The classical speaker

Front matter

^ PN^loo

Book .*Q &■

CLASSICAL SPEAKER

Preface

The dialogues which form the characteristic feature of the volume now offered to the public, have been selected to supply a marked deficiency in the school books for declamation. They are believed to be adapted to the various tastes and capacities of boys in our high schools, and have been chiefly extracted from authors of acknowledged merit, but not usually found upon the shelves of a private library. The editor has endeavoured to give as much freshness as possible to the collection by admitting those pieces only which have never appeared in similar publications. He now submits it to the public under the hope that its merits may entitle it to a favourable reception.

BOSTON, JULY 10, 1830,

Contents

DIALOGUES.

Page

Virgil, Horace, and Scaliger the Elder, Lord Lyttleton. 5

Section II

procida — raimond Mrs, Hemans.

Procicla. And dost thou still refuse to share the glory Of this, our daring enterprise 1

Raimond. Procida !

I too have dreamt of glory, and the word Hath to my soul been as a trumpet's voice, Making my nature sleepless. But the deeds Whereby 'twas won, the high exploits, whose tale Bids the heart burn, were of another cast Than such as thou requirest.

Pro. Every deed

Hath sanctity, if bearing for its aim The freedom of our country ; and the sword Alike is honour'd in the patriot's hand, Searching, 'midst warrior-hosts, the heart which gave Oppression birth ; or flashing through the gloom Of the still chamber, o'er its troubled couch, At dead of night.

Rai. (turning away.) There is no path but one For noble natures.

Pro. Would st thou ask the man

Who to the earth hath dash'd a nation's chains, Rent as with Heaven's own lightning, by what means The glorious end was won ? — Go, swell th' acclaim I Bid the deliverer, hail ! and if his path To that most bright and sovereign destiny Hath led o'er trampled thousands, be it call'd A stern necessity, and not a crime !

Rai. My soul yet kindles at the thought Of nobler lessons, in my boyhood learn'd Ev'n from thy voice. The high remembrances Of other days are stirring in the heart Where thou didst plant them ; and they speak of men Who needed no vain sophistry to gild Acts, that would bear heaven's light. And such be mine I Procida ! is it yet too late to draw The praise and blessing of all valiant hearts On our most righteous cause ?

Pro. What wouldst thou do T

Rai. I would go forth, and rouse th' indignant land To generous combat. Why should Freedom strike Mantled with darkness ? — Is there not more strength E'en in the waving of her single arm Than hosts can wield against her ? — I would rouse That spirit, whose fire doth press resistless on To its proud sphere, the stormy field of fight !

Pro. Ay I and give time and warning to the foe To gather all his might I— It is too late. There is a work to be this eve begun, When rings the Vesper-bell ; and, long before To-morrow's sun hath reach'd i' th' noonday heaver* His throne of burning glory, every sound Of the Provencal tongue within our walls, As by one thunder-stroke^ be silenced,.

THE CLASSICAL SPEAKER.

Rai. What ! such sounds

As falter on the lip of infancy In its imperfect utterance ?

Pro. Since thou dost feel

Such horror of our purpose, in thy power Are means that might avert it.

How would those rescued thousands bless thy name, Shouldst thou betray us !

Rai. Procida ! I can bear —

Ay, proudly woo — the keenest questioning Of thy soul-gifted eye; which almost seems To claim a part of Heaven's dread royalty, — The power that searches thought !

Pro. (after a pause.) Thou hast a brow

Clear as the day — and yet I doubt thee, Raimond ! Whether it be that 1 have learn'd distrust From a long look through man's deep-folded heart ; Whether my paths have been so seldom cross'd By honour and fair mercy, that they seem But beautiful deceptions, meeting thus My unaccustom'd gaze ; — howe'er it be — I doubt thee ! — See thou waver not- — take heed ! Time lifts the veil from all things !

Section III. Dogberry — -verges Sexton The Watch Conrade

borachio ShaJcspeare.

