VIII.-MARK ANTONY'S ORATION.

FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen!-lend me your ears.
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar!-Noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious-
If it was so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it!
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-
For Brutus is an honourable man!
So are they all! all honourable men—
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me-
But Brutus says he was ambitious-

And Brutus is an honourable man!

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff!-
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man!
You all did see that, on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown;

Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition ?Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And sure he is an honourable man!

I speak, not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once; not without cause;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him:
O judgment! thou hast fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason!-Bear with me!
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me!

But yesterday the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world-now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence!

O masters! if I were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you
all know, are honourable men—
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and
Than I will wrong such honourable men.

you,

But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar-I found it in his closet-'tis his will!

Let but the commons hear this testament-
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,
And they will go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

Unto their issue!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle!

I remember

The first time ever Cæsar put it on;

'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent—

That day he overcame the Nervii !

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through!— See what a rent the envious Casca made!-

Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd!

And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it!-
As rushing out of doors to be resolved
If Brutus so unkindly knocked or no;

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel!
Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!
This was the unkindest cut of all;

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab!-
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,

Quite vanquish'd him. Then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle, muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue

Which all the while ran blood-great Cæsar fell!
Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down;

Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us!
Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity: these are gracious drops!
Kind souls! what! weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded?-look you here;
Here is himself-marr'd as you see, by traitors!-

Good friends! sweet friends! let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny!

They that have done this deed are honourable !—
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,
And will no doubt, with reason answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,
That loves his friend-and that they know full well,
That gave me public leave to speak of him-
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on!
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb

mouths!

And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny!

Shakespeare.

CHAPTER VI.

MODERN ORATORY.

I.-MR. PITT'S REPLY TO HORACE WALPOLE. SIR,-The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of those who continue ignorant in spite of age and experience. Whether youth can be attributed to any man as a reproach, I will not, Sir, assume the province of determining; but surely age may justly become contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appear to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and in whom age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults. Much more, Sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth, Sir, is not my only crime: I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and the adoption of the opinions and language of another In the first sense, Sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves to be mentioned only that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though I may perhaps

man.

have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience. But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behaviour, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment which he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity entrench themselves; nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment-age, which always brings with it one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But with regard, Sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure. The heat which offended them, is the ardour of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned, while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainy, and whoever may partake of his plunder.

II.-PITT'S CONDEMNATION OF RELIGIOUS
PERSECUTION.

You have been taught, indeed, that right belief, or orthodoxy, will, like charity, cover a multitude of sins; but be not deceived: belief of, or mere assent to, the truth of propositions upon evidence is not a virtue, nor unbelief a vice. Faith is not a voluntary act; it does not depend upon the will: every man must believe or disbelieve, whether he will or not, according as evidence appears to him. If, therefore, men, however dignified (or distinguished command us to believe, they are guilty of the highest folly and absurdity, because it is out of our power;