"For Marcus Cato, whose exemplary career encourages all of us to a cultivation of industry and virtue, it was certainly allowable to dedicate himself to retirement in an agreeable and near retreat. But the madman, as certain contemptible persons suppose him to be, though uncompelled thereto by any necessity, preferred to be tossed amid these winds and waves of politics until extreme old age, than to experience the calm pleasures of retirement."

To make the comparison complete, we might add that both Cato and John Quincy Adams did not receive, on all occasions, the veneration due to their years, on account of their violence in debate. Adams, like Cato, might on more than one occasion have remarked in the hall of legislation, "It is a hard thing to give an account of one's conduct before men of a different age from that in which he has himself lived." You remember, too, that the last prominent public act of Cato was to recommend with all the weight of his eloquence, extreme policy towards Carthage. "I am of opinion," he said over and over again, "that Carthage must be destroyed." So the last conspicuous act of Adams was his bold and uncompromising stand in favor of seizing Oregon by force of arms. The spark of intellectual life and of moral vigor has burned brightly in both until the last.

Such comparisons as these link age to age. In these views of the great and good men of different eras, we learn to appreciate that beautiful and mysterious bond which makes the present brother to the past. Let us now turn to a contrast which will exhibit in a vivid light the distinction between a chivalrous age and an age of utility-between the spirit of honor and the spirit of calculation.

At one crisis in the history of Rome, as Livy relates, the treasury* had been drained by the expenses of government, and private property had been taxed until there was hardly enough left to lay a percentum impost upon. Unfortunately, it was just then necessary to make up a complement of rowers to man the Roman fleet. The Senate, therefore, passed the usual resolution, that every private citizen, according to his estimated property, should furnish a certain proportion of rowers, or "tars," with provisions enough to supply them thirty days. A sedition broke out immediately, and nothing but a leader was necessary to bring about a violent insurrection. The populace declared that they were preyed upon by their rulers, that their lands were desolated by taxation, that their houses were burned by their enemies, and their slaves kidnapped, by the home-government, for the land and naval service. If they had (as they said,) a little cash in hand, levies and taxes soon consumed that. At last, they were (they said,) secure, for no force could wrest from them that which they did not possess. They threatened to sell their goods and kill themselves, so that nothing,

This incident properly belongs to an article on Roman Finance, which we had expected to prepare for this number, but a pressure of unexpected engagements compelled us to compile a desultory chapter.

not even their lives and persons, would remain to be taxed. The imperial city was bankrupt! And such was the feeling of the populace at Rome at a time, when the possession of Sicily was wavering in an uncertain balance, when Philip was already on his march towards the gates of Rome, and the shores of Italy were menaced by an alien foe.

Something like this was the condition of England during the year 1843. She held India with a trembling grasp; was appa. rently on the eve of a war with America; in actual war with China, and had suffered defeat in Afghanistan. Her national debt had become like a mountain, whose tottering weight might crush her. It was dangerous to try the people farther by taxation, for there were plebeians and patricians in England as well as in Rome. What was to be done for England? what for Rome? A British writer, full of the enthusiasm of party, will paint to you a Premier rising in his place in the House of Commons, and with unparallelled intrepidity, with boundless confidence in the sagacity of his policy as a last resort, and with marvellous disinterestedness proposing, in a group of rentists, an income-tax of two and a half shillings in the pound! All are somewhat startled at the project. The opposition are furious. How magnificent a spectacle is the self-relying Prime Minister at this critical moment! How terrible the responsibility of saving England at a trifling expense to a privileged class!

But what was done at Rome? A Premier of Rome-a Consul, rose in the Senate. He speaks. He does not urge the necessity of his measure; that what he was about to do was a last resort; that it was an evil and a bitter thing. (We suppose Livy to give the substance of the speech, as he inferred it from the spirit of the times and the circumstances which followed it.) Oh no! he says: "The supreme magistrates, the consuls, are the leaders of the Senate, the Senate the leaders of the people in point of civil rank; so each should be the leader of those under him in grappling with hardship and undergoing privation. Make yourselves amenable to the laws, which you enjoin upon your inferiors, if you would have them obedient. The burden will be light to them, when they see you advancing to bear its heaviest portion. Shall we extort the men and equipments of a fleet from the Roman people? Shall private citizens alone ungrudgingly furnish oarsmen? Let us dictate to ourselves first. Let us-Senators-to-morrow, contribute to the public treasury all our gold, silver and coined brass; reserving only the rings of our rank for ourselves and wives, the badge of youth for our sons, and, as many of us as have wives and children, an ounce of gold for each! Of silver, let those, who have sat in the curule chair, reserve the official trinkets, which belong to the trappings of their horses, and a pound besides, that they may have a salt-cellar and plate out of respect to the gods. Of brass, let those of the Senators, who are fathers of families reserve five thousand sesterces (about one hundred and fifty dollars!)

Then let us carry all the rest of our fortunes to the public bankers, without any previous decree of the Senate, that the contribution may seem voluntary, and that our eagerness to assist the commonwealth may kindle a rival generosity among the knights and, afterwards, among the people. We, the consuls, after much mutual deliberation, have been able to discover but this one way of extricating our country from its difficulties. Let us adopt it, and may Heaven prosper it! A safe commonwealth ensures the safety of private interests; if you are false to the public weal, you will by no means secure your own."