Dogb. Is our whole dissembly appeared ?

Verg. O, a stool and cushion for the sexton !

Sexton. Which be the malefactors ?

Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner.

Verg. Nay, that's certain ; we have the exhibition to examine.

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined ? let them come before master constable.

Dogb. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, friend ?

Bora. Borachio.

Dogb. Pray write down, Borachio. — Yours, sirrah ?

Conr. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade, B2

Dogb. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, it is proved already, that you are little better than false knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ?

Conr. Marry, sir, we say we are none.

Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you ; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah ; a word in your ear, sir. I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.

Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none.

Dogb. Well, stand aside. They are both in a tale ; Have you writ down, that they are none ?

Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to examine ; you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.

Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the prince's name, accuse these men.

1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, was a villain.

Dogb. Write down, prince John a villain : — Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother, villain.

Bora. Master constable, —

Dogb. Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not like thy look, I promise thee.

Sexton. What heard you him say else 1

2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully.

Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is.

Sexton. What else ? 2 Watch. This is all.

Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Master constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato'is ; I will go before, and show him their examination. [Exit.

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned.

Verg. Let them be in band.

Conr. Off, coxcomb !

Dogb. Zounds! where's the sexton? let him write down the prince's officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them : — Thou naughty varlet !

Conr. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost thou not suspect my years ? — O that he were here to write me down, an ass ! — but, masters, remember that I am an ass , though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass : — No, thou villain, thou art full of villany, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow ; and, which is more, an officer ; and, which is more, a householder ; and one that knows the law, go to ; and a rich fellow enough, go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him : — Bring him away. O, that I had been writ down, an ass !

Section IV

EXTRACT FROM MR. WEBSTER^ SPEECH, IN REPLY TO MR. HAYi\E.

The gentleman, sir, has spoken at large of former parties, now no longer in being, by their received appellations ; and has undertaken to instruct us not only in the knowledge of their principles, but of their respective pedigrees also. He has ascended to the origin and run out their genealogies. With most exemplary modesty, he speaks of the party to which he professes to have belonged himself, as the true pure, the only honest, patriotic party, derived by regular descent, from father to son, from the time of the virtuous Romans ! Spreading before us the family tree of political parties, he takes especial care to show himself, snugly perched on a popular bough ! He is wakeful to the expediency of adopting such rules of descent, for political parties, as shall bring him in, in exclusion of others, as an heir to the inheritance of all public virtue, and all true political principles. His doxy is always orthodoxy. Heterodoxy is confined to his opponents. He spoke, sir, of the Federalists, and I thought I saw some eyes begin to open and stare a little, when he ventured on that ground. 1 expected he would draw his sketches rather lightly, when he looked on the circle round him ; and especially if he should cast his thoughts to the high places out of the Senate. Nevertheless, he went back to Rome, ad annum urbis conditce, and found the fathers of the Federalists, in the primeval aristocrats of that renowned empire ! He traced the flow of federal blood down through successive ages and centuries, till he got it into the veins of the American Tories, (of whom, by the way, there were twenty in the Carolinas for one in Massachusetts.) From the Tories, he followed it to the Federalists : — -and as the Federal Party was broken up, and there was no possibility of transmitting it further on this side the Atlantic, he seems to have discovered that it has gone off, collaterally, though against all the canons of descent, into the Ultras of France, and finally became extinguished, like exploded gas, among the adherents of Don Miguel.

