Ven. 'Twas too presuming Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied? Ven. Look, emperor, this is no common dew, My mother comes afresh into my eyes; I cannot help her softness. Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends; See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine-nay, father Ven. Emperor ! Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of victory. The conqu'ring soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so: but never more Shall that sound reach my ears. I lost a battle. Ant. Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st; For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly: But Antony (Well, thou wilt have it)—like a coward fled, Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius. I know thou cam'st prepared to rail. I did. Ven. I know thy meaning. Ant. Ven. You are too sensible already Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings; Ant. Dost thou think me desperate Without just cause? No, when I found all lost The cost of keeping. Ven. Cæsar thinks not so; He'll thank you for the gift he could not take. Ven. I can die with you too, when time shall serve; To fight, to conquer. Ant. Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius. Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger, Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile. 'Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces, Their scarr'd cheeks, and chopt hands; there's virtue in 'em. Ant. Where left you them? Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair? They're mutinous. Ven. There's but one way shut up-how came I hither? My soldiers to demand a reason of My actions. Why did they refuse to march? Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight, indeed, to make her conquer, And make you more a slave? Ant. Ven. You grow presumptuous. Ven. Ven. I needed not have sought your abject fortunes, A traitor then-a glorious, happy traitor; Ant. I've been too passionate. Ven. Forgive me, soldier ; You thought me false; Thought my old age betray'd you. Kill me, sir; Ant. I did not think so; I said it in my rage: pr'ythee, forgive me. Ven. No prince but you Could merit that sincerity I used; Nor durst another man have ventured it. Ant. Thou shalt behold me once again in iron; And, at the head of our old troops, that beat The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me! Ven. O, now I hear my emperor! In that word Octavius fell. Methinks you breathe my soul's up in arms, Ant. O, thou hast fir'd me! I long Our hearts and arms are still the same. SECTION XXIV. EXTRACT FROM MR. WEBSTER'S SPEECH IN REPLY TO MR. HAYNE. THE eulogium pronounced on the character of the state of South Carolina, by the honourable gentleman, for her revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge, that the honourable member goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent or distinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurens, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions-Americans, all-whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and honoured the country, and the whole country and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country, Him, whose honoured name the gentleman himself bears→→ does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it is in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom? No, sir; increased gratification and delight, rather. Sir, I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here, in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state, or neighbourhood: when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, a sincere devotion to liberty and the country; or if I see an uncommon endowment of heaven; if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South-and if moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by state jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth! Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections-let me indulge in refreshing remembrance of the past-let me remind you that in early times no states cherished greater harmony, both of principle and of feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God, that harmony might again return. Shoulder to shoulder they went through the revolution-hand in hand they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exists, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts-she needs none. There she is-behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history-the world knows it by heart. The past, at least is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill— and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every state from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie for ever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it-if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it-if folly and madness-if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth its arm with whatever vigour it may still retain, over the friends who gather round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. |