713. INDUSTRY AND ELOQUENCE. In the ancient republics of Greece and Rome, oratory-was a necessary branch of a finished education. A much smaller proportion of the citizens were educated, than among us; but of these-a much larger number became orators. No man-could hope for distinction, or influence, and yet slight this art. The commanders of their armies-were orators, as well as soldiers, and ruled-as well by their rhetorical, as by their military skill. There was no trusting with them-as with us, to a natural facility, or the acquisition of an accidental fluency-by actual practice. But they served an apprenticeship to the art. They passed through a regular course of instruction in schools. They submitted to long, and laborious discipline. They exercised themselves frequently, both before equals, and in the presence of teachers, who criticised, reproved, rebuked, excited emula- | tion, and left nothing undone, which art, and perseverance could accomplish. The greatest orators of antiquity, so far from being favored by natural tendencies, except indeed, in their high intellectual endowments, had to struggle against natural obstacles; and, instead of growing up, spontaneously, to their | unrivalled eminence, they forced themselves forward by the most discouraging, artificial process. Demosthenes-combatted an impediment in speech, an ungainliness of gesture, which at first-drove him from the forum in disgrace. Cicero-failed, at first, through weakness of lungs, and an excessive vehemence of manner, which wearied the hearers, and defeated his own purpose. These defects were conquered by study, and discipline. He exiled himself from home; and during his absence, in various lands, passed not a day without a rhetorical exercise, seeking the masters who were most severe in criticism, as the surest means of leading him to the perfection, at which he aimed. Such, too, was the education of their other great men. They were all, according to their ability and station, orators; orators, not by nature or accident, but by education, formed in a strict process of rhetorical training; admired and followed-even while Demosthenes and Cicero were living, and unknown now, only because it is not possible that any, but the first, should survive the ordeal of ages. The inference-to be drawn from these observations is, that if so many of those, who received an accomplished education, became accomplished orators, because, to become so was one purpose of their study; then, it is in the power of a much larger proportion among ts, to form themselves into creditable and accurate speakers. The inference should not be denied, until proved false by experiment. 714. THE FREEMAN. And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy, TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. To-day man's dress'd in gold and silver bright, Let this art be made an object of attention, To-day he 's honor'd, and in vast esteem, and young men train themselves to it, faith-To-morrow not a beggar values him; fully, and long; and if any of competent talents and tolerable science be found, at last, To-day his house, tho' large, he thinks but small, incapable of expressing themselves in con- To-morrow no command, no house at all; tinued, and connected discourse, so as to an-To-day has forty servants at his gate, swer the ends of public speaking, then, and not till then, let it be said, that a peculiar talent, or natural aptitude-is requisite, the want of which must render effort vain; then, and not till then, let us acquiesce in this indolent, and timorous notion, which contradicts the whole testimony of antiquity, and all the experience of the world.-- Wirt. To-morrow scorn'd, not one of them will wait! dictating peace on a raft to the czar of Russia, i he was still the same military despot! contemplating defeat--at the gallows of Leipsig A 715. CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. He is fallen! We may now pause--before that splendid prodigy, which towered amongst us, like some ancient ruin, whose frown-terrified the of literature must not be omitted. The jailerIn this wonderful combination, his affectations glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy of the press, he affected the patronage of letters; and peculiar. he sat upon the throne a sceptred the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosohermit, wrapt-in the solitude of his own ori-phy-the persecutor of authors, and the murderer ginality. A mind, bold, independent, and decis of printers, he yet pretended to the protection of ive-a will, despotic in its dictates-an energy, learning! the assassin of Palm, the silencer of that distanced expedition, and a conscience-plia- De Stael, and the denouncer of Kotzebue, he was ble to every touch of interest, marked the outline the friend of David, the benefactor of De Lille, of this extraordinary character,-the most extra- and sent his academic prize to the philosopher of ordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world, England. Such a medley of contradictions, and ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life, in at the same time such an individual consistency, the midst of a revolution, that quickened every were never united in the same character. energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, royalist-a republican, and an emperor-a Mohe commenced his course, a stranger by birth, hammedan--a catholic and a patron of the synaand a scholar by charity! With no friend, but gogue-a subaltern and a sovereign-a traitor his sword, and no fortune, but his talents, he and a tyrant-a christian and an infidel-he was, rushed in the list-where rank, and wealth, and through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, imgenius-had arrayed themselves, and competi-patient, inflexible original-the same mysterious, tion-fled from him, as from the glance of desti- incomprehensible self-the man-without a modny. He knew no motive, but interest-he ac- el, and without a shadow.-Phillips. knowledged no criterion, but success--he worshiped no God, but ambition, and, with an eastern 716. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. Pause, devotion, he knelt-at the shrine of his idolatry. for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to conSubsidiary to this, there was no creed, that he template the universe, in which you dwell, did not profess, there was no opinion, that he did and the glory of him, who created it. What not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he up- a scene of wonders-is here presented to held the crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he your view! If beheld with a religious eye, bowed before the cross: the orphan of St. Louis, what a temple-for the worship of the Alhe became the adopted child of the republic: and mighty! The earth is spread out before you, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins-both reposing amidst the desolation of winter, or of the throne, and tribune, he reared the throne clad in the verdure of spring-smiling in of his despotism. A professed catholic, he im- the beauty of summer, or loaded with autumprisoned the pope; a pretended patriot, he impov-nal fruit;--opening to an endless variety of erished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped, without remorse, and wore, without beings-the treasures of their Maker's goodshame, the diadem of the Cesars! Through this ness, and ministering subsistence, and compantomime of policy, fortune played the clown to fort to every creature that lives. The heavhis caprices. At his touch, crowns crumbled, beg- ens, also, declare the glory of the Lord. The gars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theo- sun cometh forth from his chambers-to scatries took the color of his whim, and all that was ter the shades of night-inviting you to the venerable, and all that was novel, changed pla- renewal of your labors-adorning the face ces with the rapidity of a drama. Even appa- of nature-and, as he advances to his merirent defeat-assumed the appearance of victory-dian brightness, cherishing every herb, and his flight from Egypt confirmed his destiny-ruin every flower, that springeth from the bosom itself-only elevated him to empire. But if his of the earth. Nor, when he retires again fortune was great, his genius was transcendent; from your view, doth he leave the Creator decision-flashed upon his councils; and it was without a witness. He only hides his own the same to decide-and to perform. To inferior intellects his combinations appeared perfectly splendor, for a while, to disclose to you a impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable; but, more glorious scene-to show you the imin his hands simplicity-marked their develop mensity of space, filled with worlds unnumment, and success- vindicated their adoption. bered, that your imaginations may wander, His person-partook of the character of his mind; without a limit, in the vast creation of God. if the one-never yielded in the cabinet, the other-never bent in the field. Nature-had no obstacle, that he did not surmount, space-no opposition, that he did not spurn; and whether amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he seemed proof against peril, and empowered with ubiquity! The whole continent-trembled-at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Scepticism-bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romanceassumed the air of history; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too fanciful--for expectation, when the world-saw a subaltern of Corsica-waving his imperial flag-over her most ancient capitals. All the visions of antiquitybecame commonplaces in his contemplation; kings were his people-nations were his outposts; and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were titular dignitaries of the chess-board! Amid all these changes, he stood-iummutable as adamant. What a field is here opened, for the exercise of every pious emotion! and how irresistibly do such contemplations as these, awaken the sensibility of the soul! Here, is infinite power-to impress you with awehere is infinite wisdom-to fill you with admiration-here is infinite goodness-to call forth your gratitude, and love. The correspondence between these great objects, and the affections of the human heart, is established by nature itself; and they need only to be placed before us, that every religious feeling may be excited.-Moodie There is so great a fever in goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accursed; much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's It mattered little, whether in the field, or in the drawing-room-with the mob, or the levee wearing the jacobin bonnet, or the iron crownbanishing a Braganza, or espousing a Hapsburg-news.--Shakspeare. 718. THUNDER STORM ON THE ALPS. 719. MATERNAL AFFECTION. Woman's It is the hush of night; and all between [clear, charms are certainly many and powerful. Thy margin, and the mountains, dusk, yet ty, has an irresistible bewitchingness; the The expanding rose, just bursting into beauMellow'd, and mingling, yet distinctly seen, blooming bride, led triumphantly to the hySave darkened Jura, whose capped heights ap-meneal altar, awakens admiration and interPrecipitously steep; and drawing near, [pear There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, [ear, Of flowers-yet fresh with childhood; on the est, and the blush of her cheek fills with delight;--but the charm of maternity, is more. sublime than all these. Heaven has imprinted, in the mother's face, which claims kindred with the skies,--the something beyond this world, something angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe. nor the chisel, can touch, which poetry fails These are objects, which neither the pencil to exalt, which the most eloquent tongue, in vain, would eulogize, and on which all description becomes ineffective. In the heart of man lies this lovely picture; it lives in his sympathies; it reigns in his affections; his eye looks around in vain for such another object on earth. Maternity, extatic sound! so twined round our hearts, that they must cease to throb, ere we forget it! 'tis our first love; 'tis part of our religion. Nature has set the mother upon such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes, and arms, are first uplifted to it; we cling to it in manhood; we almost worship it in old age. He, who can enter an apartment, and behold the tender babe, feeding on its mother's beauty--nourished by the tide of life, which flows through the generous veins, without a pant And this is in the night: Most glorious night! ing bosom and a grateful eye, is no man, but Thou wert not sent for slumber! Let me be [birth. As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's hearted! Heights, which appear as lovers, who have his way, Itself expired, but leaving them an age [wage! Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, a monster. 720. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. My Mary, from my soul was torn. Where is thy place of blissful rest? Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Those records dear, of transports past; Ah! little thought we, 'twas our last! Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. And fondly broods, with miser care! Where is thy place of blissful rest? 721. RICHARD. Now is the winter-of our discontent- Our bruised arms-hung up for monuments: And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds, To strut before a wanton, ambling nymph; [jesty, REJECTED. Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I Sure, never was lover so strangely misled. [said? Rejected and just when I hoped to be blessed! You can't be in earnest! It must be a jest. Remember-remember how often I've knelt, Explicitly telling you all that I felt, Remember you've worn them; and just can it be Not bank notes-no, truly, I had none to send! He comes not-I have watched the moon go down, Caresses, which his babe and mine should share; [lay I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, Until the penitent should weep, and say, And talked about poison, in accents so wild, How injured, and how faithful I had been! So very like torture, you started-and smiled. DISCOVERIES. From time to time, a Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I chosen hand, sometimes directed by chance, All natural nourishment did I not shun ?[ done? but more commonly guided by reflection, exMy figure is wasted; my spirits are lost; [ghost.periment and research, touches a spring, till And my eyes are deep sunk, like the eyes of a Remember, remember-ay, madam, you must-I once was exceedingly stout, and robust; I rode by your palfrey, I came at your call, And nightly, went with you, to banquet and ball. Not have me! Not love me! Rejected! Refused! Sure, never was lover so strangely ill-used! Consider my presents-I don't mean to boastBut, madam, consider the money they cost! then unperceived; and through what seemed a blank and impenetrable wall,--the barrier to all further progress,--a door is thrown open into some before unexplored hall in the sacred temple of truth. The multitude rushes in, and wonders that the portals could brilliant discovery or invention is proclaimed, have remained concealed so long. When a men are astonished to think how long they had lived on its confines, without penetrating its nature. 722. No EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR. The education, moral, and intellectual, of every individual, must be, chiefly, his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were right-Quisque suæ fortunæ faber-both in morals, and intellect, we give their final shape to our own characters, and thus become, emphatically, the architects of our own fortunes. How else could it happen, that young men, who have had precisely the same opportuni ties, should be continually presenting us, with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies? Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference very often is in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see, issuing from the walls of the same college-nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family-two young men, of whom the one-shall be admitted to be a genius of high order, the other, scarcely above the point of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness: while, on the other hand, you shall observe the mediocre, plodding his slow, but sure way-up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction, an ornament to his family, a blessing to his country. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their own. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of learning, that can open its portals to you, can do no more than to afford you the opportunity of instruction: but it must depend, at last, on yourselves, whether you will be instructed or not, or to what point you will push your instruction. And of this be assured-I speak, from observation, a certain truth: there is no excellence without great labor. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of genius can absolve you. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around a candle, till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the Condor of South America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself, at pleasure, in that empyreal region, with an energy-rather invigorated, than weakened, by the effort. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exertion-this vigorous power of profound and searching investigation-this careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, and those long reaches of thought, that "-Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, This is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements, which are to enroll your names among the great men of the earth.-Wirt. But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther-than to-day. Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Funeral marches-to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Heart-within, and God-o'er head. We can make our lives sublime, With a heart for any fate; Learn to labor, and to wait.-Longfellow. 724. DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE. In forming our notions of human nature, we are very apt to make a comparison betwixt men, and animals, which are the only creatures, endowed with thought, that fall under our senses. Certainly, this comparison is very favorable to mankind! On the one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts are not lim ited, by the narrow bounds, either of place, or time, who carries his researches-into the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets, and heavenly bo dies; looks backward-to consider the first origin of the human race; casts his eyes forward--to see the influence of his actions up on posterity, and the judgments which will be formed of his character-a thousand years hence: a creature, who traces causes and effects-to great lengths and intricacy; extracts general principles from particular appearances; improves upon his discoveries, corrects his mistakes, and makes his very errors profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a creature-the very reverse cf ings-to a few sensible objects which surthis; limited in its observations and reason round it; without curiosity, without foresight, blindly conducted by instinct, and arriving, in a very short time, at its utmost perfection, beyond which—it is never able to advance a single step. What a difference is there be twixt these creatures! and how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former in. comparison of the latter.-Hume.. SURE REWARDS FOR VIRTUE. There is a morning to the tomb's long night, If thou didst know the worth of one good deed A drowning fly, I shall not live in vain. I had rather see some women praised extraordinarily, than to see any of them suffer by detraction. |