MR. WEIBSTER IN HIS LETTERS.




PROF. E. D. SANBORN, LL.D.
DEAR SIR,
In accordance with a vote of the Senior Class, the undersigned Committee present thanks fur your able and eloquent Lecture upon
DANIEL WEBSTER, and request the favor of a copy for publication. The
above request is not offered as a mere compliment; but is dictated by our
desire to preserve, in a more permanent form, the presentation of a subject so interesting to all.
Yours, respectfully,
JAMES POWVELL,
WALDEMER OTIS,
HENRY C. IDE.
HANOVER, NOV. 14, 1865.
HANOVER, NOV. 15, 1865.
MESSRS. POWELL, OTIS AND IDE,
The Lecture which the Senior Class
so kindly solicit for publication, was written in 1857, as a Review of the
Private Correspondence of DANIEL WEBSTER. It was then deemed by
competent critics, " unsuited to the times," and unworthy of publication.
Your admiration of the great " Defender of the Constitution" and Champion of the Union, has led you to a different conclusion. I therefore submit the manuscript to your care, only adding that your generous appreciation of my labors will ever remain among the most pleasant memories
of my professional life.
Very truly, your Friend and Teacher,
E. D. SANBORN.




REVIEW.
Eminent statesmen and jurists are seldom good
letter writers. Their thoughts do not flow gracefully in the channels of social life. They are not
often fluent and easy conversers. Their duties make
them grave, reserved and self-reliant. It is their
habit to dictate and decide, not to confer and advise.
The themes of their daily meditation do not stimuulate the taste, the affections and the imagination.
Their thoughts are oftener occupied with the just,
the useful and the expedient than with i the good,
the true and the beautiful." The science of government requires depth, solidity and comprehensiveness
of intellect rather than the brilliant and showy attributes of fascinating companionship. Statesmen engrossed with public cares rarely bestow much time
upon the graces of epistolary correspondence or elegant conversation. From the renown of Lord Chatham as a minister of state and an orator, we should
expect to find his letters abounding in wisdom and
sentiment; but in the four heavy octavos edited by
the Executors of his son, we look in vain for any
striking display of either.  About one-third of the
entire work is made up of the interchange of courtly compliments between state officials.  Another
third is filled with partisan criticisms of men and
measures, or with the formal statement of political
opinions. The remaining third is occupied with personal matters of very little interest to the public.
We meet with an abundance of delicate flattery, and




hollow compliments; but the proofs of si l         f:iie fi'illlship are as rare as diamonds in a d(est't.  -We a11'
surprized  to find the stout-hearlted, sclf-sufi(ciellt
premier so often "' laying  himself at the ieet of thle
king." Such expressions:atre tolerable, perhaps, whlen
addressed to the monarch himself; but they were not
confined to such occasions.   Writing to the Earl of
Bute, under date of of October 8, 17(61, he says,,, I have not words to express the sentiments of veneration and gratitude with which I receive the unbounded effects of beneficence and
grace, which the most benign of sovereigns has condescended to bestow
on me, and on those most dear to me. Your lordship will not wonder
if the sensations which possess my whole breast refuse me the power
of describing their extent and leave me only to beg your lordship will
be so good asto lay me and Lady Hester at the king's feet and to offer for us to his Majesty the genuin3 tribute of the truly feeling heart,
which, I will dare to hope, the same royal benevolence which showers
on the unmeritorious such unlimited benefits may deign to accept with
equal condescension and goodness."
No poet laureate ever dared a loftier flight in honor of his sovereign.   Not even the Roman Horace,
who earned his daily bread by sweet flatteries, ever
expressed such unbounded gratitude to his dear Miecenas or to his imperial patron.  This was the usual
style of address from Lord Chatham to George  the
Third, who, at the very time when the epistle was
dated, was endeavoring to silence' the great Comnmoner," by a peerage or a pension, and a few years
afterwards, longed for the hour when " decrepitude'
or age should put an end to him as the trumpet of
sedition." The best portion of the entire Correspondence of Lord Chatham is that which contains his letters to his nephew, while a member of the University.  They were deemed worthy of publication in a
separate volume in 1804.   Lord Grenville, the editor of the letters, added a copious commentary of his
own, generally commending the sentiments penned




by Chatham, but sometimes apologizing for the advice he gives and the  authors he recommends.
These twenty-three letters abound in excellent sentiments upon the minor morals of College life; but
had they not been written by the foremost man of
his age, they never would have been deemed above
the capacity. of an ordinary teacher of youth.  The
greatest charm about them after all is the honest affection which they exhibit.   They show  that the
great heart of the premier beat with the same emotions which quicken the pulses of common men. For
the same reason we admire the hearty outpourings
of love in his letters to Laidy Chatham. A brief extract from  a letter dated February 22, 1765, may
suffice to show what is meant
"Happy, indeed, was the scene of this glorious morning (for at
half past one we divided), when the sun of liberty shone once more
benignly upon a country, too long benighted. My dear love, not all
the applauding joy which the hearts of animated gratitude, saved from
despair and bankruptcy, uttered in the lobby, could touch me in any
degree, like the tender and lively delight which breathes in your
warm and affectionate note."
WVe find a few such oases in the wide waste of political common places; but whoever reads the Chatham Correspondence, thinking to be warmed with
the pathos and fire which characterize his speeches
in favor of American freedom, will be wofutlly disappointed.  The work is valuable to the professional man and the student of history, but possesses ]iL-_
tle interest for the common reader.  The same is
true of the memoirs and private correspondence of a
majority of the distinguished statesmen, orators and
lawyers of England.   For forty years, Sir Robert
Walpole was the the leading mind in the Parliament
and Cabinet of Great Britain.  His Memoirs, published in four huge quartos by the Rev. Wilham




6
Coxe, is an intensely dull and stupid work. The letters of the minister and his friends, which fill three
volumes, resemble the columns of a political journal
in manner and matter, except that they alre not so
highly seasoned with personal abuse, nor enlivened
with occasional flashes of wit and satire. None but
a publicist or historian would patiently wade through
such a " continent of mud." Walpole's profound
knowledge  of men made him  incapable of sincere
friendship. His long and intimate acquaintance with
the secret springs of political measures, made him
distrust the truth of history. His biographer thus' sums up" the testimony respecting his character:
"To him who directed the helm of government in England, and whose
decisions affected the interests of Europe in general, all speculative
opinions must have appeared dull.  To him, who had drawn all his
knowledge and experience from practice, all theory must have appeared trifling and erroneous.  He who had fathomed the secrets of the
Cabinets of Europe, must have considered history as a tissue of fables,
and have smiled at the folly of those writers, who affected to penetrate
into state affairs and account for all the motives of action.  He who
had long been the dispenser of honors and wealth, must have perceived
a wide difference between the cold expressions of duty and friendship
and the warm effusions of thaet homage which self-interest and hope
inspire in those who court or expect favors. He must have been divested of human passions, had he not experienced some mortification
in finding that he had been indebted to his situation for much of that
obsequious regard, which he had fondly thought was paid to his per.
sonal qualities.";Who would purchase fame at such a price? Who
would purchase power and place at the sacrifice of
his moral nature? Walpole knew men, therefore
he declared them  all to be venal.  It is true that his
biographer modifies that far-famed assertion of his:
~ All men have their price,"  by inserting  the word
" those." " All those men have their price" —meaning
aspirants for office, by whom he was constantly sur



7
rounded.  Walpole knew how courts and camps
were guided, therefore he would neither read nor
hear the record of their actions.  To his son, who
proposed to read some historical work for his amusement, he said: "0 do not read history, for that I
know must be false."  We admit that age, wisdomn,
and experience all modify the opinions of youth; but
they do not necessarily lead to scepticism or misanthropy. Our own Webster served the people as long
and as faithfully as Walpole did, yet he never laid
aside his humanity; he never despaired of the republic, or lost his faith in a superintending Proviidence. Generous sentiments toward mankind, love
of his native land and trust in the God of the fathers kept him hopeful and cheerful in a green old
age. The speech he made, the letters he wrote, the
sentiments he uttered, the prayers he offered after
death had entered the very citadel of life, all testify
that he died at peace with his God and with good
will toward men.
The " Private Correspondence" of Mr. Webster
has now been before the public for several years. It
has been highly commended and bitterly assailed,
like every thing else which he ever wrote or said.
The political friends and enemies of the living man
remain the friends and enemies of his posthumous
works.  When men of commanding genius are the
subjects of criticism, it cannot be expected that detractors will lay aside their unreasonable prejudice,
or eulogists their excessive admiration. Both classes
have their successors and assigns, to whom they bequeath in trust, for coming ages, their hoarded treasuares of love and hate by a testament which no litigation can annul.