What was the effect of this speech, so truly Roman, upon the Roman mind? No murmur of discontent was heard; no reproach for its impolicy was uttered. The generous Senate responded heartily to the proposition; a vote of thanks was passed upon the spot to the illustrious consul. So much eagerness in prosecuting the measure was shown, that Senators strove for the precedence in putting their names upon the public list, and there were not cashiers enough to receive or scriveners enough to accredit the contributions. The spirit passed at once to the order of knights and soon after seized the populace like a panic. The treasury was filled, and the fleet manned by voluntary contributions. As a natural consequence, victory, for the thousandth time, followed the Roman eagles.

I have dwelt thus long on this glorious incident, partly on account of my intense admiration of the actors in the drama, and partly because it contains a useful hint to the rulers of our times concerning the generous impulses of the people.

ORATORS AND DEMAGOGUES.

Whenever a nation has made rapid advances in civilization, we learn from history that the era has been one distinguished for the production of men of original genius. These originate and diffuse the new ideas or the loftier feelings which characterise their own generation, or that which succeeds them. From the influence of gifted individuals arise those general impulses in the mass of a community, which sooner or later produce some great and impor tant change. The extent, therefore, to which the most gifted or most cultivated minds are enabled to exert an influence over their fellow countrymen and contemporaries, is one of the most important questions in the condition and prospects of society in any period or country. Though the splendid deeds and heroic lives of men great in action, are the first to attract the attention and absorb the admiration of the multitude, yet by reflecting minds even these

are traced back to thoughts and feelings of correspondent elevation. Nor is it by any means universally true, that the man of deeds has himself originated the grand ideas and principles from which his actions spring. Most commonly, indeed, he is indebted for them to the solitary musings of those whose only deeds are the utterance of thoughts to their fellow men. It must be acknowledged, then, that there is nothing in the constitution of society of more importance than the means by which superior minds are enabled to exert a reforming and elevating influence upon others. The only medium for communicating thought and feeling is language. Yet this may be destitute of power to arouse attention, and to give that impulse to other minds which shall cause new or important ideas to be welcomed and adopted, or to produce their proper fruits in action. How is speech made influential, and by what means does it exert an impelling or controlling power? How shall it overcome the reluctance felt by sluggish minds to enter upon new and unaccustomed trains of thought? Men are pre-occupied with error, and contentedly busy in putting it in practice. They must be so addressed as to be made to pause in their false career. They are indolent and indifferent, and must be aroused till they take pleasure in what, without some powerful stimulant, would be irksome and painful.

This aggressive and impelling power by which mind operates irresistably upon inind is found only in eloquence. In early stages of society, eloquence, whether employed by chieftains, poets or orators, is oral; in communities more advanced, writing is more and more employed to diffuse and to perpetuate as many of the constituents of eloquence as writing can transmit. Every quality of written composition which attracts and interests the reader-every characteristic of style which men admire and praise are merits which, in oral utterance, distinguish the language of a man of eloquence. As one of the most striking and important points which distinguish the present from ancient times, is the increasing resort by the moderns to written compositions diffused through the press, so it is instructive to observe, that in proportion as the press is more depended upon, is the necessity felt that writers should employ a style of composition more energetic, more vivid, more striking, and to sum up numerous qualities in a single word, more eloquent.

Hence, if the press is to be qualified for its mission, those who write for newspapers and other periodicals must be allowed to depart from that style of repose and unimpassioned dignity, the want of which is sometimes made a subject of complaint. Such writers feel in a situation similar to that of a speaker who brings all the faculties of his mind into play, and plies every legitimate resource of language and action to command the attention and interest of the hundreds or thousands assembled before him. But being debarred the all-powerful interpretation and enforcement of

delivery, they must crowd into written language every resource of eloquence which it admits.

The immediate success of the latest French and English novelists furnishes an illustration of this, whatever may be thought of their intrinsic merits and good taste, or their permanent popularity.

We have used the term eloquence in its widest sense, as a quality exhibited by both writers and speakers. It is found in poetry as well as prose; it is often attributed to impressive or affecting music; and we speak without impropriety of an eloquent picture or statue. But the art of cultivating and employing eloquence as an instrument for moving the minds of men, belongs exclusively to oratory. Accordingly, we discover the true and solid foundation for the very high rank which it has held in all ages and countries. But although the reasons for any great law of society may be traced to some solid ground of utility under the superintendence of Him who constructed society with laws as certain as those of the material world, yet the more immediate and obvious reasons are often formed in the common feelings of men. Consequently, the first practice of oratory among a people is to be referred to ambition, or strong enthusiasm in the speaker acting agreeably on the minds of hearers. It would thus be encouraged to take its place among the arts which are systematically cultivated by that part of society who devote their lives to intellectual pursuits. It is an art, because it depends in part upon imagination and feeling; and being consequently incapable of reduction to strictly scientific rules and principles, is to be guided and criticised by a general reference to taste and judgment.

Oratory as an art, and one to be systematically studied and employed for moving the minds of men, like all the other branches of our present literature and science, originated among that wonderful people-the ancient Greeks. Music and poetry had been carried to the highest perfection attained in ancient times; painting and architecture had realized perfect ideals; and finally in the age of Pericles and the Parthenon, sprung up suddenly the magnificent art of oratory, and the hitherto unknown charms of prose composition. In the infancy of a race, as in the childhood of an individual man, the imagination and the simpler emotions predominate over the other faculties of the mind. It is to these that music and poetry appeal; being arts simpler in their nature, and less complex in the effects which they produce, than the inexplicable harmonies of highly wrought periods in prose. Oratory alone leads captive the whole man; having logic and reason for its groundwork, its substance is impregnated within, and flashing all over without, with imagination and the endlessly varied play of emotion. To the commanding dignity of the most rigid exercise of the understanding, it adds not only the entrancement of the imagi nation and fancy, but the excitement and the lulling charm of music. It has also its lighter and amusing phases. Mirth and