimes called a mixed government, sometimes a limited monarchy, is formed by a combination of the three regular species of government- ; the monarchy, residing in the King; the aris- tocracy, in the House of Lords; and the republic, being represented by the House of Commons. The perfection intended by such a scheme of government is, to unite the 1 Matt, XXV. 45. 2 I. Despotism, or absolute monarchy, where the legislature is in a single person. II. An ARISTOCRACY, whcre the legislature is in a select as- sembly, the members of which either fill up, by election, the va- cancies in their own body, or succeed to their places in it by in- heritance, property, tenure of certain lands, or in respect of some personal right or qualification. III. A REPUBLIC, or democracy, where the people at large, ei- ther collectively or by representation, constitute the legislature. 282 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. advantages of the several simple forms, and to exclude the inconveniences. The British constitution provides, 1st, For the interest of its subjects, 2dly, For its own preservation. The contrivances for the first of these purposes are the fol- lowing: — In order to promote the establishment of salutarj' public laws, every citizen of the state is capable of becoming a member of the senate ; and every senator possesses the right of propounding to the deliberation of the legislature what- ever law he pleases. Every district of the empire enjoys the pri^dlege of choos- ing representatives, informed of the interests and circum- stances and desires of their constituents, and entitled by their situation to communicate that information to the na- tional council. The meanest subject has some one whom he can call upon to bring forward his complaints and requests to public attention. By annexing the right of voting for members of the House of Commons to different qualifications in different places, each order and profession of men in the community become v-irtually represented ; that is, men of all orders and profes- sions, statesmen, courtiers, country gentlemen, lawyers, merchants, manufacturers, soldiers, sailors, interested in the prosperity, and experienced in the occupation of their respec- tive professions, obtain seats in parhament. The elections, at the same time, are so connected with the influence of landed property as to afford a certainty that a considerable number of men of great estates will be returned to parliament ; and are also so modified, that men the most eminent and successful in their respective professions are the most likely, by their riches, or the weight of their stations, to prevail in these competitions. The number, fortune, and quality of the members ; the variety of interests and characters amongst them -, above all. FINAL ELUCIDATIOXS IN PROSE. 283 the temporary duration of their power, and the change of men which every new election produces, are so many securi- ties to the pubhc,as well against the subjection of their judg- ments to any external dictation, as against the formation of a junto in their own body, sufficiently powerful to govern their decisions. The representatives are so intermixed with the constitu- ents, and the constituents with the rest of the people, that they cannot, without a partiality too flagrant to be endured, impose any burden upon the subject, in which they do not share themselves ; nor scarcely can they adopt an advan- tageous regulation, in which their own interests will not participate of the advantage. The proceedings and debates of parliament, and the parlia- mentary conduct of each representative, are known by the people at large. The representative is so far dependent upon the consti- tuent, and pohtical importance upon public favour, that a member of parliament cannot more effectually recommend himself to eminence and advancement in the state, than by contriving and patronizing laws of public utility. When intelligence of the condition, wants, and occasions of the people, is thus collected from every quarter, when such a variety of invention, and so many understandings, are set at work upon the subject, it may be presumed, that the most eligible expedient, remedy or improvement, will occur to some one or other ; and when a wdse counsel, or beneficial regulation is once suggested, it may be expected, from the disposition of an assembly so constituted as the British House of Commons is, that it cannot fail of receiv- ing the approbation of a majority. To prevent those destructive contentions for the supreme power, which are sure to take place where the members of the state do not live under an acknowledged head, and a known rule of succession ; to preserve the jDCople in tran- quillity at home, by a speedy and vigorous execution of the 284 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. laws ; to protect their interest abroad, by strength and energy in mihtary operations, by those advantages of decision, se- crecy, and despatch, which belong to the resolutions of monarchical counsels; — for these purposes, the constitution has committed the executive government to the administra- tion and limited authority of an hereditary King. In the defence of the empire ; in the maintenance of its power, dignity, and privileges, with foreign nations ; in the advancement of its trade by treaties and conventions ; and in the providing for the general administration of municipal justice, by a proper choice and appointment of ma- gistrates, the inclination of the king and of the people usually coincides ; in this part, therefore, of the regal office, the constitution entrusts the prerogative with ample powers. The dangers principally to be apprehended from regal go- vernment relate to the two articles taxation and punishment. In every form of government from which the people are ex- cluded, it is the interest of the governors to get as much, and of the governed to give as little as they can ; the power also of punishment, in the hands of an arbitrary prince, often- times becomes an engine of extortion, jealousy, and revenge. Wisely, therefore, hath the British constitution guarded the safety of the people, in these two points, by the most studi- ous precautions. Upon that of taxation, every law which, by the remotest construction, may be deemed to levy money upon the pro- perty of the subject, must originate, that is, must first be proposed and assented to, in the House of Commons : by which regulation, accompanying the weight which that as- sembly possesses in all its functions, the levying of taxes is almost exclusively reserved to the popular part of the consti- tution, who, it is presumed, will not tax themselves, nor their fellow subjects, without being first convinced of the necessity of the aids which they grant. The application also of the public supplies is watched with the same circumspection as the assessment. Many taxes are FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN TROSE. 285 annual ; the produce of others is mortgaged, or appropriated to specific ser\dces ,• the expenditure of all of them is ac- counted for in the House of Commons ; and computations of the charge of the purpose for which they are wanted, are previously submitted to the same tribunal. In the infliction of punisliment, the power of the crown, and of the magistrate appointed by the crown, is confined by the most precise limitations ; the guilt of the offender must be pronounced by twelve men of his own order, indifferently chosen out of the county where the offence v/as committed : the punishment, or the limits to which the punishment may be extended, are ascertained and aflfixed to the crime, by laws which knew not the person of the criminal. And whereas arbitrary or clandestine confinement is the injury most to be dreaded from the strong hand of the exe- cutive government, because it deprives the prisoner at once of protection and defence, and delivers him into the power, and to the malicious or interested designs, of his enemies, the constitution has provided against this danger with ex- treme solicitude. The ancient Vv-rit of Habeas Corpus, the Habeas Corpus Act of Charles the Second, and the practice and determinations of our sovereign courts of justice, founded upon these laws, afford a complete remedy for every con- ceivable case of illegal imprisonment. Treason being that charge, under colour of which the de- struction of an obnoxious individual is often sought, and government being, at all times, more immediately a party in the prosecution, the law, beside the general care with which it watches over the safety of the accused, in this case, sensible of the unequal contest in which the subject is engaged, has assisted his defence with extraordinary indul- gences. By two statutes, enacted since the Revolution, every person indicted for High Treason shall have a copy of his indictment, a list of the witnesses to be produced, and of the jury impannelled, delivered to him ten days before the trial 'y he is also permitted to make his defence by counsel — 286 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. privileges which are not allowed to the prisoner, in a trial for any other crime : and, what is of more importance to the party than all the rest, the testimony of two witnesses, at the least, is required to convict a person of treason ; whereas, one positive witness is sufficient in almost every other spe- cies of accusation. We proceed, in the second place, to inquire in what man- ner the constitution has provided for its own preservation ; that is, in what manner each part of the legislature is se- cured in the exercise of the powers assigned to it, from the encroachment of the other parts. The security is sometimes called the balance of the constitution; and the political equi- librium, which this phi'ase denotes, consists in two contri- vances — a balance of power, and a balance of interest. By a balance of power is meant, that there is no power possessed by one part of the legislature, the abuse or excess of which is not checked by some antagonist power, residing in ano- ther part. Thus the power of the two houses of parliament to frame laws is checked by the king's negative; that, if laws subversive of regal government should obtain the con- sent of parliament, the reigning prince, by interposing his prerogative, may save the necessary rights and authority of his station. On the other hand, the arbitrary application of this negative is checked by the privilege which parliament possesses, of refusing supplies of money to the exigencies of the king's administration. The constitutional maxim, ' that the King can do no wrong,' is balanced by another maxim, not less constitutional, * that the illegal commands of the King do not justify those who assist, or concur, in carrying them into execution;' and by a second rule, subsidiary to this, ' the acts of the Crown acquire not a legal force, until authenticated by the subscription of some of its great offi- cers.' The wisdom of this contrivance is worthy of observa- tion. As the King could not be punished, without a civil war, the constitution exempts his person from trial or account ; but, lest this impunity should encourage a licentious exer- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE, 287 cise of dominion, various obstacles are opposed to the private will of the sovereign, when directed to illegal objects. The pleasure of the Crown must be announced ^viih certain so- lemnities, and attested by certain officers of state. In some cases, the royal order must be signified by a secretary of state ; in others, it must pass under the privy seal ; and, in many, under the great seaL And when the King's command is regu- larly published, no mischief can be achieved by it, without the concurrence of the ministry and the compliance of those to whom it is directed. ]Sow all who either concur in an illegal order, by authenticating its publication with their seal or sub- scription, or who in any manner assist in carrying it into exe- cution, subject themselves to prosecution and punishment for the part they have taken ; and are not permitted to plead or produce the command of the King, in justification of their obedience. But farther ; the power of the Crown to direct the military force of the kingdom, is balanced by the annual ne- cessity of resorting to parliament for the maintenance and government of that force. The power of the King to de- clare war is checked by the privilege of the House of Com- mons, to grant or withhold the supplies by which the war must be carried on. The King's choice of his ministers is controlled by the obligation he is under of appointing those men to offices in the state, who are found capable of ma- naging the affairs of his government with the two houses of parliament : which consideration imposes such a necessity upon the Crown, as hath in a great measure subdued the in- fluence of favouritism ; insomuch that it is become no uncom- mon spectacle in this country, to see men promoted by the King to the highest offices and richest preferments which he has in his power to bestow, who have been distinguished by their opposition to his personal inchnations. By the balance of interest, which accompanies and gives efficacy to the balance of power, is meant this— that the re- spective interests of the three estates of the empire are so disposed and adjusted^ that whichever of the three shall at- 288 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. tempt any encroachment, the other two will unite in resisting it. If the King should endeavour to extend his authority, by contracting the power and privileges of the Commons, the Lords would see their own dignity endangered, by every ad- vance which the Crown made to independency upon the re- solutions of Parliament. The admission of arbitrary power is no less formidable to the grandeur of the aristocracy, than it is fatal to the liberty of the republic ; that is, it would reduce the nobility from the hereditary share which they possess in the national councils, in which their real greatness consists, to the being made a part of the empty pageantry of a des_ potic court. On the other hand, if the House of Commons should intrench upon the distinct province, or usurp the established prerogative of the Crown, the House of Lords would receive an instant alarm from every new stretch of popular power. In every contest in which the King may be engaged with the representative body in defence of his established share of authority, he will find a sure ally in the collective power of the nobility. An attachment to the mo- narchy, from which they derive their own distinction, the allurements of a court, in the habits and with the sentiments of which they have been brought up, their hatred of equa- lity, and of all levelling pretensions, which may ultimately affect the privileges, or even the existence of their order, in short, every principle and every prejudice which are wont to actuate human conduct, will determine their choice to the side and support of the Crown. Lastly, if the nobles them- selves should attempt to ren\'e the superiorities which their ancestors exercised under the feudal constitution, the King and the people would alike remember, how the one had been insulted, and the other enslaved, by that barbarous tyranny. They would forget the natural opposition of their views and inclinations, when they saw themselves threatened v.dth the return of a domination which was odious and intolerable to both. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 289 PEACE. It was a very proper answer to him who asked, Why any man should be delighted with beauty ? that it was a question that none but a blind man could ask ; since any beautiful object doth so much attract the sight of all men, that it is in no man's power not to be pleased with it. Nor can any aversion or malignity towards the object irreconcile the eyes fi-om looking upon it : as a man vrho hath an envenomed and mortal hatred against another who hath a most graceful and beautiful person, cannot hinder his eye from being de- lighted to behold that person ; though that delight is far from going to the heart ; as no man's malice towards an ex- cellent musician can keep his ear from being pleased with his music. No man can ask how or why men come to be de- lighted with peace, but he who is without natural bowels ; who is deprived of all those affections, which only can make life pleasant to him. Peace is that harmony in the state, v/hich health is in the body. No honour, no profit, no plenty, can make him happy, who is sick with a fever in his blood, and with defluxions and aches in his joints and bones; but health restored gives a relish to the other blessings, and is very merry without them : no kingdom can flourish or be at ease, in which there is no jieace ; Avhich only makes men dwell at home, and enjoy the labour of their ov/n hands, and improve all the advantages which the air, and the climate, and the soil administers to them ; and all which yield no comfort, where there is no peace. God himself reckons health the greatest blessing he can bestow upon mankind, and peace the greatest comfort and ornament he can confer upon states ; which are a multitude of men gathered together. They who de- light most in war are so much ashamed of it, that they pre- tend to desire nothing but peace— that their heart is set upon nothing else . When Caesar was engaging all the world in war* ke wrote to TuUy, ' there was nothing worthier of an honest o 290 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. man than to have contention with nobody/ It was the highest aggravation which the prophet could find out in the description of the greatest wickedness, that ' the way of peace they knew not;' and the greatest punishment of all their crookedness and perverseness was, that * they should not know peace.' A greater curse cannot befall the most wicked nation, than to be deprived of peace. There is nothing of real and substantial comfort in this world, but what is the product of peace ; and whatsoever we may lawfully and inno- cently take delight in, is the fruit and effect of peace. The solemn service of God, and performing our duty to him in the exercise of regular devotion, which is the greatest busi- ness of our life, and in which we ought to take most delight, is the issue of peace. War breaks all that order, interrupts all that devotion, and even extinguisheth all that zeal, which peace had kindled in us ; lays waste the dwelling-place of God as well as of man ; and introduces and propagates opi-. nions and practice, as much against Heaven as against earth, and erects a deity that delights in nothing but cruelty and blood. Are we pleased with the enlarged commerce and society of large and opulent cities, or with the retired pleasures of the country ? do we love stately palaces, and noble houses, or take delight in pleasant groves and woods, or fruitful gar- dens, which teach and instruct nature to produce and bring forth more fruits, and flowers, and plants, than her own store can supply her with ? All this we owe to peace ; and the dis- solution of this peace disfigures all this beauty, and, in a short time, covers and buries all this order and delight in ruin and rubbish. Finally, have we any content, satisfaction, and joy, in the conversation of each other, in the knowledge and under- standing of those arts and sciences, which more adorn man- kind, than all those buildings and plantations do the fields and grounds on which they stand ? even this is the blessed effect and legacy of peace ; and war lays our natures and manners as waste as our gardens and our habitations ; and we can as easily preserve the beauty of the one, as the integrity FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 291 of the other, under the cursed jurisdiction of drums and trumpets. * If it be possible, as much as lieth in j^ou, hve peaceably mth all men/ was one of the primitive injunctions of Christ- ianity, Rom. xii. 18; and comprehends not only particular and private men, (though no doubt all gentle and peaceable natures are most capable of Christian precepts, and most affected with them,) but kings and princes themselves. St. Paul knew well, that the peaceable inclinations and disposi- tions of subjects could do little good, if the sovereign princes were disposed to war ; but if they desire to hve peaceably with their neighbours, their subjects cannot but be happy. And the pleasure that God himself takes in that temper needs no other manifestation, than the promise which our Saviour makes to those who contribute towards it, in his Sermon upon the Mount, ' Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God,' Matt v. 9. Peace must needs be very acceptable to him, when the instruments towards it are crowned with such a full measure of blessing ; and it is no hard matter to guess whose children they are, who take all the pains they can to deprive the world of peace, and to sub- ject it to the rage and fury and desolation of war. If we had not the woful experience of so many hundred years, we should hardly think it possible, that men who pretend to em- brace the Gospel of peace, should be so unconcerned in the obligation and effects of it ; and when God looks upon it as the greatest blessing which he can pour down upon the heads of those who please him best, and observe his commands, ' I will give peace in the land, and ye shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid,' Lev. xxvi. 6, that men study nothing more than how to throw off and deprive themselves and others of this his precious bounty ; as if we were void of na- tural reason, as well as without the elements of rehgion : for nature itself disposes us to a love of society, which cannot be preserved without peace. A whole city on fire is a spectacle full of horror, but a whole kingdom on fire must be a pros- o 2 292 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. pect much more terrible ; and sucli is every kingdom in war, where nothing flourishes but rapine, blood, and murder, and the faces of all men are pale and ghastly, out of the sense of what they have done, or of what they have suffered, or are to endure. The reverse of all this is peace, which in a moment extinguishes all that fire, binds up all the wounds, and re- stores to all faces their natural vivacity and beauty. We cannot make a more lively representation and emblem to ourselves of hell, than by the view of a kingdom in war ; where there is nothing to be seen but destruction and fire, and discord : nor a more sensible reflection upon the joys of Heaven, than as it is all quiet and peace, and where nothing is to be discerned but consent and harmony, and what is amiable in all the circumstances of it. And, as far as we may warrantably judge of the inhabitants of either climate, they who love and cherish discord among men, and take delight in war, have large mansions provided for them, in that re- gion of faction and disagreement ; as we may presume, that they who set their hearts upon peace in this world, and la- bour to promote it in their several stations amongst all men, and who are instruments to prevent the breach of it amongst princes and states, or to renew it when it is broken, are qualified, humanly speaking, for a place and mansion in Heaven ; where only there is peace in that perfection, that all other blessings are comprehended in it, aiid constitute a part of it. THE FUNDS. We think some general information relative to the Funds may prove instructive and interesting; for we have often had occasion to remark the profound ignorance of many other- wise well-educated people on this important subject, and have been surprised at the indifference with which it is FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN TROSE. 293 treated by those who would be ashamed to be found unac- quainted with affairs of much less concern to the national welfare. The Funds are the debt due by the nation to individuals, who lend their money for its service, under an engagement, on the part of the public, to pay them a certain rate of inte- rest on such sums borrowed, so long as they may be required for the use of the State. This money is not lent to tlie^Go- vernment, but to the People. Every one, therefore, who lends his money in this manner looks to the nation at large for his security. The debt of the nation is precisely of the same character with the debts of individuals. If a man's expenses are greater than his income, he is often induced to borrow money, with the hope of repaying it when his expenses are lessened, or his income shall be increased. For the use of this money the creditor commonly receives 5Z. a year for every 100/. so lent; and this is the highest rate of interest the law allows. The income of the nation has often fallen short of the expenditure, particularly during war, when the fitting out of fleets and armies adds greatly to the ordinary expenses of the State. The revenue, or income of the na- tion, arises chiefly from taxes ; but when these taxes do not produce enough to meet the public expenses, the ministers who manage the affairs of the nation, in the name and by the authority of the King, rather than lay on additional taxes to make up the sum wanted for the year, have some- times thought it better to borrow the money of any who would be disposed to lend it, with a hope that this debt might be paid off at a future time. On such occasions it is said Government requires " a Loan." As it would be im- possible to collect all the money, in small sums, from the public, persons who have the command of large resources come forward to advance the whole which is wanted. They bid against each other, and the Minister takes the lowest offer. As the sums thus lent amount to several millions, it 03 294 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. would be highly inconvenient to any number of partners to be out of their money for a long period ; they therefore dis- pose of it to others who may be willing to take it off their hands ; and thus all persons (if they are willing to give the price demanded) may become creditors of the nation for such sums as they choose to employ in this manner. If the price paid be greater than that given by the contractors for the loan, it is said to be at a premium ; if lower, at a discount. This does not always show that the original bargain with Government has been good or bad ; for the value may be affected by the plenty or the want of money in the market, or by other causes. The portions of the loan thus sold are known by the name of Omnium, a word which implies the union of the different species of stock in which the loan is commonly negociated. When loans are so raised, an engage- ment is usually entered into by the Government to repay the amount at a fixed period; but, if this be found impracticable, sometimes another loan is opened to pay off the first, or else the creditors consent to have the amount added to the stand- ing debt of the nation, when it becomes " Stock," and then it is said to be funded ; ** the Funds" or " the Stocks" being different names for the National Debt. When the loan is funded, no engagement for the repayment is given to the public creditor. All the nation undertakes is to pay interest on the sum lent. It is merely an annuity to the holder, and is expressly so called in the stock receipt ; but, though it may be paid off at any time when the Govern- ment thinks fit, the creditor has no right to demand the prin- cipal so long as the interest is paid. Although money in the Funds is only a perpetual annuity, the creditor may transfer to another the property so invested; and this gives occasion to the buying and selling of stock. When a person wishes to dispose of the whole or any part of his property in the Funds, he can only do so by getting ano- ther to stand in his place, as one of the creditors of the nation, and his name is then entered upon the books at the FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 295 Bank, specifying against it the sum thus transferred. As a private person might not readily meet with one who was dis- posed to deal with him upon his own terms, the transfer of stock has become a distinct profession. People called Stock- Brokers are always at hand on such occasions, who make it their business to bring the parties together. They charge a small commission for their trouble. These, however, are not officers of the Bank, nor are their services indispensable, — though, from their knowledge and experience in such aiFairs, strangers derive great accommodation. There is another description of persons, called " Stock- jobbers," who may be described in plain terms as gamblers in the Funds. Their transactions are a sort of wager, — one with another, as to the rise and fall of stocks. They do not actually transfer stock, but they buy and sell *' for time;" that is, an engagement is made to deliver so much stock on a given day, at a fixed price ; and when the time arrives, the difference between the then price of stocks in the market and that pledged by the buyer, is paid by the loser. This immoral traffic gives occasion to much of the false news circulated in London. The temporary report of a great vic- tory will raise the price, and thus benefit one party ; while an unfounded rumour of some great public misfortune may secure a large profit to another. The price of Stocks, (that is, the money to be paid by any one for getting his name written down in the books of the Bank for a certain amount of stock, instead of another,) is regulated, like any other article for sale, by various consi- derations. If there be a great number desirous of buying, stocks will rise ; for those who are stock-holders, will take advantage of the great demand, and ask a higher price. If, on the contrary, the sellers are more numerous, stocks wUl fall ; for the purchasers, having many offers, will beat down the price as low as they can. The disposition to buy and sell is, as already stated, much affected by the public opinion of the national welfare. For example, a dread of invasion, or o 4 296 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. the alarm of rebellion, would at once lower the Funds, be- cause calculating men might think there was less security that the interest would thenceforward be regularly paid, and many timid people would hasten to withdraw their property from the Funds, at any price, rather than risk its total loss. The opening of a new loan has generally the efTect of lower- ing the Funds ; for speculators expect to make a better bar- gain for themselves, and would make large sales of stock to raise the supplies, for the purpose of subscribing to it. On the other hand, if it is expected that, in consequence of peace, or any other cause of improvement in the public interests, the Minister will require no more loans, or if there is a jDrospect of his paying oiF part of the old debt, stocks will immediately rise ; for, in that case, there will be less stock in the market for sale, and more solid security for the property of the public creditor. The management of all this immense concern requires a large establishment of clerks, cashiers, &c. The Bank of England, where the whole of this is transacted, was estab- lished in the reign of William TIT. It is not a department of Government, as many people suppose, but, like any other bank, is a concern belonging to private persons, who under- take to keep the accounts of the Funds, and pay the interest to the stock-holders, under certain advantages allowed them by the Government. But if the Bank of England were to break to-morrow, the proprietors of stock would not lose their money ; for their security is upon the nation at large, of whom Parliament is the representative, and without whose authority not one shilling can be borrowed. Money has been obtained at various rates of interest, ac- cording to the terms upon which such loans could be procured; and sometimes, in a state of public prosperity, the holders of Stock have consented to receive a reduced rate of interest ra- ther than be repaid the sums which they had advanced. Thus there are the Five per Cent. Annuities, the Four per Cents., and the Three per Cent. Consolidated Annuities, (two funds FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN moSE. 297 united into one). There is also the Three per Cent. Reduced Annuities; a Stock which once bore interest at four per cent., and was reduced, mth the consent of the proprietors, to its present standard, by the able management of Mr. Pelham, after the peace of 1748. When 100?. Stock, bearing interest at three pounds a year, can be bought for 75/., that Stock is said to be at 75, and so of the other Funds. If these Three per Cents, are at 60, they are said to be at par, (or equal), that is, the person who holds such Stock gets five per cent, for his money: 3 Z. a year for every 60/., or 4/. a year for every 80/., being the same rate of interest as 5/. for 100/. Besides these, there are funds at 3§ per cent.. South Sea Annuities, &c. There is also a Fund called the Long An- nuities, granted for 80 years, which will expire in I860. The mode of sale of this species of Stock is by estimating their value at so many years' purchase. There are other kinds of Government Securities, consisting of bills issued from the Exchequer, the Na^y, or Ordnance departments, for the purpose of procuring money in anticipation of the produce of the taxes. These form part of what is called the unfunded Debt, until they are either paid off, or are added to the Funded Debt of the nation. These bills bear a daily in- terest, and are therefore transferable, with almost as much facility as a bank note. Independent of the several public Funds above stated, we should mention Bank Stock and East India Stock. Bank Stock is the Fund of the Company of the Bank of England ; who have from time to time lent large sums to the State. Every proprietor of Bank Stock becomes a partner in the concern, and shares in all the profits of the banking business. Such also is the East India Stock ; every holder of which, being one of the partners of the Company, partakes of the profits made by trading to the East Indies, and in the re- venue derived from the British possessions in those coun- tries. 