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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
THE LIBRARY ASSOCL\TES

Gift of
JAMES T. BABB, Y '25

THE LIFE OF RUFUS CHOATE.

nrt;Dicirm n ^ ir

/ L ///t-l J C /Tu-cx, /7__

THE LIFE

RUFUS CHOATE

BY
SAMUEL GILMAN BROWN,
PRESIDENT OF HAMILION COLLEGE.

'Ev iJLvprav K\aSl Tb ^l<pos 406pei.

SIXTH EDITION.

BOSTON:
LITTLP], BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1898.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk's OfRce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetta.

IZ.zioGi

CAMBKincE :
Press of John Wilson and Son.

TO THE MEMORY

LEMUEL SHAW, LL.D.,
FOR THIRTY YEARS CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF
MASSACHUSETTS,
THIS THIRD EDITION OF THE LIFE OF KUFUS CHOATE
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.

P R E F A (J J!i

THIRD EDITION OF THE LIFE.

It is no-w more than mneteen years since the death
of Mr. Choate, but the interest in the man as scholar,
advocate, master of eloquence, statesman, and patriot,
seems hardly to have diminished : seems, indeed, of
late, to have re-vived and spread. His genius has
formed the subject of lectures and critical essays to
many audiences, and in publications widely separated.
It would be impossible to refer to these in detail, but
it may be proper to mention a lecture by James T.
Fields, Esq., of Boston ; a thoughtful and discrimi
nating article in " The Western," — a magazine pub
lished in St. Louis ; a critical essay in " Harper's
Monthly " (republished, with additions, in the " Half
Hour Series "), by Edwin P. Whipple, Esq. ; two
articles published in the " Albany Law Journal," in
1876, by Ir-ving Browne, Esq. ; and, especially, a
series of papers in the " Albany Law Journal," ex
tending through many months of the years 1877 and

-Vdii PRErACE TO THE THIKD EDITION.
1878, by his Honor Judge Neilson, of the City Court,
Brooklyn. It is to be hoped that this last-named
series, containing reminiscences gathered with much
care from gentlemen in almost all departments of pro
fessional and public life, — the earlier and the later
friends of Mr. Choate, — will be published in a form
easily accessible to the many who would delight to
read them.
The second edition of the Life of Mr. Choate has
for some time been nearly out of print, and is now
entirely so. The present edition, somewhat en
larged from the former ones, will, I hope, meet the
-wishes of those who desire to possess some authentic
record of a great la-wyer and advocate, whose sweet
ness of temper, and unselfish love of all things great
and good, were almost as remarkable as the acknowl
edged splendor of his genius.
S. G. B.
Hamilton College,
Clinton, N. Y., Dec. 14, 1878.

PREFACE

SECOND EDITION OF THE LIFE.

The first edition of the Works of Mr. Choate, with
the Memoir of his Life, was early disposed of, and for
many years it has been almost impossible to obtain a
copy. In the mean time the wish has been frequently
expressed that the Life might be republished by itself.
In accordance with this desire, the present edition
has been prepared. Although in the main unchanged,
it will be found to contain sorae additions in the
form of letters, reminiscences, and selections from the
writings of Mr. Choate.
While I cannot fail gratefully to recognize the
kindness with which the work, as originally pub
lished, was received, especially by those most compe
tent to j Lidge, — the members of the Massachusetts Bar,
and those who knew Mr. Choate most familiarly, —
yet I cannot but feel more than ever how inadequate
is any delineation to present a complete picture of
that subtle, versatile, and exuberant mind, " to dis-

X PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
play with psychological exactness " (if I may use his
own words) " the traits of his nature," to unveil " the
secrets — the marvellous secrets — and sources of
that vast power which we shall see no more in action,
nor aught in any degree resembling it among men."
We shall not fail, however, I trust, to learn some
lessons of fidelity, and unsparing diligence, and un
remitting labor, for which no genius can prove a
substitute, as well as those other lessons of high pur
pose, and broad patriotism, which informed his life,
and which the new condition of the Republic demands
of us even more strenuously than did the old.
S. G. B.
Hamilton College,
Clinton, N. Y., Dec. 22, 1869.

PREFACE

FIRST EDITION OP THE LIFE AND WORKS.

When first requested to prepare a sketch of the life
of Mr. Choate, I was not ignorant of the difficulty of
"writing it so as to present a fair and complete portrait
ure, — the traits of his character were so peculiar, its
lights and shades so delicate, various, and evanescent.
The difficulty has not grown less as I have proceeded
with the work, and no one, I think, can be so well
aware as I am, of its insufficiency.
It may seem singular that none of Mr. Choate's ad
dresses to a jury are included in this collection of his
speeches, — that the department of eloquence in which
perhaps he gained his greatest fame should here be
unrepresented. In this disappointment, those by
whom this selection has been made certainly share.
It was not until the very last, and after making a
careful examination of every accessible report of his
legal arguments, that they reluctantly came to the
conclusion that no one remained which, considering
the nature of the subject, or of the report itself, would
do justice to the advocate, or very much gratify the
reader.

XU PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
As to Mr. Choate's political sentiments and action
during the later years of his life, it did not seem
necessary to do more than to give his opinions as they
were honestly formed and frankly expressed. The
time has not yet come for treating fully and with
entire fairness the questions of those days. One
still " walks on ashes thinly covering fires."
A word should perhaps be said with reference to
the fragments of translations from Thucydides and
Tacitus, which close these volumes. They were pre
pared solely as a private exercise and for a personal
pleasure and advantage. They were never revised,
and are given precisely as found on loose scraps of
paper, after Mr. Choate's decease. But they have
struck me, as well as others upon whose better judg
ment I have relied, as affording examples of felicitous
and full rendering of difficult authors, and as indicat
ing something of the voluntary labors and scholarly
discipline of an overtasked lawyer, who, amidst the
unceasing and wearisome calls of an exacting pro
fession, never forgot his early love of letters.
No one unacquainted with Mr. Choate's hand
writing can understand the difficulty of preparing his
manuscripts for the press. For performing so well
this very perplexing labor, the public are chiefly
indebted to Rtiptjs Choate, Jr., and Edward Ellek-
TON Pratt, Esqs.
With a singular and almost unaccountable indiffer
ence to fame, Mr. Choate took no pains to preserve his
speeches. The manuscript of the lecture, — written
at first with the most rapid pen, with abbre-dations,
erasures, and interlineations, — had no sooner fulfilled
its temporary purpose, than it was thrust among waste

preface to THE FIRST EDITION. xiii
papers, and forgotten. He had not the time, or could
not bring himself to take the trouble to recall his lost
orations or legal arguments. His lecture on the Ro
mance of the Sea, one of the most beautiful and
popular of his lectures, was lost or stolen in New
York. He was solicited to rewrite it, and could
doubtless, at any time for years afterward, have re
produced the whole —
 " apparell'd in more precious habit.
More moving-delicate, and full of life,"
than at first, but other matters seemed to him of more
importance, and the half promise with which he be
guiled his friends was never fulfilled.
When urged, as he frequently was, to prepare a
volume of speeches for the press, he usually quieted
the solicitor by seeming to accede to his request, or
evaded him by some rare bit of pleasantry.
It is a matter of congratulation, then, that so much
has been rescued from irretrievable loss. It has even
been found necessary, in order not to overcrowd the
volumes, to omit many lectures and speeches, which
all who heard them would doubtless be glad to possess
in a permanent form. Among these are several con
gressional and political speeches, his speech in the
Massachusetts Convention on The Basis of Represen
tation, and his lectures on The Influence of Great
Cities, on The Mercantile Profession, on Macaulay,
on Rogers, on Jefferson, Hamilton, and Burr, and an
earlier lecture on Poland.
The engraving which accompanies this volume,
from a photograph by Messrs. Southworth &
Hawes, is considered the best likeness which exists
of Mr. Choate in repose. A very striking portrait by

XIV PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
Mr. Ames, — the original of which is in Dartmouth
College, — gives the orator m aciion. Besides these,
Mr. Brackett has moulded a spirited head in plaster,
and Mr. Thomas Ball has sculptured one in marble,
which for dignity, force, and truthfulness, can hardly
be surpassed.
While I have received aid from many sources, which
I should be glad particularly to designate, I cannot
help acknowledging my special obligation to the Mem
bers of the Bar, especially of Suffolk and of Essex,
many of whom I have had occasion to consult, and
from all have received every assistance possible with
out reserve or hesitation. I am also much indebted
to the courtesy of Mr. Everett for kindly placing at
my disposal books and manuscripts not easily acces
sible elsewhere, which were indispensable in preparing
the sketch of Mr. Choate's life in Congress ; and to
Edward G. Parker, Esq., for a free use of materials
which he had collected in preparing his " Reminis
cences." The publication of these volumes, though ready for
the press many months since, has been delayed by
causes which will occur to every one. In the great
peril of the Republic, what else could be thought
of? What eloquence be heard but that of the civil
war ? But the counsels of the wise will acquire a
deeper meaning, and the eloquence of patriotism be
listened to with a readier acquiescence, when from the
present tumult and strife we shall emerge upon an
other era " bright and tranquil."
S. G. B.
Hanovek, N. H., October 13, 1862.

CONTENTS.

„ Paok
CHAPTER I. — 1799-1830  1
Birth — Ancestry — Boyhood — Account by his Brother —
Studies — Characteristics — Enters College — Rank — Testi
raony of Classmates — Dartmouth College Case — Its Iniiu-
ence on his Choice of a Profession — Extract from Judge
Perley's Eulogy — Tutor at Dartmouth — Letter from Dr.
Sewall — Enters Law School in Cambridge — Goes to Wash
ington and studies with Mr. Wirt — Death of his brother
Washington — Returns to Essex — Admission to the Bar —
Testimony of Mr. Wirt — Opens an Office in South Danvers
— Letter to James Marsh — Marriage — Success — Fidelity
to Clients — Letter from Judge Shaw — Testimony of Hon.
Asahel Huntington.

CHAPTER 11.-1830-1840  41
Removal to Salem — The Essex Bar — Successes — Appear
ance — Counsel in the Knapp Case — Studies — Letter to
President Marsh — Elected to Congress — Commonplace Book
— Letter to President Marsh — Enters Congress — Speeches
on Revolutionary Pensions, and on the Tariff — Letter to Dr.
Andrew Nichols — Letters to Professor George Bush — The
Second Session — Georgia, and the Missionaries to the Indi
ans — Letter to Professor Bush — Re-elected to Congress —
Speech on the Removal of the Deposits — Resigns his Seat
— Removes to Boston — Lecture on the "Waveriey Novels,"
and on " The Romance of the Sea " — Death of his Youngest
Cliild

XVI CONTENTS. Page
CHAPTER IIL — 1841-1843  71
Professional Advancement — Letters to Richard S. Storrs, Jr.
— Chosen Senator in place of Mr. Webster — Death of Gen
eral Harrison — Eulogy in Faneuil Hall — Extra Session of
Congress — Speech on the M'Leod Case — The Fiscal Bank
Bill — Collision with Mr. Clay — Nomination of Mr. Everett
as Minister to England — Letter to Mr. Sumner — Letters
to his Son — The next Session — Speech on providing fur
ther Remedial Justice in the United States Courts — Letters
to Mr. Sumner — The North Eastern Boundary Question —
Journal.
CHAPTER IV. — 1843-1844  106
Address before the New England Society of New York —
Letter from Mr. Van Cott — Letter to Professor Bush —
Letters to Charles Sumner — Letter to his Daughters —
Speech on Oregon in reply to Mr. Buchanan — Recollections
of Alexander H. Stephens — First Speech on the Tariff —
Second Speech in reply to Mr. M'Duffie — Journal.
CHAPTER v. — 1844-184.5  141
Political Excitement — Speaks for Mr. Clay — Meeting of Con
gress — Diary — Annexation of Texas — Admission of Iowa
and Florida — Establishment of the Smithsonian Institution —
Library Plan — Letters to Hon. C. W. Upham — Illness of Dr.
Sewall — Letter to Mrs. Brinley.
CHAPTER VI. — 1845-1849  165
Address before the Law School in Cambridge — Argues the
Case of Rhode Island v. Massachusetts — Defence of Tirrell
— The Oliver Smith's Will Case — Speaks in favor of Gen
eral Taylor — Offer of a Professorship in the Cambridge Law
School — Offer of a Seat upon the Bench — The Phillips Will
Case — Journal.
CHAPTER VIL— 1850  215
Change of Partnership — Voyage to Europe — Letters to Mrs.
Choate — Journal.

CONTENTS. xvii
Page
CHAPTER VIIL— 1850-1855  249
Political Excitement — Union Meetings — Address on Wash
ington, February, 1851 — The Case of Fairchild u. Adams —
Address before the " Story Association " — Webster Meeting
in Faneuil Hall, November, 1851 — Argues an India-Rubber
Case in Trenton — Baltimore Convention, June, 1852 — Ad
dress to the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Burlington, Vt. — Jour
ney to Quebec — Death of Mi-. Webster — Letter to E.
Jackson — Letter to Harvey Jewell, Esq. — Letter to Mrs.
Eames — Offer of the Attorney-Generalship — Convention to
revise the Constitution of Massachusetts — Eulogj' on Dan
iel Webster, at Dartmouth College — Letter to his Daughter
— Letters to Mrs. Eames — Letter to Mr. Everett — Letters
to his Son — Letters to his Daughter — Address at the Dedi
cation of the Peabody Institute, September, 1854 — Letters to
Mr. Everett — Letter to Mrs. Eames — Accident and Illness
— Letters to Mr. and Mrs. Eames.
CHAPTER IX. — 1855-1858  301
Love of the Union — Letter to the Whig Convention at Wor
cester, October, 1855 — Letter to Rev. Chandler Robbins —
Letter to Mr. Harvey — Letter to Mr. Everett — Lecture on
the Early British Poets of this Century, March, 1856 — Sir
Walter Scott — Political Campaign of 1856 — Determines to
support Mr. Buchanan — Letter to the Whigs of Maine —
Address at Lowell — Letter to J. C. Walsh — Professional
Position — His Library — Lecture on the Eloquence of Revo
lutionary Periods, February, 1857 — Defence of Mrs. Dalton
— Oration before the Boston Democratic Club, July 4th,
1858.
CHAPTER X. — 1858-1859  358
Failing Health — Speech at the Webster Festival, January,
1859 — Address at the Essex Street Church — Last Law
Case — Goes to Dorchester — Occupations — Decides to go
to Europe — Letter to Hon. Charles Eames — Letter to Alfred
Abbott, Esq. — SaUs in the Europa, Captain Leitch — Illness
on Board — Lands at Halifax — Letter from Hon. George S.
Hillard — Sudden Death — Proceedings of Public Bodies —
b

X-Vlll CONTENTS. Page
Meeting of the Boston Bar — Speeches of Hon. C. G. Loring,
R. H. Dana, Jr., Judge Curtis, and Judge Sprague — Meeting
in Faneuil Hall — Speech of Mr. Everett — Funeral.
CHAPTER XI  413
Letter from Hon. John H. Clifford — Reminiscences of Mr.
Choate's Habits in his Office — Thoroughness of Preparation
of Cases — Manner of Legal Study — Intercourse with the
Younger Members of the Bar — Manner to the Court and the
Jury — Charges and Income — Vocabulary — Wit and Humor
— Anecdotes — Eloquence — Style — Note from Rev. Joseph
Tracy — Memory — Quotations — Fondness for Books —
Reminiscences by a Friend — Life at Home — Conversation
— Religious Feeling and Belief.

Appendix  489
Index  495

MEMOIR

EUFUS CHOATE.

CHAPTER L
1799-1830.
Birth of Rufus Choate — Ancestry — Boyhood — Account by his
Brother — Studies — Characteristics — Enters College — Rank —
Testimony of Classmates — Dartmouth College Case — Its Influ
ence on his Choice of a Profession — Extract from Judge Perley's
Eulogy — Tutor at Dartmouth — Letter from Dr. Sewall — Enters
Law School in Cambridge — Goes to Washington and studies with
Mr. Wirt — Death of his brother Washington — Returns to Essex
— Admission to the Bar — Testimony of Mr. Wirt — Opens an
Office in South Danvers — Letter to James Marsh — Marriage
— Success — Fidelity to Clients — Letter from Judge Shaw —
Testimony of Hon. Asahel Huntington.
In the south-eastern part of the old town of Ipswich,
Mass., on an island which rises in its centre to a con
siderable elevation and commands a view of the open
ocean and the neighboring villages, Rufus Choate
was born, as his father, with ancient precision, re
corded the event in the Family Bible, " Tuesday, Oct.
1, 1799, at 3 o'clock, p.m." He was the second son,
and the fourth of six children. The district was then
called Chebacco : it has since been formed into a
separate town bearing the name of Essex. The in
habitants, for the most part devoted to agriculture,
1

2 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
were enterprising, frugal, thrifty, and intelligent.
The earliest ancestor of Mr. Choate in this country
was John Choate, who took the oath of allegiance in
1667. From him, the subject of this biographical
sketch is of the fifth generation by direct descent,
The family spread widely in Essex County, and
several members of it attained to considerable ii»
tinction. 1
The paternal grandmother of Mr. Choate, whose
maiden name was Mary Giddings, was a matron
worthy of the best days of New England.^ His
father was David Choate, a man of uncommon intel
lectual endowments, of sound and independent judg
ment, a wise counsellor, sociable, sagacious, modest,
keen, and witty. He was held in high estimation as
a man of stability, unswerving integrity, and weight
of character, and was often chosen to fill places of
responsibility and trust.
On one occasion, as administrator on the estate of
his uncle, John Choate, he was obliged to go to Boston
to look after a case in court. At the trial, the counsel
upon whom he had relied failed to appear. Mr. Choate
1 In 1741, John Choate, Esq., was a member of the House of
Representatives for Ipswich, and was elected Speaker ; but the elec
tion was negatived by Governor Belcher. He continued a prominent
member of the House — his name appearing on many important
committees — till 1761, — when he was elected into the Board of
Councillors, (who were then what both the Senate and Council now
are in Massachusetts), to which responsible position he was re-elected
every successive year till 1766.
2 Her courage is indicated by an anecdote told of her, that in the
war of the Revolution, when all the men left the island, driving to
the uplands the herds of cattle which would otherwise have offered
a tempting prize to the British cruisers, she, with her two small chil
dren, remained fearless upon the farm.

1799-1830.] EARLY LIFE. 3
thereupon asked that the cause might be continued.
On stating the matter as clearly as he could, the
judge, after a little consultation, said to him, " I think
you understand the case, Mr. Choate, and we can
manage it together. You had better conduct it your
self." Thus unexpectedly summoned to the bar, after
some hesitation he called his witnesses, made his ar
gument, and obtained a verdict.
There is a report, which seems to rest on good
authority, that at the time of the ratification of the
Federal Constitution in Massachusetts he wrote sev
eral articles for a Boston newspaper in favor of that
measure, under the signature of " Farmer," some of
which were currently ascribed to Theophilus Parsons,
already an eminent lawyer, and afterwards Chief Jus
tice of the State. Mr. Choate died in 1808, before
his son had attained his ninth year.
The mother of Rufus was Miriam Foster, a quiet,
sedate, but cheerful woman, dignified in manner, quick
in perception, of strong sense and ready wit. Her
son was said to resemble her in many characteristics
of mind and person. She lived to see his success and
enjoy his fame, and died in 1853, at the venerable age
of eighty-one.
When his son was about six months old, Mr. Da-vid
Choate removed from the island to the -village on the
mainland, about three miles distant, but still retained
the old homestead. It had been in possession of the
family for four generations, and for more than a hun
dred years, and is still owned by the descendants of
an older brother of Mr. Choate.^ An arm of the sea
1 Hon. David Choate, greatly honored and beloved by all who '
knew him, died Dec. 17, 1872.

4 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. L
flows pleasantly about it, and a little creek runs up
to within twenty rods of the old dwelling, which
stands on the hillside, hardly changed from what it
was sixty years since, of two stories, heavy-timbered,
low-roomed, with beams across the ceiling, bare and
weather-beaten, but with a cheerful southerly out
look towards the marshes, the sea, and the far-off
rocky shore of Cape Ann.
The new residence still commanded a view of the
ocean. The little village was the head of navigation
for a species of fishing-craft much built there, known
along the coast as "Chebacco boats." Frequent ex
cursions to the old farm were, of course, necessary ;
and these little voyages down the river which forces
its crooked way through the salt marshes, were gen
erally made in a canoe dug out of a solid log. During
the war of 1812, the English and American cruisers
were frequently seen in the bay. On one occasion
especially, the " Tenedos " and "Shannon," tall and
beautiful, "sitting like two swans upon the water,"
were watched from the shore with great interest, and
by none with more concentrated gaze than by the boy
Rufus. All these circumstances, — the murmur of the
sea which lulled him to sleep, the rage of the ocean
in a storm, the white sails in the distant harbor, the
boats which went out of the river and never re
turned, the stories of adventures and perils, — nat
urally tended to stimulate his imagination, to cherish
that love of the sea which became almost a passion,
and which so often shows itself in his speeches and
writings. To the last, he thought that to be a sea-
captain was "eminently respectable." Accounts of
naval battles he read with the greatest eagerness;

1799-1880.J EARLY LIFE. 5
and many were the mimic contests on land to which
they gave birth. " I well remember," says his brother,
" his acting over certain parts of a sea-fight with other
boys, he telling them what to do, how to load, at what
to aim, not how to strike a flag (that never seemed to
come into the category), but how to nail one to the
mast, with orders to let it wave while he lived. Many
of his chimney-corner sports had relation to either
naval or land engagements. I remember that while
he and Washington ^ were waiting for the family to
breakfast, dine, or sup (that was the way the children
were then taught to do), one would have the dog and
the other the cat, each holding it fast; and, at the
signal, bringing them suddenly together, in imitation
of two hostile ships or armies, Rufus, in the mean
time, repeating the story of a real or imagined fight
with as much volubility as he ever afterwards used
in court, and with such an arrangement of the plan
of the fight as made all seem wonderfully real."
Scenes of military and naval life fastened strongly
upon his imagination. He often said that nothing
ever made a deeper impression upon his boyish mind
than the burial of an officer with military honors, and
the volleys fired over his grave. In August, 1813,
he went to Salem to witness the ceremony of the
reinterment of the bodies of Capt. James Lawrence
and Lieut. Augustus C. Ludlow, who were killed on
board the " Chesapeake," and were at first buried at
Halifax. Although he could not hear Judge Story's
Eulog\'. he made his brother repeat to him all that
he could remember of it. The opening sentence,
" Welcome to their native shores be the remains of
1 His younger brother.

6 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
our departed heroes," especially filled him with ec
stasy. It is not surprising, then, that the dreams of
his early ambition should have been of braving the
perils of the sea, or commanding a man-of-war.
His constitution was vigorous, and in all the sports
of boyhood he was more than a match for his com
panions, spending as many hours as any one upon the
play-ground, and tiring out almost all his competitors
by his activity and skill. In the necessary labor of
the farm he was equally diligent and faithful. A
man is now living with whom he once worked in
laying a stone wall, and who thought it a pity that
so strong and active a lad should be sent to College,
but pardoned it, when really determined upon, be
cause he worked so well.
" Even in doing field-work," says his brother, " if
the nature of the employment could possibly admit of
it, he would get up some excitement to enliven the
hour. Thus, in the laborious occupation of building
the wall, or digging and hauling stone preparatory to
it, he was the favorite of the master-workmen. Al
though no part of the labor was such as admitted of
much haste, yet the wall-builder would often refer to
these occasions after my brother began to figure a little
in life, to tell how springy he was about his work;
how he would jump to hook or unhook the chain, to
start or stop the team, hand a crowbar, clap a hait (as
it is called in New England) under the lever ; and how
he would shout when the rock started from its bed
and reached the surface, or its place in the wall. A
single remark once made by him, while at work as
above, goes to show that even then, as he had just got
under way in Latin, he sometimes glanced a thought

1700-1830.] EARLY LIFE. 7
forward to the future : thus, ' Mr. N. (to the wall-
builder), if ever I'm a lawyer, I'll plead all your cases
for nothing.' "
An intense love of reading and of knowledge in
general was early developed. Before he was six years
old, he had devoured the "Pilgrim's Progress," and
used afterwards to gather his companions and rehearse
it to them from memory. Bunyan was always a great
favorite. But a few years before he died, he borrowed
from his brother the old volume, with its quaint pic
tures and soiled pages, which brought back so much
of his childhood. Another book, of . a different kind,
which he used to read with the greatest avidity, was a
worn and well-thumbed copy of the " Life of Maurice,
Count Saxe," from which a year or two since he
repeated page after page, to the surprise and amuse
ment of some of his family by whom a question had
been started with reference to the battle of Fontenoy.
" Marshal Saxe at the Opera" (accenting the second
syllable according to his boyish habit) used long to be
one of the playful phrases in use between himself and
his children.
The apparent ease with which he mastered the con
tents of a book has been the subject of remark. This
characteristic was as noticeable, perhaps, in childhood
as any other. Dr. Sewall, his brother-in-law, took
the numbers of the Edinburgh Encyclopsedia, which
came uncut and half-bound. Rufus used to offer to
cut the leaves, and even begged to do it. The truth
was, that while doing it, and even while conversing
with others, he would run his eye over the articles
which interested him; and, as the doctor said, "he
knew more about the book by the time the leaves

8 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
were cut, than he (the doctor) was likely to know for
a long time."
His tenacity of memory was equally remarkable, so
that to his friends he seemed to remember about all
that he read. Years after, indeed, while a member
of college, he would take a book into his sleeping-
chamber and look over a chapter the last thing before
retiring, and then on awakening in the morning, with
out looking at the page, would repeat it to his brother,
handing him the book to look over and see if he re
peated correctly. Nor were these voluntary trials
selected from poetry or fiction or narratives merely, but
sometimes, at least as his brother remembers, from
such condensed and weighty writings as John Foster's
essay on " Decision of Character."
The village library of a few hundred volumes, con
taining such works as " Rollin 's Ancient History,"
" Josephus," "Plutarch," " Telemachus," and " Hutch
inson's History of Massachusetts," he had pretty nearlj'
exhausted before he was ten years old. During all
these early years the Bible was read and re-read
with more than ordinary thoughtfulness ; and early in
the war of 1812, he made what he thought was the
great discovery of an undoubted prophecy of Napoleon
Bonaparte, in the Book of Daniel. He was, at the
same time, an attentive and critical hearer of ser
mons, even if the minister was dull. " When about
nine 5rears old," says his brother, " he took us all
by surprise one Sabbath noon, by saying ' Mr. 
(naming the preacher) had better mind what he says
about James (the apostle), even James,' repeating the
words emphatically. The minister had been quoting
Paul, and added, ' even James says, For what is your

1799-1830.] EARLY LIFE. 9
life ? ' The remark went to show us — the family —
not only that he had attended to what had been said
(which we had not done), but that he saw an objec
tion to the comparison, implied at least, between the
two apostles, both of whom were inspired, and conse
quently that the inspiration of James must have been
as good as that of Paul, because of the same origin in
both." He was remarkable during his youth for the same
sweetness of temper, and quick sense of the ludicrous,
which he carried with him through life. He was easily
persuaded to a particular course of conduct, by his
mother or sisters, and could not bear to grieve them,
and so in all differences between them, if he could not
carry his point by good-natured pleasantry, he would
yield with the best grace in the world. By the same
humor, he sometimes warded off reproof, even when
justly merited. An older sister was once beginning to
admonish him for something which he had done, which
was clearly wrong. He saw it coming and was de
termined to break the force of it. While she was
bestowing the rebuke with the earnestness which the
offence seemed to deserve, happening to raise her ej^es,
she saw him standing with his right hand up by the
side of his head, in the attitude of a person to whom an
oath is administered, and with a face of extraordinary
demureness and solemnity. The sight of him in this
roguish position put an end at once to the lecture and
CO the feeling which prompted it. The loudest of
laughs ended the scene.
In all boyish sports and studies, his companions
were few : the most intimate of them all was his brother
Washington, a little more than three years younger

10 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. 1
than liimself. Although during his early youth neither
of his parents were members of the church, the moral
discipline of the family was careful and exact. A por
tion of the " Assembly's Catechism " was recited every
Sabbath, and the lessons thus learned were so deeply
engraven on his memory as never to be forgotten. On
one occasion in later life, in commenting upon the
testimony of a witness who professed his willingness
to do any job that might offer on Sunday, just as he
would on any other day, Mr. Choate repeated, word for
word, one of the long answers of that venerable symbol
on the import of the fourth commandment, and then
turning to the Court, said, " May it please your Honor,
my mother taught me this in my earliest childhood,
and I trust I shall not forget it in my age."
Mr. Choate was favored in his childhood with some
excellent friends beyond the circle of his own relatives.
Among these was Dr. R. D. Mussey,^ who commenced
the practice of the profession in which he afterwards
became so eminent, in Essex, and for several years re
sided in the family of Mr. David Choate. At the age of
ten years, Rufus began the study of Latin, under the
instruction of Dr. Thomas Sewall,^ who had taken
Dr. Mussey's place. He continued his studies for a
few months, yearly, during the next six years, under
the clergyman of the parish. Rev. Mr. Holt, or the
teachers of the district school. Among these should
be mentioned Rev. Dr. William Cogswell, who taught
the school during the successive winters of his Junior
and Senior years in college.
' After a life of great honor and usefulness. Dr. Mussey died in
Boston, June 21, 1866, at the advanced age of eighty-six years.
-' Dr. Sewall afterward married Mr. Choate's oldest sister, and
subsequently removed to Washington, D.C, where he was long known
as an eminent physician.

1799-1830.] EARLY LIFE 11
These opportunities, of course, afforded the young
student a very imperfect discipline, but they served in
some degree to stimulate his mind, while teaching him
the necessity of self-reliance and independent exertion.
Certain it is that with his poor chances he accomplished
more than most others with the best. He meditated
upon what he read, and treasm-ed up the fruits in a
retentive memory. His imagination even then pic
tured the scenes of ancient story, and transferred the
fictions of Homer and Virgil to the shores of Essex.
" There," said he, pointing out a rocky, cavernous
knoll to his son-in-law, as they were riding a few years
since from Ipswich to Essex, " there is the descent to
Avernus." This habit of making the scenes of poetry
and history real, of vivifying them through his imagi
nation, was one which followed him through life, and
contributed largely to his power as an orator. Some
thing allied to this is that touch of human sympathy
for inanimate objects, of which Dr. Adams speaks in
his Funeral Address. When as a boy he drove his
father's cow, "he has said that more than once, when
he had thrown away his switch, he has returned to find
it, and has carried it back, and thrown it under the
tree from which he took it, for, he said, ' Perhaps there
is, after all, some yearning of nature between them
still.' "
By way of completing his preparation for college he
was sent, in January, 1815, to the academy in Hamp
ton, N. H., of which James Adams was then the princi
pal. Here he remained till summer, when he entered
the Freshman class in Dartmouth College, near the
close of his sixteenth year. His classmates remember
him as a diffident, modest, beautiful boy, the youngest

12 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. L
in the class with two exceptions, singularly attractive
in person and manner, of a delicate frame, with dark
curling hair, a fresh, ruddy complexion, a beautifully
ingenuous countenance, his movements marked with a
natural grace and vivacity, and his mind from the first
betraying the spirit of a scholar.
" There he brought," says one of his eulogists,^ " a
mind burning with a thirst for knowledge, which death
alone had power to quench, kindled with aspirations
lofty, but as yet undefined and vague, and stocked -with
an amount of general information quite remarkable for
his years ; a physical constitution somewhat yielding
and pliant, of great nervous sensibility, but equalled
by few for endurance and elastic strength. He came
pure from every taint of vice, generous, enthusiastic,
established in good principles, good habits, and good
health." The necessary imperfection of his fitting for
college, and his own modesty, prevented, in a measure,
the full recognition of his abilit}' during the first term
of his residence at Dartmouth. But the deficiency, if
it were one, was soon supplied. He acquired knowl
edge with extraordinary rapidity. His memory was
very retentive ; the command of his faculties, and his
power of concentration, perfect. " His perception of
the truths of a new lesson," says one of his class
mates, " and their connection and relation to other
truths already familiar to him, was so intuitive and
rapid, that I have yet to learn of the first man who
could study a new subject in company with him, and
not prove a clog and an incumbrance." At the same
time he was a most diligent and faithful student.
1 Hon. Ira Perley, lately Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of
New Hampshire, in a eulogy pronounced at Dartmouth College, July
25, 1860.

1799-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 13
" I entered the class," writes another member of it,^
" in the spring of the Freshman year, when its mem
bers had already joined the societies and found their
affinities. ... I was acquainted with some members of
the class before I entered college, and remember mak
ing natural inquiries in the winter vacation, about the
associates I should find in it. Several were named as
having taken high rank during the fall term, but
Choate was not mentioned. I was the more struck
therefore, at the first recitation, as I watched each suc
cessive voice with the keen curiosity of a new-comer,
when Choate got up, and in those clear musical tones
put Livy's Latin into such exquisitely fit and sweet
English, as I had not dreamed of, and in comparison
with which all the other construing of that morning
seemed the roughest of unlicked babble. After the
first sentence or two, I had no doubt who was the first
classical scholar among us, or who had the best com
mand of English. I was on one side of the room and
he on the other, and I remember as if but yesterday,
his fresh, personal beauty, and all the graceful charm
of modest, deferential look and tone that accompanied
the honeyed words. . . . The impression that his first
words made upon me was peculiar ; and nothing, lit
erally nothing, while in college or since, ever came
from him to disturb the affectionate admiration, with
which in the old recitation-room, in the presence of
Tutor Bond, I first heard his voice, his words, his sen
tences, — all, even then, so exquisite in their expres
sion of genius and scholarly accomplishments. I have
always felt my connection with that class as a peculiar
felicity of my college life ; and to us all Choate's com-
^ E. C. Tracy, for many years editor of the " Vermont Chronicle.'^

14 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
panionship through the four years was a blessing and
an honor."
What was thus begun, he carried through to the
end. As early as his Sophomore year he entered.
upon a course of thorough, systematic study, not with
the object of excelling his classmates, but to satisfy
the ideal of excellence which filled his own mind.
He never, while in college, mingled very freely in the
sports of the play-ground, and yet was never a re
cluse. His door was always open to any one who
called to see him. But his example did much to set
the standard of scholarship, and to impart a noble
and generous spirit to the class and the college.
The years that Mr. Choate spent at Dartmouth were
among the most critical in the history of that institu
tion. A difficulty of many years' standing, between
President John Wheelock and the Board of Trustees,
culminated in 1815 in his deposition from office, and
the election of another President in his place. The
question soon became involved in the politics of the
State, and the legislature, in June, 1816, passed an act
incorporating an adverse institution, called the Dart
mouth University, and granting to it the seal, the
libraries, the buildings, and the revenues of the col
lege. New officers were appointed, and a small number
of students collected. The trustees denied the consti
tutional power of the legislature to pass such an act,
and carried the case before the legal tribunals. In No
vember, 1817, the Supreme Court of the State decided
against them. The college was without buildings,
without libraries, without apparatus, without resour
ces. The recitations were held wherever rooms could
be found in the village. A President, two Professors.

1709-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 15
and one or two Tutors, performed the whole duty of
instruction and government. The public mind was
profoundl}- agitated with hopes and fears, in which
the students largely shared. From the decision of
the State Court, an appeal was taken to the Supreme
Court at Washington. A question of local interest
spread itself to dimensions of national importance.
Jeremiah Mason, Jeremiah Smith, Daniel Webster,
and Francis Hopkinson were counsel for the College.
John Holmes and William Wirt, for the University.
The minds of the students were stimulated by the
unusual circumstances, and probably there never was
a time in the history of the college, when a spirit
of study, of order, and of fidelity to every duty,
more thoroughly pervaded the whole body, than
when there were hardly any means of enforcing obe
dience, and the very existence of the institution de
pended upon the doubtful decision of a legal question.
The contest itself imparted a sense of reality and
practicalness to the college life, and a desire of high
attainment and honorable action seemed to be the per
vading spirit of the community of students. It was
during this period that Mr. Choate's mind was, by
several circumstances, decisively turned to the law as
a profession. He probably heard Judge Smith, Mr.
Mason, and Mr. Webster in their defence of the col
lege at Exeter in September, 1817. " He certainly
heard Webster in the celebrated trial of the Kennis-
tons at Ipswich, in the autumn of the same year."
In the college, there existed at this time two rival lit
erary societies, The Social Friends and The United
Fraternity, each possessing a small but valuable
Hbiary. On the plea of preserving these libraries,

16 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. 1
some of the officers of the University determined
to remove them from the college building. Not
having the keys, the door of The Social Friends
was broken in by a number of persons, headed and
directed by an officer of the University, and prepar
ations made for carrying away the books. They
had hardly entered before the students of both soci
eties, exasperated at the unexpected attack, rallied
for a defence of their property. The band which had
entered the room was at once imprisoned in it, and
finally disarmed and conducted to their several homes.
Mr. Choate was then librarian of the society whose
property was invaded, and, as a result of the proceed
ings in which he bore some share, found himself with
several fellow-students, summoned the next day be
fore a pliant justice of the peace, who bound them all
over to take their trial before a superior court on the
charge of riot. Their accusers were also arraigned
before another justice, and bound over to answer to
the same tribunal. To the court they went at Haver
hill. The most eminent lawyers in the State then
practised in Grafton County. The case never came
to a hearing, the Grand Jury finding no bill against
the parties ; but the appearance of the court, — Chief
Justice Richardson, Judge Bell, and Judge Woodbury
upon the bench, — and the eminent legal ability of
the bar, where were such lawyers as George Sullivan,
Jeremiah Mason, Jeremiah Smith, Richard Fletcher,
Ichabod Bartlett, Ezekiel Webster, and Joseph Bell,
might be presumed to impress a mind much less sus
ceptible of such influences than was Mr. Choate's.
In the mean time, Mr. Webster made his great
argument for the coUege, on the 10th of March, 1818.

1700-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 17
All these circumstances, and perhaps especially the
laurels won by Mr. Webster in that effort, directed
the young student's attention to the advantages, the
attractions, and the grandeur of that profession in
which he was destined to attain such eminence. " The
victory of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep."
" The Dartmouth College case," says a distinguished
statesman,^ " was almost the first legal controversy
which brought into -view the relations of the judiciary
and the bar to the great interests of American learn
ing. The questions involved in it were generally
thought vitally important to the cause of education
in its highest and most liberal aspects, and the dis
cussion of them established a harmony and excited
a sjmipathy between two vocations before thought
almost antagonistic, — the academic and the forensic,
— -n-hich was not without favorable results to both of
them." WhUe Mr. Choate was a member of college, there
were in the classes a larger number of students than
usual distinguished for breadth and thoroughness of
scholarship, as they have been since for honorable
positions in literature and in society. With some of
these he formed friendships which terminated only
with their lives. By all who knew him then he was
ever remembered for his warm and generous sensi
bilities, his open, balmy kindness, as well as for his
influence over the younger students, and his readiness
to help them. After ha-ving decided upon his profes
sion, his desire was to become a national man. The
Country, the Union of the States, the Fathers of the
RepubUc, — these words were frequently in his mouth,
1 Hon. George P. Marsh.

18 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. L
General literature, which before had been an end with
him, now became but the means for the accomplish
ment of the purpose to which he had consecrated his
life. All pursuits, whether of elegant learning or of
graver non-professional knowledge, were made but
adjuncts and auxiliaries. Nor was it in scholarship
more than in the power of using his acquisitions that
he excelled. In the classics, in history, and general
literature, he read far beyond the requirements of the
curriculum, but knowledge never outran the power
of thought. His intellectual growth was sound and
healthful. Chief Justice Perley says of him (in his
eulogy), with reference to this and some kindred
points : —
" It was not merely in scholarship, in knowledge
of books, and literary attainments that he then stood
high above all competition and rivalry. He was
even then far less distinguished for the amount of his
acquisitions, than for vigor and grasp of mind, for
the discipline and training which gave him complete
command of himself and all that he knew. He was
already remarkable for the same brilliant qualities
which distinguished him in his subsequent career.
To those who knew him then, and watched his onward
course, little change was observable in his style of
writing, or in his manner of speaking, except such as
would naturally be required by subjects of a wider
range and more exciting occasions. His judgment
seemed already manly and mature. He compre
hended his subject then, as he did afterwards, in
all its bearings and relations ; looked all through it
with the same deep and searching glance, had the same
richness and fulness of style, and the same felicitous

1790-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 19
command of the most beautiful and expressive lan
guage, the same contagious fervor of manner, and the
same strange fascination of eye and voice, which on
a wider stage made him in later life one of the most
powerful and persuasive orators which our country
has produced.
" I entered college at the commencement of his
Senior year, and can myself bear witness to the su
premacy which he then held here, in the unanimous
judgment of his fellow-students. No other man was
ever mentioned in comparison with him. His public
coUege exercises were of a very uncommon charac
ter. Unless I was greatly misled by a boyish judg
ment at the time, or am strangely deceived by looking
at them through the recollections of forty years, no
college exercises of an undergraduate that I have
ever heard are at all worthy to be compared with
them, for beauty of style, for extent and variety
of illustration, for breadth and scope, and for manly
comprehension of the subject. At this distance of
time, I well remember every public exercise per
formed by him while I was a member. I have heard
him often since, and on some of the occasions when
he is understood to have made the most successful
displays of his eloquence ; I heard him when he stood
upon this spot to pronounce his eulogy on Webster,
which has been considered, on authority from which,
on such a question, there lies no appeal, to be un
equalled among the performances of its class in this
country, and I can sincerely say that nothing I have
ever heard from him in the maturity and full growth
of his powers, has produced upon me a deeper im
pression, or filled me at the time with a more absorb-

20 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. L
ing and rapt sensation of delight, than those college
exercises. " His Honor, Mr. Justice Nesmith, in his remarks
made here at the last Commencement, spoke of Mr.
Choate's address as President of the Social Friends,
to certain Freshmen who were admitted to the Society
in the first term of the year 1818. I was one of those
Freshmen, and shall never forget the effect produced
by that address. I remember, too, what Mr. Nesmith
is more likely to have forgotten, that on the same
evening there was a high discussion in the Society
between two members of Mr. Choate's class, on a
very large question, not then entirely new, nor yet,
that I have heard, finally decided, ' whether ancient
or modern poetry had the superiority.' Mr. Choate
was required, as President, by the rules of the Society,
to give his decision upon the question. As might be
expected from the general bias of his mind, he took
strong ground for the ancients, and I well remember,
at this distance of time, the general course of his
remarks upon the subject."
But though the position of Mr. Choate among his
classmates was early determined, and never for one
moment afterwards in doubt, no student ever bore his
academic honors with greater modesty, or was regarded
by his classmates with a more sincere affection. Envy
was swallowed up in admiration. The influence of so
distinguished a scholar was not confined to his own
class, but was diffused throughout college. In all
matters of literature he was the oracle from which
there was no appeal. With sensibilities warm and
generous, never showing an unkind emotion, or doing
a dishonorable act, it is not surprising that his influ-

1799-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 21
ence should have been great, or that his memory should
be affectionately cherished by many who have hardly
seen him for forty years. "Meeting him one day
about the last of November," writes one who was in
college with him,i " something was said about the
manner of spending the winter vacation, and I frankly
told him that the want of funds required me to teach
a school the next quarter. In reply he said, ' You
had better hire money and pay ten per cent interest,
and remain here and study and read, than to lose any
part of your college life.' . . . Being the word of a
Senior to a Freshman who had no personal claims to
his friendly regards, — and of a Senior who stood
head and shoulders above his coevals, — it made a
deep impression on my mind. It was a word not to
be forgotten." ^
1 Rev. A. Converse, D.D.
2 The testimonies to the elevating and inspiring influence of this
ardent and enthusiastic scholar might be greatly multiplied. I will
quote but one from the interesting series of papers communicated to the
" Albany Law Journal " by his Honor Judge Neilson ol the City Court,
Brooklyn. It is a part of a letter from the Hon. Henry K. Oliver of
Salem. After giving many interesting particulars of Mr. Choate's col
lege life, he goes on to say, " As I said, I was not of his class, that more
intimate association blessing the class of 1819 ; yet his influence, both
personal and as a scholar, was operative with every member of the
seven classes that enjoyed a college life with him ; an influence that,
seeming but small in the beginning, assumed, before the end of the flrst
year, a power and reach far beyond that of any other member of col
lege. . . . Having once taken root, and feeling the power and strength
of the wider instruction under which his own power and strength were
being evoked, he grew with marvellous rapidity ; his facility at con
centrating his mind upon any given subject, and acquiring all that was
to be acquired about it, being something which to the^rest of us was
¦without parallel, and in every department of study rapidly putting
him far in advance of his fellows. The general standard by which
scholarship among us was to be measured, received from him a posi-

22 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
On the 17th of August, 1819, Mr. Choate ended a
coUege course which had been full of joy, prosperity,
and success. " The ideal scholar, and the pride of
the college, no one had ever so completely won the
admiration of the Faculty, of his fellow-students, and
of the people of Hanover." i In the appointments
for Commencement, the highest place, with the vale
dictory oration, was, of course, assigned to him. His
health had thus far been uninterrupted and vigorous,
but towards the close of the college year it seemed
about to give way. He became emaciated, walked
feebly, and was often unable -to attend to college
duties. Dr. Mussey, an old friend of the family, and
already eminent in his profession, took him to his
house, and watched over him by day and by night.
The six weeks' vacation, which then preceded Com
mencement, he passed upon a sick bed, and up to the
final moment it was quite uncertain whether he would
be able to perform his part. At last he came upon
the platform, pale and feeble, with every thing in his
appearance and the tones of his voice to awaken the
sympathy of the audience, and with barely strength
enough to deliver the strictly valedictory address.
But in the few words that he spoke, occupying proba
bly not more than six or eight minutes, he moved his
tive and most noticeable elevation by what he achieved ; excellence
rising to a higher grade, and mediocrity becoming less esteemed.
This influence was felt among both officials and undergraduates,
and it began to be realized that the old rule of the arithmetics, that
' more required more,' was making men work harder and with more
of a will, and that a decided new departure had been taken, never
thereafter to be ignored, and from which there was to be no retro
gression." ^ Letter of Hon. Nathan Crosby, of Lowell.

1799-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 23
hearers as they were seldom or never moved before
on any similar academic occasion. He spoke of the
peculiar friendships of scholars ; of their common love
of letters and arts ; of reverence for the great and
good ; of the protracted and bitter struggle through
which their Alma Mater — the object of their first
and warmest love — had just successfully passed, and
how grateful it became them to be as they saw her at
last standing, as befitted her, proudly and in her robes,
with her children and friends all around her ; of their
high hopes and aims ; of the duty of devotion to the
prosperity and honor of one's country ; of their pos
sible disappointments, as some, whom they all knew,
had already finished their work. In all this he uncon
sciously revealed some of the grand moving springs
of his own life, some of his hopes, and some of his
fears. " To understand the power of his address,"
writes one of his classmates ^ more than forty years
after they had separated at Dartmouth, " one must
see the whole scene. Here was Choate pale and
wasted by fever, with just strength enough to enable
him to stand, and yet with an eye flashing with the
fires of genius. The tones of his voice were surpass
ingly tender and affectionate. Behind him sat Presi
dent Francis Brown with the hectic flush upon his
cheek, and around him the men to whose wisdom and
eloquence he so delicately alluded, the Trustees, and
Daniel Webster, who had carried the college trium
phantly through the conflict. I doubt whether Mr.
Choate ever in his life moved the sensibilities of an
audience more deeply than on this occasion."
There was, in what he said, so much of manliness
1 Hon. John Aiken.

24 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
and beauty, a tone so high, so pure, so vigorous, that
every eye was fixed ; and when he alluded to his own
feeble health, his appearance and manner gave deep
solemnity and almost a prophetic force to his words.
The effect is said to have been unexampled. Not
only his classmates, but half the audience, and not a
few among the grave trustees, used to such occasions,
were dissolved in tears.
The next year Mr. Choate spent in the then respon
sible office of tutor in the college, — a year to him,
and almost equally to his pupils, all sunshine. " He
entered upon his duties," writes one who then became
his pupil, ^ " with such a reputation for scholarship,
and with such high commendations freely expressed
by classmates and the College Faculty, that the class
came to him with what in almost any case would be
extravagant expectations ; but in the trial there was
no abatement of their first love and admiration. Mr.
Choate's first appearance in the recitation-room, and
his brief address to the class, won their confidence,
and inspired them with purposes of noble emulation.
And in a like manner he influenced them through the
whole of his tutorship. He threw a charm over the
services of the recitation-room, mingling enjoyment
with labor in such a way that his pupils loved to be
there, and with him. How much time and labor he
expended in preparation we of course did not know ;
but we did know that he was wholly in his business,
that he was ready at all points, that he was most exact
and severe in the class-drill, while, at the same time,
every thing was done with such urbanity and generous
familiarity, and with such affluence of auxiliary sug-
1 Rev. Paul Couch.

1799-1830.] COLLEGE LIFE. 25
gestions, that weariness was unknown in the recitation-
room. He was a master in Latin : he revelled in
Greek. " Mr. Choate had such power over his class, and
used his power with such consummate skill, with
such natural adroitness, that they were enthusiastic
in their esteem of his admirable gifts, and in their
attachment to his person. In whatever circumstances
he met them, he caused them to feel easy and gratified.
They were proud of his friendship, and of his familiar
though dignified intercourse with them. He had no
pedagogical airs, no tutorial affectation of wisdom
and dignity ; but he had authority, and received the
willing tribute of respect. In his own room, especially,
they found him teacher and companion so happily
combined, that eA'ery visit created a desire for its
repetition. When his one year's service was closed,
he left the class undivided in their attachment to him,
and expressing the deepest regret that they could not
be favored longer with his instructions."
The year thus spent at Dartmouth brought him
into closer connection with a society of scholars, and
led him along in friendly emulation with many who
afterwards became eminent in their professions. He
re-viewed his studies and consolidated his knowledge.
He formed attachments which were never broken,
and which exerted a very important influence on his
future prosperity and happiness. The college was
resting, and trying to recover strength after the
severe and protracted struggle with the State. The
President was absent for a considerable part of
the year, having spent the winter and spring at the
South, in the vain hope of arresting a disease fastened

26 MEMOIR OF RUI'US CHOATE. [Chap. 1
upon him by his labors and exposures in behalf of the
institution. From this long and wearisome journey
he returned only to die at home a few weeks before
the Commencement of 1820. This was a sorrow
which affected Mr. Choate very deeply. Between
the older officer and the younger had grown up
very tender relations founded on mutual respect and
love.i The following letter from Dr. Thomas Sewall, of
Washington, a brother-in-law of Mr. Choate, is inter
esting in itself, and was probably not without influence
on the mind of the young student just about to begin
the study of his profession : —
" Washington City, March 18, 1820.
"Saturday evening.
" Dear Brother Rupds, — I enclose to you the ' Intel
ligencer' of this day, containing the speech of Barbour of
the Senate,^ late governor of Virginia, a man of fine talents,
and probably the greatest orator in Congress. The closing
part of the speech I heard, and it was overwhelming to all
who heard it. He is about as large a man as Webster, is as
dark complexioned, and has much of the same commanding
air. I shall endeavor to send you the speeches of Pinkney,
Otis, Burrill, Clay, Lowndes, Storrs, Sergeant, and Barbour
(of the House), as soon as they are printed ; these, with one
or two others, comprising nearly all that has been said on
the subject.
" The Supreme Court adjourned yesterday sine die.
Webster left nearly a fortnight since, as he found a great
part of his business could not come on this Term. While
here he showed me many marks of distinguished friendship,
which I had no right to expect. He spent many hours with
' An affectionate estimate of President Brown's character and
services will be found given by Mr. Choate iu a letter to Rev. Dr.
Sprague, published in " The Annals of the American Pulpit."
2 James Barbour, Senator from Virginia, 1815-1825 ; Secretary of
War, 1825 ; Minister to England, 1828.

1799-1830.J LETTER FROM DR. THOMAS SEWALL. 27
me in my study, walked and rode round the city with me
repeatedly, aud called on private families, &c. . . . One
particular instance of his notice I will mention, but not to be
communicated to any one at Hanover but Washington,-' on
any account. While here he sat, by my suggestion, to a
young portrait painter to gratify me with the picture. This
unfortunately was not completed, as he left unexpectedly,
and before he anticipated. It is however the exact outlines
of Webster, giving all the prominent characters of his lace.
I would not part with it for any thing. Every one knows it
instantly. He paid the painter himself. When he comes to
the city again he has promised that it shall be completed.
" While here I talked with him respecting the advantages
of the Law School you referred to in your letter. His
opinion I will at some future time communicate, unless you
get it from his own lips. He wished, when I wrote you, that
I would request you to visit him at the next vacation. This
I hope you wUl do, and stay, as by his request, a few days
with him.
" I am aware, Rufus, that you have too much independence
to be greatly influenced in your future course by the advice
of any one, yet you have, I am persuaded, too much candor
to be offended if I tell you what my feelings and opinions
are on this subject, — a subject deeply interesting to me as
well as to your other friends.
"Nothing could be half so gratifying to me as to havo
you, after the expiration of your year at Hanover, commence
the study of Divinity at Andover, could you bring your feel
ings to such a course. In this I look to the end, which would
be happy to yourself and glorious to the Church. I am not
without a strong hope that whatever you engage in for the
present, you will finally be called to devote those talents
which God has distinguished you with in so eminent a degree,
to that cause which wUl ultimately swallow up all others.
•' If you cannot come to this for the present, let me advise
you to commence the study of the Law without the loss of any
further time than will carry you to the next Commencement.
With respect to the place of study I will here make several
remarks. I hope to have my wife and little son here the
next autumn. I need not tell you that nothing could add
more to her happiness and mine than to have you with us,
1 Washington Choate, a younger brother of Rufus

28 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I
and I doubt whether there is any place where you would
pursue your studies to greater advantage than at Washington.
Yet, as by bringing my family hei-e I shall take from our
friends at Essex two darling objects, I ought perhaps to be
wilhng to be deprived of your society here for the sake of
having you placed near, and where you can visit them often,
especially as we shall here be surrounded by the best of
friends and acquaintances, while the family at Essex will be
forsaken and surrounded by wolves and tigers on every side !
Besides, Washington will be at college, and the family, of
course, quite alone. Taking these and many other things
into view, I must advise that you commence your course
with Webster. Him you will find a different man from what
you can have an idea of without a more intimate acquaint
ance; a friend, a companion, and equal. I am fully satisfied
that you will find his office abetter place to become an active
lawyer, politician, and man of usefulness than at Cambridge.
" It will be in my power to introduce you to many men in
Boston whose society you will value highly, besides intro
ducing you to a literary club embracing all the science of that
town and vicinity. At any rate, I anticipate much pleasure
should it please Providence to spare my life, in seeing you
here, if not the next fall, at some future period. Your funds,
I suppose, must be nearly exhausted. At Cambridge you
will be at great expense. With Webster, I can get you in
on any terms. I should like to know if there was ever any
thing of the trial published.^ I have not been able to learn
that there was.
" Judge Story was very polite to me while here ; called
on me, &c. I used to send him the ' Centinel,' which I
take. Do write soon and often. Keep this letter between
you and Washington . . .
'¦ With love to all who feel enough interest in my welfare
to inquire after me, and with much love to Washington,
" Your brother,
"Thomas Sewall."
Whether in accordance with these suggestions he
endeavored to secure a plaoe in the office of Mr.
Webster, is not known ; but we find that soon after
1 Probably the Dartmouth College case.

1799-1830.] STUDIES WITH MR. WIRT. 29
leaving Dartmouth in the summer of 1820, he entered
the Law School at Cambridge, presided over, at that
time, by Chief Justice Parker, and Asahel Stearns.
From them he gained his first insight into the meth
ods, objects, and morality of the law. Still yearning,
however, for a -mder view of affairs, and influenced,
perhaps, by the wishes of his brother-in-law. Dr. Sew
all, he entered, in 1821, the office of Mr. Wirt, then
Attorney-General of the United States, and in the
ripeness of his powers and fame. The year at Wash
ington, although he did not see so much as he wished
of Mr. Wirt, who was confined for a considerable
portion of the time by indisposition, was not without
considerable advantage. It enlarged his knowledge
of public men and of affairs. He became familiar
with the public administration. He spent some hours
almost daily in the library of Congress. He began to
comprehend still more fully the dignity of his chosen
profession. He saw Marshall upon the bench, and
heard Pinkney in the Senate, and in his last speech
in court, and thenceforth became more than ever an
admirer of the genius of those eminent men. Pinkney
he thought the most consummate master of a manly
and exuberant spoken English that he ever heard,
and he alwaj's kept him in view as a sort of model
advocate. Among the college friends of Mr. Choate, to whom
he was strongly attached, was James Marsh, whose
early attainments and wide culture gave promise of
his future eminence, and who already had pushed his
studies into the then almost unknown regions of Ger
man metaphysics. To him Mr. Choate writes from
Washington : —

30 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. L
To Mr. James Maksh, Theological Seminary, Andover, Mass.
" Aug. 11, 1821.
"I take great shame to myself for neglecting so long to
answer your letter, and beg you will explain it anyhow but
on the supposition that I have meant to requite your own
remissness in kind. My remissness, you might know, if you
would think a moment, is never so intentional a matter as
that comes to ; ' idleness and irresolution ' will account for it
always ; and since you, whose fine habits are the envy of all
your literary friends, set the example, ' idleness and irreso
lution' I shall plead without evasion and without remorse
now and henceforward for ever. But I wonder if I shall act
quite as wisely in pleading, too, other matters of apology ?
in telling you for instance, that your letter and my own
reflections, since I read it, have assured me of what I was
suspicious of before, though I never owned it to myself, and
pretended not to believe it, that I can really walk no longer
' within that magic circle,' where we used to disport ourselves.
. . . This I own I am ashamed of, but that ocean of German
theology and metaphysics (not to say criticism), — ah, Marsh,
you may swim on alone in that if you will, and much good
may it do you ! I never could swim in it myself at any rate
(it was like being a yard behind a cuttle-fish), and have long
since made up my mind that any smaller fry than a leviathan
stand no sort of chance in its disturbed, muddy, unfathomable
waters. On the whole, however, this is no reason at all why
we should cease to be very warm friends, and in our way,
very punctual correspondents, and so let me thank you at last
heartily, for writing such a full and interesting letter, and beg
you to repeat your kindness very frequently till we shake
hands again in your own cell at Andover, or in some one of
the gay halls of our endeared Hanover. Our correspondence
will certainly answer one end, and that I hope we both think,
no inconsiderable one, — it will bring us often into each
other's thoughts and presence, and keep green in our memories
the days, well spent and happy and dear to us both, of our
literary intimacy. We go on together no longer ; our paths
are widely asunder already, to diverge still more at every
step. But for this very reason let us carefully cherish a
kindly remembrance of each other, and of the time when our
studies, tastes, and objects of ambition were one ; and the
same intense first love of a new and fascinating department

1799-1830.] DEATH OF HIS BROTHER. 31
of literature burned in both our bosoms. I darkly gather
from what you tell me, that you are plunging still more and
more deeply into that incomprehensible science in which you
are to live and to be remembered, and are contriving every day
to detect in it some before-unsuspected relation to those other
branches of learning with which a less acute, or less enthu
siastic eye would never see it to have the loosest connection.
... I am sadly at a loss for books here, but I sit three days
every week in the large Congressional library, and am study
ing our own extensive ante-revolutionary history, and reading
your favorite Gibbon. The only classic I can get is Ovid ;
and while I am about it, let me say, too, that I read every
day some chapters in an English Bible. I miss extremely
the rich opportunities we enjoyed formerly, and which you
still enjoy, but I hope I shall at last begin to think.
" Most truly yours, R. Choate."
From his residence at the capital, and the abundant
advantages which it offered to a mind so observant as
his, he was suddenly called away before fully complet
ing his first year, by an event which affected him with
the deepest sorrow. His brother Washington, his
early playmate and fellow-student, younger than him
self by nearly four years, entered Dartmouth College
the year that Rufus graduated. Unlike his older
brother in personal appearance, he resembled him in
many intellectual and moral qualities, and gave prom
ise of equal distinction. He was a tall and slender
young man, of a fair complexion, with light hair and
light blue eyes. Entering college with a compara
tively thorough preparation, he at once became, by
universal and cheerful acknowledgment, the leader of
his class, and yet he was the most gentle, modest, and
unobtrusive of them all. The few papers which he
left behind him, to which I have had access, indicate
unusual scholarship and a remarkable extent of attain
ment in languages and modern literature. They show

32 JIEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
also uncommonly pure and deep reUgious sensibilities.
Kind, companionable, and true, loving and beloved,
he had already consecrated his Ufe to a service in
which none could have fairer hopes of eminence and
usefulness, but upon which he was not permitted to
enter. Ha-ving taught school near home during the
-winter of his Junior year, he was attacked by the
scarlet fever on the very day of his proposed return
to college, and after a brief iUness, died Feb. 27,
1822, at the age of nineteen. During his sickness
his thoughts turned with unwavering and intense
affection towards his absent brother. He began to
dictate a letter to him on the morning of the day on
which he died. " There is one subject, Rufus," he
said, " upon which we must not be dumb so that we
speak not, nor cleaf so that we hear not, nor blind
so that we maj- not see. It is not a subject upon
which"  The sentence was never completed. Not
the letter, but the news of his death, was borne to
Washington, and it proved almost too much for the
elder brother to endure. He sought out and re-read
the old books which they had studied together, while
the floodgates of grief were opened, and he refused
to be comforted. His studies at Washington were
abandoned, and he returned for a while to the seclu
sion of Essex. Some time afterwards he received
the following testimonial from Mr. Wirt, — the italics
being his : — " Washington, Nov. 2, 1822.
" Mr. Rufus Choate read law in my office and under my
direction for about twelve months. He evinced great power
of application, and displayed a force and discrimination of
mind from which I formed the most favorable presages of his
future distinction in his profession. His deportment was in

1799-1830.] ADMISSION TO THE BAR. 33
all respects so correct as to entitle him to respect, and he car
ried with him my best wishes for his professional eminence,
prosperity, and happiness.
"Wm. Wirt."
After remaining for a time at home, he entered his
name in tlie office of Mr. Asa Andrews, of Ipswich, and
subsequently continued his studies with Judge Cum
mins, a distinguished lawyer of Salem. He was finally
admitted an Attorney of the Court of Common Pleas,
in September, 1823, and two years later was enrolled
as Attorney of the Supreme Court.
It has been generally stated that Mr. Choate first
opened his office in South Danvers, — and this is sub
stantially true. But in fact, he first put up his sign
in Salem. It remained up, however, but one night,
when his natural modesty, or self-distrust, led him to
remove it to Danvers, a little farther from the courts
and from direct rivalry with the eminent lawyers who
engrossed the business and controlled the opinions of
that distinguished bar.
The four or five years that he spent in Danvers were
the years of solicitude and hope which can never come
twice to a professional man, and which endear to him
the place where his first successes are achieved, and
the men from whom he receives his first encourage
ment. He regarded no other place with exactly the
feelings which he entertained for Danvers ; and the
kindness seemed to be fully reciprocated. During his
short residence there he twice represented the town in
the Legislature, and for one year was a inember of
the Senate.
Not long after opening his office, and perhaps wlien
under some feeling of discouragement, he thus closes
a

34 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I.
a letter to his friend Mr. Marsh, then tutor in Hamp
den Sydney College, Virginia : —
. " There is a new novel by the author of ' Valerius,' that a
friend of mine here says is very clever, but I haven't got it
yet. He seems, from that specimen, at any rate, to be a man
of elegant and thorough studies, and, without any such fertility
and versatility as that other, — our Shakespeare, — might hit
out a single performance of pretty formidable pretensions to
equality in some great features. How wretchedly adapted is
our American liberal education and our subsequent course of
life, to form and mature a mind of so much depth, taste, and
beautiful enlargement. How vulgar and untaught we gen
erally are with all our unquestionable natural capacity. ... I
don't remember to have ever looked upon the coming in of the
first month of winter, with a more prostrating sense of mis-
erableness, than presses upon me every moment that I am not
hard at study. Cold is itself an intolerable evil, and it comes
with such a di-eary accompaniment of whistling wind and fall
ing leaf, that ' I would not live alway ' if these were the
terms on which we were to hold out. I really think that the
time of life, when the nakedness and desolation of a fast
darkening November could be softened and relieved by blend
ing in it fancy, romance, association, and hope, is gone by
-with me, and I actually tremble to see lifting up from one
season of the year after another, from one character after
another, and from life itself, even a life of study, ambition,
and social intercourse, that fair woven cover, -which is spread
upon so much blackness, hollowness, and commonplace. But
towards you my feelings change not, and so of about flve more
persons only whom 1 have ever known. — Begging you to
excuse every thing amiss, "Yours, R. C.
"Danvees, Nov. 23, 1823."
Mr. Choate's immediate success, although as great
as could be anticipated, was not particularly striking,
and during the first two or three years, in some seasons
of despondency, he seriously debated whether he should
not throw up his profession, and seek some other
method of support. In the mean time, in 1825, he was

1799-1830.] HIS MARRIAGE, 35
united in marriage with Helen Olcott, daughter of
Mills Olcott, Esq., of Hanover, N. H. Few men have
been more widely known in New Hampshire, or more
deeply respected than Mr. Olcott. He was a person of
remarkable sagacity, of great wisdom in the conduct of
affairs, magnanimous and generous, eminently cour
teous, dignified and kind, one of the few to whom the
old-fashioned name of gentleman could be applied
without restriction or reserve. This congenial alli
ance was one of the many felicitous circumstances of
Mr. Choate's early career. It brought him sympathy,
encouragement, and support. It not only gave him
a new stimulus to labor, but proved in all respects
most congenial with his tastes, and favorable to his
social aspirations. Although he did not at first escape
the fate of most young lawyers, the number of whose
clients is not always equal to their wishes, yet his
unwearied diligence, his fidelity, and the fame of his
eloquence and skill, soon brought to him a full share
of the business of the town and country. He early
formed the habit of doing for his client every thing that
the case required irrespective of reward. Before a
justice of the peace, in an office not larger than a shoe
maker's shop, in defence of some petty offender, be
poured forth the same wealth of words and illustra
tions, of humor and wit, and*, in its measure, of learn
ing and argument, whieh afterwards delighted the
Supreme Court and the Senate. Indeed, throughout
his life, he never reserved his brilliant arguments for
a suitable audience. He early made it a rule, for the
sake of increasing his power as an advocate, to argue
at full length every case he tried, and to do his best on
every occasion. He as resolutely determined to shrink

36 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. 1.
from no labor which might be necessary to the perfect
completion of whatever he undertook. In a famous
dog case at Beverly, it was said that " he treated the
dog as though he were a lion or an elephant, and the
crabbed old squire with the compliment and consider
ation of a chief justice ! "
On one very stormy night during his residence in
Danvers, he was called upon, at a late hour, to draw
the will of a dying man who lived several miles dis
tant. He went, performed the service, and returned
home. But after going to bed, as he lay revolving in
his mind each provision of the paper he had so rapidly
prepared, there fiashed across his memory an omission
that might possibly cause the testator's intention to be
misunderstood. He sprang from his bed and began
dressing himself rapidly, to the great surprise of his
wife, only answering her inquiries by saying that he
had done what must be undone, and in the thick of
the storm rode again to his dying client, explained the
reason of his return, and drew a codicil to the will
which made every thing sure. He related this in
after-life in illustration of a remark, that sometimes,
years after a case had been tried, he would feel a
pang of reproach that he had not urged some argu
ment which at that moment flashed across his mind.
He always fought his lost cases over again, to see if
he could find any argument whereby he might have
gained them. Nor did he at this time neglect his
purely literary studies. A literary society, already
existing in the town, found in him an active and val
uable member. The lecture on " The Waveriey
Novels" was then prepared. He also delivered two
4th of July orations, one before the Danvers Light

1799-1830.] OPINION OF JUDGE SHAW. 37
Infantry, of which corps he became a member, and
one before the citizens at large.
In the mean time his professional fame was spread
ing. His unique and vigorous eloquence, his assidu
ity, care, and fidelity to his clients, adorned with a
modesty as singular as it was beautiful, gained him
many friends and more admirers.
An extract from a letter of Chief Justice Shaw wUl
show how his reputation gradually increased at the
bar : " I had an opportunity to see Mr. Choate, and
witness his powers as an advocate very early, when
he first opened an office in Danvers, and when I had
scarcely heard his name mentioned. It happened,
that in consequence of one or more large failures in
Danvers, a number of litigated suits were commenced
between various parties, all of which — to avoid de
lay and obtain a more early decision I suppose — were
referred to the late Hon. Samuel Hoar, of Concord,
and myself, as arbitrators. We attended at the court
house in Salem and heard them, I think, in June, 1826.
Mr. Choate appeared as counsel in several of them.
As he was previously unknown to us by reputation,
and regarding him as we did, as a young lawyer just
commencing practice in a country town, we were
much and very agreeably surprised at the display of
his powers. It appeared to me that he then mani
fested much of that keen, legal discrimination, of
the acuteness, skill, and comprehensive view of the
requirements of his case, in the examination of wit
nesses, and that clearness and force in presenting
questions both of fact and law, by which he was so
much distinguished in his subsequent brilliant profes
sional career. He soon after this removed to Salem,

38 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I
and in a short time became extensively and favorably
known, as a jurist and advocate."
Salem and Danvers were then, as now, closely con
nected. The first case in which he professionally
appeared in the former city was in defence of a
number of young men of respectable families, charged
with riotous proceedings at a low dance-house. I
cannot do so well as to take the account furnished to
the " Salem Register " by one of the distinguished
members of the Essex bar..^ " The case excited much
interest from the character and position of some of the
parties implicated, and especially from the fame, even
then, of the young advocate. He had before that
time, I believe, appeared before some of the magis
trates of Danvers. . . . Under these circumstances it
is not strange that when the ' Mumford Case,' as
it was called, came up in Salem, — a somewhat larger
and broader theatre, — a more diversified audience,
— shipmasters, old salts, supercargoes, clerks, mer
chants, and the various men of the various callings
of the chief town of the county, — an interest and
a feeling altogether unusual should have been excited
on the occasion. It was so. The place where Justice
Savage held his court was a large room on the second
floor of a substantial building, in one of the principal
streets, and it was immediately densely packed with
all the varieties of the population. The trial com
menced and proceeded ; witness after witness was
called, and all subjected to the severest and most
rigid cross-examination by the young counsel. Now
and then a passage at arms with the counsel for the
government (a gentleman of very considerable expe-
1 Hon. Asahel Huntington.

1799-1830.] REMINISCENCES BY MR. HUNTINGTON. 39
rience in criminal courts, and of some fifteen or
twenty years' standing at the bar) would come up to
give variety to the scene ; and now and then a gentle,
most gracious, and reverential rencontre with the
honorable court would intervene, and again a hard
contest with some perverse and obstinate witness
would relieve the tedium of the protracted examina
tion. Some of the immediate auditors would get
overheated, and then work themselves out into the
fresh air, and report the proceedings, — the sayings
and doings of the young lawyer, — what he said to
his antagonist, Esq. T., or to the honorable court, or
this or that fugitive comment on the witness, or case,
as the trial proceeded (an inveterate habit of Mr.
Choate's, in all his early practice, and no court or
counsel were or could be quick enough to prevent it,
— it would breathe out, this or that comment, or
word, or suggestion).
"In this way, and by such means, the fame of the
case extended, while the trial was in progress, some
two or three days, in the office of a police justice !
Men of the various classes would assemble ai-ound the
court-room, in the entry, on the stairs, outside, to
hear the fresh reports, and so things continued till
the argument came, and then there was a rush for
every available point and spot within or without the
compass of the speaker's voice, and the people liter
ally hung with delighted and most absorbed attention
on his lips. It was a new revelation to this audience.
They had heard able and eloquent men before in
courts of justice and elsewhere. Essex had had for
years and generations an able, learned, and eloquent
bar ; there had been many giants among us, some of

40 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. I
national fame and standing, but no such giant as this
had appeared before, — such words, such epithets,
such involutions, such close and powerful logic all the
while, — such grace and dignity, such profusion and
waste even of every thing beautiful and lovely ! No,
not waste, he never wasted a word. How he dignified
that Court, — how he elevated its high functions,
with what deference did he presume to say a word,
under the protection, and, as he hoped, with the
approving sanction of that high tribunal of justice,
in behalf of his unfortunate (infelicitous, from the
circumstances in which they were placed) clients ! I
could give no word or sentence of this speech. I did
not even hear it, but I heard much about it, and all
accounts agreed in representing it as an extraordinary
and wholly matchless performance. They had never
heard the like before, or any thing even approaching
it, for manner and substance. It was a new school of
rhetoric, oratory, and logic, and of all manner of
diverse forces, working, however, steadily and irre
sistibly in one direction to accomplish the speaker's
purpose and object. The feeling excited by this first
speech of Mr. Choate in Salem was one of great admi
ration and delight. All felt lifted up by his themes.
. . . And all were prepared to welcome him, wheu,
a few years afterwards, he took up his abode here,
after the elevation of his old friend and teacher.
Judge Cummins, to the bench of the Court of Com
mon Pleas."

1830-1840.1 REMOVAL TO SALEM. il

CHAPTER II.
1830-1840.
Removal to Salem — The Essex Bar — Successes — Appearance —
Counsel in the Knapp Case — Studies — Letter to President Marsh
— Elected to Congress — Commonplace Book — Letter to President
Marsh — Enters Congress — Speeches on Revolutionary Pensions,
and on the Tariff — Letter to Dr. Andrew Nichols — Letters to
Professor George Bush — The Second Session — Georgia, and the
Missionaries to the Indians — Letter to Professor Bush — Re-elected
to Congress — Speech ou the Removal of the Deposits — Resigns
his Seat — Removes to Boston — Lecture on the " Waveriey Nov
els," and on " The Romance of the Sea " — Death of his Youngest
ChUd.
In 1828, Mr. Choate removed to Salem. The Essex
bar was then, as it had long been, distinguished for
learning and skill. The memory of Dane and Par-
sons, and Story and Putnam, was fresh and fragrant ;
John Pickering, Leverett Saltonstall, Eben Mosely,
David Cummins, and John Varnum, were still in full
practice ; Caleb Cushing, Robert C. Rantoul, and
others like them, were making their influence felt as
young men of ability and ambition. Mr. Choate was
already known for the qualities by which he was
afterwards distinguished, learning, assiduity, a judg
ment almost unerring, an ornate and exuberant style,
and remarkable powers of advocacy. Without as
sumption, modest, deferential, he yet rose at once to
a high position through the combined force of eminent
talents and professional fidelity.
He became the leading counsel in criminal prac •

42 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. II
tice, and it was said that during his residence in
Salem "no man was convicted whom he defended."
It was however true that he was not eager to assume
a defence unless there appeared to be a good legal
ground for it. Many stories were current of his inge
nuity and success. One of the most characteristic
was that told of a man by the name of Jefferds,
indicted for stealing a flock of turkeys. "We had
this case," says a distinguished member of the bar,
to whose reminiscences I am already indebted,-' " at
every term of the court for a year or more, and the
inquiry used to be 'When are the turkeys coming
on?' The proofs accumulated on the part of the
government at each successive trial. The County
Attorney, a man of experience and ability, fortified
himself on every point, and piled proof upon proof at
each successive trial, but all without success. The
voice of the charmer was too powerful for his proofs,
and at each trial — three or four in all, I forget
which — there was one dissenting juror. The case
at last became famous in the county, and in the vaca
tions of the court the inquiry was often heard, ' When
is the turkey case coming on again? ' and persons would
come from different parts of the county on purpose
to hear that trial. Here the theatre was still larger.
It was the county, the native county, of the already
distinguished advocate. I heard those trials. One
was in old Ipswich in December, I think — a leisure
season — within four miles of the spot where the
orator was born. They came up from Essex, — old
Chebacco, — the old and the young men of the town.
Representatives, more or less, from the whole body
1 Hon. Asahel Huntington.

1830-1810.] THE TURKEY CASE. 43
of the county, were present, and the court-house was
crowded with delighted and astonished listeners. I
remember how they all hung upon him, spellbound
by his eloquence, and I verily believe these by
standers would have acquitted by a majority vote;
but the jury, bound by their oaths to return a true
verdict according to the evidence, would not do so ;
but still there was one dissenting juror ; and finally
the prosecuting officer, in utter despair, after the third
or fourth trial, entered a nolle prosequi, and thus the
turkeys were turned or driven out of court. I have
heard that this alleged turkey-thief years afterward
called on Mr. Choate at his office in Boston. Mr.
Choate did not recollect him, which greatly surprised
the old client, and he said, 'Why, Mr. Choate, I'm
the man you plead so for in the turkey case, when
the}^ couldn't find any thing agin me.' There had
been only forty-four good and true men against him
(if there were four trials, and I believe there were),
without including twenty-three more of the grand
jury!" The power of presenting things in a ludicrous aspect,
by an odd turn of expression or a laughable exagger
ation, was exhibited at this early period no less decid
edly than in later life, and was equally effective in
attracting attention. A mischievous boy had proved
very troublesome to a man by the name of Adams, by
letting down the bars of his pasture, destroying the
fences, and simUar misdeeds. Adams one day caught
him at his tricks, and not being in a very humane or
careful mood, seized and swung him round by the hair
of his head. The father of the boy prosecuted Adams,
and Mr. Choate defended him. In the course of the

14 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IL
argument, he characterized the act as " a little pater
nal stretching of the neck, which perchance may save
this froward lad from a final and more eventful
stretching." The jury seem to have thought so too,
for Adams was acquitted.
One Philip Finnigan was charged with stealing
grease and ashes from a Mr. Nichols. Finnigan, on
getting the articles, said they were for Mr. Winches
ter, a noted soap-manufacturer, but Mr. Winchester,
coming up at the moment, exposed the falsehood, and
the articles were returned. Mr. Choate, in the de
fence, contended that it was only a trick to defraud
Mr. Winchester out of a customer, not to steal from
Mr. Nichols ; " a shabh'y and ungentlemanly affair, to
be sure, but not the crime he is charged with." I
believe the defence was successful.
Mr. Choate was at this time in full health, muscular
and vigorous, of a pale or nearly colorless complexion,
with a remarkably intellectual countenance. A gen
tleman, then a boy, who lived very near him, has told
me that he often stopped to look at him through the
window, as he passed by the house early in the even
ing, thinking him the handsomest person he had ever
seen. It would be a mistake to suppose that during these
years at Salem he was mainly occupied with inferior
cases, or interested in the criminal law to the neglect
of other branches of the profession. Dependent as he
was upon his own exertions, he probably, Uke other
young lawyers, felt obliged ta accept such cases as
were offered to him. But few, perhaps, so early in
their career, have had a wider range of clients. One
of the most important trials in which he was engaged,

1830-lSlO.] THE KNAPP CASE. 45
although his name does not appear on the record, was
that of Knapp, for the murder of Capt. Joseph White.
That celebrated case is familiarly known. Capt.
White was found dead in his bed on the morning of
April 7, 1830. Richard Crowninshield, Jr., Joseph J.
Knapp, Jr., and John Francis Knapp, were arrested
and charged with the murder. Crowninshield com
mitted suicide in prison, and Frank Knapp was put
on trial as principal, the law then requiring that some
one should be convicted as principal, before any one
could be tried as accessory. He was defended by
Franklin Dexter and William H. Gardiner. Mr.
Webster was employed, by the relatives of Capt.
White, to assist the attorney for the government, and
besides him were retained several other lawyers, who
were prevented by professional etiquette from pub
licly acting in the case. Among these was Mr. Choate.
The trial came on at a special term of the Supreme
Court held at Salem, July 20th. It continued with
some intermission till the 20th of August. The com
munity was profoundly shocked by the crime, and
watched the course of the trial -with the deepest inter
est. The counsel for the government were fully
aware of the responsibility resting on them, and
shared the agitation pervading the town and county.
Every evening they deliberated together, and I have
been told by one of them, that Mr. Webster ob-\dously
gave great heed to the suggestions of Mr. Choate,
who was always present and a prominent ad-\dser.
On one occasion during the trial, an obscure but
important fact was denied by the 30unsel for the
defence. They had omitted to record it, and it was
found to have escaped the attention of every one

46 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. II.
except Mr. Webster and Mr. Choate, who were thus
able to corroborate each other.
During his entire residence in Salem, Mr. Choate
was a diligent and untiring student not only of law,
but of the whole circle of literature, and especially of
mental and political philosophy. He had laid a broad
foundation, and was erecting a lofty and beautiful
superstructure. He complained sometimes of his
desultory habits, but his friends saw how carefully
he methodized his knowledge, and how entirely he
had it at command. His habit was to study standing
at a high desk, with pen in hand, and a manuscript
book open before him. These little volumes, or bro
chures, — for they are generally a quire or two of
letter-paper stitched together, — are crowded with
facts, incidents, principles, and refiections, which
demonstrate both his diligence and thoughtfulness.
The equity practice of Massachusetts was then in an
unsettled and confused state. He devoted himself
for a while to gathering up the statutes and reducing
the decisions to a regular code. The words with
which, many years afterward, he briefly delineated
the character and attainments of a brother lawyer,
may even at this time describe his own.
" His knowledge of the jurisprudence of chancery
and his fondness for it, were very remarkable. Few
men of any time of life had studied it so thoroughly,
discerned so well how it rose above, and how it sup
plied the deficiencies of the common law, or loved it
as truly and intelligently. To such a mind and such
tastes as his, its comparative freedom from technicali
ties, its regulated discretion, and its efforts to accom
plish exact justice and effectual relief, possessed a

1880-1840.] STUDIES. 47
charm, and had a value far beyond that of the more
artificial science, whose incompleteness and rigidity it
supplies and ameliorates, and whose certainty at last
reposes on the learning, or the ignorance, or the
humors of man.
" Beyond his profession he read and he speculated
more variously and more independently than most
men of any profession. Elegant general literature,
politics, theology, in its relation to the religion re
vealed in the Bible, and to that philosophy which
performs its main achievements in conciliating faith
with reason, — these were his recreations."
With special care he studied again the philosophy
of the Mind, making Dr. Reid's Essays his text-book,
and during a considerable part of one summer devoted
himself to the study of theology, in preparation of a
case, which finally he did not argue, in defence of
a person charged before an association of ministers,
-with error in doctrine.
His literary pursuits, and the increasing demands
of his profession, compelled him to keep somewhat
secluded from society, but there were a few college
acquaintances of kindred tastes, with whom he
maintained a correspondence, and in whose welfare
he ever had a deep interest. Foremost among these
was his old friend Rev. Dr. James Marsh, then
President of the University of Vermont, through
whose efforts the American public were first intro
duced to a knowledge of the philosophical writings
of Coleridge, and whose early death took from us
one of the most thorough scholars, and one of the
profoundest Christian philosophers, which our coun
try has produced. There were few men for whom

48 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. H.
Mr. Choate had such unqualified respect and affec
tion. The following letter is in reply to one from Dr.
Marsh asking him to review the forthcoming edition
of the " Aids to Reflection : " —
To President James Marsh. "Salem, Nov. 14, 1829.
" Mt dear Sie, — I thought it due to the respect and
love I bear you, and to the kindness and delicacy of the
terms in which you make it, to give your suggestion one
-week's consideration before trusting myself to act upon it.
The result is that I feel it will be wholly impossible for me
to execute this duty of friendship and literature in a manner
worthy of the book or its editor, or of the elevated and im
portant purposes at which you aim in this high enterprise.
I know you believe me to be willing to do every thing in
such circumstances which the relation we sustain to each
other gives a right to expect, and it is with very real regret
that I feel myself unable adequately to do this great thing.
My habits have become almost exclusively professional, and
my time, I don't very well know how, seems to be just about
as completely engrossed by the cases of business, as if, like
Henry Brougham, I was habitually arguing my five causes
a day. But there are obstacles in the way which lie deeper,
such as the difficulty of gathering up the faculties which ai-e
now scattered over the barren technicalities and frivolous
controversies of my profession, and concentrating them fix
edly upon a great moral and philosophical conception, like
this of yours, worthily to write, edit, or review such a book.
Though I never saw it I may say so. One should sit whole
weeks and months, still, alone, in a study, with the Apollo
Belvedere in marble to look upon, and Plato, Cicero, Bacon,
Milton, and ' all those ' to converse with. I could no more
raise myself into the mood for this achievement than I could
make a better epic poem than the Iliad. But I rejoice that
you have taken this matter in hand, and I firmly believe
you will produce a glorious book most nobly edited. The
employment of preparing it must be elevating and salutary,
and I sincerely hope its general public success may be bril
liant beyond the hopes of literary ambition. I shall buy the
book, though I dare not undertake to review it.

