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a new era.
An earnest contemporary who was present says, “No harangue of Demosthenes or Cicero ever had such effect upon the globe as that speech.” It was the harbinger of
For five hours the brilliant orator unfolded the character of these acts of Parliament; for five hours he held the court-room in rapt and astonished admiration; but his effort ascended into statesmanship when, after showing that the colonists were without representation in Parliament, he cried out, that, notwithstanding this exclusion, Parliament had undertaken to “impose taxes, and enormous taxes, burdensome taxes, oppressive, ruinous, intolerable taxes"; and then, glowing with generous indignation at this injustice, he launched that thunderbolt of political truth, “Taxation without representation is Tyranny.” From the narrow court-room where he spoke, the thunderbolt passed, smiting and blasting the intolerable pretension. It was the idea of John Locke; but the fervid orator, with tongue of flame, gave to it the intensity of his own genius. He found it in a book of philosophy; but he sent it forth a winged messenger blazing in the sky.
John Adams, then a young man just admitted to the bar, was present at the scene, and he dwells on it often with sympathetic delight. There in the old Town House of Boston sat the five judges of the Province, with Hutchinson as chief justice, in robes of scarlet, cambric bands, and judicial wigs; and there, too, in gowns, bands, and tie-wigs, were the barristers. Conspicuous on the wall were full-length portraits of two British monarchs, Charles II. and James II., while in the corners were the likenesses of Massachusetts governors. In this presence the great oration was delivered. The patriot lawyer had refused compensation. “In such a cause as this,” said he, “I despise a fee." He spoke for country and for mankind.
Firmly he planted himself on the rights of man, which, he insisted, were by the everlasting law of nature inherent and inalienable; and these rights, he nobly proclaimed, were common to all without distinction of color. To pose them surrendered in any other way than by equal rules and general consent, was to suppose men idiots or mad, whose acts are not binding.
But he especially flew at two arguments of tyranny : first, that the colonists were “virtually” represented; and, secondly, that there was such a difference between direct and indirect taxation, that while the former might be questionable, the latter was not. To these two apologies he replied, first, that no such phrase as “virtual representation" was known in law or constitution; that it is altogether subtlety and illusion, wholly unfounded and absurd; and that we must not be cheated by any such phantom, or other fiction of law or politics : and then, with the same crushing force, he said that in the absence of representation all taxation, whether direct or indirect, whether internal or external, whether on land or trade, was equally obnoxious to the same unhesitating condemnation.
The effect was electric. The judges were stunned into silence, and postponed judgment. The people were aroused to a frenzy of patriotism. “American Independence,” says John Adams, in the record of his impressions,
was then and there born; the seeds of patriots and heroes were then and there sown, to defend the vigorous youth. Every man of a crowded audience appeared to me to go away, as I did, ready to take arms against writs of assistance. Then and there was the first scene of the first act of opposition to the arbitrary claims of Great Britain. Then and there the child Independence was born."
XCIX. - THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.
C. B. SOUTHEY.
CAROLINE ANN BOWLES, who became, June 4, 1839, the second wife of Robert Southey, was born at Lymington, England, December 6, 1786; and died July 20, 1854. She is the author of "Chapters on Churchyards,"
." “ Ellen Fitz Arthur," and other works. She is best known by her poetry, which is remarkable for tenderness and depth of feeling.
TREAD softly, — bow the head
In reverent silence low ;
Stranger, however great,
Beneath that beggar's roof,
no guards defend
O change! O wondrous change!
O change ! stupendous change !
C. - SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS.
ELIJAA KELLOGG was born in Portland, Maine, and was graduated at Bowdoin College in 1840. In 1844 he was ordained over the Congregational Society of Harpswell. In 1855 he removed to Boston, and became pastor of the Mariners' Church, under the patronage of the Boston Seamen's Friend Society. He has since continued to reside there.
The following is a supposed speech of Spartacus, who was a real personage. He was a Thracian by birth, and a gladiator, who headed a rebellion of gladiators and slaves against the Romans, which was not suppressed until after a long struggle, in which he showed great energy and ability. A pretor was a Roman magistrate. The vestal virgins were priestesses of Vesta. They had a conspicuous place at the gladiatorial shows. The ancients attached great importance to the rites of sepulture, and believed that, if the body were not buried, the soul could not cross the Styx, and reach the Elysian Fields, the abode of the departed spirits of the good.
T had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus,
returning with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the sports of the amphitheater to an extent hitherto unknown even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry had died away; the roar of the lion had ceased; the last loiterer had retired from the banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were extinguished.
The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dewdrop on the corselet of the Roman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters of Volturnus with wavy, tremulous light. It was a night of holy calm, when the zephyr sways the young spring leaves, and whispers among the hollow reeds its dreamy music. No sound was heard but the last sob of some weary wave, telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach, and then all was still as the breast when the spirit has departed.
In the deep recesses of the ampitheater a band of gladiators were crowded together, — their muscles still knotted with the agony of conflict, the foam upon their lips, and the scowl of battle yet lingering upon their brows, - when Spartacus, rising in the midst of that grim assemblage, thus addressed them :
“Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast that the broad Empire of Rome could furnish, and yet never has lowered his arm. And if there be one among you who can say that, ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him step forth and say it. If there be three in all your throng dare face me on the bloody sand, let them come on!
“Yet, I was not always thus, a hired butcher, a savage chief of savage men. My father was a reverent man, who feared great Jupiter, and brought to the rural deities his offerings of fruits and flowers. He dwelt among the vineclad rocks and olive groves at the foot of Helicon. My early life ran quiet as the brook by which I sported. I was taught to prune the vine, to tend the flock; and then, at noon, I gathered my sheep beneath the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute. I had a friend, the son