5 298 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. Having tlius given a slight account of the several descrip- tions of Stock, and explained the manner in which the bu- siness is transacted, young people wiU be desirous to learn something of the origin and progress of the National Debt. Although the annals of this country offer abundant proof of the difficulties which have occurred at various periods in providing for the public expenditure, the growth of that enormous Debt, which now engrosses so large a portion of our annual revenue, is not of very long date. It arose at the period of the Revolution, in J G88. The contest for the throne at that time brought upon the nation very heavy expenses ; which, added to previous embarrassments, rendered the income of the State unequal to the demands of the public service. Under the pressure of those difficulties the Ministry resorted to the hazardous expedient of borrowing money, in anticipation of the produce of the taxes, and commenced the funding system; which, step by step, has accumulated upon this country a debt of 800 millions of money. At the close of the reign of King William, in 1702, the National Debt amounted to 16 millions. The following reign of Queen Anne, added largely to this debt, owing to the long Con- tinental wars in which she was engaged. At her death, in 1/14, the Public Debt amounted to 52 millions. The reign of George I. added nothing to the Debt ; large sums were borrowed and re-paid ; so that at the accession of George TI., in 1727, it stood nearly as before. But during the reign of the latter the amount was nearly tripled. On the accession of his late Majesty, George III., in 1760, the Na- tional Debt stood at 146 millions; though previously to the American war, which broke out in 1775, this had been re- duced to 135 millions. That unhappy contest added upwards of 100 millions to the Debt. At the commencement of the war of the French Revolution, in 1793, the Debt stood at 234 millions. That long and expensive struggle added to it 327 millions; so that the amount stood, at the peace in 1801, at 561 millions. Many outstanding expenses of that war were FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 299 Btill unsettled ; and thus, during tlie short and feverish peace which ensued, there were added 40 milhons more. Then came the second French war, in 1803, which added 237 mil- lions; making the total debt, at the end of that war, in 1814, 750 millions. Immediate measures were then taken for re- ducing the expenditure within the public income ; but, in the following year, the sudden usurpation of Bonaparte plunged us once more in expenses which cost the nation little short of 100 millions ; and, but for the providential issue of the battle of Waterloo, England might yet have been contending for her national existence. It was to be expected, that, after such an unexampled con- test, much time would elapse before the public resources could recover their vigour. Vast expenses were yet unsettled, and the warlike establishments could not at once be reduced. Several years elapsed after the American war before the nation reco- vered the effects of that expensive contest. Trade dechned, and multitudes, thrown out of employ, were reduced to great distress. Similar effects have been produced by the final cessation of hostihties with. France, at the conclusion of the late war. The suspension of all those trades which depended upon war has thrown prodigious numbers out of work, while the exhausted state of other countries has limited the consumption of those articles of export which gave employment to so large a por- tion of our manufacturers. From these and other causes incident to the state of the country, the national income fell short of its former amount, and little progress has yet been made in redeeming the pubhc debt, during the years of peace which we have enjoyed. The annual sum required for the payment of interest to the Fund-holders amounts to no less than 25 millions; which takes from the produce of the taxes so large a portion, that the remainder has hitherto proved inadequate to cover the ordinary expenses of the State. But the countr)^ possesses a resource for the re-payment o6 300 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. of the National Debt, for which we are indebted to the enlightened policy of a late illustrious Minister. In the year 1786, Mr. Pitt saw the necessity of making some great exertion to extinguish the public debt, by a gradual but certain operation. He proposed the setting apart one million annually, as a Sinking Fund for the reduction of the Debt; and, subsequently to 1/93, an annuity of one per cent, upon all capital sums borrowed for the public service. This Fund was to accumulate by compound interest; and, under the ma- nagement of Parliamentary commissioners, to be laid out in the purchase of Stock, so as in time to effect the reduction of the whole. The Sinking Fund thus established, produced in 27 years, from 1786 to 1813, the immense sum of 238 millions, v/hich cancelled the entire debt contracted from the Revolution, to the year 1786. The operation of this able plan of finance is so rapid, that, enormous as is the present amount of the National Debt, a few years of peace would enable the commissioners to pay off a very considerable portion of it ; but, until the public income can be made equal to the expenditure, this most desirable object must necessarily be retarded, because at present we are adding to the debt with one hand, v/hile we are paying off with the other. There is perhaps no political fact more remarkable than that the burden of a great public debt should have produced effects exactly the reverse of those which every thinking person could at first have expected. Some of the wisest orators and statesmen have heretofore prophesied the ruin of this kingdom by the enormous growth of its pubhc debt, not perceiving, what experience alone could prove, that this very debt could produce those resources by which it should be supported and finally repaid. To explain this we must request our readers to reflect, that the money thus raised by borrowing from the people is, for the most part, expended among them, and thus returns to their pockets with the profits made, by employing them FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 301 in the various branches of public supply required for the ser- A'ice of the State. Thus the building of ships, and the manufacture of all warlike stores paid for by the Govern- ment, diffuse wealth among all classes of the people. The whole amount of the public salaries, military pay, and aU other expenses, goes back to individuals, and enables them to pay the taxes which are levied for this very purpose, as well as for discharging the interest of the Public Debt. Fur- ther, it should be considered that the Public Funds afford an opportunity to a very large portion of our fellov/- subjects to place their money at good interest and upon the best secu- rity, who otherwise would be at a loss to employ their gains, by investing their money in land, or in commercial specu- lations. There can be no question that a principal cause of that un- rivalled prosperity which this nation has attained, has been the great facility offered by the Public Funds to accumulate the wealth of indi^'iduals ; and thus, by continual circulation between the State and the people, producing that spirit of entei-jjrise, that competition of improvement, and that ^un- limited employment of capital, which gives it the quality of constantly reproducing itself. With many sensible politicians it has been matter of se- rious alarm, lest, by the too rapid operation of the Sinking Fund, the advantages which spring from the present system might suddenly be destroyed ; and they have anticipated that the extinction of the whole national debt would of necessity conduct us to national ruin, for want of that great fund which forms the centre of the monied interest of the whole nation. But as such an event must now be of very^distant prospect, every friend to his country must be anxious to sse the Sinking Fund again in full play, in order that so much, at least, of the debt may be discharged, as may set free the resources of the nation, and enable us to provide against any future war, without trenching upon the produce of those taxes which are now so largely absorbed by the interest pay- able on the National Debt. 302 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. PILGRIMAGE ACROSS THE DESERT OF AFRICA. [The following very lively description of a Pilgrimage across the Desert is given by Ali Bey, in his Travels in Morocco, Tripoli, &c. It is an animated picture, which pourtrays, in the strongest colours, the perils and sufferings encountered in these enterprises] We continued inarching on in great haste, for fear of being overtaken by the four hundred Arabs whom we washed to avoid. For this reason we never kept the common road, but passed through the middle of the desert, marching through stony places, over easy hiUs. This country is entirely with- out water ; not a tree is to be seen in it — not a rock which can oflfer a shelter or a shade. A transparent atmosphere, an intense sun, darting its beams upon our heads, a ground almost white, and commonly of a concave form, like a burn- ing glass ; slight breezes, scorching hke a flame, — such is a faithful picture of this district, thi'ough which we were passing. Every man we meet in this desert is looked upon as an enemy. HaAang discovered about noon a man in arms, on horseback, who kept at a certain distance, my thirteen Be- duins united the moment they perceived him, darted like an arrow to overtake him, uttering loud cries, which they inter- rupted by expressions of contempt and derision ; as, *' What are you seeking, my brother?" — ** Whither are you going, my son ?" — As they made these exclamations, they kejjt playing with their guns over their heads. The discovered Beduin profited of his advantage, and fled into the moun- tains, where it was impossible to follow him. We met no once else. We had now neither eaten nor drunk since the preceding day ; our horses and other beasts were equally destitute j though ever since nine in the evening we had been travelling rapidly. Shortly after noon we. had not a drop of water FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE, 303 remaining, and the men, as well as the poor animals, were worn out with fatigue. The mules, stumbling every moment, required assistance to lift them up again, and to support their burden till they rose. This terrible exertion exhausted the little strength we had left. At two o'clock in the afternoon, a man dropped down stiff, and as if dead, from great fatigue and thirst. I stopt, with three or four of my people, to assist him. The little wet which was left in one of the leathern budgets was squeezed out of it, and some drops of water poured into the poor man's mouth, but without any eflfect. I now felt that my own strength was beginning to forsake me ; and, becoming very weak, I determined to mount on horseback, leaving the poor fellow behind. From this moment others of my caravan began to drop successively, and there was no possibility of giving them any assistance ; they were abandoned to their unhappy destiny, as every one thought only of saving him- self. Several mules, with their burdens, were left behind ; and I found on my way two of my trunks on the ground, without knowing what was becom.e of the mules which had been carrying them, the drivers having forsaken them, as well as the care of my effects, and of my instruments. I looked upon this loss with the greatest indifference, as if they had not belonged to me, and pushed on. But my horse began now to tremble under me, and yet he was the strongest of the whole caravan. We proceeded in silent despair. When I endeavoured to encourage any one of the party to increase his pace, he answered me by looking stea- dily at me, and by putting his forefinger to his mouth to in- dicate the great thirst by which he was affected. As I was re- proaching our conducting officers for their inattention which had occasioned this want of water, they excused themselves by alleging the mutiny of the Oudaiasj" ** And besides," added they, " do we not suffer like the rest ?" Our fate was the more shocking, as every one of us was sensible of the impossibihty of supporting the fatigue to the place where we 304 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. were to meet with water again. At last, about four in the evening, I had my turn, and fell down with thirst and fatigue. Extended \\'ithout consciousness on the ground, in the middle of the desert, left with only four or five men, one of whom had dropped at the same moment with myself, and all without any means of assisting me, because they knew not where to find water, and, if they had known it, had not strength to fetch it, I should have perished with them on the spot, if ProAadence, by a kind of miracle, had not preserved us. Half an hour had already elapsed since I had fallen sense- less to the ground, (as I have since been told,) when, at some distance, a considerable caravan, of more than two thousand souls, was seen advancing. It was under the direction of a Marebout or Saint, called Sidi Alarbi, who was sent by the Sultan toTtemsen or Tremecen. Seeing us in this distressed situation, he ordered some skins of water to be throv/n over us. After I had received several of them over my face and hands, I recovered my senses, opened my eyes, and looked around me, without being able to discern any body. At last, however, I distinguished seven or eight Sherifs and Fakirs, who gave me their assistance, and showed me much kindness. I endeavoured to speak to them, but an invincible knot in my throat seemed to hinder me ; I could make myself un- derstood only by signs, and by pointing to my mouth with my finger. Tliey continued pouring water over my face, arms, and hands, and, at last, I was able to swallow small mouthfuls. This enabled me to ask, *' Who are you?" When they heard me speak, they expressed their joy, and answered me, *' Fear nothing ; far from being robbers, we are your friends ;" and every one mentioned his name. I began by desfrees to recollect their faces, but vvas not able to remember their names. They poured again over me a still greater quantity of water, gave me some to drink, filled some of my leather bags, and left me in haste, as every minute spent FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 305 in this place was precious to them, and could not be repaired. This attack of thirst is perceived all of a sudden by an ex- treme aridity of the skin ; the eyes appear to be bloody, the tongue and mouth, both inside and outside, are covered with a crust of the thickness of a crown piece ; this crust is of a dark yellow colour, of an insipid taste, and of a consistence like the soft wax from a bee-hive. A faintness or languor takes away the power to move ; a kind of knot in the throat and diaphragm, attended with great pain, interrupts respira- tion. Some wandering tears escape from the eyes, and at last the sufferer drops down to the earth, and in a few mo- ments loses all consciousness. These are the symptoms which I remarked in my unfortunate fellow-travellers, and which I experienced myself. I got with difficulty on my horse again, and we proceeded on our journey. My Beduins and my faithful Salem were gone in diflerent directions to find out some water ; and two hours afterwards they returned one after another, carrying along with them some good or bad water, as they had been able to find it. Every one presented to me part of what he had brought ; I -was obliged to taste it, and I drank twenty times, but as soon as I swallowed it my mouth became as dry as before ; at last I was not able either to spit or to speak. The greatest part of the soil of the desert consists of pure clay, except some small traces of a calcareous nature. The whole surface is covered with a bed of chalky calcareous stone, of a whitish colour, smooth, round, and loose, and of the size of the fist : they are almost all of the same dimension, and their surface is carious,like pieces of old mortar. I look upon this to be a true volcanic production. This bed is extended with such perfect regularity, that the whole desert is covered with it, a circumstance which makes pacing over it very fatiguing to the traveller . Not any animal is to be seen in this desert, neither quad- rupeds, birds, reptiles, nor insects, nor any plant whatever; 306 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. and the traveller who is obliged to pass through it, is surrounded by the silence of death. It was not till four in the evening that we began to distinguish some small plants, burnt with the sun, and a tree of a thorny nature, without blossom or fruit. DESCRIPTION OF ICELAND. [The following brief account of a most singular portion of the globe is abridged from the Travels of Dr. Henderson. Tbis gentleman visited every corner of the island, and is the first among our countrymen who crossed the central desert, skirted the northern and eastern coasts, and passed a winter among the natives. He has most happily united the characters of an ob- server of the moral and religious dispositions of the inhabitants, and an accurate delineator of the wonders of nature.] Iceland is situated in the northern Atlantic, between the parallels 63 deg. 30 min. and the Arctic circle, and between the meridians of 23 deg. 15 min. and 24 deg. 4 min. being in mean length, from east to west, about 280, and in mean breadth, from north to south, 210 miles. Its coasts are, every where, much indented with deep bays and inlets, called jiords or firths : its superficial contents, however, may be estimated at 40,000 square miles, and its population, which, from its registers, is pretty well ascertained, at 48,000; or about one fifth person to every square mile. There is reason to believe that the average population was formerly about 60,000 ; but it never recovered the loss it sustained by fa- mine from 1753 to 1759, which carried off 10,000 persons, and the more dreadful scourge of 1707, when the small-pox destroyed 16,000 persons. Vast numbers since that period have perished by this fatal disease ; but the general intro- duction of vaccination has happily of late years arrested its progress. With the exception of Reykiavik, on the southern FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 307 coast, which may contain about 500 inhabitants, and half a dozjn other places along the different coasts, called villages, which consist of three or four houses and a church, the po- pulation is scattered over the plains and the valleys, in insu- lated farm-houses, from some of which the nearest farm is at the distance of eight or ten miles. The central parts are nearly, if not wholly, uninhabited. The general surface and appearance of the country are thus described by Dr. Hen- derson : — " The opinion that this island owes its formation to the operation of submarine volcanoes, is not only confirmed by reasonings deduced from the appearance presented by other