i* v*cv o > * \ ; -SK*° y\ ™^ , / \ sfsk-. °^^ 4^>: » . i • a0 t ' V v *+ ,* i« ^-- % „• *r^ a"* » ^4« ^^ T • * B'o ^q _ *** • at ( \ r \ J> ■or ^ -r - 4. * • . * • ^ S£ V .^ ^<> * „ „ o ' V xs EULOGY OF THE HON. IRA PERLEY, ON THE LATE DANIEL WEBSTER, PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE EXECUTIVE AND LEGISLATIVE DEPARTMENTS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, DECEMBER 22, 1852. CONCORD: BUTTERFIELD & HILL, STATE PRINTERS. 1852. To Hon-. In.v Peki.ey — Sir : — The House of Representatives have to-day unanimously passed a resolution of which the following is a copy : " Resolved, That the select committee on the subject of the death of Daniel Webster be directed to present the thanks of the House to the Hon. Ira Pcrley for the eulogy by him this day pronounced on the late Daniel Webster, and re- quest a copy of the same for the press." We most cheerfully comply with the order of said resolution, and beg leave to add our earnest individual wishes that you may find it convenient to comply with the request. JOHN EL WIGGINS ) RALPH METCALF, WM. P. WEEKS, I Committee ICHABOD BARTLETT, j T. A. BARKER, House of Representatives. Dec. 22, 1852. Concord, Dec. 24, 1852. Gentlemen : — I have received, to-day, your note of the 22d inst, giving me information of a resolution passed by the Hon. House of Representatives, in which they request a copy of the eulogy pronounced by me on the late Dan- iel Webster, for the press. I am deeply indebted to the House for the honor they have done me, and will endeavor to comply with their request. I beg you, gentlemen, to accept my thanks for the obliging terms in which you have communicated the request of the House. I have the honor to be, Most respectfully, Your obedient servant, I. PERLEY Messrs. Joiin 11 Wiggins Ralpb Mbtcalf, Wm. P. V [chabod Baetlett and T. A. Barker, Committee EULOGY. The death of Daniel Webster has produced a deep sensation throughout our whole country, deeper, perhaps, and more universal, than that of any public man since Washington. In most cases it has happened that those who have had the strongest hold upon the hearts of the peo- ple have been removed in protracted old age, after long re- tirement from active life, and when the public mind was fully prepared for the event. No surprise, no shock attend- ed their final departure. But the great man whose loss we now deplore was struck down at once from his highest point of elevation, in the full vigor and active exercise of his won- derful powers, while in the discharge of a great office, and at the moment when all eyes were turned upon him as the foremost man of the nation. His countrymen were startled at his sudden disappearance from the great stage of the world. As the solemn tidings spread, they struck all hearts with a deep sense of the national bereavement. And now, after a sufficient interval for calm reflection, when the pub- lic mind has had time to recover from the first shock, the general sense of the national loss is in no degree abated. For his title to our admiration as a great man, his claim to our gratitude as a patriot and public benefactor, can suffer thing from the strictest, the fullest, and the mot delib- erati nutation. He endured his share — it may be, ore than his full share — of the misconception, the misrep- ntation and the calumny which too often attend th<- course of the best and purest public men. But prejud" had given "way. misapprehensions had been corrected, and he lived to see his countrymen with remarkable unanimity agree in their judgment upon the purity and patriotism motives, as well as the transcendenl greatness of hi abilities. And now that death has come t<< consecrate his character, to extinguish personal jealousies, and silence the party, a mourning people stand round his grave, and with one consent admit him n> assume his just rank as the gn man of this age and nation. A few feeble and factious lissenting voices are not able to make themselves heard amid the loud acclaim oi applause which follows his exit, erhaps something like a feeling of compunction and re- morse has mingled in the general sentiment, and given to a deeper and tenderer tone, arising from a prevailing eon- of a character to eUSUP • rmanenl place in the literature of the language, I think uiii-t all agree in our judgment that this country h produced hi- equal. 