1830-1840.] NOMINATION TO CONGRESS. 49
" I had no suspicion that the Orthodoxy of Andover ' looked
askance ' at you or yours, and I suspect the matter has been
overstated to you. But it may be so, since very much nar
rowness of mind and very great soundness of faith do some
times go together, and the Professors have all a sort of strange
horror of speculation, however regulated by a general ortho
dox belief, and a sincere love of truth and of man. But
' nitor in adversum,' says Burke, ' is the motto for a man
hke me.' I should no more stop to consider how a volume
of matured and brilliant thoughts would be received at
Andover, than how it would be received by the Pope or
President Jackson. ' Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior
ito.' Such was George Canning's self-exhortation, when he
went forth morning and evening to fight the great battles
of liberty and emancipation with the armed and mailed
champions of old abuse, error, and political orthodoxy, and
a thrilling and sustaining scripture it is.
" And now I shaU insist upon your being perfectly satis
fied with my declining this honor. If a more specific reason
were necessary, I might add that the principal term of our
S. J. C. is now holding here, has been for a fortnight, and
will be tm the last of December. Then I have to go to
Boston for our winter's session. Nay, before that is over,
I hope the country will ring from side to side with the fame
of your book.
'• With best regards and wishes, and Mrs. Choate's respects,
" I am yours affectionately, " R. Choate."
In 1830, Mr. Choate was nominated by the National
Republicans of Essex as Representative to Congress.
The result of the Convention was communicated to
him in the following characteristic letter : —
" Salem, 10th Mo. 18, 1830.
" RuFUS Choate, Esq., — The Convention have deter
mined, after several ballotings, to support thee for Repre
sentative to Congress for this district ; the last ballot, which
produced this result, stood twenty-three to twelve. I called
at thy office previous to the balloting to ascertain vehether
the nomination would be agreeable, and after the vote was
determined T informed the Convention of thy absence, and
4

.50 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap Tl.
a committee was appointed to inform thee of the result, aud
obtain an answer of acceptance or otherwise. I can now
say that I believe no other name would run as well in Lynn,
Chelsea, Saugus, and Lynnfield, and I have no doubt of an
election at the first meeting, provided thy acceptance is sea
sonably announced. If consistent with thy interest and incli
nation it -would be gratifying to me to hear of thy acceptance.
When we flnd the right man in all other respects, we are
willing to waive the Masonic objection, believing the time is
coming when all men of talents and respectability will leave
that mere shadow for things more substantial.
" Thy friend, " Stephen Oliver.''
Mr. Choate was then thirty-one years old and had
already, as we have seen, passed through the usual
initiatory steps of public life, by serving in the State
Legislature. The old district of Essex South, as it
was called, had been represented in Congress for
eight years by Hon. Benj. W. Crowninshield, a gen
tleman of great respectability, wealth, and family
distinction, who had been Secretary of the Navy
under Madison and Monroe. A good deal of feel
ing was naturally expressed by his friends, that a
young and untried man, whose political opinions
were not widely known, and whose acquaintance
with the great commercial interests of the district
could not be presumed to equal that of the veterans
in politics, should be nominated in place of their
tried and proved representative, and Mr. Crownin
shield was supported as an independent candidate.
Strong influences were of course brought to bear
against the young lawyer, who had little to sustain
him in the conflict besides his own character and
merits. He was charged with being ambitious ; and
one young politician, then a student at law in the

1830-1840.] PLAN OF STUDY. 51
office of Mr. Saltonstall, in a vehement declamation,
declared, that so far from being a substantial and
permanent citizen, like Mr. Crowninshield, he was
only stopping in Salem for a short time " while he
oated his horse," as he was on his way to Boston.
In aU the contest, however, it was remarked that
no unkindness seemed to be felt towards Mr. Choate
personaUy. His name had been brought forward -with
out his own knowledge, mainly through the agency
of his old friends in Danvers, and he was, with some
difficulty, prevailed on to accept the honor. About
the severest thing said of him, politically, during an
active canvass, was a remark in one of the papers
that " Mr. Choate is a gentleman of distinguished
talents, but we regret to state that he is suspected
of Jacksonism ! " Suspected or not, however, he
was chosen, after an honorable and exciting contest,
by a majority of more than five hundred votes over
all opposing candidates. Although not ambitious of
political life, he was not insensible to its honors, nor
untouched by its fascinations. He regarded it, how
ever, as a means rather than as an end. The oppor
tunities it gave for acquaintance with distinguished
men, for -wide observation of affairs, and study of
great national questions, he certainly thought much
of, but his heart was fixed upon his profession, both
as a necessity, and as offering large opportunities for
attainment and eminence. The new position brought
-with it new duties and responsibilities from which
he did not shrink, and which he did not under
value. He at once endeavored to prepare for them.
No sooner was he elected than he laid out a plan
of study which should best fit him honorably to rep-

52 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. II.
resent his constituents. I have before me a com
monplace book, one of the small manuscript folios
spoken of before, which shows both the subjects to
which he devoted himself, and his methods of study.
The first page is as follows ; the words are often
abbreviated, and in his peculiar handwriting, difficult
to decipher. " Not. 4, 1830.
"FACIENDA AD MUNUS NUPEB IMPOSITUM.
"1. Pers. quals. [personal qualities]. Memory, — Daily
Food and Cowper dum ambulo. Voice, Manner, — Exerci-
tationes diumse.
" 2. Current Politics in papers. 1. Cum Notulis, daUy, —
Geog. &c. 2. Annual Regr., Past Intelligencers, &c.
" 3. District S. E. [i.e. Essex South], Pop. Occs., [Popu
lation, Occupations]. Modes of living. Commerce, — The
Treaties, — and principles on which it depends.
" 4. Civil History of U. States — in Pitkin and [original]
Sources. " 5. Exam, of Pending Questions : Tariff, Pub. Lands,
Indians, Nullification.
" 6. Am. and Brit. Eloquence, — Writing, Practice."
Then follow more than twenty pages of the closest
writing with abbre-viated and condensed statements
of results drawn from many volumes, newspapers,
messages, and speeches, with propositions and argu
ments for and against, methodically arranged under
topics, with minute divisions and subdivisions. Some
of these heads, under which he endeavors to compress
the most essential political knowledge, are these : —
1. Public Lands, giving the number of acres in
the whole country, the States where they lie, the
sources whence derived, the progress and system of
sales, &c., &c.
2. PoUtics of 1831, brought down to the beginning

1830-1840.] LETTER TO PRESIDENT MARSH. 53
of the session in December, an analysis of the Presi
dent's Message, and notes upon the subjects which
it suggests ; the measures and policy of the govern
ment. 3. The Tariff, beginning with an analysis of Ham
ilton's Report in 1790 ; History of Legislation re
specting it; Internal Improvements, their cost and
the Constitutional power of making them.
Then foUow three or four closely written pages on
particular articles : wool, cotton, flax, hemp, iron, as
affected by the tariff'.
4. Analysis of British opinions.
5. Cause of the Excitement in the Southern States.
6. Commerce of the United States in 1831.
These are but a sample of the subjects which occupied
his attention, but they may serve to indicate the thor
oughness with which he prepared for his new position.
A letter to President Marsh will in some measure show
his feeling and views respecting political life : —
To President James Maesh.
" Salem, November 14, 1830.
" Mt dear Sir, — I am extremely obliged to you for the
very kind notice which you have taken of what has lately
befallen, — a new and most pleasant indication how far and
how high in hfe you have carried with you the generosity
and friendliness of our earlier intimacy. Your letter was
handed me in court, — in the very middle of the agony of
the trial of a man for his life, — but I opened it straightway,
and read it with the keenest pleasure, — and forgetting for a
moment your glances at the future, mused for an hour over
the ' sweet and bitter fancies ' that are spread over the recol
lections of the days of our personal studious intercourse, so
long past. Then I just showed the outside of the letter to a
brother lawyer who knows a little literature, as being a letter

54 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. 11.
from James Marsh, of Burlington, — and having thus sac
rificed to vanity a trifle, roused myself up to hear Webster
argue a great question of law, on which the life of the worst
of the murderers of Captain White depended.
" The matter of my election I do suppose rather a foolish
one on my part, — but the nomination was so made that I
could not avoid it without wilfully shutting myself out of Con
gress for life, — since my declining would undoubtedly have
brought forward some other new candidate, who, if elected,
would go ten years at least, — long before which time, if liv
ing, I might have removed from the District. The opposi
tion which was got up was a good deal formidable, for noise
and anger at least, and the wonder is that so little came of it.
I, more than once, while it was raging about me, wished my
self a tutor in the Indian Charity School, upon $350 per
annum, teaching the first book of Livy to the class, and study
ing with you that dreadful chapter in Mitford about the Dia
lects. The responsibilities of the new place I appreciate
fully ; — pro parte virili, I shall try to meet them. I have a
whole year yet, you know, before me, before I take my seat,
— quite short time enough for me to mature and enter on a
course of study and thought adapted to this sphere of duty. I
hardly dare yet look the matter in the face. Political life —
between us — is no part of my plan, although I trust I shall
aim in good faith to perform the duties temporarily and inci
dentally thus assigned.
" Why don't you let me know your daily literary employ
ments, — how you divide your hours, — what you read, think,
or write. I should dearly love to know just where you are
on the ocean of knowledge, and what are at any given moment
the great objects with you of intellectual interest, or active or
official pursuit. Have you read a little book called the ' Nat
ural History of Enthusiasm' ? I approve its religious charac
ter entirely, and should think it the book of a noble and full
mind. . . . Please to present my respects to Mrs. Marsh, and
believe me ever, " Respectfully yours, "R. Choate."
Mr. Choate took his seat in Congress in December,
1831, and soon acquired from all parties that involun
tary respect which a vigorous and well-stored mind is

1830-1840.] SPEECHES IN CONGRESS. 55
sure to receive. He was modest and retiring, seldom
obtruding upon the House by a formal speech, was not
very tolerant of committees, but eagerly watched the
course of events, carefuUy examined public questions,
and made free use of the Library of Congress. Mas
sachusetts was then represented by men of whom any
State might be proud. In the Senate were Nathaniel
Silsbee and Daniel Webster, then in the fulness of his
strength and fame. In the House were John Quincy
Adams, Nathan Appleton, George N. Briggs, Edward
Everett, and John Davis. The Congress itself was
composed of an unusual number of statesmen. Among
the Senators were Peleg Sprague, Samuel Prentiss,
William L. Marcy, George M. Dallas, John M. Clay
ton, Henrj^ Clay, and Thomas H. Benton. The House
had such men as James M. Wayne, George M'Duffie,
George Evans, James K. Polk, Thomas Corwin, and
G. C. Verplanck. In this body Mr. Choate took his
seat, as it soon proved, an equal among equals. It
was a period of great political excitement. General
Jackson was drawing near the close of the first term
of his Presidency, sustained by warm friends, yet
opposed by some of the ablest statesmen in the
country. Mr. Choate made but two speeches during the ses
sion, one on Revolutionary Pensions, the other on the
Tariff, but these gave him a position at once among
the most able and persuasive speakers of the House.
One of these speeches was made under unusual cir
cumstances. The subject of the Tariff had been
hanging for some time in the Committee, when one
afternoon Mr. Choate obtained the floor. There were
but few members present when he rose, but as he

56 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. 11.
continued to speak, one after another came from the
lobbies to the door, stood a moment to listen, were
caught and drawn to their seats by the irresistible
charm of his mellifluous utterance, tiU gradually the
hall became full, and all, for convenience of hearing,
gathered in a circle about the speaker. He had a
nervous dread of thunder, and was never quite at
ease in a severe storm. Before he had half finished
his speech a dark thunder-cloud rolled up and sud
denly burst over the Capitol. Mr. Choate was stand
ing directly under the central skylight ; his face pale
with a blackish paleness, and his whole frame tremu
lous with unusual excitement. The hearers caught
his emotion and listened intently as he went on. At
the same time the increasing darkness, the rushing
wind and rain, the lurid light through the distant win
dows, the red and searching gleams of the lightning,
the rattling peals of thunder, the circle of upturned
white faces, lighted from above, gazing earnestly on
the speaker, — all made it a scene not easUy to be
forgotten. He spoke in the modest, deferential man
ner natural to him, with the same delicious, uninter
rupted flow of choice words, and with hardly a gesture
except the lifting and settling of the upper part of
the body, and he sat down amidst the enthusiasm of
those who heard him, members of all parties rushing
to offer their congratulations. His position as a par
liamentary orator was established.
The tariff and nullification were the great subjects
which interested the public mind during this session.
A single letter to a constituent will give an insight
into the political hopes and fears of the writer, and
of those who belonged to the same party with him.

183O-1S40.] LETTER TO DR. ANDREW NICHOLS. 57

To Dr. Akdeew Nichols, Danvers, Mass.
"Washington, 14th Jan. 1832.
" Dear Sir, — I have just received your favor of the Oth,
and assure you that I have read it with interest and pleasure.
You will have seen before this reaches you, that the battle
is already begun, and that Clay has presented to the Senate
and the country a clear and explicit outline of the principles
on which the friends of the tariff are willing to meet the crisis
occasioned by the extinguishment of the debt. This exposi
tion of his is undoubtedly the result of the combined wisdom
of the whole tariff party as here represented, and the com
mittees in each branch will report bills carrying the principle
into details. Jt is considered here a sound, just, and saving
creed ; and I should think the system in its great features per
fectly safe. It is the all -engrossing topic. I cannot help
thinking that the excitement at the South is to a considerable
degree artificial. Certain it is, the injurious effects of the tariff
on them are greatly overrated. To the cotton manufacture,
I should say they are very much reconciled, and considering
what a vast market it creates for their cotton, — taking a
sixth perhaps of the whole crop, — it would be strange if
they were not. Coarse •woollens are the special objects of their
hostility. Then they hate New J^ngland, and they think, or
affect to think, that the tariff raises the prices of their pur
chases, for the sole benefit of the New England manufac
turer. But all is safe and sure, and fifty years more will
probably satisfy South Carolina herself that the New Eng
land cotton market, the increased value of slaves, diminished
quantity and higher price of cotton from the sugar culture of
Louisiana, the fall of prices from the competition of American
.and foreign manufactures in our own market, afibrd even her
some compensation for the prosperity of the North and East.
The article in the last ' American Quarterly ' is by Senator
Johnston, of Louisiana, — a State of great importance to the
friends of the system. All the West, the Middle States, and
East, except Maine and New Hampshire, are sound, and have
just as little fancy for slow poison, and being cut up in detail,
as they have for violent instantaneous death, or a general
rout. Clay's presence in the Senate this winter is providen
tial. Surely he is needed more than in 1824, if possible,
aud he has cordial, most able, and sufficient support in the

j8 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHoaTE. [Chap, li
Senate. His speech was not showy, nor vehement, but cool,
plain, paternal, grave, conciliatory. " With great respect, &c.,
"R. Choate."
Among the college friends of Mr. Choate, sympa
thizing with him in love of learning, and carrying his
pursuits into fields at that time not much cultivated
in this country, was Rev. George Bush, a thorough
scholar, and an eloquent writer. He had been giving
a careful attention to Oriental literature, and sowing
the seed which afterwards grew into the " Life of Mo
hammed," Hebrew Grammars, and Commentaries on
several books of the old Testament. - Many years
afterwards he adopted the opinions of Swedenborg,
and deservedly obtained great respect and influence
among the followers of that mystic philosopher and
religious apostle. A correspondence with Mr. Bush
was revived by Mr. Choate during this his first session
at Washington. To Rev. George Bush.
"Washington, Jan. 21, 1832.
" Mt dear Sir, — I received a few days since a portion
of a work on which I heard you were engaged, addressed to
me in a handwriting which I could not fail to recognize as
yours, although the most recent specimen of it in my posses
sion is now about eleven years old. I embrace the generous
intimation conveyed in this notice, to present to you my
respects, and to extend to you, in the language of ordination,
the right hand of that old and cherished fellowship to which
I owe so much. . . . How have these eleven years, — twelve
years is it not? — how has time ' which changes every thing,
man more than any thing,' dealt with you ? What a curiosity
one feels to see if he can find the traces of that imperceptible,
busy, and really awful touch under which temple and tower
at length fall down, upon the countenance and person, in the
eye, tones, and feelings of an old friend long absent 1 In one

1830-1840.] LETTER TO REV. GEORGE BUSH. 59
respect, this long interval has been to both of us alike full of
short joy and enduring sorrow, — each having possessed and
lost an object of dearest love which the other never saw.
But I forgot that perhaps you never heard that I have
buried witliin two years a most sweet and bright child of four
years old, whom I would bave given a right arm to save. It
must be a vast alleviation of your far greater bereavement
that your child is spared.
" A hundred thousand recollections come over me as T
write to you, which stop me, make me lay down my pen, and
rest my head on my hand. Dismissing them all, I beg to
know why you will not come on here a little while this win
ter ? Besides your friends at Dr. Lindsley's, you wUl find at
least one old pupil, — besides myself, — a Mrs. H., the wife
of a member who remembers your term of service at Mr.
D.'s seminary with respect and affectiou, — and some few
other objects of interest. Let go the pains and pleasures of
authorship for a month ; come and see with how little wisdom
the world is governed, and return with a lighter heart to
Mohammed and Joseph, Arabia, Egypt, and the waters of
Israel. I have a chamber in the third story by myself ; a
long table, — perhaps the most desirable of luxuries, — with
two windows looking out upon the shores of Virginia, the
setting sun, and the grave of Washington, and here you shall
sit if you will, and we will sacrifice to renewed friendship and
auld lang syne. But I forget all proprieties, like the Dominie
upon the recovery of Bertram. I stop short, therefore, first
earnestly hoping to hear from you immediately.
" With great regard and affection, yours,
"R. Choate."

To Eev. George Bush.
" Washington, Feb. 12, 1832.
" Mt dear Sir, — I hardly can get time, so ' strenuous '
and full of incident is the idleness of our life here, to write
a letter, except of a Sunday afternoon, after a morning at
church. Last Sunday I began to write to you, — was inter
rupted, and, like a resolution offered the last month of the
session, it has stood over one week. ... I shall send you
what I write to-day, though it be no more than a bare expres
sion of thanks for your letter, and a hope to have many more

60 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IL
like it. I learn from Dr. C. that your brother's health com
pels him to take a voyage, which of course puts it out of your
power to continue your personal attentions. If this leaves
you so much disengaged that you can come, I hope to see you
here yet. You will be driven from that great city by the
cholera I am afraid, before long, — an awful scourge of na
tional and personal sins, which we can no more escape in this
country, than we can turn back the east wind to his sources
in the caves of the sea. I board with a physician, and have,
therefore, an instructed and reasonable dread of this business.
But whoso best knows Washington, will be least disposed to
recommend it as a city of refuge. I was surprised at the
reasons you suggest for withdrawing from the pulpit. But
it little matters what the vocation is, if it be suited to the
measure, fulness, and desires of the mind which it attaches to
itself! I think educated, tasteful, and knowing men, however,
should remember that ' great parts are a great trust,' and that
there is responsibleness connected as well with the proper
selection of employment, as with the discharge of its duties
when selected. I hold a good book and good sermon to be
not only well per se, but to be worthy, fitting, and adequate
achievements of good minds. Authorship and the business
of instruction go well together, however, or else the introduc
tion to Old Mortality is as much a fiction as the main story.
" I should think, quocunque nomine gaudes, however em
ployed. New York would be a pleasant residence for you.
To be sure, as in duty bound, I hold Boston, with its Univer
sity society, rather the best place to live in, in all North
America, but I cannot but see its inferiority in some respects
to New York. You are so near to England, and so central
to all the art, enterprise, science, mind, and politics of the
Republic, that you have great advantage over the more pro
vincial portions of the country, so much farther from which
the ' sun drives his chariot.' There must be a wide circle of
fine minds in that city, — Verplanck here is such an one I
should think, — 'a thing that's most uncommon,' an honest,
learned, modest, reasonable man, — yet a Van Buren Jack
sonian, — credite posteri !
" What do you think now, — I have the Shakspeare here
which you gave me, and I read a few lines of Greek and Latin
every morning, and I trust, if we should meet, we could take
each other up just where we were set down twelve years ago,
even in the humanities. In all love and honor, respect and

1830-1840.] MISSIONARIES TO THE INDIANS. 61
affection, I am sure we could. I wish you would write me
very often, assured always that you write to a constant, as
well as old friend. Yours ever,
"R. Choate."
Congress adjourned July 14, 1832. The summer
and autumn were full of political excitement. The
result of the elections was the renewed choice of
Andrew Jackson for President (over Henry Clay), by
an immense majority. The result was not unexpected.
" The news from the voting States," wrote Mr. Choate
to ]\Ir. Everett on the 10th of November, "blows over
us like a great cold storm. I suppose all is lost, and
that the map may be rolled up for twelve years to
come. Happy if, when it is opened again, no State
shall be missing."
Among the subjects which deeply agitated the pop
ular mind of the North, especially of the religious com
munities, was the treatment of the Southern Indians,
by the States within whose boundaries they existed.
In legislating against the Cherokees, Georgia had
passed a law that no white man should reside within
the limits of the Cherokee nation, without permission
from the governor of the State, and after having taken
an oath to support and defend the laws of Georgia, on
penalty of imprisonment at hard labor for a term not
exceeding four years. Under this law Rev. Messrs.
Worcester and Butler, missionaries of the American
Board to the Indians, and five others, were tried and
sentenced in September, 1831. After conviction,
pardon was offered on condition of obedience to the
State law. Five persons accepted the offer, but
Messrs. Worcester and Butler refused, and appealed
to the U. S. Supreme Court. Mr. Wirt and Mr

62 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. H.
Sergeant argued their cause. Georgia did not ap
pear, but the court, in March, 1832, pronounced the
law of the State unconstitutional. Georgia refused
to obey the mandate or reverse her decision. The
missionaries, however, after about eighteen months'
imprisonment, were pardoned and released on the
16th of January, 1833. In the mean time nullifica
tion, as it was called, had assumed a portentous mag
nitude in South Carolina. A convention had been
holden ; the State bristled -wdth bayonets ; defiance
was upon every lip. At the head of the general
government was a man, who, whatever were his
faults, never lacked courage, or resolution, or patriot
ism. In January, 1833, General Jackson issued his
famous proclamation against South Carolina. It was
honest, weighty, and irresistible. Party feeUng for a
while was quelled. The moral sentiment of the
country sustained the President. A letter from Mr.
Choate to his friend. Prof. Bush, who seems for the
moment to have taken a view opposed to the Presi
dent, will indicate his own feeling and that of many
others with him. To Professor George Bush.
"Washington, Jan. 29, 1833.
"Mt dear Friend, — Your letter finds me swallowing
lots of wormwood tea, — not to sweeten my imagination, but
to check a furious sick headache, — a poor mood for answering
deep questions, though an excellent one for appreciating a let
ter from a loved and honored friend. Did I not talk about you
an hour to Dr. Bond, — Tutor Bond, — last Sunday evening?
The Doctor stands against time like ' an obelisk fronting the
sun.' He reminds me of Livy's pictured page, I warrant me,
of Consuls, Lictors, axes, and especially Tarpeian rocks, —
down which all nullifiers and states-rights men — except you
— ought to be precipitated, Senatus consulto, edicto, plebisciio,

1830-1840.] LETTER TO PROF. GEORGE BUSH. 63
— Latin or no Latin, — under the grammar or against it.
How the missionaries settled the matter with their cause and
consciences I have never heard. Speaking as a politician, I
rejoice that Georgia has been thus detached from South Caro
hna, and harnessed into the great car of the Constitution. It
needs tali auxilio et defensoribiis istis even. My dear friend,
there is no more danger of consolidation (that is, until the
States first go apart, snapping these ties of gauze) than there
is of an invasion by the real Xerxes of Herodotus. One
single mistake now, any yielding, any thing short of a dead
march up to the whole outermost limit of Constitutional
power, and the Federal Government is contemptible for ever.
The Georgia case is, to be sure, a bad business. It is a clear
case of nullification by the State. But so far as the mission
aries are concerned, the Federal government has not declined
any duty. The judiciary performed its part. The President
is called on for nothing, until another application to the Fed
eral Judiciary, and that, you see, the pardon interposes to
render unnecessary. The two systems have not directly
clashed, though they bit their thumbs. The Indians, — the
treaties, - — the whole code of intercourse law, — all go over
board of course. The moral guilt of the S. C. case is less.
The constitutional enormity of the thing is more palpable
and more tangible, and the precedent, pejoris exempli —
pessimi indeed. . . .
" The session is now one of thrilling interest. Calhoun is
drunk with disappointment ; the image of an ardent, imagina
tive, intellectual man, who once thought it as easy ' to set the
stars of glory on his brow' as to put his hat on ; now ruined,
dishonored. He has to defend the most contemptible untruth
in the whole history of human opinion, and no ability will
save him from contempt mentally. Then he hoped to recover
himself by a brilliant stroke, permanently inserting nullifica
tion into our polity, and putting himself at the head of a great
Convention of the States, — a great midnight thunder-storm,
haU-storm, meeting of witches and demons, round a caldron
big enough to receive the disjecta membra of the Constitution,
— thence never to come a whole, still less a blooming, young,
and vigorous form. Wherefore pereat. I am somewhat
weak from medicine, and must bid you farewell. Write me
daily, and reconsider the point of Consolidation. I say that
whl come with Xerxes. Truly yours,
" B. Choate."

64 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IL
In April, 1833, having been again nominated by
the National Republicans, Mr. Choate was re-elected
to Congress by an increased majority. Opposition
from the friends of Mr. Crowninshield had nearly
died away, and from many of them he received a cor
dial support. The most exciting subject of the next
session was the Bank of the United States. The
President had already refused assent to a bill re-
chartering this institution, and soon after determined
to remove the public moneys deposited in its vaults.
After the adjournment of Congress, in March, 1833,
William J. Duane, of Pennsylvania, was appointed
Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. M'Lane having been
transferred to the Department of State. The Presi
dent at once urged the new Secretary to remove the
deposits, which, not being convinced of the wisdom
of the measure, he declined to do. Upon this Presi
dent Jackson removed him from office, and appointed
in his place Roger B. Taney, who immediately carried
out the wishes of the Executive. Great commercial
distress followed this proceeding. The act was con
demned by many of the friends of the administra
tion as well as by the opposition. Confidence was
destroyed, business interrupted, industry checked,
and all moneyed institutions deranged where but a
few months before every thing was active and pros
perous. The Senate was opposed to the President,
and passed a resolution censuring his conduct ; but
the House had a large majority in his favor. Memo
rials were addressed to Congress from various cities
and public bodies. The Committee of Ways and
Means having submitted a report with reference to
the removal of the deposits, Mr. Choate addressed

1830-1840.] "OLD BEN HARDIN." 65
the .House on the 28th March, 1834. He had pre
pared himself to consider the whole subject in its
constitutional relations as well as financial, but at
the suggestion of Mr. Webster confined himself to the
latter branch of the subject. The speech is direct,
earnest, persuasive, and conciliatory. It was with
relation to this speech that the anecdote is told of
Benjamin Hardin, — " Old Ben Hardin,'" — as he was
called, of Kentucky, who then heard Mr. Choate for
the first time. I give it in the words of one who was
present. " ]\Ir. Hardin was an old stager in politics,
a strong-minded, though somewhat rough individual,
who was not disposed to much leniency in his criti
cisms of the efforts of younger members. He was, like
Mr. Choate, Whig in poUtics ; and several days, or
perhaps weeks, after the speech of Mr. Choate, he
made an elaborate argument on the same question,
and on the same side. At the outset of his remarks
he stated that it was his uniform rule not to listen
to speeches upon the same side of a question that he
intended to discuss, as he wished to be conscious of
feeUng that no part of his argument had been antici
pated by others, ' but,' said he, ' I was compelled to
depart from this rule once during this debate. The
member from Massachusetts rose to speak, and, in
accordance with my custom, I took my hat to leave,
lingering a moment just to notice the tone of his voice
and the manner of his speech. But that moment was
fatal to my resolution. I became charmed by the
music of his voice, and was captivated by the power
of his eloquence, and found myself wholly unable to
move until the last word of his beautiful speech had
been uttered.' " 6

66 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. H.
At the close of this session, having determined to
remove to Boston, Mr. Choate resigned his place in
Congress. While at Salem he had continued Ids
studies in literature, always -with him second only in
interest to the profession on which he depended for
daily bread. Besides the lecture on the " Waveriey
Novels," he had delivered another on Poland, taking
the occasion from the revolution in that country to
present a well-considered and careful picture of her
government, resources, and people, in a style fervid,
yet moderate and sustained. He also delivered an
address at the centennial celebration of the settlement
of Ipswich.
In removing to Boston Mr. Choate felt that the
experiment was doubtful. Some judicious friends
advised against the change. He left an estabUshed
position, and a growing practice, for severer contests
and a sharper rivalship. But generous rivalry he
never feared, and the result showed how truly he
estimated his own powers. He had now a family —
two daughters and a son — to stimulate his labor.
Two older children he had lost. They now Ue in the
graveyard at Essex.
Not long after he came to Boston, as early perhaps
as 1836, he gave a lecture on " The Romance of the
Sea." The subject was one in which he could revel.
The mystery, the power of the ocean, the achievements
upon its many waters, all that poets have sung, all that
history or fiction has told, went to form the substance
or illustration of the theme. It was one of the most
fascinating of his many lectures. He afterwards lost
it, or it was stolen from him, in New York. But if
stolen it is really pleasant to think of the disappoint-

1S30-1840.] FIRST FEW YEARS IN BOSTON. 67
ment of the thief. A Coptic manuscript would have
been to him quite as legible.
The first six or seven years in Boston were marked
mainly by a steady growth in his profession. Every
young man who enters such a community, bringing
a reputation earned in a different field, is necessarily
subjected to close scrutiny. His ability is judged by a
new, and perhaps severer standard. He is a stranger
untU he has proved himself worthy of the fellowship
of a citizen. The pride of the bar, generous, but
necessarily exclusive, grants its honors to him only
who can fairly win them. Mr. Choate — whose ap
pearance and manner were unique, whose eloquence
then was as exuberant, fervid, and rich as it ever
became ; who, however modest for himself, was bold
almost to rashness for his client ; who startled court
and jury by his vehemence, and confounded the com
monplace and routine lawyer by the novelty and
briUiancy of his tactics ; who, free from vulgar tricks,
was yet fuU of surprises, and though perpetually
deUghting by the novelty and beauty of his argument,
was yet -without conceit or vanity, — could not at once
be fnUy understood and appreciated. He fairly fought
his way to eminence ; created the taste which he grat
ified ; and demonstrated the possibility of almost a
new variety of eloquence. It would have been sur
prising, if he had not to contend -with prejudices which
time only could fully melt away. For several years
it was rather the fashion to laugh at his excessive
vehemence of gesture, and playful exaggerations, but
when it was found that the flowers and myrtle con
cealed a blade of perfect temper, and as keen as any
that the dryest logician could forge, that the fervent

68 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. II.
gesticulator never for one moment lost command of
himself or his subject, nor faUed to hold the thought
and interest of the jury, as the ancient mariner held
the wedding-guest, till convinced, delighted, entranced,
they were eager to find a verdict for his client, —
doubt gave place to confidence, and disparagement to
admiration. During these six or seven years he was
steadily growing in knowledge and in influence. He
made the more familiar acquaintance with the leaders
of the Suffolk bar, then unsurpassed in the whole land
for ability and learning. There he met (not to speak
of the living) the polished rhetoric of Franklin Dexter,
the subtle and powerful logic of Jeremiah Mason, and
the tremendous weight and authority of Webster. He
heard the law expounded and declared by the integrity
and learning and wisdom of Samuel Hubbard and
Samuel Sumner Wilde and Lemuel Shaw. To meet
such competitors, to stand unharmed before the judg
ments of such a tribunal, compelled the most diligent
and unremitting study. Distinction could be attained
only by merit. Eminence was itself proof of high
abilities and of strenuous labor. Preserving his inter
est in letters, he still found time to deliver a number
of lectures before associations of young men, and -with
ever increasing popularity. He suffered also a severe
domestic calamity. Two daughters were born to him
in Boston. Of these the younger, Caroline, was in
1840 three years old. To all his children he was
tenderly attached, and to her, perhaps as being the
youngest, especially. She was a beautiful child, and
he never failed, coming home late from the labors of
his office, to go up to the room where she was sleeping,
to give her an evening kiss. The following account

1830-1840.] LETTER TO RET. HUBBARD "WIN SLOW. 69
of her last hours, in the words of a clergyman, who,
in the absence of Mr. Choate's pastor. Rev. Dr. Adams,
was called to be present, will show the extreme ten
derness and affection of the father. On the day of
her death Mr. Choate had sent him the foUowing
note : — "Boston, Saturday morning.
" To Rev. Hubbard Winslow : —
" Mt dear Sir, — I am apprehensive that I am about
losing my youngest child, and I take the liberty to ask you,
if not very inconvenient, to do us the great kindness of bap
tizing her. Her mother is a member of a church, and this
ordinance has been accidentally delayed.
'' I am aware of the freedom of this request, but I hope
the severity and peculiarity of our trying circumstances will
excuse it. It seems to us that 3 o'clock p.m., or a little after,
may be as late as we shall desire to delay, — perhaps too
late. " If you can consent to do us this favor, and will apprise
me of the decision, I will send a carriage for you.
" Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
"Bupus Choate."
" Entering the chamber," says Dr. Winslow, " at
the appointed time, I found the family all assembled.
The beautiful little girl of perhaps three years lay
dying. Mr. Choate said, ' I hope you will pardon
this Uberty. We have given our dear child to
God, and we think He is about to take her ; but we
have neglected her baptism.' I said a few words
of the ordinance as not essential to the salvation of
the child, but the answer of a good conscience on
the part of the parents. He assented, and said he
desired to do his duty in that particular. All kneeled
in prayer, and after the ordinance and a few remarks,
I was about to retire, to leave the weeping family to
the sacredness of their domestic sorrow, when Mr.

70 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. H.
Choate took my hand and besought me to remain
with them while the child lived. I consented to re
main till evening, when I had another engagement.
He stood by the fireplace, resting his elbows on the
marble, burying his face in his hands, evidently ab
sorbed in prayer. Mrs. Choate was bending over the
pillow, with the yearning tenderness of a mother,
and the older chUdren and servants stood around in
sUent grief ; while I sat bj' the bedside observing the
child's symptoms, and sometimes repeating a passage
of Scripture or a pertinent stanza of poetry. And
thus a full hour passed in silence, in prayer, in tears,
in communion with death and eternity, Mr. Choate
remaining motionless as a statue during the whole
time. Perceiving the pulse failing and the breath be
coming very short and difficult, I said, ' Mr. Choate,
I fear the dear child is just leaving us.' He then
came to the bedside, embraced her, kissed her three
times, and then returned and resumed his position as
before. All the family followed him in the parting
kiss. A few moments after, the angel spirit fled. I
closed the sightless eyes, and said, ' My dear Mr.
Choate, your sweet child is in heaven ! ' He burst
instantly into a flood of tears, and sobbed aloud. He
did not change his position, but remained with his
face buried in his hands, and the tears pouring like
rain-drops upon the hearth-stone. And thus he con
tinued, untu duty compelled me to leave the chamber
of death. He then came and thanked me, and said
with deep emotion, ' I feel greatly comforted ; my
dear child has gone home. It was God's wUl to take
her, and that is enough.' "

1841-1843.J PROFESSIONAL ADVANCEMENT 71

CHAPTER III.
1841-1843.
Professional Advancement — Letters to Richard S. Storrs, Jr. —
Chosen Senator in place of Mr. Webster — Death of General
Harrison — Eulogy in Faneuil Hall — Extra Session of Congress
— Speech on the M'Leod Case — The Fiscal Bank Bill — Collision
with Sir. Clay — Nomination of Mr. Everett as Minister to Eng
land — Letter to Mr. Sumner — Letters to his Son — The next
Session — Speech on providing further Remedial Justice in the
United States Courts — Letters to Mr. Sumner — The North East
ern Boundary Question — Journal
Mr. Choate's professional advancement in Boston
was no accident, nor the result of peculiarly favoring
circumstances. It was the reward of untiring dili
gence as well as of great ability. Every day he
was gaining ground, enlarging and consolidating his
knowledge, and invigorating his faculties. A few
years served to give him a position second to none
except the acknowledged and long-tried leaders of
the bar. His consummate judgment in the conduct
of a cause, no less than his brilliant power as an
advocate, commanded respect from the most able.
He knew when to speak, and, what is more difficult,
when to be sUent. In the most intricate and doubt
ful case, when fairly engaged, he did not allow him
self to despair, and was often successful against the
greatest odds. In defeat he was never sullen, and in
victory he bore himself with so much modesty and

72 memoir of RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. Ill
gentleness, that few envied his success. He espe
cially attached to himself the younger members of the
profession by unvarying kindness. He had great
sympathy for a young lawyer. His advice and aid
were always ready ; voluntarily offered if he thought
they were needed; and, if sought, cheerfully and
freely bestowed. He assumed no superiority in this
intercourse, but, by a kind suggestion or a few words
of encouragement, insured success by inspiring con
fidence. The following letter is in answer to one asking his
advice as to a course of reading. The gentleman to
whom it was written had entered his office as a stu
dent, but subsequently, on account of Mr. Choate's
probable absence from Boston, went to spend a year
in general studies at Andover.
To Richard S. Storrs, Jr.
" Boston, 2d Jan. 1841.
" Dear Sir, — I should have been very happy to answer
your letter before this, but a succession of engagements, some
of them of a painful kind, have made it impossible. Even
now I can do very little more than congratulate you on being
able to spend a year at such a place, and to suggest that very
general ' made virtute,' which serves only to express good
wishes without doing any thing to help realize them. I
should be embarrassed, if I were in your situation, to know
exactly what to do. The study of a profession is a prescribed
and necessary course, — that of general literature, or of liter
ature preparatory to our, or to any profession, is, on the other
hand, so limitless, — so indeterminate, — so much a matter
of taste, — it depends so much on the intellectual and moral
traits of the student, what he needs and what he ought to
shun, that an educated young man can really judge better for
himself than another for him.
" As immediately preparatory to the study of the Law, I
should follow the usual suggestion, to review thoroughly Eng
lish history, — Constitutional history in Hallam particularly.

1841-1843.] LETTERS TO R. S. STORRS, JR. 73
and American Constitutional and Civil history in Pitkii. and
Story. Rutherford's Institutes, and the best course of Moral
Philosophy you can find, will be very valuable introductory
consolidating matter. Aristotle's Politics and all of Edmund
Burke's works, and all of Cicero's works, would form an ad
mirable course of reading, ' a library of eloquence and reason,'
to form the sentiments and polish the tastes, and fertilize and
enlarge the mind of a young man aspiring to be a lawyer and
statesman. Cicero and Burke I would know by heart; both
superlatively great — the latter the greatest, living in a later
age, belonging to the modern mind and genius, though the
former had more power over an audience, — both knew every
thing. " I would read every day one page at least, — more if you
can,- — -in some fine English writer, solely for elegant style
and expression. William Pinkney said to a friend of mine
' he never read a fine sentence in any author without com
mitting it to memory.' The result was decidedly the most
splendid and most powerful English spolcen style I ever heard.
" I am ashamed to have written so hurriedly in the midst
of a trial, but I preferred it to longer silence. Accept my
best wishes, and assure yourself I am
" Very truly yours, R. Choate."
Subsequently, when Mr. Storrs decided to abandon
the study of law for a theological course, Mr. Choate
wrote him : —
"Mt dear Sir, — I have just received your letter and
hasten to say that I have been much interested by it. The
entire result has been much as I anticipated; and, all con
siderations of duty apart, I am inclined to think as a mere
matter of rational happiness, — happiness from books, culture,
the social affections, the estimation of others, and a sense
of general usefulness and of consideration, you have chosen
wisely. Duty, however, I think was clear, and when it is
clear it is peremptory.
" I should not accept a fee, of course, under such circum
stances, but shall expect you to send me all the sermons you
print, and that they be good ones.
" I am very truly
" Your friend and serv't,
"Sf.nate Chamber, " RuFUS ChOATB
"30th March."

74 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI
In 1841, Mr. Webster having accepted the office of
Secretary of State under General Harrison, it became
necessary for the Legislature of Massachusetts to elect
another Senator to fill his place. The position was
both delicate and difficult. The public wishes soon
pointed to Mr. Choate, and his friends proceeded to
consult him about the matter. The offer was at first
met by a decided refusal, nor was it until after re^
peated interviews, and the greatest urgency, that he
finally permitted his name to be brought before the
Legislature, and then only with the express under
standing that he should be allowed to resign the
place within two or three years. The causes of this
reluctance to accept so high and honorable and at
tractive an office were probably many and compli
cated. His natural modesty, a distaste for the
annoyances of public life, a loathing of political
schemers, plans of study and achievement with which
public duties would interfere, the necessity of an
income, the love of personal independence, — aU
these undoubtedly influenced his judgment.
Before taking his seat, the new Senator was called
upon to deliver a eulogium upon the lamented Presi
dent, in Faneuil HaU. It was a sincere and eloquent
tribute to one whom the nation loved as a man even
more than it respected as a President. General Har
rison was inaugurated on the 4th of March, 1841.
He died on the 4th of April, before having had time
to establish distinctly the policy of the administration,
but having summoned an extra session of Congress
to meet on the Slst of May. The Vice-President, Mr.
Tyler, immediately assumed the duties of the Presi
dency, not without solicitude on the part of the

1841-1843.] FDRST SPEECH IN THE SENATE. 75
Whigs, with whom he had not always been identified,
but yet with prevailing hopes. " The President,"
says jNIr. Choate in a letter shortly after reaching
Washington, " is in high spirits, — making a good
impression. He will stand by Mr. Webster, an(i the
talk of an unfriendly conservative action is true, but
not terrifying."
Mr. Choate's first speech in the Senate was upon a
subject on which the public mind in some parts of
the country had been deeply agitated, and which in
volved difficult questions of international law. It
was the case of Alexander M'Leod, charged -with
burning the Steamer Caroline. This forward and
boastful person, who seems not to have been engaged
at all in the exploit in which he had professed to be
a prominent actor, having ventured into the State
of New York, was arrested on an indictment found
against him shortly after the destruction of the boat,
and held for trial by the State Courts. The British
Government assumed the act, by whomsoever done,
as its own, and through its minister, Mr. Fox, de
manded the release of the prisoner. This demand
could not be complied with, since the prisoner was
arraigned before the State Courts ; but the Attorney-
General of the United States, Mr. Crittenden, under
the direction of Mr. Webster, then Secretary of State,
was sent to observe the trial and render such assist
ance as should be proper and necessary. The subject
was brought before Congress by the message of the
President, when the policy of the Government, and
especially the instructions and letter of Mr. Webster,
were severely censured by Mr. Benton, Mr. Buchanan,
and Mr. Calhoun, and defended by Mr. Rives, Mr

76 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI,
Choate, Mr. Huntington, and Mr. Preston. In
the House, the administration was sustained with
great ability by John Quincy Adams and Mr. Cush
ing. The speech of Mr. Choate called forth warm
commendations from all parties. "It was the first
appearance of the Senator in debate here," said Mr.
Buchanan, in his reply, "and, judging of others by
myself, I must say, that those who have listened to
him once will be anxious to hear him again."
It was during this extra session, when Mr. Choate
was quite new to the Senate, that a slight collision
took place between himself and Mr. Clay, the nature
and importance of which were, perhaps intentionally,
exaggerated by the party newspapers. Mr. Clay was
the leader of the Whigs in the Senate, flushed with
success, urgent of favorite measures, somewhat dis
trustful of the new President, Mr. Tyler, and excited
by a report of the formation of a new party in oppo
sition to his interests. The finances of the country
had, for several years, been much deranged, and the
great immediate objects of the Whigs, on coming
into power, were the repeal of the Independent
Treasury Acts, the re-establishing, in some form,
of a National Bank, and an adequate provision for
the public revenue. The first of these objects was
accomplished without difficulty or delay. The bill
for the purpose passed the Senate and the House by
large majorities, and was at once approved by the
President. The second object, the incorporation of
a bank, was a more delicate and difficult matter. Mr.
Tyler was known to be opposed to the old United
States Bank, though it was thought that a charter
might be framed to which he would have no objec-

1841-1843.] SPEECH ON BANK BILL. 77
tion. Accordingly Mr. Clay, early in the session,
moved a call upon the Secretary of the Treasury, Mr.
Ewing, for the plan of a bank. It was given, and,
coming from such a source, was presumed to be in
accordance with the ideas of the President. Upon
this report a biU was modeUed. To this biU Mr.
Rives of Virginia offered an amendment, — which he
supported by an able argument, — making the assent
of the States necessary for the establishment of
branches within their limits. Mr. Clay earnestly op
posed the proposition, and Mr. Preston with equal
earnestness sustained it. On the next day Mr. Choate
made a short speech in favor of Mr. Rives's amend
ment, not because he doubted the constitutionality
of the bill as reported by the committee, but mainly
fi'om considerations of policy.
"I do not vote for the bill," he said, "from any
doubt of the constitutional power of Congress to es
tablish branches all over the States, possessing the
discounting function, directly and adversely against
their united assent. I differ in this particular wholly
from the Senator who moves the amendment. I have
no more doubt of your power to make such a bank
and such branches anywhere, than of your power to
build a post-office or a custom-house anywhere. This
question for me is settled, and settled rightly. I have
the honor and happiness to concur on it with all, or
almost all, our greatest names ; with our national ju
dicial tribunal, and with both the two great original
political parties ; -with Washington, Hamilton, Mar
shaU, Story, Madison, Monroe, Crawford, and with
the entire Republican administration and organiza
tion of 1816 and 1817.

78 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HL
" But it does not follow, because we possess this or
any other power, that it is wise or needful, in any
given case, to attempt to exert it. We may find our
selves so situated that we cannot do it if we would,
for want of the concurrence of other judgments ; and
therefore a struggle might be as unavailing as it
would be mischievous and unseemly. We may find
ourselves so situated that we ought not to do it if we
could. All things which are lawful are not conven
ient, are not practicable, are not wise, are not safe,
are not kind. A sound and healing discretion, there
fore, the moral coercion of irresistible circumstances,
may fitly temper and even wholly restrain the exer
cise of the clearest power ever belonging to human
government." He then proceeded to state his reasons for voting
for the amendment. The first was, that the country
greatly needed the bank, and in his opinion that re
sult would be much sooner and more surely reached
by admitting the bill as amended. " By uniting here
on this amendment," he said, " you put an effective
bank in operation, to some useful and substantial ex
tent, by the first of January. Turn now to the other
alternative. Sir, if you adhere to the bill reported by
the Committee, I fully believe you pass no bank char
ter this session. I doubt whether you carry it through
Congress. If you can, I do not believe you can make
it a law. I have no doubt you will fail to do so. I
do not enter on the reasons of my belief. The rules
of orderly proceeding here, decorum, pride, regret,
would all prevent my doing it. I have no personal
or private grounds for the conviction which holds me
fast ; but I judge on notorious, and to my mind, de-

1841-1843.] SPEECH ON B7>lNK BILL. 79
cisive indications ; and I know that it is my duty to
act on my belief, whether well or ill founded, and
however conjecturally derived."
Another reason assigned for his vote was, that it
would lead to united counsels and actions.
" In a larger view of the matter," he went on to
say, " is it not in a high degree desirable to make
such a charter, that while it secures to the people all
that such kind of instrumentality as a bank can
secure, we may stUl, in the mode and details of the
thing, respect the scruples and spare the feelings of
those who, just as meritoriously, usefully, and con
spicuously as yourselves, are members of our political
association, but who differ with you on the question
of constitutional power ? If I can improve the local
currency, diffuse a sound and uniform national one,
facilitate, cheapen, and systematize the exchanges,
secure the safe-keeping and transmission of the pub
lic money, promote commerce, and deepen and mul
tiply the springs of a healthful credit by a bank, and
can at the same time so do it as to retain the cordial
constant co-operation, and prolong the public useful
ness of friends who hold a different theory of the Con
stitution, is it not just so much clear gain ? I was
struck, in listening to the senator from Virginia yester
day, with the thought, how idle, how senseless it is to
spend time in deploring or being peevish about the in
veterate constitutional opinions of the community he so
ably represents. There the opinions are. What -will
you do with them ? You cannot change them . You can
not stride over or disregard them. There they are ;
what wUl you do with them ? Compromise the matter.
Adjust it, if you can, in such sort that they shall

80 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. m.
neither yield their opinions, noi- you yield yours.
Give to the people all the practical good which a
bank can give, and let the constitutional question,
whether Congress can make a bank by its own power
or not, stand over for argument on the last day of the
Greek Kalends, when the disputants may have the
world all to themselves to wrangle it out in ! Yes,
Sir, compromise it. Our whole history is but a history
of compromises. You have compromised in larger
things ; do it in less, do it in this. You have done it
for the sake of the Union ; do it for the sake of the
party which is doing it for the sake of the Union.
You never made one which was received with wider
and sincerer joy than this would be. Do it then. Do
as your fathers did when they came together, dele
gates from the slave States, and delegates from the
free, representatives of planters, of mechanics, of
manufacturers, and the owners of ships, the cool and
slow New England men, and the mercurial children
of the sun, and sat down side by side in the presence
of Washington, to frame this more perfect Union.
Administer the Constitution in the temper that cre
ated it. Do as you have yourselves done in more
than one great crisis of your affairs, when questions
of power and of administration have shaken these
halls and this whole country, and an enlarged and
commanding spirit, not yet passed away from our
counsels, assisted you to rule the uproar, and to
pour seasonable oil on the rising sea. Happy, thrice
happy, for us all, if the senator from Kentucky would
allow himself to-day to win another victory of con
ciliation." ........
" Let me say. Sir," he went on after a brief inter-

1841-1843.] SPEECH ON BANK BILL. 81
vening statement on the nature of the amendment,
" that to administer the contested powers of the Con
stitution is, for those of you who believe that they
exist, at all times a trust of difficulty and delicacy. I
do not know that I should not venture to suggest
this general direction for the performance of that
grave duty. Steadily and strongly assert their exist
ence ; do not surrender them ; retain them with a
provident forecast ; for the time may come when you
-will need to enforce them by the whole moral and
physical strength of the Union ; but do not exert
them at all so long as you can, by other less offensive
expedients of wisdom, effectually secure to the people
aU the practical benefits which you believe they were
inserted into the Constitution to secure. Thus will
the Union last longest, and do most good. To exer
cise a contested power without necessity, on a notion
of keeping up the tone of government, is not much
better than tyranny, and very improvident and im
politic tyranny, too. It is turning ' extreme medicine
into daily bread.' It forgets that the final end of
government is not to exert restraint, but to do good.
"Within this general view of the true mode of
administering contested powers, I think the measure
we propose is as wise as it is conciliatory ; wise be
cause it is conciliatory ; wise because it reconciles a
strong theory of the Constitution with a discreet and
kind administration of it. I desire to give the coun
try a bank. Well, here is a mode in which I can do
it. Shall I refuse to do it in that mode because I
cannot at the same time and by the same operation
gain a victory over the settled constitutional opin
ions, and show my contempt for the ancient and

82 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. III.
unappeasable jealousy and prejudices of not far from
half of the American people ? Shall I refuse to do
it in that mode because I cannot at the same time
and by the same operation win a triumph of consti
tutional law over political associates who agree with
me on nine in ten of all the questions which divide
the parties of the country ; whose energies and elo
quence, under many an October and many an August
sun, have contributed so much to the transcendent
reformation which has brought you into power?
" There is one consideration more which has had
some influence in determining my vote. I confess
that I think that a bank established in the manner
contemplated by this amendment stands, in the act
ual circumstances of our time, a chance to lead a
quieter and more secure life, so to speak, than a
bank established by the bill. I think it worth our
while to try to make, what never yet was seen, a
popular National Bank. Judging from the past and
the present, from the last years of the last bank, and
the manner in which its existence was terminated ,
from the tone of debate and of the press, and the
general indications of public opinion, I acknowledge
an apprehension that such an institution, — created
by a direct exertion of your power, throwing off its
branches without regard to the wishes or wants of
the States, as judged of by themselves, and without
any attempt to engage their auxiliary co-operation,
diminishing the business and reducing the profits of
the local banks, and exempted from their burdens,
— that such an institution may not find so quiet
and safe a field of operation as is desirable for use
fulness and profit. I do not wish to see it standing

1841-1843.] SPEECH ON BANK BELL. 83
like a fortified post on a foreign border, — never
wholly at peace, always assailed, always belligerent ;
not falling perhaps, but never safe, the nurse and the
prize of unappeasable hostility. No, Sir. Even such
an institution, under conceivable circumstances, it
might be our duty to establish and maintain in the
face of all opposition and to the last gasp. But so
much evil attends such a state of things, so much
insecurity, so much excitement ; it would be exposed
to the pelting of such a pitiless storm of the press
and public speech ; so many demagogues would get
good livings by railing at it ; so many honest men
would really regard it as unconstitutional, and as
dangerous to business and liberty, — that it is worth
an exertion to avoid it. . . . Sir, I desire to see the
Bank of the United States become a cherished do
mestic institution, reposing in the bosom of our law
and of our attachments. Established by the concur
rent action or on the application of the States, such
might be its character. There will be a struggle on
the question of admitting the discount power into
the States ; much good sense and much nonsense will
be spoken and written ; but such a struggle wUl be
harmless and brief, and when that is over, all is over.
The States which exclude it wiU hardly exasperate
themselves farther about it. Those which admit it
wiU soothe themselves with the consideration that
the act is their own, and that the existence of this
power of the branch is a perpetual recognition of
their sovereignty. Thus might it sooner cease to
wear the alien, aggressive, and privileged aspect
which has rendered it offensive, and become sooner
blended with the mass of domestic interests, cherished

84 SIEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, m
by the same regards, protected by the same and by
a higher law." ^
It was during this speech that Mr. Clay, who had
left his own seat, and, through the courtesy of a
younger member, had taken another nearer Mr.
Choate, rose and interrupted the speaker with an
inquiry as to the grounds of his knowledge that the
Bank Bill would not pass without the amendment.
The intimacy of Mr. Choate with Mr. Webster, then
Secretary of State, gave a weight to his words, and
the implication in Mr. Clay's question evidently was,
that he had derived his knowledge, directly or indi
rectly, from the President himself. In a subsequent
part of the discussion, Mr. Archer, in opposing the
amendment of Mr. Rives, took occasion to express
his regret that the Senator from Kentucky had en
deavored to draw from Mr. Choate the opinions of
the Executive. Mr. Clay rose to explain, and this
led to a sharp interlocutory debate between himself
and Mr. Choate, which ended by Mr. Clay's inter
rupting Mr. Choate in the midst of an explanation,
and saying, " That, Sir, is not the thing. Did you
not say that you could not, without breach of privi
lege and violation of parliamentary rule, disclose your
authority? " " Sir," replied Mr. Choate, "I insist on
my right to explain what I did say in my own words."
Mr. Clay persisted in requesting a direct answer, and
Mr. Choate replied again, "that he would have to
take the answer as he chose to give it to him." The
parties were here called to order, and the President
requested both gentlemen to take their seats. That
Mr. Clay in this, bringing aU the weight of his ex-
1 Appendix to Congressional Globe, July, 1841, pp. 355, 356.

1841-1843.] DEBATE ON EVERETT. 85
perience, age, character, and long public life to bear
upon a member of his own party, new to the Sen
ate, and not yet practically famiUar with its usages,
should have seemed overbearing and arrogant, was
unavoidable, and it might have justified a sharper
retort than was given. I have been informed by
those who were present that the impression in the
senate chamber was much less than it was repre
sented by the newspapers, especially by those opposed
to Mr. Clay and the Whig party. But whatever
may have been the feeling of the moment, at the
meeting of the Senate on the next day, Mr. Clay
with great magnanimity and earnestness denied the
intention which had been imputed to him, and dis
claimed entirely the design of placing- the Senator
from Massachusetts in a questionable position. Those
who were present were struck with the nobleness of
the apology, and Mr. Choate, of all men the most
gentle and placable, went round to Mr. Clay who
sat on the opposite side of the chamber, and made
open demonstration of reconciliation.
Another matter which interested Mr. Choate very
much during this session was the confirmation of Mr.
Everett as Minister to England. The nomination,
which was regarded by all right-minded people as
one of the most appropriate that could be made, was
fiercely assailed on account of an opinion which Mr.
Everett had once given in favor of the right and
duty of Congress to abolish slavery in the District
of Columbia. He was charged with being an "abo
litionist," a word of indefinite but fearful import.
Mr. Choate felt that the rejection of a minister on
grounds so intangible,, so untenable, and so inade-

86 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HL
quate, would be for the disgrace of the country, and
he exerted himself to the utmost to prevent such a
result. Those who heard his principal speech in
favor of the nomination considered it one of the
most brilliant and eloquent ever delivered -within
the walls of the senate chamber. ^
A member of the Senate who was present during
the debate, in a letter written to Mr. Choate many
years afterwards, thus recalls the scene: "My dear
Sir, Mr. Buchanan's nomination brings up some rem
iniscences of you and of him, which are by no means
pleasant to me, now that there is a possibility he may
be President. I refer, of course, to the lead he took
on one side and you on the other, in the debate which
preceded Mr. Everett's confirmation as Minister to
London. I well remember the cogency and splendor
of your argument, and the emotion it raised in Pres
ton, who, completely overpowered by the conviction
to which you brought him, exclaimed, boiling with
excitement, ' I shall have to vote " No," but by 
HE SHALL NOT BE REJECTED.' ^ With all my ad
miration for your effort, the whole scene was deeply
painful and humiliating to me, more so, probably,
than to any man in the chamber. I was indignant
beyond the power of language at the requirement
of the South, that the nomination should be voted
down, and the nominee branded as unfit to represent
his country at the British Court, simply and solely
because he had replied to the question put to him,
1 There are no remains of this speech, which was delivered in
executive session, with closed doors.
2 I have understood that Colonel Preston, when afterwards on
a visit to Boston, told a friend that he never regretted any vote he
had given as he did that against Mr. Everett.

1841-1843.] LETTER TO CHARLES SUMNER. 87
that Congress might and ought to abolish slavery in
the District of Columbia. B.'s hostility was vindic
tive and savage. He distinctly and emphatically
denounced Mr. E. as an ' abolitionist,' for this and
this only, disclaiming all opposition to him as a
Whig, or as otherwise objectionable."
Mr. Clay made a powerful speech in favor of the
nomination, and said that if it was rejected, there
would never be another President of the United
States. A familiar letter to Mr. Sumner, then prom
inent among the younger members of the Whig party,
alludes to this among other things. Though with
out date (for this was one of the points of a letter
about which Mr. Choate was habitually careless), it
must have been written in September, 1841, Congress
adjourning on the 13th of that month, and the Senate
not confirming the nomination till very near the close
of the session. To Charles Sumner, Esq. "Washington.
"Mt dear Sumner, — I have just received the memoran
dum, and will turn it nocturna et diuma manu, — to quote
obscure and unusual Latin words. I hope it will do your
friend's business, and the Pope's and England's, and the lone
Imperial mother's — as you say.
" Mr. Webster is so much excited (and, confidentially,
gratified) with the squaboshment ol the Whigs ^ that he will
talk of nothing else. He thinks he can seal better with Sir
Robert Peel et id genus. Can he ? Your acquamtance was
made with so whiggish a set, that I suppose you mourn as for
the flight of liberty. But, mark you, how much more peace
ably, purely, intellectually, did this roaring democracy of ours
change its whole government and whole policy, last fall, than
England has done it now.
" Yes, Everett's is a good appointment. Ask me, when I
1 Lord Melbourne's ministry.

88 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. UL
get home, if we did not come near losing him in the Senate
from Abolitionism; — entre nous, — if we do, the Union goes
to pieces like a potter's vessel. But as Ercles' vein is not
lightly nor often to be indulged in, — {nee Deus intersit nisi,
&c.), — I give love to Hillard, salute you, and am very truly
"Yours, RuFDS Choate."
" P. S. — We shall have a veto after all, ut timeo."
The veto, the second veto, was sent in September
9, and Congress adjourned the 18th,
A few letters to his son, then about seven years old,
and at school in Essex, will show the affectionate,
playful, yet earnest character of his intercourse with
his children. To Rufus Choate, Jr.
"Washington, 30th May, 1841.
" Mt dear Son, — It is just a week to-day since I kissed
you a good-by, and now I am five hundred miles, or nearly
so, from you. I feel quite sad to think of it ; and if I did not
suppose you were a good boy, and at the head, and going on
fast with the Latin, I should feel still worse. But I hope
you love books better and better every day. You will learn
one of these days who it is that says, ' Come, my best friends,
my books.' I suppose you have no roses yet at Essex, or
green peas, or mown grass, — though you used to say that
you saw every thing there nearly. Here, the whole city is in
blossom. They are making hay ; and rose-bushes bend under
their loads of red and white roses. Can you tell now, by
your geography, why the season is so much earlier here than
at Essex, — especially considering what a handsome place
Essex is, and what a good school you go to, and how much
pains cousin M  takes with you ? You must answer this
question in your letter to me, and think all about it yourself.
" I hope you will write to your mother and the girls often.
They all love you dearly, and want to hear from you every
day. Besides, it does one good to sit down and write home.
It fills his heart full of affection and of pleasant recollections.
. . . Write me soon. " Your affectionate father,
" Rdfus Choate."

1841-1843.] LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 89

To Rufus Choate, Jr.
" Mt dear Ruf0S, — Your mother and dear sisters have
you so far away, that I want to put my own arm around your
neck, and having whispered a little in your ear, give you a
kiss. I hope, first, that you are good ; and next that you are
well and studious, and among the best scholars. If that is
so, I am willing you should play every day, after, or out of,
school, till the blood is ready to burst from your cheeks.
There is a place or two, according to my recollections of your
time of life, in the lane, where real, good, solid satisfaction,
in the way of play, may be had. But I do earnestly hope to
hear a great account of your books and progress when I get
home. Love cousin M  , and all your school and play
mates, and love the studies which will make you wise, useful,
and happy, when there shall be no blood at all to be seen in
your cheeks or lips.
" Your explanation of the greater warmth of weather here
than at Essex is all right. Give me the sun of Essex, how
ever, I say, for all this. One half-hour, tell grandmother,
under those cherished button-woods, is worth a month under
these insufferable fervors. ... I hope I shall get home in
a month. Be busy, affectionate, obedient, my dear, only
boy. " Your father, Rufus Choate."
Every letter to his chUdren at this period is replete
with affection, and kind suggestions and hopes. " Do
not play with bad boys. Love good ones. Love your
teacher, and see if you cannot go to the head of your
own age of boys. ... I expect to find all of you
grown. If I find the beautiful feelings and bright
minds grown too, I shall leap for joy. . . . Give my
love to all. Tell only truth ; and be just, kind, and
courageous. Good-by, my darling boy."
And again to two of his chUdren : " I hope you are
well, obedient, affectionate, and studious. You must
learn to take care of yourselves alone, your clothes,
books, the place you sleep in, and of aU your ways.

90 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, m
Be pleasant, brave, and fond of books. I want to
hear that you are both good scholars, but chiefly that
you are true, honest, and kind. . . . Give best love
to all at Essex. Go, especially, and give my love to
grandmother, who was the best of mothers to your
father, and help her all you can."
The next session of Congress opened with consid
erable apprehension and distrust in all minds. The
Whigs had broken with the President, and, though
powerful, were disheartened, and unable to accomplish
their cherished purposes. At the same time, ques
tions of great public importance were pressing upon
the attention of the government. During the session
Mr. Choate spoke on the Bankrupt Law, in favor of
Mr. Clay's Resolution for Retrenchment and Reform,
on the Naval Appropriation Bill, on the Tariff, and
on the Bill to provide further Remedial Justice in
the Courts of the United States.
This last-named bill was introduced by Mr. Ber
rien, then Chairman of the Judiciary Committee, iu
order to meet such cases as that of McLeod's by ex
tending the jurisdiction of the United States Courts.
It was regarded as of very great consequence, so
nearly had the nation been plunged into war by pro
ceedings for which the general governnient could
have no responsibility. The bill was supported by
the Whigs generally, and opposed by the Democrats,
under the lead of Mr. Buchanan. Mr. Choate sup
ported it on the two grounds of constitutionality and
of expediency, and closed a generous and statesman
like yet severe argument in these words : " The hon
orable senator is against your jurisdiction in all forms
and in all stages. Sir, I cannot concur with him. I

1841-1843.] SPEECH IN THE SENATE. 91
would assert the jurisdiction, on the contrary, ou the
same grand, general reason for which it was given to
you. It was given as a means of enabling you to
preserve honorable peace, or to secure the next best
thing, a just war, — a war into which we may carry
the sympathies, and the praise, and the assistance of
the world. Accept and exert it for these great ends.
Do not be deterred from doing so, and from doing so
now, by what the honorable senator so many times
repeated to you, that negotiations are pending witb
England ; that she has insulted and menaced you,
and withheld reparation, and withheld apology ; and
that, therefore, the passage of the bill, at this moment,
would be an unmanly and unseasonable courtesy or
concession to her. How much England knows or
cares about the passage of this bill ; what new rea
son it may afford to the ' Foreign Quarterly Review'
for predicting the approach of his monarchical millen
nium in America, we need not, I believe no one here
need, know or care. But does it mark unmanly fear
of England, an unmanly haste to propitiate her good
will, because I would commit the quiet and the glory
of my country to you ? Where should the peace of
the nation repose but beneath the folds of the nation's
flag ? Do not fear, either, that you are about to un
dervalue the learning, abilities, and integrity of the
State tribunals. Sir, my whole life has been a con
stant experience of their learning, abilities, and integ
rity ; but I do not conceive that I distrust or disparage
them, when I have the honor to agree with the Con
stitution itself, that yours are the hands to hold the
mighty issues of peace and war.
"Mr. President, how strikingly all things, and

92 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. ni.
every passing hour, iUustrate the wisdom of those
great men who looked to the Union, — the Union
under a general government, — for the preservation
of peace, at home and abroad, between us and the
world, among the States and in each State. Turn
your eyes eastward and northward, and see how this
vast but restrained and parental central power holds
at rest a thousand spirits, a thousand elements of
strife ! There is Maine. How long would it be, if
she were independent, before her hardy and gallant
children would pour themselves over the disputed
territory like the flakes of her own snow-storms?
How long, if New York were so, before that tumult
uous frontier would blaze with ten thousand 'bale
fires'? Our own beautiful and beloved Rhode Island
herself, with which the Senator rebukes you for inter
fering, — is it not happy even for her that her star,
instead of shining alone and apart in the sky, blends
its light with so many kindred rays, whose influence
may save it from shooting madly from its sphere ?
" The aspect which our United America turns upon
foreign nations, the aspect which the Constitution
designs she shall turn on them, the guardian of our
honor, the guardian of our peace, is, after all, her
grandest and her fairest aspect. We have a right to
be proud when we look on that. Happy and free
empress mother of States themselves free, unagitated
by the passions, unmoved by the dissensions of any
one of them, she watches the rights and fame of all,
and reposing, secure and serene, among the mountain
summits of her freedom she holds in one hand the
fair olive-branch of peace, and in the other the thun
derbolt and meteor flag of reluctant and rightful war,

1841-1843.J LETTERS TO CILVULES SUMNER. 93
There may she sit for ever ; the stars of union upon
her brow, the rock of independence beneath her feet!
Mr. President, it is because this bill seems to me well
calculated to accomplish one of the chief original ends
of the Constitution that it has my hearty support."
A few extracts from private letters will indicate
some of the other topics which interested him during
the session. January 24th he wrote to Mr. Sumner :
" Lord Morpeth is come and pleases universally. He
attends our atrocious spectacles in the House -with
professional relish." And a little later : —
" I have received and transmitted your papers for Lieber ;
and read the D. A.-" with edification and assent. We are
wrong. Lieber sent me a strong paper on the same subject.
He is the most fertile, indomitable, unsleeping, combative,
and propagandizing person of his race. I have bought
' Longfellow,' and am glad to hear of his run. Politics are
unpromising, but better than last session. The juste milieu
will vindicate itself. With much love to G. S. H.
" Yours faithfully, " R. Choate."
On the 19th of February he -writes again : —
" Mt dear Sumner, — I hoped to be able before now to
tell you what can be done for that elegant and tuneful Pro
fessor. No certain thing do I get yet, but I trust soon to
have. It is the age of patronage of genius you see. Regnat
Apollo, as one may say. . . . That was a most rich speech of
Hillard's, as is all his speaking, whether to listening crowds,
or to appreciating circles of you and me.^ . . . How cheerful,
genial, and fragrant, as it were, are our politics ! What ser
ried files of armed men, shoulder to shoulder, keeping time
1 The suhject of searching vessels on the high seas was then -widely
discussed, and this refers to some articles in the " Boston Daily Ad
vertiser," on the right and necessity, in certain cases, of verifying s
suspected flag.
2 A speech of Mr. Hillard's at a dinner given to Mr, Dickens.

94 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI
to the music of duty and glory, animated by a single soul,
are the Whigs ! But this delicious winter bears us swiftly
through it all, and the sun of to-day lights up the Potomac
and burns with the flush and glory of June. Dexter says
this city reminds one of Rome. I suppose he meant in its
spaces, solitudes, quiet, vices, etc., — though the surrounding
country is undoubtedly beautiful. Love to Hillard. Lieber
writes in Latin. I mean to answer him in any tongue what
ever he chooses to speak, and for that purpose must break
off and go at him. Truly yours,
" R. Choate.''
To Charles Sumner, Esq.
"Washington, June 5, 1842.
" Mt dear Sir, — I mourn that I cannot get you yet a
copy of the Opinions, otherwise called Old Fields.^ I am in
collusion with Tims, however ; if man can do it, Tims is he.
I have never got one for myself, or I would send that. I
send you my speech, so that if you do not get Ann Page, you
however have the great lubberly boy. . . . Lord Ashburton
is a most interesting man, quick, cheerful, graceful-minded,
keen, and prudent. The three young men [his suite] are
also clever ; young rather ; one a whig, all lovers of Lord
Morpeth. Maine comes with such exacting purposes, that
between us, 1 doubt. . . . Yours truly, " R. Choate/'
Later in the summer he writes again in the vein of
humor and playfulness which so generally characterized
his familiar intercourse : — " Washington, 10 p.m.
" Dear Sumner and Hillard, — I have addressed
myself with tears of entreaty to the Secretary, and if no
hidden snag, or planter, lies under the muddy fiood, we shall
scull the Dr. into port. There, as Dr. Watts says, he may
' Sit and sing himself away,'
or exclaim, —
' Spes et fortuna, valete — inveni nunc portum,
Lusistis me satis — ludite nunc alios ' —
1 Opinions of the Attorney-General, with reference to which Mr
Sumner had quoted the verses of Chaucer, —
" Out of the old fields cometh all this new corn," &a.

1841-1843.] NORTH EASTERN BOUNDARY QUESTION- 95
which is from the Greek, you know, in Dalzell's Grsec. Ma-
jora, vol. 2d, — and closes some editions of Gil Bias !
" The voting on the Ashburton Treaty at 9 at night —
seats fuU, — lights lighted, — hall as still as death — was not
without grandness. But why speak of this to the poco
curantes of that denationalized Boston and Massachusetts ?
" Yours truly, R. Choate."
Of all the questions of foreign policy none were
more pressing, on the accession of the Whigs to the
government, than the North-Eastern boundary. Col
lisions had already taken place on the border. British
regiments had been sent into Canada ; volunteers
were enrolled in Maine. The question seemed hope
lessly complicated, and both parties were apparently
immovable in their opinions. On assuming the De
partment of State, Mr. Webster at once informed the
British government of our willingness to renew nego
tiations, and shortly after the accession of Sir Robert
Peel and Lord Aberdeen to power. Lord Ashburton
was sent as a special envoy to the United States,
"with the hope of settling the dangerous dispute. On
both sides were high purposes, a willing mind, and a
determination, if possible, to settle the difficulty to
the advantage of both parties. This purpose was
finally accomplished ; the treaty was made and signed
by the respective Plenipotentiaries on the 9th August,
1842. It was submitted to the Senate on the 11th of
August, and finally ratified on the 20th of the same
month by a vote of 39 to 9. It determined the
North-Eastern boundarj' ; settled the mode of pro
ceeding for the suppression of the African Slave-
Trade ; and agreed to the extradition of criminals
fugitive from justice, in certain well-defined cases.
At the same time the irritating questions connected

96 MEMODR OP RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI.
with the destruction of The Caroline, the mutiny and
final liberation of the slaves on board The Creole,
and the right of impressment, were put at rest by
correspondence and mutual understanding. Harmony
was thus restored between two great nations ; the pos
sibility of border forces along the Canadian boundary
greatly diminished ; and the rights of the flag upon
the high-seas rendered more exact and definite. The
question of the boundary of Oregon was left unde
termined, because the arrangement of that question
seemed not to be practicable. That a treaty of so
much consequence, affecting questions that had so
long interested and irritated the nations, should meet
the approbation of every senator, was not to be ex
pected. It was assailed at great length, and with what
might be thought intemperate violence, by Mr. Benton,
when discussed in secret session, and subsequently
during the next session of Congress, when the bill
for the occupation of Oregon was under debate. He
found fault with what it did and with what it omitted
to do, with the spirit and patriotism of its American
negotiator, Mr. Webster, and with his resoluteness
and intelUgence. The treaty was defended with a
spirit and ability equal to the occasion. Mr. Choate
spoke three times. One only of these speeches has
been preserved, that delivered on the 3d February,
1843, during the debate on the bill for the occupation
and settlement of the Oregon Territory.
Congress adjourned on the 3d of March, and Mr.
Choate returned to the labors of his profession in
Boston. Since Mr. Choate's death there have been found
among his papers fragments of journals and transla-

1841-1843.] JOURNAL OF READINGS AND ACTIONS. 97
tions of portions of the ancient classics. Although
these were prepared solely for his own benefit, and
the translations seem never to have been revised, it
has been thought that no means accessible to us can so
fully exhibit some of his mental traits, the methods by
which he wrought, and the results which he gained.
Parts of the journals are accordingly inserted in their
chronological order, and extracts from the transla
tions, if this volume is not too crowded, will be found
in the appendix.
" Leaves of an Imperfect Journal op Readings and Actions.
" 3Iay, 184.3. — I can see very clearly, that an hour a day
might with manifold and rich usefulness be employed upon a
journal. Such a journal, written with attention to language
and style, would be a very tolerable substitute for the most
stimulating and raost improving of the disciplinary and edu
cational exercises, careful composition. It should not merely
enumerate the books looked into, and the professional and
other labors performed ; but it should embrace a digest, or
at least an index of subjects of what I read ; some thoughts
suggested by my reading ; something to evince that an acqui
sition has been made, a hint communicated ; a step taken in
the culture of the immortal, intellectual, and moral nature ;
a translation perhaps, or other effort of laborious writing ; a
faithful and severe judgment on the intellectual and the moral
quality of all I shall have done ; the failure, the success, and
tlie lessons of both. Thus conducted, it would surely be
greatly useful. Can I keep such an one? Prorsus ignoro
— prorsus dubito. Spero tamen. The difiiculty has been
heretofore that I took too little time for it. I regarded it
less as an agent, and a labor of useful influence, in and by
itself, — ill and by what it exacted, of introspection, memory,
revisal of knowledge and of trains of thought ; less by the
incumbent work of taste, expression, accuracy, which it itself
imposed and constituted, than as a mere bald and shrewd
enumeration of labors, processes, and other useful or influen
tial things somewhere else, and before undergone. Better
write on it but once a week, than so misconceive and impair
its uses.

98 MEMOIR OF RUTUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI.
" I do not know any other method of beginning to realize
what I somewhat vaguely, yet sanguinely, hope from my
improved journal, than by proceeding to work on it at once,
and regularly for every hour, for every half-hour of reading
which I can snatch from business and the law. I have a
little course for instance of authors whom I read for English
words and thoughts, and to keep up my Greek, Latin, and
French. Let me after finishing my day's little work of each,
record here what I have read, with some observation or some
version. I am sure the time I now give to one would be
better spent, if equally divided between him and this journal. ,
I am not to forget, that I am, and must be, if I would live, a
student of professional forensic rhetoric. I grow old. My
fate requires, appoints, that I do so di-daaxofisvog, — arte
rhetoricd.^ A wide and anxious survey of that art and that
science teaches me that careful constant writing is the parent
of ripe speech. It has no other. But that writing must be
always rhetorical writing, that is, such as might in some parts
of some speech be uttered to a listening audience. It is to
be composed as in and for the presence of an audience. So
it is to be intelligible, perspicuous, pointed, terse, with image,
epithet, turn, advancing and impulsive, full of generalizations,
maxims, illustrating the sayings of the wise. I have written
enough to satisfy me I cannot keep this journal ; yet seri
ously do I mean to try. Those I love best may read, smile,
or weep when I am dead, at such a record of lofty design
and meagre achievement ! yet they will recognize a spirit
that ' endeavored well.'
" 13th J%. — Read in Bloom. G. T. Matth. 3 c. 11-17,
and notes, carefully verifying the references. I believe I
concur with him in every observation. Qu. tamen 1. li jjis is
not the object of dcpsg as a-ixov is of dcfirjaiv and of SirAcohjev ?
2. Why does not svdvi; qualify dre^rj? Yet I think the sense
is, that the whole series of incidents — the ascent from the
water, and the opening of the heavens, and the vision, and
the voice — followed in the order I have enumerated yhsi and
close upon the consummation of the Baptism.
" 3. That a miracle is described, the apparent opening of
the heavens, so as to bring to the eye of some one, as from
above, beyond, within, the image, form, symbol, the Holy
Spirit, descending, with the hovering motion of the dove ;
and that an articulate proclamation of the Sonship, and the
^ Tiiipda-Ka S' oiel iroWck SiSoo-Ki^/iei/os, — a fragment from Solon.

