A REMINISCENCE OF LEXINGTON 35 was furious at the noble and dauntless spirit shown, and with foul oaths tore the letters into shreds, saying afterward that "the rebels should never know that they had a man who could die with such firmness." As Hale stood upon the fatal ladder, Cunningham taunted him, and scoffingly demanded "his last dying speech and confession." The hero did not heed the words of the brute, but looking calmly on the spectators, said in a clear voice: "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." A REMINISCENCE OF LEXINGTON THEODORE PARKER Theodore Parker was tried before the United States Circuit Court for the "misdemeanor" of making a speech in Faneuil Hall against the "kidnapping of Thomas Simms." At his trial he conducted his own defense. The following extract is the conclusion of this speech, delivered before the Circuit Court in Boston, April 3, 1855. One raw morning in spring—it will be eighty years the 19th day of this month-Hancock and Adams, the Moses and Aaron of that Great Deliverance, were both at Lexington; they also had "obstructed an officer" with brave words. British soldiers, a thousand strong, came to seize them and carry them over sea for trial, and so nip the bud of Freedom auspiciously opening in that early spring. The town militia came together before daylight, "for training.' A great, tall man, with a large head and a high, wide brow, their captain,-one who had "seen service," marshaled them into line, numbering but seventy, and bade "every man load his piece with powder and ball. I will order the first man shot that runs away," said he, when some faltered. "Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war, let it begin here." Gentlemen, you know what followed; those farmers and mechanics "fired the shot heard round the world." A little monument covers the bones of such as before had pledged their fortune and their sacred honor to the Freedom of America, and that day gave it also their lives. I was born in that little town, and bred up amid the memories of that day. When a boy, my mother lifted me up, one Sunday, in her religious, patriotic arms, and held me while I read the first monumental line I ever saw-"Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind." Since then I have studied the memorial marbles of Greece and Rome, in many an ancient town; nay, on Egyptian obelisks, have read what was written before the Eternal roused up Moses to lead Israel out of Egypt; but no chiseled stone has ever stirred me to such emotions as those rustic names of men who fell "In the Sacred Cause of God and their Country." Gentlemen, the spirit of Liberty, the love of Justice, was early fanned into a flame in my boyish heart. That monument covers the bones of my own kinsfolk; it was their blood which reddened the long, green grass at Lexington. It was my own name which stands chiseled on that stone; the tall Captain who marshaled his fellow farmers into stern array and spoke such THE SURVIVORS OF BUNKER HILL 37 brave and dangerous words as opened the war of American Independence - the last to leave the field was my father's father. I learned to read out of his Bible, and with a musket he that day captured from the foe, I learned also another religious lesson, that "Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God." I keep them both "Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind," to use them both "In the Sacred Cause of God and my Country." THE SURVIVORS OF BUNKER HILL DANIEL WEBSTER When the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument was laid at Charlestown, Mass., June 17, 1825, Daniel Webster delivered the address, and took occasion to make the following speech to the survivors of the battle who were present. Venerable men! You have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold, how altered! The same heavens are indeed over your heads; the same ocean rolls at your feet; but all else, how changed! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon; you see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying; the impetuous charge; the steady and successful repulse; the loud call to repeated assault; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resistance; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and death,—all these you have witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means of distinction and defense. All is peace; and God has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave. He has allowed you to behold and to partake of the reward of your patriotic toils; and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the name of the present generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, to thank you! THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE JUDICIARY 39 THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE JUDICIARY JAMES A. BAYARD Abridged from a speech on the “Judiciary Act," delivered in the House of Representatives, February 19, 1802. The morals of your people, the peace of the country, and the stability of government rest upon the independence of the Judiciary. Am I asked, "Would you render the judges superior to the legislature?" I answer, “No; but coördinate." "Would you render them independent of the legislature?" I answer, “Yes; independent of every power on earth, while they behave themselves well." The essential interests, the permanent welfare of society, require this independence. You calculate on the weaknesses of human nature and you suffer the judge to be dependent on no one, lest he should be partial to those on whom he depends. Justice does not exist where partiality prevails. A dependent judge cannot be impartial. Independence is therefore essential to the purity of your judiciary tribunals. No power is so sensibly felt by society as that of the Judiciary. The life and property of every man is liable to be in the hands of the judges. Is it not to our interest to place our judges upon such high ground that no fear can intimidate, no hope seduce them? The present measure humbles them in the dust. It prostrates them at the feet of faction. It renders them the tools of every dominant party. It is this effect which I deprecate; it is this |