7 Then as a lawyer, looking to his general ability in the different departments of that arduous profession, we must concede to him the first place among his contemporari- As a statesman, taken altogether and in the aggregate of his qualifications, we may boldly challenge comparison between him and the ablest and most distinguished of his time, in this or any foreign nation. As a writer of his native language he has not been equal- led, certainly not surpassed, by any American author, and is destined, from this time forward, to take rank as a master of English prose by the side of Bacon and Burke. To analyze and portray such a character in any worthy manner would be a task quite beyond the limits of this oc- casion, and altogether above any ability which I am con- scious of possessing. Still, having ventured to undertake the part which has been assigned to me in these solemni [ am afraid that I shall not be able to excuse myself entirely from some attempt at a feeble and faint sketch of the great subject. Many things must combine, a vast number of fortunate circumstances must occur, to produce a man like Mr. V ster. In the first place, he received very uncommon endow- ments from nature. She showered upon his infant head, in her most prodigal mood, all her choicest gifts. She gave him a bodily constitution of remarkable strength and vigor, at the same time firm and elastic, capable of *c\i>rc and long continued labor, and recovering from fatigue and ex- haustion with surprising ease. He had from nature a I perament which secured to him the calm and undisturbed possession of his powers in every situation o( excitement and diiliculty ; which exempted him. in a very uncommon degree, from all nervous irritation, and all nervous appre- hension ; which conferred upon him the rare and precious faculty of throwing off at once the cares and anxieties of business, when the hour had arrived for relaxation and rest. He did not lie down at night under the load which he had borne through all the day. as many less fortunate men do. In his greatest debate, and perhaps on the most memorable occasion of his life, when the public expectation was excited to the highest pitch, and the anxiety of friends on his ac- count was most intense ; when he must have felt that qui 3- tions of vital importance to the country, and his own credit ami standing as a public man. were staked upon his ability to maintain the perilous position in which he stood, those best acquainted with his habits believe he could truly and sincerelj say that he had " slept remarkably well" on the speech of his adversary, which he was to answer the next morninir. Education and training had doubtless contributed mu to give Mr. Webster this perfect maMery over the action of his mind. Bui no cultivation, no discipline, no length of experience can confer this happy faculty when- nature has denied it to tin' original temperament oi the man. It is not so much an art, or an attainment, as a gift from Heaven to a few favored individuals. If Mr. Webster had been a military commander hew. mid have been able, like the Mac- edonian conqueror, to lay himself down at nighl upon the battle-field, which, next morning, was t.. i\rr\il- the empire of the world, and wake at dawn to give the signal of onset, refreshed with unbroken slumber, and cheered with auspi- cious dream-. The incie matter of personal appearance must doubtless l.c regarded as a thing of inferior importance to tin- endow- ments o\' the mind. Hut to a public man in any country. and especially to an orator and statesman in a popular gov- ernment like ours, it is not easy to over-rate the advantage of an agreeable and striking person. To Mr. Webster, na- ture was in this respect most liberal. It is difficult to con- ceive how his whole personal appearance could have been better matched with the qualities of his mind. His ample, manly and symmetrical proportions, the " fair large front," the majestic brow, the dark yet clear complexion, the strong- ly marked, but delicately drawn features, the deep-set, thoughtful, beaming, mysterious eye — all these attracted at once and fixed the gaze of every beholder — "His look Drew audience and attention."' Then came the voice justifying and confirming to the ear the impression already made through the eye; a voice sur- passed by many in sweetness, flexibility and musical modu- lation ; but deep, firm, calm and strangely audible in its low- est tones ; nearly unequalled in compass and power, swell- ing and rising with perfect ease into notes over-powering all the noises of a popular assembly and capable of reaching to the most distant person in the largest crowd that could be gathered under one roof. Such things do not admit of any adequate description ; but in Mr. Webster's case they were so remarkable, that they could not be wholly overlooked in any attempt at a general estimate of the man. Tin- natural powers of his mind were of the highest order and on the grandest scale. This is quit'' evident to those of us who had only a general acquaintance with his public and professional life ; and those, who had the best opportunity of knowing his private habits of labor and study, agree in their accounts of the surprising ease with 10 which he despatched the heaviest tasks. He saw things at a glance and in tin- clearest light. He never appeared to have a dim and doabtful perception of any thing. What- ever he knew, he knew with precision and absolute certain- ty. Hi- dew of a Bubjeci was panoramic