path: root/57813-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57813 ***







TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

This book uses SMALL CAPS throughout. You may need to experiment with
fonts and browsers to find a combination that displays SMALL CAPS
correctly. Detailed corrections are listed at the foot of the
document.


HOW TO MASTER
_The_ SPOKEN WORD

_Designed as a Self-Instructor for all who
would Excel in the Art of Public Speaking_

_By_ EDWIN GORDON LAWRENCE

AUTHOR OF "THE POWER OF SPEECH," "SPEECH
MAKING," "THE LAWRENCE READER AND SPEAKER"

(A. C. McClurg & Co. logo)

_A. C. McCLURG & COMPANY
CHICAGO, NINETEEN THIRTEEN_


Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1913
----------
Published March, 1913

W. F. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAGO


To
WILLIAM EDWIN HALL

As a mark of appreciation and affection
I dedicate this book

                              _"Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's care, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee"_


PREFACE

This work aims to show how to breathe correctly, produce voice
properly, put the meaning into words by aid of inflection, emphasis,
and the tones of the voice; how to improve the memory, acquire
fluency of speech, control an audience, construct speeches, and in
every way become competent to think on one's feet and express thought
vocally in an entertaining, convincing, and moving manner. It is
intended as a text-book to aid in making students proficient in the
art of vocal expression. It aims to cover the field exhaustively,
dealing in a comprehensive manner with all subjects pertaining to the
construction and the delivery of speeches.

There are so many books treating of the subject of oratory that there
would appear scant room for another, but as they all treat mainly of
the way to speak, and only give general instructions as to how to
speak, there is, in the author's opinion, a wide field for a book
that explicitly shows not only what a person should employ in order
to become a ready and effective speaker but also gives specific
instructions as the employment of those means.

This book is intended to take the place of the living teacher
wherever the services of a thoroughly competent one cannot be
secured, or where the student desires to work in the privacy of his
own room, and the aim of the author is to make it more practical and
of greater value than any of the so-called "Personal Correspondence
Courses" now being exploited, and for which exorbitant fees are
charged. It may, however, be used to equal advantage by the teacher
in the class room as a text-book.

No vague instructions such as, "speak in a clear ringing voice," "use
expressive language," "mean what you say," etc., will be given; but
in their place will be found directions as to how to gain a good
voice, how to acquire the power of explaining by the tones of the
voice the meaning of the spoken words, how to secure a delivery that
will carry conviction to the listener, and how to construct speeches.
In short, this book aims not only to tell the essentials of oratory
but also to show the way in which they may be acquired. It contains
the complete course in oratorical training as given in the Lawrence
School of New York. Finally, the book is presented as a _vade mecum_
that will pilot the would-be orator to success.

                                                   EDWIN G. LAWRENCE.


FOREWORD

Vital are the questions now confronting man the world over; but
particularly are those questions important to Americans, because the
United States of America is looked upon as the pioneer country of the
world in all matters pertaining to man's emancipation from the
injustice of ages, and that young country is expected to blaze a
trail through the unsolved realm of progress along which the older
nations may travel till they reach the plain of universal justice and
liberty.

Among the problems now confronting the people are those of finance,
labor, religion, conservation of natural resources, and civic
justice. The questions are here, but where are the orators capable of
making those questions clear to the masses? Where are the men to
solve those problems? Some there are who are nobly responding to the
demands of the times, but they are too few successfully to grapple
with the task.

It is claimed that this is the age of the printing-press and that the
necessity for orators no longer exists. This is surely not a valid
claim. The newspaper is doing its work, and in many cases is doing it
nobly, but it can never take the place of the human voice. An article
may be printed in a paper having a circulation running into the
hundreds of thousands, and yet the article will be read by only a
small percentage of those into whose hands the paper falls; and out
of this percentage a still smaller percentage will be influenced by
the printed word. The speaker, on the other hand, addresses an
audience of only a few thousand, but of that number, if the speaker
is deserving of the name, he will influence a majority. Suppose he
convinces and persuades only one hundred, the one hundred are so
thoroughly brought into accord with the speaker that they go out into
the world and, by word of mouth, bring ten times their number to the
same way of thinking. By this means all great movements have
flourished. John the Baptist, with the spoken word, prepared the way
and made straight the path; Jesus of Nazareth taught by spoken
symbols only; Paul of Tarsus carried Christianity into Greece and
Rome by means of speech; Peter the Hermit enthused the Crusaders by
his spoken utterances; Martin Luther brought about a reformation by
his speech before the Diet of Worms; Patrick Henry aroused his
countrymen by his eloquence; Daniel O'Connell accomplished Catholic
emancipation in Great Britain by means of presenting the cause of
religious liberty to friend and foe in the shape of the spoken word;
Daniel Webster expounded the Constitution orally; William Lloyd
Garrison, Wendell Phillips and Abraham Lincoln pleaded for the
enslaved negro by word of mouth; and La Follette, Bryan, and
Roosevelt are expressing the thoughts of the people of today by means
of man's greatest attribute--speech.

Therefore, if any would take part in the glorious work of advancing
the progress of the world, let him fit himself to discuss by word of
mouth the great problems now confronting humanity.


THE VALUE OF ELOQUENCE

Faith cometh by hearing.                    --ST. PAUL, _Romans X:17_

It is not enough to speak, but to speak true.           --SHAKESPEARE

     Mend your speech a little
     Lest it may mar your fortunes.                     --SHAKESPEARE

The power of utterance should be included by all in their plans of
self-culture.                               --WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING

He is an orator that can make me think as he thinks and feel as he
feels.                                               --DANIEL WEBSTER

A vessel is known by its sound whether it be cracked or not; so men
are proved by their speeches, whether they be wise or foolish.
                                                        --DEMOSTHENES

I advocate in its full intent and for every reason of humanity, of
patriotism, of religion, a more thorough culture of oratory.
                                                 --HENRY WARD BEECHER

Eloquence has a client which, before all, it must save or make
triumph. It matters little whether this client be a man, a people, or
an idea.                                              --VICTOR COUSIN

It is to this early speaking practice in the great art of all arts,
oratory, that I am indebted for the primary and leading impulses that
stimulated me forward.                                   --HENRY CLAY

Ninety-nine men in every hundred in the crowded professions will
probably never rise above mediocrity because the training of the
voice is entirely neglected and considered of no importance.
                                               --WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE

He who does not use a gift, loses it; the man who does not use his
voice or limbs, loses power over them, and becomes disqualified for
the state of life to which he is called.            --CARDINAL NEWMAN

I recognize but one mental acquisition as an essential part of the
education of a lady or gentleman, namely, an accurate and refined use
of the mother-tongue.                              --CHARLES W. ELIOT

Extemporaneous speaking should be practiced and cultivated. It is the
lawyer's avenue to the public. However able and faithful he may be in
other respects, people are slow to bring him business if he cannot
make a speech.                                      --ABRAHAM LINCOLN

The cultivated voice is like an orchestra. It ranges high,
intermediate or low, unconsciously to him who uses it, and men
listen, unaware that they have been bewitched out of their weariness
by the charms of a voice not artificial, but made by assiduous
training to be his second nature.                --HENRY WARD BEECHER

Men forget what they read; some do not read at all. They do not,
however, forget when they are told by a vigorous speaker who means
what he says.                     --JOHN OLIVER HOBBES (MRS. CRAIGIE)

For who can suppose amid the great multitude of students, the utmost
abundance of masters, the most eminent geniuses among men, the
infinite variety of causes, the most ample rewards offered to
eloquence, there is any other reason to be found for the small number
of orators than the incredible magnitude and difficulty of the art?
                                                             --CICERO


CONTENTS

CHAPTER
         Preface
         Foreword
         The Value of Eloquence
      I  The Making of Oratory
     II  How to Construct and Deliver Orations
    III  Construction
     IV  Composition
      V  Paraphrasing
     VI  A Series of Practical Hows
    VII  The Grecian Orators
   VIII  The Latin Orators
     IX  The Modern Orators
      X  Lesson Talks
         Afterword
         Guide to the study of the Book
         List of Orations
         Index


How to Master the Spoken Word

CHAPTER I

THE MAKING OF ORATORY

THE MEANS EMPLOYED BY GREAT ORATORS

The question is often asked, How can I become a public speaker? This
might be aptly answered by putting another question, How did other
men become public speakers? because by a careful study of the means
they employed, others may become equally proficient. From the
beginning of oratory down to the present day orators have made their
effects in composition and delivery by the selfsame means, and if men
of today will apply themselves to a mastery of those means with
perseverance and intelligence equal to that of the men of the past,
there is no reason why they should not meet with equal proficiency.

Let us go back to Gorgias, the Greek rhetorician and teacher of
oratory, who was born about the year 483 B.C., and study the manner
of his workmanship.

In his speech "The Encomium on Helen," he arranges his words in
masterly style, making use of all the forms of construction that we
possess at this time. He employs the series, the contrasts (single,
double, and triple), the conditional, the negative, the positive,
and, in fact, all the known forms of arranging words so as to make
them best express the orator's meaning. Here is an effective
concluding series he uses: "A city is adorned by good citizenship,
the body by beauty, the soul by wisdom, acts by virtue, and speech by
truthfulness," and he follows this sentence with the following one:
"But the opposites of these virtues are a disgrace." Note how
effective he makes the first thought by immediately contrasting it
with one that rivets the attention to the graces of good citizenship,
beauty, wisdom, virtue, and truthfulness, by stating that the reverse
of these things are disgraces. Then follows a series of contrasts:
"Man and woman, word and deed, city and government" which, he says,
"we ought to praise," and then qualifies this positive with the
conditional, "if praiseworthy," and then makes a strong contrast by
stating, "and blame" which he qualifies by adding the conditional "if
blameworthy." He then makes a statement very strong by employing a
double contrast, "For it is equally wrong and stupid to censure what
is commendable, and to commend what is censurable." After this clear
reasoning comes another statement: "Now I conceive it to be my duty
in the interest of justice to confute the slanders of Helen, the
memory of whose misfortunes has been kept alive by the writings of
the poets and the fame of her name." He ends his statement with this
strong concluding series, "I propose, therefore, by argument to
exonerate her from the charge of infamy, to convince her accusers of
their error, and remove their ignorance by a revelation of the
truth." Now read the entire paragraph:

     A city is adorned by good citizenship, the body by beauty,
     the soul by wisdom, acts by virtue, and speech by
     truthfulness. But the opposites of these virtues are a
     disgrace. Man and woman, word and deed, city and government
     we ought to praise if praiseworthy, and blame if
     blameworthy. For it is equally wrong and stupid to censure
     what is commendable, and to commend what is censurable. Now
     I conceive it to be my duty in the interest of justice to
     confute the slanders of Helen, the memory of whose
     misfortunes has been kept alive by the writings of the
     poets and the fame of her name. I propose, therefore, by
     argument to exonerate her from the charge of infamy, to
     convince her accusers of their error, and to remove their
     ignorance by a revelation of the truth.

This is a masterly passage, clear in its statement, logical in its
argument, and sound in its conclusion, making a splendid model for a
student of oratory to follow. True, the mere faculty of arranging
words will not constitute an orator, but it is one of the essentials
that go to the making of one; and this power of arranging words, and
the capacity for electing the appropriate theme, and judgment in
adopting the proper delivery are the principal means that men have
possessed in all times for the making of orators. It is essential
that the arts of construction and composition should be diligently
studied by speakers, for it is as impossible to have oratory without
men who understand the rules of composition as it is to have orators
without oratory. Matter that is to be spoken must not merely be well
written, it must be constructed according to the rules of oratory in
order that it may sound well. Literature is to be read, oratory is to
be spoken; consequently words intended to be spoken must be arranged
in such a manner as to make them more effective when uttered by the
living voice than when they are set in dead type; and this can only
be done by gaining a mastery of the rules of oratory and applying
them correctly. We are now dealing with the creation of oratory;
later, we will consider the making of orators. The example of
Gorgias' oratory cited here gives a clear illustration of the
effective use of words, and in order to emphasize this important
point of the value of words according to their location, other
examples follow.

William H. Seward in his "Plea for the Union" uses this sentence:

     If the constellation is to be broken up, the stars, whether
     scattered widely apart or grouped in smaller clusters, will
     thenceforth shed forth feeble, glimmering, and lurid lights.

He opens with a conditional phrase, "If the constellation is to be
broken up" and then commences his statement with "the stars" which he
interrupts to interject the parenthetical phrase "whether scattered
widely apart or grouped in smaller clusters," goes back to his main
thought with the words "will thenceforth shed forth feeble,
glimmering, and lurid lights." "Feeble, glimmering, and lurid"
constitute a commencing series qualifying "lights," and thus is
brought about an effective close to a well-knit sentence.

Another well-arranged sentence for cumulative force is the following
from the same speech:

     After Washington, and the inflexible Adams, Henry, and the
     fearless Hamilton, Jefferson, and the majestic Clay,
     Webster, and the acute Calhoun, Jackson, the modest Taylor,
     and Scott, who rises in greatness under the burden of
     years, and Franklin, and Fulton, and Whitney, and Morse,
     have all performed their parts, let the curtain fall.

In long sentences, such as this, care should be exercised properly to
group the members composing it, otherwise the force will be lost on
account of a confusion of ideas. In this sentence there are three
groups: Washington, Adams, Henry, Hamilton, and Jefferson
constituting the first; Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Jackson, Taylor, and
Scott the second; Franklin, Fulton, Whitney, and Morse the third.
These, with the phrase "have all performed their parts," constitute a
commencing series, the sense being completed by "let the curtain
fall."

In his address, "The American Scholar," delivered at Cambridge,
Mass., August 31, 1837, Ralph Waldo Emerson employed these words:

     The theory of books is noble. The scholar of the first age
     received into him the world around; brooded thereon; gave
     it the new arrangement of his own mind and uttered it
     again. It came into him, life; it went out from him, truth.
     It came to him, short-lived actions; it went out from him,
     immortal thoughts. It came to him, business; it went from
     him, poetry. It was dead fact; now, it is quick thought. It
     can stand and it can go. It now endures, it now flies, it
     now inspires. Precisely in proportion to the depth of mind
     from which it issued, so high does it soar, so long does it
     sing.

This powerful passage is effective mainly because of the masterful
arrangement of the words. Emerson opens with the positive statement
that "The theory of books is noble." He follows this with the
concluding series, "The scholar of the first age received into him
the world around; brooded thereon; gave it the new arrangement of his
own mind and uttered it again." Then comes the double contrast, "It
came into him, life; it went out from him, truth." This is followed
by a triple contrast, "It came to him, short-lived actions; it went
out from him, immortal thoughts." Then comes another double contrast,
"It came to him, business; it went from him, poetry." Then another
triple contrast is used, "It was dead fact; now, it is quick
thought." Then comes the positive statement that "It can stand and it
can go." A concluding series then follows, "It now endures, it now
flies, it now inspires," and the paragraph ends with the conditional
phrase and the concluding phrases, "Precisely in proportion to the
depth of mind from which it issued, so high does it soar, so long
does it sing," the concluding clause containing the double contrast,
"so high does it soar, so long does it sing." Few paragraphs of like
length contain so much thought as does this one of Emerson's, and the
immensity of thought could be placed in such a small space only
because of the skilful disposition of the words, the meaning being
made clear by the clever placing of one word against another word,
one idea against another idea. The sentences are short, and while
they may not be particularly beautiful, they are exceedingly strong.

In Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address is this telling sentence:

     To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest
     [slavery] was the object for which the insurgents would
     rend the Union, even by war; while the government claimed
     no right to do more than to restrict the territorial
     enlargement of it.

The words "strengthen, perpetuate, and extend" are a commencing
series because they act on the word "interest." Slavery was the
object for which the insurgents would separate the Union, even by
going to the extreme of making war; while the Federal Government
claimed merely the right to prevent its spreading into the
territories. What makes this sentence so clear and so forceful is the
manner in which the contrast is brought out regarding the acts of the
insurgents and the claims of the Government.

One of the most expressive and best constructed sentences in English
literature is the following from Lincoln's Gettysburg Address:

     The world will little note nor long remember what we say
     here, but it can never forget what they did here.

This is a triple opposition, "The world will little note nor long
remember" being contrasted with "but it can never forget," "we" with
"they," and "say" with "did."

Another beautiful specimen of construction is the last paragraph of
Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address:

     With malice toward none; with charity for all; with
     firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the
     right--let us strive on to finish the work we are in: to
     bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have
     borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan; to do
     all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace
     among ourselves, and with all nations.

Had Lincoln merely said "with malice toward none" it would not have
meant half so much as it does with the words "with charity for all"
added. This example emphasizes the force of contrast, for by stating
the positive "with charity for all" as well as the negative "with
malice toward none," he makes his expressed thought clear, strong,
and comprehensive, clinching the subject and leaving no possible
loophole for a misunderstanding to creep in. "With firmness in the
right" is fittingly qualified by "as God gives us to see the right,"
and the thought is splendidly closed with "let us strive on to finish
the work we are in." Then by means of a concluding series he states
what this work is that we should strive to finish, and he concludes
with the general summing up, "to do all which may achieve and cherish
a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations."

Daniel Webster, in his address on the occasion of the laying of the
corner-stone of Bunker Hill Monument, used this sentence:

     Human beings are composed, not of reason only, but of
     imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither wasted
     nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of
     giving right direction to sentiment, and opening proper
     springs of feeling in the heart.

The orator states that reason is a portion of the composition out of
which human beings are made, but that it is not the only ingredient;
that imagination is a part also, as is sentiment, and that nothing is
either wasted or misapplied which is used in rightly directing
feeling, and freeing the heart of all obstructions in order that its
emotions may come forth. In doing this, Webster uses the qualified
negative "not of reason only," meaning, of course, that human beings
are composed of reason, but stating that they are not composed "only"
of reason, but of reason, imagination, and sentiment, and then, by
means of two negatives, "neither" and "nor," he states that whatever
is used for the object of rightly directing sentiment is not wasted
and not misapplied.

In the same address, he says:

     If, indeed, there be anything in local association fit to
     affect the mind of man, we need not strive to repress the
     emotions which agitate us here. We are among the sepulchers
     of our fathers. We are on ground distinguished by their
     valor, their constancy, and the shedding of their blood.

The first phrase is conditional, the balance of the sentence is
negative. The orator ably opens with a condition because he is sure
of all his listeners subscribing to it, and then he says that if
there is anything of a local nature that is proper to act
sufficiently on man's mind as to make an impression on it, then
certainly we, standing over the graves of our fathers, and on the
very ground that drank their blood, shed in the cause of liberty,
should not be ashamed to give expression to the emotions these
associations cause us to feel. In constructing these three sentences
Webster uses a conditional clause and a concluding one, and two
positive sentences, the last one consisting of a concluding series.
The last sentence is much stronger and better as a series of three
members than it would be as a sentence containing but one. It is far
better to weld together the three facts that the ground was
distinguished by their valor, their constancy, and the shedding of
their blood, than it would be to state merely that it was
distinguished by their valor.

Here is another of Webster's grand and expressive periods:

     On this question of principle, while actual suffering was
     yet far off, they raised their flag against a power, to
     which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation,
     Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be compared--a
     power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe
     with her possessions and military posts, whose morning
     drumbeat, following the sun, and keeping company with the
     hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken
     strain of the martial airs of England.

This is a long sentence but a strong one and it is constructed so as
to bring to the mind of the listener the picture which the speaker
possessed. Notice that if the parenthetical phrases, which aid so
much in picturing the scene, were omitted, the sentence would not be
more than half its present size, but the vividness of the picture
would disappear with the curtailing of the sentence. Here is the main
idea: "On this question of principle they raised their flag against a
power to which Rome is not to be compared--a power which has dotted
over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military
posts, whose morning drumbeat circles the earth with one continuous
and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England." This example is
cited to show that what are called loose sentences are necessary to
beauty of expression and vivid picturing. Notice how the
parenthetical clauses amplify and explain the thought--"while actual
suffering was yet far off," "for purposes of foreign conquest and
subjugation," "in the height of her glory," "following the sun, and
keeping company with the hours." Without these coloring clauses the
sentence would be strong, but it would lose much of its beauty.

Let us examine here an extract from the oratory of the ancients.
Demosthenes, in his speech, "Against the Law of Leptines," delivered
in 355 B.C., uses this language:

     If now you condemn the law, as we advise, the deserving
     will have their rights from you; and if there be any
     underserving party, as I grant there may be, such a one,
     besides being deprived of his honor, will suffer what
     penalty you think proper according to the amended statute,
     while the commonwealth will appear faithful, just, true to
     all men. Should you decide in its favor, which I trust you
     will not, the good will be wronged on account of the bad,
     the underserving will be the cause of misfortune to others,
     and suffer no punishment themselves, while the commonwealth
     (contrary to what I said just now) will be universally
     esteemed faithless, envious, base. It is not meet, O
     Athenians, that for so foul a reproach you should reject
     fair and honorable advantages. Remember, each of you
     individually will share in the reputation of your common
     judgment. It is plain to the bystanders and to all men that
     in the court Leptines is contending with us, but in the
     mind of each of you jurymen generosity is arrayed against
     envy, justice against iniquity, all that is virtuous
     against all that is base.

The above is a literal translation of a portion of a speech that was
delivered more than twenty-two centuries ago, and yet, in its
construction, it does not differ in any material manner from a well
constructed speech of today. Notice the conditional, "If now you
condemn the law," followed by the parenthetical, "as we advise," and
the concluding, "the deserving will have their rights from you," and
compare the passage with any modern expression of a like nature. They
will be found to correspond in every manner so far as the
construction is concerned. Examine the extract in its entirety and
you will see that a skilful use is made of negatives, positives,
parentheses, conditionals, oppositions, series, and all the many
forms of arranging words for an effective conveyance of thought which
are possessed by speakers of the present time. In the manner of its
construction, this extract from the speech of Demosthenes does not
differ from the speeches of Seward, Webster, Emerson, and Lincoln
which are here quoted, as they all depend for their effectiveness on
the proper use of the rules of apposition, opposition, series,
inflection, and emphasis; and all students of oratory are urged to
study closely the chapters of this book which are devoted to these
subjects.

Coming down to our own day, we find in the utterances of Roosevelt,
Taft, Bryan, Watterson, La Follette, and many others the selfsame
means of construction as were employed by Gorgias, Demosthenes, and
Cicero. Theodore Roosevelt, in his address delivered at Chicago,
April 10, 1899, used this forceful language:

     As it is with the individual, so it is with the nation. It
     is a base untruth to say that happy is that nation that has
     no history. Thrice happy is the nation that has a glorious
     history. Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win
     glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than
     to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much
     nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight
     that knows neither victory nor defeat.

Col. Roosevelt first compares the individual with the nation. He then
employs an emphatic contradiction, following it with a short positive
sentence. Then comes an effective contrast, separated to allow the
use of a parenthetical phrase which amplifies the statement, and the
end is a picture drawn with a few words--"because they live in the
gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."

William H. Taft, speaking at the unveiling of Lincoln's statue at
Frankfort, Kentucky, on November 8, 1911, summed up the character of
Abraham Lincoln in these well-chosen words:

     With his love of truth, the supreme trait of his intellect,
     accompanied by a conscience that insisted on the right as
     he knew it, with a great heart full of tenderness, we have
     the combination that made Lincoln one of the two greatest
     Americans.

President Taft uses a commencing series and a parenthetical clause
for conveying his thought. The series consists of three phrases:
"With his love of truth," "accompanied by a conscience that insisted
on the right as he knew it," and "with a great heart full of
tenderness," the sense being completed by "we have the combination
that made Lincoln one of the two greatest Americans." The phrase,
"the supreme trait of his intellect," is parenthetical.

Col. Henry Watterson, on the same occasion, spoke thus:

     Called like one of old, within a handful of years he rose
     at a supreme moment to supreme command, fulfilled the law
     of his being, and passed from the scene an exhalation of
     the dawn of freedom. We may still hear his cheery voice
     bidding us to be of good heart, sure that "right makes
     might," entreating us to pursue "with firmness in the right
     as God gives us to see the right."

Here we have the thought expressed by means of a concluding series of
four members, and two positive statements reënforced by two
quotations from Lincoln's Cooper Union Speech.


WORD-PICTURES

Besides the use of inflection, emphasis, and the arrangement of
words, orators use word-pictures for conveying their ideas; as,

     When I look around and see our prosperity in
     everything--agriculture, commerce, art, science, and every
     department of education, physical and mental, as well as
     moral advancement, and our colleges--I think, in the face
     of such an exhibition, if we can, without the loss of
     power, or any essential right or interest, remain in the
     Union, it is our duty to ourselves and to posterity to--let
     us not too readily yield to this temptation--do so. Our
     first parents, the great progenitors of the human race,
     were not without a like temptation when in the garden of
     Eden. They were led to believe that their condition would
     be bettered, that their eyes would be opened, and that they
     would become as gods. They, in an evil hour, yielded.
     Instead of becoming gods, they only saw their nakedness.
                                         --ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS

The illustration commences with "Our first parents" and continues to
the end. It is more effective in pointing out the danger besetting
the South in listening to the temptation to sever the Union than is
all the rest of the paragraph. The prophecy as to the effect of
listening to the voice of the tempter is forcefully summed up in the
sentence: "Instead of becoming gods, they only saw their nakedness."
By means of directing the thought to the dire consequences attending
the fall of Adam and Eve through listening to temptation, the orator
magnifies the effects that would follow a dissolution of the union of
the states. The object in employing word-pictures is to convey an
idea by means of suggestion, and, when so used, they become powerful
weapons in the hands of a speaker. Here is another excellent
illustration:

     Books are for the scholar's idle times. When he can read
     God directly the hour is too precious to be wasted in other
     men's transcripts of their readings. But when the intervals
     of darkness come, as come they must--when the sun is hid
     and the stars withdraw their shining--we repair to the
     lamps which were kindled by their ray, to guide our steps
     to the East again, where the dawn is. We hear, that we may
     speak. The Arabian proverb says, "A fig tree, looking on a
     fig tree, becomes fruitful."          --RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Pictures are powerful means of conveying thoughts, and often more can
be expressed by deftly painting a word-picture than could be imparted
by a lengthy narration. Here is a good example:

     Let me picture to you the footsore Confederate soldier, as,
     buttoning up in his faded jacket the parole which was to
     bear testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith,
     he turned his face southward from Appomattox, in April,
     1865. Think of him as ragged, half-starved, heavy-hearted,
     enfeebled by want and wounds, having fought to exhaustion;
     he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in
     silence, and lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for
     the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia
     hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow
     and painful journey.                       --HENRY W. GRADY

This certainly brings the whole scene before us in a moment. We see
the hills of Virginia, dotted over with the graves of the dead
soldiers; groups of grizzled veterans, the remnant of that wonderful
fighting machine that had followed the ill-starred flag of the
Confederacy under its beloved leader; the typical southern soldier
wringing the hands of his comrades, and sorrowfully, but manfully,
turning his face towards home. The picture, as presented by Henry W.
Grady, is more eloquent than the narration of the story would have
been.

Henry Watterson, a lover of oratory, and himself an orator of no mean
ability, speaking at the unveiling of Lincoln's statue at Frankfort,
Kentucky, on November 8, 1911, spoke thus of the great American:

     Reviled as the Man of Galilee, slain even as the Man of
     Galilee, yet as gentle and unoffending, a man who died for
     men! Roll the stone from the grave and what shall we see?
     Just an American. The Declaration of Independence his
     Confession of Faith. The Constitution of the United States
     his Ark and Covenant of Liberty. The Union his redoubt, the
     flag his shibboleth.

Here is presented a striking picture by means of the simile. With the
charm and skill of a true orator, Colonel Watterson employs the lowly
Nazarene to symbolize the portraiture of one who, like Himself, "went
about doing good," and he does it so delicately as in no manner to
jar or hurt the religious sensibilities of the most devout follower
of the Man of Galilee. All the orator's references are biblical, and
eminently fitting. The mention of the Man of Galilee, the manner of
His death, the rolling of the stone away, the Ark and the Covenant,
and the shibboleth,--all these keep the mind of the reader or the
listener on the picture as presented by the orator, and cause the
great Emancipator to stand forth clothed in the splendor of his
glorious attributes, which are colored and magnified through being
likened reverently to the character of Jesus.

Daniel Webster delighted in the use of pictures. Here is one from his
address delivered at the laying of the corner-stone of the Bunker
Hill Monument, at Charlestown, Mass., June 17, 1825:

     We do not read even of the discovery of this continent,
     without feeling something of a personal interest in the
     event; without being reminded how much it has affected our
     own fortunes and our own existence. It is more impossible
     for us, therefore, than for others, to contemplate with
     unaffected minds that interesting, I may say that most
     touching and pathetic scene, when the great discoverer of
     America stood on the deck of his shattered bark, the shades
     of night falling on the sea, yet no man sleeping; tossed on
     the billows of an unknown ocean, yet the stronger billows
     of alternate hope and despair tossing his own troubled
     thoughts: extending forward his harassed frame, straining
     westward his anxious and eager eyes, till Heaven at last
     granted him a moment of rapture and ecstasy, in blessing
     his vision with the sight of the unknown world.

Here is another example taken from his speech in what is known as the
White Murder Case:

     An aged man, without an enemy in the world, in his own
     house, and in his own bed, is made the victim of a
     butcherly murder, for mere pay. The deed was executed with
     a degree of self-possession and steadiness equal to the
     wickedness with which it was planned. The circumstances,
     now clearly in evidence, spread out the whole scene before
     us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on
     all beneath his roof. A healthful old man, to whom sleep
     was sweet, the first sound slumbers held him in their soft
     but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the window,
     already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With
     noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half-lighted by
     the moon--he winds up in the ascent of stairs, and reaches
     the door of the chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft
     and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges without
     noise; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him.

This is certainly vividly drawn, and it shows the effectiveness of
stating important things by means of pictures. Writers of good prose,
as well as poets, use the figure of speech for creating mental images
by means of the written word, and the speaker who employs the spoken
word for producing like results will surely meet with like success.
Emerson, in writing on this subject, produces a striking picture. In
his essay on "Poetry and Imagination," he says:

     The poet gives us the eminent experiences only--a god
     stepping from peak to peak, nor planting his foot but on a
     mountain.

Shakespeare creates a marvellous picture thus:

        Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
        The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
        See what a grace was seated on this brow;
        Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself,
        An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
        A station like the herald Mercury
        New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
        A combination and a form indeed,
        Where every god did seem to set his seal
        To give the world assurance of a man.[1]

Note the ascending force of this extract from Hamlet. The drawing of
the picture, delineating the brow, hair, eyes, etc., the description
of the bearing, and the final summing up,

        A combination and a form indeed,
        Where every god did seem to set his seal
        To give the world assurance of a man.

It would seem to be impossible for mortal man to make a picture more
vivid than is the one here presented in words by the magic art of
Shakespeare.


THE USE OF WORD-PICTURES

_What benefit is to be derived from the use of word-pictures?_

An illustration, or picture, is quickly comprehended, and will abide
with the hearer when plain facts and colorless words are forgotten.
Christ did the most of His teaching by means of similitudes: "The
sower and the seed," "The laborers in the vineyard," "The ten
virgins," are but instances of His employment of this means of
conveying an insight into difficult problems. In fact, in the Gospel
according to St. Matthew, xiii:34, it is stated:

     All these things spake Jesus unto the multitude in
     parables: and without a parable spoke he not unto them.

Henry Ward Beecher, in his sermon, "Poverty and the Gospel," used
this figure of speech:

     On the Niagara River logs come floating down and strike an
     island, and there they lodge and accumulate for a little
     while, and won't go over. But the rains come, the snow
     melts, the river rises, and the logs are lifted up and
     down, and they go swinging over the falls. There is a
     certain river of political life, and everything has to go
     into it first or last; and if, in the days to come, a man
     separates himself from his fellows without sympathy, if his
     wealth and power make poverty feel itself more poor and
     men's misery more miserable, and set against him the whole
     stream of popular feeling, that man is in danger.

_From what source is the speaker to take his illustrations?_

From all sources: history, books, his own experience, and, best of
all, nature. Emerson states the matter in this comprehensive manner:

     I had rather have a good symbol of my thought, or a good
     analogy, than the suffrage of Kant or Plato. If you agree
     with me, or if Locke or Montesquieu agree, I may yet be
     wrong; but if the elm-tree thinks the same thing, if
     running water, if burning coal, if crystals, if alkalies,
     in their several fashions, say what I say, it must be true.

_How is the speaker to make the picture so vivid that it will be
immediately seen and comprehended by the listener?_

By seeing it himself. The speaker must see with his mind's eye the
complete picture before he utters the first word descriptive of it.
He must first see the picture in its entirety and be sure of his
application of it before starting on the word-picturing, and as he
develops the picture step by step, or phrase by phrase, he must keep
in mind not only that portion of the picture he is then describing
but must retain the picture in its entirety. This will cause his
mentality to go into his voice, help him to hold on to his thought,
and stamp the picture upon the minds and hearts of his listeners.


THE USE OF STORIES

Stories introduced into speeches, if really introduced and not
dragged in, serve many useful purposes. They attract the attention of
the audience and secure for the speaker an opportunity entertainingly
to commence his remarks instead of abruptly jumping into them, like a
speaker bounding upon the platform instead of walking gracefully upon
it; they often express in a few words what otherwise would require a
long explanation; and they also permit a speaker to retire in an
effective manner from an awkward or embarrassing situation. This last
point is illustrated in the following story told by Rev. Joseph
Parker and used by him as a wedge to get out of a meeting without
offending the feelings of the other members. It created a
good-natured laugh, and this made the opening that permitted the
reverend gentleman gracefully to retire.

     "Now, my dear children," said the good priest, "where shall
     we put St. Patrick? Shall we put him where the sapphire
     river rolls around the throne of the Almighty? No; we will
     not put him there. Shall we put him where the golden light
     plays around the golden city? No; we will not put him
     there. Shall we put him in a boat sailing over the golden
     lake when the angels are calling? No; we will not put him
     there." For a fourth time he demanded in a loud voice:
     "Where shall we put St. Patrick?" Then at that moment a
     peasant called out: "Well then, shure, you can put him
     here, for I'm going."

Robert Browning, in a most entertaining letter addressed to Elizabeth
Barrett, under date of April 8, 1846, discoursed on several subjects,
among them being the proposition that repentance must precede
forgiveness, and to illustrate his idea he narrated the following
story, which might be used effectively in a speech:

     Some soldiers were talking over a watch fire abroad. One
     said that once he was travelling in Scotland and knocked at
     a cottage-door. An old woman with one child let him in,
     gave him a supper and a bed. Next morning he asked her how
     they lived, and she said, the cow, the milk of which he was
     drinking, and the kale in the garden, such as he was
     eating--were all her "marlien" or sustenance--whereon,
     rising to go, he for the fun, "killed the cow and destroyed
     the kale"--"the old witch crying out she should certainly
     be starved"--then he went his way. "And she was starved, of
     course," said a young man; "do you rue it?"--The other
     laughed, "Rue aught like that!"--The young man said, "I was
     the boy, and that was my mother--now then!"--(pierces him
     with his sword). "If you had rued it"--the youth said--"You
     should have answered it only to God!"

John P. Curran, at the trial of the Drogheda Defenders, April 23,
1794, told this story, in order to make clear his views regarding the
strength that exists in unity:

     Upon this principle acted the dying man whose family had
     been disturbed by domestic contentions. Upon his death-bed
     he calls his children around him; he orders a bundle of
     twigs to be brought; he has them untied; he gives to each
     of them a single twig; he orders them to be broken--and it
     is done with facility. He next orders the twigs to be
     united in a bundle, and orders each of them to try their
     strength upon it. They shrink from the task as impossible.
     Thus my children, continued the old man, it is union alone
     that can render you secure against the attempts of your
     enemies, and preserve you in that state of happiness which
     I wish you to enjoy.

In the celebrated case of _People vs. Durant,_ tried in San
Francisco, Cal., in the year 1895, the district attorney, William S.
Barnes, as demonstrating the fallacy of direct evidence where the
witness endeavors to "back up" that evidence with circumstances which
existed only in the fancy of the witness, or were "manufactured out
of whole cloth," used this effective illustration:

     There is a time-honored story which is commonly used as an
     illustration in the trial of cases. It is of a will case,
     that contest being over its probate. Counsel asked the
     proponent who sealed the will and she said the testator
     did. She had provided the material for the sealing, but the
     deceased had placed the wax in the candle and had pressed
     the seal in her presence. Counsel then turned to the Court
     and said: "Your worship, it is a wafer." This is the wafer
     in the case.


SUMMARY

Do not the citations given in this chapter show conclusively that
modern and ancient modes of constructing orations are identical, and
that it would be well for all who would attain distinction as
speakers to study the means employed by those who have gone before?
The author replies in the affirmative, and he reiterates his advice
to all students of oratory to study faithfully the productions of the
great orators of all times. In doing this, the student should be
careful not to be a mere copyist; he must not make an echo of
himself, repeating the forms of others, but he should study the
principles underlying the arts of construction and delivery as
employed by the masters who preceded him, and then apply the
principles in his own individual manner. A student who is taught
parrot fashion--that is, by imitation--will never equal his teacher,
because he will lack the one great thing of value in every
art--individuality; but one who is taught by principle, as well as by
example, may far excel his preceptor. Issues and problems change,
orators pass into the realm of shade; but the principles of oratory
continue practically the same through all climes and ages.


FOOTNOTES:

  [1]  Hamlet, Act III, Scene IV.




CHAPTER II

HOW TO CONSTRUCT AND DELIVER ORATIONS

THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS

The previous chapter was used to show what means orators employed in
constructing their oratory, and this chapter will be devoted to
showing students how to adopt and use those means. It would be of
little use to tell students of oratory how others made their effects
unless they are shown how they can produce equal results; therefore
this chapter will be a chapter of _hows._ It will consider the proper
arrangement of all the forms of creating and delivering the
oratorical message, and deal at length with the conveying of the
thought by means of the putting together of words and interpreting it
through an understanding and an application of inflection and
emphasis. It has been shown that oratory, through all its existence,
has been created by means of the effective use of negative and
positive words, phrases, and sentences; correct application of
apposition and opposition; proper grouping of words and phrases in
the form of series; the driving home and clinching of points; and
many other ways of conveying thought by means of speech, and that
these means have been passed from Gorgias to Isaeus, from Isaeus to
Demosthenes, from Demosthenes to Cicero, and from these masters of
old transmitted to Webster, Clay, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Bryan,
Watterson, and the other able and careful public speakers of our day.
Not only will the arrangement of words be thoroughly considered, but
their utterance will receive much attention, the aim of the author
being to show how, by the inflection, emphasis, and tone of the
living voice, thought can be interpreted, and an impression made by
the speaker on the minds and actions of others by means of the spoken
word. Attention will also be given to getting the mentality into the
voice, making the soul of the speaker shine through the medium that
is to make the thought apparent to the listener.


INFLECTION

_What is inflection?_ Inflection is a bending of the voice.

_How many inflections are there?_ Two. The rising and the falling.

_What does the rising inflection signify?_ The rising inflection, in
the main, signifies uncertainty. Whatever is uncertain, negative,
qualified, conditional, incomplete, or continuous, requires the
rising inflection; as,

     _Uncertainty._ A government having at its command the
     armies, the fleets, and the revenues of Great Britain,
     might possibly hold Ireland by the sword. . . . But, to
     govern Great Britain by the sword--so wild a thought has
     never, I will venture to say, occurred to any public man of
     any party.                                       --MACAULAY

In this example the first sentence is uncertain because Ireland might
possibly be held by the sword, but it is not certain that it could
be. The second sentence is assertive, and requires the falling
inflection.

     _Negative._ _He_ have arbitrary power! My Lords, the East
     India Company have not arbitrary power to give him; the
     King has no arbitrary power to give him; your Lordships
     have not; nor the Commons; nor the whole legislature. We
     have no arbitrary power to give, because arbitrary power is
     a thing which neither any man can hold nor any man can give.
                                                         --BURKE

Here is a splendid string of negatives, not demonstratively spoken,
but given in the form of clear argumentation, and for that reason
every member requires the rising inflection. The opening exclamation,
"_He_ have arbitrary power," should be given the falling inflection
because it is a positive denial of his right to possess it. Were this
extract spoken vehemently instead of argumentatively, it would take
the falling inflection on all its members; but it is clearly intended
to be negatively spoken, because the orator immediately follows it
with positive statements, thus denoting a contrast. Therefore the
exclamation alone is given the falling inflection.

_Exception._ It should be remembered that only while the thought is
negative should the words be given the rising inflection, and that
whenever emphasis is placed on the negative word it removes the
negative quality and makes the thought positive, thus necessitating
the use of the falling inflection. Consequently, whenever a negative
is used in the sense of a contradiction it should be given the
falling inflection, because it is just as positive to deny the
assertion of a speaker as it is for the speaker to make the
assertion; as,

     I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary
     of France! and for what end? It is alleged that I wish to
     sell the independence of my country! and for what end? Was
     this the object of my ambition; and is this the mode by
     which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions?
     _No!_ I am _no_ emissary.                    --ROBERT EMMET

The positive statement is, "I am charged with being an emissary of
France"; and the contradiction, "_No!_ I am _no_ emissary." Emphasis
being placed on the negative word "no" necessitates the falling
inflection being used in order to make the contradiction positive.

_Qualified Negative._ A negative is qualified when it is restricted
in any manner by the use of such words as "only," "alone," "merely,"
etc., such words receiving the inflection and being negatived; as,

     In reading great orations one not only learns something of
     the methods and style of the orator, but obtains an epitome
     of the history of the times.       --WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN

Mr. Bryan here states that by means of reading one learns something
of the methods and style of the orator, and also gains an epitome of
the history of the times; and that he does not only learn the former,
but that he also gains the latter. In this sentence everything is
positive except the negatived word "only," this being the only word
in the sentence that is acted upon by the negative word "not,"
because the reader learns something of the methods and style of the
orator, but not only this, because he obtains an epitome of the
history of the times as well. "Only," being the negatived word (the
word upon which the negative acts), it should be given the rising
inflection, while the balance of the sentence, being positive, should
be given the falling inflection.

     _Qualified._ I believe in the doctrine of peace; but, Mr.
     President, men must have liberty before there can come
     abiding peace.                           --JOHN M. THURSTON

The phrase, "I believe in the doctrine of peace," is qualified by the
concluding statement, "men must have liberty before there can come
abiding peace"; and any expression that is qualified should be given
the rising inflection. In this example Senator Thurston states that
he believes in peace, _provided_ peace can be had with liberty; but
that if the loss of liberty is the price exacted for peace, then he
prefers war. In order to convey the meaning of this example, the
first phrase should be given the rising inflection and the last
phrase the falling; the qualified taking the rising, and the
concluding the falling inflection.

     _Conditional._ If ye love wealth better than liberty, the
     tranquility of servitude than the animating contest of
     freedom, go from us in peace.                --SAMUEL ADAMS

Here we have two conditional phrases and one concluding phrase. All
expressions that are conditional in character require the rising
inflection, and the clause that concludes the sentence takes the
inflection that interprets the thought. Therefore, if the concluding
clause is positive, as in this example, it should be given the
falling inflection; but if negative, it should be given the rising
inflection. There is no exception to the conditional clause taking
the rising inflection, because it is always uncertain in character,
and whatever is uncertain should always be given the rising
inflection, but the concluding clause, whenever it is negative, is
given the rising inflection; as,

     So, on the other hand, if I take the life of another,
     without being aware of any intended violence on his part,
     it will constitute no excuse for me to prove that he
     intended an attack upon me.           --SARGENT S. PRENTISS

_Continuity._ Whenever the thought is continuous the rising
inflection should be employed until a conclusion is reached; as,

     In speaking to you, men of the greatest city of the West,
     men of the state which gave to the country Lincoln and
     Grant, men who preëminently and distinctly embody all that
     is most American in the American character, I wish to
     preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine
     of the strenuous life, the life of toil and effort, of
     labor and strife.                               --ROOSEVELT

The thought here is continuous and incomplete until we come to the
phrase "the doctrine of the strenuous life," and in order to obtain
an unbroken flow of speech the rising inflection should be used until
the close of the negative phrase "not the doctrine of ignoble ease,"
but from there to the end of the sentence the falling inflection
should be used because of its positive character and the fact that
the thought is practically complete with the utterance of the phrase
"but the doctrine of the strenuous life," all that follows being
merely an amplification.


QUESTIONS

_How many kinds of questions are there?_ Two.

_What are they called?_ They are called direct and indirect.

_What difference is there between these two kinds of questions?_ The
direct question may be answered by either yes or no; the indirect
question is answered by a statement or explanation. Usually there is
uncertainty as to the answer to the direct question, and therefore
the question should generally be given the rising inflection, but as
soon as uncertainty ceases to exist as to the answer to a question,
it should be given the falling inflection. Therefore, if the speaker
knows that the answer is sure to be yes, or if he knows that the
answer is sure to be no, the question should take the falling
inflection, for then there would be no uncertainty as to the reply to
the question. On the other hand, if, for any reason, the quality of
uncertainty exists in the indirect question, it should be given the
rising inflection. The general supposition regarding questions is
that they usually require the rising inflection, but the reverse of
this is the fact. A question should only be given the rising
inflection when the speaker is not sure as to whether the answer will
be yes or no, or when an indirect question is expressive of the
uncertainty of the speaker; as, What did you say? Direct questions,
whenever the answer is anticipated, or the question repeated with
marked emphasis, or spoken with earnestness in the shape of an
appeal, should be given the falling inflection; as,

     Immortal spirits of Hampden, Locke, and Sidney, will it not
     add to your benevolent joys to behold your posterity rising
     to the dignity of men, and evincing to the world the
     reality and expediency of your systems, and in the actual
     enjoyment of that equal liberty, which you were happy, when
     on earth, in delineating and recommending to mankind?
                                                  --SAMUEL ADAMS

The falling inflection should be given this direct question because
the anticipated answer is yes.

The falling inflection should be given a direct question such as,

     Has the gentlemen done? has he _completely_ done?

The reason the falling inflection is here used is that the question
is repeated with marked emphasis, and whenever a question is so
repeated it should be given the falling inflection on the repetition.

The falling inflection should also be given all direct questions that
are earnest appeals; as,

     Will you _please_ forgive me?

     _Direct Question._ Undoubtedly the world is better; but
     would it have been better if everybody had then insisted
     that it was the best of all possible worlds, and that we
     must despond if sometimes a cloud gathers in the sky, or a
     Benedict Arnold appeared in the patriot army, or even a
     Judas Iscariot among the chosen twelve?  --GEORGE W. CURTIS

     _Indirect Question._ When, O Catiline, do you mean to cease
     abusing our patience? How long is that madness of yours
     still to mock us? When is there to be an end of that
     unbridled audacity of yours, swaggering about as it does
     now?                                               --CICERO

A direct question is sometimes used in the form of a statement; as,

     The constitutional question is: Has Congress the power,
     under our Constitution, to hold in subjection unwilling
     vassal states?                             --GEORGE F. HOAR

This is a direct question, but because it is a statement put forth to
be argued it should be given the falling inflection. If a request is
made of a presiding officer for information regarding what question
is then before the body, and the officer replies with a direct
question, he should give it the falling inflection, because he does
not speak it as a question but as a statement in reply to the
member's question as to what is then before the meeting.

_What does the falling inflection signify?_

The falling inflection, in the main, signifies certainty. The arrival
at a result, commands (whether negatively or positively constructed),
and all positive words, phrases, and sentences, require, as a rule,
the falling inflection.

     _The Arrival at a Result._ We are all born in subjection,
     all born equally, high and low, governors and governed, in
     subjection to one great, immutable pre-existent law, prior
     to all our devices, and prior to all our contrivances,
     paramount to all our ideas, and all our sensations,
     antecedent to our very existence, by which we are knit and
     connected to the eternal frame of the universe, out of
     which we cannot stir.                               --BURKE

The result here is not reached until we come to the final phrase "out
of which we cannot stir," and although this is a negative phrase, so
far as the construction goes, it requires the falling inflection
because it closes the thought and is positive in its nature.

     _Commands._ These things I command you, that ye love one
     another.                                --ST. JOHN, XV., 17

This is a commandment given by Jesus to His disciples, and both
phrases require the falling inflection. It makes no difference
whether the command is to do or not to do a certain thing, all
commandments, of whatever nature, require falling inflection; as,

     Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any
     likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is
     in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the
     earth.                                     --EXODUS, XX., 4

     _Also,_ Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may
     be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
                                               --EXODUS, XX., 12

     _Positive._ To the cant about the pharisaism of reform
     there is one short and final answer. The man who tells the
     truth _is_ a holier man than the liar. The man who does not
     steal _is_ a better man than the thief.  --GEORGE W. CURTIS

All positive words, phrases, and sentences require, as a rule, the
falling inflection, the only exception being when the words or
phrases are arranged in the form of a series. This point is fully
brought out and developed in the treatment of series in another part
of this chapter.

_Qualified Positives._ The words "only," "alone," "merely," etc.,
when not qualified by the negative word "not," generally qualify some
other word or phrase; as,

     Every thing around was wrapped in darkness, and hushed in
     silence, broken only by what seemed, at that hour, the
     unearthly clank and rush of the train.     --EDWARD EVERETT

Here "only" qualifies what the silence was broken by. The meaning
being that it was broken by but one thing, and that was "the
unearthly clank and rush of the train." "Only," in this example,
requires the falling inflection because it is positive.

_Apposition._ By means of the addition of words or phrases of like
natures, we illustrate and explain; as,

     The hardest chemist, the severest analyzer, scornful of all
     but the driest fact, is forced to keep the poetic curve of
     nature, and his result is like a myth of Theocritus.[1]
                                                       --EMERSON

"The severest analyzer" is employed to explain what "the hardest
chemist" is, therefore the two phrases are in apposition. This form
of construction is often used in explaining who persons are; as,

     I, Henry V, King of England, etc.

All these terms are in apposition and should receive the same
inflection, because identity of inflection conveys similarity of
thought. Here is another good example of apposition:

     Identity of law, perfect order in physics, perfect
     parallelism between the laws of nature and the laws of
     thought exist.                                    --EMERSON


EMPHASIS

_What is emphasis?_ Any impressive utterance that arrests the
attention of the listener.

_Is it placed merely on single words?_ No. It may be placed on
individual words, phrases, or sentences.

_Does it consist of force alone?_ No. Emphasis consists of time,
pitch, force, quality, and location.

_Time._ By time is meant the rapidity of utterance; as,

     With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted
     by the moon--he winds up the ascent of stairs, and reaches
     the door of the chamber.                   --DANIEL WEBSTER

The idea is here brought out by means of the slow, measured manner in
which the murderer is described noiselessly passing through the
lonely hall and winding up the stairway. If this passage were quickly
and violently spoken, a mis-interpretation would be given it. Time,
in this instance, gives emphasis to the thought.

     The light of the newly kindled sun, indeed, was glorious.
     It struck upon all the planets, and waked into existence
     their myriad capacities of life and joy. As it rebounded
     from them, and showed their vast orbs all wheeling, circle
     beyond circle in their stupendous course, the sons of God
     shouted for joy.                              --HORACE MANN

This passage is also made emphatic by the time employed. It requires
rapidity of utterance in order to express the ideas of the awakening
of life and the joy of man.

_Pitch._ By pitch is meant the tone of voice employed--its height or
depth; as,

     With simple resignation, he [Garfield] bowed to the divine
     decree.                                   --JAMES G. BLAINE

The words "With simple resignation" require simplicity of voice, but
the phrase "he bowed to the divine decree" should be spoken in a low,
impressive tone, the better to express the feeling of reverence. The
idea is here conveyed as much by the pitch of the voice as by the
words themselves.

     People of Hungary! will you die under the exterminating
     sword of the savage Russians? If not, defend yourselves!
     Will you look on while the Cossacks of the far North tread
     under foot the bodies of your fathers, mothers, wives, and
     children? If not, defend yourselves! Will you see a part of
     your fellow citizens sent to the wilds of Siberia, made to
     serve in the wars of tyrants, or bleed under the murderous
     knout? If not, defend yourselves! Will you behold your
     villages in flames, and your harvests destroyed? Will you
     die of hunger on the land which your sweat has made
     fertile? If not, defend yourselves!         --LOUIS KOSSUTH

This example must be spoken in an inspiring tone; the oft-repeated
phrase, "If not, defend yourselves," should be given a gradual rise
in pitch on each repetition until the final one is spoken almost in a
shout. It is this gradual change in pitch that increases the emphasis
on this important phrase each time it is spoken.

_Force._ By force is meant the loudness of voice; as,

     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.                             --PATRICK HENRY

By means of the force placed upon the words "whole," "worst," and
"provide," the thought is driven home with earnestness, and as the
words grow in importance the force of the voice should increase. It
is mainly by means of this gradual increase in the force of the voice
that an ascending series is marked; as,

     Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have
     produced additional violence and insult, our supplications
     have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with
     contempt, from the foot of the throne!      --PATRICK HENRY

The earnestness and force of the speaker's delivery should grow with
each succeeding phrase, until it bursts out with its greatest power
and expression on the final one. Care should be exercised to go from
one phrase to another by a gradual increase of force, culminating on
the concluding phrase.

All important or significant words require emphasis by means of
force; as,

     It _must_ be confessed, it _will_ be confessed; there is no
     refuge from confession but suicide, and suicide _is_
     confession.                                --DANIEL WEBSTER

_Quality._ By quality is meant the kind of voice--whether it is
smooth or rough, rich or poor, large or small, expressive or
non-expressive of the many emotions which the human voice is capable
of producing. A tone may be raucous, because it is held in the
throat; it may be nasal, through being held in the head; it may be
breathy, through a waste of breath; or, on the other hand, it may
possess those qualities of clearness, smoothness, and richness that
come only from a properly developed and correctly used vocal
mechanism. The quality of the voice may be pure, aspirated, or
whispered; as,

     _Pure Quality._ This uncounted multitude before me and
     around me proves the feeling which the occasion has
     excited. These thousands of human faces, glowing with
     sympathy and joy, and from the impulses of a common
     gratitude turned reverently to heaven in this spacious
     temple of the firmament, proclaim that the day, the place,
     and the purpose of our assembling here made a deep
     impression on our hearts.                  --DANIEL WEBSTER

This example should be spoken in a clear, ringing, buoyant voice;
and, if so spoken, the quality would be pure.

     _Aspirated Quality._ Gracious God! In the nineteenth
     century to talk of constructive treason!  --WILLIAM PINKNEY

The words, "Gracious God!" are expressive of repressed indignation
and should be uttered in a tone that is only partly vocalized; and,
when so spoken, the quality is aspirated. An aspirated tone is one
that is surrounded with breath, only a portion of which is vocalized.

_Whispered Quality._ The whisper is seldom used by the orator, but is
often employed by the actor. Whispered speech is speech that is
produced by the articulation  of breath without that breath being
converted into voice. For instance, when Hamlet sees the ghost of his
father he articulates, but does not vocalize, the following:

     Angels and ministers of grace defend us!      --SHAKESPEARE

Hamlet is so awed by the presence of the spirit of his father as to
be deprived of the use of his voice, although he retains the ability
to speak, and when one produces speech without voice he is using the
whispered quality. The whisper is articulated breath, but not
vocalized breath. It is speech, but not voice.

_Location._ By location is meant the position that the word or phrase
holds in the sentence. If the emphasis is properly built up, the
speaker will move from the weaker to the stronger, from the lesser to
the greater; as,

     Here, then, are the three liberties: liberty of the
     producer, liberty of the distributer, liberty of the
     consumer. The first two need no discussion--they have been
     long, thoroughly, and brilliantly illustrated by the
     political economists of Great Britain, and by her eminent
     statesmen; but it seems to me that enough attention has not
     been directed to the third, and, with your patience, I will
     dwell on that for a moment before proceeding to other
     topics.                                --HENRY WARD BEECHER

Mr. Beecher states that his intention is to speak on the liberty of
the consumer; therefore, in enumerating the three liberties, he
places the one he intends to discuss in the vantage position--the
last.

When a word, phrase, or sentence is set against another word, phrase,
or sentence, both members of the opposition require emphasis; as,

     Law and arbitrary power are in eternal enmity.
                                                  --EDMUND BURKE

The placing of "law" against "arbitrary power" requires that the
opposing words should be made emphatic by means of emphasis as well
as by inflection. All words or thoughts that are contrasted (single,
double, or triple opposition) should be emphasized by the application
of force, and the contrast brought out through the proper placing of
the inflection. It is by means of inflection and emphasis that all
contrasts in delivery are marked.

The repetition of a word or phrase requires that the repetition
should be made more emphatic than the first utterance by means of
greater force; as,

     They have answered then, that although two hundred thousand
     of their countrymen have offered up their lives, there yet
     remain lives to offer; and that it is the determination of
     _all,_ yes, of ALL, to persevere until they shall have
     established their liberty, or until the power of their
     oppressors should have relieved them from the burden of
     existence.                                 --DANIEL WEBSTER

A series of emphatic words requires that there should be a general
increase in force on all the members of the series; as,

     The universal cry is--_let us move against Philip_--LET US
     FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES--+LET US CONQUER OR DIE.+
                                                --R. B. SHERIDAN

Where a word is used to qualify another, the qualifying word should
be emphasized; as,

     They planned no _sluggard_ people, passive while the
     world's work calls them. They established no _reactionary_
     nation. They unfurled no _retreating_ flag.
                                           --ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE

The fathers planted a people, established a nation, and unfurled a
flag; but they did not plant a _sluggard_ people, establish a
_reactionary_ nation, nor unfurl a _retreating_ flag. It is by means
of placing the emphasis on the qualifying words in this example that
the meaning is instantly interpreted.

Some years ago a critic,[2] in commenting on E. H. Sothern's reading
of the line from _The Love Chase,_ "The cause of causes, lady,"
justly criticised him for emphasizing the unimportant word _of,_ but
the critic himself fell into as great an error as the actor when he
cited the following as correct placing of emphasis: My _heart_ of
HEARTS, the _man_ of MEN, _great_ among the GREATEST, _mightiest_ in
the MIGHTIEST, and _cause_ of CAUSES. The meaning in each instance is
best brought out by placing the principal emphasis on _heart, man,
great, mightiest,_ and _cause,_ and secondary emphasis on _hearts,
men, greatest, mightiest,_ and _causes._ The ideas being that it is
in the very center of the heart, that he towers above all others,
that it is stronger than all others, and that it is the creator of
creatures. Therefore the phrases should read: My HEART of _hearts,_
the MAN of _men,_ GREAT among the _greatest,_ MIGHTIEST in the
_mightiest,_ the cause of _causes._

The same critic, a little further on in the same book,[3] takes Julie
Marlowe to task for reading the following lines from _Romeo and
Juliet_ thus:

     _Deny_ thy father and _refuse_ thy name.

He states it should be read:

     Deny thy _father_ and refuse thy _name._

In the opinion of the author, both the actress and the critic are
half right and half wrong, the scene requiring that emphasis should
be placed on the four words; thus,

    _Deny_ thy _father_ and _refuse_ thy _name._

This reading clearly denotes what Juliet desires shall be done with
both the father and the name; the other readings do not.

Daniel Webster, in his reply to Senator Hayne, used this striking
arrangement of words to express his idea of the unity of liberty and
union:

     _Liberty_ and _union, now_ and _forever, one_ and
     _inseparable._

In most readers the passage is marked, liberty _and_ union, thus
making the important connective _and,_ which has practically nothing
to do with conveying the thought, all-important, and sinking into
insignificance the thought words of the orator. Webster distinctly
says that "liberty" and "union" are "one and inseparable," whereas by
putting the emphasis on the word _and_ the speaker distinctly states
that they are two. Webster undoubtedly intended "liberty" and "union"
to be synonymous--"liberty" meaning the same as "union," and "union"
the same as "liberty"--what constituted the one being exactly the
same as what constituted the other. Therefore, like emphasis should
be placed on both words.

Every sentence contains at least one thought; and in every group of
words conveying a thought some particular word carries that thought
to the mind. Such words are the thought words. This can be best
illustrated by examples. In her plea for mercy Portia says:

        The quality of mercy is not _strain'd;_[4]

In this line, _strain'd_ is the word that conveys the idea. It is not
_quality_ nor _mercy_ that Portia desires to impress on the mind of
Shylock, but the fact that mercy is not _strain'd._ Antonio had
confessed the bond, Portia had stated that nothing but the mercy of
the Jew could save him from paying the penalty, and in making this
statement she had used the word _must._ Shylock replied by saying:
"On what _compulsion_ must I?" In other words, how are you going to
compel me? And it is this thought of the Jew's to which she replied.

In the same speech Portia says:

        . . . we do _pray_ for mercy,
        And that same prayer doth teach us all to _render_
        The deeds of mercy.

The thought words, as the author sees them, are here italicized, but
his reading of the lines differs from any he has heard from the stage
or seen marked by critics. The great tendency is to come down hard on
the word _deeds,_ whereas it is one of the least important words in
the entire sentence; it might be omitted without injury to the
thought or the sense. Mr. Alfred Ayres, from whose work, _Acting and
Actors,_ the author has before quoted, advises the laying of the
stress on the word _all_; but there is no better reason for
emphasizing that word than there is for placing the stress upon
_deeds._ The passage in the prayer to which Portia refers is:
"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors," this being a clear
statement of the supplicant's understanding of the necessity of his
forgiving his debtors if he is to entertain the hope of having his
debts forgiven by the heavenly Father. The verse following the Lord's
prayer more clearly brings out this idea: "For if ye forgive men
their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you."[5] The
words "pray" and "render" are, therefore, the thought words--by means
of their contrast they bring out the idea--and for this reason they
require the emphasis. A paraphrase will demonstrate the correctness
of this statement: We _ask_ for mercy, and that prayer tells us to
_give_ mercy. The _receiving_ of mercy being contingent on the
_granting_ of it.


COMBINED USE OF INFLECTION AND EMPHASIS

Inflection and emphasis, as before stated, are two of the principal
means at the disposal of a speaker for the interpretation of thought.
By these two means of expression, and the use of the proper
color-tone in the voice, the thought can be clearly conveyed. By
inflection and emphasis, words, phrases, and sentences are
contrasted, and by means of contrast the mind of the listener is
directed to the point that the speaker wishes him to see; as,

     I propose, then, in what follows to make some remarks on
     communion with God, or prayer in a large sense of the word;
     not as regards its external consequences, but as it may be
     considered to affect our own minds and hearts.
                                               --CARDINAL NEWMAN

The speaker states that he does not intend to discuss prayer so far
as its external consequences are concerned; and if he stopped there,
we should know what he intended not to discuss; but when he adds the
positive, "but as it may be considered to affect our own minds and
hearts," we know exactly what he intends to avoid and what he intends
to take up, and this double knowledge is imparted to us by means of
the contrast that the Cardinal uses. It is very well to tell a person
not to do a certain thing, but it is much stronger and more
comprehensive if he is also told what to do. It is all well and good
to be told what will not justify action on one's part, but it is far
better to be told what will; as,

     It is the apprehension of impending harm, and not its
     actual existence, which constitutes the justification for
     defensive action.                     --SARGENT S. PRENTISS

Here we are told that both the existence and apprehension of bodily
harm will justify defensive action, and the point is, therefore,
placed beyond misunderstanding by means of contrast.

_How many forms of contrast are there?_ There are three: the single,
the double, and the triple.

_What is the single contrast?_ The single contrast is where one word,
phrase, or sentence is contrasted with another; as,

     Helen was not a sinner, but a sufferer, and our feeling for
     her should not be one of hatred, but of compassion.
                                                       --GORGIAS

The sentence gives two examples of the single contrast, "sinner"
being opposed to "sufferer" and "hatred" opposed to "compassion."

_What is the double contrast?_ The double contrast is where two words
or phrases are contrasted with a like number of words or phrases; as,

     In fact it is a universal law, not that the stronger should
     yield to the weaker, but the weaker to the stronger; that
     the stronger should lead, and the weaker follow.  --GORGIAS

In this example, "stronger," the first time it is used, is contrasted
with "weaker" the second time it is used, and the first "weaker" with
the second "stronger." In the second phrase, "stronger" is contrasted
with "weaker," and "lead" with "follow."

The double contrast requires, as a rule, that the first member should
be given the falling inflection, the second the rising, the third the
rising, and the fourth the falling, thus bringing the first and the
third, the second and the fourth, in contrast; as,

     For it is equally wrong and stupid to censure what is
     commendable, and to commend what is censurable.   --GORGIAS

This is a good illustration of the double contrast. "Censure" is
contrasted with "commend," and "commendable" with "censurable." When
the double contrast is contained in two phrases, the first phrase
being positive and the other phrase negative, the first member should
be given the rising inflection, the second the falling, the third the
falling, and the fourth the rising. In this way the contrast will be
clearly shown and the negative and positive qualities retained; as,

     Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth
     and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and
     steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where
     neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do
     not break through nor steal.[6]                 --THE BIBLE

In this example, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth" is
contrasted with "but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven," and
as the former is negative, it requires the rising inflection, while
the latter requires the falling inflection, because it is positive;
"where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through
and steal" is contrasted with "where neither moth nor rust doth
corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal"; therefore
the former, being positive, should be given the falling inflection,
while the latter, being negative, should be given the rising
inflection.

In the triple oppositions the inflections alternate, the first member
receiving the rising inflection, the second the falling, the third
the rising, the fourth the falling, the fifth the rising, and the
sixth the falling; as,

        She loved me for the dangers I had passed,
        And I loved her that she did pity them.    --SHAKESPEARE

"She" is contrasted with the second "I," "me" with her," and
""dangers" with "pity."

_What is the triple contrast?_ The triple contrast is where three
words or phrases are contrasted with three other words or phrases; as,

     Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war
     rather than let the nation survive, and the other would
     accept war rather than let it perish.             --LINCOLN

The triple contrast is between "one" and "other," "make" and
"accept," "survive" and "perish." This is a splendidly constructed
sentence, and contains more information than many paragraphs made up
of numerous sentences. It is because of the masterly arrangement of
contrasts that so much is stated in so small a space.

_How are the contrasts to be brought out?_ By means of inflection and
emphasis. The single contrast requires that when both members are
positive the first should be given the rising inflection and the
second the falling; as,

     The human mind is the brightest display of the power and
     skill of the Infinite mind with which we are acquainted.
                                                     --JOHN TODD

The contrast is between the words "human" and "Infinite," and as both
of them are positive, "human" is given the rising inflection and
"Infinite" the falling, thus marking, by means of the different
inflections, the difference between the words. All words that are
contrasted are given emphasis as well as inflection.

Whenever the words or phrases that are contrasted consist of
negatives and positives, the former should be given the rising
inflection and the latter the falling inflection, irrespective of
their location; as,

     They fell and were buried; but they never can die.
                                              --GEORGE W. CURTIS

In this example the positive statement that the heroes "fell and were
buried" requires the falling inflection, while the negative one that
"they never can die" should be given the rising inflection in order
to mark the contrast.


PARENTHESIS

_What is a parenthesis?_ A parenthesis is a secondary idea that is
interjected into a main idea in order to amplify or explain it; as,

     He who has a memory that can seize with an iron grasp and
     retain what he reads--the ideas, simply, without the
     language, and judgment to compare and balance--will
     scarcely fail of being distinguished.           --JOHN TODD

The main idea is, "He who has a memory that can seize with an iron
grasp and retain what he reads, will scarcely fail of being
distinguished"; the secondary, or parenthetical, idea being, "the
ideas, simply, without the language, and judgment to compare and
balance." This is a long and important parenthesis. It contains two
thoughts, "the ideas, simply, without the language," "and judgment to
compare and balance," which materially amplify the main thought and
at the same time qualify it.

_What is the use of the parenthesis?_ It is of great use to the
extempore speaker in that it permits him, after he has started his
sentence, to explain or amplify his thought before coming to a
conclusion; as,

     A whole family, just, gentle and pure, were thus, in their
     own house, in the night time, without any provocation,
     without one moment's warning, sent by the murderer to join
     the assembly of the just.               --WILLIAM H. SEWARD

Seward starts with the idea of stating that a whole family were
foully murdered, but after commencing to express his thought, he
desires to qualify it, so he halts it to interject the fact that this
whole family were "just, gentle, and pure." Were it not for the use
of the parenthesis, he would have been compelled to use another
sentence. Care should be exercised in using parentheses, as they tend
to confuse the listener unless properly spoken.

_How should a parenthesis be spoken?_ In order to show that the
speaker has left the main idea and taken up a secondary one, he
should change the pitch of the voice on leaving the main idea, or
while speaking the parenthesis, and immediately resume the original
pitch on resuming the main idea.

The following is a striking example of the use of parenthesis. It is
a long, loose sentence, but full of information that may be better
expressed in this manner than by a number of short sentences:

     This great nation, filling all profitable latitudes,
     cradled between two oceans, with inexhaustible resources,
     with riches increasing in an unparalleled ratio, by
     agriculture, by manufactures, by commerce, with schools and
     churches, with books and newspaper thick as leaves in our
     forests, with institutions sprung from the people, and
     peculiarly adapted to their genius; a nation not sluggish,
     but active, used to excitement, practiced in political
     wisdom, and accustomed to self-government, and all its vast
     outlying parts held together by a federal government, mild
     in temper, gentle in administration, and beneficent in
     results, seemed to have been formed for peace.
                                            --HENRY WARD BEECHER

The main thought consists of the short sentence, "This great nation
seemed to have been formed for peace," and all that explains its
situation, its resources, and its government is parenthetical. This
illustration is not cited as a good example for speakers to follow,
but it is merely given to show one of the means employed by Mr.
Beecher, an eloquent speaker, in expressing his ideas. The subject of
the construction of sentences is dealt with at length in the chapter
on Composition.


PAUSE

Pauses should be regulated by the sense and not by grammatical
punctuation. A pause is sometimes required where no mark of
punctuation is placed and at times a mark of punctuation should be
passed over quickly in order to not retard the conveyance of the
speaker's thought. The pauses used by the speaker, but note employed
by the grammarian, are called rhetorical pauses and are used for
emphasis; as,

     Go, forget that you have a wife and children, to ruin, and
     remember only--that you have France to save.[7]


THE SERIES

_What is a series?_ A series is a group of three or more important
positive words or phrases, of different meanings, yet so closely
related as to be capable of being welded into one thought; as,

     Let old issues, old questions, old differences, and old
     feuds be regarded as fossils of another epoch.
                                         --ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS

The group that constitutes the series is composed of "old issues,"
"old questions," "old differences," "old feuds," which, united should
all "be regarded as fossils of another epoch."

_What use is the series?_ The series allows a speaker to gather many
forces, amalgamate them, thus uniting the feeble powers of the number
into the powerful strength of the one, and to direct the united force
to one point; as,

     We are among the sepulchres of our fathers. We are on
     ground distinguished by their valor, their constancy, and
     the shedding of their blood.               --DANIEL WEBSTER

The orator tells the assembly that they are on ground distinguished
by the valor of their fathers, but he does more: he tells them that
the ground was also distinguished by their constancy and the shedding
of their blood. The series enables the speaker to weld together
"valor," "constancy," and "blood," thus combining the three virtues
shown by the fathers, and this arrangement, the blending of the three
reasons, gives the one strong reason, the patriotism of our fathers,
for honoring the ground upon which the people were gathered. Cicero
thus clearly defines a series and tells what it accomplishes: "For
there is such an admirable continuation and series of things that
each seems connected with the other, and all appear linked together
and unified." This is exactly what a series is: Words or phrases that
are closely connected with one another and are all linked together;
as,

     We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational
     existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light
     of everlasting truth!                      --DANIEL WEBSTER

_How many kinds of series are there?_ Two, the commencing and the
concluding.

_What is a commencing series?_ A commencing series is always an
incomplete one, so far as the sense is concerned, as it requires
something more than the series to complete the sense. It generally
commences a sentence; as,

     It is only when public opinion, or the strong power of
     government, the formidable array of influence, the force of
     a nation, or the fury of a multitude is directed against
     you, that the advocate is of any use.     --JAMES. T. BRADY

The series ends with "or the fury of a multitude," and the sense is
made complete by "is directed against you, that the advocate is of
any use."

A series is often composed of qualifying words; as,

     What though it breaks like lightning from the cloud? The
     electric fire had been collecting in the firmament through
     many a silent, calm, and clear day.         --ORVILLE DEWEY

The words "silent, calm, and clear" qualify the word day and
constitute a commencing series, because they require the word day to
complete the thought.

_What is a concluding series?_ A series is considered a concluding
one when the series is complete with the close of the series. It
generally concludes the sentence; as,

     The remarkable people of this world are useful in their
     way; but the common people, after all, represent the
     nation, the age, and the civilization. --HENRY WARD BEECHER

The series consists of "the nation," "the age," "the civilization"; a
group of three important things which the common people represent.

Here is a good example of a concluding series of phrases:

     With such consecrated service, what could we not
     accomplish; what riches we should gather for her; what
     glory and prosperity we should render to the union; what
     blessings we should gather into the universal harvest of
     humanity.                                  --HENRY W. GRADY

A series constitutes sometimes a parenthesis; as,

     For no cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness, by the red
     hand of murder, he was thus thrust from the full tide of
     this world's interests, from its hopes, its aspirations,
     its victories, into the visible presence of death--and he
     did not quail.                           --JAMES. G. BLAINE

This example opens with a commencing series which ends with "by the
red hand of murder," the sense of which is completed by "he was
thrust from the full tide of this world's interest into the visible
presence of death," but the thought is interrupted by the orator to
interject the parenthetical clause "from its hopes, its aspirations,
its victories," and as what completes the sense, "the full tide of
this world's interest," precedes the series, it is a concluding
series.