islands which are confessedly of volcanic origin, but gains ground in proportion to the progress of a closer and more accurate investigation which every part of it exhibits to the view of the naturalist. In no quarter of the globe do we find crowded within the same extent of surface such a number of burning mountains, so many boiling springs, or such im- mense tracts of lava, as here arrest the attention of the tra- veller. The general aspect of the country is the most rugged and dreary imaginable. On every side appear marks of confusion and devastation, or the tremendous sources of these evils, in the yawning craters of huge and menacing volcanoes. Nor is the mind of a spectator relieved from the disagreeable emotions arising from reflection on the subter- raneous fires which are raging beneath him, by a temporary survey of the huge mountains of perpetual ice by which he is surrounded. These very masses, which naturally exclude the most distant idea of heat, contain in their bosom the fuel of conflagration, and are frequently seen to emit smoke and flames, and pour down upon the plains immense floods of boiling mud and water, or red-hot torrents of devouring lava." Every hill almost is a volcano ; but, besides the immense number of smaller cones and craters, there are at least thirty of more remarkable appearance, of which nine have been in a 308 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. state of activity in the course of the last century. Streams of brown lava, stript of all vegetation, vast chasms, from some or other of which volumes of smoke are jDerpetually ascending, with multitudes of hot springs, occur in every part of the island. ** Many of these springs," says Dr. Henderson, " throw up large columns of boiling water, accompanied by immense volumes of steam, to an almost incredible height into the atmosphere, and present to the eye of the traveller some of the grandest scenes to be met with on the face of the globe." In the midst of this region of fire are not fewer than twelve or fourteen mountains, whose summits are covered vv'ith eternal ice and snow. Their heights vary from three to six thousand feet above the level of the sea ; and some of them are occasionally disturbed by internal fires. It is in the A^alleys between the inferior hills, and on the plains which the streams of lava have spared, that the cot- tages of the peasants are generally found, and that a scanty herbage for three or four months in the year affords a mise- rable subsistence to a few horses, cattle, and sheep, and sometimes a little hay for the winter. It is said that the Norwegians, on their first arrival, found extensive forests growing on Iceland, and this account is somewhat warranted by the trees occasionally dug out of the peat bogs ; such trees, however, are rare, and none have been discovered ex- ceeding a foot in diameter : at the present day, there is pro- bably not a tree in a growing state on the whole island that measures ten inches. It is also supposed that grain was once produced on the island; but the present race have met with no encouragement to persevere in their attempts to cultivate it. A few greens and potatoes are occasionally raised, but even these do not always succeed. The climate, as might be expected, is exceedingly unsteady; but Dr. Henderson did not consider the winter which he spent in Iceland as more severe than in the south of Scandinavia ; and was sur- prised to find the temperature of the atmosphere, not only FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 309 less severe than that of the preceding winter in Denmark, but equal to that of the mildest ■which he had j^assed either in Denmark or Sweden. The original settlers in Iceland were voluntary exiles, who abandoned Norway from a dread of the tyranny of the ruling prince : the form of government, adopted in their new abode, was just the reverse of that from which they fled ; and its suitableness to the circumstances of the people may be in- ferred from its long continuance of nearly four hundred years. In the year 1261 their liberties were somewhat abridged, by becoming tributaries to their original country; but they expressly stipulated, that they should be allowed to retain their ancient laws and privileges, andthat they should be exempt from all taxes. In 1387 they were transferred to Denmark, but no alteration took place ; nor are we aware of any material change in their internal polity from that period, till the year 1800, when the Althing, or general assembly of the island, was abrogated, and a supreme court, consisting of a chief justice, two assessors, and a secretary, substituted in its room, from which an appeal lies to the high court in Denmark. In ancient times, the punishment for murder was hanging ; for child-murder, drowning ; and for witchcraft, burning. At present, the only punishment inflicted on the island is fine, imprisonment, and whipping ; if a capital crime should occur, which is extremely rare, they are obliged to send the criminal to Denmark to suffer the sentence of the law, as no person could be found on the whole island to carry it into execution. Iceland was converted to Christianity about the year 1000. The religion remained Catholic, till the year 1540, when the doctrines of the Reformation were introduced, which continue to the present day. There does not probably exist a more meritorious set of men than the clergy of Iceland, nor any who are so wretchedly paid for their clerical functions. They have one archdeacon, eighteen provosts or deans, one hundred and eighty-four parish livings, and more than three 310 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PEOSE. hundred churclies ; what these are may be collected from the brief description of the first that occurred to Dr. Hender- son — that of Moss Fell: — ** The church is built of wood, has a coat of turf around the sides, and the roof consists of the same material. It has only two small windows at the east end, and a skylight to the south ; and the whole struc- ture does not exceed thirteen feet in length and nine in breadth." The good effects of their pastoral care are most sensibly felt by all who have visited this interesting island. In the midst of the physical horrors with which they are surrounded, '^ steeped," as they are, " in poverty to the very lips," the general state of mental cultivation, and thedijQfu- sion of knowledge among the inhabitants, have no parallel in any nation even in Europe : nor is this owing altogether to the attention of the clergy, or to the institution of public schools; for there is but one school on the island: *'yet it is exceedingly rare," says Dr. Henderson, " to meet with a boy or girl, who has attained the age of nine or ten years, that cannot read and write with ease. Domestic education is most rigidly attended to; and it is no uncommon thing to hear youths repeat passages from the Greek and Latin au- thors, who have never been farther than a few miles from the place where they were born ; nor do I scarcely ever recollect entering a hut, where I did not find some individual or an- other capable of entering into a conversation with me, on topics which would be reckoned altogether above the under- standings of people in the same rank of society in other coun- tries of Europe. Their predominant character," Dr. Hen- derson adds, " is that of unsuspecting frankness, pious con- tentment, and a steady liveliness of temperament, combined with a strength of intellect and acuteness of mind seldom to be met with in other parts of the world.'' He denies, that they are either a sullen or melancholy people, and in this he is borne out by the testimony of Dr. Holland, who observes, that the '* vivacity of their manner frequently forms a strik- ing contrast to the wretchedness which their external con- FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 311 dition displays." In personal appearance, they are rather above the middle size, of a frank and open countenance, a florid complexion, and yellow flaxen hair. The women are more disposed to corpulency than the men. In the description of their houses, few traces of comfort are to be found. The diet of the Icelanders, consisting almost solely of animal food, and of fish, either fresh or dried, and the want of cleanliness in their personal and domestic habits^ which is an evil incident to their situation, produce cutane- ous diseases under their worst forms. It does not seem, however, that these maladies are particularly hostile to life, or that the Icelanders, though stated to be generally of a weakly habit of body, fall short of the usual period of human existence. In addition to the diet just mentioned, the inha- bitants have in their short summer plenty of milk and butter ,• but nine-tenths of them know not the luxury of bread or vegetables. Their butter, which ** drops from every plant," after the whey has been pressed out, will keep, it is said, for twenty years. LEDYARD. Ledyard, the celebrated though unfortunate traveller, was a native of North America. From his early youth, he displayed a strong propensity to visit unknown and savage countries; and to gratify this propensity, he lived for several years among the American Indians. Under the influence of this motive, he afterwards sailed round the world with Captain Cook, in the humble station of a Corporal of Marines. On his return from this long voyage, with curiosity unsated, he determined to traverse the vast continent of America, from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean ; but being disappointed in his design, he proceeded to Kamtschatka by land ; in which arduous undertaking he encountered dangers and difticulties that would have ap> 312 FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN I>ROSE. palled any other man but himself. In him the spirit of enterprise was so little subdued by the hardships he had undergone, that, on his arrival in England, he instantly presented himself to the African Association, as a volunteer, to trace the course of the Niger, and to explore a region as yet inaccessible to Europeans, and fatally disastrous to all who have made the attempt. To the question, " When Mdll you be ready to set out for Africa?" — "To-morrow morning !" was the reply of this intrepid man. ** I am not ignorant," said he, ** that the task assigned me is arduous^ and big with danger : but I am accustomed to hardships. I have known both hunger and nakedness, to the utmost extremity of human suffering : I have known what it is to have food given me as a charity to a madman : and I have, at times, been obhged to shelter myself under the miseries of that character, to avoid a heavier calamity. -My distresses have been greater than I ever owned, or ever will own to any man. Such evils are terrible to bear, but they never yet had power to turn me from my purpose. If I live, I will faithfully perform, in its utmost extent, my engagements to the Society : and if I perish in the attempt, my honour will be safe, for death cancels all bonds." Such was the undaunted Ledyard ! But although he appeai-ed to be formed of sterner stuff than his fellow-men, yet was he not destitute of kind and amiable feelings. He had a heart exquisitely alive to the sense of obligation ; and the eulogy, which his gratitude has passed on the fem.ale sex, stands unrivalled for its tenderness, its simplicity, and its truth. ** I have always," said he, " remarked, that Women in all countries are civil and obliging, tender and humane : that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest : and that they do not hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action. Not haughty, not arrogant, not supercilious ; they are full of courtesy, and fond of society : more liable in general to err than men ; but in general, also. FINAL ELUCIDATIONS IN PROSE. 313 more virtuous, and performing more good actions. To a Woman, whether civilized or savage, I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man it has often been otherwise. — In wandering over the barren plains of inhospi- table Denmark, through honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, over rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar; if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the Women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so. And to add to this virtue (so worthy the appellation of benevolence,) these actions have been performed in so free and kind a manner, that if I wasf dry, I drank the simplest draught, and, if hungry, I ate the coarsest meal from the hand of a Woman, with the sweetest relish 1" 314 PARLIAMENTAEY DEBATES, HOUSE OF COMMONS. Geo. 11.^1740. clause to the bill tor the encouragement op SAILORS. Admiral Wager, Mr. Hexry Fox. XoRD Baltimore. Mr. Lcdwick. Sir John Barnard. Sir Robert Walpole. Mr. Pitt. Mr. Hay. Speaker. Mr. Perry. Sir William Yonge. Mr. Fazakerly. The Attorney General, Mr. Horace Walpole. Mr. Winnington. Mr. Henry Pelham. Mr. Lyttleton. Admiral Wager : — Mr. Speaker, as there is a biU just brought into the House, for the encouragement of seamen, and for the more speedily manning of the Fleet, I rise to pro- pose a clause, by which it may be enacted, *^ that no mer- chants, nor bodies corporate or politic, shall hire sailors at higher wages than thirty-five shillings for the month, on pain, of forfeiting treble the value of the sum so agreed for ; which law shall commence after fifteen days, and continue for a time to be agreed upon by the House." Sir, the necessity of this clause must be so apparent to every gentleman, ac- quainted with naval and commercial affairs, that as no op- position can be apprehended, very few arguments wiU be requisite to introduce it. How much the public calamities of war are improved by the sailors to their own private advantage, how generally PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. 315 tliey shun the public service, in hopes of receiving exor- bitant wages from the merchants, and how much they extort from the merchants, by threatening to leave their service for that of the cro^vn, is universally known to every officer of the navy, and every commander of a trading vessel. — (Hear.) A law, therefore. Sir, to restrain them in time of war from such exorbitant demands, to deprive them of those pros- pects which have often no other effect than to lull them in idleness, while they skulk about in expectation of higher wages, and to hinder them from deceiving themselves, embarrassing the merchants, and neglecting the general interest of their country, is undoubtedly just. It is just, Sir, because, in regard to the public, it is necessary to pre- T'ent the greatest calamity that can fall upon a people, to preserve us from receiving laws from the most implacable of our enemies ; and it is just, because, with respect to parti- cular men, it has no tendency but to suppress idleness, fraud, and extortion. — (Hear.) Mr. Henry Fox : — Sir, I have no objection to any part of this clause, except the day proposed for the commence- ment. To make a law against any pernicious practice, to which there are strong temptations, and to give those whose interest may incite them to it, time to effect their schemes, before the law shall begin to operate, seems not very consistent with wisdom or vigilance. — (Hear J It is not denied. Sir, that the merchants are betrayed by that regard to private interest which prevails too frequently over nobler views, to bribe away from the service of the crown, by large rewards, those sailors whose assistance is now so necessary to the public ; and, therefore, it is not to be imagined, that they will not employ their utmost diligence to improve the interval, which the bill allows, in making contracts for the ensuing year, and that the sailors will not eagerly engage themselves, before this law shall preclude their prospects of advantage. p % 316 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. As, therefore, to make no law, and to make a law that will not be observed, is, in consequence, tlie same, and the time allowed by the clause, as it now stands, may make the whole provision ineffectual, it is my opinion, that either it ought to begin to operate to-morrow, or that we ought to leave the whole affair in its present state. — (Hear.) Sir Robert Walpole : — Sir, nothing has a greater appearance of injustice, than to punish men by virtue of laws with which they are not acquainted ; the law, there- fore, is always supposed to be known by those who have offended it, because it is the duty of every man to know it ; and certainly it ought to be the care of the legislature, that those whom a law will affect, may have a possibility of knowing it, and that those may not be punished for failing in their duty, whom nothing but inevitable ignorance has betrayed into offence. But if the operation of this law should commence to- morrow, what numbers may break it, and suffer by the breach of it involuntarily, and v*'ithout design ! and how shall we vindicate ourselves, from having been accessary to the crime which we censure and punish ? — (Hear, hear.) Mr. Henry Fox : — Sir, I shall not urge, in defence of my motion, what is generally known, and has been frequently in- culcated in all debates upon this bill, — that private conside- rations ought always to give way to the necessities of the public; for I think it sufficient to observe, that there is a distinction to be made between punishment and restraints ; and that we never can be too early in the prevention of pernicious practices, though we may sometimes delay to punish them. The law will be known to-morrow to far the greatest number of those who may be tempted to defeat it j and if there be others that break it ignorantly, how v/ill they find themselves injured by being only obliged to pay less than they promised; (Hear) which is all