1841-1843.] JOURNAL OF READINGS AND ACTIONS. 99
love and the complacency indulged towards that son, by the
Invisible speaking from on high, is asserted by the evangelist,
no one can doubt.
¦¦' Does ^n. 6, 216-17, describe a descent or a hovering at
all, or only contrast a progressive horizontal motion, caused
and attended by the moving of the wings, and a similar
motion with the wings at rest ? Semble the latter only.
" I read the French of the same verses, and the German,
but the latter without profit.
" I reviewed — for I will not confess I had never read —
Quintilian's first chap, of book 10, de copia verborum,, RoUin's
Latin edition. I think I do not over-estimate the transcendent
value and power, as an instrument of persuasive speech, of
what may be comprehensively described as the best language
— that which is the very best suited to the exact demand
of the discourse just where it is employed. Every word in
the language, by turns, and in the circle of revolving oratorical
exigencies and tasks, becomes precisely the right one loord,
and must be used, with one exception, that of immodest ones.
This is Quintilian's remark, [§ 9] exaggerated — modo eorum
qui art. prcec. tradunt — yet asserting a general truth of great
value, the immense importance of a strong hold, and a capacity
of easy employment of all the parts of the language — the
homely, the colloquial, the trite, as well as the lofty, the
refined, the ornamented, and the artistical propriety of a reso
lute interchange or transition from one to another.
" How such a language — such an English — is to be
attained, is plain. It is by reading and by hearing, — reading
the best books, hearing the most accomplished speakers.
Some useful hints how to read and how to hear, I gather
from this excellent teacher, and verify by my own experience,
and accommodate to my own case.
" I have been long in the practice of reading daily some
first-class English writer, chiefly for the copia verborum, to
avoid sinking into cheap and bald fluency, to give elevation,
energy, sonorousness, and refinement, to my vocabulary.
Yet with this object I would unite other and higher objects,
— the acquisition of things, — taste, criticism, facts of biog
raphy, images, sentiments. Johnson's Poets happens just
now to be my book, and I have just read his life and judg
ment of Waller.
" 1 1th May. — The review of this arduous and responsible
professional labor suggests a reflection or two. I am not

100 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IU.
conscious of having pressed any consideration farther than
I ought to have done, although the entire effort may have
seemed an intense and overwrought one. Guilty, she cer
tainly appears, upon the proof to have been ; and I can dis
cern no trace of subornation or manufacture of evidence.
God forgive the suborner and the perjured, if it be so ! I
could and should have prepared my argument beforehand and
with more allusion, illustration, and finish. Topics, principles
of evidence, standards of probability, quotations, might have
been much more copiously accumulated and distributed.
There should have been less said, — a better peroration, more
dignity, and a general better phraseology.
" 1 remark a disinclination to cross-examine, which I must
at once check. More discussion of the importance of guard
ing the purity of married life — the sufferings of the husband
— a passage or two from Erskine — should have been set
off against the passionate clamor for pity to the respondent.
Whole days of opportunity of preparation stupidly lost.
" I have read nothing since Sunday until to-day ; and
to-day only a page of Greenleaf on Evidence, and a half-
dozen lines of Greek, Latin, and French. But I prepared
the case of the Ipswich Man. Co. My Greek was the fifth
book of the Odyssey — 163-170 — the extorted, unantici
pated, and mysterious communication — unanticipated by, and
mysterious to, him — of Calypso to Ulysses on the seashore,
in which she bids him dry his tears, and cease to consume his
life ; for at length she will consent to assist his departure from
the endearments and the charms whose spell on his passions
was for ever broken. There is no peevishness or pettishness
in her words or manner ; but pity, and the bestowment gen
erously of what she knows and feels he will receive as the one
most comprehensive and precious object of desire.
^^ Saturday, Sd June. — The week, which closes to-day,
has not been one of great labor or of much improvement. I
discussed the case of Allen and the Corporation of Essex,
under the pressure of ill health ; and I have read and digested
a half-dozen pages of Greenleaf on Evidence, and as many
of Story on the Dissolution of Partnership. Other studies of
easier pursuit, nor wholly useless, — if studies I may denomi
nate them, — I have remembered in those spaces of time which
one can always command, though few employ. The preg
nant pages in which Tacitus reports the conflicting judgments
expressed by the Romans concerning Augustus, upon the day

1841-1843] JOURNAL OF READINGS AND ACTIONS. 101
of his funeral ; and paints the scene in the Senate, when that
body solicited Tiberius to assume the imperial name and
power ; the timid or politic urgency of the solicitation ; the
solicitation of prayers ; the dignified, distrusted, unintelligible
terms of the dissembler's reply ; his proposition to consent to
undertake a part of the imperial function, and the incautious
or the subtle inquiry with which Gallus for a moment spoiled
the acting of the player in the iron mask — ' what part he
would take ' — I have read for Latin. They include pp.
14r-17, in the edition of Ernesti and Oberlin. Observe,
Tacitus in his own person paints no character of Augustus.
More di-amatically he supposes a multitude to witness the
funeral, and then to speak among themselves of his character
and actions. By the intelligent, he says, a divided opinion
of his life was expressed. It was applauded by some ; it was
arraigned by others. The former found in filial piety, and
in those necessities of state which silenced and displaced and
superseded the laws, the only motives that compelled him to
take up the arms of civil war ; arms which can neither be
acquired nor wielded by the exercise of the purer and nobler
arts of policy. While he had his father's murderers to pun
ish, he conceded a large measure of supreme power to Antony
and to Lepidus ; but after the latter had grown an old man
by sloth, and the former had become debauched and ruined by
self-indulgence, there remained no remedy for his distracted
country but the government of one man. Yet that govern
ment was wielded, not under the name of king or of dictator,
but under that of prince. It had been illustrated, too, by policy
and fortune. The empire had been fenced and guarded on all
sides by great rivers and the sea. Legions, fleets, provinces,
however widely separated from each other, were connected by
a system and order of intercommunication and correspondence.
The rights of citizens had been guarded by the law ; moder
ation and indulgence had been observed towards the allies.
Rome itself had been decorated with taste and splendor.
Here and there only, military force had been interposed, to
the end that everywhere else there might be rest.
" I cannot to-day pursue the version farther. In Greek
I have reached the two hundred and fifty-first line of the fifth
Odyssey. Without preaching and talk by the poet, as in
Fenelon's celebrated work, how the actions and speech of
Ulysses show forth his tried, sagacious character. His sus
picion of Calypso, aud his exaction of an oath that she means

102 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. HI.
fair in thus suddenly permitting him to go ; his address in
allowing the superiority of her charms to Penelope's, and
putting forward rather the general passion for getting home,
as his motive of action ; his avowal that he is prepared to
endure still more of the anger of God, having endured so
much, mark the wary, much-suffering, and wise man, sailor,
and soldier. I read in French a dissertation in the Memoirs
of the Academic of Inscriptions, vol. 2, on the Chronology of
the Odyssey ; began one on Cicero's Discovery of the Tomb
of Archimedes. For English I have read Johnson's Lives
to the beginning of Dryden ; Alison, a little ; Antony and
Cleopatra, a little ; Quintilian's Chapters on Writing, and on
Extempore Speech, I have read and re-read ; but mean to
morrow to abridge and judge. I need a Facciolatus and a
Stephens. Preserve me from such temptation. The first
I must get ; and so I close this Saturday.
" I propose now to present in a condensed view all the good
sense in Quintilian's Chapters on Writing, and on Extempore
Speech. [Ch. I.] — He is treating of the means of acquiring
copiousness of speech, and has disposed of the first of these
means — the reading of good books — of authors or of orators.
[Ch. HL, § 1.] 'This is a help from without. But of all
the parts of self-educalion, the most laborious, most useful, is
writing. This, says Cicero, not extravagantly, best produces,
and is emphatically the master of speech. [§ 2.] — Write
then with as much pains as possible, and write as much as
possible. In mental culture, as in the culture of the earth,
the seed sown in the deepest furrow finds a more fruitful soil,
is more securely cherished, and springs up in his time to more
exuberant and healthful harvests. Witliout this discipline,
the power and practice of extemporaneous speech will yield
only an empty loquacity — only words born on the lips.
[§ 3.] — In this discipline, deep down there are the roots,
there the foundations ; thence must the harvest shoot, thence
the structure ascend; there is garnered up, as in a more
sacred treasury, wealth for the supply of even unanticipated
exactions. Thus, first of all, must we accumalate resources
sufficient for the contests to which we are summoned, and
inexhaustible by them. [§ 4.] — Nature herself will have no
great things hastily formed ; in the direct path to all beautiful
and conspicuous achievement she heaps up difficulty ; to the
largest animal she appoints the longest sleep in the parent
womb.

1841-1843.] JOURNAL OF READINGS AND ACTIONS. lOB
'• ' Two inquiries there are then : first how, next what we
shall write. [§ 5.] I begin with the first, and urge that you
compose with care, even if you compose ever so slowly. Seek
for the best ; do not eagerly and gladly lay hold on that which
first offers itself ; apply judgment to the crowd of thoughts
and words with which your faculties of invention supply you ;
retain and set in their places those only which thus you delib
erately approve. For of words and of things a choice is to
be made, and to that end the weight of every one to be
exactly ascertained.
" Tuesday, &th June. — ' The taste of selection accom
plished, that of collocation follows. Do not leave every
word to occupy as a matter of course the exact spot where
the order of time in which it occurs to you would place it ;
do not let the succession of their birth necessarily determine
their relative position. Seek rather by variety of experi
ment and arrangement to attain the utmost power, and the
utmost harmony of style. [§ 6.] The more successfully to
accomplish this, practise the repeated reading over of what
you have last written before you write another sentence.
By this means a more perfect coherence of what follows
with what precedes ; a more coherent and connected succes
sion of thought and of periods will be expected ; and by this
means, too, the glow of mental conception, which the labor
of writing has cooled, will be kindled anew ; and will, as it
were, acquire fresh impetus by taking a few steps backward ;
as in the contest of leaping we frequently remark the com
petitors setting out to run at an increased distance from the
point where they begin to leap, and thus precipitating them
selves by the impulse of the race towards the bound at which
they aim ; as in darting the javelin we draw back the arm ;
and in shooting with the bow draw back its string.'
" I have written only this translation of Quiutilian since
Saturday. Professional engagements have hindered me. But
I have carefully read a page or two of Johnson's Dryden,
and a scene or two of Antony and Cleopatra every morning
— marking any felicity or available peculiarity of phrase —
have launched Ulysses from the isle of Calypso, and brought
him in sight of Phaeacia. Kept along in Tacitus, and am
reading a pretty paper in the ' Memoirs ' on the old men
of Homer. I read Homer more easily and with more ap
preciation, though with no helps but Cowper and Donnegan's
Lexicon. Fox and Canning's Speeches are a more profes-

104 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IH.
sional study, not useless, not negligently pursued. Alas,
alas ! there is no time to realize the dilating and burning
idea of excellence and eloquence inspired by the great gal
lery of the immortals in which I walk !
" 24:tK June. - — ¦ I respire more freely in this pure air of a
day of rest. Let me record a most happy method of legal
study, by which I believe and feel that I am reviving my
love of the law ; enlarging my knowledge of it ; and fltting
myself, according to the precepts of the masters, for its
forensic discussions. I can find, and have generally been
able to find, an hour or two for legal reading beyond and
beside cases already under investigation. That time and
that reading I have lost, no matter how. I have adopted
the plan of taking a volume, the last volume of Massachu
setts Reports, and of making a full brief of an argument on
every question in every case, examining all the authorities,
finding others, and carefully composing an argument as well
reasoned, as well expressed, as if I were going to-morrow
to submit it to a bench of the first of jurists.-'^ At the com
pletion of each argument, I arrange the propositions inves
tigated in my legal commonplace book, and index them.
Already I remark renewed interest in legal investigations ;
renewed power of recalling, arranging, and adding to old
acquisitions ; increased activity and attention of mind ; more
thought; more effort; a deeper image on the memory;
growing facility of expression. I confess delight, too, in
adapting thus the lessons of the great teachers of rhetoric
to the study of the law and of legal eloquence.
" I resume Quintihan, p. 399. [§ 7.] ' Yet I deny not if
the fair wind freshly blows, that the sails may all be spread
to catch it. But have a care lest this surrender of yourself
to the spontaneous and headlong course of your conceptions
do not lead you astray. All our first thoughts, in the mo
ment of their birth, please us, or we should never write.
[§ 8.] But we must come to our critical senses again ; and
coolly revise and reconstruct the productions of this suspi
cious and deceitful facility. Thus we have heard that Sal-
lust wrote ; and indeed his work itself reveals the labor.
Varius tells us that Virgil, too, composed but very few
verses in a day.
" [§ 9.] ' The condition of the speaker is a different one
from that of the author. It is therefore that I prescribe, for
' This plan he continued down to the end of his life.

1841-1843.] JOURN^VL OF READINGS AND ACTIONS. IO-*)
the first, preparatory written exercises of the future speaker,
that he dwell so long and so solicitously upon his task. Con
sider that the first great attainment to be achieved is excel
lence of writing. Use will confer celerity. By slow degrees
matter will more easily present itself ; words will answer to
it ; style will follow ; all things as in a well-ordered house
hold, will know, will perform their functions. [§ 10.] It
is not by writing rapidly that you come to write well, but
by writing well you come to write rapidly.' Thus far
Quintilian. " I read, besides my lessons, the Temptation in Matthew,
Mark, and Luke, in the Greek ; and then that grand and
grave poem which Milton has buUt upon those few and
awful verses. Paradise Regained. I recognize and pro
foundly venerate the vast poetical luminary ' in this more
pleasing light, shadowy.' Epic sublimity the subject ex
cludes ; the anxious and changeful interests of the drama
are not there ; it suggests an occasional recollection of the
Book of Job, but how far short of its pathos, its agencies, its
voices of human sorrow and doubt and curiosity : and its
occasional unapproachable grandeur ; yet it is of the most
sustained elegance of expression ; it is strewn and burning
with the pearl and gold of the richest and loftiest and best-
instructed of human imaginations ; it is a mine — a maga
zine, ' horrent,' blazing with all weapons of the most exquisite
rhetoric ; with all the celestial panoply of truth, reason, wis
dom, duty."

lOt) MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IV

CHAPTER IV.
1843-1844.
Address before the New England Society of New York — Letter
from Mr. Van Cott — Letter to Professor Bush — Letters to
Charles Sumner — Letter to his Daughters — Speech on Oregon
in reply to Mr. Buchanan — Recollections of Alexander H. Ste
phens — First Speech on the Tariff — Second Speech in reply to
Mr. M'Duffie — Journal.
The twenty-eighth Congress met on the 4th of De
cember, 1848, and Mr. Choate removed to Washington
for the winter. In the latter part of the month he
visited New York for the purpose of delivering the
annual oration before the New England Society of
that city. The theme suggested by the occasion
was one which seemed always to have a fresh inter
est for him. He loved to dwell upon it. In lectures
and addresses he had many times spoken on the
Puritan character and history, and never without
the deepest sympathy and heart-stirring emotion.
On this occasion he presented the Pilgrims, their
Age and their Acts, as constituting a real and true
heroic period in the history of this republic. " We
have," he said, " a specific duty to perform. We
would speak of certain valiant, good, and peculiar
men, our fathers. We would wipe the dust from a
few old, plain, noble urns. We would shun husky
disquisitions, irrelevant novelties, and small display ;

1843-1844] ADDRESS IN NEW YORK. 107
would recall rather and merely the forms and linea
ments of the heroic dead, — forms and features which
the grave has not changed, — over which the grave
has no power — robed with the vestments and radiant
with the hues of an assured immortality." During
his discussion of the general subject he spoke of the
influences affecting the minds of the disciples of the
Reformation in England, during the residence of
many of them in Geneva. Touching lightly upon
the impression of the material grandeur and beauty
of Switzerland, he turned to the moral agents, the
politics, and the ecclesiastical influences to which
the exiles were exposed. " In the giant hand of
guardian mountains, on the banks of a lake lovelier
than a dream of the Faery land ; in a valley which
might seem hollowed out to enclose the last home
of liberty, there smiled an independent, peaceful,
law-abiding, well-governed, and prosperous Common
wealth. There was a State without king or nobles ;
there was a church without a bishop; there was a
people governed by grave magistrates which it had
elected, and equal laws which it had framed." These
phrases, " a State without a king,"' " a church with
out a bishop," were at once caught up and spread
through the land. They became the burden of pop
ular songs, and led to a noteworthy discussion of the
principles of church government between two emi
nent divines, — an Episcopalian and a Presbyterian,
— of New York.
The entire address was received with the greatest
delight and enthusiasm. A member of the New
York bar, somewhat advanced in years, and cool in
his temperament, said " that it was different in kind

108 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
from any thing they ever heard in New York before.
It came upon them like a series of electric shocks,
and they coiUd not keep their seats, and kept clap
ping and applahding without being conscious of it." ^
' The following account, from the pen of Mr. Joshua M. Van
Cott, is taken from the series of papers prepared by Judge Neilson,
for the " Albany Law Journal: " —
" The oration was delivered in the old Broadway Tabernacle, then
the largest auditorium in the city. The great building was crowded
to hear the famous speaker. Mr. Webster and other distinguished
raen were on the platform. Mr. Choate was then in his prime, and
his presence was hardly less striking than that of the great expounder.
Tall, tliin, his complexion a rich olive, his eyes large, liquid, glow
ing ; the face Oriental, rather than American, and generally rather
sad than eager and passionate. His voice was a rich baritone, sono
rous, majestic, finely modulated and inimitable in the expression of
pathos. He philosophically developed the rise of Puritanism and the
causes of the Pilgrim emigration, and came down to the Mayflower,
to Miles and Rose Standish, to the landing at Plymouth, the severity
of the winter, the famine and the sickness and the many deaths, —
fifty out of a hundred, including the beautiful Rose Standish. Paus
ing, witli a sad, far-off look in his eyes, as if the vision had suddenly
risen upon his memory, and with a voice inexpressibly sweet and
pathetic, and nearly choked with emotion, he said, ' In a late visit
to Plymouth, I sought the spot where these earlier dead were buried.
It was on a bank somewhat elevated, near, fronting and looking upon
the waves — symbol of what life had been to them — ascending inland
behind and above the rock — symbol also of that Rock of Ages on which
the dying had rested in that final hour.'
"I have never seen an audience so moved. The orator had skil
fully led up to this passage, and then, with a voice surcharged with
emotion, symbolized the stormy and tumultuous life, the sudden and
sad end, and the heroic faith with which, resting upon the Rock of
Ages, they had lain down on the shore of the Eternal Sea. As
Choate approached the climax, Webster's emotion became uncon
trollable ; the great eyes were filled with tears, the great frarae shook;
he bowed his head to conceal his face in his hat, and I almost seemed
to hear his sob. The audience was flooded with tears, a handkerchief
at every face, and sighs and sobs soughed through the house like
wind in the tree-tops. The genius of the orator had transferred us
to the spot, and we saw the rocky shore, and, with him mourned the

1843-1844.] LETTER TO PROF. GEORGE BUSH. 109
On returning to Washington he wrote to his friend
Professor Bush, who had recently adopted the views
of Swedenborg. Although of decided theological
opinions himself, Mr. Choate rarely entered upon a
polemical discussion of religious topics, never indeed
but with those intimate friends with whom he sympa
thized most closely. About himself he never chose
to talk, and those who indiscreetly tried to probe his
feelings would generally find themselves turned aside
with what would seem the most consummate art, were
it not done so naturally, and with such suavity and
gentleness. Hence iu declining a discussion, and in
saying a kind word of the opinions of others, he some
times seemed, to those who did not know him, indif
ferent as to his own.
To Proi-essok Geoege Bush.
"Washington, Jan. 7, 1844.
" Mt deae Me. Bush, — I grieve that I did not see you
at New York, were it but to have united in a momentary ob
jurgation of all celebrations on wet days ; though I should
have been still more delighted to sit down and charm out of
their cells of sleep about a million of memories. But it did
not occur to me that you could possibly be present,^ and I had
early dead. We have had but one Rufus Choate : alas ! we shall
never have another. We have had powerful dialecticians, such as
Hamilton and Pinkney and Webster; we have had great stump-
speakers, such as senator Corwin and Sergeant S. Prentiss, but none
who could sway the soul like the great lawyer, scholar, statesman,
and orator of New England.
' So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and questions deep.
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep;
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill.
Catching aU passions in his craft of will.' "
[Shaks. Lo-veb's Complaiht.J
' At the New England Festival.

110 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
not an instant to go out to call on you. I have known, say
half a dozen very able men, who hold Swedenborg just as you
do. Theophilus Parsons, of Boston, is one, who is a man of
genius. For my part, I know him not, and have a timorous
disinclination to being shocked, waked, or stunned out of the
' trivial fond ' prejudices and implicit takings up of a whole
life. But it is your privilege to be a seeker for truth, with
pure aims and a most appreciating eye and spirit. Sit mea
anima cum tud. Yours truly, " R. Choate."
Besides the political business of the session, Mr.
Choate was much interested in a law case of great
importance, that of Massachusetts v. Rhode Island.
Mr. Charles Sumner acted as counsel with him in ob
taining and preparing the local proofs. The follow
ing letter refers to that case : —
To Chakles Sumner, Esq.
" Mt dear Sumnee, — I thank you for the documents.
The cause is assigned for the 20th, and being, as Mr. Justice
Catron expressly declared, a case of ' Sovereign States,' it has,
before this tribunal of strict constructionists, a terrified and
implicit precedence. Great swelling words of prescription
ought to be spoken. For the rest, I see no great fertility or
heights in it. Most hurriedly yours,
"R. Choate.
" Saturday, 5 P. M." To Chakles Sumnek, Esq.
" Mt deae Sumnee, — I have written by this maU to Mr.
Palfrey, Secretary of State, to send me instantly certain pa
pers for Massachusetts v. Rhode Island. May I entreat you
to go as soon as possible to the State House, see my letter,
and aid and urge its objects. You will know the what and
where, and a mail saved is all one as it were a kingdom for a
horse. "I thank you for your views, — excellent and seasonable.
I will speak them to the court so that they shall never know
any thing else again as long as they live. Please be most
prompt. Yours, R. Choate.
" 15th Feb. — The case is for the 20th 1 1 "

1843-1844.] LETTERS TO CH.\.RLES SUMNER. Ill

To Chakles Sujutek, Esq.
" Saturday, Feb. 17, 1844.
"Mt deae Sie, — To my horror and annoyance, the court
has just continued our cause to the next term ! The counsel
of Rhode Island moved it yesterday, assigning for cause that
the court was not full ; that the Chief Justice could not sit by
reason of ill health ; Mr. Justice Story did not sit,^ and there
was a vacancy on the bench. The court was therefore re
duced to six judges. We opposed the motion.
" To-day .Mr. Justice M'Lean said, that on interchanging
¦views they fonnd that three ofthe six who would try it have
formally, on the argument or the plea, come to an opinion in
favor of Massachusetts, and that therefore they thought it not
proper to proceed. If Rhode Island should fail, he suggested,
she might have cause of dissatisfaction.
" I regret this result, on all accounts, and especially that
the constant preparatory labors of a month are for the present
wholly lost. I had actually -withdrawn from the Senate
Chamber to make up this argument, which may now never
be of any use to anybody. . . . " Yours, R. Choate."

To Chakles Sumnee, Esq. "Feb. 18t4.
"Mt deae SmiNEE, — All the papers came safe, except
as yet the whole volume which is to come by Harnden. I
shall print the useful, — keep all safely — with the entire file.
Some of them are very good. The continuance of the cause
rendered it partially to be regretted that so much trouble was
given. But it is better to close the printing at once.
'' Please thank Dr. Palfrey, and dry his and Mr. Felt's
tears. I knew it would be like defending a city by holding
up upon the walls against darts and catapults, little children,
images of gods, cats, dogs, onions, and all other Egyptian
theogonics, — but better so than to be taken.
" Yours truly, R. Choate.'
• Because belongmg to Massachusetts.

112 MEMOUi OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.

To Charles Sumner, Esq. [No date.]
" Deae Sumner, — I have just had your letter read to me
on a half-sick bed, and get up redolent of magnesia and roasted
apples, to embrace you for your Burkeism generally, and for
your extracts and references. It is odd that I have, on my
last year's brief, a passage or two from him on that very topic
whidi he appreciates so profoundly, but am most happy to
add yours. By the way, — I always admired that very letter
in Prior, if it is the same.
'' 1 hope you review Burke in the N. A.,^ though I have
not got it and you do not say so. Mind that he is the fourth
Englishman, — Shakspeare, Bacon, Milton, Burke. I hope
you take one hundred pages for the article. Compare, con
trast, with Cicero, — both knowing all things, — but God
knows where to end on Burke. No Englishman or country
man of ours has the least appreciation of Burke. The Whigs
never forgave the last eight or ten years of that life of glory,
and the Tories never forgave what preceded ; and we poor,
unidealized democrats do not understand his marvellous Eng
lish, universal wisdom, illuminated, omniscient mind, and are
afraid of his principles. What coxcombical rascal is it that
thinks Bolingbroke a better writer? Take page by page
the allusions, the felicities, the immortahties of truth, variety,
reason, height, depth, every thing, — Bolingbroke is a voluble
prater to Burke !
" Amplify on his letter in reply to the Duke of Bedford.
How mournful, melodious, Cassandra-like ! Out of Burke
might be cut 50 Mackintoshes, 175 Macaulays, 40 Jeffreys,
and 260 Sir Robert Peels, and leave him greater than Pitt
and Fox together.
" I seem to suppose your article is not written, — as I hope
it is. God bless you. Yours truly, R. C."

To HIS Daughters.

"Mtdbar D.4UGHTEES Theee, — I owe you so many
letters, that I know not how to begin to pay. I thought of
three different letters, — one to each, — but I am so dreadfully

North American Review.

1843-1844.] LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 113
busy that I could not achieve such a thing ; so I put my arms
around you one and all, and make one kiss serve. Sarah's
conundrum is tres belle and tr&s ,fine, but thrice tres easy. Is
it not the letter ' A ' ?
" Picciola is so famous and fine that I am glad you like it
and find it easier. I am reading French law-books to prepare
for a case. Dear Minnie writes a pretty short letter. I hope
the girls are no longer X to her as she says. Be good, sober
girls and help your mother in all her cares and works.
" I am awfully lonesome. But I study quite well, and am ¦
preparing to argue a great cause.
" It is extremely cold. Write each day a full account of
its studies, its events, its joys and sorrows; and any new ideas
you have acquired.
" Take excellent care of my books. Do not let any thing
be lost.
" Coleridge I have ; but I don't think you would under
stand it. Try however. Kiss your dear mother for me.
" YouE Afeectionate Father."
Mr. Choate was always interested in naval affairs,
and exerted himself during this session to secure a
suitable indemnity for the officers and seamen (or
their widows and orphans), who lost their property by
wreck of United States vessels of war.
Another question received still more attention.
On the Sth of January, 1844, Mr. Semple, of Illinois,
introduced a resolution requesting the President to
give notice to the British Government of a desire on
the part of the United States to terminate the treaty
aUowing the joint occupation of the territory of Ore
gon. Mr. Choate opposed the resolution, because
negotiation on the subject had already been invited,
and to pass the resolution would only impede the
efforts of plenipotentiaries, while it imperilled the
interests of the United States, and looked towards a
declaration of war. TJiese views in substance were
maintained by the Whigs generally. They were

114 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV,
opposed by the opposite party, and by no one more
ably than by Mr. Buchanan, who directed his argu
ment mainly against the speech of Mr. Choate. To
this Mr. Choate made a reply on the 19th of March,
expanding and enforcing his previous argument.^
Mr. Buchanan had insisted upon the hostility of
the people of the United States to England. " They
still remember," he said, " the wrongs we had en
dured in days past: they remembered these things
perhaps with too deep a sensibility. And although
Senators might please their ears with the terms
' mother and daughter,' a vast majority of our people
were penetrated with the conviction that to us England
had ever acted the part of a cruel step-mother. It
was this deep-wrought conviction, these associations
of former scenes, that lay at the foundation of the
national enmity which too extensively prevailed.
Injuries on the one side, and their remembrance on
the other, kept up this ill blood."
" But is this so ? " said Mr. Choate in reply. " Is
it so, that the great mass of the people are pervaded,
are 'penetrated' by a deep-seated, 'deep-wrought'
'sentiment of national enmity' towards this particu
lar nation, England? Is it so, that our veins are
filled with ' ill blood ' towards that country, — ill
blood generated and fed by the 'memory of wrongs
endured in days past ' ? This I understand the Sena
tor to allege, and even to regret. I have repeated to
you, however, exactly what he says, to be interpreted
by yourselves. But thus I understand it. The cher-
^ This eloquent and powerful speech may be found complete in
the flrst edition of " The Life and Writings of Rufus Choate," j nib-
lished by Little, Brown, & Co., in 2 vols., 1862.

1843-1844] SPEECH ON OREGON. 115
ished remembrance of wrongs endured in past days,
the conviction that England had ever acted the part
of a ' cruel step-mother ; ' ' the associations of former
scenes,' — these bitter memories, compose the deep
foundations of a too extensive national hostility; these
things make the great body of the people enemies of
England, in a time of profound peace. Thus I inter
pret the Senator. Is this so ? "
" Being, sir, through the favor of a kind Pro-vi
dence, one of the people of America myself, and
ha-ving been born and bred not in cities, which are
said to love England, but in the country, which is
said, as I understand the honorable Senator, to hate
her ; and having been astonished and pained to hear
it asserted that such a people, one of as happy, gen
erous, and kind a nature as the sun shines on, were
laboring under a sentiment so gloomy and so barba
rous as this, — I have been revolving the subject with
some care and with some feeling. Exhausted as I am,
and as you are, I cannot sit down without denouncing,
in the first place, the sentiment thus, as I understand
the Senator, ascribed by him to my countrymen, as
immoral, unchristian, unchivalrous, unworthy of good
men, unworthy of ' gallant men and men of honor ; '
and without, in the second place, expressing my en
tire and profound con-viction that no such sentiment
inhabits the bosom of the American people."
" Mr. President, we must distinguish a little. That
there exists in this country an intense sentiment of
nationaUty ; a cherished, energetic feeling and con
sciousness of our independent and separate national
existence ; a feeling that we have a transcendent

116 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
destiny to fulfil, which we mean to fulfil ; a great
work to do, which we know how to do and are able
to do ; a career to run, up which we hope to ascend
till we stand on the steadfast and glittering summits
of the world ; a feeling that we are surrounded and
attended by a noble, historical group of competitors
and rivals, the other nations of the earth, all of whom
we hope to overtake and even to distance, — such
a sentiment as this exists perhaps in the character of
this people. And this I do not discourage ; I do not
condemn. It is easy to ridicule it. But ' grand
swelling sentiments' of patriotism no wise man will
despise. They have their uses. They help to give a
great heart to a nation ; to animate it for the various
conflicts of its lot ; to assist it to work out for itself a
more exceeding weight, and to fill a larger measure,
of glory. But, sir, that among these useful and beau
tiful sentiments, predominant among them, there
exists a temper of hostility towards this one particular
nation, to such a degree as to amount to a habit,
a trait, a national passion, — to amount to a state of
feeling which ' is to be regretted,' and which really
threatens another war, — this I earnestly and confi
dently deny." ....
" No, sir, no, sir. We are above all this. Let the
Highland Clansman, half naked, half civilized, half
blinded by the peat smoke of his cavern, have his
hereditary enemy and his hereditary enmity, and keep
the keen, deep, and precious hatred, set on fire of
hell, alive if he can ; let the North American Indian
have his, and hand it down from father to son, by
Heaven knows what symbols of alligators and rattle
snakes and war clubs smeared with vermilion and

1843-1844.] SPEECH ON OREGON. 117
entwined with scarlet; let such a country as Poland,
cloven to the earth, the armed heel on her radiant
forehead, her body dead, her soul incapable to die, —
let her ' remember the wrongs of days long past ; '
let the lost and wandering tribes of Israel remember
theirs, — the manliness and the sympathy of the
world may allow or pardon this to them ; but shall
America, young, free, prosperous, just setting out on
the highway of heaven, ' decorating and cheering the
elevated sphere she just begins to move in, glittering
like the morning star, full of life and joy,' — shaU
she be supposed to be poUuting and corroding her
noble and happy heart, by moping over old stories
of Stamp Act, and Tea Act, and the firing of the
Leopard upon the Chesapeake in a time of peace?
No, sir ; no, sir ; a thousand times no I Why, I
protest I thought all that had been settled. I
thought two wars had settled it all. What else
was so much good blood shed for on so many more
than classical fields of Revolutionary glory? For
what was so much good blood more lately shed at
Lundy's Lane, at Fort Erie, before and behind the
lines at New Orleans, on the deck of the Constitu
tion, on the deck of the Java, on the lakes, on the
sea, but to settle exactly those ' wrongs of past days ' ?
And have we come back sulky and sullen, from the
very field of honor ? For my country I deny it. The
Senator says that our people still remember these
' former scenes of wrong -with perhaps too deep ' a
sensibility ; and that, as I interpret him, they nourish
a ' too extensive ' national enmity. How so ? If the
feeling he attributes to them is moral, manly, credita
ble, how comes it to be too deep ; and if it is immoral,

118 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV,
unmanly, and unworthy, why is it charged on them
at all ? Is there a member of this body who would
stand up in any educated, in any intelligent and
right-minded circle which he respected, and avow
that for his part he must acknowledge that, looking
back through the glories and atonements of two wars,
his veins were fuU of Ul blood to England; that
in peace he could not help being her enemy; that
he could not pluck out the deep-wrought convic
tions and the ' immortal hate ' of the old times ? Cer
tainly not one. And then, sir, that which we feel
would do no honor to ourselves, shaU we confess for
our country ?
" Mr. President, let hae say that, in my judgment,
this notion of a national enmity of feeling towards
Great Britain belongs to a past age of our history.
My younger countrymen are unconscious of it. They
disavow it. That generation in whose opinions and
feeUngs the actions and the destiny of the next age are
enfolded, as the tree in the germ, do not at all com
prehend your meaning, nor your fears, nor your re
grets. We are born to happier feelings. We look
on England as we look on France. We look on them
from our new world, not unrenowned, yet a new
world still ; and the blood mounts to our cheeks ;
our eyes swim ; our voices are stifled with emulous-
ness of so much glory ; their trophies will not let us
sleep : but there is no hatred at all ; no hatred ; all
for honor, nothing for hate ! We have, we can have
no barbarian memory of wrongs, for which brave men
have made the last expiation to the brave.
" No, sir : if public men, or any one public man,
think it their duty to make a war or cultivate the

1843-1S44.] SPEECH ON OREGON. 119
dispositions of war towards any nation, let them per
form the duty, and have done with it. But do not
say that there is an unfortunate, morbid, impractica
ble popular temper on the subject, which you desire
to resist, but are afraid you shall not be able to resist.
If you will answer for the politicians, I think I will
venture to answer for the people."
Of the impression made by this speech there seems
to have been but one judgment. Two days after
its delivery the resolution was rejected by a vote of
twenty-eight to eighteen.^
1 The following interesting account, taken from the " Baltimore
Gazette " of Dec. 25, 1877, gives the reminiscences of the Hon. Alex
ander H. Stephens of Georgia : " I entered Congress," said Mr.
Stephens, " in 1843, when I was of the age of thirty-one years, when
the second generation of the great statesmen were still on the boards,
lapping the revolutionary age. They were there in the full vigor of
intellect, and still figuring prominently on the public stage. John
Quincy Adams was a member of the House of Representatives.
Calhoun, Clay, and Webster were the three great leaders of par
ticular political ideas. . . . One of the first deep impressions made
upon my mind was by Rufus Choate of Massachusetts. Early in
my first session I had gone into the Senate to see Mr. Berrien of
Georgia. When I was about leaving the senate chamber the order
of the day was called, and before I reached the door the tones of
voice of a speaker attracted my attention. I turned in the direc
tion of the orator, and saw before me a remarkable-looking man of
medium size, with raven locks, a striking black eye, a pallid cheek,
a bearing as if fully charged with his subject, and his hand trembling
as if with electricity. The Chair had announced the gentleman from
Massachusetts, aud in an instant I knew it must be Rufus Choate.
I soon became very much interested in his speaking. His matter
and style were grand, and became more so as he advanced. Every
one was enraptured with his eloquence. He was replying to a
speech made by Mr. Buchanan, on a resolution to give notice to the
English Government of a termination of the joint occupancy of
Oregon. Mr. Buchanan had taken the extreme view, calculated to
arouse a war-feeling. He spoke of a deep-seated enmity in the

120 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
There was probably no subject which awakened a
deeper interest during this session, or caUed out a
greater amount of talent in discussion, than the tariff.
Soon after the meeting of Congress Mr. M'Duffie
asked leave to introduce a biU to re-vive the tariff of
1833. On this more than twenty senators, the leaders
and veterans of that august body, spoke at different
times, most of them with elaborate and formal argu
ment, and some of them more than once. J\lr. Choate
breasts of our people over the wrongs inflicted by England in formei
days, and of the iU blood and hate that existed in this country in
consequence of those wrongs.
" The ' Globe ' of 1844, in reporting the reply of Mr. Choate, says
it cannot finish the report of the speech, owing to the sudden indis
position of the reporter. I can repeat the omitted portion even at
this distance of time, so profound was the irapression made upon
me. When Mr. Choate came to this part of Buchanan's speech he
seemed to rise to a majesty that impressed his audience more deeply
than I had ever witnessed any orator accomplish on a like occasion."
[Here follows a long quotation of several passages given above.]
" Ever after this speech I never let an opportunity go by to hear
Mr. Choate. I consider him the most interesting man for impassioned
oratory I ever heard. He had a faculty which few men possessed
of never tiring his hearers. Several years after, I heard him in the
Supreme Court argue the case of the boundary line between Rhode
Island and Massachusetts. It was as dull a case as any ordinary
land-ejectment suit. I was at a loss to understand how Mr. Choate
could interest an audience under such circumstances. The court
had been occupied five days by some of the ablest lawyers. The
room was thronged to hear Choate's reply. From the moment he
commenced he enchained the audience, and enlivened the dull sub
ject by apt historical allusions and pleasing illustrations. The logical
connection of his argument was excellent, and so well arranged that
in two hours he had finished a thorough argument, which was inter
spersed throughout with sublime imagery. Every paragraph was as
the turning of a. kaleidoscope, where new and brilliant images are
presented at every turn. At the conclusion of that speech I was
confirmed in the opinion that he was the greatest orator I ever
heard, — in this respect greater than Calhoun, Clay, or Webster."

1843-1844.] TARIFF BILL. 121
addressed the Senate first on the 18th and 15th of
April, in an exhaustive historical discussion of the
early tariffs, especially showing that that of 1789 was
essentially a tariff of protection, and deriving from
this a general argument in favor of a protective
policy ; enlivening the necessarily dry enumeration
of individual opinions, and the details of an old sub
ject, by occasional pleasantry, and sometimes by high
and fervid eloquence. Mr. Benton had spoken of the
evils of an irregular policy. " Perhaps," replied Mr.
Choate, " I might not entirely concur with the dis
tinguished senator from Missouri, in his estimate of
the magnitude of the evil. An evil it no doubt is.
Sometimes, in some circumstances, irregularity would
be an intolerable one. In the case he puts, of a
balloon in the air, 'now bursting with distention,
now collapsing from depletion,' it would be greatly
inconvenient. But all greatness is irregular. All
irregularity is not defect, is not ruin. Take a differ
ent illustration from that of the balloon. Take the
New England climate in summer ; you would think
the world was coming to an end. Certain recent
heresies on that subject may have had a natural origin
there. Cold to-day, hot to-morrow ; mercury at eighty
degrees in the morning, with a wind at south-west,
and in three hours more a sea-turn, wind at east, a
thick fog from the very bottom of the ocean, and a
fall of forty degrees of Fahrenheit ; now so dry as to
kill all the beans in New Hampshire, then floods
carrying off the bridges and dams of the Penobscot
and Connecticut ; snow in Portsmouth in July, and
the next day a man and a yoke of oxen killed by
lightning in Rhode Island, — jou would think the

122 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV
world was twenty times coming to an end! But I
don't know how it is ; we go along ; the early and
the latter rain falls each in his season ; seed time and
harvest do not fail ; the sixty days of hot corn weather
are pretty sure to be measured out to us ; the Indian
summer with its bland south-west and mitigated sun
shine brings all up ; and on the 25th of November, or
thereabout, being Thursday, three mUlions of grate
ful people, in meeting-houses, or around the family
board, give thanks for a year of health, plenty, and
happiness. All irregularity, whatever the cause, is
not defect nor ruin."
He closed with a word for Massachusetts, which
had been assailed for her opinions. " Permit me to
say. Sir, that you must take the States of America as
you find them. All of them have their peculiarities ;
all have their traits ; all have their histories, tra
ditions, characters. They had them before they came
into the Union ; they will have them after
' Rome in Tiber melts, and the wide arch of the ranged empire falls .'
South Carolina has hers; Massachusetts has hers.
She will continue to think, speak, print, just what she
pleases, on every subject that may interest the patriot,
the moralist, the Christian. But she will be true to
the Constitution. She sat among the most affection
ate at its cradle ; she will follow — the saddest of the
procession of sorrow — its hearse. She sometimes has
stood for twenty years together in opposition to the
general government. She cannot promise the im
plicit politics of some of her neighbors. I trust, how
ever, that she will not be found in opposition to the
next administration. I have heard that once her

1843-1844.] DEBATE ON THE TARIFF. 123
Senate refused to vote thanks for a victory for which
her people had shed their blood. Sir, you must take
the States as you find them ; you must take her as
you find her. Be just to her, and she will be a bless
ing to you. She will sell to you at fair prices, and on
liberal credits ; she wUl buy of you when England and
Canada and the West Indies and Ireland will not;
she will buy your staples, and mould them into shapes
of beauty and use, and send them abroad to represent
your taste and your genius in the great fairs of civili
zation. Something thus she may do, to set upon youi
brow that cro-wn of industrial glory to which 'the
laurels that a Csesar reaps are weeds.' More, Sir,
more. Although she loves not war, nor any of its
works, — although her interests, her morals, her in
teUigence, are all against it, — although she is with
South Carolina, with all the South on that ground, —
yet, Sir, at the call of honor, at the call of liberty, if
I have read her annals true, she will be found stand
ing, where once she stood, side by side -with you on
the darkened and perilous ridges of battle. Be just
to her, — coldly, severely, constitutionally just, — and
she wUl be a blessing to you."
The debate closed on the Slst of May. Mr. M'Duffie,
as having opened the discussion, occupied two days
in replying to his different opponents. His hopes of
carrying the bUl, if ever entertained, had long since
vanished ; and this may account in a measure for the
unusual tone of his speech. The first portion of it
was mainly addressed to Mr. Choate, and charged him
with drawing very largely, if not exclusively, upon
his imagination for his facts, and spinning and weav
ing a web " about the texture of a cobweb, ancl pro-

124 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
duced very much in the same way." He asserted
that he gave isolated, if not garbled, extracts from
the speeches of members of the first Congress, " pick
ing up from Grub street a worm-eaten pamphlet, with
opinions that would form an appropriate argument
for the leader of a band of highway robbers." " I
confess, Mr. President," he went on to say, "that
when I followed the honorable senator, hopping and
skipping from legislative debates to catch-penny
pamphlets, gathering alike from the flowers and the
offal of history, I found it difficult to decide whether
his labors more resembled those of a humming-bird in
a flower-garden, or a butterfly in a farm-yard." There
was more of the same sort. The answer was imme
diate, and in a strain which Mr. Choate in no other
case ever indulged in. " I must throw myself, Mr.
President," he said, " on the indulgence of the Senate
for a few minutes ; and offer a few words of explana
tion, made necessary by the senator's comments upon
a portion of the remarks which I had the honor to
submit to you some six weeks ago. I do not propose
to take notice of any thing which he has said to other
senators, nor of what I may call the general tariff
matter of his speech. If others have been assailed, as
I have been, by stale jests or new jests, stale argu
ment or new argument, stale denunciations or fresh,
they well know how to take care of themselves. I
rejoice, too, to see that the protective policy of the
country is taking excellent care of itself. One more
suoh vote as another branch of Congress has just
given, — one such election as will occupy, reward,
and illustrate the approaching summer and autumn,
— and the universal labor of America will be safe

1843-1844.] REPLY TO MR. M'DUFFIE. 125
from the jokers of old jokes, or the jokers of new
jokes. If then it be assailed by the arguments of men
or the arms of rebels, it will, I hope, be quite able to
defend itself against them also.
" Confining myself, then, Mr. President, altogether
to the senator's notice of me, I must begin by saying
that never in my life have I been so completely taken
bj'^ surprise as by this day's exhibition, just closed,
of good manners, sweet temper, courteous tone, fair
statement of his opponent's position, masterly reply
to it, exceUent stories — all out of Joe MiUer — ex
temporaneous jokes of six weeks' preparation, gleaned
from race-ground, cockpit, and barn-yard, with which
the senator from South Carolina has been favoring
the Senate and amusing himself. I came into the
Senate yesterday with the impression that -the occa
sion was to be one of a sort of funereal character. I
supposed that this bill of the senator, never fairly
alive at all, but just by your good-nature admitted to
have been so for a moment to make a tenancy by
courtesy, and now confessedly dead, was to be buried.
I came in, therefore, with composed countenance, ap
propriate meditations on the nothingness of men and
things, and a fixed determination not to laugh, if I
could help it. The honorable senator, I supposed,
would pronounce the eulogy, and then an end. Even
he, I expected, would come rather to bury than to
praise. I thought it not improbable that we should
hear the large and increasing majority of the Ameri
can people proclaimed robbers and plunderers, —
because that we hear from the same source so often,
some threatening of nullification in old forms or new,
some going to death on sugar, some ' purging of the

126 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV
passions by pity and terror,' — and then the ceremony
would be closed and all be over.
"No tongue, then, can express the surprise with
which I heard the honorable senator waste a full hour
or more of the opening of his speech, and some pre
cious health and strength, in slowly dealing out a suc
cession of well-premeditated and smallish sarcasms on
me. I was surprised, because I think the Senate wUl
on all sides bear witness to what, under the very pe
culiar circumstances, I may be excused for calling to
mind, — my own general habit of courtesy here. Not
participating with excessive frequency in debate, nor
wholly abstaining from it, I have sought always to
observe the manner, as I claim to possess the senti
ments, of a gentleman. In such a body as this, such
a course is, indeed, no merit and no distinction. It is
but an unconscious and general sense of the presence
in which we speak.
" In the instance of this discussion of the tariff I
am totally unaware of any departure from what I
have made my habit. The senator from South Caro
lina, had, as he had a perfect right to do, introduced
a proposition which, adopted, would sweep the sweet
and cheerful surface of Massachusetts with as accom
plished, with as consummated a desolation, as if fire
and famine passed over it ; and would permanently,
and widely as I believed, and most disastrously, affect
the great interests and aU parts of the country. That
proposition I opposed ; debating it, however, in a
general tone, and with particular expression of high
respect for the abilities and motives of the honorable
Senator, and in a manner from first to last which
could give no just offence to any man. I acknowledge

1840-1844.] REPLY TO MR. M'DUFFIE. 127
my surprise, therefore, at the course of the Senator's
reply. But I feel no stronger emotion. I do not
even remember all the good things at which his
friends did him the kindness to smile. If he shall
ever find occasion to say them over again, he will
have, I presume, no difficulty in re-gathering them
from the same jest-book, the same historian of Kil
kenny, the same race-ground and cockpit and barn
yard, where he picked them up. They -wiU serve his
purpose a second time altogether as weU as they have
done now." From this the speaker went on distinctly
and cogently to reaffirm and prove his former position,
respecting the law of 1789, not a new and original
idea, as had been charged upon him, but held by
Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and Dallas, " almost
as old indeed as some of his opponent's newest jests
and best stories."
Another charge he meets -with peremptory denial.
" What does the Senator say next ? Well, Sir, as far
as I could make out a certain enormous and broken-
winged metaphor, in which he slowly and painfully
wrapped up his meaning rather than displayed it,
beginning with his grandfather's regimentals, and
ending — I am sure I could not see how — with a
butterfly and a barn -yard — a Homeric metaphor — a
longue queue — as well as I could take the sense of the
figure, he meant to say that, in my former remarks, I
contrived by selecting my own speakers, by picking
and choosing from what they said, and by interpola
tions of my own, to give a garbled and unfair exposi
tion of that great debate, its course and topics and
interpretative effect. In fewer words, his metaphor
went to accuse me of having confined myself to a

1 28 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV
culling out of a few paragraphs here and there from
a debate of two or three hundred pages, and then
assuming to pass off these as specimens of the whole ;
whereas they afforded no idea of it whatsoever. It is
cheating by samples, I think, which the Senator fig
uratively charges.
" Now, Sir, I deny this charge. I dare him to the
proof. I chaUenge him ; I challenge any man to
produce a particle of proof of it. ... I meet the
Senator's bad metaphor by good plain English. The
accusation or insinuation is totally groundless and
totally unjust. Let the Senator sustain it, if he can.
There is the speech as it was deUvered. He has at
last found the debate which it attempted to digest.
If it was not fully and fairly done, let him show it."
Beyond assertion he then went on to demonstrate
the correctness of his position by ample quotations
from impregnable documents, occasionally throwing
in sentiments of a higher character, and closed with
a quiet and beautiful appeal to the Senators from
Virginia and Georgia. Speaking of a proposition of
Mr. M'Duffie, he says, to indicate its absurdity : " To
show how willing he is to follow in the footsteps of
the fathers, the Senator tells us ' he wUl compound for
the duties of 1789 ; nay, he will double them even.'
Really, Sir, he is magnificent. Will he give us back
the world and the age of 1789? Will he give us
back our hours of infancy, the nurse, the ballad, the
cradle ? Will he take off our hands the cotton-mill
and woollen-mill,^ and glass-house, and all the other
various, refined, and sensitive labor and accumulation
which we have to protect ; and will he give us back
the plain household, and far-inland manufactures and

1848-1844.] REPLY TO MR. M'DUFFIE. 129
mechanical arts of the olden time ? WiU he give us
back a Europe at war, and a sea whitened by the can
vas of our thriving neutrality ? Will he give us back
the whole complex state of the case which made those
duties sufficient then, without the reproduction of
which they would be good for nothing now ?
" Nay, Sir, not to be difficult, the Senator ' would
even be willing to give us the rates of the tariff of
1816.' This is rich also. He is perfectly willing to
do almost any thing which is less than enough. The
labor of the country -will not thank him for his tariff
of 1816. That labor remembers perfectly well that,
under that tariff, manufactures and mechanical arts
fell down in four years from an annual production of
over one hundred and fifty millions to an annual
product of only six and thirty millions.
" The honorable Senator, applying himself dili
gently to the study of this debate of 1789, says that
he finds that it turned very much on the molasses
duty. This suggests to him, first, a good joke about
' switchel ' and then the graver historical assertion
that - Massachusetts has always been more sensitive
about her own pockets, and less about her neigh
bors', than any State in the Union.' Now, Sir, I
should be half inclined to move a question with him
upon the good taste of such a sally as that, if I did
not greatly doubt whether he and I have any stand
ards of taste in common. I should be inclined to inti
mate to him that such a sarcasm upon a State five
hundred miles distant, which he does not represent, to
which he is not responsible, is no very decisive proof
of spirit or sense. He will judge whether such things
have not a tendency to rankle in and alienate hearts
9

130 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
that would love you, if you would permit them. Let
us remember that we have a union and the affections
of union to preserve, as well as an arguinent to con
duct, a theory to niaintain, or a jest, old or new, to
indulge. ... It is a grief to the honorable Senator to
see protection sentiments spreading at the South.
' Sun ! how I hate thy beams ! '
I rejoice to see this, on the contrary. I should be
glad of it, though it should raise up a manufacturing
competitor in every State of the Union. I rejoice to
perceive symptoms of a return to the homogeneous
nature and harmonious views of an earlier and better
day. I rejoice to see that moral and physical causes,
the power of steam, the sober second thought of the
people, are combining to counteract the effects of a
wide domain, and local diversities, on opinion and on
feeling. I am glad to see the whole nation reassem
bling, as it were — the West giving up, the South
holding not back — reassembling on the vast and high
table-land of the Union ! To the Senator from Geor
gia [Mr. Berrien], and to the Senator from Virginia
[Mr. Rives], who have so conspicuously contributed
to this great result, I could almost presume to counsel,
persevere as you have begun.
' Sic vobis itur ad astra ! '
' That way,' in the vindication of this policy, in the
spread of this light, in the enforcement of this truth
— ' that way, glory lies.' "
With a brief reply and rejoinder, the debate here
ended, and the question, on an amendment which
brought the subject itself before the Senate, was
decided, — twenty-five to eighteen, — against the res
olution.

1843-1844.] FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL. 131
Congress adjourned on the 17th of June. The
plans formed for study during the recess — to him, of
course, no remission of labor — will be seen by his
journal. The first few leaves have an earlier date.
" December 25, 1843. Washington. — It ought to be quite
easy for me here, when not actually preparing for an imme
diate discussion, to command an hour for this journal — in
its plan altogether the best of the many I have attempted.
An hour then I prescribe myself for this labor and this
pleasure and this help. I think it may be usually an hour
of the evening ; but it must be an hour of activity and exer
tion of mind.
" I read, as part of a course, two pages in Johnson's Pope.
He records fairly, forcibly, and most pleasingly in point of
expression, his filial piety ; and asserts and accounts for his
sorrow for Gay's death. He then treats the subject of the
pubhcation of bis letters. The first question is. Did Pope
contrive a surreptitious publication, in order to be able to
publish himself with less exposure to imputation of vanity ?
Johnson first tells the story exactly as if he believed, and
meant to put it forth as the true account of the matter, that
Curl acted without Pope's procurement or knowledge ; and
that he was surprised and angry at Curl's conduct. He then
gives Curl's account, which, true or false, does not implicate
Pope ; and declares his belief of its truth. Somewhat unex
pectedly then, he intimates, and at length formally declares
his own opinion to be, that Pope incited the surreptitious
publication to afford himself a pretext to give the world his
genuine correspondence. His proofs and arguments are at
least few and briefly set forth. At a moment of less occupa
tion I will examine the question by Roscoe's helps, and
express the results.
" Milton's father was the son of a Papist, who disinherited
him for becoming a Protestant at Oxford. His first instructor
was a private instructor, and was Young, a Puritan, -who
had been also an exile to Hamburg for his religious opinions.
His father, too, was educated at the University, was of a
profession which a gentleman might follow, and a lover and
writer of music. His mother was of a good family, and
greatly esteemed for all the virtues; and pre-eminently foi

132 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV-
her charity. The earliest influences, therefore, on the tran
scendent capacities yet in infancy and childhood, might dispose
to seriousness ; to thoughtfulness ; to the love and apprecia
tion of musical sounds and successions ; to sympathy for, and
attention to human suffering ; to tendencies towards the
classes of religious Puritanism ; to dignity and to self-respect,
as descended, on both sides, of gentle ancestry, and imbibing
its first sentiments from refined and respectable minds, tastes,
and character. Milton passed through no childhood and youth
of annoyances, destitution, illiberal toU, or unrefined associa
tion. It was the childhood and youth of a beautiful and vast
genius ; irresistibly attracted, systematically set to studies of
language ; the classical and modern tongues and literature ;
already marking its tendencies by recreating in the harmonious
and most copious speech and flow, and in the flushed and
warm airs of Spenser; in the old romances; in its own first
' thoughts voluntarily moving harmonious numbers.' Except
that his eyes and head ached with late hours of reading, till
he went to Cambridge, in his seventeenth year, I suspect he
had been as happy as he had been busy and improving."

" Boston, June 23 [1844]. — It is necessary to reconstruct
a life at home ; life professional and yet preparatory ; educa
tional, in reference to other than professional hfe. In this
scheme the first resolution must be to do whatever business I
can find to do — tot. vir. maximo conatu — as for my daily
bread. To enable me to do this, I must revive and advance
the faded memory of the law ; and I can devise no better
method than that of last summer, — the preparation of a
careful brief, on every case in Metcalf's last volume, of an
argument in support of the decision. In preparing this brief,
law, logic, eloquence must be studied and blended together.
The airy phrase, the turn of real reply, are to be sought and
written out. I may embody in a commonplace the principles
acquired ; and I shall particularly strive to become as famil
iar -with the last cases of the English and Federal benches at
least, and if possible, of those of New York, Maine, and New
Hampshire, as of our own. I have lost the whole course of
those adjudications for some years. These studies, — and
this practice, — for the law.
" I advance to plans of different studies, and to the training

1843-1844.] CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL. 133
for a different usefulness, and a more conspicuous exertion.
To avoid a hurtful diffusion of myself over too wide and
various a space — laboriose nihil agens — I at once confine
my rhetorical exercitations within strict and impassable lim
its. I propose to translate Cicero's Catiline Orations ; or as
many as I can, beginning with the first ; with notes. The
object is, — 1st, The matter and manner of a great master
of speech ; 2d, English debating style, and words ; 3d, The
investigation of the truth of a remarkable portion of history.
All the helps are near me. I shall turn the Orator, as nearly
as I can, into a debater statesman, of this day, in Parliament
and in Congress.
'¦ With this, I shall read Burke's American speeches, writ
ing observations on them. The object is his matter and
manner ; useful gleanings ; rules of speech. But to this is
to be added the study of politics. And for this circumstances
are propitious. The approaching election requires that the
true national policy of the country should be impressed on
the minds of the people of America. To elect a Whig ad
ministration is to prefer, and to secure the practical reali
zation of that policy. To induce the people to elect such
an administration, you must first teach them to prefer, to
desire that policy. To do that it must be explained, con
trasted, developed, decorated. To do that it is to be deeply
studied. I mean, therefore, to compose discourses on the
tariff ; on Texas ; on currency ; on the general points of
difference, and grounds of choice between the parties, and
the like, — embodying what I understand to be the Whig
politics, and the sound politics of the hour. In all, through
all — an impulsive presentation of truths — ¦ such an one as
will move to the giving of votes for particular men, repre
senting particular opinions, is the aim. Every one ought
to be and to involve, 1st, an honest study of the topic —
and so an advance in political knowledge ; 2ndly, a diligent
effort to move the public mind to action by its treatment ;
and so an exercise in speech. 'Princip. fons sapient ice.'
Truth for the staple — good taste the form — persuasion to
act — for the end.
" July IG. — The gift of an interleaved Digest of Mas
sachusetts Cases suggests and renders practicable a plan of
re-viewing and reviving the law. I shall add the fifth volume
of Metcalf to the Digest as it stands, and in so doing advert
to the whole series of decisions. This wiU not interfere

134 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV,
with my purpose of making a frequent brief on legal theses.
A trial of myself in that way yesterday encouraged me to
suppose I can recall and advance my law. I am sure I have
hit on the right mode of study, by digest, and brief ; and I
feel in the resolution a revival of zeal, fondness, and ability
to work.
" nth July. — Engaged in translating Cicero against Cati
line. I would study that famous incident in the Roman
history. I must assume Cicero's orations to be e-vddence of
the highest authority remaining. He pronounced them —
one in the presence of Catiline — aU of them before the
Senate or people of Rome, during the transactions to which
they relate — he, the Consul, stating and defending the most
public acts of administration, in a great emergency. I see
nothing to detract from their decisive weight as testimony,
but the fact that he and Catiline were on opposite sides of
the conspiracy. This may constitute a vast diminution of
title to credit, and I must allow for and measure it. One
word on Sallust. For many reasons his authority is not
so high. He was not an actor in the scene. He could not
have personal knowledge of details to so minute an extent.
But consider that he was about twenty-two years of age at
the time when the conspiracy was formed ; and that he must
have written his history within thirty years after the event
itself, since he died at the age of fifty-one, and therefore
addressed, to some extent, a contemporary public. If he is
not to be relied on it must be for other causes than want of
means of knowing main facts. Still the circumstances would
not assure us against very considerable resort to imagination,
and rhetoric, — still less against partisan feeling and aim.
Where are the proofs or grounds of suspicion of his untrust
worthiness as a historian? Take his sketch of Catiline's
character. Catiline was of noble birth ; and possessed ex
traordinary power of mind and of body ; but his moral nature
was wholly wicked, and his life habitually vicious."
[Here appears to be a loss of some pages.]
" There is a pleasure beyond expression, in revising, re
arranging, and extending my knowledge of the law. The
effort to do so is imperatively prescribed by the necessities
and jDroprieties of my circumstances ; but it is a delightful
effort. I record some of the uses to which I try to make it
subservient, and some of the methods on -which I conduct it.
My flrst business is obviously to apprehend the exact point of

1843-1844.] CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL. 135
each new case which I study, — to apprehend and to enun
ciate it precisely, — neither too largely, nor too narrowly, —
accurately, justly. This necessarily and perpetually exercises
and trains the mind, and prevents inertness, dulness of edge.
This done, I arrange the new truth, or old truth, or whatever
it be, in a system of legal arrangement, for which purpose I
abide by Blackstone, to which I turn daily, and which I seek
more and more indelibly to impress on my memory. Then
I advance to the question of the law of the new decision, — •
its conformity with standards of legal truth, — with the stat
ute it interprets ; the cases on which it reposes ; the principles
by which it is defended by the court, — the law, — the ques
tion of whether the case is law or not. This leads to a history
of the point ; a review of the adjudications ; a comparison of
the judgment and argument, with the criteria of legal truth.
More thought, — producing and improved by more writing,
and more attention to last cases of English and our best re
ports, are wanting still.
" I seem to myself to think it is within my competence to
be master of the law, as an administrative science. But let
me always ask at the end of an investigation, can this law be
reformed ? How ? why ? why not ? Gui bono the attempt ?
" A charm of the study of law is the sensation of advance,
of certainty, of ' having apprehended,' or being in a progres
sion towards a complete apprehension, of a distinct depart
ment and body of knowledge. How can this charm be found
in other acquisitions ? How can I hit on some other field
or department of knowledge which I may hope to master ;
in which I can feel that I am making progress ; the collateral
and contemporaneous study of which may rest, refresh, and
liberalize me, — yet not leave mere transient impressions,
phrases, tincture ; but a body of digested truths and an im
proved understanding, and a superiority to others in useful
attainment, giving snatches of time, minutes and parts of
hours, to Cicero, Homer, Burke, and Milton, to language
and literature ? I think I see in the politics of my own
country, in the practical politics of my country, a depart
ment of thought and study, and a field of advancement,
which may divide my time, and enhance my pleasure and
my improvement, with an efficacy of useful results equal to
the law.
" My experience in affairs will give interest to the study
of the thmg. It wUl assist the study, as well as give it in-

136 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV
terest. The newspaper of every morning, the conversation
of every day, the speech of the caucus, the unavoidable inter
course with men, may help it. One hour of exclusive study
a day, with these helps, might carry one very far ; so far at
least, as to confer some of the sensations, and some of the
enjoyments, attending considerable and connected acquisi
tions. Let me think of methods and aims.
" 1. The first great title in this science is the Constitution ;
its meaning, its objects, the powers it gives, the powers it
refuses, and the grand reasons why.
" 2. The second is the policy on which that Constitution
ought to be administered, the powers it ought to put forth,
the interests, domestic and foreign, to which it ought to
attend. This is practical statesmanship, the statesmanship
of the day. Now, let us see how systematic and scientific
acquisitions are to be achieved on these grand subjects.
"1. It is to be done by composing a series of discourses,
in the manner of lectures, or speeches, or arguments, or
essays, as the mood varied, on the particulars into which
these titles expand themselves. Verplanck's letter to Col.
D., speeches on the Tariff, might furnish models. I cannot
anticipate the several subjects of the discourses composing
euch a body of study and thought, — but I can anticipate
some of them. The history of the making of the Constitu
tion, by which I now mean narrowly the history of the call,
and acts of the convention which made, and those which
adopted it. The history of the causes which led to the
formation of such a Constitution, — by which I mean the
motives which led the country to desire it, the evils expected
to be removed, the good expected to be achieved ; as these
are recorded in contemporary memorials, in essays, speeches,
accounts of meetings, debates, and all the original discussion
down to, and through the adoption of the government. This
needs a historian. It would reward one. It prepares for —
almost it supersedes direct interpretation. It teaches how to
administer it in the spirit of its framers and age. It teaches
how to value it in the spirit of its framers and its age.
" Thus prepared, you come to the instrument itself ; to its
meaning, to its powers and their grounds, to its structure and
the philosophy and grounds of that structure. But without
pursuing this very general analysis of a plan, which will
change and unfold itself at every stage of accomplishment,
let me return and be a little more deflnite and more practical.

1843-1844.] CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL. 137
I am to write then, first, the history of the formation and
adoption of the Constitution. For this I have, or can com
mand, the necessary helps. My course will be flrst to
glance at the received general histories, Marshall, Pitkin,
and others, and then seek, in original papers and elsewhere,
for more minute, more vivid, and less familiar details. Truth,
truth, is the sole end and aim. I shall read flrst, with pen in
hand, for collecting the matter, and not begin to compose till
the general and main facts are entirely familiar. Let me
auspicate the enterprise by recalling the immortal specula
tions of Cicero on his renowned state.
" My helps I have supposed tolerably complete. In my
own library are Marshall, Pitkin, Bradford, the Madison
Papers, Story, the Debates in Conventions, the Federalist,
Sparks's Washington, and some less valuable.
" It will give vigor, point, and interest to what I shall write,
to throw it in the form of a contention, an argument, a reply
to an unsound, or at least hostile, reasoner, debater, or histo
rian. But everywhere, under whatever form, — style, man
ner, are to be assiduously cultivated and carefully adapted to
the subject. Reflection, therefore, rhetorical decoration, his
torical allusion, a strong, clear, and adorned expression, a
style fit for any intelligent audience, are in votis. When
shall I prosecute these studies ? The hour after dinner seems
best, — this leaves the whole morning till two o'clock for the
law and for business, from half-past eight, or eight if possible,
— and an hour, or half-hour before tea.
" August 24. Odyssey, Book VIIL 166 to 175. — ' One
man has a flgure and personal exterior, mean, contemptible ;
but God crowns and wreathes about his form with eloquence.
Men look on him delighted ; he speaks unfaltering, but with
a honeyed modesty ; he is foremost of the assembly ; as he
walks through the city they look on him as on a god.
" ' Another in form is like the immortals, but he is un
adorned by the charm of graceful speech.'
" Mark the recognition of the power of eloquence. It is
an endowment which decorates, which crowns an unattractive
person like a garland. It is unfaltering, self-relying, yet it
charms by the sweetest modesty. Its possessor reigns in the
assembly. He is gazed at in the streets. Such praise, such
appreciation, such experience, so early, predicts and assures
us a Demosthenes in the fulness of time.

138 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
"I have gone through a week of unusual labor; not wholly
unsatisfactorily to myself. I deliberately record my deter
mination to make no more political speeches, and to take no
more active part in the election or in practical politics. One
exception I leave myself to make. But I do not expect or
mean to make it. I have earned the discharge — honesta
missio petitur et concessa erit. To my profession, totis viri
bus, I am now dedicated. To my profession of the law and
of advocacy, with as large and fair an accompaniment of
manly and graceful studies as I can command.
" In reference to my studies of eloquence, I would do some
thing to collect and arrange general observations — maxims,
proverbs — sententice, -^rmjiai — for use. They fix attention.
They are argument, authority, illustration, the signs of full
minds. Burke, Johnson, Burton's Anatomy — any great
author — -any author supplies. The difficulty is of arrange
ment, so that in the composition of an argument they would
be at hand. I see no way but to digest them in my Index
Rerum — selecting the letter as best I may — but it must be
my business also to connect them in my memory with the
truths they belong to, and with the occasions of possible ex
hibition and use — and to review the collection from time to
time, and especially on the preparation of a discourse.
" 29<A September. — A little attention to things, and per
sons, and reputations about me teaches that uncommon pro
fessional exertions are necessary to recover business to hve,
and a trial or two teaches me that I can very zealously, and
very thoroughly, and con amore, study and discuss any case.
How well I can do so, compared with others, I shall not ex
press an opinion on paper — but if I live, all blockheads
which are shaken at certain mental peculiarities shall know
and feel a reasoner, a lawyer, and a man of business. In all
this energy and passion I mean to say no more than that the
utmost possible painstaking with every case is perfectly indis
pensable, and fortunately not at all irksome. The case in
hand demands, invites to a most exact, prepared, and deep
legal and rhetorical discourse.
" For the rest I grow into knowledge of Homer, and Taci
tus and Juvenal — and of the Rome of the age from Augus
tus to Trajan. A busy professional week has suspended
Cicero somewhat, and has as usual made the snatches of my
unprofessional readings a little desultory, — which is more
and more besetting ; more and more deleterious.

1843-1844.] CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL. 139
" I wish, as I have long wished, that I could acquire a
genuine and fervent love of historical reading, — I mean the
reading of what I may call authentic and useful history ; and
by that I mean the series of facts of which the present is the
traceable result. The classical historians I do love. I read
Tacitus daily. But this is for their language ; for their pic
tures; for the poetical incident; the rhetorical expression;
the artistical perfectness, and beauty. We cannot know that
any thing more is true than the most general course of larger
events. The moment you go beyond that, you are among
the imaginative writers. You are dealing with truths ; mo
ralities ; instructions ; but you do not know that you are or
are not dealing with actual occurrences.
" The history I would read is modern. I should go no
farther back than Gibbon ; should recall the general life,
thoughts, action, of the Middle Age in him, and Hallam's
two great works ; and begin to study, to write, to deduce, to
lay up, in the standard, particular histories of the great
countries. "Under this impulse I have decided to start from the revo
lution of 1 688 ; first with the English writers ; and then with
Voltaire. The revolution ; and the reign of William and
Mary, and William the Third are my first study. For this
the means are perhaps sufficiently ample. My plan is simple.
I examine first the foreign politics of England — her relations
to Europe ; the objects of her wars ; the objects of her trea
ties ; and the results. I have thus surveyed the general
course of what we loosely call the history of the time. Then
I turn to the Constitutional history. By this I mean the
history of the changes of the Constitution ; the politics of the
Crown ; the politics of parties ; the politics of prominent
men ; the politics of Parliament ; the laws made ; the pro
gress and expression of public opinion as that opinion relates
to Government, and to civil and political right and duty. I
mean by it the history of so many years of English liberty.
The industrial history ; the popular history ; the history of
the condition of the people ; their occupations ; their enjoy
ments ; their nature ; the history of literature, art, and sci
ence ; and the study of the master-pieces of liberal culture
and high art foUow.
" I wish then to compress into a few condensed and com
prehensive paragraphs the result of hours and of days' study,
under each of these heads. Notes on these summaries may

140 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IV.
indicate and discuss the materials out of which this is all
elaborated. " Let me begin, then, with such a succinct display of the
foreign politics of England in the reign of William.
" The one grand feature of English foreign policy during
this reign, was antagonism to France — to the France of
Louis the Fourteenth. Its one grand and constant solicitude
and effort was to repel, or to attack, France ; — its alliances,
its battles, its whole series of operations from 1688, till the
King sunk into the tomb, pursued this single object.
" There is a, simplicity in the foreign politics of this reign
in this respect. And when you ascend, or penetrate to the
origin and explanation of this policy ; when you inquire how
and why this antagonism to France became its law ; on what
principles and with what views so wide a confederacy became
associated with England in its prosecution ; when, in other
words, you look more closely into the entire international
politics of the Europe of that day, you find all as simple, and
all as intelligible. In the first place, the foreign policy of
England became identified with that of the United Provinces ;
and Holland was under an unintermitted necessity to fight, or
to observe France. Turn first to Holland." 

1844-1845.1 POLITICAL EXCITEMENT. 141

CHAPTER V.
1844-1845.
Political Excitement — Speaks for Mr. Clay — Meeting of Congress
— Diary — Annexation of Texas — Admission of Iowa and Florida
— Establishment of the Smithsonian Institution — Library Plan —
Letters to Hon. C. W. Upham — Illness of Dr. Sewall — Letter to
Mrs. Brinley.
In the political contest of 1844, the annexation of
Texas was the leading issue. Mr. Van Buren failed
of a nomination in the Democratic Convention,
mainly because he was unfavorable to that measure,
and Mr. Polk was substituted in his place. Mr. Clay
was the candidate of the Whigs. Mr. Choate entered
ardently into the campaign, supporting Mr. Clay
with all his ability. He spoke on the 4th of Julj',
at Concord, where speeches were also made by Mr.
Berrien, of Georgia, Mr. Webster, Mr. Winthrop,
Mr. Lawrence, and others. He addressed a Whig
Convention of Western Massachusetts at Springfield,
on the 9th of August. He spoke before the Young
Men of Boston on the 19th of the same month, and
again before a Mass Meeting at Lynn, early in Sep
tember. He was opposed to the admission of Texas,
not on narrow or sectional grounds, but from fear of
the final result to the Union itself. In the speech at
Lynn, prescient of coming danger, he said, " If Texas
is annexed to the United States, these revolutionary

142 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V
soldiers who rocked the cradle of the infancy of the
Union, will live to follow its hearse to the grave."
We are better able now to judge of the effect of that
sudden and immense increase of territory, and of the
purposes for which it was urged.
A continuation of the fragmentary " Journal " will
best show the intellectual plans of the year, and may
indicate what he accomplished in the midst of, and in
spite of the incessant demands of poUtics, and of his
profession. " Boston, Dec. 9, 1844. — About to set off to Washington,
there to close in two months, for ever, my political life, and
to begin my return to my profession, I am moved with a
passion, for planning a little — what, in all probability, will
not be performed — or not performed without pretty essential
variations and interruptions.
" 1. Some professional work must be done every day.
Probably the preparation of Rhode Island v. Massachusetts,
and of Thurlow in Error, may furnish quite enough for these.
But recent experiences suggest that I ought to be more familiar
with evidence and Cowen's Phillipps ; therefore, daily, for half
an hour, I will thumb conscientiously. When I come home
again, in the intervals of actual employment, my recent methods
of reading, accompanying the reports with the composition of
arguments upon the points adjudged, may be properly resumed.
" 2. In my Greek, Latin, and French readings — Odyssey,
Thucydides, Tacitus, Juvenal, and some French orator or
critic — I need make no change. So, too, Milton, Johnson,
Burke — • semper in man^u — ut mos est. To my Greek I
ought to add a page a day of Crosby's Grammar, and the
practice of parsing every word in my few lines of Homer.
On Sunday, the Greek Testament, and Septuagint, and
French. "This and the oration for the Crown, which I will
completely master, translate, annotate, and commit, will be
enough in this kind. If not, I will add a translation of a
sentence or two from Tacitus.
" 3. The business of the session ought to engross, and
shall, my chief attention. The Smithsonian Fund ought to
be applied to a great library ; and a report and a speech in

1844-1845.] FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL. 143
favor of such an appropriation are the least I owe so grand
and judicious a destination of a noble gift. An edition of the
laws, on the plan of the last winter, is only next in dignity
and importance. For the rest — the reduction of postage.
the matter of Texas, the tariff — will be quite likely, with
the Supreme Court, to prevent time from hanging vacantly
on my bauds. Sit mihi diligentia, sint vires — sit denique
et prcBcipue gratia !
" And now for details of execution.
" I. Walk an hour before breakfast ; morning paper ;
Johnson and Milton before breakfast. Add, if possible, with
notes, an Essay of Bacon also, or a paper of the Spectator, or
a page of some other paper of Addison
"II. After — 1. The regular preparation forthe Senate,
be it more or less. Let this displace, indeed, all else, before
or after. 2. If that allows — (a.) Preparation of cases for
courts. (5.) If that allows — 1. Page in Cowen's Phillipps.
2. Then preparation for courts. 3. Then Senate, &c.
" III. Letters and session.
" IV. Then — subject to claims of debate and of Court, —
Greek, Latin, French, ut supra, Burke, Taylor.
" V. The cases to be prepared by — say 20th January ;
debate oftener than formerly ; less preparation is really
needful, yet seek one great occasion.
" The Last Session.
'^Ibih December, 1844. — Under this title I mean to set
down any thing which I may collect from reading and
mtercourse with men in Congress and the Govemment, that
strikes me as having value or interest enough to deserve the
trouble. I don't design it for a diary ; or mere record, or in
any degree a record, of daily occurrences, for that I keep
elsewhere, but rather as a record of daily thoughts and
acquisitions and impressions, during what I foresee must be
a most instructive session, and what I know is to be my last
session. " I begin a great work. Thucydides, in Bloomfield's new
edition, with the intention of understanding a difficult, and
learning something from an instructive, writer, — something
for the more and more complicated, interior, inter state,
American politics.
" With 'Thucydides I shall read Wachsmuth, with historical

144 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
references and verifications. Schomann on the Assemblies of
the Athenians. W. especially, I am to meditate and master.
Dacier's Horace, Ode 1, 11th to 14th line, translation and
notes, — a pocket edition to be always in pocket.
" Washington, Tuesday eve, 17th December. — I was able
to-day almost to resume my courses, such as they are, of
classical and elegant reading — Johnson's Life of Addison ;
the Odyssey, Thucydides, Tacitus, Juvenal, Horace's-- Art
of Poetry in Dacier and Hurd. It was quite mechanical,
however, from ill health and fatigue. I begin to-morrow
melioribus, ut spero, aaspiciis. I read Phillipps's Evidence,
beginning at title ' Incompetency,' and commonplaced a
reference or two.
" Thursday eve. — Mark how Homer makes the wise and
great Ulysses applaud the blind harper and poet and singer
Demedocus, Od. 8, 470 to 480, and again, 487, &c. Seq.
" ' Demodocus, above all mortals, I laud you. Either the
Muse, the daughter of God, or Apollo, has been your teacher.
So clearly and so truly do you sing the dark and sad fortunes
of the Greeks ; what they achieved ; what they suffered ;
with what manifold trials and labors they contended, as if
you had been with them, an eye-witness, a sharer, or had
heard from one who had been.'

" Thucydides is explaining why the primitive ages of
Greece afford the historian nothing great, neither in war,
nor in any thing else. In my reading of to-day, close of 2d
and 3d of c. 2, he is saying : ' And for this reason, they did
not strengthen themselves, either by the greatness of cities or
by military preparation of any kind. It was ever the most
fertile regions which oftenest underwent changes of occu
pants ; such as what is now called Thessaly and Boeotia, and
the greater part of Peloponnesus (excepting Arcadia), and
the better portions of other countries of Greece. For by
means of the richness of their soils certain individuals would
attain to a superiority of wealth ; and this at once gave birth
to factions within, by which they were subverted, and exposed
them to enemies from without.'
" Tacitus, Lib. IL, sec. 30, relates the accusation and trial
of Libo : ' This compelled the accused to ask a postponement
of the trial until the next day ; and returning to his house,
he committed to P. Quirinus, his kinsman, the last entreaties,

1844-1845.] FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL. 145
to be borne to the Emperor.' ' Let him ask mercy of the
Senate.' Such was the reply of Tiberius.
" Saturday night, 28th December, 1844. — My readings
have been pretty regular and almost systematic. Phillipps's
Evidence, -svith notes, Johnson, The Tatler, The Whig
Examiner, and Milton, in the morning, — some thoughts on
the Smithsonian Fund, and one or two other Senatorial
matters in the forenoon, and the Odyssey, Thucydides in
Bloomfield, Hobbes, aud Arnold, Demosthenes for the Crown,
Tacitus. Juvenal, and Horace de Arte Poet., with Dacier and
Hurd. For the rest I have read Jeffrey's contributions to
the Review, and have plunged into a pretty wide and most
unsatisfactory course of inquiry concerning the Pelasgi, and
the origin of Greek culture, and the Greek mind. Upon
this subject let me set down a few thoughts.
" 28iA December, 1844. — The nation which attracts the
highest interest to its history is undoubtedly Ancient Greece.
Perfectly to know that history, to discern and arrange its
authentic incidents, to extract and exclude fable, to abate
exaggeration, to select sagaciously and probably between
alternatives of conjecture ; to solve the great problem of
the origin, successive growth, and complete formation of that
mind and character, the causes which produced it and set it
apart from all other character and mind ; to deduce and apply
the lessons of that history to America, — would be avast
achievement of scholarship and philosophy and statesmanship.
To me, cogitante scepenumero on what one such labor I may
concentrate moments and efforts else sure to be dissipated
and unproductive, this seems to be obviously my reserved
task. It is large enough, and various enough to employ all
my leisure, stimulate all my faculties, cultivate all my powers
and tastes, and it is seasonable and applicable in the actual
condition of these States. He who should perform it ade
quately would be not merely the best Greek scholar of this
country ; the best read in one brilliant chapter of the history
of man ; the most accomplished in one vast department of
literature, art, philosophy, fact ; but he would have added
to his means of counselling the people on the things of their
peace. He would have learned more of the uses and dangers
of liberty, and the uses and dangers of union. Let me slowly,
quietly begin. I seek political lessons for my country. But
1 am to traverse centuries before I find these lessons in the
pages of Thucydides. To approach to the accomplishment
10

146 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
of this design, it must be my only literary labor, — my only
labor not professional. It may well, and it positively must,
supersede all others. The investigations it will exact ; the
collections of authorities ; the constant use of the pen ; the
translations, the speculations, ought to constitute an admirable
exercise in reasoning ; in taste ; in rhetoric as well as history.
They may be embodied in a series of careful essays.
"I dismiss therefore, and replace in the library, all my
books, except the two or three which I read for English and
Latin, — and bestow myself on this.
" The Homeric poems present to us a Greece already
formed; a race speaking one tongue, distinct from the
tongues of Egypt or Phoenicia, distributed into many distinct
sovereignties ; some of which, or all of which are allied for the
prosecution of a great foreign war, under a single command.
They disclose this race already in the occupation of  .
[Here a blank occurs in the MS.]
and they paint vividly, comprehensively, its whole public and
private life ; its religion ; its industry ; its arts ; its language ;
its mind ; its manners. That Greece 1 shall, long hereafter,
carefully study and exhibit. But not yet. There is a stu
pendous preliminary problem. What had preceded and pro
duced that Greece ? What causes had acted on what races
so as to evolve the Greece of the heroic age ? who had been
the actors ; what had been the acts, — what had been the
infiuences ; what the succession of changes, and of advance
ment? " The Greek character and mind in its perfection was so
extraordinary, so unlike all that had preceded or have followed
it, that it is not very strange perhaps that speculatists should
look with favor on the theory of a descent from a primitive
race or races, of extraordinary qualities. They have scarcely
been able to comprehend how any mere national education,
however varied, however plastic, of which we can learn any
thing, could have formed such a character and such a mind
out of common savage nature ; and they have been half
inclined to find in the Pelasgi of the Old World, or in the
Hellenes, or in a race from the North, or in all together, the
germs of the transcendent genius, and the brilliant traits
which illustrate the age of Grecian glory.
" Let me begin then with the Ante Hellenic races and ages
of Greece- Who — whence — what — and of what names,
fortunes, diffusion, its first inhabitants ?