His mind had .1 broad grasp, thai seemed to lake in all the parts of a com- plicated question at once, and contemplate them ler. Few men have excelled him in Tenacity of memory, that master faculty of the practical man, without which all the rest are of little value to him. His mind had a natural prin- ciple of order, not apparently regulated upon anj system ol formal rule-, by which everything fell of itself into the proper place, and there remained in perfect readiness for use as i -ion might require. His judgment was penetrating and aim, not to be disturbed by the excitemenl of any occasion. The faney and imagination were held by him in strict and rn subjection ; but now and then they seemed to break away from this habitual control: and it may be conjectured that these faculties of his mind were originally almost dis- proportionately strong and active, and required something like a constant effort to keep them down in the place, to which his severe taste had assigned them. If they had been encouraged and cultivated, perhaps they might have pre- minated among his faculties. As it was, he retained bo the last his love fur the study of poetry, and all the freshm of his early sensibility to the grand and beautiful in nature. No youthful po i r strayed •■ <>u summer eve bv haunt- ed stream,** mure Keenly alive to such impressions, than he ■ ontinued to be down to the close of his life. His passions, the motive power of the mind, which give it impulse and force, must have been naturally Btrong and . but his master) over them had become complete. 11 He was seldom " betrayed into any loss of temper." He had an innate and yearning love for the good, the lofty and the pure ; a controlling will, which held all his powers in due subordination ; an unerring taste 1 ; a steady balance and just proportion in all his faculties, which allowed no one of them to predominate over the rest. He was thus endowed with very uncommon natural gifts ; and the circumstances of his life, from the commencement to the close, appear to have been ordered in a manner every way favorable to the fullest development and most perfect training of all his powers. His father was a man in the middle condition of life, but considerably above the average standard of intelligence; trusted and respected in the community where he lived; of a frank, honorable and generous nature ; who had borne an active and no mean part in the war of Independence ; whose mind was filled with the recollections and traditions of that eventful period ; who had known Washington personally, and held the great men of that era in the highest admira- tion ; who had the sagacity early to perceive the uncommon promise of his son, and was ready to make every exertion and every sacrifice necessary to bring him forward into life. The earliest impressions that Mr. Webster would receive from such a father would be a religious veneration for the great men of the revolutionary times, an ardent love of his country, and a generous ambition to play a worthy part in the opening scenes of her history. What better parentage could be desired for an American statesman and patriot? Well might he say. Nil rac pocniteat sanum p.itris hujus. And accordingly he appears to have cherished the memory 12 of his father through life, with pride, with gratitude, and the tenderest affection. He was born and passed his childhood and early youth in the retirement of a country life. To the simple habits, the active and hardy amusements and occupations of a rural neighborhood, to the pure and shrewd air. that blows from our mountains, he doubtless owed in gnat measure tin- bod- ily constitution, which carried him through so many severe labors in after life. And to the same circumstance of his breeding in the country, the robust character of his mind must be mainly attributed. There he contracted that love of nature, that taste for simple pleasures, thai passion for out-door life, and the occupations of a farmer, which he re- tained as long as he lived. At this early period, his means of education were no doubt somewhat meagre and Bcanty ; but as far as they went they were of the right sort, and eagerly improved: far better than a surfeit, which cloys and digusts the young appetite. The religions Bentiments, which he then imbibed, remained with him though lite, and supported him in death. li So the tniin.lations of his mind wire laid." How different maj we suppose that his course, his charai - ter and his fate would have been, if he had been brought up amidst the excitements, the Beductions, and the vapid amusements of a crowded citj Hi- youth was surrounded with difficulties ; but they were not difficulties of that kind, which discourage, and depre rod degrade the aspiring mind; but precisely such as rouse and stimulate the opening powers: difficulties which are "good lor man": difficulties, which it was necessary that he should overcome in order to prepare him