_Is there any difference as to how the two series should be spoken?_
Yes. The commencing series requires the falling infection on every
member except the last, which should be given the rising inflection;
as,

     From the very beginning I chose an honest and
     straightforward course in politics, to support the honor,
     the power, the glory of my fatherland.        --DEMOSTHENES

The series is embraced in the words "the honor, the power, the
glory," and as the sense is incomplete with the close of the series,
requiring "of my fatherland" to complete the sense, it is a
commencing series. The proper delivery of this series requires that
"honor" should be given the falling inflection, "power" the falling,
and "glory" the rising.

The concluding series requires the falling inflection on every member
except the next to the last, which should be given the rising
inflection; as,

     He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in
     his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence
     of his thoughts.                           --DANIEL WEBSTER

This is an excellent example of a concluding series of phrases. The
first phrase, ending with "face," requires the falling inflection;
the second, ending with "eyes," requires the rising inflection; the
third, ending with "thoughts," requires the falling inflection.


SERIES OF CONTRASTS

_What is a series of contrasts?_ A series of contrasts is where there
are at least three contrasts arranged in the form of the series; as,

     Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find;
     knock, and it shall be opened unto you.[8]      --THE BIBLE

The series consists of three phrases, and the series must be brought
out by giving the first phrase the falling inflection, the second
phrase the rising inflection, and the third phrase the falling
inflection; and as there are three contrasts, "ask" being contrasted
with "given," "seek" with "find," and "knock" with "opened," we must,
in order to retain the concluding series, give "ask" the rising
inflection, "given" the falling, "seek" the falling, "find" the
rising, "knock" the rising, and "opened" the falling.

If the contrasts form a commencing series, the inflections should be
applied according to the rules regarding the series; as,

     Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my
     hand and heart to this vote.               --DANIEL WEBSTER

"Sink" should be given the rising inflection, "swim" the falling,
"live" the rising, "die" the falling, "survive" the falling, and
"perish" the rising, for by so doing the contrasts will be marked and
the series retained. The series consists of "sink or swim, live or
die, survive or perish," and as it requires "I give my hand and heart
to this vote" to complete the sense, it is a commencing series.


MODULATION

_What is modulation?_ Modulation, in a broad sense, is coloring the
voice so as to make it explain by its tones the meaning of the spoken
words. It consists principally of inflection and pitch, but the
elements of emphasis also enter into it. By means of modulation
action is given to the voice--it rises, it falls, it glides, it
leaps, it bounds; all sounds are described--the moaning of the winds,
the rush of waters, the tramp of marching armies; all emotions are
expressed--the shout of joy, the cry of pain, the huzzah of victory.
The inflection of the voice interprets its meaning--whether it is
negative, positive, conditional, etc., the pitch of the voice
expresses the emotion--whether it is joyous, sad, indifferent, etc.
The speaking voice is divided into three registers, the medium, the
upper and the lower. The tones of the middle register are the
customary tones of the voice, and they are used for giving expression
to anything that is ordinary. They are expressive of unemotional
thoughts; as,

     Some persons, for example, tell us that the acquisition of
     knowledge is all very well, but that it must be useful
     knowledge--meaning thereby that it must enable a man to get
     on in a profession, pass an examination, shine in
     conversation, or obtain a reputation for learning.
                                          --ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR

This is a plain, simple statement, spoken without emotion of any
kind, and therefore should be pitched in an ordinary key. The matter
need not necessarily be unimportant to be spoken in the medium
register, but it must be simple in its character and unimpassioned in
its nature, and for these reasons it is spoken in the ordinary tones
of the voice.

The lower register is expressive of solemnity, sorrow, and all
deep-seated emotions; as,

     If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the
     concerns and cares of those who were dear to them in this
     transitory life, Oh, ever dear and venerated shade of my
     departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the conduct
     of your suffering son, and see if I have, even for a
     moment, deviated from those principles of morality and
     patriotism which it was your care to instil into my
     youthful mind, and for which I am now to offer up my life!
                                                  --ROBERT EMMET

The upper register is used for expressing the emotions of a light and
joyous nature; as,

     Advance, then ye future generations! We would hail you, as
     you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which
     we now fill, and to take the blessings of existence where
     we are passing, and soon shall have passed, our own human
     duration. We bid you welcome to this pleasant land of the
     fathers. We bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the
     verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to
     the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you
     to the blessings of good government and religious liberty.
     We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights
     of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of
     domestic life, to the happiness of kindred and parents, and
     children. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of
     rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and
     the light of everlasting truth!            --DANIEL WEBSTER

Some of the stronger emotions, such as anger, defiance, and grief,
when not deeply felt, are expressed on the upper register; as,

     We do not come as aggressors. Our war is not a war of
     conquest; we are fighting in the defense of our homes, our
     families and posterity. We have petitioned, and our
     petitions have been scorned; we have entreated, and our
     entreaties have been disregarded; we have begged, and they
     have mocked when our calamity came. We beg no longer; we
     entreat no more; we petition no more. We defy them.
                                        --WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN

The following vivid description of the delivery of the Blind
Preacher, by the orator William Wirt, is a splendid example of
modulation in a comprehensive sense, because it depends on the
distinctive colors that are placed in the voice, as well as on
inflection and emphasis, for its effective presentation.

     It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so far as
     to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but
     fallacious, standard of my own weakness, I began to be very
     uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not
     conceive how he would be able to let his audience down from
     the height to which he had wound them, without impairing
     the solemnity and dignity of the subject, or perhaps
     shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. But, no! the
     descent was as beautiful and sublime as the elevation had
     been rapid and enthusiastic.

     The first sentence, with which he broke the awful silence,
     was a quotation from Rousseau: "Socrates died like a
     philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a God."

     I despair of giving you any idea of the effect produced by
     this short sentence, unless you could perfectly conceive
     the whole manner of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis
     in the discourse. Never before did I completely understand
     what Demosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery.
     You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the
     preacher; his blindness, constantly recalling to your
     recollection old Homer, Ossian, and Milton, and associating
     with his performance the melancholy grandeur of their
     geniuses; you are to imagine that you hear his slow,
     solemn, well-accented enunciation, and his voice of
     affecting, trembling melody; you are to remember the pitch
     of passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were
     raised; and then the few minutes of portentous, death-like
     silence which reigned throughout the house; the preacher
     removing his white handkerchief from his aged face (even
     yet wet from the recent torrent of his tears), and, slowly
     stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins
     the sentence, "Socrates died like a philosopher," then,
     pausing, raising his other hand, pressing them both clasped
     together with warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his
     "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his whole soul
     into his trembling voice--"but Jesus Christ, like a God!"
     If he had been indeed and in truth an angel of light, the
     effect could scarcely have been more divine.

In this chapter and the one preceding are given some of the
mechanical means of constructing speeches and delivering them, and in
thus telling the student of oratory the specific way of accomplishing
results, this book differs from the many that treat, or profess to
treat, of oratory. Demosthenes says: "To censure is easy for any man;
to show what measures the cause requires is the part of a
counsellor." This is a nugget of wisdom, and in adopting it the
author has used the injunction _do_ instead of issuing a number of
_don'ts,_ as is the custom of many teachers. He tells primarily what
to do and how to do it, and only in a secondary manner does he use
the negative way of instruction. In this chapter, students are shown
what means were employed by those who succeeded in mastering the art
of vocal expression and how they may adopt them in aiming to
accomplish the same results; and the author has no hesitancy in
stating that if the student will properly qualify himself to become
an orator by a diligent study of the method therein contained, he
will rise to eminence in a field of labor that repays with honors and
renown all who toil in it. This chapter treats of the mechanical
means of producing oratory and making orators, but the psychological,
or mental, means, which must be used in conjunction with the
mechanical in order that there may be life in the production, will
receive due attention in later chapters. Unless the mentality enters
into the work of the orator, it will be devoid of action, and
consequently not oratory; for, in the words of Demosthenes: "All
speech without action appears vain and idle."


FOOTNOTES:

  [1]  A Grecian pastoral poet who lived in the third century.

  [2]  Alfred Ayres in "Acting and Actors," page 128.

  [3]  Page 157.

  [4]  The Merchant of Venice, Act. IV, Scene I.

  [5]  St. Matthew, vi:14.

  [6]  Matthew, vi:19-20.

  [7]  Spoken to D'Aguesseau by his wife when he went to confront
       his enraged King. Quoted by Wendell Phillips in his address
       on "Idols."

  [8]  St. Matthew, vii:7.



CHAPTER III

CONSTRUCTION

Spoken matter is a speech only when it possesses three divisions: an
opening, a body, and a conclusion. Without possessing these three
divisions it may be a talk, but it is not a speech. This can be best
explained by the author quoting from one of his previous works:[1]

"Every speech, no matter what its length or what its subject, should
possess three parts: an opening or statement, a body or argument, a
conclusion or appeal. The opening should contain a statement of the
facts to be presented, or the points upon which the argument is to be
made; the body should be given over to a presentation of the facts, a
narration of the story, a description of the scene, or an argument of
the cause; and the conclusion should be devoted to summing up of the
facts, an application of the story or the scene, or a deduction from
the argument on the points.

"The opening may contain as many statements as the speaker desires,
but he must make sure to argue upon and drive home in the body of the
speech all that he mentions in the opening. Every statement in the
opening must be like a plank in a platform, and all such planks, or
statements, must be fastened together properly in the argument,
otherwise there will be gaps in the platform, or statement, through
which the speaker's argument is liable to fall to failure."

A rambling story is not a speech; a talk that has not a clear
opening, a convincing argument, or a logical conclusion, is not a
speech; a statement without a body is not a speech. All these things
may be talks, but only a well-defined, clearly-mapped-out discourse
can be dignified with the name of speech. In order that one may be a
speech-maker and not a babbler, he must work in accordance with a
well-defined plan. He should carefully gather the material that is to
be used, arrange the parts of the speech in their proper places, and
deliver the speech in the best possible manner. No matter how
excellent the material may be, it will prove of little value to the
speaker unless it is arranged consecutively; built, as it were, point
on point, or fact on fact, and developed according to his prearranged
plan. It should be so knitted together as to cohere and form a
structure that, resting on a firm foundation, will be compact and
complete. Desultory talking is not speech making. The speaker should
possess a definite object, and keep to that object until it has been
clearly presented and convincingly demonstrated. Order should reign
everywhere--in the arrangement of the words, the presentation of the
ideas, and the delivery of the matter. Lack of attention to these
details is the cause of many failing as public speakers who, had they
given proper attention to the perfection of the means to be employed,
might have become clear thinkers and masterly presenters of
well-ordered thoughts. Length has nothing whatever to do with the
question as to whether spoken matter is a speech or not. One might
speak for an hour and not deliver a speech; and, on the other hand, a
perfectly constructed speech might be produced in a minute or less.
Here is a matter that occupies less than two lines, or, to be exact,
twenty-two words, and yet it possesses all the requirements of a
speech:

     The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be
     single, thy whole body shall be full of light.[2]

We have the proposition that "The light of the body is the eye"; the
argument, "if therefore thine eye be single"; and the conclusion,
"thy whole body shall be full of light."

Specimen divisions of speeches of Demosthenes are here employed to
emphasize these points, and students are advised to study closely the
means adopted by this master of oratory and rhetoric in arranging his
speeches. Two examples of each of the three divisions of a speech,
and one example of a complete speech, are here presented in order
that students may gain a practical and comprehensive idea regarding
the construction of speeches.


DIVISIONS OF A SPEECH

OPENING

     _Against the Law of Leptines_ (355 B.C.). It was chiefly,
     men of the jury, because I deemed it good for Athens that
     the law should be repealed, but partly on account of the
     son of Chabrias, that I engaged to support these men to the
     utmost of my ability. It is plain enough, men of Athens,
     that Leptines, or whoever else defends the law, will have
     nothing to say for it on the merits, but will allege that
     certain unworthy persons obtaining immunity have evaded the
     public services, and will lay the greatest stress upon this
     point. I will pass by the injustice of such proceeding--for
     a complaint against some to take the honour from all--for
     it has in a manner been explained, and is doubtless
     acknowledged by you; but this I would gladly ask him:
     Granting most fully that not some but all were unworthy,
     why did he consider that you and they were to be dealt with
     alike? By enacting that none should be exempted, he took
     the exemption from those that enjoyed it; by adding that it
     should be unlawful to grant it thereafter, he deprived you
     of the power of granting. He can not surely say that, as he
     deprived the holders of their privilege because he deemed
     them unworthy of it, in the same manner he thought the
     people unworthy to have the power of giving their own to
     whom they pleased. But possibly he may reply that he framed
     the law so because the people are easily misled. Then what
     prevents your being deprived of everything, yea, of the
     government itself, according to such argument? For there is
     not a single department of your affairs in which this has
     not happened to you. Many decrees have you at various times
     been entrapped into passing. You have been persuaded ere
     now to choose the worse allies instead of the better. In
     short, amid the variety of your measures there must, I
     conceive, happen something of this kind occasionally. Shall
     we therefore make a law prohibiting the council and the
     people hereafter from passing bills and decrees? I scarcely
     think so. We ought not to be deprived of a right, in the
     exercise of which we have been deceived; rather should we
     be instructed how to avoid such error, and pass a law, not
     taking away our power, but giving the means of punishing
     those who deceive us.


     _On the Navy Boards_ (354 B.C.). It appears to me, O
     Athenians, that the men who praise your ancestors adopt a
     flattering language, not a course beneficial to the people
     whom they eulogize. For attempting to speak on subjects
     which no man can fully reach by words they carry away the
     reputation of clever speakers themselves, but cause the
     glory of those ancients to fall below its estimation in the
     minds of the hearers. For my part, I consider the highest
     praise of our ancestors to be the length of time which has
     elapsed during which no other men have been able to excel
     the pattern of their deeds. I will myself endeavour to show
     in what way, according to my judgment, your preparations
     may most conveniently be made. For thus it is. Though all
     of us who intend to speak should prove ourselves capital
     orators, your affairs, I am certain, would prosper none the
     more; but if any person whomsoever came forward, and could
     show and convince you what kind and what amount of force
     will be serviceable to the state, and from what resources
     it should be provided, all our present apprehensions would
     be removed. This will I endeavour to do, as far as I am
     able, first briefly informing you what my opinion is
     concerning our relations with the king.


BODY

     _The first Philippic_ (351 B.C.). First, I say, you must
     not despond, Athenians, under your present circumstances,
     wretched as they are; for that which is worst in them as
     regards the past is best for the future. What do I mean?
     That your affairs are amiss, men of Athens, because you do
     nothing which is needful; if, notwithstanding you performed
     your duties, it were the same, there would be no hope of
     amendment.

     Consider, next, what you know by report, and men of
     experience remember, how vast a power the Lacedaemonians
     had not long ago, yet how nobly and becomingly you
     consulted the dignity of Athens, and undertook the war
     against them for the rights of Greece. Why do I mention
     this? To show and convince you, Athenians, that nothing, if
     you take precaution, is to be feared; nothing, if you are
     negligent goes as you desire. Take for examples the
     strength of the Lacedaemonians then, which you overcame by
     attention to your duties, and the insolence of this man
     now, by which through neglect of our interest we are
     confounded. But if any among you, Athenians, deem Philip
     hard to be conquered, looking at the magnitude of his
     existing power, and the loss by us of all our strongholds,
     they reason rightly, but should reflect, that once we held
     Pydna and Potidaea and Methone and all the region round
     about as our own, and many of the nations now leagued with
     him were independent and free, and preferred our friendship
     to his. Had Philip then taken it into his head that it was
     difficult to contend with Athens, when she had so many
     fortresses to infest his country, and he was destitute of
     allies, nothing that he has accomplished would he have
     undertaken, and never would he have acquired so large a
     dominion. But he saw well, Athenians, that all these places
     are the open prizes of war, that the possessions of the
     absent naturally belong to the present, those of the remiss
     to them that will venture and toil. Acting on such
     principle, he has won everything and keeps it, either by
     way of conquest or by friendly attachment and alliance; for
     all men will side with and respect those whom they see
     prepared and willing to make proper exertion. If you,
     Athenians, will adopt this principle now, though you did
     not before, and every man, where he can and ought to give
     his service to the state, be ready to give it without
     excuse, the wealthy to contribute, the able-bodied to
     enlist; in a word, plainly, if you will become your own
     masters, and cease each expecting to do nothing himself
     while his neighbour does everything for him, you shall then
     with Heaven's permission recover your own, and get back
     what has been frittered away, and chastise Philip. Do not
     imagine that his empire is everlastingly secured to him as
     a god. There are who hate and envy him, Athenians, even
     among those that seem most friendly; and all feelings that
     are in other men belong, we may assume, to his
     confederates. But now they are all cowed, having no refuge
     through your tardiness and indolence, which I say you must
     abandon forthwith. For you see, Athenians, the case, to
     what pitch of arrogance the man has advanced who leaves you
     not even the choice of action or inaction, but threatens
     and uses (they say) outrageous language; and, unable to
     rest in possession of his conquests, continually widens
     their circle and, while we dally and delay, throws his net
     all around us. What, then, Athenians, when will you act as
     becomes you? In what event? In that of necessity, I
     suppose. And how should we regard the events happening now?
     Methinks to freemen the strongest necessity is the disgrace
     of their condition. Or tell me, do you like walking about
     and asking one other, Is there any news? Why, could there
     be greater news than a man of Macedonia subduing Athenians,
     and directing the affairs of Greece? Is Philip dead? No,
     but he is sick. And what matters it to you? Should anything
     befall this man you will soon create another Philip if you
     attend to business thus. For even he has been exalted not
     so much by his own strength but by our negligence. And,
     again, should anything happen to him; should fortune, which
     still takes better care of us than we of ourselves, be good
     enough to accomplish this, observe that, being on the spot,
     you would step in while things were in confusion and manage
     them as you pleased; but as you are, though occasion
     offered Amphipolis, you would not be in a position to
     accept it, with neither forces nor counsels at hand.

     However, as to the importance of a general zeal in the
     discharge of duty, believing you are convinced and
     satisfied, I say no more.


     _On the Liberty of the Rhodians_ (351 B.C.) One of the
     events for which I consider you should be thankful to the
     gods is that a people, who to gratify their own insolence
     went to war with you not long ago, now place their hopes of
     safety in you alone. Well may we be rejoiced at the present
     crisis, for if your measures thereupon be wisely taken the
     result will be that the calumnies of those who traduce our
     country you will practically and with credit and honour
     refute. The Chians, Byzantines, and Rhodians accused us of
     a design to oppress them, and therefore combined to make
     the last war against us. It will turn out that Mausolus,
     who contrived and instigated these proceedings, pretending
     to be a friend of the Rhodians, has deprived them of their
     liberty; the Chians and Byzantines, who called them allies,
     have not aided them in misfortune, while you, whom they
     dreaded, are the only people who have wrought their
     deliverance. And this being seen by all the world, you will
     cause the people in every state to regard your friendship
     as the token of their security; nor can there be a greater
     blessing for you than thus to obtain from all men a
     voluntary attachment and confidence.

     I marvel to see the same persons advising you to oppose the
     king on behalf of the Egyptians, and afraid of him in the
     matter of the Rhodian people. All men know that the latter
     are Greeks, the former a portion of his subjects. And I
     think some of you remember that when you were debating
     about the king's business I first came forward and
     advised--nay, I was the only one, or one of two, that gave
     such counsel--that your prudent course in my opinion was
     not to allege your quarrel with the king as the excuse for
     your arming, but to arm against your existing enemies, and
     defend yourselves against him also if he attempted to
     injure you. Nor did I offer this advice without obtaining
     your approval, for you agreed with me. Well, then, my
     reasoning of today is consistent with the argument on that
     occasion; for, would the king take me to his counsels, I
     should advise him as I advise you, in defense of his own
     possessions to make war upon any Greeks that opposed him,
     but not to think of claiming dominions to which he had no
     manner of title. If now it be your general determination,
     Athenians, to surrender to the king all places that he gets
     possession of, whether by surprise or by deluding certain
     of the inhabitants, you have determined, in my judgment,
     unwisely; but if in the cause of justice you esteem it your
     duty either to make war, if needful, or to suffer any
     extremity, in the first place, there will be the less
     necessity for such trials, in proportion as you are
     resolved to meet them; and, secondly, you will manifest a
     spirit that becomes you.

     That I suggest nothing new in urging you to liberate the
     Rhodians, that you will do nothing new in following my
     counsel, will appear if I remind you of certain measures
     that succeeded. Once, O Athenians, you sent Timotheus out
     to assist Ariobarzanes, annexing to the decree "that he was
     not to infringe your treaty with the king." Timotheus,
     seeing Ariobarzanes had openly revolted from the king, and
     that Samos was garrisoned by Cyprothemis, under the
     appointment of Tigranes, the king's deputy, renounced the
     intention of assisting Ariobarzanes, but invested the
     island with his forces and delivered it. And to this day
     there has been no war against you on that account. Man will
     not fight for aggressive purposes so readily as for
     defensive. To resist spoliation they strive with all their
     might. Not so to gratify ambition; this they will attempt
     if there be none to hinder them; but if prevented, they
     regard not their opponents as having done them an injury.

     My belief is that Artemisia would not even oppose this
     enterprise now if our state were embarked in the measure.
     Attend a moment and see whether my calculations be right or
     wrong. I consider, were my king succeeding in all his
     designs in Egypt, Artemisia would make a strenuous effort
     to get Rhodes into his power, not from affection to the
     king, but from a desire, while he tarried in her
     neighborhood, to confer an important obligation upon him,
     so that he might give her the most friendly reception; but
     since he fares as they report, having miscarried in his
     attempts, she judges that this island--and so the fact
     is--would be of no further use to the king at present, but
     only a fortress to overawe her kingdom and prevent
     disturbances. Therefore it seems to me she would rather you
     had the island, without her appearing to have surrendered
     it, than that he should obtain possession. I think, indeed,
     she will send no succours at all, but if she do they will
     be scanty and feeble. As to the king, what he will do I can
     not pretend to know; but this I will maintain, that it is
     expedient for Athens to have it immediately understood
     whether he means to claim the Rhodian city or not; for, if
     he should, you will have to deliberate not on the concerns
     of Rhodes only, but on those of Athens and all Greece.

     Even if the Rhodians who are now in the government had held
     it by themselves I would not have advised you to espouse
     their cause; nor though they promised to do everything for
     you. But I see that in the beginning, in order to put down
     the democracy, they gained over a certain number of
     citizens, and afterward banished those very men when they
     had accomplished their purpose. I think, therefore, that
     people who have been false to two parties would be no
     steadier allies to you. And never would I have proffered
     this counsel had I thought it would benefit the Rhodian
     people only; for I am not their state friend, nor is any of
     them connected with me by ties of private hospitality. And
     even if both these causes had existed I would not have
     spoken unless I had considered it for your advantage.
     Indeed, as far as the Rhodians are concerned, if the
     advocate for their deliverance may be allowed to say so, I
     am rejoiced at what has happened--that, after grudging to
     you the recovery of your rights, they have lost their own
     liberty; and, when they might have had an alliance on equal
     terms with Greeks and their betters, they are under
     subjection to barbarians and slaves, whom they have
     admitted into their fortresses. I would almost say that, if
     you determine to assist them, these events have turned out
     for their good. For, during prosperity, I doubt whether
     they would have learned discretion, being Rhodians; but
     since they are taught by experience that folly is mightily
     injurious to men, they may possibly perhaps become wiser
     for the future; and this I think would be no small
     advantage to them. I say, therefore, you should endeavour
     to rescue these people, and not harbour resentment,
     considering that you too have often been deceived by
     miscreants, but for no such deceit would you allow that you
     merited punishment yourselves.

     Observe also, men of Athens, that you have waged many wars
     both against democracies and against oligarchies--this,
     indeed, you know without my telling--but for what cause you
     have been at war with either perhaps not one of you
     considers. What are the causes? Against democratical states
     your wars have been either for private grievances, when you
     could not make public satisfaction, or for territory, or
     boundaries, or a point of honour, or the leadership;
     against oligarchies for none of these matters, but for your
     constitution and freedom. Therefore I would not hesitate to
     say I think it better that all the Greeks should be your
     enemies with a popular government than your friends under
     oligarchal. For with freemen I consider you would have no
     difficulty in making peace when you chose, but with people
     under an oligarchy even friendship I hold to be insecure.
     It is impossible that the few can be attached to the many,
     the seekers of power to the lovers of constitutional
     equality.


CONCLUSION

     _Against the Law of Leptines_ (355 B.C.). One might pursue
     the argument and show that in no single respect is the law
     proper or expedient for you; but, that you may comprehend
     the whole question at once, and that I may have done
     speaking, do what I now advise. Make your comparison;
     consider what will happen to you if you condemn the law,
     and what if you do not; then keep in mind what you think
     will be the consequence in either event, that you may
     choose the better course. If now you condemn the law, as we
     advise, the deserving will have their rights from you; and
     if there be any undeserving party, as I grant there may be,
     such a one, besides being deprived of his honour, will
     suffer what penalty you think proper according to the
     amended statute, while the commonwealth will appear
     faithful, just, true to all men. Should you decide in its
     favour, which I trust you will not, the good will be
     wronged on account of the bad, the undeserving will be the
     cause of misfortune to others, and suffer no punishment
     themselves, while the commonwealth (contrary to what I said
     just now) will be universally esteemed faithless, envious,
     base. It is not meet, O Athenians, that for so foul a
     reproach you should reject fair and honourable advantages.
     Remember, each of you individually will share in the
     reputation of your common judgment. It is plain to the
     bystanders and to all men that in the court Leptines is
     contending with us, but in the mind of each of you jurymen
     generosity is arrayed against envy, justice against
     iniquity, all that is virtuous against all that is base. If
     you follow the wiser counsels, and give judgment in my
     favour, you will yourselves have the credit of a proper
     decision, and will have voted what is best for the
     commonwealth; and should occasion ever arise, you will not
     lack men willing at their own risk to defend you.

     You must give your earnest attention to these things, and
     be careful that you are not forced into error. Many a time,
     O Athenians, instead of it being proved to you that
     measures were just, they have been extorted from you by the
     clamour and violence and impudence of the speakers. Let not
     this happen now; it would not be well. What you have
     determined to be just, keep in mind and remember until you
     vote, that you may give your votes conscientiously against
     evil counsellors. I marvel when you punish with death those
     who debase the coin, if you will give ear to persons who
     render the whole commonwealth false and treacherous. You
     will not surely! O Jupiter and the gods!

     I have nothing more to add, as you seem fully to understand
     what has been said.


     _On the Navy Boards_ (354 B.C.). Not to trouble you, men of
     Athens, with over-many words, I will give you a summary of
     my advice and retire. I bid you prepare yourselves against
     existing enemies, and I declare that with this same force
     you should resist the king and all other people, if they
     attempt to injure you; but never inflict an injustice
     either in word or deed. Let us look that our actions, and
     not our speeches on the platform, be worthy of our
     ancestors. If you pursue this course you will do service
     not only to yourselves but also to them who give the
     opposite counsel, since you will not be angry with them
     afterward for your errors committed now.


A COMPLETE SPEECH

     _The First Olynthiac_ (349 B.C.). I believe, men of Athens,
     you would give much to know what is the true policy to be
     adopted in the present matter of inquiry. This being the
     case, you should be willing to hear with attention those
     who offer you their counsel. Besides, that you will have
     the benefit of all preconsidered advice, I esteem it part
     of your good fortune that many fit suggestions will occur
     to some speakers at the moment, so that from them all you
     may easily choose what is profitable.

     The present juncture, Athenians, all but proclaims aloud
     that you must yourselves take these affairs in hand if you
     care for their success. I know not how we seem disposed in
     the matter. My own opinion is, vote succour immediately,
     and make the speediest preparations for sending it off from
     Athens, that you may not incur the same mishap as before;
     send also ambassadors to announce this, and watch the
     proceedings. For the danger is that this man, being
     unscrupulous and clever at turning events to account,
     making concessions when it suits him, threatening at other
     times (his threats may well be believed), slandering us and
     urging our absence against us, may convert and wrest to his
     use some of our main resources. Though, strange to say,
     Athenians, the very cause of Philip's strength is a
     circumstance favorable to you. His having it in his sole
     power to publish or conceal his designs, his being at the
     same time general, sovereign, paymaster, and everywhere
     accompanying his army, is a great advantage for quick and
     timely operations in war; but for a peace with the
     Olynthians, which he would gladly make, it has a contrary
     effect. For it is plain to the Olynthians that now they are
     fighting not for glory or for a slice of territory, but to
     save their country from destruction and servitude. They
     know how he treated those Amphipolitans who surrendered to
     him their city, and those Pydneans who gave him admittance.
     And generally, I believe, a despotic power is mistrusted by
     free states, especially if their dominions are adjoining.
     All this being known to you, Athenians, all else of
     importance considered, I say you must take heart and
     spirit, and apply yourselves more than ever to the war,
     contributing promptly, serving personally, leaving nothing
     undone. No plea or pretence is left you for declining your
     duty. What you were all so clamorous about, that the
     Olynthians should be pressed into a war with Philip, has of
     itself come to pass, and in a way most advantageous to you.
     For, had they undertaken the war at your instance, they
     might have been slippery allies, with minds but half
     resolved, perhaps; but since they hate him on a quarrel of
     their own, their enmity is like to endure on account of
     their fears and their wrongs. You must not then, Athenians,
     forego this lucky opportunity, nor commit the error which
     you have often done heretofore. For example, when we
     returned from succouring the Euboeans, and Hierax and
     Stratocles of Amphipolis came to this platform, urging us
     to sail and receive possession of their city, if we had
     shown the same zeal for ourselves as for the safety of
     Euboea you would have held Amphipolis then and been rid of
     all the troubles that ensued. Again, when news came that
     Pydna, Potidaea, Methone, Pagasae, and the other places
     (not to waste time in enumerating them) were besieged, had
     we to any one of these in the first instance carried prompt
     and reasonable succour, we should have found Philip far
     more tractable and humble now. But, by always neglecting
     the present and imagining the future would shift for
     itself, we, O men of Athens, have exalted Philip, and made
     him greater than any King of Macedon ever was. Here, then,
     is come a crisis, that of Olynthus, self-offered to the
     state, inferior to none of the former. And methinks, men of
     Athens, any man fairly estimating what the gods have done
     for us, notwithstanding many untoward circumstances, might
     with reason be grateful to them. Our numerous losses in way
     may justly be charged to our own negligence; but that they
     happened not long ago, and that an alliance to
     counterbalance them is open to our acceptance, I must
     regard as manifestations of divine favour. It is much the
     same as in money matters. If a man keep what he gets he is
     thankful to fortune; if he lose it by imprudence, he loses
     withal his memory of the obligations. So in political
     affairs, they who misuse their opportunities forget even
     the good which the gods send them, for every prior event is
     judged commonly by the last result. Wherefore, Athenians,
     we must be exceedingly careful of our future measures, that
     by amendment therein we may efface the shame of the past.
     Should we abandon these men too, and Philip reduce
     Olynthus, let any one tell me what is to prevent him
     marching where he pleases? Does any of you, Athenians,
     compute or consider the means by which Philip, originally
     weak, has become great? Having first taken Amphipolis, then
     Pydna, Potidaea next, Methone afterward, he invaded
     Thessaly. Having ordered matters at Pherae, Pagasae,
     Magnesia, everywhere exactly as he pleased, he departed for
     Thrace, where, after displacing some kings and establishing
     others, he fell sick; again recovering, he lapsed not into
     indolence, but instantly attacked the Olynthians. I omit
     his expeditions to Illyria and Paeonia, that against
     Arymbas, and some others.

     Why, it may be said, do you mention all this now? That you,
     Athenians, may feel and understand both the folly of
     continually abandoning one thing after another, and the
     activity which forms part of Philip's habit and existence,
     which makes it impossible for him to rest content with his
     achievements. If it be his principle ever to do more than
     he has done, and yours to apply yourselves vigorously to
     nothing, see what the end promises to be. Heavens! which of
     you is so simple as not to know that the war yonder will
     soon be here if we are careless? And should this happen, I
     fear, O Athenians, that as men who thoughtlessly borrow on
     large interest, after a brief accommodation, lose their
     estate, so will it be with us; found to have paid dear for
     our idleness and self-indulgence, we shall be reduced to
     many hard and unpleasant shifts, and struggle for the
     salvation of our country.

     To censure, I may be told, is easy for any man; to show
     what measures the case requires is the part of a
     counsellor. I am not ignorant, Athenians, that frequently
     when any disappointment happens you are angry, not with the
     parties in fault, but with the last speakers on the
     subject; yet never, with a view to self-protection, would I
     suppress what I deem for your interest. I say, then, you
     must give a twofold assistance here: first, save the
     Olynthians their towns, and send our troops for that
     purpose; secondly, annoy the enemy's country with ships and
     other troops; omit either of these courses, and I doubt the
     expedition will be fruitful. For, should he, suffering your
     incursion, reduce Olynthus, he will easily march to the
     defense of his kingdom; or, should you only throw succour
     into Olynthus, and he, seeing things out of danger at home,
     keep up a close and vigilant blockade, he must in time
     prevail over the besieged. Your assistance, therefore, must
     be effective and twofold.

     Such are the operations I advise. As to a supply of money:
     you have money, Athenians; you have a larger military fund
     than any people, and you receive it just as you please. If
     you will assign this to your troops you need no further
     supply; otherwise you need a further, or rather you have
     none at all. How then? some man may exclaim; do you move
     that this be a military fund? Verily, not I. My opinion,
     indeed, is that there should be soldiers raised, and a
     military fund, and one and the same regulation for
     receiving and performing what is due; only you just without
     trouble take your allowance for the festivals. It remains,
     then, I imagine, that all just contribute; if much be
     wanted, much; if little, little. Money must be had; without
     it nothing proper can be done. Other persons propose other
     ways and means. Choose which you think expedient, and put
     hands to work while it is yet time.

     It may be well to consider and calculate how Philip's
     affairs now stand. They are not, as they appear, or as an
     inattentive observer might pronounce, in very good trim, or
     in the most favourable position. He would never have begun
     this war had he imagined he must fight. He expected to
     carry everything on the first advance, and has been
     mistaken. This disappointment is one thing that troubles
     and dispirits him; another is the state of Thessaly. That
     people were always, you know, treacherous to all men, and
     just as they ever have been they are to Philip. They have
     resolved to demand the restitution of Pagasae, and have
     prevented his fortifying Magnesia; and I was told they
     would no longer allow him to take the revenue of their
     harbours and markets, which they say should be applied to
     the public business of Thessaly, not received by Philip.
     Now, if he be deprived of this fund, his means will be much
     straitened for paying his mercenaries. And surely we must
     suppose that Paeonians and Illyrians, and all such people,
     would rather be free and independent than under subjection,
     for they are unused to obedience, and the man is a tyrant.
     So report says, and I can well believe it, for undeserved
     success leads weak-minded men into folly; and thus it
     appears often that to maintain prosperity is harder than to
     acquire it. Therefore must you, Athenians, looking on his
     difficulty as your opportunity, assist cheerfully in the
     war, sending embassies where required, taking arms
     yourselves, exciting all other people, for if Philip got
     such an opportunity against us, and there was a war on our
     frontier, how eagerly think you he would attack you! Then
     are you not ashamed that the very damage which you suffer,
     if he had the power, you dare not seize the moment to
     inflict on him?

     And let not this escape you, Athenians, that you have now
     the choice whether you shall fight there, or he in your
     country. If Olynthus hold out, you will fight there and
     distress his dominions, enjoying your own home in peace. If
     Philip take that city, who shall then prevent his marching
     here? Thebans? I wish it be not too harsh to say they will
     be ready to join in the invasion. Phocians? who can not
     defend their own country without your assistance. Or some
     other ally? But, good sir, he will not desire! Strange,
     indeed, if, what he is thought foolhardy for prating now,
     this he would not accomplish if he might. As to the vast
     difference between a war here or there, I fancy there needs
     no argument. If you were obliged to be out yourselves for
     thirty days only, and take the necessaries for camp-service
     from the land (I mean without an enemy therein), your
     agricultural population would sustain, I believe, greater
     damage than what the whole expense of the late war amounted
     to. But if a war should come, what damage must be expected?
     There is the insult, too, and the disgrace of the thing,
     worse than any damage to right-thinking men.

     On all these accounts, then, we must unite to lend our
     succour, and drive off the war yonder; the rich, that,
     spending a little from the abundance which they happily
     possess, they may enjoy the residue in security; the young,
     that, gaining military experience in Philip's territory,
     they may become redoubtable champions to preserve their
     own; the orators, that they may pass a good account of
     their statesmanship, for on the result of measures will
     depend your judgment of their conduct. May it for every
     cause by prosperous!


FOOTNOTES:

  [1]   "Speech-Making," page 1. By Edwin Gordon Lawrence (The
        A. S. Barnes Company).

  [2]   St. Matthew, vi:22.



CHAPTER IV

COMPOSITION

Words make sentences, sentences form paragraphs, and paragraphs are
developed into speeches. Words should be vital and instantly spring
into position so that the thought may be quickly conveyed. They
should be appropriate in that they may become the time, place, and
circumstance in which they are used. They should not be employed for
their own sake, but merely for the reason that they fit in properly
with their fellows and adequately convey the speaker's meaning. Words
are important on account of their expressive power, and this is
greatly influenced by their location; as,

     Many times the attempt was made to stretch the royal
     authority far enough to justify military trials; but it
     never had more than temporary success.  --JEREMIAH S. BLACK

In this sentence the word "temporary" is important for the reason
that it qualifies the word "success," and the ability properly to
place words in a sentence so as to make them most effective in the
performance of their duty is as important to the speaker as is the
advantageous marshaling of an army to its general.

A sentence should contain one complete thought, and but one, and this
thought should be presented from only one point of view. By
remembering this, speakers will avoid confusing their listeners, as a
sentence containing one thought presented from one point is most
likely to be clear. The mind of the speaker grasps instantly such
sentences, sees all around them, as it were, and as quickly presents
them in the mind of the listener. Students of speech-making are
strongly advised to observe this rule of unity in constructing their
sentences.

Other essential qualities to the formation of good sentences are
force and ease. Force is best represented in short sentences, and
ease in long ones, although a sentence may, at times, lack ease
because it is too long. A sentence that is so involved that its
meaning is not instantly clear will lack in ease as well as in
clearness, and is sure to be deficient in force. When a speaker
wishes to employ force he should move from a weaker word to a
stronger; as, Byron, Milton, and Shakespeare are representative
English poets. When he wishes a sentence that is made up of a
negative and a positive to be forceful he should place the negative
first; as,

     A man is fed, not that he may be fed, but that he may work.
                                           --RALPH WALDO EMERSON

When the object of the speaker is to be argumentative instead of
assertive he should place the positive first; as,

     Territory, like other property, can only be acquired for
     constitutional purposes, and cannot be acquired and
     governed for unconstitutional purposes.    --GEORGE F. HOAR

Sentences should be feeders, thus suggesting other sentences. They
should connect one with the other at both ends like links forming a
chain. The essential qualities of sentences are correctness, force,
ease, unity, and clearness.

As there should be perfect ease in going from word to word in a
sentence, so there should be like ease in going from sentence to
sentence in a paragraph. In fact, a paragraph is much like a large
sentence, the only real difference is that it is made of sentences
whereas a sentence is composed of words. A paragraph, like a
sentence, should be a unit, and one paragraph should grow out of
another exactly as sentences should do, and thus will the many
paragraphs form the speech in the same manner as do the words form
the sentences and the sentences form the paragraphs.

The four forms of English composition are exposition, argumentation,
narration, and description. Exposition teaches; argumentation
convinces and persuades; narration tells; description shows. In
oratory we have five classes: philosophic, demonstrative, forensic,
deliberative, and social, and the four forms of composition may be
employed in any of the five classes of oratory. Speakers, as a rule,
use the narrative for the statement; exposition, argumentation, or
description, for the body; and sometimes one form and sometimes
another for the conclusion. A speaker might adopt the narrative form
for stating his points, the argumentative for making them clear, and
the descriptive for driving them home.


EXPOSITION

Exposition means the interpreting of a passage or a work, explaining
and expounding its meaning, analyzing its parts, and laying bare to
the reader or listener all that might be obscure. A splendid example
of exposition is the following extract from _The American Scholar,_
by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

     If it were only for a vocabulary, the scholar would be
     covetous of action. Life is our dictionary. Years are well
     spent in country labors; in town--in the insight into
     trades and manufactures; in frank intercourse with many men
     and women; in science; in art; to the one end of mastering
     in all their facts a language by which to illustrate and
     embody our perceptions. I learn immediately from any
     speaker how much he has already lived through the poverty
     or the splendor of his speech. Life lies behind us as the
     quarry from whence we get tiles and cope-stones for the
     masonry of today. This is the way to learn grammar.
     Colleges and books only copy the language which the field
     and the work-yard made.

     But the final value of action, like that of books, and
     better than books, is, that it is a resource. That great
     principle of undulation in nature, that shows itself in the
     inspiring and expiring of the breath; in desire and
     satiety; in the ebb and flow of the sea; in day and night;
     in heat and cold; and as yet more deeply ingrained in every
     atom and every fluid, is known to us under the name of
     polarity--these "fits of easy transmission and reflection,"
     as Newton called them, are the law of nature because they
     are the law of spirit.

     The mind now thinks; now acts; and each fit reproduces the
     other. When the artist has exhausted his materials, when
     the fancy no longer paints, when thoughts are no longer
     apprehended, and books are a weariness--he has always the
     resource _to live._ Character is higher than intellect.
     Thinking is the function. Living is the functionary. The
     stream retreats to its source. A great soul will be strong
     to live, as well as strong to think. Does he lack organ or
     medium to impart his truths? He can still fall back on this
     elemental force of living them. This is a total act.
     Thinking is a partial act. Let the grandeur of justice
     shine in his affairs. Let the beauty of affection cheer his
     lowly roof. Those "far from fame," who dwell and act with
     him, will feel the force of his constitution in the doings
     and passages of the day better than it can be measured by
     any public and designed display. Time shall teach him that
     the scholar loses no hour which the man lives. Herein he
     unfolds the sacred germ of his instinct, screened from
     influence. What is lost in seemliness is gained in
     strength. Not out of those, on whom systems of education
     have exhausted their culture, comes the helpful giant to
     destroy the old or to build the new, but out of unhandseled
     savage nature, out of terrible Druids and Berserkirs, come
     at last Alfred and Shakespeare.

     I hear therefore with joy whatever is beginning to be said
     of the dignity and necessity of labor to every citizen.
     There is virtue yet in the hoe and the spade, for learned
     as well as for unlearned hands. And labor is everywhere
     welcome; always we are invited to work; only be this
     limitation observed, that a man shall not for the sake of
     wider activity sacrifice any opinion to the popular
     judgments and modes of action.


ARGUMENTATION

Argumentation means the stating of points or facts, the logical
presentation of them, and the drawing of conclusions from a
consideration of the premises. Its objects are to convince and
persuade the reader or listener. Argumentation that stops with
conviction is incomplete--it must persuade as well as convince in
order to be effective. A speaker accomplishes practically nothing if
he convinces an audience but does not persuade it to do the thing he
desires. Arguments may be direct or indirect. They are direct when
aimed at a stated conclusion, and they are indirect when they are
employed to disprove what is opposed to the speaker's contention. The
most effective form of argument is where the two forms, direct and
indirect, are employed, thus not only demolishing one contention but
clearly establishing the other. It is comparable to the contrast in
oratory where the statement is made that a certain thing is not only
not of a certain class but specifically belongs to another one. This
is "clinching" the argument, and it leaves not a loophole for the
escape of the opponent.

Here is an excellent piece of argumentative oratory, taken from an
address of William H. Seward in the celebrated Freeman case.

     "Thou shalt not kill," is a commandment addressed, not to
     him alone, but to me, to you, to the Court, and to the
     whole community. There are no exceptions from that
     commandment, at least not in civil life, save those of
     self-defense, and capital punishment for crimes in the due
     and just administration of the law. There is not only a
     question, then, whether the prisoner has shed the blood of
     his fellow-man, but the question whether we shall
     unlawfully shed his blood. I should be guilty of murder if,
     in my present relation, I saw the executioner waiting for
     an insane man and failed to say, or failed to do in his
     behalf, all that my ability allowed. I think it has been
     proved of the prisoner at the bar, that during all this
     long and tedious trial, he has had no sleepless nights, and
     that even in the daytime, when he retires from the halls to
     his lonely cell, he sinks to rest like a wearied child, on
     the stone floor, and quietly slumbers till roused by the
     constable with his staff, to appear again before the jury.
     His counsel enjoy no such repose. Their thoughts by day and
     their dreams by night are filled with oppressive
     apprehension that, through their inability or neglect, he
     may be condemned.

     I am arraigned before you for undue manifestations of zeal
     and excitement. My answer to all such charges shall be
     brief. When this cause shall have been committed to you, I
     shall be happy indeed if it shall appear that my only error
     has been that I have felt too much, thought too intensely,
     or acted too faithfully.

     If my error would thus be criminal, how great would yours
     be if you should render an unjust verdict? Only four months
     have elapsed since an outraged people, distrustful of
     judicial redress, doomed the prisoner to immediate death.
     Some of you have confessed that you approved that lawless
     sentence. All men now rejoice that the prisoner was saved
     for this solemn trial. But this trial would be as criminal
     as that precipitate sentence, if, through any wilful fault
     or prejudice of yours, it should prove but a mockery of
     justice. If any prejudice of witnesses, or the imagination
     of counsel, or any ill-timed jest, shall, at any time, have
     diverted your attention; or if any prejudgment which you
     have brought into the jury box, or any cowardly fear of
     popular opinion shall have operated to cause you to deny to
     the prisoner that dispassionate consideration of his case
     which the laws of God and man exact of you, and if, owing
     to such an error, this wretched man fall from among the
     living, what will be your crime? You have violated the
     commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." It is not the form or
     letter of the trial by jury that authorizes you to send
     your fellow-man to his dread account, but it is the spirit
     that sanctifies that glorious institution; and if, through
     pride, passion, timidity, weakness, or any cause, you deny
     the prisoner one iota of all the defense to which he is
     entitled by the law of the land, you yourselves, whatever
     his guilt may be, will have broken the commandment, "Thou
     shalt do no murder."


NARRATION

Narration is recounting the particulars of events, or enumerating
facts; telling of occurrences or things in regular order.
Specifically, it is that part of explanation that allows the subject
in its relations to the movement of time. In simple words, it is a
continuous telling.

The narrative form of composition is beautifully employed by Daniel
Webster in his first Bunker Hill Monument address, the following
being an extract from that admirable speech:

     The society whose organ I am was formed for the purpose of
     rearing some honorable and durable monument to the memory
     of the early friends of American independence. They have
     thought that for this object no time could be more
     propitious than the present prosperous and peaceful period;
     that no place could claim preference over this memorable
     spot; and that no day could be more auspicious to the
     undertaking than the anniversary of the battle which was
     here fought. The foundation of that monument we have now
     laid. With solemnities suited to the occasion, with prayer
     to Almighty God for His blessing, and in the midst of this
     cloud of witnesses, we have begun the work. We trust it
     will be prosecuted, and that, springing from a broad
     foundation, rising high in massive solidity and unadorned
     grandeur, it may remain as long as Heaven permits the works
     of man to last, a fit emblem, both of the events in memory
     of which it is raised, and of the gratitude of those who
     have reared it.


DESCRIPTION

Description is showing of things by means of language-pictures;
telling the attributes that make up the whole. Word-pictures are
created by means of explaining the individual parts of a theme or
view as they affect the entire thing.

As a piece of word-picturing the following description of the
breaking of day, by Edward Everett, is certainly magnificent:

     Much as we are indebted to our observatories for elevating
     our conceptions of the heavenly bodies, they present, even
     to the unaided sight, scenes of glory which words are too
     feeble to describe. I had occasion, a few weeks since, to
     take the early train from Providence to Boston, and, for
     this purpose, rose at two o'clock in the morning. Every
     thing around was wrapped in darkness, and hushed in
     silence, broken only by what seemed, at that hour, the
     unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild,
     serene, mid-summer's night; the sky was without a cloud;
     the winds were hushed. The moon, then in the last quarter,
     had just risen; and the stars shown with a spectral lustre
     but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours
     high, was the herald of the day: the Pleiades, just above
     the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east: Lyra
     sparkled near the zenith: Andromeda veiled her newly
     discovered glories from the naked eye, in the south: the
     steady Pointers, far beneath the pole, looked meekly up
     from the depths of the north to their sovereign.

     Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As
     we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more
     perceptible. The intense blue of the sky began to soften;
     the smaller stars, like little children, went first to
     rest; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted
     together; but the bright constellations of the west and
     north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous
     transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from
     mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens; the
     glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn.
     The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great
     watch-stars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to
     kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky;
     the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing
     tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from
     above in one great ocean of radiance; till at length, as we
     reached the blue hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out
     from above the horizon, and turned the dewy tear-drops of
     flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds
     the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open,
     and the Lord of Day, arrayed in glories too severe for gaze
     of man, began his course.


EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE

EXPOSITION

     _The Conspiracy to Murder._ A conspiracy to kill and murder
     does not owe its criminality to the length of time it may
     occupy in its progress, from its first conception to its
     ultimate adoption--a conspiracy may be formed the very
     instant before the step is taken to put it into effect. If
     a number of people meet accidentally in the street, and
     conspire together to kill and murder at the moment, it is
     as essentially the crime of conspiracy as if it had been
     intended for a year before, and hatched from that year to
     the moment of its accomplishment.
                    --JOHN P. CURRAN, _Trial of John Costly for
                   conspiracy to murder, Dublin,_ Feb. 23, 1804


     _Circumstantial Evidence of Guilt._ I need not pause to
     remind you how much caution, how much candor, and how much
     intelligence are requisite in appreciating circumstantial
     evidence in any case. That kind of evidence may clearly
     prove guilt. That many times, however, it has also shed
     innocent blood, and many times it has stained a fair name,
     I need not pause for a moment to illustrate or remind you.
     Instead of doing that, I think I shall be better occupied,
     under the direction of his honor, in reminding you of the
     two great rules by which circumstantial evidence is to be
     weighed, appreciated, and applied by the jury. Those rules,
     gentlemen, are these:

     In the first place, that the jury shall be satisfied that
     they conduct, as a necessary result and conclusion, to the
     inference of guilt. It is a rule that may be called a
     golden rule in the examination and application of this kind
     of evidence which we call circumstantial, that should it so
     turn out that every fact and circumstance alleged and
     proved to exist is consistent, on the one hand with the
     hypothesis of guilt and on the other hand consistent,
     reasonably and fairly, with the hypothesis of innocence,
     then those circumstances prove nothing at all. Unless they
     go so far as to establish as a necessary conclusion this
     guilt which they are offered with a view to establish, they
     are utterly worthless and ineffectual for the investigation
     of truth. I had the honor to read to the court this
     morning, and possibly in your hearing, an authority in
     which that familiar and elementary doctrine was laid down,
     a doctrine every day applied, everywhere recognized as
     primary in the appreciation of this kind of evidence. It is
     not enough that the circumstances relied upon are plainly
     and certainly proved. It is not enough to show that they
     are consistent with the hypothesis of guilt. They must also
     render the hypothesis of innocence inadmissible and
     impossible, unreasonable and absurd, or they have proved
     nothing at all.
                    --RUFUS CHOATE, _in the Dalton divorce case_


     _Stare Decisis._ The people, in forming the organic law of
     the government of this state, very wisely foresaw that, in
     its action and progress, questions of interpretation of the
     settlement of legal principles, and of their application,
     would frequently arise; and thence the necessity of
     constituting some tribunal with general appellate and
     supervisory powers, whose decisions should be final and
     conclusively settle and declare the law. This was supposed
     to have been accomplished in the organization of this
     court. Heretofore this court, under the Constitution, has
     been looked to by the people as the tribunal of the last
     resort in the state; and it has hitherto been supposed that
     when this court has decided a case upon its merits such
     decision not only determined the right of the parties
     litigant in that particular case, but that it also settled
     the principles involved in it as permanent rules of law,
     universally applicable in all future cases embracing
     similar facts, and involving the same or analogous
     principles. These decisions thus became at once public law,
     measures of private right, and landmarks of property. They
     determined the right of persons and of things. Parties
     entered into contracts with each other with reference to
     them, as to the declared and established law; law equally
     binding upon the courts and the people. But the doctrine
     recently put forth would at once overturn this whole body
     of law founded upon the adjudications of this court, built
     up as it has been by the long continued and arduous labors,
     grown venerable with years, and interwoven as it has become
     with the interests, and habits, and the opinions of the
     people. Under this new doctrine all would again be
     unsettled--nothing established. Like the ever returning but
     never ending labors of the fabled Sisyphus, this court, in
     disregard to the maxim of "stare decisis," would, in each
     recurring case, have to enter upon its examination and
     decision as if all were new, without any aid from the
     experience of the past, or the benefit of any established
     principle or settled law. Each case with decision being
     thus limited as law to itself alone would in turn pass away
     and be forgotten, leaving behind it no record of principle
     established, or light to guide, or rule to govern the
     future.
             --LUTHER BRADISH. _Opinion given as Presiding Judge
                      of Court of Errors, in Hanford v. Archer,_
                                  Dec., 1842, _at Albany, N. Y._


ARGUMENTATION

     _The Obligation of Contract._ We contend that the
     obligation of a contract--that is, the duty of performing
     it--is not created by the law of the particular place where
     it is made, and dependent on that law for its existence;
     but that it may subsist, and does subsist, without the law,
     and independent of it. The obligation is in the contract
     itself, in the assent of the parties, and in the sanction
     of universal law. This is the doctrine of Grotius, Vattel,
     Burlamaqui, Pothier, and Rutherford. The contract,
     doubtless, is necessarily to be enforced by the municipal
     law of the place where performance is demanded. The
     municipal law acts on the contract after it is made, to
     compel its execution, or give damages for its violation.
     But this is a very different thing from the same law being
     the original or fountain of the contract.

     Let us illustrate this matter by an example. Two persons
     contract together in New York for the delivery, by one to
     the other, of a domestic animal, a utensil of husbandry, or
     a weapon of war. This is a lawful contract, and, while the
     parties remain in New York it is to be enforced by the laws
     of that state. But, if they remove with the article to
     Pennsylvania or Maryland, there a new law comes to act upon
     the contract, and to apply other remedies if it be broken.
     Thus far the remedies are furnished by the laws of society.
     But suppose the same parties to go together to a savage
     wilderness, or a desert island beyond the reach of the laws
     of any society. The obligation of the contract still
     subsists, and is as perfect as ever, and is now to be
     enforced by another law, that is the law of nature; and the
     party to whom the promise was made has a right to take by
     force the animal, the utensil, or the weapon that was
     promised him. The right is as perfect here as it was in
     Pennsylvania, or even in New York.
                        --DANIEL WEBSTER, _in Ogden v. Saunders_


     _Parent and Child._ The next greatest tie is that of parent
     and child. If in God's providence a man has not only
     watched over the cradle of his child, but over the grave of
     his offspring, and has witnessed earth committed to earth,
     ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, he knows that the love of
     a parent for his child is stronger than death. The bitter
     lamentation, "Would to God I had died for thee," has been
     wrung from many a parent's heart. But when the adulterer's
     shadow comes between the parent and child, it casts over
     both a gloom darker than the grave. What agony is equal to
     his who knows not whether the children gathered around his
     board are his own offspring or an adulterous brood, hatched
     in his bed. To the child it is still more disastrous.
     Nature designs that children shall have the care of both
     parents; the mother's care is the chief blessing to her
     child--a mother's honor its priceless inheritance. But when
     the adulterer enters a family, the child is deprived of the
     care of one parent, perhaps of both. When death, in God's
     providence, strikes a mother from the family, the deepest
     grief that preys upon a husband's heart is the loss of her
     nurture and example to his orphan child; and the sweetest
     conversation between parent and child is when they talk of
     the beloved mother who is gone. But how can a daughter hear
     that mother's name without a blush? Death is merciful to
     the pitiless cruelty of him whose lust has stained the fair
     brow of innocent childhood by corrupting the heart of the
     mother, whose example must stain the daughter's life.
                         --EDWIN M. STANTON, _in Sickles' trial_


     _Distrust of Witnesses._ Are they witnesses to be trusted
     with report of evidence by words? Are they witnesses to
     remember words where everything may depend upon the exact
     expression, upon the order of the language, upon dropping
     an epithet here and inserting an epithet there, by which
     the guilt of adultery is confessed? Is this a body of
     witnesses that are to be trusted to report words, that are
     the issues of life, with certainty and accuracy? I submit
     that, on the outside of it, the whole case of confession to
     be listened to by this jury is a conclusive and rational
     distrust which would leave my client in no fear at all of
     the result. Here is a man that cannot be trusted to carry
     ten bushels of yellow, flat corn across the city for fear
     that he would steal half of it; who cannot be trusted to
     take a hat full of uncounted bills to New York. A man who
     has not honesty enough, or fairness enough, to weight the
     hind quarter of an ox--shall he be trusted to weigh out
     gold dust and dimes, and count the pulses of life? A man
     not honest enough, a combination not honest enough, to
     carry a letter without mutilating it into a falsehood, to
     prove words in which honesty, intelligence, and fairness
     may be entirely omitted. We come, then, to this examination
     of confession exactly in this state of the case: It is
     probability, amounting almost to a miracle, that a
     confession should be made under any circumstances at all.
     Confessions themselves are never to be acted upon by the
     jury unless they know, upon their oaths, that they have the
     very words spoken in the sense in which they came. They
     never can have that assurance if they have not a clear and
     undoubting confidence in the speaker that reports them. And
     their case opens, I say, with this: that a moral miracle is
     to be established on the testimony of confessions, by the
     evidence of witnesses, as a body, manifestly and apparently
     undeserving a moment's confidence.
                        --RUFUS CHOATE, _in Dalton divorce case_


NARRATION

     _The History of Trial by Jury._ I might begin with Tacitus,
     and show how the contest arose in the forest of Germany
     more than two thousand years ago; how the rough virtues and
     sound common sense of that people established the right of
     trial by jury, and thus started on a career which has made
     their posterity the foremost race that ever lived in all
     the tide of time. The Saxons carried it to England, and
     were ever ready to defend it with their blood. It was
     crushed out by the Danish invasion; and all that they
     suffered of tyranny and oppression during the period of
     their subjugation resulted from the want of trial by jury.
     If that had been conceded to them the reaction would not
     have taken place which drove back the Danes to their frozen
     homes in the north. But those ruffian sea-kings could not
     understand that, and the reaction came. Alfred, the
     greatest of revolutionary heroes and the wisest monarch
     that ever sat on a throne, made the first use of his power,
     after the Saxons restored it, to reëstablish their ancient
     laws. He had promised them that he would, and he was true
     to them because they had been true to him. But it was not
     easily done; the courts were opposed to it, for it limited
     their power--a kind of power that everybody covets--the
     power to punish without regard to law. He was obliged to
     hang forty-four judges in one year for refusing to give his
     subjects a trial by jury. When the historian says he hung
     them, it is not meant that he put them to death without a
     trial. He had them impeached before the grand council of
     the nation, the Witenagemot, the parliament of that time.
     During the subsequent period of Saxon domination no man on
     English soil was powerful enough to refuse a legal trial to
     the meanest peasant. If any minister or any king, in war or
     in peace, had dared to punish a freeman by tribunal of his
     own appointment, he would have roused the wrath of the
     whole population; all orders of society would have resisted
     it; lord and vassal, knight and squire, priest and
     penitent, bocman and socman, master and thrall, copyholder
     and villein, would have risen in one mass and burnt the
     offender to death in his castle, or followed him in his
     flight and torn him to atoms. It was again trampled down by
     the Norman conquerors; but the evils resulting from the
     want of it united all classes in the effort which compelled
     King John to restore it by the Great Charter. Everybody is
     familiar with the struggles which the English people,
     during many generations, made for their rights with the
     Plantagenets, the Tudors, and the Stuarts, and which ended
     finally in the revolution of 1688, when the liberties of
     England were placed upon an impregnable basis by the Bill
     of Rights. Many times the attempt was made to stretch the
     royal authority far enough to justify military trials; but
     it never had more than temporary success.
                --JUDGE JEREMIAH S. BLACK,_in the Milligan case,
             U. S. Supreme Court, Washington, D. C.,_ Dec., 1866


     _Testimony._ I will go through the case fairly and discuss
     it fully. I will nothing extenuate, nor aught set down in
     malice. I will base my argument upon the testimony, not as
     I would have it, but as it is. I will speak not to the
     world, but to you, who can correct and hold me in judgment,
     if I fail to redeem the promises of fairness and candor
     which I make. Heaven can witness for me that I desire no
     fame at the expense of these unfortunate men. I will use no
     bitter words, I will affect no bitter loathing; I will
     assail neither man, woman, nor child, except under the
     urgent pressure of duty and necessity. I wish I could be
     spared the painful task of doing so at all.
                          --J. A. VAN DYKE, _in conspiracy case,
                                    Detroit, Mich.,_ Sept., 1851


DESCRIPTION

     _Conscience._ Lady Macbeth must needs walk by night in her
     sleep and rub her hands as if to wash them, and cry out:
     "Out, damned spot, out I say!" But all Neptune's ocean will
     not wash the stain away; all the perfumes of Arabia will
     not sweeten the murderer's hand. Conscience, the greatest
     gift of God, the child itself of God, working and acting
     obedient to the same law by which your system and mine, by
     their nature, will attempt to throw off disease, that which
     is imperfect and that which is poison, I say by that same
     law conscience seeks to throw off its load of guilt.
                  --STATE'S ATTORNEY FRANK M. NYE, _in People v.
                        Hayward, Minneapolis, Minn.,_ Dec., 1895


     _Consent Under Protest._ Sir, the consent of Maine to part
     with her soil and her sovereignty was given with a bleeding
     heart; it was like the consent of him who bares his own
     right arm to the surgeon's knife when advised that his life
     can only be preserved by its amputation; she consented as
     one consents to commit to kindred dust the children of his
     body; she consented as the red man consents to be driven
     from his happy hunting grounds, the graves of his fathers
     and the banks of the streams where he sported in childhood;
     she consented, as was said by another, as "the victim
     consents to execution because he walks and is not dragged
     to the scaffold which has been erected to receive him."
              --DANIEL S. DICKINSON, _Speech in reply to Webster
                          on the Northwestern Boundary question,
                                    U. S. Senate_, April 9, 1846


     _Duties of Juries._ Gentlemen of the jury, I have about
     concluded my duties in this case. Yours will follow. I ask
     from you nothing in the world but the intelligent judgment
     of twelve intelligent men on the evidence before you. I
     have only one little picture more to offer. It is Burns's
     picture of the Scottish farmer in the seclusion of his
     family. His day's work done, he draws his little family
     about him. He has laid aside his cap and has taken the old
     family Bible from its shelf. He calls Jane and James and
     the old mother and reads to them from God's promises. Then
     all bow their heads in prayer. "In scenes like these old
     Scotia's grandeur lies." Some of you here are wont to keep
     that sacred tryst. Into that tryst you would never admit
     this paper.          --GENERAL BLACK, _in People v. Dunlap,
                                         New York,_ Feb. 4, 1896



CHAPTER V

PARAPHRASING

Paraphrasing is the reproduction of the sense of a passage, a
composition or a speech, in other than the terms used by the original
writer or speaker. It is the holding on to the original structure and
thought, but a clothing of them in entirely new language. It is an
amplification of an idea, a redressing of it; the use of new terms or
different language for the presentation of an old thought; as,

     What would have been the consequences, sir, if we had been
     conquered? Were we not fighting against that majesty? Would
     the justice of our opposition have been considered? The
     most horrid forfeitures, confiscations, and attainders
     would have been pronounced against us.

In paraphrasing this extract from a speech by Patrick Henry we should
keep in mind his thought only and pay no attention to the language he
used in expressing the thought. We should borrow his idea, but we
should clothe it in language of our own; as,

     Let me ask you, sir, what would have resulted from our
     having been conquered by Great Britain? It was the exercise
     of power by that nation that we combated. Would she, had
     our struggle for liberty failed, have considered that we
     fought for what we believed to be right? No, sir, history
     would have but repeated itself. Our patriots would have
     died on the gallows, their children would have been
     deprived of their inheritance, and no cruelty would have
     been too great for the conquering nation to have inflicted
     upon her rebellious colonies.

_What good is to be derived from paraphrasing?_

It trains the mind through the exercising of the power of mental
concentration that is necessary in order to hold on to the thought;
it helps to form the habit of constructing a framework; it aids in
making a speaker arrange his thoughts consecutively; it improves the
speaker's style, and it enlarges his vocabulary.

On a first attempt it will seem almost impossible for many to
paraphrase. They are apt to think the original matter so well
constructed, and the thought so perfectly expressed, as to render any
other arrangement of it ridiculous and practically out of the
question. They cannot bring to mind words common to themselves with
which to clothe the ideas of another. In trying to remember the words
of the original writer or speaker they lose the thought and are
unable to proceed. To all such, the author says: continue in the
work; cease to think of words at all, keep the framework in mind, lay
hold of the thought, and words to convey the thought will leap
forward to do the work. They may not, at first, be the best possible
words, but words that will answer the purpose of carrying the thought
to the mind of the listener will flow freely, and with study and
practice the vocabulary will become larger and more effective.

Paraphrasing helps to develop the imaginative quality by cultivating
the power of producing mental images, seeing with the mind's eye, as
it were. If a speaker will hold on to his picture or his theme, he
will have no trouble in drawing the one or developing the other. In
presenting a picture, the speaker must keep the entire scene in his
mind when describing it in detail; and when developing a theme, it
must be in the speaker's mental vision in its entirety while he
develops it step by step, point by point; as,

     God called man in dreams into the vestibule of heaven,
     saying, "Come up higher, and I will show thee the glory of
     My house"; and to His angels who stood about His throne, He
     said, "take him, strip him of his robes of flesh; cleanse
     his affections; put a new breath into his nostrils; but
     touch not his human heart--the heart that fears, and hopes,
     and trembles." A moment, and it was done, and the man stood
     ready for his unknown voyage. Under the guidance of a
     mighty angel, with sounds of flying pinions, they sped away
     from the battlements of heaven. Some time, on the mighty
     angel's wings, they fled through Saharas of darkness,
     wildernesses of death. At length, from a distance not
     counted, save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed
     upon them--a sleepy flame, as seen through a hazy cloud.
     They sped on, in their terrible speed, to meet the light;
     the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment
     the blazing of suns around them--a moment, the wheeling of
     planets; then came long eternities of twilight; then again,
     on the right hand and the left, appeared more
     constellations. At last, the man sank down, crying, "Angel,
     I can go no further; let me lie down in the grave, and hide
     myself from the infinitude of the universe, for end there
     is none." "End is there none?" demanded the angel. And,
     from the glittering stars that shown around, there came a
     choral shout, "End there is none!" "End is there none?"
     demanded the angel again, "And it is this that awes thy
     soul?" I answer, "End there is none to the universe of God!
     Lo, also, there is no beginning!"

This is a story taken from the German and used by O. M. Mitchell in
his address "The Immensity of the Creation," and it made a striking
illustration. It will be an easy matter to paraphrase this vivid
portraiture if the student will keep in mind the idea of the angel
and the man flying through space as the scene shifts. There is a
continuous change in the surroundings as the angel and man continue
to fly through space, but the mind of the speaker should accompany
them and see all the changes that occur without losing sight of the
angel and the man, as they are the picture, the surroundings being
merely the accessories or details, and while these are being
described the angel and the man must still be in view. The angel and
the man must be seen standing at the portals of heaven, they must be
seen speeding from the battlements of that glorious place. The scene
now shifts to a desert of darkness, but still the angel and the man
are within the mental vision of the speaker. Now a ray of light,
breaking through a misty cloud, showers its brightness upon them. The
scene has again changed, but the picture of the angel and the man
remains. The light grows in brightness and immensity, other details
enter into the picture--the suns, the planets, and the twilight--but
still the angel and the man are there. Again the scenery is shifted,
the man sinks down in weariness, the chorus of angel voices is heard
as the multitude of stars open their portals to let out the heavenly
shout, "End there is none," but still the picture is there--the
picture of the angel and the man.

In developing a theme, the same principle prevails. It is for this
reason that it is wise to have in a speech but one proposition to
expound, one subject to discuss, one object to accomplish. By
dragging in many points, instead of developing the one, the speaker
is apt to ramble, the listener to become confused, and the speech to
fail. By this it is meant that there must be one grand central idea
or point around which all others must revolve. This principal idea,
proposition, or point must be like the hub of a wheel--it may have
any number of spokes, but they must all radiate from the hub. It is
like the picture of the angel and the man flying through space--the
scene changes, but the angel and the man are always present to the
imaginative eye of the speaker--and it is for this reason he is able
to describe so vividly his picture or develop his theme to make them
apparent even to the mind of the unimaginative listener.

Let us consider the developing of a theme in place of the drawing of
a picture. For this purpose we will take an extract from a speech of
that clear reasoned and eminent theologian, William Ellery Channing:

     The grand idea of humanity, of the importance of man as
     man, is spreading silently, but surely. Even the most
     abject portions of society are visited by some dreams of a
     better condition for which they were designed. The grand
     doctrine, that every human being should have the means of
     self-culture, of progress in knowledge and virtue, of
     health, comfort, and happiness, of exercising the powers
     and affections of a man--this is slowly taking its place as
     the highest social truth. That the world was made for all,
     and not for a few; that society is to care for all, that no
     human being shall perish but through his own fault; that
     the great end of government is to spread a shield over the
     rights of all--these propositions are growing into axioms,
     and the spirit of them is coming forth in all the
     departments of life.

How beautifully Dr. Channing holds on to his theme through the entire
passage. He starts by telling us what the grand idea of humanity is,
and then he proceeds to expound it. The first laying down of the
proposition is, that "the importance of man as man" (this is the
grand idea of humanity) is becoming universal. He then amplifies the
idea by stating that even the lowest specimens of humanity are
awakening to a realization of it. He then develops what this idea
consists of--the right of all men to education, proper housing, and
sufficient food, in short, the right to live as human beings--and
asserts that it has become the most important of the social truths.
He then enumerates what at one time were considered debatable
opinions but are now recognized as undeniable facts. Notice how,
while he brings in many statements, they all radiate from the one
proposition that "the importance of man as man is spreading silently,
but surely," and never once does he permit you to lose sight of the
theme, because he continuously has it before his mental eye. No
matter what he says, "the importance of man as man" is uppermost,
just as was the picture of the angel and the man, and if the student
in paraphrasing the passage will keep that one point in mind, he
should have no serious difficulty in presenting it in a new garb
clearly to the minds of others. A carrying out of this principle will
enable an extempore speaker to form his matter with perfect ease, and
this is one reason why paraphrasing is beneficial to the student of
public speaking. It is a valuable stepping stone that should be used
by all in attempting to attain proficiency in the art of expressing
thought by means of the spoken word.

Any material that comes to hand may be used for the purpose of
paraphrasing provided it be properly constructed and expressed in
good language. These are two important points to remember in choosing
selections for paraphrasing, as students are sure to be influenced by
the construction and diction of the matter they employ for this
purpose.

The following extracts furnish splendid matter for paraphrasing.


EDUCATION
HORACE MANN

     From her earliest history, the policy of this country has
     been to develop the minds of all her people, and to imbue
     them with the principles of duty. To do this work most
     effectually, she has begun with the young. If she would
     continue to mount higher and higher toward the summit of
     prosperity, she must continue the means by which her
     present elevation has been gained. In doing this, she will
     not only exercise the noblest prerogative of government,
     but will coöperate with the Almighty in one of His
     sublimest works.

     The Greek rhetorician, Longinus, quotes from the Mosaic
     account of the creation what he calls the sublimest passage
     ever uttered: "God said, 'Let there be light,' and there
     was light!" From the centre of black immensity effulgence
     burst forth. Above, beneath, on every side, its radiance
     streamed out, silent, yet making each spot in the vast
     concave brighter than the line which the lightning pencils
     upon the midnight cloud. Darkness fled as the swift beams
     spread onward and outward, in an unending circumfusion of
     splendor. Onward and outward still they move to this day,
     glorifying, through wider and wider regions of space, the
     infinite Author from whose power and beneficence they
     sprang. But not only in the beginning, when God created the
     heavens and the earth, did he say, "Let there be light!"
     Whenever a human soul is born into the world, its Creator
     stands over it, and again pronounces the same sublime
     words, "Let there be light."