This, sir, is an abstract of the gentleman's history of Federalism. I am not about to controvert it. It is not, at present worth the pains of refutation, because, sir, if at this day any one feels the sin of Federalism lying heavily on his conscience, he can easily obtain remission. He may even have an indulgence, if he is desirous of repeating the same transgression. It is an affair of no difficulty to get into this same right line of patriotic descent. A man, now-a-days, is at liberty to choose his political parentage. He may elect his own father. Federalist, or not, he may, if he choose, claim to belong to the favoured stock, and his claim will be allowed. He may carry back his pretensions just as far as the honourable gentleman himself; nay, he may make himself out the honourable gentleman's cousin, and prove satisfactorily, that he is descended from the same political great grandfather. All this is allowable. We all know a process, sir, by which the whole Essex Junto could, in one hour, be all washed white from their ancient Federalism, and come out, every one of them, an original Democrat, dyed in the wool ! Some of them have actually undergone the operation, and they say it is quite easy. The only inconvenience it occasions, as they tell us, is a slight tendency of the blood to the face, a soft suffusion, which, however, is very transient, since nothing is said calculated to deepen the red on the cheek, but a prudent silence observed, in regard to all the past. Indeed, sir, some smiles of approbation have been bestowed, and some crumbs of comfort have fallen, not a thousand miles from the door of the Hartford Convention itself. And if the author of the ordinance of 1787, possessed the other requisite qualifications, there is no knowing, notwithstanding his Federalism, to what heights of favour he might not yet attain.

SECTION V. BERTUCCIO FALIERO DOGE Lord BxjrOU

JBertuccio Faliero. I cannot but agree with you, The sentence is too slight for the offence — It is not honourable in the Forty To affix so slight a penalty to that Which was a foul affront to you, and even To them, as being your subjects.

Doge. Oh ! that the Saracen were in St. Mark's ! Thus would I do him homage.

Ber. For the sake Of heaven and all its saints, my lord

Doge, Away !

Oh, that the Genoese were in the port ! Oh, that the Huns whom I o'erthrew at Zara Were ranged around the palace !

Ber. 'Tis not well

In Venice' Duke to say so.

Doge. Venice' Duke !

Who now is Duke in Venice? let me see him, That he may do me right.

Ber. If you forget

Your office, and its dignity and duty, Remember that of man, and curb this passion. The duke of Venice

Doge, (interrupting him.) There is no such thing — It is a word- — nay, worse, — a worthless by-word : The most despised, wrong'd, outrag'd, helpless wretch, Who begs his bread, if 'tis refused by one, May win it from another kinder heart ; But he, who is denied his right by those Whose place it is to do no wrong, is poorer Than the rejected beggar — he 's a -slave — And that am I, and thou, and all our house, Even from this hour ; the meanest artisan Will point the finger, and the haughty noble May spit upon us : — where is our redress ?

Ber. The law, my prince

Doge, (interrupting him.) You see what it has done — I ask'd no remedy but from the law — I sought no vengeance but redress by law — 1 call'd no judges but those named by law — As sovereign, I appealed unto my subjects^

The very subjects who had made me sovereign,

And gave me thus a double right to be so.

The rights of place and choice, of birth and service,

Honours and years, these scars, these hoary hairs,

The travel, toil, the perils, the fatigues,

The blood and sweat of almost eighty years,

Were weigh'd i' the balance, 'gainst the foulest stain,

The grossest insult, most contemptuous crime

Of a rank, rash patrician — and found wanting !

And this is to be borne ?

Ber. I say not that : —

In case your fresh appeal should be rejected, We will find other means to make all even.

Doge. Appeal again ! art thou my brother's son ? A scion of the house of Faliero?

The nephew of a Doge ? and of that blood Which hath already given three dukes to Venice ? But thou say'st well— we must be humble now.

Ber. My princely uncle ! you are too much moved : I grant it was a gross offence, and grossly Left without fitting punishment ; but still This fury doth exceed the provocation, Or any provocation. If we are wrong'd, We will ask justice ; if it be denied, We'll take it; but may do all this in calmness — - Deep Vengeance is the daughter of deep Silence.

Doge. 1 tell thee — must I tell thee — what thy father Would have required no words to comprehend ? Hast thou no feeling save the external sense Of torture from the touch ? hast thou no soul — No pride — no passion — no deep sense of honour ?