for the part 13 which he was destined to act in life. If he had been born to wealth and ease, there is not the smallest reason to sup- pose that he would have attained to such eminence. To him the stern motive of necessity was peculiarly important; for, I think he had little of the pushing, enterprising, restless disposition, "the fever of renown," which impels some men forward by an inward impulse. Even after his great pow- ers were entirely developed, and when he must have been fully conscious of them, he never appears to have sought an occasion for their display. What appears somewhat surprising to us, who have known him only in later life, he had in early boyhood a shyness, a shrinking diffidence, which it cost him many an effort, and many a pang to overcome so far as to undertake the usual exercise of declamation in the school, to which he belonged. We have his own account of what he suffered from this cause at Exeter Academy. " Mahy a piece," he says, " did I commit to memory, and recite and rehearse in my room over and over again ; yet when the day came and the school collected to hear declamations, when my name was called, and all eyes were directed to my seat, I could not raise myself from it." With such a disposition, if he had not been forced out by necessity, he would most proba- bly have passed through life mute and inglorious, and car- ried the secret of his genius with him to the grave. It is pleasant to imagine how the flippant young gentlemen of Exeter Academy might then exult in their fancied superiori- ty over the bashful country lad, whom they saw chained to his seat by the spell of an unconquerable diffidence, his eye downcast, and perhaps suffused with tears: that eye, whose bend in after years was to strike senates with awe, before whose glance the proudest adversaries were to quail. 11 He was not long confined to the narrow limns of his own neighborhood and the scanty means of education there af- forded. However ii may be to BOme otbera it was doubtless to him an immense advantage, that he was able to obtain a liberal and classical education. He entered Dartmouth Col- lege at the age of fifteen years, and there gained an intro- duction to the great writers of antiquity. The Lofty exam- ples, the elevated sentiments, and the ehi yle found in those authors had evidently a great influence upon his cha- racter and taste. He certainly himself regarded hi< acquain* tanee with classical literature as of great importance. If there is any thing, in which his correct taste is liable to im- peachment, it is in the frequency with which he indulged himself in quotation from his favorite classical authors. It must be reckoned a fortunate circumstance that he complet- ed his general education at SO early an age, while his mind remained fresh and elastic. He chose a profession better suited than any other to de- •velojic and exercise the various powers which were brought into action during the course o( his public life. It ha- been Baid by Burke, a name, which carries with it a great weigtri of authority, "that, though the lav. i- ;i -ei- enee, which doe- more to quicken and invigorate the under- aiding than all other kinds o( learning pul together, yef it is not apt, except in persona very happily born, to open and liberalize the mind in e\a< ll\ the s&me proportion. " This may be quite oorreci of the legal profession in England, where the range of subjects is much more limited than in OUI connlrv : and it is doubtless true c\ery\\ here of the law- yer, who is contenl to remain in a subordinate rank, and deal only with the formal p;iri> of the profession — aueept syllabarwn, cantor formalannn. l>ut as to those who, in our 15 country, reach the highest places in the law, the reproach cannot be fairly made against it, that it has a tendency to contract and narrow the mind ; certainly it could have had no such effect on those who had the lead in the Supreme Court of the United States during Mr. Webster's practice there, which began at least as early as 1815. Great ques- tions arose growing out of the construction of the Constitu- tion. The general war in Europe and our own war with Great Britain produced another class of cases, requiring the broadest investigations. The largest mind would find am- pie room in such a field. Mr. Webster was fortunate in his choice of a profession. Such was his own opinion late in life. In his address to the bar of Charleston, S. C, in 1847, he acknowledges his good fortune in being directed to the law. and to that appears to attribute mainly his general suc- cess in life. He studied the law principally in his native town of Salis- bury, under the tuition of Thomas W. Thompson, Esq., who afterwards resided and died in Concord. For a short time, six or eight months, he studied in Boston, and was there admitted to the bar early in 1805. The bar of Boston could then boast of many very eminent names, among them Parsons, Dexter and Gove These great lawyers lie then knew, to use his own modest expression, "as a boy know men." and doubtless profited to the utmost by his short op- portunity to observe such examples. When he entered upon the profession in this State he had the great advantage of practising under a learned Court ; for Jeremiah Smith was then Chief Justice, and he had also another equally great advantage in being called apofl al- most immediately to maintain bis position as a prominent member in a bar of uncommon ability, of which Mr. Mason 16 was then the acknowledged leader, and so continued to be till Mr. Webster was able himself to challenge his title to that place. It is understood that Mr. Webster often took occasion to say in after life that he had never met an abler lawyer than Jeremiah Mason. In 1813, Mr. Webster took his seat in Congress, and con- tinued to serve as a member from this State until March 1817. This was his first introduction to public life. In Congress he soon established the reputation, which he ever afterwards maintained, of being one of the ablesl men in the nation. Great and exciting questions were then agitated. He met at least on equal terms with men of the most emi- nent ability in the country. He displayed there the Bame qualities for which he has been so much distinguished ever since : a strong grasp of every subject — intimate acquain- tance with the interests of the whole county ; great powi r and force as a speaker and debater; and a moderation in his party views, which commanded the respect and esteem of the candid and discerning among his political opponents, in- somuch that oi\i- of the most eminent of them then .-aid of him, that "the North had not his equal, nor the South his superior." Let as consider for a moment in what position he stood at the lime when he left this Slate. lie was a resident of New Hampshire till March, L817, though ne had determined on removing to Boston, and had opened an office there a few months before. Down to that time he had been alto- gether a .\<\\ Hampshire man. The brief period of his !<•- 1 ^iiid_\ in Boston was nothing more than was quite usual m the education of a New Hampshire lawyer, and his expe- rience in Congress lie had as a member from this Stale. 11-' bad passed the middle time of life, being then in his 17 thirty-sixth year. He had been twelve years in the law, had established his practice in the Supreme Court of the United States, and won his way to the first rank in the profession. In Congress he had met with such men as Clay, Calhoun, Randolph and Lowndes, and was admitted to have no su- perior there. His reputation was indeed afterwards much extended ; his great abilities displayed upon wider fields, on a greater variety of occasions, and in another line of public life. But he had already attained to his full growth. His powers were all developed and completely trained and exer- cised before he left our State. He owed everything but an opportunity for the largest display and exhibition of his tal- ents to his native State, and, I believe, always heartily and gratefully acknowledged the obligation. In his case, then, we may justly claim the whole man as a New Hampshire production. Other distinguished men, born here, like Cass, have gone from among us so early in life that we are compelled to divide the honor of rearing them with other States. But Webster left his native State in all his full grown strength. He was made for the whole country ; for mankind ; and we have no right, and no dispo- sition, to cramp and limit him " within State tines." But it becomes New Hampshire on all suitable occasions to vindicate her title in the renown of her great men, living and dead, at home and abroad. Since Mr. Webster left this State he has had an ample field for the exercise and display of his various abilities. He was soon called into public life by his adopted Com- monwealth. For the largest part of the time during thirty years he has been in Congress. Under two administrations he has held the first place in the cabinet, and in that capac- ity has conducted the most important and delicate negotia- 2 18 tions with foreign powers, while in his profession of the law lie has at the same time been engaged in the grea causes that have arisen in the country. Not so much as a sketch or outline of this brilliant career can be attempted at this time. It may however be safely said that on the whole he could hardly have been placed in circumstances more favorable to the development and e\< rcise of the erreal natural abilities with which he was endowed. One other circumstance may deserve to be noted here: Mr. Webster, during by far the larger pan of his public life, acted generally in the minority; not from any factious disposition, but from deep convictions of duly. This \ doubtless matter of regrel to him. It would have been far more agreeable to float down the current of public opinion than to struggle again>i ii. Hut it may be doubted whether in his case it would have been more favorable to the growth and discipline of his abilities if he could have broughl his mind to act with majorities. Leading men in a majority doiibtlese have in this resped certain great advantages; they have the responsibilities o( power, and the habits of official business. Bui the reputation and weight which a statesman wins in the ranks of a minority must be purchased at every step by personal effort and personal merit, and are all hir- own. An examination, I think, would show that a very Large propor- tion o\' the really -real statesmen i>\' England have been bred in thai severe and self-denying school. 