     Magnificent, indeed, was the material creation, when,
     suddenly blazing forth in mid-space, the new-born sun
     dispelled the darkness of the ancient night. But infinitely
     more magnificent is it when the human soul rays forth its
     subtler and swifter beams; when the light of the senses
     irradiates all outward things, revealing the beauty of
     their colors and the exquisite symmetry of their
     proportions and forms; when the light of reason penetrates
     to their invisible properties and laws, and displays all
     those hidden relations that make up all the sciences; when
     the light of conscience illuminates the moral world,
     separating truth from error, and virtue from vice. The
     light of the newly kindled sun, indeed, was glorious. It
     struck upon all the planets, and waked into existence their
     myriad capacities of life and joy. As it rebounded from
     them, and showed their vast orbs all wheeling, circle
     beyond circle in their stupendous courses, the sons of God
     shouted for joy. The light sped onward, beyond Sirius,
     beyond the pole-star, beyond Orion and the Pleiades, and is
     still spreading onward into the abysses of space. But the
     light of the human soul flies swifter than the light of the
     sun, and outshines its meridian blaze. It can embrace not
     only the sun of our system, but all suns and galaxies of
     suns; ay! the soul is capable of knowing and enjoying Him
     who created the suns themselves; and when these starry
     lusters that now glorify the firmament shall wax dim, and
     fade away like a wasted taper, the light of the soul shall
     still remain, nor time, nor cloud, nor any power but its
     own perversity, shall ever quench its brightness. Again I
     would say, that whenever a human soul is born into the
     world, God stands over it and pronounces the same sublime
     fiat, "Let there be light!" and may the time soon come,
     when all human governments shall coöperate with the Divine
     government in carrying this benediction and baptism into
     fulfilment!


DIGGING FOR THE THOUGHT
JOHN RUSKIN

     When you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, "Am I
     inclined to work as an Australian miner would? Are my
     pickaxes and shovels in good order, and am I in good trim
     myself--and my sleeves well up to the elbows, and my breath
     good, and my temper?" And, keeping the figure a little
     longer, even at the cost of tiresomeness, for it is a
     thoroughly useful one, the metal you are in search of being
     the author's mind or meaning, his words are as the rock
     which you have to crush and smelt in order to get at it.
     And your pickaxes are your own care, wit, and learning;
     your smelting-furnace is your own thoughtful soul. Do not
     hope to get at any good author's meaning without those
     tools and that fire. Often you will need sharpest, finest
     chiselling, and patientest fusing before you can gather one
     grain of the metal.

     And, therefore, first of all, I tell you earnestly and
     authoritatively (I know I am right in this), you must get
     into the habit of looking intensely at words, and assuring
     yourself of their meaning, syllable by syllable--nay,
     letter by letter. For, though it is only by reason of the
     opposition of letters in the function of signs to sounds
     that the study of books is called "literature", that a man
     versed in it is called, by the consent of nations, a man of
     letters, instead of a man of books or of words, you may yet
     connect with that accidental nomenclature this real
     fact--that you might read all the books in the British
     Museum (if you could live long enough) and remain an
     utterly illiterate, uneducated person; but that if you read
     ten pages of a good book, letter by letter, that is to say,
     with real accuracy, you are forevermore in some measure an
     educated person. The entire difference between education
     and non-education (as regards the merely intellectual part
     of it) consists in this accuracy. A well-educated gentleman
     may not know many languages, may not be able to speak any
     but his own, may have read very few books; but whatever
     language he knows, he knows precisely; whatever word he
     pronounces, he pronounces rightly. Above all, he is learned
     in the peerage of words, knows the words of true descent
     and ancient blood, at a glance, from words of modern
     _canaille_; remembers all their ancestry, their
     inter-marriages, distant relationship, and the extent to
     which they were admitted, and offices they held among the
     national _noblesse_ of words at any time and in any
     country. But an uneducated person may know, by memory, many
     languages, and talk them all, and yet truly know not a word
     of any--not a word even of his own. An ordinarily clever
     and sensible seaman will be able to make his way ashore at
     most ports; yet he has only to speak a sentence of any
     language to be known for an illiterate person. So also the
     accent, or turn of expression of a single sentence, will at
     once mark a scholar. And this is so strongly felt, so
     conclusively admitted, by educated persons, that a false
     accent or a mistaken syllable is enough, in the parliament
     of any civilized nation, to assign to a man a certain
     degree of inferior standing forever.


HISTORICAL READING
ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR

     It is no doubt true that we are surrounded by advisers who
     shall tell us that all study of the past is barren except
     in so far as it enables us to determine the laws by which
     the evolution of human societies is governed. How far such
     an investigation has been up to the present time fruitful
     in results I will not inquire. That it will ever enable us
     to trace with accuracy the course which states and nations
     are destined to pursue in the future, or to account in
     detail for their history in the past, I do not indeed
     believe.

     We are borne along like travelers on some unexplored
     stream. We may know enough of the general configuration of
     the globe to be sure that we are making our way towards the
     ocean. We may know enough by experience or theory of the
     laws regulating the flow of liquids, to conjecture how the
     river will behave under the varying influences to which it
     may be subject. More than this we cannot know. It will
     depend largely upon causes which, in relation to any laws
     which we are ever likely to discover, may properly be
     called accidental, whether we are destined sluggishly to
     drift among fever-stricken swamps, to hurry down perilous
     rapids, or to glide gently through fair scenes of peaceful
     cultivation.

     But leaving on one side ambitious sociological
     speculations, and even those more modest but hitherto more
     successful investigations into the causes which have in
     particular cases been principally operative in producing
     great political changes, there are still two modes in which
     we can derive what I may call "spectacular" enjoyment from
     the study of history.

     There is first the pleasure which arises from the
     contemplation of some great historic drama, or some broad
     and well-marked phase of social development. The story of
     the rise, greatness, and decay of a nation is like some
     vast epic which contains as subsidiary episodes the varied
     stories of the rise, greatness, and decay of creeds, of
     parties and of statesmen. The imagination is moved by the
     slow unrolling of this great picture of human mutability,
     as it is moved by the contrasted permanence of the abiding
     stars. The ceaseless conflicts, the strange echoes of long
     forgotten controversies, the confusion of purpose, the
     successes which lay deep the seeds of future evils, the
     failures that ultimately divert the otherwise inevitable
     danger, the heroism which struggles to the last for a cause
     foredoomed to defeat, the wickedness which sides with
     right, and the wisdom which huzzahs at the triumph of
     folly--fate, meanwhile, through all this turmoil and
     perplexity, working silently toward the predestined
     end--all these form together a subject the contemplation of
     which need surely never weary.

     But there is yet another and very different species of
     enjoyment to be derived from the records of the past, which
     requires a somewhat different method of study in order that
     it may be fully tasted. Instead of contemplating, as it
     were, from a distance, the larger aspects of the human
     drama, we may elect to move in familiar fellowship amid the
     scenes and actors of special periods.

     We may add to the interest we derive from the contemplation
     of contemporary politics a similar interest derived from a
     not less minute and probably more accurate knowledge of
     some comparatively brief passage in the political history
     of the past. We may extend the social circle in which we
     move--a circle perhaps narrowed and restricted through
     circumstances beyond our control--by making intimate
     acquaintances, perhaps even close friends, among a society
     long departed, but which, when we have once learnt the
     trick of it, it rests with us to revive.

     It is this kind of historical reading which is usually
     branded as frivolous and useless, and persons who indulge
     in it often delude themselves into thinking that the real
     motive of their investigation into bygone scenes and
     ancient scandals is philosophic interest in an important
     historical episode, whereas in truth it is not the
     philosophy which glorifies the details, but the details
     which make tolerable the philosophy.

     Consider, for example, the use of the French Revolution.
     The period from the taking of the Bastille to the fall of
     Robespierre is of about the same length as very commonly
     intervenes between two of our general elections. On these
     comparatively few months libraries have been written. The
     incidents of every week are matters of familiar knowledge.
     The character and the biography of every actor in the drama
     has been made the subject of minute study; and by common
     admission there is no more fascinating page in the history
     of the world.

     But the interest is not what is commonly called
     philosophic, it is personal. Because the Revolution is the
     dominant fact in modern history, therefore people suppose
     that the doings of this or that provincial lawyer, tossed
     into temporary eminence and eternal infamy by some freak of
     the revolutionary wave, or the atrocities committed by this
     or that mob, half-drunk with blood, rhetoric, and alcohol,
     are of transcendent importance.

     In truth, their interest is great, but their importance is
     small. What we are concerned to know as students of the
     philosophy of history is, not the character of each turn
     and eddy in the great social cataract, but the manner in
     which the currents of the upper stream drew surely in
     toward the final plunge, and slowly collected themselves
     after the catastrophe, again to pursue, at a different
     level, their renewed and comparatively tranquil course.

     Now, if so much of the interest of the French Revolution
     depends on our minute knowledge of each passing incident,
     how much more necessary is such knowledge when we are
     dealing with the quiet nooks and corners of history--when
     we are seeking an introduction, let us say, into the
     literary society of Johnson or the fashionable society of
     Walpole! Society, dead or alive, can have no charm without
     intimacy, and no intimacy without interest in trifles.

     If we would feel at our ease in any company, if we wish to
     find humour in its jokes and point in its repartees, we
     must know something of the beliefs and prejudices of its
     various members--their loves and their hates, their hopes
     and their fears, their maladies, their marriages, and their
     flirtations. If these things are beneath our notice, we
     shall not be the less qualified to serve our queen and
     country, but need make no attempt to extract pleasure out
     of one of the most delightful departments of literature.


EULOGY OF GENERAL GRANT
DEAN FARRAR

     Every true man derives his patent of nobleness direct from
     God. Did not God choose David from the sheepfolds to make
     him ruler of his people Israel? Was not the "Lord of life
     and all the worlds" for thirty years a carpenter at
     Nazareth? Do not such careers illustrate the prophecy of
     Solomon, "Seest thou the man diligent in his business? he
     shall stand before kings." When Abraham Lincoln sat, book
     in hand, day after day, under the tree, moving around it as
     the shadow moved, absorbed in mastering his task; when
     James Garfield rang the bell of Hiram Institute, day after
     day, on the very stroke of the hour, and swept the school
     room as faithfully as he mastered the Greek lesson; when
     Ulysses Grant, sent with his team to meet some men who were
     to load the cart with logs, and finding no men there,
     loaded the cart with his own boy strength--they showed in
     conscientious duty and thoroughness the qualities which
     were to raise them to rule the destinies of men.

     But the youth was not destined to die in that deep valley
     of obscurity and toil in which it is the lot--perhaps the
     happy lot--of many of us to spend our little lives. The
     hour came: the man was needed.

     In 1861 there broke out the most terrible war of modern
     days. Grant received a commission as colonel of volunteers,
     and in four years the struggling toiler had risen to the
     chief command of a vaster army than has ever been handled
     by any mortal man. Who could have imagined that four years
     could make that stupendous difference? But it is often so.
     The great men needed for some tremendous crisis have often
     stepped as it were through the door in the wall which no
     one had noticed, and, unannounced, unheralded, without
     prestige, have made their way silently and single-handed to
     the front.

     And there was no luck in it. He rose, it has been said, by
     the upward gravitation of natural fitness. It was the work
     of inflexible faithfulness, of indomitable resolution, of
     sleepless energy, of iron purpose, of persistent tenacity.
     In battle after battle, in siege after siege, whatever
     Grant had to do he did it with his might. He undertook, as
     General Sherman said, what no one else would have
     adventured, till his very soldiers began to reflect some of
     his own indomitable determination. With a patience which
     nothing could tire, with a firmness which no obstacle could
     daunt, with a military genius which embraced the vastest
     plans, yet attended to the smallest minutiæ, he defeated
     one after another every great general of the Confederates
     except General Stonewall Jackson.

     Grant had not only to defeat armies, but to "annihilate
     resources"--to leave no choice but destruction or
     submission. He saw that the brief ravage of the hurricane
     is infinitely less ruinous than the interminable malignity
     of the pestilence, and that in that colossal struggle
     victory--swift, decisive, overwhelming, at all costs--was
     the truest mercy. In silence, in determination, in
     clearness of insight, he was your Washington and our
     Wellington. He was like them also in this, that the word
     "can't" did not exist in his soldier's dictionary, and that
     all he achieved was accomplished without bluster and
     without parade.

     After the surrender at Appomattox the war of the Secession
     was over. It was a mighty work, and Grant had done it
     mightily. Surely the light of God, which manifests all
     things in the slow history of their ripening, has shown
     that for the future destinies of a mighty nation it was a
     necessary and a blessed work. The Church hurls her most
     indignant anathema at unrighteous war, but she never
     refused to honor the faithful soldier who fights in the
     cause of his country and his God. The gentlest and most
     Christian of poets has used the tremendous words that--

             God's most dreaded instrument,
             In working out a pure intent,
             Is man--arrayed for mutual slaughter;
             Yea, carnage is his daughter.

     We shudder even as we quote the words; but yet the cause
     for which Grant fought--the unity of a great people, the
     freedom of a whole race of mankind--was as great and noble
     as that when at Lexington the embattled farmers fired the
     shot which was heard round the world. The South has
     accepted that desperate and bloody arbitrament. Two of the
     Southern generals will bear General Grant's funeral pall.
     The rancor and the fury of the past are buried in oblivion.
     True friends have been made out of brave foemen, and the
     pure glory and virtue of Lee and of Stonewall Jackson will
     be part of the common national heritage with the fame of
     Garfield and of Grant.



CHAPTER VI
A SERIES OF PRACTICAL HOWS

HOW TO BREATHE

     And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and
     breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man
     became a living soul.[1]                        --THE BIBLE

These words were spoken several thousand years ago by one of the
wisest of men, who was inspired by the Master of Life to utter words
of wisdom for the guidance of the children of men. From the moment
those divine words were spoken it seems as though man has been aiming
to get along with as little of the breath of God as possible. The
divine breath is given as freely now as it was at the time of the
creation, and it is ever present to those who are willing to receive
it, as, like God's love, it is not withheld from us, but we withhold
ourselves from it. No soul is ever lost save through its own
determination to go to destruction, and no body suffers for the want
of the life-giving breath except through sin, ignorance, or
wilfulness. The great English preacher, Charles H. Spurgeon, in a
lecture to his students, thus expressed himself: "The next best thing
to the grace of God for a preacher is oxygen." As the world cannot
live without the grace of God, the body cannot exist without oxygen;
and this oxygen is the life-giving property of the air which is drawn
into the lungs and distributed through the body by means of the
blood. Correct breathing insures physical health in that it causes
the blood to circulate properly through all the veins as well as
through the arteries, thus carrying off the particles that otherwise
would remain in the system, decomposing and poisoning the body with
their dead matter. Proper breathing brightens the eye, makes ruddy
the cheek, raises the spirits, clarifies the mind, ennobles the soul,
and forms the voice. Sir George Mivart, the noted English naturalist,
voiced a self-evident fact when he said: "Of all the functions of the
body that of respiration is the most conspicuously necessary for the
maintenance of life," but while it is understood by all thinking
animals that they must breathe in order that they may live, it is not
so clearly evident to man that he must breathe correctly in order
that pure vocal tones may be produced and expressive speech formed.

_The question of breath._ This is of the greatest importance to the
speaker, as by the action of the breathing muscles the voice is
controlled in all things except modulation. Speech is breath and
voice before it becomes speech, and the form it takes as it starts on
its journey at the moment of its creation it must retain until it
ceases to exist. Breath possesses three forms, effusive, expulsive,
and explosive, and whichever of these forms it assumes at the start,
it must retain during its transition into voice and speech. After the
pressure of the breathing muscles against the lungs has forced the
breath into the larynx and produced voice through the vibration of
the vocal cords until that voice has been formed into articulated
sounds by the action of the hard and soft palate, the tongue, the
teeth, and the lips, it must remain, so far as its form is concerned,
exactly as it started. Effusive breath can produce only effusive
voice, effusive voice can be converted into only effusive speech, and
in no manner can this form be altered after the breath has been
expelled from the lungs. The voice is affected and modified by the
resonance chambers, the organs of articulation, and the mentality of
the speaker, but it must be one of the three forms, effusive,
expulsive, or explosive, and it must retain this form from its birth
to its death.

_Respiration._ Respiration is the process of taking air into the
lungs and sending it out. This process of breathing is twofold,
inhalation and exhalation. Inhalation is the taking in of the air,
and exhalation is the sending out of the breath. Normal persons
breathe about twenty times a minute; that is, they inhale twenty
times and exhale twenty times during that period. When the air is
received into the lungs, the oxygen is extracted from it, eaten up,
as it were, and distributed through the system; and, on the
exhalation, the carbonic gas and organic matter is carried out. If a
person is confined within a limited space, and little air permitted
to enter, he will soon consume most of the oxygen contained therein,
poison the atmosphere with the carbonic gas which he throws off, and
die for the want of the life-giving property--oxygen. It is estimated
that almost half the deaths are caused through improper breathing and
the inhalation of vitiated air. Five hundred cubic feet of air every
twenty-four hours is not too much for every human being.

The lungs are the organs of respiration. They are two in number, the
right and the left. The right lung possesses three distinct chambers,
and the left lung is made up of two. The average adult has a lung
capacity, in round numbers, of three hundred and fifty cubic inches,
and uses about thirty cubic inches for an ordinary inhalation and
exhalation, although it would be well if he used forty, or even
fifty, cubic inches of his capacity. There are one hundred cubic
inches of air always in the lungs of an adult which cannot be forced
out by physical exertion and the human animal live. As soon as this
reserve force of air is about to be drawn upon, nature cries out
against its use, causes the being to pant, and forces him to seek
other supplies.

The two lungs are joined to the trachea, or air tube, by means of the
bronchial tubes, and at the upper end of the trachea is the larynx,
or voice box. In the larynx are the two true vocal cords, the
vibration of which produces voice; and this voice, passing into the
mouth, is moulded into speech by the organs of articulation.

_Control of the breath._ There are muscles that act on the lungs and
regulate the entrance of air and the exit of breath. The muscles are:
pectoral, dorsal, costal, intercostal, abdominal, and the diaphragm.
The pectoral muscles hold up the chest and thus allow the air to
enter the upper lobes of the lungs. The dorsal muscles press inward
from the back and assist the abdominal muscles to regulate the action
of the diaphragm. The costal and intercostal muscles cause the ribs
to expand and contract, thus enlarging and decreasing the capacity of
the cavity that contains the lungs. The abdominal muscles act
directly on the diaphragm, causing it to fall and rise. The diaphragm
supports the lungs and is the only muscle that comes in contact with
them.

This is all the information regarding the anatomy of the breathing
muscles that is necessary to an understanding of the instructions
here given for gaining a knowledge of their proper use and management
in connection with the production of speech.

_How is one to breathe properly?_ By inflating the lungs fully from
their base to their apex.

_How can this be accomplished?_ By bringing into use all the muscles
that act on the lungs, particularly the abdominal muscles and the
diaphragm. When inhaling there should be an expansion of the base of
the lungs; and when exhaling there should be a contraction. The upper
lobes of the lungs should be expanded all the time, the chest should
be held upward and outward, whether the person is inhaling or
exhaling; the air is first drawn into the lower lobes, then gradually
rises and forces the air out of the upper lobes, and immediately
takes its place, the upper lobes being filled with air all the time,
whereas the lower lobes are only filled immediately following the
full inhalation, as they commence to decrease in size as soon as the
air starts to rise into the upper lobes. Breathing should be
accomplished without an apparent effort, and air should be taken
whenever the speaker feels it required; he should not continue
speaking until the breath is almost exhausted, but he should
replenish while he feels confident of his ability to utter several
more words without taking another breath.

Breathing should not be audible, but the air should be allowed to
quietly and naturally enter the lungs. This can be accomplished by
expanding the abdominal muscles, thus drawing down the diaphragm,
releasing the pressure from the lungs and permitting the air to enter
them. It requires no effort to inhale. All that is necessary is to
create a vacuum in the lungs, by taking the pressure of the diaphragm
from them, and the air will flow in freely. Avoid "smelling" the air
into the lungs--take bites out of the atmosphere, as it were, and
permit the air to enter the mouth as well as the nose. Habitual mouth
breathing is wrong, and one should always breathe through the nose
when not producing voice, but when speech is required it is necessary
to allow the air to enter through both passages. Unless this is done,
the breathing will be forced and the speaker will always be short of
breath.

It is advisable to exercise physically while practicing breathing,
therefore walking, running, and climbing are great aids in building
up the organs of respiration, and when the exercising must be done
indoors, it is advisable to go through physical movements in
conjunction with the breathing. Movements of the arms that represent
swimming, bending the bow, sawing wood, chopping down trees, etc.,
are highly beneficial as aids in developing deep and full breathing,
and if one is so situated that one can row, swim, cut down trees,
etc., in reality, the exercise brought about by such means will be of
incalculable benefit in building up the breathing mechanism. Most
persons cease to breathe correctly because of a non-use of some of
the muscles and organs of respiration, and the exercises that are
here recommended will compel the employment of all the neglected
adjuncts to correct breathing, and thus bring about effective
respiration.


HOW TO PRODUCE AND USE THE VOICE

     A man was not made to shut up his mind in itself, but to
     give it voice and to exchange it for other minds.[2]

In order that man may enter into commerce with other men for the
exchange of mental commodities he must have a medium of
communication, and the greatest and noblest of all means is the human
voice. We are thus admonished by one who was entitled to speak, for
he knew how to convey his thought by word of mouth as well as by pen:

     Remember that talking is one of the fine arts--the noblest,
     the most important, and the most difficult--and that its
     fluent harmonies may be spoiled by the intrusion of a
     single harsh note.[3]

Let all who would excel as public speakers heed this wise warning and
seek to obtain voices capable of producing "fluent harmonies."

_What is voice?_ Voice is vocalized breath. It is formed in the
larynx, or voice box, and is produced by the breath acting on the
vocal cords and causing them to vibrate. Immediately as voice is
produced it should pass from the larynx into the mouth and be
converted into speech; one of the worst vocal faults, throatiness,
arises from a failure to do this. Voice can be modulated; that is,
its pitch can be raised and lowered, and the whole gamut of vocal
tones can be played upon by means of the change in pitch. The pitch
of the voice is regulated by the tension of the vocal cords and the
distinctive resonance chamber into which the vibration is placed.
There are three such chambers; the chest, the throat, and the head.
Voice and resonance should not be confounded. Resonance is a part of
voice, it is the spirit or essence, as it were, and enters into the
different chambers and thus affects the tone of the voice; but the
voice itself, the body of the sound, must be placed on the lips.
There are three divisions to the speaking voice, the lower, the
middle, and the upper, and by moving the tone from one division to
another the voice is modulated. As before stated, the tension of the
vocal cords and the chamber into which the resonance enters regulate
the pitch of the voice. Tones on the lower register require a lesser
tension of the vocal cords than do tones on the upper register, and
the low tones require that the resonance be placed in the cavity of
the chest, while the high tones necessitate the resonance being
placed in the head. The speaker, however, must not allow his thought
to dwell on the placing of the resonance; he must think only of
getting the speech into the air, because the resonance, or the spirit
of the voice, will enter the proper chamber if the passage is free
and the speaker thinks of where he wishes the voice to go, and pays
no attention as to whence it comes. The voice instantly obeys the
thought, if the mechanism works properly, consequently it is well for
the speaker to think of the end he has in view and not cumber the
vocal machine by worrying about the means to be employed in
accomplishing that end. While cultivating and disciplining the voice
it is necessary to think of the means, and to make a conscious effort
to use those means, but when in the act of producing speech no
conscious thought should be directed toward that act. All effort used
while in the process of producing speech must be subconscious, and
entirely free from physical effort.

_How to obtain a good voice._ Mainly by ceasing to abuse it, for most
of the vocal defects are acquired by bad habits. Improper breathing
is responsible for work begin placed upon the larynx which nature
never intended it to perform, and this overworking, or straining, of
the larynx produces throaty tones and causes an irritation of that
organ which finally develops into laryngitis. A failure to form the
sounds on the lips is the cause of mouthing, and a lack of moulding
the voice into correct sound deprives the sound of its carrying
power, because of its exit being impeded. For instance, round sounds
like _o_ require a round mould to pass through, and if, instead of
such a mould, a flat one is formed, the sound is barely able to
squeeze through after having lost half of its vitality in the effort.
Speak the word _soul_ with the lips rounded while uttering the vowel
_o_ and then attempt to speak the same word with the lips flattened
when producing that sound, and the necessity of moulding will be
instantly apparent. Shakespeare says: "Speak the speech, I pray you,
as I pronounced it to you trippingly on the tongue," and if speakers
would follow this splendid advice which Hamlet gives to the players,
throaty tones would be abolished. But how are speakers to do this? By
thoroughly developing the breathing muscles by proper exercise, so as
to enable them to perform their functions correctly, thereby taking
away the strain from the larynx and permitting the opening of the
throat, bringing the voice forward and moulding it on the lips. These
are the only means that will enable anyone to speak "trippingly on
the tongue," and the importance of so doing is forcefully expressed
by Cardinal Newman, that master of English composition, in the
following:

     Our intercourse with our fellow men goes on, not by sight
     but by sound, not by eyes but by ears. Hearing is the
     social sense and language is the social bond.


HOW TO PRODUCE SPEECH EFFECTS

     The first duty of man is to speak, that is his chief
     business in this world, and talk, which is the harmonious
     speech of two or more, is by far the most accessible of
     pleasures. It costs nothing; it is all profit; it completes
     our education; it founds and fosters our friendships; and
     it is by talk alone that we learn our period and
     ourselves.[4]

Speech is the one great outward evidence that separates the human
from the brute, and the more this faculty is cultivated the higher
man rises in the scale of civilization. Speech permits man to clothe
the immortal thought in palpable shape and present it to other minds
exactly as it is perceived by the original thinker. It makes manifest
that which otherwise would remain in the realm of the unseen, and
permits of that communion of mind with mind which strengthens and
uplifts mankind. It is the humanizing medium, the glorifying agent,
and the magnifying reflector of the soul.

_How is speech produced?_ Speech is produced by the organs of
articulation acting on the voice, cutting it up, joining, blending,
and moulding the separate sounds, until symbols are produced that
represent thoughts.

The Greek rhetorician and orator, Gorgias, speaking more than two
thousand four hundred years ago, said:

     The power of speech is mighty. Insignificant in themselves,
     words accomplish the most remarkable ends. They have power
     to remove fear and assuage pain. Moreover then can produce
     joy and increase pity.

Words really possess the magic power ascribed to them by this master
of words, this great writer and speaker of Greece at the time when
she flourished in the magnificent days of Pericles, the days when
Athens was adorned by buildings, pictures, and statuary, and her
citizens listened to oratory that has never been surpassed. Printed
words are mighty when read by the intelligent reader, but spoken
words are mightier when voiced by the imaginative speaker. Then they
become living things, impregnated by the voice of the speaker, and
they go forth to the mind of the listener carrying their interpreted
message with them. This power of expression is what Gorgias meant in
his reference to words, and it is this life of words that we are to
consider, this explaining by tone, pitch, force, time, and color of
the voice the meaning of the spoken words.

It is the tone of voice in which a thought is uttered that gives the
thought its power for good or evil, for pleasure or for pain, for
success or failure. Words spoken in one manner will be devoid of
meaning; spoken in another, they will be illumined with the light of
reason. Words that are spoken as words will remain nothing but words,
but those that are spoken as thoughts will disappear as words, and
the ideas will step forward and be seen in the expressive countenance
and heard in the tones of the voice.

There is a soul to the voice just as there is a soul to the body, and
unless this soul rays forth its light in the form of vocal color, it
will be as devoid of spirituality, as bereft of all magnetic
influence, as is the lifeless clay after the soul has winged its
flight from the earthly habitation. It is for this reason that words
struck off at white heat often sound much better than they read; they
have leaped into existence willingly to perform their errand and,
being full of the mentality of the being who created them, they go on
their mission in a manner to carry conviction and bring about
persuasion.

_To speak effectively._ In the first place, by having good working
tools for the making of speech. This means that one must use the
muscles and organs of breath, sound, and speech in such manner as to
produce the voice with ease and utter the words distinctly and with
the desired force. Secondly, one should so master inflection,
emphasis, pitch, and color as to be able to present the thought
precisely as he conceives it. The whole vocal mechanism, in both its
physical and mental parts, must be under perfect control, and this
control can only be gained by patient practice. Attention to
technique is necessary if one desires to become an artist in any
department of life, and unless the seeker after oratorical honors
pays particular attention to controlling those different parts of the
mental and physical being that are employed in the labor of producing
speech, he will never become a master of that art. Nature may have
endowed him with exceptional powers, but unless those powers are
developed and practiced, they will be taken away. Students of oratory
are strongly advised to master deep breathing, articulation,
modulation, emphasis, and delivery, for unless they do so they will
never possess the power of conveying thought by means of the spoken
word, no matter how many or what manner of beautiful thoughts they
may have. A means of conveying the message is as necessary to the
speaker as is the possession of the message. No matter what glorious
messages speakers may have within their minds, they will do no one
but themselves any good unless they can convey those messages to
others, and a speaker without a well-trained and expressive voice is
as badly off as is a farmer with an abundant crop and no means of
getting his produce to market.

A special set of exercises for the strengthening, coloring, and
general building up of the speaking voice is here appended, and
students are urged to practice the exercises faithfully.


VOCAL EXERCISES

_Breath._ Remember that breath is the foundation of voice, and that
correct breathing is necessary to the production of correct speech.
Breathe by means of the abdominal muscles and diaphragm, thus using
the lungs from bottom to top and retaining control over the voice; at
the same time, freeing the larynx from all pressure and permitting
the vocal tone to come smoothly into the mouth, where it is
articulated into speech.

All animals, brute and human, male and female, possess organs of
respiration that are similar in their nature and that work in
precisely the same manner. It is a mistake to think that women
breathe naturally in a different manner from men. Many do so
habitually, but it is only on account of their mode of dress or
failure to take proper exercise, for all animals sustain life by
means of similar action of like organs of respiration.

_First Exercise:_ Close the mouth, draw a full breath into the lungs
through the nose, being careful not to "smell" the air in but to take
it in noiselessly; then, open the mouth and allow the breath to come
into the air, as to blowing upon a pane of glass to form a coating of
moisture. The chest must neither rise nor fall when inhaling or
exhaling, it should be held up and out all the time, the expansion
and contraction taking place at the base of the lungs. In order to
obtain this full expansion and complete contraction of the lower
lobes of the lungs during respiration, it is necessary to draw the
abdominal muscles outward on the inhalation and inward on the
exhalation. The outward action of the abdominal muscles will cause
the diaphragm to flatten, thus removing the pressure of that muscle
from the base of the lungs and permitting the air to enter all the
lobes. The inward action of the abdominal muscles will cause the
diaphragm to arch, thus pressing on the base of the lungs and forcing
out the breath. The main expansion and contraction should take place
below and around the diaphragm, that portion of the body from the
navel up to the floating ribs and extending all around the body,
bringing into play the lower costal and dorsal muscles as well as the
abdominal muscles and the diaphragm.

_Second Exercise:_ Inhale as in the first exercise, then exhale
through the mouth in the form of a sigh, using a quicker and stronger
action of the abdominal muscles in forcing out the breath than was
used in the first exercise.

_Third Exercise:_ Inhale as in the previous exercise, then exhale
through the mouth in the form of an aspirated cough, being careful,
however, not to allow the whispered sound to strike upon the rim of
the larynx or to remain back in the pharynx, but bring it forward so
as to have it explode in the air and not in the throat or mouth.

Deep breathing should be practiced until it becomes automatic,
because the speaker who makes a conscious effort to control the
breathing mechanism will be stilted and artificial in his utterance.
Breathing must be absolutely subconscious, and these exercises should
be practiced until it becomes so. While practicing, a conscious
effort must be made to use the breathing muscles properly; but as
soon as this has been accomplished, the thought must be taken from
the means and the disciplined muscles will then work automatically.


VOICE

Voice is produced in the larynx, the voice box, but it must be
immediately brought into the mouth, converted into speech, and sent
on its way to perform its mission. The breath acting on the vocal
cords causes them to vibrate, and this vibration is called voice. In
producing voice no more breath should be used than is necessary to
produce the desired sound. If too much breath is used, and it escapes
through the larynx without being converted into voice, it will drown
the voice and breathy tones will be formed. Breath must always be
kept back of the voice, it must never be permitted to escape at the
sides or around the tone; if it does so escape, the tone cannot be
pure, breath will be wasted, the larynx will soon tire, and the
speech will be muffled and lack power.

_First Exercise:_ Form the sound of _m._ This is done by closing the
mouth and sending the voice sound into the cavity of the head and
then through the nose into the air. Bear in mind that you are to
produce the sound of _m_ and not speak the letter _m._ Prolong the
sound on the one pitch for ten seconds, take a full breath, and
repeat the sound, practicing in this manner for five minutes at a
time.

_Second Exercise:_ Use the voice sound of _m_ as in the previous
exercise, but instead of sustaining the one tone, vary it by
producing medium, high, and low tones. Hum a tune, keeping the mouth
closed, using the one sound of _m,_ and sending the voice through the
head passages into the air. This exercise will prove wonderfully
beneficial if it is patiently practiced. Any tune may be used for
this purpose, but be sure that the voice is brought well forward and
comes into the air through the nasal passages.

_Third Exercise:_ Hum the sound of _m,_ then open the mouth and
produce the vowel sound of _a,_ gliding from the humming sound into
the full open sound of _a_; as, _ma._ Exercise on the other four
vowels, _e, i, o, u,_ in like manner: as, _me, mi, mo, mu._

_Fourth Exercise:_ On the same pitch that you would use in asking an
ordinary question, such as "Are you going out today?" repeat the
vowels _a, e, i, o, u,_ using a full breath for each sound and
sustaining it on the same pitch, and as long as you can conveniently.
Then lower the voice to the deepest tone you can produce with ease
and repeat the exercise. Then raise the voice as high as you can
without straining and repeat the exercise. Practice in such a way as
to bring into play all the tones of the voice and gradually to
increase its compass. Avoid force in increasing the vocal range.
Produce tones only that come with ease.

_Fifth Exercise:_ Use the ordinary speaking pitch of the voice and
repeat the vowels _a, e, i, o, u_ with the explosive force; pushing
the sounds out as though they did not wish to leave and you were
compelled to keep up the pressure in order to prevent them coming
back. Be particular to press with the diaphragm only. Practice on low
and high tones also.

_Sixth Exercise:_ Repeat the exercise on the same register but use
the explosive force, shooting the sounds into the air like the report
of a pistol. Practice on low and high tones also.

It is a good plan to practice with speech the same as with voice.
That is, produce speech in the three forms, effusive, expulsive, and
explosive, and on the three registers, medium, lower, and upper. Any
matter can be used for this purpose, special material not being
necessary.

In order to bring speech forward and carry it into the air, set
before you an imaginary target and direct the voice toward it,
raising and lowering the target as you desire to raise and lower the
tone. Remember to think the voice out, as you can get it out no other
way.


How to Strengthen the Memory

     If any one ask me what is the only and great art of memory,
     I shall say it is exercise and labor. To learn much by
     heart, to meditate much, and, if possible, daily, are the
     most efficacious of all methods. Nothing is so much
     strengthened by practice or weakened by neglect as memory.
                                                    --QUINTILIAN

These words, uttered by the scholarly rhetorician of Rome during the
first century of the Christian era, are as true today as when they
were first spoken. Application, concentration, association,
opposition, and use are the principal means for the effectual
training and strengthening of the memory. Many systems have been
devised for memory training, but none of them is of more than
superficial use, the majority making it more difficult to remember
the means whereby the thought is to be recalled than to remember the
thought itself. They are cumbersome, burdensome, and unworkable.
Loisette, in his much exploited system, _Assimilative Memory,_
advises paying particular attention to the location of figures in
order to remember them, and he cites the following example:

     "Pike's Peak, the most famous in the chain known as the
     Rocky Mountains in America, is fourteen thousand one
     hundred and forty-seven feet high. . . . There are two
     fourteens in these figures, and the last figure is half of
     fourteen."

This is all very well in this particular instance of Pike's Peak, but
what are we to do with mountains that are ten thousand and
eighty-five feet, seven thousand and forty-nine feet, or five
thousand six hundred and fifty-one feet in height? The specific case
works out nicely, but the general case cannot be worked out at all.

It is the object of this work to show how to do things and not to
controvert the advice given by other authors, its mission being
constructive and not destructive, therefore nothing further will be
said regarding the Loisette or any other system of memory training;
but specific advice will be given regarding the best way of laying
hold of and retaining what enters the mind.

_Application_ is one means of strengthening the memory. Whatever you
desire to retain, be sure you apply your mind to it until you have it
firmly impressed thereon. Do not merely see or hear a fact and then
permit it to pass into forgetfulness; but, if you wish to retain it,
apply your thought to it, think deeply and strongly on it, on all the
circumstances pertaining to it, and then pass it into the chamber of
memory, there to repose until you desire to awaken it. _Study it
carefully before putting it away._

_Concentration_ is another valuable adjunct in memory training. Focus
all your mental power upon the thing, person, or theme you wish to
remember. Bear all your mental heat upon the one spot, and you will
be able to burn through whatever keeps your object from you, and
after having once been perceived in this manner by the mental eye
that object will never be forgotten.

A lawyer may be examining a witness and ask that witness if he
remembers seeing John Smith on a certain occasion. The witness may
say he has no recollection of having done so. The lawyer may say, "Do
you not remember that on the twenty-first day of June you attended a
meeting of the directors of the Second National Bank which was called
to elect a new president?" and this part of the happenings of that
day may then bring all the other occurrences to the mind of the
witness, and he may then say, "Oh yes! John Smith gave me his check
for $500 on that date. I now remember that fact quite well." This
would be re-collecting.

_Association_ of words, events, or ideas, helps wonderfully in
strengthening the memory, in that it enables one to group together
quickly scattered parts and thus recall things in their entirety.
This is what the lawyer did for the witness when he mentioned the
meeting of the board of directors of the bank, and by means of the
association of events enabled the witness to recall that the meeting
of the directors took place on the day that Smith paid him the five
hundred, in this manner re-collecting the scattered parts of the
events of the twenty-first day of June and bringing Smith clearly
into the picture. In trying to remember any occurrence, endeavor to
bring to mind some incident in connection with it, and if successful
in so doing, the whole train of events pertaining to that occurrence
will soon move regularly along in the channels of the mind.

_Opposition._ A knowledge and use of the rule of opposition will
greatly assist the memory. Suppose an advocate should say, "The
thoughtless members of the community may censure me for entering upon
the prosecution of this case," and should desire to make the thought
more comprehensive, he could do so by placing a phrase against the
one quoted and say, "but the sober-minded men and women will surely
commend me for performing my duty as I understand it." Double and
triple oppositions may be used as aids to the memory; as: The
Biblical account of the flood states that God was angry with His
children of earth because of their many sins, and He determined to
destroy all animal life except that of the chosen few who were to
accompany Noah into the ark. After the rains had ceased and the
waters had subsided, Noah feared to return to the land, but God
dispelled that fear by placing a bow in the heavens as a covenant
between Him and man that never again would He permit a deluge of
water to visit the earth. After four years of civil war, after the
land of America had been deluged with blood, we set our Nation's flag
against the cloud as a covenant between North and South that never
again, in this dear country of ours, shall brother's hand be raised
in enmity against his brother.

The whole idea of this passage can be kept clearly in mind by setting
"deluge" against "civil war," "bow" against "flag." Keep the idea, or
the picture, before you, and there will be no difficulty in
remembering what you desire to say, nor will there be any trouble
experienced in finding words to express the idea.

When reading, do not bother about words, but dig down deep for the
thought, lay hold of it, impress it on the memory, and the substance
of what you read (the really valuable part of it) will remain with
you forever. In this letter to Mrs. Bixby, dated Nov. 21, 1864,
President Lincoln says:

     I have been shown in the files of the War Department a
     statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts, that
     you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on
     the field of battle.

The points to remember are that five brothers died gloriously on the
field of battle, and that a mother gave those treasures to her
country. The pictures to place upon memory's wall are the raging
battle, and the lonely mother at home. Those two pictures tell the
whole story, and by gazing on them the complete narrative can be
given.

_Use._ Use is another of the great aids in memory training. Employ
the mind. Keep it busy. Make it alert through exercise. Train it to
move quickly from point to point, picture to picture. Work it hard
while you work it, but give it frequent periods of rest. Do not
cumber the brain with a mass of words. Learn words by all means,
learn their meaning, relationship, and power, but do not try to
remember them merely as words. Think of them, rather, in their
relationship with one another--their power of conveying an idea or
explaining a thought, their ability to paint a picture or make clear
a point--think of them collectively and not individually, and they
can be marshalled easily in phrases and sentences where the speaker
would stumble over them in attempting to bring them forward one by
one.

_Sound Education._ A sound general education forms a splendid
foundation for a good memory, and if you have not had the benefit of
schooling in early life, you should take up a course of instructive
reading at the earliest possible moment. Study history, the sciences,
the arts. Read the lives of men--the pivotal men of all periods--and
select one, two, or three master works and thoroughly saturate
yourself with their style as well as their substance. The author has
many times recommended the Bible and Shakespeare for this purpose,
and subsequent years of experience have only strengthened his belief
in the efficiency of these immortal works.

_Reflection._ This is a great help in memory training. Continuously
hover over your subject, brood over it, keep it before the mental
camera until a perfect negative is taken, from which a positive may
be formed at any time. Accustom yourself to see your subject on every
side; use your spiritual eye so that you may see not only through but
all around your theme, and then you will be able to present it in an
intelligent and convincing manner because of your being complete
master of it. You will _know_ it.

The old saying that "one nail drives out another" does not apply to
the mind. If a fact or picture is placed within the storehouse of the
brain, it will be at the disposal of the possessor as long as "memory
holds a seat" within the human globe. A fact cannot be clearly
grasped until it is thoroughly understood, a picture cannot be seen
unless all its details are collectively grasped by the eye, and it is
only when the fact is understood and the picture clearly seen that
they can be placed within the chambers of the mind to be brought
forth by memory at will. Some of the parts of the fact, or the
details of the picture, may be lost, they may all be scattered, and
then it is the duty of the memory to re-collect them and join them
together so as to bring to mind the image of the original fact or
picture.

A good memory is of the greatest importance to the orator; in fact,
no one who does not possess this attribute can be an orator in the
true sense of the word. Without it, the speaker must rely on written
matter; but with it, he can take those flights of fancy which memory
alone makes secure because of the assurance he possesses of his
ability to hold his facts securely in mind and return to them at any
time. He thus gains confidence.

The object of education is to train the mind, to discipline it, and
to bring it into subjection to the will. If the student accomplishes
this purpose, he will then be able to concentrate his thought, to
rivet it upon any subject, train the whole force of his intellect
upon it, and overcome what would otherwise be insurmountable. It is
for this reason that memory is so valuable to the orator. If he
possesses a good memory, he may reasonably look for the greatest
success; but if it is poor, his failure is equally certain. If,
therefore, your memory fails to answer your purpose, set to work to
strengthen it. This can be done by careful and systematic training
along the lines here set forth. Be patient, diligent, and
persevering; make use of your own thoughts--that is, think for
yourself and do not merely utter the thoughts of others--and it will
not be long before you will receive the help of that matchless
confidence which knowledge and memory alone are able to give.

Memory, like walking, breathing, thinking, and all other actions of
the body and the spirit, must be subconscious in order to be right
and serviceable to man, and any conscious thought concerning the
means to be employed in order to remember will surely bring about a
defeat of the purpose. Practice in remembering, as in all things,
makes perfect.


HOW TO ACQUIRE CONFIDENCE, AND TO CONTROL AN AUDIENCE

_Preparedness._ Instructions as to how a speaker can acquire
confidence may be summed up in one word--preparedness. He must be
sure of his audience, his subject, and himself. The way to make sure
of his audience is to study it, find out its prejudices (all
audiences possess prejudices), and endeavor to lead it without
letting it know that it is being led. There must be a master when
speaker and audience come into contact, and it is the duty of the
speaker to see that the mastery is not in the hands of the audience.
The speaker should be similar in his relationship with the audience
as is the director with the orchestra, and he should always aim to
keep the audience subject to his will. If it breaks away from him,
there will be nothing but discord, and the speech, if delivered at
all, will be a failure. If, however, the audience is hostile to the
speaker and at first refuses to listen to him, and he is capable of
resisting its onslaught, he may achieve as signal a triumph as did
Henry Ward Beecher at Liverpool, England, October 16, 1863, when,
after struggling for three hours against the turbulent mob of
southern sympathizers gathered for the avowed purpose of preventing
the delivery of his speech in behalf of the Union, he finally
mastered the disturbers, presented his cause, and won a marvellous
victory. To show the forces that Beecher had to contend with, and
over which he triumphed, the opening of the speech he then delivered
is here given, with the interruptions noted in brackets:

     For more than twenty-five years I have been made perfectly
     familiar with popular assemblies in all parts of my country
     except the extreme South. There has not for the whole of
     that time been a single day of my life when it would have
     been safe for me to go South of Mason's and Dixon's line in
     my own country, and for one reason: my solemn, earnest,
     persistent testimony against that which I consider to be
     the most atrocious thing under the sun--the system of
     American slavery in a great free republic. [Cheers.] I have
     passed through that early period when right of free speech
     was denied to me. Again and again I have attempted to
     address audiences that, for no other crime than that of
     free speech, visited me with all manner of contumelious
     epithets; and now since I have been in England, although I
     have met with greater kindness and courtesy on the part of
     most than I deserved, yet, on the other hand, I perceive
     that the southern influence prevails to some extent in
     England. [Applause and uproar.] It is my old acquaintance:
     I understand it perfectly--[laughter]--and I have always
     held it to be an unfailing truth that where a man had a
     cause that would bear examination he was perfectly willing
     to have it spoken about. [Applause.] And when in Manchester
     I saw those huge placards: "Who is Henry Ward Beecher?"
     [laughter, cries of "Quite right" and applause] and when in
     Liverpool I was told that there were those blood-red
     placards, purporting to say what Henry Ward Beecher had
     said, and calling upon Englishmen to suppress free
     speech--I tell you what I thought. I thought simply this:
     "I am glad of it." [Laughter.] Why? Because if they had
     felt perfectly secure that you are the minions of the South
     and the slaves of slavery, they would have been perfectly
     still. [Applause and uproar.] And, therefore, when I saw so
     much nervous apprehension that if I were permitted to speak
     [hisses and applause]--when I found they were afraid to
     have me speak [hisses, laughter, and "No, no!"], when I
     found they considered my speaking damaging to their cause
     [applause], when I found that they appealed from facts and
     reasoning to mob law [applause and uproar] I said, no man
     need tell me what the heart and secret counsel of these men
     are. They tremble and are afraid. [Applause, laughter,
     hisses, "No, no!" and a voice, "New York mob."] Now,
     personally, it is a matter of very little consequence to me
     whether I speak here tonight or not. [Laughter and cheers.]
     but one thing is very certain, if you do permit me to speak
     here tonight you will hear very plain talking. [Applause
     and hisses.] You will not find a man [interruption], you
     will not find me to be a man that dared to speak about
     Great Britain three thousand miles off, and then is afraid
     to speak to Great Britain when he stands on her shores.
     [Immense applauses and hisses.] And if I do not mistake the
     tone and temper of Englishmen, they had rather have a man
     who opposes them in a manly way [applause from all parts of
     the hall] than a sneak who agrees with them in an unmanly
     way. [Applause and "Bravo."] Now if I can carry you with me
     by sound convictions, I shall be immensely glad [applause];
     but if I cannot carry you with me by facts and sound
     arguments, I do not wish you to go with me at all; and all
     that I ask is simply fair play. [Applause, and a voice,
     "You shall have it, too."]

Public speakers should see that their subject fits the occasion, and
particularly should they make it appear as though it intimately
concerned the audience to which it is addressed. Mr. Beecher was
extremely wise in selecting the themes upon which he spoke in his
memorable tour through Great Britain in 1863, when he presented the
cause of the Federal Government of the people of England and
Scotland. When he spoke in Manchester his theme was the effect
slavery had on the manufacturing interests; in Glasgow, where were
located the shipyards where blockade-runners were being built for the
Confederate States, and the laboring classes were thus personally
concerned in the struggle between the States, he pointed out the
degraded effect slavery had upon labor; in the cultured city of
Edinburgh, he discussed the philosophy and the history of slavery;
thus presenting his subject, on each occasion that he spoke, in a
manner to interest his audiences. This showed great tact on Mr.
Beecher's part and accounts, in a large measure, for his success in
winning the masses of the people of Great Britain to the cause of the
Union.

Julius M. Mayer, ex-Attorney General of the State of New York, at a
political meeting held at Cooper Union, on November 4, 1911, after
speaking on general political topics for a considerable time, said:
"I want to discuss just one thing." A voice in the audience then
cried out: "Go ahead, then, and do it." The rebuke was deserved. The
speaker, the last on the list, had been announced to speak
specifically on one question, but instead of immediately taking up
his theme, which was the Levy Election Law, he started to discuss
matters foreign to his subject; consequently the audience, which had
listened to two long speeches by abler campaigners than Mr. Mayer,
were tired out and restless before he really took up his subject, the
result being that half the audience left before the speaker had
touched on the topic he was designated to discuss, and the other half
were not disposed to listen to him patiently. They had listened while
they were being amused by the witty speech of Job E. Hedges, enthused
by the impassioned, eloquent address of William A. Prendergast, and
would have given attention to the remarks of Mr. Mayer had he
immediately taken up his subject; but they were unwilling to listen
to an indifferent speaker discuss matters with which the majority of
them were thoroughly familiar. Let this experience of Mr. Mayer's be
a lesson to speakers, and may it admonish them not to try the
patience of an audience.

Francis P. Bent, who, at the time, was Vice-Chairman of the Board of
Aldermen of the City of New York, and who is a clever campaign
speaker, on a recent occasion quoted, in an address before a social
club, the following passage from Shakespeare's _Henry V_:

        In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
        As modest stillness and humility:
        But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
        Then imitate the action of the tiger.

This last word was scarcely out of his mouth when some one cried out:
"The Tammany Tiger?" A shout then arose from the assembly. Alderman
Bent was not one particle disconcerted, but simply replied: "My
friend, I do not suppose that Shakespeare, in writing those lines,
intended to prophesy the coming of the Tammany Tiger, nor did I
specifically have that specimen of the animal in view when I used the
quotation, but I have no hesitation in saying that of all the
fighting machines of which I have read, or with which I have come in
contact, I know of none that excelled the Tammany Tiger in its
ability to put up a good fight." He then went on with his speech,
amid the hearty applause of his audience. In this instance, Alderman
Bent typified the ready speaker.

Another occasion on which a speaker cleverly turned an interruption
recently came to the personal attention of the author. John F. Hylan,
a City Magistrate of the Borough of Brooklyn, New York City, was the
last speaker on the programme at the opening of a Democratic Club in
that section, previous to the election of 1911. His Honor had a few
pet truths in the form of facts stowed away in his brain which he
desired to impart to his Democratic brethren. Judges, as we are
informed by Shakespeare, are "full of wise saws and modern
instances," and Magistrate Hylan, whom the author has known for many
years, is no exception to the rule; consequently, he proceeded to do
his little "preaching." After enumerating many of the points he
wished to drive home, particularly some pertaining to Jeffersonian
principles, he finally said: "I know these are dry facts." A
Democratic brother here spoke up: "You bet they are; and I'm dry,
too." Of course the audience roared with laughter, and it looked as
though the dryness alluded to by the thirsty one had put an end to
the speech; but Magistrate Hylan, not one whit abashed, replied:
"Your thirst will be attended to by the steward of the club in a few
moments, and I will endeavor to moisten my remarks for you by stating
that they shall soon come to a close."

If a speaker will not antagonize his audience through lack of tact,
will keep to his subject, will be earnest in manner and language, not
overtax the patience of his listeners by needlessly prolonging his
discourse, and will put his mentality into his voice, he will surely
be rewarded with the attention of his audience, and he will be able
to sway it to his will and compel it, unknowingly, to do his bidding.

The speaker can only be sure of his subject after having considered
it on all sides. He must look through it, beneath it, above it, on
all sides of it, consider it carefully from every possible
standpoint, after which he may safely feel that he knows his subject
and is prepared to speak upon it.

In order that he may be sure of himself, the speaker must be equipped
physically, vocally, and mentally to carry out the task he has
assumed. He must have a body capable of resisting the fatigue of
standing, a voice that will serve as a vehicle for conveying the
message, and a mind of sufficient power to originate, develop, and
present the thought. All these parts may be made equal to the task of
properly performing these important duties, and the speaker who is
thus equipped will possess that perfect confidence which the
consciousness of being prepared for the work he undertakes alone can
give. If he possesses a justified confidence in his subject, in the
art of expression, and in himself, he will be the master of all
three, and by their means he will control his audience.

Self-consciousness is the cause of many speakers failing who
otherwise are fitted for their task. The speaker must learn to avoid
thinking of himself even indirectly. He should never permit himself
to wonder what his auditors are thinking of him or his effort--should
permit no thought to wander to them in quest of finding out their
thoughts concerning him--but he should concentrate all his mental
power upon his subject in order that he may send it out to his
audience, drive it home, and command attention to his thought. If he
does this, his will be the dominant mind, his attention will all be
directed where it belongs--on his subject--and he will have no time
nor inclination to think of himself. Let him remember to think
outward and not inward; to concern himself with his subject and not
his audience; and, most of all, not himself; to keep his mentality
ever active, ever seeking his picture or his theme;
self-consciousness will then disappear, taking with it all
uncertainty and nervousness, and leaving him master of the situation
because of his being master of himself. This self-mastering is of the
utmost importance to the public speaker; therefore he should do all
in his power to cultivate and strengthen it. Without it, he is like a
ship without a rudder; but with it, he possesses not only the means
of controlling his course, but also the knowledge of directing it and
the certainty of reaching his destination. He is then the purposeful
speaker, conscious only of his ability to perform his task, and not
creating imaginary difficulties which, once created, would surely
overwhelm him.


HOW TO ACQUIRE FLUENCY OF SPEECH

A good working vocabulary is obtained best by studying words,
learning their meaning, their origin, and their connections; finding
out how many words express practically the same idea; what words are
directly opposed to other words; and, in fact, becoming perfectly
familiar with them in every way. A comparatively small number of
words, if thoroughly mastered, will be of more service to a speaker
than will a much larger number with which he is only indifferently
acquainted. It is not so much the number of tools that a workman
possesses that insures the successful performance of his work, but
the skill with which he manipulates those that he has at his
disposal. So it is with the speaker. Let him thoroughly master a
small vocabulary, because the effort he puts forth to become fully
acquainted with his limited stock of words will, in itself, increase
them and give him confidence in their use, and he will be better off
than the less informed speaker with the greater vocabulary.

An easy flow of language is secured only by practice in speaking. No
matter how many words one may have at one's disposal, they will be
valueless unless the possessor has also the courage to use them. All
who desire fluency of speech should practice continually to convey
thought by word of mouth. Enter into conversation at every favorable
opportunity with persons of education and refinement, doing as much
of the talking as the proprieties will permit, bearing in mind that
only by using a faculty is it developed and strengthened. Speak
before public gatherings as often as possible, commencing in a modest
manner by speaking for a few moments, and gradually gather confidence
and power by demonstrating to yourself that you have the ability to
acquire the art of speech. After satisfying yourself on that point,
all that remains for you to do is to go ahead and acquire it.


HOW TO ACQUIRE PROFICIENCY IN GESTURE

Gesticulation, even more than speech, should be characteristic of the
speaker, and entirely free from parade or pretense. Any gesticulation
that calls attention to itself, and not to the thought it is intended
to express, is wrong and should not be made. The aim of gesture
should be to amplify, illustrate, or strengthen the spoken word, and
it should only be employed in the furtherance of these objects.
Nothing tends more to give the speaker an appearance of affectation
than does a superabundance of gesture, and nothing makes a speaker
more awkward than does the making of ungainly gestures. The best
speakers of today use very few gestures, these being mainly
expressive of emphasis; and most strong gestures, both descriptive
and active, have been abolished by English and American orators. The
speakers of ancient days, and those of the eighteenth and the
nineteenth centuries, were profuse in the use of gesture, but the
declamatory style of delivery has given way to the colloquial form,
which does not permit of making of many gestures, particularly those
of the arms and hands, and depends more on the vocal expression than
it does on the physical. While speakers are advised to be sparing in
their use of gesture, there is a certain class that may be employed
effectively, the movements of this class not being considered by
audiences, as a rule, as gestures. These are the movements and
expressions of the face, and consist of the distinctive light of the
eye--whether languid, animated, sorrowful, gay, loving or
threatening; the play of the lips--indicating scorn, strength, or
weakness; and the state of the brow--whether smooth or contracted.
All these gestures, however, after they have been thought out and
clearly understood, may be left to be governed by the same force that
controls the coloring of the voice, and if the mentality of the
speaker so acts as to cause the voice to properly express the
thought, it will also move the body to work in harmony with it and to
correspondingly convey the idea by means of physical expression.

The question of gesticulation may easily be discussed at such length
as to make a book, but the author does not deem it wise to put forth
any new system of gesture, nor advise the use of any of the many old
ones, but will content himself with stating a few serious errors to
be avoided by all speakers, and by giving some general principles
that should be adopted: Do not put your hands in your pockets, nor
appear not to know what to do with them. Refrain from playing with
your watch chain, or running your fingers through your hair. Let your
arms hang easily at your side, and appear unconscious of the fact
that you possess hands. Do not always point upward when talking of
heaven or the sky, nor put your hand on your breast when speaking of
love or conscience. Do not attempt to describe the action of every
thing--such as the flowing of rivers, rolling of clouds, or leaping
of cataracts. Avoid using too many active gestures--that is, gestures
expressive of the action of your own mind, such as anger, fear, and
joy. Do not tear your hair, stamp your feet, nor give any other such
outward manifestation of your feelings. Keep away from reading desks,
tables, and all articles of furniture. Stand on your feet, in clear
view of the audience; look outward and upward, and let the assembly
see that you are not afraid to show yourself. Use gestures sparingly
until you find the ones that feel easy to you; and all gestures that
come without effort it is safe to consider natural, for if they feel
easy to you, they are likely to look natural and to be effective.
Finally, follow Hamlet's advice to the players:

     Do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use
     all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may
     say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget
     a temperance that may give it smoothness. . . . Be not too
     tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor;
     suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with
     this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty
     of nature.[5]


FOOTNOTES:

  [1]   Genesis, ii:7.

  [2]   William Ellery Channing in "Self-Culture."

  [3]   Oliver Wendell Holmes in "Autocrat of the Breakfast
        Table."

  [4]   Robert Louis Stevenson.

  [5]   Hamlet, Act III, Scene II.



CHAPTER VII
THE GRECIAN ORATORS

WHAT CONSTITUTED THEIR ART

     When you shall say, "As others do, so will I: I renounce, I
     am sorry for it, my early visions; I must eat the good of
     the land and let learning and romantic expectation go,
     until a more convenient season"; then dies the man in you;
     then once more perish the buds of art, and poetry, and
     science, as they have died already in a thousand thousand
     men. The hour of that choice is the crisis of your history,
     and see that you hold yourself fast by the intellect.
                      --RALPH WALDO EMERSON: _Dartmouth Address_

If a man would become a truly great orator, he must put aside all
mere selfish desires and heed only the call of the best that is in
him. He must have visions, and realize them; he must act according to
his own understanding, and not become the pliant tool of another, be
that other a political boss, a political machine, or an unholy
ambition; he must be himself, and refuse to echo the thoughts of
others; and, as a foundation upon which all these virtues are to be
built, must be the one great virtue of industry.

Through all climes and in all ages men have achieved eminence as
orators by persevering efforts only, and while, at times, an orator,
full-fledged and ready for the fray, has burst into the list and
played his part upon the stage of action, such occurrences have been
so rare as to make them but examples of the exception that proves the
rule. Therefore, let him who would become proficient in the art of
speech make up his mind to labor in order to attain that proficiency.

At the same time, we should remember that this labor need not
necessarily be hard, need not be what is termed laborious, because
the main requisite is that we should not interfere with nature in her
work. It is perfectly natural for man to breathe properly, and yet
how few do so; it is natural for man to speak, and yet how few speak
properly! If we aim to remove the defects or errors that interfere
with Nature doing properly her assigned task, we need not worry but
that she will perform it. Take up the work of becoming a public
speaker because you love the art of oratory, labor at it because you
desire to accomplish it, and it will submit to you because all arts
love to be mastered.

The history of oratory is a history of the world, just as the history
of a great central character is an epitome of the history of his
time, and as it is best to study the lives of the makers of history
in order to understand the events of history, so it is best to
examine the orators in order that we may learn of oratory.

In ancient times oratory was considered the art of arts because it
embraced all other arts and was therefore the most difficult of
achievements. Positions of honor and renown were bestowed upon those
who were capable of giving fitting expression to their thoughts in
public. Poets sang the praises of orators and made them the heroes of
their songs. The psalmists and prophets are but types of the orator,
and the actor of today is the outcome of the player of old who was
more a speaker than he was an actor.

Every citizen, at one time, was his own lawyer, spoke in his own
defense, and advocated his own cause. Then came the era of the speech
writers, who prepared the matter for the citizen to deliver; and
finally, the professional advocate of today who appears in behalf of
his client and acts and speaks for him.

Let us consider the productions of the orators of that marvellous
period in the world's history which dates from 500 to 300 years
previous to the coming of Christ; and in doing so, let us not forget
that they are all translations into a foreign tongue, and that in
their transition from one language into another they have lost much
of their force and beauty. Another thing to bear in mind is that an
oration does not read as it sounds. It lacks the magnetism of the
living speaker, the presence of the assembled multitude, the concern
in the subject, and the gravity of the interest at stake, to lend a
completeness to the words and to impregnate them with the expression
that life alone possesses, turning the dead words into living
thoughts. Here, in these orations, we possess the mere
bodies--mummies, they might well be termed--the spirit having
departed ages ago; but by the influence of the imaginative mind of
the reader they may be compelled to assume some semblance of their
former greatness.

The best way of judging of the power of orators, and the influence of
oratory, is to study the effect they had on the subjects with which
they dealt, the audiences they addressed, and on posterity, which
looks with an unprejudiced eye. All great orations have not
accomplished the purposes for which they were uttered, but they have
all had a decided influence on shaping the thoughts of man and
directing his actions many years after the orators who uttered the
words have passed back in to the elements whence they came.
Demosthenes did not succeed in saving his loved Athens from the
clutches of Philip, but his burning words in behalf of liberty have
stirred the hearts of men in other lands and other ages and caused
them to battle in behalf of the principles for which the ancient
Grecian spoke; Edmund Burke and the Earl of Chatham did not succeed
in turning Lord North from his determination to subdue the colonies
of North America by force of arms, but their noble speeches inspired
their brother Whigs in America to rush to arms and sacrifice their
all in the struggle for independence; Abraham Lincoln, in his debate
with Stephen A. Douglas, did not prevail on the electorate of the
State of Illinois to return legislators who would elect him to the
United States Senate, but his clear reasoning and masterful
presentation of facts in that famous debate drew the attention of the
nation to him and contributed much toward making him President of the
United States. Oratory cannot fail in ultimately accomplishing its
object, although it may not accomplish the specific object that the
speaker had in mind at the time of uttering the oration, because
truth must always ultimately triumph, and real oratory is always
truth.

Oratory requires a large theme. Men cannot grow eloquent over a ship
subsidy; they may rhetorically wave the flag of their country and
claim the land will go to ruin unless the subsidy is granted, but
there can be no genuine enthusiasm, no eloquence, over such a cause.
When Henry Clay declared that the American flag should be honored
wherever it floated, that its folds should protect its citizens on
sea as well as on land, he had a theme of such magnitude that was
able to move his country to take up arms in defense of the doctrine
he espoused. When Lincoln started on his mission to preserve the
Union, he held a tremendous question in hand--the question whether
government by the people should pass from the earth--and this
question brought as a response the immortal Gettysburg Address.
William H. Grady, when speaking to the North on the subject of the
New South, had a theme of vast importance--the theme of a reunited
country. Theodore Roosevelt, in adopting "Conservation of Natural
Wealth" as his subject, brought to the minds of his countrymen a
truth to which they had blindly closed their eyes since the
settlement of the Western Hemisphere. These are subjects upon which,
if the man is prepared, he can grow eloquent; and as soon as the
people seriously consider questions of moment to themselves and their
posterity, men will come forward who are able to discuss such
questions with eloquence that will equal that of the past. Oratory is
not dead, nor is it sleeping; it is merely awaiting the sound of the
voice it knows to cause it to come forth. It is no use calling to it
in a foreign tongue--it must be spoken to in the voice of truth.
Right, liberty, justice, the rights of man to enjoy the blessings of
life--these are themes that will cause eloquence to become once more
the art of arts.


EXAMPLES OF GRECIAN ORATORY[1]

For the benefit of the student of oratory, specimen orations are here
given of ten of the most famous Grecian orators. Short biographical
and other notes accompany each selection, as guides to the student
regarding the careers of the orators and the circumstances under
which the orations were delivered.


ANTIPHON

Antiphon, the oldest of the ten Attic orators, and founder of Grecian
political oratory, was the first to systematize the rules and
principles for the guidance of public speakers. He was born at
Rhamnus, Attica, about 480 B.C., and, because of his activity in
establishing the oligarchy of the Four Hundred, was executed at
Athens in 411 B.C., after a change had taken place in the government.
He was noted for his readiness in debate, and gained great renown by
composing orations by which many accused of capital offenses defended
themselves.

The following oration was composed by Antiphon for a man by the name
of Helus, who was accused of having murdered Herodes, who, while on a
journey with Helus, mysteriously disappeared.


     _On The Murder of Herodes._ (Helus, a Mitylenean, having
     been accused of the murder of Herodes, who had mysteriously
     disappeared from the boat in which the two had embarked in
     company, defended himself in the following speech, composed
     for him by Antiphon):

     I could have wished, gentlemen, that I possessed the gift
     of eloquence and legal experience proportionate to my
     adversity. Adversity I have experienced in an unusual
     degree, but in eloquence and legal experience I am sadly
     deficient. The result is that, in circumstances where I was
     compelled to suffer personal ill-usage on a false charge,
     legal experience did not come to my rescue; and here, when
     my salvation depends on a true statement of the facts, I
     feel embarrassed by my incapacity for speaking. Many an
     innocent man has been condemned because of his inability to
     present clearly the truth and justice of his cause. Many a
     guilty man, on the other hand, has escaped punishment
     through skilful pleading. It follows, then, that if the
     accused lacks experience on these matters, his fate depends
     rather on the representation of his prosecutors than on the
     actual facts and true version of the case.

     I shall not ask you, gentlemen, to give me an impartial
     hearing. And yet I am aware that such is the practice of
     most men on trial, who have no faith in their own cause or
     confidence in your justice. No, I make no such request,
     because I know full well that, like all good men and true,
     you will grant me the same hearing that you grant the
     prosecution. I do ask you, however, to be indulgent if I
     commit any indiscretion of speech, and to attribute it
     rather to my inexperience than to the injustice of my
     cause. But if my argument has any weight I pray you will
     ascribe it rather to the force of truth than rhetorical art.

     I have always felt that it is not just either that one who
     has done wrong should be saved through eloquence, or that
     one who has done no wrong should be condemned through lack
     of eloquence. Unskilful speaking is but a sin of the
     tongue; but wrongful acts are sins of the soul. Now it is
     only natural that a man whose life is in danger should
     commit some indiscretion of speech; for he must be intent
     not only on what he says but on the outcome of the trial,
     since all that is still uncertain is controlled rather by
     chance than by providence. This fact inspires great fear in
     a man whose life is at stake. In fact, I have often
     observed that the most experienced orators speak with
     embarrassment when their lives are in danger. But whenever
     they seek to accomplish some purpose without danger they
     are more successful. My request for indulgence, then
     gentlemen, is both natural and lawful; and it is no less
     your duty to grant it than my right to make it.

     I shall now consider the case for the prosecution in
     detail. And first I shall show you that I have been brought
     to trial here in violation of law and justice, not on the
     chance of eluding your judgment--for I would commit my life
     to your decision, even if you were bound by no oath to
     pronounce judgment according to law, since I am conscious
     that I have done no wrong and feel assured that you will do
     me justice: no, my purpose in showing you this is rather
     that the lawlessness and violence of my accusers may bear
     witness to you of their better feeling towards me.

     First, then, though they imprisoned me as a malefactor,
     they have indicted me for homicide--an outrage that no one
     has ever suffered in this land. For I am not a malefactor,
     or amenable to the law of malefactors, which has to do only
     with thieves and highwaymen. So far, then, as they have
     dealt with me by summary process, they have made it
     possible for you to make my acquittal lawful and righteous.

     But they argue that homicide is a species of malefaction. I
     admit that it is a great crime, as great as sacrilege or
     treason. But these crimes are dealt with each according to
     its own particular laws. Moreover, they compel me to
     undergo trial in this place of public assemblage, where all
     men charged with murder are usually forbidden to appear;
     and furthermore they would commute to a fine in my case the
     sentence of death imposed by law on all murderers, not for
     my benefit, but for their own private gain, thereby
     defrauding the dead of lawful satisfaction. Their reason
     for so doing you will perceive as my argument advances.

     In the second place, you all know that the courts decide
     murder cases in the open air, for no reason than that the
     judges may not assemble in the same place with those whose
     hands have been defiled with blood, and that the prosecutor
     may not be sheltered beneath the same roof with the
     murderer. This custom my accusers have utterly disregarded.
     Nay, they have even failed to take the customary solemn
     oath that, whatever other crimes I may have committed, they
     will prosecute me for murder alone, and will allow no
     meritorious act of mine to stand in the way of my
     condemnation. Thus do they prosecute me unsworn; and even
     their witnesses testify against me without having taken the
     oath. And then they expect you, gentlemen, to believe these
     unsworn witnesses and condemn me to death, when they have
     made it impossible for you to accept such testimony by
     their violation and contempt of the law.

     But they contend if I had been set free I would have fled.
     What motive could I have had? For, if I did not mind exile,
     I might have refused to come home when summoned, and have
     incurred judgment by default, or, having come, might have
     left voluntarily after my first trial. For such a course is
     open to all. And yet my accusers in their lawlessness seek
     to deprive me alone of the common right of all Greeks.

     This leads me, gentlemen, to say a word about the laws that
     govern my case. And I think you will admit that they are
     good and righteous, since, though very ancient, they still
     remain unchanged--an unmistakable proof of excellence in
     laws. For time and experience teach men what is good and
     what is not good. You ought not, therefore, judge by the
     arguments of my accusers whether the laws are good or bad,
     but rather judge by the laws whether their claims are just
     or unjust. So perfect, indeed, are the laws that relate to
     homicide, that no one has ever dared to disturb them. But
     these men have dared to constitute themselves lawmakers in
     order to effect their wicked purposes, and disregarding
     these ordinances they seek unjustly to compass my ruin.

     Their lawlessness, however, will not help them, for they
     well know that they have no sworn witness to testify
     against me. Moreover, they did not make a single decisive
     trial of the matter, as they would have done if they had
     confidence in their cause. No, they left room for
     controversy and argument, as if, in fact, they meant to
     dispute the previous verdict. The result is that I gain
     nothing by an acquittal, since it will be open to them to
     say that I was acquitted as a malefactor, not as a
     murderer, and catching me again they will ask to have me
     sentenced to death on a charge of homicide. Wicked
     schemers! Would ye have the judges set aside a verdict
     obtained by fair means, and put me a second time in
     jeopardy of my life for the same offense? But this is not
     all. They would not even allow me to offer bail according
     to law, and thus escape imprisonment, though they have
     never before denied this privilege even to an alien. And
     yet the officers in charge of malefactors conform to the
     same custom. I, alone, then, have failed to derive
     advantage from this common right conferred by law. This
     wrong they have done me for two reasons: First, that they
     might render me helpless to prepare for my defense; and,
     second, that they might influence my friends, through
     anxiety for my safety, to bear false witness against me.
     Thus, would they bring disgrace upon me and mine for life.

     In this trial, then, I am at a disadvantage in respect to
     many points of your law and of justice. Nevertheless, I
     shall try to prove my innocence. And yet I realize that it
     will be difficult immediately to dissipate the false
     impression which these men have long conspired to create.
     For it is impossible for any man to guard against the
     unexpected.

     Now, the facts in the case, gentlemen, are briefly these: I
     sailed from Mitylene in the same boat with Herodes, whom I
     am accused of having murdered. Our destination was the
     same--Aenus, but our objectives were different. I went to
     visit my father, who happened to be at Aenus at that time;
     Herodes went to sell some slaves to certain Thracian
     merchants. Both the slaves and the merchants sailed with us.

     To confirm these statements I shall now offer the testimony
     of competent witnesses.

     To continue, then, we were compelled by a violent storm to
     put in at a port on the Methymnian coast, and there we
     found the boat on which they allege I killed Herodes.

     Now I would have you bear in mind that this whole affair
     took place not through design on my part, but through
     chance. For it was by chance that Herodes undertook the
     voyage with me. It was by chance that we encountered the
     storm, which compelled us to put in at the Methymnian port.
     And it was by chance that we found the cabined boat in
     which we sought shelter against the violence of the storm.

     After we had boarded the other boat and had taken some
     wine, Herodes left us, never to return. But I did not leave
     the boat at all that night. On the day after Herodes
     disappeared, however, I sought him as diligently as any of
     our company, and felt his loss as keenly. It was I who
     proposed sending a messenger to Mitylene, and when no one
     else was willing to go I offered to send my own attendant.
     Of course, I would not have done this if I had murdered
     Herodes, for I would be sending an informant against
     myself. Finally, it was only after I was satisfied by
     diligent search that Herodes was nowhere to be found, that
     I sailed away with the first favorable wind. Such are the
     facts.