1844-1845.] FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL. 147

"The Last Session, — A Dat.
^'January, 1845. — Finished Johnson's Life of Sheffield.
J. carelessly assigns as evidence that S. refused conversion to
papacy, an anecdote which he immediately disproves. If the
sentence had been finished with ' others ; ' and he had then
said, B. even records, &c., &c., and then disproved B.'s spe
cific statement, better.
" The progress of Milton's fame, illustrated by the changes
of the later editions of one of his [Sheffield's] pieces from
the earlier, is curious.
¦ A faultless monster, which the world ne'er saw '
is good and quotable. Sine Idbe monstrum [of Scaliger] is
the germ certainly.
" I remark ' illegality,' and ' conjunctive sovereignty.' How
does Hallam express it ? Is it associated sovereignty ?
" Milton's ' Paradise Lost,' 1st book, 344-375. Mark the
matchless grandeur and elevation of expression. 'Cope of
Hell,' ' Great Sultan,' not sovereign ; how much more har
monious, aiming at variety, uncommon, with a charm of ori
entalism. ' Rhene,' ' Danaw,' ' Beneath Gibraltar,' an epithet
which makes you look down south.
' Gay religions, — full of pomp and gold.'
classical and gorgeous.
" Paper in Ret. Rev.^ vol. i. p. 83, on Sir Thomas Browne's
' Urn Burial,' — great beauty and an exquisite appreciation
of the peculiarities of B. "The first page, devoted to show
what use other, most writers have made of death and mor
tality, has delightful expression and fine thoughts, not enough
separated and arranged and made progressive. ' Fragility '
of delight is not a bewitching attribute of delight. It is an
influence, however, a fact, or that which leads to a more in
tense estimate and greedier and fonder enjoying of, and a
making most of it.
" What follows is truer, or more truly sets forth what
philosophy and poetry may and do effectively derive from
mortality to their representations of affection ; sympathy, the
human nature.
" In addition to my course, and a rule of Greek grammar,
1 " Retrospective Review.''

148 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
I read a part of 1st Psalm in Buchanan's Latin and Dupont's
Greek; the latter verbose and tautologous, the former, I
should think, rigorously classical and energetic. Finished
with some pages of Jeremy Taylor, on life and death. In
tense, exaggerated, mournful, too true. I will daily read in
the English version at least six verses of the New Testament
with an earnest effort to understand, imbibe, and live them.
Satis, plusquam satis, sic vixisse, — sic non vixisse, — nee
pulchre, — nee recte, — sine dignitate, — sine me ipsum salvum
faciend. ! sine reg. — sine observ. — Dei prsecept. — sine in-
tellig. — et app. — ad me instit. — et ritus rei. Christ — vit.
ist. tuse felic. non debetur, nee promissa, nee poss. ! Ideo ut
supra in vers. ang. unS, cum fin. diei stud. Sex vers. leg. et
med. et orare !
" The session ended. Boston, March 10, 1845.
" To resume my ante-Homeric Greece, I have but to pro
cure a Niebuhr and Miiller in addition to books already at
hand, to review the collections accumulated at Washington,
and begin. But all this is to be held in strictest subordina
tion to law and to business. It is to be relaxation and recre
ation strictly, yet is it to improve style, reason, taste, and
habits of research.
" ZQth M. '45. — A succession of trials in different courts
has thrown me out of many merely literary and exercita-
tional purposes and duties. These I resume, and every day
— not a day of trial in court — I shall investigate some sub
ject of law, three hours at least, digesting the results.
" Translation daily is manifestly my only means of keep
ing up my English. This I practise in my post-prandial
readings, but I fear it is not quite exacting, laborious, and
stimulant enough. I have a pretty strong impression that
the only sufficient task would be Demosthenes severely, ex
actly rendered, yet with utmost striving of words, style,
melody, volume of sound, and impression. I should begin
with the oration for the Crown. When? By putting my
post-prandial classical readings before breakfast, following
my English, I could gain an hour, or half of one, after dinner,
and half an hour after breakfast at home. This will do, leav
ing my forenoons, afternoons, and one evening hour, for busi
ness and law. Try.
"¦12th April. — I have tried, and with tolerable success.
I have translated the Decree of Ctesiphon ; the impeachment

1844-1845.] ANNEXATION OF TEXAS. 149
of .Slschines ; and am now about to digest so much of the
History of Greece as will enable me to understand the two
great speeches. This really will require a pretty careful
study of the age and life of Demosthenes in Plutarch, Mit
ford, Thirlwall, and such other helps as I can command.
Contemporary authors there are none since Theopompus is
perished ; and I appreciate the difficulty of the search for
truth. Happy if I find enough for my mere critical and
rhetorical purposes."
The purpose suggested above, on devoting himself
to a work on the history and culture of Greece, was
one which he doubtless pretty seriously entertained.
He used, sometimes, to speak to his family, half jo
cosely and half in earnest, of his " immortal work,"
and I think he did not quite abandon the plan until
after Mr. Grote's history was published.
The subjects which presented themselves for the
consideration of Congress during the session of
1844-45 were of considerable consequence. Fore
most among them was the annexation of Texas.
During the previous session, in accordance with the
wishes of the President, an attempt had been made
to accompUsh this object by treaty. A treaty was
therefore negotiated by Mr. Calhoun, Secretary of
State, and Mr. Van Zandt, representative of Texas.
When presented to the Senate, however, it was re
jected by a very decisive vote. An attempt was now
made to reach the same end by resolutions, which
were introduced in the Senate by Mr. M'Duffie, and
in the House by Mr. IngersoU. The subject was not
fairly reached in the Senate until the 13th of Febru
ary, 1845, and after the resolutions had passed the
House. The debate was conducted with great abil
ity, and by the leading men on both sides of the
chamber, by Mr. Buchanan, Mr. Walker, Mr. Wood-

150 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
bury, and others, on the one side, and by Mr. Choate,
Mr. Dayton, Mr. Crittenden, and Mr. Berrien, to
name no more, on the other. The interest in the
discussion was heightened by the fact that the Senate
was nearly equally divided on the subject. Mr.
Choate spoke on the 18th of February for nearly
three hours. There is no full report of this speech,
which is said to have been of very great power.
The grounds on which he opposed the measure
were mainly these two : 1st, That it was beyond the
constitutional power of Congress ; 2d, That even if
constitutional, it was inexpedient. These points he
argued at considerable length, enforcing his argu
ment, as the report says, with " innumerable illustra
tions." Looking at the period before the Constitution
was formed, he contended that "in framing the Con
stitution, when the sovereign power of the people was
to be delegated, the grant was intended to be in ex
press terms, such as the power to declare war, make
peace, regulate commerce with foreign nations, levy
taxes, &c. But no such power as that of admitting
foreign nations into the Union was delegated, or it
would have been also explicitly granted." Looking
at the Constitution itself, he endeavored to show that
the power to admit new States was not intended to
imply the vast power of admitting foreign govern
ments. This he denied could be done by any power
but the primary, sovereign power of the people them
selves, either by agreement to amend the Constitution
so as to grant the express authority, or otherwise.
" Until it was found," he said, "that the treaty of the
last session had no chance of passing the Senate, no
human being save one, no man, woman, or child, in

1844-1845.] SPEECH AGAINST ANNEXING TEXAS. 151
this Union or out of this Union, was ever heard to
breathe one syllable about this power in the Consti
tution of admitting new States being applicable to
the admission of foreign nations, governments, or
States. With one exception, till ten months ago, no
such doctrine was ever heard, or even entertained."
The exception to which he alluded was the letter of
Mr. Macon to Mr. Jefferson, which Mr. Jefferson so
promptly rebuked, that the insinuation was never
again repeated, "till it was found necessary ten
months ago by some one, — he would not say with
Texas scrip in his pocket, — but certainly with Texas
annexation very much at heart, who brought it for
ward into new life, and urged it as the only proper
mode of exercising an express grant of the Constitu
tion." This he regarded as a new and monstrous
heresy on the Constitution, got up not from any well-
founded faith in its orthodoxy, but for the mere pur
pose of carrying a measure by a bare majority of
Congress, that could not be carried by a two-thirds
majority of the Senate in accordance with the treaty-
making power.
In conclusion, alluding to some criticism upon his
own State, he said "Massachusetts asks nothing but
what the Constitution has given to her, and there is
nothing in the Constitution, however peculiar, how
ever different from her views of policy, that she will
seek to stir, or ask to be invaded. Keep the Consti
tution and the Constitution will keep you. Break
into it in search of secret curiosities which you cannot
find there, and there is no longer security, — no longer
any thing between you and us and the unappeasable,
unchained spirit of the age."

152 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
The resolution, or rather an amendment " leaving
it at the discretion of the President, whether resort
should be had to negotiation , or Texas ' be admitted by
virtue of this act,' and become au independent State,"
was finally passed by a majority of two, and having
again gone through the House, President Tyler signed
the bill, among the last of his official acts.
A bill was also introduced at this session to admit
Iowa and Florida into the Union. Though not op
posed to the admission of new States, Mr. Choate
strongly objected to the extraordinary method of a
joint bill, making the admission of the one dependent
upon that of the other. Some things in the constitu
tion of Florida he considered to be ill-advised if not
unconstitutional. When, therefore, Mr. Evans pro
posed as an amendment that Florida should not be
admitted until those articles should be struck from her
constitution which took from her General Assembly
the power to pass laws for the emancipation of slaves,
and to pass laws preventing free negroes or other
persons of color from immigrating to the State, or
from being discharged from any vessel in any of the
ports of the State, Mr. Choate supported it. He did
it, though reluctantly, because the articles seemed to
be contrary to the Federal Constitution. Admitting
that Florida had the right to pass such municipal laws
as her circumstances required, he wished that those
who denied their constitutionality might go to the
Supreme Court without being met by the adverse
action of Congress. Massachusetts was even then
engaged in a controversy with two other States in
volving the questions here brought to notice, and all
that he solicited was an opportunity to have the right

1844-1845.] SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION. 153
of the Southern States to arrest the colored citizens of
the North, brought directly before the Supreme Court
of the United States for its decision ; a decision,
whatever it were, that Massachusetts would be sure
to respect.
Of aU the objects, however, which came before the
Senate during the session, none interested Mr. Choate
more deeply than the organization of the Smithsonian
Institution. The will of James Smithson, containing
his munificent bequest, was dated October 23, 1826,
nearly three years before his death.' The bequest
was accepted by Congress in 1836, and the money was
received by the Government of the United States on
the 1st of September, 1838. The disposition of so
large a fund, amounting to more than half a million of
dollars, became a matter of mucli solicitude to all who
regarded the interests of knowledge, or the honor of
the country. Many were afraid, that through the
recklessness of parties, it would in some way be lost.
If preserved, intelligent men differed as to the use to
be made of it. In the summer of 1838, by order of
the President of the United States, letters were ad
dressed to eminent persons in various parts of the
country, soliciting advice. As might have been an
ticipated, the opinions were as diverse as the men.
John Quincy Adams, who had devoted much thought
to the subject, recommended that the income of the
fund, for a series of years, should be devoted to estab
lishing a National Observatory. President Wayland
sketched the plan of a University. Mr. Rush pro
posed the collection of seeds, plants, objects of natural
history, and antiquities, and, in addition, courses of
1 Smithson died June 27, 1829.

154 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
lectures, which should be free to a certain number of
young men from each State. Other plans were also
suggested, and the subject was discussed from time
to time in both branches of Congress, without, how
ever, leading to any definite result. In December,
1844, Mr. Tappan, a Senator from Ohio, brought in
a bill similar to one which he had advocated during a
former session, providing for the selection of grounds
for purposes of agriculture and horticulture, the erec
tion of buildings, and the appointment of Professors
and Lecturers. An Institution, he thought, would
thus be established simUar in plan and results to the
Garden of Plants in Paris.
Mr. Choate was so anxious for some organization
that he stood ready to vote for any reasonable propo
sition which would command a majority, but another
scheme, radically different from that proposed by the
bill, seemed to him so much to be preferred, that on
the 8th of January, 1845, he offered, as an amend
ment, what was called the Library Plan. The char
acteristic feature of this was a provision that a sum
not less than $20,000 should be annually expended
for the purchase of books and manuscripts for the
formation of a Library, which for extent, complete
ness, and value, "should be worthy of the donor of
the fund, and of this nation, and of this age." There
were reasons at that time for such a disposition of the
legacy, which do not to the same extent exist now.
Not a library in the country then numbered more than
50,000 volumes, and the one or two which contained
so many, had no funds for their large increase, or
even adequate to their preservation. The bill thus
amended was amply discussed, and finally passed the

1844-1845.] SlilTHSONLiVN INSTITUTION. 155
Senate Jan. 23, 1845. It being the short session
of Congress, the subject was not reached in the House
in season for a vote. Mr. Choate left the Senate in
March, and of course had no further public agency in
the organization. During the next session, however,
a new bill, substantially the same as that proposed by
Mr. Choate, was carried through the House, mainly
by the exertions of Hon. George P. Marsh, then a
member from Vermont. It authorized the Regents to
make an appropriation not exceeding an average of
$25,000 annually, for the formation of a library, com
posed of valuable works pertaining to all departments
of human knowledge. Several other plans were urged,
but all were rejected, and the bill which passed took
its final shape from a series of amendments proposed
by Mr. Marsh, "all with a view," as he said, "to
direct the appropriation entirely to the purposes of a
library." In the Senate, the bill was referred to a
Select Committee, and after free discussion and the
rejection of several amendments, finally passed that
body precisely as it came from the House. It was
approved by the President, and became a law Aug.
10, 1846.
It may be proper to state here briefly and with
reference only to results, Mr. Choate's subsequent
connection with an Institution in the establishment
and welfare of which he had taken so deep an in
terest. He was elected a member of its first Board of
Regents; an honor eminently due to his efforts in its
behalf, and to the fact that the plan of a library, whicli
he had initiated, had been adopted by Congress. At
the first meeting of the Board, a committee was ap
pointed, of which Mr. Choate was the chairman, to

156 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
prepare a report upon the formation of a library, and
in accordance with their recommendation, the Board
appropriated $20,000 out of the interest of the fund,
for the purchase of books and the gradual fitting up
of a Ubrary. A committee was also raised to prepare
extended lists of books in different departments of
learning, proper to be first purchased. Notwithstand
ing this beginning, however, a strong opposition to
the library existed among the Regents, some of whom
had, from the first, favored a plan subsequently
known as the " system of active operations." As a
means of conciliation, it was voted, early in the next
year, to divide the income equally between the two
classes of objects, the Library, Museum, and Gallery
of Art, on the one side, and the Publication of Trans
actions, Original Researches, and Lectures, on the
other. This was proposed and accepted as a compro
mise, although by some acquiesced in with reluctance.
Mr. Marsh, especially, was so convinced of its failure
to meet the intent of the law, that he proposed to
invoke again the action of Congress, and yielded only
to repeated solicitations, and to a reluctance to dis
turb an arrangement,- in which the public generally
had no great interest, and which, it was hoped, would
concUiate all parties. The friends of the original plan
of Congress were, however, doomed to greater disap
pointment. The genius of the Institution bent to
science, not to letters. Years rolled on, and the
library was suffered to languish in the shade. Instead
of a vigorous effort to increase it by a systematic appli
cation of appropriated funds, a proposition was made
to annul the compromise itself, and leave the appor
tionment of the expenditures to the annual determi-

1844-1845.] SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION. 157
nation of the Board of Regents. A section of the law
providing that "of any other moneys accruing as
interest upon the fund, not appropriated, the man
agers may make such disposal as they shall deem best
suited for promoting the purpose of the testator," was
relied on as conferring the requisite authority for this
change of plan.
Of this proposition Mr. Choate wrote from Boston,
Feb. 4, 1854 : —
" Situated so far off, I cannot comprehend the rea
sons on which the compromise is sought to be dis
turbed. It was the result of years of disagreeing
opinions, and of reflections on all modes of adminis
tering the fund. The claims of the methods of pub
lication of papers, and of the collection of books and
specimens of art, were thoroughly canvassed, and re
spectively well understood. The necessity of recon
ciling opinions by concession was seen to be coercive.
It was yielded to, and the matter was put, as it was
thought, at rest. It has been acted on long enough to
demonstrate, that if adhered to honorably and calmly
and permanently, without restlessness and without
ambition, except to do good and to pursue truth
under and according to it, it will assuredly work out
great, visible, and enduring results, in as much variety
of form, satisfactory to as large a variety of opinions,
as can be expected of any thing.
" For myself I should deplore any change in the
distribution of the fund. I appreciate the claims of
science on the Institution ; and the contributions
which, in the form of discovery and investigation,
under its able Secretary, it is making to good knowl
edge. But I insist that it owes a great library to the

158 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
Capital of the New World ; something to be seen,
preserved, — and to grow, — into which shall be
slowly, but surely and judiciously, gathered the best
thoughts of aU the civilizations. God forbid that
we should not have reach, steadiness, and honor
enough to adhere to this as one great object of the
fund, solemnly proposed, and never to be lost sight
of." He subsequently opposed this new plan before the
Board, in a speech, of which there is no record, but
which one of the Regents said, was " the most beauti
ful that ever fell from human lips;" and another,
Mr. Douglas, added, " that it seemed impertinence
for anybody else after it to say a word." It did
not avail. The Board was predetermined, and Mr.
Choate, who had been re-elected as Regent but a
short time before, at once concluded to resign his
position. It was inconvenient for him to attend the
meetings, and, having no longer the interest of the
library to lead him there, he chose not to be even
indirectly responsible for the proceedings. There
were other circumstances which urged him also to
the same conclusion, among which, doubtless, was
his sympathy with Professor Jewett, who had been
summarily deprived of his position as Librarian. He
accordingly sent his resignation in the following
letter : —
" To Hon. Jesse D. Bright, President pro tempore of the Senate, and
Hon. Linn Botd, Speaker ofthe House of. Representatives: —
" I take leave to communicate to the two Houses of Con
gress my resignation of the office of Regent of the Smithson
ian Institution.
" It is due to the body which has been pleased to honor me
with this trust for some years, and has recently conferred it

1844-1845.] RESIGNS HIS PL.VCE AS REGENT. 159
for a new term, to say that this step is taken not from any
loss of interest in the welfare of that important establishment,
but in part from the inconvenience experienced in attending
the meetings, and in part, also, and more immediately, from
my inability to concur or acquiesce in an interpretation of the
Act of Congress constituting the actual Institution and the
Board of Regents, which has been adopted, and is now about
to be practically carried into administration by a majority
of the Board. That act, it has seemed to me, peremptorily
' directs a manner,' and devises and prescribes a plan, accord
ing to which it intends that the Institution shall accomplish the
¦will of the donor. By the earlier law accepting the gift, Con
gress engaged to direct such a manner and to devise such a
plan, and pledged the faith of the United States that the funds
should be applied according to such plan and such manner.
In fulfilment of that pledge, and in the performance of its
inalienable and incommunicable duty as trustee of the charity,
that body, after many years of deliberation — from which it
never sought to relieve itself by devolving the work upon the
discretion of others — matured its plan, and established the
actual Institution to carry it out. Of this plan, the general
features are sketched with great clearness and great com
pleteness in the law. Without resorting for aid, in its in
terpretation, to its parliamentary history, the journals and
debates, the substantial meaning seems to be palpable and
unequivocal in its terms. By such aid it is rendered quite
certain. A Board of Regents is created to administer it.
Some discretionary powers, of course, are given to the
Board in regard of details, and in regard of possible sur
pluses of income which may remain at any given time, while
the plan of Congress is being zealously and judiciously car
ried into effect; but these discretionary powers are given,
I think, in trust for the plan of Congress, and as auxiliary
to, co-operative with, and executory of it. They were given
for the sake of the plan, simply to enable the Regents the
more effectually and truly to administer that very one — not
to enable them to devise and administer another of their own,
unauthorized in the terms of the law, incompatible with its
announced objects and its full development — not alluded to
in it anywhere, and which, as the journals and the debates
inform us, when presented to the House under specific propo
sitions, was rejected.
'• Of this act an interpretation has now been adopted by

160 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap, V.
which, it has seemed to me, these discretionary means of car
rying the will of Congress into effect are transformed into
means of practically disappointing that will, and of building
up an institution substantially unlike that which it intended ;
which supersedes 'and displaces it, and in effect repeals the
law. Differences of opinion had existed in the Board from
its first meeting, in regard of the administration of the act ;
but they were composed by a resolution of compromise, ac
cording to which a full half of the annual income was to be
eventually applied in permanence to what I deem the essen
tial parts of the plan of Congress. That resolution of com
promise is now formally rescinded, and henceforward the
discretion of the Regents, and not the act of Congress, is to
be the rule of appropriation ; and that discretion has already
declared itself for another plan than what I deem the plan
of Congress. It may be added that under the same interpre
tation, the office and powers of secretary are fundamentally
changed from those of the secretary of the law, as I read it,
and are greatly enlarged.
" In this interpretation I cannot acquiesce ; and with entire
respect for the majority of the Board, and with much kind
ness and regard to all its members, I am sure that my duty
requires a respectful tender of resignation. I make it accord
ingly, and am Your obedient servant,
" Rufus Choate.
"WAsmnGTON, D.C, Jan. 13, 1855."
The reception of this letter excited some commo
tion in Congress, and gave rise to sharp debates. The
House of Representatives appointed a select commit
tee, to whom it was referred, with directions to in
quire into the management and expenditure of the
funds of the Institution. The two letters which
follow, to the chairman of the committee, will show
more completely Mr. Choate's views and feelings: —
To Hon. Chakles W. Upham. "Boston, Feb. 2, 1855.
"Hon. C. W. Upham, — My dear Sir: I happened to be
quite sick when your letters reached me, and am only now able
to go out, without being equal to any thing. It would afford

1844-1845.] LETTER TO HON. C. W. UPHAM. 161
me the truest pleasure to be able to transmit to the commit
tee a few thoughts on the sense of the act of Congress. That,
if read carefully, by the lights of its history, and with a mind
not pre-occupied, it makes a plan which, until a new law is
passed, the Regents were bound to execute heartily, — is,
however, so clear, that I do not see what can be added to the
bare enunciation. It happened to it just what happened to
the Constitution. It was opposed because it was a Library
measure, until it became a law, and then a metaphysics was
applied to it to show that it was no Library measure after all.
I await with great interest the proceedings of your committee ;
and, if my health will permit, I mean to address something,
less or more, to the Hon. Chairman as such.
" I am, most truly,
" Your ob't servant and friend,
'' Rufus Choate.''

To Hon. Chakles W. Upham.
" Boston, Feb. 19, 1855,
" Dear Me. Upham, — I am distressed to find that it
will not be possible for me to prepare any thing for the eye
of the committee. My engagements are so utterly out of
proportion to my health, that I am prostrated and imbecile
for all effort but the mill-horse walk of my daily tasks. It
was never my purpose to do more than discuss the question
of the intent of Congress. The intent of Smithson is not
the problem now. It is the intent of Congress ; and that
is so transparent, and is so evidenced by so many distinct
species of proof, that I really feel that I should insult the
committee by arguing it. That Congress meant to devise
a plan of its own is certain. The uniform opinion of men
in Congress from the start had been that it must do so.
Hence, solely, the years of delay, caused by the difficulties
of devising a plan. Why not have at once made a Board,
and devolved all on them ? But who ever thought of such
a thing ? If, then. Congress would mean, and had meant,
to frame a plan, what is it? Nothing, unless it is that of
collections of books, specimens of art and nature, and pos
sibly lectures. It is either these exactly, or it is just what
the Regents please. But it cannot be the latter, and theu
it is these. 11

162 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.
"1. These are provided for in terms; nothing else is.
2. Thedebates show that all things else were rejected. 3.
The only difficulties are these two: 1st, It is said discre
tionary powers are given to the Regents. Yes ; but how
does good faith requhe these to be interpreted ? Are they
limited or unlimited ? If the latter, then Congress has framed
and preferred no plan of its own, but has committed every
thing to the uncontrolled fancies of the Regents. This, if
their discretionary powers are unlimited. But how absurd
to say this, against an act so loaded with details, and whose
history shows it carefully constructed to embody a plan of
Congress! If, then, the discretionary powers are limited,
how are tliej^ limited ? So as to subserve and help out the
plan of Congress, primarily and chiefly ; and when the good
of that plan may be best advanced by a little surplus here or
there, they may do with that rare and exceptional case what
they will. 2d, The second difficulty is, that the Regents are
not directed to expend at least so much, but not above. The
difficulty, as they put it, assumes that there can be no satis
factory evidence of a plan of Congress, unless by express
language enacting, ' this is the plan of Congress,' or ' it is
the intention of Congress, hereby, that the income shall be
applied exclusively, so and so,' or, that ' whether books are
cheap or dear, a certain minimum shall in every year be
laid out thereon,' or some other express equivalent of lan
guage. But this is foolish. If the whole antecedent action
in Congress from the first shows that Congress understands
that it is to frame a plan ; if the history of this act shows
that everybody thought they were framing a plan ; if then
you find one in all its great outhnes actually sketched, build
ing, spacious rooms, provision for books and specimens, &c.,
&c., — constituting de facto a plan, sufficient to exhaust the
income ; and if you find not a trace of any other mode or
scheme, how absurd to demand, in addition to all this, a
section to say, ' By the way. Congress means something by
all this pother ; and it means that the plan it has thus por
trayed is the plan it chooses to have executed.' Suppose a
law, in the first section authorizing a ship to be built of a
size and construction specifically adapted to the Arctic navi
gation, as our building is to be for books ; and in a second
section, an enactment that the captain should cruise not ex
ceeding ten months in the Arctic Ocean ; and in a third, that
if he have any spare time to cruise, he might explore any

1844-1845.] DEATH OF DR. SEWALL. 163
other sea ; could he go one month to the Arctic, and then
say he preferred the Mediterranean, and cruise there eleven ?
But why not? There are no express words. But there is
other evidence of legislative intent, — the build of the ship,
and the solicitous provision for a particular sea, and the
silence about all others, and the stupendous dissimilarity in
the two adventures. If, besides, you found a Congressional
history, showing that everybody understood Congress was
selecting its own sea, motions made to divide the year with
the Mediterranean, and rejected, it would be altogether quite
the case. But I beg your pardon for these platitudes. I
entreat you to do two things : 1. Vindicate the sense of the
law. 2. Vindicate art, taste, learning, genius, mind, history,
ethnology, morals 
" I am most anxiously and faithfully yours,
" R. Choate.''
It cannot be denied that Mr. Choate — author and
successful defender of the library plan, as he was —
suffered a great disappointment in the final disposition
of the fund. He felt that it by no means met the
purpose of the Congress that passed the act ; and,
looking to permanent and comprehensive effects,
would not be likely to secure a result so conspic
uous, so noble, so worthy of the nation, so free from
the possibUity of perversion, or so directly meeting
the great want of the learned, cultivated, inquisitive,
and thoughtful throughout the whole land, as if
mainly or largely devoted to a library.
In the spring of 1845 Mr. Choate lost his brother-
in-law, Dr. Sewall, to whom in early life he had been
so much indebted for advice and assistance, and whose
house in Washington had often been his home. The
following letter to his relative, Mrs. Brinley, who was
then in Dr. Sewall's family, was written before the
news of his death had reached Boston.

164 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. V.

To Mrs. Fkancis Brinlet.
" Thursday, Fast Day, 1845.
"Mt dear Cousin Sarah, — No one can express my
obligations to you for your faithful kindness and thought
fulness during all this great affliction at the Doctor's. God
bless you for it all. I have mourned deeply over the sad
and surprising event, although I had again conceived the
strongest hopes of his recovery. Give my best love to all
who are alive. I wish my nephew, Thomas, would convey
to his father, il living, my thanks and profound gratitude
for a life of kindness to me, and would, — as he will — soothe
his mother. ... If you leave Washington, and this change
happens at the Doctor's, it is a spot blotted for ever from
the earth. ... I know not what to write, because I know
not how or what or who you all are. Pray accept my love,
and give it to all our dear friends. How happy for you that
Miss C, so agreeable, so composed, and so sympathetic, is
with you. God bless you.
« R. Choate."

1845-1849.] ADDRESS BEFORE THE LAW SCHOOL. 165

CHAPTER VL
1845-1849.
Address before the Law School in Cambridge — Argues the Case of
Rhode Island v. Massachusetts — Defence of Tirrell — The Oliver
Smith's Will Case — Speaks in favor of General Taylor — Offer
of a Professorship in the Cambridge Law School — Offer of a Seat
upon the Bench — The Phillips Will Case — Journal.
On leaving the Senate, Mr. Choate for a time bade
farewell to politics, and returned without regret to
the narrower sphere of the city and the courts. He
had become known for his intrepid and successful
management of difficult cases. These were often
intrusted to him when he would gladly have avoided
the responsibility, if his sense of professional duty
would have allowed ; but he did not feel at Uberty
to refuse his services when propej.'ly solicited, merely
because the cause was distasteful, or the client pos
sibly undeserving of sympathy.
In the summer of this year, 1845, he delivered an
address before the Law School at Cambridge, on the
"Position and Functions of the American Bar, as an
element of Conservatism in the State."
This noble address is replete with poUtical -wisdom.
It shows the careful student, to whom the lessons
of history are living, and urgent, — the profound
and philosophical observer of the causes of national
prosperity or national decay, watchful and discrimi
nating of the dangers of the State. A few pages

166 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap VL
will indicate, although partially and inadequately,
the drift of thought.
" And so the dying of a nation begins in the heart. There
are sentiments concerning the true idea of the State, concern
ing law, concerning liberty, concerning justice, so active, so
mortal, that if they pervade and taint the general mind, and
transpire in practical politics, the commonwealth is lost al
ready. It was of these that the democracies of Greece, one
after another, miserably died. It was not so much the spear
of the great Emathian conqueror which bore the beaming
forehead of Athens to the dust, as it was that diseased, uni
versal opinion, those tumultuous and fraudulent practical
politics, which came at last to supersede the constitution of
Solon, and the equivalents of Pericles, which dethroned the
reason of the State, shattered and dissolved its checks, bal
ances, and securities against haste and wrong, annulled its
laws, repudiated its obligations, shamed away its justice, and
set up instead, for rule, the passion, ferocity, and caprice,
and cupidity, and fraud of a flushed majority, cheated and
guided by sycophants and demagogues, — it was this dis
eased public opinion and these politics, its fruits, more deadly
than the gold or the phalanx of Philip, that cast her down
untimely from her throne on high.
" And now, what are these sentiments and opinions from
which the public mind of America is in danger, and -which
the studies and offices of our profession have fitted us and
impose on us the duty to encounter and correct ?
" In the flrst place, it has been supposed that there might
be detected, not yet in the general mind, but in what may
grow to be the general mind, a singularly inadequate idea
of the State as an unchangeable, indestructible, and, speaking
after the manner of men, an immortal thing. I do not refer
at this moment exclusively to the temper in which the Fed
eral Union is regarded, though that is a startling illustration
of the more general and deeper sentiment, but I refer in a
larger view to what some have thought the popular or com
mon idea of the civil State itself, its sacredness, its perma
nence, its ends, — in the lofty phrase of Cicero, its eternity.
The tendency appears to be, to regard the whole concern as
an association altogether at will, and at the will of every
body. Its boundary lines, its constituent numbers, its physi
cal, social, and constitutional identity, its polity, its law, ita

1845-1840.] ADDRESS BEFORE THE LAW SCHOOL. 167
continuance for ages, its dissolution, — all these seem to be
held in the nature of so many open questions. Whether
our country — words so simple, so expressive, so sacred ;
which, like father, child, wife, should present aa image famil
iar, endeared, deflnite to the heart — whether our country
shall, in the course of the next six months, extend to the
Paciflc Ocean and the Gulf, or be conflned to the parochial
limits of the Stite where we live, or have no existence at all
for us ; where its centre of power shall be ; whose statues
shall be borne in its processions ; whose names, what days,
what incidents of glory commemorated in its anniversaries,
and what symbols blaze on its flag, — in all this there is
getting to be a rather growing habit of politic non-commit
talism. Ha-ving learned from Rousseau and Locke, and our
own revolutionary age, its theories and its acts, that the
State is nothing but a contract, rests in contract, springs
from contract ; that government is a contrivance of human
wisdom for human wants ; that the civil life like the Sabbath,
is made for man, not man for either ; having only about
seventy years ago laid hold of an arbitrary fragment of the
British empire, and appropriated it to ourselves, which is
all the country we ever had; having gone on enlarging,
doubling, trebling, changing all this since, as a garment or
a house ; accustomed to encounter every day, at the polls,
in the market, at the miscellaneous banquet of our Liberty
everywhere, crowds of persons whom we never saw before,
strangers in the country, yet just as good citizens as our
selves ; with a whole continent before us, or half a one, to
choose a home in ; teased and made peevish by all manner
of small, local jealousies ; tormented by the stimulations of a
revolutionary 'philanthropy ; enterprising, speculative, itine
rant, improving, ' studious of change, and pleased with nov
elty ' beyond the general habit of desultory man ; — it might
almost seem to be growing to be our national humor to hold
ourselves free at every instant, to be and do just what we
please, go where we please, stay as long as we please and
no longer ; and that the State itself were held to be no more
than an encampment of tents on the great prairie, pitched
at sun-down, and struck to the sharp crack of the rifle next
morning, instead of a structure, stately and eternal, in which
the generations may come, one after another, to the great
gift of this social life.
" On such sentiments as these, how can a towering and

168 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VL
durable fabric be set up ? To use the metaphor of Bacon,
on such soil how can ' greatness be sown ' ? How unlike the
lessons of the masters, at whose feet you are bred ! The
studies of our profession have taught us that the State is
framed for a duration without end, — without end — till the
earth and the heavens be no more. Sic constiiuta civitas ut
eterna ! In the eye and contemplation of law, its masses may
die ; its own corporate being can never die. If we inspect
the language of its fundamental ordinance, every word ex
pects, assumes, foretells a perpetuity, lasting as ' the great
globe itself, and all which it inherit.' If we go out of that
record and inquire for the designs and the hopes of its founders
ab extra, we know that they constructed it, and bequeathed it,
for the latest posterity. If we reverently rise to a conjecture
of the purposes for which the Ruler of the world permitted
and decreed it to be instituted, in order to discern how soon
it will have performed its office and may be laid aside, we see
that they reach down to the last hour of the life of the last
man that shall live upon the earth ; that it was designed by
the Inflnite Wisdom, to enable the generation who framed
it, and all the generations, to perfect their social, moral, and
religious nature ; to do and to be good ; to pursue happiness ;
to be fitted, by the various discipline of the social life, by
obedience, by worship, for the life to come. When these
ends are all answered, the State shall die 1 When these are
answered, intereat et concidat omnis hie mundus! Until they
are answered, esto, eritque perpetua !
" In the next place, it has been thought that there was
developing itself in the general sentiment, and in the practi
cal politics of the time, a tendency towards one of those great
changes by which free States have oftenest perished, — a
tendency to push to excess the distinctive and characteristic
principles of our system, whereby, as Aristotle has said, gov
ernments usually perish, — a tendency towards transition
from the republican to the democratical era, of the history
and epochs of liberty.
" Essentially and generally, it would be pronounced by
those who discern it, a tendency to erect the actual majority
of the day into the dejure and actual government of the day.
It is a tendency to regard the actual will of that majority as
the law of the State. It is a tendency to regard the shortest
and simplest way of collecting that will, and the promptest
and most irresistible execution of it, as the true polity of lib-

1845-1849.] ADDRESS BEFORE THE LAW SCHOOL. 169
erty. It is a tendency which, pressed to its last development,
would, if considerations of mere convenience or inconvenience
did not hinder, do exactly this : it would assemble the whole
people in a vast mass, as once they used to assemble beneath
the sun of Athens ; and there, when the eloquent had spoken,
and the wise and the foolish had counselled, would commit
the transcendent questions of war, peace, taxation, and trea
ties ; the disposition of the fortunes and honor of the citizen
and statesman ; death, banishment, or the crown of gold ; the
making, interpreting, and administration of the law ; and all
the warm, precious, and multifarious interests of the social
life, to the madness or the jest of the hour.
" I have not time to present what have been thought to be
the proofs of the existence of this tendency ; and it is need
less to do so. It would be presumptuous, too, to speculate,
if it has existence, on its causes and its issues. I desire to
advert to certain particulars in which it may be analyzed,
and through which it displays itself, for the purpose of show
ing that the studies, employments, and, so to say, professional
politics, of the bar are essentially, perhaps availably, antag-
onistical to it, or moderative of it.
" It is said, then, that you may remark this tendency, first,
in an inclination to depreciate the uses and usurp the func
tions of those organic forms in which the regular, deflnite, and
legally recognized powers of the State are embodied, — to
depreciate the uses and usurp the function of written constitu
tions, limitations on the legislature, the distribution of gov
ernment into departments, the independence of the judiciary,
the forms of orderly proceeding, and all the elaborate and
costly apparatus of checks and balances, by which, as I have
said, we seek to secure a government of laws and not of men.
" ' The first condition ' — it is the remark of a man of
great genius, who saw very far by glances into the social sys
tem, Coleridge, — ' the first condition in order to a sound con
stitution of the body politic is a due proportion between the
free and permeative life and energy of the State and its organ
ized powers.' For want of that proportion the government
of Athens was shattered and dissolved. For want of that
proportion the old constitutions of Solon, the reforms of
Clisthenes, the sanctity of the Areopagus, the temperaments of
Pericles, were burnt up in the torrent blaze of an unmitigated
democracy. Every power of the State, ^ — executive, legal,
judicial — was grasped by the hundred-handed assembly of

170 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI
the people. The result is in her liistoi;y. She became a
by-word of dissension and injustice ; and that was her ruin.
" I wonder how long that incomprehensible democracy
would have hesitated, after the spirit of permeative liberty
had got the better of the organized forms, upon our Spot
Pond, and Long Pond, and Charles River water-questions.
This intolerable hardship and circumlocution of applying to
a legislature of three independent and co-ordinate depart
ments, sitting under a written constitution, with an indepen
dent judiciary to hold it up to the fundamental law, — the
hardship of applying to such a legislature for power to bring
water into the city ; this operose machinery of orders of
notice, hearings before committees, adverse reports, favorable
reports rejected, disagreements of the two Houses, veto of
Governor, a charter saving vested rights of other people,
meetings of citizens in wards to vote unawed, unwatched,
every man according to his sober second thought, — how long
do you think such conventionalities as these would have kept
that beautiful, passionate, and self-willed Athens, standing,
like the Tantalus of her own poetry, plunged in crystal lakes
and gentle historical rivers up to the chin, perishing with
thirst ? Why, some fine, sunshiny forenoon, you would have
heard the crier calling the people, one and all, to an extraor
dinary assembly, perhaps in the Piraeus, as a pretty full
expression of public opinion was desirable and no other place
would hold everybody ; you would have seen a stupendous
mass-meeting roll itself together as clouds before all the
.winds; standing on the outer edges of which you could just
discern a speaker or two gesticulating, catch a murmur as of
waves on the pebbly beach, applause, a loud laugh at a happy
hit, observe some six thousand hands lifted to vote or swear,
and then the vast congregation would separate and subside,
to be seen no more. And the whole record of the transaction
would be made up in some half-dozen lines to this effect, —
it might be in ^schines, — that in the month of — — , under
the archonate of  , the tribe of ¦  -, exercising the office
of prytanes  , an extraordinary assembly was called to
consult on the supply of water ; and it appearing that some
six persons of great wealth and consideration had opposed its
introduction for some time past, and were moreover vehe
mently suspected of being no bettei than they should be, it
was ordained that they should be fined in round sums, com
puted to be enough to bring in such a supply as would give

1845-1849.] ADDRESS BEFORE THE LAW SCHOOL. 171
every man equal to twenty-eight gallons a day ; and a certain
obnoxious orator having inquired what possible need there
was for so much a head, Demades, the son of the Mariner,
replied, that that person was the very last man in all Athens
who should put that question, since the assembly must see
that he at least could use it to great advantage by washing
his face, hands, and robes ; aud thereupon the people laughed
and separated.
" And now am I misled by the influence of vocation when
I venture to suppose that the profession of the Bar may do
somewhat — should be required to do somewhat — to pre
serve the true proportion of liberty to organization, — to
moderate and to disarm that eternal antagonism ?
" These ' organic forms' of our system, — are they not in
some just sense committed to your professional charge and
care ? In this sense, and to this extent, does not your profes
sion approach to, and blend itself with, one, and that not the
least in dignity and usefulness, of the departments of states
manship? Are you not thus statesmen while you are law
yers, and because you are lawyers ? These constitutions of
government by which a free people have had the virtue and
the sense to restrain themselves, — these devices of profound
wisdom and a deep study of man, and of the past, by which
they have meant to secure the ascendency of the just, lofty,
and wise, over the fraudulent, low, and insane, in the long-
run of our practical politics, — these temperaments by which
justice is promoted, and by which liberty is made possible
and may be made immortal, — and this jus publicum, this
great written code of public law, — are they not a part, in
the strictest and narrowest sense, of the appropriate science
of your profession ? More than for any other class or calling
in the community, is it not for you to study their sense, com
prehend their great uses, and explore their historical origin
and illustrations, — to so hold them up as shields, that no act
of legislature, no judgment of court, no executive proclamation,
no order of any functionary of any description, shall transcend
or misconceive them — to so hold them up before your clients
and the public, as to keep them at all times living, intelligible,
and appreciated in the universal mind ? "
Then on the very nature of law he utters some
words which it were well that all law-makers and all
citizens should carefully ponder.

172 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
" It is one of the distemperatures to which an unreasoning
liberty may grow, no doubt, to regard law as no more nor
less than just the wOl — the actual and present will — of the
actual majority of the nation. The majority govern. What
the majority pleases, it may ordain. What it ordains is law.
So much for the source of law, and so much for the nature of
law. But, then, as law is nothing but the will of a major
number, as that will differs from the will of yesterday, and
will differ from that of to-morrow, and as all law is a restraint
on natural right and personal independence, how can it gain
a moment's hold on the reverential sentiments of the heart,
and the profounder convictions of the judgment? How can
it impress a filial awe ; how can it conciliate a fllial love ;
how can it sustain a sentiment of veneration ; how can it
command a rational and animated defence ? Such sentiments
are not the stuff' from which the immortality of a nation is to
be woven ! Oppose now to this the loftier philosophy which
we have learned. In the language of our system, the law is
not the transient and arbitrary creation of the major will, nor
of any will. It is not the offspring of will at all. It is the
absolute justice of the State, enlightened by the perfect reason
of the State. That is law, — enlightened justice assisting the
social nature to perfect itself by the social life. It is ordained,
doubtless, that is, it is chosen, and is ascertained by the wis
dom of man. But, then, it is the master-work of man. Qucb
est eiiim istorum oratio tam exquisita, qucB sit anteponenda
bene constitute civitati publico jure, et moribus ? ¦*
'' By the costly and elaborate contrivances of our constitu
tions we have sought to attain the transcendent result of ex
tracting and excluding haste, injustice, revenge, and folly from
the place and function of giving the law, and of introducing
alone the reason and justice of the wisest and the best. By
the aid of time, — time which changes and tries all things ;
tries them, and works them pure, — we subject the law, after
it is given, to the tests of old experience, to the reason and
justice of successive ages and generations, to the best thoughts
of the wisest and safest of reformers. And then and thus we
pronounce it good. Then and thus we cannot choose but
reverence, obey, and enforce it. We would grave it deep into
the heart of the undying State. We would strengthen it by
opinion, by manners, by private virtue, by habit, by the awful
1 Cicero de Republioa, I. 2.

1845-1849.] RHODE ISLAND BOUNDARY. 173
hoar of innumerable ages. All that attracts us to life, all that
is charming in the perfected and adorned social nature, we
wisely think or we wisely dream, we owe to the all-encircling
presence of the law. Not even extravagant do we think it to
hold, that the Divine approval may sanction it as not unworthy
of the reason which we derive from his own nature. Not
extravagant do we hold it to say, that there is thus a voice of
the people which is the voice of God."
In January, 1846, he argued before the Supreme
Court at Washington the case of the boundary be
tween Massachusetts and Rhode Island. The latter
State was the complainant, and Massachusetts had
made an answer. Evidence also had been taken by
the parties, so that the case was heard upon both an
swer and evidence. The words of the Massachusetts
charter defined the part of the boundary in question
as " lying within the space of three English miles on
the south part of Charles River, or of any or of every
part thereof; " and the State of Rhode Island insisted
that these words had been misconstrued and misap
plied in former adjustments and agreements about the
line, and particularly that mistakes had been made as
to the location of some of the ancient stations. The
case disclosed various acts and proceedings between
the respective governments, from the very earliest
times, and thus opened a wide field of inquiry and
discussion. " The case," says a correspondent, " was
argued by Randolph and Whipple for Rhode Island,
and Choate and Webster for Massachusetts.^ Mr.
Randolph occupied three days in referring to and
reading ancient grants and documents. Mr. Choate
confined himself to that branch of the argument re
sulting from the two following points : 1. The true
^ Howard's Reports, vol. 4, pp. 591-640.

174 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI
interpretation of the charter. 2. The acts of 1713,
1718, &c., being acts of the State of Rhode Island of
a most decisive character. But these points went to
the very marrow of the case ; and as illustrated, ex
panded, and enforced by Mr. Choate, with his remark
able diction, with his clear and searching analysis and
his subtle logic, went far utterly to destroy the work
of the preceding three days. Every one who heard
that argument must have felt that there was some
thing new under the sun ; and that such a man as
Mr. Choate had never been heard in that court be
fore." The argument made a strong impression upon
the judges. Judge Catron, it was said, was so much
struck and charmed by it that it became a standing
inquiry with him at the future sessions of the court,
whether Choate was not coming on to argue some
question. " I have heard the most eminent advo
cates," he said, "but he surpasses them all." It
especially surprised him, as it did others, that the
soil and climate of New England — sterile and harsh
— should give birth to eloquence so fervid, beautiful,
and convincing. Of this argument there remains no
report ; nor have any fragments of it been found
among Mr. Choate's manuscripts.
In March, 1846, Mr. Choate made his celebrated
defence of Albert J. Tirrell. He probably never made
an argument at the bar under circumstances appar
ently more adverse, nor one which, from the nature
of one part of the defence, and from his unlooked-for
success, subjected him to so much criticism. He took
the case in the natural way of business, being retained
as for any other professional service. With Tirrell
himself he never exchanged a word till the day of the

1845-1849.] DEFENCE OF TIRRELL. 175
trial.* The case was heard in Boston, before Justices
Wilde, Dewey, and Hubbard — venerable, one of
them for age, and all of them for experience and
weight of character. The principal facts as de
veloped at the trial were the following: Between
four and five o'clock on Monday morning, October
27, 1845, a young woman named Maria Bickford was
found dead in a house of bad repute, kept by one
Joel Lawrence. Albert J. Tirrell, a person of re
spectable family and connections, but of vicious life,
and already under indictment for adultery, was known
to have been with her on the previous afternoon and
late in the evening, the doors of the house having
been locked for the night. He had long been a para
mour of hers, and for her company had forsaken his
own wife. On the morning spoken of, several inmates
of the house were early roused by a cry coming ap
parently from the room occupied by these persons,
followed by a sound as of a heavy body falUng on the
floor. Soon afterwards some one was heard going
down stairs, making an indistinct noise as if stifled by
smoke ; and almost immediately those in the house
were alarmed by the smell and appearance of fire.
After the fiie was extinguished, which was done by
the help of a fireman and a neighbor, the body of
Mrs. Bickford was found on the floor of the room she
had occupied, and where the fire principally was, at
1 He was generally averse to personal contact with his clients in
criminal cases. ,In this instance, I have understood that after the
prisoner was in the dock, he walked to the rail and said, " Well, Sir,
are you ready to make a strong push for life with me to-day ? " The
answer, of course, was in the aifirmative. " Very well," replied Mr.
C, " we will make it," and turned away to his seat. He did not
speak to him again.

176 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
some distance from the bed, her throat cut tu the
bone from ear to ear ; her body much burnt ; a con
siderable pool of blood upon the bed ; a bowl upon a
wash-stand in the corner of the room, with water in
it, thick with blood ; marks of blood upon the wash-
stand, and the lamp on the mantel-piece ; the bed
clothes piled up in various places in the room and in
the entry, and partly consumed ; a bloody razor near
the body ; also, some stockings, a cravat, and a cane,
belonging to Tirrell. Besides this, a fire had been
kindled in an adjoining room which was not occupied
that night. A woman in the next house, separated
from Lawrence's by a brick partition, was waked that
morning by a screech as from a grown child ; but on
listening heard the voice of a woman ; then she heard
a strangling noise, and afterwards a fall, and then a
louder noise.
It was also in evidence that Tirrell had called in
haste, very early on that Monday morning, at a livery-
stable near Bowdoin Square, saying that " he had got
into trouble ; that somebody had come into his room
and tried to murder him," and he wanted a vehicle
and driver to take him out of town. These were
furnished, and he was driven to Weymouth. He also
had called between four and five o'clock at the house
of one Head, in Alden Court, not far from the livery-
stable, and asked for some clothes which he had left
there, saying that he was going to Weymouth. The
officers who went in search of him on the same day
did not succeed in finding him ; but some months
afterwards he was arrested in New Orleans, and
brought to Boston for trial. The public were ex
asperated by the atrocity of the deed, were generaUy

1845-1849.] DEFENCE OF TIRRELL. 177
convinced of his guilt, and confident that he woiUd
be convicted. The crime could be charged upon no
one else ; and the evidence connected him with it so
closely that there seemed to be no chance of escape.
Yet, in spite of the almost universal prejudgment,
and of a chain of circumstantial evidence coiling
about the prisoner which seemed irrefragable, his
counsel, by throwing doubt upon the testimony of
the government, as derived in part from witnesses of
infamous character, by subtly analyzing what was in
disputable, and demonstrating its consistency with a
theory of innocence, by a skilful combination of evi-,
dence showing the possibiUty of suicide, or of murder
by some other hand, and by a peculiar line of defence
so singular and audacious that it seemed almost to
paralyze the prosecuting officer, were able to con
vince the jury, and I believe the court and the bar,
that he could not be legally convicted. It appeared,
for the defence, that Tirrell was subject from his
youth to what was called somnambulism ; and that
while in this state he made strange noises — a sort of
groan or screech — loud and distressing ; that he fre
quently rose and walked in his sleep ; sometimes
uttered words evidently prompted by dreams ; and
that once he pulled a companion with whom he was
sleeping out of bed, stood over him and cried out,
" Start that leader ! start that leader, or I'll cut his
throat ! " and then walked to the door as if for a
knife that had been placed over the latch ; that on
the morning of the asserted murder, when he went to
Head's house, he appeared so strangely as to frighten
those who saw him, and Head took hold of him and
shook him, when he seemed to wake up from a kind
12

178 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI
nf stupor, and said, "Sam, how came I here?" It
was also proved that when informed at Weymouth
that he was charged with having committed the mur
der, he said that he would go to Boston and deliver
himself up, but was dissuaded by his brother-in-law,
who furnished him money to take him to Montreal.
It was further proved that Mrs. Bickford, though
beautiful and fascinating, was incUned to intemper
ance, was passionate and wicked, and often threatened
to take her own life ; that she was in the habit of
having a razor with her for the purpose of shaving
, her forehead to make it high ; and once had bought a
dirk, and kept it concealed in her room. Physicians
of the utmost respectabiUty testified that the wound
in the neck was one which could have been inflicted
by the deceased herself; that extraordinary convul
sive movements may be made after much of the blood
has left the body, while still some remains in the
head ; that from the nature of the instrument, and the
physical ability of the deceased, the death might have
been suicide ; that the prisoner appeared evidently to
be a somnambulist, or sleep-walker, and that in this
somnambulic state a person can dress himself, can
consistently commit a homicide, set the house on flre,
and run out into the street. These were the strong
points on which the argument of Mr. Choate was
based. He contended that no motive had been shown
for the deed, on the part of the prisoner; that the
evidence did not contradict the idea of suicide ; that
no evidence had shown that a third party had not
done the deed ; and that if committed by the prisoner,
it must have been done while in the somnambulic
state. There is no record of this extraordinary argu-

1845-1849.] DEFENCE OF TIRRELL. 179
ment. An imperfect sketch is found in some of the
newspapers of the day, evidently not exact and accu
rate, and of course conveying no adequate idea of the
variety of power brought to bear on the analysis of
the evidence and its application, in overthrowing the
theory of the government.
Mr. Choate often said that he meant to write out
the argument, the materials of which existed ; but he
never carried this intention into effect, and a diligent
search among his papers has failed to discover any
trace of his brief. But in the imperfect notices to
which we now have access, we see evidence not only
of the solemn and earnest manner which the case
mainly required, and which he could render so impres
sive, but also of that occasional playful extravagance
and witty allusion with which he was accustomed to
relieve the anxious attention of the jury. Speaking of
a witness for the govemment, called out of place, and
after the defence was in, he said : " Where was this
tardy and belated witness that he comes here to tell
us aU he knows, and all he doesn't know, forty-eight
hours after the evidence for the defence is closed? Is
the case so obscure that he had never heard of it?
Was he ill, or in custody ? Was he in Europe, Asia, or
Africa ? Was he on the Red Sea, or the Yellow Sea, or
the Black Sea, or the Mediterranean Sea ? Was he at
Land's End, or John o' Groat's house ? Was he with
Commissioners on our north-eastern boundary dra-wing
and deflning that much vexed boundary line ? Or was
he with General Taylor and his army at Chihuahua, or
wherever the fleeting south-western boundary line of
our country may at this present moment be? No,
gentlemen, he was at none of these places (compara^

180 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
tively easy of access), but — and I would caU your
attention, Mr. Foreman, to the fact, and urge it upon
your consideration — he was at that more remote, more
inaccessible region, whence so few travellers return
— Roxbury."
In showing a possibility that the crime could have
been committed by a third person, he denounced with
great severity and sarcasm the reckless and depraved
character of most of the persons who appeared as wit
nesses, and the infamous nature of the house "not al
ways so very hermetically sealed." In accounting for
the position in which the body was found, he asserted,
what the apparent diversity of testimony seemed to
bear out, that all the particulars and horrors in that
room on the morning of the homicide, had not been
divulged, and that Lawrence himself might have
snatched the body from the burning bed. So by sug
gestion after suggestion he threw suspicion over the
theories of the government or diminished the credi
bility of its witnesses. In the argument for somnam
bulism, he produced a great impression by a quotation^
" I beg leave of the court to read, as illustrative of my
point of argument here, a passage from a good old
book, which used to lie on the shelves of our good
old fathers and mothers, and which they were wont
devoutly to read. This old book is ' Hervey's Medita
tions,' and I have borrowed it from my mother to read
on this occasion. ' Another signal instance of a Pro-vi
dence intent upon our welfare (says that writer) is,
that we are preserved safe in the hours of slumber.
. . . At these moments we lie open to innumerable
perils ; perils from the resistless rage of flames ; perils
from the insidious artifices of thieves, or the outrageous

1845-1849.] DEFENCE OF TIRRELL. 181
violence of robbers ; perUs from the irregular workings
of our own thoughts, and especially from the incursions
of our spiritual enemy. . . . Will the candid reader
excuse me, if I add a short story, or rather a matter of
fact, suitable to the preceding remark ? Two persons
who had been hunting together in the day slept to
gether the following night ; one of them was renewing
his pursuit in his dream, and having run the whole
circle of the chase, came at last to the fall of the stag.
Upon this he cries out -with determined ardor, " I'U
kill him, I'U kill him," and immediately feels for the
knife which he carried in his pocket. His companion
happening to be awake, and observing what passed,
leaped from the bed. Being secure from danger, and
the moon shining bright into the room, he stood to
view the event, when, to his inexpressible surprise, the
infatuated sportsman gave several deadly stabs in the
very place where, a moment before, the throat and
the life of his friend lay. This I mention as a proof,
that nothing hinders us, even from being assassins of
others or murderers of ourselves, amid the mad follies
of sleep, only the preventing care of our Heavenly
Father. . . . Oh ! the unwearied and condescending
goodness of our Creator ! who lulls us to our rest, by
bringing on the sUeiit shades, and plants his own
ever-watchful eye as our sentinel, while we enjoy the
needful repose.' "
In his exordium, alluding to the certainty that d.eath
would follow a verdict of guilty, he said, " Every juror,
when he puts into the urn the verdict of 'guilty,'
writes upon it also, ' Let him die.' " In the solemn
and beautiful peroration, he, as it were, summed up
his appeal in these words : " Under the iron law of

182 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VT.
old Rome, it was the custom to bestow a civic wreath
on him who should save the life of a citizen. Do your
duty this day, gentlemen, and you too may deserve
the civic crown."
The verdict of the jury, after a deUberation of less
than two hours, was " Not guUty," — a verdict which
has been generaUy acquiesced in by the legal profes
sion as the only one which the evidence would war
rant, though at the commencement of the trial few
could have supposed it possible. Mr. Choate suffered
somewhat in the general estimation from the argument
drawn from somnambulism. That, however, was a
suggestion of the friends of the accused, accepted by
the counsel, and employed to the best of his ability,
like any other capital fact. The foreman of the jury
stated that the question of somnambuUsm did not
enter into the consideration of the jury, and had not
the public been disappointed and almost shocked by
the result of the trial, we should probably have heard
less criticism of the methods of the advocate.
As this case must take rank among the most cele
brated in our country, for the audacity of the crime,
for the pervading anxiety that the criminal should not
escape, as weU as for the power, brUUancy, and unex
pected success of the defence, it is much to be re
gretted that no good report of it was ever made. No
description, or statement of legal points, can enable
one to reproduce the scenes, or feel the power by
which the jury were brought so soon to their verdict
of deliverance.
Although acquitted on the charge of murder, Tirrell
was stUl under an indictment for arson. On this
charge he was tried before Judges Shaw, Wilde, and

1845-1849] DEFENCE OF TIRRELL. 183
Dewey in January, 1847. This trial, though of less
celebrity than the first, was hardly less important or
difficult. Nor was the ability of the defence less con
spicuous. Every one noticed the hopeful and confi
dent tone with which Mr. Choate opened his argument.
He moved as if sure of success. Having thus, as by a
magnetic influence, removed the pressure of doubt and
apprehension, he proceeded to review the evidence,
which was nearly the same as in the former trial, with
the addition of one witness, who swore that she was
in Lawrence's house that night and saw Tirrell going
out betweeii four and five o'clock in the morning.
This new testimony, so important if true, damaged
the case for the government by throwing doubt upon
the credibility of the other witnesses, — Lawrence
having before sworn that no one was in his house that
night but those who appeared on the stand. Mr.
Choate argued that there was no proof of arson at all ;
no proof of an intent to set the fire ; it might have
been done by Lawrence himself by accident ; if done
by TuTell at all, it might have been done in a som-
nambuUc state. He had no motive for the crime.
" He was fascinated by the wUes of the unhappy
female whose death was so awful ; he loved her -with
the love of forty thousand brothers, though, alas ! it was
not as pure as it was passionate." He argued again
that Mrs. Bickford might have died by her own hand.
" If the jury," he said, " are governed by the clamor
raised by a few without the court-house, I must look
upon the prisoner as in the position of one of those
unfortunates on board the ill-fated 'Atlantic' He
was tossed upon the waters, — struck out boldly and
strongly in the wintry surge, was washed within

184 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
reach of the ragged beach, and, with one hand upon
the crag, was offering up thanksgiving for his safety,
when the waves overtook him and he was swept back
to death."
" There is a day, gentlemen," he said in conclusion,
" when all these things will be 'known. When the
great day has arrived and the books are opened, it
wUl then be known. But, gentlemen, let not your
decision be then declared in the face of the world, to
be a judicial murder."
The charge to the jury by Chief Justice Shaw, dis
crediting the government witnesses on account of
disreputable characters and discrepancj^ of testimony,
was favorable to the prisoner, who was again acquitted.
It was wittily said afterwards that " Tirrell existed
only by the sufferance of Choate." ^
In July, 1847, Mr. Choate argued, at Northampton,
the Oliver Smith's will case. Mr. Smith died a bach
elor at nearly eighty years of age, leaving an estate
which was inventoried at $370,000. This he disposed
of by a will creating a variety of charities which many
people regarded as unwise and useless. He had a
number of relations who had expected generous lega
cies. Some of them were needy ; to others he was
under obligations of kindness, and all of them felt that
it was right to defeat the will, if it could legally be
done. There was but one point at which an attack
seemed to offer any chance of success. One of the
witnesses to the will had lived so secluded from
1 A short time after the conclusion of his second trial, Tirrell wrote
to Mr. Choate and suggested that half of the fee should be returned,
stating that as his innocence of the crimes charged was so obvious to
two juries, his counsel had been paid too much for their conduct of
such simple causes. The fee paid was, it is believed, $200 !

1845-1849.] THE SMITH WILL CASE. 185
society, and had conducted himself so singularly, that
he was reputed to be insane. If it could be shown
that he was insane at the time the will was made, he
would of course be incompetent and the will would
fail. But the fact that he avoided intercourse with
everybody not belonging to his own family made it
difficult to obtain evidence. The heirs-at-law deter
mined, however, to appeal from the decree of the
Probate Court which approved the will, on the ground
that it was not attested by three competent witnesses.
For the heirs appeared Mr. Choate, R. A. Chapman,
and C. P. Huntington. For the executors, Daniel
Webster, C. E. Forbes, and Osmyn Baker. The
court-room was crowded as densely as men and
women could sit and stand. The evidence was de
cisive that a year before the will was made, the wit
ness was regarded by the Superintendent of the State
Asylum as insane, but at the period in question, the
evidence, though conflicting, was in his favor. He
himself was put upon the stand, and, sustained by the
presence of his powerful counsel, gained much by his
appearance. There is no report of the arguments on
this interesting trial, but I am able to give the im
pression made upon the mind of an able lawyer who
was present and indirectly opposed to Mr. Choate.^
" Though I took no active part in the trial of the
' Smith WiU Case,' I was engaged somewhat in the
antecedent preparation, and thus brought nearer than
I otherwise might have been, to the great leaders on
that occasion. ... I had never till then seen or heard
Mr. Choate, when opposed to Mr. Webster before the
jury. It was a case, moreover, where, at the start, he
1 Hon. Charles Delano.

186 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. Vi.
must have felt how desperately the odds were against
him on the merits, and how necessary it was in the
presence of a thronged court-house of new hearers,
and of such an antagonist, that his genius should
not falter ; and surely his exhaustless resource never
responded more prodigally to his call. He spoke for
three hours, as, it seems to me, never man spake.
Mr. Webster, on the contrary, after a certain critical
point in the production of the evidence was passed,
felt that he had an easy case and a sure victory. I
thought there was on his part rather an affectation
of serenity — of deliberateness and even homeliness of
address — an effort at self-suppression, perhaps, as if
studying more to divert the jury by the contrasted
manner of the men before them, than to rival his adver
sary in any of the subtle or fascinating arts of oratory.
There were in fact only two or three passages in Mr.
Webster's speech where he seemed to startle the be
wildered twelve by a power at all proportioned to his
fame. And if the verdict had been taken before the
charge, the result would have been doubtful. But
the dry and utterly passionless analysis of the evidence
by old Judge Wilde made the jury soon to see how
narrowly they had escaped finding an unpulsive, if
not a foolish verdict. I speak of course with the
biases of a retainer against Mr. Choate's side.
" You will observe that the single issue on the
trial was, whether the third witness to the will was,
or was not, of sufficient mental soundness at the time
of attestation. This witness was a young man just
out of college, — the son of a gentleman of intelli
gence, education, and of the highest respectability,
but a noted hypochondriac, and the grandson of that

1845-1849.] THE SMITH WILL CASE. 187
chief of hypochondriacs, not less than of justices,
Theophilus Parsons, of the Massachusetts Bench.
" Mr. Choate converted these incidents into one
of his finest episodes. He gave us the Chief Justice
in his most exalted intellectual frame ; but then how
ingeniously did he darken the canvas with all the
horrors of that great man's morbid delusions ! Surely
the jury were not to believe that a malady thus fore
shadowed, when added to and aggravated by the
channel of transmission could issue in any thing less
than necessary and utter mental overthrow ! His
theory might have gained assent, had it not been that
the questionable witness was himself in court. His
whole demeanor and expression, however, were those
of a man absorbed in melancholy ; and I think Mr.
Choate's side had, from the outset, staked their ex
pectations upon the miscarriage of this witness on the
stand. In the first place, would the party setting up
the will dare to call him ? If not, it would be a
confession of at least present incompetency. If they
should, how probable that so consummate a cross-
examiner would easily reach the clew to his distrac
tions, and thus topple him from any momentary
self-possession. It was in taking this timid and re
luctant witness into his own hands, and bringing
him to feel that he was testifying under the shelter
of the great ' Defender ' himself, that Mr. Webster
figured more conspicuously than in any other part of
the case. Thus borne up and through a long direct
examination, he braved the cross-examination with
perfect composure. This was the critical point of
the case to which I have before alluded. I know I
am spinning out this note to a merciless length, but

188 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VL
my apology is, that reminiscences of Mr. Choate are
among the most delightful memories of the lawyer.
Few who have ever known him can dwell upon his
death otherwise than as upon a personal and domestic
affliction ; and I count it among the chief felicities of
my life, not merely to have heard him at the Bar, but
to have seen him in his office, had a glimpse of him at
home among his books, and listened to him at his
fireside." Mr. Webster and Mr. Choate were often very
playful towards each other during this trial, as they
usually were when engaged together in the same case.
" My position," said one of the junior counsel,^ "hap
pened to be between them ; and as it was the first
time I had ever seen them opposed to each other, I
was not a careless observer of either. Mr. Choate
seemed to know Mr. Webster's ways thoroughly ; and
I was sometimes amused by the shrewd cautions he
gave me. Mr. Webster laughed at him about his
handwriting, telling him his notes were imitations of
the antedUuvian bird-tracks. While he was making
his argument, Mr. Webster repeatedly called my
attention in a whisper to his striking passages. He
once asked me in respect to one of them, ' How do
you suppose I can answer that ? ' And once when
he used the word ' abnormal,' Mr. Webster said,
' Didn't I tell you he would use the word " abnormal "
before he got through ? He got it in college, and it
came from old President Wheelock.' . . . After the
trial was over, Mr. Webster spoke very freely of Mr.
' Hon. Reuben A. Chapman, late Chief Justice of the Supreme
Court of Massachusetts.

1845-1849.] SPEECH AT BROOKLINE. 189
Choate, in a private conversation at our hotel, and
expressed the highest admiration of him. He said he
often Ustened to him with wonder ; and that when
he argued cases at Washington, the judges of the
Supreme Court expressed their amazement at the
brilliancy and power of his oratory, even in the dis
cussion of dry legal points. He said they had often
mentioned it to him."
It was understood that in this case the jury stood
at first, ten for the will, and two against it ; on the
third baUot they agreed.
In the political campaign of 1848, which resulted
in the election of Gen. Taylor, Mr. Choate took a
prominent and willing part. In the character and
Ufe of Gen. Taylor, his modesty and integrity, his
capacity in extraordinary emergencies, his courage,
his unobtrusive patriotism, and his brilliant -victories,
there was much to awaken enthusiasm as well as to
command respect. The speeches of Mr. Choate before
the election are among the most effective he ever made
in this style of ephemeral political oratory. With a
sound substratum of judicious thought and argument,
they fairly effervesce with wit and raillery.
One of these was made at Brookline. " He had been
a week," -writes a gentleman who went with him to
the place, " preparing his oration, and was well-nigh
used up. He got into the coach, his locks dripping
-with dissolved camphor, and complained of a raging
headache. He clutched his temple with his hand, and
leaned his head on my shoulder, to see if he could not,
by reclining, find ease. Just as we touched the Mill
Dam, the evening moon poured her level rays over
the beautiful waters of the Back Bay, and filled the

190 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
coach and atmosphere with dreamy light. The scene
instantly revived him. He put his head out of the
coach window, and was absorbed with the sweetness of
the view. The sight of the still waters, moonlighted,
seemed to drive away his pain, and he struck into his
old rapture. In the hall where he spoke, he was in
his very best mood ; both mind and body seeming to
be on wings. ... As we rode home in the soft moon
light, he amazed me with his vast power of thought.
I have seen men stirred with passion ; men eloquent ;
men profound and brilliant in conversation ; but in
the whole course of my life I never saw a man more
roused than was he. He poured out, without stopping,
a torrent of conversation upon history, constitutional
law, philosophy, poetry ; upon Burke, Plato, Hamilton,
the future of the Union. No other word would explain
his style but ' torrent ' or ' cataract ; ' for what he spoke
in that hour would have made a small volume, — bril
liant and full of philosophy and learning. And I think
that I never realized so much as then the power and
unapproachableness of genius ; and yet the man —
though so burning up and absorbed with his subjects
of conversation — was true to his gentle instincts.
His daughter lay ill at home ; and in Summer Street,
at a long distance from his house in Winthrop Place,
he bade the coachman stop to allow him to walk to
his door, so that the noise of the carriage might not
disturb her ; insisting, at the same time, against my
request to the contrary, that the coach should carry
me home, though I lived in a different part of the
city."_ Besides this, he addressed a mass meeting at Wor
cester, and spoke twice at Salem, — the second time

1845-1849.] TAYLOR CLUB OF SALEM. 191
on the presentation of a banner bearing on one side
the inscription, " Presented to the Taylor Club by
the Ladies of Salem, Oct 17, 1848," and on the other,
a representation of Gen. Tajdor giving relief to a
wounded Mexican, with the words " Honor — Pat
riotism — Humanity." The assembly was brilliant
even for that city, and greeted him with the fervor
of friends. The applause subsiding, he addressed
the chairman of the Club in words of beauty which
foreshadow what became afterwards the very heart of
his political life.
" It has been supposed. Sir, by that better portion
of this community, the ladies of Salem, that it would
not be unpleasing to the association of Whigs, over
which you preside, to pause for an hour from the
austerer duties of the time, and to be recreated by
receiving at their hands an expression of that kind
of sympathy which man needs most, and a tender of
that kind of aid which helps him farthest, longest, and
most gratefully, — the sympathy and approval of our
mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, and those, all, whom
most we love. Under that impression they have pre
pared this banner, and have requested me to present
it, as from them, to you. With a request so grateful,
from its nature and source, I am but too happy to
comply. . . .
" I give you, from the ladies of this Salem, — the
holy and beautiful city of peace, — a banner of peace !
Peace has her victories, however, as well as war. I
give you, then, I hope and believe, the banner of a
victory of peace. The work of hands, some of which
you doubtless have given away in marriage at the
altar, — the work of hands, for which many altars

192 MEMOIR OF KUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
might contend ! some of which have woven the more
immortal web of thought and recorded speech, mak
ing the mind of Salem as renowned as its beauty, —
the work of such hands, embodying their general and
warm appreciation of your exertions, and their joy in
your prospects ; conveying at once the assurance of
triumph and the consolations of possible defeat ; —
expressive above all of their pure and considered
moral judgments on the great cause and the Good
Man ! — the moral judgments of these, whose frown
can disappoint the proudest aim, whose approbation
prosper not less than ours; — the work of such hands,
the gift of such hearts, the record of such moral sen
timents, the symbol of so many sensibilities and so
many hopes, you will prize it more than if woven
of the tints of a summer evening sunset, inscribed
and brought down to earth by viewless artists of the
skies. " Prizing it on all reasons, I think you are too
much a Whig not to derive, in receiving it, a pecu
liar pleasure from this consideration, that it expresses
the judgments of this portion of the community on
the personal qualities and character of Gen. Taylor.
It expresses their judgments in favor of those quali
ties and that character. It assures us that we are
not mistaken in the man himself. It assures us that
we are right in belie-ving him just, incorrupt, humane ;
of large heart, as well as clear head, — whose patri
otism knows neither Alleghanies nor Mississippi, nor
Rocky Mountains, embracing our whole America, —
from whom twenty thousand Mexicans could not
wrest the flag of his country, yet whom the sight
of a single Mexican soldier, wounded and athirst

1845-1840.] TAYLOR CLUB OF SALEM. 193
at his feet, melts, in a moment, to the kindness of
a woman. " I do not suppose that I enter on any delicate
or debatable region of social philosophy, sure I am
that I concede away nothing which I ought to assert
for our sex, when I say that the collective woman
hood of a people like our own seizes with matchless
facility and certainty on the moral and personal pe
culiarities and character of marked and conspicuous
men, and that we may very wisely address ourselves
to her to learn if a competitor for the highest honois
may boast, and has revealed, that truly noble nature
that entitles him to a place among the cherished re
gards, a niche among the domestic religions, a seat at
the old hearths, a home in the hearts of a nation.
"We talk and think of measures; of creeds in
politics ; of availability ; of strength to carry the vote
of Pennsylvania, or the vote of Mississippi. Through
all this her eye seeks the moral, prudential, social,
and mental character of the man himself, — and she
finds it.
" All the glare and clamor of the hundred victories
of Napoleon, — all the prestige of that unmatched
intellect, and that fortune and that renown, more
than of the children of earth — while they dazzled the
senses, and paled the cheek of manhood — could not
win him the love and regards of the matron age of
France. The worship of Madame de Stael was the
idiosyncrasy of an idolatress of genius, glory, and
power, — and she paid it alone.
" But when the Father of his Country, our Wash
ington, arrived, on his way to the seat of Gov
ernment, at that bridge of Trenton, how sure and
13

194 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
heart-prompted was the recognition, by the mothers
and daughters of America, of that greatness which is
in goodness, and of the daily beauty of that une
qualled life. Those flowers with which they strewed
his path, whUe they sung that ode, — that laurel and
evergreen whieh they twined on arch and pillar for
him to pass beneath, had not found the needful air
and light and soil in which they had sprung with
a surer affinity than these had detected and acknowl
edged the sublimity of the virtues, the kindness,
the parental love, the justice, the honesty, the large
American heart, that made his ' fame whiter than it
was brilliant.'
" I hear then, with pleasure not to be expressed,
this testimony — from such a source — to the candi
date of our choice. I appreciate the discernment that
has contrived this device, and written this inscription.
Right and fit it is, that such praise as theirs should
commemorate his Honor, who has done so much to fill
the measure of his country's glory, — his Patriotism,
on whose heart her love has burned in youth, in man
hood, ever bright as on an altar, — his Humanity, in
whose regards this cup of water, pressed to the lip
of the wounded prisoner, is a sweeter memory than
the earthquake voice of many campaigns of victory !
" There are three more traits of his character,
three more fruits of his election, which the authors
of this Gift discern and appreciate.
" They expect, first, that his will be an administra
tion of honorable peace. The experiences of war
have more than sated him of that form of duty and
that source of fame. From many a bloody day and
field — too many — he turns to win a victory of peace.