1 cannot there- fore think thai Mr. Webster would have been ^^w the whole ;i greater man if he had uniformly belonged to the prevail- ing political party. 1 have thus hinted, and I could do no more, al some of the circumstances in Mr. Webster's life and career, which 19 may be supposed to have had an important influence in forming his character and making him the great man that he was. Let us contemplate him now for a moment as an orator and public speaker. His manner of speaking, it is well known, was usually calm, deliberate, and unimpassioned ; often quite familiar and almost colloquial, but never wanting in dignity ; some- times full of vivacity and fire ; and rising with the occasion and the subject to the highest degree of animation and force consistent with decorum and a just taste. I have already alluded to his very remarkable voice. When ani- mated by his subject his eye and whole countenance were radiant with thought. His attitudes were natural, but full of a noble and manly grace. In action and gesture he was sparing, and never used them without a meaning. His whole manner and bearing were most impressive, striking and dignified, but at the same time simple and unaffected, as far removed as possible from the appearance of every- thing studied and theatrical. It would be difficult to name the orator, ancient or mod- ern, who has spoken on such a vast variety of subjects to audiences so different and opposite in their characters and tastes. Yet in all cases he showed a most happy adapta- tion to the occasion. Whether as a Lawyer he argued be- fore twelve plain men a simple matter of fact in a cause of mere pecuniary interest, or discussed the highest questions of constitutional law before the most august tribunal in the world ; whether in the Senate he spoke to a dry point of order, or stood forth the champion of the assaulted con- stitution of the country ; if he addressed a group of stu- 20 dents at a college ; or a company of elegant women col- lected at the capital of another State from curiosity to see and hear so distinguished a stranger ; or a party of fisher- men landed on the sea shore ; whither he spoke at Plymouth Rock and Bunker Hill on the great principles of liberty and free government, or at a political gathering on the eve of a contested election ; on these and on all occasions he was at ease and at home, saying and doing precisely what each appeared to require, and attempting nothing more. Yet amid all this astonishing versatility and variety, the identity and marked individuality of the man is never lost. His style is always peculiarly and entirely his own, unborrowed and inimitable. He is unsurpassed, certainly in our country, for the idio- matic purity of his English style; not nervously fastidious in this respect, like John Randolph, but still absolutely re- jecting all new-coined words and doubtful phrases. The reproach of corrupting the English language, made more frequently against Americans in former years than now, will not lie at all against him. I do not believe that the English are able to produce a public speaker of this gene- ration who can for a moment compare with him as a per- fect master of all the powers and niceties of the language. He commanded at will the mosl weighty, the most forci- ble, the most lofty, the most glowing, the mosl ornamented style; but he usually and on ordinary occasions preferred a Bevere simplicity. He used Common words in their plain- est sense. His illustrations were for the most part drawn from the common experience of everyday life. Yet lie never had (he air of an affected humility: never appeared to come down and condescend to the understanding of his 21 audience. It seemed to be his own natural way of viewing the subject. But his most remarkable faculty, that in which I believe he immeasurably excelled all other men of his time, was his peculiar power, his marvellous gift, of making every subject that he handled, however extensive, however com- plicated, however abstruse, perfectly plain and intelligible to every man of common understanding, who heard or read him. He saw things in their clearest light, and was able to set them at once in the same light before the whole com- munity. No faculty of the orator, not