     What inference can you draw from these facts other than
     that I am an innocent man? Even these men did not accuse me
     on the spot, while I was still in the country, although
     they knew of the affair. No, the truth was too apparent at
     that time. Only after I had departed, and they had had an
     opportunity to conspire against me, did they bring this
     indictment.

     Now the prosecution have two theories of the death of
     Herodes. One is that he was killed on shore, the other that
     he was cast into the sea. First, then, they say that I
     killed Herodes on shore, by striking him on the head with a
     stone. This is impossible, since, as I have proved, I did
     not leave the boat that night. Strange that they should
     pretend to have accurate knowledge of the manner of his
     death, and yet not be able satisfactorily to account for
     the disappearance of his body. Evidently this must have
     happened near the shore, for, since it was night, and
     Herodes was drunk, his murderer could have had no reason to
     take him far from the shore. However that may be, two days'
     search failed to produce any trace of him. This drives them
     to their second hypothesis--that I drowned Herodes. If that
     were so, there would be some sign in the boat that the man
     was murdered and cast into the sea. No such sign, however,
     appears. But they say they have found signs in the boat in
     which he drank the wine. And yet they admit he was not
     killed in that boat. The utter absurdity of this second
     view is shown by the fact that they cannot find the boat
     they say I used for the purpose of drowning Herodes, or any
     trace of it.

     It was not till after I sailed away to Aenus, and the boat
     in which Herodes and I made the voyage had returned to
     Mitylene, that these men made the examination that led to
     the discovery of blood. At once they concluded that I
     killed Herodes on that very boat. But when they found that
     this theory was inadmissible, since the blood was proved to
     be that of sheep, they changed their course and sought to
     obtain information by torturing the crew. The poor wretch
     whom they first subjected to torture said nothing
     compromising about me. But the other, whom they did not
     torture till several days later, keeping him near them in
     the meantime, is the one who has borne false witness
     against me.

     All that is possible for you to learn, gentlemen, from the
     testimony of human witnesses, you have now heard. It
     remains to consider the testimony of the gods, expressed by
     signs. For by reliance on these heaven-sent signs you will
     best secure the safety of the state both in adversity and
     in prosperity. In private matters, too, you ought to attach
     great weight to these signs. You all know, of course, that,
     when a wicked man embarks in the same boat with a righteous
     man, the gods not infrequently cause the shipwreck and
     destruction of both because of the sinfulness of one alone.
     Again, the righteous, by association with the wicked, have
     been brought, if not to destruction, at least into the
     greatest dangers that divine wrath can send. Finally, the
     presence of guilty men at a sacrifice has often caused the
     omens to be unfavorable. Thus do the gods testify to the
     guilt and wickedness of man.

     In the light of divine testimony, then, my innocence is
     established. For no mariner with whom I have sailed has
     ever suffered shipwreck. Nor has my presence at a sacrifice
     ever caused the omens to be unfavorable.

     Now, I feel sure, gentlemen, that if the prosecution could
     find evidence that my presence on shipboard or at a
     sacrifice had ever caused any mishap, they would insist
     upon this as the clearest proof of my guilt. Since,
     however, this divine testimony is adverse to their claims,
     they ask you to reject it, and to have faith in their
     representation. Thus do they run counter to the practice of
     reasonable men. For, instead of testing words by facts,
     they seek to overthrow facts by words.

     Having now concluded my defense, gentlemen, against all
     that I can recall of the charge against me, I look to you
     for acquittal. On that depends my salvation and the
     fulfilment of your oath. For you have sworn to pronounce
     judgment according to law. Now, I am not liable to the laws
     under which I was arrested, while as to the facts with
     which I am charged I can still be brought to trial in the
     legal form. And if two trials have been made out of one,
     the fault is not mine, but that of my accusers. When,
     however, my worst enemies give me the chance of a second
     trial, surely you, the impartial awarders of justice, will
     never pronounce on the present issue a premature verdict of
     murder. Be not so unjust; rather leave something for that
     other witness, Time, who aids the zealous seekers of
     eternal truth. I should certainly desire that in cases of
     homicide the sentence be in accordance with law, but that
     the investigation, in every possible instance, be regulated
     by justice. In this way the interests of truth and right
     would best be secured. For in homicide cases an unjust
     sentence banishes truth and justice beyond recall. If,
     then, you condemn me, you are bound to abide by the
     sentence, however guiltless I may be. No one would dare,
     through confidence in his innocence, to contravene the
     sentence passed upon him, nor, if conscious of guilt, would
     he rebel against the law. We must yield not only to the
     truth, but to a verdict against the truth, especially if
     there be no one to support our cause. It is for these
     reasons that the laws, the oaths, and the solemnities in
     murder cases differ from those in all other cases. In this
     case of cases it is of the utmost importance that the issue
     be clear and the decisions correct. For, otherwise, either
     the murdered will be deprived of vengeance or an innocent
     man will suffer death unjustly. For their accusation is not
     decisive, the result depends on you. Decide, then, justly;
     for your decision, if wrong, admits of no remedy.

     But how, you may ask, will you decide justly? By compelling
     my accusers to take the customary solemn oath before they
     put me upon my defense against an indictment for murder.
     And how are you to accomplish this? By acquitting me now.
     And remember that, even though you acquit me now, I shall
     not escape your judgment, since in the other trial, too,
     you will be my judges. By an acquittal now you make it
     possible to deal with me hereafter as you will, but, if you
     condemn me now, my case will not be open to
     reconsideration. If, then, you must make any mistake, an
     undeserved acquittal is less serious than an unjust
     condemnation. For the former is a mistake only; the latter
     an eternal disgrace. Take care, then, that you do no
     irreparable wrong. Some of you in the past have actually
     repented of condemning innocent men, but not one of you has
     ever repented of making an undeserved acquittal. Moreover,
     involuntary mistakes are pardonable, voluntary
     unpardonable. The former we attribute to chance; the latter
     to design. Of two risks, then, run the lesser; commit the
     involuntary mistake; acquit me.

     Now, gentlemen, if my conscience were guilty, I should
     never have come into this city. But I did come--with an
     abiding faith in the justice of my cause, and strong in
     conscious innocence. For not once alone has a clear
     conscience raised up and supported a failing body in the
     hour of trial and tribulation. A guilty conscience, on the
     other hand, is a source of weakness to the strongest body.
     The confidence, therefore, with which I appear before you,
     is the confidence of innocence.

     To conclude, gentlemen, I have only to say that I am not
     surprised that my accusers slander me. That is their part;
     yours is not to credit their slander. If, on the other
     hand, you listen to me, you can afterwards repent, if you
     like, and punish me by way of remedy, but, if you listen to
     my accusers, and do what they wish, no remedy will then be
     admissible. Moreover, no long time will intervene before
     you can decide lawfully what the prosecution now asks you
     to decide unlawfully. Matters like these require not haste,
     but deliberation. On the present occasion, then, take a
     survey of the case; on the next, sit in judgment on the
     witnesses; form, now, an opinion; later, decide the facts.

     It is very easy, indeed, to testify falsely against a man
     charged with murder. For, if he be immediately condemned to
     death, his false accusers have nothing to fear, since all
     danger of retribution is removed on the day of execution.
     And, even if the friends of the condemned man cared to
     exact satisfaction for malicious prosecution, of what
     advantage would it be to him after his death?

     Acquit me, then, on this issue, and compel my accusers to
     indict me according to law. Your judgment will then be
     strictly legal, and, if condemned, I cannot complain that
     it was contrary to law. This request I make of you with due
     regard to your conscience as well as to my own right. For
     upon your oath depends my safety. By whichever of these
     considerations you are influenced, you must acquit me.


PERICLES

Pericles is considered by many historians to have been the greatest
statesman and orator that Athens produced, but the truth regarding
his oratorical ability cannot be verified by his orations, because
not one of them, in its entirety, has come down to us. We are
indebted to the historian Thucydides for what speeches of Pericles we
possess, and he has this to say regarding their authenticity: "I have
found it difficult to retain a memory of the precise words that I had
heard spoken, and so it was with those who brought me report. I have
made the persons say what it seemed to me most opportune for them to
say, in light of the situation; at the same time I have adhered as
closely as possible to the general sense of what was actually said."
Pericles was born about 495 B.C., and died in 429.

     _In Favor of the Peloponnesian War_ (432 B.C.). I always
     adhere to the same opinion, Athenians, that we should make
     no concessions to the Lacedaemonians; although I know that
     men are not persuaded to go to war, and act when engaged in
     it, with the same temper; but that, according to results,
     they also change their views. Still I see that the same
     advice, or nearly the same, must be given by me now as
     before; and I claim from those of you who are being
     persuaded to war, that you will support the common
     resolutions, should we ever meet with any reverse; or not,
     on the other hand, to lay any claim to intelligence, if
     successful. For it frequently happens that the results of
     measures proceed no less incomprehensively than the
     counsels of man; and therefore we are accustomed to regard
     fortune as the author of all things that turn out contrary
     to our expectation.

     Now the Lacedaemonians were both evidently plotting against
     us before, and now especially are doing so. For whereas it
     is expressed in the treaty, that we should give and accept
     judicial decisions of our differences, and each side [in
     the meantime] keep what we have; they have neither
     themselves hitherto asked for such a decision, nor do they
     accept it when we offer it; but wish our complaints to be
     settled by war rather than by words; and are now come
     dictating, and no longer expostulating. For they command us
     to raise the siege of Potidaea, and to leave Aegina
     independent, and to rescind the decree respecting the
     Megareans; while these last envoys that have come charge us
     also to leave the Greeks independent. But let none of you
     think we would be going to war for a trifle, if we did not
     rescind the decree respecting the Megareans, which they
     principally put forward [saying] that if it were rescinded,
     the war would not take place: nor leave it in your mind any
     room for self-accusation hereafter, as though you had gone
     to war for a trivial thing. For this trifle involves the
     whole confirmation, as well as trial, of your purpose. If
     you yield to these demands, you will soon also be ordered
     to do something greater, as having in this instance obeyed
     through fear: but by resolutely refusing you would prove
     clearly to them that they must treat with you more on an
     equal footing.

     Henceforth then make up your minds, either to submit before
     you are hurt, or, if we go to war, as I think is better,
     alike to make no concession on important or trivial
     grounds, nor to keep with fear what we have not acquired;
     for both the greatest and the least demand from equals,
     imperiously urged on their neighbors previous to a judicial
     decision, amounts to the same degree of subjugation.

     Now with regards to the war, and the means possessed by
     both parties, that we shall not be the weaker side, be
     convinced of hearing the particulars. The Peloponnesians
     are men who cultivate their land themselves; and they have
     no money either in private or public funds. Then they are
     inexperienced in long and transmarine wars, as they only
     wage them with each other for a short time, owing to their
     poverty. And men of this description can neither man fleets
     nor often send out land armaments; being at the same time
     absent from their private business, and spending from their
     own resources; and, moreover, being also shut out from the
     sea: but it is superabundant revenues that support wars,
     rather than compulsory contributions. And men who till the
     land themselves are more ready to wage war with their
     persons than with their money: feeling confident, with
     regard to the former, that they will escape from dangers;
     but not being sure, with regard to the latter, that they
     will not spend it before they have done; especially should
     the war be prolonged beyond their expectations, as [in this
     case] it probably may. For in one battle the Peloponnesians
     and their allies might cope with all the Greeks together;
     but they could not carry on a war against resources of a
     different description to their own; since they have no one
     board of council, so as to execute any measure with vigor;
     and all having equal votes, and not being of the same
     races, each forwards his own interest; for which reasons
     nothing generally is brought to completion.

     Most of all will they be impeded by scarcity of money,
     while, through their slowness in providing it, they
     continue to delay their operations; whereas the
     opportunities of war wait for no one. Neither, again, is
     their raising works against us worth fearing, or their
     fleet. With regard to the former, it were difficult even in
     time of peace to set up a rival city; much more in a
     hostile country, and when we should have raised works no
     less against them: and if they build [only] a fort, they
     might perhaps hurt some part of our land by incursions and
     desertions; it will not, however, be possible for them to
     prevent our sailing to their country and raising forts, and
     retaliating with our ships, in which we are so strong. For
     we have more advantage for land-service from our naval
     skill, than they have for naval matters from their skill by
     land.

     But to become skilful at sea will not easily be acquired by
     them. For not even have you, though practicing from the
     very time of the Median War, brought it to perfection as
     yet; how then shall men who are agriculturists and not
     mariners, and, moreover, will not even be permitted to
     practice, from being always observed by us with many ships,
     achieve anything worth speaking of? Against a few ships
     observing them they might run the risk, encouraging their
     ignorance by their numbers; but when kept in check by many,
     they will remain quiet; and through not practicing will be
     the less skilful, and therefore the more afraid. For naval
     service is a matter of art, like anything else; and does
     not admit of being practiced just when it may happen, as a
     bywork; but rather does not even allow of anything else
     being a bywork to it.

     Even if they should take some of the funds at Olympia or
     Delphi, and endeavor, by higher pay, to rob us of our
     foreign sailors, that would be alarming, if we were not a
     match for them, by going on board ourselves and our
     resident aliens; but now this is the case; and, what is
     best of all, we have native steersmen, and crews at large,
     more numerous and better than all the rest of Greece. And
     with the danger before them, none of the foreigners would
     consent to fly his country, and at the same time with less
     hope of success to join them in the struggle, for the sake
     of a few days' higher pay.

     The circumstances of the Peloponnesians then seem, to me at
     least, to be of such or nearly such a character; while ours
     seem both to be free from the faults I have found in
     theirs, and to have other great advantages in more than an
     equal degree. Again, should they come by land against our
     country, we will sail against theirs; and the loss will be
     greater for even a part of the Peloponnese to be ravaged,
     than for the whole of Attica. For they will not be able to
     obtain any land in its stead without fighting for it; while
     we have abundance, both in islands and on the mainland.
     Moreover, consider it [in this point of view]: if we have
     been islanders, who would have been more impregnable? And
     we ought, as it is, with views as near as possible to those
     of islanders, to give up all thought of our land and
     houses, and keep watch over the sea and the city; and not,
     though being enraged on their account, to come to an
     engagement with the Peloponnesians, who are much more
     numerous: (for if we defeat them, we shall have to fight
     again with no fewer of them; and if we meet with a reverse,
     our allies are lost also; for they will not remain quiet if
     we are not able to lead our forces against them); and we
     should make lamentation, not for the houses and land, but
     for the lives [that are lost]; for it is not these things
     that gain men, but men that gain these things. And if I
     thought that I should persuade you, I would bid you go out
     yourselves and ravage them, and show the Peloponnesians
     that you will not submit to them for these things, at any
     rate.

     I have also many other grounds for hoping that we shall
     conquer, if you will avoid gaining additional dominion at
     the time of your being engaged in the war, and bringing on
     yourselves dangers of your own choosing; for I am more
     afraid of our own mistakes than of the enemy's plans. But
     those points shall be explained in another speech at the
     time of the events. At the present time let us send these
     men away with this answer: that with regard to the
     Megareans, we will also allow them to use our ports and
     markets, if the Lacedaemonians also abstain from expelling
     foreigners, whether ourselves or our allies (for it forbids
     neither the one nor the other in the treaty): with regard
     to the states, that we will leave them independent, if we
     also hold them as independent when we made the treaty; and
     when they, too, restore to the states a permission to be
     independent suitably to the interests, not of the
     Lacedaemonians themselves, but of the several states as
     they wish: that we are willing to submit to judicial
     decision, according to the treaty: and that we will not
     commence hostilities, but will defend ourselves against
     those who do. For this is both a right answer and a
     becoming one for the state to give.

     But you should know that go to war we must; and if we
     accept it willingly rather than not, we shall find the
     enemy less disposed to press us hard; and, moreover, that
     it is from the greatest hazards that the greatest honours
     also are gained, both by state and by individual. Our
     fathers, at any rate, by withstanding the Medes--though
     they did not begin with such resources [as we have], but
     had even abandoned what they had and by counsel, more than
     by fortune, and by daring, more than by strength, beat off
     the barbarian, and advanced their resources to their
     present height. And we must not fall short of them; but
     must repel our enemies in every way, and endeavor to
     bequeath our power to our posterity no less [than we
     received it].


ANDOCIDES

Andocides, a Greek orator, diplomatist, and politician, was born at
Athens about 467 B.C., and died about 391 B.C. His speeches disclose
the possession of practical common sense rather than deep learning,
he being one who gained his proficiency of speech by practice in the
public assemblies, and not, as most of the orators of his time, in
schools of rhetoric. Few authentic speeches of his are in existence,
the one here given being his speech "On the Mysteries," which is
considered his best. He delivered it in his own defense against the
charge of having mutilated the busts of Hermes.

     _Speech on the Mysteries._ The preparation and zeal of my
     enemies, gentlemen, to do me harm in every way, justly or
     unjustly, from the very time I arrived in this city, are by
     no means unknown to you. It is therefore unnecessary for me
     to speak at length on this matter. I shall make of you,
     however, a request that is both just and easy for you to
     grant as it is important for me to obtain. I ask you to
     bear in mind that I have come here now, when there was no
     necessity of my remaining in the city, and although I did
     not offer bail, and was not committed to prison. I have
     appeared before you simply because I have confidence in the
     justice of my cause, and firmly believe that you will
     decide fairly, and will rather justly acquit me in
     accordance with your laws and your oaths, than suffer me to
     be unjustly destroyed by my enemies.

     It is only natural, gentlemen, that you should have the
     same opinion of a man that he has of himself. If he is
     unwilling to undergo trial and thus condemns himself, it is
     only reasonable that you, too, should condemn him. But if,
     confident in his innocence, he awaits your judgment, you
     should be predisposed to acquit him. At least you ought not
     to condemn him by a premature verdict of guilty.

     My enemies are reported to have said that I would not dare
     to undergo trial, but would seek safety in flight. "For
     what object," they say, "can Andocides have in submitting
     to trial when it is possible for him to leave the city and
     have all the necessaries and convenience of life elsewhere?
     In Cyprus, where he formerly lived, he has a large amount
     of good land, bestowed on him as a gift. Can he, then, be
     willing to put his life in jeopardy? For what purpose? Does
     he not perceive the feeling of our city towards him?"

     My feeling in this matter, gentlemen, is very different
     from what my enemies suppose. Even though I do not, as
     these men assert, share the good will of my countrymen, I
     am unwilling to live elsewhere in affluence--an exile from
     my native land. I should much prefer to be a citizen of
     this commonwealth than of all others, however prosperous
     they may now seem to be. It is with such a feeling of
     patriotism that I entrust my life to your decision.

     I ask you, then, gentlemen, to accord me in my defense a
     preponderance of your good will, since you know that, even
     if you grant both parties in the suit an impartial hearing,
     I, the defendant, must necessarily be at a disadvantage.
     For the prosecution, after long preparation, bring this
     indictment against me without danger to themselves. But I
     must make my defense in fear and trembling for my life, and
     weighed down by the obloquy that has been heaped upon me.
     It is, therefore, only reasonable that you should favor me
     rather than the prosecution. There is a further
     consideration to dispose you in my favor. Prosecutors have
     frequently been found to bring charges so palpably false
     that you could not but convict and punish them. Witnesses,
     too, who have been instrumental in bringing about the
     condemnation of innocent men, have been convicted only
     after it was too late to save the guiltless victims of
     their false testimony. Guided, then, and warned by the
     experience of the past, you will not take for granted the
     truth of what my accusers say. The magnitude of the charges
     against me you can learn from the prosecution; but the
     truth or falseness of that charge you cannot know until you
     have heard my defense.

     Now, how to begin my defense, gentlemen, perplexes me not a
     little. I feel considerable doubt whether I ought first to
     show you that the prosecution have brought the wrong form
     of action against me; or that the decree of Isotimidas is
     null and void; or that certain laws and oaths forbid this
     action; or whether I ought to tell you all the facts from
     beginning to end. But what most perplexes me is the fact
     that you do not all perhaps regard as equally serious the
     same points in the charge against me. Each one of you, I
     suppose, has in mind some point about which he would like
     to have me speak first. Since, however, it is impossible to
     speak of all points at one and the same time, I shall set
     before you all the facts in order from beginning to end,
     omitting nothing. For if you get a right understanding of
     the facts you will readily perceive how false a charge the
     prosecution have brought against me.

     I think, then, that you will feel disposed of your own
     accord to pronounce a just sentence. And I am led to this
     conclusion because I have observed that you always consider
     it a matter of the greatest importance, both in private and
     public affairs, to vote according to your oaths. It is this
     very thing that holds the state together, much against the
     will of those who would have it otherwise. Confiding, then,
     in your sense of justice, I ask you to hear my defense with
     good will, and not to act the part of adversaries in this
     suit. Suspect not the truth of my statements, and ensnare
     not my words. Hear me patiently to the end, and then
     pronounce whatever judgment you deem best and most in
     accordance with your oaths. . . .

     Now with regard to the information laid on account of the
     mutilation of the images, I will tell you everything from
     the beginning. When, then, Teucrus came from Megara, having
     obtained special permission, he gave what information he
     had about the mysteries and images, and denounced eighteen
     men. Of the men thus denounced, some fled, and others were
     arrested and put to death on the strength of this
     information. Those who fled have returned and are now here.
     Many relatives of those who were put to death are likewise
     present. I ask, then, any one of these, who will, to
     interrupt me in the course of my argument and show, if he
     can, that I was the cause of exile or death in a single
     case.

     After this had taken place, Pisander and Charicles, who
     were members of the commission of inquiry, and had the
     reputation at that time of being loyal to the people,
     declared that what had been done was not the work of merely
     a few men, but part of a conspiracy to overthrow the
     commonwealth, and that they ought, therefore, to continue
     the investigation.

     The city was then in a sorry plight. When the herald made
     proclamation for the Senate to enter the council chamber
     and hauled down the signal, the trouble began. Then it was
     that the conspirators fled from the market-place in fear of
     arrest. Then, too, Diocleides, elated with hope over the
     misfortunes of the city, brought an impeachment before the
     Senate, declaring that he knew the men who had mutilated
     the Hermae, and that they were thirty in number. He told
     how he chanced to be an eye-witness of the affair. Now I
     ask you, judges, to give your attention to this matter, and
     recall whether I speak the truth, refreshing each other's
     memories; for Diocleides spoke in your midst. To that fact
     you yourselves can testify.

     Diocleides, you will remember, said that he had a slave at
     Laurium, and that he had occasion to go for a payment due
     to him. "He rose early in the morning, mistaking the hour,
     and started on his way. The moon was full. When he got near
     the gateway of Dionysus, he saw several men going down from
     the Odeum into the orchestra of the theater. Afraid of
     them, he drew into the shade, and crouched down between the
     pillar and the column with the bronze statue of the
     general. He saw the men, about three hundred in number,
     standing around in groups of fifteen and twenty. Most of
     them he recognized in the light of the moon." Thus, in the
     first place, judges, he assumed this story--a most
     extraordinary one--in order, I fancy, that it might rest
     with him to include in this list any Athenian he pleased,
     or at pleasure to exempt him. After he had seen all this he
     went, he said, to Laurium, where he learned on the
     following day that the Hermae had been mutilated. He knew
     at once that it was the work of the men he had seen in the
     night. Returning to the city he learned that a commission
     of inquiry had been appointed and that a reward of a
     hundred minae had been offered for information. Seeing
     Euphemus, the brother of Callias, the son of Telecles,
     setting in his smithy, he brought him into the Hephaesteum
     and told him how he had seen us on that night. Now, he
     said, he did not desire to receive a reward from the city
     rather than from us, if he could have us for friends.
     Euphemus said that he did well to tell him, and asked him
     to come to the house of Leogoras, that they might there
     confer with Andocides and the other needful persons. He
     came, he declared, on the following day, and knocked at the
     door. He met my father going out, who said to him: "Are you
     the visitor whom the company here expect? Well, you ought
     not to reject such friends," and with these words he was
     gone. In this way he sought to ruin my father, denouncing
     him as a confederate. He then stated that we told him we
     had decided to give him two talents instead of a hundred
     minae, as offered by the state for information, and that we
     pledged ourselves, in the event of our success, to make him
     one of us. His reply, he said, was that he would think it
     over. We then asked him, he maintained, to come to the
     house of Callias, the son of Telecles, that he, too, might
     be present. Thus he sought to ruin also my kinsman. He
     came, he said, to the home of Callias, concluded an
     agreement with us, and gave us pledges on the Acropolis,
     but we failed to pay him, as agreed, the following month.
     He came, therefore, he said, to give information about what
     had been done. Such, judges, was his impeachment. . . .

     Now, after we were all arrested and the prison doors were
     shut at night, there came the mother of one man, the sister
     of another, and the wife and children of another. Then they
     wept and bewailed their misfortunes. And Charmides, a
     cousin of my own age, who had been brought up in our home
     from childhood, said to me: "Andocides, you see how great
     our calamity is. Although, then, heretofore, I had no wish
     to speak or to give you pain, yet I am now constrained to
     do so by our present evil. For all your friends and
     associates, except us, your relations, have either been put
     to death of the reasons on account of which we now perish,
     or have gone into exile, thereby condemning themselves. If,
     then, you know anything of this matter, tell it, and save
     first yourself, then your father, whom you ought to love
     exceedingly, then your brother-in-law, who married your
     only sister, then the rest of your numerous kinsmen and
     relatives, and finally me, who never grieved you in my
     whole life, but have ever been most eager to do whatever
     was for your interest."

     Now when Charmides had said this, judges, and each of the
     others besought and supplicated me, I reflected how unhappy
     I was to have fallen into such misfortune. Was I to see my
     kinsman put to death unjustly and their property
     confiscated, and see those who were in no sense to blame
     for what had been done have their names inscribed on
     columns as impious sinners against the gods? Was I further
     to see three hundred Athenians perish undeservedly, the
     city involved in calamity, and the citizens suspicious of
     one another? Was I, I ask, to sit by idly, and see all
     this, or was it my place to tell the people of Athens what
     I had heard from Euphiletus himself, the man who committed
     the outrage? I further reflected, judges, that of those who
     had wrought the deed of shame some had been put to death on
     the information of Teucrus, and others, having gone into
     exile, had sentence of death passed upon them in their
     absence. Four remained, who had not been informed against
     by Teucrus,--Panaetius, Chaeredamus, Diacritus, and
     Lysistratus. These men above all seemed likely to have been
     confederates of those against whom Diocleides had informed,
     since they were their intimate friends. For these men,
     then, safety was never secure; but over my own relatives
     hung certain destruction, unless some one told the people
     of Athens the actual facts. It seemed to me, therefore,
     better to deprive these four men of their country, who are
     still alive and have returned to enjoy their patrimony,
     than to see my own suffer an unjust death. Such were my
     reflections.

     If now any of you, judges, had a preconceived idea that I
     have information to ruin these men and save myself--an
     assertion that my enemies make in their attempt to asperse
     my character--examine that idea in the light of the facts.
     For I must now give a truthful account of my doings in the
     presence of the very men who perpetrated the crime and then
     fled. They know best whether I lie or speak the truth, and
     may confute me, if they can, in the course of my speech;
     for I appeal to them. But you must learn the facts. For in
     this trial, judges, nothing is so important for me as that,
     if acquitted, I should be acquitted with honor; and,
     further, that the general public should understand my whole
     conduct to have been absolutely free from baseness or
     cowardice. I told what I had heard from Euphiletus through
     solicitude for my friends and kinsmen, through solicitude
     for the whole city, with courage and not cowardice. If,
     then, this is so, I ask you to acquit me and not to think
     me base.

     Now consider--for a judge ought to examine the facts by a
     human standard, as if the misfortune had been his own--what
     would any one of you have done? If it had been a question
     of death with honor or life with shame, you might condemn
     my conduct as cowardice. And yet many would have chosen
     life in preference to an honorable death. But here the case
     was the very reverse: by keeping silent I must have
     perished ignominiously in my innocence, and must also have
     permitted the destruction of my father, of my
     brother-in-law, of all my cousins and relations, whom I and
     no one else threatened with death, by concealing the guilt
     of others. The falsehoods of Diocleides had sent them to
     prison; their only hope of deliverance lay in the Athenians
     learning the whole truth. I was in danger, therefore, of
     becoming their murderer, if I failed to tell you what I had
     heard. I was also in danger of destroying three hundred
     Athenians, and of involving Athens in the most serious
     evils. This, then, was the prospect, if I were silent.

     How different the prospect if I had made known the truth!
     Then I should save myself, my father, and my kinsmen, and
     should deliver the city from dangers and misfortunes.
     Accordingly four men who participated in the crime were
     driven into exile through me. I had nothing, however, to do
     with the death or exile of the men against whom Teucrus had
     laid information. Considering all this, judges, I concluded
     that the least of the pressing evils was to tell the whole
     truth, and, by convicting Diocleides of falsifying, to have
     him punished--a man who sought to ruin us unjustly by
     deceiving the city, and who, for so doing, was proclaimed a
     public benefactor and received money from the state. I
     therefore told the Senate that I knew the men who did the
     act; that, while we were at a banquet, Euphiletus suggested
     this scheme, which was not carried out then on account of
     my opposition; but that later, when I had fallen from my
     horse in the Cynosarges, and had broken my collar-bone and
     cut my head, so that I had to be carried home on a
     stretcher, Euphiletus, seeing my condition, told his
     confederates that I had agreed to coöperate with them and
     would mutilate the Hermes by the Phorbanteum. Thus did he
     deceive them. Yet on that very account the Hermes near my
     father's house, dedicated by the Aegean tribe, is, as you
     all know, the only one in Athens not mutilated; for that
     task, as Euphiletus told his companions, was assigned to
     me. When they found this out, they were furious, because I
     knew of the deed without having had a hand in it. On the
     following day Meletus and Euphiletus came to me and said:
     "We have done the deed, Andocides. And if you think fit to
     remain silent, you will have our friendship as heretofore;
     otherwise our enmity will be more effectual than any
     friendship you can make by betraying us." Thereupon I told
     them that I considered Euphiletus a villain, and that they
     ought to feel furious, not because I knew it, but because
     they had done the abominable deed. In support of this
     statement I gave my own slave for the torture, to prove
     that I had been ill and unable even to leave my bed; and
     the Presidents received the female slaves for examination
     in the house from which the conspirators set forth to begin
     their work. After the Senate and the commission of inquiry
     found out that everything was just as I had stated, they
     summoned Diocleides. No words were wasted. He at once
     admitted that he had lied, and asked to be spared on
     condition of revealing the men who had put him up to it. He
     said they were Alcibaides of the deme of Phegeus and
     Amiantus from Aegina; both of whom fled in fear. After you
     had heard this you imprisoned Diocleides and put him to
     death, but delivered my relatives from destruction--all on
     my account. Moreover you allowed the exiles to return; and
     you yourselves were freed from great dangers and evils.

     Wherefore, judges, you ought to pity me in my misfortune;
     nay, you ought to hold me in honor for what I have done.
     When Euphiletus proposed the most traitorous of all
     compacts, I opposed him, and upbraided him as he deserved.
     Yet I concealed the crime of the conspirators, even when
     some were put to death and others driven into exile through
     the information laid by Teucrus. Only after we were
     imprisoned and on the point of being put to death through
     the instrumentality of Diocleides, did I denounce the four
     conspirators--Panaetius, Diacritus, Lysistratus, and
     Chaeredemus. These men, I admit, were driven into exile on
     my account. But my act saved my father, my brother-in-law,
     three cousins, and seven other relatives, all of whom were
     about to suffer an unjust death. These now behold the light
     of day on my account, and they frankly admit it. Moreover,
     the man who threw the whole city into confusion and
     involved it in the greatest dangers has been convicted.
     Finally you have been delivered from great dangers and
     freed from suspicion, one against another.

     Recall, now, judges, whether I speak the truth, and do
     those of you who know, enlighten the rest. And do you,
     clerk, call the persons themselves who were released
     through me; for they know and can tell you best. This is
     so, judges; as they will come up and testify as long as you
     care to listen. . . .

     And now, gentlemen, when you are about to pronounce final
     judgment, there are certain things you should call to mind.
     Remember that you now enjoy among all the Greeks the
     enviable reputation of being not only brave on the field of
     battle, but wise in the council chamber, since you attend
     not so much to the punishment of past misdeeds as to the
     future security of the State and the concord of its
     citizens. Other States as well as ours have had their share
     of evils. But the peaceful settlement of civil discord is
     the triumph of the best and wisest peoples. Since, then,
     you have the admiration of all nations, hostile as well as
     friendly, take care that you do not deprive your city of
     its fair fame, or create the impression that your success
     is due rather to chance than deliberation.

     I ask you further to have the same opinion of me that you
     have of my ancestors. Give me the chance to follow their
     example. They occupy a place in the memory of their
     countrymen by the side of the greatest benefactors of the
     State. They served their country nobly and well, chiefly
     through good will to you, and with the further purpose
     that, if ever they or their descendants should fall into
     misfortune, they might find favor and pardon with you.
     Forget them not; for once their meritorious deeds served
     our city in a time of need. When our navy was annihilated
     at Aegospotami, and many were bent on the destruction of
     Athens, the Spartans decided to save the city through
     respect for the memory of those men who had fought for the
     liberty of all Greece. Since, then, our city was saved
     through the merits of my ancestors; for to the deeds that
     saved our city my ancestors contributed no small part.
     Share with me, then, the salvation that you received from
     the Greeks.

     Consider, also, if you save me, what manner of citizen you
     will have in me. Once rich and affluent, I have been
     reduced to penury and want through no fault of mine, but
     through calamities that befell our city. Since then I have
     earned my livelihood in an honest way, toiling with my
     hands and brain. Many friends, I have, too; among them
     kings and great men of the world, whose friendship you will
     share with me.

     If, on the other hand, you destroy me, there will be no one
     left to perpetuate our name and family. And yet the home of
     Andocides and Leogoras is no disgrace to Athens. But great
     will be the disgrace if I am in exile, and Cleophon, the
     lyremaker, dwells in the house of my fathers--a house whose
     walls are decked with trophies taken by my ancestors from
     the enemies of their country.

     Though my ancestors be dead, let their memory still live,
     and fancy that you see their shades solemnly pleading in my
     behalf. For whom else have I to plead for me? My father? He
     is dead. Brothers? I have none. Children? None have yet
     been born to me.

     Do you, then, be to me father, brother, children. To you I
     flee for refuge; you I supplicate and beseech. Turn then,
     in supplication to yourselves, and grant me life and safety.


LYSIAS

Lysias, while he never attained Athenian citizenship, resided most of
his life at Athens, and took an important and intimate part in the
affairs of that city while it was a democracy. The ancient historians
place his birth at 459 B.C., and his death at 378 B.C., but modern
critics would place his birth at about 440 B.C., and his death at 380
B.C. Thirty-four orations are ascribed to Lysias, but the
authenticity of several of them is questionable. His style is simple
and clear, at the same time possessing force and vividness of
expression.

The oration here given was delivered in Athens in 403 B.C., and is
considered the best of his speeches that have come down to us.
Eratosthenes was one of the Thirty Tyrants who decreed the death of
the brother of Lysias.

     _Against Eratosthenes_ (403 B.C.). It is an easy matter, O
     Athenians, to begin this accusation. But to end it without
     doing injustice to the cause will be attended with no small
     difficulty. For the crimes of Eratosthenes are not only too
     atrocious to describe, but too many to enumerate. No
     exaggeration can exceed, and within the time assigned for
     this discourse it is impossible fully to represent them.
     This trial, too, is attended with another singularity. In
     other causes it is usual to ask the accusers: "What is your
     resentment against the defendants?" But here you must ask
     the defendant: "What was your resentment against your
     country? What malice did you bear your fellow citizens? Why
     did you rage with unbridled fury against the state itself?"

     The time has now indeed come, Athenians, when, insensible
     to pity and tenderness, you must be armed with just
     severity against Eratosthenes and his associates. What
     avails it to have conquered them in the field, if you be
     overcome by them in your councils? Do not show them more
     favor for what they boast they will perform, than
     resentment for what they have already committed. Nor, after
     having been at so much pains to become masters of their
     persons, allow them to escape without suffering that
     punishment which you once sought to inflict; but prove
     yourselves worthy of that good fortune which has given you
     power over your enemies.

     The contest is very unequal between Eratosthenes and you.
     Formerly he was both judge and accuser; but we, even while
     we accuse, must at the same time make our defense. Those
     who were innocent he put to death without trial. To those
     who are guilty we allow the benefit of law, even though no
     adequate punishment can ever be inflicted. For should we
     sacrifice them and their children, would this compensate
     for the murder of your fathers, your sons, and your
     brothers? Should we deprive them of their property, would
     this indemnify the individuals whom they have beggared, or
     the State which they have plundered? Though they can not
     suffer a punishment adequate to their demerit, they ought
     not, surely, on this account, to escape. Yet how matchless
     is the effrontery of Eratosthenes, who, being now judged by
     the very persons whom he formerly injured, still ventures
     to make his defense before the witnesses of his crimes.
     What can show more evidently the contempt in which he holds
     you, or the confidence which he reposes in others?

     Let me now conclude with laying before you the miseries to
     which you were reduced, that you may see the necessity of
     taking punishment on the authors of them. And first, you
     who remained in the city, consider the severity of their
     government. You were reduced to such a situation as to be
     forced to carry on a war, in which, if you were conquered,
     you partook indeed of the same liberty with the conquerors;
     but if you proved victorious, you remained under the
     slavery of your magistrates. As to you of the Piraeus, you
     will remember that though you never lost your arms in the
     battles which you fought, yet you suffered by these men
     what your foreign enemies could never accomplish, and at
     home, in times of peace, were disarmed by your fellow
     citizens. By them you were banished from the country left
     you by your fathers. Their rage, knowing no abatement,
     pursued you abroad, and drove you from one territory to
     another. Recall the cruel indignities which you suffered;
     how you were dragged from the tribunal and the altars; how
     no place, however sacred, could shelter you against their
     violence. Others, torn from their wives, their children,
     their parents, after putting an end to their miserable
     lives, were deprived of funeral rites; for these tyrants
     imagined their government so firmly established that even
     the vengeance of the gods was unable to shake it.

     But it is impossible for one, or in the course of one
     trial, to enumerate the means which were employed to
     undermine the power of this state, the arsenals which were
     demolished, the temples sold or profaned, the citizens
     banished or murdered, and those whose dead bodies were
     impiously left uninterred. Those citizens now watch your
     decree, uncertain whether you will prove accomplices of
     their death or avengers of their murder. I shall desist
     from any further accusations. You have heard, you have
     seen, you have experienced. Decide then!


ISOCRATES

Isocrates, one of the greatest of the great men who lived between 500
and 300 B.C., and made Greece famous for literary and oratorical
preëminence, owes his renown not to his ability as a deliverer of
speeches, but as a constructor of them, and as a teacher of rhetoric
and oratory. He understood the principles of vocal expression
perfectly, but he was of a retiring nature and lacked volume of
voice, the latter being a particularly serious drawback because of
the necessity of speaking in the open before vast concourses of
people. He withdrew from active participation in the public life of
Athens, and opened a school in that city for the training of orators.
Isaeus, the teacher of Demosthenes, was one of his pupils. Isocrates
was born in 436 B.C., and died at the age of ninety-eight.

     _Encomium on Evagoras._ When I saw, O Nicocles, that you
     were honoring the tomb of your father, not only with
     numerous and magnificent offerings, according to custom,
     but also with dances, musical exhibitions, and athletic
     contests, as well as with horse races and trireme races, on
     a scale that left no possibility of their being surpassed,
     I thought that Evagoras, if the dead have any feeling of
     what happens on earth, while accepting this offering
     favorably, and beholding with joy your filial regard for
     him and your magnificence, would feel far greater gratitude
     to any one who could show himself capable of worthily
     describing his mode of life and the dangers he had
     undergone than to any one else; for we shall find that
     ambitious and high-souled men not only prefer praise to
     such honors, but choose a glorious death in preference to
     life, and are more jealous of their reputation than of
     their existence, shrinking from nothing in order to leave
     behind a remembrance of themselves that shall never die.

     Now, expensive displays produce none of these results, but
     are merely an indication of wealth; those who are engaged
     in liberal pursuits and other branches of rivalry, by
     displaying, some their strength, and others their skill,
     increase their reputation; but a discourse that could
     worthily describe the acts of Evagoras would cause his
     noble qualities to be ever remembered amongst all mankind.

     Other writers ought accordingly to have praised those who
     showed themselves distinguished in their own days, in order
     that both those who are able to embellish the deeds of
     others by their eloquence, speaking in the presence of
     those who were acquainted with the facts, might have
     adhered to the truth concerning them, and that the younger
     generation might be more eagerly disposed to virtue,
     feeling convinced that they will be more highly praised
     than those to whom they show themselves superior.

     At the present time, who could help being disheartened at
     seeing those who lived in the times of the Trojan wars, and
     even earlier, celebrated in songs and tragedies, when he
     knows beforehand that he himself, even if he surpass their
     noble deeds, will never be deemed worthy of such eulogies?
     The cause of this is jealousy, the only good of which is
     that it is the greatest curse to those who are actuated by
     it. For some men are naturally so peevish that they would
     rather hear men praised, as to whom they do not feel sure
     that they ever existed, than those at whose hands they
     themselves have received benefits.

     Men of sense ought not to be the slaves of the folly of
     such men, but, while despising them, they ought at the same
     time to accustom others to listen to matters which ought to
     be spoken of, especially since we know that the arts and
     everything else are advanced, not by those who abide by
     established customs, but by those who correct and, from
     time to time, venture to alter anything that is
     unsatisfactory.

     I know that the task I am proposing to myself is a
     difficult one--to eulogize the good qualities of a man in
     prose. A most convincing proof of this is that, while those
     who are engaged in the study of philosophy are ever ready
     to speak about many other subjects of various kinds, none
     of them has ever yet attempted to compose a treatise on a
     subject like this.

     When a boy, he was distinguished for beauty, strength, and
     modesty, the most becoming qualities at such an age. In
     proof of which witnesses could be produced: of his modesty,
     those of the citizens who were brought up with him; of his
     beauty, all who saw him; of his strength, the contests in
     which he surpassed his compeers.

     When he grew to man's estate, all these qualities were
     proportionately enhanced, and in addition to them he
     acquired courage, wisdom, and uprightness, and these in no
     small measure, as is the case with some others, but each of
     them in the highest degree.

     For he was so distinguished for his bodily and mental
     excellence, that, whenever any of the reigning princes of
     the time saw him, they were amazed and became alarmed for
     their rule, thinking it impossible that a man of such
     talents would continue to live in the position of a private
     individual, and whenever they considered his character they
     felt such confidence in him, that they were convinced that
     he would assist them if any one ventured to attack them.

     In spite of such changes of opinion concerning him, they
     were in neither case mistaken; for he neither remained a
     private individual, nor, on the other hand, did them
     injury, but the Deity watched over him so carefully in
     order that he might gain the kingdom honorably, that
     everything which could not be done without involving
     impiety was carried out by another's hands, while all the
     means by which it was possible to acquire the kingdom
     without impiety or injustice he reserved for Evagoras. For
     one of the nobles plotted against and slew the tyrant, and
     afterwards attempted to seize Evagoras, feeling convinced
     that he would not be able to secure his authority unless he
     got him out of the way.

     Evagoras, however, escaped this peril and, having got safe
     to Soli in Cilicia, did not show the same feeling as those
     who are overtaken by like misfortunes. Others, even those
     who have been driven from sovereign power, have their
     spirits broken by the weight of their misfortunes; but
     Evagoras rose to such greatness of soul, that, although he
     had all along lived as a private individual, at the moment
     when he was compelled to flee, he felt that he was destined
     to rule.

     Despising vagabond exiles, unwilling to attempt to secure
     his return by means of strangers, and to be under the
     necessity of courting those inferior to himself, he seized
     this opportunity, as befits all who desire to act in a
     spirit of piety and to act in self-defense rather than to
     be the first to inflict an injury, and made up his mind
     either to succeed in acquiring the kingdom or to die in the
     attempt if he failed. Accordingly, having got together
     fifty men (on the highest estimate), he made preparations
     to return to his country in company with them.

     From this it would be easy to recognize his natural force
     of character and the reputation he enjoyed amongst others;
     for, when he was on the point of setting sail with so small
     a force on so vast an undertaking, and when all kinds of
     perils stared him in the face, he did not lose heart
     himself, nor did any of those whom he had invited to assist
     him think fit to shrink from dangers, but, as if they were
     following a god, all stood by their promises, while he
     showed himself as confident as if he had a stronger force
     at his command than his adversaries, or knew the result
     beforehand.

     This is evident from what he did; for, after he had landed
     on the island, he did not think it necessary to occupy any
     strong position, and, after providing for the safety of his
     person, to wait and see whether any of the citizens would
     come to his assistance; but, without delay, just as he was,
     on that eventful night he broke open a gate in the wall,
     and leading his companions through the gap, attacked the
     royal residence.

     There is no need to waste time in telling of the confusion
     that ensues at such moments, the terror of the assaulted,
     and his exhortations to his comrades; but, when the
     supporters of the tyrant resisted him, while the rest of
     the citizens looked on and kept quiet, fearing, on the one
     hand, the authority of their rule, and, on the other, the
     valor of Evagoras; he did not abandon the conflict,
     engaging either in single combat against numbers, or with
     few supporters against the whole of the enemy's forces,
     until he had captured the palace, punished his enemies,
     succored his friends, and finally recovered for his family
     its ancestral honors, and made himself ruler of the city.

     I think, even if I were to mention nothing else, but were
     to break off my discourse at this point, it would be easy
     to appreciate the valor of Evagoras and the greatness of
     his achievements; however, I hope that I shall be able to
     present both even more clearly in what I am going to say.

     For while, in all ages, wo many have acquired sovereign
     power, no one will be shown to have gained this high
     position more honorably than Evagoras. If we were to
     compare the deeds of Evagoras with those of each of his
     predecessors individually, such details would perhaps be
     unsuitable to the occasion, while time would be
     insufficient for their recital; but if, selecting the most
     famous of these men, we examine them in the light of his
     actions, we shall be able to investigate the matter equally
     well, and at the same time to discuss it more briefly.

     Who would not prefer the perils of Evagoras to the lot of
     those who inherited kingdoms from their fathers? For no one
     is so indifferent to fame that he would choose to receive
     such power from his ancestors rather than to acquire it, as
     he did, and to bequeath it to his children. Further,
     amongst the returns of princes to their thrones that took
     place in old times, those are most famous which we hear of
     from the poets; for they not only inform us of the most
     renowned of all that have taken place, but add new ones out
     of their own imaginations. None of them, however, has
     invented the story of a prince who, after having undergone
     such fearful and terrible dangers, has returned to his own
     country; but most of them are represented as having
     regained possession of their kingdoms by chance, others as
     having overcome their enemies by perfidy and intrigue.

     Amongst those who lived afterwards (and perhaps more than
     all) Cyrus, who deprived the Medes of their rule and
     acquired it for the Persians, is the object of most general
     admiration. But, whereas, Cyrus conquered the army of the
     Medes with that of the Persians, an achievement which many
     (whether Hellenes or barbarians) could easily accomplish,
     Evagoras undoubtedly carried out the greater part of what
     has been mentioned by his own unaided energy and valor.

     In the next place, it is not yet certain, from the
     expedition of Cyrus, that he would have faced the perils of
     Evagoras, while it is obvious, from the achievements of the
     latter, that he would readily have attempted the same
     undertakings as Cyrus. Further, while Evagoras acted in
     everything in accordance with rectitude and justice,
     several of the acts of Cyrus were not in accordance with
     religion; for the former merely destroyed his enemies, the
     latter slew his mother's father. Wherefore, if any were
     content to judge, not the greatness of events, but the good
     qualities of each, they would rightly praise Evagoras more
     than Cyrus.

     But--if I am to speak briefly and without reserve, without
     fear of jealousy, and with the utmost frankness--no one,
     whether mortal, demigod, or immortal, will be found to have
     acquired his kingdom more honorably, more gloriously, or
     more piously than he did. One would feel still more
     confident of this if, disbelieving what I have said, he
     were to attempt to investigate how each obtained supreme
     power. For it will be manifest that I am not in any way
     desirous of exaggerating, but that I have spoken with such
     assurance concerning him because the facts which I state
     are true.

     Even if he had gained distinction only for unimportant
     enterprises, it were fitting that he should be considered
     worthy of praise in proportion; but, as it is, all would
     allow that supreme power is the greatest, the most august,
     and most coveted of all blessings, human and divine. Who
     then, whether poet, orator, or inventor of words, could
     extol in a manner worthy of his achievements one who has
     gained the most glorious prize that exists by most glorious
     deeds?

     However, while superior in these respects, he will not be
     found to have been inferior in others, but, in the first
     place, although naturally gifted with most admirable
     judgment, and able to carry out his undertakings most
     successfully, he did not think it right to act carelessly
     or on the spur of the moment in the conduct of affairs, but
     occupied most of his time in acquiring information, in
     reflection, and deliberation, thinking that, if he
     thoroughly developed his intellect, his rule would be in
     like manner glorious, and looking with surprise upon those
     who, while exercising care in everything else for the sake
     of the mind, took no thought for the intelligence itself.

     In the next place, his opinion of events was consistent;
     for, since he saw that those who look best after realities
     suffer the least annoyance, and that true recreation
     consists not in idleness, but in success that is due to
     continuous toil, he left nothing unexamined, but had such
     thorough acquaintance with the condition of affairs, and
     the character of each of the citizens, that neither did
     those who plotted against him take him unawares, nor were
     the respectable citizens unknown to him, but all were
     treated as they deserved; for he neither punished nor
     rewarded them in accordance with what he heard from others,
     but formed his judgment of them from his own personal
     knowledge.

     But, while he busied himself in the care of such matters,
     he never made a single mistake in regard to any of the
     events of everyday life, but carried on the administration
     of the city in such a spirit of piety and humanity that
     those who visited the island envied the power of Evagoras
     less than those who were subject to his rule; for he
     consistently avoided treating any one with injustice, but
     honored the virtuous, and, while ruling all vigorously,
     punished the wrongdoers in strict accordance with justice;
     having no need of counsellors, but, nevertheless,
     consulting his friends; often making concessions to his
     intimates, but in everything showing himself superior to
     his enemies; preserving his dignity, not by knitted brows,
     but by his manner of life; not behaving irregularly or
     capriciously in anything, but preserving consistency in
     word as well as in deed; priding himself, not on the
     successes that were due to chance, but those due to his own
     efforts; bringing his friends under his influence by
     kindness, and subduing the rest by his greatness of soul;
     terrible, not by the number of his punishments, but by the
     superiority of his intellect over that of the rest;
     controlling his pleasures, but not led by them; gaining
     much leisure by little labor, but never neglecting
     important business for the sake of short-lived ease; and,
     in general, omitting none of the fitting attributes of
     kings, he selected the best from each form of political
     activity; a popular champion by reason of his care for the
     interests of the people, an able administrator in his
     management of the state generally, a thorough general in
     his resourcefulness in the face of danger, and a thorough
     monarch from his pre-eminence in all these qualities. That
     such were his attributes, and even more than these, it is
     easy to learn from his acts themselves.


HYPERIDES

Hyperides, born in 396 B.C., and died in 322 B.C., was a pupil in
philosophy of Plato, and studied oratory under Isocrates. He was at
one time a close associate and follower of Demosthenes, but later
disagreed with him on matters pertaining to the state, and took part
in the prosecution that finally drove Demosthenes into exile.
Hyperides was famed for the charm of his delivery, being esteemed by
many equal to Demosthenes in this respect, and for the brilliancy and
quickness of his wit.

     _Speech Against Athenogenes._ [Hyperides' client, whose
     name does not appear, desired to obtain a boy slave, who,
     with his father and brother, was the property of
     Athenogenes. The plaintiff proposed to purchase the liberty
     of the boy in question, while Athenogenes, aided by
     Antigona, lured the purchaser, by false representations,
     into buying all three slaves with their liabilities, which
     he pretended were but trifling. After the bargain was
     completed the plaintiff found that the slaves had brought
     him debts enough to compass his ruin; he therefore brought
     suit against Athenogenes and engaged Hyperides as counsel.
     The following speech, of which some fragments are missing,
     presents a satisfactory example of the orator's style. The
     opening sentences are lost. What is here given is but an
     extract from the speech]:

     Gentlemen, you have heard the whole story in all its
     details. Possibly, however, Athenogenes will plead, when
     his turn comes, that the law declares all agreements
     between man and man to be binding. Just agreements, my dear
     sir. Unjust ones, on the contrary, it declares shall not be
     binding. I will make this clearer to you from the actual
     words of the laws. You need not be surprised at my
     acquaintance with them. You have brought me to such a pass
     and have filled me with such a fear of being ruined by you
     and your cleverness that I made it my first and main duty
     to search and study the laws night and day.

     Now one law forbids falsehood in the market-place, and a
     very excellent injunction it is, in my opinion; yet you
     have, in open market, concluded a contract with me to my
     detriment by means of falsehoods. For if you can show that
     you told me beforehand of all the loans and debts, or that
     you mentioned in the contract the full amount of them, as I
     have since found it to be, I will abandon the prosecution
     and confess that I have done you an injustice.

     There is, however, also a second law bearing on this point,
     which relates to bargains between individuals by verbal
     agreements. It provides that "when a party sells a slave he
     shall declare beforehand if he has any blemish; if he omit
     to do so, he shall be compelled to make restitution." If,
     then, the vendor of a slave can be compelled to make
     restitution because he has omitted to mention some chance
     infirmity, is it possible that you should be free to refuse
     responsibility for the fraudulent bargain which you have
     deliberately devised? Moreover, an epileptic slave does not
     involve in ruin all the rest of his owner's property,
     whereas Midas, whom you sold to me, has ruined, not me
     alone, but even my friends as well.

     And now, Athenogenes, proceed to consider how the law
     stands, not only with respect to slaves, but also
     concerning free men. Even you, I suppose, know that
     children born of a lawfully betrothed wife are legitimate.
     The lawgiver, however, was not content with merely
     providing that a wife should be betrothed by her father or
     brother, in order to establish legitimacy. On the contrary,
     he expressly enacts that "if a man shall give a woman in
     betrothal justly and equitably, the children born of such
     marriage shall be legitimate," but not if he betroths her
     on false representations and inequitable terms. Thus the
     law makes just betrothals valid, and unjust ones it
     declares invalid.

     Again, the law relating to testaments is of a similar
     nature. It enacts that a man may dispose of his own
     property as he pleases, "provided that he be not
     disqualified by old age or disease or insanity, or by
     influenced by a woman's persuasions, and that he be not in
     bonds or under any other constraint." In circumstances,
     then, in which marriages and testaments relating solely to
     a man's own property are invalidated, how can it be right
     to maintain the validity of such an agreement as I have
     described, which was drawn up by Athenogenes in order to
     steal property belonging to me?

     Can it be right that the disposition of one's property by
     will should be nullified if it is made under the
     persuasions of a woman, while, if I am persuaded by
     Athenogenes' mistress and am entrapped by them into making
     this agreement, I am thereby to be ruined, in spite of the
     express support which is given me by the law? Can you
     actually dare to rest your case on the contract of which
     you and your mistress procured the signature by fraud,
     which is also the very ground on which I am now charging
     you with conspiracy, since my belief in your good faith
     induced me to accept the conditions which you proposed? You
     are not content with having got the forty minas which I
     paid for the slaves, but you must needs plunder me of five
     talents in addition, plucking me like a bird taken in a
     snare. To this end you have the face to say that you could
     not inform me of the amount of the debts which Midas had
     contracted, because you had not the time to ascertain it.
     Why, gentlemen, I, who brought absolute inexperience into
     the arrangement of commercial matters, had not the
     slightest difficulty in learning the whole amount of the
     debts and the loans within three months; but he, with an
     hereditary experience of three generations in the business
     of perfumery; he, who was at his place in the market every
     day of this life; he, who owned three shops and had his
     accounts made up every month, he, forsooth, was not aware
     of the debts! He is no fool in other matters, but in his
     dealings with his slave it appears he at once became a mere
     idiot, knowing of some of the debts, while others, he says,
     he did not know of--those, I take it, which he did not want
     to know of. Such a contention, gentlemen, is not a defense,
     but an admission that he has no sound defense to offer. If
     he states that he was not aware of the debts, it is plain
     that he cannot at the same time plead that he told me all
     about them; and it is palpably unjust to require me to
     discharge debts of the existence of which the vendor never
     informed me.

     Well, then, Athenogenes, I think it is tolerably plain on
     many grounds, that you knew of Midas' debts, and not the
     least from that fact that you demanded. . . .[2]

     If, however, you did not inform me of the total amount of
     the debts simply because you did not know it yourself, and
     I entered into the contract under the belief that what I
     had heard from you was the full sum of them, which of us
     ought in fairness to be liable for them--I, who purchased
     the property after their contraction, or you who originally
     received the sums borrowed? In my opinion it should be you;
     but if we differ on this point let the law be our arbiter.
     The law was not made either by infatuated lovers or by men
     engaged in conspiracy against their neighbor's property,
     but by the most public-spirited of statesmen, Solon. Solon,
     knowing that sales of property are common in the city,
     enacted a law--and one universally admitted to be just--to
     the effect that fines and expenditures incurred by slaves
     should be discharged by the master for whom they work. And
     this is only reasonable; for if a slave effect a good
     stroke of business or establish a flourishing industry, it
     is his master who reaps the profit of it. You, however,
     pass over the law in silence, and are eloquent about the
     iniquity of breaking contracts. Whereas Solon held that a
     law was more valid than a temporary ordinance, however just
     that ordinance might be, you demand that a fraudulent
     contract should outweigh all laws and all justice alike.

     I am told, however, that the defendant has another plea in
     reserve, and will argue that I brought all this mischief on
     my own head by disregarding his advice. He will declare
     that he offered to let me take the two boys, but that he
     urged me to leave Midas to him and not to buy him. I,
     however, he says, refused and insisted on buying all three.
     And this, they say, he intends to plead before a court such
     as the present! His object, of course, is to assume the
     appearance of fair dealing, but he must have forgotten that
     he will not be addressing an audience of fools, but one
     quite capable of seeing through his shameless effrontery.
     Let me tell you the actual facts, and you will see that
     they are of a piece with the rest of the conduct of himself
     and his confederate. He sent the boy, whom I mentioned just
     now, to me, to say that he could not be mine unless I
     bought his father and his brother as well as himself. I had
     actually assented to this and promised to pay the price for
     all three of them, when Athenogenes, thinking that he now
     had the upper hand and wishing me to have as much trouble
     as possible, came to some of my friends. . . .[3]

     Now I am no professional perfume-seller, neither have I
     learned any other trade. I simply till the land which my
     father gave me. It was solely by this man's craft that I
     was entrapped into the sale. Which is more probable on the
     face of things, Athenogenes, that I was coveting your
     business (a business of which I had no sort of experience),
     or that you and your mistress were plotting to get my
     money? I certainly think the design was on your
     side. . . .[4]

     Further, at the time of the war against Philip he left the
     city shortly before the battle, and instead of marching out
     with us to Chaeronea he migrated to Troezen. By so doing he
     broke the law which enacts that if a man migrates from the
     city during time of war he shall be liable to impeachment
     and summary arrest whenever he returns. His action shows
     that he had made up his mind that the city would escape
     peril, while he laid ours under sentence of death; and he
     corroborated this by not marrying his daughters here in
     Athens, but giving them to husbands in Troezen. . . .[5]

     So while he has broken the general covenant which every
     citizen makes with his state, he lays stress on the private
     covenant which he made with me, apparently expecting people
     to believe that a man who is indifferent to justice in his
     dealings with you would have been careful to observe it in
     his dealings with me! Why, so universal and impartial was
     he in his want of principle that, when he had gone to
     Troezen, and the people of Troezen had conferred their
     citizenship upon him, he put himself under the directions
     of Mnesias of Argos, and having been appointed archon by
     his means, expelled the citizens from their own city. They
     will prove this to you themselves, since they are living
     here in exile. You, gentlemen, gave them an asylum when
     they were expelled from their country, you gave them your
     citizenship, who shared with them every privilege that you
     possess. You remembered the service which they had rendered
     to you more than a hundred and fifty years ago, during the
     war with Persia, and you recognized the duty of helping in
     the hour of their misfortune those who had aided you in the
     hour of your peril. But this scoundrel, this deserter from
     Athens who had procured admission as a citizen of Troezen,
     when once his position was thus secured, cared nothing for
     either the State or the welfare of the citizens, but
     behaved with the utmost barbarity towards the city which
     had granted him its hospitality. . . .[6]

     To prove the truth of these assertions the clerk shall read
     to you, first, the law which forbids resident aliens to
     migrate in time of war; secondly, the evidence of the
     Troezenians; and finally the ordinance which these same
     Troezenians passed in your honor, in return for which you
     gave them asylum here and conferred your citizenship upon
     them. Read.

     [_The law, the evidence, and the ordinance are read._]

     Now take the deposition of his own relative. . . .

     You know of what manner he conspired against me, and how he
     has been found a traitor against your state; how he
     despaired of your safety and abandoned the commonweal in
     the hour of danger; and how he has made homeless many of
     those to whom he migrated. Will you not then punish this
     scoundrel, now that you have him in your power? And for
     myself, gentlemen, I implore you not to refuse me your
     protection. Reflect that your decision in this case is a
     matter of life or death for me, while an adverse verdict
     will inflect no very serious loss upon him. . . . Remember,
     gentlemen, the oath that you have taken and the laws that
     have been read in your ears, and give sentence against him
     in accordance with the justice that you have been sworn to
     observe.


ISAEUS

Isaeus, the pupil of Isocrates and the teacher of Demosthenes, was
born about 420 B.C., but it is disputed as to whether he was born a
Chalcidian or an Athenian. He is famous for his mastery of
argumentative oratory, and appears to have studied Lysias
attentively, because of the similarity of their styles. Lysias,
however, used closely the divisions of a speech, such as
introduction, argument, and epilogue, whereas Isaeus avoided formal
arrangement of his matter and depended on his argumentative skill for
convincing his hearers. He died about the year 370 B.C. Eleven of his
speeches, dealing mainly with the law of inheritance, have come down
to us.

     _Menexenus and Others Against Dicaeogenes and Leochares._
     [Dicaeogenes, whose estate was in dispute, had four
     sisters, all of whom were married and had issue. When he
     died without children, his uncle, Proxenus, produced a will
     by which the deceased appeared to have left a third part of
     his estate to his cousin, Dicaeogenes. This cousin, not
     content with a share, insisted that he had a right to the
     whole, and, having set up another will in his own favor,
     took possession of the remaining two-thirds of the
     property. This belonged to the sisters of the deceased, who
     proved the second will to be a forgery; upon this
     Dicaeogenes undertook to restore the two-thirds without
     diminution, and one Leochares was his surety; but on their
     refusal to perform their promise, the nephews of the elder
     Dicaeogenes began a suit against them for the performance
     of their agreement.]

     We had imagined, judges, that all agreements made in court
     concerning this dispute would have been specifically
     performed; for when Dicaeogenes disclaimed the remaining
     two-thirds of this estate, and was bound, together with his
     surety, to restore them without any controversy, on the
     faith of this assurance we gave a release of our demands;
     but now, since he refuses to perform his engagement, we
     bring our complaint, conformably to the oath which we have
     taken, against both him and his surety, Leochares.

     [The Oath]

     That we swore truly, both Cephisodotus, who stands near me,
     perfectly knows, and the evidence, which we shall adduce,
     will clearly demonstrate. Read the depositions.

     [Evidence]

     You have heard the testimony of these witnesses, and I am
     persuaded that even Leochares himself will not venture to
     assert that they are perjured; but he will have recourse
     perhaps to this defense, that Dicaeogenes has fully
     performed his agreement, and that his own office of surety
     is completely satisfied. If he allege this, he will speak
     untruly and will easily be confuted; for the clerk shall
     read to you a schedule of all the effects which
     Dicaeogenes, the son of Menexenus, left behind him,
     together with an inventory of those which the defendant
     unjustly took; and if he affirms that our uncle neither had
     them in his lifetime nor left them to us at his death, let
     him prove his assertion; or if he insists that the goods
     were indeed ours, but that we had them returned to us, let
     him call a single witness to that fact; as we have produced
     evidence on our part that Dicaeogenes promised to give us
     back the two-thirds of what the son of Menexenus possessed,
     and that Leochares undertook to see him perform his
     promise. This is the ground of our action, and this we have
     sworn to be true. Let the oath be read.

     [The Oath]

     Now, judges, if the defendants intended only to clear
     themselves of this charge, what has already been said would
     be sufficient to ensure my success; but, since they are
     prepared to enter once more into the merits of the question
     concerning the inheritance, I am desirous to inform you on
     our side of all the transactions in our family; that, being
     apprised of the truth, and not deluded by their artifices,
     you may give a sentence agreeable to reason and justice.

     Menexenus our grandfather had one son named Dicaeogenes,
     and four daughters, of whom Polyaratus my father married
     one; another was taken by Democles of Phrearrhi; a third by
     Cephisophon of Paeania; and the fourth was espoused by
     Theopompus the father of Cephisodotus. Our uncle
     Dicaeogenes, having sailed to Cnidos in the Parhalian
     galley, was slain in a sea fight; and, as he left no
     children, Proxenus the defendant's father brought a will to
     our parents, in which his son was adopted by the deceased
     and appointed heir to a third part of his fortune; this
     part our parents, unable at that time to contest the
     validity of the will permitted him to take; and each of the
     daughters of Menexenus, as we shall prove by the testimony
     of persons then present, had a decree for her share of the
     residue.

     When they had thus divided the inheritance and had bound
     themselves by oath to acquiesce in the division, each
     person possessed his allotment for twelve years; in which
     time, though the courts were frequently open for the
     administration of justice, not one of these men thought of
     alleging any unfairness in the transaction; until, when the
     state was afflicted with troubles and seditions, this
     Dicaeogenes was persuaded by Melas the Egyptian, to whom he
     used to submit on other occasions, to demand from us all
     our uncle's fortune and to assert that he was appointed
     heir to the whole.

     When he began his litigation we thought he was deprived of
     his senses; never imagining that the same man, who at one
     time claimed to be heir to a third part, and at another
     time an hear to the whole, could gain any credit before
     this tribunal; but when we came into court, although we
     urged more arguments than our adversary and spoke with
     justice on our side, yet we lost our cause; not through any
     fault of the jury, but through the villainy of Melas and
     his associates, who, taking advantage of the public
     disorders, assumed a power of seizing possessions to which
     they had no right, by swearing falsely for each other. By
     such men, therefore, were the jury deceived; and we,
     overcome by this abominable iniquity, were stripped of our
     effects; for my father died not long after the trial and
     before he could prosecute, as he intended, the perjured
     witnesses of his antagonist.

     On the very day when Dicaeogenes had thus infamously
     prevailed against us, he ejected the daughter of
     Cephisophon, the niece of him who left the estate, from the
     portion allotted to her; took from the wife of Democles
     what her brother had given her as co-heiress; and deprived
     both the mother of Cephisodotus and the unfortunate youth
     himself of their whole fortune. Of all these he was at the
     same time guardian and spoiler, next of kin, and cruelest
     enemy; nor did the relation which he bore them excite in
     the least degree his compassion; but the unhappy orphans,
     deserted and indigent, became destitute even of daily
     necessities.

     Such was the guardianship of Dicaeogenes their nearest
     kinsman! who gave to their avowed foes what their father
     Theopompus had left them, illegally possesses himself of
     the property which they had from their maternal uncle and
     their grandfather; and (what was the most open act of
     cruelty) having purchased the house of their father and
     demolished it, he dug up the ground on which it stood, and
     made that handsome garden for his own house in the city.

     Still further; although he receives an annual rent of
     eighty minas from the estate of our uncle, yet such are his
     insolence and profligacy that he sent my cousin,
     Cephisodotus, to Corinth as a service attendant on his
     brother Harmodius; and adds to his other injuries this
     cruel reproach, that he wears ragged clothes and coarse
     buskins; but is not this unjust, since it was his own
     violence which reduced the boy to poverty?

     On this point enough has been said, I now return to the
     narration from which I have thus digressed. Menexenus then,
     the son of Cephisophon, and cousin both to this young man
     and to me, having a claim to an equal portion of the
     inheritance, began a prosecution against those who had
     perjured themselves in the former cause, and convicted
     Lycon, whom he had first brought to justice, of having
     falsely sworn that our uncle appointed this Dicaeogenes
     heir to his whole estate; when, therefore, this pretended
     heir was disappointed in his hopes of deluding you, he
     persuaded Menexenus, who was acting both for our interest
     and his own, to make a compromise, which, though I blush to
     tell it, his baseness compels me to disclose.

     What was their agreement?

     That Menexenus should receive a competent share of the
     effects on condition of his betraying us, and releasing the
     other false witnesses, whom he had not yet convicted; then,
     injured by our enemies, and by our friends, we remained
     with silent indignation; but you shall hear the whole
     transaction from the mouths of witnesses.

     [Evidence]

     Nor did Menexenus lose the reward of his perfidy; for, when
     he had dismissed the persons accused, and given up our
     cause, we could not recover the promised bribe from his
     seducer whose deceit he so highly resented, that he came
     over again to our side.

     We, therefore, justly thinking that Dicaeogenes had no
     right to any part of the inheritance, since his principal
     witness had been actually convicted of perjury, claimed the
     whole estate as next of kin to the deceased; nor will it be
     difficult to prove the justice of our claim; for, since two
     wills have been produced, one of an ancient date, and the
     other more recent; since by the first, which Proxenus
     brought with him, our uncle made the defendant heir to a
     third part of his fortune, which will Dicaeogenes himself
     prevailed upon the jury to set aside; and since the second,
     under which he claims the whole has been proved invalid by
     the conviction of the perjured witnesses, who swore to its
     validity; since, I say, both will have been shown to be
     forged, and no other testament existed, it was impossible
     for any man to claim the property as heir by appointment,
     but the sisters of the deceased, whose daughters we
     married, were entitled to it as heirs by birth.

     These reasons induced us to sue for the whole as next of
     kin, and each of us claimed a share; but when we were on
     the point of taking the usual oaths on both sides, this
     Leochares put in a protestation that the inheritance was
     not controvertible; to this protestation we took
     exceptions, and having begun to prosecute Leochares for
     perjury, we discontinued the former case. After we had
     appeared in court, and urged the same arguments on which we
     have now insisted, and after Leochares had been very
     loquacious in making his defense, the judges were of
     opinion that he was perjured, and as soon as this appeared
     by the number of pellets, which were taken out of the urns,
     it is needless to inform you what entreaties he used both
     to the court and to us, or what an advantage we might then
     have taken; but attend to the argument which we have made,
     and upon our consenting that the Archon should mix the
     pellets together without counting them, Dicaeogenes
     undertook to surrender two-thirds of the inheritance, and
     to resign them without any dispute to the sisters of the
     deceased, and for the full performance of this undertaking,
     Leochares was his surety, together with Mnesiptolemus the
     Plotian; all which my witnesses will prove.

     [Evidence]

     Although we had been thus injured by Leochares, and had it
     in our power, after he was convicted of perjury, to mark
     him with infamy, yet we consented that judgment should not
     be given, and were willing to drop the prosecution upon
     condition of recovering our inheritance; but after all this
     mildness and forbearance we were deceived, judges, by these
     faithless men; for neither has Dicaeogenes restored to us
     the two-thirds of his estate, conformably to his agreement
     in court; nor will Leochares confess that he was bound for
     the performance of that agreement. Now if these promises
     had not been made before five hundred jurymen and a crowd
     of hearers, one cannot tell how far this denial might have
     availed him; but, to show how falsely they speak, I will
     call some witnesses who were present both when Dicaeogenes
     disclaimed two-thirds of the succession and undertook to
     restore them undisputed to the sisters of our uncle, and
     when Leochares engaged that he should punctually perform
     what he had undertaken; to confirm his evidence, judges, we
     entreat you, if any of you were then in court, to recollect
     what passed, and, if our allegations are true, to give us
     the benefit of your testimony, for, if Dicaeogenes speaks
     the truth, what advantage did we reap from gaining the
     cause, or what inconvenience did he sustain by losing it?

     If, as he asserts, he only disclaimed the two-thirds
     without agreeing to restore them unencumbered, what has he
     lost by relinquishing his present claim to an estate the
     value of which he has received? For he was not in
     possession of the two third parts, even before we succeeded
     in our suit, but had either sold or mortgaged them; it was
     his duty, however, to return the money to the purchasers
     and to give us back our share of the land; since it was
     with a view to this that we, not relying singly upon his
     own engagement, instead upon his finding a surety. Yet,
     except two small houses without the walls of the city, and
     about sixty acres of land in the plain, we have received no
     part of our inheritance; nor did we care to eject the
     purchasers of the rest lest we should involve ourselves in
     litigation; for when, by the advice of Dicaeogenes, and on
     his promise not to oppose our title, we turned Micio out of
     a bath which he had purchased, he brought an action against
     us and recovered forty minas.

