McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader Part 21

In person, Mr. Henry was tall and rather awkward, with a face stern and grave. When he spoke on great occasions, his awkwardness forsook him, his face lighted up, and his eyes flashed with a wonderful fire. In his life, he was good-humored, honest, and temperate. His patriotism was of the n.o.blest type; and few men in those stormy times did better service for their country than he.

It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past; and, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our pet.i.tion has been lately received? Trust it not: it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves, how this gracious reception of our pet.i.tion comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves. These are the implements of war and subjugation,-- the last arguments to which kings resort.

I ask, gentlemen, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us into submission? Can gentlemen a.s.sign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this acc.u.mulation of navies and armies? No, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument?

We have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light in which it was capable; but it has been all in vain.

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, deceive ourselves longer. We have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have pet.i.tioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves at the foot of the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical bands of the ministry and parliament. Our pet.i.tions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications disregarded; and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne.

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon the n.o.ble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, we must fight! An appeal to arms and the G.o.d of Hosts, is all that is left us.

They tell us that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? We are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the G.o.d of nature hath placed in our power.

Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone.

There is a just G.o.d who presides over the destinies of nations; and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable; and; let it come! I repeat it, let it come!

It is in vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty G.o.d! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.

Notes.--Observe, in this lesson, the all-controlling power of emphasis in determining the falling inflection. The words "see," "hear," and "my," in the first paragraph, the word "that" in the second, and "spurned" and "contempt" in the fourth paragraph, are examples of this. Let the reader remember that a high degree of emphasis is sometimes expressed by a whisper; also, that emphasis is often expressed by a pause.

It will be well to read in this connection some good history of the opening scenes of the Revolution.

XX: THE AMERICAN FLAG. (119)

Joseph Rodman Drake. 1795-1820, was born in New York City. His father died when he was very young, and his early life was a struggle with poverty. He studied medicine, and took his degree when he was about twenty years old.

From a child, he showed remarkable poetical powers, having made rhymes at the early age of five. Most of his published writings were produced during a period of less than two years. "The Culprit Fay" and the "American Flag"

are best known. In disposition, Mr. Drake was gentle and kindly; and, on the occasion of his death, his intimate friend, Fitz-Greene Halleck, expressed his character in the well-known couplet:

"None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise."

When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there: She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud!

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder drum of heaven;-- Child of the sun! to thee 't is given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle stroke, And bid its blendings s.h.i.+ne afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high!

When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on, Ere yet the lifeblood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn, And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance.

And when the cannon mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, And gory sabers rise and fall, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm, that strikes below That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; When death careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back, Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given, Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

XXI. IRONICAL EULOGY ON DEBT. (121)

Debt is of the very highest antiquity. The first debt in the history of man is the debt of nature, and the first instinct is to put off the payment of it to the last moment. Many persons, it will be observed, following the natural procedure, would die before they would pay their debts.

Society is composed of two cla.s.ses, debtors and creditors. The creditor cla.s.s has been erroneously supposed the more enviable. Never was there a greater misconception; and the hold it yet maintains upon opinion is a remarkable example of the obstinacy of error, notwithstanding the plainest lessons of experience. The debtor has the sympathies of mankind. He is seldom spoken of but with expressions of tenderness and compa.s.sion--"the poor debtor!"--and "the unfortunate debtor!" On the other hand, "harsh"

and "hard-hearted" are the epithets allotted to the creditor. Who ever heard the "poor creditor," the "unfortunate creditor" spoken of? No, the creditor never becomes the object of pity, unless he pa.s.ses into the debtor cla.s.s. A creditor may be ruined by the poor debtor, but it is not until he becomes unable to pay his own debts, that he begins to be compa.s.sionated.

A debtor is a man of mark. Many eyes are fixed upon him; many have interest in his well-being; his movements are of concern; he can not disappear unheeded; his name is in many mouths; his name is upon many books; he is a man of note--of promissory note; he fills the speculation of many minds; men conjecture about him, wonder about him,--wonder and conjecture whether he will pay. He is a man of consequence, for many are running after him. His door is thronged with duns. He is inquired after every hour of the day. Judges hear of him and know him. Every meal he swallows, every coat he puts upon his back, every dollar he borrows, appears before the country in some formal doc.u.ment. Compare his notoriety with the obscure lot of the creditor,--of the man who has nothing but claims on the world; a landlord, or fundholder, or some such disagreeable, hard character.

The man who pays his way is unknown in his neighborhood. You ask the milkman at his door, and he can not tell his name. You ask the butcher where Mr. Payall lives, and he tells you he knows no such name, for it is not in his books. You shall ask the baker, and he will tell you there is no such person in the neighborhood. People that have his money fast in their pockets, have no thought of his person or appellation. His house only is known. No. 31 is good pay. No. 31 is ready money. Not a sc.r.a.p of paper is ever made out for No. 31. It is an anonymous house; its owner pays his way to obscurity. No one knows anything about him, or heeds his movements. If a carriage be seen at his door, the neighborhood is not full of concern lest he be going to run away. If a package be removed from his house, a score of boys are not employed to watch whether it be carried to the p.a.w.nbroker. Mr. Payall fills no place in the public mind; no one has any hopes or fears about him.