1845-1849.] TAYLOR CLUB OF SALEM. 195
He seeks to set on that brow a garland — amaran
thine and blameless — compared to which the laurels
that a Csesar reaps are weeds. . . .
" They expect, next, that his administration will
be illustrated by the true progress of America. . . .
They expect to see it co-operating, as far as it may,
with the spirit of Humanity in achieving the utmost
measure of good, of greatness, of amelioration, of hap
piness, of which philanthropy and patriotism may dare
to dream. And thus they look to an administration
of progress. But progress, in their view and in yours,
does not consist, and is not exemplified, in adding,
every three or four years, to our already imperial area,
a country three times larger than all France, and
leaving it a desert ; but in decorating and building up
what we have. Their idea of progress, therefore, and
yours, embraces a twofold sentiment and a twofold
exertion: first, to improve the land and water, — to
bring out the material resources of America ; and
next, to improve the mind and heart of America ;
diffusing thus over her giant limbs and features the
glow and grace of moral beauty — as morning spread
upon the mountains. . . .
" They expect, finally, that his administration will
be memorable for having strengthened and bright
ened the golden chain of the American Union. They
expect that, under the sobriety of his patriotism, that
Union will neither be sapped by the expansion of our
area, until identity, nationality, and the possibility
of all cohesion of the members are lost, nor rent
asunder by the desperate and profligate device of
geographical parties. — They and we. Sir, of that
Union, deem all alike. We, too, stand by the ship-

196 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VL
ping-articles and the ship the whole voyage round.
We hold that no increase of our country's area, —
although we hope never to see another acre added to
it ; no transfer and no location of our centre of na
tional power, — although we hope never to see it
leave the place where now it is ; no accession of new
stars on our sky — were they to come in constella
tions, thronging, till the firmament were in a blaze ;
that none of these things should have power to
whisper to one of us a temptation to treason. We
go for the Union to the last beat of the pulse and
the last drop of blood. We know and feel that
there — there — in that endeared name — beneath
that charmed Flag — among those old glorious
graves, in that ample and that secure renown, —
that there ive have garnered up our hearts — there
we must either live, or hear no life. With our sisters
of the Republic, less or more, we would live and
we would die, — ' one hope, one lot, one life, one
glory.' "
The subsequent election of General Taylor gave to
Mr. Choate the greatest delight. It seemed to him,
indeed, a triumph of Honor, Patriotism, Human
ity. On the evening when the intelligence was re
ceived that made the matter certain, he said to a
friend who called to see him: " Is not this sweet?
Is it not sweet? The whole country seems to me
a garden to-night, from Maine to New Orleans. It
is fragrant all over, and I am breathing the whole
perfume." About this time a position as Professor of the Law
School at Cambridge was urged upon Mr. Choate in
a manner so sincere, so unusual, and so honorable to

1845-1849.] OFFER OF A PROFESSORSHIP. 197
all parties, that I am especially glad to be permitted
to present the facts in the words of one who knew
them familiarly, — the late Chief Justice Shaw.
" After the reorganization of the Law School at
Harvard College, by the large donation of Mr. Dane,
and the appointment of Mr. Justice Story as Dane
Professor, the school acquired a high reputation
throughout the United States. It was regarded as an
institution to which young men could be beneficially
sent from every part of the country to be thoroughly
trained iu the general principles of jurisprudence,
and the elementary doctrines of the common law,
which underlie the jurisprudence of all the States.
This reputation, which is believed to be well founded,
was attributable, in a great measure, to the peculiar
qualifications, and to the efficient services of Judge
Story, in performing the duties of his professorship.
It was not so much by his profound and exact knowl
edge of the law in all its departments, nor by his
extensive knowledge of books, ancient and modern,
that the students were benefited, as by his earnest
and almost impetuous eloquence, the fulness and
clearness of his illustrations with which he awakened
the aspirations, and impressed the minds, of his youth
ful hearers. He also demonstrated in his own person
how much may be accomplished by a man of extraor
dinary talent and untiring industry, — having suc
cessfully and faithfully performed the duties of his
professorship, being engaged at the same time in two
other departments of intellectual labor, that of
Judge ofthe Supreme Court of the United States, and
author of elaborate treatises on the science and prac
tice of law, — each of which would seem sufficient to

198 memoir OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
require the exclusive attention of a very industrious
man. " Some time after the decease of Judge Story,
whether immediately, or after the lapse of two or three
years, I do not know, but as near as I recollect, about
the year 1848, the attention of the President and Fel
lows of Harvard College was turned to Mr. Choate, at
once an eminent jurist and an advocate conspicuous
for his commanding and persuasive eloquence, whose
services, if they could be obtained, would render him
eminently of use in the Dane Law School. Indeed,
he was too prominent a public man to be overlooked,
as a candidate offering powers of surpassing fitness for
such a station. But it was never supposed by the
Corporation that the comparatively retired position
of a College Professor, and the ordinary, though
pretty liberal emoluments of such an office, could in
duce Mr. Choate to renounce all the honors and profits
of the legal profession which rightly belonged to him
as Leader of the Bar in every department of forensic
eloquence. But about the time alluded to, Mr.
Choate, having retired from political life, was appar
ently devoting himself ardently and exclusively to the
profession of the law as a jurist and advocate. It was
thought by the Corporation that a scheme might be
arranged, if it suited his tastes and satisfied his expec
tations of professional eminence, which would secure
to the Law School of the University the benefit of his
great talents, place him conspicuously before the
whole country, and afford to himself the immunities
and the reputation of a great jurist and advocate.
" It was the opinion of the members of the Corpora
tion, that in appointing instructors for an academical

1845-1849.] OFFER OF A PROFESSORSHIP. 199
institution, designed to instruct young men in the
science of jurisprudence, and in part to fit them for
actual practice iu the administration of the law in
courts of justice (an opinion, I believe, which they
hold in common with many who have most reflected
on the means of acqumng a legal education), it is not
desirable that an instructor in such institution should
be wholly withdrawn from practice in courts. Law is
an art as well as a science. Whilst it has its founda
tion in a broad and comprehensive morality, and in
profound and exact science, to be adapted to actual
use in controlling and regulating the concerns of
social life, it must have its artistic skill which can only
be acquired by habitual practice in courts of justice.
A man may be a laborious student, have an inquiring
and discriminating mind, and have all the advantage
which a library of the best books can afford, and yet,
without actual attendance on courts, and the means
and facilities which practice affords, he would be little
prepared either to try questions of fact, or argue
questions of law. The instructor, therefore, who to
some extent maintains his familiarity with actual
practice, by an occasional attendance as an advocate
in courts of justice, would be better prepared to train
the studies and form the mental habits of young men
designed for the Bar.
" No formal application was made to Mr. Choate,
but a plan was informally suggested to him, with the
sanction of the Corporation, and explained in conver
sation substantially to the following effect : According
to the plan of the Law School of the College, there
are two terms or sessions in the year, of about twenty
weeks each, with vacations intervening of about six

200 memoir of rufus CHOATE. [Chap. VI,
weeks each. The first or autumn term commences
about the 1st of September, and closes near the middle
of January: the spring term commences about the
1st of March, and continues to July. The exercises
during term-time consist of daily lectures and reci
tations, conducted by the several professors, of moot
courts for the discussion of questions of law, delibera
tive oral discussions, in the nature of legislative de
bates ; some written exercises also, on questions and
subjects proposed, make up the course of training.
Instructions in these exercises were given in nearly
equal proportions by three professors, of whom the
Dane Professor was one. The moot courts and de
liberative discussions were umformly presided over
by one of the professors.
" At the time referred to, the Supreme Court of
the United States commenced their annual session the
first week in December, and continued to about the
middle of March. It was thought, that without any
perceptible derangement of the course of instruction
in the Law School, the duties of the Dane Professor
ship might be so modified as to enable Mr. Choate to
attend the Supreme Court of the United States at
Washington during their whole term. The duties of
the three professors are not such as to require the at
tendance of each on every day of the term ; nor is it
essential that the different departments of the duties
assigned to them respectively should be taken up in
any exact order. Then by an arrangement with the
other professors, the subjects especially committed to
the Dane Professor, and his proportion of all other
duties, might be taken up and finished in the early
part of the autumn term, so that without detriment to

1845-1849.] OFFER OF A PROFESSORSHIP. 201
the instruction, he might leave it several weeks before
its termination, and in like manner postpone them a
few weeks at the commencement of the spring term,
so that with the six weeks' vacation in mid-winter,
these curtailments from the two terms would equal in
length of time that of the entire session of the Na
tional Supreme Court.
" The advantages to Mr. Choate seemed obvious.
When it was previously known that he might be de
pended ou to attend at the entire term of the Supreme
Court, we supposed he would receive a retainer in a
large proportion of the cases which would go up from
New England, and in many important causes from all
the other States. The effect of this practice upon the
emoluments of his profession might be anticipated.
No case, we believe, whether in law, equity, or admi
ralty, can reach the Supreme Court of the United
States until the case, that is, a statement of all the
facts on which questions may arise, is reduced to
writing in some form, embraced in the record.
" He would therefore have ample opportunity, with
his case before him, and with the use of the best Law
Library in the country, and the assistance of a class
of young men ever eager to aid in seeking and apply
ing authorities, and proposing cases for argument, to
avail himself of all the leisure desirable at his own
chambers, to study his cases thoroughly, and prepare
himself for his arguments. The extent to which such
a practice with such means would soon add to the
solid reputation of Mr. Choate, may easily be con
ceived, especially by those who knew the strength of
his intellectual power, and the keenness of his faculty
for discrimination. The advantages to the Law

202 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
School contemplated by this arrangement were, that
Mr. Choate would not only bring to the institution the
persuasive eloquence and the profound legal learning
which he then possessed, but, by an habitual practice
in one of the highest tribunals in the world, a tribunal
which has jurisdiction of more important public and
private rights than any other, he would keep up with
all the changes of the times, iu jurisprudence and
legislation, and bring to the service of his pupils the
products of a constantly growing experience.
" But this plan, in the judgment of the Corporation,
necessarily involved Mr. Choate's residence at Cam
bridge, and an entire renunciation of all jury trials,
and all other practice in courts, except occasionally a
law argument before the Supreme Court of the State
at Boston or Cambridge, each being within a short
distance of his home. It has been considered impor
tant by the Corporation that the Professors of the Law
School should reside in Cambridge, to afford thereby
the benefit of their aid and counsel in the small num
ber composing the Law Faculty. In the case of Mr.
Choate, it was considered quite indispensable that he
should reside in Cambridge, on account of the influ
ence which his genial manners, his habitual presence,
and the force of his character would be likely to
exert over the young men drawn from every part of
the United States to listen to his instructions. There
was another consideration leading, in Mr. Choate's
case, to the same result, which was, that the breaking
off from the former scenes of his labors and triumphs,
so necessary to his success in the plan proposed,
would be more effectually accomplished by his estab
lishing at once a new residence, and contracting new

1845-1849.] THOUGHTS ON THE PURITANS. 203
habits. Both considerations had great weight in in
ducing those who communicated with Mr. Choate, to
urge his removal to Cambridge, and the fixing there
of his future residence, as essential features of the
arrangement. " Mr. Choate listened attentively to these proposals
and discussed them freely ; he was apparently much
pleased -with the brilliant and somewhat attractive'
prospect presented to him by this overture. He did
not immediately decline the offer, but proposed to
take it into consideration. Some time after — per
haps a week — he informed me that he could not ac
cede to the proposal. He did not state to me his
reasons, or if he did, I do not recollect them."
It was not far from this time, also, that Mr. Choate
received from Governor Briggs the honorable offer of
a seat upon the bench of the Supreme Court. It was
urged upon him by some of his friends, as affording
him the rest which he seemed to need. But he felt
that he could hardly afford to take it, and, after due
consideration, respectfuUy declined.
In March of this year — 1849 — he delivered before
the Mercantile Library Association the closing lecture
of the winter course. The first two volumes of Mr.
Macaulay's brilliant history had been but recently
published ; and availing himself of the newly awak
ened interest, he chose for his subject one always
fresh to himself, " Thoughts on the New-England
Puritans." A short extract, comparing the public
life of that day with ours, wiU indicate the tone and
spirit of the whole.
"In inspecting a little more closely the colonial

204 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
period of 1688, than heretofore I ever had done, it
has seemed to me that the life of an able, prominent,
and educated man of that day in Massachusetts was
a life of a great deal more dignity, interest, and enjoy
ment than we are apt to imagine ; that it would com
pare quite advantageously with the life of an equally
prominent, able, and educated man in Massachusetts
now. We look into the upper life of Old England in
1688, stirred by the scenes — kindled and lifted up by
the passions of a great action — the dethronement of
a king ; the crowning of a king ; the vindication and
settlement of English liberty ; the reform of the Eng
lish constitution, — parent of more reform and of
progress without end, — and we are dazzled. Renown
and grace are there ; the glories of the Augustan
age of English letters, just dawning; Newton first
unrolling the system of the Universe ; the school
boy dreamings of Pope and AdcUson ; the beautiful
eloquence and more beautiful public character of
Somers waiting to receive that exquisite dedication
of the Spectator ; the serene and fair large brow of
Marlborough, on which the laurels of Blenheim and
Malplaquet had not yet clustered. We turn to the
Colonial life of the same day, and it seems at first as
if it could not have been borne for half an hour.
What a time of small things, to be sure, at first it
appears to be. The sweet pathos, the heroical in
terest of the landing at Plymouth, of the journey to
Charlestown, are gone ; the grander excitations of the
age of Independence are not yet begun to be felt;
hard living ; austere manners ; provincial and paro
chial insignificance ; stupendous fabrics of witchcraft,
aud disputes of grace and works ; little tormentinga

1845-1849.] THOUGHTS ON THE PURITANS. 205
of Quakers and Antinomians ; synods to build plat
forms, on which nothing would stand ; fast days for
sins which there was no possibility to commit, and
thanksgivings for mercies never received ; these at
first sight seem to be the Massachusetts life of that
day. But look a little closer. Take the instance of
an educated public man of Massachusetts about the
year 1688, — a governor; a magistrate ; an alumnus
of Harvard College, learned in the learning of his
time ; a foremost man, — and trace him through a day
of his life. Observe the variety and dignity of his
employments ; the weight of his cares ; the range of
his train of thoughts ; his resources against ennui and
satiety ; on what aliment his spiritual and intellectual
nature could feed ; appreciate his past, his present,
and his future, and see if you are quite sure that a
man of equal ability, prominence, and learning is as
high or as happy now.
" First, last, midst, of all the elements of interest
in the life of such a man was this : that it was, in a
just and grand sense, a public life. He was a public
man. And what sort of a public man, — what doing
in that capacity ? This exactly. He was, he felt
himself to be — and here lay the felicity of his lot, —
he -was in the very act of building up a new nation
where no nation was before. The work was in the
very process of doing from day to day, from hour to
hour. Every day it was changing its form under his
eye and under his hand. Instead of being born
ignominiously into an established order of things, a
recognized and stable State, to the duties of mere
conservation, and the rewards of mere enjoyment, his
function he felt to be that rarer, more heroicaL moie

206 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
epic — to plant, to found, to construct a new State
upon the waste of earth. He felt himself to be of the
conditores imperiorum. Imperial labors were his ;
imperial results were his. Whether the State (that
grandest of the works of man — grander than the
Pyramids, or Iliads, or systems of the Stars !) —
whether the State should last a year or a thousand
years, — whether it should be contracted within lines
three miles north of the Merrimack, three miles south
of the Charles, and a little east of the Hudson, or
spread to the head waters of the Aroostook, and
St. John, and the springs of the Merrimack among
the crystal hills of New England, and to the great sea
on the west ; whether a Stuart and a Papist king of
England should grasp its charter, or the bayonet or
tomahawk of French or Indians quench its life ; —
whether if it outlived, as Jeremy Taylor has said,
' the chances of a child,' it should grow up to be one
day a pious, learned, well-ordered, and law-abiding
Commonwealth; a freer and more beautiful England;
a less tumultuary and not less tasteful Athens ; a
larger and more tolerant Geneva ; or a school of
prophets — a garden of God — a praise — a glory ;
all this seemed to such a man as I have described, as
he awoke in the morning, to depend appreciably and
consciously on what he might do or omit to do, before
he laid his head on his pillow that very night. Pub
lie life in Massachusetts that day did not consist in
sending or being sent to Congress with a dozen asso
ciates, to be voted down in a body of delegates repre
senting half of North America. Still less was it a
life of leisure and epicureanism. This man of whom
I speak, within the compass of a single twenty-four

1845-1849.] THOUGHTS ON THE PURIT.VNS. 207
hours, might have to correspond with Connecticut,
Rhode Island, and Plymouth Colony, and the Royal
Government of New Hampshire, upon the subject of
boundary lines, — the boundary lines of States, as
against one another wholly independent, — a dignified
and historical deliberation ; to collate and to draw
practical conclusions from all manner of contradictory
information touching movements of Indians at Casco
Bay and the Penobscot ; to confer with Sir William
Phipps about the raising of troops to attack Port
Royal or Quebec ; to instruct the agent of the Col
ony, who was to sail for England next morning, to
watch the course of the struggle between the last of
the Stuarts, the people of England, and the Prince of
Orange, or to meditate his report from London ; to
draw up a politic, legal, and skilful address to his
king's most excellent and blessed majesty, to show
that we had not forfeited the life of the charter and
the birthright of English souls ; to take counsel on
the state of the free schools, the university, and the
law ; to communicate -with some learned judge on the
composition of our decennial twelve tables of the jur
isprudence of liberty ; to communicate -with learned
divines — the ardent Mathers, father and son, and
with Brattle — on the ecclesiastical well-being of the
State, the aspects of Papacy and Episcopacy, the agen
cies of the invisible world, the crises of Congregation
alism, the backsUdings of faith for life, and all those
wayward tendencies of opinion, which, with fear of
change, perplexed the church.
" Compare with the life of such an one the life of a
Massachusetts public man of this day. How crowded
that was ; how burthened with individual responsibil-

208 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VL
ity ; how oppressed with large interests ; how far more
palpable and real the influence ; how much higher
and wider the topics ; how far grander the cares !
Why, take the highest and best Massachusetts public
men of all among us. Take his Excellency. What
has he to do with French at Port Royal, or Indians at
Saco, or Dutch on the Hudson? How much sleep
does he lose from fear that the next steamer will bring
news that the Crown of England has repealed the
Constitution of Massachusetts ? When will he lie
awake at dead of night to see Cotton Mather drawing
his curtain — pale as the ghost of Banquo — to tell
him that witchcraft is celebrating pale Hecate's offer
ings at Danvers ? Where is it now — the grand,
peculiar charm — that belongs ever to the era and the
act, of the planting and infancy of a State ? Where —
where now — those tears of bearded men ; the faded
cheek ; the throbbing heart ; the brow all furrowed
with imperial lines of policy and care, — that give the
seed to earth, whose harvest shall be reaped when
some generations are come and gone ? "
During the summer of the same year, the Phillips
WiU Case, as it was called, was argued by him at Ips
wich. It involved the disposal of nearly a million of
dollars. The will was dated at Nahant, where Mr.
Phillips had his residence, Oct. 9, 1847. He soon
after left for Europe, and the next year, having
returned, put an end to his own life in Brattlebor
ough, Vt., June 28, 1848. It was found on examina
tion that after giving considerable sums to his mother
and sisters, a hundred thousand dollars to the Observa
tory in Cambridge, and several minor bequests to his
friends, he left the bulk of his property to a relative,

1845-1849.] THE PHILLIPS WILL CASE. 209
who was already prospectively very wealthy. The
heirs-at-law disputed the will on the grouuds — 1st, of
the insanity or imbecility of the testator ; 2d, that an
undue influence had been exercised over him ; and
3d, that the will was void because executed on a
Sunday. It is seldom that an array of counsel of such
eminent ability is seen at once in court. For the
heirs-at-law appeared W. H. Gardiner, Joel Parker,
and Sidney Bartlett. For the executors, Rufus
Choate, Benj. R. Curtis, and Otis P. Lord. After a
searching examination of witnesses and documents,
protracted through a whole week, the arguments
were made by Mr. Gardiner on one side and Mr.
Choate on the other. That it was one of Mr. Choate's
ablest and most conclusive arguments, conceived in
his best vein, and conducted with consummate skill
and eloquence, is the testimony of all who were pres
ent. To those who never heard him before, it was a
new revelation of the scope and power of legal elo
quence. Unfortunately it perished with the breath
that uttered it. Nothing remains to attest its abUity
but its success. The decision of the jury on every
point was in favor of the will.
Soon after lea-ving the Senate, Mr. Choate entered
upon a course of careful study for the purpose of a
more thorough self-discipline. He began to translate
Thucydides, Demosthenes, and Tacitus. He marked
out a course of systematic reading, and resolutely
rescued hours of daily labor from sleep, from society,
from recreation. Under the date of October, 1845, he
says, "I am reading, meditating, and translating the
first of Greek historians, Thucj^dides. I study the
Greek critically in Passow, Bloomfield, and Arnold,
14

210 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap VI
and the history in Mitford, Thirlwall, Wachsmuth,
Hermann, &c., &c., and translate faithfuUy, yet with
some attention to English words and construction ;
and my purpose is to study deeply the Greece of the
age of Pericles, and all its warnings to the liberty and
the anti-unionisms of my own country and time."
Several fragments of journals, and sketches of
promised labor, without dates, seem referable to the
years between 1845 and 1850, and may be inserted
here. They show the diligent efforts at self-culture
in the midst of entangling and exhausting labors.
" Vacations. — Private. — Hints pok Myself.
"It is plain that if I am to do aught beyond the mere
drudgery of my profession, for profit of others or of myself;
if I am to ripen and to produce any fruit of study, and to
construct any image or memorial of my mind and thoughts,
it must be done or be begun quickly. To this I have ad
monition in all things. High time — if not too late — it is to
choose between the two alternatives — to amuse — scarcely
amuse, (for how sad and ennuyant is mere desultory read
ing !) such moments of leisure as business leaves me, in vari
ous random reading of good books, or to gather up these
moments, consolidate and mould them into something worthy
of myself, which may do good where I am not known, and
live when I shall have ceased to live — a thoughtful and
soothing and rich printed page. Thus far — almost to the
Aristotelian term of utmost mental maturity — I have squan
dered these moments away. They have gone — not in
pleasure, nor the pursuit of gain, nor in the trivialities of
society — but in desultory reading, mainly of approved
authors ; often, much, of the grandest of the children of
Light — but reading without method and without results.
No doubt taste has been improved, sentiments enlarged,
language heightened, and many of the effects — inevitable,
insensible, and abiding of liberal culture, impressed on the
spirit. But for all this, who is better ? Of all this, who sees
the proofs ? How selfish and how narrow the couch of these
gratifications ! How idle the strenuousness of daily labor 1

1845-1849.] FRAGMENTARY JOURNAL. 211
How instantly the air will close on this arrowy path ! How
sad, how contemptible, that no more should be left of such a
life, than of the commonplace and vacant and satisfled, on
this side and that I I have been under the influence of suoh
thoughts, meditating the choice of the alternative. I would
arrest these moments, accumulate them, transform them into
days and years of remembrance ! To this end, I design to
compose a collection of papers which I will call vacations.
These shall embody the studies and thoughts of my fltful,
fragmentary leisure. They shall be most slowly and care
fully written — with research of authors, with meditation,
with great attention to the style — yet essay-like, various, and
free as epistles. I call them vacations, to intimate that they
are the fruits of moments withdrawn from the main of life's
idle business, and the performances of a mind, whose chief
energies are otherwise exercised. The subjects are to be so
various as to include all things of which I read or think con
amore, and they are to be tasks, too, for reviving, re-arrang
ing, and increasing the acquisitions I have made. My flrst
business is to prepare an introductory and explanatory paper
for the public, — as this is for myself, — and then to settle
something like a course of the sutajects themselves. Suoh a
course it will be indispensable to prescribe, nearly impossible
to adhere to. Single topics are more easily indicated. The
Greek orators before Lysias and Isocrates, — Demosthenes,
.3!schines, Thucydides, the Odyssey, Tacitus, Juvenal, Pope
— supply them at once ; Rhetoric, conservatism of the bar,
my unpublished orations, the times, politics, reminiscences —
suggest others — Cicero and Burke, Tiberius in Tacitus, and
Suetonius, and De Quincey, — but why enumerate ? The
literature of this century, to the death of Scott or Moore —
so grand, rich, and passionate." —
[The succeeding sheets are missing. Some of these sub
jects he wrought into his lectures.]
'''I have at last hit upon a plan for the thorough study of
the history of the Constitution, which I hope may advance
all my objects, — the thorough acquisition of the facts ; the
vivid reproduction of the eventful age ; the rhetorical expres
sion and exhibition of the whole. I shall compose a succes
sion of speeches, supposed to have been made in Congress, in
conventions, or in assemblies of the people, in the period of

212 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VI.
from 1783 to the adoption of the Constitution, in -which shall
be embodied the facts, the reasonings, and the whole scheme
of opinions and ot policy, of the time. I select a speaker and
a subject ; and I make his discussion, or the discussion of his
antagonist, revive and paint the actual political day on which
he speaks. IMy flrst subject is the resolution of April, 1783,
— recommending to the States to vest in Congress the power
of imposing certain duties for raising revenue to pay the debt
of the war. To prepare for this debate I read Pitkin, Mar
shall, Life of Hamilton, and above all, Washington's Address
to the People of 8 June, 1783, and that of the Committee of
Congress. "Mr. Ellsworth or Mr. Madison or Mr. Hamilton may
have introduced the measure ; and a review of the past, a
survey of the present, a glance toward the future, would be
unavoidably interwoven with the mere business-like and
necessary exposition of the proposition itself."
It is evident from the above fragment, that Mr.
Choate cherished the purpose of embodying his reflec
tions on various subjects in a series of papers. To
this he sometimes jocosely referred in conversation
with other members of the bar. He once told Judge
Warren that he was going to write a book. " Ah,"
said the Judge, " what is it to be ? " — " Well," re
plied Mr. Choate, " I've got as far as the title-page
and a motto." — "Where are they?" — "The subject
is 'The Lawyer's Vacation,' the motto — I've for
gotten. But I shall show that the lawyer's vacation
is the space between the question put to a witness
and his answer ! "
The following seems to be an essay towards a title
and introduction to some such work : —

1845-1849.1 « VACATIONS." 213
" VACATIONS.
"bt a member op the bar of MASSACHUSETTS.
"Paululum itinera decedere, non intempestivis amoeuitatibus, admo-
nemur. — Pliny.
"ADVERTISEMENT.
" The vacations of the Massachusetts, and I suppose of the
general American Bar, are not certain stated and consider
able seasons in which a lawyer may turn his office-key, and
ramble away, without reclamation or reproval, to lake and
prairie, and ' beyond the diminished sea ; ' or resign himself,
with an absolute abandonment of successive weeks, to those
thoughts and studies of an higher mood, by which soul and
body might be sooner and longer rested and recreated. They
are, rather, divers infinitely minute particles of time, — half-
hours before breakfast, or after dinner, Saturdays at evening,
intervals between the going out of one client and the coming
in of another; blessed, rare, fortuitous days, when no Court
sits, nor Referee, nor Master in Chancery, nor Commissioner,
nor Judge at Chambers, nor Legislative Committee, — these
snatches and interstitial spaces, moments, literal and fleet, are
our vacations.
" How difficult it is to arrest these moments, to aggregate
them, to till them as it were, to make them day by day ex
tend our knowledge, refine our tastes, accomplish our whole
culture I — how much more difficult to turn them to any large
account in the way of scholarship and authorship, ' sowing
them,' as Jeremy Taylor has said, ' with that which shall grow
up to crowns and sceptres,' — all members of the profession
of the law have experienced, and all others may well under
stand! That they afford time enough, if wisely used, for
' the exercises and direct actions of religion,' for much domes
tic and social enjoyment, for many forms of tasteful amuse
ments, for some desultory reading, and much undetected and
unproductive reverie, I gratefully acknowledge. But fbr
studies out of the law, — studies, properly so described, either
recondite or elegant, and still more for the habit and the
faculty of literary writing, — they are too brief and too inter
rupted ; gifts, too often, to a spirit and a frame too much
worn or depressed or occupied, to employ or appreciate
them.

214 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VX
" It was in such moments, gathered of many years, that
these papers were written. They are fruits, often, or always,
' harsh and crude,' of a lawyer's vacations. They stand in
need, therefore, of every degree of indulgence ; and I think I
could hardly have allowed myself to produce them at all, if I
had not been willing that others should know that the time
which I have withheld from society, from the pursuit of
wealth, from pleasure, and latterly from public affairs, has
not been idle or misspent ; non otiosa vita ; nee desidiosa oc-
r.upatio."

1850.] CHANGE OF PARTNERSHIP. 216

CHAPTER VIL
1850.
Change of Partnership — Voyage to Europe — Letterg to Mrs.
Choate — Journal.
In 1849 Mr. Choate terminated his professional con
nection with B. F. Crowninshield, Esq. It had lasted
for fifteen years, with a confidence so entire and
unbroken, that during the whole time no formal
division of the income of the oifice was ever made,
nor had there arisen between them, on this account,
the slightest disagreement. He now took into part
nership his son-in-law, Joseph M. Bell, Esq., and re
moved from Court Street to 7i Tremont Row, a
quarter then nearly unoccupied by members of the
profession. Here he remained till the autumn of
1856, when he again removed to more commodious
rooms in a new building in Court Street.
In the summer of 1850, he gratified a long-cherished
wish by a voyage to Europe. So constant had been
his occupation, so unremitting his devotion to the
law, hardly aUowing him a week's vacation during
the year, that, at last, the strain became too great,
and he felt compelled to take a longer rest than
would be possible at home. He sailed in the Steam
ship Canada on the 29th of June, in company with
his brother-in-law, Hon. Joseph Bell. They visited
England, Belgium, France, a part of Germany and

216 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VTI.
Switzerland, and returned home in September. For
tunately, he kept a brief journal, which, with a few
letters, will indicate the objects which proved most
attractive to him. He was kindly received in Eng
land by those to whom he had letters, and, during
the few weeks he was in the country, saw as much as
possible of English life, and of interesting places.
To Mrs. Choate.
"June 30, 1850. 12 o'clock. At Sea.
" Dear H., — We have had a very pleasant run so far,
and are to reach Halifax at night, — say six to ten. I do
not suppose I have been sea-sick, but I have had that head
ache and sickness which usually follows a very hard trial, and
have just got out of my berth, to which I had retreated igno
miniously from the breakfast-table. After I get wholly over
this, I hope I shah be better than ever. So far I don't regret
coming, but oh ! take care of every thing, — the house, — the
books, — your own health and happiness. ... To tell the
¦ truth, I am scarcely able to write more, but with best, best,
best love, I go again to my berth. Mr. Bell is writing at
my side, and grows better every moment. This letter I shall
mail at Halifex, — where I shall not land, however, as we
touch in the night. God bless you all. Farewell again.''

To Mrs. Choate.
" Liverpool, 7th and Sth July, 1850.
"Dear H. and dear Children, — We arrived here
yesterday, 7th July, Sunday morning, at about eight o'clock,
and I am quite comfortably set down at the Waterloo Hotel,
: — a stranger in a strange land. Yesterday, Sunday, after
breakfasting upon honey, delicious strawberries, &c., &c., I
went to church, — St. George's, — and heard the best church
service music I ever heard, and then tried to rest. To-day
Mr. Bell and I have been running all over Liverpool, and
to-morrow we go to London. Most of the passage over I
was very sick. Two days I lay still in my berth ; the rest of
the time I crept about, — rather low. But the whole voyage

1850.] LETTERS TO MRS. CHOATE. 217
was very pleasant and very prosperous, and, I suppose, at no
period dangerous. One vast and grim iceberg we saw, —
larger than the whole block of buildings composing Park
Street, — and I saw the spouting of whales, but no whales
themselves. The transition, yesterday, from a rooking ship
and all the smells of the sea to the hotel, was sweet indeed.
I don't know how I shall like England, — and how I shall
stay till October. Sometimes my heart droops. But our
course will be this, — to stay now a fortnight in London, then
go a fortnight to the Continent, and then spend the whole of
the rest of our time in England and Scotland. More of all
this we shall learn to-morrow, or soon, at London. . . . My
heart swells to think of you all, and of my dear, poor library.
Take good care of that. "Write every thing to me. . . . My
heart is at home. Miss G. got along very well, — a httle
pale and sad. All England is in mourning for Sir R. Peel.
How awful ! One of my letters was to him, whom I am never
to see. I have lived so much at home, that I don't know
how I shall go along — or go alone. But if we all meet
again, what signifies it ? Write by every boat. . . . Tell the
news — the news. Remember I can give you no idea by
letters of all I see, but if I come home you shall hear of
' My Lord, Sir Harry and the Captain ' till you are tired.
Good-by, good-by. It is near three. Mr. B. and I dine at
that hom\ Bless you — bless you."

To Mes. Choate. " Loudon, Friday, July 12.
" Dear H. and dear Children, — We are in London
you see, — at Fenton's Hotel, St. .lames's Street, and very
pleasantly off for rooms and aU things. I have not yet
delivered my letters, but we have been everywhere and
walked so much, and seen so much, that I am to-day almost
beat out. . . . Thus far I have stopped nowhere, examined
nothing, seen nobody, but just wandered, wandered every
where, — floating on a succession of memories, reveries,
dreams of London. ... I think we shall hurry to the Con
tinent sooner than we intended, perhaps in a week. This
will depend on how our London occupations hold out. I
cannot particularize, but thus far, London, England, exceed

218 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. Vll
in interest all Ihad expected. From Liverpool across, all is
a garden, — green fields, woods, cottages, as in pictures, —
here and there old Gothic spires, towers, and every other
pictui'esque and foreign-looking aspect. The country is a
deep dark green ; the buildings look as in engravings and
pictures, and all things so strangely mixed of reality and
imagination that I have not been able to satisfy myself
whether I am asleep or awake. But London ! — the very
first afternoon after riding two hundred miles, we rushed
into St. James's Park, — a large, beautiful opening, — saw
Buckingham Palace, the Queen's city residence, — went to
Westminster Abbey, whose bell was tolling for the death of
the Duke of Cambridge, — went to the Thames and looked
from Westminster Bridge towards St. Paul's, whose dome
hung like a balloon in the sky. Next morning I rose at six,
and before eight had seen Charing Cross, — the Strand, —
Temple Bar, an arch across it on which traitors' heads were
suspended or fixed, — Fleet Street, where Sam Johnson used
to walk and suffer, — St. Dunstan 's church, of which I think
we read in the ' Fortimes of Nigel,' — and none can tell what
not. Last evening I went to the opera, and heard, in the
' Tempest,' Sontag and Lablache, and, in ' Anna Bolena,'
Pasta, — the most magnificent theatre, audience, music, I
ever heard or saw. Yet Sontag and Pasta, especially Pasta,
are past their greatest reputation. ... I am quite well. I
die, when I think how you and the girls would enjoy all.
Bless you. Good-by. E. C."

To Mrs. Choate. " London, Friday, July 18.
" Dear H. and dear Children, — We are to start
to-day for Paris and our tour of the Continent. We shall
get to Paris to-morrow eve, and thence our course will be
guided by circumstances. But we expect to be here again
by the middle or last of August, to renew our exploration of
England and Scotland. Thus far, except that I am tired to
death of seeing sights and persons, and late hours, I have
been very well. One day of partial sick-headache is all I
have had yet. But the fatigue of a day, and of a week of
mere sight-seeing is extreme, though not like that of business,

1850.] LETTERS TO MRS. CHOATE. 219
— and the late hours of this city, to me, who sometimes used
to lose myself as early as nine or ten, are no joke. I have
not more than three times been in bed till twelve or one, and
up again at seven or eight. It is now five o'clock in the
morning. Expecting to come back to London so soou, I have
not tried to see it all, but have found it growing daily on my
hands. We attended church at the FoundUng Hospital last
Sunday, where some five hundred to one thousand charity
children, in uniform dress, performed the responses. The
organ was Handel's own, and the sight and the music, and
the march of the children to their dinner were most pleasant
to see and hear. I have been as much amazed at the British
Museum as at any thing. It is a vast building, one part of
which, divided into a great number of departments, is full of
all manner of curiosities, — statuary, antiquities, specimens
of natural history, every thing, — and the other is the tran
scendent Library. This last I have spent much time in. The
catalogue alone fills two hundred or three hundred volumes.
The rooms are wide, high, of the size of Faneuil Hall, almost,
and lined with books to the ceiling. One single room is three
hundred feet long, and full. The Temple is a most sweet
spot too, — a sort of college, enclosing a beautiful large area
or garden, which runs to, and along, the Thames, secluded
and stOl in the heart of the greatest city of earth. There
Nigel was, before returning to Alsatia.
" We dined at Mr. Lawrence's pleasantly, and I spent a
delightful evening at Mr. Bunsen's, the Prussian minister.
The house belongs to his government, and is a palace ;
rooms large and high. It was not a large party, — chiefly
for music, which was so so, Prussian chiefly, by ladies and
gentlemen of the party. I have been at Lord Ashburton's,
Lord Lonsdale's, and Mr. Macaulay's, and am to go to Lord
Ashburton's in Devonshire, when we come back. The deaths
of the Duke of Gloucester and Sir R. Peel, and the lateness
of the season, somewhat check the course of mere society ; but
I have been most politely received, and more than I expected
gratifled by the mere personnel of London. Lord Ashburton's
house is a palace too, full of pictures, though all in confusion
on the eve of his departure for his summer seat. The country
is the grand passion of such persons. Mr. IMacaulay told me
they would sell any house they own in town for its money
value, but their country seats nothing could take from them.
... I wish J. would ascertain the latest day to wbiah my

220 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VH.
causes in the S. J. C. can be postponed, and write very par
ticularly which must come on, and at what times, doing his
best to have all go over till October, if possible.
" The confession of Professor Webster has just arrived.
The cause is as well known here as there. It of course can
not save him.^ Mr. Coolidge has helped us to a capital
1 It is understood that Mr. Choate was earnestly solicited to
defend Dr. Webster, and was offered what was then considered a
very liberal fee for the service. He was unwiUing to undertake it,
and argued with the attorneys of Professor Webster to prove that he
was not the best man. I am permitted, by the courtesy of his Honor
Judge Neilson, to take from the papers which he has furnished to the
" Albany Law Journal " the interesting statements furnished by
Edward Ellerton Pratt, Esq. (a son-in-law of Mr. Choate), and the
Hon. Otis P. Lord, one of the judges of the Supreme Court of Massa
chusetts. Mr. Pratt says : —
" Mr. Franklin Dexter, one of the leaders of the bar of New Eng
land, was greatly interested in Professor Webster's case, believed
that he was innocent, and was persistently earnest that Mr. Choate
should defend him on that ground. The Hon. Charles Sumner, also
holding that view, urged Mr. Choate to undertake the defence, as he
expressed it, 'in the interest of humanity,' and was quite angry with
him for refusing. At that time the testimony taken before the coro
ner was known; that taken by the grand jury by whom the indict
ment had been found was not publicly known. The question of the
Professor's guilt or innocence was the absorbing topic, and the ex
citement in all classes of society was intense.
" Mr. Dexter was determined to secure Mr. Choate's services, and,
after much study of the case, called upon him by appointment, one
evening, to lay before him what he called its merits. Mr. Choate
listened to him, as a juror might have done, for nearly three hours,
and, as he afterward told me, it was one of the most vigorous and
persuasive arguments he had ever heard. That estimate may well
be accepted, when we remember Mr. Dexter's admitted ability, his
friendship for Professor Webster, and his belief tliat if Mr. Choate
could be secured as counsel, the accused man might be saved.
" The argument, which had been listened to without question or
interruption, having closed, Mr. Choate walked up and down his
library several times, and then, pausing before Mr. Dexter, who was
keenly observing him, said, 'Brother Dexter, how do you answer this
question, and this?' I cannot state the points thus presented, but
my general recollection is that those questions presented inherent

1850.] LETTERS TO MRS. CHOATE. 221
servant, and was most polite and kind ; so are all from whom
we had any right to look for any thing. And yet if I were
difficulties underlying the defence. Mr. Dexter, as if transfixed, sat
musing deeply, his head bent upon his hand, for several rainutes, and,
flnally, as if hopeless of flnding an answer, and seeking relief, he
rose suddenly and said, 'Brother Choate, have you read  's
book ? If not, do so, and you will flnd it charming.' Mr. Choate
accepted his changed mood, parted from him soon after with a
kindly expression of interest, and the subject was never alluded to
afterward between them.
" I had these details partly from Mrs. Choate and partly frcm Mr.
Dexter. The time which has elapsed since then is so long, nearly
thirty years, that I can only give this general statement."
Judge Lord says : —
" I had a conversation with Mr. Choate on this subject. It was
more than twenty years ago, and, of course, it is impossible to repro
duce precisely his language, but the interview was substantially this :
I said to Mr. Choate : ' Is it true that you refused to defend Professor
Webster 1 ' to which his reply was, not in direct terms, but by im
plication, that he did not absolutely refuse, but that they did not want
him. Pausing for a while, he added : ' There was but one way to try
that case. When the attorney-general was opening his case to the
jury, and came to the discussion of the identity of the remains found
in the furnace with those of Dr. Parkman, the prisoner's counsel
should have arisen, and, begging pardon for the interruption, should
have said, substantially, that in a case of this importance, of course,
counsel had no right to concede any point, or make any admission, or
fail to require proof, and then have added : " But we desire the attorney-
general to understand, upon the question of these remains, that the
struggle will nat be there! But, assuming that Dr. Parkman came to his
death within the laboratory on that day, we desire the government to
show whether it was by visitation of God, or whether, in an
attack made by the deceased upon the prisoner, the act was done in
self-defence, or v, hether it was the result of a violent altercation.''
Possibly the idea of murder may be suggested, but not with more
reason than apoplexy, or other form of sudden death. As the pris
oner himself cannot speak, the real controversy will probably be nar
rowed to the alternative of justifiable homicide iu self-defence, or
manslaughter by reason of sudden altercation.' " '
1 It is said that the attorney-general was prepared, if homicide were ad
mitted, at once to prove intent, prevwus purpose. The defence was, un
doubtedly, very much hampered by the headstrong conduct of the prisoner
himself.

222 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VU.
asked if I have ever been as happy as I am every day and
hour at home, at talk with you all, in my poor dear library,
I could not truly say I have. But even home will be, I hope,
the pleasanter for the journey.
" Having said this, he added : ' But Professor Webster would not
listen to any such defence as that,' accompanying the statement with
language tending to show that the proposed defence was rejected
both by the accused and his friends and advisers.
" He then said that the only difficulty in that defence was to ex
plain tlie subsequent conduct of Dr. Webster, and proceeded with a
remarkable and subtle analysis of the motives of men, and the influ
ences which govern their conduct, to show that the whole course of
the accused after the death could be explained by a single mistake aa
to the expediency of disclosing what had happened instantly ; that
hesitation or irresolution, or the decision : ' I will not disclose this,'
adhered to for a brief half hour, might, by the closing in of circum
stances around him, have compelled all that followed. Having con
cealed the occurrence, he was obliged to dispose of the remains, and
would do so in the manner suggested, and with the facilities afforded
by his professional position. He concluded : ' It would have been
Impossible to convict Dr. Webster of murder with that admission.'
" I suggested to him that the possession of his note by Dr. Webster,
as paid, was an awkward fact. He said : ' Yes, but it might seem to
become a necessity after his first false step of concealment.' He
added : ' Dr. Parkman was known to have been at the hospital.
When, how soon, and under what circumstances, and to explain what
statements made by him, he thought it expedient to say he had paid
the note, or to obtain the possession of it, would never appear. It
was simply an incident, whose force could be parried, if he could ob
tain credit for the position that the concealment was a sudden and
impulsive afterthought which took possession of, and controlled him
in all his subsequent conduct.' "
" We have in these statements,'' says Judge Neilson, " the desired
testimony touching Mr. Choate's attitude in respect to that most im
portant case. It is apparent from them that, while accepting the theory
that a lawyer is at liberty to withhold his services absolutely in a
criminal case, he yet did not think him bound to go into court contrary
to his own conscientious convictions to assert what he does not believe
to be true, or to take a line of defence which he conceives to be futile
or unjust. His refusal to appear, as explained by these gentlemen, is
consistent with the practice which, as a humane man and self-sacrifi
cing counsellor, he exemplifled throughout life, and is in keeping with
the doctrine of an advocate's duty as asserted by Erskine and others."

1850.] LETTERS TO MRS. CHOATE. 223
" Good-by, all dear ones. We go to Dover to-night, start
ing at one. It draws near to breakfast, and I must go to
packing. Bless you all. Give my love to Mrs. B. and aU
inquirers. R. Q_"

To Mrs. Choate. " Pakis, Thursday, 24th July.
"Dear H., — I was delighted to get your letter yester
day, though struck speechless to learn, at the moment of re
ceiving it from the banker, that President Taylor is dead. I
hardly credit it yet, though it is as certain as it is surprising.
Better for him perhaps, but what an overthrow of others, —
the cabinet, the party, and all things.
" We got here Saturday night, and have been — I have —
in a real dream ever since. Nothing yet seen is in the least
degree to be compared with Paris, for every species of in
terest. Every spot of which you read in the histoi-y of the
Revolution and the times of Napoleon, over and above all
that belongs to it historically, is a thousand times more beau
tiful and more showy than 1 had dreamed. I saw the Tml-
eries by moonlight, Saturday evening, from the garden of
the Tuileries. This garden — I should think it larger, with
the Champs Elysees certainly, than a dozen of our Commons
— is a delightful wood, with paths, fountains, statues, busts,
at every turn, — quiet, though a million of people seemed
walking in it, with soldiers here and there to keep order. It
stretches along from the Tuileries to a clearing called the
Place de la Concorde, an open area where are fountains, and
the great Egyptian obelisk. Then you reach the Champs
Elysees, also wooded, not so close or quiet, — then come to
the Arch of Triumph, a prodigious structure on which are
inscribed the names of Napoleon's victories. . . . Notre
Dame is a majestic old church, 500 or 1,000 years old, as
grand as Westminster Abbey, — and the Madeleine a glori
ous new Greek Temple church. . . . We went yesterday to
Versailles, the most striking spot of earth out of Rome, —
one enormous palace, full of innumerable great rooms, halls,
museums, full of statues and pictures. We were in the bed
room and boudoir of Marie Antoinette, and Louis XVL, not
usually opened. The most striking place I have seen, of
which I never had lieard, is a beautiful chapel built over the
spot where Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were firsf

224 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VII.
privately buried. There they lay 2 1 years and then were
removed to St. Denis, but then this chapel was built. It has
two groups, — the king, an angel supporting him, and the
queen, similarly supported, — in marble. I touched the place
where they were buried. We start to-morrow for Brussels,
Cologne, the Rhine, and Switzerland. — Best, best love to
all. E. C.
" Take care of my library, — dearer than the Bibliotheque
du Roi, — though smaller ! "

Journal op Mr. Choate. " Saturday, 29th June, 1850.
"On Board the Canada.
" I never promised myself nor any one else to attempt a
diary of any part of the journey on which I have set out,
still less of the flrst, most unpleasant, and most unvaried,
part of it, — the voyage. But these hours, too, must be
arrested and put to use. These days also are each a life.
'Let me be taught to number them then' — lest, seeking
health, I flnd idleness, ennui, loss of interest — more than the
allotted and uncontrollable influence of time, on the faculties
and the curiosity.
" These affectionate aids, too, of my wife and daughters —
pen, ink, and beautiful paper — at once suggest and prescribe
some use of them. Such a claim, now less than ever, would
I disallow. " So I will try to make the briefest record of the barren
outward time, and try also to set myself to some daily task
of proflt. My first three days, Wednesday, Thursday, and
Friday, were grasped from me by a sick-headache of the
Court House, aggravated, changed, by the sickness of the
sea. The first day and night and the second day till after
dinner were one fearful looking-for of the inevitable conse
quences of my last laborious fortnight. Ship or shore, I
should have had it. It came, is gone, and for the first time,
to-day, I feel like myself, and to- be well, I hope, for a month
more. "Meantime we have run up the New England coast,
touched at Halifax, and are coming fast abreast of our last
land, — Cape Race. They expect to pass it to-day at 6 p.m.,

I860.] JOURNAL — ON BOARD THE CxVNADA. 225
and the east wind and incumbent fog announce the vicinity
of the inhospitable coast and the Great Bank. I understand
the passage of Cape Race is reckoned the last peril of the
voyage, at this season — till we make the Irish shores. We
all share the anxiety and appreciate the vigilance of the
pilotage, which is on the look-out for this crisis. Under the
circumstances, it infers little danger at least. Thus far, till
this morning, day and night have been bright. Sun, moon,
and stars have been oars, — and the wind fair and fresh.
We have generally carried sail, often studding sails. The
sea has been smooth too, for ocean ; yet breathing ever, —
life-full, playing with us, — the serene face of waves smiling
onus. To-day, is some change. Wind east; — dead ahead,
— a low, cold, damp fog, brooding for ever and for ever in
these regions of the meeting of the warm and cold tides. On
we go still, every sail furled close — eleven miles an hour.
I remark our northing, in the diminished power of the clear
est sunbeam and in the cool air, and our easting in the loss
of my watch's time. The sun comes to the meridian an
hour sooner than in Boston. We are taking our meridian
lunch, while our dear friends hear their parlor and kitchen
clocks strike eleven. For the rest, it is a vast sentient image
of water all around. We have seen three or four sail daily,
— parcel of the trade of England to her northern colonies ; —
and a mackerel fisherman or two ; and with these exceptions,
we are alone in the desert.
" Our ship is a man-of-war, for size, quiet, and discipline ;
the passengers a well-behaved general set ; my accommoda
tions excellent. Hcec hactenus.
" I have come away without a book but the Bible and
Prayer-Book and ' Daily Food,' and I sigh for the sweet
luxuries of my little library fuxgov zs Cfilov rs.
" Yet am I resolved not to waste this week ' in ineptiis,'
and I mean to know more at the end of it than I know now.
I will commit one morsel in the ' Daily Food ' daily, and
have to-day, that of 29th June. To this, I mean to add a
page at least of French, and two pages of ' Half-hours with
Best Authors,' with Collectanea, ut possim-.
" Liverpool. — Alas ! on that very Saturday evening, my
real sea-sickness set in, pursued me till Thursday, then fol
lowed languor, restlessness, and all the unprofitable and un
availing resolving of such a state of the mind left to itself on
board a vessel. The result is, that the rest of my voyage
15

226 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VU
was lost, except so far as it has quite probably prepared me
for better health and fresher sensations on shore.
" We passed Cape Race on Saturday evening in thick fog,
and very close, nearer I suppose to a point of it, — the pro
jecting termination of a cove, into which we ran, which we
coasted, and out of which we had to steer by a total change
of course, — • nearer than we designed. To see it, for de
parture, was indispensable almost, and that done we steered
assured and direct towards Cape Clear in Ireland. Then
followed two or three days of fog and one or two more of a
quite rough sea. But we have had no gale of wind, and on
Friday night we entered the Irish Channel and ascended it
till about 5 r.ii., l)y science only, when we saw the first land
since our departure one week before from the S. E. cape of
Newfoundland. What we saw were islands on the coast of
Wales, or mountains of Wales, or both. We came up toward
Liverpool as far as the bar would permit, last eve, anchored
or waited for tide, and came to our dock at about 8 this
morning. " On Sunday afternoon, June SOth, we were called on deck
to see an iceberg. It was late in the afternoon, a cold, gross
fog incumbent, a dark night at hand, the steamer urging for
ward at the rate of twelve miles aa hour. The iceberg lay
slowly floating, I suppose one-fourth of a mile off, getting
astern, and was a grand and startling image certainly. It
might be in some places fifty, in some one hundred feet from
the water, and perhaps three hundred to five hundred yards
long, looking like a section of a mountain-top severed horizon
tally, but ice, ice, suggesting its voyage of thousands of miles
perhaps, and its growth of a thousand years, giving us to
look directly on the terrible North, present to us in a form
of real danger. The Captain professed no fears from such
causes, and under the admirable vigilance of his command, I
suppose there was not much. One day we saw porpoises, as
in the Sound, and I saw twice vast sheets of water thrown
up by the spouting of the whale, although himself I did not
see. " Enough. The voyage is over. Brief, prosperous, yet
tedious. And now I am to address myself to the business of
my journey. I have come to the Waterloo House, to a de
licious breakfast, including honey, strawberries — a snug,
clean room and the luxuries of puriflcation and rest. I have
traversed a street or two, enough to recognize the Old World

1850] JOURN.VL — ON BOARD THE CANADA. 227
I am in. I am beginning to admit and feel the impression of
England. The high latitude, deep green of tree and land,
clouded sky, cool, damp air ; the plain, massive and enduring
construction of fort, dock, store, and houses, dark, large, brick
or stone, instantaneously strike. Thus far it seems gloomy,
heavy, yet rich, strong, deep, a product of ages for ages.
Yet 1 have not looked at any individual specimen of antiquity,
grandeur, power, or grace. I have attended service at St.
George's for want of knowing where to go. The music was
admirable, forming a larger part than in the American Epis
copal Service, and performed divinely. The sermon was
light, and the delivery cold, sing-song, on the character of
David. " And now to sorae plan of time and movement for Eng
land. Before breakfast I shall walk at least an hour observ
antly, and on returning jot down any thing worth it. This
hour is for exercise, however. I mean next to read every
day a passage in the Bible, a passage in the Old and in the
New Testament, beginning each, and to commit my ' Daily
Food.' Then, I must carefully look at the papers, for the
purpose of thoroughly mastering the actual English and Eu
ropean public and daily life, and this will require jotting
down, the debates, the votes, chiefly. Then I must get, say
half an hour a day, for Greek and Latin and elegant English.
F'or this purpose, I must get me an Odyssey and Crusius,
and a Sallust, and some single book of poems or prose, say
Wordsworth. This, lest taste should sleep and die, for which
no compensations shall pay !
" For all the rest, I mean to give it heartily, variously, to
what travel can teach, — men — opinions — places, — with
great effort to be up to my real powers of acquiring and im
parting. This journey shall not leave me where it finds me.
Better, stronger, knowing more. One page of some law
book daily, I shall read. That 1 must select to-morrow too.
"Friday, 12th July. — I must write less, but more regu
larly, or the idea of a journal must be abandoned. Tuesday
I came to London, a beautiful day, through a beautiful land,
leaving an image, a succession of images, ineffaceable. That
which strikes most is the universal cultivation, the deep, live,
fresh green on all things, the hedge-fences, the cottages small
and brick, the absence of barns, and the stacks of hay out
of doors, the excellent station constructions, the Gothic spires
and castles here and there among trees, identifying the scene

228 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VU,
and telling something of the story. The railroad was less
smooth than the Lowell, at least the car ran less smoothly.
Here and there women were at work in the fields. I know
not how rich was the land. I saw no, or not much, waste,
and the main aspect was of a nearly universal and expensive
culture. " We passed through Tamworth, and saw at a distance a
flag at half-mast from a tower. It was the day of Sir Robert
Peel's funeral, of which, however, we saw nothing. Tuesday
eve, Wednesday, and yesterday I rambled, and to-day have
lain still. I ran this way and that, like a boy, seeking every
where and finding everywhere some name and place made
classical by Enghsh literary or general history, and have
brought off a general, vague, yet grand impression of Lon
don, with no particulars of knowledge. The parks are
sweet spots, quiet and airy, but plain. Green Park, at least,
was partially dotted by flocks of sheep. Buckingham Palace,
name apart, does not strike much more than the Capitol or
President's house. Westminster Abbey externally is sublime.
The new Parliament House will be showy.
" I heard a cause partially opened to a committee of Lords -,
another partially argued to the jury in the Exchequer ; and
another partially argued to the Lord Commissioners. The
A. G. [Attorney-general] Jervis, [Sh John Jervis,] and Mr.
Cockburn, [Alexander E. Cockburn,] open respectively for
and versus Pate, for striking the Queen. There was no occa
sion for much exertion or display, and there was nothing of
either. Mr. Cockburn had the manner of Franklin Dexter
before the committee. Mr. Marten seemed animated and
direct in a little Exchequer jury cause. Pate would have
been acquitted in Massachusetts. The English rule is, —
knowledge, or want of it, that the act is wrong. The prison
er's counsel, in my judgment, gave up his case by conceding ;
he feared he should fail. I thought and believed he might
have saved him. The chief judge presiding, Alderson, [Sir
E. H. Alderson,] offended me. He is quick, asks many
questions, sought unfavorable replies, repeats what he puts
down as the answer, abridged and inadequate. The whole
trial smacked of a judiciary, whose members, bench and bar,
expect promotion from the Crown. Their doctrine of in
sanity is scandalous. Their treatment of medical evidence,
and of the informations of that science, scandalous.
" One thing struck me. All seemed to admit that the

1850.] JOURNAL — PARIS. 229
prisoner was so far insane as to make whipping improper !
yet that he was not so insane as not to be guilty. Suppose
him tried for murder, how poor a compromise !
" The question ou handwriting was ' do you believe it to be
his ? ' after asking for knowledge. Opening the pleadings is
useless, except to the court, and is for the court. The coun
sel interrogating from a brief ; leads in interrogation, being
very much on uncontested matter. It saves time and is not
quarrelled with. The speaker is at too great a distance from
the jury. Their voices are uncommonly pleasant; pronun
ciation odd, affected, yet impressing you as that of educated
persons. Some, Mr. Humphry, Mr. Cockburn, occasionally
hesitated for a word. All narrated drily ; not one has in
the least impressed me by point, force, language, power ;
still less, eloquence or dignity. The wig is deadly. The
Exchequer Jury Sittings were in Guildhall as were the C. C.
Pleas. Pate was tried at the Old Bailey. The rooms are
small, — never all full. Mr. Byles was in one ins. cause in
C. C. Pleas.
" Last eve, I heard Sontag and Lablache in La Tempeta
and saw the faded Pasta. I returned late, and am sick
to-day, a little. Bought Kuhner's Edition of the Tusculan
Questions. Mr. Bates called and made some provision for
our amusement.
" I read Bible, Prayer-book, a page of Bishop Andrews's
Prayers, a half-dozen lines of Virgil and Homer, and a page
of WUliams's Law of Real Property."
The Continent.
" July 19, Friday. — Left London for Folkestone, whence
across to Boulogne — a cloudy day terminating in copious
rain — through which the deep green of English landscape
looked gloomy and uniform. At Folkestone, which is a few
miles S. W. of Dover, just built up to be a terminus point of
transit of railroad and steamboat line to France, found our —
for the present — last English hotel, clean bedrooms, abun
dance of water, and all other appointments, and all well
administered and soundly exacting.
" Saturday. — We passed in the steamboat to Boulogne,
breakfasted at B. and came to Paris, arriving at six. The
passage across the Channel was on a foggy, rainy morning,
showing that renowned water drearily and indistinctly, and a
little darkening- our first experience of France. Numerous

230 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VH.
vessels, from small fishermen of both coasts to large mer
chant ships, were in view, however, and I recalled, with Mr.
Prescott, the occasions when Roman, Saxon, Danish, and
Dutch keels had ploughed it, the old intercourse of France
and Scotland, the voyage of Mary, the descents of the Henrys
and Edwards, and the cruise of so many great fleets, in so
many and such various fortunes of England and France.
Mr. P. told me of Lockhart, who interested him deeply, thinks
freely, despises the Bishops, utters brilliant sarcasms, lives
retired, sad, and independent. Deaths of the loved, the bad
character of a living child, with other unexplained causes, are
supposed to cause it. He saw at L's. the MSS. of ' Rob Roy,'
the first hundred pages covered with second thoughts — then
all working itself consummate by the first effort. He related
sarcasms of Rogers, sneers at the Bishop of Oxford, Wilber
force — the incredible touching and altering, by which the
historic sheet of Macaulay at last is brought to its perfection ;
— the great narrowness of all male and female Church
adherents, — the mendacious reputation of Lord B., telling
an audience at Harrow, his father and grandfather were edu
cated there, every man, woman, and child knowing better.
By the time we were ready to leave Boulogne the sun came
out, and our ride to Paris was lighted by a sweet, glowing
summer's day. I must say I was delighted with the country.
Part of our way was quite on the seashore, as far as Abbe
ville, thence more inland, and the last three to five hours lay
through whole prairies of fields ripe with wheat. 'I'ill now
I had no conception of the wheat culture of France, nor of
the affluent and happy aspect with which the wheat harvest,
when nodding, yellow, over level plains, up the sides and to
the tops of hills, through patches of trees, five miles to six or
seven in extent on each side, for a distance of fifty miles,
robes a country. Why, France, if all like this, could feed
Europe. A few vineyards were interspersed here and there ;
chateaux in the distance and the towers of cathedrals, with
men and women at work in the fields, completed the scene.
Ah, how absurd, yet common, to think of Paris only as
France, and the Deputies only as Paris. How English media
refract and tinge. The cars were the best I ever saw, and the
whole railroad administration, rapid and in all things excel
lent. I am come to Hotel Canterbury. Of Paris from the
station I avoided seeing much, but could not wholly lose tha
narrow street and vast height of houses and want of wealth

1850.1 JOURNAL— PARIS. 231
in shop-windows. After dinner, at nine in the evening, by
moonlight, I first saw Paris. I walked down through the
Place Vendome, looked on the column cast of cannon, tower
ing gloomy, grim, storied, surmounted by Napoleon, recog
nized even so, and in three minutes stood in the Gardens,
before the structure of the Tuileries. This scene, this
moment, are ineffaceable for ever ! Some soldiers in uni
form, with muskets bayoneted, marched to and fro near the
entrance. Hundreds, thousands — men, women, and children
— were walking in the Garden, in paths beneath a wood,
extending, so far as I could see, without limit ; lights twin
kled in it here and there ; vases, statues, reposed all around ;
fountains were playing, and before me stretched the vast
front of the Tuileries, the tricolor hanging motionless on its
dome, the moonlight sleeping peacefully and sweetly on the
scene of so much glory, so much agony — a historic interest
so transcendent. I did not go to the Seine, nor seek for
definite ideas of locality, or extent; but gave myself to a
dream of France, ' land of glory and love.' Far, far to the
west, I remarked an avenue extending indefinitely, — along
whose sides, at what seemed an immense distance, twinkled
parallel lines of lights. I did not then know that it ran to
the Place de la Concorde — the Obelisk -;- and thence on,
on, becoming the Avenue of the Champs Elysees — ¦ and so
to the Arch at last. That I learned the next morning.
'' 22d. — It is now Monday morning. I have not been out
to-day yet. But yesterday I saw and entered Notre Dame
and the Madeleine — glorious specimens of diverse styles —
pure Gothic and Greek. Notre Dame impresses as a mere
structure, as much as Westminster Abbey. It is cruciform.
At the west end rise two vast towers, lofty, and elaborately
finished — telling of a thousand years. Between these you
enter and are in the nave. Thence you may wander through
ranges of pillars from which the pure Gothic arch is spring
ing, mark along the sides the numerous chapels in recesses,
observe the two vast circular windows of the transept, and
look up to the ceiling rising as a firmament above you. No
statues or tablets of the dead are here. Pictures of sacred
subjects on the walls, worshippers here and there, the appoint
ments of the Papal service, — the grand, unshared, unmodified
character of a mere cathedral is on it all. The Madeleine is
a beautiful Greek temple, showy and noble. The Boulevards
terminate there — thence running I know not how far — a

232 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VH
vast, broad street with thousands of both sexes walking,
sitting outside of cafes, drinking coffee, wine, &c., the whole
lined by miles of shops, cafes, and other places of public
resort — glittering and full.
" Monday, 22d July. — This morning I am to begin a more
detailed observation of Paris."

" Basle, 2d August, Friday. — A day of rain and a head^
ache compel or excuse my lying by till to-morrow, and so I
avail myself of an undesired and unexpected opportunity to
recall some of the sights that have been crowded into the last
fortnight. Left Paris Friday eve, July 26, for Brussels, to
which point we came to breakfast — • visited Waterloo, and
next morning started for Cologne where we arrived at sunset.
On Monday went to Bonn and passed the afternoon and night,
— making, however, an excursion to the top of Drachenfels.
Thus far our journey was by rail. The next morning we
embarked on the Rhine in the steamer SchOler, and ascended
to Wiesbaden, arriving, by aid of a quarter or half an hour
in an omnibus, at nine o'clock. On Wednesday we came by
rail to Kehl opposite and four miles from Strasburg, glancing
at Frankfurt, and spending three hours at Heidelberg. Yes
terday we crossed to Strasburg, — visited the Cathedral, and
came by rah. to Basle in season for dinner at the table d'hote.
And now what from all this ? I shall remember with con
stant interest Paris, and shall extend my acquaintance with
the language, literature, and history of the strange and beau
tiful France. Besides what I have already recorded, I
attended a sitting of the Chamber of Deputies — an assem
bly of good-looking men — not just then doing any thing of
interest — ¦ most interesting, however, as the government, and
the exponent and multifarious representation of the political
and social opinions and active organ of a great nation.
M. Berryer I saw, and Eugene Sue, and M. M0I6. M.
Guizot I saw afterwards in the steamer Schiller, going up
from Bonn. He left the boat at Coblentz. Two or three
deputies spoke to a most freezing inattention. They ' got the
floor' in their seats, then went to the tribune, laid their .MSS.
at their side — and went to it as we lecture at Lyceums.
Great animation — much gesture — a constant rising inflec
tion at the end of periods before the final close of the sen
tence — an occasional look at the MSS. and pull at the tum-

1850.] JOURNAL — PARIS. 233
bier of water — some pausings at the noise of inattention —
this is all I could appreciate. The courts of law pleased me
too. The judges in cloaks or robes of bl.ack, with capes, —
quiet, thoughtful, and dignified ; the advocate in a cloak and
bare-headed, debating with animation, and no want of dignity
— the dress and manners far better than the English bar.
The silk gown or cloak is graceful and fit, and might well
have been (it is too late now) among the costumes of our
bar. " This wa»5 all I saw of the mind of France in political or
executive action. The impression I brought from them was
of great respect. In this I can say nothing of the opinions or
wisdom of anybody. The chamber seemed full of energy,
quickness, spirit, capacity. The coui-ts grave, dignified,
among forms, and in halls, of age, solemnity, and impressive-
ness. Great French names of jurisprudence came to my
memory, and I learned to feel new regard for my own pro
fession. " The rest of my time I gave to the storied spectacles of
Paris. The Louvre, a part of which was closed for repairs,
leaving enough to amaze one, — such a wilderness of form,
color, posture, — roof, walls, pedestals, alive with old and mod
ern art ; Versailles, holding within it the history of the nation
of France, tracing in picture and statue its eras, showing forth
its glory, breathing and generating an intense nationality,
with here and there a small room, a boudoir of Marie Antoi
nette, or a confessional of Louis Sixteenth, touching a softer
and sadder emotion ; St. Cloud, of which I saw only the
delightful exterior, imperial, grand ; the street to Versailles
through the Bois de Boulogne ; the little chapel over the first
burial-place of Louis Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette, full of
deepest and saddest interest ; the Luxembourg, its deserted
chamber of the Senate of Napoleon and the Peers of the Res
toration and Louis Philippe's dynasty, and its glorious gallery
of pictures ; the Royal Library in which I was disappointed
after the British Museum, but where are some old curiosities
and a capital statue of Voltaire, — these are of my banquet
of three days. I went through the Garden of Plants too,
which we should imitate and beat at Washington ; the Place
de Greve, the site of that guillotine ; the H6tel des Invalides ;
the Pantheon, disagreeable as a monument to the dead ; Pere-
la-Chaise, whicli exceeded my expectations, and shows France
affectionate and grateful and thoughtful to the loved and lost

23-4 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Ch.vp. VIL
Place Bastille, sacred by its column to the Revolution of 1830,
— with interest, and sufficiently.
" The caf^s and caf6 dinners are a strict Parisian fact and
spectacle, — cooking, service, and appointments, artistical as a
theatre. A dinner at the ' Trois Freres ' is to be remembered.
And so adieu to France. We entered on that famous soil
again at Strasburg to find ' Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite,'
graven on every national front, aud to mark the quickness,
courtesy, and skill with which all things are done. I made
the acquaintance of but one inhabitant of Paris out of the
hotel, M. Bossange, the bookseller in the Quai Voltaire, polite,
kind, and honest, of whom I ordered some books.
" I have seen Paris with any feeling but that of disappoint
ment. I feel no other at least, than that which always attends
the substitution of the actual spectacle for the imaginary one
which rises on the mind of every reader of an event or de
scription, and which, by a thousand repetitions, becomes the
only spectacle which can fill his mind full. I have lost the
Tuileries, and Boulevards, and Champs Elysees, and Seine,
and Versailles, and St. Cloud, of many years of reading and
reverie, — a picture incomplete in details, inaccurate in all
things, yet splendid and adequate in the eye of imagination,
— and have gained a reality of ground and architecture, ac
curate, detailed, splendid, impressive, — and I sigh !
" One word is enough for Belgium. Everywhere and in
stantly you are struck with the vast level yet varied garden
of agriculture, through which you ride. Every inch at first
seems tilled. Wheat, rye, flax, everywhere, — a wilderness,
a prairie, a flood of cultivation. You see, as in France and
Germany, few people in the fields, few cottages. It seems to
be tilled by night by unseen hands. I gave no time to Brus
sels, which every guide-book describes, but rode to Waterloo
and studied that locality, — a sweet, undulating, vast wheat-
field, a spot memorable and awful above all I shall see or have
seen. I have now an indelible image, by the aid of which I
can read anew the story of that day — the last of the battles !
I retain, 1st, the short line along -which the two armies were
ranged, — say a mile or a mile and a half from wing to wing ;
2d, the narrow space of valley between the two lines, the ar
tillery of either posted over against that of the other a quarter
or a third of a mile apart ; 3d, the inconsiderable, easy ascent
from the valley, up to the British ridge ; 4th, the sutficiency
of the ridge to shelter from the French artillery ; 5th, the

1850.J JOURNAL — THE RHINE. 235
precise position and aspect of the shattered, pierced, and singed
Hougoumont guarded from artillery by its wood, — guarded
in its interior citadel by a brilliant and transcendent courage ;
6th, La Haye Sainte, taken, retaken, held, on right of centre,
from which nothing was reaped ; 7th, the place of the terrific
attack in which Picton fell, and the place of the later, final
attack, now obliterated by the mound. The plan, series, —
attacks on Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte, — cannonade
to prepare, — charges of cavalry met by squares, charges of
infantry met by any thing. The following years undoubtedly
yielded richer crops of wheat than before. In some places
of burial, by decay, large depressions of earth disclosed
themselves. " I am glad I did not see enough of Liege to correct ' Quen
tin Durward,' and I was glad to leave Brussels and to come
upon Rhenish Prussia, and into the valley of the Rhine, all at
once. Everywhere from Brussels to Cologne, on all practi
cable spots, wheat and rye, ripe for the sickle, everywhere
the same universal culture, here and there a castle or chateau,
or harnessed dog, or unintelligible conversation, reminded me
where we were.
" I could have wished to stay a little at Aix-la-Chapelle,
historically and artually striking; but on we were whirled;
the valley of the Rhine opened, a vast plain with no river yet
in sight, groaning under its wheat spread on all sides, and just
before coming to the great old gates of Cologne, the river,
rapid, majestic, flashed to sight. In half an hour 1 was in
my room at the hotel, and looked down on the river flowing
at my very feet within fifty yards of the house, broad and
free, under his bridge of boats.
" From that moment to this my journey has been a vision
of the Rhine. I have gained new images and knowledge,
new materials of memory and thought. The width, rapidity,
volume, tone of the river, exceed all my expectations. But
the aspects of its shores from Bonn to Coblentz, and its whole
valley again from Wiesbaden to Strasburg! — the scenery
so diverse ; plain, hill, crag, mountain, vale ; the fields and
patches of culture, mainly of vine, but of wheat, too, and
apple, and all things, which spread and brighten to the very
tops of mountains ; tbe castellated ruins, — never -wholly out
of view ; — these will abide for ever. The mere scenery is
nowhere, except at two points, perhaps, — Coblentz and Hei
delberg, — superior to the North River. But the character

236 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chu-. VU.
of the agriculture, the vine as well as wheat, its spread over
every inch of practicable earth, carried as by a nature to the
minutest and remotest vein of yielding earth; the history
of the river, — the most eastern frontier of imperial Rome, —
her encampments here and there, discernible still in the
names of towns, aud in innumerable works of military or fine
art, — the scene of so many more recent strifes and glories ;
the ruins resting so grandly on so many summits, — • the rec
ord, every one of them, of a thou,~and years, • — all together
give it a higher and different interest. I visited the library
at Bonn, — ¦ a university to which Niebuhr and Schlegel would
give fame, — -of 130,000 to 180,000 volumes; the tops of
Drachenfels, reminding one of the view from Holyoke over
Northampton, but pervaded by this high and specific and
strange historical interest ; the Castle of Heidelberg, restoring
you, grimly, grandly, the old feudal time, and opening from
its mouldering turrets a sweet and vast view of the Necker
and the valley of the Necker and the Rhine ; and the Cathe
dral of Strasburg, where mass was performing and a glorious
organ was filling that unbounded interior with the grandest
and the sweetest of music, through whose pauses you heard
the muttered voice of the priest, aud the chanting of a choir
wholly out of sight. Byron does not overstate the impression
of the Rhine, nor the regrets of parting from it, nor the keen
sense of how much loved and absent ones, if here, would
heighten all its attractions. The points of particular interest
are the Drachenfels, Coblentz, witb Ehrenbreitstein, Heidel
berg, the cathedral at Strasburg ; but the general impression
made by the whole Rhine is one of a unity, identity, entirety,
and depth, never to be equalled, never to be resembled. Old
Rome predominated in the vision, next the Middle Age,
Church and Barons, then the age of Louis XIV., then the
form of Napoleon, aud the passage of the armies of modern
war. The Rhine would form a grand subject of a lecture.
Compare with no river. Its civilization to that of the Nile is
recent and grand, — hence no river may rival.
" Our steamer was Schiller. I saw another named Goethe.
I had forgotten the most glorious cathedral of Cologne, and a
beautiful picture of Jews weeping at Babylon in the Museum.
The choir of the cathedral is indeed a ' vision ; ' a single har
mony of the boys chanting in the Strasburg affected me more
than all else !
" Dogs draw little carts in Belgium. Cows are yoked aud

1850.] JOURN.VL — BASLE. 237
draw burthens in Prus-sia, Baden, Nassau. Women labor in
all the fields. Vines are led over the cottages, and flowers
planted almost up to the rail of the car.
" Here at Basle our hotel stands on the side of the Rhine
just as at Cologne, but here the river rushes rapid and sound
ing, and, till fretted and swelled by this rain, its color was a
clear green. All things show we are going toward his sources,
or to his cradle of mountains, and to-morrow we approach the
Alps. The river passes out of view, and the mountain begins
to claim its own worship. From my window I see the flag
of the U. S. hung from the window of the Consulate, in mourn
ing?- I have visited the cathedral, turned, without violence
or iconoclasm, into a Protestant church, holding the grave of
Erasmus. " Political life for ever is ended. Henceforth the law and
literature are all. I know it must be so, and I yield and I
approve. Some memorial I would leave yet, rescued from
the grave of a mere professional man, some wise or beautiful
or interesting page, — something of utility to America, which
I love more every pulse that beats.
" The higher charm of Europe is attributable only to her
bearing on her bosom here and there some memorials of a
civilization about seven or eight hundred years old. Of any
-visible traces of any thing earlier there is nothing. All earlier
is of the ancient liie, — is in books, — and may be appropri
ated by us, as well as by her — under God — and by proper
helps. The gathering of that eight hundred years, however,
collected and held here, — libraries, art, famous places, educa
tional spectacles of architecture, picture, statue, gardening,
fountains, — are rich, rich, and some of them we can never
have nor use.
" On how many European minds in a generation is felt,
educationally, the influence of that large body of spectacle,
specifically European, and which can never be transferred?
Recollect, first, that all her books we can have among us per
manently. All her history we can read and know, therefore,
and all things printed. What remains ? What that can never
be transferred ? Picture, statue, building, grounds ; beyond
and above, a spirit of the place ; whatsoever and all which
come from Uving in and visiting memorable places. How
many in Europe are influenced, and how, by this last ? The
1 General Taylor died July 9, 1850.

238 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. Vll,
recorded history affects us as it does them. In which hemi
sphere would an imaginative and speculative mind most enjoy
itself? In America, land of hope, liberty, — Utopia sobered,
realized, to be fitted according to an idea, with occasional
visits to this picture gallery and museum, occasional studies
here of the objects we can't have ; or here, under an inflexible
realization, inequalities of condition, rank, force, property,
tribute to the Past, — the Past ! ! !
" Looking to classes : 1st, The vast mass is happier and
better in America, is worth more, rises higher, is freer ; its
standard of culture and life higher. 2. Property holders are
as scarce. 3. The class of wealth, taste, social reflnement,
aud genius, — how with them ?
" Mem. The enjoyment of an American of refined tastes
and a spirit of love of man is as high as that of a European
of the same class. He has all but what visits will give him,
and he has what no visits can give the other.
" What one human being, not of a privileged class, is better
off in Europe than he would be in America? Possibly a
mere scholar, or student of art, seeking learning or taste, for
itself, to accomplish himself. But the question is, if in any
case, high and low, the same rate of mind, and the same kind
of mind, may not be as happy in America as in Europe. It
must modify its aims and sources somewhat, live out of itself,
seek to do good, educate others. It may acquire less, teach
raore ; suck into its veins less nutriment, less essence, less per
ception of beauty, less relish of it (this I doubt), but diffuse
it more. " What is it worth to live among all that I have seen ? I
think access to the books and works of art is all. There is
no natural beauty thus far beyond ours — and a storied
country, storied of battles and blood — is that an educational
influence ?
" Monday, Aug. 5. — Lucerne, fhis then is Switzerland.
It is a sweet, burning midsummer's morning at Lucerne.
Under one of my windows is a little garden in which I see
currants, cabbages, pear-trees, vines, healthfully growing.
Before me from the other, I see the lake of Lucerne —
beyond it in farthest east I see the snowy peaks of Alps — I
count some dozen distinct summits on which the snow is lying,
composing a range of many miles. On my extreme right
ascends Mt. Pilate — splintered bare granite, and on tho other
Rigid, high and bold, yet wooded nearly to the top. It is a

1850.] JOURN.VL — ZURICH. 239
scene of great beauty and interest where all ' save the heart
of man ' may seem divine. We left Basle at nine on Satur
day morning and got to Zurich that evening at six. This
ride opened no remarkable beauty or grandeur, yet possessed
great interest. It was performed in a Diligence — the old
Continental stage-coach. And the impression made through
the whole day or until we approached Zurich, was exactly
that of a ride in the coach from Hanover to the White
Hills. I ascribe this to the obvious circumstances that we
were already far above the sea, were ascending along the
bank of a river, the Rhine, and then a branch which met us
rushing full and fast from its mountain sources — that we
were approaching the base of mountains of the first class in a
high northern latitude. The agricultural productions (ex
cept the exotic vine), the grass, weeds moderate; wheat —
clover — white weed — the construction of the valley — the
occasional bends and intervals — all seem that of New Eng
land. There was less beauty than at Newbury and Bath, and
I think not a richer soil, — certainly a poorer people. They
assiduously accumulate manure, and women of all ages were
reaping in the fields.
" Zurich is beautiful. The lake extends beautifully to the
south befo-re it. Pleasant gardens and orchards and heights
lie down to it and adjoining it. And here first we saw the
Alps — a vast chain. The Glaciers ranging from east to west
closing the view to the south — their peaks covered with snow
lay along as battlements unsupported beneath of a city of the
sky out of sight. I went to the library and asked for Orelli.
He died some months since. Most of his library was shown
me standing by itself in the public collection — and the few
I could stay to look at were excellent and recent editions of
Greek and Latin classics. I obtained of his widow three
printed thin quartos belonging to him — about the size of a
commencement thesis — in Latin.
'' All things in Zurich announce Protestantism — activity
of mind. The University — the books — the learned men —
the new buildings — the prosperity.
" I shall never forget the sweet sensations with which I
rode the first five or ten miles from Zurich yesterday. It
was Sunday. The bells of Zurich were ringing, — including
that honored by the preaching of Zwingle, — and men,
women, and children were dressed, and with books were
going to meeting. Our way lay for some time along the

240 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. Vn.
shores of the lake, through gardens, orchards, and fields to
the water's edge ; many of them of the highest beauty.
Then it left the lake to ascend the Albis. This is an ex
cellent road, but to overcome the mountain its course is zig
zag and is practicable only for a walk of the horses. I got
out and ascended on foot, crossing from one terrace of road to
another by paths through pleasant woods. As I ascended, the
whole valley of Zurich — the city — the lake in its whole
length — the amphitheatre of country enclosing it — the
glorious Alps, and at last Righi aud Pilate standing like the
speaker's place in a Lyceum with an audience of mountains
vastly higher — rising into the peculiar pinnacle of the Alps
covered with snow, ascending before them — successively
evolved itself. I saw over half of Switzerland. Spread on
it all was the sweet, not oppressive, unclouded summer's sun
light. A pure clear air enfolded it — the Sunday of the pas
toral, sheltered, and happy world. In some such scenes the
foundations of the Puritan mind and polity were laid, —
scenes, beautiful by the side of Tempe and Arcady ¦ — fit as
they to nurse and shelter all the kinds of liberty.
" We descended to Zug and its lake, and then coasted it to
Lucerne. Last evening we visited the emblematical lion and
sailed on the lake. To-day I go to the chapel of Tell. The
first view of the peculiar sharp points of Alps was just from
the very toj) of Albis on the southwest brow. There rose
Righi and Pilate, and east — apart and above — a sort of
range or city of the tents of an encampment in the sky.
They rested on nothing and seemed architecture of heaven
— pavilions — the tents of a cavalcade travelling above the
earth. " Berne, Wednesday 1th. — We left Lucerne at seven in
our own hired voiture, and with one change of horses treating
ourselves to two long pauses, arrived here at eight o'clock —
the last two hours through a thunder shower. The way gave
me much of the common and average life of Switzerland,
lying through two of its great Cantons. What I saw of Lu
cerne disappointed me. The soil I should think cold and
ungrateful and the mind of the laborer not open. Crucifixes
everywhere, and all over every thing — weeds in corn and
grass. Once in Berne all changes. Man does his duty. Ex
cellent stone bridges ; good fences ; fewer weeds ; more wheat
and grass ; more look of labor ; better buildings ; better, newer,
larger bouses and barns ; no cruciflxes ; express the change.

