Modern Eloquence: Vol II | Page 9

from one who felt and understood these merits more.
I am not here to exchange civilities with you, but rather to speak of that
which I am sure interests these gentlemen more than their own praises;
of that which is good in holidays and working-days, the same in one
century and in another century. That which lures a solitary American in
the woods with the wish to see England, is the moral peculiarity of the
Saxon race,--its commanding sense of right and wrong,--the love and

devotion to that,--this is the imperial trait, which arms them with the
sceptre of the globe. It is this which lies at the foundation of that
aristocratic character, which certainly wanders into strange vagaries, so
that its origin is often lost sight of, but which, if it should lose this,
would find itself paralyzed; and in trade, and in the mechanic's shop,
gives that honesty in performance, that thoroughness and solidity of
work, which is a national characteristic. This conscience is one element,
and the other is that loyal adhesion, that habit of friendship, that
homage of man to man, running through all classes,--the electing of
worthy persons to a certain fraternity, to acts of kindness and warm and
staunch support, from year to year, from youth to age,--which is alike
lovely and honorable to those who render and those who receive
it;--which stands in strong contrast with the superficial attachments of
other races, their excessive courtesy, and short-lived connection.
You will think me very pedantic, gentlemen, but holiday though it be, I
have not the smallest interest in any holiday, except as it celebrates real
and not pretended joys; and I think it just, in this time of gloom and
commercial disaster, of affliction and beggary in these districts, that on
these very accounts I speak of, you should not fail to keep your literary
anniversary. I seem to hear you say that, for all that is come and gone,
yet we will not reduce by one chaplet or one oak-leaf the braveries of
our annual feast. For I must tell you, I was given to understand in my
childhood that the British island, from which my forefathers came, was
no lotus-garden, no paradise of serene sky and roses and music and
merriment all the year round, no, but a cold, foggy, mournful country,
where nothing grew well in the open air, but robust men and virtuous
women, and these of a wonderful fibre and endurance; that their best
parts were slowly revealed; their virtues did not come out until they
quarrelled; they did not strike twelve the first time; good lovers, good
haters, and you could know little about them till you had seen them
long, and little good of them till you had seen them in action; that in
prosperity they were moody and dumpish, but in adversity they were
grand.
Is it not true, sir, that the wise ancients did not praise the ship parting
with flying colors from the port, but only that brave sailor which came

back with torn sheets and battered sides, stript of her banners, but
having ridden out the storm? And so, gentlemen, I feel in regard to this
aged England, with the possessions, honors and trophies, and also with
the infirmities of a thousand years gathering around her, irretrievably
committed as she now is to many old customs which cannot be
suddenly changed; pressed upon by the transitions of trade, and new
and all incalculable modes, fabrics, arts, machines and competing
populations,--I see her not dispirited, not weak, but well remembering
that she has seen dark days before; indeed, with a kind of instinct that
she sees a little better in a cloudy day, and that in storm of battle and
calamity, she has a secret vigor and a pulse like a cannon. I see her in
her old age, not decrepit, but young, and still daring to believe in her
power of endurance and expansion. Seeing this, I say, All hail! mother
of nations, mother of heroes, with strength still equal to the time; still
wise to entertain and swift to execute the policy which the mind and
heart of mankind require in the present hour, and thus only hospitable
to the foreigner, and truly a home to the thoughtful and generous who
are born in the soil. So be it! so let it be! If it be not so, if the courage of
England goes with the chances of a commercial crisis, I will go back to
the capes of Massachusetts, and my own Indian stream, and say to my
countrymen, the old race are all gone, and the elasticity and hope of
mankind must henceforth remain on the Alleghany ranges, or nowhere.
* * * * *
THE MEMORY OF BURNS
[Speech of Ralph