     This loss, judges, we incurred through the perfidy of
     Dicaeogenes; for we, not imagining that he would recede
     from an agreement so solemnly made, assured the court that
     we would suffer any evil if Dicaeogenes should warrant the
     bath to Micio; not that we depended on his own word, but we
     could not conceive that he would betray the sureties who
     had undertaken for him; yet this very man, who disavowed
     all pretensions to these two-thirds, and even now admits
     his disavowal, had the baseness, when he was vouched by
     Micio, to acknowledge his warranty; while I, unhappy man,
     who had not received a particle of my share, was condemned
     to pay forty minas for having ousted a fair purchaser and
     left the court oppressed by the insults of this
     Dicaeogenes. To prove the transaction I shall call my
     witnesses.

     [Evidence]

     Thus have we been injured, judges, by this man; whilst
     Leochares, who was bound for him and has been the cause of
     all our misfortunes, is confident enough to deny what has
     been proved against him; because his undertaking was not
     entered in the register of the court; now, judges, as we
     were then in great haste, we had time to enter part only of
     what had been agreed on, and took care to provide faithful
     witnesses of all the rest; but these men have a convenient
     subterfuge: what is advantageous to them they allow to be
     valid although it be not written, but deny the validity of
     what may be prejudicial to their interests unless it be in
     writing; nor am I surprised that they refuse to perform
     their verbal promises since they will not act conformably
     to their written agreements.

     That we speak truly, an undeniable proof shall be produced:
     Dicaeogenes gave my sister in marriage with a portion of
     forty minas to Protarchides of Potamos; but, instead of
     paying her fortune in money he gave her husband a house
     which belonged to him in Ceramicus; now she had the same
     right with my mother to a share of the estate; when
     Dicaeogenes, therefore, had resigned to the women
     two-thirds of the inheritance, Leochares told Protarchides
     in what manner he had become a surety, and promised in
     writing to give him his wife's allotment if he would
     surrender to him the house which he had taken instead of
     the portion; Protarchides, whose evidence you shall now
     hear, consented; but Leochares took possession of his house
     and never gave him any part of the allotment.

     [Evidence]

     As to the repairs of the bath and the expenses of building,
     Dicaeogenes has already said, and will probably say again,
     that we have not reimbursed him, according to our
     engagement, for the sum which he expended on that account,
     for which reason he cannot satisfy his creditors nor give
     us the shares to which we are entitled. To answer this, I
     must inform you that, when we compelled him in open court
     to disclaim this part of the inheritance, we permitted him,
     by the advice of the jury, to retain the products of the
     estate, which he had enjoyed for so long, by way of
     compensation for his expense in repairs and for his public
     charges; and some time after, not by compulsion, but of our
     own free will, we gave him a house in the city, which we
     separated from our own estate and added to this third part.

     This he had as an additional recompense for the materials
     which he had bought for his building; and he sold the house
     to Philonicus for fifty minas; nor did we make him this
     present as a reward of his probity, but as a proof that our
     own relatives, how dishonest soever, are not undervalued by
     us for the sake of lucre; and even before, when it was in
     our power to take ample revenge of him by depriving him of
     all his possession, we could not act with the rigor of
     justice, but were contented with obtaining a decree for
     part of our own property; whilst he, when he had procured
     an unjust advantage over us, plundered us with all possible
     violence, and now strives to ruin us, as if we were not his
     kinsmen, but his inveterate foes.

     We will now produce a striking instance of our candor and
     of his knavery. When, in the month of December, judges, the
     prosecution against Leochares was carried on with firmness,
     both he and Dicaeogenes entreated me to postpone the trial
     and refer all matters in dispute to arbitration; to which
     proposal, as if we had sustained only a slight injury, we
     consented; and four arbitrators were chosen, two by us, and
     as many by them; we then swore, in their presence, that we
     would abide by their award; and they told us that they
     would settle our controversy, if possible, without being
     sworn; but that, if they found it impossible to agree, they
     would severally declare upon oath what they thought the
     merits of the case. After they had interrogated us for a
     long time, and inquired minutely into the whole
     transaction, Diotamus and Melanopus the two arbitrators,
     whom we had brought, expressed their readiness to make
     their award, either upon oath or otherwise, according to
     their opinion of the truth from the testimony of both
     parties; but the other two, whom Leochares had chosen,
     refused to join in any award at all; though one of them,
     Diopithes, was a kinsman of Leochares, and an enemy to me
     on account of some former disputes, and his companion,
     Demaratus, was a brother of that Mnesiptolemus whom I
     mentioned before as one of the sureties for Dicaeogenes;
     these two decided against giving any opinion, although they
     had obliged us to swear that we would submit to their
     decision.

     [Evidence]

     It is abominable, then, that Leochares should request you
     to pronounce a sentence in his favor which his own
     relation, Diopithes, refused to pronounce; and how can you,
     judges, with propriety decree for this man, when even his
     friends have virtually decreed against him? For all these
     reasons I entreat you, unless you think my request
     inconsistent with justice, to decide this case against
     Leochares.

     As for Dicaeogenes, he deserves neither your compassion as
     an indigent and unfortunate man, nor your indulgence as a
     benefactor in any degree to the state; I shall convince
     you, judges, that neither of these characters belongs to
     him; shall prove him to be both a wealthy and a profligate
     citizen, and shall produce instances of his base conduct
     towards his friends, his kinsmen, and the public. First,
     though he took from us an estate from which he annually
     received eighty minas, and although he enjoyed the profits
     of it for ten years, yet he is neither in possession of the
     money nor will declare in what manner he has employed it.
     It is also worthy of your consideration, that, when he
     presided over the games of his tribe at the feast of
     Bacchus he obtained only the fourth prize, and was the last
     of all in the theatrical exhibitions and the Pyrrhic
     dances: these were the only offices that he has served, and
     these, too, by compulsion; and see how liberally he behaved
     with so large an income! Let me add that in a time of the
     greatest public calamity, when so many citizens furnished
     vessels of war, he would not equip a single galley at his
     own expense, nor even joined with another; whilst others,
     whose entire fortune was not equal to his yearly rents,
     bore that expensive office with alacrity; he ought to have
     remembered that it was not his father who gave him his
     estate, but you, judges, who established it by your decree;
     so that, even if he had not been a citizen, gratitude
     should have prompted him to consult the welfare of the city.

     Again, when contributions were continually brought by all
     who loved their country, to support the war and provide for
     the safety of the state, nothing came from Dicaeogenes;
     when Lechaeum indeed was taken, and when he was pressed by
     others to contribute, he promised publicly that he would
     give three minas, a sum less than that which Cleonymus the
     Cretan voluntarily offered; yet even this promise he never
     performed; but his name was hung up on the statues of the
     Eponymi with an inscription asserting, to his eternal
     dishonor, that he had not paid the contribution, which he
     promised in public, for his country's service. Who can now
     wonder, judges, that he deceived me, a private individual,
     when he so notoriously deluded you all in your common
     assembly? Of this transaction you shall now hear the proof.

     [Evidence]

     Such and so splendid have been the services which
     Dicaeogenes, possessed of so large a fortune, has performed
     for the city! You perceive, too, in what manner he conducts
     himself towards his relatives, some of whom he has
     deprived, as far as he was able, of their property; others
     he has basely neglected, and forced, through the want of
     mere necessaries, to enter into the service of some foreign
     power. All Athens saw his mother sitting in the temple of
     Illithyia, and heard her accuse him of a crime which I
     blush to relate, but which he blushed not to commit. As to
     his friends, he has now incurred the violent hatred of
     Melas the Egyptian, who had been fond of him from his early
     youth, by refusing to pay him a sum of money which he had
     borrowed; his other companions he had either defrauded of
     sums which they lent him, or has failed to perform his
     promise of giving them part of his plunder if he succeeded
     in his cause.

     Yet our ancestors, judges, who first acquired this estate,
     and left it to their descendants, conducted all the public
     games, contributed liberally toward the expense of the war,
     and continually had the command of galleys, which they
     equipped: of these noble acts the presents with which they
     were able, from what remained of their fortune after their
     necessary charges, to decorate the temples, are no less
     undeniable proofs, than they are lasting monuments of their
     virtue; for they dedicated to Bacchus the tripods which
     they won by their magnificence in their games; they gave
     new ornaments to the temple of the Pythian Apollo, and
     adorned the shrine of the goddess in the citadel, where
     they offered the first fruits of their estate, with a great
     number, if we consider that they were only private men, of
     statues both in brass and stone. They died fighting
     resolutely in defense of their country; for Dicaeogenes,
     the father of my grandfather, Menexenus, fell at the head
     of the Olysian legion in Spartolus; and his son, my uncle,
     lost his life at Cnidos, where he commanded the Parhalian
     galley.

     His estate, O Dicaeogenes, thou hast unjustly seized and
     shamefully wasted, and, having converted it into money,
     hast the assurance to complain of poverty. How hast thou
     spent that money? Not for the use of the state or of your
     friends; since it is apparent that no part of it has been
     employed for those purposes; not in breeding fine horses,
     for thou never wast in possession of a horse worth more
     than three minas; not in chariots, for, with so many farms
     and so great a fortune, that never hadst a single carriage
     even drawn by mules; nor hast thou redeemed any citizen
     from captivity; nor hast thou conveyed to the citadel those
     statues which Menexenus had order to be made for the price
     of three talents, but was prevented by his death from
     consecrating in the temple; and, through thy avarice, they
     lie to this day in the shop of the statuary; thus hast thou
     presumed to claim an estate to which thou hast no color of
     right, and hast not restored to the gods the statues, which
     were truly their own. On what ground, Dicaeogenes, canst
     thou ask the jury to give a sentence in thy favor? Is it
     because thou hast frequently served the public offices;
     expended large sums of money to make the city more
     respectable, and greatly benefited the State by
     contributing bountifully towards supporting the war?
     Nothing of this sort can be alleged with truth. Is it
     because thou art a valiant soldier? But thou never once
     could be persuaded to serve in so violent and so formidable
     a war, in which even the Olynthians and the islanders lose
     their lives with eagerness, since they fight for this
     country; while thou, who art a citizen, wouldst never take
     arms for the city.

     Perhaps the dignity of thy ancestors, who slew the tyrant,
     emboldens thee to triumph over us; as for them, indeed, I
     honor and applaud them, but cannot think that a spark of
     their virtue animates thy bosom; for thou hast preferred
     the plunder of our inheritance to the glory of being their
     descendant, and wouldst rather be called the son of
     Dicaeogenes than of Harmodius; not regarding the right of
     being entertained in the Prytaneum, nor setting any value
     on the precedence and immunities which the posterity of
     those heroes enjoy; yet it was not for noble birth that
     Harmonius and Aristogiton were so transcendently honored,
     but for their valor and probity; of which thou,
     Dicaeogenes, hast not the smallest share.


LYCURGUS

Lycurgus, a pupil both of Plato and Isocrates, was born at Athens
about the year 396 B.C., and died in 323 B.C. During the great
struggle with Philip of Macedon, he allied himself with Demosthenes
and became one of the leaders of the national party. He was a man of
refined and artistic tastes, a patriot, and an orator. Only the
conclusion of his speech is here given.

     _Oration Against Leocrates._ Gentlemen, you have heard the
     witnesses. It may well be that what I now declare will
     rouse your indignation and your scorn of this Leocrates.
     Not content to abscond alone with his wretched self and his
     money, he must needs drag with him the ancestral faith,
     today become your law because your ancestors kept it, the
     establishment of the fathers and the heritage of him their
     child, drag this to Megara, filch it from the land. He
     hallowed not that sacred name of old, would tear it from
     its home, make it forsake with him the temples and the
     country once its own, as if in the land of the stranger it
     could rise again, for him. Athena, with no Athens there! in
     Megara! their land and their laws to be here! Why did your
     fathers give to the land her name? Because her land was
     here. In the name of Athena did they put their trust; she
     abandons not her own. Leocrates, recreant to law and
     tradition and religion, took from us all, as far as in him
     lay, the help that is ours from on high. And not content
     with all these grievous wrongs, he took the capital he had
     withdrawn here and with it made shipments of grain from
     Cleopatra in Epirus into Leucas and from there into
     Corinth; this in violation of your law which lays so severe
     a penalty on any man of Athens who shall ship grain to any
     port but ours. Here then is your man; traitor in war;
     lawbreaker in business; false to the faith and the land and
     the law. Here he is in your jurisdiction: shall not his
     doom be death? shall he not serve warning to others? If
     not, then ye must be some listless men, whose wrath no
     crime can rouse.

     And now in what strains did Homer voice this theme? To your
     fathers he was such a noble poet that they passed a law
     that at every pan-Athenian festival, as the five years came
     round, his epics alone should be delivered; thus bearing
     witness to the world of Greece that the greatest of works
     were the works for them. A salutary measure. Brevity is the
     nature of the law. It may not instruct; it must simply
     command. To the poets it must refer the life of man, to
     portray the human spirit in its loftiest achievement, and
     with the resistless argument of art our souls are swayed.
     It is Hector who speaks rousing the Trojans in their
     country's name:

        When ye have reached the ships, fight onward,
             ceaselessly striving:
        What though the stroke of fate shall call some
             man to his glory?
        Where is the sting of death when a hero falls
             for his country?
        Wife and child and home are safe in the hour
             that the Argives
        Take to the ships once more and sail for the
             land of their fathers.

     With strains like these, men of Athens, ringing in the ears
     of your sires, they could emulate the deeds of old; rising
     to such heights of valor that not for their own native
     State alone, but for all Hellas as a common fatherland,
     they stood ready to offer up their lives. There on Marathon
     they went into line in the face of the barbarians, bore
     down all Asia in arms, the stake their lives alone, winning
     security for Greece at large; not puffed up with the pride
     of renown, but glad their work was worthy of its fame; of
     Greece the champions, masters of the heathen worlds;
     letting their deeds proclaim aloud with glory. Such was the
     strenuous life they led in Athens in the great days of old
     that once when the Lacedaemonians, valiant of men, were at
     war with the Messinians, the god vouchsafed them a response
     that bade them take a leader from our people, and then they
     should conquer their enemies. If then divine judgment
     declared in favor of our leadership, even for the children
     of Hercules, lords for all time in Sparta, are we not
     justified in our faith that once Athenian valor was
     peerless? Who that is Greek does not know that they took
     one Tyrtaeus for their general? And with him they overthrew
     their enemies. And when the immediate peril was past, they
     (with an admirable wisdom) turned the episode to the
     advantage of their youth for all time. For when Tyrtaeus
     left them, his elegiacs were still theirs. While other
     poets have had no vogue among them, for him their
     enthusiasm has been so great that they passed a law that
     whenever a campaign was to open, all the man should be
     called to the tent of the king to hear the strains of
     Tyrtaeus. Nothing else, they thought, could make their men
     so ready to lay down their lives for their country. And now
     the day is come when we ourselves may need the sound of
     those elegiacs which could make their way to the souls of
     Spartans:

        Blest is the brave: how glorious is his prize,
        When at his country's call he dares and dies.
        And sad the sight when, envious of the dead,
        The man without a country begs his bread.
        His poor old parents feebly toil along,
        And little children who have done no wrong.
        Spurned by the glance he meets at every turn,
        He learns how hot the beggar's brand can burn.
        His name is shame: the human form divine
        Shows in its fall the soul's dishonored shrine.
        Deeds in the dust of ages swiftly root,
        And children's children reap the bitter fruit.
        Strike for our country, comrades: on, ye brave!
        Where is the man that dreads a patriot grave?
        And ye, my younger brethren, side by side,
        Shoulder to shoulder stand, whate'er betide.
        The surging thrill ye feel before your foe
        Swept o'er your father's heart-strings long ago.
        To those whose days are longer in the land
        Lend in the pride of youth the helping hand.
        For shame to see an old man fall in front
        When young men leave him there to bear the brunt:
        Low in the dust the hoary hair is trailed;
        And last is quenched a soul that never quailed,
        Youth in its bloom should pluck the glowing bough
        Whose leaves in glory wreathe a hero's brow.
        Welcome to man, and fair in woman's eye,
        The manly form that living dares to die.
        Fate hangs apoise, with gloom and triumph fraught:
        Up, hearts! and in the balance count we our lives as
             naught.

     Noble sentiments, gentlemen, that sway the soul of him that
     hath ears to hear. The Spartans could hear them, and
     receive such an impulse into manhood that they engaged with
     us in a struggle for the hegemony. It was nature's rivalry;
     for the noblest achievements have been wrought on either
     side. Our ancestors had overthrown the barbarian who had
     set the first hostile foot upon Attic soil; in them was
     made manifest a manhood that no money could corrupt, a
     valor no host countervail. In Thermopylae the
     Lacedaemonians made their stand; and though the fate they
     met was not like ours, yet there the ideals of human
     devotion became reality.

     And thus on the borne of life we can see the memorials of
     the valor of our race graven with the chisel of truth unto
     all Greek blood:

         For Theirs:

            Go stranger, tell the Spartans where we lie,
            True to the land that taught her sons to die.

         For Yours:

            On Marathon when Athens fought alone,
            Down to the dust the golden East was thrown.

     These great memories, Athenians, are the glory of the men
     who bequeathed them and of Athens the undying renown. Not
     in this wise was Leocrates wrought. The fair fame of the
     city, flower of the ages, deliberately hath he defiled. If
     then he meet death at your hands, all Greece will feel the
     abhorrence in which you hold such acts. If not, then are
     the fathers of their ancient fame bereft by the same fell
     stroke that wounds your brothers in citizenship. They who
     revere not the men of old will follow the footsteps of this
     man, quick to descry the path that shall lead them to favor
     with our enemies, quick to perceive that shamelessness,
     treachery, cowardice, need only a verdict from you to prove
     their native worth.

     One word more and I am done. To your sovereign chastisement
     I commit the man who stands for Athenian annihilation. On
     your own honor and in the presence of the gods you are to
     give Leocrates his due. On the head of the criminal lies
     the crime; but in a miscarriage of justice the jurors
     delinquent become participant of guilt. Gentlemen, ye cast
     the secret ballot now; but be not deceived: not one man
     among you can deposit a vote that the eye of heaven does
     not see. In my opinion, gentlemen, your verdict today
     reaches all the greatest and most fearful crimes at once:
     we behold them in the person of Leocrates; treason, for he
     abandoned the city to subjugation by the enemy; apostasy,
     for he played a coward's part in freedom's cause; sacrilege
     for the groves might be felled, the temples razed, as far
     as he was concerned; abomination, for the memorials of our
     fathers might be swept away and the hallowed observance
     abolished; desertion, for the nidering did not report for
     duty in the line. Where then is the man who will vote to
     clear him? Who is he that will show his sympathy with crime
     that shows malice aforethought? Is there a man so bereft of
     sense that he will set Leocrates free and so place his own
     security at the mercy of men who would abandon him? that
     out of pity for Leocrates he will take no pity on himself,
     when his choice may mean death at the hands of the foe?
     that by extending clemency to a traitor he will lay himself
     open to the retribution of heaven?

     In support of our country, religion and laws I have pleaded
     this case, in righteousness and in fairness, indulging in
     no irrelevant abuse of the man and making no charges
     extraneous to the case. You must all be convinced that a
     vote for the acquittal of Leocrates is a vote for the
     conviction of the country; for in the life of nations
     subjugation is the death. Here stand the two urns; one for
     your undoing, one for your redemption: vote there for the
     disruption of the country, vote here for her security and
     prosperity. Think, men of Athens: the land and the trees
     are pleading, the harbors, the walls are entreating, the
     temples and shrines are in prayer. Save them. Make of
     Leocrates an example. One final declaration of my
     confidence: this pity that fills your hearts for the tears
     you look upon can never avail to pervert your loyalty to
     the law of the land, your devotion to the people of Athens.


AESCHINES

Aeschines, best known as an opponent of Demosthenes, was, in fact, a
gallant solider, a man of much ability, and a really great orator. He
was born in Attica, 389 B.C., five years before the birth of his
famous rival, and died 314 B.C. His eloquence was of a high order,
but his renown was tarnished by his defeat of Demosthenes in the
contest on the proposition of Ctesiphon that Demosthenes should be
awarded a golden crown for his patriotic services to the state. The
speech delivered by Aeschines on that occasion was in many respects
able, but he committed the grievous error of abusing his adversary
and thus exposing his animosity.

     _Against Crowning Demosthenes._ You see, Athenians, what
     preparations are on foot, what forces are arrayed, what
     appeals to the Assembly are being made by certain persons
     to prevent the proper and ordinary course of justice from
     having its effect in the city. For myself I came before
     you, first, with a firm belief in the immortal gods, next,
     with an abiding confidence in the laws and in you,
     convinced that intrigues will not more avail with you than
     these laws and the cause of justice.

     I could indeed have fain desired that both in the Council
     of Five Hundred and in the Assembly the presiding officers
     had compelled conformity to established rules of debate,
     and that the laws had been enforced concerning the orderly
     deportment of public speakers which were laid down by
     Solon. It should thus have been permitted to the oldest
     citizens, as the laws prescribe, to ascend the platform
     decorously, and without tumult or annoyance, according to
     their experience, express their opinions upon what they
     regarded most advantageous to the city. Afterwards, each
     citizen in order of seniority should have in turn presented
     his independent views upon every question.

     In this way it seems to me would the affairs of the city
     have been best conducted, and prosecutions have been
     reduced within the smallest compass. Since, however, the
     old recognized rules of procedure have been swept away, and
     certain men recklessly introduce illegal propositions, and
     certain others put them to the vote--men who have managed
     to secure the presidency, not by just and proper means, but
     taking possession of it by contrivance--it is brought to
     pass that if any other senator shall succeed in reaching
     the first place in due course of law and shall then attempt
     to obtain the result of your votes properly, such an one is
     denounced and impeached by the men who regard our
     government as no longer a common inheritance but as their
     own peculiar property. And when in this way, by reducing
     private citizens to servitude and by securing absolute
     power themselves, they have overthrown established legal
     judgments and have passed decrees according to the dictates
     of their passions, there shall be heard no longer that most
     beautiful and proper invitation of the herald, "Who desires
     to express his opinion, of citizens of fifty years of age
     and upwards, and afterwards, of all other in rotation?"

     Thus neither the laws, nor the senators, nor the
     presidents, nor the presiding tribe itself a tenth part of
     the city, can control the indecent conduct of these orators.

     Such being the case, and such the position in which the
     city is placed--and you must be convinced that this is
     so,--one part at least of the constitution, if I know
     anything of the matter, still survives--the right of
     prosecution for proposing unconstitutional measures. Should
     you destroy this right, or surrender it to those who will
     destroy it, I prophesy that you will have unconsciously
     given away to a few men almost our entire form of
     government. For you must surely know, Athenians, that but
     three forms of government exist, monarchy, oligarchy, and
     democracy: the two former are administered according to the
     feeling and opinions of those who are at the head of
     affairs, but republics repose upon the authority of law.
     Let no one of you, therefore, forget, but on the contrary
     let him lay it carefully to heart, that when he enters this
     tribunal for the trial of such an issue, on that day he is
     called upon to cast his vote upon his own right of free
     speech. Therefore was it that our old lawgivers placed in
     the forefront of the juror's oath these words, "I will
     render a verdict according to law," knowing well that when
     the laws were jealously observed by the city free
     institutions were safe.

     Wherefore is it that, bearing these things in mind, you
     should hold in abhorrence all who commit unconstitutional
     acts, and that you should look upon no infraction of the
     constitution as small or unimportant, but treat all as of
     the gravest nature. Nor should you suffer any man to
     deprive you of this most vital right--neither the
     persuasions of the generals who for a long time past have
     been at work with certain of our orators to overthrow the
     constitution, nor the solicitations of strangers when those
     whose administration has been illegal have brought up
     hither to screen them from justice--but as each one of you
     would blush to quit the ranks in which he was stationed on
     the day of battle, so you should now blush at the thought
     of abandoning the post in which you are placed by the laws
     which are today the guardians of our institutions.

     You must further bear in mind that your fellow citizens
     have now entrusted to your keeping the city itself in thus
     confiding the constitution to your charge; not only those
     of them who are here present intent upon the course of this
     trial, but those also who are necessarily absent upon their
     private business. If, therefore, holding in due regard
     these your fellow citizens, and remembering the oaths you
     have sworn and the laws you are living under, you should
     convict Ctesiphon for having introduced an unconstitutional
     bill false in terms and injurious to the city, overturn,
     Athenians, such unconstitutional enactments, confirm our
     free institutions, and punish the men who have been
     advising against the law and against the interests both of
     the State and of yourselves. If in this frame of mind you
     listen to the words which are about to be spoken, I well
     know that your verdict will be in accordance with justice
     and right, and that it will redound to the credit of
     yourselves and of the whole community.

     I have thus far spoken about the general nature of this
     prosecution, and, I hope, with sufficient fairness. I now
     desire to speak briefly about the laws which have been
     passed in regard to persons who are accountable to the
     state, against which the decree of Ctesiphon offends.

     In former times it happened that men who had exercised the
     highest employment and had been entrusted with the
     management of the public revenues, although guilty therein
     of the grossest corruption, would, by conniving with
     certain orators both in the Senate and the General
     Assembly, anticipate all examination into their accounts by
     means of votes of condemnation and proclamations of thanks
     in their behalf. Not only were citizens who attempted to
     bring them to justice for the state of their accounts in
     this way much perplexed, but the jurors themselves who were
     to try the cause were reduced to a grave dilemma. And many
     of these officials, although clearly proved to have
     embezzled public moneys in the most flagrant way, were yet
     permitted to leave the judgment-seat unpunished. And not
     unreasonably. For the jurors were ashamed, it seems to me,
     that it should appear the same man in the same city, and
     perchance in the very same year, who had been proclaimed in
     the Assemblies as worthy of being honored with a golden
     crown by the people for his virtue and uprightness, should
     a short time afterwards be brought to trial, and go forth
     from our courts of justice convicted of fraud in his
     accounts. So that the jurors were compelled, as it were, to
     give their verdict not so much upon the crime which was
     proven, as in regard to the honor of the city itself. And
     hence it was that one of our lawgivers provided for this
     very emergency by propounding a law--and a most admirable
     one it was--by which the coronation of all persons liable
     to account was distinctly forbidden. Notwithstanding the
     passage of this law, evasions of it more efficacious than
     the law itself have been invented, in ignorance of which,
     unless they be explained to you, you would be entirely
     deceived. This decree for the crowning of officials while
     they were still liable to account were introduced contrary
     to law by men not ill disposed by nature--if any one can be
     well-disposed who thus acts illegally--and by way of a
     slave to propriety they added to the propositions the
     words, "after they shall have rendered a correct account of
     their administration." The city, however, was injured in
     the same way by this evasion, since the accounting was
     equally forestalled by the panegyrics and votes of crowns;
     and the propounder of the decree, by thus qualifying it,
     admitted to his discredit that at the time of its proposal
     he was conscious of an intended infraction of the law. But
     this fellow Ctesiphon, men of Athens, at one bound clears
     both law and qualification; for by his decree he asks that
     Demosthenes, while actually in office, before he has
     furnished any explanations or delivered in any accounts,
     shall be crowned by the people! . . .

     You have just heard, Athenians, that the law directs the
     proclamation of one who is crowned by the people to be made
     in the Pnyx at an Assembly of the people, and nowhere else.
     Ctesiphon, however, not only transgresses the law by
     directing it to be done in the theatre, thus changing the
     place from that where the Athenians hold their Assembly,
     but he commands it to take place, not before the people
     alone, but in presence of the assembled Greeks, that they
     may see along with us what manner of man it is whom we then
     honor. . . .

     Since, then, it is directed that those honored with a crown
     by the Senate shall be proclaimed in the Senate Chamber,
     and those crowned by the people in the Assembly, and it is
     interdicted to those crowned by the tribes or demes to be
     so proclaimed in the theatre, that no one by mean
     solicitations for crowns and proclamations should thereby
     obtain a spurious honor, and it is moreover forbidden by
     the law that proclamation shall be made by any one unless
     by the Senate, the people, the tribes, and the demes; if
     all these be excepted, what remains but the case of crowns
     conferred by foreign states? That this is manifestly so, I
     shall convince you by the laws themselves. . . .

     Besides it is enjoined by law that the crown of gold which
     shall be proclaimed in the theatre in behalf of any one
     shall be taken from him and consecrated to Athens. Who
     would dare, however, from this, to accuse the people of
     Athens of a sordid economy? Never was there a city, never
     an individual, so destitute of generosity, as in the same
     moment to proclaim, take away, and consecrate a crown of
     their own bestowal! This consecration is doubtless directed
     to be made because the crown has been conferred by
     strangers, that no man may estimate a foreign honor as of
     greater value than his country, and may not be tempted in
     consequence to fail in his devotion to her. The crown
     conferred by the people and proclaimed in the Assembly is
     never consecrated, but on the contrary is permitted to be
     enjoyed, not only by its recipient, but by his descendants,
     that by preserving this memorial in their family they may
     never become ill-disposed to their country. And this is the
     reason why the lawmaker has prohibited the proclamation in
     the theatre of a crown conferred by strangers unless
     authorized by a decree of the people; the foreign city
     which may desire so to honor one of your citizens shall
     first through an embassy demand it of the people; and thus
     he who is crowned shall owe higher debt of gratitude to you
     who have permitted the proclamation than to those who have
     presented him with the crown itself. . . .

     I may here foretell the part that he will play when he sees
     that you are in earnest in your endeavor to hold him to his
     true course. Ctesiphon will introduce that arch-impostor,
     that plunderer of the public, who has cut the constitution
     into shreds; the man who can weep more easily than others
     laugh, and from whom perjury flows in ready words!

     He can, I doubt not, change his tone, and pass from tears
     to gross abuse, insult the citizens who are listening
     outside, and cry out that the partisans of oligarchical
     power, detested by the hand of truth, are pressing round
     the prosecutor to support him, while the friends of the
     constitution are rallying round the accused. And when he
     dares to speak so, answer thus his seditious menaces:
     "What, Demosthenes, had the heroes who brought back our
     fugitive citizens from Phyle been like you, our democratic
     form of government had ceased to exist! Those illustrious
     men saved the state exhausted by great civil disorders in
     pronouncing that wise and admirable sentence 'oblivion of
     all offenses.' But you, more careful of your rounded
     periods than of the city's safety, are willing to reopen
     all her wounds."

     When this perjurer shall seek for credit by taking refuge
     in his oaths, remind him that to the foresworn man who asks
     belief in them from those he has deceived so often, of two
     things one is needful, neither of which exists for
     Demosthenes; he must either get new gods, or an audience
     not the same. And to his tears and wordy lamentations, when
     he shall ask, "Whither shall I fly, Athenians should you
     cast me out, I have not where to rest," reply "Where shall
     the people seek refuge, Demosthenes; what allies, what
     resources, what reserve have you prepared for us? We all
     see what you have provided for yourself. When you have left
     the city, you shall not stop, as you would seem, to dwell
     in Piraeus, but, quickly thence departing, you shall visit
     other lands with all the appointments for your journey
     provided through your corruption from Persian gold or
     public plunder."

     But why at all these tears, these cries, this voice of
     lamentation? Is it not Ctesiphon who is accused, and even
     for him may not the penalty be moderated by you? Thou
     pleadest not, Demosthenes, either for thy life, thy
     fortune, or thy honor! Why is he then so disquieted? About
     crowns of gold and proclamations in the theatre against the
     laws: the man who, were the people so insensate or so
     forgetful of the present as to wish to crown him in this
     time of public distress, should himself step forth and say,
     "Men of Athens, while I accept the crown, I disapprove the
     proclamation of the honor at a time like this: it should
     not be in regard to things for which the state is now
     mourning and while it is in the depth of grief." Would not
     a man whose life was really upright so speak out; only a
     knave who assumes the garb of virtue would talk as you do?

     Let none of you, by Hercules, be apprehensive lest this
     high-souled citizen, this distinguished warrior, from loss
     of this reward should on his return home take his life. The
     man who rates so low your consideration as to make a
     thousand incisions on that impure and mortgaged head which
     Ctesiphon proposes against all law to honor with a crown,
     makes money of his wounds by bringing actions for the
     effects of his own premeditated blows. Yes, that crown of
     his so often battered, that perhaps even now it bears upon
     it the marks of Meidias' anger, that crown which brings its
     owner in an income, serves both for revenue and head! . . .

     And can it be that he whom you have thought worthy by your
     decree, of the honor of this crown, is so unknown to the
     public which has been so largely benefited by him that you
     must procure assistance to speak in his behalf? Ask of the
     jurors whether they know Chabrias, Iphicrates and
     Timotheus, and learn from them why they have honored and
     erected statues to them? Will they not proclaim with one
     voice that they rendered honor to Chabrias for his naval
     victory near Naxos; to Iphicrates for having cut off a
     Spartan corps; to Timotheus for his expedition to Corcyra;
     to other heroes for their many glorious achievements? Ask
     them now why Demosthenes is to be rewarded. Is it for his
     venality, for his cowardice, for his base desertion of his
     post in the day of battle? In honoring such an one will you
     not dishonor yourselves and the gallant men who have laid
     down their lives for you in the field? whose plaintive
     remonstrances against the crowing of this man you may
     almost seem to hear. Strange, passing strange, does it
     seem, Athenians, that you banish from the limits of the
     state the stocks and stones the senseless implements which
     have unwittingly caused death by casualty; that the hand
     which has inflicted the wound of self-destruction is buried
     apart from the rest of the body; and that yet you can
     render honor to this Demosthenes, by whose counsels this
     last fatal expedition in which your troops were slaughtered
     and destroyed was planned! The victims of this massacre are
     thus insulted, in their graves, and the survivors outraged
     and discouraged when they behold the only reward of
     patriotic valor to be an unremembered death and a
     disregarded memory! And last and most important of all
     consequences, what answer shall you make to your children
     when they ask you after what examples they shall frame
     their lives? Is it not, men of Athens--you know it well--is
     it not the palaestra, the seminary, or the study of the
     liberal arts alone, which form and educate our youth. Of
     vastly greater value are the lessons taught by these honors
     publicly conferred. If a man proclaimed and crowned in the
     theatre for virtue, courage, and patriotism when his
     irregular and vicious life belies the honor, the young who
     witness this are perverted and corrupted! In a profligate
     and a pander, such as Ctesiphon, sentenced and punished, an
     instructive lesson is given to the rising generation. Has a
     citizen voted in opposition to justice and propriety, and
     does he, on his return to his house, attempt to instruct
     his son; disobedience surely follows, and the lesson is
     justly looked upon as importunate and out of place.
     Pronounce your verdict then, not as simple jurors, but as
     guardians of the State, whose decision can be justified in
     the eyes of their absent fellow citizens who shall demand a
     strict account of it. Know ye not, Athenians, that the
     people is judged by the ministers whom it honors; will it
     not be disgraceful, then, that you shall be thought to
     resemble the baseness of Demosthenes, and not the virtues
     of your ancestors?

     How, then, is this reproach to be avoided? It must be to
     distrusting the men who usurp the character of upright and
     patriotic citizens, which their entire conduct gainsays.
     Good will and zeal for the public interest can be readily
     assumed in name: oftentimes those who have the smallest
     pretensions to them by their conduct seize upon and take
     refuge behind these honorable titles. When you find, then,
     an orator desirous of being crowned by strangers and of
     being proclaimed in presence of the Greeks, let him, as the
     law requires in other cases, prove the claim which he
     asserts by the evidence of a life free from reproach, and a
     wise and blameless course. If he be unable to do this, do
     not confirm to him the honors which he claims, and try at
     least to preserve the remnant of that public authority
     which is fast escaping from you. Even now, strange as it
     should seem, are not the Senate and the people passed over
     and neglected, and despatches and deputations received by
     private citizens, not from obscure individuals, but from
     the most important personages of Europe and Asia? Far from
     denying that for which under our laws the punishment is
     death, it is made the subject of open public boast; the
     correspondence is exhibited and read; and you are invited
     by some to look upon them as the guardians of the
     constitution, while others demand to be rewarded as the
     saviors of the country. The people, meanwhile, as if struck
     with the decrepitude of age and broken down by their
     misfortunes, preserve the republic only in name and abandon
     to others the reality of authority. You thus retire from
     the Assembly, not as from a public deliberation, but as
     from an entertainment given at common cost where each guest
     carries away with him a share of the remnants of the feast.
     That I speak forth the words of truth and soberness,
     hearken to which I am about to say.

     It distresses me to recur so often to our public
     calamities, but when a private citizen undertook to sail
     only to Samos to get out of the way, he was condemned to
     death on the same day by the Council of Areopagus as a
     traitor to his country. Another private citizen, unable to
     bear the fear which oppressed him, and sailing in
     consequence to Rhodes, was recently denounced for this and
     escaped punishment by an equal division of the votes. Had a
     single one been cast on the other side, he would have been
     either banished or put to death. Compare these instances
     with the present one. An orator, the cause of all our
     misfortunes, who abandons his post in time of war and flies
     from the city, proclaims himself worthy of crowns and
     proclamations. Will you not drive such a man from your
     midst as the common scourge of Greece; or will you not
     rather seize upon and punish him as a piratical braggart
     who steers his course through our government by dint of
     phrases?

     Consider, moreover, the occasion on which you are called
     upon to record your verdict. In a few days the Pythian
     Games will be celebrated, and the assembled Greeks will all
     be reunited in your city. She has already suffered much
     disparagement from the policy of Demosthenes: should you
     now crown him by your votes you will seem to share the same
     opinion as the men who wish to break the common peace. By
     adopting the contrary course you will free the state from
     any such suspicion.

     Let your deliberations, then, be in accord with the
     interests of the city:  it is for her, and not a foreign
     community, you are now to decide. Do not throw away your
     honors, but confer them with discernment upon high-minded
     citizens and deserving men. Search with both eyes and ears
     as to who they are among you who are today standing forth
     in Demosthenes' behalf. Are they the companions of his
     youth who shared with him the manly toils of the chase or
     the robust exercises of the palaestra? No, by the Olympian
     Jove, he has passed not his life in hunting the wild boar
     or in the preparation of his body for fatigue and hardship,
     but in the exercise of chicane at the cost of the substance
     of men of wealth!

     Examine well his vainglorious boasting when he shall dare
     to say that by his embassy he withdrew the Byzantines from
     the cause of Philip; that by his eloquence he detached from
     him the Acarnanians, and so transported the Thebans as to
     confirm them upon your side. He believes indeed that you
     have reached such a point of credulity that you are ready
     to be persuaded by him of anything he may choose to utter,
     as if you had here in your midst the goddess Persuasion
     herself, and not an artful demagogue.

     And when, at the close of his harangue, Demosthenes shall
     invite the partakers of his corruption to press round and
     defend him, let there be present in your imagination upon
     the platform from which I am now speaking the venerable
     forms of the ancient benefactors of the state, arrayed in
     all their virtue, to oppose these men's insolence. I see
     among them the wise Solon, that upright lawgiver who
     founded our popular government upon the soundest principles
     of legislation, gently advising you with his native
     moderation not to place your oaths and the law under the
     control of this man's discourse. And Aristides, by whose
     equity the imposts upon the Greeks were regulated, whose
     daughters, left in poverty through his incorruptible
     integrity, were endowed by the state, Aristides is seen
     complaining of this outrage upon justice, and demanding
     whether the descendants of the men who fought worthy of
     death and actually banished from their city and country
     Arthmius the Zelian, then living in their midst and
     enjoying the sacred rights of hospitality for merely
     bringing Persian gold into Greece, are now going to cover
     themselves with disgrace by honoring with a crown of gold
     the man who has not simply brought higher the stranger's
     money, but is enjoying here the price of his treason. And
     Themistocles and the men who fell at Marathon and Plataea,
     think you that they are insensible to what is taking place?
     Do not their voices cry out from the very tombs in mournful
     protests against this perverse rendering of honor to one
     who has dared to proclaim his union with the barbarians
     against the Greeks?

     As for me, O Earth and Sun, O Virtue, and thou,
     Intelligence, by whose light we are enabled to discern and
     to separate good from evil, as for me, I have directed my
     efforts against this wrong. I have lifted up my voice
     against this injustice! If I have spoken well and loftily
     against this crime, I have spoken as I should have wished;
     but if my utterances have been feeble and ill-directed,
     still they have been according to the measure of my
     strength. It is for you, men of Athens and jurors, to weigh
     carefully both what has been spoken and what has been left
     unsaid, and to render such a decision as shall not only be
     upright but for the advantage of the State.


DEMOSTHENES

Demosthenes, considered the greatest of the Greek orators, and
consequently the greatest orator in the history of the world, as
oratory flourished nowhere as it did in Greece between 500 and 300
B.C., was born about 383 B.C., and died by poison administered to
himself, after being captured by Macedonian troops, 322 B.C.

"He [Demosthenes] seems to have lacked by nature all the physical
qualifications of a great orator, and to have acquired them solely by
indefatigable self-discipline and training. At about the age of
thirty he made his first appearance as a politician; he continued to
practice as a logographer (speech-writer) until he was about forty,
by which time he had made a fortune sufficient to enable him to
devote himself exclusively to political life until he died, at the
age of sixty-one."

Demosthenes studied under Isaeus and profited by the work previously
done by the great rhetoricians and orators, Lysias, Isocrates,
Antiphon, and others. Demosthenes' political morality was of the
highest, and this was one of the main sources of his great strength.

     _Speech of Demosthenes in Defense of Ctesiphon, Commonly
     known as the "Oration on the Crown."_ I begin, men of
     Athens, by praying to every god and goddess that the same
     good-will, which I have ever cherished toward the
     commonwealth and all of you, may be requited to me on the
     present trial. I pray likewise--and this specially concerns
     yourselves, your religion, and your honor--that the gods
     may put it in your minds not to take counsel of my opponent
     touching the manner in which I am to be heard--that would,
     indeed, be cruel!--but of the laws and of your oath;
     wherein (besides the other obligations) it is prescribed
     that you shall hear both sides alike. This means, not only
     that you must pass no precondemnation, not only that you
     must extend your good-will equally to both, but also that
     you must allow the parties to adopt such order and course
     of defense as they severally choose and prefer.

     Many advantages hath Aeschines over me on this trial; and
     two especially, men of Athens. First, my risk in the
     contest is not the same. It is assuredly not the same for
     me to forfeit your regard, as for my adversary not to
     succeed in his indictment. To me--but I will say nothing
     untoward at the outset of my address. The prosecution,
     however, is play to him. My second disadvantage is, that
     natural disposition of mankind to take pleasure in hearing
     invective and accusation, and to be annoyed by those who
     praise themselves. To Aeschines is assigned the part which
     gives pleasure; that which is (I may fairly say) offensive
     to all, is left for me. And if, to escape from this, I make
     no mention of what I have done, I shall appear to be
     without defense against his charges, without proof of my
     claims to honor; whereas, if I proceed to give an account
     of my conduct and measures, I shall be forced to speak
     frequently of myself. I will endeavor then to do so with
     all becoming modesty; what I am driven to by the necessity
     of the case will be fairly chargeable to my opponent, who
     has instituted such a prosecution.

     I think, men of the jury, you will all agree that I, as
     well as Ctesiphon, am a party to this proceeding, and that
     it is a matter of no less concern to me. It is painful and
     grievous to be deprived of anything, especially by the act
     of one's enemy; but your good-will and affection are the
     heaviest loss, precisely as they are the greatest prize to
     gain.

     Such being the matters at stake in this cause, I conjure
     and implore you all alike, to hear my defense to the charge
     in that fair manner which the laws prescribe--laws, to
     which their author, Solon, a man friendly to you and to
     popular rights, thought that validity should be given, not
     only by the recording of them, but by the oath of you, the
     jurors; not that he distrusted you, as it appears to me,
     but, seeing that the charges and calumnies, wherein the
     prosecutor is powerful by being the first speaker, cannot
     be got over by the defendant, unless each of you jurors,
     observing his religious obligation, shall work with like
     favor receive the arguments of the last speaker, and lend
     an equal and impartial ear to both, before he determines
     upon the whole case.

     As I am, it appears, on this day to render an account both
     of my private life and my public measures, I would fain, as
     in the outset, call upon the gods to my aid; and in your
     presence I implore them, first, that the good-will which I
     have ever cherished toward the commonwealth and all of you
     may be fully requited to me on the present trial; next,
     that they may direct you to such a decision upon this
     indictment as will conduce to your common honor, and to the
     good conscience of each individual.

     Had Aeschines confined his charge to the subject of the
     prosecution, I, too, would have proceeded at once to my
     justification of the decree. But since he has wasted now
     fewer words in the discussion of other matters, in most of
     them calumniating me, I deem it both necessary and just,
     men of Athens, to begin by shortly adverting to these
     points, that none of you may be induced by extraneous
     arguments to shut your ears against my defense of the
     indictment.

     To all his scandalous abuse of my private life, observe my
     plain and honest answer. If you know me to be such as he
     alleged--for I have lived nowhere else but among you--let
     not my voice be heard, however transcendent my
     statesmanship! Rise up this instant and condemn me! But if,
     in your opinion and judgment, I am far better and of better
     descent than my adversary; if (to speak without offense) I
     am not inferior, I or mine, to any respectable citizens;
     that give no credit to him for his other statements--it is
     plain they were all equally fictions--but to me let the
     same good-will, which you have uniformly exhibited upon
     many former trials, be manifested now. With all your
     malice, Aeschines, it was very simple to suppose that I
     should turn from the discussion of measures and policy to
     notice your scandal. I will do no such thing; I am not so
     crazed. Your lies and calumnies about my political life I
     will examine forthwith; for that loose ribaldry I shall
     have a word hereafter, if the jury desire to hear it.

     The crimes whereof I am accused are many and grievous; for
     some of them the laws enact heavy--most severe penalties.
     The scheme of this present proceeding includes a
     combination of spiteful insolence, insult, railing,
     aspersion, and everything of the kind; while for the said
     charges and accusations, if they were true, the state has
     not the means of inflicting an adequate punishment, or
     anything like it. For it is not the right to debar another
     of access to the people and privilege of speech; moreover,
     to do so by way of malice and insult--by Heaven! is neither
     honest, nor constitutional, nor just. If the crimes which
     he saw me committing against the State were as heinous as
     he so tragically gave out, he ought to have enforced the
     penalties of the law against them at the time; if he saw me
     guilty of an impeachable offense, by impeaching and so
     bringing me to trial before you; if moving illegal decrees,
     by indicting me for them. For surely if he can prosecute
     Ctesiphon on my account, he would not have forborne to
     indict me myself, had he thought he could convict me. In
     short, whatever else he saw me doing to your prejudice,
     whether mentioned or not mentioned in his catalogue of
     slander, there are laws for such things, and punishments,
     and trials, and judgments, with sharp and severe penalties;
     all of which he might have enforced against me: and had he
     done so--had he thus pursued the proper method with me, his
     charges would have been consistent with his conduct. But
     now he has declined the straightforward and just course,
     avoided all proofs of guilt at the time, and after this
     long interval gets up, to play his part withal, a heap of
     accusation, ribaldry, and scandal. Then he arraigns me, but
     prosecutes the defendant. His hatred of me he makes the
     prominent part of the whole contest; yet, without having
     ever met me upon that ground, he openly seeks to deprive a
     third party of his privileges. Now, men of Athens, besides
     all the other arguments that may be urged in Ctesiphon's
     behalf, this, methinks, may very fairly be alleged--that we
     should all try our own quarrel by ourselves; not leave our
     private dispute, and look what third party we can damage.
     That surely were the height of injustice.

     It may appear, from what has been said, that all his
     charges are alike unjust and unfounded in truth; yet I wish
     to examine them separately, and especially his calumnies
     about the peace and the embassy, where he attributed to me
     the acts of himself and Philocrates. It is necessary also,
     and perhaps proper, men of Athens, to remind you how
     affairs stood at those times, that you may consider every
     single measure in reference to the occasion.

     When the Phocian war had broken out--not through me, for I
     had not then commenced public life--you were in this
     position: you wished the Phocians to be saved, though you
     saw they were not acting right; and would have been glad
     for the Thebans to suffer anything, with whom for a just
     reason you were angry; for they had not borne with
     moderation their good fortune at Leuctra. The whole of
     Peloponnesus was divided: they that hated the
     Lacedaemonians were not powerful enough to destroy them;
     and they that ruled before by Spartan influence were not
     masters of the states: among them, as among the rest of the
     Greeks, there was a sort of unsettled strife and confusion.
     Philip, seeing this--it was not difficult to see--lavished
     bribes upon the traitors in every state, embroiled and
     stirred them all up against each other; and so, by the
     errors and follies of the rest, he was strengthening
     himself, and growing up to the ruin of all. But when every
     one saw that the then overbearing, but now unfortunate,
     Thebans, harassed by so long a war, must of necessity have
     recourse to you, Philip, to prevent this, and obstruct the
     union of the states, offered to you peace, to them succor.
     What helped him then almost to surprise you in a voluntary
     snare? The cowardice, shall I call it? or ignorance--or
     both--of the other Greeks, who while you were waging a long
     and incessant war--and that, too, for their common benefit,
     as the event has shown--assisted you neither with money nor
     men, nor anything else whatsoever. You, being justly and
     naturally offended with them, lent a willing ear to Philip.

     The peace then granted was through such means brought
     about, not through me, as Aeschines calumniously charged.
     The criminal and corrupt practice of these men during the
     treaty will be found, on fair examination, to be the cause
     of our present condition. The whole matter am I for truth's
     sake discussing and going through; for, let there appear to
     be ever so much criminality in these transactions, it is
     surely nothing to me. The first who spoke and mentioned the
     subject of peace was Aristodemus the actor; the seconder
     and mover, fellow-hireling for that purpose with the
     prosecutor, was Philocrates the Agnusian--your associate,
     Aeschines, not mine, though you should burst with lying.
     Their supporters--from whatever motives--I pass that by for
     the present--were Eubulus and Cephisophon. I had nothing to
     do with it.

     Notwithstanding these facts, which I have stated exactly
     according to the truth, he ventured to assert--to such a
     pitch of impudence had he come--that I, besides being
     author of the peace, had prevented the country making it in
     a general council with the Greeks. Why, you--I know not
     what name you deserve!--when you saw me robbing the state
     of an advantage and connection so important as you
     described just now, did you ever express indignation? did
     you come forward to punish and proclaim what you now charge
     me with? If, indeed, I had been bribed by Philip to prevent
     the conjunction of the Greeks, it was your business not to
     be silent, but to cry out, to protest, and inform the
     people. But you never did so--your voice was never heard to
     such a purpose, and no wonder; for at that time no embassy
     had been sent to any of the Greeks--they had all been
     tested long before; and not a word of truth upon the
     subject has Aeschines spoken.

     Besides, it is the country that he most traduces by his
     falsehoods. For, if you were at the same time calling on
     the Greeks to take arms and sending your own ambassadors to
     treat with Philip for peace, you were performing the part
     of an Eurybatus, not the act of a commonwealth, or of
     honest men. But it is false, it is false. For what purpose
     could ye have sent for them at that period? For peace? They
     all had it. For war? You were yourselves deliberating about
     peace. It appears, therefore, I was not the adviser or the
     author of the original peace; and none of his other
     calumnies against me are shown to be true.

     Observe again, after the state had concluded the peace,
     what line of conduct each of us adopted. Hence you will
     understand who it was that coöperated in everything with
     Philip, who that acted in your behalf, and sought the
     advantage of the commonwealth.

     I moved in the council, that our ambassadors should sail
     instantly for whatever place they heard Philip was in, and
     receive his oath: they would not, however, notwithstanding
     my resolution. What was the effect of this, men of Athens?
     I will explain. It was Philip's interest that the interval
     before the oaths should be as long as possible; yours, that
     it should be as short. Why? Because you discontinued all
     your warlike preparations, not only from the day of
     swearing peace, but from the day you conceived hopes of it;
     a thing which Philip was from the beginning studious to
     contrive, believing--rightly enough--that whatever of your
     possessions he might take before the oath of ratification
     he should hold securely; as none would break the peace on
     such account. I, men of Athens, foreseeing and weighing
     these consequences, moved the decree, to sail for whatever
     place Philip was in, and receive his oath without delay; so
     that your allies, the Thracians, might be in possession of
     the places which Aeschines ridiculed just now (Serrium,
     Myrtium, and Ergisce), at the time of swearing the oaths;
     and that Philip might not become master of Thrace by
     securing the post of vantage, nor provide himself with
     plenty of money and troops to facilitate his further
     designs. Yet this decree he neither mentions nor reads; but
     reproaches me, because, as Councillor, I thought it proper
     to introduce the ambassadors. Why, what should I have done?
     Moved not to introduce men who were come for the purpose of
     conferring with you? or ordered the Manager not to assign
     them places at the theatre? They might have had places for
     their two obols, if the resolution had not been moved. Was
     it my duty to guard the petty interests of the state, and
     have sold our main interests like these men? Surely not.
     Take and read me this decree, which the prosecutor, knowing
     it well, passed over. Read!

     THE DECREE

     "In the Archonship of Mnesiphilus, on the thirteenth of
     Hecatombaeon, in the presidency of the Pandionian tribe,
     Demosthenes, son of Demosthenes of Paeania, moved: Whereas,
     Philip hath sent ambassadors for peace, and hath agreed
     upon articles of treaty, it is resolved by the Council and
     people of Athens, in order that the peace voted in the
     first assembly may be ratified, to choose forthwith from
     the whole body of Athenians five ambassadors; and that the
     persons elected do repair, without any delay, wheresoever
     they shall ascertain that Philip is, and as speedily as may
     be exchange oaths with him, according to the articles
     agreed on between him and the Athenian people,
     comprehending the allies of either party. For ambassadors
     were chosen, Eubulus of Anaphlystus, Aeschines of
     Cothocidae, Cephisophon of Rhamnus, Democrates of Phyla,
     Cleon of Cothocidae."

     Notwithstanding that I had passed this decree for the
     advantage of Athens, not that of Philip, our worthy
     ambassadors so little regarded it as to sit down in
     Macedonia three whole months, until Philip returned from
     Thrace after entirely subjugating the country; although
     they might in ten days, or rather in three or four, have
     reached the Hellespont and saved the fortresses, by
     receiving his oath before he reduced them: for he would
     never have touched them on our presence, or we should not
     have sworn him; and thus he would have lost the peace, and
     not have obtained both the peace and the fortresses.

     Such was the first trick of Philip, the first corrupt act
     of these accursed miscreants, in the embassy: for which I
     avow that I was and am and ever will be at war and variance
     with them. But mark another and still greater piece of
     villainy immediately after. When Philip had sworn to the
     peace, having secured Thrace through these men disobeying
     my decree, he again bribes them not to leave Macedonia
     until he had got all ready for his expedition against the
     Phocians. His fear was, if they reported to you his design
     and preparation for marching, you might sally forth, sail
     round with your galleys to Thermopylae as before, and block
     up the strait; his desire, that, the moment you received
     the intelligence from them, he should have passed
     Thermopylae, and you be unable to do anything. And in such
     terror and anxiety was Philip, lest, notwithstanding he had
     gained these advantages, if you voted succor before the
     destruction of the Phocians, his enterprise should fail, he
     hires this despicable fellow, no longer in common with the
     other ambassadors, but by himself individually, to make
     that statement and report to you, by which everything was
     lost.

     I conjure and beseech you, men of Athens, throughout the
     trial to remember this: that, if Aeschines in his charge
     had not travelled out of the indictment, neither would I
     have spoken a word irrelevant; but since he has resorted to
     every species both of accusation and calumny, it is
     necessary for me to reply briefly to each of his charges.

     What, then, were the statements made by Aeschines, through
     which everything was lost? That you should not be alarmed
     by Philip's having passed Thermopylae--that all would be as
     you desired, if you kept quiet; and in two or three days
     you would hear he as their friend to whom he had come as an
     enemy, and their enemy to whom he had come as a friend--it
     was not words that cemented attachments (such was his
     solemn phrase), but identity of interest; and it was the
     interest of all alike, Philip, the Phocians, and you, to be
     relieved from the harshness and insolence of the Thebans.
     His assertions were heard by some with pleasure, on account
     of the hatred which then subsisted against the Thebans. But
     what happened directly, almost immediately, afterwards? The
     wretched Phocians were destroyed, their cities demolished;
     you that kept quiet, and trusted to Aeschines, were shortly
     bringing in your effects out of the country, while
     Aeschines received gold; and yet more--while you got
     nothing but your enmity with the Thebans and Thessalians,
     Philip won their gratitude for what he had done. To prove
     what I say, read me the decree of Callisthenes, and the
     letter of Philip, from both of which these particulars will
     be clear to you.

       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     These and like measures, Aeschines, are what become an
     honorable citizen (by their success--O earth and heaven! we
     should have been the greatest of people incontestably, and
     deserved to be so: even under their failure the result is
     glory, and no one blames Athens or her policy; all condemn
     fortune that so ordered things); but never will he desert
     the interests of the commonwealth, nor hire himself to her
     adversaries, and study the enemy's advantage, instead of
     his country's; nor on a man who has courage to advise and
     propose measures worthy of the state, and resolution to
     persevere in them, will he cast an evil eye, and, if any
     one privately offends him, remember and treasure it up; no,
     nor keep himself in a criminal and treacherous retirement,
     as you so often do. There is indeed a retirement just and
     beneficial to the state, such as you, the bulk of my
     countrymen, innocently enjoy; that, however, is not the
     retirement of Aeschines; far from it. Withdrawing himself
     from public life when he pleases (and that is often), he
     watches for the moment when you are tired of a constant
     speaker, or when some reverse of fortune has befallen you,
     or anything untoward has happened (and many are the
     casualties of human life); at such a crisis he springs up
     an orator, rising from his retreat like a wind; in full
     voice, with words and phrases collected, he rolls them out
     audibly and breathlessly, to no advantage or good purpose
     whatsoever, but to the detriment of some or other of his
     fellow-citizens and to the general disgrace.

     Yet from this labor and diligence, Aeschines, if it
     proceeded from an honest heart, solicitous for your
     country's welfare, the fruits should have been rich and
     noble and profitable to all--alliances of states, supplies
     of money, conveniences of commerce, enactment of useful
     laws, opposition to our declared enemies. All such things
     were looked for in former times; and many opportunities did
     the past afford for a good man and true to show himself;
     during which time you are nowhere to be found, neither
     first, second, third, fourth, fifth, nor sixth--nor in any
     rank at all--certainly in no service by which your country
     was exalted. For what alliance has come to the state by
     your procurement? What succors, what acquisition of good
     will or credit? What embassy or agency is there of yours,
     by which the reputation of the country has been increased?
     What concern, domestic, Hellenic, or foreign, of which you
     have had the management, has improved under it? What
     galleys? what ammunition? what arsenals? what repair of
     walls? what cavalry? What in the world are you good for?
     What assistance in money have you ever given, either to the
     rich or the poor, out of public spirit or liberality? None.
     But, good sir, if there is nothing of this, there is at all
     events zeal and loyalty. Where? when? You infamous fellow!
     Even at a time when all who ever spoke upon the platform
     gave something for the public safety, and last Aristonicus
     gave the sum which he had amassed to retrieve his
     franchise, you neither came forward nor contributed a
     mite--not from inability--no! for you have inherited above
     five talents from Philo, your wife's father, and you had a
     subscription of two talents from the chairmen of the Boards
     for what you did to cut up the navy law. But, that I may
     not go from one thing to another and lose sight of the
     question, I pass this by. That it was not poverty prevented
     your contributing, already appears: it was, in fact, your
     anxiety to do nothing against those to whom your political
     life is subservient. On what occasion, then, do you show
     your spirit? When do you shine out? When aught is to be
     spoken against your countrymen!--then it is you are
     splendid in voice, perfect in memory, an admirable actor, a
     tragic Theocrines.

     You mention the good men of olden times; and you are right
     to do so. Yet it is hardly fair, O Athenians, that he
     should get the advantage of that respect which you have for
     the dead, to compare and contrast me with them--me who am
     living among you; for what mortal is ignorant that toward
     the living there exists always more or less of ill will,
     whereas the dead are no longer hated even by an enemy? Such
     being human nature, am I to be tried and judged by the
     standard of my predecessors? Heaven forbid! It is not just
     or equitable, Aeschines. Let me be compared with you, or
     any persons you like of your party who are still alive. And
     consider this--whether it is more honorable and better for
     the state, that because of the services of a former age,
     prodigious though they are beyond all power of expression,
     these of the present generation should be unrequited and
     spurned, or that all who give proof of their good
     intentions should have their share of honor and regard from
     the people? Yet indeed--if I must say so much--my politics
     and principles, if considered fairly, will be found to
     resemble those of the illustrious ancients, and to have had
     the same objects in view, while yours resemble those of
     their calumniators: for it is certain there were persons in
     those times who ran down the living, and praised people
     dead and gone, with a malignant purpose like yourself.

     Two things, men of Athens, are characteristic of a
     well-disposed citizen: so may I speak of myself and give
     the least offense: In authority, his constant aim should be
     the dignity and pre-eminence of the commonwealth; in all
     times and circumstances his spirit should be loyal. This
     depends upon nature; power and might upon other things.
     Such a spirit, you will find, I have ever sincerely
     cherished. Only see, when my person was demanded--when they
     brought Amphictyonic suits against me--when they
     menaced--when they promised--when they set these miscreants
     like wild beasts upon me--never in any way have I abandoned
     my affection for you. From the very beginning I chose an
     honest and straightforward course in politics, to support
     the honor, the power, the glory of my fatherland, these to
     exalt, in these to have my being. I do not walk about the
     market place gay and cheerful because the stranger has
     prospered, holding out my right hand and congratulating
     those who I think will report it yonder, and on any news of
     our own success shudder and groan and stoop to the earth,
     like these impious men, who rail at Athens, as if in so
     doing they did not rail at themselves; who look abroad, and
     if the foreigner thrives by the distress of Greece, are
     thankful for it, and say we should keep him so thriving all
     the time.

     Never, O ye gods, may those wishes be confirmed by you! If
     possible, inspire even in these men a better sense and
     feeling! But if they are indeed incurable, destroy them by
     themselves; exterminate them on land and sea; and for the
     rest of us, grant that we may speedily be released from our
     present fears, and enjoy a lasting deliverance.


FOOTNOTES:

   [1]   It may be doubted whether any compositions which
         have ever been produced in the world are equally
         perfect in their kind with the great Athenian
         orations.--MACAULAY'S ESSAY, _Athenian Orators_

   [2]   The rest of the column is hopelessly mutilated.

   [3]   The rest of the column is mutilated.

   [4]   The remainder of this column and the whole of the
         next are either lost or so mutilated as to be
         unintelligible.

   [5]   When the next continuous passage is reached the
         speaker has quitted the direct issue and is
         attacking the political conduct of his adversary.

   [6]   Half a column is hopelessly mutilated here.



CHAPTER VIII
THE LATIN ORATORS

THEIR STYLE AND MEANS

The Latin temperament being practical, whereas the Grecian was highly
imaginative, it was a long time before Roman oratory escaped from the
hardness of competition and delivery that pervaded it for many
centuries, and it was not until the conquest of Greece that the
classic style of oratory made its deep impress upon the work of the
Roman orators.

The elder Cato was austere in matter and manner, and the younger
Cato, dying 103 years after the death of his great-grandfather,
inherited many of his characteristics, and although his oratory
displayed candor, truth, and courage, it lacked the finish,
smoothness, and grace of the Grecian school, which qualities were, to
a great extent, possessed by Cicero, Caesar, Crassus, and Marc
Antony. Caius Gracchus and his brother Tiberius had a marked
influence upon the Roman style of oratory by softening and smoothing
it, but this influence was not strongly felt until the coming of
Cicero, and that marvellous group of statesmen, politicians, and
orators which embraced Pompey, Crassus, Caesar, Cato, Antonius (Marc
Antony), and Hortensius. The Latin oratory had been candid but hard,
and lacked all the grace that made the Grecian oratory so bewitching;
but Cicero, by combining the candor of the Roman style with the
beauty of the Grecian, produced a form of oratory that has not been
surpassed by any other orator.

Crassus was undoubtedly an orator of the first rank. Plutarch said of
him: "As for learning, he chiefly cared for rhetoric, and what would
be serviceable with large numbers; he became one of the best speakers
at Rome, and by his pains and industry outdid the best natural
orators." Little of his matter has come down to us.

Julius Caesar, among his other powers, possessed that of oratory, and
were it not for his transcendent abilities as a solider, which
overshadowed his other talents, his oratorical ability would have
insured him a place in history.

Marc Antony was another great orator of the Ciceronian period, but
nothing very authentic of his has come down to us. Shakespeare was
indebted to Plutarch for his idea of the oration over the body of
Caesar, and this matchless oration no doubt gives us a just
conception of Antony's style. History tells us that Antony possessed
almost unnatural influence over his soldiers through his eloquence,
and that when they were discouraged over long marches, hardships, and
privations, he would go the rounds of his encampment, addressing his
troops; that he would so enthuse them that they would forget their
fears and miseries, and rush with him to victory. The speech
delivered over the body of Caesar by Marc Antony is reported by Dion
Cassius in his _History of Rome,_ but how much of it was spoken by
Antony is problematical.

The selections here given will convey a clear and comprehensive idea
of the scope and style of Roman oratory in its palmiest days.


CATO THE CENSOR

Marcus Porcius Cato, surnamed Censorius, or Major, Roman statesman,
general, and orator, bas born at Tusculum, 234 B.C., and died in 149
B.C. He was scrupulously honest himself, and demanded honesty in all
who would serve the state. He opposed the influence of Greek
civilization over the Romans, and conceived it to be his duty to
prevent new ideas being taught to the younger men of his generation.
He was a maintainer of primitive discipline, and it was for this
reason he gained the title of the Censor. The speech here given
displays his character and style to perfection. It was delivered in
the Roman Forum in 215 B.C.

     _Speech in Support of the Oppian Law._ If, Romans, every
     individual among us had made it a rule to maintain the
     prerogative and authority of a hundred with respect to his
     own wife, we should have less trouble with the whole sex.
     But now our privileges, overpowered at home by female
     contumacy, are, even here in the Forum, spurned and trodden
     under foot; and because we are unable to withstand each
     separately, we now dread their collective body. I was
     accustomed to think it a fabulous and fictitious tale that
     in a certain island the whole race of males was utterly
     extirpated by a conspiracy of the women.

     But the utmost danger may be apprehended equally from
     either sex if you suffer cabals and secret consultations to
     be held: scarcely indeed can I determine, in my own mind,
     whether the act itself, or the precedent that it affords,
     is of more pernicious tendency. The latter of these more
     particularly concerns us consuls and the other magistrates;
     the former, you, my fellow-citizens: for, whether the
     measure proposed to your consideration be profitable to the
     state or not, is to be determined by you, who are to vote
     on the occasion.

     As to the outrageous behavior of these women, whether it be
     merely an act of their own, or owing to your instigations,
     Marcus Fundanius and Lucius Valerius, it unquestionably
     implies culpable conduct in magistrates. I know not whether
     it reflects greater disgrace on you, tribunes, or on the
     consul: on you certainly, if you have brought these women
     hither for the purpose of raising tribunician seditions; on
     us, if we suffer laws to be imposed on us by a secession of
     women, as was done formerly by that of the common people.
     It was not without painful emotions of shame that I, just
     now, made my way into the Forum through the midst of a band
     of women.

     Had I not been restrained by respect for the modesty and
     dignity of some individuals among them, rather than of the
     whole number, and been unwilling that they should be seen
     rebuked by a consul, I should not have refrained from
     saying to them, "What sort of practice is this, of running
     out into the public, besetting the streets, and addressing
     other women's husbands? Could not each have made the same
     request to her husband at home? Are your blandishments more
     seducing in public than in private, and with other women's
     husbands than with your own? Although if females would let
     their modesty confine them within the limits of their own
     right, it did not become you, even at home, to concern
     yourselves about any laws that might be passed or repealed
     here." Our ancestors thought it not proper that women
     should perform any, even private, business, without a
     director, but that they should be ever under the control of
     parents, brothers, or husbands. We, it seems, suffer them,
     now, to interfere in the management of state affairs, and
     to thrust themselves into the Forum, into general
     assemblies, and into assemblies of election: for what are
     they doing at this moment in your streets and lanes? What,
     but arguing, some in support of the motion of tribunes;
     others contending for the repeal of the law?

     Will you give the reins to their intractable nature, and
     then expect that themselves should set bounds to their
     licentiousness, and without your interference? This is the
     smallest of the injunctions laid on them by usage or the
     laws, all of which women bear with impatience: they long
     for entire liberty; nay, to speak the truth, not for
     liberty, but for unbounded freedom in every particular: for
     what will they not attempt if they now come off victorious?
     Recollect all the institutions respecting the sex, by which
     our forefathers restrained their profligacy and subjected
     them to their husbands; and yet, even with the help of all
     these restrictions, they can scarcely be kept within
     bounds. If, then, you suffer them to throw these off one by
     one, to tear them all asunder, and, at last, to be set on
     an equal footing with yourselves, can you imagine that they
     will be any longer tolerable? Suffer them once to arrive at
     an equality with you, and they will from that moment become
     your superiors.

     But, indeed, they only object to any new law being made
     against them; they mean to deprecate, not justice, but
     severity. Nay, their wish is that a law which you have
     admitted, established by your suffrages, and found in the
     practice and experience of so many years to be beneficial,
     should now be repealed; and that by abolishing one law you
     should weaken all the rest. No law perfectly suits the
     convenience of every member of the community; the only
     consideration is, whether, on the whole, it is profitable
     to the greater part. If, because a law proves obnoxious to
     a private individual, it must therefore be cancelled and
     annulled, to what purpose is it for the community to enact
     laws, which those, whom they were particularly intended to
     comprehend, could presently repeal? Let us, however,
     inquire what this important affair is which has induced the
     matrons thus to run out into public in this indecorous
     manner, scarcely restraining from pushing into the Forum
     and the assembly of the people.

     Is it to solicit that their parents, their husbands,
     children, and brothers may be ransomed from captivity under
     Hannibal?

     By no means: and far be ever from the commonwealth so
     unfortunate a situation. Yet, when such was the case, you
     refused this to the prayers which, on that occasion, their
     duty dictated. But it is not duty, nor solicitude for their
     friends; it is religion that has collected them together.
     They are about to receive the Idaean Mother, coming out of
     Phrygia from Pessinus.

     What motive, that even common decency will not allow to be
     mentioned, is pretended for this female insurrection? Hear
     the answer:

     That we may shine in gold and purple; that both on festival
     and common days, we may ride through the city in our
     chariots, triumphing over vanquished and abrogated law,
     after having captured and wrested from your suffrages; and
     that there may be no bounds to our expenses and our luxury.

     Often have you heard me complain of the profuse expenses of
     the women--often of these of the man; and that not only of
     men in private stations, but of the magistrates; and that
     the state was endangered by two opposite vices, luxury and
     avarice; these pests which have ever been the ruin of every
     great state. These I dread the more, as the circumstances
     of the commonwealth grow daily more prosperous and happy;
     as the empire increases; as we have passed over into Greece
     and Asia, places abounding with every kind of temptation
     that can inflame the passions; and as we have begun to
     handle even royal treasures; for I greatly fear that these
     matters will rather bring us into captivity than we them.

     Believe me, those statues from Syracuse made their way into
     this city with hostile effect. I already hear too many
     commending and admiring the decorations of Athens and
     Corinth, and ridiculing the earthen images of our Roman
     gods that stand on the fronts of their temples. For my
     part, I prefer these gods--propitious as they are, and I
     hope will continue, if we allow them to remain in their own
     mansions.

     In the memory of our fathers, Pyrrhus, by his ambassador
     Cineas, made trial of the dispositions, not only of our
     men, but of our women also, by offers of presents: at that
     time the Oppian law, for restraining female luxury, had not
     been made; and yet not one woman accepted a present. What,
     think you, was the reason? That for which our ancestors
     made no provision by law on this subject: there was no
     luxury existing which might be restrained.

     As diseases must necessarily be known before their
     remedies, so passions come into being before the laws which
     prescribe limits to them. What called forth the Licinian
     law, restricting estates to five hundred acres, but the
     unbounded desire of enlarging estates? What the Cineian
     law, concerning gifts and presents, but that the plebeians
     had become vassals and tributaries to the senate? It is
     not, therefore, in any degree surprising that no want of
     the Oppian Law, or of any other, to limit the expenses of
     the women, was felt at that time, when they refused to
     receive gold and purple that was thrown in their way and
     offered to their acceptance. If Cineas were now to go round
     the city with his presents, he would find numbers of women
     standing in the public streets ready to receive them.

     There are some passions the causes or motives of which I
     can no way account for. To be debarred of a liberty in
     which another is indulged may perhaps naturally excite some
     degree of shame or indignation; yet, when the dress of all
     is alike, what inferiority in appearance can any one be
     ashamed of? Of all kinds of shame, the worst, surely, is
     the being ashamed of frugality or of poverty; but the law
     relieves you with regard to both; you want only that which
     it is unlawful for you to have.

     This equalization, says the rich matron, is the very thing
     that I cannot endure. Why do I not make a figure,
     distinguished with gold and purple? Why is the poverty of
     others concealed under this cover of law, so that it should
     be thought that, if the law permitted, they would have such
     things as they are not now able to procure? Romans, do you
     wish to excite among your wives an emulation of this sort,
     that the rich should wish to have what no other can have;
     and that the poor, lest they should be despised as such,
     should extend their expenses beyond their abilities? Be
     assured that when a woman once begins to be ashamed of what
     she ought not to be ashamed of, she will not be ashamed of
     what she ought. She who can, will purchase out of her own
     purse; she who cannot, will ask her husband.