that I should propose, without longer warning ? The debate upon this particular HOUSE OF COMMONS, 317 will be at length reduced to a question, whether a law for this purpose is just and expedient ? If a law be necessary, it is necessary that it should be executed ; and it can be executed only by commencing to-morrow. — (Hear.) Lord Baltimore : — Sir, it appears to me of no great importance how soon the operation of the law commences, or how long it is delayed, because I see no reason for imagining that it will, at any time, produce the effects pro- posed by it. It has been the amusement, Sir, of a great part of my life, to converse with men whose inclinations or employments have made them well acquainted with maritime affairs. The clause now before us, will, in my opinion, have no other effect than to promote cunning and fraud, and to teach men those arts of collusion, with which they would otherwise nev^er have been acquainted. Mr. LoDwicK : — Sir, I agree with the honourable gentle- man, by whom this clause has been offered, that the end for v/hich it is proposed is worthy of the closest attention of the legislative pov/er; and that the evils of which the prevention is now endeavoured, may, in some measure, not only obstruct our traffic, but endanger our country. I shall, therefore, very readily concur in any measures for this purpose, that shall not appear either unjust or in- effectual. "Whether this clause will be sufficient to restrain all elusive contracts, and whether all the little artifices of in- terest are sufficiently obviated, I am yet unable to determine ; but, by a reflection upon the multiplicity of relations to be considered, and the variety of circumstances to be adjusted, in a provision of this kind, I am inclined to think, that it is not the business of a transient inquiry, or of a single clause, but that it will demand a separate law, and engage the deli- beration and regard of this whole assembly. — {Hear, hear, hear.) Sir John Barnard : — Sir, notwithstanding the im- £•3 318 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. patience and resentment, with which some men see their mistakes and ignorance detected, notwithstanding the reverence which negligence and haste are said to be entitled to, from this assembly, I shall openly declare, without the apprehension of being confuted, that this bill was drawa up without consideration, and is defended without being understood ; that after all the amendments which have been admitted, and all the additions proposed, it will be oppres- sive and ineffectual, a chaos of absurdities, and a monument of ignorance. Sir Robert Walpole : — Sir, the present business of this assembly is to examine the clause before us ; but to deviate from so necessary an inquiry into loud exclamations against the whole bill, is to obstruct the course of the debate ; to perplex our attention, and interrupt the senate in its deli- beration upon questions, in the determination of which the security of the public is nearly concerned. — (Hear.) The war. Sir, in which we are now engaged, and, I may add, engaged by the general request of the whole nation, can be prosecuted only by the assistance of the seamen ; from whom it is not to be expected that they will sacrifice their immediate advantage, to the security of their country. Public spirit, where it is to be found, is the result of ■reflection, refined by study and exalted by education ; which is not to be hoped for among those whom low fortune has condemned to perpetual drudgery. It must be, therefore, necessary to supply the defects of education, and to produce, by salutary coercions, those effects which it is in vain to ex- pect from other causes. That the service of the sailors will be set up to sale by auction, and that the merchants will bid against the govern- ment, is incontestable ; nor is there any doubt that they will be able to offer the highest price, because they will take care to repay themselves, by raising the value of their goods. Thus, without some restraint upon the merchants, ^ur enemies, who are not debared by their form of govern- HOUSE OF COMMONS. 319 merit from any method which pohcy can invent, or absolute power put in execution, will preclude all our designs, and set at defiance a nation superior to themselves. Sir John Barnard : — Sir, I think myself obliged by my duty to my country, and by my gratitude to those, by whose industry we are enriched, and by whose courage we are defended, to make once more a declaration, not against particular clauses, not against single circumstances, but against the whole bill ; a bill unjust and oppressive, absurd and ridiculous ; a bill to harass the industrious and distress the honest, to puzzle the wise and add power to the cruel ; a bill which cannot be read without astonishment, nor passed without the violation of our constitution, and an, ■equal disregard of policy, honesty, and humanity. All these assertions will need to be proved only by a bare perusal of this hateful bill ; by which the meanest, the most 1^ worthless reptile, exalted to a petty office by serving a ^wretch only superior to him in fortune, is enabled to show Hhis authority by tyrannizing over those who every hour deserve the public acknowledgments of the community ; to intrude upon the retreats of brave men, fatigued and ex- hausted by honest industry; to drag them out with all the wantonness of grovelling authority ; and chain them to the oar without a moment's respite, — or perhaps oblige them to purchase, with the gains of a dangerous voyage, or the plunder of an enemy lately conquered, a short interval to settle their afiairs, or bid their children farewell. — (Hear J Let any gentleman in this House, let those. Sir, who now ■sit at ease, projecting laws of oppression, and conferring upon their own slaves such licentious authority, pause a few moments, and imagine themselves exposed to the same hardships by a power superior to their own ; let them con- ceive themselves torn from the tenderness and caresses of their families by midnight irruptions ; dragged in triumph through the streets by a despicable officer, and placed under the command of those by whom they have perhaps been p4 320 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. already oppressed and insulted. Why should we imagine-, that the race of men for whom those cruelties are preparing, have less sensibility than ourselves ? Why should ws believe, that they will suffer without complaint, and be in- jured without resentment? AYhy should we conceive, that they will not at once deliver themselves, and punish their oppressors, by deserting that country where they are con- sidered as felons, and laying hold on those rewards and pri- vileges which no other government will deny them. — (Hear, hear.) ]\Ir. Pitt : — Sir, it is common for those who have the greatest regard for their own interest, to discover the least for that of others. I do not, therefore, despair of recalling the advocates of this bill from the prosecution of their fa- vourite measures, by arguments of greater efficacy than those which are founded on reason and justice. Nothing, Sir, is more evident, than that some degree of reputation is absolutely necessary to men who have any concern in the administration of a government like ours ; they must secure the fidelity of their adherents, by the assist- ance either of wisdom, or of virtue; their enemies must either be awed by their honesty, or terrified by their cun- ning. Mere artless bribery will never gain a sufficient majority, to set them entirely free from apprehensions of censure. To different tempers different motives must be applied : some, who place their felicity in being counted wise, care very little about their character for honesty; others may be persuaded to join in measures which they easily discover to be weak and ill-concerted, because they are convinced, that the authors of them are not corrupt "but mistaken, and are unwilling, that any man should be punished for natural defects or casual ignorance. I cannot say. Sir, which of these motives influence the advocates for the bill before us ; a bill in which such cruel- ties are proposed as are yet unknown among the most savage nations, such as slavery has not yet borne, ojt HOUSE OF COMMONS. 321 tyranny invented, such as cannot be heard without resent- jnent, nor thought of without horror. It is. Sir, perhaps, not unfortunate, that one more ex- pedient has been added, rather ridiculous than shocking, and that these tyrants of the administration, who amuse them- selves with oppressing their fellow-subjects, who add, with- out reluctance, one hardship to another, invade the liberty of those whom they have already overborne with taxes, first plunder and then imprison, who take all opportunities of heightening the public distresses, and make the miseries of "war the instruments of new oppressions, are too ignorant to be formidable, and owe their power not to their abilities, but to casual prosperity, or to the influence of money. — (Hear.) The other clauses of this bill, complicated at once with cruelty and folly, have been treated with becoming indig- nation ; but this may be considered with less ardour of resentment, and fewer emotions of zeal, because, though per- haps equally iniquitous, it will do no harm ; for a law that can never be executed can never be felt. — (Hear.) That it will consume the manufacture of paper, and swell the books of statutes, is all the good or hurt that can be hoped or feared from a law like this ; a law which fixes what is in its own nature mutable; which prescribes rules to the seasons and limits to the wind. I am too well ac- quainted. Sir, with the disposition of its two chief sup- porters, to mention the contempt with which this law will be treated by posterity ; for they have already shown abun- dantly their disregard of succeeding generations ; but I will remind them, that they are now venturing their whole interest at once, and hope they will recollect, before it is too late, that those who believe them to intend the haj^pi- jiess of their country, will never be confirmed in their opinion by open cruelty and notorious oppression ; and that those who have only their own interest in view, will be afraid of adhering to those leaders, however old and prac- tised in expedients^ however strengthened by corruption, oy p5 322 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. •elated witli power ; who have no reason to hope for success from either their virtue or abiUties. — (Hear, hear. Mr, Horace Waljwie rises and attempts to speak in reply ^ but-^ Mr. Bathurst catching the eye of the Speaker, — sits down.) Mr. Bathurst : — Sir, the clause now under our con- sideration, is so inconsiderately drawn up, that it is impos- sible to read it in the most cursory manner, without dis- covering the necessity of numerous amendments : no malicious subtilties nor artful deductions are required, in raising objections to this part of the bill, they crowd upon us without being sought, and, instead of exercising our sagacity, weary our attention. The first error, or rather one part of a general and com- plicated error, is the computation of time not by days but by kalendar months ; which, as they are not equal one to another, may embarrass the account between the sailors and those who employ them. In all contracts of a short duration, -the time is to be reckoned by weeks and days ; by certain and regular periods ; which has been so constantly the practice of the seafaring men, that perhaps many of them do not know the meaning of a kalendar month : this indeed is a neglect of no great importance, because no man can be deprived by it of more than the v,^ages due for the labour of a, few days ; but the other part of this clause is more seriously to be considered, as it threatens the sailors with greater injuries ; for it is to be enacted, that all contracts made for more wages than are here allowed, shall be totally void. It cannot be denied to be possible ; and, in my opinion, it is very likely, that many contracts will be made without the knowledge of this law, and, consequently, Vv'ithout any design of violating it ; but ignorance, inevitable ignorance, though, it is a valid excuse for every other man, is no plea for the unhappy sailor ; he must suffer, though innocent, the penalty of a crime ; must undergo danger, hardships, and labour, without a recompence ; and at the end of a success- HOUSE OF COMMONS. 323 ful voyage, after having enriched his country by his indus- try, return home to a necessitous family without being able to relieve them. — (Hear.) It is scarcely necessar)'-. Sir, to raise any more objections to a clause in which nothing is right. Tlie high wages, paid by merchants are the chief incitements that prevail upon the ambitious, the necessitous, or the avaricious, to forsake the ease and security of the land ; to leave easy trades, and healthful employments, and expose themselves to an element where they are not certain of an hour's safety. The service of the merchants is the nursery, in which, seamen are trained up for his Majesty's navies; and from thence we must, in time of danger, expect those forces by which alone we can be protected. — (Hear). If, therefore, it is necessary to encourage sailors, it is necessary to reject all measures that may terrify or disgust them ; and as their numbers must depend upon our trade, let us not embarrass the merchants v/ith any other diffi- culties than those which are inseparable from war, and which very little care has been hitherto taken to alleviate. Mr. Hay : — Sir, the objections which have been urged with so much ardour, and displayed with such power of eloquence, are not, in my opinion, formidable enough to discourage us from prosecuting our measures ; some of them may be readily answered, and the rest, perhaps, easily removed. The computation of time, as it now stands, is allowed not to produce any formidable evil, and, therefore, did not require so rhetorical a censure : the inconveniency of kalendar months may easily be removed by a little candour in the contracting parties, or, that the objection may not be repeated to the interruption of the debate, weeks or days may be substituted, and the usual reckoning of the sailors be still continued. That some contracts may be annulled, and inconveniences or delays of payment arise, is too evident to be questioned j p6 324 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. but, in that case, the sailor may have his remedy provided, and be enabled to obtain, by an easy process, what he shall be judged to have deserved ; for it must be allowed reason- able, that every man who labours in honest and useful employments, should receive the reward of his diligence and fidehty. Thus, Sir, may the clause, however loudly censured and violently opposed, be made useful and equitable, and the public service advanced without injury to individuals. Sir Robeut Walpole : — Sir, every law which extends its influence to great numbers in various relations and circum- stances, must produce some consequences that were never foreseen or intended, and is to be censured or applauded as the general advantages or inconveniences are found to preponderate. Of this kind is the law before us ; a law enforced by the necessity of our affairs, and drawn up with no other intention than to secure the public happiness, and produce that success which every man's interest must prompt him to desire. If in the execution of this law. Sir, some inconveniences should arise, they are to be rem.edied as fast as they are discovered ; or, if not capable of a remedy, to be patiently borne in consideration of the general advantage. That some temporary disturbances may be produced, is not improbable ; the discontent of the sailors may for a short time rise high, and our trade be suspended by their obstinacy ; but obstinacy however determined must yield to hunger ; and when no higher wages can be obtained, they will cheerfully accept of those which are here allowed them. Short voyages indeed are not comprehended in the clause ; and therefore the sailors will engage in them upon their own terms ; but this objection can be of no weight with those that oppose the clause; because, if it is unjust to limit the wages of the sailors, it is just to leave those voyages without restriction; and those that think the expedient here proposed equitable and rational, miy perhaps l^e will- HOUSE OF COMMONS. 