1850] JOURNAL — BERNE. - 241
Throughout I find a smallish, homely race, and pursue the
dream of Swiss life in vain. Yet in these valleys, on the
sides of these hills, in these farm houses scattered far and
near, though all is cut off from the great arterial and veuous
system of the world of trade and influence — though the
great pulse of business and politics beats not — though life
might seem to stagnate — is happiness and goodness too.
Sometimes a high Swiss mind emerges, and speaking a for
eign or dead tongue, — or migrating, asserts itself. Berne is
full of liveliness and recency as well as eld. I have run
over it before breakfast and shall again before we go.
" I saw at Berne the place of the State bears, and two of
the pensioners — the high terraced ground of view — the
residence of the patricians — and the Cathedral, containing,
among other things, tablets to the memory of those who fell
in 1798, enumerating them, — and the painted windows of
Protestant satire. Our journey to Vevay had little interest,
a grim horizon of cloud and a constant fall of rain wholly
obscured the Alps. Freiburg is striking — its suspended
bridge sublime — and it holds one of the best organs of the
world. We arrived here [Vevay] at ten and 1 have this
morning looked out on the whole beauty of this part of the
lake — from Haute-vhle and from a point on the shore above
it and towards the direction of Chilion, — and admitted its
supreme interest, and its various physical and associated
beauty. The day is clear and warm and still. The slightest
breeze stirs the surface of the lake, light clouds curl half way
up the steep shores — float — vanish — and are succeeded by
others — a summer's sun bathes a long shore and inland rising
from the shore, clad thick with -vines; — yonder, looking to
the south-east upon the water — in that valley — sheltered
by the mountain — nestling among those trees — embraced
and held still in the arms of universal love is Clarens — flt,
unpolluted asylum of love and philosophy ; before it, on its
left, is the castle of Chilion ; more directly before it the
mouth of the Rhone, here resting a space in his long flight
from his glacier-source ; far off west stretched the Lake of
Geneva at peace — here and there a white sail — the home —
the worship — the insphation of Rousseau and De Stael —
the shelter of liberty — the cradle of free thinking — the
scene in which the character and fortunes of Puritanism
-were shaped and made possible — the true birthplace of the
civil and religious order of the northern New World.
10

242 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VH.
" Geneva, 9th August, Friday. — The lake was smooth and
bright, and our voyage of five hours pleasant and prosperous ;
and we had the extraordinary fortune to witness what we are
assured was the best sunset on Mont Blanc for years. Long
after the sun had sunk below our earth, the whole range of
the mountain was in a blaze with the descending glory. At
first it was a mere reflection, from a long and high surface, of
the sun's rays. Gradually this passed into a golden and
rosy hue, then all darkened except the supreme summit itself,
from which the gold-light flashed, beamed, some time longer ;
one bright turret of the building not made with hands, kin
dled from within, self-poised, or held by an unseen hand.
Under our feet ran the Rhone, leaping, joyful, full, blue,
to his bed in the Mediterranean. Before us is the city
of thought, liberty, power, influence, the beautiful and famous
Geneva. More than all in interest was the house of the
father of Madame de Stael, and the home of the studies of
Gibbon. "Paris, Aug. 18. — I went on Saturday, Aug. 10, to the
nearer contemplation of Mont Blanc, at Chamouny. Most of
that journey lies through Savoy, of the kingdom of Sardinia,
even as far as St. Martin, aud beyond somewhat, a well-con
structed royal road. Within the first third, I should think of
the day's ride out from Geneva, and long before Mont Blanc
again reveals himself (for you lose sight of him wholly in a
mile or two out of the city), you enter a country of much
such scenery as the Notch of the White Mountains. An ex
cellent road ascends by the side of the Arve, itself a mad,
eager stream, leaping from the mer de glace, and running
headlong, of the color of milk mixed with clay, to the Rhone,
below Geneva, on each side of which rise one after another,
a succession of vast heights, some a half-mile to a mile above
you, all steep, more than even perpendicular, and even hang
ing over you, as projecting beyond their base. These are so
near, and your view so unobstructed, and they are all of a
height so comprehensible and appreciable, so to speak, so
little is lost by an unavailing elevation, that they make more
impression than a mountain tive times as high. It is exactly as
iu the Notch, where the grandeur instead of being enthroned
remote, dim, and resting in measurement, and demanding
comparisons and thoughts, is near, palpable, and exacting.
Down many of these streamed rivulets of water, silver threads
of hundreds, perhaps of thousands, of feet long from source

1850.] JOURNAL — CHAMOUNY. 243
to base of cliff"; often totally floating off from the side of the
hill and the hed in which they had begun to run, in a mere
mist which fell like rain, and farther down, and to the right
or left of the original flow, were condensed again into mere
streams. These have uo character of waterfall as you ride
along, but discharge a great deal of water in a very pictu
resque, holiday, and wanton fashion. This kind of scenery
grows bolder and wilder, and at last and suddenly at St. Martin
we saw again, above it, and beyond it all, the range of Mont
Blanc, covered with snow, and at first its summit covered too
with clouds. Thenceforth this was ever in view, and some
hours before sunset the clouds lifted themselves and vanished,
and we looked till all was dark upon the unvailed summit
itself. Again we had a beautiful evening sky ; again, but
this time directly at the foot of the mountain we stood, and
watched the surviving, diminishing glory, and just as that
faded from the loftiest peak, and it was night, I turned and
saw the new moon opposite, within an hour of setting in the
west. From all this glory, and at this elevation, my heart
turned homeward, and I only wished that since dear friends
could not share this here, I could be by their side, and Mont
Blanc a morning's imagination only.
" My health hindered all ascensions. I lay in bed on Sun
day, reading a little, dreaming more, walked to the side of
one glacier, and on Monday returned to Geneva to recruit.
After a day of nursing, we on Wednesday, 14th August,
started for Paris, and arrived last evening. Our first three
days was by post-horses and a hired carriage, and brought us
to Tonnerre. The first day ended at Champagnole, and was
a day of ascending and descetiding Jura. We passed through
Coppet however, and I had the high delight of visiting the
chateau and the grounds which were the home of Madame de
Stael, and of looking, from a distance still, on the tomb where
she is buried. The chateau could not be entered, but it
is large, looks well, and beholds the lake directly before it,
spread deliciously to the right and left. I walked up and
down the grounds, and over a path where she habitually
walked and wrote, and thought and burned with the love
of fame and France, — and plucked a leaf. She helped to
shape my mind, and to store and charm it. My love for her
began in college, growing as I come nearer to the hour when
such tongues must cease, and suoh knowledge vanish away.
Almost in sight was Lausanne. Jura is climbed by a noble

244 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VH
road which, if possible, grows better all the way to Tonnerre
Both sides seem cold, and wooded, not grateful to the hus
bandman ; and, upon the whole, the country till we left the
Jura at Poligny was not interesting. A French fortification
is building on the line, — beggary ceased instantly, — some
saw-mills to manufacture timber, — and for the rest it is a
moderately good farming country.
" At Poligny a new image ! The vast plain of Franche-
Comte, and then of Burgundy opened before us, and for near
two whole days, and a hundred miles, we rode through vast
fields of excellent Indian corn, and then through the great
grape region, all productive of famous wine ; some rare and
privileged spots, the cote du vin, productive of the most re
nowned wine in the world. Generally the eye turned every
way on a plain. On this rose some undulations, and these
grew more and more numerous as we approached the hither
limit of Burgundy. And this plain, thus undulating, some
times rising to hills, was covered all over with the two, not
kindred, yet not dissimilar, and both rich, harvests of maize
and vine. Peace, quiet labor, good husbandry, and an ample
return, a peasantry of good-looking men and women, and
well-clad children, large houses, whereof barn is part, the
name and history of Burgundy, all together left an image
sweet, peculiar, memorable.
" Quentin Durward, Louis XL, Philip de Comines, Charles
the Bold, the whole Ducal life, the whole vast struggle of
centralization, seem henceforth to have a clearer significance,
and a more real inherence in locality. Dijon is full of the
Ducal name and being. At Montbard, my dining-room win
dow looked on the solitary tower-study of Buffon, a sight of
deep and sad interest. At Tonnerre we took the rail, and
soon the valley of the Saone and Rhone, the slope to the
Mediterranean was left behind, and we came upon the tribu
taries of the Seine, the waters of the Cote d'Or, and of the
English Channel. Two hours we gave to Fontainebleau.
With a different, and in some respects less interest than Ver
sailles, it has a charm of its own. There is the private life
of French kings. St. Louis, Louis XIII., Francis I., Henry
IV., Louis XV., Napoleon, — are there en famille, the home
of kings. The spot of the ' Adieux at Fontainebleau,' near
the foot of the staircase in the court, the table of the signing
of the abdication ; his throne, his bedroom, the dining-hall,
the chapel of the two marriages (of Louis XV., and of the

1850.] JOURNAL — ENGLAND. 245
late Duke of Orleans, whose tomb I have just visited), the
glorious Gobelins, old and new, the hall of Henry and Diana
(of Poictiers), and of Francis, the gardens behind, the strik
ing of the clock, — all are worth a sight, a hearing, a mem
ory, a sigh.
" This approach to Paris is beautiful. The valley of the
Seine, stretching as far as the sight, the vine everywhere, yet
flocks of sheep, rye-fields, forests of royal chase hiterspersed
and contrasted, and at last the dome of the Invalides, and
the solemn towers of Notre Dame, — these are its general
spectacle and its particular images some of them.
" To-day I have attended vespers at St. Denis, and have
visited the tomb of the Duke of Orleans. They showed us
the restored series of the French royal dead, and gave us the
loud and low of the grandest organ ; and then I saw at the
chapel, which is the tomb of the Duke, such a mingling of
sharp grief ; parents and brothers in agony for the first-born,
and the dearly loved ; the son, brother, and heir-apparent,
with crushed hopes ; perishing dynasties ; as few other spots
of earth may show. If Thiers and Guizot were there, their
thoughts might wander from the immediate misery to the
possible results ; they might reflect that not only the imme
diate heir, but the only loved of France of that line was
dying. The organ was played just enough to show what
oceans and firmaments full of harmony are tliere accumulated.
Some drops, some rivulets, some grandest peals we heard,
identifying it, and creating longings for more. The first time
I have seen a Louis XI. was in that royal cemetery. He
wears a little, low hat, over a face of sinister sagacity.
" Cambridge, 1st September. — Since I came to Dover
(Aug.), my whole time has passed like a sweet yet exhausting
dream. England never looked to any eye, not filial, so sweet
as I found it from Dover to London. It was the harvest
home of Kent; and the whole way was through one great
field — through a thousand rather — some nodding yellow
and white, waiting the sickle ; some covered with the fallen
and partially gathered grain ; some showing a stubble —
extensive — the numerous and large stacks shaped and clus
tered as houses in villages, embodying the j'\e\d ; some green
with hops, grass, turnips ; everywhere glorious groves of great
trees ; everywhere trees standing large, hale, independent, —
one vast, various, yet monotonous image of the useful, plain,

246 JIEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VU.
rich, and scientiflc agriculture of England. Came to London.
I saw the interior of St. Paul's, the parks ; heard in some
fashionable ladies' society a story or two of Brougham ; heard
Grisi and Mario in three operas, — Norma : another by Don
izetti, comic, but a reckless squandering of delicious music- on
a story of a lover seeking a potion to make him loved ; and
finally Don Giovanni ; the trio, and the solo of Mario, by far
the best music I ever heard in that kind. Mario is handsome
— voluptuously ; his voice flexible, firm, rich as a clarionet.
" But from London what have I not seen ! Twickenham ;
Pope's Grotto — the views through it — Richmond Hill, and
its wealth of beautiful aspects ; Hampton Court, so glorious
in its exterior of trees, grounds, avenue, park — so disap
pointing -within, yet leaving an impression of William IIL;
Kensington, known to the world as a great, useful, botanic
garden ; Gray's home and poetical nourishments — the church
yard, ivy tower — mouldering heaps — yew-tree — his own
monument, his view of Eton — the ride to and fro — the
most intensely rural England ; Eton itself — the palace and
the matchless prospect from the keep ; Windsor forest. Old
Windsor — the vaUey of the Thames, and all the scenes
which the Augustan poetry of England loved, by which it
was fed and stimulated, on which a greater than that school
loved to look, and has done something to endear and to
immortalize. " When this was done, there was left to see the University
— - physical and mental architecture of England. I am glad
I went first to Oxford. I am doubly and for ever grateful
and glad, that the last great impression I shall take and hold
of England is to be that conveyed by the University of Cam
bridge. This day, Sunday, I have passed here at Cambridge,
¦with perhaps as keen and as various a pleasure as I ever felt,
— except at home, or in a book. But I begin with Oxford.
The country on the way disappointed me in the first place.
The whole city and the Colleges did so, even more crueUy,
in the next place. Something I ascribe to the day, — dark
and cold, — but not much. The Isis does nothing for Oxford,
that I could see, though some of the college walks are on its
meadows. The exterior of the Colleges, so far as I saw, was
not old only — that was well — but all old, only old, grim,
and with a worn and neglected look, as if the theory were to
keep for ever before the eye the old, old time and art and
product, unwarmed, unacidulated, unenlivened by the cimula-

1850.] JOURNAL — CAMBRIDGE. 247
tion of a drop of later life. I visited, however, the dining-hall
of Christ Church, and its chapel and library, with interest,
yet oppressed at every step with — I know not what — of the
retrogi-adiug or stationary and narrow and ungeiiial in opinion,
in policy, in all things. The Bodleian impressed by its regal
wealth and spaciousness. Altogether it seemed a place for
rest, for inertness, for monastic seclusion, for a dream, and a
sigh after the irrevocable past.
" This day at Cambridge has been such a contrast that I
distrust myself. The country from London, in spite of heavy
cloud and chill, was beautiful, — an undulating and apparently
rich surface, strongly suggestive of the best of Essex and
Middlesex. The impression made by the University portion
of Cambridge I can scarcely analyze. The architecture is
striking. The old is kept in repair ; the new harmonizes, and
is intrinsically beautiful, so that here seems a reconciliation
of past, present, and of the promise of the future. Conser
vation and progress — the old, beautified, affectionately and
gracefully linked to the present — an old field of new corn
— the new recalling the old, filial, reverential, yet looking
forward — -running, running a race of hope. The new part
of St. John is beautiful ; all of King's is striking, too. I
attended the cathedral service in King's Chapel, as striking
as St. George's in London, and then for a few minutes went
to the University Chapel, and again to All Saints' to see the
tablet and statue of Kirke White. The courts, buildings, and
grounds of Trinity are beautiful and impressive ; and in my
life I have never been filled by a succession of sweeter, more
pathetic, more thrilling sensations than in looking from the
window of Newton's room, walking in his walks, recaUing the
series of precedent, contemporaneous, and subsequent com
panionship of great names whose minds have been trained
here, and which pale and fade before his ! The grounds of
Trinity, St. John, St. Peter, are the finest I have seen ; the
two former on, and each side of, the Cam, which is bridged by
each college more than once, divided and conducted around
and through the gardens, so as artificially to adorn them
more, and to be made safe against inundation, — the latter
not reaching to the river, but even more sweet and redolent
of more and more careful and tasteful and modern horti
culture. I seem to find here an image of the true and the
great England. Here is a profusion of wealth, accumulated
and appropriated for ages, to a single aud grand end, — the

248 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VII
advancement of knowledge and the imparting of knowledge.
It is embodied to the eye in a city of buildings, much of it
beautiful, all of it picturesque and impressive, and in grounds
shaded, quiet, fittest seats of learning and genius. Something
there is of pictures ; great libraries are here. Learned men,
— who are only the living generation of a succession which,
unbroken, goes back for centuries, and comprehends a vast
proportion of the mind of the nation in aU its periods, — in
increasing numbers, tenant these walls, and are penetrated
by these influences. A union of the old, the recent, the
present, the prediction of the future, imaged iu the buildings,
in the grounds, by every thing, is manifested, — giving assur
ance and a manifestation of that marked, profound English
policy, which in all things acquires but keeps, — and binds the
ages and the generations by an unbroken and electric tie."
The Journal abruptly breaks off with this heartfelt
tribute, and was never resumed.
From this the travellers went to the north of
England, to Edinburgh, Abbotsford, Glasgow, and
through the lowlands of Scotland, and embarking at
Liverpool, reached home in September.

1850-1856.] FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW, 249

CHAPTER VIIL
1850-1855.
Political Excitement — Union Meetings — Address on Washington,
Feb. 1851 — The Case of Fairchild v. Adams — Address before the
" Story Association " — Webster Meeting in Faneuil HaU, Nov.
1851 — Argues an India-Rubber Case in Trenton — Baltimore
Convention, June, 1852 — Address to the Phi Beta Kappa Society,
Burlington, Vt. — Journey to Quebec — Death of Mr. Webster —
Letter to E. Jackson — Letter to Harvey Jewell, Esc[. — Letter to
Mrs. Eames — Offer of the Attorney-Generalship — Convention to
revise the Constitution of Massachusetts — Eulogy on Daniel
Webster, at Dartmouth College — Letter to his Daughter — Let
ters to Mrs. Eames — Letter to Mr. Everett — Letters to his Son
— Letters to his Daughter — Address at the Dedication of the
Peabody Institute, Sept. 1854 — Letters to Mr. Everett — Letter
to Mrs. Barnes — Accident and Illness — Letters to Mr. and Mrs.
Eames.
The state of the country in 1850 was such as to
cause great anxiety among thoughtful men. The
whole year was marked by a political excitement
second only in intensity to that which has since pro
duced such momentous results. The acquisition of
new territory from Mexico re-opened the question of
slavery. On the 7th of March, l\Ir. Webster made
his memorable speech on "the Constitution and the
Union." The law for the return of fugitive slaves
excited much opposition among a portion of the peo
ple at the North, while at the South there was wide
spread apprehension and discontent. This feeling

250 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIIL
was exasperated in both parts of the country, by
intemperate harangues, and inflammatory appeals
through the newspapers. The excitement became at
last so strong, that judicious and conservative men felt
bound to protest against, and, if possible, allay it.
Accordingly, Union meetings were held in different
States, — in Alabama, Kentucky, Ohio, New York,
Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts,
— and sound men of all parties united to deprecate
the disloyal and hostile sentiments which were too
frequently heard. The meeting in Boston was held
in Faneuil Hall, on the 26th of November. It was
opened by Hon. Benjamin R. Curtis, with an address
of great compactness and power, and closed with a
speech from Mr. Choate replete with profound feeling
as well as broad and generous patriotism; far-sighted
and wise in pointing out the dangers of the Republic,
and earnest and solemn, even beyond his wont, in
exhortation to avoid them.
In February, 1851, Mr. Choate delivered, in Charles
town, an address on Washington. He repeated it in
Boston. It was marked by his usual fervor, and
afforded him another opportunity of dwelling upon
that public virtue which he feared was losing its high
place and honor. An extract of a few pages wOl
show its spirit.
" In turning now," he said, " to some of the uses
to which this great example may contribute, I should
place among the first this, to which I have this
moment made allusion ; that is, that we may learn of
it how real, how lofty, how needful, and how beauti
ful a virtue is patriotism.

1850-1855.] ADDRESS ON WASHINGTON. 251
" It is among the strangest of all the strange things
we see and hear, that there is, so early iu our history,
a class of moralists among us, by whom that duty,
once held so sacred, which takes so permanent a place
in the practical teachings of the Bible, which Christ
ianity — as the Christian world has -all but universally
understood its own religion — not tolerates alone, but
enjoins by all its sanctions, and over which it sheds
its selectest influences, while it ennobles and limits it;
which literature, art, history, the concurrent precepts
of the wisest and purest of the race in all eras, have
done so much to enforce and adorn and regulate, — I
mean the duty of loving, with a specific and peculiar
love, our own country ; of preferring it to all others,
into which the will of God has divided man ; of guard
ing the integrity of its actual territory ; of advancing
its power, eminence, and consideration ; of moulding
it into a vast and indestructible whole, obeying a
common will, vi-vified by a common life, identified by a
single soul ; strangest it is, I say, of all that is strange,
we have moralists, sophists, rather, of the dark or
purple robe, by whom this master-duty of social man
is virtually and practically questioned, yea, dispar
aged. They deal with it as if it were an old-fashioned,
and half-barbarous and vulgar and contracted animal
ism, rather than a virtue. This love of country of
yours, they say, what is it, at last, but an immoral and
unphilosophical limitation and counteraction of the
godlike principle of universal Benevolence? These
symbols and festal days ; these processions, and mar
tial airs, and discourses of the departed great; this
endeared name of America, this charmed flag, this
memorial column, these old graves, these organic

252 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VHI.
forms, this boasted Constitution, this united national
existence, this ample and glorious history of national
progress, these dreams of national fortune, — alas !
what are they but shams, baubles, playthings for the
childhood of the race ; nursery ballads, like the Old
Testament ; devices of vanity, devices of crime, smell
ing villainously of saltpetre ; empty plausibilities ;
temporary and artificial expedients, say hindrances,
rather, by which the great and good, of all hemi
spheres and all races, are kept from running into one
another's embraces ; and man, the abstract, ideal, and
subjective conception of humanity, after having been
progressively developed, all the way up, from the
brain of a fish, is, in this nineteenth century, sacrificed
and smothered by his accidents ! Do not stoop so low
as to be a Patriot. Aspire to be a Philanthropist !
To reform your country, not to preserve your coun
try, is the highest style of man, nowadays. Root and
branch work of it, is the word. If she goes to pieces
in the operation, why, her time had come, and there
is an end of an old song. It will be only the ancient
myth of the fall of man and expulsion from Paradise,
— nothing but a stage of progress, — just a bursting
into a new life, rather different from the old, and
more of it, — that is all ! !
" It would be easy to expose the emptiness, pre-
sumptuousness, and dangers of such morality ; but I
direct you, for a better refutation, always to the life
and death of Washington. Was not that patriotism,
— virtue? Was it not virtue, entitling itself — in
the language of the Christian Milton — entitling
itself, after this mortal change, ' to a crown among
the enthroned gods on sainted seats ? ' Was that

1850-1855.] ADDRESS ON WASHINGTON. 253
patriotism selfish or vain or bloody or contracted ?
Was it the less sublime because it was practical and
because it was American? This making of a new
nation in a new world, this devising of instrumentali
ties, this inspiration of a spirit, whereby millions of
men, through many generations and ages, will come
one after another to the great gift of social being, —
shall be born and live and die in a vast brotherhood
of peace, — mental and moral advancement, and recip
rocation of succor and consolation, in life and death,
— what attribute of grandeur, what element of su
preme and transcendent beneficence and benevolence
does it lack? Is it not obedience to the will of God?
Does not He decree the existence of separate and
independent nations on the earth? Does not the
structure of the globe, its seas, mountains, deserts,
varieties of heat, cold, and productions ; does not the
social nature of man, the grand educational necessi
ties and intimations of his being ; does not the nature
of liberty ; does not his universal history, from the
birth of the world ; do not all things reveal it, as a
fundamental and original law of the race, — this dis
tribution into several National Life ? Is it not as
profoundly true to-day as ever ? ' Nihil est enim UU
principi Deo, qui omnem hunc mundum regit, quod
quidem in terris fiat, acceptius quam concilia, ccetusque
hominum jure sociati, quce, civitates appellantur.' ^
" Is not the national family as clear an appointment
of nature and nature's God as the family of the hearth?
Is it not a divine ordinance, even as love of parents
and love of children ? Nay, is it not, after all, the only
practical agency through which the most expansive
1 Cic. De Rep. vi. 13.

254 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
love of Man can be made to tell on Man ? And if so,
if the end is commanded, that is, if the existence of
the independent and entire State is commanded, are
not the means of insuring that end commanded also ?
And if so, are not the traits, the deeds, the care,
the valor, the spirit of nationality, the obedience to the
collective will and reason as expressed through the
prescribed organic form ; are not all these sentiments,
and all that policy, ' the great scenery, the heroic feel
ings, the blaze of ancient -virtue, the exalted deaths,'
which are directed specifically and primarily to the
creation and preservation of the State, — are they not
highest in the scale of things commanded? Must
not ' being,' in the antithesis of Hooker, go before
even ' well being ' ? Away then with this spurious
and morbid morality of the purple robe, which erects
the uses of some particular, moral, or social, or eco
nomical reform, that if not affected to-day, may be
to-morrow, above the keeping of the Republic, which,
once descended into the tomb of nations, shall rise
not, till the heavens be no more ; which dislocates
impiously the fair and divinely appointed order of the
duties, which thinks it savors of lettered illumination,
to look down on that glorious family of virtues-which
holds kingdoms and commonwealths in their spheres.
Give me back rather, give back to America rather, —
she needs it yet, for a century, till her national being,
so recent, so immature, is compacted to the consistency
of pyramids, — give her back rather the faith and the
philosophy of that day which prayed in every pulpit
for the arms of Washington ; which in the gorgeous
orientalism of Robert Hall, say rather of the Scrip
ture itself, believed that, guided and inspired by the

1850-1855.] ADDRESS ON WASHINGTON. 255
Mighty Hand, his hosts, in the day of battle, might
have their eyes opened, to behold in every plain and
every valley, what the prophet beheld by the same
illumination, — chariots of fire, and horses of fire;
which saw in his escape from the wasting rifle-shot of
the Monongahela, a prediction, and a decree of some
transcendent public service, for which he was saved,
" To form and uphold a State, it is not enough that
our judgments believe it to be useful ; the better part
of our affections must feel it to be lovely. It is not
enough that our arithmetic can compute its value, and
find it high ; our hearts must hold it priceless, above
all things rich or rare, dearer than health or beauty,
brighter than all tbe order of the stars. It does not
suffice that its inhabitants should seem to you good
men enough to trade with, altogether even as the rest
of mankind ; ties of brotherhood, memories of a com
mon ancestry, common traditions of fame and justice,
a common and undivided inheritance of rights, liber
ties, and renown, — these things must knit you to them
with a distinctive and domestic attraction. It is not
enough that a man thinks he can be an unexceptionable
citizen, in the main, and unless a very unsatisfactory
law passes. He must admit, into his bosom, the spe
cific and mighty emotion of patriotism. He must love
his country, his whole country, as the place of his birth
or adoption, and the sphere of his largest duties ; as
the playground of his childhood, the land where his
fathers sleep, the sepulchre of the valiant and wise, of
his own blood and race departed ; he must love it for
the long labors that reclaimed and adorned its natural
and its moral scenery ; for the great traits and great

256 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VEH.
virtues of which it has been the theatre ; for the insti
tution and amelioration and progress that enrich it ;
for the part it has played for the succor of the nations.
A sympathy indestructible must draw him to it. It
must be of power to touch his imagination. All the
passions which inspire and animate in the hour of con
flict must wake at her awful voice."
In the earlier part of this year Mr. Choate defended
his pastor, Rev. Dr. Adams, on a charge of slander.
The case was peculiar and presented some interesting
points for the clerical profession in general.'
" The action of Fairchild v. Adams was for written
and verbal slander. Mr. Fairchild, while pastor of a
church in South Boston, became a member of the Suf
folk South Association of Ministers ; Rev. Dr. Adams
being also a member. Mr. Fairchild was privately
charged by one Rhoda Davidson with being the father
of her illegitimate child ; and she demanded of him
a considerable sum of money. He paid her a part of
what she demanded, and promised to pay her further
sums, and wrote her a letter which was strongly indic
ative of the truth of the charge. The circumstances
having become known to a few persons in his society,
he asked a dismission, under a threat of exposure,
and went to Exeter, N. H., where he was installed as
a pastor. Having learned, soon after his settlement
there, that there must be a public exposure of the
affair, he attempted to commit suicide. Soon after
wards an ecclesiastical council met at Exeter, which
' For the following account I am indebted to Hon. R. A. Chap
man, late Chief Justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court, one of
the referees before whom the case was tried.

1850-1855.] CASE OF FAIRCHILD <-. ADAMS. 257
advised that he should be dismissed from his charge,
and degraded from the ministry. He was about this
time indicted at Boston for adultery, but kept out of
the State, and was not taken upon the warrant till
after the lapse of a considerable time. He finally re
turned and took his trial, and was acquitted, as it was
understood, because the testimony of the witness
Davidson was impeached. After this acquittal he re
turned to his former pursuit in South Boston, and
received a call to settle there. A council was con
vened, which advised his settlement, taking the ground
that his acquittal in a criminal court should be treated
by an ecclesiastical council as conclusive evidence of
his innocence. From this position Dr. Adams and
other inembers of the association alwaj's dissented,
and refused to recognize him as a minister.
" Before the meeting of the council at Exeter, some
discussion had taken place in respect to the standing
of Mr. Fairchild in the Suffolk South Association ; and
it had been arranged that the association should be
governed by the result of that council. Accordingly,
after he had been degraded from the ministry, the
association passed a vote, reciting that result, and ex
pelling him from their body. After he had been again
installed in South Boston, he requested of the associ
ation a copy of the vote by which they had expelled
him. The copy was accordingly furnished him, after
which he sent them a communication demanding that
they should rescind the vote as a libel, and restore him
to good standing as a member ; and he proposed to
appear before them, and offer evidence and arguments
on the question of rescinding the vote, and proposed
to some of the members to make inquiries of certain
17

258 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VHL
persons in respect to some of the accusations that had
been made against him. The association gave him a
hearing, and, after its close, each of the members was
called upon to give an opinion, with the reasons for it.
Among others Dr. Adams gave his vote in favor of a
resolution adverse to the restoration of Mr. Fairchild,
and stated verbally his reasons for it. He was selected
as the object of a suit, because he was a man of influ
ence, and because of some personal feelings ; and the
-written slander consisted of the resolution that was
passed, and the verbal slander of the reasons stated
by Dr. Adams for believing in the guilt of Mr. Fair-
child. " The cause was heard before referees agreed on
by the parties, and several very interesting questions
arose on the hearing. Among them was the question
to what extent should ministers and churches be influ
enced by the acquittal of a man charged with a crime
in a civil court. Mr. Choate contended that inasmuch
as the rules of evidence are different in civil and eccle
siastical tribunals ; inasmuch as some things are re
garded as criminal in one that may not be in the other;
inasmuch as a defendant may be acquitted by the jury
from mere doubt, or from collusion of the party with
a -witness who suffers his testimony to be broken
down, or omits to disclose the whole truth, the ver
dict ought not ipso facto to restore the party, but
should only furnish a ground of consideration for
action. The debate on this point also led him to an
investigation of the constitution, history, and usages
of Congregational churches and associations of min
isters. " Another question was, whetlier associations of

1850-1855.] CASE OF FAIRCHILD v. ADAMS. 259
ministers had power to expel their members for alleged
offences, without being held in an action of slander to
prove to a jury that the party is guilty. On the part
of Mr. Fairchild, it was contended that these bodies
had no privileges in this respect beyond that of the
ordinary slanderer, who utters a charge of crime
against his neighbor where the matter does not con
cern him. On the part of Dr. Adams it was contended
that the case came -within the class called privileged
communications ; that is, when in the transaction of
business or the discharge of a duty, one person has
proper occasion to speak of another, and in good faith
and without malice alleges that he has been guilty of
a crime. In such cases he may defend himself in an
action for slander by pro-ving that he thus acted, and
-without pro-ving to the jury that the accusation is true.
The discussion of this question led to an investigation
of the authorities to be found in the books of law in
reference to the general doctrine, and also to the
nature and history of associations of ministers, and
their relation to the churches. My minutes of the
points and authorities are pretty full ; but they would
give no idea of the style and manner of Mr. Choate's
argument. " The referees were of opinion that associations are
pri-vileged to inquire into the conduct of their mem
bers, and in good faith to pass votes of expulsion,
stating the reasons of their proceeding, and are not
responsible to legal tribunals for the accuracy of their
conclusions. They were satisfied that Dr. Adams
acted in good faith, and made an award in his favor,
which, after argument, was sustained by the Court.
The case is reported in 11 Cushing, 549."

260 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI
In May, 1851, Mr. Choate argued a cause, which,
whether estimated by the interests at stake, or the
signal ability of the counsel, or the subtleness of the
questions at issue, would undoubtedly be considered
one of the most important in which he was ever en
gaged. It was that generally known as the "Method
ist Church Case." It was heard in New York, before
the Circuit Court of the United States, Justices
Nelson and Betts presiding. At the time it was,
from obvious reasons, of the deepest interest to the
whole Methodist world of the United States, and al
though it concerned property alone, yet the members
and presses of the Church at the North always main
tained most urgently, and apparently most truthfully,
that the pecuniary gain or loss was quite inconse
quential ; that the real question was, whether the
General Conference of Churches could lawfully act so
as to destroy the entirety of the Church ; that if it
could divide the Church in this instance, there was
no limit to the future subdivisions that might be
made. It is also proper to state that the Church at
the North was anxious to harmonize the existing dis
pute, and, it is understood, made, as they thought, a
very liberal offer of compromise, which was rejected
by the Southern Church.
This dispute originated in that prolific source of
ill, — slavery. Various questions, growing out of the
connection of the Southern Churchmen with Slavery,
had, at various times, arisen in the Church, leading to
a growing alienation of the two sections. Finally, at
a General Conference of the then united Church, held
at New York in June, 1844, a " plan of separation "
was drawn up, looking to a final division of the

1850-1855.] METHODIST CHURCH CASE. 261
Church, which, among other matters, provided that
each section of the country should have its own
Church, independent of the other; that ministers of
every grade might attach themselves without blame
to either Church, as they preferred ; that a change of
the first clause of the sixth restrictive article should
be recommended so as to read : " They shall not ap
propriate the produce ofthe ' Book Concern ' other than
for the benefit of travelling, supernumerary, superan
nuated, and worn-out preachers, their wives, widows,
and children, and such other purposes as a General
Conference may determine ; " that on the adoption
of this recommendation hj the Annual Conferences,
the Northern Agents should deliver to the Southern
Agents so much of certain property belonging to the
Church as the number of travelling preachers in the
Southern bore to the number of the same class in
the Northern Church ; that all the property of the
Church within the limits of the Southern organization
should be for ever free from any claim of the Church,
and that the Churches, North and South, should have
a right in common to use all copyrights of the New
York and Cincinnati " Book Concerns " at the time
of settlement.
Included in this was the large property called the
" Book Concern," the proceeds of which were to be
appropriated as the change in the first clause of the
sixth article above stated shows, and which was origi
nally instituted by that class which is now its bene
ficiaries. This "Book Concern " was vested in agents,
and against them this action was brought by the
Southern agents to compel a delivery of their share
of the property.

262 MEMOER OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIIL
The plaintiffs maintained that the resolutions of the
General Conference were of binding force, and that
the General Conference of the Southern Church had
acted upon them in good faith, and passed resolutions
declaring the expediency of separation; and that,
after this action of the Southern Conference, a coun
cil of Northern Bishops met at New York, and passed
resolutions ratifying the " plan " of the General Con
ference of 1844, regarding it as of binding obligation.
In reply to this, the defendants, admitting many of
the plaintiffs' allegations, rested their defence mainly
on the following propositions : —
1. That the resolutions of the General Conference
of 1844, when properly understood, do not impart an
unqualified assent of that body to a division of the
Methodist Episcopal Church into two separate and
distinct organizations or churches ; that the assent
thereby given was conditional and contingent, and
that the conditions were not complied with, nor has
the contingency happened.
2. That, if otherwise, the General Conference was
not possessed of competent power and authority to
assent to, or authorize the division. And,
3. That the division, therefore, which took place
was a nullity, and the separate organization a wrong
ful withdrawal and disconnection from the member
ship, communion, and government of the Church, by
reason of which the travelling, supernumerary, and
worn-out preachers composing the separate organiza
tion, are taken out of the description of the benefici
aries of the fund.
The decision of Justice Nelson was adverse to the
Northern party; and this view was subsequently
maintained by the Supreme Court in Washington.

'850-1855.] ADDRESS AT CAMBRIDGB. 263
In July of this year (1851), Mr. Choate again
addressed the Law School at Cambridge, or rather
" The Story Association," composed of the past and
present members of the School. And here, moved
by the dangerous heresies which seemed to him too
familiarly received in the community, the orator urged
upon the profession the new duty, as he called it, of
checking the spirit of disloyalty, by correcting the
public judgment, — by enlightening and directing
the public sense of right. " This then," he said, " is
the new duty, the opus aureum, to cherish the Religion
of the Law, — to win back the -virtues to the service of
the State, and, with Cicero and Grotius, to make
loyalty to Law the fundamental principle in each
good man's breast. The capital defect of the day is,
not that conscience is too much worshipped, but that
it is not properly limited. Its true sphere is not
properly seen and circumscribed. Men think that by
the mere feeling -within them of a sense of right, they
can test great subjects to which the philosophy of
ages leads the way, and can try a grand complex
polity, embracing a multitude of interests and con
flicting claims and duties. But these ethical politics
do not train the citizen ab extra to be enlightened on
these subjects.
" Morality should go to school. It should consult
the builders of Empire, and learn the arts imperial by
which it is preserved, ere it ventures to pronounce on
the construction and laws of nations and common
wealths. For, unless the generation of Washington
was in a conspiracy against their posterity, and the ,
generation of this day, in high and judicial station, is
in the same plot, the large toleration which inspires
the Constitution and the Laws was not only wise<

264 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
but was indispensable to forming or keeping any
union, and to the prosperity of us all.
" Let the babblers against the laws contemplate
Socrates in his cell about to quaff the poison which
Athens presented to him. He is pleading with his
disciples for the sanctity of the very law which con
demns him : he refuses to escape ; and, ' after a brief
discourse on the immortality of the soul,' he dies. Let
them learn, that ere laws and constitutions can be
talked about, they must at least be the subject of u.
special study. Their transcendental philosophy must
condescend to study, not only the character, but even
the temper, of a people, and this not a priori, but as
it appears in the local press and public demonstrations.
Then they would observe that there are three great
things adverse to the permanence of our National
Government, — its recency, its artificial structure, and
the peculiar facilities which the State organizations
afford for separation : and from this study they would
learn how little they know what a work it was to
found and keep the Republic and its laws. ' Tanta
molis erat Romanam condere gentem.''
" To exercise this conservative influence, to beget
a distrust of individual and unenlightened judgment,
on matters of such vast import and extent, and to
foster a religious reverence for the laws, is the new
duty which the times demand of the legal profession."
On the death of Hon. Levi Woodbury, one of the
Judges of the United States Supreme Court, in Sep
tember, 1851, it is understood that the place was offered
. to Mr. Choate, but he felt obliged to decline the honor.'
^ Hon. Peter Harvey, in his " Reminiscences of Daniel Webster,"
says, " After the death of Judge Woodbury and the consequent vacancy
in the United States Supreme Court, Mr. Webster [then Secretary

1850-1855.] LETTER TO HIS SON. 265

[Lettek to his son, Rnrus, then in Amherst College.]
"Boston, 11 October, Saturday evening.
"My DEAR Son, — I get so little time, now that J. is
gone, and all the courts are sitting, to do what I should love
most to do, that I have been obliged to neglect writing at the
very moment when letters from home might be the most
pleasant and useful to you. To-day I gain a little respite,
and feel as if I must send you my love, if no more. Your
letters to your mother and sisters seem to show you happy
and contented, yet loving to think and hear of home. So I
hope it will be through your whole college life. If now we
can continue to hear that you escape all the sickness of col
lege — remain the same true and good boy as ever — with a
little more development of the love of study — good books — •
noble examples — and true excellence — our happiness for
the present would be complete. You have been so excellently
fitted, that 1 know you can stand high in the class, and 1
entreat you to resolve — not by foul means but by fair — to
win such prizes as those with which E. gladdens his father'b
and sisters' hearts. All that I can ever do for you is — if
I live (all depends on that) — to afford you the means of
laying a foundation for eminence and usefulness — by scholar
ship. If you neglect these, all is lost. But I am sure you
will not, I hope that you will from the start cultivate
elocution. The power of speaking with grace and energy —
the power of using aright the best words of our noble lan
guage — is itself a fortune — and a reputation — if it is
associated and enriched by knowledge and sense. I would
therefore give a special attention to all that is required of
you in this department. But not one study prescribed by
the government is to be neglected. It is a large and liberal
course, and fits well for the introduction to a really solid and
elegant education. Cultivate the best scholars and minds ;
and while you treat all men well, do not squander time on
shallow, frivolous, and idle boys.
" I believe my library has received its last finish since you
were here. Next to my whole family, here and elsewhere,
I love it best of all things of earth, and wish I could gain
of State], said, 'Mr. Choate will have the offer of this, but I do not
know as he will take it. The oiier is due to him as the first lawyer
in New England. I shall make him the offer.' " The place was
afterwards given to Hon. Benjamm R. Curtis.

266 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VUL
more time from plaintiffs and defendants to give to its
solaces, utilities, and amenities.
" We begin to count the weeks to jour first return ! Be
most prudent to avoid the sicknesses you speak of — and
aU things else that shaU prevent your bringing back the
bloom of body and heart which you carried away. Your
mother is not very well, but sends love and cautions, as do
the sisters three. Give our united love to E. and teU him
we look to him fbr our son. " YOUK AFFEC. FaTHEE."

[Lettek to his son Rufus.] " Boston, 6th March,18b2.
" Mt dearest Edfus, — I have been quite unwell for a
fortnight — unusually so for me — and I am not sure that I
am yet wholly restored. In the intervals of sharp neuralgic
pains, I have been either exhausted, or very busy ; and
therefore, although my thoughts and heart have been very
much turned towards you, I have not been able to write.
The ghls and your mother have given you my love — but
neither they nor I can convey any idea of how much I love
you ; how anxious I feel for your true and best good ; and
how inexpressibly happy I shall be to know that you love
learning ; love honor, character, and virtue ; and have ener
getically and hopefully set out on the career of usefulness
and respectability. Sometimes I regret that I did not incur
the expense and run the hazards of Cambridge, that we might
see your pleasant face, and give you a helping hand, and a
pleasant family welcome once a week. But my means are
really so small — depending wholly on my health — from
day to day, and the temptations, and general influences of
this great school so severe — and Amherst promises so much
help to studious habits, and moral dispositions, that we have
plucked you as from our arms, to send you to a safer and
more beautiful spot. I hope, my most dear child, all our
wishes will be gratified in the result.
" The thing I most of all, or as much as any thing, regret,
is that I cannot, from day to day, go over with you the
studies of the day. My college life was so exquisitely happy,
that I should love to relive it in my son. The studies of
Latin and Greek, Livy, Horace, Tacitus — • Xenophon,
Herodotus, and Thucydides especially, — had ever a charm

1850-1855.] LETTER TO HIS SON. 267
beyond expression ; and the first opening of our great
English authors, Milton, Addison, Johnson, and the great
writers for the Reviews, made that time of my life a brief,
sweet, dream. They created tastes, and supplied sources of
enjoyment, which support me to this hour — in fatigue, ill-
health, and low spirits — and I must say I could not then,
and cannot now, look with a particle of respect or interest on
any classmate who did not relish these delicious and ennobling
sources of scholarlike enjoyment and accomplishment, and
resolve to be distinguished by his command of them.
" You are so infinitely better fitted for college than I was
— or than almost any in your class can be — that I am sure
you can lead if you will resolve to do so. Be just and gen
erous to all. Use no arts to supplant others with the
government, but by study, — persistent and habitual — give
me the supreme gratification of hearing that you stand in
good conduct as you did at the Latin school — and in scholar
ship among the foremost. Oh, think what delight you will
give us all to know that the days of exhibition in your class
are days your mother, sisters, and I, can attend with pride
and hope !
" I have conceived so much anxiety about my health —
for reasons which I hardly communicate to the family —
that I seem to feel that at any moment you might be left the
only support of those you love so dearly. Such an event
would leave you all poor. Continue to be then, my dear son,
frugal, temperate, and thoughtful. K I live, I hope you
will read the law with me, and rise to its honors, but your
immediate sphere of duty is coUege life, and through that I
am sure you mean to pass with distinction and safety.
" I have sometimes given you presents. I would ' coin
my heart for drachmas ' rather than that you should want the
means of a thorough education ; and / now promise you, if
you wUl bring me satisfactory evidence at the end of the
term, of good conduct, and high, good scholarship, / wiU
give you, the most valuable gift -which you have ever yet had,
or had promised : I shall not tell you what.
" Give my love to Edward. Pray avoid all idle and all
vicious companions, and cultivate the ambitious, studious, and
rising — rising by merit.
" I want you to write me a full letter, telling me your
daily life and studies, what you like best, and why.
" Bless you, dear son. Your father,
" R. Choate."

268 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VDl
During the years 1851 and 1852, notwithstand
ing the increasing demands of his profession, Mr.
Choate continued deeply interested in national poli
tics. There were many at the North dissatisfied with
the compromise measures of 1850, and alienated from
Mr. Webster, on account of his speech on the 7th of
March. There were others who believed those meas
ures to be in general wise and conciliatory, and that
Mr. Webster never assumed a position more dignified
and patriotic, or showed a more profound sense of the
demands of the whole country. The Massachusetts
Whigs of this class determined to call a public meet
ing, in order to present to the country the name of
that great statesman as a candidate for the Presi
dency. The convention was held on the 25th of
November, 1851, and proved to be one of the largest,
most respectable, and most enthusiastic gatherings of
the year. It was presided over by Hon. George
Ashmun ; and the principal address was made by
Mr. Choate. Of all the tributes to Mr. Webster,
never was one more hearty, more sincere, or more
stirring than that which he then delivered. His
whole soul was alive with his theme. A sense of the
injustice which that great statesman had suffered; of
the angry and slanderous attacks made upon him by
the little and malignant; of the insult which one
of the boards of the city government had contrived to
inflict by refusing to him — the first citizen of the
State — permission to speak in Faneuil Hall; the in
gratitude with which many at the North had requited
his long and arduous and grand services, — all inspired
the orator to a strain of fervid declamation, which
swept the vast assembly with him as if but one spirit
moved them all.

1850-lSo5.J B.\LTDrORE CONVENTION, JUNE, 1852. 269
The early part of the year 1852 was marked by
nothing of peculiar interest. In March he made a
powerful argument in an India-rubber case, in Tren
ton, N. J. Mr. Webster was on the opposite side —
one of his latest appearances in a case of great impor
tance. Ish. Choate was said to have surpassed himself
in learning, strength, and brilliancy ; but of the argu
ment, as of the great majority of speeches at the bar,
absolutely nothing remains — ipsce periere ruince.
The Whig Convention for the nomination of a can
didate for the Presidency — the last National Conven
tion of the party — met in Baltimore on Wednesday
the 16th of June, 1852. The secret history of it is yet
to be written.
The place of meeting was a spacious hall. The
members occupied a raised platform in the centre ;
spectators, from all parts of the country, sat upon
benches at the sides, while the gallery was filled -with
ladies. Two days were spent in effecting an organiza
tion, and preparing a series of resolutions. It was con
sidered doubtful whether a platform could be agreed
upon, binding the party to the ' compromise meas
ures," as they were called. As these measures were
not entirely acquiesced in by many of the Northern
members, it was supposed to be the policy of some to
make the nomination without a declaration of political
sentiments on the question of slavery, and then to re
solve that no such declaration was necessary. If this
were the plan, it did not succeed. It was understood
that General Scott had written to some member of
the Convention assenting to these " measures," though
for some reason the letter had not been produced.
The resolutions were at length read, and all eyes

270 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VHI.
turned toward the seats occupied by the Massachu
setts delegates. Mr. Choate presently rose ; it was
about half-past five o'clock on the afternoon of Friday.
The thousand fans ceased to flutter, and the hall was
silent with expectation. He began in a quiet manner,
as he usually did, with an allusion to the general
sentiment of the platform itself, and then broke into
a more fervent strain of thanksgiving to God, that a
sentiment urged before, many times and in many
places, seemed now likely, by so near an approach to
unanimity, to be adopted and promulgated by that
authority, among the highest which he recognized,
the National Whig Party of the United States, in
General Convention assembled.
" Sir," said he, " why should not this organ of one
of the great national parties, which, pervading the
country, while they divide the people, confirm the
Union, — for I hold that these party organizations,
wisely and morally administered, are among the most
powerful instrumentalities of union, — here, now, and
thus declare, that, in its judgment, the further agita
tion of the subject of slavery be excluded from, and
forbidden in, the national politics ? Why should it
not declare that if agitation must continue, it shall be
remitted to the forum of philanthropy, of literature,
of the press, of sectional organization, of fanaticism,
organized or unorganized ; but that the Federal Gov
ernment has in this field closed its labors and retires,
leaving it to the firmness of a permanent Judiciary to
execute what the Legislature has ordained ?
" Why should we not engage ourselves to the
finality of the entire series of measures of compro
mise ? Does any member of this body believe that the

1850-1855.] SPEECH EST BALTIMORE. 271
interests of the nation, the interests of humanity, our
highest interests, our loftiest duties, require an attempt
to disturb them ? Was it needful to pass them ? Did
not a moral necessity compel it ? Who now doubts
this ? I do not deny that some good men have done so,
and now do. I am quite well aware that fanaticism
has doubted it, or has affected to doubt it, to the end
that it may leave itself free, unchecked by its own
conscience, to asperse the motives of the authors and
advocates of this scheme of peace and reconciliation,
— to call in question the soundness of the ethics on
which it rests, and to agitate for ever for its repeal.
But the American people know, by every kind and
degree of evidence by which such a truth ever can be
known, that these measures, in the crisis of their
time, saved this nation. I thank God for the civil
courage, which, at the hazard of all things dearest in
life, dared to pass and defend them, and ' has taken
no step backward.' I rejoice that the healthy moral
ity of the country, with an instructed conscience, void
of offence toward God and man, has accepted them.
Extremists denounce all compromises, ever. Alasl
do they remember that such is the condition of hu
manity that the noblest politics are but a compromise
-an approximation — a type — a shadow of good
things — the buying of great blessings at great prices?
Do they forget that the Union is a compromise ; the
Constitution — social life, — that the harmony of the
universe is but the music of compromise, by which
the antagonisms of the infinite Nature are composed
and reconciled ? Let him who doubts — if such there
be — whether it were wise to pass these measures,
look back and recall with what instantaneous and

272 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
mighty charm they calmed the madness and anxiety
of the hour ! How every countenance, everywhere,
brightened and elevated itself ! How, in a moment,
the interrupted and parted currents of fraternal feel
ing reunited ! Sir, the people came together again, as
when, in the old Roman history, the tribes descended
from the mount of secession, — the great compromise
of that constitution achieved, — and flowed together
behind the eagle into one mighty host of reconciled
races for the conquest of the world.
" Well, if it were necessary to adopt these measures,
is it not necessary to continue them ? In their nature
and office, are they not to be a.s permanent as the
antagonisms to which they apply? Would any man
here repeal them if he could command the numerical
power? Does he see any thing but unmixed and
boundless evil in the attempt to repeal them? Why
not, then, declare the doctrine of their permanence?
In the language of Daniel Webster, ' Why delay the
declaration ? Sink or swim, live or die, survive or
perish, I am for it.'
" Sir, let me suggest a reason or two for this for
mality of announcement of such a declaration in such
a platform. In the flrst place, our predecessors of
the Democratic Convention, in this hall, have made
it indispensable. If we do not make it as comprehen
sive and as unequivocally as they have, we shall be
absorbed, scattered ! — absorbed by the whirlpool, —
scattered by the whirlwind of the sentiment of nation
ality which they have had the sagacity to discern and
hide under. Look at their platform, and see what a
multitude of sins of omission and commission, bad
policy and no policy, the mantle of national feeling is

ISiO-lSo-Vl SPEECH IN BALTUIORE. 273
made not ungracefully to cover. And remember that
you may provide a banquet as ample as you will ;
you may load the board with whatever of delicacy or
necessity ; you may declare yourselves the promoters
of commerce, wheresoever, on salt water or fresh
water, she demands your care ; the promoters of in
ternal improvements, — of the protection of labor,
promising to the farmer of America the market of
America, — of peace with all nations, entangling alli
ances with none, — of progress not by external aggres
sion, but by internal development ; spread your board
as temptingly as you will, if the national appetite
does not find there the bread and water of national
life, the aliment of nationality, it will turn from your
provisions in disgust.
" Again : some persons object to all such attempt
to give sacredness and permanence to any policy of
government, or any settlement of any thing by the
people. They object to them as useless, as unphilo
sophical, as mischievous. The compromise measures
are nothing, they say, but a law ; and, although we
think them a very good law, yet better turn them over
to the next elections, the next Presidential canvass,
the next session of Congress, to take their chance.
If they are of God, of nature, of humanity, they will
stand anyhow ; and if not, they ought not to stand.
" I am not quite of this opinion. I know, indeed,
how vain it is to seek to bind a future generation, or
even a future day. I see the great stream of progress
passing by, on which all things of earth are moving.
I listen, awe-struck, to the voice of its rushing. Let
all who have eyes to see and ears to hear, see and
hear also. Stfll I believe something may be done at
18

274 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. VHI.
favorable junctures to shape, color, confirm even, so
capricious and so mighty a thing as public opinion.
This is the theory on which written constitutions are
constructed. Why such toil on these, unless in the
belief that you may and should seek to embody and
fix an important agreement of the national mind, —
may for a little space moor the ship against the stream,
and insure that when she is swept from that mooring,
she may not be instantly shattered, but float with some
safety, and under some control, to the ocean?
" I believe, and have many times asserted and en
forced the idea, that if the two great national parties
would now, in this most solemn, public, authoritative
manner, unite in extracting and excluding this busi
ness of the agitation of slavery from their political
issues, — if they would adjudge, decree, and proclaim
that this is all a capital on which a patriotic man, or
body of men, may not trade ; that the' subject is out
of the domain of politics, disposed of by the higher
law of a common national consent, founded on ,a re
gard for the common good, — and that if they would
go into the coming and all contests upon their proper
and strict political issues, each contending with the
other only for the glory of a greater participation in
the compromise, much would be done to perpetuate the
national peace within, which we now enjoy. What
ever the result of the canvass, and however severely
it might be conducted, it would be one great jubilee
of Union, in which the discordant voice of sections
and fanaticism would be silenced or unheard.
" Let me trouble you with one more reason for
adopting this compromise. Sir, let us put it out of our
power to be tempted, in the excitement of this election.

1850-1855.] BALTIMORE CONVENTION, JUNE, 1852. 275
to press the claims of our candidate in one part of the
country on the ground that his success will extinguish
agitation, and to press the claims of the same candi
date in another part of it on the ground that his suc
cess will promote agitation. As gentlemen and men
of honor and honest men, let us take the utmost
security against this. Who does not hang down his
head in advance with shame, at the fraud and falsehood
exemplified in going into one locality and crying out
of the Northern side of our mouths, ' No platform ! —
agitation for ever ! — ours is the candidate of progress
and freedom ! ' And then going into another and
shouting through the Southern side, ' All right ! —
we are the party of compromise! — we have got no
platform, to be sure, but Mr. So-and-so has got a first-
rate letter in his breeches-pocket, and Mr. So-and-so
is vehemently believed to have one in his, — either of
them as good as half a dozen platforms.' Pray, if you
love us, put us into no such position as this. Lead us
not into such temptation, and deliver us from such
evil. How much better to send up the Union flag
at once to each masthead, blazing with ' Liberty and
Union, now and for ever, one and inseparable,' and
go down even so ! "
The effect of this speech upon the audience, who
frequently interrupted him with enthusiastic applause,
was indescribable. After the cheering had somewhat
subsided, remarks were made by several members of
the Convention, and a running conversation for some
time kept up concerning the letter of General Scott,
till finally one was produced and read. Mr. Botts,
of Virginia, in the course of his remarks criticised Mr.
Choate for an implied imputation upon General Scott,

276 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHL
and an implied commendation of Mr. Webster. He
closed by asking whether he should move the adoption
of the resolutions and call for the previous question,
saying, however, that he would not do so, even at the
request of the entire Convention, if the gentleman
from Massachusetts felt aggrieved at his remarks
and desired to respond. There were loud cries for
" Choate." " First," says one who was present, " by
his friends of the Convention, then by his partisans
on the floor, and then by the gay galleries. The
jhorus was immense, imperative, and determined."
After some hesitancy he at last rose, and in a tone of
imperial grace said, " I shall endeavor to keep -within
the rule laid down by the chairman. I beg to assure
gentlemen that nothing in the world was further from
my intention than to enter upon any eulogy of that
great man, my friend of so many years, whose name
is as imperishably connected with a long series of all
the civil glories of his country as it is with this last
and greatest of his achievements. I assure you. Sir,
upon my honor, and I assure the gentleman from
Virginia on my honor also, that I rose solely and
simply to express, in the briefest possible terms, the
convictions of myself and of many gentlemen here
on the merits of the general subject itself without
appreciating what possible influence the remarks I
might submit would exert on the chances of this,
that, or the other eminent person for receiving the
nomination of the Convention."
Being interrupted here by a question from Mr.
Botts, " Whether he understood the gentleman rightly
as saying that he did not mean to depreciate any
other candidate, when speaking of that one who was

1850-1855.] SPEECH IN BALTIMORE. 277
his first choice," he proceeded, " I meant to present
a sound argument to the Convention, to the end that
this Convention might stand committed as men of
honor everywhere. I say, here and everywhere, give
us that man, and you will promote peace and suppress
agitation; and if you give us any other, you have
no assurance at all that that agitation will be sup
pressed. " I am, suspected of having risen to pay a personal
compliment to that great name -with which I confess
my heart is full to bursting, because I stand here,
according to my measure, to praise and defend the
great system of policy which the unanimous judgment
of this Convention has approved, or is about to approve
and promulgate. Ah, Sir, what a reputation that must
be, — what a patriotism that must be, — what a long
and brilliant series of public services that must be,
when you cannot mention a measure of utility like
this but every eye spontaneously turns to, and every
voice spontaneously utters, that great name of
Daniel Webster !
" I have done. Sir. I have no letter to present,
written last week, or the week before last. Mr. Web
ster's position on this question dates where the peace
of the country had its final consummation, on the 7th
of March, 1850.
" But, Sir, I did not intend to electioneer in the
slightest degree. If my friend from Virginia will re
call the course of my observations, he will find that I
confined myself exclusively to the defence of the
measure itself. But so it is that there is some such
reputation that you cannot stand up and ask for glory
and blessing, and honor and power, or length of day.s

278 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap Vm.
upon America, but you seem to be electioneering for
that great reputation."
The scene that followed was one of intense enthu
siasm. Bouquets were thrown at the feet of the
orator, and every demonstration made which could
indicate homage and delight. All were amazed at
the ingenuity of the speech as well as captivated by
its eloquence. The platform was adopted by a vote
of 227 to 66.
There was another speech made by Mr. Choate dur
ing the sitting of the Convention, at a private enter
tainment given by the Massachusetts members to
some of those from the South-west, which is said to
have produced the greatest delight and euthusiasm.
The gathering was arranged with the hope that it
might lead the Southerners to cast their votes for Mr.
Webster. Mr. Choate had not been consulted ; the
heat of the weather was intense, and he had gone to
bed with a sick-headache. One of his friends went to
him and asked him to be present. " It is impossible,"
he replied, " I am too HI to hold up my head. I have
not strength to say a word." He was told that he
need say but little, and that it was for Mr. Webster,
— his last chance of influencing the delegates in
favor of that just and grand nomination. On this
view of the case he immediately assented, rose and
went to the table. He was too unwell to take any
thing, and spoke but about fifteen minutes. I have
never heard what he said; it may be imagined by
those who knew his love for Mr. Webster, and his
deep sense of the injustice likely to be done him ; but
it carried away that little audience as with a whirl
wind. They seemed half beside themselves, — sprang

I850-1855.J PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY. 279
from their seats, jumped upon the chairs and benches,
broke their glasses, and acted like wild men. But the
efforts of the friends of Mr. Webster were without
avail. The Southern members offered to come with
one hundred and six votes, when forty votes should
be obtained from the North ; but so firmly determined
were some of the Northern delegates, that this num
ber could not be found. The vote for Mr. Webster
never exceeded thirty-two. At the fifty-third ballot
Gen. Scott received the nomination.
In August, 1852, Mr. Choate addressed the Phi
Beta Kappa Society of the University of Vermont, on
the " Intervention of the New World in the affairs
of the Old ; — the Duty, the Limitations, and the
Modes." It was high-toned, conservative, and wise.
The subject was suggested by recent events in the
East, and especially by the visit of Kossuth to this
country. The oration opened with the following
tribute to the eloquent Hungarian.
" To his eye who observes the present of our own
country, and of the age, heedfuUy, — looking before
and after, every day offers some incident which first
awakens a vivid emotion, and then teaches some
great duty. Contemplate, then, a single one of such
a class of incidents ; give room to the emotions it
stirs ; gather up the lessons of which it is full.
" On the fifth day of the last December, there came
to this land a man of alien blood, of foreign and un
familiar habit, costume, and accent; yet the most elo
quent of speech, according to his mode, — the most
eloquent by his history and circumstances, — the most
eloquent by his mission and topics, whom the world

280 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHL
has, for many ages, seen; and began among us a
brief sojourn, — began, say rather, a brief and strange,
eventful pilgrimage, which is just now concluded.
Imperfect in his mastery of our tongue, — he took his
first lessons in the little room over the barrack-gate
of Buda, a few months before, — his only practice in
it had been a few speeches to quite uncritical audi
ences in Southampton, in Birmingham, Manchester,
and Guildhall ; bred in a school of taste and general
culture with which our Anglo-Saxon training has
little affinity and little sympathy ; the representative
and impersonation, though not, I believe, the native
child, of a race from the East, planted some centuries
ago in Europe, but Oriental still as ever, in all but its
Christianity ; the pleader of a cause in which we
might seem to be as little concerned as in the story
of the lone Pelops or that of Troy divine, coming
before us even such — that silver voice, that sad ab
stracted eye, before which one image seemed alone to
hover, one procession to be passing, the fallen Hun
gary — the 'unnamed demigods,' her thousands of
devoted sons ; that earnest and full soul, laboring
with one emotion, has held thousands and thousands
of all degrees of susceptibility ; the coldness and self-
control of the East — the more spontaneous sympa
thies of the West — the masses in numbers without
number — Women — Scholars — our greatest names
in civil places — by the seashore — in banquet halls
— in halls of legislation — among the memories of
Bunker Hill, everywhere, he has held all, with a
charm as absolute as that with which the Ancient
Mariner kept back the bridal guest after the music of
the marriage feast had begun.

1850-1855.] PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY. 281
" The tribute of tears and applaudings ; the tribute
of sympathy and of thoughts too deep for applaud
ings, too deep for tears, have attested his sway. For
the first time since the transcendent genius of Demos
thenes strove with the downward age of Greece ; or
since the Prophets of Israel announced — each tone
of the hymn grander, sadder than before — the suc
cessive footfalls of the approaching Assyrian beneath
whose spear the Law should cease and the vision be
seen no more ; our ears, our hearts, have drunk the
sweetest, most mournful, most awful of the words
which man may ever utter, or may ever hear — the
eloquence of an Expiring Nation.
" For of all this tide of speech, flo-wing without
ebb, there was one source only. To one note only
was the harp of this enchantment strung. It was an
appeal not to the interests, not to the reason, not to
the prudence, not to the justice, not to the instructed
conscience of America and England; but to the mere
emotion of sympathy for a single family of man
oppressed by another — contending to be free — cloven
down on the field, yet again erect ; her body dead,
her spirit incapable to die ; the victim of treachery ;
the victim of power ; the victim of intervention ; yet
breathing, sighing, lingering, dying, hoping, through
all the pain, the bliss of an agony of glory ! For this
perishing nation — not one inhabitant of which we
ever saw ; on whose territory we had never set a foot ;
whose books we had never read ; to whose ports we
never traded ; not belonging in an exact sense to the
circle of independent States ; a province rather of an
Empire which alone is known to international law
and to our own diplomacy ; for this nation he sought

282 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI
pity — the intervention, the armed intervention, the
material aid of pity ; and if his audiences could have
had their will, he would have obtained it, without
mixture or measure, to his heart's content !
" When shall we be quite certain again that the
lyre of Orpheus did not kindle the savage nature to a
transient discourse of reason, — did not suspend the
labors and charm the pains of the damned, — did not
lay the keeper of the grave asleep, and win back Eury-
dice from the world beyond the river, to the warm,
upper air ?
" And now that this pilgrimage of romance is
ended, the harp hushed, the minstrel gone, let us
pause a moment and attend to the lessons and gather
up the uses of the unaccustomed performance."
Immediately after this college anniversary he made
a brief journey to Quebec, going along the accustomed
line of travel by Montreal and the St. Lawrence, and
retracing his way along the same line quite to New
York. This naturally led him to the places distin
guished in the earlier wars, at most of which he
stopped, refreshing and verifying his knowledge, kind
ling anew his patriotism at every hallowed spot, from
the Falls of Montmorenci, and the Plains of Abraham,
to the mouth of the Hudson. The weather was de
lightful, and the trip altogether invigorating to both
body and mind.
In the fall of this year, the country suffered a loss,
the greatness of which time alone can disclose. Mr.
Choate felt it not only as an irreparable public calam
ity, but as a personal bereavement, for which there
was no remedy.

1850-1855.] LETTER TO E. JACKSON. 283
From the Baltimore Convention the friends of Mr.
Webster returned -with an uncontrollable feeling of
disappointment and with a deep sense of wrong. But
before the day of election, he, for whom they had
struggled, had closed his eyes for ever upon this earth.
Mr. Webster died on the 24th of October. On the
28th, the members of the Suffolk Bar presented to the
United States Circuit Court, then in session, a series
of resolutions expressive of their sense of the loss,
and Mr. Choate with other emiuent lawyers addressed
the court. He spoke -with entire quietness of man
ner, and with the deepest feeling, and his words
seem to contain the germs of almost all the eulogies
afterwards pronounced upon the great New England
statesman. As soon as a sense of propriety would allow, Mr.
Choate received solicitations from very respectable
bodies in diff'erent parts of the country, to deliver a
more formal and extended eulogy. He accepted that
which came first, from the Faculty and Students of
Dartmouth College, influenced still more, perhaps, by
his deep and truly filial affection for the place. After
the announcement of this was made public, he re
ceived a letter from a gentleman in Connecticut, sug
gesting resemblance between Mr. Webster and some
other eminent men, particularly Sir Walter Scott.
The folio-wing is his answer : —
To E. Jackson, Esq., Middletown, Conn.
" Boston, 10th Dec. 1852.
" Dear Sir, — I was extremely struck and gratified by
the kindness of your note to me, and by the parallel which it
suggested and pursued. Scarcely any thing in literary or pub
lic biography is more curious or just. I mentioned the thought
to Mr. Curtis, — Geo. T. Curtis, — on whom it made in

284 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHL
stantly the same impression. I think the patriotism of Fox
was less trustworthy (having regard to his stormy ambition),
and his character less balanced and dignified. He had less
eloquent feeling too, and less poetical feeling, and no venera
tion, and his whole intellectual toil was one mighty tempest
uous debate. In naturalness, warmth of heart, and prodigious
general ability in political affairs and public speech, he does
remind us of Mr. Webster.
" But to Scott the likeness is quite remarkable. I can add
nothing to your conception of it, — but of that I shall try to
profit. Mr. Curtis told me that ' if Mr. Jackson could have
heard Mr. Webster's conversations with regard to keeping
the Marshfield estate in the family, he would have been more
forcibly reminded of Scott.' Both felt the desire to he found
ers ; neither won fortune, nor transmitted inheritances in
lands. Both made deep and permanent impressions wholly
useful on their time and the next; and both linked them
selves — shall we say for ever ? — to the fondest affections
as well as reasonable regards of very intellectual races.
" I am, with great respect, your servant and friend,
" Rufus Choate."
The treatment which Mr. Webster received at the
Baltimore Convention had alienated many Whigs at
the North, and inclined them to vote for the Demo
cratic electors. Mr. Choate's position will be indi
cated by the following letter : —
" To Harvey Jewell, Esq., President of the Young Men's Whig Club.
" Boston, SOth October, 1852.
" Dear Sir, — I certainly can have no unwUlingness to
repeat quite formally, what I have informally said so many
times to so many of our friends.
" That I regretted very keenly our failure to place Mr.
Webster in nomination, I, of course, have never disguised.
So much, too, did I love him, and so much, so filially — per
haps for him so unnecessarily — desire, that in all things his
feelings might be respected, his claims acknowledged, and the
effect of the proceedings of the Convention on him mitigated,
that, although I have ever deemed those proceedings as oblig-

1850-1855.] LETTER TO HARVEY JEWELL. 285
ing my vote as a Whig, yet I had decided that it would not
be decorous or right, having respect to those relations with
him, which have been and are in their memory so dear to me,
to take any active part in setting on the head of any other
the honors which he had earned.
" But that the true interests of the country, as our party
has ever apprehended those interests, require, in the actual
circumstances, the election of the eminent person who is our
regular candidate, I cannot doubt. As a Whig, stUl a Web
ster Whig, — standing at his grave and revering his memory,
I think that more of his spirit, more of his maxims of govern
ment, more of his liberal conservatism, more peace, a more
assiduous culture of that which we have, with no reckless
grasping for that which we have not, would preside in the
administration of Gen. Scott than in that of his Democratic
competitor for the Presidency.
" There are good men who esteemed Mr. Webster and Mr.
Clay so highly and justly, as to hope that while they lived,
although out of office, their counsels would still be of power
to repress the tendencies to evil, which they fear from the
ascendancy of our political opponents. But now that those
lights are passed and set, must we not all, and those of us with
a special solicitude, who followed them with most confidence,
turn to others, whose associations and ties of party, whose
declared opinions, whose conduct of affairs, and whose ante
cedents afford the surest trust that their practical politics will
be those which we have so advisedly adopted, and so long
professed ? With these politics, and the great party repre
senting them, Gen. Scott is identifled. His election would
pledge his character and honor to seek through them, and by
them, the common good and general welfare, and there is no
reason to doubt that the convictions of his judgment would
guide him by the same path. Certainly he is a Whig ; and
he has rendered the country great services, in important con
junctures, in war and peace.
" It is quite needless to say, then, that I shall vote for the
regularly nominated Whig ticket of electors. He, — the best
beloved, the most worthy, — is in his grave. Duty subsists,
StUl and ever, and 1 am entirely persuaded that duty requires
of me this vote. " I am, respectfully, your obd't serv't,
"Rufus Choate."

286 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
The regular correspondents of Mr. Choate were
few. He had not much time to give up even to that
society which was most attractive. Of those to Avhom
he wrote with the freedom of a warm and sympathiz
ing friendship were Hon. Charles Eames and Mrs.
Eames, A few of these letters have been kindly
placed at my disposal. "Boston, Deo. 4th, 1852.
" Mt dear Mrs. E., — ... You were wholly right,
and not the less kind, to assume an explanation of my silence
consistent with my fixed and enhancing appreciation of your
friendship. . . .
" I have been here occasionally and hurriedly only, since
I last wrote you ; but my chief time and duties have been
engaged to my mother, on the verge of a timely grave, yet
sick beyond the mere inflictions of eighty years. She is
living yet, and better. . . .
" Till yesterday I had nourished a secret, but great thought
of just running on to Washington for four days, not to super
sede, but to prepare for my January visit. Likewise, I could
not go. . . .
" I am to congratulate you, and Mr. Eames, personally, on
the election which he has influenced so much. May every re
ward he would seek be his. Choose wisely and well, and above
all fix your hearts on something at home. But why should I
grudge you the Fortunate Isles, the Boulevards, Damascus
rose cinctured, if you wish it ? Give my love to him. Wish
Mr. Davis and Mr. Everett well. ' Pray (as poor Mr. Web
ster said) for the peace of Jerusalem,' and especially for your
attached friend, " Rufus Choate."
Early in 1853, Mr. Choate lost his aged and vener
able mother. He always retained for her the most
filial respect and affection, and although her death,
at her advanced age, was not unexpected, it filled
him with deep sorrow. Almost at the same time
he received from Governor Clifford the offer of

1850-1855.] THE MASSACHUSETTS CONVENTION. 287
the Attorney-Generalship of the State. This he
accepted, not for its emoluments, — which were in
considerable, while the labor was great, — but partly
because he considered it an honorable position, and
in part because he was desirous of being freed from
a certain class of distasteful cases which he did not
feel quite at liberty to decline. The great labor in
this office arose from the fact that judicial interpreta
tion of the liquor law of 1852, popularly called the
" Maine Law," became necessary, and a large number
of cases came under his charge for argument, some
of them involving grave constitutional questions. To
the study of these cases he devoted much time and
labor. The criminal nisi prius trials he disliked ; and
this, together with certain mere drudgeries of oifice,
caused him to resign his commission after holding it a
little more than a year.
On the 3d of May, 1853, the third convention of
the delegates of the people of Massachusetts met in
Boston to revise the Constitution of the State. It is
doubtful whether an abler body of men ever assem
bled in the State. Every county sent its best and
-wisest citizens. The convention continued its sessions
till the 1st of August. The subjects brought into
discussion were fundamental to the being and pros
perity of States. In this dignified and weighty
assembly Mr. Choate spoke on some of the most
important questions, and never without commanding
the highest respect. His speeches on the Basis of
Representation, and on the Judiciary were listened
to with profound interest, and will rank with the best
specimens of deliberative eloquence.
During this summer, and in the midst of various

288 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIH.
distracting public and professional duties, he caught
time as he could, for preparing the eulogy upon Mr.
Webster. How he wrote it may be inferred from a
little anecdote furnished by one who subsequently
became a member of his family by marrying his
youngest daughter.^ " I returned from Europe," he
says, " in 1853, and reached Boston the 7th of July.
I went to Mr. Choate's house about nine o'clock that
evening, and found him in his chamber reclining in
bed in a half-sitting posture. On his knees rested an
atlas, lying obliquely ; in his left hand he held a lamp,
while another was balanced on a book ; in his right
hand was his pen. He playfully excused himself for
not shaking hands with me, saying that he feared the
sharp reproaches of Mrs. C. if he should by any mis
chance spill the oil. On my asking him what, at that
time of night, and in that singular position, he was
doing, he said he was trjdng to get a few things
together to say at Dartmouth College in relation to
Mr. Webster. He had put it off so long, he said, was
so hampered with work at his office, and had to give
so much time to the Constitutional Convention, then
in session, that he had almost made up his mind to
write to the officers of the college asking to be let off.
' If I deliver it,' he added, ' it will be wholly inade
quate to the theme.' He did deliver it, however, but
he said to me the day before he went to Dartmouth,
that any friend of his would stay away, for, although
so much time was given to write it in, it was one of
the most hurried things he had ever done."
With the high ideal that was before his mind, to
him " much meditating " on the greatness of Mr.
1 Edward Ellerton Pratt, Esij.

1850-1855.] LETTER TO HIS P.VUGHTER SARAH. 289
Webster, and feeling how interwoven was his life
with the later history of the country, it is not surpris
ing that he felt the insufficiency of unj eulogy. Yet
one would be at a loss to know where, in all the
records of such eloquence, for fulness, suggestiveness,
and discrimination, for richness and vitality, for beauty
of language and felicity of allusion, for compactness
and for amplification, to find another to equal it.
To HIS Daughtek Sarah. " Monday, August, 1853.
"Dear Sallie, — The accompanying letter came tome
to-day, and I send it with alacrity. I wish you would study
calligraphy in it, if what I see not is as well written as what
I do. I got quietly home, to a cool, empty house, unvexed
of mosquito, sleeping to the drowsy cricket. It lightened a
little, thundered still less, and rained half an hour ; but the
sensation, the consciousness that the Sirian-tartarean summer
is really gone — though it is sad that so much of life goes
too — is delightful. Next summer will probably be one long
AprU or October. By the way, the dream of the walnut
grove and the light-house is finished. They will not sell,
and the whole world is to choose from yet.^ I see and hear
nothing of nobody. I bought a capital book to-day by Bun-
gener, called ' Voltaire and his Times,' fifty pages of which
I have run over. He is the author of ' Three Sermons under
Louis XV.,' and is keen, bright, and just, according to my
ideas, as far as I have gone. My course this week is rudely
broken in upon by the vileness and vulgarity of business,
and this day has been lean of good books and rich thoughts,
turning chiefly on whether charcoal is an animal nuisance,
and whether Dr. Manning's will shall stand. Still, Rufus will
be glad to hear I read my .Slschines and Cicero and German
Martial, and, as I have said, this Bungener.
" I wish you would all come home ; that is, that your time
had arrived. Pick up, dear daughter, health, nerves, and
self-trust, and come here to make the winter of our discontent
glorious summer.
" Thank your dear mother and Rufus for their letter. T
1 Referring to a project of purchasing a site for building at Essex
19

290 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIIL
hope for Minnie a neck without a crick, and a lot without a
crook, if one may be so jinglesome. One of the Choates of
Salem called in my absence, — if Daniel did not see a doppel-
gdnger, in a dream, — but which, where he is, what he wants,
where he goes, or how he fares, I know not. I would invite
him to dine, if I knew where he was. Best love to all.
Tell your mother I don't believe I shall write her for two or
three days, but give her, and all, my love. I like the court
house prospect and the Bucolical cow, and verdant lawn much,
as Minnie says. Good-by, all. R. C."
During this autumn, his health, which, with the ex
ception of severe headaches, had been generally good,
occasioned himself and his friends some anxiety. He
alludes to it in the following letters : —
To Mns. Eames. " Boston, Nov. 13, 1853.
" Mt dear Mrs. Eames, — ... I had a narrow escape
from going just now to New York, and then taking a flying
aim at Washington. The Doctors and I have changed all
that, and resolved that instead of any such unsatisfactory
splurging, I should go quietly to Washington, like a grave
citizen and elderly lawyer, and make, as it were, a business of
it, see my friends, try a case, go to the theatre and the levee,
and all the rest of it, say in December or January. ... I
have come quite near being placed among the Emeritus Pro
fessors in the great life university, — that reserved and lament
able corps, whose ' long day is done,' and who may sleep.
" There again the Doctors and I were too much for them,
and I am all right again, with injunctions to do but little, nor
do that little long, at a time. Such a change of life sets me
thinking, which is disagreeable, and resolving, which only
paves bad places with good intentions. . . .
" I must say I think your administration — toil though it
does and spin — is not yet arrayed with all the glory of
Solomon, or even of the lilies of the field.
" Yours truly, R. Choate.
" P. S. — Mr. Everett is rising in my telescope."

1850-1855.] LETTER TO EDWARD EVERETT. 291

To Mbs. Eames. "Boston, Deo. 17, 1853.
" Mt deae Mrs. Eames, — I took the liberty yesterday
to address to you the first two volumes of Lord J. Russell's
' Moore,' and to ask our Little & Brown to include it in
their collections for the Washington Express. Mine I have
not yet received, but I promise myself that the thing will
have some interest with those old people at least who began
life, as I did, upon ' I Saw from the Beach,' ' Vale of Avoca,'
' Erin-go-Bragh,' and all the rest of it. Whether it will for
you, I fear and doubt, yet you will agree that we have never
seen and never shaU see any thing like that glorious constella
tion of poets which illustrated the first twenty-five or thirty
years of this century, and which has set to the last star.
Beaming brightly and singing like a seraph, sometimes, among
these lights was poor Moore. Therefore I hope the package
wUl go safely and come regularly to hand, as the merchants'
clerks do write.
" My visit to Washington recedes like any horizon. Mr.
Davis has me in charge, but any time after the 10th of Janu
ary, if he bids me come, I come. Please to entreat him to
hasten that day, as he hopes to have his eulogy read and
appreciated. " Our winter has come frosty but kindly. Thus far, as a
mere matter of cold, heat, snow, it is as good as a Washing
ton winter. I do not say that it presents just the same ag
gregate and intensity of moral, social, and personal interest.
" Please give my best regards to Mr. Eames and all friends.
" Most truly yours, R. Choate."
The following letter to Mr. Everett (then a mem
ber of the United States Senate), with its reference
to topics of great national importance, will explain
itseK : — To Hon. Ed-wakd Everett. "Boston, Feb. 4, 1854.
" Dear Sir, — I have not delayed to answer your letter
for want of interest in the subject, and still less from want of
strong personal desire that your own course should be as for
tunate as it will be conspicuous and influencive. But id

292 MEMOIR OF RUTUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
truth, I did not know enough of the whole ground of opinion
and duty and hazards, to make my suggestions of real value,
and yet," good for nothing else, they might mislead. Mean
time, as far as I can possibly discern, the whole free world
of the United States seems likely to demand the observance
of the Missouri Compromise. I must say, that I think that a
speech and a course adhering to that great adjustment, and
reconciling that with the compromises of 1850, will be claimed
here, and I should be amazed and grieved if this could do
harm anywhere. Yet for myself, I should consult the spirit
ofthe proceeding of 1850 and execute that, whithersoever it
led. But I cannot yet see how that should demand such a
measure as this of Mr. Douglas.
" The result, with me and with all here, is that we feel the
deepest sohcitude that you should not be drawn into a position
which can impair your large prospects, and that we hope you
may defeat the further extension of slavery on grounds and
by reasonings that will not lose you one American heart or
iudgment anywhere. " I am most truly,
" Your servant and friend,
" Rufus Choate.''
A few letters here to his son, then a student in
Amherst College, and to his daughter Sarah, will
give us an insight into the thoughts and ways of
home. To Rufus Choate, Jr.
" Boston Feb. 1 3, 1854. Monday moming, six o'clock.
" Mt dearest Son, — I am afraid the elite of Amherst
are not stirring quite so early as this, but as my writing here
by my lamp does not disturb you, and as I think of you
always, but with peculiar interest and love when I look round
my study at this early hour, I will say a word whUe M. is
waiting for the coach to carry him to the Portland cars.
" I have had a very fatiguing winter, contending — as the
French bulletins used to say when badly beaten — ' with
various success.' However, I have had my share of causes,
and my chief grief, after S.'s sickness, has been that I have
had so little time for literary readings. Euripides stands
neglected on the shelf, Alcestis dying alone, and the lasl

1850-1856.] LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH. 293
days of Augustus are as if Tacitus had not recorded them
with his pen of steel. You are happier in having days and
nights for the most delightful of all things, the studies of
coUege. My dear son, make much of this fleeting hour, and
aU future exertions and acquhements wUl be easy. ... To
see you come out of coUege aftectionate, true, pure, and a
good scholar, to begin the law at Cambridge with hope and
ambition, is the desire which more than all else gives interest
to my future. . . . M. has gone. Daniel appeai-s with the
newspapers ; it approaches sunrise, and I must turn to
prepare for ¦ Gray et al. v. Coburn,' for the hour and a
quarter before breakfast. Good-by."

To HIS Daughteb Sasah. "Boston, July 9 [1854],
" Dearest Saxlie, — I was delighted to find your letter
and mother's on my return from the broUed, though sea
girt Nantucket. I -wUl not say that I could read a -n'ord of
it, before the affectionate and craving Helen carried it off,
— snatched it, as one may say, from the unsated parental
jaws. But at dinner with her to-day I shaU recover it in
terpreted-. '• I am sorry the geography is a faUure. Astronomy and
St. Pierre — stars and harmonies of earth, I hope will enable
you to support the necessary delay in finding another. ]\Iean-
time the Russian war is going to end ; the Turkish moons
are at the full ; and except Kansas and Nebraska, no spot
of earth has a particle of interest adscititious, present, and
transient — though all must be generally known, or ' history
her ample page rich -with the spoUs of time,' inadequately
unrolls. I much fear that we are dooiiied to more of Malte
Brun and of the crust of the earth. I wUl look, however.
'• I am rebuked at finding that the great treatises on Will
and Sin were not written at West Stockbridge. after all It
follows, first, that so much of our ride was what Rufus calls
a sell ; secondly, that the most arrogant memories wUl faU —
be nonplussed — the characters, the imagery, as Locke says,
fading out of this brass and marble ; and thirdly, that all
external beauty of scenery is mainly created and projected
from within. How still and studious looked West Stock-

294 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIIL
bridge — and now what a poor, little, half -starved saw-mill
of a situation it is !
' The disenchanted earth lost half its lustre ;
The great magician's dead.'
I wUl be confident of nothing again — ' that 's Poz,' as Miss
Edgeworth's story — or somebody's, has it.
" Sallie, if it is cool in Lenox — if there is one cool spot ;
yea, if there is a place where by utmost effort of abstraction,
you can think upon the frosty Caucasus ; upon the leaves of
aspen in motion ; upon any mockery or mimicry of coolness
and zephyrs, be glad. Our house glows like a furnace ; the
library seems like a stable of brazen, roasting bulls of Pha-
laris, tyrant of Agrigentum — of whom you read in De
Quincey ; and I woo sleep on three beds and a sofa in vain.
All would be sick here — and I already am, or almost so.
" I hope the Astronomy engages you, and the St. Pierre.
Botany and other natural history will soothe you, dear child,
when the burning and suggestive words of mere literature
sting as serpents. Good-by, dear ^//e. R. C."

To Rupus Choate, Jk. " Boston, July 19, 1854.
"Dearest Son, — I was grieved when I got home to
find what an inhospitable time you had of it. If you had
hinted your purpose, Helen surely would have welcomed you.
I could not, for I was melting beneath the Nantucket court
house. Next time let us know, that we may make your
shortest vacation pleasant. Yesterday I ought to have been
at Washington. What they have done I know not. If my
friends carried an adjournment it is well. If not, the Library
fuit, as the expressive perfect tense has it.
" I was very sorry that I could not stay longer in your
poor little pleasant room, and seem to get more into your
college intimate life. It glides away so fast, and is so de
lightful a portion of the whole term of life, that I should
envy every day and hour. I prized mine. Yet now, as the
poet says, it is my grief that I prized it no more. . . . They
will rejoice to see you at Lenox, where I hope to meet you.
The cool weather of the 4th continues, and seems likely to,
tUl men call on Caucasus to bury them and done with it."

1850-1855.] LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTER SARAH. 295

To Rurus Choate, Jr.
" Boston, 24 Sept. [1864.]
" Mt dear, dear Son, — You were very good to write
me, and if I had not been rather harder at work than ever
before, I should have written soorier. I have just finished
an insurance trial of some ten or eleven days, very scraggly
and ticklish — though a just claim — and won it, against a
very strong charge of the judge. Then came another in
surance cause, where J. and I were for the oifice, deft, — and
had the luck to get that too, in three or four hours. I had
to snatch any moment to write a little address for Danvers.
Altogether, therefore, I am utterly prostrated and unstrung.
I would give a thousand dollars, if I could afford it, for an
undisturbed rest of a week. The house is now in most per
fect order. If dear mother, Sallie, Minnie, and you were
here, it would be more perfect even.

