maintain it, or perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit; religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Concord, and the very walls will cry out in its support. 6. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I see, I see clearly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to the time when this declaration shall be made good. We may die; die colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a FREE country. 7. But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured that this declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears; not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. + 8. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves the measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave off as I began, that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the declaration. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be my dying sentiment; independence now, and INDEPENDENCE FOREVER. DANIEL WEBSTER. LESSON XCIX. 99 DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 1. THE Earl of Essex, after his return from the fortunate expedition against Cadiz, observing the increase of the queen's fond attachment toward him, took occasion to regret that the necessity of her service required him often to be absent from her person, and exposed him to all those ill offices, which his enemies, more +assiduous in their attendance, could employ against him. She was moved with this tender jealousy, and making him the present of a ring, desired him to keep that pledge of her affection, and assured him, that into whatever disgrace he should fall, whatever prejudices she might be induced to entertain against him, yet if he sent her that ring, she would immediately, upon sight of it, recall her former tenderness; would afford him a patient hearing, and would lend a favorable ear to his apology. 2. Essex, notwithstanding all his misfortunes, reserved this precious gift to the last extremity; but after his trial and condem, nation, he resolved to try the experiment, and he committed the ring to the Countess of Nottingham, whom he desired to deliver it to the queen. The countess was prevailed on by her husband, the mortal enemy of Essex, not to execute the commission; and Elizabeth, who still expected that her favorite would make this last appeal to her tenderness, and who ascribed the neglect of it to his +invincible obstinacy, was, after much delay, and many internal combats, pushed, by resentment and policy, to sign the warrant for his execution. 3. The Countess of Nottingham falling into sickness, and affected with the near approach of death, was seized with remorse for her conduct; and having obtained a visit from the queen, she craved her pardon, and revealed the fatal secret. The queen, astonished with this incident, burst into a furious passion: she shook the dying countess in her bed; and crying to her, That God might pardon her, but she never could, she broke from her, and thenceforth resigned herself over to the deepest and most incurable melancholy. She resisted all consolation; she even refused food and sustenance; and throwing herself on the floor, she remained sullen and immovable, feeding her thoughts on her afflictions, and declaring life and existence an intolerable burden to her. Few words she uttered; and they were all expressive of some inward grief which she cared not to reveal; but sighs and groans were the chief vent which she gave to her despondency, and which, though they discovered her sorrows, were never able to ease or assuage them. 4. Ten days and nights, she lay upon the carpet, leaning on cushions which her maids brought her; and her physicians could not persuade her to allow herself to be put to bed, much less to make trial of any remedies which they prescribed to her. Her anxious mind, at last, had so long preyed upon her frail body, that her end was visibly approaching; and the council being assembled, sent the keeper, admiral, and secretary, to know her will with regard to her successor. She answered with a faint voice, that as she had held a regal scepter, she desired no other than a royal successor. Cecil requesting her to explain herself more particularly, she subjoined, that she would have a king to succeed her; and who should that be, but her nearest kinsman, the King of Scots! 5. Being then advised by the Archbishop of Canterbury to fix her thoughts upon God, she replied, that she did so, nor did her mind, in the least, wander from Him. Her voice, soon after, left her; her senses failed; she fell into a lethargic slumber, which continued some hours; and she expired gently, without further struggle or convulsion, in the seventieth year of her age, and fortyfifth of her reign. So dark a cloud overcast the evening of that day, which had shone out with a mighty +luster, in the eyes of all Europe! 6. There are few great personages in history who have been more exposed to the calumnies of enemies, and the adulation of friends, than Queen Elizabeth; and yet, there is scarcely any whose reputation has been more certainly determined by the unanimous consent of posterity. The unusual length of her administration, and the strong features of her character, were able to overcome all prejudices; and, obliging her detractors to abate much of their invectives, and her admirers somewhat of their *panegyrics, have at last, in spite of political factions, and (what is more) religious animosities, produced a uniform judgment with regard to her conduct. 7. Her vigor, her constancy, her magnanimity, her penetration, vigilance, and address, are allowed to merit the highest praises, and appear not to have been surpassed by any person that ever filled the throne; a conduct less rigorous, less imperious, more sincere, more indulgent to her people, would have been requisite to form a perfect character. By the force of her mind, she controlled all her more active and stronger qualities, and prevented them from running into excess; her heroism was exempt from temerity, her frugality from avarice, her friendship from partiality, her active temper from turbulency and a vain ambition; she guarded not herself with equal care and equal success, from lesser infirmities; the rivalship of beauty, the desire of admiration, the jealousy of love, and the sallies of anger. 8. Her singular talents for government, were founded equally on her temper, and on her capacity. Endowed with a great command over herself, she soon obtained an uncontrolled ascendency over her people; and while she merited all their esteem by her real virtues, she also engaged their affections by her pretended Few sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne in more difficult circumstances, and none ever conducted the government ones. with such uniform success and +felicity. Though unacquainted with the practice of toleration, the true secret for managing religious factions, she preserved her people by her superior prudence, from those confusions in which theological controversy had involved all the neighboring nations; and though her enemies were the most powerful princes of Europe, the most active, the most enterprising, the least scrupulous, she was able, by her vigor, to make deep impressions on their states; her own greatness, meanwhile, remaining untouched and unimpaired. 9. The fame of this princess, though it has surmounted the prejudices both of faction and bigotry, yet lies still exposed to a prejudice, which is more durable, because more natural; and which, according to the different views in which we survey her, is capable, either of exalting beyond measure, or diminishing the luster of her character. This prejudice is founded on the consideration of her sex. When we contemplate her as a woman, we are apt to be struck with the highest admiration of her great qualities and extensive capacity; but we are also apt to require somewhat more softness of disposition, some greater +lenity of temper, some of those amiable weaknesses, by which her sex is distinguished. But the true method of estimating her merit, is to lay aside all these considerations, and consider her merely as a rational being, placed in authority, and intrusted with the government of mankind. We may find it difficult to reconcile our fancy to her as a wife or a mistress, but her qualities as a sovereign, though with some considerable exceptions, are the object of undisputed applause and approbation. HUME. LESSON C./u FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. Wolsey. FAREWELL, a long farewell to all my greatness! The tender leaves of hope; tomorrow, blossoms, Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Enter CROMWELL amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder, Crom. How does your grace? Wol. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy,-too much honor: O, 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. Crom. The heaviest, and the worst, Is your displeasure* with the king, Wol. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. Wol. That's somewhat sudden: But he's a learned man. May he continue For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, +Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That's news indeed! Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, *Here used for disgrace. |