Ber. J Tis the first time that honour has been doubted, And were the last, from any other sceptic.

Doge. You know the full offence of this born villain, This creeping, coward, rank, acquitted felon, Who threw his sting into a poisonous libel, And on the honour of — Oh God ! — my wife, The nearest, dearest part of all men's honour, Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth Of loose mechanics, with all coarse foul comments, And villanous jests, and blasphemies obscene ; While sneering nobles, in more polish'd guise, Whisper'd the tale, and smiled upon the lie Which made me look like them — a courteous wittol, Patient — ay, proud, it may be, of dishonour,

Ber. And what redress

Did you expect as his fit punishment ?

Doge. Death ! Was I not the sovereign of the state — Insulted on his very throne, and made A mockery to the men who should obey me ? Was I not injured as a husband r scorn'd As man? reviled, degraded, as a prince? Was not offence like his a complication Of insult and of treason ? — and he lives ! Had he instead of on the Doge's throne Stampt the same brand upon a peasant's stool, His blood had gilt the threshold ; for the carle Had stabh'd him on the instant.

But, notwithstanding, harm not thou a hair Of Steno's head — he shall not wear it long.

Ber. Your wishes are my law ; and yet I fain Would prove to you how near unto my heart The honour of our house must ever be.

Doge. Fear not \ you shall have time and place of proof. But be not thou too rash, as I have been. I am ashamed of my own anger now ; I pray you pardon me.

Ber. Why, that's my uncle !

The leader, and the statesman, and the chief Of commonwealths, and sovereign of himself ! I wonder'd to perceive you so forget All prudence in your fury at these years, Although the cause

Doge. Ay, think upon the cause —

Forget it not : — When you lie down to rest, Let it be black among your dreams ; and when The morn returns, so let it stand between The sun and you, as an ill omen'd cloud Upon a summer-day of festival : So will it stand to me ; — but speak not, stir not, — Leave all to me ; — we shall have much to do, And you shall have a part. — But now retire, 'Tis fit I were alone.

SECTION VI. KING OF SCOTLAND ATHOL Smolktt

King. It is not well — it is not well we meet On terms like these : — I should have found in Athol A trusty counsellor and steady friend.

And better would it suit thy rev'rend age, Thy station, quality, and kindred blood, To hush ill-judging clamour, and cement Divided factions to my throne again, Than thus embroil the state.

AthoL My present aim

Is to repair, not widen more the breach That discord made between us : this, my liege, Not harsh reproaches, or severe rebuke, Will e'er effectuate ; — No — let us rather, On terms which equally become us both, Our int'rests reunite.

King. Ah ! — reunite !

By Heav'n, thy proud demeanour more befits A sovereign than a subject ! — Reunite ! How durst thou sever from thy faith, old lord ! And with an helmet load that hoary head To wage rebellious war !

Atliol The sword of Athol

Was never drawn but to redress the wrongs His country suffer'd.

King. Dar'st thou to my lace

Impeach my conduct, baffled as thou art, Ungrateful traitor ? Is it thus thy guilt My clemency implores ?

AthoL Not yet so low

Has fate reduc'd us, that we need to crawl Beneath your footstool : in our camp remain Ten thousand vig'rous mountaineers, who long Their honours to retrieve.

King. Swift hie thee to them,

And lead thy fugitive adherents back ! Away. — Now by the mighty soul of Bruce ! Thou shalt be met. And if thy savage clans Abide us in the plain, we soon will tread Rebellion in the dust. Why move ye not ! Conduct them to their camp.

Athol. Forgive, my prince,

If, on my own integrity of heart Too far presuming, I have galled the wound Too much inflamed already. Not with you, But with your measures, ill-advised, I warr'd . Your sacred person, family, and throne, My purpose still revered.

King. O wretched plea !

To which thy blasted guilt must have recourse !

Had thy design been laudable, thy tongue With honest freedom boldly should have spoke Thy discontent. Ye live not in a reign Where truth, by arbitrary power depressed, Dares not maintain her state. I charge thee, say What lawless measures has my power pursued?

Athol. I come not to mitigate your royal wrath With sorrow and submission ; not to sum The motives which compelled me to the field.

King. 1 found your miserable state reduced To ruin and despair : your cities drench'd In mutual slaughter, desolate your plains : All order banished, and all arts decayed : No industry, save that with hands impure Distressed the commonwealth : no laws in force, To screen the poor, and check the guilty great; While squalid Famine join'd her sister fiend, Devouring Pestilence, to curse the scene ! 1 came — I toiled — reformed — redressed the whole ! And lo ! my recompence !— But I relapse. What is your suit ?

AthoL We sue, my liege, for peace.

King. Say, that my lenity should grant your prayer, How, for the future, shall I rest assured Of your allegiance ?

Athol. Stuart shall be left

The pledge of our behaviour.

King. And your arms,

Ere noon to-morrow, shall be yielded up.

Athol. This too shall be performed.

King. Then mark me, thane,

Because the loins from whence I sprung On thee, too, life bestowed — enjoy the gift. I pardon what is past. In peace consume The winter of thy days. But if ye light Th' extinguished brand again, and brave my throne With new commotions — By th' immortal gods ! No future guile, submission, or regard, Shall check my indignation ! — I will pour My vengeance in full volley ; and the earth Shall dread to yield you succour or resource ! Of this no more. Thy kinsman shall remain With us, an hostage of thy promised faith.

So shall our mercy with our prudence join,

United brighten, and securely shine.

C

SECTION VII. cicero — catiline — senators Rev. Geo. Croly.

Cicero. Our long debate must close. Take one proof more Of this rebellion. Lucius Catiline Has been commanded to attend the Senate. He dares not come. 1 now demand your votes ; — Is he condemned to exile?

\Catiline comes in hastily. All the Senators go over to the other side. Cicero turns to Catiline. Here 1 repeat the charge, to gods and men, Of treasons manifold ; — that, but this day, He has received despatches from the rebels — That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul To seize the province ; nay, has levied troops, And raised his rebel standard ; — that, but now A meeting of conspirators was held Under his roof, with mystic rites, and oaths, Pledged round the body of a murder'd slave. To these he has no answer.

Catiline. Conscript Fathers !

I do not rise to waste the night in words: Let that plebeian talk ; ? tis not my trade ; But here I stand for right. Let him show proofs, — For Roman right ; though none, it seems, dare stand To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there, Cling to your master ; judges, Romans, — slaves ! His charge is false ; — I dare him to his proofs, You have my answer now ! I must be gone.

Cic. These, as I told you, were this evening seized Within his house. You knew them, Catiline ?

Cat. Know them ! What crimination's there ? What tongue Lives in that helm to charge me ? Cicero — Go search my house, you may find twenty such ; All fairly struck from brows of barbarous kings, When you and yours were plotting here in Rome. I say, go search my house. And is this all ? I scorn to tell you by what chance they came. Where have 1 levied troops — tampered with slaves- Bribed fool or villain, to embark his neck In this rebellion ? Let my actions speak.

Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs? Fathers, yon know there lives not one of us, But lives in peril of his midnight sword. Lists of proscription have been handed round, In which your general properties are made Your murderers' hire.

Bring in the prisoner.

[Enter Cethegus.

Fathers ! this stain to his high name and blood, Came to my house to murder me ; and came Suborned by him.

Cat. (scornfully.) Cethegus !

Did you say this ?

Ceth. Not 1. I went to kill

A prating, proud plebeian, whom those fools Palm'd on the Consulship.

Cic. And sent by whom?

Ceth. By none. By nothing, but my zeal to purge The senate of yourself, most learned Cicero !

Cic. Fathers of Rome ! If man can be convinced By proof, as clear as day-light, there it stands !

[Pointing to the prisoner.

This man has been arrested at the gates, Bearing despatches to raise war in Gaul. Look on these letters ! Here's a deep laid plot To wreck the provinces : a solemn league Made with all form and circumstance. The time Is desperate, — all the slaves are up ; — Rome shakes ! The heavens alone can tell how near our graves We stand ev'n here! — The name of Catiline Is foremost in the league. He was their king. Tried and convicted traitor, go from Rome !

Cat. Come, consecrated lictors ! from your thrones ;

[ To the Senate.

Fling down your sceptres : — take the rod and axe, And make the murder as you make the law.

Cic. Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple.

Cat. ' Traitor !' I go — but I return. This — trial ! Here I devote your Senate ! I've had wrongs, To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel, This day's the birth of sorrows ! — /This hour's work Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords ! For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ;— all shames and crimes ;

Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning the brother's cup ; Naked rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till anarchy comes down on you like night, And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave !

Senators. Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome [ Cat. (indignantly.) It shall be so ! — (Going. He suddenly returns.) — When Catiline comes again, Your grandeur shall be base, and clowns shall sit In scorn upon those chairs.

Then Cicero and his tools shall pay me blood — Vengeance for every drop of my boy's veins ; — And such of you as cannot find the grace To die with swords in your right hands, shall feel The life, life worse than death, of trampled slaves I Senators. Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome ! Cic. Expel him, lictors ! Clear the senate-house t Cat. I go, — but not to leap the gulf alone ! I go ; — but when 1 come — 'twill be the burst Of ocean in the earthquake rolling back In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well ! — You build my funeral pile, but your best blood Shall quench its name. Back, slaves ! (to the Lictors.) I will return !

SECTION VIII. SPEECH OF CATILINE.. ...Ibid

Are there not times, Patricians ! when great states

Rush to their ruin ? Rome is no more like Rome

Than a foul dungeon's like the glorious sky.

What is she now ? Degenerate, gross, denied ;

The tainted haunt, the gorged receptacle

Of every slave and vagabond of earth :

A mighty grave, that luxury has dug,

To rid the other realms of pestilence ;

And, of the mountain of corruption there,

Which once was human beings, procreate

A viper brood : insects and reptiles only !

Consul ! Look on me — on this brow — these hands ;

Look on this bosom, black with early wounds ;

Have I not served the state from boyhood up, Scattered my blood for her, laboured for, loved her 1 /had no chance ; wherefore should / be Consul? Patricians! they have pushed me to the gulf; I have worn down my heart, wasted my means, Humbled my birth, barter'd my ancient name, For the rank favour of the senseless mass That frets and festers in your commonwealth : Ay, stalk'd about with bare head and stretched hand, Smiling on this slave, and embracing that. Coining my conscience into beggar words, Doing the candidates 5 whole drudgery. What is't to me that all have stooped in turn ? Does fellowship in chains make bondage proud ? Does the plague lose its venom, if it taint My brother with myself? Is't victory, If I but find, stretched by my bleeding side, All who came with me in the golden morn, And shouted as my banner met the sun ? I cannot think oft. There's no faith in earth ; The very men with whom I walked through life Nay, till within this hour, in all the bonds Of courtesy and high companionship, They all deserted me; Metellus, Scipio, iEmilius, Cato, even my kinsman Caesar, — All the chief names and senators of Rome, This day, as if the heavens had stamped me black, Turned on their heel, just at the point of fate, Left me a mockery in the rabble's midst, And followed their plebeian consul, Cicero ! No ! I have run my course. Another year ! Why taunt me, sir ? No — if their curule chair, Sceptre, and robe, and all their mummery, Their whole embodied consulate were flung, Here at my feet, — and all assembled Rome Knelt to me, but to stretch my finger out, And pluck them from the dust, — I'd scorn to do it ; This was the day to which I looked through life ; And it has failed me, — vanished from my grasp, Like air.