the young lawyer by interests in large cities were directed toward me. But my father, who had sent me to school, I felt had some claims upon me. So I took no account of any of the inducements offered me. I went to my father and said: "You have educated me,—at least you think you have. I am grateful. You have an established practice; you need me." And I proved it by taking him into partnership. And I advise every young lawyer similarly situated to follow my example, especially if he has any reverence for the three graces,-food, shelter, and raiment. Censure me not for paternalism; each to his own. But verily, to depend on our fathers is silver; to depend on ourselves is "brass." And, lest you have cause to lament with your client, I charge you fling away self-reliance, for by that sin fell the angels.

May you always know the flush, but never the blush, of victory. And to this end remember that in our time under the statute de bonis asportatis you must not be "caught with the goods."

You will no doubt make mistakes. The man that never makes mistakes never makes anything. And to the man of indomitable will nothing succeeds like failure. "Upon our dead selves as stepping stones we rise to higher things." I have traveled the road myself. I want to see you successful. You have my best wishes ever. In your adversity my heart goes out to you; in your prosperity-my hand.

In conclusion-be your success, as men call it, what it may, bear in mind that change is the law of life. The watchword of progress is "move on"; and fixation is retrogression. And in this regard, doth justice ever grant fair and ample dispensation to her servitors of the law. Mindful of your solace, she hath wisely provided. And when the city's "thick-coming" complications, and garish flare and turmoil, shall have palled upon you, and you have overtaxed your "credulity in listening to the whispers of fancy"; and have pursued with vain "eagerness the phantoms of hope," you may still answer the plaintive call of the bucolic siren for her own-and take to the tall timber; And, my dear young friends, as a prophet without honor in his own, or any other country, let me predict that I shall precede you there; and be the first to bid you welcome, in copious draughts of obscurity, back to nature and the simple life.

CHAPTER X

SPEECHES OF INTRODUCTION

§ 60

INTRODUCING LOUIS KOSSUTH

By William Cullen Bryant

(Address at the banquet given in honor of the Hungarian patriot by the Press of New York, December 9, 1851.)

GENTLEMEN: Before announcing the third regular toast, which is a very short one, allow me to say a few words. Let me ask you to imagine that the contest in which the United States asserted their independence of Great Britain had closed in disaster and defeat; that our armies, through treason and a league of tyrants against us, had been broken and scattered; that the great men who led them, and who swayed our councils, our Washington, our Franklin, the venerable President of the American Congress, and their illustrious associates, had been driven forth as exiles. If there had existed at that day, in any part of the civilized world, a powerful republic, with institutions resting on the same foundations of liberty which our own countrymen sought to establish, would there have been in that republic any hospitality too cordial, any sympathy too deep, any zeal for their glorious but unfortunate cause too fervent or too active to be shown towards these illustrious fugitives? Gentlemen, the case I have supposed is before you. The Washingtons, the Franklins of Hungary, her sages, her legislators, her warriors, expelled by a far worse tyranny than was ever endured here, are wanderers in foreign lands. Some of them are within our own borders; one of them sits with his companions as our guest to-night, and we must measure the duty we owe them by the same standard which we would have had history apply, if our ancestors had met with a fate like theirs.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. Born at Cummington, Mass., November 3, 1794; died at New York, June 12, 1878; educated at Williams College; studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1815; practised law at Great Barrington, Mass.; joined the staff of the New York Evening Post in 1825; was editor-in-chief of the Evening Post, 1828-1878.

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I have compared the exiled Hungarians to the great men of our own history. Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness-a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster-children into strength and athletic proportion. The mind, grappling with great aims and wrestling with mighty impediments, grows by a certain necessity to their stature. Scarce anything so convinces me of the capacity of the human intellect for indefinite expansion in the different stages of its being, as this power of enlarging itself to the height and compass of surrounding emergencies. These men have been trained to greatness by a quicker and surer method than a peaceful country and a tranquil period can know.

But it is not merely, or even principally, for their personal qualities that we honor them; we honor them for the cause in which they so gloriously failed. Great issues hung upon that cause, and great interests of mankind were crushed by its downfall. I was on the continent of Europe when the treason of Gorgey laid Hungary bound at the feet of the Czar. Europe was at that time in the midst of the reaction; the ebb tide was rushing violently back, sweeping all that the friends. of freedom had planned into the black bosom of the deep. In France the liberty of the press was extinct; Paris was in a state of siege; the soldiery of that Republic had just quenched in blood the freedom of Rome; Austria had suppressed liberty in northern Italy; absolutism was restored in Prussia; along the Rhine and its tributaries, and in the towns and villages of Wurttemberg and Bavaria, troops withdrawn from the barracks and garrisons, filled the streets and kept the inhabitants quiet with the bayonet at their breasts. Hungary, at that moment, alone upheld-and upheld with a firm hand and dauntless heart-the blazing torch of liberty. To Hungary were turned up the eyes, to Hungary clung the hopes of all who did not despair of the freedom of Europe.