even the highest, can equal this in importance to one who desires, as he did, to speak directly to the masses of his countrymen. He needed no commentator, no interpreter. For many years preceding his death, whatever he spoke on any great public question was reported and immediately spread by the most rapid means of communication to the remotest corners of the land, and eagerly read by all intelligent men who took the smallest interest in public affairs ; not entirely nor chiefly on account of the pleasure and amusement derived from the perusal, nor because he was understood to speak the views of the government, or the opinions of a party ; but more from a desire to know what he himself thought on the great questions of the day, and to learn for themselves, through him, the real state of those questions. The few hundreds or the few thousands that might be collected be- fore him within the sound of his voice, were the smallest part of his real audience. He spoke in effect to the whole reading community of this country and to the enlightened and well-informed in all parts of the civilized world. This of course he must have well known ; and towards 22 the last of his life was apparently more solicitous to be correctly and fully understood by his readers than to make a strong impression on his immediate audience. Besides, he must have known and fell that he had secured to him- self a high place in the histdry and literature of his coun- try, and that what he said on high occasions would go down to be reviewed and judged again by posterity. To that tribunal he has modestly, but not unfrequently, referred his public life and opinions. He had the usual faith of genius in the perpetuity o[ his fame, like Bacon, who be- queathed his name and memory to the charitable judgments of men "after some ages," and like Milton, who has re- corded his early assurance that he should " leave something so written that posterity would not willingly let it die." He therefore, in later years, on all important questions, must have seemed to himself to be speaking, not merely to his immediate audience, nor to his contemporaries only, but also to the thronging millions of future generations in all time to come. This gave wonderful elevation to the moral tone of all that he uttered, and raised him far above the little personal and party contests of the time. But per- haps i1 led him to speak with more than his habitual and constitutional moderation and caution, and with less of animation and lire in his manner, than had belonged to his earlier days. Hence it mighl Bometknes happen that those who went to hear him with the expectation i^C witnessing a great display of oratory in the delivery of a speech mighl go away v -oh something like a feeling of disappointment, and l>c half inclined to admit a suspicion thai the force and vigor of his early manhood were somewhat abated. But when the same speech came to be read in the next morn- 23 ing's newspaper, all such impressions were at once dissipat- ed. It was found to be as fresh and clear, as full of life and force, as the best of his earlier productions. I suppose there can be no doubt that the immediate effect of eloquence upon the hearer was greater in past ages than it ever can be again. The railroad, and telegraph, the news- paper and pamphlet now keep the public continually inform- ed of all that is passing in the world. But when there were no such things, nor even post offices and post roads, an au- dience generally expected to receive their first reliable infor- mation of facts, and their first impressions respecting the merits of a question, from the lips of the speaker. The great orator of antiquity had in " the fierce democracie of Athens," an auditory more eagerly attentive, more excited, and more ready to receive any impulse, that he might choose to give than any public speaker can ever expect to address again in a civilized country. But the influence of the orators was then mainly confined, at least for the time, to those who heard him. There was no such thing as contemporaneous publication in our sense of the word. A public speaker in our time, whose merit does not consist chiefly nor in any important part, in acting and representation, has an ample compensation for the want of an excitable and impulsive au- dience in the advantage of immediate dissemination to the whole reading public, an advantage which Mr. Webster enjoyed, in as high a degree as any man that has ever lived. Mr. Web- lied but little on blandishments of style, or tli and ;irlifices of tin 1 rhetorician. He never studied to lull the ear with melodious cadences, or beguile the eye with a theatrical grace of action. He addressed himself to the reason and judgment rather than to the fancy and the imagination. His main object never appeared to be to 24 amuse, entertain and delight. He had some contemporaries, and has left perhaps a few successors, who excelled him in