     Unhappy is the husband, both he who complies with the
     request and he who does not; for what he will not give
     himself, another will. Now they openly solicit favors from
     other women's husbands: and, what is more, solicit a law
     and votes. From some they obtain them; although, with
     regard to you, your property, or your children, you would
     find it hard to obtain anything from them. If the law
     ceases to limit the expenses of your wife, you yourself
     will never be able to limit them. Do not suppose that the
     matter will hereafter be in the same state in which it was
     before the law was made on the subject. It is safer that a
     wicked man should never be accused than he should be
     acquitted; and luxury, if it had never been meddled with,
     would be more tolerable than it will be, now, like a wild
     beast, irritated by having been chained and then let loose.
     My opinion is that the Oppian law ought on no account to be
     repealed. Whatever determination you may come to, I pray
     all the gods to prosper it.


CATO THE YOUNGER

Marcus Porcius Cato, great-grandson of Cato the Censor, and
distinguished from him by being called Uticensis, from the city of
Utica, where he met his death, was born 95 B.C., and died by his own
hand in 46 B.C. He resembled his great ancestor in the severity of
his opposition to views entertained by others that differed from his
own, yet this was somewhat softened by his Greek training, which
modified greatly the hard and stubborn spirit of the old Latin race.
He was a brave man, a lover of his country, and a great orator.

     _On the Punishment of the Catiline Conspirators_ (63 B.C.).
     My feelings, Conscript Fathers, are extremely different
     when I contemplate our circumstances and dangers, and when
     I revolve in my mind the sentiments of some who have spoken
     before me. Those speakers, as it seems to me, have
     considered only how to punish the traitors who have raised
     war against their country, their parents, their altars, and
     their homes; but the state of affairs warns us rather to
     secure ourselves against them, than to take counsel as to
     what sentence we should pass upon them. Other crimes you
     may punish after they have been committed; but as to this,
     unless you prevent its commission, you will, when it has
     once taken effect, in vain appeal to justice. When the city
     is taken, no power is left to the vanquished.

     But, in the name of the immortal gods, I call upon you who
     have always valued your mansions and villas, your statues
     and pictures, at a higher price than the welfare of your
     country, if you wish to preserve those possessions, of
     whatever kind they are, to which you are attached; if you
     wish to secure quiet for the enjoyment of your pleasures,
     arouse yourselves and act in defense of your country. We
     are not now debating on the revenues, or on injuries done
     to our allies, but our liberty and our life are at stake.

     Often, Conscript Fathers, have I spoken at great length in
     this assembly; often have I complained of the luxury and
     avarice of our citizens, and, by that very means, have
     incurred the displeasure of many. I, who never excused to
     myself, or to my own conscience, the commission of any
     fault, could not easily pardon the misconduct, or indulge
     the licentiousness, of others. But though you little
     regarded my remonstrances, yet the republic remained
     secure; its own strength was proof against your remissness.
     The question, however, at present under discussion, is not
     whether we live in a good or bad state of morals; nor how
     great, nor how splendid, the empire of the Roman people is;
     but whether these things around us, of whatever value they
     are, are to continue our own, or to fall, with ourselves,
     into the hands of the enemy.

     In such a case, does any one talk to me of gentleness and
     compassion? For some time past, it is true, we have lost
     the real names of things; for to lavish the property of
     others is called generosity, and audacity in wickedness is
     called heroism, and hence the state is reduced to the brink
     of ruin. But let those who thus misname things be liberal,
     since such is the practice, out of the property of our
     allies; let them be merciful to the robbers of the
     treasury; but let them not lavish our blood, and, while
     they spare a few criminals, bring destruction on all the
     guiltless.

     Caius Caesar, a short time ago, spoke in fair and elegant
     language, before this assembly, on the subject of life and
     death; considering as false, I suppose, what is told of the
     dead--that the bad, going a different way from the good,
     inhabit places gloomy, desolate, dreary, and full of
     horror. He accordingly proposes that the property of the
     conspirators should be confiscated, and themselves kept in
     custody in the municipal towns; fearing, it seems, that, if
     they remained at Rome, they might be rescued either by
     their accomplices in the conspiracy, or by a hired mob; as
     if, forsooth, the mischievous and profligate were to be
     found only in the city, and not through the whole of Italy,
     or as if desperate attempts would not be more likely to
     succeed where there is less power to resist them. His
     proposal, therefore, if he fears any danger from them, is
     absurd; but if, amid such universal terror, he alone is
     free from alarm, it the more concerns me to fear for you
     and myself.[1]

     Be assured, then, that when you decide on the fate of
     Lentulus and the other prisoners, you at the same time
     determine that of the army of Catiline, and of all the
     conspirators. The more spirit you display in your decision,
     the more will their confidence be diminished; but if they
     shall perceive you in the smallest degree irresolute, they
     will advance upon you with fury.

     Do not suppose that our ancestors, from so small a
     commencement, raised the republic to greatness merely by
     force of arms. If such had been the case, we should enjoy
     it in a most excellent condition; for of allies and
     citizens, as well as arms and horses, we have a much
     greater abundance than they had. But there were other
     things which made them great, but which among us have no
     existence--such as industry at home, equitable government
     abroad, and minds impartial in council, uninfluenced by any
     immoral or improper feeling. Instead of such virtues, we
     have luxury and avarice, public distress and private
     superfluity; we extol wealth, and yield to indolence; no
     distinction is made between good men and bad; and ambition
     usurps the honors due to virtue. Nor is this wonderful;
     since you study each his individual interest, and since at
     home you are slaves to pleasure, and here to money or
     favor; and hence it happens that an attack is made on the
     defenseless state.

     But on these subjects I shall say no more. Certain citizens
     of the highest rank, have conspired to ruin their country;
     they are engaging the Gauls, the bitterest foes of the
     Roman name, to join in a war against us; the leader of the
     enemy is ready to make a descent upon us; and do you
     hesitate, even in such circumstances, how to treat armed
     incendiaries arrested within your walls? I advise you to
     have mercy upon them; they are young men who have been led
     astray by ambition; send them away, even with arms in their
     hands. But such mercy, and such clemency, if they turn
     those arms against you, will end in misery to yourselves.
     The case is, assuredly, dangerous, but you do not fear it;
     yes, you fear it greatly, but you hesitate now to act,
     through weakness and want of spirit, waiting one for
     another, and trusting to the immortal gods, who have so
     often preserved your country in the greatest dangers. But
     the protection of the gods is not obtained by vows and
     effeminate supplications; it is by vigilance, activity, and
     prudent measures, that general welfare is secured. When you
     are once resigned to sloth and indolence, it is in vain
     that you implore the gods; for they are then indignant and
     threaten vengeance.

     In the days of our forefathers, Titus Manlius Torquatus,
     during a war with the Gauls, ordered his own son to be put
     to death because he had fought with an enemy contrary to
     orders. That noble youth suffered for excess of bravery;
     and do you hesitate what sentence to pass on the most
     inhuman of traitors? Perhaps their former life is at
     variance with their present crime. Spare, then, the dignity
     of Lentulus, if he has ever spared his own honor or
     character, or had any regard for the gods or for men.
     Pardon the youth of Cethegus, unless this be the second
     time that he has made war upon his country. As to Gabinius,
     Statilius, Coeparius, why should I make any remark upon
     them? Had they ever possessed the smallest share of
     discretion they would never have engaged in such a plot
     against their country.

     In conclusion, Conscript Fathers, if there were time to
     amend an error, I might easily suffer you, since you
     disregard words, to be corrected by experience of
     consequences. But we are beset by dangers on all sides;
     Catiline, with his army, is ready to devour us; while there
     are other enemies within the walls, and in the heart of the
     city; nor can any measures be taken, or any plans arranged,
     without their knowledge. The more necessary is it,
     therefore, to act with promptitude. What I advise, then, is
     this: That, since the state, by a treasonable combination
     of abandoned citizens, has been brought into the greatest
     peril; and since the conspirators have been convicted on
     the evidence of Titus Volturcius, and the deputies of the
     Allobroges, and on their own confession, of having
     concerted massacres, conflagrations, and other horrible and
     cruel outrages, against their fellow citizen and their
     country, punishment be inflicted, according to the usage of
     our ancestors, on the prisoners who have confessed their
     guilt, as on the men convicted of capital crimes.[2]


JULIUS CAESAR

Caius Julius Caesar was born about 100 B.C., and died at the hands of
Brutus, Cassius, and their fellow-conspirators in 44 B.C. He was a
marvellous man in every respect, achieving almost equal eminence as a
solider, a statesman, a man of letters and an orator. He advised
against putting to death those who were engaged with Catiline in his
conspiracy, and had Cicero listened to his advice, and refrained from
executing Lentulus, Cethegus, Statilius, Gabinius, and others, he
would have escaped the humiliation of banishment on the charge of
unlawfully putting to death a Roman citizen.

     _Speech Delivered in the Roman Senate on the Treatment of
     the Catiline Conspirators._ It becomes all men, Conscript
     Fathers, who deliberate on dubious matters, to be
     influenced neither by hatred, affection, anger, nor pity.
     The mind, when such feelings obstruct its view, cannot
     easily see what is right; nor has any human being
     consulted, at the same moment, his passions and his
     interest. When the mind is freely exerted, its reasoning is
     sound; but passion, if it gain possession of it, becomes
     its tyrant, and reason is powerless.

     I could easily mention, Conscript Fathers, numerous
     examples of kings and nations, who, swayed by resentment or
     compassion, have adopted injudicious courses of conduct;
     but I had rather speak of those instances in which our
     ancestors, in opposition to the impulse of passion, acted
     with wisdom and sound policy.

     In the Macedonian war, which we carried on against King
     Perses, the great and powerful state of Rhodes, which had
     risen by the aid of the Roman people, was faithless and
     hostile to us; yet, when the war was ended, and the conduct
     of the Rhodians was taken into consideration, our
     forefathers left them unmolested, lest any should say that
     war was made upon them for the sake of seizing their
     wealth, rather than of punishing their faithlessness.
     Throughout the Punic wars, too, through the Carthaginians,
     both during peace and in suspension of arms, were guilty of
     many acts of injustice, yet our ancestors never took
     occasion to retaliate, but considered rather what was
     worthy of themselves than what might justly be inflicted on
     their enemies.

     Similar caution, Conscript Fathers, is to be observed by
     yourselves, that the guilt of Lentulus, and the other
     conspirators, may not have greater weight with you than
     your own dignity, and that you may not regard your
     indignation more than your character. If indeed, a
     punishment adequate to their crimes be discovered, I
     consent to extraordinary measures; but if the enormity of
     their crime exceeds whatever can be devised, I think that
     we should inflict only such penalties as the laws have
     provided.

     Most of those who have given their opinions before me have
     deplored, in studied and impressive language, the sad fate
     that threatens the republic; they have recounted the
     barbarities of war, and the afflictions that would fall on
     the vanquished; they have told us that maidens would be
     dishonored, and youths abused; that children would be torn
     from the embraces of their parents; that matrons would be
     subjected to the pleasure of the conquerors; that temples
     and dwelling-houses would be plundered; that massacres and
     fires would follow; and that every place would be filled
     with arms, corpses, blood, and lamentations. But to what
     end, in the name of the eternal gods! was such eloquence
     directed? Was it intended to render you indignant at the
     conspiracy? A speech, no doubt, will inflame him whom so
     frightful and monstrous a reality has not provoked! Far
     from it: for to no man does evil, directly against himself,
     appear a light matter; many, on the contrary, have felt it
     more seriously than was right.

     But to different persons, Conscript Fathers, different
     degrees of license are allowed. If those who pass a life
     sunk in obscurity commit any error, through excessive
     anger, few become aware of it, for their fame is as limited
     as their fortune; but of those who live invested with
     extensive power, and in an exalted station, the whole world
     knows the proceedings. Thus in the highest position there
     is the least liberty of action; and it becomes us to
     indulge neither partiality nor aversion, but least of all
     animosity; for what in others is called resentment is in
     the powerful termed violence and cruelty.

     I am, indeed, of opinion, Conscript Fathers, that the
     utmost degree of torture is inadequate to punish their
     crime; but the generality of mankind dwell on that which
     happens last, and, in the case of malefactors, forget their
     guilt, and talk of their punishment, should that punishment
     have been inordinately severe. I feel assured, too, that
     Decimus Silanus, a man of spirit and resolution, made the
     suggestions which he offered, from zeal for the state, and
     that he had no view, in so important a matter, to favor or
     to enmity; such I know to be his character, and such his
     discretion. Yet his proposal appears to me, I will not say
     cruel (for what can be cruel that is directed against such
     characters?), but foreign to our policy. For, assuredly,
     Silanus, either your fears, or their treason, must have
     induced you, a consul-elect, to propose this new kind of
     punishment. Of fear it is unnecessary to speak, when, by
     the prompt activity of that distinguished man our consul,
     such numerous forces are under arms; and as to the
     punishment, we may say, what is, indeed, the truth, that in
     trouble and distress death is a relief from suffering, and
     not a torment; that it puts an end to all human woes; and
     that, beyond it, there is no place either for sorrow or joy.

     But why, in the name of the immortal gods, did you not add
     to your proposal, Silanus, that, before they were put to
     death they should be punished with the scourge? Was it
     because the Porcian law forbids it? But other laws forbid
     condemned citizens to be deprived of life, and allow them
     to go into exile. Or was it because scourging is a severer
     penalty than death? Yet what can be too severe, or too
     harsh, toward men convicted of such an offence? But if
     scourging be a milder punishment than death, how is it
     consistent to observe the law as to the smaller point, when
     you disregard it as to the greater?

     But who, it may be asked, will blame any severity that
     shall be decreed against these parricides of their country?
     I answer that time, the course of events, and fortune,
     whose caprice governs nations, may blame it. Whatever shall
     fall on the traitors, will fall on them justly; but it is
     for you, Conscript Fathers, to consider well what you
     resolve to inflict on others. All precedents productive of
     evil effects had their origin from what was good; but when
     a government passes into the hands of the ignorant and
     unprincipled, any new example of severity, inflicted on
     deserving and suitable objects, is extended to those that
     are improper and undeserving of it. The Lacedaemonians,
     when they had conquered the Athenians, appointed thirty men
     to govern their state. These thirty began their
     administration by putting to death, even without a trial,
     all who were notoriously wicked, or publicly detestable;
     acts at which the people rejoiced, and extolled their
     justice. But afterward, when their lawless power gradually
     increased, they proceeded, at their pleasure, to kill the
     good and bad indiscriminately, and to strike terror into
     all; and thus the state, overpowered and enslaved, paid a
     heavy penalty for its imprudent exultation.

     Within our own memory, too, when the victorious Sylla
     ordered Damasippus, and others of similar character, who
     had risen by distressing their country, to be put to death,
     who did not commend the proceeding? All exclaimed that
     wicked and factious men, who had troubled the state with
     their seditious practices, had justly forfeited their
     lives. Yet this proceeding was the commencement of great
     bloodshed. For whenever any one coveted the mansion or
     villa, or even the plate or apparel of another, he exerted
     his influence to have him numbered among the proscribed.
     Thus they, to whom the death of Damasippus had been a
     subject of joy, were soon after dragged to death
     themselves; nor was there any cessation of slaughter, until
     Sylla had glutted all his partisans with riches.

     Such excesses, indeed, I do not fear from Marcus Tullius,
     or in these times. But in a large state there arise many
     men of various dispositions. At some other period, and
     under another consul, who, like the present, may have an
     army at his command, some false accusation may be credited
     as true; and when, with our example for a precedent, the
     consul shall have drawn the sword on the authority of the
     senate, who shall stay its progress, or moderate its fury?

     Our ancestors, Conscript Fathers, were never deficient in
     conduct or courage; nor did pride prevent them from
     imitating the customs of other nations, if they appeared
     deserving of regard. Their armor, and weapons of war, they
     borrowed from the Samnites; their ensigns of authority, for
     the most part, from the Etrurians; and, in short, whatever
     appeared eligible to them, whether among allies or among
     enemies, they adopted at home with the greatest readiness,
     being more inclined to emulate merit than to be jealous of
     it. But at the same time, adopting a practice from Greece,
     they punished their citizens with the scourge, and
     inflicted capital punishment on such as were condemned.
     When the republic, however, became powerful, and faction
     grew strong from the vast number of citizens, men began to
     involve the innocent in condemnation, and other like abuses
     were practiced; and it was then that the Porcian and other
     laws were provided, by which condemned citizens were
     allowed to go into exile. This lenity of our ancestors,
     Conscript Fathers, I regard as a very strong reason why we
     should not adopt any new measures of severity. For
     assuredly there was greater merit and wisdom in those, who
     raised so mighty an empire from humble means than in us,
     who can scarcely preserve what they so honorably acquired.
     Am I of opinion, then, you will ask, that the conspirators
     should be set free, and that the army of Catiline should
     thus be increased? Far from it; my recommendation is, that
     their property be confiscated, and that they themselves be
     kept in custody in such of the municipal towns as are best
     able to bear the expense; that no one hereafter bring their
     case before the senate, or speak on it to the people; and
     that the senate now give their opinion that he who shall
     act contrary to this, will act against the republic and
     general safety.


CATILINE

Lucius Sergius Catilina (Catiline), who is best known for his
conspiracy against the government of Rome, was born about the year
108 B.C., and was killed in the battle of Faesulae, Italy, in 62 B.C.
He was a man of dissolute habits, devoid of any moral sense, a
murderer, and a traitor, yet he was a brave soldier and an able
orator. In Catiline's time the lower classes were in a wretched state
of poverty and had strong reasons for discontent with the government.
This fact Catiline seized upon with masterly effect, for through it a
free pardon and large rewards were offered to all who would desert
his cause and testify regarding the conspiracy, not one of Catiline's
followers betrayed him. Catiline failed, not through the weakness of
his cause, nor for his lack of ability, but because of the utter
worthlessness of his character.

     _Speech to the Conspirators._ If your courage and fidelity
     has not been sufficiently proved by me, this favorable
     opportunity would have occurred to no purpose; mighty
     hopes, absolute power, would in vain be within our grasp;
     nor should I, depending on irresolution or
     fickle-mindedness, pursue contingencies instead of
     certainties. But as I have, on so many remarkable
     occasions, experienced your bravery and attachment to me, I
     have ventured to engage in a most important and glorious
     enterprise. I am aware, too, that whatever advantages or
     evils affect you, the same affect me; and to have the same
     desires and the same aversions is assuredly a firm bond of
     friendship.

     What I have been meditating you have already heard
     separately. But my ardor for action is daily more and more
     excited when I consider what our future condition of life
     must be unless we ourselves assert our claims to liberty.
     For, since the government has fallen under the power and
     jurisdiction of a few, kings and princes have constantly
     been their tributaries; nations and states have paid them
     taxes; but all the rest of us, however brave and worthy,
     whether noble or plebeian, have been regarded as a mere
     mob, without interest or authority, and subject to those to
     whom, if the state were in a sound condition, we should be
     a terror. Hence all influence, power, honor, and wealth,
     are in their hands, or where they dispose of them; to us,
     they have left only insults, dangers, persecutions, and
     poverty. To such indignities, O bravest of men, how long
     will you submit? Is it not better to die in a glorious
     attempt, than, after having been the derision of other
     men's insolence, to resign a wretched and degraded
     existence with ignominy?

     But success (I call gods and men to witness) is in our own
     hands. Our years are fresh, our spirit is unbroken; among
     our oppressors, on the contrary, through age and wealth a
     general debility has been produced. We have, therefore,
     only to make a beginning; the course of events will
     accomplish the rest.

     Who in the world, indeed, that has the feelings of a man,
     can endure that they should have a superfluity of riches,
     to squander in building over seas and levelling mountains,
     and that means should be wanting to us even for the
     necessaries of life; that they should join together two
     houses or more, and that we should not have a hearth to
     call our own? They, though they purchase pictures, statues,
     and embossed plate; though they pull down new buildings and
     erect others, and lavish and abuse their wealth in every
     possible method, yet cannot, with the utmost efforts of
     caprice, exhaust it. But for us there is poverty at home,
     debts abroad; our present circumstances are bad, our
     prospects much worse; and what, in a word, have we left,
     but a miserable existence?

     Will you not, then, awake to action? Behold that liberty,
     that liberty for which you have so often wished, with
     wealth, honor, and glory, are set before your eyes. All
     these prizes fortune offers to the victorious. Let the
     enterprise itself, then, let the opportunity, let your
     property, your dangers, and the glorious spoils of war,
     animate you far more than my words. Use me either as your
     leader or your fellow solider; neither my heart nor my hand
     shall be wanting to you. These objects I hope to effect, in
     concert with you, in the character of consul; unless,
     indeed, my expectation deceives me, and you prefer to be
     slaves rather than masters.


     _Speech to His Troops._ I am well aware, soldiers, that
     words cannot inspire courage, and that a spiritless army
     cannot be rendered active, or a timid army valiant, by the
     speech of its commander. Whatever courage is in the heart
     of a man, whether from nature or from habit, so much will
     be shown by him in the field; and on him whom neither glory
     nor danger can move, exhortation is bestowed in vain; for
     the terror in his breast stops his ears.

     I have called you together, however, to give you a few
     instructions, and to explain to you, at the same time, my
     reasons for the course which I have adopted. You all know,
     soldiers, how severe a penalty the inactivity and cowardice
     of Lentulus has brought upon himself and us; and how, while
     awaiting reinforcements from the city, I was unable to
     march into Gaul. In what situation our affairs now are, you
     will understand as well as myself. Two armies of the enemy,
     one on the side of Rome and the other on that of Gaul,
     oppose our progress; while the want of corn and of other
     necessaries prevents us from remaining, however strongly we
     may desire to remain, in our present position.
     Whithersoever we would go, we must open a passage with our
     swords. I conjure you, therefore, to maintain a brave and
     resolute spirit; and to remember, when you advance to
     battle, that on your own right hands depend riches, honor,
     and glory, with the enjoyment of your liberty and of your
     country. If we conquer, all will be safe, we shall have
     possessions in abundance; and the colonies and corporate
     towns will open their gates to us. But if we lose the
     victory through want of courage, those same places will
     turn against us, for neither place nor friend will protect
     him whom his arms have not protected. Besides, soldiers,
     the same exigency does not press upon our adversaries as
     presses upon us; we fight for our country, for our liberty,
     for our life; they contend for what but little concerns
     them, the power of a small party. Attack them, therefore,
     with so much the greater confidence, and call to mind your
     achievements of old.

     We might, with the utmost ignominy, have passed the rest of
     our days in exile. Some of you, after losing your property,
     might have waited at Rome for assistance from others. But
     because such a life, to men of spirit, was disgusting and
     unendurable, you resolved upon your present course. If you
     wish to quit it, you must exert all your resolution, for
     none but conquerors have exchanged war for peace. To hope
     for safety in flight when you have turned away from the
     enemy the arms by which the body is defended is indeed
     madness. In battle those who are most afraid are always in
     most danger; but courage is equivalent to a rampart.

     When I contemplate you, soldiers, and when I consider your
     past exploits, a strong hope of victory animates me. Your
     spirit, your age, your valor, give me confidence; to say
     nothing of necessity, which makes even cowards brave. To
     prevent the numbers of the enemy from surrounding us, our
     confined situation is sufficient. But should Fortune be
     unjust to your valor, take care not to lose your lives
     unavenged; take care not to be taken and butchered like
     cattle, rather than, fighting like men, to leave to your
     enemies a bloody and mournful victory.


CICERO

Marcus Tullius Cicero, the greatest of the Roman orators, and one of
the foremost orators of all times, was born at Arpinum, on the
northern border of the Volscian territory, 106 B.C., and was killed
by order of Marc Antony at the close of the year 43 B.C. Thus passed
away, at the age of sixty-three, one of the most illustrious
statesmen and the most eloquent orator that the vast empire of Rome
produced.

Cicero lived in a venal age, yet he escaped contamination. He was a
politician, yet he rarely stooped to the trickery of the ancient
politicians. Only in two instances did he fall below the high
standard of manliness up to which all must measure who would be
esteemed patriots: once, when he combined with Catiline, a
notoriously corrupt and ruined character, for the consulship; and
again, in turning from Pompey and crooking "the pregnant hinges of
the knee" to Caesar when that warrior's star commenced to climb
toward the zenith of his fame. A weak trait in Cicero's character was
shown in his behavior during banishment. Instead of bearing up
bravely against the injustice of his enemies, strong in the
consciousness of his own rectitude, he cringingly besought clemency
and begged to be permitted to return to Rome, thus tacitly admitting
that there had been just grounds for his banishment. Despite these
failings, he was a truly great man who did much for his country and
the world. Much of his spoken and written matter has come down to us
and authentic information concerning his education, his style of
oratory, the manner of his life, and his views of men and questions
are to be had at first hand. He is not shrouded in mystery, as are
many great men of a much nearer period, but he can be as clearly
perceived by the student of today as he was by his contemporaries--in
fact, clearer, because the picture is not now, as it was then,
blurred by the excessive praise of friends nor the calumnies of
enemies.

All through his life Cicero worked to fit himself for adequately
filling such positions of honor and renown as he sought, and he
finally became the most perfect specimen of the Roman of the
governing class. As a youth he was under the instruction of the
famous orator Crassus, and he read the poets and orators of Greece
under the guidance of the Greek poet Archias, then a teacher at Rome,
during the early period of his schooling. He studied the Roman
national law and ritual under the two Scaevolas, as he desired a
thorough knowledge of these things in order that he might become a
successful advocate. He also studied under Philo, the chief of the
Academics, Diodotus the Stoic, and Milo the philosopher. He commenced
his career as an advocate when twenty-six years of age by a civil
cause in the speech _Pro Quinctio,_ and in the following year he
undertook a criminal cause in the action brought against Roscius
Amerinus. Soon after this he went to Athens and diligently studied
the art of declamation under the best masters. Some claim that Cicero
was not original in his matter nor his manner; that he spent too much
time studying the works and methods of others; but be this as it may,
he certainly became wonderfully proficient in gathering the matter
and presenting it in a manner that was marvelously impressive and
successful. He was undoubtedly the best prepared orator that the
world has ever known; and as a speaker he was always master of
himself, his subject, and his audience.

     _The First Oration Against Verres_ (70 B.C.). That which
     was above all things to be desired, O judges, and which
     above all things was calculated to have the greatest
     influence toward allaying the unpopularity of your order,
     and putting an end to the discredit into which your
     judicial decisions have fallen, appears to have been thrown
     in your way, and given to you not by any human contrivance,
     but almost by the interposition of the gods, at a most
     important crisis of the republic. For an opinion has now
     become established, pernicious to us and pernicious to the
     public, which has been the common talk of every one, not
     only at Rome, but among foreign nations also--that in the
     courts of law as they exist at present, no wealthy man,
     however guilty he may be, can possibly be convicted.

     Now at this time of peril to your order and to your
     tribunal, when men are ready to attempt by harangues, and
     by the proposal of new laws, to increase the existing
     unpopularity of the senate, Caius Verres is brought to
     trial as a criminal--a man condemned in the opinion of
     every one by his life and actions, but acquitted by the
     enormousness of his wealth according to his own hope and
     boast. I, O judges, have undertaken this cause as
     prosecutor with the greatest good wishes and expectation on
     the part of the Roman people, not in order to increase the
     unpopularity of the senate, but to relieve it from the
     discredit which I share with it. For I have brought before
     you a man, by acting justly in whose case you have an
     opportunity of retrieving the lost credit of your judicial
     proceedings, of regaining your credit with the Roman
     people, and of giving satisfaction to foreign nations; a
     man, the embezzler of public funds, the petty tyrant of
     Asia and Pamphylia, the robber who deprived the city of its
     rights, the disgrace and ruin of the province of Sicily.
     And if you come to a decision about this man with severity
     and a due regard to your oaths, that authority which ought
     to remain in you will cling to you still; but if that man's
     vast riches shall break down the sanctity and honesty of
     the courts of justice, at least I shall achieve this, that
     it shall be plain that it was rather honest judgment that
     was wanting to the republic, than a criminal to the judges
     or an accuser to the criminal.

     I, indeed, that I may confess to you the truth about
     myself, O judges, though many snares were laid for me by
     Caius Verres, both by land and sea, which I partly avoided
     by my own vigilance, and partly warded off by the zeal and
     kindness of my friends, yet I never seemed to be incurring
     so much danger, and I never was in such a state of great
     apprehension as I am now in this very court of law. Nor
     does the expectation which people have formed of my conduct
     of this prosecution, nor this concourse of so vast a
     magnitude as is here assembled, influence me (though indeed
     I am greatly agitated by these circumstances) so much as
     his nefarious plots which he is endeavoring to lay at one
     and the same time against me, against you, against Marcus
     Glabrio, the praetor, and against the allies, against
     foreign nations, against the senate, and even against the
     very name of senator; whose favorite saying it is that they
     have got to fear who have stolen only as much as is enough
     for themselves, but that he has stolen so much that it may
     easily be plenty for many; that nothing is so holy that it
     can not be corrupted, or so strongly fortified that it can
     not be stormed by money. But if he were as secret in acting
     as he is audacious in attempting; perhaps in some
     particular he might some time or other have escaped our
     notice.

     But it happens very fortunately that to his incredible
     audacity there is joined a most unexampled folly. For as he
     was unconcealed in committing his robberies of money, so in
     his hope of corrupting the judges he has made his
     intentions and endeavors visible to every one. He says that
     only once in his life has he felt fear at the time when he
     was first impeached as a criminal by me; because he was
     only lately arrived from his province, and was branded with
     unpopularity and infamy, not modern but ancient and of long
     standing; and, besides that, the time was unlucky, being
     very ill suited for corrupting the judges. Therefore, when
     I had demanded a very short time to prosecute my inquiries
     in Sicily, he found a man to ask for two days less to make
     investigations in Achaia; not with any real intention of
     doing the same with his diligence and industry, that I have
     accomplished by my labor, and daily and nightly
     investigations. For the Achaean inquisitor never even
     arrived at Brundusium. I in fifty days so traveled over the
     whole of Sicily that I examined into the records and
     injuries of all the tribes and of all private individuals,
     so that it was easily visible to every one that he had been
     seeking out a man not really for the purpose of bringing
     the defendant whom he accused to trial, but merely to
     occupy the time which ought to belong to me.

     Now that most audacious and most senseless man thinks this.
     He is aware that I am come into court so thoroughly
     prepared and armed that I shall fix all his thefts and
     crimes not only in your ears, but in the very eyes of all
     men. He sees that many senators are witnesses of his
     audacity; he sees that many Roman knights are so, too, and
     many citizens, and many of the allies besides to whom he
     has done unmistakable injuries. He sees also that very
     numerous and very important deputations have come here at
     the same time from friendly cities, armed with the public
     authority and evidence collected by their states.

     In truth, what genius is there so powerful, what faculty of
     speaking, what eloquence so mighty, as to be in any
     particular able to defend the life of that man convicted as
     it is of so many vices and crimes, and long since condemned
     by the inclinations and private sentiments of every one.
     And, to say nothing of the stains and disgraces of his
     youth, what other remarkable event is there in his
     questorship, that first step to honor, except that Cnaeus
     Carbo was robbed by his questor of the public money? that
     the consul was plundered and betrayed? his army deserted?
     his province abandoned? the holy nature and obligations
     imposed on him by lot violated? whose lieutenancy was the
     ruin of all Asia and Pamphylia, in which provinces he
     plundered many houses, very many cities, all the shrines
     and temples; when he renewed and repeated against Cnaeus
     Dolabella his ancient wicked tricks when he had been
     questor, and did not only in his danger desert, but even
     attack and betray the man to whom he had been lieutenant,
     and proquaestor, and whom he had brought into odium by his
     crimes; whose city praetorship was the destruction of the
     sacred temples and the public works, and, as to his legal
     decisions, was the adjudging and awarding of property
     contrary to all established rules and precedents. But now
     he has established great and numerous monuments and proofs
     of all his vices in the province of Sicily, which he for
     three years so harassed and ruined that it can by no
     possibility be restored to its former condition, and
     appears scarcely able to be at all recovered after a long
     series of years, and a long succession of virtuous
     praetors. While this man was praetor the Sicilians enjoyed
     neither their own laws nor the decrees of our senate, nor
     the common rights of every nation. Every one in Sicily has
     only so much left as either escaped the notice or was
     disregarded by the satiety of that most avaricious and
     licentious man.

     No legal decision for three years was given on any other
     ground but his will; no property was so secure to any man,
     even if it had descended to him from his father and
     grandfather, but he was deprived of it at his command;
     enormous sums of money were exacted from the property of
     the cultivators of the soil by a new and nefarious system.
     The most faithful of the allies were classed in the number
     of enemies. Roman citizens were tortured and put to death
     like slaves; the greatest criminals were acquitted in the
     courts of justice through bribery; the most upright and
     honorable men, being prosecuted while absent, were
     condemned and banished without being heard in their own
     defense; the most fortified harbors, the greatest and
     strongest cities, were laid open to pirates and robbers;
     the sailors and soldiers of the Sicilians, our own allies
     and friends, died of hunger; the best built fleets on the
     most important stations were lost and destroyed, to the
     great disgrace of the Roman people. This same man while
     praetor plundered and stripped those most ancient
     monuments, some erected by wealthy monarchs and intended by
     them as ornaments for their cities; some, too, the work of
     our own generals, which they either gave or restored as
     conquerors to the different states in Sicily. And he did
     this not only in the case of public statues and ornaments,
     but he also plundered all the temples consecrated in the
     deepest religious feelings of the people. He did not leave,
     in short, one god to the Sicilians which appeared to him to
     be made in a tolerable workmanlike manner, and with any of
     the skill of the ancients.

     I am prevented by actual shame from speaking of his
     nefarious licentiousness as shown in rapes and other such
     enormities; and I am unwilling also to increase the
     distress of those men who have been unable to preserve
     their children and their wives unpolluted by his wanton
     lust. But, you will say, these things were done by him in
     such a manner as not to be notorious to all men. I think
     there is no man who has heard his name who cannot also
     relate wicked actions of his; so that I ought rather to be
     afraid of being thought to omit many of his crimes, than to
     invent any charges against him. And, indeed, I do not think
     that this multitude which has collected to listen to me
     wishes so much to learn of me what the facts of the case
     are, as to go over it with me, refreshing its recollection
     of what it knows already.

     And as this is the case, that senseless and profligate man
     attempts to combat me in another manner. He does not seek
     to oppose the eloquence of any one else to me; he does not
     rely on the popularity, or influence, or authority, of any
     one. He pretends that he trusts to those things; but I see
     what he is really aiming at (and indeed he is not acting
     with any concealment). He sets before me empty titles of
     nobility--that is to say, the names of arrogant men, who do
     not hinder me so much by being noble, as assist me by being
     notorious; he pretends to rely on their protection, when he
     has in reality been contriving something else this long
     time. What hope he now has, and what he is endeavoring to
     do, I will now briefly explain to you, O judges.

     But first of all, remark, I beg you, how the matter has
     been arranged by him from the beginning. When he first
     returned from the province he endeavored to get rid of his
     prosecution by corrupting the judges at a great expense;
     and this object he continued to keep in view till the
     conclusion of the appointment of the judges. After the
     judges were appointed, because in drawing lots for them the
     fortune of the Roman people had defeated his hopes, and in
     the rejecting some my diligence had defeated his impudence,
     the whole attempt at bribery was abandoned. The affair was
     now going on admirably; lists of your names and of the
     whole tribunal were in every one's hands. It did not seem
     possible to mark the votes of these men with any
     distinguishing mark or color or spot of dirt; and that
     fellow, from having been brisk and in high spirits, became
     on a sudden so downcast and humbled that he seemed to be
     condemned not only by the Roman people but even by himself.
     But lo! all of a sudden, within these few days, since the
     consular comitia have taken place, he has gone back to his
     original plan with more money, and the same plots are now
     laid against your reputation and against the fortunes of
     every one, by the instrumentality of the same people; which
     fact at first, O judges, was pointed out by me by a very
     slight hint and indication; but afterward, when my
     suspicions were once aroused, I arrived at the knowledge of
     all the most secret counsels of that party without any
     mistake.

     For as Hortensius, the consul-elect, was being attended
     home again from the Campus by a great concourse and
     multitude of people, Caius Curio fell in with that
     multitude by chance--a man whom I wish to name by way of
     honor rather than disparagement. I will tell you what if he
     had been unwilling to have it mentioned, he would not have
     spoken of in so large an assembly so openly and
     undisguisedly; which, however, shall be mentioned by me
     deliberately and cautiously, that it may be seen that I pay
     due regard to our friendship and to his dignity. He sees
     Verres in the crowd by the arch of Fabius,[3] he speaks to
     the man, and with a loud voice congratulates him on his
     victory. He does not say a word to Hortensius himself, who
     had been made consul, or to his friends and relations who
     were present attending on him; but he stops to speak to
     this man, embraces him, and bids him cast off all anxiety.
     "I give you notice," said he, "that you have been acquitted
     by this day's comitia." And as many most honorable men
     heard this, it is immediately reported to me the first
     thing. To some it appeared scandalous, to others, again,
     ridiculous--ridiculous to those who thought that this case
     depended on the credibility of the witnesses, on the
     importance of the charges, and on the power of the judges,
     and not on the consular comitia; scandalous to those who
     looked deeper, and who thought and this congratulation had
     reference to the corruption of the judges.

     In truth, they argued in this manner--the most honorable
     men spoke to one another and to me in this manner--that
     there were now manifestly and undeniably no courts of
     justice at all. The very criminal who the day before
     thought that he was already condemned, is acquitted, now
     that his defender has been made consul. What are we to
     think then? Will it avail nothing at all Sicily, all the
     Sicilians, that all the merchants who have business in that
     country, that if the consul-elect wills it otherwise. What!
     will not the judges be influenced by the accusation, by the
     evidence, by the universal opinion of the Roman people? No.
     Everything will be governed by the power and authority of
     one man.

     In the meantime my comitia began to be held; of which that
     fellow thought himself the master, as he had been of all
     the other comitia this year. He began to run about, that
     influential man, with his son, a youth of engaging and
     popular manners, among the tribes. The son began to address
     and to call on all the friends of his father--that is to
     say, all his agents--for bribery; and when this was noticed
     and perceived, the Roman people took care with the most
     earnest good will that I should not be deprived of my honor
     through the money of that man, whose riches had not been
     able to make me violate my good faith. After that I was
     released from the great anxiety about my canvass, I began,
     with a mind much more unoccupied and much more at ease, to
     think of nothing and to do nothing except what related to
     this trial. I find, O judges, these plans formed and begun
     to be put in execution by them to protract the matter,
     whatever steps it might be necessary to take in order to do
     so, so that the cause might be pleaded before Marcus
     Metellus as praetor. That by doing so they would have these
     advantages: firstly, that Marcus Metellus was most friendly
     to them; secondly, that not only would Hortensius be
     consul, but Quintus Metellus also; and listen while I show
     you how a great a friend he is to them. For he gave him a
     token of his good will of such a sort that he seemed to be
     giving it as a return for the suffrages of the tribes which
     he had secured to him. Did you think that I would say
     nothing of such serious matters as these? and that, at a
     crisis of such danger to the republic and my own character,
     I would consult anything rather than my duty and my
     dignity? The other consul-elect sent for the Sicilians;
     some came, because Lucius Metellus was praetor in Sicily.
     To them he speaks in this manner: that he is the consul;
     that one of his brothers has Sicily for a province; that
     the other is to be judge in all prosecutions for extortion;
     and that care had been taken in many ways that there should
     be no possibility of Verres being injured.

     I ask you, Metellus, what is corrupting the course of
     justice, if this is not--to seek to frighten witnesses, and
     especially Sicilians, timid and oppressed men, not only by
     your own private influence, but by their fear of the
     consul, and by the power of two praetors? What could you do
     for an innocent man or for a relation, when for the sake of
     a most guilty one, entirely unconnected with you, you
     depart from your duty and your dignity, and allow what he
     is constantly saying to appear true to any one who is not
     acquainted with you? For they said that Verres said that
     you had not been made consul by destiny, as the rest of
     your family had been, but by his assistance. Two consuls,
     therefore, and the judge are to be such because of his
     will. We shall not only, says he, avoid having a man too
     scrupulous in investigating, too subservient to the opinion
     of the people, Marcus Glabrio, but we shall have this
     advantage also: Marcus Caesonius is the judge, the
     colleague of your accuser, a man of tried and proved
     experience in the decision of actions. It will never do for
     us to have such a man as that on the bench, which we are
     endeavoring to corrupt by some means or other; for before,
     when he was one of the judges on the tribunal of which
     Junius was president, he was not only very indignant at the
     shameful transaction, but he even betrayed and denounced it.

     But as for what I had begun to say--namely, that the
     contest is between you and me, this is it--I, when I had
     undertaken this cause at the request of the Sicilians, and
     had thought it a very honorable and glorious thing for me
     that they were willing to make experiment of my integrity
     and diligence, who already knew by experience my innocence
     and temperance: then, when I had undertaken this business,
     I proposed to myself some greater action also by which the
     Roman people should be able to see my good will toward the
     republic. For that seemed to me to be by no means worthy of
     my industry and efforts, for that man to be brought to
     trial by me who had already condemned by the judgment of
     all men, unless that intolerable influence of yours, and
     that grasping nature which you have displayed for some
     years in many trials, were interposed also in the case of
     that desperate man. But now, since all this dominion and
     sovereignty of yours over the courts of justice delights
     you so much, and since there are some men who are neither
     ashamed of their licentiousness and their infamy, nor weary
     of it, and who, as if on purpose, seem to wish to encounter
     hatred and unpopularity from the Roman people, I profess
     that I have undertaken this, a great burden perhaps, and
     one dangerous to myself, but still worthy of my applying
     myself to it with all the vigor of my age, and all
     diligence.

     And since the whole order of the senate is weighed down by
     the discredit brought on it by the wickedness and audacity
     of a few, and is overwhelmed by the infamy of the
     tribunals, I profess myself an enemy to this race of men,
     an accuser worthy of their hatred, a persevering, a bitter
     adversary. I arrogate this to myself, I claim this for
     myself, and I will carry out this enmity in my magistracy,
     and from that post in which the Roman people have willed
     that from the next first of January I shall act in concert
     with it in matters concerning the republic, and concerning
     wicked men. I promise the Roman people that this shall be
     the most honorable and the fairest employment of my
     aedileship. I warn, I forewarn, I give notice beforehand
     to those men who are wont either to put money down, to
     undertake for others, to receive money, or to promise
     money, or to act as agents in bribery, or as go-betweens in
     corrupting the seat of judgment, and who have promised
     their influence or their impudence in aid of such a
     business, in this trial to keep their hands and inclination
     from this nefarious wickedness.

     And what do you suppose will be my thoughts, if I find in
     this very trial any violation of the laws committed in any
     similar manner? especially when I can prove by many
     witnesses that Caius Verres often said in Sicily, in the
     hearing of many persons, "that he had a powerful friend, in
     confidence with whom he was plundering the province; and
     that he had so distributed the three years of his Sicilian
     praetorship that should say he did exceedingly well, if he
     appropriated the gains of one year to the augmentation of
     his own property, those of the second year to his patrons
     and defenders, and reserved the whole of the third year,
     the most productive and gainful of all, for the judges."

     From which it came into my mind to say that which, when I
     had said lately before Marcus Glabrio at the time of
     striking the list of judges, I perceived the Roman people
     greatly moved by: that I thought that foreign nations would
     send ambassadors to the Roman people to procure the
     abrogation of the law, and of all trials, about extortion;
     for if there were no trials, they think that each man would
     only plunder them of as much as he would think sufficient
     for himself and his children; but now, because there are
     trials of that sort, every one carries off as much as it
     will take to satisfy himself, his patrons, his advocates,
     the praetor, and the judges; and that this is an enormous
     sum; that they may be able to satisfy the cupidity of one
     most avaricious man, but are quite unable to incur the
     expense of his most guilty victory over the laws. O trials
     worthy of being recorded! O splendid reputation of our
     order! when the allies of the Roman people are unwilling
     that trials for extortion should take place, which were
     instituted by our ancestors for the sake of all allies.
     Would that man ever have had a favorable hope of his own
     safety, if he had not conceived in his mind a bad opinion
     of you? on which account, he ought, if possible, to be
     still more hated by you than he is by the Roman people,
     because he considers you like himself in avarice and
     wickedness and perjury.

     And I beg you, in the name of the immortal gods, O judges,
     think of and guard against this; I warn you, I give notice
     to you of what I am well assured, that this most seasonable
     opportunity has been given to you by the favor of the gods,
     for the purpose of delivering your whole order from hatred,
     from unpopularity, from infamy, and from disgrace. There is
     no severity believed to exist in the tribunals, nor any
     scruples with regard to religion; in short, there are not
     believed to be any tribunals at all. Therefore we are
     despised and scorned by the Roman people; we are branded
     with a heavy and now long standing infamy. Nor, in fact, is
     there any other reason for which the Roman people has with
     so much earnestness sought the restoration of the
     tribunician power: but when it was demanding that in words,
     it seemed to be asking for that, but in reality it was
     asking for tribunals which it could trust.

     But now men on the watch-towers; they observe how every one
     of you behaves himself in respecting religion and observing
     the laws. They see that, ever since the passing of the law
     for restoring the power of the tribunes, only one senator,
     and he, too, a very insignificant one, has been condemned.
     And though they do not blame this, yet they have nothing
     which they can very much command. For there is no credit in
     being upright in a case where there is no one who is either
     able or who endeavors to corrupt one. This is a trial in
     which you will be deciding about the defendant, the Roman
     people about you; by the example of what happens to this
     man it will be determined whether, when senators are the
     judges, a very guilty and a very rich man can be condemned.

     On which account, in the first place, I beg this of the
     immortal gods, which I seem to myself to have hopes of,
     too--that in this trial no one may be found to be wicked
     except he who has long since been found to be such;
     secondly, if there are many wicked men, I promise this to
     you, O judges, I promise this to the Roman people, that my
     life shall fail rather than my vigor and perseverance in
     prosecuting their iniquity. But that iniquity, which if it
     should be committed, I promise to prosecute severely, with
     however much trouble and danger to myself, and whatever
     enmities I may bring on myself by doing so, you, O Marcus
     Glabrio, can guard against ever taking place by your
     wisdom, and authority, and diligence. Do you undertake the
     cause of the tribunals? Do you undertake the cause of
     impartiality, of integrity, of good faith and religion? Do
     you undertake the cause of the senate, that, being proved
     worthy by its conduct in this trial, it may come into favor
     and popularity with the Roman people? Think who you are and
     in what a situation you are placed; what you ought to give
     to the Roman people and what you ought to repay to your
     ancestors. Let the recollection of the Acilian Law passed
     by your father occur to your mind, owing to which law the
     Roman people has had this advantage of most admirable
     decisions and very strict judges in cases of extortion.

     I am resolved not to permit the praetor or the judges to be
     changed in this cause. I will not permit the matter to be
     delayed till the lictors of the consuls can go and summon
     the Sicilians, whom the servants of the consuls-elect did
     not influence before, when by an unprecedented course of
     proceeding they sent for them all; I will not permit these
     miserable men, formerly the allies and friends of the Roman
     people, now their slaves and supplicants, to lose not only
     their rights and fortunes by their tyranny, but to be
     deprived of even the power of bewailing their condition; I
     will not, I say, when the cause has been summed up by me,
     permit them after a delay of forty days has intervened,
     then at last to reply to me when my accusation has already
     fallen into oblivion through lapse of time; I will not
     permit the decision to be given when this crowd collected
     from all Italy has departed from Rome, which has assembled
     from all quarters at the same time on account of the
     comitia, of the games, and of the census.

     The reward of the credit gained by your decision, or the
     danger arising from the unpopularity which will accrue to
     you if you decide unjustly, I think ought to belong to you;
     the labor and anxiety to me; the knowledge of what is done
     and the recollection of what has been said by every one, to
     all. I will adopt this course, not an unprecedented one,
     but one that has been adopted before, by this who are now
     the chief men of our state--the course, I mean, of at once
     producing the witnesses.

     What you will find novel, O judges, is this, that I will so
     marshal my witnesses as to unfold the whole of my
     accusation; that when I have established it by examining my
     witnesses, by arguments, and by my speech, then I shall
     show the agreement of the evidence with my accusation: so
     that there shall be no difference between the established
     mode of prosecuting, and this new one, except that,
     according to the established mode, when everything has been
     said which is to be said, then the witnesses are produced;
     here they shall be produced as each count is brought
     forward, so that the other side shall have the same
     opportunity of examining them, of arguing and making
     speeches on their evidence. If there be any one who prefers
     an uninterrupted speech and the old mode of conducting a
     prosecution without any break, he shall have it in some
     other trial. But for this time let him understand that what
     we do is done by us on compulsion (for we only do it with
     the design of opposing the artifice of the opposite party
     by our prudence). This will be the first part of the
     prosecution. We say that Caius Verres has not only done
     many licentious acts, many cruel ones, toward Roman
     citizens, and toward some of the allies, many wicked acts
     against both gods and man; but especially that he has taken
     away four hundred thousand sesterces out of Sicily contrary
     to the laws. We will make this so plain to you by
     witnesses, by private documents, and by public records,
     that you shall decide that, even if we had abundant space
     and leisure days for making a long speech without any
     inconvenience, still there was no need at all of a long
     speech in this matter.


FOOTNOTES:

   [1]   This is the famous passage in which Cato intimated
         that Caesar was in some manner allied with the
         conspirators.

   [2]   A decree of the Senate was made in accordance with
         this advice.

   [3]   This arch, as explained in a note to Mr. Yonge's
         translation, had been erected to commemorate the
         victory obtained by Fabius over the Allobroges;
         and it was erected in the Via Sacra, as Cicero
         mentions in his speech _Pro Plancio._



CHAPTER IX
THE MODERN ORATORS

The need of orators is as great today as when John Hampden spoke
against the exactions of Charles I, James Otis argued against writs
of assistance, or Daniel Webster expounded the Constitution of his
country. The need is here, but where are the orators? Questions of
great moment now confront America and the world, but there is no
Demosthenes to arouse men to the necessity of action, no Cicero to
drive out the traitor Injustice, no Patrick Henry to consolidate the
forces of Liberty. The power of the newspaper is great, and today it
is doing noble work for progress; but this power can be used, and is
being used, for evil as well as for good. A subsidized press is as
dangerous as a Catiline or an Aeschines, and government by newspapers
is as tyrannous as was the rule of Nero, Louis XI, or George III. The
questions of the tariff, the trusts, finance, religion, education,
and civic justice are burning, vital ones that closely affect the
well-being of man on earth and his preparation for a larger existence
in a hopeful spiritual future, and they should be plainly and
honestly presented, clearly discussed, and justly settled. These
results cannot be reached through papers that are owned by the great
financiers and trust magnates, and where the complaints and demands
of the people receive scant consideration. Wherein, then, lie the
hopes of the masses? In the power of the spoken word. All great
reforms, through all ages, have been brought about by the voiced
thoughts of men who not only knew their rights but had the courage
that gave them the ability to enforce them. A band of noble
missionaries should be created, composed of men and women who not
only have ideas concerning the questions of today but who know how to
express those ideas by word of mouth.

The eighteenth century produced oratorical giants that were
undoubtedly equal in many cases to the orators of Greece and Rome in
their palmiest days. Such men as the Earl of Chatham, Charles James
Fox, Henry Grattan, Lord Brougham, Thomas Erskine, and William C.
Plunket of Great Britain, and James Otis, Samuel Adams, Alexander
Hamilton, Patrick Henry, and Richard Henry Lee of America, compare
favorably with any group of ancient orators existing within a like
period of time; while in behalf of the nineteenth century, America
boasts of Pinckney, Prentiss, Wirt, Clay, Calhoun, Everett, Choate,
Phillips, Lincoln, and Webster, and Great Britain points to
Gladstone, Cobden, Curran, O'Connell, and Bright. The great
rhetorician Burke is not placed among the foremost orators for the
reason that he was a great constructor of speeches but not equally
great in the art of delivery. His speeches are masterpieces of
composition, and live today as such, but he was a poor speaker, and
consequently should not be called an orator, because an orator, in
the true sense of the word, is primarily a speaker, whereas Burke's
genius consisted of his masterly logic and his marvellous power of
composition.

Today, America has many beautiful writers and clever constructors of
speeches, but not one really great orator. Theodore Roosevelt and
William J. Bryan are two representatives of the best this country can
offer in the way of orators, but neither of them measures up to the
standard of Edward Everett, Wendell Phillips, or Daniel Webster. The
main reason for the dearth of real orators is the lack of training in
the art of delivery. Much attention is given to gaining a knowledge
of the matter that is to be spoken, but little consideration is given
to the delivery of that matter to the listener after once it has been
gathered by the speaker. It is unfortunate that men like John
Mitchell and Dr. Washington Gladden, who are standing up so nobly for
the rights of labor, should be poorly equipped as speakers. Both
these men possess noble thoughts which read impressively, but, when
spoken, lack much force and power, on account of the poor delivery.

This point can be illustrated further by citing the manner and
delivery of two men well known to the public of today--Andrew
Carnegie and John H. Finley. Both have done considerable public
speaking, and one is the president of a college.

On a night in 1911, the members of the Young Men's Bible Class of the
Fifth Avenue Baptist Church of New York were addressed by these
gentlemen. Both were at a considerable disadvantage from the fact
that they had been invited to address a "Young Men's Bible Class,"
and as they naturally concluded the class would be composed of young
men, they arranged their speeches accordingly; consequently, their
plans of address were upset on finding that the majority of the class
was composed of men close to the half-century mark, and many beyond
it; or, as Mr. Carnegie wittily stated it, "with parts in their hair
a lot wider than my own."

However, no exception could be taken to the matter of either speaker,
although both changed their themes on finding the audience more
matured in years than they had expected, and both had to pocket their
notes on the subjects upon which they had intended to talk, and to
speak extemporaneously. Both speakers cleverly switched to matters
upon which they were thoroughly informed--Mr. Carnegie narrating
events in his busy and influential life, and Dr. Finley discussing
how to get the most benefit out of a twenty-four hour day. The matter
of both was good, but the manner was unsatisfactory. Mr. Carnegie
talked in a pleasant, conversational way which would have been most
enjoyable had it not been that his delivery was slow. His utterance
was often so slow as to mar the expressive force of his good
language. He also leaned on the reading desk in front of him, not
because he needed physical support, he looked strong and rugged on
the eve of his seventy-sixth birthday, but from the force of a bad
habit.

He was perfectly at home before the audience, spoke in clear tones,
at times with considerable force, particularly when quoting from Rev.
John Home's tragedy of "Douglas," was winning in manner, took
immediate hold of his audience, was witty in appropriate places, and
would have been altogether delightful but for length and attitude.
Mr. Carnegie was perfectly at home while facing the audience, and had
his delivery equaled his matter, the speech would have been a most
happy and effective one.

From Dr. Finley, because of his being President of the College of the
City of New York, one might reasonably expect much in the way of
delivery, but on this occasion the assembly received less than from
the other speaker. He stood on the platform awkwardly, hands in
pockets most of the time, and seldom did he utter a really smooth
sentence, but separated his words in a manner to irritate the
audience. He would say, for instance,
"We--have--been--progressing--upward--and--onward--for--millions--of--years--,"
as though he had only one word in his mind at a time, whereas the
learned President's head was full of grand and glorious thoughts that
only needed to be spoken in phrases and sentences, instead of single
words, in order to make him a most instructive and entertaining
speaker. Dr. Finley's matter was well arranged, his diction
excellent, but his delivery was unfortunate.

The orators of old, with few exceptions, studied the art of delivery
as faithfully as they studied rhetoric, as did the British and
American orators of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but the
public speakers of the twentieth century sadly neglect this most
important part of the speaker's art. Dr. Arthur T. Hadley, President
of Yale University, is an able and learned man whose compositions are
chaste and effective but whose delivery mars the force of his matter.
He looks down on the floor immediately in front of him, instead of
sweeping his glance over his audience, awkwardly swings his arms, and
speaks his lines as though he were wound up and compelled to utter
his matter within the given time. This is said with all respect to
the famous educator, but his style of delivery should be avoided.
Educators, more than most professional men, should be entertaining
and convincing speakers, but, as a rule, they are woefully deficient
in the qualities necessary to the making of orators. They, of all
men, should set an example to the generation that is soon to take up
the duties of life, and if college presidents improved their
delivery, a long step would be taken toward making them oratorical
beacons for the guidance of their students.

William J. Bryan, one of the best orators, if not the best, of today,
owes his success mainly to his delivery. It is not so much what he
says but how he says it that makes him a successful speaker. He
possesses a rich, strong, and flexible voice that adds greatly to the
effectiveness of his matter, and his speeches invariably sound better
than they read. He will hold an audience absolutely in hand, sway it
at his will, and force it against its inclination momentarily to
agree with him, even though, after mature deliberation, his reasoning
may be disputed and his conclusions rejected. Mr. Bryan's power lies
not in the beauty or force of his composition but in his mastery over
the spoken word.

Theodore Roosevelt, contrary to the views of many, is, in the opinion
of the author, an orator. He is not merely a speaker, because his
speeches possess him as much as he possesses his speeches. He
impresses an audience by his sincerity, convinces it by his
reasoning, and persuades it by his earnestness. His matter reads as
well as it sounds, thus demonstrating his ability as a rhetorician,
his manner is graceful and forceful, and the general feeling, after
listening to one of his addresses, is that a master has spoken. The
author has heard Mr. Roosevelt many times during the past twenty
years, and the improvement in his delivery is marked. There was a
time when everything was sacrificed to force, he would snap his jaws
and try to drive the voice through his clenched teeth, but now his
enunciation is clear, and his entire delivery delightful. This shows
the good that is to be derived from a speaker considering his manner
as well as his matter.

Joseph H. Choate and W. Bourke Cockran are excellent examples of
effective speakers of a decade or so ago, the former having been the
most alluring and convincing in both his matter and his manner, and
the latter entrancing and powerful in diction and delivery.

Forensic oratory has almost ceased to exist, while pulpit oratory is
rarely to be found. This is a sad state of affairs, and requires
immediate attention if the art of all arts is to be saved from
extinction. The two essentials most missing in our public speakers
are constructive skill and effective delivery--some lacking in one
and some in the other--and the author asserts that great orators will
not arise until both these essentials are found in the one man. Two
thousand years ago Cicero, discoursing on oratory, said:

     And why need I add any remarks of delivery itself, which is
     to be ordered by action of body, by gesture, by look, and
     by modulation and variation of the voice, the great power
     of which, alone and in itself, the comparatively trivial
     art of actors and the stage proves; on which though all
     bestow their utmost labor to form their look, voice, and
     gesture, who knows not how few there are, and have ever
     been, to whom we can attend with patience? . . . In those
     arts in which it is not indispensable usefulness that is
     sought, but liberal amusement for the mind, how nicely, how
     almost fastidiously, do we judge? For there are no suits or
     controversies which can force men, though they may tolerate
     indifferent orators in the forum, to endure also bad actors
     upon the stage. The orator, therefore, must take the most
     studious precaution not merely to satisfy those whom he
     necessarily must satisfy, but to seem worthy of admiration
     to those who are at liberty to judge disinterestedly.

How many modern orators measure up to this standard set by the
ancient master? The author knows of none.

_How is one to obtain an effective delivery?_

By close observation, hard study, and diligent practice. The student
should observe his delivery, note the defects in breathing, voice
production, articulation, inflection, and emphasis, and correct them;
he should be sure to understand all he aims to explain, see all he
desires others to see, and believe all he aims to make others
believe. No speaker whose delivery is poor will be able to hold,
convince, and persuade an audience, and unless he can do these three
things he should refrain from speaking, as no man possesses a valid
commission publicly to address his fellows unless he has a message to
communicate and knows how to deliver it.


EXAMPLES OF MODERN ORATORY

PATRICK HENRY
LIBERTY OR DEATH[1] (1775)

     No man thinks more highly than I do of patriotism, as well
     as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just
     addressed the house. But different men often see the same
     subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will
     not be thought disrespectful of those gentlemen, if,
     entertaining as I do, opinions of a character very opposite
     to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and
     without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question
     before the house is one of awful moment to this country.
     For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than the
     question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the
     magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the
     debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive
     at truth, and fulfil the great responsibility which we hold
     to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at
     such a time, through fear of giving offence, I should
     consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and
     of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which
     I revere above all earthly kings.

     Mr. President, it is natural to 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
     petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; 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 petition comports with those warlike
     preparations which cover our waters and darken our land.
     Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and
     reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be
     reconciled that force must be called in to win back our
     love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the
     implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to
     which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, What means this
     martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to
     submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive
     for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the
     world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and
     armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they
     can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and
     rivet upon us those chains which the British Ministry have
     been so long forging. And, what have we to oppose to them?
     Shall we try argument? Sir, 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 of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain.
     Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What
     terms shall we find, which have not already been exhausted?
     Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer.
     Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert
     the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we
     have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated
     ourselves before the throne, and have implored its
     interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the
     Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted:
     our remonstrances have produced additional violence and
     insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we
     have been spurned, 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 noble 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, sir, we must fight!
     An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is
     left us!

     They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so
     formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger?
     Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when
     we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be
     stationed in every home? Shall we gather strength by
     irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of
     effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and
     hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies
     shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if
     we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature
     hath placed in our power. Three 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, sir, we shall not fight
     our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over
     the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to
     fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the
     strong alone, it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.
     Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough
     to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the
     contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and
     slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard
     on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it
     come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

     It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may
     cry, peace, peace--but there is no peace. The war is
     actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north
     will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our
     brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle?
     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 God! I
     know not what course others may take; but as for me, give
     me liberty or give me death!


DANIEL WEBSTER
ON THE CLAY COMPROMISE[2]
(Known as "The Seventh of March Speech," 1850)

     Slavery did exist in the states before the adoption of this
     Constitution, and at that time. Let us, therefore, consider
     for a moment what was the state of sentiment, North and
     South, in regard to slavery--in regard to slavery at the
     time this Constitution was adopted. A remarkable change has
     taken place since; but what did the wise and great men of
     all parts of the country think of slavery then? In what
     estimation did they hold it at the time when this
     Constitution was adopted? It will be found, sir, if we will
     carry ourselves by historical research back to that day,
     and ascertain men's opinions by authentic records still
     existing among us, that there was no diversity of opinion
     between the North and the South upon the subject of
     slavery. It will be found that both parts of the country
     held it equally an evil, a moral and political evil. It
     will not be found that, either at the North or at the
     South, there was much, though there was some, invective
     against slavery as inhuman and cruel.

     The great ground of objection to it was political; that it
     weakened the social fabric; that, taking the place of free
     labor, society became less strong and labor less
     productive; and therefore we find from all the eminent men
     of the time and clearest expression of their opinion that
     slavery is an evil. They ascribed its existence here, not
     without truth, and not without some acerbity of temper and
     force of language, to the injurious policy of the mother
     country, who, to favor the navigator, had entailed these
     evils upon the Colonies.

     The whole interest of the South became connected, more or
     less, with the extension of slavery. If we look back to the
     history of the commerce of this country in the early years
     of this government, what were our exports? Cotton was
     hardly, or but to a very limited extent, known. In 1791 the
     first parcel of cotton of the growth of the United States
     was exported, and amounted only to 19,200 pounds. It has
     gone on increasing rapidly, until the whole crop may now,
     perhaps, in a season of great product and high prices,
     amount to a hundred millions of dollars. In the years I
     have mentioned, there was more of wax, more of indigo, more
     of rice, more of almost every article of export from the
     South, than of cotton. When Mr. Jay negotiated the treaty
     of 1794 with England, it is evident from the Twelfth
     Article of the Treaty, which was suspended by the Senate,
     that he did not know that cotton was exported at all from
     the United States.

     Mr. President, in the excited times in which we live, there
     is found to exist a state of crimination and recrimination
     between the North and the South. There are lists of
     grievances produced by each; and these grievances, real or
     supposed, alienate the minds of one portion of the country
     from the other, exasperate the feelings, and subdue the
     sense of fraternal affection, patriotic love, and mutual
     regard. I shall bestow a little attention, sir, upon those
     various grievances existing on the one side and on the
     other. I begin with complaints of the South. I will not
     answer, further than I have, the general statements of the
     honorable senator from South Carolina, that the North has
     prospered at the expense of the South in consequence of the
     manner of administering the government, in the collection
     of its revenues, and so forth. These are disputed topics,
     and I have no inclination to enter into them.

     But I will allude to other complaints of the South, and
     especially to one which has, in my opinion, just
     foundation, and that is, that there has been found at the
     North, among individuals and among legislators, a
     disinclination to perform fully their constitutional duties
     in regard to the return of persons bound to service who
     have escaped into the free States. In that respect, the
     South, in my judgment, is right, and the North is wrong.
     Every member of every Northern Legislature is bound by
     oath, like every other officer in the country, to support
     the Constitution of the United States; and the article of
     the Constitution which says to these states that they shall
     deliver up fugitives from service, is as binding in honor
     and conscience as any other article. No man fulfils his
     duty in any legislature who sets himself to find excuses,
     evasions, escapes from this constitutional obligation. I
     have always thought that the Constitution addressed itself
     to the legislatures of the states or the states themselves.
     It says that those persons escaping to other states "shall
     be delivered up," and I confess I have always been of the
     opinion that it was an injunction upon the states
     themselves. When it is said that a person escaping into
     another state, and coming therefore within the jurisdiction
     of that state, shall be delivered up, it seems to me the
     import of the clause is, that the state itself, in
     obedience to the Constitution, shall cause him to be
     delivered up. That is my judgment. I have always
     entertained that opinion, and I entertain it now.

     Then, sir, there are abolition societies, of which I am
     unwilling to speak, but in regard to which I have very
     clear notions and opinions. I do not think them useful. I
     think their operations for the last twenty years have
     produced nothing good or valuable. At the same time, I
     believe thousands of their members to be honest and good
     men, perfectly well-meaning men. They have excited
     feelings; they think they must do something for the cause
     of liberty; and, in their sphere of action, they do not see
     what else they can do than to contribute to an abolition
     press, or an abolition society, or to pay an abolition
     lecturer.

     I do not mean to impute gross motives even to the leaders
     of these societies, but I am not blind to the consequences
     of their proceedings. I can not but see what mischief their
     interference with the South has produced. And is it not
     plain to every man? Let any gentleman who entertains doubts
     on this point, recur to the debates in the Virginia House
     of Delegates in 1832, and he will see with what freedom a
     proposition made by Mr. Jefferson Randolph, for the gradual
     abolition of slavery was discussed in that body. Every one
     spoke of slavery, as he thought; very ignominious and
     disparaging names and epithets were applied to it. The
     debates in the House of Delegates on that occasion, I
     believe were all published. They were read by every colored
     man who could read, and to those who could not read, those
     debates were read by others. At that time Virginia was not
     unwilling or afraid to discuss this question, and to let
     that part of her population know as much of the discussion
     as they could learn.

     That was in 1832. As has been said by the honorable member
     from South Carolina, these abolition societies commenced
     their course of action in 1835. It is said, I do not know
     how true it may be, that they sent incendiary publications
     into the slave states; at any rate, they attempted to
     arouse, and did arouse, a very strong feeling; in other
     words, they created great agitation in the North against
     southern slavery. Well, what was the result? The bonds of
     the slaves were bound more firmly than before; their rivets
     were more strongly fastened. Public opinion, which in
     Virginia had begun to be exhibited against slavery, and was
     opening out for the discussion of the question, drew back
     and shut itself up in its castle. I wish to know whether
     anybody in Virginia can now talk openly, as Mr. Randolph,
     Governor McDowell, and others talked in 1832, and sent
     their remarks to the press. We all know the fact, and we
     all know the cause; and everything that these agitating
     people have done has been, not to enlarge, but to restrain,
     not to act free, but to bind faster, the slave population
     of the South.

     Mr. President, I should much prefer to have heard from
     every member on this floor declarations of opinion that
     this Union could never be dissolved, than the declaration
     of opinion by anybody, that in any case, under the pressure
     of any circumstances, such a dissolution was possible. I
     hear with distress and anguish the word "secession"
     especially when it falls from the lips of those who are
     patriotic, and known to the country, and known all over the
     world for their political services. Secession! peaceable
     secession! Sir, your eyes and mine are never destined to
     see that miracle. The dismemberment of this vast country
     without convulsion! The breaking up of the foundations of
     the great deep without ruffling the surface! Who is so
     foolish--I beg everybody's pardon--as to expect to see any
     such thing?

     Sir, he who sees these states now revolving in harmony
     around a common center, and expects to see them quit their
     places and fly off without convulsion, may look the next
     hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres,
     and jostle against each other in the realms of space,
     without causing the crush of the universe. There can be no
     such thing as a peaceable secession. Peaceable secession is
     an utter impossibility. Is the great Constitution under
     which we live, covering this whole country, is it to be
     thawed and melted away by secession, as the snows on the
     mountains melt under the influence of a vernal sun,
     disappear almost unobserved, and run off? No, sir! No, sir!
     I will not state what might produce the disruption of the
     Union; but sir, I see, as plainly as I see the sun in
     heaven, what the disruption itself must produce; I see that
     it must produce war, and such a war as I will not describe,
     _in its twofold character._

     Peaceable secession! peaceable secession! The concurrent
     agreement of all the members of this great Republic to
     separate! A voluntary separation, with alimony on one side
     and on the other. Why, what would be the result? Where is
     the line to be drawn? What states are to secede? What is to
     remain American? What am I to be? An American no longer? Am
     I to become a sectional man, a local man, a separatist,
     with no country in common with the gentlemen who sit around
     me here, or who fill the other House of Congress? Heaven
     forbid! Where is the flag of the Republic to remain? Where
     is the eagle still to tower?--or is he to cower, and
     shrink, and fall to the ground?

     Why, sir, our ancestors--our fathers and our grandfathers,
     those of them that are yet living among us, with prolonged
     lives--would rebuke and reproach us; and our children and
     our grandchildren would cry out shame upon us, if we, of
     this generation, would dishonor these ensigns of the power
     of the government and the harmony of that Union, which is
     every day felt among us with so much joy and gratitude.
     What is to become of the army? What is to become of the
     navy? What is to become of the public lands? How is any one
     of the thirty states to defend itself?

     Sir, we could not sit down here today, and draw a line of
     separation that would satisfy any five men in the country.
     There are natural causes that would keep and tie us
     together; and there are social and domestic relations which
     we could not break if we would, and which we should not if
     we could.

     Sir, nobody can look over the face of this country, at the
     present moment, nobody can see where its population is the
     most dense and growing, without being ready to admit, and
     compelled to admit, that ere long the strength of America
     will be in the valley of the Mississippi. Well, now, sir, I
     beg to inquire what the wildest enthusiast has to say on
     the possibility of cutting that river in two, and leaving
     free states at its source and on its branches, and slave
     states down near its mouth, each forming a separate
     government? Pray, sir, let me say to the people of this
     country, that these things are worthy of their pondering
     and of their consideration. Here, sir, are five millions of
     freemen in the free states north of the river Ohio.

     Can anybody suppose that this population can be severed, by
     a line that divides them from the territory of a foreign
     and alien government, down somewhere, the Lord knows where,
     upon the lower banks of the Mississippi? What would become
     of Missouri? Will she join the _arrondissement_ of the
     slave states? Shall the man from the Yellowstone and the
     Platte be connected, in the new Republic, with the man who
     lives on the southern extremity of the Cape of Florida?
     Sir, I am ashamed to pursue this line of remark. I dislike
     it; I have an utter disgust for it. I would rather hear of
     natural blasts and mildews, war, pestilence, and famine,
     than to hear gentlemen talk of secession. To break up this
     great government! to dismember this glorious country! to
     astonish Europe with an act of folly such as Europe for two
     centuries has never beheld in any government or any people!
     No, sir! no, sir! There will be no secession! Gentlemen are
     not serious when they talk of secession.

     And now, Mr. President, instead of speaking of the
     possibility or utility of secession, instead of dwelling in
     these caverns of darkness, instead of groping with those
     ideas so full of all that is horrid and horrible, let us
     come out into the light of day; let us enjoy the fresh air
     of liberty and union; let us cherish those hopes which
     belong to us; let us devote ourselves to those great
     objects that are fit for our consideration and our action;
     let us raise our conceptions to the magnitude and the
     importance of the duties that devolve upon us; let our
     comprehension be as broad as the country for which we act,
     our aspirations as high as its certain destiny; let us not
     be pigmies in a case that calls for men. Never did there
     devolve on any generation of men higher trusts than now
     devolve upon us, for the preservation of this Constitution,
     and the harmony and peace of all who are destined to live
     under it. Let us make our generation one of the strongest
     and brightest links in that golden chain, which is
     destined, I fondly believe, to grapple the people of all
     the states to this Constitution for ages to come.

     We have a great, popular, constitutional government,
     guarded by law and by judicature, and defended by the whole
     affections of the people. No monarchic throne presses these
     states together; no iron chain of military power encircles
     them; they live and stand upon a government popular in its
     form, representative in its character, founded upon
     principles of equality, and so constructed, we hope, as to
     last forever. In all its history it has been beneficent; it
     has trodden no man's liberty; it has crushed no state. Its
     daily respiration is liberty and patriotism; its yet
     youthful veins are full of enterprise, courage, and
     honorable love of glory and renown. Large before, the
     country has now, by recent events, become vastly larger.
     This Republic now extends, with a vast breadth, across the
     whole continent. The two great seas of the world wash the
     one and the other shore. We realize, on a mighty scale, the
     beautiful description of the ornamental edging of the
     buckler of Achilles--

        Now the broad shield complete, the artist crowned
        With his last hand, and poured the ocean round:
        In living silver seemed the waves to roll,
        And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole.