325 ing to make some concessions to those who are of a different opinion. That the bill will not remove every obstacle to success, nor add weight to one part of the balance, without making the other lighter ; that it will not supply the navy, without incommoding the merchants in some degree ; that it may be sometimes evaded by cunning, and sometimes abused by malice, and that at last it will be less efficacious than is desired, may, perhaps, be proved ; but it has not yet been proved that other measures are more eligible, or that ice are not to promote the public service as far as we are able, though our endeavours may not produce effects equal to our wishes. (Hear, hear) Sir John Barnard : — Sir, I know not by what fatality it is that nothing can be urged, in defence of the clause before us, which does not tend to discover its weakness and ineffi- cacy. The warmest patrons of this expedient are impelled, by the mere force of conviction, to such concessions as invalidate all their arguments, and leave their opponents no necessity of replying. If short voj'ages are not comprehended in this provision, what are we now controverting ? What but the expedience of a law that will never be executed ? The sailors, howe^-er they are contemned by those who think them only worthy to be treated like beasts of burden, are not yet so stupid but that they can easily find out, that to serve a fortnight for greater wages is more eligible than to toil a month for less ; and as the numerous equipments that have been lately made, have not left many more sailors in the service of the merchants than may be employed in the coasting trade, those who traffic to remoter parts, must shut up their books and wait till the expiration of this act, for an oppor- tunity of renewing their com^merce. — (Hear.) To regulate the wages for one voyage, and to leave another without limitation, in time of scarcity of seamen, is absolutely to prohibit that trade which is so restrained, and S26 PAELIAMENTARY DEBATES, is doubtless a more effectual embargo than has been yet invented. — (Hear.) Let any man but suppose, that the East India Company were obliged to give only half the wages which other traders allow, and consider how that part of our commerce could be carried on ; would not their goods rot in their ware- houses, and their ships lie for ever in the harbour ? Would not the sailors refuse to contract with them ? or desert them after a contract, upon the first prospect of more advantageous employment ? — (Hear.) But it is not requisite to multiply arguments on a question, which may not only be decided without long examination, but in which we may determine our conclusions by the experience of our ancestors. Scarcely any right or wrong measure is without a precedent, and, amongst others, this expedient has been tried by the wisdom of former times ; a law was once made for limiting the wages of sailors, and that it is totally ineffectual, we are all convinced. Expe- rience is a very safe guide in political inquiries, and often discovers what the most enlightened reason failed to foresee. Let us therefore improv^e the errors of our ancestors to our ovv n advantage ; and whilst we neglect to imitate their virtues, let us, at least, forbear to repeat their follies. Mr. Perry : — Sir, there is one objection which my acquaintance with foreign trade impresses too strongly upon my mind to suffer me to conceal. It is quite unnecessary to observe to this assembly, that there are now, as at all times, great numbers of sailors in every part of the world, and that they at least equally deserve our regard with those who are under the more immediate influence of the government. These seamen have already contracted for the price of their labour, and the recompence of their hazards, nor can we, in my opinion, without manifest injustice, dissolve a contract founded upon equity, and confirmed by law. It is, Sir, an undisputed principle of government, that no HOUSE OF COMMONS. 327 person should be punished without a crime ; but is it no punishment to deprive a man of what is due to him by a legal stipulation, the condition of which is on his part honestly fulfilled ? — (Hear. J Nothing, Sir, can be imagined more calamitous than the disappointment to which this law subjects the unhappy men; who are now promoting the interest of their country, in distant places amidst dangers and hardships, in unhealthy climates and barbarous nations ; where they com-fort them- selves under the fatigues of labour and the miseries of sickness, with the prospect of the sum which they shall gain for the relief of their families, and the respite which their ivages wUl enable them to enjoy ; but, upon their return, they find their hopes blasted, and their contracts dissolved, by a law made in their absence. No human being, I think, can coolly and deliberately in- flict a hardship like this; and, therefore, I doubt not but those who have, by inadvertency, given room for this objec- tion, will either remove it, by an amendment, or what is, in my opinion, more eligible, reject the clause as inexpedient, useless, and unjust. Sir William Yo^jge : — Sir, this debate has been pro- tracted, not by any difficulties arising from the nature of the questions v/hich have been the subject of it, but by a neglect with which almost all the opponents of the bill may be justly charged, — the neglect of distinguishing between measures eligible in themselves, and measures preferable to consequences, which are apprehended from particular con- junctures ; between laws made only to advance the public happiness, and expedients of which the benefit is merely occasional, and of which the sole intention is to avert some national calamity, and which are to cease v.dth the necessity that produced them. — (Hear J Such are the measures. Sir, which are now intended ; measures which, in days of ease, security, and prosperity, it would be the highest degree of weakness to propose, but of 328 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. .which I cannot see the absurdity, in times of danger and distress. Such laws are the medicines of a state, useless imd nauseous in health, but preferable to a lingering disease, or to a miserable death. Even those measures. Sir, which have been mentioned as most grossly absurd, and represented as pa,rallel to ths provision made in this clause only to expose it to contempt and ridicule, may in particular circumstances be rational and just. To settle the price of corn in the time of a famine, may become the wisest state, and multitudes might, in time of public misery, by the benefit of temporary laws, be preserved from destruction. Even those masts, to which, with a prosperous gale, the ship owes its usefulness And its speed, are often cut down by the sailors, in the fury of a storm. "With regard to the ships which are now in distant places, whither no knowledge of this law can possibly be conveyed, it cannot be denied, that their crews ought to be secured from injury, by some particular exception ; for though it is evident, in competitions between public and private interest, which ought to be preferred, yet we ought to remem- ber, that no unnecessary injury is to be done to indivi- duals, even while we are providing for the safety of the nation. Mr. Fazakeri.y : — Sir, though I cannot be supposed to have much acquaintance v/ith naval affairs, and therefore may not, perhaps, discover the full force of the arguments which have been urged in favour of the clause now under consideration, yet I cannot but think myself under an indis- pensable obligation, to examine, it as far as I am able, and to make use of the knov/ledge which I have acquired, however i^nferior to that of others. The argument. Sir, the only real argument, which has been produced in favour of the restraint of wages now proposed, appears to me by no means conclusive ; nor can I believe that the meanest and most ignorant seaman would^ HOUSE OF COMMONS. 329 if it v/ere proposed to him, hesitate, a moment, for an answer to it. Let me suppose. Sir, a merchant urging it as a charge against a seaman, that he raises his demand of wages in time of war, would not the sailor readily reply, that harder labour required larger pay ? Would he not ask, why the general practice of mankind is charged as a crime upon him only? Inquire, says he, of the workmen in the docks ^ have they not double wages for double labour ? and is not their lot safe and easy in comi^arison with mine ? I encounter danger and support fatigue ; I carry on war and commerce, at the same time ; I conduct the ship and oppose the enemy, and am equally exposed to captivity and shipwreck. This, in reality, is the state of a sailor, in time of war. And I do not see what reply can be made to the sailor's artless expostulation. — (Hear, question.) The Attorney General : — Sir, the clause before us cannot in my opinion, produce any such dreadful conse- quences as the learned gentleman appears to imagine ; how- ever, to remove all difficulties, I have drawn up an amend- ment, which I shall beg leave to propose, " that the contracts which may be affected as the clause now stands, shall be void only as to so much of the wages as shall exceed the sum to which the House shall agree to reduce the seamen's pay ; and as to the forfeitures, they are not to be levied upon ths sailors, but upon the merchants, or trading companies, who employ them ; and who are able to pay greater sums without being involved in poverty and distress." With regard. Sir, to the reasons for introducing this clause, they are, in my judgment, valid and equitable. Vfe have found it necessary to fix the rate of money at interest, and the rate of labour in several cases, and if we do not in this case, what will be the consequence ? A second em- bargo on commerce, and perhaps a total stop to all military preparations. If the sailor. Sir, is exposed to greater dangers in time of 330 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. war, is not the merchant's trafle carried on likewise at greater hazard ? Is not the freight equally with the sailors threatened at once by the ocean and the enemy ? And is not the owner's fortune equally impaired, whether the ship is dashed upon a rock, or seized by a privateer ? The merchant, therefore, has as much reason for paying less wages in time of war, as the sailor for demanding more; and nothing remains, but that the legislative power deter- mine a medium between their different interests, with justice, if possible, at least with impartiality. Mr. Horace Walpole, (this member had stood up several times, but was prevented from speaking by other members) ;— Sir, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate while it was carried on with calmness and decency, by men who do not suffer the ardour of opposition to cloud their reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred to answer the gentleman who declaimed against the bill with such fluency of rhetoric, and such vehemence of gesture ; who charged the advocates for the expedients now proposed, with having no regard to any interest but their own, and with making laws only to consume paper ; and threatened them with the defection of their adherents, and the loss of their influence, upon this new discovery of their folly and their ignorance. Nor, Sir, do I now answer him for any other purpose, than to remind him how little the clamours of rage and petulancy of invectives contribute to the purposes for which this assembly is called together ; how little the discovery of truth is promoted, and the security of the nation established, by pompous diction and theatrical emotions. Formidable sounds, and furious declamations, confident assertions, and lofty periods, may affect the young and unexperienced; and, perhaps, the gentleman may have con- tracted his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own age, than with such as have had more opportu- HOUSE OF COMMONS. 331 uities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating their sentiments. If the heat of his temper. Sir, would suffer him to attend to those whose age and long acquaintance with business give them an indisputable right to deference and superiority, he would learn, in time, to reason rather than declaim, and to prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of facts, to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives ; which may disturb the imagination for a moment, but leave no lasting impression on the mind. He will learn. Sir, that to accuse and prove are very different, and that reproaches unsupported by evidence, affect only the character of him that utters them. Excur- sions of fancy, and flights of oratory, are indeed pardonable in young men, but in no other; and it would surely contribute more, even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to speak, that of depreciating the conduct of the administration, to prove the inconveniences and injustice of this bill, than barely to assert them, with whatever magnificence of language, or appearance of zeal, honesty, or compassion. — (Hear, and a pause). Mr. Pitt : — (Hear, hearJ-^S'iT, — (Hear) — the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentle- man has with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall attempt neither to palliate nor deny; but content myself wdth wishing, that I may be one of those whose follies may 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 opportu- nities which it brings have passed away without improve- ment, and vice appears to prevail, when the passions have subsided. The wretch, that, after having seen the conse- quences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely 332 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults. Much more. Sir, is he to be abhorred, wlio, 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 imply either some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man. In the first sense. Sir, the charge is too trifling to be con- futed, 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 to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction, or Ms mien, however matured by a(/e, or modelled by expe- trlence. — (Hear, and a laugh. Mr. Pitt imitates the manner of Mr. Horace Walpole.) But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical be- haviour, 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 which he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms, with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves; nor shall any thing but age restrain my resents jnent ; 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 is the ardour 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 HOUSE OF COMMONS, 333 invaded, nor look in silence npon public robbery ! — I will exert my endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may pro- tect them in their villainy, and whoever may partake of their plunder. — And if the honourable gentleman Mr. WiNNiNGTox (having called to order, and Mr. Pitt sitting down) :— It is necessary. Sir, that the order of this assembly be observed, and the debate be resumed without personal altercations. Such expressions as have been vented on this occasion become not an assembly entrusted with the liberty and welfare of their country. To interrupt the debate on a subject so important as that before us, is, in some measure, to obstruct the public business, and violate our trust : Imt much more heinous is the crime of exposing our determinations to contempt, and inciting the people to suspicion or mutiny, by indecent reflections, or unjust insinuations. I do not. Sir, undertake to decide the controversy between the two gentlemen, but must be allowed to observe, that no diversity of opinion can justify the violation of decency, and the use of rude and virulent expressions ; expressions dictated only by resentment, and uttered without regard to Mr. Pitt (order :) — Sir, if this be to preserve order, there is no danger of indecency from the most licentious tongue ; for what calumny can be more atrocious, or what reproach more severe, than that of speaking v.-ith regard to any thing but truth ? Order may sometimes be broken by passion, or inadvertency, but will hardly be re-established by a monitor like this ! who, whilst he is restraining the impetuosity of others, cannot govern his own. Happy, Sir, would it be for mankind, if every one knew his own province ; we should not then see the same man at once a criminal and a judge. Nor would this gentleman assume the right of dictating to others, what he has not learned himself. S34 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. That I may return, in some degree, the favour which he intends me, I will advise him never hereafter to exert him- self on the subject of order ; but, whenever he finds himself inclined to speak on such occasions, to remember how he has now succeeded, and condemn in silence what his censures will never reform. Mr. WiNNiNGTOX : — Sir, as I was hindered by the gentle* man's ardour and impetuosity from concluding my sentence, none but myself can know the equity or partiality of my intentions ; and therefore as I cannot justly be condemned, I ought to be supposed innocent ; nor ought he to censure a fault, of which he cannot be certain that it would ever have been committed. He has indeed exalted himself to a degree of authority, never yet assumed by any member of this House, — that of condemning others to silence. I am henceforward, by his inviolable decree, to sit and hear his harangues, without daring to oppose him. How wide he may extend his authority, I shall not determine ; having not yet arrived at the same degree of sagacity with himself, nor being able to foreknow what another is going to pronounce. If I had given offence by any improper sallies of passion, I ought to have been censured, by the concurrent voice of the house, or have received a reprimand. Sir, from you ;. to which I should have submitted without opposition ; but I will not be doomed to silence by one who has no preten- sions to authority, and whose arbitrary decisions can only tend to introduce uproar, discord, and confusion. Mr. Henry Pelham : — Sir, when, in the ardour of controversy upon interesting questions, the zeal of the disputants hinders them from a nice observation of decency and regularity, there is some indulgence due to the common weakness of our nature ; nor ought any gentleman to affix to a negligent expression a more offensive sense than is necessarily implied by it. — (Hear.) To search deep. Sir, for calumnies and reproaches is no HOUSE OF COMMONS. 