the mere power of administering to the present gratification of an audience; but not one that could compare with him for the weight, the force and the permanent interest of what he spoke. This didactic character prevailed with him on all occasions. He seemed to look upon it as his great business and mission to enlighten and instruct. Mr. Webster seldom appeared to enter into a question with the zeal and heat of a partisan. He assumed much of the guarded moderation of the judge ; and on this account his eloquence may have lost something of its power to excite and impel. You were not carried away by sympathy with the ardor of his own feelings. You did not take sides with the man in a personal contest. You yielded your judgment and your conviction to the sheer force of argument. Or, if he did move the passions, it was not so much upon the trite rhetorical maxim of being first moved himself, as by plating the subject in a light which appealed of itself to the natural and inbred sentiments of the human heart, lie knew all the sources of feeling mid emotion in the human soul, and could stir them at will in their deepest fountains. The hardest na- tures have been known to give way at once beneath his stroke and break forth into loti-r suppressed and unwilling currents of tenderness. Tbit he was not curried away him- self by the impulse which he gave. He remained perfectly self-possessed. Tf he had the power, which may be doubted, he seldom used it. of mo\ ing men by sympathy with his own feelings. ITe had more of humor and good-natured pleasantry than ( pigramatic point and wit ; an overwhelming power of i 25 ridicule, when he chose to use it, which was seldom, for his prevailing tone was grave, dignified and serious. Few men have surpassed him in power of sarcasm and retort. But he never indulged, like Wedderburn, in that cold blooded, long prepared invective, which delights in the protracted sufferings of a victim, as th# savage victor rejoices in the slow torture of his captive ; nor did he scatter the keen, glittering and envenomed shafts of satire with a ca- pricious and wayward hand, like Randolph. It would be difficult to find the instance where he was the aggressor in any personal encounter. But if a studied personal insult, or a malignant personal attack demanded his notice, the con- dign punishment fell at once upon the offender's head swift and effectual. A single blow was enough. He seldom met an adversary that was not swept from his path by the mere " wind of his stroke." Take an instance in the great debate on Foot's resolution. The provocation there was great ; the opportunity was tempting — yet with what graceful ease, what dignified forbearance, what scornful brevity he des- patches the whole subject of the personal controversy. Mr. Webster's eloquence was of a kind to produce the highest effects on the immediate audience, and it also suffers little when coolly read in print after the temporary interest of the occasion has passed away. This requires a union of qualities, which have no! often been found in the same speaker. In this respect I think we must go back to the an- cient masters for anything like his parallel. Burke has left written orations which are destined to be read and admired as long as the language shall last. But the playful Barcasm of Goldsmith is as founded on well authenticated fact. The speaking of Burke was so tiresome thai it drove mem- bers of Parliament from their benches. On the other hand. 26 a few fragments arc all that remain of the older Pitt; and the eloquence of Sheridan, which is said to have transported and astonished the hearers, is now a vague and suspected tradition. So men, who have excelled in one line of speak- big, have commonly failed when they attempted another. in the case of Erskimvwho was unrivalled as an advocate, but had little success as a parliamentary speaker and de- bater. But Mr. Webster tried almost every kind of public speaking, and in no one of them can he be said to have fall- en below the very highest standard of excellence. Such is a feeble and wholly inadequate view of mx. Web- ster's claim to the first place among American orators and public speakers. For near forty years Mr. Webster occupied a high pi tion among the state-men of the country ; and for several years before his death he was, ] think, generally regarded, both at home and abroad, as the leading public man of the nation; not thai he held the firsl place in office, nor that he had so much direct control over measures and the adminis- tration of the government; but an account of.his long expe- rience, his intimate acquaintance with all our interests, the honesty and consistency ol' his public character, the red nised weight of his individual opinion, and the intellectual supremacy <>f the man. His character as a statesman opens a wide field, which cannot be ( \plored at lhi> time. 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