I recollect that, while the armies of Russia were moving, like a tempest from the north, upon the Hungarian host, the progress of events was watched with the deepest solicitude by the people of Germany. I was at that time in Munich, the splendid capital of Bavaria. The Bavarians seemed for the time to have put off their usual character, and scrambled for the daily prints, wet from the press, with such eagerness that I almost thought myself in America. The news of the catastrophe at last arrived; Gorgey had betrayed the cause of Hungary, and yielded to the demands of the Russians. Immediately a funeral gloom settled, like a noonday darkness, upon the city. I heard the muttered exclamations of the people: "It is all over the last hope of European liberty is gone!"

Russia did not misjudge. If she had allowed Hungary to become independent and free, the reaction in favor of absolutism had been in.

complete; there would have been one perilous example of successful resistance to despotism; in one corner of Europe a flame would have been kept alive, at which the other nations might have rekindled among themselves the light of liberty. Hungary was subdued; but does anyone who hears me believe that the present state of things in Europe will last? The despots themselves scarcely believe it; they rule in constant fear, and, made cruel by their fears, are heaping chain on chain around the limbs of their subjects.

They are hastening the event they dread. Every added shackle galls into a more fiery impatience those who are condemned to wear it. I look with mingled hope and horror to the day-the hope, my brethren, predominates a day bloodier, perhaps, than we have seen since the wars of Napoleon, when the exasperated nations shall snap their chains and start to their feet. It may well be that Hungary, made less patient of the yoke by the remembrance of her own many and glorious struggles for independence, and better fitted than other nations, by the peculiar structure of her institutions, for founding the liberty of her citizens on a rational basis, will take the lead. In that glorious and hazardous enterprise, in that hour of her sore need and peril, I hope she will be cheered and strengthened with aid from this side the Atlantic; aid given, not with a parsimonious hand, not with a cowardly and selfish apprehension lest we should not err on the safe side-wisely, of course, I care not with how broad and comprehensive a regard to the future-but in large, generous, effectual measure.

And you, our guest, fearless, eloquent, large of heart and of mind, whose one thought is the salvation of oppressed Hungary, unfortunate, but not discouraged, struck down in the battle of liberty, but great in defeat, and gathering strength for triumphs to come, receive the assurance at our hands, that in this great attempt of man to repossess himself of the rights which God gave him, though the strife be waged under a distant belt of longitude, and with the mightiest despotisms of the world, the Press of America will take part-will take, do I say?—already takes part with you and your countrymen.

Enough of this; I detain you from the accents to which I know you are impatient to listen only just long enough to pronounce the toast of the evening: "LOUIS KOSSUTH." [Applause.]

§ 61

INTRODUCING HENRY CABOT LODGE AND
A. LAWRENCE LOWELL

By Calvin Coolidge

(Delivered at a debate on the League of Nations, Symphony Hall, Boston, March

19, 1919.)

We meet here as representatives of a great people to listen to the discussion of a great question by great men. All America has but one desire, the security of the peace by facts and by parchment which her brave sons have wrought by the sword. It is a duty we owe alike to the living and the dead.

Fortunate is Massachusetts that she has among her sons two men so eminently trained for the task of our enlightenment, a senior Senator of the Commonwealth and the President of a university established in her Constitution. Wherever statesmen gather, wherever men love letters, this day's discussion will be read and pondered. Of these great men in learning and experience, wise in the science and practice of government, the first to address you is a Senator distinguished at home. and famous everywhere-Henry Cabot Lodge.

[After Senator Lodge spoke he introduced President Lowell:] The next to address you is the President of Harvard University-an educator renowned throughout the world, a learned student of statesmanship, endowed with a wisdom which has made him a leader of men, truly a Master of Arts, eminently a Doctor of Laws, a fitting representative of the Massachusetts domain of letters-Abbott Lawrence Lowell.

CALVIN COOLIDGE. Born at Plymouth, Vt., July 4, 1872; graduated at Amherst in 1895; State Senator, Massachusetts, 1912-1915; Lieutenant-Governor, 1916-1919; Governor of Massachusetts, 1919-1921; became Vice-President of the United States, 1921.