To HIS Daughter Sarah. "Sept. [1854]
" My dear Sallie, — You were a special good girl to
write me — pausing among so many grand spectacles, laugh
ing girls, and moustached artists — if that is the French of
it — and I should have written before if I had not been
' blowed.' I was ' overworked ' for about twelve days, and
up to yesterday morning, when I came out of the pestilential
court-house to compose an address on Knowledge, for
Danvers. The topic is new and the thoughts rise slowly
and dubious.. However, I shall go through this also — as a
thief through a horse-pond — in the simile of Lord Chan
cellor Thurlow.
" The autumn here now outshines itself. Such skies and
such unblanched green leafiness, and occasional peach and
plum, I have never seen. Our grapery is, as it were, Floren
tine and iMantuanical ; but for mere eating I have preferred
such as you buy of the common dealers in the article. Lately
I have given no dinners. I have in fact for ten days not
dined at home, but at the restaurant. To-morrow I hope to
be at home. I never saw the house so clean, lovely, still,
and homelike. They have washed every thing — unless it
is Cicero and Demosthenes, and it seems to me their very
bronze seems sleek, fleshly, and cleansed. My books are all

296 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VIII.
bound, and all up — and if mother and you were here, and
Minnie, and I could rest, rest, rest, one day — one week —
stock StiU — still as a ' statute ' — I should be too happy.
" I have just written your mother suggesting, 1st, whether
she is ever coming home ; 2d, when, if ever, she is coming ;
3d, what money it wUl take to come, to bring honey, also
you, and any ' Jew or Jewess.'
" Good-by, poor dear roe, hart, and pelican upon the moun
tains. I look at the picture in the dining-room daily, and
wonder if you see sights so brilliant and light — then turn
again to my baked apple, farina, or what not.
" Good-by, dear pet. I have had three nights to sleep in
your room. All well at Helen's. Your 'Fater."
In September, 1854, Mr. Choate delivered the
address at the dedication of the Peabody Institute in
South Danvers. This institution was founded by the
munificence of Geo. Peabody, Esq., of London, and
from the first was regarded with great interest by Mr.
Choate, who watched with sincere pleasure the pros
perity of the town where he commenced his profes
sional life, and which conferred upon him his first
honors. The year was otherwise filled with the ordi
nary labors of the law.
In the mean time his friend Mr. Eames had been
appointed Minister- Resident at Caraccas.
To Mr. Everett.
"Winthrop Place, Oct. 9, 1854.
" Mt dear Sir, — I thank you for your kind invitation,
and should have the truest pleasure in accepting it, but I am
so much the victim of an urgent and ignominious malice —
as Mr. S. Smith might say, — that I am cruelly forbidden all
such opportunity.
" You are more than kind to the Danvers affair. And
really, because one is not an Academician, is he not therefore
to be indulged in his occasional platitudes and commonplaces ?
" I am most truly
" Your servant and friend,
" Rufus Choate."

1850-1856.] ACCIDENT AND ILLNESS. 29T

To Mrs. Eames. "Boston, 31st Oct. 1854.
" Mt dear Mrs. Eajies, — I have been imagining
through all these divine days, how supreme must be the
beauty on all things about you — and have sighed for the
sight of all that scene in your company again. Meanwhile
the leaf falls, and tbe last lark wUl send up his note of fare
well ; the school-ma'am wUl have recovered, and the school-
house wUl be coming alive with the various hubbub of
childhood, and the time draws on when you will go, perhaps
to look back from a grander Nature to that plain New Eng
land solitude which you have found, and made, so delightfiil
— to look back homesick and with affectionate sadness. . . .
" I have seen JMr. Everett once, and had a most pleasant
hour — not unmingled with pain. He looks despondingly
outward ; and I think his personal hopes are turning from
politics and their bubble reputation. In his library, he
seems to sit above all annoyance, at the centre of all reason
able felicities — a happy and great character, who may yet
write his name for ever on our history.
" I hope all your little, and thrice dear chUdren are well,
and give you no alarm. They seem well, happy, and of rare
goodness and interest. If it should so happen that I can by
any possibUity see you and Mr. Eames before you go — if go
you must — I mean to do it — here — or at New Braintree,
or in New York. . . . " Yours truly, "R. Choate."
Notwithstanding his labors and periodical suffering
from sick-headaches, Mr. Choate's general health was
good. A strong constitution and vigorous frame
enabled him to endure a vast amount of work with
out injury. But early in 1855 he met with an acci
dent which confined him for several months to his
house and for much of the time to his room. While
at Dedham during the trial of a cause, he hit his knee
against the corner of a table. This brought on an

298 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI
inflammation of the joint, which became complicated
with other ailments, to which time only could bring
relief.! During this period of seclusion, he was not
cut off from the solace of his library, nor entirely
unable to study. He never more fully enjoyed the
society of his friends, giving himself up freely to those
whom he loved. Mr. Everett, particularly, used to
visit him regularly two or three times a week, some
times to bring a new book, sometimes to impart in
telligence, not generally known, always to bring
sunlight to the quiet library of the invalid. So much
interested had both become in this unwonted famil
iarity, that on Mr. Choate's resuming his professional
labors, Mr. Everett remarked to him, that, for his
own sake, he could only wish one thing, namely, that
he might hurt his knee again. To that friendly
interest Mr. Choate alludes in one of the following
letters, both bearing the same date : —
To Hon. Charles Eames. " Boston, 29th June, 1855.
" Dear Mr. Eames, — I doubt if you see a brighter sur.
or drink a balmier air than I do to-day, but I hope you are
as well as the rosy-fingered June of New England could
make you. Our summer, they say, is cool and backward ;
but whoso desires any thing diviner than this morning may
go farther and fare worse.
" I thank you and Mrs. Eames for your kind remem
brances. I have had a pretty sorry spring of it ; but it may
be accepted for some years of indifferent health in the future.
My physicians talk of change of life — renovation — rejuve-
1 As a result of the accident, he was obliged to submit to a slight
surgical operation ; but so sensitive was he to physical suffering, that
even this made a considerable draft upon his nervous energies. He
took ether, and afterwards remarked to a friend, that " it was very
pleasant tiU the moment of utterly surrendering consciousness,—
theu death itself could not have been more awful."

1850-1855.J LETTER TO MRS. EAMES. 299
nescence and whatnot — hoc erat in votis certainly — but
who knows what shall be on the morrow ? . . .
" Your estate is gracious that keeps you out of hearing of
our politics. Any thing more low — obscene — feculent —
the manifold oceanic heavings of history have not cast up.
We shall come to the worship of onions — cats — and things
vermiculate. ' Renown and grace are dead.' ' There's
nothing serious in mortality.' If any wiser saw or instance,
ancient or modern, occurred to me to express the enormous
impossible inanity of American things, I should utter it.
Bless your lot then, which gives you to volcanoes, earth
quakes, feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky sights of the
tropics. I wish I was there with all my heart — that I do —
" After all, the Democratic chance is best. The whole
South is Pierce's — I think — so is the foreign vote of the
North. So wUl be Pennsylvania, I guess. . . .
" I write to Mrs. Eames and send love to her and the babes.
" I wish you health, happiness, and treaties of immortal
peace and fame. Most truly, " Yours,
"R. Choate."
Hon. Charles Fames, &c., &c., &c., Caraccas.

To Mrs. Eames. " Boston, 29th June, 1855.
" Mt dear Mrs. Eames, — I have only just got abroad
after a confinement of a matter of four months, and, with a
hand stUl tremulous, though I flatter myself legible to the eye
of a true friendship, I would send you my love and good
wishes — chiefly and first congratulating you upon your safe
arrival at that vortex of palms and earthquakes and sea-
change. My — our — exceUent Mr. Everett has reported
with some frequency of you ; and here comes a tin case, and
a little letter, more tellingly assuring me that your kindness
is untravelled, and that you remember and wish to be remem
bered from the other side of this watery wUderness of
separation. . . .
" I have come out of town to-day about three miles to my
daughter Bell's — to ' lie at large and sing the glories of the
circling year ' — as Thomson, or who was he, says — but
more particularly and properly to write to you. She and her

300 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. VHI.
husband, not expecting me, have gone into Boston ; and I am
alone in a httle library in a garden, held, as it were, to the
very breast of June. It is our summer at its best — roses
— hens and chickens — green peas — honeysuckle — cocks
crowing — a balmy west wind heavy with sweets. I wish,
instead of the fierce and gigantic heats and growths and out
landish glory and beauty of Caraccas — whose end is to be
burned — you, your children, and Mr. Eames were here —
' pastoral and pathetic ' — virtuously and contentedly a smell
ing of this new-mown hay and walking with me — I, on two
crutches — say two sticks — like the title of some beastly
French novel — and talking over the old times. You see
Boston through the trees, and hear now and then the whistle
of invisible cars — otherwise you might fancy yourself fifty
thousand globes from cities or steam. These are the places
and the moments for that discourse in which is so much more
of our hajjpiness than in actualities of duty, or even in hope.
" I look forward with longing to your coming back. Come
unchanged all of you — except the children, who are to be
bigger, darker, and even handsomer. . . .
" I mean to go out and hear Mr. Everett on the 4th of
July, at his native Dorchester. He will outdo himself, and
I wish you and Mr. Eames could hear him. He has been
inexpressibly kind to me in my confinement.
" I am slowly getting well — nothing remains of it all but
a disabled knee, and that is slowly getting well too. . . .
" God bless you aU. Write by every wind that comes
this way. " Yours most truly,
«E. Choate."

1855-1858.1 LOVE OF THE UNION. 801

CHAPTER IX.
1855-1858.
Love of the Union — Letter to the Whig Convention at Worcester,
October, 1855 — Letter to Rev. Chandler Robbins — Letter to Mr.
Harvey — Letter to Mr. Everett — Lecture on the Early British
Poets of this Century, March, 1856— Sir Walter Scott — PoUtical
Campaign of 1856 — Determines to support Mr. Buchanan —
Letter to the Whigs of Maine — Address at Lowell — Letter to
J. C. Walsh — Professional Position — His Library — Lecture on
' the Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods, February, 1857 — De
fence of Mrs. Dalton — Oration before the Boston Democratio
Club, July 4th, 1858.
Op all feelings and sentiments none were stronger in
Mr. Choate's mind than the love of country. But it
was the whole country, the one undivided and indi
visible NATION that absorbed his interest. Strongly
as he was attached to Massachusetts, — and no son
ever loved her with a more filial devotion, — he saw
the greatness of the State in the prosperity of the
Union. The narrower virtue was always absorbed in
the grander. The large and strong patriotism of
Washington and Madison and Hamilton and Webster
assumed a new intensity in his bosom. Everj' speech,
every lecture, almost every public utterance of his
during his later years, is full of this spirit. It was
the side on which his sympathies touched those of the
Democratic party, far from it as he ever had been, on

302 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IX.
so many points of national policy. " There are a good
many things," he said in a speech at Worcester, in
1848, " that I like in the Democratic party. I like
their nationality and their spirit of union, after all.
I like the American feeling that pervades the masses."
It was this feeling, not merely an intellectual convic
tion that the Union was necessary for safety and
prosperity, but the nationality, the " country's ma
jestic presence," which led him to oppose every
political scheme which looked to less than the wel
fare of the whole. This feeling of patriotism grew
stronger and stronger as he saw others apparently
indifferent to it, or proposing measures which, by
disregarding the interests and feelings of large States,
would necessarily tend, as he thought, to make them
disloyal. From the illness of the earlier part of 1855, Mr.
Choate recovered sufficiently to enter with some
eagerness into the political contests of the autumn.
A new party, called, from their secret organization,
"Know-nothings," and subsequently claiming the
name of " American," had sprung up in several
States, and in Massachusetts had made unexpected
inroads into both the great parties which, before,
had mainly divided the people. The Whigs, however,
were not inclined to give up their organization. A
convention was holden in Worcester early in October.
Mr. Choate was one of the delegates from Boston,
and not being able to attend, sent the following letter,
the concluding sentence of which has passed into one
of the watchwords of patriotism.

1865-1858.] LETTER TO THE WHIG CONVENTION. 303

Letter to the Whig Convention at Worcester, Mass.
" Boston, Oct. 1, 1855.
" Messrs. Peter Butler, Jr., and Bradley N. Cummings, Secretaries, ^c., Sfc.
" Gentlemen, — I discover that my engagements will not
allow me to attend the convention to be holden at Worcester
to-morrow, and I hope that it is not too late to fill the
vacancy. " I assure the Whigs of Boston that I should have regarded
it as a duty aud a privilege, if it had been practicable, to
serve as one of their delegates. The business which the
convention meets to do gives it extraordinary attraction as
well as importance.
" Whether we are dead, as reported in the newspapers, or,
if not, whether we shall fall upon our own swords and die
even so, will be a debate possessing the interest of novelty at
least. For one, I deny the death, and object to the suicide,
and should be glad to witness the indignation and laughter
with which such a question will be taken.
" If there shall be in that assembly any man, who, still a
Whig, or having been such, now proposes to dissolve the party,
let him be fully heard and courteously answered upon his rea
sons. Let him declare what party we shall join. Neutrality
in any sharp civil dissension is cowardly, immoral, and dis
reputable. To what party, then, does he recommend us ? I
take it for granted it will not be to the Democratic ; I take it
for granted, also, not the American. To what other, then ?
To that of fusion certainly, to the Republican, — so called, I
suppose, because it is organized upon a doctrine, and aims at
ends, and appeals to feelings, on which one half of the Republic,
by a geographical line, is irreconcilably opposed to the other.
Even to that party.
" Let him be heard on his reasons for deserting our con
nection and joining such an one. To me, the answer to them
all, to aU such as I have heard, or can imagine, seems ready
and decisive.
" Suppressing enthely all that natural indignation and sense
of wounded pride and grief which might be permitted in view
of such a proposition to Whigs who remember their history,
— the names of the good and wise men of the living and dead,
that have Ulustrated their connection, and served their country
through it, — who remember their grand and large creed of

304 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IX.
Union, the Constitution, peace with honor, nationality, the
development and culture of all sources of material growth, the
education of the people, the industry of the people, — suppress
ing the emotions which Whigs, remembering this creed and the
fruits it has borne, and may yet bear, might well feel towards
the tempter and the temptation, the answer to all the argu
ments for going into fusion is at hand. It is useless, totally,
for all the objects ofthe fusionist, assuming them to be honest
and constitutional, — useless and prejudicial to those objects ;
and it is fraught, moreover, with great evil. What are the
objects of the fusionist ? To restore the violated compromise,
or, if he cannot effect that, to secure to the inhabitants, bona
fide such, of the new territory the unforced choice of the
domestic institutions which they prefer, a choice certain, in
the circumstances of that country now or soon to close it
against slavery for ever. These, unless he courts a general
disturbance and the revelry of civil ' battle-fields,' are his
object ; and when he shall prove that fusion will send to
Congress men who will labor with more zeal and more effect
to these ends than such Whigs as Mr. Walley is, or as Mr.
Rockwell was, — with a truer devotion to liberty — more
obedient to the general sentiment and the specific exactions
of the free States — • with a better chance to touch the reason
and heart, and win the co-operation of good men in all sections,
¦ — when he proves this, you may believe him. We know that
the Whig representatives of Massachusetts in Congress do
and must completely express the anti-slavery sentiment of
Massachusetts, so far as they may be expressed under the
Constitution. More than this we do not seek to express
while there is yet a Constitution. Fusion is needless for the
honest objects of the fusionist.
" But the evils of disbanding such a party as ours and sub
stituting such a party as that ! See what it fails to do. Here
is a new and great political party, which is to govern, if it
can, the State of Massachusetts, and to govern, if it can, the
American Union. And what are its politics ? It has none.
Who knows them? Even on the topic of slavery, nobody
knows, that I am aware of, what in certain it seeks to do,
or how much or how little will content it. Loud in general
demonstration, it is silent or evasive on particular detaUs.
" But outside of the topic of slavery, what are its politics ?
What, in the most general outline, is its creed of national or
State policy ? How does it interpret the Constitution ? What

1855-1S5S.] LETTER TO THE AVHIG CONVENTION. 305
isits theory of State rights? Wliat is its foreign policy ? By
what measures ; by what school of politicians ; by what laws
or what subjects ; by what diplomacy ; how, generally, does
it propose to accomplish that good, and prevent that evil, and
to provide for those wants for which States are formed and
government established ? Does it know ? Does it tell ? Are
its representatives to go to Congress or the Legislature, to
speak and vote on slavery only ? If not, on what else, and
on which side of it ?
" A party, a great political party, without politics, is a
novelty indeed. Before the people of this country or State
enable it to rule them, they will desire, 1 fancy, a httle more
information on these subjects. AVe all, or almost all, of the
Free States who recognize the Constitution, think on slavery
substantially alike. Before we make men Presidents and
Governors and Senators and Judges and Diplomatists, we
demand to see what else besides cheap, easy, unavoidable
conformity to the sectional faith on that one topic, they can
show for themselves.
" We elect them not to deliver written lectures to assenting
audiences of ladies and gentlemen, — ¦ to kindle the infla mma-
ble, and exasperate the angry, — but to perform the duties of
practical statesmanship in the most complicated and delicate
political system, and the hardest to administer in the world.
Let us, at least, then, know their politics. Kept totally in
the dark about these, we do know that this party of fusion
is, in the truest of all senses, and the worst of all senses, a
geographical party. What argument against it can we add
to this ? Such a party, like war, is to be made when it is
necessary. If it is not necessary, it is like war, too, a tremen
dous and uncompensated evU. When it shall have become
necessary, the eternal separation will have begun. That time,
that end, is not yet. Let us not hasten, and not anticipate
it, by so rash an innovation as this.
" Parties in this country heretofore have Helped, not delayed,
the slow and difiScult growth of a consummated nationality.
Our discussions have been sharp ; the contest for honor and
power keen ; the disputes about principles and measures, hot
and prolonged. But it was in our country's majestic presence
that we contended. It was from her hand that we solicited
the prize. Whoever lost or won, we loved her better. Our
allies were everywhere. There were no Alleghanies nor
IMlssissippi rivers in our politics. 2J

306 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
" Such was the felicity of our condition, that the very dis
sensions which rent small republics in twain, welded and
compacted the vast fabric of our own. Does he who would
substitute for this form of conducting our civil differences a
geographical party, completely understand his own work?
Does he consider how vast an educational instrumentality the
party life and influence compose ? Does he forget how the
public opinion of a people is created, and that when created
it determines their history? All party organization tends
towards faction. This is its evil. But it is inseparable from
free governments. To choose his political connection aright
is the most delicate and difficult duty of the citizen. We
have made our choice, and we abide by it. We join ourselves
to no party that does not carry the flag and keep step to fhe
music of the Union.
" I am, gentlemen, your fellow-citizen, " RcjFus Choate.''
During the election contest a large meeting of the
Whigs of Boston and its vicinity was held in Faneuil
Hall. It was addressed, among others, by Mr. Choate,
in a strain of lofty aud urgent patriotism such as has
seldom been heard in a State election. His mind
soared to heights from which it saw not the temporary
interest of a State alone, nor the success of this or
that candidate for honorable office, but " the giant
forms of empires " on their way to prosperity or ruin.
How deeply his mind was moved is attested not only
by the speech itself, but by his future action. The
election was not favorable to the Whigs, nor yet to the
Republicans. A letter written soon afterwards will
incidentally show the means by which he solaced
himself under defeat, where not the slightest per
sonal interest was at stake, and what were still his
hopes.

1855-1858.] LETTER TO REV. CHANDLER ROBBDTS. 307

To Rev. Chandler Robbins. "Boston, Nov. 12, 1855.
" Dear Sir, — Absence from the city since Tuesday has
prevented me from expressing my most grateful, my warmest
thanks for your note. In the circumstances and feelings of
the moment, it was soothing in the highest degree. On a
more deliberate reading, and less on personal reasons, it has
afforded even more gratification. We are the most fortunate
of the nations, and owe the largest debt to humanity, wdth
the perfect certainty of paying it, to one hundred cents on
the dollar, with interest, and in the natural lifetime of the
State, if we will only consent to live on, and obey the law of
normal growth. And yet they would enlist -what they call
the moral sentiment, and incite us to immediate or certain
national self-murder. I rejoice with great joy that such dis
tempered ethics are disowned of a teacher of religion, — a
cultivated, humane, and just man ; and that a patriotism,
whose first care is for the Union, — ' being, before even well-
being,' — is regarded of such authority as high among the
larger virtues.
" I may be permitted to say, that although the details and
instruments are less satisfactory than could have been wished,
the election is a real victory of intense American feeling, in
which even you may have pleasure. I think it leaves only
two great parties, both national to the cannon's mouth, in the
field. " Your delightful allusion to Mr. Webster excites even
warmer emotions. I never think of him without recalling
the fine, pathetic, unfinished sentence of Burke, in reference
to Lord Keppel : ' On that day I had a loss in Lord Keppel ;
but the public loss of him in this awful crisis  ! '
" Yet it shall not, I think, be the generation which saw
him that shall witness the overthrow of the system to which
he devoted himself with such desperate fidelity.
" I am, with the highest regard,
" Your obliged humble servant,
" Rdfus Choate."
The following letters refer to a speech made at a
dinner on the birthday pf Mr. Webster, where Mr.
Everett presided, and which Mr. Choate was prevented
by Ulness from attending : —

308 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.

To Peter Hakvet, Esq. " Saturday eve.
" Dear Mr. Har vet, — I cannot go to bed without con
gratulating you personally on the most brilliant success of
our commemoration. Every thing is due to your energy,
good judgment, and good nature. The universal voice pro
nounces the whole splendid.
" I wish you to thank Mrs. Harvey especially, too, for her
politeness to my family, and to express the hope that she
enjoyed the occasion as much as they did, and suffer as little
from it. If it had pleased Providence that I could have
been with you, I should have no regrets but that so delight
ful an occasion is also so transient. Mr. Everett outdid him
self decidedly. So fresh, so genial, just, and eloquent, in the
most attractive sense.
" I hope you wUl live, and that Mrs. Harvey will live, to
celebrate this birthday one hundred times more yet, and find
life still sweet. " I am most truly yours,
«R. Choate."

To Hon. Edward Everett.
"Saturday eve, Jan. 19, 1856.
" Dear Mr. Everett, — It signifies nothing what I say
in all this din and tempest of applause ; but I believe that
nobody is more sincerely glad at your most signal success,
and I know that nobody has read you with more delight. It
was only within an hour or two that I was so well as to do
this carefully, though I heard it all read early in the day.
Our mighty friend himself, and even the nature that he so
loved, come mended, — say rather, show clearer and nearer,
like those headlands in the Homeric moonlight landscape. 1
most heartily thank you for presiding ; it has won or con
firmed many hearts ; and I can never cease to regret that I
could not have seen and heard what all felt to be an effort of
extraordinary felicity.
" I am, very truly, your servant and friend,
"Rufus Choate."

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON THE POETh. 309
Boston has long been noted for its popular lectures.
Mr. Choate was frequently solicited to occupy an
evening of the prescribed course ; and, notwithstand
ing the pressure of other engagements, often did so.
He generally availed himself of some recent note
worthy event, — civil or literary, — Avhich served to
suggest the eloquent and wise discourse. On the 13th
of March, 1856, he closed the series of lectures before
the Mercantile Library Association, by an address on
" Our Obligations to the British Poets of the first
twenty years of this Century." The theme was a
favorite one, and carried him back to college days and
his earlier life. The lecture was announced, for
brevity and convenience, as upon Samuel Rogers,
whose death had occurred a few months before, al
though that poet was but one among many whose life
and influence were cursorily noticed.
" I appreciate quite well," he said, " that to a great
many of you this once resplendent circle is a little out
of the fashion. Their task is done, you say; their
song hath ceased. . . . You began to read fine writing,
verse and prose, at a time when other names had
gained, or were gaining, the large ear of the gentle
public, . . . when Eugene Aram, or Ernest Maltrav
ers, or Vivian Grey, or the Pickwick Papers, had begun
to elbow Waveriey, the Antiquary, and Ivanhoe off
the table ; . . . after the ' last new poem ' began to be
more read than the matchless Fourth Canto of Childe
Harold, ... or the grand, melancholy, and immortal
Platonisms and Miltonisms of the Excursion. So
much the worse for yourselves !
" But if there be any in this assembly of the age of
fifty or thereabout, you will hold a different theory.

810 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IX.
You will look back not without delight, to the time,
say from 1812 to 1820, when this brilliant and still
young school had fairly won the general voice, — to
that time when exactly as taste, fancy, the emotions,
were beginning to unfold and to pronounce them
selves, and to give direction to your solitary and
voluntary reading, these armed flights of genius came
streaming from beyond the sea, — that time when, as
you came into your room from a college recitation in
which you had been badly screwed in the eighth pro
position on the Ellipse in Webber's Conic Sections, or
in some passage of Tacitus in an edition with few notes
and a corrupt text, and no translation, — you found
Rob Roy, or The Astrologer, or The Antiquary, just
republished and waiting your hands uncut; when,
being asked if there were any thing new, the bookseller
would demurely and apologetically say, ' No, nothing
very particular ; there was just a Fourth Canto of
Childe Harold, or a little pamphlet edition of Man
fred, or a thing of Rogers, the author of The Pleasures
of Memory, called Human life ; or Lines of Coleridge
on a view of the Alps before sunrise in the vale of
Chamouny, or The Excursion, or Corinne, or Ger
many of Madame de Stael, nothing else, I believe.'
You who can remember this -will sigh and say, —
' 'Twas a fight that ne'er can shine again
On He's dull stream.'
So might you say, whatever their worth intrinsically ;
for to you, — to us, — read in the age of admiration,
- of the first pidse of the emotions beating unwont-
edly, — associated -with college contentions and friend
ships ; the walk on the gleaming, Rhine-like, riverside ;

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON THE POETS. 311
the seat of rock and moss under the pine singing of
Theocritus ; with all fair ideals revelling in the soul
before ' The trumpet call of truth
Pealed on the idle dreams of youth,' —
to you they had a spell beyond their value and a place
in your culture that nothing can share."
Of them all — that constellation of brilliant writers
— no one interested Mr. Choate so much as Sir Walter
Scott. The whole lecture is, of necessity, somewhat
desultory ; but one cannot well pass by the general
tribute to Scott, and the brief defence of him from the
criticism of i\Ir. Carlyle : —
" And now, of all that bright circle, whom shall we
say we love best? Each has his choice. Our own
moods have them. But do I deceive myself in sup
posing, that if the collective voice of all who speak
the language of England could be gathered by ballot,
it would award the laurel by about a two-thirds
majority to Walter Scott, — to the prose romance of
Scott? Of him, no one knows where to begin or end.
Consider first, to how many minds, to how many
moods of mind, these pages give the pleasure for
which books of elegant literature are written. To
enjoy them, you need be in no specific and induced
state ; you need not be gloomy, hating, pursued by a
fury, a sorrow, a remorse, or chasing a pale visionary
phantom of love and hope, as you must to read Byron ;
you need not be smitten with a turn to mysticism and
the transcendental and the Platonic, as you must be
to relish a great deal of Wordsworth ; you need not
feel any special passion, nor acknowledge any very
pronounced vocation, for reforming school- houses and

312 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
alms-houses, for shortening the hours and raising the
wages of weavers' labor, for pulling down the aris
tocracy, the offices and Court of Chancery, and recon
structing society in general, as you must to enjoy very
much even of our excellent Dickens. You need only
to be a man or woman, with a love of reading and
snatching your chances in the interstitial spaces of
life's idle business to indulge it, and that is all. And
why so ? Because that genius was so healthful as
well as so large and strong, because that humanity
was so comprehensive, because that capacity was so
universal, — that survey of life so wide and thorough,
— that knowledge of man in his general nature as
well as in his particular, so deep and true ! Therefore
it is, he gives you what Homer gives, what Shakspeare
gives, — not crotchets, not deformities, not abnormal
and exceptional things or states, not intensities, ex
travagancies, and spasms ; but he gives you an apoc
alypse of life, from its sublimest moments to its
minutest manners, such as never was communicated
but by two other human imaginations. In that pan
orama of course, as in the mighty, complicated, and
many-colored original of nature and history, there are
all sorts of things, the jester, the humorist, the appari
tion from the dead, even as there is the clown grave-
digger in Hamlet, the fool in Lear, the drunken
porter in Macbeth, Thersites in the Iliad ; but they
are in proportion and place. The final aggregate of
impression is true. You have not read that particular
chapter in the great Book of Life before ; but you
recognize it in a moment ; you learn from it. These
men and women you had not known by name ; you
see them tried by imaginary and romantic circum-

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON THE POETS. 313
stances certainly, but they reveal and illustrate and
glorify the genuine humanity which you know to be
such at its best ; courage, honor, love, truth, prin
ciple, duty ; tried on high places and on low ; in the
hour of battle ; in the slow approach of death ; in be
reavement ; in joy ; in all that varied eventful ebb and
fiow that makes life.
" This is the reason, — one reason, — why so many
more, in so many more moods, love him, than any
other one in that splendid companionship. True it is
no doubt, that even above the sound of a universal
and instant popularity, there is a charm beyond.
There is a twofold charm beyond. They are, first,
the prose romances of a poet ; not the downright prose
of Smollett, of Defoe, and of Fielding, nor the pathetic
prose of Richardson, nor the brilliant and elegant
prose of Edge worth, or Hope in Anastasius. They
sparkle and burn with that element, impossible to
counterfeit, impossible to destroy, — a genuine poetry.
Sometimes the whole novel is a poem. Who does
not feel this in every page of the Bride of Lammer-
moor ? The story is simple, its incidents are few ; yet
how like a tragedy, brooded over by Destiny, it
sweeps on, from that disturbed funeral of old Lord
Ravenswood, — the procession interrupted — the father
on the bier — the mourning child by his side, outraged
under the very arches of the house of death — that
deep paleness of the cheek of the young son reveal
ing how the agony of his sorrow masters for a space
the vehemence of his burning resentment, — that
aAvful oath of revenge against the house of his future
affianced bride ; — how it sweeps on, from this burial
service presided over by doom, through those unutter-

314 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
able agonies of two hearts, to the successive and
appalling death-scenes ; how every incident and ap
pendage swells the dark and swift tide of destiny ;
how highly wrought — how vivid — how spontaneous
in metaphor, is every scene and dialogue ; to what
fervor and exaltation of mind — to what keen suscep
tibility of emotion — to how towering and perturbed
a mood of imagination, all the dramatis personoe seem
elevated ! In the same sense in which the Qidipus or
the Agamemnon is a tragic poem, so is this ; and the
glorious music of the opera is scarcely passionate and
mournful enough to relieve the overburthened and
over-wrought heart and imagination of the reader.
"And when the whole romance is not a poem in its
nature, in model, as Waveriey, the Antiquary and the
Astrologer and Kenilworth and Ivanhoe are not, how
does the element of poetry yet blend and revel in it !
In what other prose romances of any literature, in how
many romances in verse, do you find pictures of scen
ery so bold, just, and free, — such judgment in choos
ing, and enthusiasm in feeling, and energy in sketching,
an unequalled landscape, identified by its own incom
municable beauty and grandeur ? Where else but in
the finest of tragedies do you find the persons of the
scene brought together and interacting in speech and
figure so full of life, — the life of a real presence, —
the life flashing from the eye, trembling in the tones
of voice, shaking the strong man's frame, speaking in
the eloquent face? Who has sketched the single
combat, the shock of ancient and modern battle, the
assault, the repulse, the final storm, like him? Re
call that contest with night, ocean, and tempest, in
which Sir Arthur and Isabella are rescued in the An-

1855-1858.J LECTURE ON THE POETS. 315
tiquary ; and contrast that other also in the An
tiquary, the fisherman's funeral, — the bier of the
young man drowned — the passionate, natural sobs
of the mother — the sullen and fierce grief of the
father, shaking in its energy the bed beneath whose
canopy he had hidden his face — the old grandmother,
linking by a strange tie the guilt, the punishment of
the proud house of Glenallan, to this agony of humble
life. Over what other prose volumes do you find
strewn broadcast Avith the prodigality of a happy na
ture, so much simile and metaphor, — the vocabulary,
— the pearls, gems, and coral of the language, — and
the thoughts of poetry ? — What would you think to
come, in Fielding or Smollett or Richardson or Defoe,
on such a passage as this : ' It is my Leicester ! It is
my noble earl ! It is my Dudley ! Every stroke of
his horse's hoof sounds like a note of lordly music ! '
Or this : ' Major Bridgenorth glided along this formal
society with noiseless step, and a composed severity of
manner resembling their own. He paused before each
in succession, and apparently communicated, as he
passed, the transactions of the evening, and the cir
cumstances under which the heir of Martindale Castle
was now a guest of Moultrassie Hall. Each seemed
to stir at his brief detail, like a range of statues in an
enchanted hall, starting into something like life as a
talisman is applied to them successively.'
" I know, too, what interest and what value their
historical element gives to these fictions. Like all
this class of fiction in all literature, their theme is
domestic life, and nature under the aspects of do
mestic life. But his is domestic life on which there
streams the mighty influence of a great historical con-

316 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX
juncture. That interest indescribable which attaches
ever to a people and a time over which dark care, an
urgent peril, a vast apprehension is brooding ; a crisis
of war, of revolution, of revolt, — that interest is
spread on all things, the minutest incident, — the
humblest sufferer, — the conversations of boors on the
road or at the alehouse ; every thing little or high is
illustrative and representative. The pulses of a sub
lime national movement beat through the universal
human nature of the drama. The great tides of his
torical and public existence flow there and ebb, and
all things rise and fall on those resistless forces. The
light of the castle stormed and on fire streams in
through the open door of some smallest cottager ; and
lovers are kept asunder by a war of succession to
thrones. " To one of his detractors, let me say one word.
" It has pleased Mr. Thomas Carlyle to record of
these novels, — ' The sick heart Avill find no healing
here, the darkly struggling heart no guidance, the
heroic that is in all men no divine, awakening voice.'
These be sonorous words assuredly. In one sense I
am afraid that is true of any and all mere romantic
literature. As disparagement of Scott it is a simple
absurdity of injustice. In any adequate sense of these
expressions. Homer and Shakspeare must answer,
' These are not mine to give.' To heal that sickness,
to pour that light on that gloom, to awaken that sleep
of greatness in the soul in the highest sense, far other
provision is demanded, and is given. In the old, old
time, — Hebrew, Pagan, — some found it in the very
voice of God ; some in the visits of the angel ; some
in a pilgrimage to the beautiful Jerusalem ; some in

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON THE POETS. 317
the message of the Prophet, till that succession had
its close ; some sought it rather than found it, like
Socrates, like Plato, like Cicero, like Cato, in the
thoughts of their own and other mighty minds turned
to the direct search of truth, in the philosophy of
speculation, in the philosophy of duty, in the prac
tice of public life. To us only, and at last, is given
the true light. For us only is the great Physician
provided. In our ears, in theirs whose testimony we
assuredly believe, the divine awakening voice has
been articulately and first spoken. In this sense,
what he says would be true of Homer, Shakspeare,
Dante, Milton ; but no more true of Scott than of
Goethe or Schiller. Neither is, or gives, religion to
the soul, if it is that of which he speaks. But if this
is not his meaning, — and I suppose it is not, — if he
means to say that by the same general treatment,
by the same form of suffering humanity, by which
Homer, Virgil, Dante, Shakspeare heal the sick heart,
give light to the darkened eye, and guidance to blun
dering feet, and kindle the heroic in man to life, —
if he means to say that as they have done it he has
not in kind, in supreme degree, — let the millions
whose hours of unrest, anguish, and fear he has
charmed away, to the darkness of whose desponding
he has given light, to whose sentiments of honor,
duty, courage, truth, manliness, he has given help —
let them gather around the Capitol and answer for
themselves and him. I am afraid that that Delphic
and glorious Madame de Stael knew sickness of the
heart in a sense and Avith a depth too true only;
and she had, with other consolation, the fisherman's
funeral in the Antiquary read to her on her death-

318 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX,
bed; as Charles Fox had the kindred but unequal
sketches of Crabbe's Village read on his.
" And so of this complaint, that the heroic in man
finds here no divine, awakening voice. If by this
heroic in man he means what — assuming religious
traits out of the question — we who speak the tongue
of England and hold the ethics of Plato, of Cicero, of
Jeremy Taylor and Edmund Burke, should under
stand, — religion now out of the question, — that
sense of obligation, pursuing us ever, omnipresent
like the Deity, ever proclaiming that the duties of
life are more than life, — that principle of honor that
feels a stain like a wound, — that courage that fears
God and knows no other fear, that dares do all that
may become a man, — truth on the lips and in the
inward parts, — that love of our own native land,
comprehensive and full love, the absence of which
makes even the superb art-world of Goethe dreamy
and epicurean, — manliness, equal to all offices of
war or peace, above jealousy, above injustice, — if
this is the heroic, and if by the divine awakening
voice he meant that artistic and literary culture
fitted to develop and train this quality, that voice is
Scott's. " I will not compare him with Carlyle's Goethe or
even Schiller, or any other idol on the Olympus of
his worship ; that were flippant and indecorous, nor
within my competence. But who and where, in any
literature, in any walk of genius, has sketched a char
acter, imagined a situation, conceived an austerity of
glorified suffering, better adapted to awaken all of
the heroic in man or woman, that it is fit to awaken,
thnn Rebecca in act to leap from the dizzy verge of

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON THE POETS. 319
the parapet of the Castle to escape the Templar,
or awaiting the bitterness of death in the list of Tem-
plestowe and rejecting the championship of her ad
mirer ? — or than Jeanie Deans refusing an untruth
to saA^e her innocent sister's life and then Avalking to
London to plead for her before the Queen, — and so
pleading? — than Macbriar in that group of Cove
nanters in Old Mortality in presence of the Privy
Council, confessing for himself, whom terror, Avhom
torture, could not move to the betrayal of another ;
accepting sentence of death, after anguish unimagina
ble, his face radiant with joy ; a trial of manhood and
trust, a sublimity of trial, a manifestation of the
heroic to which the self-sacrifice of a Leonidas and his
three hundred was but a wild and glad revelry, — a
inarch to the ' Dorian music of flutes and soft record
ers,' — a crowning, after the holiday contention of
the games, with all of glory a Greek could covet or
conceive. " I rode in the August of 1850, with a friend and
kinsman, now dead, from Abbotsford to Dryburgh,
from the home to the grave of Walter Scott. We
asked the driver if he knew on which side of the
Tweed the funeral procession, a mile in length, went
down. He did not know. But Avhat signified it?
Our way lay along its south bank. On our right rose
the three peaks of the cloven summit of Eildon ; fair
Melrose, in its gray ruin, immortal as his song ; the
Tweed, whose murmur came in on his ear when he
was dying, were on our left ; the Scotland of the Lay
of the Last Minstrel, bathed in the mild harvest sun
light, was around us ; and when we came within that
wide inclosure at the Abbey of Dryburgh, in which

320 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IX.
they have laid him down, we could then feel how truly
that deep sob, which is said to have burst in that mo
ment from a thousand lips, was but predictive and
symbolical of the mourning of mute Nature for her
worshipper ; of Scotland for the crown of her glory ;
of the millions of long generations for their com
panion and their benefactor."
The year 1856 was a year of political excitement.
The Democratio party nominated Mr. Buchanan for
the Presidency, and the Republicans, Col. Fremont ;
still another party, composed of those Avho called
themselves "Americans," had nominated Mr. Fill-
more. Mr. Choate did not entirely sympathize with
either of these parties, and for some time was in
doubt what position to take. To be neutral he
thought unbecoming, when great interests seemed
to be at stake, nor was he Avilling to throw away
his influence where there was no chance of success,
especially where his convictions did not impel him
to act. He meditated long and anxiously, taking
counsel of none, because he determined to act inde
pendently. A separation from old friends, even tem
porarily, gave him real sorrow, yet to follow any party
founded on geographical principles, or Avhich would
divide the States by a .geographical line, seemed to
him, not only repugnant to the counsels of Washing
ton and the fathers of the Republic, but so unstates-
maniike and dangerous that he could not regard it
with favor. A letter to Mr. Evarts, of New York,
who had recently made a speech in favor of the Re
publican party, indicates this feeling.

1855-1858.] LETTER TO MAINE WHIG COMMITTEE. 321

To Wm. M. Evarts, Esq.
"Dear Mr. Evarts, — I thank you for your courtesy
in the transmitting of the speech. I had read it before, and
for that matter, there has been nothing else in my papers
since, except the proceedings in the matter of poor Hoffman.
Both — the political and the eulogistic — are excellent. To
say that I see my way clear to act with you were premature.
Blessings are bought with a price. We may pay too high
for good sentiments and desirable policy. I hate some of
your associates and recognize no necessity at all for a Pres
idential campaign on platforms less broad than the whole
area. . . . " Most truly yours, R. Choate.'
The first distinct intimation that he gave of his
probable political course was in a note to Mr. Everett.
It was little more than a conjecture, however, hardly
a declaration of a fixed purpose ; yet he was not timid
in declaring his opinions when fully formed and the
occasion demanded it, and in his letter to the Whigs
of Maine, dated the 9th of August, he unhesitatingly
aflirmed his position. This letter was in answer to
an urgent request from the Whig State Committee
¦ to address the people at a mass meeting in WaterviUe.
To B. W. Farley, and other gentlemen, of the Maine AVhig State
Central Committee. " Boston, Aug. 9, 1856.
" Gentlemen, — Upon my return last evening, after a
short absence from the city, I found your letter of the SOth
ult., inviting me to take part in the proceedings of the Whigs
of Maine, assembled in mass meeting.
'' I appreciate most highly the honor and kindness of this
invitation, and should have had true pleasure in accepting it.
The Whigs of Maine composed at all times so important a
division of the great national party, which, under that name,
with or without official power, as a responsible administration,
or as only an organized opinion, has done so much for our
21

322 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX
coimtry, — our whole country, — and your responsibilities at
this moment are so vast and peculiar, that I acknowledge an
anxiety to see — not wait to hear — with what noble bearing
you meet the demands of the time. If the tried legions, to
whom it is committed to guard the frontier of the Union,
falter now, who, anywhere, can be trusted?
" My engagements, however, and the necessity or expedi
ency of abstaining from aU speech requiring much effort, will
prevent my being -with you. And yet, invited to share in
your counsels, and grateful for such distinction, I cannot
wholly decline to declare my own opinions on one of the
duties of the Whigs, in what you well describe as ' the present
crisis in the political affairs of the country.' I cannot now,
and need not, pause to elaborate or defend them. What I
think, and what I have decided to do, permit me in the brief
est and plainest expression to tell you.
'¦ The first duty, then, of Whigs, not merely as patriots
and as citizens, — loving, -with a large and equal love, our
whole native land, — but as Whigs, and because we are
AA'higs, is to unite with some organization of our countrymen,
to defeat and dissolve the new geographical party, calling
itself Republican. This is our first duty. It would more
exactly express my opinion to say that at this moment it is
our only duty. Certainly, at least, it comprehends and sus
pends all others ; and in my judgment, the question for each
and every one of us is, not whether this candidate or that
candidate would be our first choice, — not whether there is
sorae good talk in the worst platform, and some bad talk in
the best platform, — not whether this man's ambition, or that
man's servility or boldness or fanaticism or violence, is respon
sible for putting the wild waters in this uproar ; — but just
this, — by what vote can I do most to prevent the madness
of the times from working its maddest act, — the very ecstasy
of its madness, — the permanent formation and the actual
present triumph of a party which knows one-half of America
only to hate and dread it, — from whose unconsecrated and
revolutionary banner fifteen stars are erased or have fallen,
— in whose national anthem the old and endeared airs of the
Eutaw Springs and the King's Mountain and Yorktown, and
those, later, of New Orleans and Buena Vista and Chapulte
pec, breathe no more. To this duty, to this question, all
others seem to me to stand for the present postponed and
secondary.

185C-1858.] LETTER TO MAINE WHIG COMMITTEE. 323
" And why ? Because, according to our creed, it is only
the united America which can peacefully, gradually, s.afely,
improve, lift up, and bless, with all social and personal and
civil blessings, all the races and all the conditions which com
pose our vast and various family, — it is such an America,
only, whose arm can guard our flag, develop our resources,
extend our trade, and fill the measure of our glory ; and be
cause, according to our convictions, the triumph of such a
party puts the Union in danger. That is my reason. And
for you and for me and for all of us, in whose regards the
Union possesses such a value, and to whose fears it seems
menaced by such a danger, it is reason enough. Believing
the noble Ship of State to be within a half cable's length of
a lee shore of rock, in a gale of wind, our first business is to
put her about, and crowd her off into the deep, open sea.
That done, we can regulate the stowage of her lower tier of
powder, and select her cruising ground, and bring her officers
to court-martial at our leisure.
" If there are any in Maine — and among the Whigs of
Maine I hope there is not one — but if there are any, in
whose hearts strong passions, vaulting ambition, jealousy of
men or sections, unreasoning and impatient philanthropy, or
whatever else have turned to hate or coldness the fraternal
blood and quenched the spirit of national life at its source, —
with whom the union of slave States and free States under
the actual Constitution is a curse, a hindrance, a reproach, —
with those of course our view of our duty and the reason of
it, are a stumbling-block and foolishness. To such you can
have nothing to say, and from such you can have nothing to
hope. But if there are those again who love the Union as
we love it, and prize it as we prize it, — who regard it as we
do, not merely as a vast instrumentality for the protection of
our commerce and navigation, and for achieving power, emi
nence, and name among the sovereigns of the earth, but as a
means of improving the material lot, and elevating the moral
and mental nature, and insuring the personal happiness of
the millions of many distant generations, — if there are
those who think thus justly of it, and yet hug the fatal
delusion that, because it is good, it is necessarily immortal,
that it will thrive without care, that any thing created by a
man's will is above or stronger than his will, that because the
reason and virtues of our age of reason and virtue could
build it, the passions and stimulations of a day of frenzy

324 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
cannot pull it down ; — if such there are among you, to them
address yourselves with all the earnestness and all the elo
quence of men who feel that some greater interest is at
stake, and some mightier cause in hearing, than ever yet
tongue has pleaded or trumpet proclaimed. If such minds
and hearts are reached, all is safe. But how specious and
how manifold are the sophisms by which they are courted !
" They hear, and they read much ridicule of those who
fear that a geographical party does endanger the Union.
But can they forget that our greatest, wisest, and most
hopeful statesmen have always felt, and have all, in one form
or another, left on record their own fear of such a party ?
The judgments of Washington, Madison, Clay, Webster, on
the dangers of the American Union — are they worth nothing
to a conscientious love of it? What they dreaded as a
remote and improbable contingency — that against which
they cautioned, as they thought, distant generations — that
which they were so happy as to die without seeing — is upon
us. And yet some men would have us go on laughing and
singing, like the traveller in the satire, "with his pockets
empty, at a present peril, the mere apprehension of -which,
as a distant and bare possibility, could sadden the heart of
the Father of his Country, and dictate the grave and grand
¦warning of the Farewell Address.
" They hear men say that such a party ought not to en
danger the Union ; that, although it happened to be formed
within one geographical section, and confined exclusively to
it, — although its end and aim is to rally that section against
the other on a question of morals, policy, and feeling, on
which the two differ eternally and unappeasedly, although,
from the nature of its origin and objects, no man in the
section outside can possibly join it, or accept office under it,
-without infamy at home, — ¦ although, therefore, it is a stupen
dous organization, practically to take power and honor, and
a full share of the government, from our whole family of
States, and bestow them, substantially, all upon the antag
onist family, — although the doctrines of human rights,
which it gathers out of the Declaration of Independence — ¦
that passionate and eloquent manifesto of a revolutionary
war — and adopts as its fundamental ideas, announce to any
Southern apprehension a crusade of the government against
slavery, far without and beyond Kansas, — although the
spirit and tendency of its electioneering appeals, as a whole,

1855-1858.] LETTER TO MAINE WHIG COMMITTEE. 325
in prose and verse, the leading articles of its papers, and the
speeches of its orators, are to excite contempt and hate, or
fear, of one entire geographical section, and hate or dread
or contempt is the natural impression it all leaves on the
Northern mind and heart ; yet that nobody anywhere ought
to be angry, or ought to be frightened; that the majority
must govern, and that the North is a majority ; that it is ten
to one nothing will happen ; that, if worst comes to worst,
the South knows it is wholly to blame, and needs the Union
more than we do, and will be quiet accordingly.
" But do they who bold this language forget that the
question is not what ought to endanger the Union, but what
will do it ? Is it man as he ought to be, or man as he is,
that we must live with or live alone ? In appreciating the
influences which may disturb a political system, and especially
one like ours, do you make no allowance for passions, for
pride, for infirmity, for the burning sense of even imaginary
wrong ? Do you assume that all men, or all masses of men
in all sections, uniformly obey reason ; and uniformly wisely
see and calmly seek their true interests ? Where on earth
is such a fool's Paradise as that to be found ? Conceding to
the people of the fifteen States the ordinary and average
human nature, its good and its evil, its weakness and its
strength, I, for one, dare not say that the triumph of such a
party ought not to be expected naturally and probably to
disunite the States. With my undoubting convictions, I know
that it would be folly and immorality in men to wish it.
Certainly there are in all sections and in all States those who
love the Union, under the actual Constitution, as Washington
did, as Jay, Hamilton, and Madison did ; as Jackson, as Clay,
as Webster loved it. Such even is the hereditary and the
habitual sentiment of the general American heart. But he
has read life and books to little purpose who has not learned
that ' bosom friendships ' may be ' to resentment soured,' and
that no hatred is so keen, deep, and precious as that.
' And to he wroth with one we love
Doth work Hke madness in the brain.'
He has read the book of our history to still less purpose, who
has not learned that the friendships of these States, sisters
but rivals, sovereigns each, with a public life, and a body of
interests, and sources of honor and shame of its own and
within itself, distributed into two great opposing groups, are

326 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
of all human ties most exposed to such rupture and such
transformation. " I have not time in these hasty lines, and there is no need,
to speculate ou the detaUs of the modes in which the triumph
of this party would do its work of evil. Its mere struggle
to obtain the government, as that struggle is conducted, is
mischievous to an extent incalculable. That thousands of
the good men who have joined it deplore this is certain, but
that does uot mend the matter. I appeal to the conscience
and honor of my country that if it were the aim of a great
party, by every species of access to the popular mind, — by
eloquence, by argument, by taunt, by sarcasm, by recrimination,
by appeals to pride, shame, and natural right, — to prepare
the nation for a struggle with Spain or England or Austria,
it could not do its business more thoroughly. Many persons,
many speakers, — many, very many, set a higher and wiser
example ; but the work is doing.
" If it accomplishes its objects and gives the government
to the North, I turn my eyes from the consequences. To
the fifteen States of the South that government will appear
an alien government. It will appear worse. It will appear
a hostile government. It wUl represent to their eye a vast
region of States organized upon anti-slavery, flushed by
triumph, cheered onward by the voices of the pulpit, tribune,
and press ; its mission to inaugurate freedom and put down
the oligarchy ; its constitution the glittering and sounding
generalities of natural right which make up the Declaration
of Independence. And then and thus is the beginning of
the end.
" If a necessity could be made out for such a party we
might submit to it as to other unavoidable evil, and other
certain danger. But where do they find that ? Where do
they pretend to flnd it ? Is it to keep slavery out of the
territories ? There is not one but Kansas in which slavery
is possible. No man fears, no man hopes, for slavery in
Utah, New Mexico, Washington, or Minnesota. A national
party to give them freedom is about as needful and about as
feasible as a national party to keep Maine for freedom. And
Kansas ! Let that abused and profaned soil have calm within
its borders ; deliver it over to the natural law of peaceful and
spontaneous immigration ; take off the ruffian hands ; strike
down the rifle and the bowie-knife ; guard its strenuous
infancy and youth till it comes of age to choose for itself, —

1855-1858] LETTER TO MAINE WHIG COMMITTEE, 327
and it will choose freedom for itself, and it will have for ever
what it chooses.
' When this policy, so easy, simple, and just, is tried and
fails, it will be time enough to resort to revolution. It is in
part because the duty of protection to the local settler was
not performed, that the Democratic party has already by the
action of its great representative Convention resolved to put
out of office its own administration. That lesson will not
and must not be lost on anybody. The country demands
that Congress, before it adjourns, give that territory peace.
If it do, time will inevitably give it freedom.
" I have hastily and imperfectly expressed my opinion
through the unsatisfactory forms of a letter, as to the imme
diate duty of Whigs, We are to do what we can to defeat
and disband the geographical party. But by what specific
action we can most effectually contribute to such a result is
a question of more difficulty. It seems now to be settled that
we present no candidate of our own. If we vote at all, then,
we vote for the nominees of the American, or the nominees of
the Democratic party. As between them I shall not venture
to counsel the Whigs of Maine, but I deem it due to frankness
and honor to say, that while I entertain a high appreciation
of the character and ability of Mr. Fillmore, I do not
sympathize in any degree with the objects and creed of the
particular party that nominated him, and do not approve
of their organization and their tactics. Practically, too, the
contest in my judgment is between Mr. Buchanan and Col.
Fremont. In these circumstances, I vote for Mr. Buchanan.
He has large experience in public affairs ; his commanding
capacity is universally acknowledged ; his life is without a
stain. I am constrained to add that he seems at this moment,
by the concurrence of circumstances, more completely than
any other, to represent that sentiment of nationality, tolerant,
warm, and comprehensive, — without which, without increase
of which, America is no longer America ; and to possess the
power and I trust the disposition to restore and keep that
peace, within our borders, and without, for which our hearts
all yearn, which all our interests demand, through which and
by which alone we may hope to grow to the true greatness
of nations. " Very respectfully,
" Your fellow-citizen,
'' Rdfus Choate."

328 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. IX.
This letter was no sooner published than solicita
tions came, almost without number, to take part in
the political campaign. Committees from New York
and Philadelphia urged him with an importunity
which it was very difficult to resist. He determined
at last to make one speech, and but one. He chose
the place, Lowell, — an important manufacturing city
in Middlesex County, the county which holds Bunker
Hill and Lexington. An immense croAvd assembled
to hear him on the 28th of October. It was an
unwonted and hard thing for him to leave, even for
a time, those with whom he had always been politi
cally associated, and join those whom he had always
opposed. If ever one were controlled by a high sense
of public duty, he certainly was in that difficult step.
He sought neither honor, nor office, nor emolument ;
nothing but the greater safety and welfare of the
country could repay him. There was a tone of dep
recation in some parts of the speech which marked
his deep feeling. " Certainly," he said, " somewhat
there is in the position of all of us a little trying.
Ties of years which knit some of us together are
broken. Cold regards are turned on us, and bitter
language, and slander cruel as the grave, is ours.
' I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.'
You have decided. Fellow- Whigs, that you can best
contribute to the grand end we all seek, by a vote
for Mr. Fillmore. I, a Whig all my life, a Whig in
all things, and as regards all other names, a Whig
to-day, have thought I could discharge my duty
most effectually by A'^oting for Mr. Buchanan and
Mr. Breckinridge ; and I shall do it. The justice I

1855-1858.] ADDRESS AT LO\\'ELL. 329
am but too happy in rendering j'ou, will you deny to
me ? In doing this I neither join the Democratic
party, nor retract any opinion on the details of its
policy, nor acquit it of its share of blame in bringing
on the agitations of the hour. . . . There never was
an election contest that, in denouncing the particulars
of its policy, I did not admit that the characteristic
of the Democratic party was this, that it had burned
CA^er Avith the great master-passion this hour demands,
a youthful, vehement, exultant, and progressive na-
tionalitj'. Through some errors, into some perils, it
has been led by it ; it may be so again ; we may
require to temper and restrain it ; but to-day we need
it all, we need it all ! the hopes, the boasts, the pride,
the universal tolerance, the gay and festive defiance
of foreign dictation, the flag, the music, all the emo
tions, all the traits, all the energies, that have won
their victories of war, and their miracles of national
advancement, — the country needs them all now, to
Avin a victory of peace. That done, I vdll pass again,
happy and content, into that minority of conservatism
in which I bave passed my life."
The meeting had assembled in the largest hall in
the city, which was densely packed. It was estimated
that from four to five thousand persons were present.
The committee of arrangements, with the orator, could
with great difficulty force their way to the platform.
The meeting was soon organized, and the president
had hardly begun to make a preliminary address, when
a dull, heav)' sound like a distant cannon was heard,
and the floor evidently yielded. A general fright
seemed to pervade the audience, which Avas assuaged
only by assuiances of safety, and that an exaniinatioD

330 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
of the supports of the building should at once be made
by an experienced architect. The agitation having
subsided, Mr. Choate rose and was hailed with a
storm of applause, such as e^i-en he had rarely heard
before. He proceeded for nearly half an hour, when
again that ominous sound was heard, and the floor
was felt sinking as before. Mr. Choate paused, and
the fear of the crowd was partially quieted a second
time by an assurance of an inimediate inspection of
the building, and if it should not be found safe, an
adjournment to some other place. The architect who
first Avent to examine the supports had not come back.
General Butler, who was presiding, said that he would
go and ascertain the condition of things, and return
and report. He went, and to his horror found that
several of the rods by which the floor was sustained
had drawn through the timbers, that tbe ceiling below
was opening, and that the slightest movement or
demonstration of applause would be likely to bring
the fioor, the roof, and probably the walls, to the
ground, with a destruction of life too awful to think
of. Comprehending all the peril, he forced his way
in again through the crowd, till he reached the plat
form, and then calmly addressing the audience told
them that though there might be no immediate danger,
as they had been interrupted twice and some were
timid, it would be best quietly and without haste to
leave the hall. ' This is the place of greatest danger,'
he said, ' and I shall stand here till all have gone out.'
The hall was at once cleared, those on the platform
going last ; and it is said that as they were walking
out the floor again sprung for an inch or Iavo. Not
till all were safe, did they understand the imminent

1855-1858.] LETTER TO JOHN CARROLL WALSH. 331
peril in which they had been ; how near to a catas
trophe, to which that of the Pemberton Mill might
have been a mercy. The crowd soon forgot the
danger, and Avere so eager for the continuance of the
speech, that Mr. Choate, who had retired to the hotel,
and was suffering from an incipient illness, addressed
the assembled masses for some time from a platform
hastily erected in front of one of the windows.
It was natural that his determination to vote for
Mr. Buchanan should be regarded with sorrow by
those with whom he had always been associated, and
perhaps not very surprising that he should have re
ceived anonymous letters filled with abuse and threats,
some of them frightful in their malignity. After the
election, it was intimated to him, that any honorable
position under the government, that he might desire,
would be at his disposal. But he was determined to
receive nothing, nor allow the remotest suspicion to
attach to his motives. Some doubted the necessity or
the Avisdom of his course ; but none who knew him
distrusted the depth and sincerity of his convictions,
or the immaculate purity of his patriotism. Misjudg-
ment aud censure he expected to receive, but charges
of mercenary or malignant motives he could not over
look. Such having been brought to his notice as
made in JNIaryland, he replied to his informant by the
following letter : —
To John Carroll Walsh, Harford Co., Maryland.
"Boston, Sept. 15, 1856.
" Dear Sir, — Your letter informing me that Mr. Davis
asserted in a public speech that the secret of my opposition to
Mr. Fillmore was disappointment, created by not receiving
from him an office which I sought and desired, was received a
httle out of time. I thank you for affording me an opportu-

332 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
nity to answer, at the first moment of hearing it, a statement
so groundless and so unjust. There is not a particle of truth
in it, nor is there any thing to color or to suggest his inform
ant's falsehood. I authorize and request you, if you attach
any importance to the matter, to give it the most absolute and
comprehensive denial. I never sought an office from Mr.
Fillmore directly or indirectly, and never requested or author
ized any other person to do so for me, and never beheved for
a moment, or suspected, and do not now believe or suspect,
that any one has done so, or has even mentioned my name to
him in connection with an office. Mr. Fillmore never had a
place in his gift which I desired, or which I could have
afforded to accept, even if I had thought myself competent to
flll it, or for which I could, under any circumstances, have
exchanged the indispensable labor of my profession. Per
sonal complaint of Mr. Fillmore I have not th-j slightest
reason to make ; and he who thinks it worth his whUe to
conjecture why I shall not vote for him, must accept from me,
or fabricate for himself, a different explanation.
" With great regard, your servant and fellow-citizen,
" Rdfus Choate."
The key to Mr. Choate's public life, especially his
later life, may be found in two grand motives : the
first, his strong American feeling ; the second, his
love of the Union. The former led him to sustain the
country, its institutions, and public policy, as distin
guished from those of the Old World. The latter
made him as careful of the rights, as respectful to the
-feelings, the sentiments, the habits, of the South as of
the North, of the West as of the East. He felt that
sufficient time had not yet elapsed thoroughly to prove
the power and virtues of the Republic, or suggest an
adequate remedy for its defects. He felt that to per
petuate a government strong but liberal — considerate
of every interest and oppressive of none — requires
great breadth and intensity of patriotism, much for
bearance of sectional ignorance and prejudice, a con
ciliatory and just spirit, a large prudence, and a liberal

1855-1858.] HIS LIBRARY. 333
regard to wants and interests as diverse as the races
which march under the one national banner, and pro
fess allegiance to a common government, or the pro
ductions and pursuits of our various climate and soil.
The State he loved, as one would love a father. The
faults of the State he would not make the ground of
party exultation, or parade them for universal, indis
criminate, and barren censure, but would rather shun,
and if possible cure, or at least cover with a filial
sorrow, — dictitans, domestica mala tristitia operienda.
He shared largely the fears of the Avisest and most
far-sighted statesmen, but still trusted that under a
magnanimous public policy, time would more com
pletely consolidate the races and States, evils would
be gradually corrected, and the spirit of nationality
— deeply imbedded in the affections and interests —
would rise supreme over every local ambition or
sectional scheme.
Mr. Choate's position was now such as any one might
envy. As a statesman, his ideas and policy had noth
ing narrow or sectional. They embraced the welfare
of the whole country, and of every part of it. He was
identified with whatever in patriotism was most gener
ous and unselfisi . In his profession he had won the
love, as well as the admiration, of his brethren. He
stood at the head of the New England Bar ; nor was
there in the country an advocate whose well-earned
reputation surpassed his. Too liberal to acquire an
ample fortune, he had, nevertheless, secured a com
petence. His family was still almost unbroken. Two
of his daughters were married,^ and lived very near
* His eldest daughter to Joseph M. BeU, Esq. ; and his youngest
to Edward Ellerton Pratt, Esq.

33-4 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX
him. His residence and his library had been every
year growing more and more to his mind. His library
had always been an object of special interest. On
moving into his house in Winthrop Place, it filled a
front chamber directly over the parlor. Soon over-
floAving, it swept away the partition between that and
a small room over the front entry. Then, accumu
lating still more rapidly, it burst all barriers and
filled the whole second story. A friend visiting him
one day, asked how he contrived to gain from Mrs.
Choate so large a part of the house. " Oh," said he,
in a most delightfully jocular tone, "by fighting for
it." It was, indeed, a charming retreat. Every wall,
in all the irregularities of the room, filled with crowded
bookcases, with here and there choice engravings and
pictures in unoccupied places, or on frames arranged
expressly to hold them ; with tables, desks, luxurious
chairs, and lounges, — all for use and nothing for
show, though elegant, — all warm, familiar, and in
viting. His library was rich in English literature and
learning in all its branches, and in choice editions of
the classics ; well, though not amply, provided with
modern foreign literature ; and thoroughly stocked
with all the apparatus of dictionaries, gazetteers, and
maps, which a scholar constantly needs. It numbered,
at the time of his death, about seven thousand vol
umes. His law library, it may be here stated, con
sisted of about three thousand volumes, and, I am
informed by those familiar with it, was one of the
best professional libraries in the State.
The next two years of Mr. Choate's life were diver
sified by little besides the ordinary varieties of his pro
fession. In February, 1857, he delivered before the

1855-1858,] DEFENCE OF MRS. DALTON. 335
Mechanic Apprentices' Library Association a lecture
on the " Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods," in
which he dAvelt specially on Demosthenes and Cicero.
It is full of high thoughts, and raises one by its beauty
and magnanimity. Its eloquent defence of Cicero
was harshly criticised — one hardly knows why — by
some who accept the later theories of Cicero's life ;
but was received with rare satisfaction by the lovers
of the patriotic Roman, — nearly the most eloquent of
the Ancients.
In May of the same year, he made his powerful and
successful defence of Mrs. Dalton. This case excited
great interest from the respectability of the parties,
from the circumstances which preceded the trial, as
well as from the great ability of the advocates on both
sides. 1 Its details, however, true or false, were such
as almost of necessity to exclude it, and the argument
based upon it, from full publication. Shortly after his
marriage, nearly two years before, Mr. Dalton discov
ered what he thought an improper intimacy between
his wife and a young man by the name of Sumner.
As a result of this, Sumner was induced to go to the
house of Mr. Coburn (who had married a sister of
Mrs. Dalton), in Shawmut Avenue, where he was
confronted with Mrs. Dalton, was attacked by Dalton
and Coburn, beaten, and driven from the premises.
He went home to Milton, where soon after he was
taken sick and died. The story found its way into
the newspapers, with the usual exaggerations and in
accuracies. The death of Sumner increased the
popular excitement, and Dalton was arrested and
imprisoned on a charge of murder. After lying in
1 R. H. Dana, Jr., was Mr, Dalton's counsel.

336 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, IX.
jail more than a month, the grand jury, on examining
the case, indicted him for manslaughter, and for
assault and battery. On the former charge he was
acquitted; to the latter he pleaded guilty, and was
condemned to an imprisonment of five months. Soon
after going to jail on this sentence, he filed his libel
for a divorce. To hear such a cause in public before
a jury, was a doubtful experiment, tried then for the
first time. Day after day, for nearly three weeks, the
court-room had been crowded by an eager and curious
multitude, watching the parties who sat within the
bar by the side of their respective counsel ; watching
every movement of the eminent advocates as they
would the players of a great game, and intently
listening to the revelations of the evidence. Day by
day the larger audience and the public had been both
stimulated and sickened by the startling, contradic
tory, scandalous, and disgusting details spread wide in
the newspapers. All were waiting with curiosity and
interest, and some with intense anxiety, for the result
of the trial, which at length drew to a close. The
doors were no sooner opened on the morning when
the argument was expected, than the court-room was
crowded to its utmost capacity. While waiting for
the judge to take his seat, much merriment was
caused by a grave announcement from the Sheriff
that the second jury, which had been summoned in
expectation that the trial would be ended, "might
have leave to withdraw." As this was at the moment
when expectation was at the highest, and chairs were
at a premium, and whoever had a standing-place felt
that he was a fortunate man, the effect may be easily
imagined.

1865-1858,] DEFENCE OF MRS. DALTON. 837
Mr. Choate was punctually in his place at the ap
pointed time ; behind and near him sat his young
client, attended by her mother and sister. Not far
distant, and close to his counsel, his eye turned often
to the great adA^ocate, but never to her, was a fair and
pleasant-looking young man, — the husband suing for
a divorce from a wife charged with the most serious
criminality. Immediately on the opening of the
court, IMr. Choate rose, and, after briefly referring to
a case or two in a law-book, commenced in a grave
and quiet manner by congratulating the jury on ap
proaching. at least, the close of a duty so severe
and so painful to all. He then in a few sentences,
Avith a felicity which has seldom been equalled, pro
fessed to be really pleading for the interests of both
parties. " It A'ery rarely happens, indeed, gentlemen, in the
trial of a civil controversy, that both parties have an
equal, or, however, a vast interest, that one of them —
in this case the defendant — should be clearly proved
to be entitled to your verdict. Unusual as it is, such
is now the view of the case that I take ; such a one is
the trial now before you. To both of these parties it
is of supreme importance, in the view that I take of it,
that you should find this young wife, erring, indis
creet, imprudent, forgetful of herself, if it be so, but
innocent of the last and the greatest crime of a mar
ried woman. I say, to hoth parties it is important. I
cannot deny, of course, that her interest in such a
result is, perhaps, the greater of the two. For her,
indeed, it is not too much to say that every thing is
staked upon the result. I cannot, of course, hope, I
cannot say, that any verdict you can render will ever
22

338 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
enable her to recall those weeks of folly, and frivolity,
and vanity, without a blush — without a tear ; I can
not desire that it should be so. But, gentlemen,
whether these grave and impressive proceedings shall
terminate by sending this young wife from your pres
ence with the scarlet letter upon her brow ; whether
in this her morning of life, her name shall be thus
publicly stricken from the roll of virtuous women, —
her whole future darkened by dishonor, and waylaid
by temptation ; her companions driven from her side,
herself cast out, it may be, upon common society, the
sport of libertines, unassisted by public opinion, or
sympathy, or self-respect, — this certainly rests with
you. For her, therefore, I am surely warranted in
saying, that more than her life is at stake. ' What
soever things are honest, whatsoever things are pure,
whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are
of good report, if there be any virtue, if there be any
praise,' all the chances that are to be left her in life
for winning and holding these holy, beautiful, and
needful things, rest with you. . . .
" But is there not another person, gentlemen, inter
ested in these proceedings with an equal, or at least a
supreme, interest with the respondent, that you shall
be able by your verdict to say that Helen Dalton is
not guilty of the crime of adultery ; and is not that
person her husband ? ... If you can here and now
on this evidence acquit your consciences, and render
a verdict that shall assure this husband that a jury of
Suffolk — men of honor and spirit — some of them
his personal friends, believe that he has been the vic
tim of a cruel and groundless jealousy ; that they
believe that he has been led by that scandal that

1855-1858] DEFENCE OF MRS, DALTON. 339
circulates about him, that has influenced him every
where ; that he has been made to misconceive the
nature and overestimate the extent of the injury his
wife has done him ; ... if you can thus enable him
to see that without dishonor he may again take her to
his bosom, let me ask you if any other human being
can do another so great a kindness as this? "
He then went on throughout the day, with a gen
eral statement and review of the evidence, so as to con
ciliate the jury to the theory of culpable indiscretion
indeed, but of indiscretion consistent, after all, with
innocence. This was the theme of all the variations of
that music, — an intimacy light, transient, indiscreet,
foolish, inexcusable, wrong, yet not carried to the last
crime, — consistent still with devoted love for her
husband, whom " she followed, half distracted, to the
jail, — - hovering about that cell, — a beam of light, a
dove of constant presence." To this was added the
fact that after most of these indiscretions were known
to Dalton, and after the scene when Sumner was
assaulted and driven from the house, he still loved,
cherished, and lived Avith her, and wrote that series of
letters from the jail " so beautiful, so manly, one long,
unbroken strain of music, the burthen of which is
home, sweet home ; and you, my loved one, my fond
one, — dearer and better for what has happened, —
you again to fill, illumine, and bless it."
These thoughts he never lost sight of during the
long and varied statement, and the searching exam
ination of the evidence, which followed. A part of
that evidence was hard to evade. Two witnesses had
sworn to a confession, or what amounted to one, on
the part of Mrs. Dalton. How their evidenee and

340 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB, [Chap. IX.
characters were sifted, no one can forget who heard,
nor fail to understand, who reads. They crumbled
in his hand like clay. Sometimes with the gravest
denunciation and sometimes with the keenest ridicule,
he demonstrated the improbabilities and impossibili
ties of the testimony, till all felt that if there was not
perjury there must be mistake. Seldom has a witness
been held up in a light more irresistibly ludicrous
than John H. Coburn, who had confessed to making
false representations by telegraphic communications
and otherwise, in order to excite the fear of Mr. Gove,
the father of Mrs. Dalton, and extort from him money
and clothing (as he was a clothing merchant). " He
found out," said the advocate, " that Mr. Gove was
extremely exercised by the attack upon his daughter,
' and,' says he, ' I will have a jacket and trousers out
of this business, — I see pantaloons there ; I will have
a game of billiards and a suit of clothes, or I am
nobody ! '" The house was convulsed with laughter
at the ludicrous picture. At the same time he was
most careful not to carry the raillery too far. " I am
bringing him up to the golden tests and standards by
which the law weighs proof, or the assayer weighs
gold." But it might be said that this proceeding of
Coburn was only a joke. "Practise a joke under
those circumstances ! " said the advocate. " Is this
the character of Coburn ? Why, he admitted all this
falsehood on the stand in such a winning, ingenuous,
and loving way, — that he Avas a great rogue and liar,
and had been everywhere, — that we were almost
attracted to him. It is, therefore, fit and proper we
should know that this winning confession of Coburn
on the stand was not quite so voluntary after all.

1S55-1858.] DEFENCE OF JIRS. DALTON. 341
This Coburn, about six daj's ago, was attacked by a
very bad erysipelas in his foot or ankle. In my
humble judgment it was an erysipelas of apprehension
about coming into the court-house to testify under
the eye of the court and jury. But he was attacked ;
and accordingly we sent a couple of eminent physi
cians — Drs. Dana and Durant — to see what they
could do for him, and they put him through a course
of Avarm water or composition powder, or one thing or
another, till they cured the erysipelas beyond all doubt,
gentlemen. They cured the patient, but they killed
the Avitness. [Here the sheriff had to interfere to
check the laughter.] So the man came upon the
stand and admitted he sent this communication by
telegraph, and the message from the Parker and the
Tremont. He swore forty times very deliberately
that he never Avrote one of them, — deliberately and
repeatedly over and over again, — and it was not tfll
my friend, the Doctor here, had turned the screw
about a hundred times -Avith from forty to fifty inter
rogations, that he was beaten from one covert into
another, until at last he Avas obliged to confess —
although he began Avith most peremptorily denying it
altogether — that he sent the telegraph and Avrote the
forged communication from the Tremont and the
Parker House."
So the stream of argument and radlery, and sarcasm
and pathos, rolled on ample, unchecked, and over-
-whelming, for two long summer days (no one in the
throng of auditors restless or weary), and drew to its
close in exquisite quietness and beauty. " I leave her
case, therefore," said the advocate, as if repeating the
refrain of a hymn, " upon this statement, and respect-

342 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX
fully submit that for hoth their sakes you will render
a verdict promptly and joyfully in favor of Helen
Dalton — for both their sakes. There is a future for
them both together, gentlemen, I think. But if that
be not so, — if it be that this matter has proceeded so
far that her husband's affections have been alienated,
and that a happy life in her case has become imprac
ticable, — yet for all that, let there be no divorce.
For no levity, no vanity, no indiscretion, let there be
a divorce. I bring to your minds the words of Him
who spake as never man spake : ' Whosoever putteth
away his wife ' — for vanity, for coquetry, for levity,
for flirtation — whosoever putteth away his wife for
any thing short of adultery, and that established by
clear, undoubted, and credible proof, — whosoever
does it, ' causeth her to commit adultery.' If they
may not be dismissed then, gentlemen, to live again
together, for her sake and her parents' sake sustain
her. Give her back to self-respect, and the assistance
of that public opinion which all of us require."
One word of the last letter of the wife to the hus
band, and a single echoing sentence, finished this
remarkable speech. " ' Wishing you much happiness
and peace with much love, if you will accept , it, I
remain, your wife.' So may she remain until that one
of them to whom it is appointed first to die shall find
the peace of the grave ! "
The mere reading of this argument can give but
a feeble idea of its beauty and cogency to those who
were so fortunate as to listen. Oftentimes, before a
legal tribunal, the cause is greater than the advocate.
He rises to it, and is upheld by it. But sometimes it
is his province to create an interest, which the subject

1855-1858.] LETTER TO EDWARD EVERETT. 343
itself does not afford ; to enliven the dull ; to dignify
the mean ; to decorate the unseemly. The body may
be vile, but he arrays it in purple and crowns it with
gems. This case, though with some elements of
unusual character, would probably have fallen to the
dreary level of similar actions, were it not lifted and
enveloped in light by the genius of the advocate. It
is like some of those which made Erskine and Curran
famous ; and the defence shows a power not inferior
to theirs. As a result of it, the jury disagreed ; the
divorce was not consummated; and it is understood
(as if to make the spirit of the argument prophetic)
that the parties are now living together in harmony.
The following letters need no explanation : —
To Hon. Edward Everett. " Boston, Sept, SOth, 1857.
" Mt dear Sir, — I was sick when your kindest gift of
the Inauguration Discourse ^ was brought in, and although
able to read it instantly, — for I was not dying, — it is only
now that I have become able to thank you for your courtesy,
and to express the exceeding delight, and, as it were, triumph,
with which I have studied this most noble exposition of the
good, fair, and useful of the high things of knowledge. To
have said on such themes what is new and yet true, in words
so exact as well as pictured and burning, and in a spirit so
fresh and exulting, and yet wise, sober, and tender, was, I
should have thought, almost impossible even for you. I won
der as much as I love, and am proud for you on the double
tie of friendship and of country.
" I remain, with greatest regard,
" Your servant and friend,
" Rufus Choate."
1 An Address delivered at St. Louis, at the Inauguration of Wash
ington University of the State of Missouri.

344 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. IX

To Hon. Edward Everett.
"Winthrop Place, Nov. ITth, 1857.
" Mt dear Sir, — I was not aware of that hiatus, and 1
made an exchange of my 21 vols, for a set extending over a
longer period, and containing 30 vols, or more. I have found
no defect that I remember. I beg you to supply your imme
diate wants from this one, if it is not just as bad.
" There is a certain gloomy and dangerous sense in which
I am ' gratified.' But ' renown and grace ' — where are they ?
Such a series of papers as you hint at would ' bless mankind,
and rescue ' Mr. Buchanan. I entreat you to give him and
all conservative men an idea of a patriot administration.
Kansas must be free — sud sponte — and the nation kept
quiet and honest, yet with a certain sense of growth, nor un
mindful of opportunities of glory.
" Most truly, your friend, " R. Choate."
A lecture on Jefferson, Burr, and Hamilton, which
he delivered March 10th, 1858, though of necessity
general and somewhat desultory, was marked by his
usual breadth of delineation and brilliancy of color
ing, and led him to review and re-state some of the
fundamental ideas which marked the origin and pro
gress of our government. I pass by his delineation
of Jefferson, who brought to the great work of that
era " the magic of style and the habit and the power
of delicious dalliance with those large and fair ideas
of freedom and equality, so dear to man, so irresistible
in that day ; " and of Burr, to whom he was just, but
whom he did not love, and whose " shadow of a
name " he thought it unfair to compare for a moment
with either of the others ; and content myself with
the conclusion of his sketch of Hamilton. After re
ferring to the progress and the changes in the public
sentiment of America, by which the Confederation,

1855-1858,] LECTURE ON HAMILTON. 345
largely through Hamilton's influence, melted into the
Union, he proceeds : —
" I find him [Hamilton] growing from his speech in
' the Great Fields,' at seventeen, in 1774, to the last
number of ' The Federalist.' I find him everywhere
in advance ; everywhere frankest of our public men.
Earlier than every other, bolder than every other, he
saAv and he announced that the Confederation could
not govern, could not consolidate, could not create
the America for which we had been fighting. Sooner
than every one he saw and taught that we wanted,
not a league, but a government. Sooner than every
one he saw that a partition of sovereignty was prac
ticable, — that the State might retain part, the new
nation acquire part ; — that the grander, more im
perial — the right of war, of peace, of diplomacy, of
taxation, of commerce, and rights similar and kindred
— might be acquired and wielded directly by the
nation, and the vast, various, and uncertain residue
held by the States, which in this system were an
essential part ; — that the result would be one great
People — E Pluribus Unum — master of a continent,
a match for a world. To him more than to all or any
one besides we owe it, that the convention at Annap
olis ascended above the vain, timid, and Ioav hope
of amending the old Articles, assumed the high
character of a direct representation of the People
of these States, and took on themselves the responsi
bility of giving to that People for acceptance or rejec
tion — by conventions in their States — a form of
government completely new.
" These speculations, these aims, ruled his life from
1780 to 1789. 'That age — all of it — is full of his

346 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX
power, his truth, his wisdom,' — full to running over.
Single sentiments ; particular preferences, minor, and
less or more characteristic ; less cherished details, —
modes, stages, proofs of opinion, — of these I have
said nothing, for history cares nothing. I do not
maintain that he did as much in the convention at
Annapolis as others to shape the actual provisions of
the Constitution. I do not contend that he liked all
of them very well. But soldier-like, statesman-like,
sailor-like, he felt the general pulse ; he surveyed his
country; he heaved the lead at every inch of his
way. His great letter to Duane in 1780 anticipates
the Union and the Government in which we live.
Through the press, in the Assembly of New York, in
the old Congress, to some extent in the Constitutional,
and to large extent in the State Convention, he was
first; he who, like Webster, never flattered the people,
but served them as he did, dared to address their
reason, their interests, — not their passion of progress,
— in ' The Federalist.' And of the foremost and from
the start he espoused that Constitution all as his, and
loved, and honored, and maintained it all till he went
to his untimely grave.
" I dwell on that time from 1780 to 1789 because
that was our age of civil greatness. Then, first, we
grew to be one. In that time our nation was born.
That which went before made us independent. Our
better liberty, our law, our order, our union, our
credit, our commerce, our rank among the nations,
our page in the great history we owe to this. Inde
pendence was the work of the higher passions. The
Constitution was the slow product qf wisdom. I do
uot deny that in that age was sown the seed of -our

1855-1858.] LECTLTIE ON HAMILTON. 347
luirty divisions ; of our strict and our liberal Con
structionists ; of our Unionists and States Rights
Men ; of smaller Hamiltons, and smaller Jeffersons.
But who now dares raise a hand against the system
which Ulustrates that day? Who dares now to say
that the Union shall not stand as they left it ? Who
dares noAV to say that the Avdde arch of empire ranged
by them shall not span a continent ? Who dares now
to say that the America of that day ; the America of
this ; the America of all time and all history, is not
his own America ; first, last, midst ; who does not
hail on that flag, streaming over land and sea, —
living or dying, — the writing, bathed and blazing in
light, ' Liberty and Union, now and for ever, one and
inseparable ! '
" The public life of Hamilton closes with the fall of
Federalism, in 1801, as a party of the nation. In his
administi'ation as first Secretary of the Treasury, in
his general counsels to Washington, in his general in
fluence on the first years of our youthful world, you
see the same masterly capacity ; the same devotion to
the Constitution as it was written, and to the Union
which it helped to grow ; the same civil -Avisdom ; the
same filial love ; the same American feeling ; the
same transparent truth which had before made him
our first of statesmen. Some, all, or almost all, of the
works which he did, haA^e come under the judgment
of party and of time ; and on these, opinions are
divided. But no man has called in question the
ability which established all departments, and framed
and presided over that one ; which debated the con
stitutionality and expediency of that small first Bank ;
which funded our debts, restored order to our credit ;

348 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
which saw in us before we saw, before Smith saw, our
capacity to manufacture for ourselves ; which made
us impartial and made us neutral while our ancient
friend became a Republic, and our ancient enemy
and the world were in arms for old, shaking thrones.
When that argument for the Bank was read by the
Judges in 1819, one of them said, that every other
supporter and opponent of that measure in the age
of Washington seemed a child in the grasp of a giant.
In this last era his difference in all things from Jeffer
son became more widely pronounced ; each retired
from the cabinet ; and in 1801 Democracy became the
national polities of America.
" I have avoided, as I ought, all inquiry into the
private life of Burr. I am equally reserved on that
of Hamilton ; although that private life fears no dis
closures as a whole, and no contrasts as a whole. Yet
this sketch would be imperfect more than it must be,
if I did not add something which I have read, heard,
or thought on the man.
" From 1781 to 1789, and again from 1795 till his
death in 1804 — some seventeen years — he practised
the law. I hear that in that profession he was wise,
safe, and just ; that his fees were moderate ; that his
honor was without a stain ; that his general ability
was transcendent, and that in rank he was leader.
A gentleman from this city, whose name I might
give, solicited his counsel in some emergency. He
admired, as all did, his knowledge of men, his inge
nuity, his promptness ; and tendered him a fee of one
hundred dollars. 'No, Sir,' said Hamilton, handing
hira back the difference, ' twenty dollars is very abun
dant.' He was consulted by a guardian, knavish as

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON HAMILTON. 349
the guardian of Demosthenes. He heard his story ;
developed its details ; ran with him through the
general wilderness of his roguery ; and then, sternly
as at Yorktown, — ' Now go and make your peace
with your ward, or I will hunt you as a hare for his
sk:n.' There was a political opponent, — oldish, del
icate, and prejudiced, — who hated him and his ad
ministration of the treasury, but who lost no hour,
day in and day out, at Albany, in the Errors and
Supreme Court, to hear every word that he said. ' I
could never,' said he, 'Avithdraw from him half an
eye. It was all one steady, flashing, deepening
flow of mind.' This I heard from a member of Con
gress. "His masterpiece at the Bar was the defence of
Croswell, of ' The Balance,' published at Hudson, for
a libel, in 1804. It is reported in Johnson's cases.
It is better reported by Chancellor Kent, who heard
it; by the universal tradition, which boasts of it as of
the grandest displays of the legal profession ; and by
the common or statute law of America, on which it is
-written for ever. There and then he engraved on
our mind, as -with a pen of steel, the doctrine, that
truth from right motives, for justifiable ends, might
be safely Avritten of everybody, high or low.
" Such — so limited — is our un Avritten or our better
liberty. " That argument was made to a bench of Judges.
It was made to an audience of lawyers and educated
men ; and I have heard that tears unbidden — silence
that held his breath to hear applause unrepressed —
murmurs not loud, but deep — marked the magic and
the power.