ROBERT YOUNG HAYNE
ON THE FOOTE REVOLUTION[3] (1830)

     When the gentleman from Massachusetts adopts and reiterates
     the old charge of weakness as resulting from slavery, I
     must be permitted to call for the proof of those blighting
     effects which he ascribes to its influence. I suspect that
     when the subject is closely examined, it will be found that
     there is not much force even in the plausible objection of
     the want of physical power in slave-holding states. The
     power of a country is compounded of its population and its
     wealth, and in modern times, where, from the very form and
     structure of society, by far the greater portion of the
     people must, even during the continuance of the most
     desolating wars, be employed in the cultivation of the soil
     and other peaceful pursuits, it may be well doubted whether
     slave-holding states, by reason of the superior value of
     their productions, are not able to maintain a number of
     troops in the field fully equal to what could be supported
     by states with a larger white population, but not possessed
     of equal resources.

       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     There is a spirit which, like the father of evil, is
     constantly "walking to and fro." It is the spirit of false
     philanthropy. The persons whom it possesses do not indeed
     throw themselves into the flames, but they are employed in
     lighting up the torches of discord throughout the
     community. Their first principle of action is to leave
     their own affairs, and neglect their own duties, to
     regulate the affairs and duties of others. Theirs is the
     task to feed the hungry and clothe the naked of other
     lands, while they thrust the naked, famished, and shivering
     beggar from their own doors--to instruct the heathen while
     their own children want the bread of life.

     When this spirit infuses itself into the bosom of a
     statesman (if one so possessed can be called a statesman),
     it converts him at once into a visionary enthusiast. Then
     it is that he indulges in golden dreams of national
     greatness and prosperity. He discovers that "liberty is
     power," and, not content with vast schemes of improvement
     at home which it would bankrupt the treasury of the world
     to execute, he flies to foreign lands to fulfil obligations
     to "the human race," by inculcating the principles of
     "political and religious liberty," and promoting the
     "general welfare" of the whole human race. It is a spirit
     which has long been busy with the slaves of the South and
     is even now displaying itself in vain efforts to drive the
     government from its wise policy in relation to the Indians.
     It is this spirit which has filled the land with thousands
     of wild and visionary projects which can have no effect but
     to waste the energies and dissipate the resources of the
     country. It is the spirit of which the aspiring politician
     dexterously avails himself when, by inscribing on his
     banner the magical words, Liberty and Philanthropy, he
     draws to his support that class of persons who are ready to
     bow down at the very name of their idols.

     But, sir, whatever difference of opinion may exist as to
     the effect of slavery on national wealth and prosperity, if
     we may trust to experience, there can be no doubt that it
     has never yet produced any injurious effect on individual
     or national character. Look through the whole history of
     the country from the commencement of the Revolution down to
     the present hour; where are there to be found brighter
     examples of intellectual and moral greatness than have been
     exhibited by the sons of the South? From the Father of his
     Country down to the distinguished chieftain who has been
     elevated by a grateful people to the highest office in
     their gift, the interval is filled up by a long line of
     orators, of statesmen, and of heroes, justly entitled to
     rank among the ornaments of their country, and the
     benefactors of mankind. Look at "the Old Dominion," great
     and magnanimous Virginia, "whose jewels are her sons." Is
     there any State in this Union which has contributed so much
     to the honor and welfare of the country? Sir, I will yield
     the whole question--I will acknowledge the fatal effects of
     slavery upon character, if any one can say that for noble
     disinterestedness, ardent love of country, exalted virtue,
     and a pure and holy devotion to liberty, the people of the
     southern states have ever been surpassed by any in the
     world.

     The senator from Massachusetts tells us that the tariff is
     not an eastern measure, and treats it as if the East had no
     interest in it. The senator from Missouri insists it is not
     a western measure, and that it has done no good to the
     West. The South comes in, and in the most earnest manner
     represents to you that this measure, which we are told "is
     of no value to the East or the West" is "utterly
     destructive of our interests." We represent to you that it
     has spread ruin and devastation through the land and
     prostrated our hopes in the dust. We solemnly declare that
     we believe the system to be wholly unconstitutional and a
     violation of the compact between the states and the Union;
     and our brethren turn a deaf ear to our complaints, and
     refuse to relieve us from a system "which not enriches
     them, but makes us poor indeed." Good God! Mr. President,
     has it come to this? Do gentlemen hold the feelings and
     wishes of their brethren at so cheap a rate that they
     refuse to gratify them at so small a price? Do gentlemen
     value so lightly the peace and harmony of the country that
     they will not yield a measure of this description to the
     affectionate entreaties and earnest remonstrances of their
     friends? Do gentlemen estimate the value of the Union at so
     low a price that they will not even make one effort to bind
     the states together with the cords of affection? And has it
     come to this? Is this the spirit in which this government
     is to be administered? If so, let me tell, gentlemen, the
     seeds of dissolution are already sown, and our children
     will reap the bitter fruit.

     What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the
     Revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in
     that glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which
     belongs to her I think at least equal honor is due to the
     South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with a
     generous zeal which did not suffer them to stop to
     calculate their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the
     mother country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to
     create a commercial rivalship, they might have found in
     their situation a guaranty that their trade would be
     forever fostered and protected by Great Britain. But
     trampling on all consideration either of interest or of
     safety, they rushed into the conflict and fighting for
     principle, periled all in the sacred cause of freedom.
     Never was there exhibited in the history of the world
     higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and
     heroic endurance than by the Whigs of Carolina during the
     Revolution. The whole state, from the mountains to the sea,
     was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The
     fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were
     produced, or were consumed by the foe. The "plains of
     Carolina" drank up the most precious blood of her citizens!
     Black and smoking ruins marked the places which had been
     the habitations of her children! Driven from their homes
     into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there
     the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina
     (sustained by the example of her Sumpters and her Marions)
     proved by her conduct that though the soil might be
     overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible.


ABRAHAM LINCOLN
THE "HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF" SPEECH[4] (1858)

     If we could first know where we are, and whither we are
     tending, we could better judge what to do, and how to do
     it, we are now far into the fifth year since a policy was
     initiated with the avowed object, and confident promise, of
     putting an end to slavery agitation. Under the operation of
     that policy, that agitation not only has not ceased, but
     has constantly augmented. In my opinion, it will not cease
     until a crisis shall have been reached and passed. "A house
     divided against itself can not stand." I believe this
     government can not endure permanently half slave and half
     free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved; I do not
     expect the house to fall; but I do expect that it will
     cease to be divided. It will become all one thing, or all
     the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the
     further spread of it, and place it where the public mind
     shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of
     ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it forward
     till it shall become alike lawful in all the states, old as
     well as new, North as well as South. Have we no tendency to
     the latter condition? Let any one who doubts carefully
     contemplate that now almost complete legal
     combination-piece of machinery, so to speak--compounded of
     the Nebraska doctrine and the Dred Scott decision.

     Put this and that together, and we have another nice little
     niche, which we may, ere long, see filled with another
     Supreme Court decision, declaring that the Constitution of
     the United States does not permit a state to exclude
     slavery from its limits. And this may especially be
     expected if the doctrine of "care not whether slavery be
     voted down or voted up," shall gain upon the public mind
     sufficiently to give promise that such a decision can be
     maintained when made.

     Such a decision is all that slavery now lacks of being
     alike lawful in all the states. Welcome or unwelcome, such
     decision is probably coming, and will soon be upon us,
     unless the power of the present political dynasty shall be
     met and overthrown. We shall lie down pleasantly dreaming
     that the people of Missouri are on the verge of making
     their state free, and we shall awake to the reality,
     instead, that the Supreme Court has made Illinois a slave
     state. To meet and overthrow that dynasty is the work
     before all those who would prevent that consummation. That
     is what we have to do. How can we best do it?

     There are those who denounce us openly to their own friends
     and yet whisper to us softly that Senator Douglas is the
     aptest instrument there is with which to effect that
     object. They wish us to infer all, from the fact that he
     now has a little quarrel with the present head of the
     dynasty; and that he has regularly voted with us on a
     single point, upon which he and we have never differed.
     They remind us that he is a great man and that the largest
     of us are very small ones. Let this be granted. "But a
     living dog is better than a dead lion." Judge Douglas, if
     not a dead lion, for this work, is at least a caged and
     toothless one.

     How can he oppose the advance of slavery? He does not care
     anything about it. His avowed mission is impressing the
     "public heart" to care nothing about it. A leading Douglas
     Democratic newspaper thinks Douglas's superior talent will
     be needed to resist the revival of the African slave-trade.
     Does Douglas believe an effort to revive that trade is
     approaching? He has not said so. Does he really think so?
     But if it is, how can he resist it? For years he has
     labored to prove it is a sacred right of white men to take
     negro slaves into the new territories. Can he possibly show
     that it is less a sacred right to buy them where they can
     be bought cheapest? And unquestionably they can be bought
     cheaper in Africa than in Virginia.

     He has done all in his power to reduce the whole question
     of slavery to one of a mere right of property; and as such,
     how can he oppose the foreign slave-trade? How can he
     refuse that trade in that "property" shall be "perfectly
     free," unless he does it as a protection to the home
     production? And as the home producers will probably ask the
     protection, he will be wholly without a ground of
     opposition.

     Senator Douglas holds, we know, that a man may rightfully
     be wiser today than he was yesterday--that he may
     rightfully change when he finds himself wrong. But can we,
     for that reason run ahead, and infer that he will make any
     particular change, of which he himself has given no
     intimation? Can we safely base our action upon any such
     vague inference? Now, as ever, I wish not to misrepresent
     Judge Douglas's position, question his motives, or do aught
     that can be personally offensive to him. Whenever, if ever,
     he and we can come together on principle, so that our cause
     may have assistance from his great ability, I hope to have
     interposed no adventitious obstacle. But, clearly, he is
     not now with us--he does not pretend to be, he does not
     promise ever to be.

     Our cause, then, must be entrusted to, and conducted by,
     its own undoubted friends--those whose hands are free,
     whose hearts are in the work--who do care for the result.
     Two years ago the Republicans of the nation mustered over
     thirteen hundred thousand strong. We did this under the
     single impulse of resistance to a common danger. With every
     external circumstance against us, of strange, discordant,
     and even hostile elements, we gathered from the four winds,
     and formed and fought the battle through, under the
     constant hot fire of a disciplined, proud, and pampered
     enemy. Did we brave all then, to falter now?--now, when
     that same energy is wavering, dissevered, and belligerent!
     The result is not doubtful. We shall not fail--if we stand
     firm, we shall not fail. Wise counsels may accelerate, or
     mistakes delay it; but, sooner or later, the victory is
     sure to come.


ON LEAVING SPRINGFIELD[5]

     My friends, no one, not in my situation, can appreciate my
     feeling of sadness at this parting. To this place and the
     kindness of this people I owe everything. Here I have lived
     a quarter of a century and have passed from a young to an
     old man. Here my children have been born and one is buried.

     I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return,
     with a task before me greater than that which rested upon
     Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being who
     ever attended him I can not succeed. With that assistance I
     can not fail.

     Trusting in Him who can go with me and remain with you and
     be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all
     will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in
     your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate
     farewell.


WENDELL PHILLIPS
ON THE MURDER OF LOVEJOY[6] (1837)

     A comparison has been drawn between the events of the
     Revolution and the tragedy at Alton. We have heard it
     stated here in Faneuil Hall, that Great Britain had a right
     to tax the Colonies; and we have heard the mob at Alton,
     the drunken murderers of Lovejoy, compared to those patriot
     fathers who threw the tea overboard! Fellow citizens, is
     this Faneuil Hall doctrine? The mob at Alton were met to
     wrest from a citizen his just rights--met to resist the
     laws. We have been told that our fathers did the same; and
     the glorious mantle of Revolutionary precedent has been
     thrown over the mobs of our day. To make out their title to
     such defense the gentleman says that the British Parliament
     had a right to tax these Colonies.

     It is manifest that, without this, his parallel falls to
     the ground; for Lovejoy had stationed himself within
     constitutional bulwarks. He was not only defending the
     freedom of the press, but he was under his own roof, in
     arms with the sanction of the civil authority. The men who
     assailed him went against and over the laws. The mob, as
     the gentleman terms it--mob, forsooth! certainly we sons of
     the tea-spillers are a marvelously patient generation!--the
     "orderly mob" which assembled in the Old South to destroy
     the tea were met to resist, not the laws, but illegal
     exactions! Shame on the American who calls the tea tax and
     Stamp Act laws! Our fathers resisted not the king's
     prerogative, but the king's usurpation. To find any other
     account, you must read our Revolutionary history upside
     down. Our state archives are loaded with arguments of John
     Adams to prove the taxes laid by the British Parliament
     unconstitutional--beyond its power. It was not till this
     was made out that the men of New England rushed to arms.
     The arguments of the Council-chamber and the House of
     Representatives preceded and sanctioned the contest.

     To draw the conduct of our ancestors into a precedent for
     mobs, for a right to resist laws we ourselves have enacted,
     is an insult to their memory. The difference between the
     excitements of those days and our own, which the gentleman
     in kindness to the latter has overlooked, is simply this:
     the men of that day went for the right, as secured by the
     laws. They were the people rising to sustain the laws and
     Constitution of the province. The rioters of our day go for
     their own wills, right or wrong. Sir, when I heard the
     gentleman lay down principles which place the murderers of
     Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and
     Adams, I thought those pictured lips [pointing to the
     portraits in the hall] would have broken into voice to
     rebuke the recreant American--the slanderer of the dead.
     The gentleman said that he should sink into insignificance
     if he dared not gainsay the principles of these
     resolutions. Sir, for the sentiments he has uttered, on
     soil consecrated by the prayers of Puritans and the blood
     of patriots, the earth should have yawned and swallowed him
     up.

     Fellow citizens, I can not take back my words. Surely, the
     attorney-general, so long and well known here, needs not
     the aid of your hisses against one so young as I am--my
     voice never before heard within these walls!

     Another ground has been taken to excuse the mob, and throw
     doubt and discredit on the conduct of Lovejoy and his
     associates. Allusion has been made to what lawyers
     understand very well--the "conduct of laws." We are told
     that nothing but the Mississippi River rolls between St.
     Louis and Alton; and the conflict of laws somehow or other
     give the citizens of the former a right to find fault with
     the defender of the press for publishing his opinions so
     near their limits. Will the gentleman venture that argument
     before lawyers? How the laws of the two states could be
     said to come into conflict in such circumstances I question
     whether any lawyer in this audience can explain or
     understand. No matter whether the line that divides one
     sovereign state from another be an imaginary one or
     ocean-wide, the moment you cross it, the state you leave is
     blotted out of existence, so far as you are concerned. The
     Czar might as well claim to control the deliberations of
     Faneuil Hall, as the laws of Missouri demand reverence, or
     the shadow of obedience, from an inhabitant of Illinois.

     I must find some fault with the statement which has been
     made of the events at Alton. It has been asked why Lovejoy
     and his friends did not appeal to the executive--trust
     their defenses to the police of the city. It has been
     hinted that, from hasty and ill-judged excitement, the men
     within the building provoked a quarrel, and that he fell in
     the course of it--one mob resisting another. Recollect,
     sir, that they did act with approbation and sanction of the
     mayor. In strict truth there was no executive to appeal to
     for protection. The mayor acknowledged that he could not
     protect them. They asked him if it was lawful for them to
     defend themselves. He told them it was, and sanctioned
     their assembling in arms to do so. They were not, then, a
     mob, they were not merely citizens defending their own
     property; they were in some sense the _posse comitatus,_
     adopted for the occasion into the police of the city,
     acting under the order of a magistrate. It was civil
     authority resisting lawless violence. Where, then, was the
     imprudence? Is the doctrine to be sustained here that it is
     imprudent for men to aid magistrates in executing the laws?

     Men are continually asking each other, had Lovejoy a right
     to resist? Sir, I protest against the question instead of
     answering it. Lovejoy did not resist, in the sense they
     mean. He did not throw himself back on the natural right of
     self-defense. He did not cry anarchy, and let slip the dogs
     of civil war, careless of the horrors which would follow.

     Sir, as I understand this affair, it was not an individual
     protecting his property; it was not one body of armed men
     resisting another, and making the streets of a peaceful
     city run blood with their contentions. It did not bring
     back the scenes to old Indian cities, where family met
     family, and faction met faction, and mutually trampled the
     laws under foot. No! the men in that house were regularly
     enrolled under the sanction of the mayor. There being no
     militia in Alton, about seventy men were enrolled, with the
     approbation of the mayor. These relieved each other every
     other night. About thirty men were in arms on the night of
     the sixth, when the press was landed. The next evening it
     was not thought necessary to summon more than half that
     number; among these was Lovejoy. It was, therefore, you
     perceive, sir, the police of the city resisting
     rioters--civil government breasting itself to the shock of
     lawless men.

     Here is no question about the right of self-defense. It is
     in fact simply this: Has the civil magistrate a right to
     put down a riot?

     It has been stated, perhaps inadvertently, that Lovejoy or
     his comrades fired first. This is denied by those who have
     the best means of knowing. Guns were first fired by the
     mob. After being twice fired on, those within the building
     consulted together and deliberately returned the fire. But
     suppose they did fire first. They had a right so to do--not
     only the right which every citizen has to defend himself,
     but the further right which every civil officer has to
     resist violence. Even if Lovejoy fired the first gun, it
     would not lessen his claim to our sympathy or destroy his
     title to be considered a martyr in defense of a free press.
     The question now is, did he act within the Constitution and
     the laws? The men who fell in State Street on the 5th of
     March, 1770, did more than Lovejoy is charged with. They
     were the first assailants. Upon some slight quarrel they
     pelted the troops with every missile within reach. Did this
     bate one jot of the eulogy with which Hancock and Warren
     hallowed their memory, hailing them as the first martyrs in
     the cause of American liberty?

     If, sir, I had adopted what are called peace principles, I
     might lament the circumstances of this case. But all you
     who believe, as I do, in the right and duty of magistrates
     to execute the laws, join with me and brand as base
     hypocrisy the conduct of those who assemble year after year
     on the Fourth of July to fight over the battles of the
     Revolution, and yet "damn with faint praise" or load with
     obloquy the memory of this man who shed his blood in
     defense of life, liberty, property, and the freedom of the
     press!

     Imagine yourself present when the first news of Bunker Hill
     Battle reached a New England town. The tale would have run
     thus: "The patriots are routed--the redcoats
     victorious--Warren lies dead upon the field." With what
     scorn would that Tory have been received who should have
     charged Warren with imprudence! who should have said that,
     bred a physician, he was "out of place" in that battle, and
     "died as a fool dieth!" How would the intimation have been
     received that Warren and his associations should have
     waited a better time? But, if success be indeed the only
     criterion of prudence, _Respice finem_--Wait till the end.

     Mr. Chairman, from the bottom of my heart I thank that
     brave band at Alton for resisting. We must remember that
     Lovejoy had fled from city to city; suffered the
     destruction of three presses patiently. At length he took
     counsel with friends; men of character, of tried integrity,
     of wide views, of Christian principle. They thought the
     crisis had come. It was full time to assert the laws. They
     saw around them, not a community like our own, of fixed
     habits, of character molded and settled, but one "in the
     gristle, not yet hardened into the bone of manhood." The
     people there, children of our older states, seem to have
     forgotten the blood-tried principles of their fathers the
     moment they lost sight of our New England hills. Something
     was to be done to show them the priceless value of the
     freedom of the press, to bring back and set right their
     wandering and confused ideas. He and his advisers looked
     out on a community staggering like a drunken man,
     indifferent to their rights, and confused in their
     feelings. Deaf to argument, haply they might be stunned
     into sobriety. They saw that of which we can not judge: the
     necessity of resistance. Insulted law called for it. Public
     opinion, fast hastening on the downward course, must be
     arrested.

     Does not the event show they judged rightly? Absorbed in a
     thousand trifles, how has the Nation all at once come to a
     stand! Men begin, as in 1779 and 1640, to discuss
     principles, to weigh characters, to find out where they
     are. Haply we may awake before we are borne over the
     precipice.

     I am glad, sir, to see this crowded house. It is good for
     us to be here. When liberty is in danger, Faneuil Hall has
     the right, it is her duty, to strike the keynote for these
     United States. I am glad, for one reason, that remarks such
     as those to which I have alluded have been uttered here.
     The passage of these resolutions, in spite of this
     oppression, led by the attorney-general of the
     commonwealth, will show more clearly, more decisively, the
     deep indignation with which Boston regards this outrage.


JEFFERSON DAVIS
ON WITHDRAWING FROM THE UNION[7] (1861)

     I rise, Mr. President, for the purpose of announcing to the
     Senate that I have satisfactory evidence that the State of
     Mississippi, by a solemn ordinance of her people in
     convention assembled, has declared her separation from the
     United States. Under these circumstances, of course, my
     functions are terminated here. It has seemed to me proper,
     however, that I should appear in the Senate to announce
     that fact to my associates, and I will say but very little
     more. The occasion does not invite me to go into argument,
     and my physical condition would not permit me to do so if
     it were otherwise; and yet it seems to become me to say
     something on the part of the state I here represent, on an
     occasion so solemn as this.

     It is known to senators who have served with me here that I
     have for many years advocated, as an essential attribute of
     state sovereignty, the right of a state to secede from the
     Union. Therefore, if I had not believed there was
     justifiable cause; if I had thought that Mississippi was
     acting without sufficient provocation, or without an
     existing necessity, I should still, under my theory of the
     government, because of my allegiance to the state of which
     I am a citizen, have been bound by her action. I, however,
     may be permitted to say that I do think she has justifiable
     cause, and I approve of her act. I conferred with her
     people before the act was taken, counseled them then that
     if the state of things which they apprehended should exist
     when the convention met, they should take the action which
     they have now adopted.

     I hope none who hear me will confound this expression of
     mine with the advocacy of the right of a state to remain in
     the Union, and to disregard the constitutional obligations
     by the nullification of the law. Such is not my theory.
     Nullification and secession, so often confounded, are
     indeed antagonistic principles. Nullification is a remedy
     which it is sought to apply within the Union, and against
     the agent of the states. It is only to be justified when
     the agent has violated his constitutional obligation, and a
     state, assuming to judge for itself, denies the right of
     the agent thus to act, and appeals to the other states of
     the Union for a decision; but when the states themselves,
     and when the people of the states, have so acted as to
     convince us that they will not regard our constitutional
     rights then, and then for the first time, arises the
     doctrine of secession in its practical application.

     A great man who now reposes with his fathers, and who has
     been often arraigned for a want of fealty to the Union,
     advocated the doctrine of nullification because it
     preserved the Union. It was because of his deep seated
     attachment to the Union, his determination to find some
     remedy for existing ills short of a severance of the ties
     which bound South Carolina to the other states, that Mr.
     Calhoun advocated the doctrine of nullification, which he
     proclaimed to be peaceful, to be within the limits of state
     power, not to disturb the Union, but only to be a means of
     bringing the agent before the tribunal of the states for
     their judgment.

     Secession belongs to a different class of remedies. It is
     to be justified upon the basis that the states are
     sovereign. There was a time when none denied it. I hope the
     time may come again when a better comprehension of the
     theory of our government, and the inalienable rights of the
     people of the states, will prevent any one from denying
     that each state is a sovereign, and thus may reclaim the
     grants which it has made to any agent whomsoever.

     I therefore say I concur in the action of the people of
     Mississippi, believing it to be necessary and proper, and
     should have been bound by their action if my belief had
     been otherwise; and this brings me to the important point
     which I wish on this last occasion to present to the
     Senate. It is by this confounding of nullification and
     secession that the name of the great man, whose ashes now
     mingle with his mother earth, has been invoked to justify
     coercion against a seceded state. The phrase "to execute
     the laws" was an expression which General Jackson applied
     to the case of a state refusing to obey the laws while yet
     a member of the Union. That is not the case which is now
     presented. The laws are to be executed over the United
     States, and upon the people of the United States. They have
     no relation to any foreign country. It is a perversion of
     terms, at least it is a great misapprehension of the case,
     which cites that expression for application to a state
     which has withdrawn from the Union. You may make war on a
     foreign state. If it be the purpose of gentlemen, they may
     make war against a state which has withdrawn from the
     Union; but there are no laws of the United States to be
     executed within the limits of a seceded state. A state
     finding itself in the condition in which Mississippi has
     judged she is, in which her safety requires that she should
     provide for the maintenance of her rights out of the Union,
     surrenders all the benefits (and they are known to be
     many), deprives herself of the advantages (they are known
     to be great), severs all ties of affection (and they are
     close and enduring), which have bound her to the Union; and
     thus divesting herself of every benefit, taking upon
     herself every burden, she claims to be exempt from any
     power to execute the laws of the United States within her
     limits.

     I well remember an occasion when Massachusetts was
     arraigned before the bar of the Senate, and when then the
     doctrine of coercion was rife and to be applied against her
     because of the rescue of a fugitive slave in Boston. My
     opinion then was the same that it is now. Not in a spirit
     of egotism, but to show that I am not influenced in my
     opinion because the case is my own, I refer to that time
     and that occasion as containing the opinion which I then
     entertained, and on which my present conduct is based. I
     then said, if Massachusetts, following her through a stated
     line of conduct, chooses to take the last step which
     separates her from the Union, it is her right to go, and I
     will neither vote one dollar nor one man to coerce her
     back; but will say to her, Godspeed, in memory of the kind
     associations which once existed between her and the other
     states.

     It has been a conviction of pressing necessity, it has been
     a belief that we are to be deprived in the Union of the
     rights which our fathers bequeathed to us, which has
     brought Mississippi into her present decision. She has
     heard proclaimed the theory that all men are created free
     and equal, and this made the basis of an attack upon her
     social institutions; and the sacred Declaration of
     Independence has been invoked to maintain the position of
     the equality of the races. That Declaration of Independence
     is to be construed by the circumstances and purposes for
     which it was made. The communities were declaring their
     independence; the people of those communities were
     asserting that no man was born--to use the language of Mr.
     Jefferson--booted and spurred to ride over the rest of
     mankind; that men were created equal--meaning the men of
     the political community; that there was no divine right to
     rule; that no man inherited the right to govern; that there
     were no classes by which power and place descended to
     families, but that all stations were equally within the
     grasp of each member of the body politic. These were the
     great principles they announced; these were the purposes
     for which they made their declaration; these were the ends
     to which their enunciation was directed. They have no
     reference to the slave, else how happened it that among the
     items of arraignment made against George III was that he
     endeavored to do just what the North had been endeavoring
     of late to do--to stir up insurrection among our slaves?
     Had the Declaration announced that the negroes were free
     and equal, how was the prince to be arraigned for stirring
     up insurrection among them? And how was this to be
     enumerated among the high crimes which caused the Colonies
     to sever their connection with the mother country? When our
     Constitution was formed the same idea was rendered more
     palpable, for there we find provisions made for that very
     class of persons as property; they were not put upon the
     footing of equality with white men--not even upon that of
     paupers and convicts; but, so far as representation was
     concerned, were discriminated against as a lower caste,
     only to be represented in the numerical proportion of
     three-fifths.

     Then, senators, we recur to the compact which binds us
     together; we recur to the principles upon which our
     government was founded; and when you deny them, and when
     you deny us the right to withdraw from a government which,
     thus perverted, threatens to be destructive to our rights,
     we but tread in the path of our fathers when we proclaim
     our independence, and take the hazard.

     I find in myself, perhaps, a type of the general feeling of
     my constituents toward yours, I am sure I feel no hostility
     to you, senators from the North. I am sure there is not one
     of you, whatever sharp discussion there may have been
     between us, to whom I can not now say, in the presence of
     my God, I wish you well; and such, I am sure, is the
     feeling of the people whom I represent toward those whom
     you represent. I therefore feel that I but express their
     desire when I say I hope, and they hope, for peaceful
     relations with you, though we must part. They may be
     mutually beneficial to use in the future as they have been
     in the past, if you so will it. The reverse may bring
     disaster on every portion of the country; and if you will
     have it thus, we will invoke the God of our fathers, who
     delivered them from the power of the lion, to protect us
     from the ravages of the bear; and thus, putting our trust
     in God, and in our firm hearts and strong arms, we will
     vindicate the rights as best we may.

     In the course of my service here, associated at different
     times with a great variety of senators, I see now around me
     some with whom I have served long; there have been points
     of collision; but whatever of offense there has been to me,
     I leave here; I carry with me no hostile remembrance.
     Whatever offense I have given which has not been redressed,
     or for which satisfaction has not been demanded, I have,
     senators, in this hour of our parting, to offer you my
     apology for any pain which, in the heat of discussion, I
     have inflicted. I go hence unencumbered of the remembrance
     of any injury received, and having discharged the duty of
     making the only reparation in my power for any injury
     offered.

     Mr. President and senators, having made the announcement
     which the occasion seemed to me to require, it only remains
     for me to bid you a final adieu.


ROBERT TOOMBS
ON RESIGNING FROM THE SENATE[8] (1861)

     The success of the Abolitionists and their allies, under
     the name of the Republican party, has produced its logical
     results already. They have for long years been sowing
     dragons' teeth and have finally got a crop of armed men.
     The Union, sir, is dissolved. That is an accomplished fact
     in the path of this discussion that men may as well heed.
     One of your confederates has already, wisely, bravely,
     boldly confronted public danger, she is only ahead of many
     of her sisters because of her greater facility for speedy
     action. The greater majority of those sister states, under
     the circumstances, consider her cause as their cause; and I
     charge you in their name today: "Touch not Saguntum."[9] It
     is not only their cause, but it is a cause which receives
     the sympathy and will receive the support of tens and
     hundreds of thousands of honest patriot men in the
     non-slaveholding states who have hitherto maintained
     constitutional rights, and who respect their oaths, abide
     by compacts, and love justice.

     And while this Congress, this Senate, and this House of
     Representatives are debating the constitutionality and the
     expediency of seceding from the Union, and while the
     perfidious authors of this mischief are showering down
     denunciations upon a large portion of the patriotic men of
     this country, those brave men are coolly and calmly voting
     what you call revolution--aye, sir, doing better than that:
     arming to defend it. They appealed to the Constitution,
     they appealed to justice, they appealed to fraternity,
     until the Constitution, justice, and fraternity were no
     longer listened to in the legislative halls of their
     country, and then, sir, they prepared for the arbitrament
     of the sword; and now you see the glittering bayonet, and
     you hear the tramp of armed men from your capital to the
     Rio Grande. It is a sight that gladdens the eyes and cheers
     the hearts of other millions ready to second them.
     Inasmuch, sir, as I have labored earnestly, honestly,
     sincerely, with these men to avert this necessity so long
     as I deemed it possible, and inasmuch as I heartily approve
     their present conduct of resistance, I deem it my duty to
     state their case to the Senate, to the country, and to the
     civilized world.

     Senators, my countrymen have demanded no new government;
     they have demanded no new Constitution. Look to their
     records at home and here from the beginning of this
     national strife until its consummation in the disruption of
     the empire, and they have not demanded a single thing
     except that you shall abide by the Constitution of the
     United States; that constitutional rights shall be
     respected, and that justice shall be done. Sirs, they have
     stood by your Constitution; they have stood by all its
     requirements, they have performed all its duties
     unselfishly, uncalculatingly, disinterestedly, until a
     party sprang up in this country which endangered their
     social system--a party which they arraign, and which they
     charge before the American people and all mankind with
     having made proclamation of outlawry against four thousand
     millions of their property in the Territories of the United
     States; with having put them under the ban of the empire in
     all the states in which their institutions exist outside
     the protection of federal laws; with having aided and
     abetted insurrection from within and invasion from without
     with the view of subverting their institutions, and
     desolating their homes and their firesides. For these
     causes they have taken up arms.

     I have stated that the discontented states of this Union
     have demanded nothing by clear, distinct, unequivocal,
     well-acknowledged constitutional rights--rights affirmed by
     the highest judicial tribunals of their country; rights
     older than the Constitution; rights which are planted upon
     the immutable principles of natural justice; rights which
     have been affirmed by the good and the wise of all
     countries, and of all centuries. We demand no power to
     injure any man. We demand no right to injure our
     confederate states. We demand no right to interfere with
     their institutions, either by word or deed. We have no
     right to disturb their peace, their tranquility, their
     security. We have demanded of them simply, solely--nothing
     else--to give us equality, security and tranquility. Give
     us these, and peace restores itself. Refuse them, and take
     what you can get.

     What do the rebels demand? First, "that the people of the
     United States shall have an equal right to emigrate and
     settle in the present and any future acquired territories,
     with whatever property they may possess (including slaves),
     and be securely protected in its peaceable enjoyment until
     such territory may be admitted as a state into the Union,
     with or without slavery, as she may determine, on an
     equality with all existing states." This is our territorial
     demand. We have fought for this territory when blood was
     its price. We have paid for it when gold was its price. We
     have not proposed to exclude you, though you have
     contributed very little of blood or money. I refer
     especially to New England. We demand only to go into those
     territories upon terms of equality with you, as equals in
     this great Confederacy, to enjoy the common property of the
     whole Union, and receive the protection of the common
     government, until the territory is capable of coming into
     the Union as a sovereign state, when it may fix its own
     institutions to suit itself.

     The second proposition is, "that property in slaves shall
     be entitled to the same protection from the government of
     the United States, in all its departments, everywhere,
     which the Constitution confers the power upon it to extend
     to any other property, providing nothing herein contained
     shall be construed to limit or restrain the right now
     belonging to every state to prohibit, abolish, or establish
     and protect slavery within its limits." We demand of the
     common government to use its granted powers to protect our
     property as well as yours. For this protection we pay as
     much as you do. This very property is subject to taxation.
     It has been taxed by you and sold by you for taxes.

     The title to thousands and tens of thousands of slaves is
     derived from the United States. We claim that the
     government, while the Constitution recognizes our property
     for the purposes of taxation, shall give it the same
     protection that it gives yours.

     Ought it not to be so? You say no. Every one of you upon
     the committee said no. Your senators say no. Your House of
     Representatives says no. Throughout the length and breadth
     of your conspiracy against the Constitution there is but
     one shout of no! This recognition of this right is the
     price of my allegiance. Withhold it, and you do not get my
     obedience. This is the philosophy of the armed men who have
     sprung up in this country. Do you ask me to support a
     government that will tax my property; that will plunder me;
     that will demand my blood, and will not protect me? I would
     rather see the population of my native state laid six feet
     beneath her sod than they should support for one hour such
     a government. Protection is the price of obedience
     everywhere, in all countries. It is the only thing that
     makes government respectable. Deny it and you can not have
     free subjects or citizens; you may have slaves.

     We demand, in the next place, "that persons committing
     crimes against slave property in one state, and fleeing to
     another, shall be delivered up in the same manner as
     persons committing crimes against other property, and that
     the laws of the state from which such persons flee shall be
     the test of criminality." That is another one of the
     demands of an extremist and rebel.

     But the non-slaveholding states, treacherous to their oaths
     and compacts, have steadily refused, if the criminal only
     stole a negro and that negro was a slave, to deliver him
     up. It was refused twice on the requisition of my own state
     as long as twenty-two years ago. It was refused by Kent and
     by Fairfield, governors of Maine, and representing, I
     believe, each of the then friendly parties. We appealed
     then to fraternity, but we submitted; and this
     constitutional right has been practically a dead letter
     from that day to this. The next case came up between us and
     the state of New York, when the present senior senator (Mr.
     Seward) was the governor of that state; and he refused it.
     Why? He said it was not against the laws of New York to
     steal a negro, and therefore he would not comply with the
     demand. He made a similar refusal to Virginia. Yet these
     are our confederates; these are our sister states! There is
     the bargain; there is the compact. You have sworn to it.
     Both these governors swore to it. The senator from New York
     swore to it. The governor of Ohio swore to it when he was
     inaugurated. You can not bind them by oaths. Yet they talk
     to us of treason; and I suppose they expect to whip freemen
     into loving such brethren! They will have a good time in
     doing it!

     It is natural we should want this provision of the
     Constitution carried out. The Constitution says slaves are
     property; the Supreme Court says so; the Constitution says
     so. The theft of slaves is a crime; they are a
     subject-matter of felonious asportation. By the text and
     letter of the Constitution you agreed to give them up. You
     have sworn to do it, and you have broken your oaths. Of
     course, those who have done so look out for pretexts.
     Nobody expected them to do otherwise. I do not think I ever
     saw a perjurer, however bald and naked, who could not
     invent some pretext to palliate his crime, or who could
     not, for fifteen shillings, hire an Old Bailey lawyer to
     invent some for him. Yet this requirement of the
     Constitution is another one of the extreme demands of an
     extremist and a rebel.

     The next stipulation is that fugitive slaves shall be
     surrendered under the provisions of the Fugitive Slave Act
     of 1850, without being entitled either to a writ of habeas
     corpus, or trial by jury, or other similar obstructions of
     legislation, in the state to which he may flee: Here is the
     Constitution:

     "No person held to service or labor in one State, under the
     laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence
     of any law or regulation therein, be discharged from such
     service or labor, but shall be delivered up on claim of the
     party to whom such services or labor may be due."

     This language is plain, and everybody understood it the
     same way for the first forty years of your government. In
     1793, in Washington's time, an act was passed to carry out
     this provision. It was adopted unanimously in the Senate of
     the United States, and nearly so in the House of
     Representatives. Nobody then had invented pretexts to show
     that the Constitution did not mean a negro slave. It was
     clear; it was plain. Not only the federal courts, but all
     the local courts in all the states, decided that it was a
     constitutional obligation. How is it now? The North sought
     to evade it; following the instincts of their natural
     character, they commenced with the fraudulent fiction that
     fugitives were entitled to habeas corpus, entitled to trial
     by jury in the state to which they fled. They pretended to
     believe that our fugitive slaves were entitled to more
     rights than their white citizens; perhaps they were right,
     they know one another better than I do. You may charge a
     white man with treason, or felony, or other crime, and you
     do not require any trial by jury before he is given up;
     there is nothing to determine but that he is legally
     charged with a crime and that he fled, and then he is to be
     delivered up upon demand. White people are delivered up
     every day in this way; but not slaves. Slaves, black
     people, you say, are entitled to trial by jury; and in this
     way schemes have been invented to defeat your plain
     constitutional obligations.

     Senators, the Constitution is a compact. It contains all
     our obligations and the duties of the federal government. I
     am content and have ever been content to sustain it. While
     I doubt its perfection, while I do not believe it was a
     good compact, and while I never saw the day that I would
     have voted for it as a proposition _de novo,_ yet I am
     bound to it by oath and by that common prudence which would
     induce men to abide by established forms rather than to
     rush into unknown dangers. I have given to it, and intend
     to give to it, unfaltering support and allegiance, but I
     choose to put that allegiance on the true ground, not on
     the false idea that anybody's blood was shed for it. I say
     that the Constitution is the whole compact. All its
     obligations, all the chains that fetter the limbs of my
     people, are nominated in the bond, and they wisely excluded
     any conclusion against them, by declaring that "The powers
     not granted by the Constitution to the United States, or
     forbidden by it to the states, belong to the states
     respectively or the people."

     Now I will try it by that standard; I will subject it to
     that test. The law of nature, the law of justice, would
     say--and it is so expounded by the publicists--that equal
     rights in the common property shall be enjoyed. Even in a
     monarchy the king can not prevent the subjects from
     enjoying equality in the disposition of the public
     property. Even in a despotic government this principle is
     recognized. It was the blood and the money of the whole
     people (says the learned Grotius, and say all the
     publicists) which acquired the public property, and
     therefore it is not the property of the sovereign. This
     right of equality being, then, according to justice and
     natural equity, a right belonging to all states, when did
     we give it up? You say Congress has a right to pass rules
     and regulations concerning the territory and other property
     of the United States. Very well. Does that exclude those
     whose blood and money paid for it? Does "dispose of" mean
     to rob the rightful owners? You must show a better title
     than that, or a better sword than we have.

     What, then, will you take? You will take nothing but your
     own judgment; that is, you will not only judge for
     yourselves, not only discard the court, discard our
     construction, discard the practice of the government, but
     you will drive us out, simply because you will it. Come and
     do it! You have sapped the foundations of society; you have
     destroyed almost all hope of peace. In a compact where
     there is no common arbiter, where the parties finally
     decide for themselves, the sword alone at last becomes the
     real, if not the constitutional, arbiter. Your party says
     that you will not take the decision of the Supreme Court.
     You said so at Chicago; you said so in committee; every man
     of you in both Houses says so. What are you going to do?
     You say we shall submit to your construction. We shall do
     it, if you can make us; but not otherwise, or in any other
     manner. That is settled. You may call it secession, or you
     may call it revolution; but there is a big fact standing
     before you--that fact is, freemen with arms in their hands.


RUFUS CHOATE
EULOGY OF WEBSTER[10] (1853)

     Webster possessed the element of an impressive character,
     inspiring regard, trust and admiration, not unmingled with
     love. It had, I think, intrinsically a charm such as
     belongs only to a good, noble, and beautiful nature. In its
     combination with so much fame, so much force of will, and
     so much intellect, it filled and fascinated the imagination
     and heart. It was affectionate in childhood and youth, and
     it was more than ever so in the few last months of his long
     life. It is the universal testimony that he gave to his
     parents, in largest measure, honor, love, obedience; that
     he eagerly appropriated the first means which he could
     command to relieve the father from his debts contracted to
     educate his brother and himself; that he selected his first
     place of professional practice that he might soothe the
     coming on of his old age.

     Equally beautiful was his love of all his kindred and of
     all his friends. When I hear him accused of selfishness,
     and a cold, bad nature, I recall him lying sleepless all
     night, not without tears of boyhood, conferring with
     Ezekiel how the darling desire of both hearts should be
     compassed, and he, too, admitted to the precious privileges
     of education; courageously pleading the cause of both
     brothers in the morning; prevailing by the wise and
     discerning affection of the mother; suspending his studies
     of the law, and registering deeds and teaching school to
     earn the means, for both, of availing themselves of the
     opportunity which the parental self-sacrifice had placed
     within their reach; loving him through life, mourning him
     when dead, with a love and a sorrow very wonderful, passing
     the sorrow of woman; I recall the husband, the father of
     the living and of the early departed, the friend, the
     counselor of many years, and my heart grows too full and
     liquid for the refutation of words.

     His affectionate nature, craving ever friendship, as well
     as the presence of kindred blood, diffused itself through
     all his private life, gave sincerity to all his
     hospitalities, kindness to his eye, warmth to the pressure
     of his hand, made his greatness and genius unbend
     themselves to the playfulness of childhood, flowed out in
     graceful memories indulged of the past or of the dead, of
     incidents when life was young and promised to be
     happy,--gave generous sketches of his rivals,--the high
     contention now hidden by the handful of earth,--hours
     passed fifty years ago with great authors, recalled for the
     vernal emotions which they then made to live and revel in
     the soul. And from these conversations of friendship, no
     man--no man, old or young--went away to remember one word
     of profaneness, one allusion of indelicacy, one impure
     thought, one unbelieving suggestion, one doubt cast on the
     reality of virtue, of patriotism, of enthusiasm, of the
     progress of man,--one doubt cast on righteousness, or
     temperance, or judgment to come.

     I have learned by evidence the most direct and satisfactory
     that in the last months of his life, the whole
     affectionateness of his nature--his consideration of
     others, his gentleness, his desire to make them happy and
     to see them happy--seemed to come out in more and more
     beautiful and habitual expressions than ever before. The
     long day's public tasks were felt to be done; the cares,
     the uncertainties, the mental conflicts of high place, were
     ended; and he came home to recover himself for the few
     years which he might still expect would be his before he
     should go hence to be here no more. And there, I am assured
     and duly believe, no unbecoming regrets pursued him; no
     discontent, as for injustice suffered or expectations
     unfulfilled; no self-reproach for anything done or anything
     omitted by himself; no irritation, no peevishness unworthy
     of his noble nature; but instead, love and hope for his
     country, when she became the subject of conversation, and
     for all around him, the dearest and most indifferent, for
     all breathing things about him, the overflow of the kindest
     heart growing in gentleness and benevolence--paternal,
     patriarchal affections, seeming to become more natural,
     warm, and communicative every hour. Softer and yet brighter
     grew the tints on the sky of parting day; and the last
     lingering rays, more even than the glories of noon,
     announced how divine was the source from which they
     proceeded; how incapable to be quenched; how certain to
     rise on a morning which no night should follow.

     Such a character was made to be loved. It was loved. Those
     who know and saw it in its hour of calm--those who could
     repose on that soft grass--loved him. His plain neighbors
     loved him; and one said, when he was laid in his grave,
     "How lonesome the world seems!" Educated young men loved
     him. The ministers of the gospel, the general intelligence
     of the country, the masses afar off, loved him. True, they
     had not found in his speeches, read by millions, so much
     adulation of the people; so much of the music which robs
     the public reason of itself; so many phrases of humanity
     and philanthropy; and some had told them he was lofty and
     cold--solitary in his greatness; but every year they came
     nearer and nearer to him, and as they came nearer, they
     loved him better; they heard how tender the son had been,
     the husband, the brother, the father, the friend, and
     neighbor; that he was plain, simple, natural, generous,
     hospitable--the heart larger than the brain; that he loved
     little children and reverenced God, the Scriptures, the
     Sabbath day, the Constitution, and the law--and their
     hearts clave unto him. More truly of him than even of the
     great naval darling of England might it be said that "his
     presence would set the church bells ringing, and give
     schoolboys a holiday, would bring children from school and
     old men from the chimney-corner, to gaze on him ere he
     died." The great and unavailing lamentations first revealed
     the deep place he had in the hearts of his countrymen.

     You are now to add to his extraordinary power of
     influencing the convictions of others by speech, and you
     have completed the survey of the means of his greatness.
     And here, again, I begin, by admiring an aggregate made up
     of excellences and triumphs, ordinarily deemed
     incompatible. He spoke with consummate ability to the
     bench, and yet exactly as, according to every sound canon
     of taste and ethics, the bench ought to be addressed. He
     spoke with consummate ability to the jury, and yet exactly
     as, according to every sound canon, that totally different
     tribunal ought to be addressed. In the halls of Congress,
     before the people assembled for political discussion in
     masses, before audiences smaller and more select, assembled
     for some solemn commemoration of the past or of the
     dead--in each of these, again, his speech, of the first
     form of ability, was exactly adapted, also, to the critical
     proprieties of the place; each achieved, when delivered,
     the most instant and specific success of eloquence--some of
     them in a splendid and remarkable degree; and yet, stranger
     still, when reduced to writing, as they fell from his lips,
     they compose a body of reading in many volumes--solid,
     clear, rich, and full of harmony--a classical and permanent
     political literature.

     And yet all these modes of his eloquence, exactly adapted
     each to its stage and its end, were stamped with his image
     and superscription, identified by characteristics incapable
     to be counterfeited and impossible to be mistaken. The same
     high power of reason, intent in every one to explore and
     display some truth; some truth of judicial, or historical,
     or biographical fact; some truth of law, deducted by
     construction, perhaps, or by illation; some truth of
     policy, for want whereof a nation, generations, may be
     worse--reason seeking and unfolding truth; the same tone,
     in all, of deep earnestness, expressive of strong desire
     that which he felt to be important should be accepted as
     true, and spring up to action; the same transparent, plain,
     forcible, and direct speech, conveying his exact thought to
     the mind--not something less or more; the same sovereignty
     of form, of brow, and eye, and tone, and manner--everywhere
     the intellectual king of men, standing before you--that
     same marvelousness of qualities and results, residing, I
     know not where, in words, in pictures, in the ordering of
     ideas, in felicities indescribable, by means whereof,
     coming from his tongue, all things seemed mended--truth
     seemed more true, probability more plausible, greatness
     more great, goodness more awful, every affection more
     tender than when coming from other tongues--these are, in
     all, his eloquence.

     But sometimes it became individualized and discriminated
     even from itself; sometimes place and circumstance, great
     interests at stake, a stage, an audience fitted for the
     highest historic action, a crisis, personal or national,
     upon him, stirred the depths of that emotional nature, as
     the anger of the goddess stirs the sea on which the great
     epic is beginning; strong passions, themselves kindled to
     intensity, quickened every faculty to a new life; the
     stimulated associations of ideas brought all treasures of
     thought and knowledge within command; the spell, which
     often held his imagination fast, dissolved, and she arose
     and gave him to choose of her urn of gold; earnestness
     became vehemence, the simple, perspicuous, measured and
     direct language became a headlong, full, and burning tide
     of speech; the discourse of reason, wisdom, gravity, and
     beauty changed to that superhuman, that rarest consummate
     eloquence--grand, rapid, pathetic, terrible; the _aliquid
     immensum infinitumque_ that Cicero might have recognized;
     the master triumph of man in the rarest opportunity of his
     noble power.

     Such elevation above himself, in congressional debate, was
     most uncommon. Some such there were in the great
     discussions of executive power following the removal of the
     deposits, which they who heard them will never forget, and
     some which rest in the tradition of hearers only. But there
     were other fields of oratory on which, under the influence
     of more uncommon strings of inspiration, he exemplified, in
     still other forms, an eloquence in which I do not know that
     he has had a superior among men. Addressing masses by tens
     of thousands in the open air, on the urgent political
     questions of the day, or designed to lead the meditations
     of an hour devoted to the remembrance of some national era,
     or of some incident marking the progress of the nation, and
     lifting him up to a view of what is, and what is past, and
     some indistinct revelation of the glory that lies in the
     future, or of some great historical name, just borne by the
     nation to his tomb--we have learned that then and there, at
     the base of Bunker Hill, before the corner-stone was laid,
     and again when the finished column the centuries looked on
     him; in Faneuil Hall, mourning for those with whom spoken
     or written eloquence of freedom its arches had so often
     resounded; on the Rock of Plymouth; before the Capitol, of
     which there shall not be one stone left on another before
     his memory shall have ceased to live--in such scenes,
     unfettered by the laws of forensic or parliamentary debate,
     multitudes uncounted lifting up their eyes to him; some
     great historical scenes of America around; all symbols of
     her glory and art and power and fortune there; voices of
     the past, not unheard; shapes beckoning from the future,
     not unseen--sometimes that mighty intellect, borne upward
     to a height and kindled to an illumination which we shall
     see no more, wrought out, as it were, in an instant a
     picture of vision, warning, prediction; the progress of the
     nation; the contrasts of its eras; the heroic deaths; the
     motives to patriotism; the maxims and arts imperial by
     which the glory has been gathered and may be
     heightened--wrought out, in an instant, a picture to fade
     only when all record of our mind shall die.

     In looking over the public remains of his oratory, it is
     striking to remark how, even in that most sober and massive
     understanding and nature, you see gathered and expressed
     the characteristic sentiments and the passing time of our
     America. It is the strong old oak which ascends before you;
     yet our soil, our heaven, are attested in it as perfectly
     as if it were a flower that could grow in no other climate
     and in no other hour of the year or day. Let me instance in
     one thing only. It is a peculiarity of some schools of
     eloquence that they embody and utter, not merely the
     individual genius and character of the speaker, but a
     national consciousness--a national era, a mood, a hope, a
     dread, a despair--in which you listen to the spoken history
     of the time. There is an eloquence of an expiring nation,
     such as seems to sadden the glorious speech of Demosthenes;
     such as breathes grand and gloomy from the visions of the
     prophets of the last days of Israel and Judah; such as gave
     a spell to the expression of Grattan and of Kossuth--the
     sweetest, most mournful, most awful of the words which man
     may utter, or which man may hear--the eloquence of a
     perishing nation.

     There is another eloquence, in which the national
     consciousness of a young or renewed and vast strength, of
     trust in a dazzling certain and limitless future, an inward
     glorying in victories yet to be won, sounds out as by voice
     of clarion, challenging to contest for the highest prize of
     earth; such as that in which the leader of Israel in the
     first days holds up to the new nation the Land of Promise;
     such as that which in the well-imagined speeches scattered
     by Livy over the history of the "majestic series of
     victories" speaks the Roman consciousness of growing
     aggrandizement which should subject the world; such as that
     through which, at the tribunes of her revolution, in the
     bulletins of her rising soldiers, France told the world her
     dream of glory.

     And of this king somewhat is ours--cheerful, hopeful,
     trusting, as befits youth and spring; the eloquence of a
     state beginning to ascend to the first class of power,
     eminence, and consideration, and conscious of itself. It is
     to no purpose that they tell you it is in bad taste; that
     it partakes of arrogance and vanity; that a true national
     good breeding would not know, or seem to know, whether the
     nation is old or young; whether the tides of being are in
     their flow or ebb; whether these coursers of the sun are
     sinking slowly to rest, wearied with a journey of a
     thousand years, or just bounding from the Orient
     unbreathed. Higher laws than those of taste determine the
     consciousness of nations. Higher laws than those of taste
     determine the general forms of the expression of that
     consciousness. Let the downward age of America find its
     orators and poets and artists to erect its spirit, or
     grace, and soothe its dying; be it ours to go up with
     Webster, to the Rock, the Monument, the Capitol, and bid
     "the distant generations hail!"

     Until the seventh day of March, 1850, I think it would have
     been accorded to him by an almost universal acclaim, as
     general and as expressive of profound and intelligent
     conviction and of enthusiasm, love, and trust, as ever
     saluted conspicuous statesmanship, tried by many crises of
     affairs in a great nation, agitated ever by parties, and
     wholly free.


JOHN BRIGHT
The Strength of the American Government (1863)

     Will anybody deny that the Government at Washington as
     regards its own people is the strongest Government in the
     world at this hour? And for this simple reason: because it
     is based on the will, and the good will, of an instructed
     people. Look at its power! I am not now discussing why it
     is, or the cause which is developing this power; but power
     is the thing which men regard in these old countries, and
     which they ascribe mainly to European institutions; but
     look at the power which the United States have developed!
     They have brought more men into the field, they have built
     more ships for their navy, they have shown greater
     resources, than any nation in Europe at this moment is
     capable of. Look at the order which has prevailed at their
     elections, at which, as you see by the papers, fifty
     thousand, or one hundred thousand, or two hundred and fifty
     thousand persons voting in a given state, with less
     disorder than you have seen lately in three of the smallest
     boroughs in England. Look at their industry.
     Notwithstanding this terrible struggle, their agriculture,
     their manufactures and commerce proceed with an
     uninterrupted success. They are ruled by a President,
     chosen, it is true, not from some worn-out royal or noble
     blood, but from the people, and the one whose truthfulness
     and spotless honor have claimed him universal praise; and
     now the country that has been vilified through half the
     organs of the press in England during the last three years,
     and was pointed out, too, as an example to be shunned by
     many of your statesmen, that country, now in mortal strife,
     affords a haven and a home for multitudes flying from the
     burdens and the neglect of the old governments of Europe;
     and, when this mortal strife is over--when peace is
     restored, when slavery is destroyed, when the Union is
     cemented afresh--for I would say, in the language of one of
     our own poets addressing his country,

        The grave's not dug where traitor hands shall lay
        In fearful haste thy murdered corse away--

     then Europe and England may learn that an instructed
     democracy is the surest foundation of government, and that
     education and freedom are the only sources of true
     greatness and true happiness among any people.


GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS
ROBERT BURNS[11] (1880)

     Burns died at the same age with Raphael; and Mozart, who
     was his contemporary, died only four years before him.
     Raphael and Mozart are the two men of lyrical genius in
     kindred arts who impress us and the most exquisitely
     refined by careful cultivation; and, although Burns was of
     all great poets the most unschooled, he belongs with
     Raphael in painting and Mozart in music, and there is no
     fourth. An indescribable richness and flower-like quality,
     a melodious grace and completeness and delicacy, belong to
     them all. Looking upon a beautiful human Madonna of
     Raphael, we seem to hear the rippling cadence of Mozart and
     the tender and true song of Burns. They are all voices of
     the whole world speaking in this accent of a native land.
     Here are Italy and Germany and Scotland, distinct,
     individual, perfectly recognizable, but the sun that
     reveals and illuminates their separate charms, that is not
     Italian or German or Scotch, it is the sun of universal
     nature. This is the singer whom this statue commemorates,
     the singer of songs immortal as love; pure as the dew of
     the morning, and sweet as its breath; songs with which the
     lover wooes his bride, and the mother soothes her child,
     and the heart of a people beats with patriotic exultation;
     songs that cheer human endeavors, and console human sorrow,
     and exalt human life. We cannot find out the secret of
     their power until we know why the rose is sweet, or the
     dew-drop pure, or the rainbow beautiful, we cannot know why
     the poet is the best benefactor of humanity. Whether
     because he reveals us to ourselves, or because he touches
     the soul with the fervor of divine aspiration, whether
     because in a world of sordid and restless anxiety he fills
     us with serene joy, or puts into rythmic and permanent form
     the best thoughts and hopes of man--who shall say? But none
     the less is the heart's instinctive loyalty to the poet the
     proof of its consciousness that he does all these things,
     that he is the harmonizer, strengthener, and consoler. How
     the faith of Christendom has been stayed for centuries upon
     the mighty words of the old Hebrew bards and prophets, and
     how the vast and inexpressible mystery of divine love and
     power and purpose has been breathed into parable and poem!
     If we were forced to surrender every expression of human
     genius but one, surely we should retain poetry; and if we
     were called upon to lose from the vast accumulation of
     literature all but a score of books, among that choice, and
     perfect remainder would be the songs of Burns.

     How fitly, then, among the memorials of those who in
     different countries and times and ways have been leaders of
     mankind, we raise this statue of the poet whose genius is
     an unconscious but sweet and elevating influence in our
     national life. It is not a power dramatic, obvious,
     imposing, immediate, like that of the statesman, the
     warrior, and the inventor, but it is as deep and strong and
     abiding. The soldier fights for his native land, but the
     poet touches that land with the charm that makes it worth
     fighting for, and fires the warrior's heart with the fierce
     energy that makes his blow invincible. The statesman
     enlarges and orders liberty in the state, but the poet
     fosters the love of liberty in the heart of the citizen.
     The inventor multiplies the facilities of life, but the
     poet makes life better worth living. Here, then, among
     trees and flowers and waters; here upon the greensward and
     under the open sky; here where birds carol, and children
     play, and lovers whisper, and the various stream of human
     life flows by--we raise the statue of Robert Burns. While
     the human heart beats, that name will be music in human
     ears. He knew better than we the pathos of human life. We
     know better than he the infinite pathos of his own. Ah!
     Robert Burns, Robert Burns! whoever lingers here as he
     passes and muses upon your statue will see in imagination a
     solitary mountain in your own beautiful Scotland,
     heaven-soaring, wrapped in impenetrable clouds. Suddenly
     the mists part, and there are the heather, the brier-rose,
     and the gowan fine; there are the

        Burnies, wimplin' down your glens
              Wi' toddling' din,
        Or foaming strang wi' hasty stens
              Frae lin to lin;[12]

     the cushat is moaning; the curlew is calling; the plover is
     singing; the red dear is bounding; and look! the clouds
     roll utterly away, and the clear summit is touched with the
     tender glory of sunshine, heaven's own benediction!


L. Q. C. LAMAR
SUMNER AND THE SOUTH[13] (1874)

     It was certainly a gracious act on the part of Charles
     Sumner toward the South, though unhappily it jarred on the
     sensibilities of the people at the other extreme of the
     Union, to propose to erase from the banners of the national
     army the mementos of the bloody internal struggle which
     might be regarded as assailing the pride or wounding the
     sensibilities of the Southern people. The proposal will
     never be forgotten by that people so long as the name of
     Charles Sumner lives in the memory of man.

     But while it touched the heart and elicited her profound
     gratitude, her people would not have asked of the North
     such an act of self-renunciation. Conscious that they
     themselves were animated by devotion to constitutional
     liberty, and that the brightest pages of history are
     replete with evidences of the depth and sincerity of that
     devotion, they can but cherish the recollection of the
     battles fought and the victories won in defense of their
     hopeless cause; and respecting, as all true and brave men
     must respect, the martial spirit with which the men of the
     North vindicated the integrity of the Union, and their
     devotion to the principles of human freedom, they do not
     ask, they do not wish the North to strike the mementos of
     heroism and victory from either records or monuments or
     battle-flags. They would rather that both sections should
     gather up the glories won by each section, not envious, but
     proud of each other, and regard them as a common heritage
     of American valor. Let us hope that future generations,
     when they remember the deeds of heroism and devotion done
     on both sides, will speak, not of northern prowess or
     southern courage, but of the heroism, courage and fortitude
     of the Americans in a war of ideas--a war in which each
     section signalized its consecration to the principles, as
     each understood them, of American liberty and of the
     Constitution received from their fathers.

     Charles Sumner in life believed that all occasion for
     strife and distrust between the North and South had passed
     away, and there no longer remained any cause for continued
     estrangement between these two sections of our common
     country. Are there not many of us who believe the same
     thing? Is not the common sentiment, or if not, ought it not
     to be, of the great mass of our people, North and South?
     Bound to each other by a common constitution, destined to
     life together under a common government, forming unitedly
     but a single member of a great family of nations, shall we
     not now at least endeavor to grow toward each other once
     more in heart, as we are indissolubly linked to each other
     in fortunes? Shall we not, while honoring the memory of
     this great champion of liberty, this feeling sympathizer
     with human sorrow, this earnest pleader for the exercise of
     human tenderness and heavenly charity, lay aside the
     concealments which serve only to perpetuate
     misunderstandings and distrust, and frankly confess that on
     both sides we most earnestly desire to be one--one not
     merely in political organization; one not merely in
     community of language, and literature, and traditions, and
     country; but more and better than all that, one also in
     feeling and in heart?

     Am I mistaken in this? Do the concealments of which I speak
     still cover animosities, which neither time nor reflection
     nor the march of events have yet suffered to subdue? I can
     not believe it. Since I have been here I have scrutinized
     your sentiments, as expressed not merely in public debate,
     but in the abandon of personal confidence. I know well the
     sentiments of these by my southern friends, whose hearts
     are so infolded that the feeling of each is the feeling of
     all; and I am on both sides only the seeming of a
     constraint which each apparently hesitates to dismiss.

     The South--prostrate, exhausted, drained of her life-blood
     as well as her material resources, yet still honorable and
     true--accepts the bitter award of the bloody arbitrament
     without reservation, resolutely determined to abide the
     result with chivalrous fidelity. Yet, as if struck dumb by
     the magnitude of her reverses, she suffers on in silence.
     The North, exultant in her triumph and elevated by success,
     still cherishes, as we are assured, a heart full of
     magnanimous emotions toward her disarmed and discomfited
     antagonist; and yet, as if under some mysterious spell, her
     words and acts are words and acts of suspicion and
     distrust. Would that the spirit of the illustrious dead,
     whom we lament today, could speak from the grave to both
     parties to this deplorable discord, in tones which would
     reach each and every heart throughout this broad territory:
     My country-men! know one another and you will love one
     another.


ROBERT INGERSOLL
AT HIS BROTHER'S GRAVE[14] (1879)

     My Friends: I am going to do that which the dead oft
     promised he would do for me.

     The loved and loving brother, husband, father, friend, dies
     where manhood's morning almost touches noon, and while the
     shadows were still falling toward the west.

     He had not passed on life's highway the stone that marks
     the highest point, but, being weary for a moment, lay down
     by the wayside, and, using his burden for a pillow, fell
     into that dreamless sleep that kisses down his eyelids
     still. While yet in love with life and raptured with the
     world, he passed to silence and pathetic dust.

     Yet, after all, it may be best, just in the happiest,
     sunniest hour of all the voyage, while eager winds are
     kissing every sail, to task against the unseen rock, and in
     an instant hear the billows roar above a sunken ship. For,
     whether in mid-sea or 'mong the breakers of the farther
     shore, a wreck at last must mark the end of each and all.
     And every life, no matter if its every house is rich with
     love and every moment jeweled with a joy, will, at its
     close, become a tragedy as sad and deep and dark as can be
     woven of the warp and woof of mystery and death.

     This brave and tender man in every storm of life was oak
     and rock, but in the sunshine he was vine and flower. He
     was the friend of all heroic souls. He climbed the heights
     and left all superstitions far below, while on his forehead
     fell the golden dawning of the grander day.

     He loved the beautiful, and was with color, form, and music
     touched to tears. He sided with the weak, and with a
     willing hand gave alms; with loyal heart and with purest
     hands he faithfully discharged all public trusts.

     He was a worshiper of liberty, a friend of the oppressed. A
     thousand times I have heard him quite these words: "For
     justice, all place a temple; and all seasons, summer." He
     believed that happiness was the only good, reason the only
     torch, justice the only worship, humanity the only
     religion, and love the only priest. He added to the sum of
     human joy; and were every one to whom he did some loving
     service to bring a blossom to his grave, he would sleep
     tonight beneath a wilderness of flowers.

     Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of
     two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the
     heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of
     our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying
     dead there comes no word; but in the night of death hope
     sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a
     wing.

     He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the approach of
     death for the return of health, whispered with his last
     breath: "I am better now." Let us believe, in spite of
     doubts and dogmas, and tears and fears, that these dear
     words are true of all the countless dead.

     And now to you who have been chosen, from among the many
     men he loved, to do the last sad office for the dead, we
     give his sacred dust. Speech can not contain our love.
     There was, there is, no greater, stronger, manlier man.


WILLIAM GLADSTONE
AGAINST THE TORY GOVERNMENT[15] (1880)

     To those gentlemen who talk of the great vigor and
     determination and success of the Tory government, I ask you
     to compare the case of Bulgaria and Turkey. Try them by
     principles, or try them by results, I care not which; we
     knew what we were about and what was to be done when we had
     integrity and independence to support. When they had
     integrity and independence to protect they talked indeed
     loud enough about supporting Turkey, and you would suppose
     they were prepared to spend their resources upon it; but
     all their measures have ended in nothing except that they
     have reduced Turkey to a state of greater weakness than at
     any portion of her history, whereas, on the other hand, in
     regard to the twelve or thirteen millions of Slavs and
     Roumanian population, they have made the name of England
     odious throughout the whole population, and done everything
     in their power to throw that population into the arms of
     Russia, to be the tool of Russia in its plans and schemes,
     unless, indeed, as I hope and am inclined to believe, the
     virtue of free institutions that they have obtained will
     make them too wise to become the tools of any foreign power
     whatever, will make them intent upon maintaining their own
     liberties, as becomes a free people playing a noble part in
     the history of Europe.

     I have detained you too long, and I will not, though I
     would, pursue this subject further. I have shown you what I
     think the miserable failure of the policy of the
     government. Remember, we have a fixed point from which to
     draw our measurements. Remember what in 1876 the proposal
     of those who approved of the Bulgarian agitation and who
     were denounced as the enemies of Turkey, remember what the
     proposal would have done. It would have given autonomy to
     Bulgaria, which has not got autonomy; but it would have
     saved all the remainder at less detriment to the rest of
     the Turkish Empire. Turkey would have had a fair chance.
     Turkey would not have suffered the territorial losses which
     she has elsewhere suffered, and which she has suffered, I
     must say, in consequence of her being betrayed into the
     false and mischievous, the tempting and seductive, but
     unreal and unwise policy of the present administration.

     There are other matters which must be reserved for other
     times. We are told about the Crimean War. Sir Stafford
     Northcote tells us the Crimean War, made by the Liberal
     government, cost the country forty millions of debt, and an
     income tax of one shilling and four pence per pound. Now
     what is the use of telling us that? I will discuss the
     Crimean War on some future occasion, but not now. If the
     Liberal government were so clever that they contrived to
     burden the country with forty millions of debt for this
     Crimean War, why does he not go back to the war before that
     and tell us what the Tory government did with the
     Revolutionary War, when they left a debt on the country of
     some nine hundred millions, of which six hundred and fifty
     millions then had made in the Revolutionary War, and not
     only so, but left the blessing and legacy of the corn laws,
     and of a high protective system, an impoverished country,
     and a discontented population--so much so that for years
     that followed the great Revolutionary War, no man could say
     whether the constitution of this country was or was not
     worth five years' purchase. They might even go further back
     than the Revolutionary War. They have been talking loudly
     of the colonies, and say that, forsooth, the Liberal party
     do nothing for the colonies. What did the Tory party do for
     the colonies? I can tell you. Go to the war that preceded
     the Revolutionary War. They made war against the American
     continent. They added to the debt of the country two
     hundred millions in order to destroy freedom in America.
     They alienated it and drove it from this country. They were
     compelled to bring this country to make an ignominious
     peace; and, as far as I know, that attempt to put down
     freedom in America, with its results to this country, is
     the only one great fact which has ever distinguished the
     relations between a Tory government and the colonies.

     But gentlemen, these must be matters postponed for another
     occasion. I thank you very cordially, both friends and
     opponents, if opponents you be, for the extreme kindness
     with which you have heard me. I have spoken, and I must
     speak in very strong terms of the acts done by my
     opponents. I will never say that they did it from
     vindictiveness, I will never say that they did it from
     passion, I will never say that they did it from a sordid
     love of office; I have no right to use such words; I have
     no right to entertain such sentiments; I repudiate and
     abjure them. I give them credit for patriotic motives--I
     give them credit for those patriotic motives which are
     incessantly and gratuitously denied to us. I believe we are
     all united in a fond attachment to the great country to
     which we belong, to the great empire which has committed to
     it a trust and function from Providence, as special and
     remarkable as was ever entrusted to any portion of the
     family of man. When I speak of that trust and that function
     I feel that words fail. I cannot tell you what I think of
     the nobleness of the inheritance which has descended upon
     us, of the sacredness of the duty of maintaining it. I will
     not condescend to make it a part of controversial politics.
     It is a part of my being, of my flesh and blood, of my
     heart and soul. For those ends I have labored through my
     youth and manhood, and, more than that, till my hairs are
     gray. In that faith and practice I have lived, and in that
     faith and practice I shall die.


JAMES G. BLAINE
EULOGY OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD[16] (1881)

     His terrible fate was upon him in an instant. One moment he
     stood erect, strong, confident in the years stretching
     peacefully out before him. The next he lay wounded,
     bleeding, helpless; doomed to weary weeks of torture, to
     silence, and the grave.

     Great in life, Garfield was surpassingly great in death.
     For no cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness, by the red
     hand of murder, he was thrust from the full tide of this
     world's interest, from its hopes, its aspirations, its
     victories, into the visible presence of Death--and he did
     not quail. Not alone for the one short moment in which,
     stunned and dazed, he could give up life, hardly aware of
     its relinquishment, but through days of deadly languor,
     through weeks of agony, that was not less agony because
     silently borne, with clear sight and calm courage, he
     looked into his open grave. What blight and ruin met his
     anguished eyes, whose lips may tell--what brilliant broken
     plans, what baffled high ambitions, what sundering of warm,
     strong, manhood's friendships, what bitter rending of sweet
     household ties! behind him a proud, expectant nation, a
     great host of sustaining friends, a cherished and happy
     mother, wearing the full, rich honors of her early toil and
     tears; the wife of his youth, whose whole life lay in his;
     the little boys not yet emerged from childhood's days of
     frolic; the fair, young daughter; the sturdy sons just
     springing into closest companionship, claiming every day
     and every day rewarding a father's love and care, and in
     his heart the eager rejoicing power to meet all demands!
     Before him desolation and great darkness! And his soul was
     not shaken. His countrymen were thrilled with instant,
     profound, and universal sympathy. Masterful in his mortal
     weakness, he became the centre of a nation's love,
     enshrined in the prayers of a world; but all the love and
     all the sympathy could not share with him his suffering. He
     trod the wine-press alone. With unfaltering front he faced
     death. With unfailing tenderness he took leave of life.
     Above the demoniac hiss of the assassin's bullet, he heard
     the voice of God. With simple resignation, he bowed to the
     Divine decree.

     As the end drew near his early craving for the sea
     returned. The stately mansion of power had been to him the
     wearisome hospital of pain, and he begged to be taken from
     its prison walls, from its oppressive, stifling air, from
     its homelessness and hopelessness. Gently, silently, the
     love of a great people bore the pale sufferer to the
     longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God
     should will, within sight of its heaving billows, within
     sound of its manifold voices. With wan, fevered face
     tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out
     wistfully upon the ocean's changing wonders; on its far
     sails whitening in the morning light; on its restless waves
     rolling shoreward to break and die beneath the noonday sun;
     on the red clouds of evening arching low to the horizon; on
     the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Let us think
     that his dying eyes read a mystic meaning which only the
     rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believe that in the
     silence of the receding world he heard the great waves
     breaking on a farther shore, and felt already upon his
     wasted brow the breath of the eternal morning.


WILLIAM J. BRYAN
"THE CROSS OF GOLD" SPEECH[17] (1896)

     Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Convention: I would be
     presumptuous indeed to present myself against the
     distinguished gentlemen to whom you have listened if this
     were a mere measuring of abilities; but this is not a
     contest between persons. The humblest citizen in all the
     land, when clad in the armor of a righteous cause, is
     stronger than all the hosts of error. I come to speak to
     you in defense of a cause as holy as the cause of
     liberty--the cause of humanity.

     When this debate is concluded, a motion will be made to lay
     upon the table the resolution offered in commendation of
     the Administration, and also the resolution offered in
     condemnation of the Administration. We object to bringing
     this question down to the level of persons. The individual
     is but an atom; he is born, he acts, he dies; but
     principles are eternal; and this has been a contest over a
     principle.