335 laudable nor "beneficial curiosity ; it must always be trouble- some to ourselves, by alarming us with imaginary injuries, and may often be unjust to others, by charging them with invectives which they never intended. — (Hear.) General can- dour and mutual tenderness will best preserve our own quiet, and support that dignity which has always been accounted essential to national debates, and seldom infringed, without dangerous consequences. — (Hear.) Mr. Lyttleton : — Sir, no man can be more zealous for decency than myself, or more convinced of the necessity of a methodical prosecution of the question before us. — {Ques- iion) — I am well convinced how near indecency and faction are to one another, and how inevitably confusion produces obscurity ; but I hope it will always be remembered, that he who first infringes decency, or deviates from method, is to answer for all the consequences that may arise from the neg- lect of senatorial customs : for it is not to be expected, that any man will bear reproaches without reply, or that he who "wanders from the question will not be followed in his digressions, and hunted through his labyrinths. — (Question, question.) It cannot. Sir, be denied, that some insinuations were uttered, injurious to those whose zeal may sometimes happen to prompt them to warm declarations, or incite them to passionate emotions. Whether I am of importance enough to be included in the censure, I despise it too much to inquire or consider; but I cannot forbear to observe, that zeal for the right can never become reproachful, and that no man can fall into contempt, but those who deserve it.— (Question, question) 336 HOUSE OF LORDS. Geo. II.— 1742. The Bill. — " An Act for repealing certain Duties ON Spirituous Liquors, mid on Licenses for retailing the same, and for laying other Duties on Spirituous Liquors, and on Licences for retailing the said Liquors." The Lord Chancellor. Lord Hervey. Lord Lonsdale. Lord Bathurst. Lord Ilay. The Bishop of Oxford. Lord Carteret. Lord Talbot. The Duke of Newcastle. Lord Cholmondeley. The Bishop of Sarum. Lord Chesterfield. Lord Delawar. Lord Hervey : — My Lords, though I doubt not hut that the bill before us, — a bill for increasing the duty on spiritu- ous liquors, and for diminishing the expense of licences for retailing them, will be promoted in this House, by the same influence by which it has been conducted through the other, yet, I hope, that its success will be very different. I hope, that zeal for the promotion of virtue, will prevent the appro- bation of a bill, by which vice is to be made legal ; by which the fences of subordination are to be thrown down, and all the order of society, and decency of regular establishments, be obliterated by universal licentiousness, and lost in the wild confusions of debauchery ; — of debauchery encouraged by law, — of debauchery promoted for the support of measures expensive, ridiculous, and unnecessary. — (Hear, hear.) The bill now before you, my Lords, is fundamentally wrong ; I say it is fundamentally wrong, because it is formed upon I HOUSE OF LORDS. 337 a hateful project of increasing the consumption of distilled liquors, and consequently of promoting drunkenness among a people, reproached already for it throughout the whole world. — (Order J order, and a laugh.) — My Lords, I am dis- posed to be serious ; and I repeat that this bill is formed upon a hateful project. I need not observe to your Lord- ships, that all the advantages which high stations, or large possessions can confer, are derived from the labours of the poor: for a very little consideration will be sufficient to show, that the lowest orders of mankind supply commerce vnih. manufacturers ; navigation with mariners, and war with soldiers ; that they constitute the strength and riches of every nation; and that, though they generally move by superior direction, they are the immediate support of the community; and that without their concurrence, policy would project in vain; wisdom would end in idle speculation; and the determination of this assembly would be empty sounds. No sooner, my Lords, will this bill make drunken- ness unexpensive and commodious, no sooner vill shops be opened in every corner of the streets, in every petty ^dllage, and in every obscure cellar, for the retail of these liquors, than the work-rooms will be forsaken, when the artificer, by the labour of a small part of the day, has procured what wiU be sufficient to intoxicate him for the remaining hours ; — for he will hold it ridiculous to waste any part of his life in superfluous dihgence, and will readily assign to merriment and clamour that time which he now spends in useful occupations. But such is the quality of these liquors, that he will not be able to divide his life between labour and debauchery ; — he will soon find himself disabled by his excesses from the prosecution of his work, and those shops which were before abandoned for the sake of pleasure, will soon be made desolate by sickness ; — those who were before idle, will .become diseased, and either perish by untimely deaths, or Q 338 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES languish in misery and want, — a useless burthen to tlie public. Drunkenness, my Lords, is the parent of idleness ; for no man can apply himself to his trade, either while he is drink- ing, or when he is drunk. Poverty, my Lords, is the offspring of idleness, as idleness is of drunkenness ; the drunkard's work is little, and his expences are great ; and therefore, he must soon see his family distressed, and his substance reduced to nothing. Then, necessity, immediate necessity, presses upon him ; his family is made clamorous by want, and the calls of nature and of luxury are equally importunate ; he has now lost his credit in the world, and none will employ him, because none wiU trust him ; or employment cannot imme- diately, perhaps, be obtained, because his place, for a long time, has been supplied by others. No plan can be devised to relieve him ; and therefore, he has nothing to hope, but from the efforts of despair. These thoughts are quickly confirmed by his companions, whom the same misconduct has reduced to the same distress, and who have already tried the pleasure of being supported by the labour of others. His companions do not fail to explain to him the possibility of sudden affluence, and, at worst, to celebrate the satisfaction of short-lived merriment. He, there- fore, engages with them in their nocturnal expeditions, — in fact, an association of wickedness is formed ; — and that man, who once supported his family in decent plenty, and was him- self at ease, becomes at once miserable and wicked ; he is detested as a nuisance by the community, and is hunted by the ofScers of justice. These are the consequences, which necessarily ensue from the use of these pernicious, these infatuating hquors ; which have justly alarmed every man whom pleasure or sloth has not wholly engrossed ; — and I hope, my Lords, that a bill of this portentous kind, a bill big with innumerable mischiefs, and without one beneficial tendency, will be HOUSE OF LORDS, 339 rejected by this House, without the form of commitment ; that it will not be a subject of debate amongst us, whether we shall consent to poison the nation ; and that, instead of inquiring, whether the measures now pursued by the minis- try ought to be supported at the expense of virtue, tran- quillity, and trade, we should examine, whether they are not such as ought to be opposed for their own sake, even without the consideration of the immense sums which they apparently demand. — (Hear.) Though I have already dwelt upon the subject, perhaps, too long, yet as I speak only from an unprejudiced regard to the public, I hope, if any new arguments shall be attempted, that I shall be allowed the liberty of making a reply. — (Hear, hear J Lord Bathurst : — My Lords, I doubt not but that the no- ble Lord has delivered, on this occasion, his real sentiments, and that, in his opinion, the happiness of our country, the re- gard v/hich ought always to be paid to the promotion of virtue, require that this bill should be rejected. — (Hear.) I am far from suspecting, that such an appearance of zeal can conceal any private views, or that such pathetic exclamations can proceed, but from a mind really affected Vv'ith honest anxiety. This anxiety, my Lords, I shall endeavour to dissipate, before it has been communicated to others ; for I think it no less the duty of every man, who approves the public measures, to vindicate them from misrepresentation, than of him, to whom they appear pernicious or dangerous, to warn his fellow subjects of that danger. But, my Lords, I am one of those who are convinced, that the bill before us, which has been censured as funda- mentally wrong, is, in reality, fundamentally right. For the end of this bill, my Lords, is to diminish the consumption of distilled spirits; to restrain the populace of these kingdoms from a liquor which, when used in excess, has a malignity, to the last degree dangerous ; which at once inebriates and poisons, impairs the force of the understand- Q 2 340 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. ing, and destroys the vigour of the body : and to attain this, I think it absolutely right to lay a tax upon these liquors . — (Hear.) The regulation provided by the bill before us, is, in my opinion, the most likely method, for recovering the ancient industry and sobriety of the common people ; for which reason, my Lords, I shall approve it, till experience has shown it to be defective. I shall approve it, not with a view of obtaining or secure- ing the favour of any of those who may be thought to interest themselves in its success, but because I find some new law for this purpose indispensably necessary, and believe that no better can be contrived. — (Hear.) The Bishop of Oxford. My Lords, as I am not yet con- vinced of the expedience of the bill now before us, nor can discover any reason for believing, that the advantages will countervail the mischiefs which it will produce, I think it my duty to declare, that I shall oppose it as destructive to virtue, and contrary to the inviolable rules of religion. It has been urged that other more vigorous methods have been tried, and that they are now to be laid aside, because experience has shown them to be ineffectual ; because the people unanimously have asserted the privilege of de- bauchery, opposed the execution of justice, an pursued those with the utmost malice that offered informations. It is not indeed asserted that the execution of the late act was impossible, but that it was attended with difficulties ; and when, my Lords, was any design of great importance effected without difficulties? — It is difficult, without doubt, to restrain a nation from vice ; and to reform a nation already corrupted, is still more difficult. But as both, however difficult, are necessary, it is the duty of government to endeavour them, till it shall appear that no endeavours can succeed. Lord Talbot. — ^My Lords, I am ashamed that there should be any necessity of opposing, in this assembly, a bill HOUSE OF LORDS. 341 like that which is now before us, — a bill crowded with absurdities, which no strength of eloquence can exaggerate, nor any force of reason make more evident. This bill, my Lords, is, however, the first proof that our new ministers have given of their capacity for the task which they have under- taken ; this is a specimen of their sagacity, and is designed by them as an instance of the gentle methods, by which the expences of the government are hereafter to be levied on the people. — (Hear.) This bill, my Lords, will undoubtedly make all those their enemies whom it does not corrupt : for what can be expected from it, but universal disorder and boundless wickedness ? wickedness made insolent by the protection of the law, and disorder promoted by all those whose wealth is increased by the increase of the revenues of the government. — Had it been urged, m.f Lords, in defence of this bill, that it was necessary to raise money, and that money could only be raised by increasing the consumption of distilled spirits, it would have been apparent that it was well calculated to promote the purposes intended ; but surely, to assert that it will obstruct the use of these liquors, is to discover a degree of ignorance, of effrontery, or of folly, by which few statesmen have been hitherto distinguished. What will be the consequences of any encouragement given to a vice, already almost irresistibly prevalent, I cannot determine; but nothing is too dismal to be expected from universal drunkenness ; from a general depravity of the most useful part of mankind ; from an epidemical fury of debauchery, and an unbounded exemption from restraint. Instead, therefore, of promoting a practice so evidently detrimental to society, let us oppose it with the most vigorous efforts ; let us begin our opposition by rejecting this bill; and then consider, whether the execution of the former law shall be enforced, or whether another more efficacious can be formed. Q3 342 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. Lord Cholmondeley. — My Lords, thougli it is un- doubtedly the right of every person in this assembly to utter his sentiments with freedom, yet surely decency and justice ought to restrain us from imdeserved reproaches ; we ought not to censure any conduct with more severity than it deserves, nor condemn any man for practices of which he is innocent. This rule, which will not, I suppose, be controverted, has not, in my opinion, been very carefully observed in this debate ; for surely nothing is mor« unjust than to assert or insinuate, that the government has looked idly upon the advances of debauchery, or has suffered drunkenness to prevail, without opposition. — (Hear.) And of the care with which this licentiousness has been opposed, no other proof can be required, than the laws which, in the present reign, have been made against it. ' But that the present law is ineffectual, cannot be doubted. The bill now before us, my Lords, will, in my opinion, answer ail the purposes of the last, Vv'ithout noise and with- out disturbance. By lessening the price of licences, it will put a stop to the clandestine retail ; and by raising that of liquors, it v/ill hinder the common people from drinking them in their usual excess. Those who have hitherto lost their reason and limbs twice a day by their drunkenness, will not be able, under the intended regulations, to commit the same crime twice in a week. (Hear, and a laugh.) And as the temptation of cheapness will be taken away, it may be hoped that the next generation will not fall into the same vice. — (Laugh, and order.J Lord Chesterfield. — My Lords, the bill now under our consideration appears to me to deserve a much more close regard than seems to have been paid to it in the other House, through which it was hurried with the utmost precipitation, and where it was passed, almost without the for- mality of a debate ; nor can I think that the earnestness, with HOUSE OF LORDS. 343 which some Lords seem inclined to press it forward here, consistent with the importance of the consequences, which may be with great reason expected from it. To pretend, my Lords, that the design of this bill is to prevent or diminish the use of spirits, is to trample upon common sense, and to violate the rules of decency, as well as of reason. For when did any man hear, that a commo- dity was prohibited by licensing its sale ? or that to offer and refuse is the same action ? It is indeed pleaded, that it will be made dearer by the tax which is proposed, and that the increase of the price will diminish the number of the purchasers : but it is at the same time expected, that this tax shall supply the expense of a war on the continent. (Hear.) It is asserted, therefore, that the consumption of spirits will be hindered, and yet that it will be such as may be expected to furnish, from a very small tax, a revenue sufficient for the support of armies, for the re-establishment of the Austrian family, and the repression of the attempts of France. — (Hear, hear.) Surely, my Lords, these expecta- tions are not very consistent, nor can it be imagined that they are both formed in the same head, though they may be expressed by the same mouth. — (Hear, hear.) It is, how- ever, some recommendation of a statesman, when of his assertions one can be found reasonable or true : and this praise cannot be denied to our present ministers : for though it is undoubtedly false, that this tax will lessen the consump- tion of spirits, it is certainly true, that it will produce a very large revenue, a revenue that will not fail, but with the people from whose debaucheries it arises. — (Hear, hear.) Our ministers will therefore have the same honour with their predecessors, of having given rise to a 7iew fund, not indeed for the payment of our debts, but for much more valuable purposes, for the exaltation of our hearts under oppression ; for the deviation of our spirits amidst mis- carriages and disappointments ; and for the cheerful support of those debts which we have lost all hopes of paying. They Q 4 344 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. are resolved, my Lords, that the nation, which nothing can make wise, shall, while they are at its head, at least be merry ; and since public happiness is the end of govern- ment, they seem to imagine that they shall deserve applause by an expedient, which will enable every man to lay his cares asleep, to drown sorrow, and lose, in the delights of drunkenness, both the public miseries and his own. Surely, my Lords, men of this unbounded benevolence, and this exalted genius, deserve such honours as were never paid before ; they deserve to bestride a butt upon every signpost in the metropolis^ or to have their countenances exhibited, as tokens, where this liquor is to be sold, by the licence which they have procured. They must be, at least, remembered to future ages, as the happy politicians who, after all expedients for raising taxes had been employed, discovered a new method of draining the last reliques of the public wealth, and added a new revenue to the government; nor will those, who shall hereafter enumerate the several funds now estab- lished among us, forget, among the benefactors to their country, the illustrious authors of the drinking fund.