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ular rage; and I pronounced at the moment,--this people is not free.
In the republics of heathen antiquity, the helot, the client, sold for the extortion of the patron, and the born bondsman lingering out life in thankless toil, at once put to flight all conceptions of freedom. In the midst of altars fuming to liberty, of harangues glowing with the most pompous pro testations of scorn for servitude, of crowds inflated with the presumption that they disdained a master, the eye was insulted with the perpetual chain. The temple of Liberty was built upon the dungeon.-Rome came, and unconscious ly avenged the insulted name of freedom; the master, and the slave were bowed together; the dungeon was made the common dwelling of all.
SURVIVING WORTHIES OF THE REVOLUTION
Extract from an Oration delivered at Cambridge, July 4, 1826, by E. EVERETT.
Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, the men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, stood forward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly endeavouring to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of their exploits. The efforts of a life would scarce suffice to paint out this picture, in all its astonishing incidents, in all its mingled colours of sublimity and wo, of agony and triumph.
But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice of our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the soil which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in their proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high-souled day. The generation of contemporary worthies is gone; the crowd of the unsignalized great and good disappears; and the leaders in war as well as council, are seen, in Fancy's eye, to take their stations on the mount of Remem brance.
They come from the embattled cliffs of Abraham; they start from the heaving sods of Bunker's Hill; they gather from the blazing lines of Saratoga and Yorktown, from the blood-dyed waters of the Brandywine, from the dreary snows of Valley Forge, and all the hard-fought fields of the war. With all their wounds and all their honours, they rise
and plead with us, for their brethren who survive; and bid us, if indeed we cherish the memory of those who bled in our cause, to show our gratitude, not by sounding words, but by stretching out the strong arm of the country's prosperity, to help the veteran survivors gently down to their graves.
EXTRACT FROM MR. RANDOLPH'S SPEECH IN THE CONVENTION OF
Sir,—I see no wisdom in making this provision for future changes. You must give governments time to operate on the people, and give the people time to become gradually assimilated to their institutions. Almost anything is better than this state of perpetual uncertainty. A people may have the best form of government that the wit of man ever devised; and yet, from its uncertainty alone, may, in effect, live under the worst government in the world. Sir, how often must I repeat, that change is not reform. I am willing that this new constitution shall stand as long as it is possible for it to stand, and that, believe me, is a very short time. Sir, it is vain to deny it. They may say what they please about the old constitution—the defect is not there It is not in the form of the old edifice, neither in the design nor the elevation: it is in the material—it is in the people of Virginia. To my knowledge that people are changed from what they have been. The 400 men who went out to David were in debt. The partisans of Cæsar were in debt. The fellow-laborers of Catiline were in debt. And I defy you to show me a desperately indebted people anywhere, who can bear a regular sober government. I throw the challenge to all who hear me. I say that the character of the good old Virginia planter—the man, who owned from five to twenty slaves, or less, who lived by hard work, and who paid his debts, is passed away. A new order of things is come. The period has arrived of living by one's witsof living by contracting debts that one cannot pay—and above all, of living by office-hunting.
Sir, what do we see? Bankrupts-branded bankruptsgiving great dinners-sending their children to the most expensive schools-giving grand parties—and just as well
received as anybody in society. I say, that in such a state of things the old constitution was too good for them; they could not bear it. No, Sir—they could not bear a freehold suffrage and a property representation,
I have always endeavoured to do the people justice-but I will not flatter them---I will not pander to their appetite for change. I will do nothing to provide for change. I will not agree to any rule of future apportionment, or to any provision for future changes called amendments to the constitution. They who love change—who delight in public confusion—who wish to feed the cauldron, and make it bubble—may vote if they please for future changes. But by what spell—by what formula are you going to bind the people to all future time? You may make what entries upon parchment you please. Give me a constitution that will last for half a century-that is all I wish for. No constitution that you can make, will last the one half of half a century.
Sir, I will stake anything short of my salvation, that those who are malcontent now, will be more malcontent three years hence than they are at this day. I have no favor for this constitution.-I shall vote against its adoption, and I shall advise all the people of my district to set their faces -ay-and their shoulders against it. But if we are to have it-let us not have it with its death-warrant in its very face, with the Sardonic grin of death upon its countenance.
EXTRACT FROM MR. BALDWIN'S SPEECH IT THE CONVENTION OF
MR. CHAIRMAN,—I must notice a topic of the gravest character, which has been several times brought to our view, by eastern members, in the course of debate. I mean a separation of the state—at one time gently insinuated-at another wrapped up in beautiful rhetorical language, and finally expressed in what has been emphatically called plain old English. I am not disposed, Sir, to regard such menaces, because I am aware of the extremities of intellectual warfare, and can estimate the effervescence of momentary excitement. They would not be impressed upon my mind, but for a corresponding sentiment which, I have reason to believe, prevails amongst the western people. I do not say that, if slave representation should be forced upon them, they will raise the standard of rebellion, or in anywise resist the constituted authorities. Far from it. But within the pale of the constitution and laws, they will carry their opposition to the utmost limit; and the members of this committee can estimate the feelings of hostility by which it will be accompanied. The final result will be a separation of the state. No one can doubt that, if such an event should be perseveringly, though peaceably sought, by a large portion of the state, it would be ultimately conceded.
I beg, Sir, to be distinctly understood. There is no one in this committee to whom the idea of such a separation is more abhorrent than myself. I believe there is no man here who wishes separation for its own sake, or who could contemplate it for a moment, except as a refuge from greater eyils.
We should look forward to such a calamity, only to deprecate and avoid it. Surely, it will not,-must not be. — Separate Virginia! Shall she be shorn of her strength, her influence, and her glory? Shall her voice of command, of persuasion and reproof, be no longer heard in the national councils? Shall she no more be looked up to as the guide of the strong, the guardian of the weak, and the protector of the oppressed? Break in twain the most precious jewel, and the separated parts are comparatively worthless. Divide Virginia, and both the East and the West will sink into insignificance, neglect and contempt.
I would to God, that for this single occasion only, I could utter my feelings in
* Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.' I would kindle a flame, which should find an altar in every heart—which should burn to ashes the prejudices of the hour, and the petty interests of the day,—and throw upon our path of duty a strong and steady light, directing us forward to the permanent welfare, safety, and honour of Virginia.
THE CURTIUS AND THE RUSSELL.---Barton.
In the proud Forum's central space
Earth yawned---a gulf profound! And there, with awe on every face,
Rome's bravest gathered round; Each seeming, yet with startled ear, The Oracle's dread voice to hear.
Young Curtius on his war-horse sprung
'Mid plaudits deep-not loud, For admiration checked each tongue
In all the circling crowd:He gave his noble steed the rein! Earth's closing gulf entombed the twain!
Grant that the deed, if ever done,
Was chivalrous and bold;
Our history can unfold;
The Russell stood beside her lord
When evil tongues were rife;
Assailed his fame and life:---
No stern oracular behest
Her gentle courage gave;
Could she expect or crave;
She sat at Guilt's tribunal bar
In virtue's noblest guise:
In night's o’erclouded skies: