Chapter 15

That glorious breast, in which are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, is pierced with the lance of a soldier, to the end that thy heart might be cleansed from evil thoughts, and being cleansed might be sanctified, and being sanctified might be preserved. The feet, whose footstool the Prophets commanded to be sanctified, were bitterly nailed to the cross, lest thy feet should sustain evil, or be swift to shed blood; but, running in the way of the Lord, stable in his path, and fixed in his road, might not turn aside to the right hand nor to the left. "What could have been done more?"

Why did Christ bow his head on the cross? To teach us that by humility we must enter into Heaven. Also, to show that we must rest from our own work. Also, that he might comply with the petition, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth"; also that he might ask permission of his bride to leave her. Of great virtue is the memory of the Lord's passion, which, if it be firmly held in the mind, every cloud of error and sin is dispersed. Whence the blessed Bernard says: "Always having Christ, and him crucified, in the heart."

THE BLESSED DEAD

They who die in the Lord are blessed, on account of two things which immediately follow. For they enter into most sweet rest, and enjoy most delicate refreshment. Concerning their rest it immediately follows. "Even so saith the spirit" (that is, says the gloss, the whole Trinity), for they rest from their labors. "And it is a pleasant bed on which they take their rest, who, as is aforesaid, die in the Lord." For this bed is none other than the sweet consolation of the Creator. Of this consolation he speaks himself by the Prophet Isaiah: "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you, and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem." Of the second,--that is, the delicate refreshment of those that die in Christ,--it is immediately subjoined, and their works do follow them. For every virtue which a man has practiced by good works in this world will bring a special cup of recompense, and offer it to the soul that has entered into rest. Thus, purity of body and mind will bring one cup, justice another, which also is to be said concerning truth, love, gentleness, humility, and the other virtues. Of this holy refreshment it is written in Isaiah: "Kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nursing mothers." By kings we understand the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, who, in inseparable unity, possess the kingdom of heaven; by queens, the virtues are expressed, which, as has been said, receive the cups of refreshment from the storehouse of the Trinity, and offer them to the happy souls. Pray, therefore, dearly beloved, to the Lord, that he would so grant us to live according to his will, that we may die in him, and may evermore be comforted and refreshed by him.

ETHAN ALLEN

Ethan Allen of New York, a descendant of the Revolutionary hero made famous by the capture of Ticonderoga, has never been a professional public speaker, but from time to time, when stirred by some cause which appealed to him strongly, he has shown great power as an orator. His address of 1861, delivered in New York city, is here republished from a contemporaneous report, preserved among the papers of Mr. Enos Clarke. It was described in the newspapers of the day as "thrilling eloquence," and perhaps it is the best expression extant of the almost inconceivable excitement of the opening months of the war.

In 1872 Mr. Alien joined the Liberal Republicans and made earnest pleas for reconciliation with the South. In 1897 he took a prominent part in supporting the Cubans in their struggle for independence.

A CALL TO ARMS (Delivered in New York city in 1861)

Fellow-Citizens:--

Once more the country is aroused by a call to arms. It is now nearly a century ago that our fathers assembled in mass meetings in this city to devise ways and means for this very flag which to-day we give to the winds of heaven, bearing defiance from every star. Fired, then, with the same spirit of freedom that kindles on this spot to-day, for the time throwing aside the habiliments of peace, our fathers armed themselves for vengeance and for war. The history of that war, read it in the hearts of the American people; the trials and struggles of that war, mark them in the teardrops which the very allusion brings to every eye; the blessings from that war, count them in the temples of industry and trade that arise everywhere around us; the wisdom of that war, and the honor and the perpetuity of its triumphs, behold the one in our unexampled prosperity as a nation, and the other in the impulses that, like an electric flash, bind heart to heart, throughout this vast assemblage, in the firm resolve that, cost what it may, rebellion shall go down. Again, the American people are assembled in mass meetings throughout the nation, while the States once more rock in the throes of revolution. Once more the cry to arms reverberates throughout the land; but this time we war against domestic foes. Treason has raised its black flag near the tomb of Washington, and the Union of our States hangs her fate upon the bayonet and the sword. Accursed be the hand that would not seize the bayonet; withered the arm that would not wield the sword in such a cause! Everything that the American citizen holds dear hangs upon the issue of this contest. Our national honor and reputation demand that rebellion shall not triumph on our soil. In the name of our heroic dead, in the name of our numberless victories, in the name of our thousand peaceful triumphs, our Union shall and must be preserved! Our peaceful triumphs? These are the victories we should be jealous to guard. Let others recount their martial glories; they shall be eclipsed by the charity and the grace of the triumphs which have been won in peace. "Peace hath her victories not less renowned than war," and the hard-earned fruits of these victories rebellion shall not take from us. Our peaceful triumphs? Who shall enumerate their value to the millions yet unborn? What nation in so short a time has seen so many? On the land and on the sea, in the realms of science and in the world of art, we have everywhere gathered our honors and won our garlands. Upon the altars of the States they yet lie, fresh from gathering, while their happy influence fills the land. Of the importance and value of our thousand peaceful triumphs time will permit me to mention only one. It is now just two years ago when up the waters of the Potomac sailed the representatives of an empire till then shut out from intercourse with all Christian nations. In the Eastern seas there lay an empire of islands which had hitherto enjoyed no recognition in the Christian world other than its name upon the map. No history, as far as we know, illuminated it; no ancient time-marks told of its advancement, step by step, in the march of improvement. There it has rested for thousands of years, wrapped in the mysteries of its own exclusiveness--gloomy, dark, peculiar. It has been supposed to possess great powers; and vague rumors have attributed to it arts to us unknown. Against nearly all the world, for thousands of years Japan has obstinately shut her doors; the wealth of the Christian world could not tempt her cupidity; the wonders of the Christian world could not excite her curiosity. There she lay, sullen and alone, the phenomenon of nations. England and France and the other powerful governments of Europe have at various times tried to conquer this Oriental exclusiveness, but the Portuguese only partly succeeded, while all the rest have signally failed. At length we, bearing at our masthead the glorious old Stars and Stripes, approach the mysterious portals and seek an entrance. Not with cannon and the implements of death do we demand admission, but, appreciating the saying of Euripides, that

"Resistless eloquence shall open The gates that steel exclude,"

we peacefully appeal to that sense of justice which is the "touch of nature that makes the whole world kin," and behold! the interdiction is removed; the doors of the mysterious empire fly open, and a new garland is added to our commercial conquests! Who shall set limits to the gain that shall follow this one victory of peace, if our government shall be perpetuated so as to gather it for the generations? Who shall say that in an unbroken, undivided union, the opening of the empire of Japan shall not accomplish for the present era all that the Reformation, the art of printing, steam, and the telegraph have done within the last three hundred years? New avenues of wealth are thrown open; new fields are to be occupied; arts new to us, perhaps, are to be studied; and science, doubtless, has revelations to make us, from that arcana of nations, equal to anything we have ever learned before. Fifty millions of people are to be enlightened; the printing press is yet to catch the daily thought and stamp it on the page; the magnetic wire must yet tremble along her highways, and Niphon yet tremble to her very centre at each heart-beat of our ocean steamers, as they sweep through her waters and thunder round her island homes. All hail, all hail, to these children of the morning; all hail, all hail, to the Great Republic of the West that calls them into life! From every age that has passed there comes a song of praise for the treaty that has been consummated. The buried masters of three thousand years start again to life and march in solemn and grand procession before the eyes of the new-found empire. Homer with his songs, Greece with her arts, Rome with her legions, and America with her heroes, all come to us with the freshness and novelty of the newly born. Wipe off the mold that time has gathered upon their tombs, and let them all come forth and answer, at the summons of a new-born nation that calls them again to life!

Tell to these strangers the story of the resurrection. Clutching in their hands their dripping blades, the warriors recount their conquests, and joined at last in harmonious brotherhood, Copernicus, with bony fingers pointing upward, tells to Confucius his story of the stars!

Fellow-citizens, I have recounted but one of our many peaceful triumphs. Shall all these hopes of the future, shall all these peaceful victories of our people, shall all these struggles of the past be swept away by the dissolution of this Union and the destruction of the government? Forbid it, Almighty God! Rather perish a thousand times the cause of the rebellion, and over the ruins of slavery let peace once more resume her sway, and let the cannon's lips grow cold. _Delenda_ _est_ _Carthago_, said the old Roman patriot, when gloom settled upon his State. The rebellion must go down in the same spirit, say we all to-day. Down with party, sect, and class, and up with a sentiment of unanimity when our country calls to arms! New England leads us in the contest. The legions of Vermont are now _en_ _route_ for the field. Again, she can say with truth that "the bones of her sons lie mingling and bleaching with the soil of every State from Maine to Georgia, and there they will lie forever." New York must not be behind the Old Bay State which led a year ago. In the spirit world, Warren calls to Hamilton, and Hamilton calls back to Warren, that hand in hand their mortal children go on together to fame, to victory, or to the grave. Where the ranks are full, let us catch an inspiration from the past, and with it upon us go forth to conflict. Go call the roll on Saratoga, Bunker Hill, and Yorktown, that the sheeted dead may rise as witnesses, and tell your legions of the effort to dissolve their Union, and there receive their answer. Mad with frenzy, burning with indignation at the thought, all ablaze for vengeance upon the traitors, such shall be the fury and impetuosity of the onset that all opposition shall be swept away before them, as the pigmy yields to the avalanche that comes tumbling, rumbling, thundering from its Alpine home! Let us gather at the tomb of Washington and invoke his immortal spirit to direct us in the combat. Rising again incarnate from the tomb, in one hand he holds that same old flag, blackened and begrimed with the smoke of a seven-years' war, and with the other hand be points us to the foe. Up and at them! Let immortal energy strengthen our arms, and infernal fury thrill us to the soul. One blow,--deep, effectual, and forever,--one crushing blow upon the rebellion, in the name of God, Washington, and the Republic!

FISHER AMES (1758-1808)

Fisher Ames is easily first among the New England Federalist orators of the first quarter of a century of the Republic. He was greatly, sometimes extravagantly, admired by his contemporaries, and his addresses are studied as models by eminent public speakers of our own day. Dr. Charles Caldwell in his autobiography calls Ames "one of the most splendid rhetoricians of his age." . . . "Two of his speeches," writes Doctor Caldwell, "that on Jay's Treaty and that usually called his Tomahawk speech, because it included some resplendent passages on Indian massacre, were the most brilliant and fascinating specimens of eloquence I have ever heard, though I have listened to some of the most eloquent speakers in the British Parliament,--among others to Wilberforce and Mackintosh, Plunkett, Brougham, and Canning. Doctor Priestly who was familiar with the oratory of Pitt the father, and Pitt the son, as also with that of Burke and Fox, made to myself the acknowledgment that the speech of Ames on the British treaty was 'the most bewitching piece of eloquence' to which he had ever listened."

Ames was born at Dedham, Massachusetts, on April 9th, 1758. His father, Nathaniel Ames, a physician, had the "honorable family standing" which was so important in the life of most of the colonies. He had scientific tendencies and published an "Astronomical Diary," or nautical almanac, which was in considerable vogue. The son, however, developed at the early age of six years a fondness for classical literature, which led him to undertake to master Latin. He made such progress that he was admitted to Harvard when but twelve years old. While there, it "was observed that he coveted the glory of eloquence," showing his fondness for oratory not merely in the usual debating society declamation, but by the study of classical models and of such great English poets as Shakespeare and Milton. To this, no doubt correctly, has been attributed his great command of language and his fertility in illustration. After graduating from Harvard in 1774, he studied law in Boston, served in the Massachusetts legislature, in the convention for ratifying the Federal constitution, and in the first Congress elected under the constitution. After retiring, be was called in 1804 to the presidency of Harvard. He declined the honor, however, on account of diffidence and failing health. His death occurred on the fourth of July, 1808, in the fiftieth year of his age.

After the treaty with Great Britain (Jay's), concluded in 1794, had been ratified and proclaimed by the President, he communicated it to the House of Representatives, "in order that the necessary appropriations might be made to carry it into effect." The speech on the Treaty, delivered by Ames, was on a resolution in favor of making the appropriations thus called for, the House being in committee of the whole April 28th, 1796.

ON THE BRITISH TREATY

(Delivered in the House of Representatives, April 28, 1796)

Mr. Chairman:--

I entertain the hope, perhaps a rash one, that my strength will hold me out to speak a few minutes.

In my judgment, a right decision will depend more on the temper and manner with which we may prevail upon ourselves to contemplate the subject than upon the development of any profound political principles, or any remarkable skill in the application of them. If we could succeed to neutralize our inclinations, we should find less difficulty than we have to apprehend in surmounting all our objections.

The suggestion, a few days ago, that the House manifested symptoms of heat and irritation, was made and retorted as if the charge ought to create surprise, and would convey reproach. Let us be more just to ourselves and to the occasion. Let us not affect to deny the existence and the intrusion of some portion of prejudice and feeling into the debate, when, from the very structure of our nature, we ought to anticipate the circumstance as a probability, and when we are admonished by the evidence of our senses that it is the fact.

How can we make professions for ourselves, and offer exhortations to the House, that no influence should be felt but that of duty, and no guide respected but that of the understanding, while the peal to rally every passion of man is continually ringing in our ears?

Our understandings have been addressed, it is true, and with ability and effect; but, I demand, has any corner of the heart been left unexplored? It has been ransacked to find auxiliary arguments, and, when that attempt failed, to awaken the sensibilities that would require none. Every prejudice and feeling has been summoned to listen to some peculiar style of address; and yet we seem to believe and to consider as an affront a doubt that we are strangers to any influence but that of unbiased reason.

It would be strange that a subject which has aroused in turn all the passions of the country should be discussed without the interference of any of our own. We are men, and, therefore, not exempt from those passions; as citizens and representatives we feel the interests that must excite them. The hazard of great interests cannot fail to agitate strong passions. We are not disinterested; it is impossible we should be dispassionate. The warmth of such feelings may becloud the judgment, and, for a time, pervert the understanding. But the public sensibility, and our own, has sharpened the spirit of inquiry, and given an animation to the debate. The public attention has been quickened to mark the progress of the discussion, and its judgment, often hasty and erroneous on first impressions, has become solid and enlightened at last. Our result will, I hope, on that account, be the safer and more mature, as well as more accordant with that of the nation. The only constant agents in political affairs are the passions of men. Shall we complain of our nature-- shall we say that man ought to have been made otherwise? It is right already, because he, from whom we derive our nature, ordained it so; and because thus made and thus acting, the cause of truth and the public good is the more surely promoted.

But an attempt has been made to produce an influence of a nature more stubborn and more unfriendly to truth. It is very unfairly pretended, that the constitutional right of this house is at stake, and to be asserted and preserved only by a vote in the negative. We hear it said that this is a struggle for liberty, a manly resistance against the design to nullify this assembly and to make it a cipher in the government; that the President and Senate, the numerous meetings in the cities, and the influence of the general alarm of the country, are the agents and instruments of a scheme of coercion and terror, to force the treaty down our throats, though we loathe it, and in spite of the clearest convictions of duty and conscience.

It is necessary to pause here and inquire whether suggestions of this kind be not unfair in their very texture and fabric, and pernicious in all their influences. They oppose an obstacle in the path of inquiry, not simply discouraging, but absolutely insurmountable. They will not yield to argument; for as they were not reasoned up, they cannot be reasoned down. They are higher than a Chinese wall in truth's way, and built of materials that are indestructible. While this remains, it is vain to argue; it is vain to say to this mountain, Be thou cast into the sea. For, I ask of the men of knowledge of the world whether they would not hold him for a blockhead that should hope to prevail in an argument whose scope and object is to mortify the self-love of the expected proselyte? I ask, further, when such attempts have been made, have they not failed of success? The indignant heart repels a conviction that is believed to debase it.

The self-love of an individual is not warmer in its sense, nor more constant in its action, than what is called in French, _l'esprit_ _du_ _corps_, or the self-love of an assembly; that jealous affection which a body of men is always found to bear towards its own prerogatives and power. I will not condemn this passion. Why should we urge an unmeaning censure or yield to groundless fears that truth and duty will be abandoned, because men in a public assembly are still men, and feel that _esprit_ _du_ _corps_ which is one of the laws of their nature? Still less should we despond or complain, if we reflect that this very spirit is a guardian instinct that watches over the life of this assembly. It cherishes the principle of self-preservation, and without its existence, and its existence with all the strength we see it possess, the privileges of the representatives of the people, and mediately the liberties of the people, would not be guarded, as they are, with a vigilance that never sleeps and an unrelaxed constancy and courage. If the consequences, most unfairly attributed to the vote in the affirmative, were not chimerical, and worse, for they are deceptive, I should think it a reproach to be found even moderate in my zeal to assert the constitutional powers of this assembly; and whenever they shall be in real danger, the present occasion affords proof that there will be no want of advocates and champions.

Indeed, so prompt are these feelings, and, when once roused, so difficult to pacify, that if we could prove the alarm was groundless, the prejudice against the appropriations may remain on the mind, and it may even pass for an act of prudence and duty to negative a measure which was lately believed by ourselves, and may hereafter be misconceived by others, to encroach upon the powers of the House. Principles that bear a remote affinity with usurpation on those powers will be rejected, not merely as errors, but as wrongs. Our sensibilities will shrink from a post where it is possible they may be wounded, and be inflamed by the slightest suspicion of an assault.

While these prepossessions remain, all argument is useless. It may be heard with the ceremony of attention, and lavish its own resources, and the patience it wearies, to no manner of purpose. The ears may be open; but the mind will remain locked up, and every pass to the understanding guarded.

Unless, therefore, this jealous and repulsive fear for the rights of the House can be allayed, I will not ask a hearing.

I cannot press this topic too far; I cannot address myself with too much emphasis to the magnanimity and candor of those who sit here, to suspect their own feelings, and, while they do, to examine the grounds of their alarm. I repeat it, we must conquer our persuasion that this body has an interest in one side of the question more than the other, before we attempt to surmount our objections. On most subjects, and solemn ones too, perhaps in the most solemn of all, we form our creed more from inclination than evidence.