     Never before in the history of this country has there been
     witnessed such a contest as that through which we have just
     passed. Never before in the history of American politics
     has a great issue been fought out as this issue has been,
     by the voters of a great party. On the fourth of March,
     1895, a few Democrats, most of them members of Congress,
     issued an address to the Democrats of the nation, asserting
     that the money question was the paramount issue of the
     hour; declaring that a majority of the Democratic party had
     the right to control the action of the party on this
     paramount issue; and concluding with the request that the
     believers in the free coinage of silver in the Democratic
     party should organize, take charge of, and control the
     policy of the Democratic party. Three months later, at
     Memphis, an organization was perfected, and the silver
     Democrats went forth openly and courageously proclaiming
     their belief, and declaring that, if successful, they would
     crystallize into a platform the declaration which they had
     made. Then began the conflict. With a zeal approaching the
     zeal which inspired the crusaders who followed Peter the
     Hermit, our silver Democrats went forth from victory unto
     victory until they are now assembled, not to discuss, not
     to debate, but to enter up the judgment already rendered by
     the plain people of this country. In this contest brother
     has been arrayed against brother, father against son. The
     warmest ties of love, acquaintance, and association have
     been disregarded; old leaders have been cast aside when
     they refused to give expression unto the sentiments of
     those whom they would lead, and new leaders have sprung up
     to give direction to this cause of truth. Thus has the
     contest been waged, and we have assembled here under as
     binding and solemn instructions as were ever imposed upon
     representatives of the people.

     We do not come as individuals. As individuals we might have
     been glad to compliment the gentleman from New York
     (Senator Hill), but we know that the people for whom we
     speak would never be willing to put him in a position where
     he could thwart the will of the Democratic party. I say it
     was not a question of persons; it was a question of
     principle, and it is not with gladness, my friends, that we
     find ourselves brought into conflict with those who are now
     arrayed on the other side.

     The gentleman who preceded me (ex-Governor Russell) spoke
     of the State of Massachusetts; let me assure him that not
     one present in all this Convention entertains the least
     hostility to the people of the state of Massachusetts, but
     we stand here representing the people who are the equals,
     before the law, of the greatest citizens in the state of
     Massachusetts. When you [turning to the gold delegates]
     come before us and tell us that we are about to disturb
     your business interests, we reply that you have disturbed
     our business interests by your course.

     We say to you that you have made the definition of a
     business man too limited in its applications. The man who
     is employed for wages is as much a business man as his
     employer; the attorney in a country town is as much a
     business man as the corporation counsel in a great
     metropolis; the merchant at the cross-roads store is as
     much a business man as the merchant of New York; the farmer
     who goes forth in the morning and toils all day, who begins
     in spring and toils all summer, and who by the application
     of brains and muscle to the natural resources of the
     country creates wealth, is as much a business man as the
     man who goes upon the Board of Trade and bets upon the
     price of grain; the miners who go down a thousand feet into
     the earth, or climb two thousand feet upon the cliffs, and
     bring forth from their hiding places the precious metals to
     be poured into the channels of trade are as much business
     men as the few financial magnates who, in a back room,
     corner the money of the world. We come to speak of this
     broader class of business men.

     Ah, my friends, we say not one word against those who live
     upon the Atlantic coast, but the hardy pioneers who have
     braved all the dangers of the wilderness, who have made the
     desert to blossom as the rose--the pioneers away out there
     [pointing to the West], who rear their children near to
     Nature's heart, where they can mingle their voices with the
     voices of the birds--out there where they have erected
     schoolhouses for the education of their young, churches
     where they praise their Creator, and cemeteries where rest
     the ashes of their dead--these people, we say, are as
     deserving of the consideration of our party as any people
     in this country. It is for these that we speak. We do not
     come as aggressors. Our war is not a war of conquest; we
     are fighting in the defense of our homes, our families, and
     posterity. We have petitioned, and our petitions have been
     scorned; we have entreated, and our entreaties have been
     disregarded; we have begged, and they have mocked when our
     calamity came. We beg no longer; we entreat no more; we
     petition no more. We defy them!

     The gentleman from Wisconsin has said that he fears a
     Robespierre. My friends, in this land of the free you need
     not fear that a tyrant will spring up from among the
     people. What we need is an Andrew Jackson to stand, as
     Jackson stood, against the encroachments of organized
     wealth.

     They tell us that this platform was made to catch votes. We
     reply to them that changing conditions make new issues;
     that the principles upon which Democracy rests are as
     everlasting as the hills, but that they must be applied to
     new conditions as they arise. Conditions have arisen, and
     we are here to meet those conditions. They tell us that the
     income tax ought not to be brought in here; that it is a
     new idea. They criticize us for our criticism of the
     Supreme Court of the United States. My friends, we have not
     criticized; we have simply called attention to what you
     already know. If you want criticisms, read the dissenting
     opinions of the court. There you will find criticisms. They
     say that we passed an unconstitutional law; we deny it. The
     income tax law was not unconstitutional when it was passed;
     it was not unconstitutional when it went before the Supreme
     Court for the first time; it did not become
     unconstitutional until one of the judges changed his mind,
     and we cannot be expected to know when a judge will change
     his mind. The income tax is just. It simply intends to put
     the burdens of government justly upon the backs of the
     people. I am in favor of an income tax. When I find a man
     who is not willing to bear his share of the burdens of the
     government which protects him, I find a man who is unworthy
     to enjoy the blessings of a government like ours.

     They say that we are opposing national bank currency; it is
     true. If you will read what Thomas Benton said, you will
     find he said that, in searching history, he could find but
     one parallel to Andrew Jackson; that was Cicero, who
     destroyed the conspiracy of Catiline and saved Rome. Benton
     said that Cicero only did for Rome what Jackson did for us
     when he destroyed the bank conspiracy and saved America. We
     say in our platform that we believe that the right to coin
     and issue money is a function of government. We believe it.
     We believe that it is a part of sovereignty, and can no
     more with safety be delegated to private individuals than
     we could afford to delegate to private individuals the
     power to make penal statutes or levy taxes. Mr. Jefferson,
     who was once regarded as good Democratic authority, seems
     to have differed in opinion from the gentleman who has
     addressed us on the part of the minority. Those who are
     opposed to this proposition tell us that the issue of paper
     money is a function of the bank, and that the government
     ought to go out of the banking business. I stand with
     Jefferson rather than with them, and tell them, as he did,
     that the issue of money is a function of government, and
     that the banks ought to go out of the governing business.

     They complain about the plank which declares against life
     tenure in office. They have tried to strain it to mean that
     which it does not mean. What we oppose by that plank is the
     life tenure which is built up in Washington, and which
     excludes from participation in official benefits the humble
     members of society.

     Let me call your attention to two or three important
     things. The gentleman from New York says that he will
     propose an amendment to the platform providing that the
     proposed change in our monetary system shall not affect
     contracts already made. Let me remind you that there is no
     intention of affecting these contracts which, according to
     the present laws, are made payable in gold; but if he means
     to say that we cannot change our monetary system without
     protecting those who have loaned money before the change
     was made, I desire to ask him where, in law or in morals,
     he can find justification for not protecting the debtors
     when the act of 1873 was passed, if he now insists that we
     must protect the creditors.

     He says he will also propose an amendment which will
     provide for the suspension of free coinage if we fail to
     maintain a parity within a year. We reply that when we
     advocate a policy which we believe will be successful, we
     are not compelled to raise a doubt as to our own sincerity
     by suggesting what we shall do if we fail. I ask him, if he
     would apply his logic to us, why he does not apply it to
     himself. He says he wants this country to try to secure an
     international agreement. Why does he not tell us what he is
     going to do if he fails to secure an international
     agreement? There is more reason for him to do that than
     there is for us to provide against the failure to maintain
     the parity. Our opponents have tried for twenty years to
     secure an international agreement, and those are waiting
     for it most patiently who do not want it at all.

     And now, my friends, let me come to the paramount issue. If
     they ask us why it is that we say more on the money
     question than we say upon the tariff question, I reply
     that, if protection has slain its thousands, the gold
     standard has slain its tens of thousands. If they ask us
     why we do not embody in our platform all the things that we
     believe in, we reply that when we have restored the money
     of the Constitution all other necessary reforms will be
     possible; but that until this is done there is no other
     reform that can be accomplished.

     Why is it that within three months such a change has come
     over the country? Three months ago, when it was confidently
     asserted that those who believe in the gold standard would
     frame our platform and nominate our candidates, even the
     advocates of the gold standard did not think that we could
     elect a President. And they had good reason for their
     doubt, because there is scarcely a state here today asking
     for the gold standard which is not in the absolute control
     of the Republican party. But note the change. Mr. McKinley
     was nominated at St. Louis upon a platform which declared
     for the maintenance of the gold standard until it can be
     changed into bimetallism by international agreement. Mr.
     McKinley was the most popular man among the Republicans,
     and three months ago everybody in the Republican party
     prophesied his election. How is it today? Why, the man who
     was once pleased to think that he looked like
     Napoleon--that man shudders today when he remembers that he
     was nominated on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo.
     Not only that, but as he listens he can hear with
     ever-increasing distinctness the sound of the waves as they
     beat upon the lonely shores of St. Helena.

     Why this change? Ah, my friends, is not the reason for the
     change evident to any one who will look at the matter? No
     private character, however, pure, no personal popularity,
     however great, can protect from the avenging wrath of an
     indignant people a man who will declare that he is in favor
     of fastening the gold standard upon this country, or who is
     willing to surrender the right of self-government and place
     the legislative control of our affairs in the hands of
     foreign potentates and powers.

     We go forth confident that we shall win. Why? Because upon
     the paramount issue of this campaign there is not a spot of
     ground upon which the enemy will dare to challenge battle.
     If they tell us that the gold standard is a good thing, we
     shall point to their platform and tell them that their
     platform pledges the party to get rid of the gold standard
     and substitute bimetallism. If the gold standard is a good
     thing, why try to get rid of it? I call your attention to
     the fact that some of the very people who are in this
     Convention today and who tell us that we ought to declare
     in favor of international bimetallism--thereby declaring
     that the gold standard is wrong and that the principle of
     bimetallism is better--these very people four months ago
     were open and avowed advocates of the gold standard, and
     were then telling us that we could not legislate two metals
     together, even with the aid of all the world. If the gold
     standard is a good thing we ought to declare in favor of
     its retention and not in favor of abandoning it; and if the
     gold standard is a bad thing why should we wait until other
     nations are willing to help us to let go? Here is the line
     of battle, and we care not upon which issue they force the
     fight; we are prepared to meet them on either side or on
     both. If they tell us that the gold standard is the
     standard of civilization, we reply to them that this, the
     most enlightened of all the nations of the earth, has never
     declared for a gold standard and that both the great
     parties this year are declaring against it. If the gold
     standard is the standard of civilization, why, my friends,
     should we not have it? If they come to meet us on that
     issue we can present the history of our nation. More than
     that; we can tell them that they will search the pages of
     history in vain to find a single instance where the common
     people of any land have ever declared themselves in favor
     of the gold standard. They can find where the holders of
     fixed investments have declared for a gold standard, but
     not where the masses have. Mr. Carlisle said in 1878 that
     this was a struggle between "the idle holders of idle
     capital" and "the struggling masses, who produce the wealth
     and pay the taxes of the country"; and, my friends, the
     question we are to decide is: Upon which side will the
     Democratic party fight, upon the side of "the idle holders
     of idle capital" or upon the side of "the struggling
     masses"? That is the question which the party must answer
     first, and then it must be answered by each individual
     hereafter. The sympathies of the Democratic party, as shown
     by the platform, are on the side of the struggling masses
     who have ever been the foundation of the Democratic party.
     There are two ideas of government. There are those who
     believe that, if you will only legislate to make the
     well-to-do prosperous, their prosperity will leak through
     on those below. The Democratic idea, however, has been that
     if you legislate to make the masses prosperous, their
     prosperity will find its way up through ever class which
     rests upon them.

     You come to us and tell us that the great cities are in
     favor of the gold standard; we reply that the great cities
     rest upon our broad and fertile prairies. Burn down your
     cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up
     again as if by magic; but destroy our farms and the grass
     will grow in the streets of every city in the country.

     My friends, we declare that this nation is able to
     legislate for its own people on every question, without
     waiting for the aid and consent of any other nation on
     earth; and upon that issue we expect to carry every state
     in the Union. I shall not slander the inhabitants of the
     fair state of Massachusetts, nor the inhabitants of the
     state of New York, by saying that, when they are confronted
     with the proposition they will declare that this nation is
     not able to attend to its own business. It is the issue of
     1776 over again. Our ancestors, when but three millions in
     number, had the courage to declare their political
     independence of every other nation; shall we, their
     descendants, when we have grown to seventy millions,
     declare that we are less independent than our forefathers?

     No, my friends, that will never be the verdict of our
     people. Therefore, we care not upon what lines the battle
     is fought. If they say bimetallism is good, but that we
     cannot have it until other nations help us, we reply that,
     instead of having a gold standard because England has, we
     will restore bimetallism, and then let England have
     bimetallism because the United States has it. If they dare
     to come out in the open field and defend the gold standard
     as a good thing, we will fight them to the uttermost.
     Having behind us the producing masses of this nation and
     the world, supported by the commercial interests, the
     laboring interests and the toilers everywhere, we will
     answer their demand for a gold standard by saying to them:
     You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown
     of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of
     gold.


JOHN HAYNES HOLMES
THE BIRTH OF AN ORATOR[18] (1912)

     On the 9th day of December, 1837, there was held in Faneuil
     Hall, in the city of Boston, a great public meeting in
     protest against the recent murder, in Alton, Illinois, of
     the Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy. The historic old edifice was
     filled upon this momentous occasion to suffocation, as
     feeling was running very high upon both sides of the
     slavery question; and the audience was about equally
     divided between the friends and enemies of the cause. The
     meeting was opened with a brief and impressive address by
     Dr. Channing. Resolutions denouncing the murder of Lovejoy
     were then read and formally seconded. Everything seemed to
     be moving smoothly, when a man was seen making his way
     through the excited crowd to the great gilded eagle in the
     front of the gallery. He was instantly recognized as
     James T. Austin, a parishioner of Dr. Channing, a popular
     politician, and at that time the Attorney-General of the
     Commonwealth. Gaining his position, he began a harangue,
     calculated to fire the crowd and break up the meeting. He
     compared the slaves of the South to a menagerie, and
     likened Lovejoy to one who should "break the bars and let
     loose the caravan to prowl about the streets." He talked of
     the rioters of Alton as akin to the "orderly mob" which
     threw the tea into Boston Harbor in 1773; and, in direct
     allusion to his minister, Dr. Channing, he closed by
     asserting that a clergyman with a gun in his hand, or one
     "mingling in the debates of a popular assembly, was
     marvellously out of place."

     No sooner were these words spoken than the chairman lost
     all control of the meeting. The Attorney-General had
     captured his audience, and friends and foes seemed to vie
     with one another in calling for the resolutions that they
     might vote them down, and then turn the protest of the
     occasion into an endorsement. At this wild moment, when all
     hope of saving the meeting seemed to be lost, a young man
     with pale face and close-pressed lips, was seen pushing his
     way to the platform through the frenzied mob. A few persons
     recognized Wendell Phillips, a son of one of the richest
     and most conservative families of Boston, a graduate of
     Harvard College and Harvard Law School, and now just
     entered upon the practice of his profession. Leaping upon
     the stage, this unknown stripling faced the crowd, as tall
     and fair and beautiful as an Apollo, and, raising his hand,
     spoke two or three words in those marvellous silvery tones
     which were destined ultimately to chant their music in so
     many halls and before so many popular assemblies. Instantly
     the wild "tumult and shouting" was hushed, while men leaned
     forward curiously to hear what this foolish youth could
     find to say in answer to the Attorney-General. "Mr.
     Chairman," he began, "we are here met for the freest
     discussion of these resolutions, and the events which gave
     rise to them. I hope I shall be permitted to express my
     surprise as to the sentiments of the last speaker--surprise
     not only at such sentiments from such a man, but at the
     applause which they received within these walls. . . . Sir,
     when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which place
     the murders of Lovejoy side by side with Otis and Hancock,
     Quincy and Adams, I thought [pointing to the portraits of
     the revolutionary heroes in the hall] those pictured lips
     would have broken into voice to rebuke this recreant
     American--this slanderer of the dead." Instantly, with this
     utterance of magic eloquence, the tide of popular feeling
     was turned. Sentence after sentence fell from the speaker's
     lips like thunderbolts from the land of Jove, until at last
     his words were swept away in the wild tumult of applause;
     and with a mighty shout the resolutions were put and
     carried. Thus was the day unexpectedly saved, and from that
     moment on Faneuil Hall was identified with the name of
     Wendell Phillips as it had previously been identified with
     the names of James Otis and Samuel Adams, and was dedicated
     to the cause of anti-slavery, as it had hitherto been
     dedicated to the cause of political independence.


PEACE BETWEEN LABOR AND CAPITAL[19] (1912)

     First of all, let me tell you that nothing will be gained
     by crushing unions and destroying organizations of labor.
     The time has passed by forever for that course of
     procedure. Labor is learning its power; and, what is more
     important still, society has itself learned the value of
     organized labor as a bulwark against the aggressions of
     militant capitalism. The man who thinks that labor can be
     permanently repressed and exploited is mad, and his madness
     is a menace to the future peace of the country.

     Neither can we solve this problem by talking about the
     interests of capital and labor being identical under the
     present system of industry, and by bringing capital and
     labor together into any such "moonshine" organization as
     the Civic Federation. We might as well recognize the fact
     once for all that, just as long as higher wages mean lower
     dividends, and shortened hours mean lessened output, the
     interests of capital and labor are not identical but
     opposite, not mutual but antagonistic.

     The only way to bring peace into the present turmoil and
     confusion of industry is first, for the sake of ordinary
     decency and order, to make some laws to meet the
     situation--laws which will oblige two warring classes to
     bring their dispute before some impartial tribunal for
     peaceful settlement, as two warring individuals are obliged
     to do; and then, going straight to the heart of the matter,
     to recognize that our whole system of capital and labor,
     employer and employee, master and servant, is a form of
     feudalism, and that this feudalism must give way to
     democracy in the world of industry as it has long since
     given way to democracy in the world of politics. The social
     war will be over and peace established, when the man who
     invests his labor in an industry is given the same degree
     of ownership in that industry, as the man who invests his
     money--when the laborer with his hands, like the laborer
     with his brains, is given the full product of his
     labor--when the laborer becomes a capitalist and the
     capitalist becomes a laborer--when one man counts for one
     man in the organization of industry, whatever his class or
     station or wealth, just as one man is now counted for one
     man in the organization of government. In other words, when
     competition is succeeded by coöperation, private ownership
     and control by social ownership and control, feudalism by
     democracy, despotism by liberty, inequality by equality,
     antagonism by fraternity, hatred by good-will. And you and
     I can speed the coming of this happy day, by solemnly
     resolving in the sight of God, that, so far as we are
     concerned, we shall seek the enjoyment of no privilege
     which is not universal, demand the exercise of no right for
     ourselves which is denied to one of the least of these our
     brethren, and cherish no sentiment within our hearts save
     that of good-will for all the sons of men.

     I have spoken upon this burning question this morning, my
     friends, with a freedom which makes misinterpretation
     inevitable and misquotation certain. I have spoken thus for
     two reasons! First, that you, as my people, may know,
     beyond all doubt, just where I, your minister, stand on
     this burning question. I want you to know that, in this
     present fight, I am on the side of labor. I excuse none of
     its crimes--I pardon none of its criminals; but no crime
     and no criminal can ever shake my faith in the justice of
     its cause. And, in the second place, I have thus spoken,
     that I may shake you out of that opinion which has been
     forced upon your minds by the public discussions of the
     last two weeks, and set your thinking upon this question
     all anew. If you go out of this place, and denounce me as a
     dynamiter, I shall have failed in my purpose; and the fault
     will be mine, that I cannot express clearly what I want to
     say. If you go out of this place, and, without accepting
     any of my opinions, think the whole problem through again,
     in prayer to God that you may find the truth and may do
     injustice to no living soul, I shall have succeeded; and
     the credit will be yours, that you have the open mind. But
     whether I succeed or fail, matters little, perhaps; for, in
     spite of you and in spite of me, "it is God who reigneth
     over all the earth--He will judge the world in
     righteousness and minister judgment to the people. He will
     not fail nor faint till He have set justice in the
     earth--till He have burst the yoke asunder and given
     liberty to all them that are oppressed."


RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN
THE PERFECT ORATOR

     Imagine to yourself a Demosthenes, addressing the most
     illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the
     fate of the most illustrious of nations depended. How awful
     such a meeting! How fast the subject! Is man possessed of
     talents adequate to the great occasion? Adequate! Yes,
     superior. By the power of eloquence, the augustness of the
     assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator; and the
     importance of the subject, for a while superseded, by the
     admiration of his talents.

     With what strength of argument, with what powers of the
     fancy, with what emotions of the heart, doth he assault and
     subjugate the whole man; and at once, captivate his reason,
     his imagination, and his passions. To effect this, must be
     the utmost effort of the most improved state of human
     nature. Not a faculty that he possesses is here unemployed;
     not a faculty that he possesses but is here exerted to its
     highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work; all his
     external, testify their energies.

     Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions,
     are all busy. Without, every muscle, every nerve, is
     exerted; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs
     of the body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through
     the kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate
     those energies from soul to soul.

     Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude,
     by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one
     mass; the whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way,
     become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice.
     The universal cry is--"_let us move against Philip_--LET US
     FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES--+LET US CONQUER OR DIE!+"


THEODORE ROOSEVELT
INAUGURAL ADDRESS[20] (1905)

     My Fellow Citizens: No people on earth have more cause to
     be thankful than ours, and this is said reverently, in no
     spirit of boastfulness in our own strength, but with
     gratitude to the Giver of Good, who has blessed us with the
     conditions which have enabled us to achieve so large a
     measure of well-being and happiness.

     To us as a people it has been granted to lay the
     foundations of our natural life in a new continent. We are
     the heirs of the ages, and yet we have had to pay few of
     the penalties which in old countries are exacted by the
     dead hand of a bygone civilization. We have not been
     obliged to fight for our existence against any alien race;
     and yet our life has called for the vigor and effort
     without which the manlier and hardier virtues wither away.

     Under such conditions it would be our own fault if we
     failed, and the success which we have had in the past, the
     success which we confidently believe the future will bring,
     should cause in us no feeling of vainglory, but rather a
     deep and abiding realization of all that life has offered
     us; a full acknowledgment of the responsibility which is
     ours; and a fixed determination to show that under a free
     government a mighty people can thrive best, alike as regard
     the things of the body and the things of the soul. Much has
     been given us, and much will rightfully be expected from
     us. We have duties to others and duties to ourselves--and
     we can shirk neither. We have become a great nation, forced
     by the fact of its greatness into relation to the other
     nations of the earth, and we must behave as becomes a
     people with such responsibilities.

     Toward all other nations, large and small, our attitude
     must be one of cordial and sincere friendship. We must show
     not only in our words but in our deeds that we are
     earnestly desirous of securing their good will by acting
     toward them in a spirit of just and generous recognition of
     all their rights.

     But justice and generosity in a nation, as in an
     individual, count most when shown not by the weak but by
     the strong. While ever careful to refrain from wronging
     others, we must be no less insistent that we are not
     wronged ourselves. We wish peace; but we wish the peace of
     justice, the peace of righteousness. We wish it because we
     think it right, and not because we are afraid. No weak
     nation that acts rightly and justly should ever have cause
     to fear, and no strong power should ever be able to single
     us out as a subject for insolent aggression.

     Our relations with the other powers of the world are
     important; but still more important are our relations among
     ourselves. Such growth in wealth, in population, and in
     power, as a nation has seen during a century and a quarter
     of its national life, is inevitably accompanied by a like
     growth in the problems which are ever before every nation
     that rises to greatness. Power invariably means both
     responsibility and danger. Our forefathers faced certain
     perils which we have outgrown. We now face other perils the
     very existence of which it was impossible that they should
     foresee.

     Modern life is both complex and intense, and the tremendous
     changes wrought by the extraordinary industrial development
     of the half century are felt in every fiber of our social
     and political being. Never before have men tried so vast
     and formidable an experiment as that of administering the
     affairs of a continent under the forms of a democratic
     republic. The conditions which have told for our marvelous
     material well-being, which have developed to a very high
     degree our energy, self-reliance, and individual
     initiative, also have brought the care and anxiety
     inseparable from the accumulation of great wealth in
     industrial centers.

     Upon the success of our experiment much depends--not only
     as regards our own welfare, but as regards the welfare of
     mankind. If we fail, the cause of free self-government
     throughout the world will rock to its foundations, and
     therefore our responsibility is heavy, to ourselves, to the
     world as it is today, and to the generations yet unborn.

     There is no good reason why we should fear the future, but
     there is every reason why we should face it seriously,
     neither hiding from ourselves the gravity of the problems
     before us, nor fearing to approach these problems with the
     unbending, unflinching purpose to solve them aright.

     Yet, after all, though the problems are new, though the
     tasks set before us differ from the tasks set before our
     fathers, who founded and preserved this Republic, the
     spirit in which these tasks must be undertaken and these
     problems faced, if our duty is to be well done, remains
     essentially unchanged. We know that self-government is
     difficult. We know that no people needs such high traits of
     character as that people which seeks to govern its affairs
     aright through the freely expressed will of the free men
     who compose it.

     But we have faith that we shall not prove false to memories
     of the men of the mighty past. They did their work; they
     left us the splendid heritage we now enjoy. We in our turn
     have an assured confidence that we shall be able to leave
     this heritage unwasted and enlarged for our children's
     children.

     To do so we must show, not merely in great crisis, but in
     every-day affairs of life, the qualities of practical
     intelligence, of course, of hardihood, and endurance, and,
     above all, the power of devotion to a lofty ideal, which
     made great the men who founded this Republic in the days of
     Washington; which made great the men who preserved this
     Republic in the days of Abraham Lincoln.


EDWIN G. LAWRENCE
OUR COUNTRY[21] (1912)

     MR. TOASTMASTER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: In that long ago,
     that age just following the period when darkness covered
     the face of the earth, that age when God dispelled that
     darkness by issuing his fiat, "Let there be light," we are
     told in the Good Book that God followed the birth of the
     light with the creation of man, that He breathed the breath
     of life into his nostrils and that man became thereby a
     living soul. With the entrance of divine breath into the
     senseless clay, with the awakening of the soul of man,
     there came the realization of three spiritual facts: the
     belief in God, the love of home, and the devotion to
     country.

     Nowhere in this vast universe does a conscious being exist
     who does not, in his heart, believe in God. Traverse the
     wilds of darkest Africa, enter the densest jungles of that
     great continent, and you will find that all its human
     inhabitants have some conception of God. In the remotest
     isles of the Pacific, among the cannibals who devour the
     flesh of their victims, is found evidence of the belief in
     the existence of God, although the evidence may be nothing
     more than the setting up of a symbol of wood or stone that
     typifies to the poor savage the Being he worships. Even the
     blasphemer, who, with the words of his mouth, denies the
     Almighty who created him, will, in his secret soul, hear
     the still small voice, the reflex of that great Creator,
     whisper unto him, "I am the Lord thy God."

     The love of home is universal. Be that home a hovel or a
     palace, if the heart be there, happiness will be its
     companion. Love of home often exists where the home is only
     in the fancy, only in the heart that longs and hungers for
     its blessings. That sweet singer who sang of "Home, sweet
     home" was a wanderer on the face of the earth, and
     possessed that home only in his dreams. No matter how pomp
     and power may elevate us, no matter how our erring feet may
     carry us astray, still in our hearts will echo the refrain:

        'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
        Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

     As we are gathered within this palatial building, around
     these well-laden tables, under the splendor of these
     electric lamps, how many of you at the sound of the word
     "Home" think of the little cottage perched upon the hill,
     or nestling down in the valley, where, seated at the plain
     wooden table, the room faintly lighted by a tallow candle,
     you have eaten your humble meal, blessed by the spirit that
     ever sanctifies the home? How many of you at this moment
     are, in fancy, back in the dear old county of Greene? How
     many of you trace the winding brook climb the hills, till
     the fields, or sit within the holy confines of the House of
     God, humble in its man-made structure but magnificent with
     the glory of His presence?

     Home is a thought, a dream, a wish, the longing of the soul
     for the attainment of the heaven upon earth; and because
     man keeps before him the vision of what he would have his
     home, and sees not the materiality of its reality, he
     conceives his home, no matter where it may be placed, to be
     the best on earth. That beautiful writer, weak man, and
     luckless wanderer, Oliver Goldsmith, thus expresses the
     idea I would convey to you:

        But where to find that happiest spot below
        Who can direct, when all pretend to know?
        The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
        Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own.
        Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,
        And his long nights of revelry and ease:
        The naked negro, panting at the Line,
        Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,
        Basks in their glare, or stems the tepid wave,
        And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
        Such is the patriot's boast where'er he roam,
        His first, best country, ever is at home.

     What does the word country signify? It means the same to
     the Russian on the frozen Volga; the German on the castled
     Rhine; the Irish on the shores of the River Lee, listening
     to "those bells of Shandon"; to the English on the Thames,
     that little stream pregnant with the history of a world;
     and to the American by the shores of the Hudson, the
     Columbia or the Mississippi. To all men, in all climes, "my
     country" means the land of my fathers, or the land of my
     choice; the place of sacred memories, of strong endeavors
     and of fervent hopes. Be that country the rock-ribbed land
     of Scotland, the sands of Africa, the vine-clad hills of
     France, the plains, the valleys and the mountains of
     America, it is "my country" to her sons and daughters. No
     matter what may be the language spoken, no matter what may
     the natural formation of the landscape, be it Holland with
     her dykes and ditches or Switzerland with her home in the
     clouds, no matter what may be the color of her children, be
     they white, yellow, black or brown, to them she is their
     mother, and they adore her.

     All this and more "our country" means to us Americans. She
     means more to us than most lands can mean to their
     children, because she offers us greater opportunities for
     advancement in education, more religious, social and
     political liberty, and instills into us an appreciation of
     the necessity of working for the uplifting of mankind.

     While laboring to uplift ourselves and our fellows, we
     should keep ever in mind the first tenth of that Decalogue
     given to the children of Israel for their guidance and
     government, and which is as necessary to our national
     preservation as it was to their national formation. That
     commandment states "Thou shalt have no other gods before
     Me"; and wherever that divine order was broken, the peoples
     so breaking it, went down to destruction. When Athens
     turned from her high ideals of progress and liberty she
     became the vassal of Macedonia and passed out of existence
     as an independent state. When the Emperor Augustus mounted
     the throne of the world-power of Rome, the people of that
     vast empire were slaves to sensuality and luxury, and from
     that moment, when her greatness appeared fixed for all
     times, her decline began. Let America pause and ponder as
     she stands on the brink of that gulf wherein lie buried
     Israel, Assyria, Carthage, Greece, and Rome, for unless she
     turns from the false god Mammon, and returns to the worship
     of the Lord God, she will as surely be plunged into the
     bottomless pit as were the nations that preceded her in
     wealth and power and which she is imitating by bowing down
     to and worshiping the golden calf. Let us keep before our
     country the lights of truth and justice that they may guide
     her from this threatening peril on to that upward and
     onward path leading to the holy of holies wherein sits
     enthroned the one true God--the God of Equality and of Love.

     It is well to blend God, Home and Country, because the
     belief in all three makes the believer, man or woman, the
     patriot and the child of God. Take God out of the home and
     what have we? A shelter for the body, perhaps, but a
     wilderness for the spirit. Take God out of the country and
     what have we? A ship of state without a compass whereby to
     direct its course. Therefore, if either love of God or love
     of home fails to exist in the hearts of the citizens of any
     land, that part of the earth's surface will be their
     habitation but it will fail to be their country. When the
     patriot thinks of the nation he loves he does not picture
     it as so much land, so much water, so many mountains or so
     many plains. No, he sees it as he sees his flag, symbolical
     of all that is dear, holy and true. It is the spirit of our
     flag that we love. It is the spirit of God and the spirit
     of Home that make us love our Country. Let us look to hear
     as our mother, let us be to her faithful and loving
     children, and may she be the better for having nurtured us
     in her arms.

     Ladies and Gentlemen: Our Country. God grant she may always
     stand for the fulfillment of His word.


FOOTNOTES:

   [1]   Delivered in the Virginia Convention, on a resolution
         to put the commonwealth into a state of defense,
         March 23, 1775.

   [2]   Delivered in the United States Senate, March 7, 1850,
         in support of Clay's compromise resolutions. Abridged.

   [3]   Delivered in the Senate of the United States,
         January 21, 1830. Abridged.

   [4]   Delivered at the Illinois Republican State Convention
         at Springfield, June 16, 1858.

   [5]   Delivered on February 11, 1861.

   [6]   Delivered in Faneuil Hall, Boston, December 8, 1837.

   [7]   Delivered in the United States Senate,
         January 21, 1861.

   [8]   Delivered in the United States Senate,
         January 7, 1861.

   [9]   A city of Iberia (Spain). Captured by Hannibal in
         219 B.C., in spite of Rome's warning. Hannibal's
         action caused the war between Rome and Carthage.

   [10]  Delivered at Dartmouth College, July 27, 1853.

   [11]  Extract from an address delivered at the unveiling of
         the Statue of the Poet, in Central Park, New York,
         October 2, 1880.

   [12]  From Robert Burns' Elegy on Captain Matthew Henderson.

   [13]  Delivered in the House of Representatives,
         April 28, 1874. Extract.

   [14]  Delivered in Washington, D. C., June 3, 1879.

   [15]  Delivered in Edinburgh, Scotland, March 17, 1880.

   [16]  Extract from an oration delivered before the President
         and both Houses of Congress in the House of
         Representatives at Washington, D. C., February 27, 1882.

   [17]  Delivered in the National Democratic Convention at
         Chicago in 1896.

   [18]  From a sermon delivered in the Church of the Messiah,
         New York City.

   [19]  From a sermon on "Capital vs. Labor," delivered in the
         Church of the Messiah, New York City.

   [20]  Delivered at Washington, D. C., March 4, 1905.

   [21]  Delivered at the Hotel Astor, New York City, on the
         occasion of the Eighth Annual Dinner of The Greene
         County Society, Jan. 30, 1912.



CHAPTER X
LESSON TALKS

These lesson talks will be of value to students only after they have
diligently studied the contents of this book, particularly the first,
second, and sixth chapters, which treat of the means of speech
construction and the forms of delivery. It is absolutely necessary
that students should have a thorough understanding of inflection,
emphasis, apposition, opposition, and the series, in order that they
may understand and appreciate the work of this chapter. These talks
are intended to exemplify the application of the rules laid down in
this book for the guidance of those who seek proficiency in the art
of public speaking, but they will help little unless the student has
prepared himself to receive them by thoroughly mastering the
technique of the art as expounded in the different chapters.

It will be well for the student to mark the speeches given in this
chapter according to the instructions given in the lesson talks, as
then he will have an object lesson before him that will enable him
more readily to grasp the written instructions regarding the series,
emphasis, and inflection.

_Cuba Must Be Free._ On March 24, 1898, Senator John M. Thurston of
Nebraska delivered a speech "On the Affairs of Cuba," from which this
extract is taken. While it is but a portion of a speech, being the
peroration only, still it is a complete speech in itself, as it
conforms to all the requirements of speech construction. Its opening,
or statement, consists of the laying down of the facts upon which the
argument is to be based, these facts being the legal rights of
individuals and states as opposed to the moral rights. The statement
ends with the second paragraph. The body, or argument, closes with
the fifth paragraph and consists in showing that nations, like
individuals, should be governed by high moral motives and not shrink
from obligations because they have the legal right to do so; and that
in the performance of these obligations force is the only means that
can bring about the desired end. The balance of the speech forms the
conclusion, and it consists of a summing up of the great events of
the world's history wherein progress was made in man's struggle for
liberty only by the exercise of force.

The opening sentence states the claims of those who oppose
intervention in behalf of Cuba by the United States, and sets forth
their claims. This forms the base of Senator Thurston's argument. The
second sentence is a qualified acknowledgment of the legal right of
the United States to refrain from interfering. In other words, he
frankly confesses that there is no legal power that can compel the
United States to interfere between Spain and her colony, but clearly
shows that he intends to uphold the moral right of that country to
intervene, the construction of this sentence, "It may be the naked
legal right of the United States to stand thus idly by," plainly
denoting the senator's opinion.

The second paragraph is devoted to illustrating the legal rights of
the individual; the third paragraph, the effects that would flow from
an exercise of those rights; the fourth paragraph, an application of
the principle to nations that has previously been applied to
individuals, and an explanation as to the senator's conception of the
religious doctrine as taught by Christ; the fifth paragraph states
the meaning of intervention, force, and war, defines the force that
should be used, and makes two strong assertions in the form of
indirect questions; the sixth paragraph is devoted to the production
of cumulative evidence as to the efficacy of force, and a stirring
appeal that this force be exercised. The quotation from "The Battle
Hymn of the Republic" is used to emphasize this last point; the
seventh paragraph states the position that the senator takes on the
question.

"Cuba" and "United States" are contrasted, consequently both require
emphasis as well as different inflections, and as the former is
affirmative it should be given the falling inflection, and the
latter, because it is negative, should be given the rising
inflection. The balance of the sentence consists of a concluding
series that is out of the ordinary for the reason that the last
member of the series forms a series by itself, and it is therefore
termed a series within a series. The last sentence of the opening
paragraph requires the falling inflection because it is an
affirmative statement.

The opening sentence of the second paragraph requires the falling
inflection because it is a positive statement. The word "legal"
should be emphasized for the reason that it qualifies the word
"right," and by means of emphasis placed on the word "legal" a
contrast is immediately suggested with the "moral" right. In the next
sentence the word "my" is the important word because it qualifies the
word "dog," and as it states that "it is not my dog," the word "my"
should be given the rising inflection to show its negative quality.
If the emphasis and inflection should be placed on the word "dog," it
would then be indicated that the "dog" is not mine but the cat or the
horse is. Care must be exercised to place properly both the
inflection and the emphasis in order that a correct interpretation
may be given. "Mine," in the next sentence, should be given the
rising inflection for the same reason that governs the inflection on
the word "dog," the meaning being that it may be the policeman's duty
to interfere but it is not the speaker's. The word "my," in the next
phrase, requires the rising inflection for the same reason, the
occurrence taking place on premises but not on "my" premises. The
conclusion of the paragraph should be given the falling inflection
because it is assertive.

"But if I do" is conditional and therefore requires the rising
inflection; "I am a coward and a cur" being the concluding clause to
the conditional, and being positive, it should have the falling
inflection; "live" is contrasted with "die," and "God knows" is
parenthetical. "Dog," "woman," and "force" all require the rising
inflection because they are negatived, the statement being that "I
cannot protect the dog," "I cannot save the woman," "without [not
employing] force." The reverse of the form used in the speech, the
positive, would be: I can protect the dog, I can save the woman, by
exercising force.

"We cannot intervene and save Cuba without the exercise of force"
requires the rising inflection because it is a negative statement,
"and force means war; war means blood" requires the falling
inflection because they are positive. The next sentence requires a
like inflection for a like reason. "Liberty" and "humanity" are
negatived, and therefore should be giving the rising inflection. The
next sentence is a negative one, and all its members require the
rising inflection. The sentence that follows is positive, and
requires the falling inflection. The phrase "I believe in the
doctrine of peace," is also positive, but as it is qualified by "men
must have liberty before there can come abiding peace," it requires
the rising inflection, the qualifying phrase taking the falling
inflection because it is assertive.

The three short opening sentences of the fifth paragraph require the
falling inflection because they are positive. "God's" requires
emphasis for the reason that it qualifies "force." The two questions
that follow, being indirect questions, should be given falling
inflections.

The sixth paragraph represents a masterly arrangement of concluding
series. The first series enumerates three great charters: Magna
Carta, the Declaration of Independence, and the Emancipation
Proclamation; the second, three instances where the people struggled
against oppression: the storming of the Bastille, the battle of
Bunker Hill, and the suffering of the American army at Valley Forge;
the third, three battles of the war between the states; the fourth,
three Federal generals; the fifth, the results that followed the
Civil War. All these are concluding series; therefore, in each
series, the first member should be given the falling inflection, the
second member the rising inflection, and the third member the falling
inflection. If these directions are not clear, review the section on
series, in the second chapter. The two sentences that follow the
series are positive and require falling inflections. In the first
sentence the word "again" requires emphasis because it is important,
while in the second, "once more" should be given emphasis for the
same reason.

In the quotation, "you" and "me" are contrasted, and there is a
double contrast between "He" and "us," "holy" and "free." "God," in
the last line of the quotation, requires emphasis because of its
importance.

In the last paragraph there is a double opposition between "others,"
each time the word is used, and "me," "hesitate," "procrastinate" and
"negotiation" with "act now," while "which means delay" is
parenthetical. The speech ends with a concluding series.

     [Transcriber's Note: The sixth paragraph of the following
     oration includes a term that many find offensive.]

CUBA MUST BE FREE[1]
JOHN M. THURSTON

     Mr. President, there are those who say that the affairs of
     Cuba are not the affairs of the United States, who insist
     that we can stand idly by and see that island devastated
     and depopulated, its business interests destroyed, its
     commercial intercourse with us cut off, its people starved,
     degraded, and enslaved. It may be the naked legal right of
     the United States to stand thus idly by.

     I have the legal right to pass along the street and see a
     helpless dog stamped into the earth under the heels of a
     ruffian. I can pass by and say that is not my dog. I can
     sit in my comfortable parlor with my loved ones gathered
     about me, and through my plate glass window see a fiend
     outraging a helpless woman nearby, and I can legally say
     this is no affair of mine--it is not happening on my
     premises; and I can turn away and take my little ones in my
     arms, and, with the memory of their sainted mother in my
     heart, look up to the motto on the wall and read, "God
     bless our home."

     But if I do, I am a coward and a cur unfit to live, and,
     God knows, unfit to die. And yet I cannot protect the dog
     nor save the woman without the exercise of force.

     We cannot intervene and save Cuba without the exercise of
     force, and force means war; war means blood. The lowly
     Nazarene on the shores of Galilee preached the divine
     doctrine of love, "Peace on earth, good will toward men."
     Not peace on earth at the expense of liberty and humanity.
     Not good will toward men who despoil, enslave, degrade, and
     starve to death their fellow men. I believe in the doctrine
     of Christ. I believe in the doctrine of peace; but, Mr.
     President, men must have liberty before there can come
     abiding peace.

     Intervention means force. Force means war. War means blood.
     But it will be God's force. When has a battle for humanity
     and liberty ever been won except by force? What barricade
     of wrong, injustice, and oppression has ever been carried
     except by force?

     Force compelled the signature of unwilling royalty to the
     great Magna Carta; force put life into the Declaration of
     Independence and made effective the Emancipation
     Proclamation; force beat with naked hands upon the iron
     gateway of the Bastille and made reprisal in one awful hour
     for centuries of kingly crime; force waved the flag of
     revolution over Bunker Hill and marked the snows of Valley
     Forge with blood-stained feet; force held the broken line
     at Shiloh, climbed the flame-swept hill at Chattanooga, and
     stormed the clouds on Lookout Heights; force marched with
     Sherman to the sea, rode with Sheridan in the valley of the
     Shenandoah, and gave Grant victory at Appomattox; force
     saved the Union, kept the stars in the flag, made "niggers"
     men. The time for God's force has come again. Let the
     impassioned lips of American patriots once more take up the
     song:

        In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born
             across the sea,
        With a glory in His bosom that transfigured
             you and me;
        As He died to make men holy, let us die to
             make men free,
                 For God is marching on.

     Others may hesitate, others may procrastinate, others may
     plead for further diplomatic negotiation, which means
     delay, but for me, I am ready to act now, and for my action
     I am ready to answer to my conscience, my country, and my
     God.


_Evidence and Precedents in Law._ Here is an example of argumentative
oratory, an extract from a speech by Thomas Erskine, that will repay
careful consideration.

The opening statement, "Before you can adjudge a fact, you must
believe it," is positive, and demands the falling inflection; "not
suspect it, or imagine it, or fancy it" are all negatived and require
the rising inflection; "but believe it" is positive and must be given
the falling inflection, and the balance of the sentence is negative
and requires the rising inflection throughout. The question that
follows is an indirect one and should be given the falling
inflection. "Neither more nor less" are negatived and therefore both
"more" and "less" require the rising inflection; "justice" should be
given the falling inflection because it completes a positive
statement; the balance of the sentence should receive the same
inflection for the same reason. "As they are settled by law, and
adopted in its general administration" is parenthetical; the main
idea, "the rules of evidence are not to be overruled or tampered
with" is negative, consequently the negatived words "overruled" and
"tampered" should receive the rising inflection. The passage that
follows, ending with the word "life," is a concluding series of four
members, and all members except the next to the last, "in the truth
of history," receive the falling inflection, the exception requiring
the rising inflection; "and whoever ventures rashly to depart from
them" is, in its spirit, conditional, and for that reason should be
given the rising inflection; the balance is assertive and requires
the falling inflection; a contrast should be shown between "God" and
"man."

Let the student work out the balance of the speech.

EVIDENCE AND PRECEDENTS IN LAW
THOMAS ERSKINE

     Before you can adjudge a fact, you must believe it--not
     suspect it, or imagine it, or fancy it, but believe it--and
     it is impossible to impress the human mind with such a
     reasonable and certain belief, as is necessary to be
     impressed, before a Christian man can adjudge his neighbor
     to the smallest penalty, much less to the pains of death,
     without having such evidence as a reasonable mind will
     accept of as the infallible test of truth. And what is that
     evidence? Neither more nor less than that which the
     Constitution has established in the courts for the general
     administration of justice; namely, that the evidence
     convince the jury, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the
     criminal intention, constituting the crime, existed in the
     mind of the man upon trial, and was the mainspring of his
     conduct. The rules of evidence, as they are settled by law,
     and adopted in its general administration, are not to be
     overruled or tampered with. They are found in the charities
     of religion--in the philosophy of nature--in the truth of
     history--and in the experience of common life; and whoever
     ventures rashly to depart from them, let him remember that
     it will be meted to him in the same measure, and that both
     God and man will judge him according.

     These are arguments addressed to your reasons and your
     consciences; not to be shaken in upright minds by any
     precedent--for no precedents can sanctify injustice; if
     they could, every human right would long ago have been
     extinct upon the earth. If the state trials in bad times
     are to be searched for precedents, what murders may you not
     commit--what law of humanity may you not trample upon--what
     rule of justice may you not violate--and what maxim of wise
     policy may you not abrogate and confound? If precedents in
     bad times are to be implicitly followed, why should we have
     heard any evidence at all? You might have convicted without
     any evidence; for many have been so convicted--and, in this
     manner, murdered--even by acts of Parliament. If precedents
     in bad times are to be followed, why should the Lords and
     Commons have investigated these charges, and the Crown have
     put them into this course of judicial trial? since, without
     such a trial, and even after an acquittal upon me, they
     might have attained all the prisoners by act of Parliament:
     they did so in the case of Lord Strafford.

     There are precedents, therefore, for all such things, but
     such precedents as could not for a moment survive the times
     of madness and distraction which gave them birth: but
     which, as soon as the spurs of the occasion were blunted,
     were repealed and execrated even by Parliaments which
     (little as I may think of the present) ought not be
     compared with it--Parliaments sitting in the darkness of
     former times--in the night of freedom--before the
     principles of government were developed, and before the
     constitution became fixed. The last of these precedents,
     and all the proceedings upon it, were ordered to be taken
     off the file and burnt, so the intent that the same might
     no longer be visible to after ages; an order dictated, no
     doubt, by a pious tenderness for national honor, and meant
     as a charitable covering for the crimes of our fathers. But
     it was a sin against posterity--it was a treason against
     society; for, instead of commanding them to be burnt, they
     should rather have directed them to be blazoned in large
     characters upon the walls of our Courts of Justice, that,
     like the characters deciphered by the prophet of God to the
     Eastern tyrant, they might enlarge and blacken in your
     sights, to terrify you from acts of injustice.


_The Permanency of Empire._ This extract opens with an earnest appeal
which requires the falling inflection. The question that follows it
is a direct one, consequently all its members require the rising
inflection. From the exclamation "Alas" to the end of the sentence,
all is positive, therefore the falling inflection should be used
throughout. The next question is an indirect one and requires the
falling inflection. "So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the
Spartan" is a positive thought and should be given the falling
inflection. Then comes a triple opposition, "Leonidas" being
contrasted with "Athens," "trampled" with "insulted," and "slave"
with "Ottoman." The three words qualifying "Ottoman" constitute a
commencing series, and for this reason "servile" and "mindless"
should be given the falling inflection, and "enervate" the rising.
The next sentence is a positive one and the falling inflection should
be given the word "footsteps," which closes it; "from the palace to
the tomb" and "with their ruins" are both parenthetical, and there is
a contrast between "palace" and "tomb." The phrase ending with "as if
they had never been" is conditional and requires the rising
inflection; the balance of the sentence contains a parenthetical
clause, "rude and neglected in the barren ocean," and a double
contrast, the last of the four members of which is a concluding
series, the contrasts being "then" with "now," "speck" with the
concluding series "the ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of their
arms, the fame of their philosophy, the eloquence of their Senate and
the inspiration of their bards." There is a double opposition between
"England" and "America," and "Athens is" with "Athens was";
"contemplating the past," "proud and potent as she appears," "then,"
and "one day" are parenthetical; the conclusion of the extract
consists of a parenthesis, "for its time," and a double contrast,
"Europe" being contrasted with "that mighty continent" (America), and
"shall have mouldered, and the night of barbarism obscured its very
ruins" with "emerge from the horizon to rule sovereign of the
ascendant."

THE PERMANENCY OF EMPIRE
WENDELL PHILLIPS

     I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reverend chronicler of
     the grave, can all the wealth of a universal commerce, can
     all the achievements of successful heroisms, or all the
     establishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the
     permanency of its possessions? Alas! Troy thought so once;
     yet the land of Priam lives only in song! Thebes thought so
     once; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very
     tombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to
     commemorate. So thought Palmyra--where is she? So thought
     the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan; yet Leonidas
     is trampled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the
     servile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman. In his hurried
     march, Time has but looked at their imagined immortality,
     and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have,
     with their ruins, erased the very impression of his
     footsteps. The days of their glory are as if they had never
     been; and the island that was then a speck, rude and
     neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of
     their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their
     philosophy, the eloquence of their Senate, and the
     inspiration of their bards. Who shall say, then,
     contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent as
     she appears, may not, one day, be what Athens is, and the
     young America yet soar to be what Athens was! Who shall say
     that, when the European column shall have mouldered, and
     the night of barbarism obscured its very ruins, that mighty
     continent may not emerge from the horizon to rule, for its
     time, sovereign of the ascendant!


_Judicial Injustices._ The next extract, from a powerful speech
delivered by Senator Charles Sumner in September, 1854, is an
excellent example of cumulative oratory. He asserts that he has no
superstitious reverence for judicial proceedings, and then states his
reasons, which he piles one upon another until the sum reaches such
proportions as to utterly disarm any successful opposition to his
statement, or even an attempt at opposition. This form of delivery is
wonderfully effective, just as the opinion of a counselor-at-law
would be when re-enforced by numerous decisions of the highest courts
in the land. Only two means of attacking this style of oratory remain
to the opposition, one being to impeach the authorities, the other to
attack the application of them. Both these modes, however, are
exceedingly dangerous to the objector when his opponent is a keen
lawyer, an able speaker, and a learned man, such as was Charles
Sumner.

The word "judges" takes the rising inflection because of the
incompleteness of the thought, "in much respect" being necessary to
complete the sense, and this takes the falling inflection because of
the completeness, and the intervening thought "and especially the
Supreme Court of the Country" must be given parenthetically on
account of its being an interjected remark; the words "judicial
proceedings" take the falling inflection because they finish a
positive thought, and "superstitious reverence" the rising, as the
Senator means to express this thought negatively, as he does not
possess any superstitious reverence for judicial proceedings.
"Judges" and "men" are in apposition and for that reason take the
same inflection, and as the statement is positive, the falling
inflection must be used. The "worst crimes" and "sanction" require
emphasis because they are important, and the sentence takes the
falling inflection because it is positive. "Martyrs" and "patriots"
require the rising inflection because they depend on "summons them to
judgment" to complete the sense, and "crying from the ground" must be
given parenthetically for the reason that it is interjected.

"Judicial tribunal" being the thing arraigned, requires emphasis
whenever used in the speech. "Socrates" requires emphasis, and
"hemlock" takes the falling inflection on account of the completion
of the thought, "Saviour" is emphatic, and "Jerusalem" and "cross"
take the falling inflection on account of completion of thought. The
next line commences a concluding series which continues to the end of
the paragraph. "Against the testimony and entreaties of her father,"
"in the name of the Old Religion," "amidst the shrieks and agonies of
its victims," "in solemn denial of the great truth he had disclosed,"
are all interjected remarks and therefore must be rendered
parenthetically. All these parenthetical thoughts are complete in
themselves, and consequently require the falling inflection. "Not" is
emphatic, and the falling inflection is given "sun" because it
expresses a contradiction.

The first phrase of the next paragraph requires the falling
inflection, and the words "hesitate" and "unpitying," being
negatived, require the rising. The close of the paragraph requires
the falling inflection.

The next paragraph is a concluding series. "Surrounded by all the
forms of law," "after deliberate argument," "in defiance of justice
and humanity," "with Jeffreys on the bench," are all interjected
remarks, complete in themselves, and require the falling inflection
and parenthetical expression to each. "Queen" and "Sir Thomas More"
require opposite inflections for the reason they are used to mark two
distinct points in the despotic career of Henry the Eighth, just as
one would say "from the first to the last," "Latimer, Ridley, and
John Rogers" constitute a concluding series. "Justice" and "humanity"
in the parenthetical clause are contrasted, and consequently given
the opposite inflections, and "even" and "innocent women" require
emphasis on account of their importance.

The last paragraph is a concluding series, "surrounded by all the
forms of law" is an interjected complete thought, and therefore must
be expressed parenthetically and given the falling inflection, and
"our," in both instances when used in this paragraph, requires
emphasis and the falling inflection; while "unutterable" should take
the rising inflection on account of its negative quality; the voice
falling in conclusion on "Fugitive Slave Bill," because the final
thought is a positive one.

JUDICIAL INJUSTICES
CHARLES SUMNER

     I hold judges, and especially the Supreme Court of the
     country, in much respect, but I am too familiar with the
     history of judicial proceedings to regard them with any
     superstitious reverence. Judges are but men, and in all
     ages have shown a full share of human frailty. Alas! alas!
     the worst crimes of history have been perpetrated under
     their sanction. The blood of martyrs and of patriots,
     crying from the ground, summons them to judgment.

     It was a judicial tribunal which condemned Socrates to
     drink the fatal hemlock, and which pushed the Saviour
     barefoot over the pavements of Jerusalem, bending beneath
     his cross. It was a judicial tribunal which, against the
     testimony and entreaties of her father, surrendered the
     fair Virginia as a slave; which arrested the teachings of
     the great Apostle to the Gentiles and sent him in bonds
     from Judea to Rome; which, in the name of the Old Religion,
     adjudged the Saints and Fathers of the Christian Church to
     death in all its most dreadful forms; and which afterwards,
     in the name of the New Religion, enforced the tortures of
     the Inquisition, amidst the shrieks and agonies of its
     victims, while it compelled Galileo to declare, in solemn
     denial of the great truth he had disclosed, that the earth
     did not move round the sun.

     It was a judicial tribunal which in France during the long
     reign of her monarchs lent itself to be the instrument of
     every tyranny, as during the brief Reign of Terror it did
     not hesitate to stand forth the unpitying accessory of the
     unpitying guillotine.

     It was a judicial tribunal in England, surrounded by all
     the forms of law, which sanctioned every despotic caprice
     of Henry the Eighth, from the unjust divorce of his queen
     to the beheading of Sir Thomas More; which lighted the
     fires of persecution that glowed at Oxford and Smithfield
     over the cinders of Latimer, Ridley, and John Rogers;
     which, after deliberate argument, upheld the fatal tyranny
     of Ship-Money, against the patriot resistance of Hampden;
     which, in defiance of justice and humanity, sent Sidney and
     Russell to the block; which persistently enforced the laws
     of Conformity that our Puritan Fathers persistently refused
     to obey; and which afterwards, with Jeffreys on the bench,
     crimsoned the page of English history with massacre and
     murder--even with the blood of innocent women.

     Ay, Sir, and it was a judicial tribunal, in our country,
     surrounded by all the forms of law, which hung the witches
     at Salem; which affirmed the constitutionality of the
     Stamp-Act which it admonished "jurors and the people" to
     obey; and which now in our day, lent its sanction to the
     unutterable atrocity of the Fugitive Slave Bill.


FOOTNOTES:

   [1]   This extract is from a speech delivered in the
         United States Senate, March 21, 1898.



AFTERWORD

We have now reached the end of our journey; but before parting, let
us discuss generally the course over which we have traveled in order
that some necessary incidents that may not have impressed themselves
strongly on our memories may be reënforced, lest they otherwise be
lost.

The public speaker should leave nothing to chance. It is customary to
speak of the spontaneous bursting forth of eloquence, but eloquence
is not spontaneous--it is the culmination of stored-up knowledge
which has reached the point when it is fully matured and ready to
use, and its apparent bursting forth is nothing but the arrival of
the opportunity for its making its presence known. It is the coming
together of the fully prepared man and the occasion that produces the
orator. It is an axiom that nothing comes of nothing, and unless the
would-be orator is willing to give his best in the way of fitting
himself by study, labor, reflection, and industry, in their highest
and broadest sense, to be a medium through which eloquence may be
conveyed, he will look in vain for its appearance--the seed must be
planted before the fruit can be gathered.

In the first place, the vocal mechanism must be thoroughly trained to
stand the strain that is to be placed upon it, and to execute
properly the manifold duties it will be called upon to perform. This
necessitates careful and systematic practice in breathing, voice
production, tone coloring, inflection, emphasis, and the many other
sections of the vocal work which, when combined, comprise the vehicle
which is to convey the thought.

In the second place, the mind must be fed and cultivated so as to
enable it to produce thought. It must be strengthened by exercise,
fed by reading of good matter, and made active by use. Time must be
devoted to meditation, to thinking over the expressions of the ideas
of the master minds that have gone before--weighing, refuting, and
combining them, as well as receiving them and being influenced
thereby--and to keeping the light of our own mind burning by thinking
matters out in our own way and giving our thoughts the impress of our
individuality. Only by these means can we hope to be at the same time
wise and original. Originality that is foolish is worse than useless,
and wisdom that is borrowed shines only with a reflected light; but
that which is both original and wise will live through many ages and
act as a beacon to light others to the attainment of originality and
wisdom.

In the third place, an effective delivery is absolutely essential.
There can no more be such a thing as an orator without a delivery
than there can be a newspaper without paper or some other substance
on which to print the news. A publisher might as well print a
newspaper and then indifferently circulate it as for a man to fill
his mind with great thoughts and ineffectively deliver them. Delivery
is the soul of oratory; without it, there can be nothing but the form
of speech; with it, there is the spirit that gives life to the words.
The matter is the product, the delivery is the mode of conveyance;
and each is necessary to the other if either is to be of value to the
speaker.

The only really effective form of delivery is the extempore; and,
after once it has been acquired, it is the easiest of the many forms.
In the opinion of the author, matter that is written out and then
read, or matter that is written out, memorized, and then spoken, is
in neither case a speech. Speaking is conveying thought by word of
mouth, and not by word of pen. The matter that is to form the speech
should be diligently gathered, fully digested, and carefully
arranged, but the words that are to clothe the thought should be
spontaneous. Unless the words are willing servants, well trained,
springing instantly to the performance of their duty, coming, not
through a conscious effort to recall what has been memorized, but in
response to the sub-conscious action of the mind, the words will fail
to possess that mentality that alone can give them the expression
that is really their soul. Only when the mind is released from all
care concerning words can it be placed adequately upon the thought,
and only by fully placing it upon the thought can the mentality enter
the voice, thereby making the words convey by tone and general
expression what they really stand for, and carry to the mind of the
listener the thought which is in the mind of the speaker. In this
manner is a connection brought about between listener and speaker,
and by these means is generated that force which is commonly called
magnetism but which is, in reality, the active mind of the speaker
getting into communication with the mind of the listener through the
mediumship of the vitalized spoken word. The language is but the wire
which carries the message, or the atmosphere on which the message is
sent; the thought is the electricity which produces the message. The
language is material, the mentality is spiritual; the one being the
body of expression, the other being the soul.

Finally, why are there so few orators in the world today? Merely
because there are so few persons who are willing to spend the time
and employ the labor necessary to acquire the qualifications for the
making of orators. No great achievement in any walk of life is
accomplished without labor, no movement in behalf of man has ever
progressed without labor, and nothing is worth having unless it is
secured by labor. Run your eye over the pages of history and try to
find instances where chance has knocked with its golden wand on the
door of man's existence; and for every one so found, at least a dozen
will be discovered where man has cut through the rock of difficulties
with the iron tools of industry and forged those tools in the fires
of determination. Not all men who achieved greatness were born poor
in this world's goods. Many of them, men like Marcus Aurelius,
Washington, Lafayette, and Roosevelt, won renown in spite of their
wealth; while, on the other hand, men like Moses, Franklin, and
Lincoln gained their great eminence in the face of poverty. It
matters not whether man be rich or whether man be poor, so far as his
success in living a useful life is concerned, but it does signify
much whether he is an idler or a laborer. Make yourself worthy of
success, and success--in its true and only valuable sense--will be
yours. Remember, that labor--proud, independent labor--is noble, and
that it leads, not only to the making of orators, but to the
formation of characters--the building of souls.



A SYSTEMATIZED STUDY
OF
"HOW TO MASTER THE SPOKEN WORD"
_A Guide to Teachers and Students_

Students are advised to read the work as a book, commencing with the
first page and continuing straight on to the end. They should skip
nothing, not even the long speeches, as they are introduced for
specific purposes; but they should also guard against tarrying on the
way to study and particular passages that may strike their fancy.
They are advised to first read the book carefully in order that they
may the better understand its scope and purpose, and gain some idea
regarding the general plan that underlies its construction.

It will be noted that the first chapter does not contain instructions
as to how the student of oratory is to breathe, or how he is to use
the many other functions of body, voice, and mind that are necessary
to the correct production of the spoken word; but it shows how famous
speakers produced their effects, and it reveals to the student the
means he must adopt if he is to produce like results, leaving to
later chapters the task of revealing how the means are to be applied.
This manner of arranging the matter was adapted in order to insure
the student's interest being aroused in the subject at the start,
thereby preventing an extinguishing of his enthusiasm by initiating
him into the dry mysteries of the technical parts of speech before he
had gained a fair idea regarding the means to employ in qualifying
himself to become a public speaker. When, however, it is intended to
use the work as a textbook, it should not be studied as it is read,
but the lesson should be taken up in a natural sequence, beginning
with breath and continuing through to the production of the finished
speech or oration. Here is given an outline of study, or syllabus,
showing the order in which the different subjects treated in the book
can be taken up to best advantage.


SYLLABUS

LESSON I
Breath                                         120-126, 133-135

LESSON II
Voice                                          126-133, 135-138

LESSON III
Inflection                                                27-37

LESSON IV
Emphasis                                                  37-46

LESSON V
Combined Use of Emphasis and Inflection, and
Parenthesis and Pause                                     46-54

LESSON VI
Series and Modulation                                     54-63

LESSON VII
Paraphrasing                                            103-119

LESSON VIII
Composition                                              84-102

LESSON IX
Construction                                              61-83

LESSON X
The Making of Oratory                                      1-25

LESSON XI
Delivery                                                145-157

LESSON XII
Memory                                                  138-145

LESSON XIII
Lesson Talks                                            389-406

LESSON XIV
Grecian Orators                                         158-256

LESSON XV
Latin Orators                                           257-297

LESSON XVI
Modern Orators                                          298-388


LIST OF ORATIONS

Against Crowning Demosthenes                         _Aeschines_
Against Eratosthenes                                    _Lysias_
Against the Tory Government               _William E. Gladstone_
At His Brother's Grave                     _Robert G. Ingersoll_
Cuba Must Be Free                             _John M. Thurston_
Digging for the Thought                            _John Ruskin_
Education                                          _Horace Mann_
Encomium on Evagoras                                 _Isocrates_
Eulogy of General Grant                            _Dean Farrar_
Eulogy of President Garfield                   _James G. Blaine_
Eulogy of Webster                                 _Rufus Choate_
Evidence and Precedents in Law                  _Thomas Erskine_
Historical Reading                        _Arthur James Balfour_
Inaugural Address                           _Theodore Roosevelt_
In Favor of the Peloponnesian War                     _Pericles_
Judicial Injustices                             _Charles Sumner_
Liberty or Death                                 _Patrick Henry_
Menexenus and Others Against Dicaeogenes and
  Leochares                                             _Isaeus_
On Leaving Springfield                         _Abraham Lincoln_
On the Foote Resolution                     _Robert Young Hayne_
On the Murder of Lovejoy                      _Wendell Phillips_
On Resigning from the Senate                     _Robert Toombs_
On the Murder of Herodes                              _Antiphon_
On the Punishment of the Catiline
   Conspirators                               _Cato the Younger_
On the Treatment of the Catiline
   Conspirators                                         _Caesar_
On Withdrawing from the Union                  _Jefferson Davis_
Oration Against Leocrates                             _Lycurgus_
Oration on the Crown                               _Demosthenes_
Our Country                                  _Edwin G. Lawrence_
Peace Between Labor and Capital             _John Haynes Holmes_
Robert Burns                             _George William Curtis_
Speech Against Athenogenes                           _Hyperides_
Speech in Support of the Oppian Law            _Cato the Censor_
Speech on the Mysteries                              _Andocides_
Speech to His Troops                                  _Catiline_
Speech to the Conspirators                            _Catiline_
Sumner and the South                            _L. Q. C. Lamar_
The Birth of an Orator                      _John Haynes Holmes_
The Blind Preacher                                _William Wirt_
"The Cross of Gold" Speech                    _William J. Bryan_
The First Olynthiac                                _Demosthenes_
The First Oration Against Veres                         _Cicero_
The "House Divided Against Itself" Speech      _Abraham Lincoln_
The Perfect Orator                         _Richard B. Sheridan_
The Permanency of Empire                      _Wendell Phillips_
"The Seventh of March" Speech                   _Daniel Webster_
The Strength of the American Government            _John Bright_


Transcriber's Notes.

 - The break between pages 1 and 2 is in the word "employs":
   em|ploys. In this and all other cases, the whole word was
   moved to the earlier page.

 - The break between pages 11 and 12 is in the word "contrary":
   con|trary.

 - On page 24, set the citation of a legal matter, _People vs.
   Durant,_ in Italic.

 - On page 33, two single line examples were set in body text.
   The Transcriber has made them block quotes to match the other
   examples on that page.

 - On page 36, change "dryest" to "driest."

 - The break between pages 51 and 52 is in the word "language":
   lan|guage.

 - On page 55, the Transcriber capitalized the word
   "Christianity" in a Daniel Webster quotation. The word was
   capitalized correctly in the same text that is part of a
   longer quotation on page 61.

 - On page 58, the original text has a sentence that ends as
   follows: ". . . we must, in order to retain the concluding
   series, give 'ask' the rising inflection, 'knock' the
   falling, 'seek' the falling, 'find' the rising, 'knock' the
   falling, and 'opened' the falling." The Transcriber corrected
   the first "knock" to "given" because the text under
   discussion is "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye
   shall find; knock, and the door shall be opened unto you."

 - On page 59, change "huzza" to "huzzah."

 - The break between pages 69 and 70 is in the word "attachment":
   attach|ment.

 - On page 75, change "deprived of his honor" to "honour"
   to correspond with "favour" in the same paragraph.

 - The break between pages 78 and 79 is in the word "besieged":
   be|sieged.

 - The break between pages 103 and 104 is in the word
   "considered": con|sidered.

 - On page 108, change "Wittenagemote" to "Witenagemot."

 - On page 114, change "huzzas" to "huzzahs."

 - The break between pages 115 and 116 is in the word
   "temporary": tem|porary.

 - The break between pages 124 and 125 is in the word
   "following": fol|lowing.

 - On page 127, change "Immediately voice is produced . . ."
   to "Immediately as voice is produced . . . ."

 - The break between pages 130 and 131 is in the word
   "magnificent": mag|nificent.

 - The break between pages 148 and 149 is in the word
   "audiences": audi|ences.

 - The break between pages 151 and 152 is in the word
   "carefully": care|fully.

 - On page 164, change the question mark after "I am sadly
   deficient" to a period.

 - On page 165, change "indicated me for homicide" to
   "indicted."

 - On page 193, change the question mark after "witness of
   his crimes" to a period.

 - On page 204, the word "betrothals" was misspelled
   "bethrothals" in the sentence "Thus the law makes just
   betrothals valid, and unjust ones it declares invalid."

 - The break between pages 211 and 212 is in the word
   "Menexenus": Menexe|nus.

 - The break between pages 214 and 215 is in the word
   "Leochares": Leo|chares.

 - The break between pages 220 and 221 is in the word
   "dishonor": dis|honor.

 - The break between pages 223 and 224 is in the word
   "hallowed": hal|lowed.

 - On page 237, change "Midias' anger" to "Meidias' anger."

 - The break between pages 241 and 242 is in the word
   "descendants": descend|ants.

 - The break between pages 247 and 248 is in the word
   "overbearing": over|bearing.

 - On page 260, change "tribunitian" to "tribunician."

 - On page 265, change "Uticeusis" to "Uticensis."

 - In the oration of Cato the Younger, the term "Conscript
   Fathers" referring to the members of the Roman Senate,
   is not capitalized in the original on pages 265 or 266.
   These have been made consistent with the initial-capped
   references on page 269 and following.

 - On page 268, change "hesitate how to act" to "hesitate
   now to act."

 - On page 269, change "Cathegus" to "Cethegus."

 - The break between pages 273 and 274 is in the word
   "putting": put|ting.

 - On page 274, in the Caesar oration, this sentence appears
   in the original: "But in a large state there arise may men
   of various dispositions." The word "may" has been corrected
   to "many."

 - The break between pages 274 and 275 is in the word
   "borrowed": bor|rowed.

 - The break between pages 281 and 282 is in the word
   "manner": man|ner.

 - On page 285, change "proquestor" to "proquaestor."

 - On page 292, change "edileship" to "aedileship."

 - On page 302, change the word "equalled" to "equaled."

 - On page 310, set "On the Clay Compromise" in title case small
   caps rather than lower case small caps.

 - The break between pages 312 and 313 is in the word
   "perfectly": per|fectly.

 - On page 314, change "McDowel" to "McDowell" and change the
   question mark after "remarks to the press" to a period.

 - The break between pages 323 and 324 is in the unit
   "slave-trade": slave-|trade.

 - On page 325, the period at the end of the final sentence
   of Lincoln's "House Divided" speech was missing from the
   original.

 - The break between pages 330 and 331 is in the word
   "principles": prin|ciples.

 - The break between pages 335 and 336 is in the word
   "Colonies": Col|onies.

 - The break between pages 338 and 339 is in the word
   "Constitution": Con|stitution.

 - The break between pages 341 and 342 is in the word
   "confederates": con|federates.

 - The break between pages 345 and 346 is in the word
   "courageously": coura|geously.

 - On page 346, change "memories indulged of the past or the
   dead" to "memories indulged of the past or of the dead"
   (_insert second "of"_).

 - On page 355, the original text of the Robert Burns eulogy
   uses the word "woos," spelled "wooes," and "rhythmic,"
   spelled "rythmic." The Transcriber modernized the spelling
   of both words.

 - The break between pages 360 and 361 is in the word
   "unreplying": unre|plying.

 - On page 367, change "crystalize" to "crystallize."

 - On page 381, there is a printing defect in the copy of the
   original available to the Transcriber. One sentence reads:
   "All his internal powers are at wo__; all his external,
   testify their energies." The Transcriber has inferred that
   the incomplete word is "work." Confirmation from another
   copy of the original would be most appreciated.

 - On page 387, a reference to the Decalogue, referring to
   The Ten Commandments of the Bible, was not capitalized
   in the original. The Transcriber capitalized it.

 - The break between pages 391 and 392 is in the word
   "opening": open|ing.

 - On page 392, in the "opening sentence" paragraph, second
   sentence, insert double quotes around first instance of
   the word "right."

 - The break between pages 392 and 393 is in the word
   "positive": posi|tive.

 - On page 394, change "Magna Charta" to "Magna Carta."

 - On page 395, insert a warning of a sensitive word in the
   sixth paragraph of the subsequent oration.

 - The break between pages 395 and 396 is in the word
   "President": Presi|dent.

 - On page 396, change "Magna Charta" to "Magna Carta" and
   "Bastile" to "Bastille."

 - The break between pages 404 and 405 is in the word
   "instances": in|stances.

 - In the index, on page 415, change "Dacaeogenes" to
   "Dicaeogenes."

 - In the index, on page 416, change "Roberts Burns" to
   "Robert Burns."





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Master the Spoken Word, by 
Edwin Gordon Lawrence

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 57813 ***