The creditor always figures in the fancy as a sour, single man, with grizzled hair, a scowling countenance, and a peremptory air, who lives in a dark apartment, with musty deeds about him, and an iron safe, as impenetrable as his heart, grabbing together what he does not enjoy, and what there is no one about him to enjoy. The debtor, on the other hand, is always pictured with a wife and six fair-haired daughters, bound together in affection and misery, full of sensibility, and suffering without a fault. The creditor, it is never doubted, thrives without a merit. He has no wife and children to pity. No one ever thinks it desirable that he should have the means of living. He is a brute for insisting that he must receive, in order to pay. It is not in the imagination of man to conceive that his creditor has demands upon him which must be satisfied, and that he must do to others as others must do to him. A creditor is a personification of exaction. He is supposed to be always taking in, and never giving out.

People idly fancy that the possession of riches is desirable. What blindness! Spend and regale. Save a s.h.i.+lling and you lay it by for a thief. The prudent men are the men that live beyond their means. Happen what may, they are safe. They have taken time by the forelock. They have antic.i.p.ated fortune. "The wealthy fool, with gold in store," has only denied himself so much enjoyment, which another will seize at his expense.

Look at these people in a panic. See who are the fools then. You know them by their long faces. You may say, as one of them goes by in an agony of apprehension, "There is a stupid fellow who fancied himself rich, because he had fifty thousand dollars in bank." The history of the last ten years has taught the moral, "spend and regale." Whatever is laid up beyond the present hour, is put in jeopardy. There is no certainty but in instant enjoyment. Look at schoolboys sharing a plum cake. The knowing ones eat, as for a race; but a stupid fellow saves his portion; just nibbles a bit, and "keeps the rest for another time." Most provident blockhead! The others, when they have gobbled up their shares, set upon him, plunder him, and thrash him for crying out.

Before the terms "depreciation," "suspension," and "going into liquidation," were heard, there might have been some reason in the practice of "laying up;" but now it denotes the darkest blindness. The prudent men of the present time, are the men in debt. The tendency being to sacrifice creditors to debtors, and the debtor party acquiring daily new strength, everyone is in haste to get into the favored cla.s.s. In any case, the debtor is safe. He has put his enjoyments behind him; they are safe; no turns of fortune can disturb them. The substance he has eaten up, is irrecoverable. The future can not trouble his past. He has nothing to apprehend. He has antic.i.p.ated more than fortune would ever have granted him. He has tricked fortune; and his creditors--bah! who feels for creditors? What are creditors? Landlords; a pitiless and unpitiable tribe; all griping extortioners! What would become of the world of debtors, if it did not steal a march upon this rapacious cla.s.s?

XXII. THE THREE WARNINGS. (124)

Hester Lynch Thrale. 1739--1821, owes her celebrity almost wholly to her long intimacy with Dr. Samuel Johnson. This continued for twenty years, during which Johnson spent much time in her family. She was born in Caernarvons.h.i.+re, Wales; her first husband was a wealthy brewer, by whom she had several children. In 1784, she married an Italian teacher of music named Piozzi. Her writings are quite numerous; the best known of her books is the "Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson;" but nothing she ever wrote is so well known as the "Three Warnings."

The tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; 'T was therefore said by ancient sages, That love of life increased with years So much, that in our latter stages, When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages, The greatest love of life appears.

This great affection to believe, Which all confess, but few perceive, If old a.s.sertions can't prevail, Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

When sports went round, and all were gay, On neighbor Dodson's wedding day, Death called aside the jocund groom With him into another room; And looking grave, "You must," says he, "Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."

"With you! and quit my Susan's side?

With you!" the hapless bridegroom cried: "Young as I am, 't is monstrous hard!

Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared."

What more he urged, I have not heard; His reasons could not well be stronger: So Death the poor delinquent spared, And left to live a little longer.

Yet, calling up a serious look, His hourgla.s.s trembled while he spoke: "Neighbor," he said, "farewell! no more Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour; And further, to avoid all blame Of cruelty upon my name, To give you time for preparation, And fit you for your future station, Three several warnings you shall have Before you're summoned to the grave; Willing for once I'll quit my prey, And grant a kind reprieve; In hopes you'll have no more to say, But, when I call again this way, Well pleased the world will leave."

To these conditions both consented, And parted perfectly contented.

What next the hero of our tale befell, How long he lived, how wisely, and how well, It boots not that the Muse should tell; He plowed, he sowed, he bought, he sold, Nor once perceived his growing old, Nor thought of Death as near; His friends not false, his wife no shrew, Many his gains, his children few, He pa.s.sed his hours in peace.

But, while he viewed his wealth increase, While thus along life's dusty road, The beaten track, content he trod, Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, Uncalled, unheeded, unawares, Brought on his eightieth year.

And now, one night, in musing mood, As all alone he sate, The unwelcome messenger of Fate Once more before him stood.