“There can be no question that the effect produced by these letters helped, if help had been needed, to point out Mr. Motley as a candidate for high diplomatic place who could not be overlooked.  Their value was recognized alike by his fellow-citizens in America and his admirers in England; but none valued them more than the little band of exiles, who were struggling against terrible odds, and who rejoiced with a great joy to see the stars and stripes, whose centennial anniversary those guns are now celebrating, planted by a hand so truly worthy to rally every American to its support.”

G.

Poem by William Cullen Bryant.

I cannot close this Memoir more appropriately than by appending the following poetical tribute:—­

In memory of John Lothrop Motley.

By William Cullen Bryant.

               Sleep, Motley, with the great of ancient days,
                    Who wrote for all the years that yet shall be. 
               Sleep with Herodotus, whose name and praise
                    Have reached the isles of earth’s remotest sea. 
               Sleep, while, defiant of the slow delays
                    Of Time, thy glorious writings speak for thee
               And in the answering heart of millions raise
                    The generous zeal for Right and Liberty. 
               And should the days o’ertake us, when, at last,
                    The silence that—­ere yet a human pen
               Had traced the slenderest record of the past
                    Hushed the primeval languages of men
               Upon our English tongue its spell shall cast,
                    Thy memory shall perish only then.

ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: 

An order of things in which mediocrity is at a premium
Better is the restlessness of a noble ambition
Blessed freedom from speech-making
Flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion
Forget those who have done them good service
His dogged, continuous capacity for work
His learning was a reproach to the ignorant
History never forgets and never forgives
Mediocrity is at a premium
No great man can reach the highest position in our government
Over excited, when his prejudices were roughly handled
Plain enough that he is telling his own story
Republics are said to be ungrateful
They knew very little of us, and that little wrong
Visible atmosphere of power the poison of which
Wonders whether it has found its harbor or only lost its anchor

[The End]

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