8
A distinguished poet, artist or philosopher is often
appreciated by contemporaries; always by posterity.
Such men conscious of superior endowments expect
immortal fame and claim it as their just reward. To
those who reproached Ovid for his devotion to poetry he replied:'"Mortale quod quvaris opus; mihi fama perennis
Queritur; in toto semper ut orbe canar."
Horace made a similar declaration and even boasted of the attainment of his object. Shakespeare with
similar anticipations wrote to his fiiend:
i" Not marble nor gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme."
mWhen once a favorable verdict has been pronouncedlon such men, their fame increases with returning
years. Their defects are often forgotten; their virtues are magnified.  Each new  generation rears
higbher the monumental pile that commemorates their
greatness.  Not so with the statesman.  He is arraigned and tried before each successive age.  He
deals with questions of right and justice; with principles which concern the dearest interests of mankind.  If, like ~Walpole, he adopts the motto, " quieta non movere," he becomes the conspicuous target for the envenomed shafts of radicals and enthusiasts.  If; like Fox, he joins the party of progress,
he incurs the bitter enmity of conservatives and aristocrats. No statesman or orator of decided ability
can become the favorite of the whole nation.  HIis,
wordes divide the people as a test vote divides a legislative assembly.  His opinions often conflict with
those violent passions which are common to every
age; of course, they are reviewed and criticised by
each succeeding race of politicians; hence the great
battles which the statesman decided for the men of
his time are fought anew over his grave.  His au



9
thority, when he is no more, must be put down by
the same sophistry, intrigue and calumny, by which
his arguments were met, while he lived. The critic
who stoops to defend Lucius Sergius Catiline and
Judas Iscariot hesitates not to disparage the greatest name in the annals of Rome.   De Quinlcey assails Cicero as though he were his personal foe or
some violent partisan of to-day whose influence he
wished to destroy.  He sets up the departed orator
as a mark for his paradoxical archery; and, with his
erratic shafts steeped in opium, occasionally mars the
reputation of a patriot whom  sixty generations of
men, with united voice, have agreed to honor.  He
even colldescends to apologize for the ill-used victims of Ciceronian slander. " Verres," says the critic,' in the youth of Cicero, Catiline and Clodius in
his middle age, Mark Antony in his old age, have
all been left to operate on the modern reader's feelings precisely through that masquerade of misrepresentation which invariably accompanied the political
eloquence of Rome." The gentle Catiline,j forsooth,
was driven to desperation by the invective of his relentless persecutor.   The Roman  Senators, who
shunned the seat on which he sat and drowned his
voice when he attempted to speak, by the universal
cries of"traitor" and " parricide," were doubtless
moved by unfounded prejudice. The tumults of Clodius were mere political outbreaks, like the English
electioneering mobs, and these are very innocent excitements.
"We all know," says De Quincey, "that the bark of electioneering
mobs is worse than their bite. Their firy is without malice, and their
insurrectionary violence is without system.  Most undoubtedly the
mobs and seditions of Clodius are entitled to the same benefits of construction. And with regard to the graver charges against Catiline or
Clodius, as men sunk irredeemably into sclsuall debaucheries, these




10
are exaggerations which have told only from want of attention to- oman habits.  Such charges were the standing material, the stock in
trade of every orator against every antagonist. Cicero, with the same
levity as every other public speaker, tossed about such atrocious libels at random."
If all that has been said of Cicero by way of commendation and censure could be collected, materials
might be found among the conflicting statements for
the biography of almost any conceivable character
which human life presents. A philosopher or sciolist, a statesman or a demagogue, an orator or declaimer, a patriot or traitor, a hero or coward, might
find, in this literary wardrobe, an appropriate dress
and mask for any role he might choose to play upon
the world's theatre.  Those who praise and those
who blame the orator derive their testimony from the
same source. They find, in his letters, proofs of all
the virtues that adorn the patriot and of all the vices
that degrade the traitor.   " No man," says Professor George Long, " can read Cicero's orations and
letters without discovering that he falls far below
the measure of a generous, sincere and noble character.   The evidence against him is himself."   If
Cicero could speak to his commentator from those
starry heights to which he hoped to soar, he would
probably address him in the words of Charinus in
the play:
" Facile omnes, cum valemus, recta consilia emgrotis damus,
Tu si hie sis, aliter censeas."
It is easy to be a model of consistency in your
study, but difficult to be so in the turmoil of civil
war.  Cicero, like Webster, carved his own way to
fame and rose in the popular favor by his own merit.
No armed legions obeyed his call; no trembling
senate anticipated his wishes. EHe was a ".novus homo."  It was the fate of Cicero to be more bitterly




11
maligned when dead than living. The same is true
of the most illustrious of American orators. It is safe
to war upon the dead. They offer no resistance. Juvenal discreetly chose, as the  objects of his indignant satire, those whose ashes reposed in the Flaminian way. His example is still imitated. Men who
write for effect, who cater to  the worst passions of
the public vainly think to elevate themselves by the
exalted character of him whom they assail. To challenge a hero, even though he be dead, indicates superior prowess. It is presumptive evidence of valor
to show a battered sword; hence the doughty gladiator chooses rather to flesh his weapon in a corpse
than lose the bloody sign.  Even this he does, with
a trembling hand and throbbing heart, all the while
soliloquizing with Falstaff'
i" Zounds! I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead.
How if he should counterfeit, too, and rise'? I am afraid he would
prove the better counterfeit. I'11 make him sure: yea and I'11 swear
I killed him. Why may he not rise as well as I? Nothing confutes
me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, [stabbing him,4
with a new wound in your thigh come along with me."
But Falstaff was far superior to  some modern
ghouls who suffer not even the grave to retain  its
trust.  Carlyle has aptly characterized this whole
race of slanderers of departed worth, in his portrait
of James Heath. While the gallows was graced by
the rattling bones and mouldering clay of the higlhsouled Oliver and his coadjutors, this royal sycophant collected and plublished all the atrocious libels
which malignity and spite had invented against England's mightiest monarch.  Carlyle says:
s "Heath himself is called carrion-Heath as being an unfortunate,
blasphemous dullard;-blasphemous, who when he sees the image of'
God shining through a man, reckons it, in his sordid soul, to be the
image of the devil and acts accordingly."




12
James Heath is the type of many a nmo(Itern ciritic
who undertakes to guide public opinlion. They are
knownuby their " furious  lriving," which they call
"prooress;" by their excessive zeal, which they -all
"humanity," and by their assumed iinfiallibility, whilch
they call " inspiration." Those who differ froin thell
are, of course, wrong.  Such men are disgusted that
Mir. WVebster ever achieved greatness by his genius,
or gained renown by his oratory, or won affection by
his virtues. They mourn daily that he ever originated a good thought, uttered a right word, or performed a worthy deed. They would gladly annihilate his fame that they may not be overshadowed by
it. They think with Domitian, that by driving every good art into exile, they may reduce every thing
to the dead level of their own dictation; "ne quid usquam honestum occurreret."  Whether they love or
hate, they do it with their might; and there are as
many "good haters" of Daniel Webster in New
England as there were of Socrates in Athens, or of
Cicero in Rome  But Anytus and Melitus, Clodius
and Catiline were heathen, and, consequently, far
less culpable for their murderous spirit, than the reckless defamers of the modern patriot, who cloak their
malice under the sacred guise of philanthropy. " It
requires some talent and some genelosity," says an
old writer, " to find out talent and generosity in others, though nothing but self-conceit and malignity
are needed to discover or imagine faults." But there
is little in the great and good that can die. Webster's fame is now increasing.  hIis future life will
be measured by ages; his past by years.  He still
lives; he lives in his recorded sentiments, which
coming generations  will not willingly let die." He
lives in his illustrious example. He lives in the grat



13
itude and homage of all true patriots.' Vivit enim,
vivetque semper; atque etiam  latius in memoria
llominum  et sermone versabitur postquam ab oculis
recessit." It is fortunate for his defamers that he has
lived, otherwise they could have found no mountain
sufficiently strong to resist their destructive propensities. His character furnishes a solid substratum for
the practice of their oratorical gymnastics.  If they
do not depress him, they elevate themselves.  Possibly they may do both; for it is said that a sparrow
never springs from her perch without disturbing, in
some degree, the motion of the earth in its orbit.
The publication of Mr. Webster's "' Private Correspondence" called forth some unfriendly criticism
from his political opponents, who made the vague
complaint that the letters are not "equal to the prestige of the name they bear." It will be remembered
that a large proportion of these letters -were written
in early life; many of them before he had obtained
his majority; and with the exception of some of his
later letters relating to questions of political interest,
all were written without the most remote expectation
that they would meet the public eye. Is it strange
that the letters of a lad whose early advantages had
been extremely limited should fall below his senatorial speeches and forensic arguments uttered under
great excitement and in the full maturity of his powers? Is it strange that letters of business and friendship which were designed only to meet the wants and
wishes of the hour should receive less attention than
his elaborate public performances? It was never expected that the publication of these letters would add
to the fame of Mr. Webster as a writer and orator;
but they were issued to gratify a very laudible curiosity of his fellow citizens to become acquainted with




14
the private life and social habits of a man so eminent
as a jurist and statesman.  This end they perfectly
answer.  They show the man as he lived and moved
in society. They show how his faculties were trained
and how he used them. The charm of Mr. Webster's
correspondence is the humanity that pervades it. His
familiar epistles, indited amid the pressure of higher
duties, reveal his magnanimity, his generosity, his
devotion to the public interests his unwavering attachment to early fiiends, his love of rural life and
manly sports.  They bind him by many new and
strong ties to the common heart.  They give to the
people the means of forming an accurate opinion   f
the man whom they love to honor. The public think
they have a right to know the history of their servants. Their ~ antecedents " are very often the source
of their popularity.  Farmers and mechanics are apt
to look with peculiar favor upon men who rise to
eminence fiom their own ranks. They feel that they,
in some sense, are sharers in the glory thus acquired;
hence there is an intense desire not only to see and
hear a distinguished orator but to know how he rose
to famine; to learn his genealogy and ascertain the condition and rank of his ancestors.  The Roman poet
assures us that a like curiosity respecting public men
prevailed in his day.
So he, who promises to guard the state,
The gods, the temples and the imperial seat,
Makes every mortal ask his father's name,
And not less curious of his mother's fame. "
This desire is natural, and, if moderately indulged,
is praise-worthy; but when it becomes excessive, it
leads to hero-worship and meets the fate of
" Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other."




15
Mr. Webster's character will bear analysis.  The
severest scrutiny will find little to censure.  His virtues are not dwarfed by near approach and strict examination. He was as much beloved by his personal
dependants as by his warmest political admirers.
Those who knew him best loved him most. His earliest friends were his latest friends.   His Correspondence furnishes abundant testimony on this point.
Letters addressed to the same persons in the morning and in the decline of life show that neither length
of time nor distance of place had abated the warmth
of his affection.  Two brief extracts from  his letters
addressed to Mr. Bingham, whose dates are separated by nearly half a century, may suffice for an example. Under date of Feb. 22, 1803, he writes:
s MY DEAR HARVEY,
Yours of Jan. 29, was received in due season. I thank
you for the expressions of friendship it contained, and for the assurance
that a part of your time is devoted to me. At this period of our acquaintance, I need not tell you what pleasnre I receive from your letters, nor with what exultation my heart glows under the impression
that our early ani congenial attachment will never be sundered."
After many vicissitudes of fortune on the part of
his early friend, in 1849, Mr. Webster gave a favorable reply to an application from him for employment
in the Department of State, introduced by the following kind and endearing allusions:' MIY DEAR OLD CLASSMATE, ROOMMATE AND FRIEND,
It gives me very true pleasure to hear from you and to
learn that you are well.  Years have not abated my affectionate regard. We have been boys together, and men together, and now we
are growing old together; but you always occupy the same place in
my remembrance and good wishes."
The long and intimate friendship which  existed
between the late Dr. Merrill and Mr. Webster is very
honorable to them  both.   They were rivals, when
students, for the highest honors of their Class; yet,




16
they never allowed their competition to produce the
sligthestalienation between them. They corresponded for years after their graduation.   In a letter addressed to the writer, dated Nov. 12, 1852, Dr. Merrill, recalling the student life of his deceased friend.
says:
"As the Class gave more attention to English Branches, the latter part of the Sophomore year, and in the Junior year, Mr. Webster's character, particularly as a writer, and extemporaneous speaker, became developed, and he was unquestionably the best belles-lettres scholar in the Class.  The fact that when a Junior, he was appointed to deliver a Fourth of July oration to the villagers shows in
what estimation he was held as a writer. He, also, wrote a long Di.
alogue or Comedy, which required an hour or two for its recital, which
the Society of which he was a member exhibited on an evening of Commencement week, at the close of his Junior year. He was altogether
the best poet in the Class.  He was a student of good habits.  I presume confidently that he was never concerned in any mischief. I suppose he acted on the principle of mastering his lessons and attending
on all ihe exercises of the College, both literary and religious,"
There is in  the published  " Correspondence," a
letter from  Mr. Webster to Dr. Merrill,  dated Jan —
uary 10, 1851, which deserves to be copied entire as
an index to some of the finest traits in the character
of the writer.  It is as follows
" MY DEAR OLD FRIEND AND CLASSMATE,
I enclose you two small recent productions, one of my lips, and
one of my pen. But my purpose in writing this letter is to thank you
for yours, of the 30th of July, so long unanswered, yet never forgotten. I read the o "Review," both the parts marked and the parts un.
marked, with much interest and satisfaction. No doubt, my dear sir,
Christianity is a religion of peace; that its tendency is to put an end to
wars among men, by exterminating the passions from which wars and
fightings come. I assure you, my dear old Friend, that I hear from
you with pleasure. You are no shepherd, and certainly I am no king.
But we are friends, born in the same country, about the same age and
educated at the same College.  We embraced different professions,
which we have pursued now for a long time, and Providence has graciously blessed us both with a great share of health and happiness. At
our time of life, the mind often turns to the past. I find that I think




17
now, much more frequently than twenty or thirty years ago, on College
scenes and College friends.  I look over the catalogue, call to mind
the dead, and inquire after the living.  I well remember that I did
not keep up with you in the stated course of collegiate exercises. Your
lessons were better learned, and you were a great favorite with Professor Smith and other members of the authority, from the exact punctuality of all your performances.  I believe I was less industrious;
at any rate, I indulged more in general reading, and my attainments,
if I made any, were not such as told for much in the recitation room.
After leaving College, I 1" caught up," as the boys say, pretty well in
Lattin; but in College and afterwards, I left Greek to Loveland, and
Mathematics to Shattuck. Would that I had pursued the Greek till
I could read and understand Demosthenes in his own language!
" I shall always be happy to hear from you, my dear Sir, and hope
we may, ere long, meet again, either on Otter Creek, or the Merrimac or in Marshfield.
" Your old, attached and affectionate Friend,
DANIEL WEBSTER,"
Wiltness the magnanimity which concedes all that
a sensitive competitor in the race of literary honors
would ask, and the  modesty which  claims nothing
which he would refuse. lNo other surviving member of the Class would have granted so much to the
clergyman or withheld so much from the lawyer.
The testimony of several of them is found in the volumes under review.  It is unqualified with reference
to the preeminence of Mr. Webster over all his classmates in every thing that constitutes liberal and comprehensive scholarship.  It is, also, full and explicit
with reference to his laborious habits of study, his
constant devotion to duty, his cheerful obedience to
law  and his unblemished morality.   It is fortunate
that these contemporaries of his student-life survived their honored friend, to bear witness to his virtues and refute those wide spread fictions respecting
his aversion to labor in boyhood, and his neglect of
study in College.   The record is  now  amended oxn
3




18
these points and posterity will render its verdict according to the truth.
The " autobiography" which heralds the " Correspondence'" is the most delightful portion of the entire work. It is a charming sketch of his early- life,
written for the eye of a friend.  The style of this
brief narrative leaves nothing to be desired.  It is
marked by simplicity, clearness and force. The facts
are stated with that modesty which always characterizes true greatness. The autobiography and early
letters furnish the best possible materials for a right
estimate of Mr. Webster's character. The very fact
that these letters were so carefully preserved shows
that the recipients entertained even then a high opinion of the writer.  They anticipated and predicted
his future eminence. They witnessed the dawn of
his rising reputation and hailed it with joy.  Conscious of his superiority to themselves, they had the
good sense to appreciate it and the generosity to admit it. They loved his social qualities, too, his large
heart and gushing sympathies.  Hence, they treasured up every memorial of his friendship. Many of
these letters contain criticisms upon passing events
and brief political disquisitions. They show that the
mind of the youth was occupied with those great
themes which afterwards engrossed the attention of
the mature man.  His College themes, his friendly
letters, his newspaper essays, all reveal the "bent'"
of his genius and the springs of his future distinction
as an orator, jurist and statesman. In the words of
Tacitus: " Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit; non ut nomine magnifico segne
otium velaret, sed quo firmior adversus fortuita. Rempublicam capesseret."  The family letters, too, are
full of touching interest. The correspondence of the




19
brothers, whose names are always associated, who
made personal sacrifices for each other rarelv equaled in the annals of fraternal love, possesses a peculiar charm for the young. These letters breathe forth
the warm affections of generous souls, and reveal the
manly opinions of earnest, mi;nds. They relate to a
very important period in the history of the writers.
TiPy show how these young students, without the:
prestige of birth or the support of wealth, by the
homebred virtues of industry and perseverance, forged their armor for the battle of life, and put on at the
very commencement of the struggle, that invincible
panoply of' good habits and correct opinions, by
means of which in after years,' they were enabled to
achieve such memorable victories.  The difficulties
and trials which they met and overcame are precisely
the same which lie in the path of every youth who
depends on his own resources for his future success.
The young student, who finds the blood rushing to
his heart as his eye falls on such a line as this:
"m Slow rises worth by poverty depressed,"
will feel it coursing to his fingers' ends with a livelier pulsation as he reads of the conflicts and victories of these intellectual heroes in the strife.  Their
success will inspire hope and awaken ambition. It
will do good to the soul of the desponding student
" as doth a medicine." Few young men, at the present day, are subjected to severer trials of poverty
than Ezekiel and Daniel Webster.  A student frequenting college Halls now without a copper in his
purse for a whole term, or living through the frosts
and chills of a New England autumn without an
overcoat, would be a " rara avis in terris." Ezekiel
Webster writing to his brother under date of Nov.
6, 1802, says in conclusion:




20
"These cold, frosty mornings very sensibly inform me; that I want
a warm overcoat.  I wish, Daniel, it might be convenient to send me
on cloth for one;, otherwise, I shall be necessitated to purchase one
here. I do not care what color or what kindu of cloth it, is; any thing
that will keep the frost out. Some kind of shaggy cloth I think would
be cheapest.  Deacon Pettengill has written offering me fourteen dollars a month to teach school; I believe I shall take it. 3'loNEY,Daniel,
money!  As I was walking down to the office after a letter, I happened to find one cent, which is the only money I have had since the second day after I came on.  It is a fact, Dan, that I was called on for
a dollar, where I owed it, and borrowed it and have borrowed it four
times since, to pay those I borrowed of.
Yours without money,             E. WEBSTER.
Little thought that solitary student as he sat in his
ill furnished  study, with poverty " like an  armed
man "9 at his elbow  dictating the messag  he he should
send to his friends at home, that men of the next genleration would catch up his homely  confession e to
point a moral"  or inspire those, e depressed " by indigence, with new  couraoge.    Little thought that
younger brother, who always acted  as secretary  to
the   conmmittee of finance," in those family  councils
so often held to devise " ways and meneans" for replenishing their exhausted  treasurty, that the simple
recital of their private  embarrassmcs s, wvould, in
comming years, be read by the whole Amnerican people, ayre, by the w-hoe eivi-lized world becauaLse of the
renoTwn of him  who imade the recoiMd.  -ow it would
have startled that samle youth. if, while he was penning, currente calamio, [hose poetic effusions to his
class mates, soli-guardian g  llenius,  in  imaitartion  of
the Socratic  damon, had whispered to his inner consciousness, that, before half a centu-ry should elapse,
some astLute critic wTonld o'erlook tIhose " hasty lines"
and pronounce them  unworthy of the writer's fime I
We are glad that no such  eaveat was suggested;
that no such ijulnction stay ed his poetic essays. We




21
can now  look in iupon the younag orator in his hours
of relaxation and  see  how   cheerful,  innocent and
profitable were his amusemlents.   All these amiable
pleasantries, all the kindly greetings he sent to  his
young friends, all the messages wheheher joyous, or
sad, which he sent to his almost idolized brother a're
irrefriagable proofs of a loving heart as well as of a
creative mind. They confirm  the oft repeated assetltion of those  who knew  him  best., in  manhood, that
his affections were as remarkable as his intellect or
his eloquence.   Every thing animate and inanimnate
that reminded hima  of home was dear to him.    The
place of his birth was hallowed  by  a thousand  precious inenories. IH-ow often, in his letters and speeches, does he allude to that sacred  spot and  to  those
who there watched over his infa-lney and rejoiced  to
see his dawning faine in early manhood.  Sitting in
his own father's house, animated  by the tender associations which three score years had thrown about
it he wrote  in 184:6, to Mr. Blatchfob rd  a letter ffull
of touching  pathos and pleasant reminiscences.   Ie
there said~
"'Looking  out at the east windows at this mnomlent, (two P. M. )
with a beautiful sun just brealking out, my eye sweeps a rich and level
field of one hundtted acres.  At the end of it, a third of' a mile of, I
see plain marble gravestones designating the places where repose my
father, my mother, my brother, Jc-'eph and my sisters,'iMehitable, Abigail, and Sarah, good Scriipttue names inherited from their Puritan ancestors. My father, Ebenez-ei rWebster! born at Kingston, in the lower
part of the State, in 1739, and the lhalndsomest man I ever saw, except
my brother Ezekiel, who appe-lled to me and so does he now seem to
me, 1the very finest human iborm that I ever laid eyes on.   I saw him
in his coffin, a white forehead, a tinged cheek, a complexion as clear
as heavenly light.  BSut where am I straying? The grave has closed
upon him, as it has upon all my brothers and sisters. We shall soon
be all together.  But this is melancholy and I leave it.   Dear, dear
kindred blood, how I love you all!   This fair field is before me, I
could see a lamb on any part of it.  I have plowed it, and raked it,




22
and hoed it, but I never mowed it. Somehow I could never learn to
hang a scythe. I had not wit enough.  My brother Joe used to say,
t hat my father sent me to college in order to make me equal to the
rest of his children!
On a hot day in July, it must have been in one of the last years of
Washington's administration, I was making hay with my father just
where I now see a remaining elm tree. About the middle of the afternoon the Hon. Abiel Foster, M. 0. who lived in Canterbury, six
miles off, called at the house, and came into the field to see my father.
He was a worthy man, college learned, and had been a minister, but
was not a person of any considerable natural power.  My father was
his friend and supporter. He talked awhile in the field, and went on
his way. When he was gone, my father called me to him, and we sat
down beneath the elm on a haycock. He said, My son, that is a worthy man, he is a member of Congress, he goes to Philadelphia, and
gets six dollars a day, while I toil here. It is because he had an education which I never had. If I had had his early education, I should
have been in Philadelphih in his place. I came near it, as it was. But
I missed it and now I must work here. My dear father, said I, you
shall not work. Brother and I will work for you, and wear our hands
out and you shall rest. My child, said he, it is of no importance to me.
I now live but for my children. I could not give your elder brothers
the advantages of knowledge, but I can do something for you. Exert
yourself, improve your opportunities, learn, learn, and when I am
gone, you will not need to go through the hardships which I have undergone and which have made me an old man before my time.
"4 The next May, he took me to Exeter Phillips Academy, placed me
under the tuition of its excellent preceptor, Dr. Benjamin Abbott, still
living.
" My father died in April, 1806.  I neither left him nor forsook
him. My opening an office in Boscawen was that I might be near
him.  I closed his eyes in this very house.  He died at sixty-seven
years of age, after a life of exertion, toil and exposure; a private soldier, an officer, a legislator, a judge, every thing that a man could be,
to whom learning had never disclosed her s" ample page."
My first speech at the bar was made when he was on the bench.
He never heard me a second time.  He had in him what I collect to
been the character of some of the old Puritans. He was deeply religious, but not sour. On the contrary, good-humo;ec!, facetious, showing, even in age, with a contagious laugh, teeth white as alabaster
gentle, soft, playful, and yet having a heart in him that he seemed to
have borrowed from a lion.  He could frown; a frown it was; but




23
cheerfulness, good humor, and smiles composed his most usual aspect."
The characteristics, both  physical and spiritual,
described in this last paragraph, belonged to the son
as well as to the fither. This qiuotation, perhaps, is
sufficient to indicate the strength of his affection for
his father and brother.  Possibly some one of the
modern " captatores verborum," on reading even this,
may sneeringly ask: "Is it not always to be presumed that a man loves his kindred'?" " Is it strange
that a man should love his brother?" Certainly not;
nor is it strange that a man should be indifferent to
his brother; for it is not necessarily an " iron age,',
of which it may be said: "fratrum quoque gratia rara
est." And a greater than Ovid has declared that:
"A brother offended is harder to be won than a
strong city; and their contentions are like the bars
of a castle." It is ralre for brothers, after they attain
their majority, to labor for one another, to keep a
common purse and to call nothing their own. So Ezekiel and Daniel Webster loved and labored in early
life. Their mutual cooperation terminated only with
the death of the elder brother, whose memory the surviver ever cherished with tearful tenderness; and in
dedicating the first volume of his works to the children of that brother, he says: " I desire that the
name of my brother may be associated with mine so
long as any thing written or spoken by me shall be
regarded or read."
Mr. Webster seemed to possess a two-fold nature.
His public and private life resembled a continent divided by internal convulsions, each portion being peopled with its own race of inhabitants. In public, he
appeared cold, dignified and inaccessible; in private,
kind, genial and even playful. Farmers who gazed
upon him with awe and reverence as he spoke at the




24
lbar or in the Senate chamber, conferred with him in
private, as with an equal, and leaving  his presence
they exclaimed; T he is one of us." He had the rare
power of entertaining' persons of every age and condition  with whom  he happened  to be associated.
Mrs. E. Buckminster Lee, in a letter published in
the " Private Correspondence,l" describing the home
of Mr. Webster, at Portsmlouth, says:
"After dinner, Mr. Webster would throw himself upon the sofa, and
then was seen the truly electrical attraction of his character.  Every
person in the room was drawn immediately into his sphere; the children squeezing themselves into all possible places and posture upon
the sofa in order to be close to him; Mrs. Webster sitting by his side,
and the fiiend in the house, or social visitor, only too happy to join
inthe circle."
Every body knows, or pretends to  know, Mr.
-Webster as a statesman, diplomatist and orator; but
as a citizen, friend and father he has been strangely
misunderstood.   His letters, covering a period of
more than fifty years, show  more clearly than any
biography can do, the true characteristics of his head
and heart.  Now, the very roof has been lifted from
his dwelling.   We can, without intrusion, look in
upon him in his library or his parlor and listen to his
conversation with his friends, his visitors or his children.  By this process human character is tested.
Addison  remarks': A In private conversation with
intimate friends, the wisest men very often talk like
the weakest; for indeed, the talking with a friend is
nothing else than thinking aloud." In his unstudied
simplicity, Mr. Webster lost none of his greatness in
the eyes of his domestic servants or familiar friends.
The very materials left by him, as witnesses of his
whole life, show how he labored, how  he thought,
and how he loved. His personal habits may be detected in the amount of manuscripts left by him, and




25
in the manner of their preservation.  Every memorial of domestic endearment was carefully treasured
up.  The earliest scrawls of his little children, even
before they were old enough to hold a steady pen or
form a legible sentence, are carefully filed among the
important correspondence of the year.   It may be
doubted whether he ever destroyed a single letter
from  any member of his family.   His love for his
children was so deep and tender, that, when they
were taken from him his great heart was melted with
sorrow; and for a season he was bowed to the earth
with grief.  Mrs. E. Buckminster Lee, describing
the death of his little daughter, Grace, says:
"' She awoke from a sweet sleep and asked for her father. He was
instantly called, and placing his arm beneath her, he drew her towards
him, when a smile of singular love and sweetness passed over her
countenance and her life was gone. Mr. Webster turned away from
the bed, and great tears coursed down his cheeks. I have three times
seen this great man weep convulsively. Another time was when death
deprived him of that brother, so tenderly loved, with whom, as we
learn from the autobiography, and from his own lips, there was so
close a union, that till both of them had families which drew them
from each other, there had been between them but one aim, one purse,
one welfare, and one hope."
After the death of his son Edward, in Mexico, 3Mr.
Healey, the artist, executed, from daguerreotypes
and other memorials of the deceased, an excellent
picture of him, as he looked while living. Mr. Webster says of it, in a letter to his son: e Mr. Healey
has made a most beautiful picture of dear Edward.
I shall take it home and keep it before my eyes as
long as I live." The same picture still hangs where
the fond father placed it, in the library at Marshfield.
In the busiest days of his public life, Mr. Webster
usually found a few fleeting moments which he could
devote to the claims of his family.  He was ever
4




26
ready to make any sacrifice of personal comfort to
secure the happiness of the least member of his
household.  His thoughts of home, his domestic
plans were all regulated with reference to this result.
The health and prosperity of those dependent on
him for employment and wages were almost daily
themes of correspondence from the Senate chamber
or the Department of State. When one of his laborers is reported to be ill, he writes him, with great solicitude, to guard his health, to leave labor and seek
recreation, to take a journey of a few weeks and endeavor to regain his former vigor. One young man,
the son of Col. Thomas, of whom he purchased the
IMarshfield estate, was early taken into his service
and in process of time made a confidential agent in
the transaction of important business in the Western
States. This young man, on a visit to Washington,
was seized with mortal illness. Mr. Webster left the
Senate chamber and Court room to watch by his
bed-side. Day and night he hung over his unquiet
pillow, with all the solicitude of a father. He ministered to his bodily wants and quieted his mental
excitement by words of sympathy and consolation.
H!is attentions were gratefully acknowledged by the
dying youth; and often his rising paroxysms of insanity were soothed by falling into Mr. WVebster's
arms and receiving his affectionate embrace. Though
alone with strangers, his mind was tranquilized when
his illustrious friend was near. Mr. Webster wrote
daily to his family at Marshfield of the progress of
his malady; and when he died, expressed his sorrow
in most touching and pathetic language in a letter to
Mrs. Webster. This warm sympathy with the suffering was a constitutional trait of his character and




27
was strongly developed in early life. Writing to Mr.
Bingham in 1803, on the death of a little sister of
his friend, he says:
"Your little sister's death I hope you consider as you ought.  I
have no great opinion of the goodness of the heart on which such events
make no impression. Innocent little thing! Thou hast been a stranger to guilt and art such to grief: Sweet be thy rest;'t is the repose
of innocence.  Respected be thy memory, for thou wast the sister of
my friend."
Among Mr. Webster's published letters is found
one addressed to Moses Davis, Esq., of Hanover, N.
H., on the death of a near relative, whose acquaintance Mr. Webster made while in  College.   It is a
model of epistolary  condolence.   Had it been the
business of his life to visit the sick and  console themourner, he could hardly have improved its  sentiments or phraseology.  It was written on his twenty-second birth-day.    The  young  student at law
thus speaks of the virtues of the departed:
4"During my residence in Hanover, I had more than one opportunity of witnessing the unwearied kindness of Mrs. Fuller to the sick and
the necessitous. I have seen the aspect of disease brighten at her approach and sorrow and anguish banished by her tender solicitude. I
have seen her house and her heart open to receive friendless strangers
and to sooth and comfort the sick and forlorn. Yet however useful,
human life must end. Though crowded with virtues, its date is momentary; though all be done that can be done, how little is the amount!
It is the tenure by which we hold all our friends, that when He calls,
whose right to them is greater than ours, we must give them up. It
is the part of wisdom to think often and seriously, on the title to the
good things we enjoy; and first and chiefly, to be anxious to place our
happiness where vicissitudes cannot change nor accident destroy it.
Low and cold and silent as your parent now is, must you and I and
all our friends be. Happy, then, if we shall deserve to have shed on
our graves the tears that bedew hers. I know of nothing so mortifying to the vanity of the heart, as the reflection that we must one day
depart, without having our absence felt beyond the circle of a small
acquaintance.  Yes, it is a truth more solemn than the language it is
conveyed in, that when




28
When you and I are gone,
The busy world will still jog on;
Will sing and dance and be as hearty
As if we still were of the party."
Little thought the youth that penned those lines,
that a nation would weep over his tomb, and that
I the world would feel lonely without him"!
In 1824, Mr. Webster lost a lovely boy.  This affliction, for a season, almost unmanned him. When
time had mellowed his sorrow, he wrote a beautiful
apostrophe to that departed child. A brief quotlatation from the poem will indicate its character:
"' I held thee on my knee, my son,
And kiss'd thee laughing, kiss'd thee weeping;
But ah! thy little day is done,
Thou'rt with thy angel-sister sleeping.
The staff, on which my years should lean,
Is broken, ere those years come o'er me;
My funeral rite thou shouldst have seen,
But thou art in thy tomb before. me.
Thou rear'st to me no filial stone,
No parent's grave with tears beholdest;
Thou art my ancestor, my son!l
And stand'st in Heaven's account the oldest.
On earth, my lot was soonest cast;
Thy generation after mine;
Thou hast thy predecessor passed,
Earlier Eternity is thine."
During the last years of Mr. Webster's life, he
was repeatedly called to mourn the loss of those
whom he dearly loved. He often felt the need of
Christian consolation while he attempted to impart
it to others.  After the death of his children, Major
Edward Webster and Mrs. Appleton, his friends observed a settled melancholy upon his countenance.
His health was manifestly affected by his poignant
grief and he never, afterwards, recovered his natural
buoyancy of spirits.  Though his sorrow  was deep




29
and abiding, his submission to the divine will was
free and cordial.   To his son-in-law  Mr. Samuel A.
Appleton, after the death of his child, he wrote in
March, 1849:
A" From the first moment I heard of her illness, I had a presentiment
that she would not recover. I felt that it was destined that she should
immediately follow her mother.
"Bright, early, transient as the morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to Heaven."
"Not only on your account and that of your children, but on our
own account, my dear son, this new bereavement afflicts us deeply.
Every thing that is sweet, lovely and engaging in infancy, belonged to
the dear little lost one. But God has seen fit to call her away and to
leave us only a tender and affectionate recollection of her. I must
confess that her death brings back to my heart that of her mother and
seems to open afresh the fountain of tears and sorrow. Never was a
daughter loved more than I loved Julia; and never was a beloved
husband commiserated more than I have commiserated you.  But you
and I and all must submit to the will of God.  We must bear these
afflictions with resignation and patience, knowing that, like all other
events, they are controlled and directed by unerring wisdom and goodness, What we know not now, we shall know hereafter.  All is not
dark and dreary, in the soul, while the lamp of religious faith and hope
continues to burn. You have, yet, four beloved children about you to
console and comfort you, nearer and dearer to you than to me; yet I
cherish them as precious blessings to myself and as objects of affection
upon whom the heart fondly leans for happy family associations and
kind endearments."
What words could be more appropriate, what sentiments more consoling?   What tender of paternal
condolence could be better adapted to cheer the afflicted mourner and inspire hope in the soul that had
been twice smitten with bereavement? What spiritual adviser who had made it the study of his life to
minister consolation to the afflicted, could have presented to an enlightened faith, any stronger motives
for resignation, or higher and holier sources of
good hope? Such language rarely drops from the
lips or flows from the pen of a man in public life,




30
These thoughts reveal the profound religious  convictions of the writer, as well as the gushing sympathies of his loving heart. Perhaps enough has been
said upon this trait of Mr. Webster's character. We
pass to the brighter and more cheerful revelations
of his " Private Correspondence."
Mr. Webster's idea of what epistolary correspondence, between friends, should be, may be learned not
only from the general tenor of his own letters, but
from his definition of it.  In a letter to a classmate,
in 1802, he writes:
" Correspondence is a kind of commerce where the greatest gain per
cent. uniformly attaches to the greatest capital; and there is as muchl
to be learned in writing a good letter as in reading."
He wrote in accordance with this notion.  All his
early letters, even when he aims only to indite harmless pleasantries, contain some useful sentiments that
render them  valuable to the thoughtful.   Like the
true poet, he always mingled the useful with the
agreeable, hence his letters are eminently instructive.
TWriting to the Hon. ~Warren Dutton,  in May, 1830,
he says
"' I thank you for your favor of April 19.  To receive a letter at
Washington, that says nothing of business, little of politics and gives
a little honest Boston talk, such as the writer and the reader might
hold together, if they were taking a turn in the Mall, is quite refreshing. In general, when I open a letter, the silent question which I put
to myself is, who is this that wants a cadetship, a midshipman's warrant, or an errand done at one of the Departments."
This extract shows clearly how much he coveted
unselfish companionship and may serve as a key to
solve the standing enigma of his life, the choice oft
his confidential friends. He highly prized those who
loved his personal qualities more than his personal
influence.  A  truly great man, who has political favors to bestow, can rarely find sincere friends. They




31
are generally summer companions, basking  in  the
sunshine of prosperity and flying when winter
storms come on;' diffugiunt cadis
Cum faece siccatis amici
Ferre jugum pariter dolosi;"
which is very happily paraphrased by Douglas Jerrold: "Friends, like tumblers in frosty weather, are
apt to fly at the first touch of hot water." The same
thought finds fit expression only in Shakespeare's
noble measures:
"' When fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants,
Which labored hard after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
No one accompanying his declining foot."
A statesman's friends adhere to him so long as his
favor can bestow promotion. Knowing human nature thoroughly, it is not wonderful that Mr. WVebster was most attached to those men who loved him
on his own account, and not for the offices which his
influence could secure for them. It is perfectly natural, too, that, living for years in the turmoil of political strife, he should become weary of the  discussion of public measures and turn with eager delight
to more welcome themes.  Well informed  scholars
he was pleased to meet. Their society he coveted
and enjoyed.   Writing to Mr. Blatchford in 1849,
he remarks of Mr. J. C. Gray:
"I hardly know a man of greater extent and variety of knowledge.
When he is with us, I feel that I am near a great treasury of information. I can open the door at any time. How pleasant it is to be with
people that can tell you something. To me, who know nothing but
some law and a little politics, it is refreshing and delightful to converse with a man who has read largely and variously, who appreciates
the value of what he has learned, and whose conversation running freely and naturally, like a brook from a clear spring, is neither pedantic,




32
dogmatical nor ostentatious.  This is the true flow of soul which Pope
says he learned from Bolingbroke: -
" Taught by thy converse happily to steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
This style of conversation  Mr. Webster loved  in
others and exhibited himself. All who knew him will
readily testify that he oftener imparted than received
instruction in social intercourse. His letters of friendship are full of useful information.   He  frequently
discourses of history, geography and philosophy like
one whose life had been given to those studies. The
habit of defining  and  explaining  terms sometimes
appears in his epistles where you would least expect
it.   The illustrations  used  were always suggested
by his subject.  In a letter to a friend  from  Marshfield, in December, 1847, he said:
"' I hear the sea very strong and low from the North, which is not
unusual after violent atmospheric agitations, and when the wind has
lulled.  They call it the " rote" or " rut" of the sea.  Either expression is correct. The Latin 1" rota" is the root of both words. The rut
in the road is the result of rolling or the repeated and occasional pressure or blows of the wheel.  Rotation means repetition as well as succession. To learn a thing by rote is to possess the mind of it by repeated readings or hearings.  The rote or rut of the sea, therefore,
means only the noise produced by the action of the surf, the successive
breaking of wave after wave upon the shore, and the beach means precisely the smooth shore beaten by the eternal restlessness of the ocean.',
Such specimens of etymological interpretations
are quite common in his letters, and were still oftener introduced in private conversation with friends.
Occasionally  he tries his hand  at Americanisms or
other anomalous expressions for the  amusement of
his correspondent. The following occurs in a letter
written in 1850;
"If you think that this matter will give you any trouble, pray let
me take it upon myself to wriggle through it.  Like many other Yankees, I am apt enough to fall into difficulties, but like them, have some



33
times a knack of squirming out of them.   Now, write it upon your
tablets that wriggle, knack, and squirm are lawful English words."
In addressing intimate friends he was sometimes
humorous though never trifling.   A  letter  written
amid the pressure of grave matters of State, in 1842,
was evidently designed as a species of burlesque on
diplomatic intercourse. It is superscribed under the
envelope, " For Mrs. Curtis and positively confidential and of great importance." He then gradually
and cautiously reveals his secret:
"' I have to communicate to you a matter of considerable importance
Kand of a public nature, though private interests and wishes are connected with it.  It is not that " a couple of treaties" were signed, as
report says, yesterday, in my Department, nor that the President sent
on the same day, a greater or less number of vetoes to Congress; the
President likes a good many vetoes.  The matter I have to communicate, though of a public nature, is yet a profound secret. My wife does
not know a word about it; or rather, I have not told her a word; but
I dare say she knows all about it.  Strong sympathies, a sort of matrimonial magnetism, enables her to find out what I know, without the
use of speech.  By the way, she is very well and bright. If you, who
always thought her a great beauty, were to see her now, you would
agree that she has still further improved.  She will be going North in
about ten days; and if you are in New York, she will be happy to see
you. But I stay you from my subject.  What I have to say does not
respect any pending negotiation, spun out like a Spanish war, but
which, like a Spanish war, at length came to an end. But I must
hasten to announce the news; and it is time I should, for I hate all
useless preliminary flourishing of words.  In res medias; to hasten into the middle of a matter is a rule in poetry, oratory, history, and other matters.  Well, then, here it comes.  I may as well begin to state
it now, or else I shall be driven to a second sheet and paper is scarce.
I am already near the bottom of the second page.  I will reveal the
whole at once. Two days before the last anniversary of American Independence, being the sixty-sixth (I believe) on the second day of July last, there was regularly passed a DocUMENT, C. HI. of Vermont was
made a middie"!!!
Whatever might be his mood of thought, whether
grave or gay, he always made an effort to impart it
to his correspondent; hence his letters, like daguer5




34
reotypes, give us true pictures of his daily reflections.  WTriting, with him, was a substitute for conversation.   His theme is usually suggested  by the
circumstances that surround him.   Geography, natural history, rural scenery, agriculture and local associations employed his pen more than literary or
political topics.  Writing  from   the old homestead,
in 1849, he says:
This place looksjcharmingly.  It is the delight of my eyes to behold. Some of the crops were short; but the rain has renewed every
thing and this beautiful meadow before me seems the sweetest spot on
earth, verdant and smiling as it is and surrounded by high hills.  It
was the view of some such place as this that Dr. Watts spiritualized:
" A little spot enclosed by grace,
From out the world's wide wilderness."
In another letter to the same friend, written in the
same room, in 1850, he says:
" This castle has a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto
Our gentle senses.
Throw physic to the dogs — I'll none of it;
Nor rhubarb, senna, nor a purgative drug."
But Dunsinane was a foggy, sickly spot compared with Elms Farm,
nor did Scotland ever see such a forest prospect as the sun at this moment begins to shine upon, The row of maples by the side of my field
for half a mile, shows a broad line of burnished gold; and the side hil I
west of the house displays every possible variety of tint, from the deepest and darkest evergreen to the brightest orange.  It seems to me the
finest morning I ever saw. Chips enough and by the looks of John
Taylor's larder, we can laugh a siege to scorn."
These extracts indicate  that the  associations  of
time  and  place  always  furnished   materials   for
thought.  Whether he floated upon the ocean, travelled by land, or looked  out, from  the windows of
his hotel, upon the spires and roofs of an ancient city,
the impressions  he  received  were  embodied in his
letters.  In 1847 he made a journey through several of the Southern States. From every stopping
place, he sent back his new thoughts to his friends




35
at homin.  Ihours which others gave to sleep, he devoted to correspondents.   Some of the most beautiful sentiments he ever penned were inspired by the
hour when they were written. Such is that oft-quoted description  of the morning  addressed  to  Mrs.
Paige, from  the city of Richmond.  A   single paragraph will show what is meant:'Beautiful descriptions of the " morning" abound in all languages.
but they are strongest, perhaps, in those of the East, where the sun is
so often an object of worship. King David speaks of taking to himself
s. the wings of the morning."  This is highly poetical and beautiful.
"The wings of the morning" are the beams of the rising sun. Rays of
light are wings.  It is thus said that the Sun of Righteousness shall
arise " with healing in his wings;" a rising sun which shall scatter
light and health, and joy throughout the universe. Milton has fine descriptions of morning, but not so many as Shakespeare, from whose
writings pages of the most beautiful images, all founded on the glory
of the morning might be filled."
By way of contrast to this poetic description, addressed to a lady who would appreciate and enjoy it,
I will quote a passage written during the same tour,
from  Charleston to Mr. Weston, a practical mechanic of Marshfield.   He says:
"; In North Carolina we travelled two hundred. miles in the tar and
turpentine country.  The pine from which these are obtained is the
long leaved pine, a good deal resembling our pitch pine but much fuller
of sap.  They make a notch in the tree called a "' box," and cut the
bark off a foot above it. The turpentine runs down into this "' box"
and when the box gets full they ladle it out.  A box holds a quart
and will fill three or five times in the season. A handsome tree with' boxes" will yield ten quarts a year.  Tar is made by burning pine
knots, stumps, &c., in a pit like charcoal. The sap sweats out and
runs into a hole prepared for it in the ground.  One barrel of turpentine distilled makes six gallons of spirit.  The residuum, or resin is
not of much value, say twenty-five cents a barrel."
In  the  same  letter he  describes  the  process of
raising rice and makes it so plain that no person
who reads can mistake his meaning.  When Mr.
Webster travelled  for  recreation, he  banished  all




36
thoughts of business.  He followed literally the advice of Horace to Torquatus:
"Then instant from the busy world retire,
And, while your tedious clients fill the hall,
Slip out at the back door and bilk them all.
On such occasions the common thoroughfares and
places of popular resort had no charms for him. A
crowd interrupted his free communion with nature.
From Sterling, in Scotland, in 1839, he writes:
We have passed rather rapidly through some of the lake scenery
of Scotland.  Mlany have seen this and many have described it. Since
Walter Scott's Lady of the Lake, all have felt a new interest in this
part of Scotland; and now, since steamboats are on every lake and
river, where there is water enough to float them, crowds follow crowds
through the whole travelling season, all along the common track. This
takes off much of the romance and much of the interest.  We travel
together and every body is in a prodigious hurry.  The inns are all
thronged; the carriages are crammed and the decks of steamboats
crowded with a mass of men and women, each with a guide book in
hand learning what to admire! The scenery, in itself, is truly beautitul and I have learned enough to know, I think, how one should
travel in order to enjoy it, the great majority of the travellers only
wish "to get on."  Their first inquiry is, how soon they can get to a
place; the next, how soon they can get away from it. They incur the
expense of the journey for the sake of having the power of saying af
terwards that they have seen sights, more than from any other motive.
If I could go through this lake region, at leisure, and with one friend
of discernment, taste and feeling, I should experience, I am sure, the
greatest possible delight."
Mr. WTebster's careful preparation for travel is
evinced in the multitude of maps and works descriptive of the countries he visited, which are now  found
in his library  at Marshfieldcl.  It was his custom  to
examine carefully the geography  and local history
of a town, city, or country before he visited it; and
when he was passing through it, or resting in it, he
observed its physical features with the eve of a landscape painter and noted the customs and morals of
the  place with  the nice discrimination  of a philoso



37
pher.  The results of his observation and reflection
constitute the chief materials of his letters to his
friends.   This habit of accurate investigation gave
a peculiar charm to hls " Private Correspondence."
It imparted beauty and perspicuity to his descriptions, and when applied to arguments, rendered  his
logic irresistible. The clearness and accuracy of his
statements often gave to the deductions of his reason the force of demonstration.   This mental habit
was the result of severe discipline, early commenced
and faithfully practised. More than fifty years ago,
writing to a College friend respecting the desultory
habit of reading history, formed by students, he said:
Wm WTe often read page after page and retain only a slender thread of
events, every thing else gliding from the memory about as first as the
the eye traces the lines of the book. Yet when we examine a particular occurrence or search after a single date, the impression is permaneat and we have added ati idea to the stock of our knowledge."'The habit of reading  history with the map of the
countries described open before the reader and the
necessity of ascertaining the relative position of different provinces and the exact location where important events took place is frequently inculcated upon
his children in his familiar letters to them. His method of reading, while a student, is thus described to
a classmate:
- So much as I read, I made my own. When a half hour or an
hour at most had expired I closed my bWok and thought it all over. If
there was anything particularly interesting to nie, either in sntinment
or language, I endeavored to recall it and lay it up in memory and
commonly could effect my object."
Such careful reading must inevitably give certainty to knowledge, force to argument and perspicuity
to style.  Mr. Webster's manuscripts give us the
results of his researches; his library shows us where
he has travelled in the realms of mind; and where he




38
tarried but for a night, you discover traces of his industry.  Previous to the year 1840, he had occasion
to learn the physical and political condition of New
Zealand.  Every important work that had then been
published relative to that island, from   the voyages
of Capt. Cook to the latest missionaay  report, was
purchased for consultation.   This is but a single instance of his multiplying works of reference.  In his
agricultural researches, he  procured  and  consulted
the best authorities in every department of natural
history and the useful arts.   The  animal kingdom,
in all its varieties, arrested  his attention,  employed
his leisure hours and enriched  his mind.  Proofs of'
these researches are found in numerous letters of the' Correspondence.'    Thie habits of fishes and birds
are fi'equently described  in  his letters.   The  good
points of every species  of domestic animal were as
flniliar to him   as the  countenances  of mnen, and
these, too, often employed his pen.   When in England, he observed with more care the fields and flocks
than the Court and the Parliament.   Writing firom
London, under date of Sept. 20, 1839, he says:
"Within the first six weeks we have run over much of England and
some of Scotland.  Ofcourse, we could stay but a little time in any
place, nor were we able to see much below the surface of things.  But
t.he agriculture in England and Scotland, I have looked at pretty attentively. Taken altogether, England exhibits a high wrought, exact,
elaborate system of art and industry. Every productive power is carried to the utmost extent of skill and maintained in the most unceas -
ing activity.  Constant attention and close calculation pervade every
thing. Rent is high, but the prices of produce are high also. About
thirty shillings sterling, say seven dollars, may be regarded, perhaps,
as near the average rent of good land in England. In some parts, it is
much higher, say ten dollars, or rent and tithes together, fifteen. The
land is mostly productive and prices are high. A gentleman told me,
yesterday, that he had sold, some weeks ago, his wheat crop at eleven
pounds sterling per acre, standing, and his oat crop for eight. This will
show you the aggregate of products and prices. forty bushels of wheat




39
arid fifty or even sixty of oats arc not an uncommon yield to the acre.
The land is naturally good and is subjected to the most careful and
skillful cultivation. lu the course ef forty years, the turnip has vastly enriched England. It feeds millions of sheep, whose wool and flesh
command high prices; and feeding them in the fields during the winter, say ten sheep to the acre, enriches the land for a succeeding crop
of wheat. Then, too, limle is used extensively and every bone is ground
up for bone dust, which is found a most powerful manure, and when
the lands require it, a complete systern of underdraining, especially in
Scotland, is adopted, which produces the best results.  Agricultural
labor is not more than half as dear in England as in the United States."
It would be impossible, xwithin the  bounds  of a
brief review, to illustrate the  extent and variety of'
M[r. Webster's epistolary  compositions.   There  is
scarcely a topic of human  interest that he has not
discussed in his letters, from  Ithe humblest employmnents of daily life to the sublimest themes of our
holy religion.  He  never wrote  in vain.   We  do
notpretend that he.always  writes  profoundly  cr
learnedly'upon  every  subject.  No  man  is great
in every department of labor or study.  Few   excel
iln more than one.'We should not look  for belleslettres scholars in Ministers of State or in great warriors.  Such men matke histor-y, they cannot stay to
write it, much less to fr'anme honied sentences for
ears polite, or indite pleasant epistles to charm  the
hearts of admiring friends. Caesar was an exception.
His stylus was as keen as his sword.  His intellect
was as polished as his armor.  His " Commentaries"
are as brilliant and impressive as his victories.  Still
his E veni, viCdi, vici" reveals the condensation of his
thoughts as much as it does the rapidity of his marches.  Bonaparte's epistles resemble telegraphic commlunications, and his speeches, too, were marked by
the same terseness, point and brevity.   The " Iron
Duke" was as laconic iln his dispatches as he was resistless in the field. "Great commanders," said Mon



40
tesquieu, " record their actions with simplicity, for
they have more glory from deeds than from words."
Orators, whose vocation embraces a larger variety of'
topics, usually exhibit greater versatility of thought
in their compositions. We sometimes meet with one,
like Burke, who has a vein of the e sublime and
beautiful" in the molten gold which flows, ore rotundo, from his intellectual crucible. Another, like
Brougham, writes learnedlylupon all themes, but attains the " aliquid immensum infinitumque" in none.
A third, like Canning, excels in political satire and
biting sarcasmn, and surpasses Juvenal in the flow of'
his velrse and punglyeney of his wit.  Another, like
Webster, would, at his own fireside, utter in the ear
of friendship "thoughts that breathe and words that
burn," whose tones, caufght up by the priess, would
warm and cheer the heart of a nation; or sitting in
his libralry at Marshfield, would indite an epistle
whose beautiful sentiments would, like England's
martial strains, soon encircle the globe. It deserves
notice that Mr. WVebster perpetuates no feuds. His
writings cannot be used for partisan purposes. If
he had prejudices against other statesmen, he has
not incorporated them into his letters. He seldom
alludes to public men but to commend them.  If he
could not speak kindly of them he was silent. He
has, therefore, left no wrongs to be redressed, no
personal controversies to be adopted by his friends.
From his letters alone, we should scarcely know that
he had political opponents. No trace of bitterness
or vindictiveness mars a single page of his correspondence.  There were men, (in his native State,
too,) who dogged his steps with libels for more than
thirty years, whom he kindly forgave and who, dur



41
ino the last years of his life, enljoyed  his generous
hospita.lity, at the old homi:steai, in  Franklin.  In
some instanes dlurJng  his long  public life, he employed in  his speeches, usually in self-defence, the
strong language of inveective.   When his  speeches
were published, he desilredl the editor to  obliterate
fiom  them  all traces  of unlkindness  and  severity.
His words were e
"My fiiend, I wish to perpetuate no feuds.  I have lived a life of
strenuous political warfare.  I have sometimes, though rarely, and
that in self-defence, been le4 to spe-ac of others with severity.  I beg
you, when yea can do it without wholly calngring the character of the
speech, anl thus doing essential injustice ito me, to obliterate every
trace of personality of this kind.  I should prefbr not to leave a word
tha-t would give unneesstary pain, to any honest man, however opposed to me."
Happy would it have been for the world, if all the
distinguished men of p]ast ages had  taken  similar
precaution.  1Mr-. Webster carried this same regard
for the feeling's of others into social life, and  where
hle htad, in the heat of controversy, betrayed any undue  excitement, he, with  singular  magna nimity,
made advances toward  a  reconciliation.   The following  brief note to Mr. Blatchlford explains itself:
WTASUINGTON, JAN. 2, 1849.
DEAR SIR,
You are acquainted with a little occurrenes which took
place here last year between Mr. Ogden and myself. Mr. Ogden took
offence at a remark which I felt it my dnty to make to the Court, and
has not called to see me since, when I have been in New York, as Iused to be his friendly habit.  I do not like that,any coldness should
exist betwean myself and a gentleman with whom I have been long on
friendly terms, unless such be his pleasureo  The occasion has passed
by; I feel no unkindness towards Mr. Ogde-n. I have eaten bread
and tasted wine at his hospitable table, in times long s.ince past.  I
have never lost, and shall not lose, a just.acppreciation of his character, professional and persona!ec t-nd shall always be ~irr more willing'
to show kindness than to do iinjury to him or his firiencds.




42
You may show this to Mr. Hall, and if you and he think proper,
he may suggest the contents of it to IMr. Ogden. -My real motive in
this is, that if Mr. Ogden feels any degree of unhappiness at what has
occurred, he may dismiss it from his mind.
Yours, truly, always,
DANIEL WEBSTER.
The letters which were exchanged between Mr.
Webster  and  the Hon. D. S. Dickinson, near the
close  of the  year 1.850, are  of the same import.
These gentlemen had been, for many years, warm
political opponents and had sometimes pointedly assailed each other, so as to leave behind the sting of
reproof.    Jr. A. Webster offered terms of peace with
dignified condescension.  Mr. Dickinson  received
them  with generous alacrity.  He says of Mr. Webster's letter:
" Numerous and valued are the testimonials of confidence and regard which a somewhat extended acquaintance and lengthened public
service have gathered round me, but, amongst them all, there is none
to which my heart clings so fondly as this. I have presented it to my
family and friends as the proudest passage in the history of my eventful life, and shall transmit it to my posterity as a sacred and cherished memento of friendship."
Other testimonials to Mr. W~ebster's magnanimity
and Christian courtesy exist among his unpublished
correspondence.  In due time, when the seal of privacy shall have been broken, they will come forth to
give new lustre to the last days of his public life.
Such a kind and conciliatory temper is not the product of wounded  sensibility  or disappointed  ambition; nor is it the legitimate fruit of declining years
The poetic view  of old age is not a pleasing  one.
Horace thus characterizes it:
"I Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti
Se puero."
Juvenal is positively ferocious in his description




43
of its complaining helplessness and disgousting dotage. The English imitators of these satirists, with
the aids of Christian culture, have obliterated none
of the dark colors from these ancient pictures of decaying manhood. We expect, therefore, that increasing years will strengthen;the " ruling passion" of
early life. For this reason, the exhibition of a forgiving spirit compels us to admit the existence of
those Christian graces in which it has its origin.
Partisan critics have searched the " Private Correspondence" of Mr. W~ebster, with the keen vision
of' an eagle or Epidaurian serpent' for proofs of
vanity, prejudice, or despondency, such as are found
in the letters of Cicero; but not a solitary instance
rewards their toil. They find instead, reverence for
law and religion, warm patriotism and undying love
of liberty.  The religious press quotes from  Mi:r.
Webster's Correspondence, as the most weighty authority they can cite, whein his opinions accord with
their own. Sometimes, by a species of pious firaud, a
forged letter is extensively circulated for the good
of the cause; but when the same press speaks of'Mr.
Webster's character and principles, they adopt, with
apparent respect, the slanderous words of oLne
who classes the HIoly Scriptures with the Shaster
and Zendavesta, atd ranks the inspiration of John,
" the beloved disciple,"' cand " Paul the aged," with
that of Homer, Milton and Shakespeare. Sometimes
an " untravelled" pastor treats the " fall of Adclam'
and the fall of Webstel; in the same discourse, seeming to place the' apostacy'" of the latter in the same
category with that of the former; and, to mIake the
words of inspiration doubly significant to those who
aspire to be as gods, either in knowledge or power,
declares that " the greatest of American statesmen.




44
died of a broken hcealt, belatuse he could not obtain
the presicdin1y of the UiitA  States." Both the physicians who attenecld him in Ilis last illness, and the
"candid  public" entertain a differe-nt opinion with
reference to tlle cause of hi:s death.  To those who
are disposed to call in question 7Mr. 7ebster's patriotism or philanthropy, we eorumend the reading of
his " Private Correspondencle."  On every page of
that worko, we find that the spring of all his actions
was a great and loving hearllt.  Fromll youth  to age,
he soufght his country's wtelfa~-reo   With the utmost
sincerity, he might have adopted. the words, of Miltoni
W' While I was yet a child, no childish play
To me wacs pleasingL; all my 1 inid was Sat,
Scrious, to learn and know and thence to do
WTIlt lligolt be PUB3LIC GOOD; rmyself I thought
Blorn to that end; born to promote all truth."
Dauling   the last year of IMlr. WTebster's senatoriial
life, questions of great importuance ca-me before Congless.  Ile chose his position after mature deliberation and from  profoundrl  conviction of its ectitude.
His motives have been assailed, his character tradneed and his reputation bla1ckened, by men who claim
the largest liberty of opinion, but allow no man to
diITer, with impunity, from  themselves.  Until Mi r.
Webster's veracity shall have been successfiully impeached, by showing that, in every speech he ever
made and in every deed he ever performed, he was
then and there enacting  and utteriing falsehood, it is
proper to allow  himn to tos-etify in his own case and
to give him credit for the same eandor and honesty
which h ave bee-n conceded to him in all other cases.
In a letter addsressed to Mi-essrs. 1icehards and others,
dated. -aich 21, 1851, h]e thus explains his action in
that ctisis o




45;If I have attempted to expound the Constitution, I have attempt,ed to expound that which I have studied with diligence and veneration from my early manhood to the present day.  If I have endeavor.
ed to defend and uphold the Union of the States, it is because my fixed judgment and my unalterable affections have impelled me, and still
impel me, to regard that Union as the only security for general prosperity and national glory.         *  *  *  *  *    * *'
I was not unaware, gentlemen, on the morning of the 7th of March
last year, thhat I was entering upon a duty which, as you suggest,
might bring into peril that favor which has so long been shown me by
that political party whose general principles I had for a long time
steadily maintained. A crisis had arrived, in which it did not become
me, as I thought, to be indifferent and dclo nothing. Still less did it become me to act a part which should inflame sectional animosities, and
tend to destroy all genuine Amerianrl feling, and shake the faLbric of
the government to its foundations.  I was willing to trust and am still
willing to trust for the vindication of my motives, to the intelligent
men of my party and of all parties. I should, indeed, have been wholly unworthy of that character, which it is my highest ambition to
maintain among my countrymen, if I had allowed any personal peril
to bear with the weight of a feather against my profbund sense of public (luty.  Whatever may now  happen, I shall meet it with a cleai
conscience, and a fixed purpose, and while acting in full eodperation
with the great mass of our fellow citizens, who hold the same sentiments that you hold, I shall fear nothing."
This declaration, recorded with such solemnity of'
tone and language, ought to secure ibr the opinions
of the writer, toleration, if not approbation.    Certainly' it oug ht forever to silence  the chargles of insincerity-an-d hostility to liberty. It is true that many
of Mr. W~ebster's  political friends  were alienated
by the course hae pursued with reflerence to the Compromise measures.  This was not the first instance
in his long public life whel hnis supporters deserted
him. HIe was more fiercely assailed by his party than
by his opponents for remaining in President Tyler's
Cabinet to adjust the North Eastern boundary question.  14Many of his old friends attacked him  through




46
the press; others poured upon  him  their remon-strances in numerous letters, making passionate appeals to his self-respect, his love of a good name, and
his habitual integrity. Such assaults were more difl
ficult to be repelled than those of open enemies. But
lihe remained true to himself; and to his country. He
understood the importance of the crisis and the necessity that Providence had laid upon him to rescue
his country from impending war.  lie resolved  to
meet the storm of obloquy from friends and foes and
trust to truth and time for a vindication of his course.
He succeeded and all the interested parties now colmmllend his wisdom.  Down to the last hour of this
harrassing and laborious negotiation, men who had
formerly cooperated with him and even received at
his hand essential aid in their own promotion, charged him with love of power and ambition in retaining
his place.  These unfounded accusations added to
the exhausting labors of the Department of State
"drank up" his spirits and wasted his strength. His
friend, George WV. Nesmith, Esq. says in a letter to
the writer that AMr. Webster informed him,
it That during the time he was engaged in making the Ashburton
Treaty, he was so constantly employed, that he did not sleep more
than three hours, each night, for three months together; and that he
had still less undisturbed repose for five months in succession during
the exciting discussions of 1850."
This fact indicates, on both oecasions, unwearied
diligence and constant solicitude.  The distinguished diplomatists representing the high  contracting
parties to the Washington Treaty formed for each
other a sincere and lasting friendship.  Lord Ashburton and Mr. Webster maintained till the death of
one of the parties, an affectionate and confidential
correspondence. It deserves a passing notice that




47
this treaty met with decided opposition in England
as well as in the United States; and both the diplomatists were severely censured, at home, for surrendering valuable national claims; but the murmurs of
disaffected partisans were soon drowned by the general acclamlations of the friends of peace in both
nations. A similar change of feeling might have
been anticipated with regard to Mr. Webster's course
in the Senate in 1850, had he lived to interpret and
enforce his published opinions. His bitterest opponents admit that his presence in the Senate would,
undoubtedly, have have prevented the hasty and illconsidered legislation which, since his decease, has
brought the country to the verge of civil war.* If
Hector had not fallen, there would have been no occasion for the mournful strains of the poet:.-" —— (P Fuimus Troes; fuit Ilium et ingens
Gloria Teucrorum."
Iowevelr it is not an unheard of thing, that an
aged statesman, when his large experience and mature wisdom are of most value to his countrymen,
should lose the support or incur the displeasure of
his former friends.  Pericles, whose dying boast it
was, that no Athenian had ever worn mourning
through his agency, found his last days embittered
by the unreasonable hostility of his fellow citizens.
Demosthenes escaped a public execution by suicide.
Cicero fell by the knife of a hired assassin and his
head. graced the very rostrum from which he had so
often defended his ungrateful country.  Pitt, " the
greatest minister of his century, one of the very few
great men of his age, among orators the only peer
of Demosthenes, the man without title or fortune,
~ This Review was written before the war.




48
who, finding Enrgland in the abys's of weakness and
disgrace, conquered Canada, and the Ohio valley,
andcl Gaucdaloupe, humbled France, gained -the doiminion of the seas, won the supremacy in Hiindostan?
and, at home, vanquished faction,"' on the accession
of a new monarch, was compelled to resign thfl1e seals
of office and allow ordinalry men to wear his laurels.
Burke spent the leisure of his old age in refitting the
theories of his youth.  W'ellington closed the windows of his palace with iron shutters to exclude the
missiles of that very populace, in the capital, that
had so often rent the air witll shouts in hConor' of the
hero of Waterloo!'Webster' was shut outl fkrom IaT...ueuil Hall by the rrmagistrates of the city of his adoption, which owed to his eloquence he1r comnlmercial
prosperity, and of which himself was the brightest
ornament.  Bu't no one of these statesmenl is ].ess
honored now, because the ship of State, -while he
guided its helm, encountered acdverse winds and:
storms.  The fame of  Vebster is still dear to the
American people. The publicatioln of his.l Private
Correspondence" has made the people better acquainted with the amiable traits of his character.
"Real virtue," says Plutarch, "is most beloved,
when it is most nearly seen; and no respect which
it commands from  strangers can equal the never
ceasing admiration it excites in the daily intercourse
of domestic life."