— (Hear, hear, and a laugh.) But to a bill for such desirable purposes, it would be proper, my Lords, to prefix a preamble, in which the kind- ness of our intentions should be more fully explained, that the nation may not mistake our indulgence for cruelty, nor consider their benefactors as their persecutors. If, therefore, this bill be considered and amended (for why else should it be considered) in a committee, I shall humbly propose, that it shall be introduced in this manner. " Whereas the designs of the present ministry, whatever they are, cannot be executed without a great number of mercenaries, which mercenaries cannot be hired without money : and whereas the present disposition of this nation to drunkenness in- clines us to believe, that they will pay more cheerfully for the undisturbed enjoyment of distilled liquors, than for any other concession that can be made by the government, be HOUSE OF LORDS. 345 it enacted, by the King's most excellent Majesty, that no man hereafter shall be denied the right of being drunk on the following conditions." (Hear, and a laugh.) This, my Lords, to trifle no longer, is the proper preamble to this bill; which contains only the conditions on v/hich the people of this kingdom are to be allowed henceforward to riot in debauchery, — in debauchery licensed by law, and countenanced by the magistrates ; for there is no doubt but those, on whom the inventors of this tax shall confer authority, will be directed to assist their masters in their design to encourage the consumption of that liquor from which such large revenues are expected, and to multiply without end those licences which are to pay a yearly tribute to the Crown. — (Bravo, Hear.) Lord Lonsdale. ^ly Lords, the bill now before us, has, from its first appearance in the other house, seemed to me of such importance as to deserve the greatest attention, and to demand the most diligent inquiry. All my inquiries, my Lords, have had one constant and uniform effect. On whatsoever side I have turned my speculations, I have found new arguments against this bill, and have discovered new mischiefs comprised in it. Tt has been asserted, that the tax now to be laid upon these liquors, will have such wonderful effects, that those who are at present drunk twice a day, will not be henceforward able to commit the same crime twice a week — (Hear) ; an assertion which I could not hear, without wondering at the new discoveries which ministerial sagacity can sometimes make. Whether the noble Lord, who alleged the certainty of reformation which this bill will produce, ever examined his own opinion, I know not ; but I think it necessary, at least, to consider it more particularly, to supply that proof of it, which, if it be true, he neglected to produce ; or to show, if it be found false, how little confident assertions are to be regarded. Between twice a day, and twice a week, the noble Lord will not deny, the proportion to be as seven to one ; and. 346 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. therefore, to prevent drunkenness in the degree which he persuades us to expect, the price of the liquor must be raised in the same proportion; but the duty laid upon the gallon, will not increase the price a fifth part, even though it should not be eluded by distilling liquors of an extraor- dinary strength ; one fifth part of the price is, therefore, in his Lordship's estimate, equal to the whole price seven times multipled. Such are the arguments which have been produced in favour of this bill, and such is the diligence with which the public happiness is promoted, by those who have hopes of being enriched by public calamities. But I hope, my Lords, that we shall examine the most distant consequences of our resolutions, and consider our- selves not as the agents of the Crown to levy taxes, but as the guardians of the people, to promote the public happi- ness ; that we shall always remember, that happiness can be produced only by virtue ; and that, since this bill can tend only to the increase of debauchery, we shall, without the formality of a commitment, unanimously reject it with in- dignation and abhorrence. — (Hear J Lord Ilay. — The specious pretence, my Lords, on which this bill is founded, and indeed the only pretence that deserves to be termed specious, is the propriety of taxing vice ; but this maxim of government has, on this occasion, been either mistaken or perverted. Vice, my Lords, is not properly to be taxed, but suppressed ; and heavy taxes are sometimes the only means by which that suppression can be attained. Luxury, my Lords, or the excess of that which is pernicious only by its excess, may very properly be taxed. But none, my Lords, ever heard in any nation of a tax upon theft or adultery, because a tax implies a licence granted for the use of that which is taxed, to all who shall be willing to pay it. Drunkenness, my Lords, is universally, and in all circumstances an evil, and therefore ought not to be taxed but punished ; and the means of it ought not to be made easy by a slight impost, which none can feel, but to be HOUSE OF LORDS. 347 removed out of the reacli of the people, and secured by the heaviest taxes levied with the utmost rigour. — (Hear, hear.) Lord Carteret. — My Lords, the bill now before us has been examined with the utmost acuteness, and opposed with all the arts of eloquence and argumentation : nor. has any topic been forgotten that could speciously be employed against it. It has been represented by some, as contrary to policy, and by others, as opposite to religion ; its conse- quences have been displayed vv'ith all the confidence of prediction, and the motives upon which it has been formed, declared to be such as, I hope, every man abhors who projected or defends it. It has been asserted, that this bill owes its existence only to the necessity of raising taxes for the support of unnecessary troops, to be employed in useless and dangerous expeditions : and that those who defend it have no regard to the happiness or virtue of the people, nor any other design than to raise supplies, and gratify the ministry. — (Hear.) With regard to the uses to which the money which shall arise from this tax is to be applied, though it has been more than once mentioned in this debate, I shall pass it over, as having no connection with the ques- tion before us. To confound different topics, may be useful to those whose design is to im.pose upon the inattention or weakness of their opponents, as they may be enabled by it to alter sometimes the state of the controversy, and to hide their fallacies in perplexity and confusion, but always to be avoided by those who endeavour to discover and to establish trutJij who dispute not to confound but to convince, and who intend not to disturb the public deliberations, but to assist, them. By the present law, my Lords, the use of distilled liquors is now prohibited : but the execution of this la\v necessarily supposes a regular information of the breach of it, to be laid before the magistrate. The people consider this law, however just or necessary, as an act of the most tyrannical cruelty ; and they, therefore, have determined to mark out aU those who, by their informations, promote its $48 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. execution, as public enemies, as wretches, who, for the sake of a reward, carry on a trade of perjury and persecution ; ■who harass their innocent neighbours only for carrying on a lawful employment for supplying the wants of the poor, relieving the weariness of the labourer, administering so- lace to the dejected, and cordials to the sick. The word has been, therefore, given, that no informer should be spared. It is well remembered by every man who is conversant in the city, with what outcries of vengeance an in- former, some time ago, was pursued in the public streets, and in the open day : with what exclamations of triumph he was seized, and with what rage of cruelty he was tor- mented. One instance of their fury, I very particularly remember. As a man was passing along the streets, the alarm was given that he was an informer against the retailers of spirituous liquors ; the populace were immediately gathered as in a time of common danger, and united in the pursuit as of a beast of prey ; which it was criminal not to destroy : the man discovered, either by consciousness or in- telligence, his danger, and fled for his life with the utmost precipitation : but no housekeeper durst afford him shelter, the cry increased upon him on all hands; the populace rolled on after him with a resistless torrent, and he was on the point of being overtaken, and, like some others, de- stroyed, when one of the greatest persons in the nation, hearing the tumult, and inquiring the reason, opened his doors to the distressed fugitive, and sheltered him from a cruel death. — (Hear, hear.) Soon afterwards there was a stop put to all information • no man dared for the sake of a reward expose himself to the fury of the people, and the use of these destructive liquors was no longer obstructed. — (Hear.) But by allowing a sufficient number of licensed shops, the number of unlicensed retailers will be necessarily lessened, and by raising the price of the liquor, the quantity which the poor drink, must with equal certainty be dimi- HOUSE OF LORDS, 349 nislied ; and as it cannot be imagined tliat the number of those who will pay annually for licences, can be equal to that of the petty traders, who now dispose of spirits in. cellars and in the streets, it is reasonable to believe, that, since there will be fewer sellers, less will be sold. — (Hear.) It has been objected by one noble Lord, that the tax now proposed is such as never was raised in any government, because, though luxury may confessedly be taxed, vice ought to be constantly suppressed : and this, in his Lordship's opinion, is a tax upon vice. — (Hear.) His Lordship's distinction between luxury and vice, be- tween the excess of things lawful, and the use of things un- lawful, is undoubtedly just, but by no means applicable on this occasion ; nor indeed has the noble Lord, with all his art, been able to apply it ; for he was obliged to change the terms in his argument ; and, instead of calling this tax, a tax upon strong liquors, to stigmatize it with the odious appel- lation of a tax upon diiinkenness. — (Hear.) To call any thing what it really is not, and then to cen- sure it, is by no means difficult. To confute the argument, it is only necessary to observe, that this tax is not a tax upon drunkenness, but a tax laid upon strong liquors for the prevention of drunkenness ; and by consequence, such as falls within the compass of his own definition. — (Hear.) Whoever spends upon superfluities what he must want for the necessaries of life, is luxurious : and excess, therefore, of distilled spirits, may be termed, with the utmost propriety, the luxury of the poor — (Hear) ; and to tax this luxury, which is perhaps the most pernicious of all others, is now proposed : but it is proposed to tax it only to suppress it — to suppress it by such slow degrees as may be borne by the people : and I hope, that a law so salutary will not be opposed only because it may aflTord the government a present supply. — (Hear.) The Duke of Newcastle. — My Lords, I am of opinion that this debate would have been much shorter, had not the noble Lords who have spoken in it suffered themselves 350 PARLIAMENTARY DEBATES. to be led away, eitlier by their own zeal, or the zeal of their opponents, from the true state of the question ; to which I shall take the liberty of recalling their attention, that this important controversy may have an end. — (Hear, hear.) The point, the only point, that is, in my opinion, now to be considered, is this. The people of this nation have for some time practised a most pernicious and hateful kind of debauchery ; against which several laws have been already made, which experience has shown to be so far without effect, that the disorder has every year increased among them. We are now, my Lords, therefore, to resolve, whether a bill for the reformation of this flagrant vice deserves any farther deliberation, whether we shall join with the other house in their endeavours to restore the ancient sobriety and virtue of the British people ; or, by an open disappro- bation of their attempt, discourage them from prosecuting their design, and debar them from using the opportunities which succeeding years may afford : and, not to affirm too much, it is possible that this bill may produce some degree of reformation. The worst that can be feared is, that, like the present law, it will be ineffectual ; for the corrup- tion and licentiousness of the people are already such, that nothing can increase them. Bishop of Sarum. — My Lords, to prevent the excessive use of anything, by allowing it to be sold without restraint, is an expedient which the wisdom of no former age ever discovered; it is, indeed, a fallacy too gross to be admitted, even by the most inconsiderate negligence, or the most contemptuous stupidity ; nor am I at ail inclined to believe, that the Commons will impute the rejection of this bill to our disregard of virtue, or think that we have defeated any endeavour for the suppression of wickedness. The noble Duke has endeavoured to reduce us to difficulties by urging, that since the corruption of the people cannot be greater, we ought willingly to agree to any law, of which the title declares that it is intended to produce a reformation; becaus'^ HOUSE OF LORDS. 351 the worst that can be feared is, that it maybe without effect. But this bill, if the nation be yet in any part untainted, will infect it ; and if it be universally corrupted, this bill will have no tendency to amend it : we ought, therefore, to reject it, that our abhorrence of vice may be publicly known, and that no part of the calamities which wickedness must produce, may be imputed to us. Lord Delawar. — My Lords, as I am entirely of opinion that a more accurate examination of this bill will evince its usefulness and propriety, to many of the Lords who are now most ardent in opposing it, I cannot but think it necessary to consider it in a committee. It is to be remembered, my Lords, that this bill is in- tended for two purposes of very great importance to the public ; it is designed that the liberties of mankind shall be secured, by the same provisions by which the vices of our own people are to be reclaimed, and that supplies for carry- ing on the war shall be raised, by a reformation of the manners of the people. This, my Lords, is surely a great and generous design; this is a complication of public benefits, worthy the most exalted virtue, and the most refined policy ; but what will be the effects of this bill, and whether any of these benefits are to be expected from it, can be knov/n only by an impar- tial examination ; and therefore it ought to be discussed with that accuracy which is peculiar to a committee. — (Hear.) Lord Hervey. — My Lords, that a bill which shall restrain the excess of drinking distilled liquors, without hindering their moderate use, will deserve the applause of every lover of his country, I cannot deny : but it appears, my Lords, that no eiiect can be produced by this bill, but the promotion of debauchery, the increase of drunkenness, the subversion of order, and the decay of industry, the miseries of disease, and the rage of want. — (Hear, hear.) But it seems to be allowed, that this bill will pro- duce, at least for some time, a large addition to the public revenues; and while it is allowed that it will 352 PARLIAMENTAEY DEBATES. raise money, I do not wonder to hear it steadily de- fended, because nothing more is expected from it. — (Hear, hear.) But as I have not yet conversed enough with states- men to persuade myself that the government ought to be supported by means contrary to the end for which govern- ment is instituted, I am still convinced that this bill ought to be rejected with contempt — fi^earj, because it will lessen the wealth of the nation without any equivalent advantage, and will at once impoverish the people and corrupt them. — (Hear, hear. Question, question.) Lord Carteret. — My Lords, I cannot but be of opinion, that this debate has been carried on with a vehemence by no means necessary, and that the question has been perplexed by a mistaken zeal ; that the effects of the bill have been ex- aggerated perhaps on both sides, and that the opinions which have been formed with relation to it, are not really so oppo- site as they appear. Those who oppose the bill, think the duty upon spirits not so high, as to hinder that debauchery, which so much prevails among us ; and those that vindicate it, declare that more violent restraints will not be borne. Both parties have reason, and the vindicators of the bill have likewise experience, on their side. But as violence should never be used till gentle methods have been tried, this bill, ought, in my opinion, to be passed, and therefore to be referred to a committee without further debate — (Hear) : for it will be thought both by our allies and our enemies, that a great part of this assembly is very indifferent about the success of the war, if we delay the supplies, by disputing in what manner they should be raised. — (Hear. Question, Question.) THE END. CiLBERT & RiYiNGTON, Printers, St. John's Square, London. SCHOOL BOOKS PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER AND CO., AVE MARIA LANE, LONDON. ?pdling anti Class 13ools;5. PINNOCK'S CHILD'S FIRST BOOK; or, an Easy Key to Reading ; Consisting of Monosyllables onlr, arranged in sucli a way as to give the cori'ect Sounds of tlie Vowels in their various Situations ; thus laying the Foundation for Spelling and Reading on unerring Principles. Price 2d. 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