350 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. IX.
" He wrote out that argument at length ; then tore
his manuscript in fragments, and spoke as he was
moved of the genius within him !
"Who surpassed him as a reasoner? You all
know the calm power of ' The Federalist.' Do you
admire any thing in that immortal work more than
his transparent and quiet style ; his pure English,
always equal to itself; his skilful interpretation; his
masterly ability with which from the nature of man,
the nature of government, the lessons of history, the
past and present of Europe, the uses of a head, the
uses of a nation, — he demonstrated that such powers
must be given, and such powers are given? Who,
since the eighty-eighth number, has dared to doubt
that to the judge it is given to compare the law with
the Constitution, and to pronounce which is higher ;
and that from the judge there lies no appeal !
" What a revolution may do to force prematurely
the capacity of man, we, thank God! knoAv not.
What a. cross of Scotch and Huguenot blood ; a
birth, infancy, childhood, and boyhood beneath those
tropics where the earthquake revels, which the hurri
cane sweeps over, which the fever wastes at noonday,
over which the sun tyrannizes, whose air is full of
electricity, and whose soil is of fire, — personally we
know not. But I own I am struck with nothing
more than the precociousness of those mighty powers,
and their equal, balanced, and safe development. At
seventeen, he addressed masses on non-importation in
' the Great Fields ' of New York, with the eloquence
and energy of James Otis. At eighteen, he was
among our ablest and wisest in the conduct of that
great controversy with the measures of a king. At

1855-1858.] LECTURE ON ILUHLTON. 351
twenty, he conceiAed our Union. At thirty-two he
-wrote his share of ' The Federalist,' At thirty-eight
his public life was over. I doubt if Pascal, if Grotius,
if Csesar, if Napoleon, had so early in life revealed
powers vaster and maturer.
" There is one memory of Hamilton to which he is
entitled in his bloody grave, and by which his truest
eulogy is spoken, which refutes of itself ten thousand
slanders, and which blooms over him — over Hoboken
— over the church where his tomb is kept, — ever fra
grant and ever new. With the exception, of course,
of certain political opponents, and of a competitor or
two, no one knew him who did not dearly love him ; no
one loved him once that did not love him to the last
gasp. From the moment he saw and talked AAdth him
as Captain of Artillery, from the hour after he left his
military family, until he slept that long sleep at Mount
Vernon, Washington held him to his heart; and when
that man — greatest of earth — died, Hamilton sat
doAvn speechless in the presence of SedgAvdck, pressed
his hand upon his eyes, and cried as a child for a
father dead. ' The tears,' said Ames, ' that flow
over this fond recital Avill never dry up. My heart,
prostrated AAdth the remembrance of Hamilton, grows
liquid as I "Avrite, and I could pour it out like
water.' " To compare the claims and deeds of Burr Avith
those of this great man, his victim, were impious.
To compare those of Hamilton, or contrast them with
those of the great Philanthropist and Democrat,
Thomas Jefferson, who is equal ? Each in his kind
was greatest ; each in his kind advanced the true
interests of America."

352 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, IX.
The following letter will illustrate the playful
mixture of literature with business, which often
characterized Mr. Choate's intercourse with friends.
It occurred after a meeting on professional affairs,
during which a question — forgotten, however, almost
as soon as proposed, till thus again brought to mind
— had arisen on the reading of a passage in Virgil.
To George T, Davis, Esq,
" Boston, April 20th, 1858.
" Dear Sir, — I am glad they are beaten, as they deserve
to be. Of course, no adjustment now is to be heard of. The
motion is the shadow of a shade, and I guess, after actual
fraud found, the bill stands, and the cancellation follows, —
which leads me to say how Virgil wrote it, averno, or averm.
We shall never know till we ask him in the meads of Aspho
del. But Forbiger. Wagner, Heyne, Servius, after the
cracker MSS., write averno. So in the more showy texts it
is now. When we meet we will settle or change all that.
" Truly yours, Rupus Choate."
In 1858 Mr. Choate accepted an invitation to
deliver an oration, on the 4th of July, before the
Young Men's Democratic Club. It was with the
understanding, however, that no party affinities were
to be recognized. He spoke for the Union, and his
subject was " American NationaUty — its Nature —
some of its Conditions, and some of its Ethics.''^ ^ He
was received Avith wild and tumultuous applause, and
heard with profound interest and sympathy by the
multitudes which crowded the Tremont Temple ; but
many were pained to perceive the marks of physical
weakness and exhaustion. He spoke with difficulty,
^ Published in the first edition of " The Life and Works,'' and also
in ¦¦ Addresses and Orations of Rufus Choate,'' second edition,
Little, Brown, & Co., 1878.

1855-1858.] FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 353
and could hardly be heard throughout the large hall.
But there was an earnestness and almost solemnity
in his words which sunk deep into the hearts of the
audience. It was a plea for the nation, in view of a
peril which he thought he foresaw, as a necessary
result of rash counsels, of a false political philosophy,
and of Avild theories of political morality.
It was full ofthe warmest, most generous patriotism.
But beyond that he endeavored to illustrate and en
force some of the essential conditions, on which every
free nation, and especially one so vast, so complicated
as ours, must depend. " There is a love of country,"
he said, " which comes uncalled for, one knows not
how. It comes in with the very air, the eye, the ear,
the instincts, the first taste of the mother's milk, the
first beatings of the heart. The faces of brothers
and sisters, and the loved father and mother, — the
laugh of playmates, the old willow-tree, and well, and
school-house, the bees at work in the spring, the note
of the robin at evening, the lullaby, the cows coming
home, the singing-book, the catechism, the visits of
neighbors, the general training, — all things which
make childhood happy, begin it ; and then as the age
of the passions and the age of the reason draw on, and
love and the sense of home and security and property
under law, come to life, — and as the story goes round,
and as the book or the newspaper relates the less fav
ored lots of other lands, and the public and the private
sense of a man is forming and formed, there is a type
of patriotism already. Thus they had imbibed it who
stood that charge at Concord, and they who hung
deadly on the retreat, and they who threw up the
hasty and imperfect redoubt on Bunker Hill by night,
23

854 SIEMOIR OF RLTUS CHOATE. [Ciiap. IX
set on it the blood-red provincial flag, and passed so
calmly with Prescott and Putnam and Warren through
the experiences of the first fire.
" But now to direct this spontaneous sentiment of
hearts to the Union, to raise it high, to make it broad
and deep, to instruct it, to educate it, is in some
things harder, some things easier : but it may be done ;
it must be done." He then proceeds to show the
nature of the Constitution, and of all practicable policy,
as being the result of mutual concessions for the sake
of the great ends of civil government, and to meet
the question whether these compromises and con
cessions for such an end are a virtue, and can stand
the higher test of morality. The affirmative of this
question he maintains from the judgment of civili
zation " collected from all its expression and all its
exponents," — from the highest theory of political
duty, — from the opinions of wise civilians and
moralists, — and farther as being the judgment of
religion itself. Of other conditions and laws of our
nationality, and especially of the need of an enlight
ened public opinion, he goes on to say : " There
must then be intelligence at the foundation. But
what intelligence ? Not that which puffeth up, not
flippancy, not smartness, not sciolism, whose fruits,
whose expression are vanity, restlessness, insubordi
nation, hate, irreverence, unbelief, incapacity to com
bine ideas, and great capacity to overwork a single
one. Not quite this. This is that little intelligence
and little learning which are dangerous. These are
the characteristics, I have read, which pave the way
for the downfall of States ; not those on which a
long glory and a long strength have towered. These,

1855-1858.] FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 355
more than the General of Macedon, gave the poison
to Demosthenes in the Island Temple. These, not
the triumvirate alone, closed the eloquent lips of
Cicero." ..." This is not the intelligence our Con
stitution means, Washington meant, our country
needs. It is intelligence which, however it begins,
ends Avith belief, with humility, with obedience, with
veneration, Avith admiration, with truth ; Avhich rec
ognizes and then learns and then teaches the duties
of a comprehensive citizenship ; which hopes for a
future on earth and beyond earth, but turns habitually,
reverently, thoughtfully, to the old paths, the great
men, the hallowed graves of the fathers ; . . . which
reforms by preserving, serves by standing and wait
ing, fears God, and honors America." . . .
Then after a few words on the duty of instructing
the conscience, and the hope of a better and brighter
day through the quiet and peaceful influences of
moral forces, he adds : " Hold fast this hope ; distrust
the philanthropy, distrust the ethics which would,
which must, turn it into shame. Do no evil that
good may come. Perform your share, for you have
a share, in the abolition of slavery; perform your
share, for you have a share, in the noble and generous
strife of the Sections, — but perform it by keeping,
by transmitting, a UNITED, LOVING, AND CHRISTIAN
America." This whole discussion of a confessedly difficult
problem of political ethics deserves the careful and
unprejudiced consideration of every student of our
civil history.
He never again addressed his fellow-citizens on

356 memoir OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. IX.
questions of general political interests, and his last
public words may be said to have been spoken in
behalf of that Union which he so warmly loved, " first,
last, and always " — that one nation whose grand
march across the continent, whose unrivalled increase
in all the elements of power so stimulated and grat
ified his patriotic ambition. Whether or not his
fears were wise, we may now perhaps be better able
to judge than when he first uttered them.
How his words were received by those who heard
him was admirably expressed by Mr. Everett at a
banquet, on the same afternoon, at the Revere House.
" For myself. Sir," he said, " standing aloof from pub
lic life and from all existing party organizations, I
can truly say that I have never listened to an expo
sition of political principle with higher satisfaction.
I heard the late Mr. Samuel Rogers, the venerable
banker-poet of London, more than once relate that
he was present on the 10th of December, 1790, when
Sir Joshua Reynolds delivered the last of his dis
courses before the Royal Academy of Art. Edmund
Burke was also one of the audience ; and at the close
of the lecture Mr. Rogers saw him go up to Sir
Joshua, and heard him say, in the fulness of his
delight, in the words of Milton : —
' The angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that be awhile
Thought him still speaking, stiU stood fixed to hear.'
When our friend concluded his superb oration this
morning, I was ready, like Mr. Cruger (who stood with
Burke for the representation of Bristol), ' to say ditto
to Mr. Burke.' I was unwilling to believe that the
noble strain, by turns persuasive, melting, and sub-

1856-1858.] REMARKS OF MR, EVERETT, 357
lime, had ended. The music of the voice still dwelt
upon my ear ; the lofty train of thought elevated and
braced my understanding ; the generous sentiments
filled my bosom with delight, as the peal of a magnifi
cent organ, touched by the master's hand, thrills the
nerves with rapture and causes even the vaulted roof
to vibrate in unison. The charmed silence seemed
for a while to prolong the charming strain, and it was
some moments before I was willing to admit that the
stops were closed and the keys hushed."

358 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X.

CHAPTER X.
1858-1859.
Failing Health — Speech at the Webster Festival, January, 1859-
Address at the Essex Street Church — Last Law Case — Goes to
Dorchester — Occupations — Decides to go to Europe — Letter to
Hon. Charles Eames — Letter to Alfred Abbott, Esc[. — Sails in
the Europa, Captain Leitch — Illness on Board — Lands at Halifax
— Letter from Hon. George S. Hillard — Sudden Death — Pro
ceedings of Public Bodies — Meeting of the Boston Bar — Speeches
of Hon. C. G, Loring, R, H, Dana, Judge Curtis, and Judge
Sprague — Meeting in FaneuU Hall — Speech of Mr. Everett —
Funeral.
For several years Mr. Choate's health had not unfre
quently excited the anxiety of his friends. They
wondered how he could endure such continuous and
exhausting labors ; why he, whose mind was always
on the stretch, who took no rest, and allowed himself
no recreation but that of his library, should not at
last fail, like the over-strained courser. Their fears
were not groundless. The deepening lines of his
countenance pallid and sallow, the frame feebler
than once, the voice less strong, the whole manner
less energetic, demonstrated a need of caution. He
was under an engagement to address the Alumni of
Dartmouth College at their triennial meeting in 1858,
and had made a partial preparation, but at the last
moment was obliged to give it up, and betake himself
for a few idle and wearisome days to the seaside. A
week or two of respite from work — it could not be

1858-1859] SPEECH AT WEBSTER FESTIVAL, 359
called recreation — a brief visit at Essex, a few nights
in Dorchester at the residence of his daughter, Mrs.
Bell — gave tone again to his wonderfully elastic
constitution. I saw him repeatedly during the next
winter, and, notwithstanding some unfavorable symp
toms, thought that for a long time I had not seen him
in such exuberance of spirits. I heard him make two
arguments, and could not but notice the vigorous life
with which he moved. There was the same intel
lectual face — the same eye, black, wide open, looking
straight at the jury, and at individuals of them as
he addressed now one and then another, — the same
unrivalled felicity of speech, — the same tremendous
vehemence, a little tempered, perhaps, — the same
manner of straightening and drawing himself up
at an interruption, — the same playfulness and good
humor, — the occasional dropping of his voice to a
confidential whisper, — the confident exactness of
statement, — the absolute command of every circum
stance, — the instantaneous apprehension, — the light
ning rapidity of thought, — the subtle, but clear and
impregnable logic. This apparent vigor proved, how
ever, to be but the last flashes of the fire whose fuel
was nearly exhausted.
The friends of Mr. Webster, according to a custom
which had grown into honor among them, celebrated
his birthday in 1859 by a festive gathering which
Mr. Choate found himself able, though but just able,
to attend. With what warmth he spoke on that
theme which never failed to stimulate him, those who
heard will never forget. They thought he was never
so eloquent.
He spoke but once more in public out of the line

360 MEMOER OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. X
of his profession. The twenty-fifth anniversary of
the settlement of the Rev. Dr. Adams, whose church
he attended, Avas celebrated on the 28th of March.
He could not resist the wish to bear his testimony to
the opinions and character of one whom he deeply
respected and loved. It was a large and inteiesting
assemblage of clergymen and laymen, met to pay a
tribute of respect to a faithful Christian minister.
Mr. Choate spoke with great tenderness and depth of
feeling of the many years they had been together in
that society, alluding briefly, in illustration, to the
great events which in the mean time had been taking
place in Europe and in this country. He then spoke
of the reasons — accident or inclination — whieh had
brought them to that house as their habitual place of
worship, first among which he named the love and
respect of the congregation for its minister. They had
marked the daily beauty of his life, liis consistency,
his steadiness, his affectionateness, his sincerity, —
transparent to every eye, — his abilities, his moder
ation, his taste, his courage. They had seen him on
some occasions most interesting to the feelings and
which dwell the longest in the memory and the affec
tions : at the bedside of the sick and dying, at the
burial of those loved most on earth, at the baptism of
their children, or when first they clasped the hands of
their brides. Thus between them and him there had
been woven a tie which could never be sundered, even
when the silver cord itself is loosed and the golden
bowl is broken.
" There is a second reason, however," he proceeded
to say, " which we may with very great propriety give
for the selection which we have made, and to which

1858-1859.] ADDRESS AT ESSEX STREET CHUECH. 361
we have so long adhered ; and it is, my friends, that
we have attended this worship and attached ourselves
to this society, because we have believed that we
found here a union of a true and old religion, with a
possibility and the dutj'- of a theory of culture and of
love for that in which the mental and moral nature
of man may be developed and may be completely
accomplished. " That we hold a specific religious creed is quite
certain ; obtruding it on nobody, and not for a moment,
of course, dreaming of defending ourselves against
anybody, — in the way of our fathers, we worship God
in this assembly. We believe that the sources and
proof and authority of religion rest upon a written
revelation, communicated by the Supreme Will to a
race standing in certain specific abnormal conditions.
What that Will, honestly gathered, teaches, composes
the whole religious duty of man. To find out that
meaning by all the aids of which a thorough and an
honest scholarship may possibly avail itself, — by
the study of original tongues, — by the study of the
history and government and manners and customs
and geography of the nations in which it was first
published, — by a collation, honestly and intelligently,
of one version with another version, — by the histoiy
of creeds, — by attending especially to the faith of
those churches who thought they saw the light at
first, and saw it when it was clearest and brightest, —
by all this, we say, it is the first duty of the minister
to learn the truth ; and the second duty is to impress
it by persuasive speech and holy life upon the con
sciences and hearts of men. These things, truly and
honestly interrogated, reveal a certain state of truths,

362 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
and these compose our creed, and the creed of every
other denomination possessing and preaching and
maintaining a kindred theology. Diversities of ex
pression there are undoubtedly ; diversities of the
metaphysical theories of those who hold them ; more
or less saliency, more or less illustration in the
mode in which they are presented ; but substantially
we have thought they were one. We regard the
unity, and we forget the diversity, in concentration
of kindred substances. I think our church began
with the name and in the principle of Union ; and
in that name, and according to that principle, Ave
maintain it to-day.
" And now, is there any thing, my friends, in all
this, which is incompatible, in any degree, with the
warmest and most generous and large and liberal and
general culture, with the warmest heart, with the
most expansive and hopeful philanthropy, with the
most tolerant, most cheerful, most charitable love of
man ? Do we not all of us hold that outside of this
special, authoritative, written revelation, thus pro
mulgated, collateral with it, consistent with it, the
creation of the same nature, there is another system
still, a mental and moral nature, which we may with
great propriety expose, and which we may very wisely
and fitly study and enjoy? Into that system are we
forbidden to pry, lest we become, or be in danger of
becoming. Atheists, Deists, Pantheists, or Dilettanti,
or Epicurean ? What is there to hinder us from
walking — consistently with our faith and the preach
ing to whieh every Sunday we are so privileged to
listen — what is there to hinder us from walking on
the shore of the great ocean of general truth, and

1858-1859.] ADDRESS AT ESSEX STREET CHURCH. 363
gathering up here and there one of its pebbles, and
listening here and there to the music of one of its
shells? What is there to hinder us from looking at
that natural revelation that shall be true hereafter ?
What is there in all this to prevent us from trying to
open, if we can open, the clasped volume of that elder,
if it may be that obscurer Scripture ? What is there
to hinder us from studying the science of the stars,
from going back Avith the geologist to the birthday of
a real creation, and thus tracing the line through the
vestiges of a real and a true creation down to that
later and great period of time, when the morning stars
sang together, exulting over this rising ball ? What
is there to hinder us, if we dare to do it, from going
down Avith chemists and physiologists to the very
chambers of existence, and trying thence to trace, if
we may, the faint lines by which matter rose to vital
ity, and vitality welled up first to animals, and then
to man ? What is there to prevent us from trying to
trace the footsteps of God in history, from reading his
law in the policies of States, in the principles of
morals, and in the science of governments, — his love
in the happiness of all the families of the human
race, in animals and in man, — his retributions in the
judgments that are ' abroad in all the earth ' ? Is
there any thing to hinder us, in the faith we hold,
from indulging the implanted sense of beauty in
watching the last glow of the summer eve, or the
first faint flush that precedes or follows the glorious
rising of the morning ? Because we happen to believe
that a written revelation is authoritative upon every
man, and that there is contained in it, distinctly and
expressly, the expression of the need of reconciliation.

364 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X.
is there any thing in all this, let me ask you, my
friends, which should hinder us from trying to ex
plore the spirit of Plato, from admiring the suprem
acy of mind — which is at last the inspiration of the
Almighty, that gives you understanding — in such an
intellect as that of Newton, — from looking at the
camp-fires as they glitter on the plains of Troy, —
from standing on the battlements of heaven with
Milton, — from standing by the side of Macbeth,
sympathizing with, or at least appreciating something
of, the compunction and horror that followed the
murder of his friend and host and king, — from going
out with old Lear, gray hair streaming, and throat
choking, and heart bursting with a sense of filial
ingratitude, — from standing by the side of Othello,
when he takes the life of all that he loves best in this
world, ' not for hate, but all for honor,' — from admir
ing and saddening to see how the fond and deep
and delicate spirit of Hamlet becomes oppressed and
maddened by the terrible discovery, by the sense of
duty not entirely clear, by the conflict of emotions,
and by the shrinking dread of that life to come, as if
he saw a hand we could not see, and heard a voice
we could not hear ? Certainly there can be no man
ner of doubt that our faith, such as you profess it and
such as you hold it, will give direction in one sense
to all our studies. There can be no doubt, in one
sense and to a certain extent, it baptizes and holds
control over those studies ; certainly, also, it may be
admitted, that it creates tendencies and tastes that
may a little less reluctantly lead away a man from
the contemplation of these subjects ; but is it incom
patible with them ? Do you think that Agassiz, that

1858-1859.] ADDRESS AT ESSEX STREET CHURCH. 365
Everett, each transcendent in his own department of
genius, has become so, because he held, or did not
hold, a specific faith? Because you believe the Old
Testament, as well as the NeAV, cannot you read a
classic in the last and best edition, if j^ou know how
to read it ? That is the great question at last, and I
apprehend that the incompatibility of which we some
times hear, has no foundation in the things that are
to be compared. Did poor, rich Cowper think them
incompatible, one with another, when for so many
years he soothed that burning brow and stayed that
fainting reason, and turned back those dark billows
that threatened to overwhelm him, by his translation
of the Iliad and Odyssey ? What did he say of this
incompatibility himself ? ' Learning has borne such
fruit on all her branches, piety has found true friends
in the friends of science, even prayer has floAved from
lips wet with Castalian dews.' I hold, therefore, —
and I shall be excused by the friends of other denom
inations, now and here present, if I deliberately re
peat and publicly record, — that we have attended
this church, attached ourselves to this congregation,
and adhere to this form of faith, because we believe it
to be the old religion, the true religion, and the safest ;
and because, also, we have thought that there was
no incompatibility between it and the largest and
most generous mental culture, and the widest philan
thropy, that are necessary in order to complete the
moral and mental development and accomplishment
of man."
In a strain quite unusual, he then, in drawing to a
close, commended and enforced the separation of party
politics from the ordinary services of the pulpit.

366 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
The next day, March 29, he made his last argument
before the full bench, in the case of Gage vs. Tudor.
The indisposition with which he had been troubled
during the winter — weakness, lassitude, and a fre
quently returning nausea, the causes of which were
obscure, and not reached by medicines — had grad
ually increased and caused him more annoyance. His
friends were solicitous ; but he had frequently rallied
from serious indisposition, and they hoped for the
best. He was able still to be at his office ; once more
appeared before a single judge in chambers upon a
question of alimony, and early in April, though really
much too ill for the exertion, went, at the earnest
solicitation of a junior, to look after a case in Salem.
It seemed a felicity of his life that the last time he
appeared in court should be at that bar where, thirty-
five years before, he had commenced the practice of
his profession, - — the Bar of Essex County. It was
a case of a contested Avill, of considerable interest in
itself, the decision turning upon the state of health of
the testator. But those who were engaged in it were
struck at observing the turn given by Mr. Choate to
the examination of one of the medical witnesses,
when, after obtaining all the information necessary to
the point in hand, he proceeded with a series of ques
tions bearing evidently upon the nature of the disease
under which he supposed himself laboring. No notice
was taken of it at the time ; but he subsequently
alluded to it in conversation with his junior counsel,
suggesting that he thought he had a disease of the
heart which might at any moment prove fatal. As
the cause proceeded he found himself unequal to the
labor of the trial, and withdrew from it before its

1858-1859.] GOES TO DORCHESTER. 367
close, returning home on Saturday the 16th of April.
He never Avent to his office again ; and with the
exception of once attending church, and going to the
funeral of a daughter of a much revered friend (Hon.
Jeremiah Mason), never again to any place of public
assembly. Books became more than ever his solace
and delight. He read as much as he was able, but
more frequently listened (his daughter reading aloud),
not to whole volumes or continuous discussions, but
to a few pages of Bacon, a scene in Shakspeare, a few
lines of Homer, a page of Wordsworth, a poem by
Tennyson, and oftener still to religious works ; to a
parable or miracle as expounded by Dr. Trench, a
Hulsean lecture by the same author, a discourse by
Jeremy Taylor, or a chapter in " The Pilgrim's
Progress." His attention was now turned to a voyage to Europe
as a means of alleviating his disorder. It would at
any rate save him from all temptation to professional
labor, and he hoped to find solace, pleasure, and
health in a quiet residence of a month or two in the
south of England, — his thoughts turning especially
to the Isle of Wight. He accordingly secured a pas
sage in the steamer which was to leave Boston about
the middle of May. As the day drew near, however,
he felt himself unequal to the voyage, and accord
ingly deferred his departure. The delay brought no
material relief, and for the sake of greater quiet, and
the purer air of the country, he went, on the 24th of
May, to the residence of his son-in-law, Joseph M.
Bell, Esq., in Dorchester. The month that he re
mained in this delightful suburban retreat was full
of quiet enjoyment. His appetite good, he suffered

368 SIEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, X
from nothing but weakness and occasional sudden at
tacks of nausea. Every day he drove, sometimes into
town to get books, sometimes into the country over
the secluded and picturesque suburban roads about
Boston, but oftener to the sea, or to some point from
which he could get a view of the ocean. At home,
not seeming to be very ill, he enjoyed every thing
AAdth a rare and intense delight. His love of Nature,
which had rather slumbered during the toils and
anxieties of an active hfe, revived again as he looked
upon her, undisturbed by the demands of a jealous
profession. He would sit for hours in the sun, or
under the shade of the veranda, or a tree near the
house, watching the distant city, or the smoke curling
up from far-off chimney-tops, or the operations of
husbandry going on all about him, or Hstening to
faA'orite authors, or to music which he loved. Never
had he seemed to enjoy every object Avith a keener
relish. " What can a person do,'' he once said, after
looking long at a beautiful landscape, " life is not long
enough — ." He still made some attempt at a method
ical arrangement of occupations. The early hours of
the day Avere devoted to the Bible ; then came the
newspapers ; then whatever books he might be inter
ested in, — from the Works of Lord Bacon to the last
Review, — several different works usuaUy being read
in the course of the morning. During this time he
suffered no pain, and but for weakness which rendered
it a labor for him to walk the length of the yard, or to
ascend the stairs, he seemed as much like himself as
ever. He saw no company, not being able to endure
the fatigue of conversation, or dreading interruption
by the nausea. But Avith his famdy, he was never

1858-1859.] PREPARATION FOR A VOYAGE. 369
more affectionate and playful, and never entered with
fuller zest into their occupations and enjoyments. In
the mean time the question of the voyage recurred,
and he Avas compelled to make a decision. It was
evident that the necessity somewhat weighed upon
his mind, and that it was almost equally difficult for
him to determine to stay or to go. His disease was ob
scure ; his physicians anticipated no injury from the
voyage, and hoped for some relief. Three steamers
had already sailed since he first thought of going ;
and it was evident, if he hoped for benefit from a
summer in England, that he could not much longer
delay his departure. His reluctance to revoke a de
cision once fairly made, — especially as that would
seem to be an acknowledgment of an illness more
severe and immediately threatening than his friends
or, perhaps, himself had allowed, — the prospect of
rest, the hope of alleviation and some enjoyment, and
possibly of recruiting, — all urged him to carry out
his plan. At the same time, — and this, perhaps, was
the slight consideration which turned the scale, — he
knew that Halifax was less than two days' sail from
Boston, and that if the voyage proved disagreeable,
or any way unfavorable, it was easy to cut it short
and return. Preparations were accordingly made with
apparent cheerfulness, though with a latent sadness
and misgiving. Books were chosen, he himself mak
ing out the following list : The Bible ; Daily Food ;
Luther on the Psalms ; Hengstenberg's Psalms ;
Lewis's Six Days of Creation ; Owen on Mark ; The
Iliad ; The Georgics (Heyne's Virgil) ; Bacon's Ad
vancement of Learning ; Shakspeare; Milton ; Cole
ridge ; Thomson ; Macaulay's History ; Anastasius ;
24

370 JlEilOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X,
The Crescent and the Cross. A foAV farewells were
said, and a few farewell notes written, breathing of
more, as it now seems, than a temporarj- separation.
The following, to the Hon. Charles Eames, of Washing
ton, and another to Mr. Abbott, the District Attorney
for Essex, were written the day before he sailed : —
"Boston, Tuesda}', June 28, 1859.
" Mt dear Sir, — I borrow my son's hand to grasp yours
and Mrs. Eames's with the friendship of many years, and on
the eve of a departure in search of better health. God bless
you till I return, and whether I return.
" Yours very sincerely,
" R. Choate, Jr., for Rufus Choate.
" Hon Charles Eaimes."

"Hon. A. A. Abbott. Boston, Tuesday aftemoon, June 28 [1859].
'' Mt dear Sir, — It would puzzle a Philadelphia doctoi
to say whether I am intrinsically better than when I saw
you last, but I am quite competent to pronounce for myself
that I love and esteem you, and Brother Lord, and Brother
Huntington, quite as much as ever, and for quite as much
reason. Pray accept for yourself, and give to them all, my
love, and be sure that if I live to return, it will be with un
abated regard for all of you.
" I am yours most affectionately,
" Rupus Choate, by R. C, Jr."
On the 29th of June, he went on board The Europa,
Capt. Leitch, accompanied by the members of his
faniily and a few friends, and immediately lay down
on the sofa in his state-room. The scene was neces
sarily a sad one, yet he was quite calm and seemed
better than he had done, retaining his natural playful
ness, speaking jocosely of the smallness of his recep
tion-room in which so many were assembled, yet, with
a peculiar tenderness, wishing to keep them all near
him to the last.

1858-1859.] LETTER OF GEO. S. HILLARD. 371
When his friends left him as the hour for sailing
drew near, mindful of the responsibility that might
seem to devolve on his medical attendants, he sent
word by his daughter, Mrs. Bell, to Dr. Putnam, his
physician, that " whatever might be the event, he was
satisfied that every thing had been done for the best."
During the voyage to Halifax he lay in his state-room
stiU, almost like marble, and with no restlessness of
body or mind, conversing but little, and suffering
somewhat from sea-sickness. On Thursday a bad
symptom showed itself, in the swelling of his hands.
The ship's surgeon. Dr. Bry, and another physician on
board. Dr. Tyler, of Brookfield, were consulted, and
came to the conclusion that it was hazardous for him
to proceed, as, in their opinion, the excitement at
tendant upon any accident, or a severe storm, might
cause death at once. To the advice tendered by them
and other friends on board, after a little hesitation,
he assented, apparently glad of a chance of relief, he
was so weary.
The letter of a fellow-passenger, Hon. George S.
Hillard, describes the circumstances of the midnight
landing too graphically to be omitted or forgotten in
this narrative. " From the moment I first looked
upon him, on the morning of the day that we sailed,"
says Mr. Hillard, Avriting from England, after hearing
of his death, " I felt assured that the hand of death
was on him. His berth was next to mine, and I saw
him many times during the short period he remained
on board. He was always lying at full length upon
the sofa, and perfectly quiet, though not reading or
listening to reading. This in itself, in one Avith so
active a brain and restless an organization as his, was

372 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, X.
rather an ominous sign. In the brief moments of in
tercourse I had with him, the feminine sweetness and
gentleness of manner which always characterized him
was very marked and very touching. The determina
tion that he should stop at Halifax was come to before
dinner on the 30th, and all preparations were duly
made to have him landed so soon as we should
reach the port. This was not accomplished until mid
night ; the night was very dark, and all that we could
see of the town was a mass of indistinct gloom, dotted
here and there with twinkling lights. We took on
board a large number of passengers, and you can well
imagine the distracting hurry and confusion of such
a scene ; the jostling of porters and luggage, the
trampling of restless feet, and all the while the escape-
pipe driving one into madness with its ear-piercing
hiss. Mr. Choate walked to his carriage, leaning
heavily on my arm, — his son's attention being ab
sorbed by the care of the luggage. He moved slowly
and with some difficulty, taking very short steps.
Two carriages had been engaged, by some misunder
standing, but, on account of the luggage, it was found
convenient to retain them both. Mr. Choate was put
into one of them, alone, without any incumbrance of
trunk or bag, and his son with the luggage occupied
the other. When the moment for driving off came, I
could not bear to see him carried out into the unknown
darkness unaccompanied, and I asked Capt. Leitch,
who was with us, — and whose thoughtful kindness
I shall never forget, — how long a time I might have
to drive up to the toAvn ; and he replied, half an hour.
Hearing that the inn, or boarding-house, to which we
were directed, was but half a mile off, I entered the

1858-1859.] LANDING AT HALIFAX, 373
coach, sat by his side, and off we went through the
silent and gloomy streets. The half-mile stretched
out into a long mile, and when we had reached the
house, and I had deposited Mr. Choate on a sofa in
the sitting-room, the landlady appalled me by saying
that she had not an unoccupied bed in the house, and
could not accommodate him. Her words fell upon my
heart like a blow. ... In the mean time the inexorable
moments were slipping away, and I was compelled to
leave the house. I heard an airy voice calling me out
of the darkness, and I could not by a moment enlarge
the captain's leave. I left Mr. Choate upon the sofa,
pale and exhausted, but patient and uncomplaining,
his luggage in the street at the door, and his son at
that midnight hour wandering about the streets of
Halifax, seeking a temporary shelter for a dying
father, with what result I have not yet heard. What
with the sense of hurry, the irritation of this mis
chance, and the consciousness that I had seen my
eminent friend for the last time, I drove back to the
boat with a very sore heart. There are some pas
sages in our lives which stamp themselves upon the
memory with peculiar force and distinctness. Such
were my midnight experiences at Halifax ; if I should
live to be a hundred years old, they would be as fresh
before the mind's eye as they are now."
After Mr. Hillard left, a room was secured in
what proved to be a very pleasant boarding-house,
not far distant from the one to which he first drove.
It was in the third story, and overlooked the harbor.
Mr. Choate was too weak to ascend the stairs that
night,^ but slept well in a lower room, and the next
1 He was so feeble that, in going from one house to the other, he
fell forward in the carriage and was not able to raise himself.

374 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
morning was able to mount to his own. He immedi
ately took to his bed, which he never again left. At
the suggestion of the American Consul, Dr. DomvUle,
surgeon on board the flag-ship of the Admiral then in
command of the British fleet on the North American
station, was called in, and through his prescriptions
the most unfavorable symptoms were soon alleviated.
From day to day he remained nearly the same, rising
from his bed only to have it made, talking but little,
watching — with the old, habitual love of the sea —
as he could without raising his head from the pillow,
the unloading of the ships, and the vessels moving in
the harbor. " If a schooner or sloop goes by," he
once said, when dropping into a doze, " don't disturb
me, but if there is a square-rigged vessel, wake me
up." By night his son sat by his side till he was
sound asleep, Avhen, by his special request, he was
left alone, and usually slept well. Only one night
did he seem at all unlike himself, when being op
pressed for breath, he seemed to imagine that people
were crowding round the bed. His books were read
to him : Shakspeare, (The Tempest), Bacon's Ad
vancement of Learning, Macaulay's History, The Six
Days of Creation, Gray's Poem on Adversity (he
selecting it), Luther on the Psalms, and more
variously and constantly than all, the Bible. He
talked much of home, making little plans about the
best way of getting there ; talked of sending for his
family to come to him, but thought he should recruit
so soon that it would be of no use ; talked about
Essex, of wanting to go down there and having a
boat built for him, discussing her size and jig. He
was constantly cheerful, pleasant, and hopeful, and

1858-1859.] DEATH. 375
on the 12th of July, according to Dr. Domville, ap
peared better than on any previous day, and was led
to indulge the hope that he would shortly be suffi
ciently restored to make a journey homeward or else
where. It was otherwise ordered. The great shadow
was fast sweeping over him.
At his usual hour on that day, about five o'clock,
he ate as hearty a dinner as usual, bolstered up in
bed, and conversing at the same time AAdth his natural
¦vivacity. Shortly after he had finished, his son, who
was in the room, was startled by hearing him asking
for something indistinctly and in a peculiar tone ; and
going to him, inquired if he did not feel well. He
said. No — that he felt very faint. These were the
last words he ever uttered. He was raised and
supported in the bed ; the remedies at hand were
freely applied, and the physician at once summoned.
But the end was at hand. His eyes closed, opened
again, but -with no apparent recognition ; a slight
struggle passed over his frame, and consciousness was
extinguished for ever. A heavy breathing alone
showed that life remained. It continued till twenty
minutes before two o'clock on the morning of July
13, when it ceased, and all was still. ^
Among strangers as he was, his illness had awakened
a general sympathy, and prompted the kindest atten
tions. " All classes, from the Governor, Lord Mul
grave, down, proffered during his illness all that their
several resources afforded; " and his death, so sudden
1 An autopsy, made after the remains had reached Boston, showed
that the heart and lungs were entirely healthy. The kidneys were
affected with what is known to physicians as " Bright's disease." The
brain was not examined.

376 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X.
and unexpected, " cast a gloom over the entire com
munity." 1 A meeting of the Bench and Bar of the
city, presided over by the venerable Chief Justice, Sir
Brenton Haliburton, was immediately held in testi
mony of respect and sympathy. The sad tidings
were at once spread by telegraph over the United
States, and everyAvhere evoked a similar response.
The press, of all parties and persuasions, and in every
part of the country, was unanimous in its tribute of
respect. Meetings were held iu many cities and towns
in many States, to give utterance to the general
sorrow. Among the letters which came froin various
parts of the country, the following was received from
President Buchanan ; — "Washington, 18th July, 1859.
" My dear Sir, — I deeply regret the death of Mr.
Choate. I consider his loss, at the present time, to be a
great public misfortune. He was an unselfish patriot, —
devoted to the Constitution and the Union ; and the moral
influence of his precept and his example would have contrib
uted much to restore the ancient peace and harmony among
the different members of the Confederacy. In him ' the
elements were so combined,' that all his acquaintances became
his devoted friends. So far as I know, even party malev
olence spared him. He was pure and incorruptible ; and in
all our intercourse I have never known him to utter or in
sinuate a sentiment respecting public affairs which was not
of a high tone and elevated character.
" Yours very respectfully, "'James Buchanan."
But nowhere was there a deeper or more prevailing
feeling than among the members of the Essex Bar,
with whom he began and with whom he closed his
labors, and in Boston, where his greatest legal
triumphs were achieved. Many clergymen noticed
1 Letter from Dr. Domville,

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF HON. C. G. LORING. 377
the loss in their public discourses. The Mercantile
Library Association ; the Young Men's Democratic
Club ; the Massachusetts Historical Society ; the
Municipal Corporation ; the Courts of the State, and
of the United States ; the Faculty and Alumni of
Dartmouth College, where he was graduated just
forty years before ; the Bar of New York, and many
other public bodies, met to express their sense of the
loss. The Suffolk Bar at once appointed a committee
to draw up and present a series of resolutions ; and
seldom has there been expression of sincerer or deeper
grief than at the meeting which followed. His
brethren of the Bar spoke with suffused eye and
tremulous lip. Of the many addresses and commu
nications, difficult as it is to discriminate between
them on the score of fitness and general excellence,
a few may be selected as indicative of the spirit of all.
From the Address of Hon. Chakles G. Loring, at a
Meeting of the Suffolk Bar.
" Mr. Chairman, — I am instructed by the com
mittee appointed at a meeting of which this is an
adjournment, to present for its consideration a series
of resolutions, the adoption of which they recommend
as commemorative of the sense entertained by the
members of the Suffolk Bar, of the afflicting event
which has recently befallen them. And in discharg
ing that duty, I crave indulgence, as one of the eldest
among them, to say a few words upon the sad theme
which fills our hearts, though the state of my health
would forbid any elaborate attempt at adequate
description of the marvellous combination of genius,
learning, and ability, characteristic of our departed

378 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X.
brother, or any fitting eulogium upon his life and
character. " Of his gifts and attainments as a lawyer and as an
orator, not only this bar, but the national forum and
the legislative halls of the Commonwealth, and of the
United States, have been witnesses ; Avhile his scholas
tic efforts, on many varying occasions, have been heard
and read by admiring multitudes, whose remembrance
of them is still fresh and full. And if — not relying
only upon our own affectionate and perhaps partial
judgments — Ave may trust the general expression of
the press throughout the land, it is no unbecoming
exaggeration to say that in the death of our friend the
nation has lost one of the most gifted and distinguished
lawyers and orators, and one of the most refined and
accomplished scholars, that have adorned its forensic,
legislative, or literary annals.
" Having been for more than twenty years after Mr.
Choate came to this bar, his antagonist in forensic
struggles, at the least, I believe, as frequently as any
other member of it, I may well be competent to bear
witness to his peculiar abilities, resources, and man
ners in professional service. And having, in the
varied experiences of nearly forty years, not infre
quently encountered some of the giants of the law,
Avhose lives and memories have contributed to render
this bar illustrious throughout tlie land, — among
whom I may include the honored names of Prescott,
Mason, Hubbard, Webster, and Dexter, and others
araong the dead, and those of others yet with us, to
share in the sorrows of this hour, — I do no injustice
to the living or the dead in saying, that for the pecu
liar powers desirable for a lawyer and advocate, for

1858-1S59.J ADDRESS OJ!' HON. C. G. LORING. ST9
combination of accurate memory, logical acumen,
vivid imagination, profound learning in the law,
exuberance of literar}- knowledge and command of
language, united Avith strategic skill, I should place
him at the head of all whom I have ever seen in the
management of a cause at the bar.
" No one who has not been frequently his antago
nist in intricate and balanced cases, can have adequate
conception of his wonderful powers and resources;
and especially in desperate emergencies, when his
seemingly assured defeat has terminated in victory.
" His remembrance of every fact, suggestion, or
implication involved in the testimony, of even the re
motest admission bj-his adversary, — his ready knowl
edge and application of every principle of law called
for at the moment, — his long forecast and ever watch
ful attention to every new phase of the case, however
slight, — his incredible power of clear and brilliant
illustration, — his unexampled exuberance of rich and
gloAving language, — his wonderfully methodic ar
rangement, where method would best serve him, and
no less wonderful power of dislocation and confusion
offerees, when method would not serve him, — his
incredible ingenuity in retreating when seemingly
annihilated, and the suddenness and impetuosity Avith
Avhich, changing front, he returned to the charge, or
rallied in another and unexpected direction, — and
the brilliant fancy, the peerless beauty, and fasci
nating glow of language and sentiment, Avith which,
when law and facts and argument were all against
him, he could raise his audience above them ail as
things of earth, while insensibly persuading it that
the decision should rest upon considerations to be

380 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. X,
found in higher regions, and that a verdict in his favor
was demanded by some transcendent equity inde
pendent of them all, at times surpassed all preA'ious
conceptions of human ability.
" In manner and deportment at the bar, as every
where, our deceased brother was not only unexcep
tionable, but an eminent example of what a lawyer
should be. Always dignified and graceful in his
bearing towards his professional brethren, and defer
ential to the court, and always self-possessed in the
stormiest seas, — his intensity of language being, as I
ever thought, the effect of a strongly excited imagina
tion, combined with peculiar nervous energy, rather
than arising from otherwise deep emotions or excited
feelings — he rarely permitted himself to indulge in
personalities, and never in those of an offensive and
degrading nature, the indulgence of which is ever to
be deplored, as alike discreditable to the individual
and the profession, of which, for the time being,
every advocate should feel himself to be the public
representative. " Nor can I leave this theme without thus publicly
reaffirming, what it has been my constant pleasure to
say of him throughout all our long years of exasperat
ing conflicts, that he was the best tempered and most
amiable man in controversy whom I ever encountered;
nor will I hesitate to add that his example has at
times winged the arrow of self-reproach that it Avas
not better followed.
" Of Mr. Choate's power and attainments as a
scholar, so conspicuous and extensive, I forbear to
speak further than to say that the bar of the whole
country owes to him the debt of gratitude for exhib-

1S58-1S59.] RE5LA.RKS OF HON. GEORGE LUNT. 381
iting an example so illustrious of the strength, dignity,
and beauty which forensic discussion may draw from
the fields of literature and art, Avith whose treasures
he often adorned his arguments in rich exuberance,
though never with the slightest savor of pedantry or
affectation. " We have fought many hardly contested forensic
fields, but ever met, as I trust and believe, on neutral
ground, in mutual, cordial good- will — and many are
the delightful hours I have passed in his society — in
the enjoyment of his genial nature, fascinating exuber
ance of fancy and learning, and exquisite wit ; but the
silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl is broken, and
the wheel broken at the cistern ; and it is only left for
me to lay a worthless, fading chaplet on his grave."
Hon. George Lunt, chairman of the sub-committee
of the Suffolk Bar, presented the folloAving resolutions,
prefacing them with a few remarks, in the course of
which he said, —
" Of those who have cultivated dehberative eloquence as
an art, no doubt there have been others his equals, possibly in
some respects his superiors. And though his style of oratory,
in its composition, could scarcely be compared with any thing
except the grand and lofty periods of Milton in his works of
prose, yet it had many of the characteristics of Burke, whom
he admired, and of another great man of our ovra country —
Fisher Ames — whom no successor has surpassed. But at the
bar, when and where was there ever one hke him in the union
of all things which constituted his power, and gave him that
sort of magnetic influence, felt by all who approached him,
and which courts, juries, and audiences so often found irresis
tible ? It was in this, I feel disposed to say, that Mr. Choate
was the most peculiar, — that his soul imbued his thoughts
and gave them hfe and action, — and to him more than to
any man, and now with sad significance, are applicable those
descriptive lines of Dryden : —

382 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
' A fiery soul that, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.'
For his soul became incorporated, as he sjpoke with his living
presence, and he had enough of the spiritual element for a
whole generation of ordinary members of the bar.
" With your permission I will read the
resolutions.
"Resolved, That the members of this bar, submissively
and solemnly acknowledging the dispensation of Divine
Providence, in removing by death their late eminent leader
and beloved associate, the Honorable Rufus Choate, — recog
nize that mournful event with emotions of the profoundest
sorrow, and sincerely feel that no language could adequately
express their exalted estimation of his character as a lawyer,
a citizen, and a man, or their affectionate respect and venera
tion fbr his memory.
" Resolved, That the professional character of our departed
brother exhibited the rarest and most admirable qualities,
seldom if ever before so singularly united in the same person ;
that while unrivalled in all the learning of the law, entirely
familiar with the principles, the doctrines, and the philosophy
of the science to which his life was devoted, and thoroughly
acquainted with the minutest requirements of its practice, the
manly strength and capacity of his intellect were combined
with a grace, an elegance, and a brilliancy of conception and
expression totally unexampled ; that while he brought to the
pursuits of his profession the most extraordinary quickness
and clearness of apprehension, and the best faculties of sound
and solid reasoning, these incomparable powers were bright
ened and enriched by a facility and fertility of illustration no
less remarkable, drawn from nature, art, literature, the re
sources of his own imagination, and the Scriptures which he
so loved and reverenced ; and by a spontaneous flow of im
passioned and matchless eloquence, which animated, instructed,
and inspired reason — captivating it, yet subject to it — using
the noblest language in which thought could clothe itself, va
ried often, and enlivened by a quaint and original felicity of
expression, which cheered the gravest proceedings, while it
illuminated his meaning — showing him, confessedly, among
all men, the very genius of the bar ; yet with all its amplest

1858-1859.] RESOLUTIONS OF SUFFOLK BAR. 383
treasuries of knowledge at his command, by the exercise of a
power of application, not usually attributed to genius, and by
habits of careful and laborious study, in which no man sur
passed and few equalled him — manifesting a real and most
earnest sympathy in every case entrusted to him, to the small
est indifferently with the largest, by a sort of resolute instinct
of nature, but which always co-operated with principle, and
was sustained by it — thus, always doing justice to his client,
himself, and the occasion, and never found even partially
unprepared — but before a single judge, with no audience,
upon a question claiming little public interest, as learned, as
eloquent, as choice, copious, and accurate in language, and
equally as ' fervent in business,' as if surrounded by an admir
ing crowd, so often kindled by the thrilling utterance of his
lips — for he was still there, doing his duty — his vigor, his
fire, his zeal ever the same — so that it was the spirit of the
man within which led him on, and made him true to all time
and place, and thus able to turn time, occasion, circumstance,
all things, to the immediate and overpowering purpose which
impelled him, as few men are impelled, to do with his might
whatever his hands found to do.
" Resolved, That while looking to him constantly as one of
the great lights of the profession — honoring him without
reservation as its unquestioned leader, with recollections full
of that enchanting eloquence which always fascinated by a
freshness, a brilliancy, an ardor, and an originality peculiarly
its own, aud of a learning equally sound, extensive, and
ready — always gathering new stores by the unceasing study
and reflection of every day — our long association with him,
in the kindest, most agreeable, and most friendly relations, as
members of, the bar, and in the ordinary intercourse of life,
recalls the impression of his personal characteristics with
vivid distinctness and poignancy at this moment of severe and
unaffected grief ; and revives him in our memory as, of all
men of whom we have known, one of the most truly amiable
and estimable ; and with hearts overflowing with the sense
of that amenity and unforced courtesy — now buried with him
for ever — so graceful and uniform, since it was a part of his
very nature — of that transparent tenderness of feeling pecu
liarly distinguishing him and an unassuming kindness of de
meanor, rendered to the lowest equally with the highest in
his company, — showing him humane and true to humanity
in the broadest acceptation of the word, as he was profoundly

884 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. X
interested in all which might concern a man — and though
-without any of the familiarity which lessens, yet equally at
home with the humblest and most cultivated, and in the poor
est as the grandest place ; and everywhere and in all com
panies free from the slightest indelicacy of expression, and
apparently unconscious of it by a certain innate nicety of
mind — and gratefully remembering him as a true gentleman,
because gentle both by nature and culture, and as the highest
ornament of his profession, and an honor to his race, we
cherish his memory with an affection, admiration, and respect,
scarcely to be disturbed in this generation by another exam
ple of qualities and gifts so noble and extraordinary, as to
make him in many singular respects — in genius, learning,
and eloquence — in perfection of the reasoning powers, and
taste, fancy, and imaginative faculties not often in concord
with them ; and in fidelity to his client and his cause never
excelled — justly entitled to the reputation, likely to become
still more extensive, of the marvel of his time.
" Resolved. That, while the decease of this great and ex
cellent man is universally regarded by this community as an
irreparable calamity, to be only deepened by experience, as
we become more and more sensible of a vacant place so diffi
cult worthily to fill, — the loss to the Commonwealth and
the nation cannot be too keenly deplored ; that as a citizen
of the State and of the United Republic, his whole life
evinced that wise interest in and generous devotion to public
affairs, becoming his station, profession, character, and under
standing, — discussing them before the people on suitable oc
casions, with a spirit and a power of thought and language
seldom equalled — thus affording the strongest and surest
pledge of an honest and unflinching patriotism, which won for
him, even from those hostile to his opinions, a confidence in
his political integrity seldom felt or granted to a statesman
by those opposed to him ; and that while the public services
rendered by him in the past entitle his memory to our
veneration, we may well anticipate future exigencies of the
country, when to miss the invaluable aid of such an illustrious
counsellor, guide, and example, will be only to renew our
grief, as we look in vain for that steady and shining light
now so prematurely and sadly extinguished.
" Resolved, That the members of this bar, sorrowfully and
respectfully, beg leave to tender to the bereaved family of
their lamented friend the most heartfelt sentiments of condo-

1858-1859.] REJIARKS OF R. H. DANA, JR. 385
lence and sympathy ; and feeling that the occasion rarely
arises in which private grief is so deeply and justly shared by
all, and peculiarly by their own profession, they ask permis
sion to unite with the family of their departed brother, in
attending his remains to their last earthly resting-place.
" Resolved, That a eulogy be pronounced at such convenient
time as may be hereafter determined upon, and that Hon.
Caleb Cushing be invited to deliver the same before the bar.
"Resolved, That these resolutions be presented to the Su
preme Judicial Court of this Commonwealth, with a request
that they be entered upon its records."

Remarks of Richard H. Dana, Jr., Esq.
" Mr. Chairman, — By your courtesy, and the
courtesy of this bar, which never fails, I occupy an
earlier moment than I should, otherwise be entitled
to ; for the reason, that in a few hours I shall be
called upon to take a long leave of the bar and of my
home. I cannot do that. Sir, — I cannot do that,
without rising to say one word of what I know and
feel upon this sad loss.
" The pressure which has been upon me in the last
few days of my remaining here has prevented my
making that kind of preparation which the example
of him whom we commemorate requires of every man
about to address a fit audience upon a great subject.
I can only speak right on what I do feel and know.
" ' The wine of life is drawn.' The ' golden bowl
is broken.' The age of miracles has passed. The day
of inspiration is over. The Great Conqueror, unseen
and irresistible, has broken into our temple and has
carried off the vessels of gold, the vessels of silver,
the precious stones, the jewels, and the ivory; and,
like the priests of the Temple of Jerusalem, after the
25

386 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. LChap. X.
invasion from Babylon, we must content ourselves,
as we can, with vessels of wood and of stone and of
iron. " With such broken phrases as these, Mr. Chairman,
perhaps not altogether just to the living, we endeavor
to express the emotions natural to this hour of our
bereavement. Talent, industry, eloquence, and learn
ing there are still, and always will be, at the bar of
Boston. But if I say that the age of miracles has
passed, that the day of inspiration is over, — if I can
not realize that in this place where we now are, the
cloth of gold was spread, and a banquet set flt for the
gods, — I know, Sir, you will excuse it. Any one
who has lived with him and now survives him will
excuse it, — any one who, like the youth in Words
worth's ode, '
' by the vision splendid.
Is on his way attended,
At length , , , perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day,'
" Sir, I speak for myself, — I have no right to speak
for others, — but I can truly say, without any exag
geration, taking for the moment a simile from that
element which he loved as much as I love it, though
it rose against his life at last, — that in his presence I
felt like the master of a small coasting vessel, that
hugs the shore, that has run up under the lee to speak
a great homeward-bound Indiaman, freighted with
silks and precious stones, spices and costly fabrics,
with sky-sails and studding-sails spread to the breeze,
with the nation's flag at her mast-head, navigated by
the mysterious science of the fixed stars, and not un
prepared with weapons of defence, her decks peopled

1858-1859.] REMARKS OF R, H. DANA, JR, 387
with men in strange costumes, speaking of strange
climes and distant lands.
" All loved him, especially the young. He never
asserted himself, or claimed precedence, to the injury
of any man's feelings. Who ever knew him to lose
temper? Who ever heard from him an unkind word?
And this is all the more strange from the fact of his
great sensitiveness of temperament.
" His splendid talents as an orator need no com
mendation here. The world knows so much. The
Avorld knows perfectly well that juries after juries
have returned their verdicts for Mr. Choate's clients,
and the Court has entered them upon the issues.
The world knows how he electrified vast audiences
in his more popular addresses ; but. Sir, the world has
not known, though it knows better now than it did,
— and the testimony of those better competent than
I am will teach it, — that his power here rested not
merely nor chiefly upon his eloquence, but rested
principally upon his philosophic and dialectic power.
He was the greatest master of logic we had amongst
us. No man detected a fallacy so quickly, or exposed
it so felicitously as he, whether in scientific terms to
the bench, or popularly to the jury ; and who could
play with a fallacy as he could? Ask those venerated
men who compose our highest tribunal, with whom
all mere rhetoric is worse than wasted when their
minds are bent to the single purpose of arriving at
the true results of their science, — ask them wherein
lay the greatest power of Rufus Choate, and they
will tell you it lay in his philosophy, his logic, and hia
learning. " He was, Sir, in two words, a unique creation. He

388 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. X
was a strange product of New England. Benjamin
Franklin, John Adams, Samuel Dexter, Daniel Web
ster, and Jeremiah Mason seem to be the natural
products of the soil ; but to me this great man always
seemed as not having an origin here in New England,
but as if, by the side of our wooden buildings, or by
the side of our time-enduring granite, there had risen,
like an exhalation, some Oriental structure, with the
domes and glittering minarets of the Eastern world.
Yet this beautiful fabric, so aerial, was founded upon
a rock. We know he digged his foundation deep,
and laid it strong and sure.
" I wished to say a word as to his vrit, but time
would fail me to speak of every thing. Yet, without
reference to that, all I may say would be too incom
plete. His wit did not raise an uproarious laugh, but
created an inward and homefelt delight, and took up
its abode in your memory. The casual word, the un
expected answer at the corner of the street, the re
mark whispered over the back of his chair while the
docket was calling, you repeated to the next man you
met, and he to the next, and in a few days it became
the anecdote of the town. When as lawyers we met
together, in tedious hours, and sought to entertain
ourselves, we found we did better with anecdotes of
Mr. Choate than on our own original resources.
" Besides his eloquence, his logical power, and
his wit, he possessed deep and varied learning. His
learning was accurate, too. He could put his hand
on any Massachusetts case as quick as the judge who
decided it.
" But if I were asked to name that which I regard
as his characteristic, — that in which he differed

1858-1859.] REMARKS OF R. H. DANA, JR.
from other learned, logical, and eloquent men of
great eminence, — I should say it was his sesthetic
nature. " Even under the excitement of this moment, I
should not compare his mind in the point of mere
force of understanding (and, indeed, he would not
have tolerated such a comparison) with Daniel Web
ster ; and yet I think we have a right to say that, in
his Eesthetic nature, he possessed something to which
the minds of Franklin, Adams, Dexter, Mason, and
Webster, were strangers.
" But I ask pardon of the bar, I am not desirous
of making these comparisons.
" I need not say. Sir, Rufus Choate was a great
laAvyer, a great jurist, a great publicist, but more than
all that — and I speak of that which I know — his
nature partook strongly of the poetic element. It
was not something which he could put on or off, but
it was born with him — I will not say died with him,
but is translated with him.
" Shakspeare Avas his great author. I would have
defied even the Shakspeare scholar to refer to any
passage of Shakspeare that Mr. Choate would not
have recognized instantly. Next to Shakspeare, I
think I have a right to say he thought that he owed
more to Wordsworth than to any other poet. He
studied him before it was the fashion, and before his
high position had been vindicated.
" Then he was, of course, a great student of Milton,
and after that, I think that those poets who gained
the affections of his youth, and wrote when he was
young, — Byron, Scott, Coleridge, Southey, — had his
affections chiefly ; though, of course, he read and

390 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. X.
valued and studied Spenser and Dryden, and, as a
satirist and a maker of epigrams. Pope. This love of
poetry with him was genuine and true. He read and
studied always, not with a view to make ornaments
for his speeches, but because his nature drew him to
it. We all know he was a fine Greek and Latin
scholar ; was accurate ; he never made a false quan
tity. Who ever detected him in a misquotation ? He
once told me he never allowed a day to go by that he
did not write out a translation from some Greek or
Latin author. This was one of the means by which
he gained his affiuence of language. Of Cicero he
was a frequent student, particularly of his ethical and
philosophical writings. But Greek was his favorite
tongue. " One word more. Sir. It is not so generally known,
I suppose, of Mr. Choate, that, certainly during the
last ten years of his life, he gave much of his thoughts
to those noble and elevating problems which relate to
the nature and destiny of man, to the nature of God,
to the great hereafter; recognizing Sir, that great
truth — so beautifully expressed in his favorite tongue
— in sacred writ, Ta fi-q ^eirop.eva aluivia — things
not seen are eternal. He studied not merely psychol
ogy ; he knew well the great schools of philosophy ;
he knew well their characteristics, and read their
leading men. I suspect he was the first man in this
community who read Sir William Hamilton, and Man-
sel's work on ' The Limits of Religious Thought ; '
and I doubt if the Chairs of Harvard and Yale were
more familiar with the English and German mind,
and their views on these great problems, than Mr,
Choate.

1858-1859.] REMARKS OF R. H. DANA, JR. 391
" He carried his study even into technical theology.
He knew its genius and spirit better than many
divines. He kncAv in detail the great dogmas of St.
Augustine ; and he studied and kiicAv John Calvin
and Luther. He knew the great principles which lie
at the foundation of Catholic theology and institu
tions, and the theology of the Evangelical school ;
and he knew and studied the rationalistic writings of
the Germans, and was familiar with their theories and
characteristics. " With all those persons whom he met and who he
felt, with reasonable confidence, had sufficient eleva
tion to value these subjects, he conversed upon them
freely. But beyond this — as to his opinions, his re
sults — I have no right to speak. I only wished to
allude to a few of the more prominent of his charac
teristics ; and it is peculiarly gratifying to remember,
at this moment, that he had the elevation of mind so
to lay hold upon the greatest of all subjects.
" I meant to have spoken of his studies of the Eng
lish prose-writers, among whom Bacon and Burke had
his preference. But he read them all, and loved to
read them all ; from the scholastic stateliness of Mil
ton, warring for the right of expressing thoughts for
all ages, to the simplicity of Cowper's Letters.
" But all this is gone for us ! We are never to see
him again in the places that knew him. To think
that he, of all men, who loved his home so, should
have died among strangers ! That he, of all men,
should have died under a foreign flag ! I can go no
further. I can only call upon all to bear witness
now, and to the next generation, that he stood before
us an example of eminence in science, in erudition, in

392 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB, [Chap. X
genius, in taste, — in honor, in generosity, in human
ity, — in every liberal sentiment, and every liberal
accomplishment."

Address of Hon. Benjamin E. Curtis on Presenting to
THE Supreme Judicial Court the Resolutions of the
Suffolk Bar, — [Sept. 20, 1859,]
' ' May it please your Honor :
" I have been directed by the bar of the County of
Suffolk, to present to the Supreme Judicial Court
certain resolutions adopted by them, upon the decease
of their lamented and distinguished brother, Rufus
Choate, and to request the Court to have these reso
lutions entered on record here. They were adopted
at a meeting of the members of this bar, held in this
place on the 19th day of July last, since which time
the Supreme Judicial Court is now first in session for
the business of the County of Suffolk. With the
leave of the Court I Avill ask the clerk to read the
resolutions. [The clerk read the resolutions, which
have been published heretofore.]
" This is not the occasion, nor is it devolved on me,
to pronounce a eulogy on the subject of these resolu
tions, whose death in the midst of his brilliant and im
portant career has made so profound an impression on
his brethren of the bar and of the community at large.
The Court will have noticed that by one of the reso
lutions I have read, other suitable provision has been
made for that tribute of respect to him, and for doing
justice to their sense of their own and the public loss.
But the relations which Mr. Choate long sustained to
this Court have been too conspicuous and too impor
tant to me to be wholly silent here respecting them.

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF HON. B. R. CURTIS. 393
The bench and the bar are mutually dependent on
each other for that co-operation which is essential to
the steady, prompt, and successful distribution of
justice. Without the assistance and support of a
learned, industrious, able, and honest bar, it is not too
much to say that no bench in this country can sustain
itself, and its most strenuous exertions can result only
in a halting and uncertain course of justice. Without
a learned, patient, just, and courageous bench, there
will not for any long time continue to be a bar fitted
for its high and difficult duties.
" When, therefore, one of their number, who for
many years has exerted his great and brilliant powers
in this forum, has been removed by death, we feel
that in its annunciation to this Court, we make known
a fact of importance to itself, and that we may be
sure of its sympathy, and of its appreciation of what
is indeed a common loss. You have witnessed his
labors and know how strenuous, how frequent, how
great, how devoted to his duty they have been. You
have been instructed by his learning and relieved by
his analysis of complicated controversies. You have
doubtless been delighted by his eloquence and in
formed and interested by the fruits of his rich and
liberal culture. And when his brethren of the bar
come here to make knoAAnu their sense of their loss,
they cannot be unmindful that to you also it is a loss,
not in one day to be repaired.
" We are aware that it has sometimes been thought,
and by the thoughtless or inexperienced often said,
that from his lips ' With fatal sweetness elocution
flowed.' But they who have thought or said this
have but an imperfect notion of the nature of our judi-

394 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X.
cial controversies, or of the ability for the discovery
of truth and justice which may be expected here.
" Such persons begin with the false assumption that
in the complicated cases which are brought to trial
here, one party is altogether right and the other alto
gether wrong. They are ignorant, that in nearly all
cases there is truth and justice and law on both sides ;
that it is for the tribunal to discover how much of
these belongs to each, and to balance them, and ascer
tain which preponderates ; and that so artificial are
the greater portion of our social rights, and so com
plex the facts on which they depend, that it is only
by means of such an investigation and decision that it
can be certainly known on which side the real justice
is. That, consequently, it is the duty of the advocate
to manifest and enforce all the elements of justice,
truth, and law which exist on one side, and to take
care that no false appearances of those great realities
are exhibited on the other. That while the zealous
discharge of this duty is consistent with the most
devoted loyalty to truth and justice, it calls for the
exertion of the highest attainments and powers of the
lawyer and the advocate, in favor of the particular
party whose interests have been intrusted to his care.
And if from eloquence , and learning and skill and
laborious preparation and ceaseless vigilance, so pre
eminent as in Mr. Choate, there might seem to be
danger that the scales might incline to the wrong side,
some compensation would be made by the increased
exertion to which that seeming danger would natu
rally incite his opponents ; and I am happy to believe,
what he believed, that as complete security against
wrong as the nature of human institutions will permit.

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF HON. B. R. CURTIS. 395
bas always been found in the steadiness, intelligence,
love of justice, and legal learning of the tribunal by
which law and fact are here finally determined.
" I desire, therefore, on this occasion, and in this
presence, and in behalf of my brethren of this bar, to
declare our appreciation of the injustice which would
be done to this great and eloquent adA'ocate by attrib
uting to him any want of loyalty to truth, or any
deference to wrong, because he employed all his great
powers and attainments, and used to the utmost his
consummate skill and eloquence, in exhibiting and
enforcing the comparative merits of one side of the
cases in which he acted. In doing so he but did his
duty. If other people did theirs, the administration
of justice was secured.
" A trial in a court of justice has been fitly termed
a drama in which the actors, the events, and the pas
sions were all realities ; and of the parts which the
members of the legal profession play therein, it was
once said, by one who, I think, should have known
better, that they are brawlers for hire. I believe the
charge can have uo general application — certainly
not to those who, within my experience, have prac
tised at this bar, where good manners have been as
common as good learning. At all events, he of whom
I speak was a signal example that all lawyers are not
brawlers. "For, among other things most worthy to be re
membered of him, he showed, in the most convincing
manner, that forensic strife is consistent with uniform
personal kindness and gentleness of demeanor ; that
mere smartness, or aggressive and irritating captious-
ness, have nothing to do with the most effective con-

396 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
duct of a cause ; that the business of an advocate is
with the law and the evidence, and not in provoking
or humbling an opponent ; that wrangling, and the
irritations which spring from it, obstruct the course of
justice ; and are indeed twice cursed, for they injure
him who gives and him who receives.
"I am sure I shall have the concurrence of the
Court when I say, that among all Mr. Choate's extra
ordinary gifts of nature and graces of art, there was
nothing more remarkable than the sweetness of his
temper and the courtesy of his manners, both to the
bench and the bar. However eager might be the
strife, however exhausting the toil, however anxious
the care, — these were never lost. The recollection
of them is now in all our hearts.
" I need not repeat that I shall make no attempt to
draw even an outline of the qualities and attainments
and powers of this great advocate. Under any cir
cumstances I should distrust my own ability for the
work, and as I have already said, it is not expected of
me here.
" I have simply to move this Honorable Court to
receive these resolutions, and direct them to be entered
of record."
In accordance Avith the vote of the Suffolk Bar, the
resolutions were presented to the United States Dis
trict Court by the District Attorney, and the following
reply was made by Mr. Justice Sprague : —
" Notwithstanding the time that has elapsed since
the death of Mr. Choate, and the numerous demon
strations of respect by the bar, by judicial tribunals,

1858-1859.] REMARKS OF JUDGE SPRAGUE. 397
deliberative bodies, and popular assemblies, still it is
proper tliat such an event should not pass unnoticed
in this court. Others have spoken fully and elo
quently of his eminence and excellence in various
departments ; we may here at least appropriately say
something of him as a lawyer and an advocate. His
life was mainly devoted to the practice of his profes
sion, and this court was the scene of many of his
greatest efforts and highest achievements. I believe
him to ha.ve been the most accomplished advocate
that this country has produced. With extraordinary
genius he united unremitted industry, devoted almost
exclusively to the law, and to those literary studies
which tend most directly to accomplish and perfect
the orator and the advocate. The result was wonder
ful. His command of language was unequalled. I
certainly have heard no one who approached him in
the richness of his vocabulary. This wealth he used
profusely, but with a discrimination, a felicity of
expression, and an ease and flow, which were truly
marvellous. Although to the careless or unintelligent
hearer his words would sometimes seem to be in
excess, yet to the attentive and cultivated every word
had its appropriate place and its shade of meaning,
conducing more or less to the perfection of the picture.
To those who heard Mr. Choate for the first time, it
would seem as though this ready outpouring of choice
and expressive language must be the result of special
preparation. But those who have heard him often,
especially in those unforeseen emergencies which so
frequently arise in the trial of causes, knew that the
stream, which was so full and clear and brilliant,
gushed forth from a fountain as exhaustless as Nature.

398 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, X
' Rusticus expectat dum defluat aranis ; at ille
Lahitur, et labetur in omne volubilis Eevum,'
" But it is not to be understood by any means that
Mr. Choate's highest merit consisted in his rhetoric.
That, indeed, was the most striking. But those who
had most profoundly considered and mastered the sub
ject saw that the matter of his discourse, the thought,
Avas worthy of the drapery with which it was clothed.
His mind was at once comprehensive and acute. No
judicial question was too enlarged for its vision, and
none too minute for its analysis. To the Court he
could present arguments learned, logical, and pro
found, or exquisitely refined and subtle, as the oc
casion seemed to require. But it was in trials before
a jury that he was pre-eminent. Nothing escaped his
vigilance, and nothing was omitted that could con
tribute to a verdict for his client. His skill in the
examination of witnesses was consummate. I have
never seen it equalled. The character of the jury,
individually and collectively, was not overlooked, and
their opinions and prejudices were not only respected,
but soothed and conciliated with the utmost tact and
delicacy. His quickness of apprehension and untir
ing application of all his energies to the cause in hand
gave him complete mastery of his materials. His self-
possession was perfect. However suddenly the aspect
of his cause might be clouded by unexpected develop
ments, he was never disconcerted. He had wonder
ful fertility of resources, which Avere always at instant
command, and seemed to multiply with the difficulties
which called them forth. Whatever the course pre
viously marked out, or however laboriously a position
had been fortified, they were without hesitation aban-

1858-1859,] REMARKS OF JUDGE SPRAGUE, 399
doned the moment that a new exigency rendered it
expedient to take other grounds, and the transition
was often effected AAdth such facility and adroitness
that his opponent found himself assailed from a
new quarter before he had suspected a change of
position. " In his arguments, not only was each topic pre
sented in all its force, but they were all arranged
with artistic skill, so as mutually to sustain and
strengthen each other, and present a harmonious and
imposing whole. He usually began his address to the
jury with a rapid and comprehensive view of the
whole trial, in which he grouped and made strikingly
prominent the circumstances which would make the
strongest impression of the fairness of his client and
the justness of his cause ; thus securing the sympathy
and good wishes of the jury, while he should take
them with him through that fulness of detail and that
searching analysis which was sure to follow. How
ever protracted his arguments, they were listened to
throughout with eager attention. His matter, man
ner, and diction created such interest and pleasure in
what was uttered, and such expectation of new and
striking thoughts and expressions to come, that atten
tion could not be withdrawn. With a memory stored
with the choicest literature of our own and other lan
guages, and a strong, vivid, and prolific imagination,
his argument was rarely decked with fiowers. It pre
sented rather the grave and gorgeous foliage of our
resplendent autumn forest, infinite in richness and
variety, but from which we should hardly be willing
to spare a leaf or a tint. Such was his genius, his
opulence of thought, and intenseness of expression,

400 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. X
that we involuntarily speak of him in unmeasured
and unqualified terms.
" The characteristic which perhaps has been most
dwelt upon by those who have spoken of Mr. Choate,
was his invincible good temper. This especially en
deared him, not only to his brethren of the bar, but,
also, to the bench. Anxious, earnest, and even vehe
ment, in his advocacy, and sometimes suffering from
disease, still no vicissitude or vexations of the cause,
or annoyance from opponents, could infuse into his
address any tinge of bitterness, or cause him for a
moment to forget his habitual courtesy and kindness.
He never made assaults upon opposing counsel, and
if made on him, they were repelled with mildness and
forbearance. If, indeed, his opponent sometimes felt
the keen point of a pungent remark, it seemed rather
to have slipped from an overfull quiver than to have
been intentionally hurled. This abstinence was the
more meritorious, because the temptation of super
abundant ability was not wanting.
" We can hardly measure his power for evil if he
had studied the language of offence, and turned his
eloquence into the channels of vituperation. But
against this perversion he was secured by his kindly
nature. I am sure that it would have been to him a
source of anguish to believe that he had inflicted a
wound which rankled in the breast of another.
" No man was more exempt from vanity. He
seemed to have no thought for himself, but only
for his client and his cause. The verdict was kept
steadily in view. His most brilliant efforts had no
indication of self-exhibition or display. Magnificent
as they were, they seemed to be almost involuntary

1858-1859,] ADDRESS OF MR, EATLRETT, 401
outpourings from a fulness of thought and language
that could not be repressed. From feeling, reflection,
and habit, he was a supporter of laAv, aud of that
order which is the result of its regular administration.
He was truly a friend of the Court, and his manner
to them was invariably respectful and deferential.
He took an enlightened view of their duties, and ap
preciated their difficulties ; and received their judg
ments, even when adverse to his wishes, if not always
with entire acquiescence, at least with candor and
graceful submission. We cannot but sympathize with
the bar in a bereavement wliich has taken from us
such an associate and friend, by whom the Court has
been so often enlightened and aided in their labors,
and whose rare gifts contributed to make the 'light
of jurisprudence gladsome.' "
On Friday, the 22d of July, a public meeting of
the citizens of Boston Avas held in Faneuil Hall. The
darkened windows, the burning gas-lights, the pillars
and galleries covered with mourning drapery, the
heavy festoons stretching from the centre of the ceil
ing to the capitals of the pillars, the quiet crowd
weighed down as by a general calamity, all spoke the
one language of bereavement and grief. Addresses
were made by many distinguished persons, and among
others, by Mr. Everett, who spoke as follows : —
Address of Mr. Everett.
"Mr. Mayor and Fblloav-Citizbns, — I obey
the only call which could with propriety have drawn
me at this time from my retirement, in accepting your
invitation to unite with you in the melancholy duties
26

402 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap, X.
which we are assembled to perform. While I speak,
Sir, the lifeless remains of our dear departed friend
are expected ; it may be, have already returned to his
bereaved home. We sent him forth, but a few days
since, in search of health ; the exquisite bodily organ
ization over-tasked and shattered, but the master in
tellect stfll shining in unclouded strength. Anxious,
but not desponding, we sent him forth, hoping that
the bracing air of the ocean, which he greatly loved,
the respite from labor, the change of scene, the cheer
ful intercourse which he was so well calculated to en
joy with congenial spirits abroad, would return him
to us refreshed and renovated ; but he has come back
to us dust and ashes, a pilgrim already on his way to
' The undiscovered country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns.'
" How could I refuse to bear my humble part in the
tribute of respect which you are assembled to pay to
the memory of such a man ! — a man not only honored
by me, in common with the whole country, but ten
derly cherished as a faithful friend, from the morning
of his days, and almost from the morning of mine, —
one with whom through life I was delighted to take
sweet counsel, for whom I felt an affection never
chilled for a moment, during forty years since it
sprung up. I knew our dear friend, Sir, from the
time that he entered the Law School at Cambridge.
I was associated with him as one of the Massachusetts
delegation in the House of Representatives of the
United States, between whom and myself there was
an entire community of feeling and opinion on all
questions of men and measures ; and with whom, in
these later years, as his near neighbor, and especially

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF MR. EYERETT. 403
when sickness confined him at home, I have enjoyed
opportunities of the most intimate social intercourse.
" Noav that he is gone. Sir, I feel that one more is
taken aAvay of those most trusted and loved, and with
whom I had most hoped to finish the journey ; nay.
Sir, one whom, in the course of nature, I should have
preceded to its end, and who would have performed
^Dr me the last kindly office, which I, with drooping
spirit, would fain perform for him.
" But although with a willing heart I undertake
the duty you have devolved upon me, I cannot but
feel how little remains to be said. It is but echoing
the voice, which has been heard from every part of
the country, — from the Bar, from the Press, from
every Association by which it could with propriety
be uttered, — to say that he stood at the head of his
profession in this country.
" If, in his own or in any other part of the Union,
there was his superior in any branch of legal knowl
edge, there was certainly no one who united, to the
same extent, profound learning in the law, with a
range almost boundless of miscellaneous reading,
reasoning powers of the highest order, intuitive
quickness of perception, a wariness and circumspec
tion never taken by surprise, and an imagination
which rose, on a bold and easy wing, to the highest
heaven of invention. These powers, trained by dili
gent cultivation, these attainments, combined and ap
plied with sound judgment, consummate skill, and
exquisite taste, necessarily placed him at the head of
the profession of his choice ; where, since the death
of Mr. Webster, he shone without a rival.
" With such endowments, formed at the best

404 MEMOIR OF RUTUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
schools of professional education, exercised with un
wearied assiduity, through a long professional Iffe,
under the spur of generous ambition, and the heavy
responsibility of an ever-growing reputation to be
sustained, — if possible to be raised, — he could fill no
second place.
"But he did not, like most eminent jurists, content
himself with the learning or the fame of his profes
sion. He was more than most men in any profession,
in the best sense of the word, a man of letters. He
kept up his Academical studies in after-life. He did
not think it the part either of wisdom or good taste to
leave behind him at school, or at college, the noble
languages of the great peoples of antiquity ; but he
continued through life to read the Greek and Roman
classics. "He was also familiar with the whole range of Eng
lish literature ; and he had a respectable acquaintance
with the standard French authors. This wide and
varied circle of reading not only gave a liberal ex
pansion to his mind, in all directions, but it endowed
him with a great wealth of choice but unstudied lan
guage, and enabled him to command a richness of illus
tration, whatever subject he had in hand, beyond
most of our public speakers and writers. This taste
for reading was formed in early life. While he was
at the Law School at Cambridge, I was accustomed
to meet him more frequently than any other person
of his standing in the alcoves of the library of the
University. " As he advanced in years, and acquired the means
of gratifying his taste in this respect, he formed a
miscellaneous collection, probably as valuable as any

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF MR. EVERETT. 405
other in Boston ; and be was accustomed playfully to
say that every Saturday afternoon, after the labor of
the week, he indulged himself in buying and bringing
home a neAV book. Thus reading with a keen relish,
as a relaxation from professional toil, and with a
memory that nothing worth retaining escaped, he be
came a living storehouse of polite literature, out of
which, with rare felicity and grace, he brought forth
treasures new and old, not deeming these last the
least precious.
" Though living mainly for his profession, Mr.
Choate engaged to some extent in public life, and
that at an early age, as a member of the Legislature
of Massachusetts, and of the National House of Repre
sentatives, aud in riper years as a Senator of the
United States, as the successor of Mr. Webster, whose
entire confidence he enjoyed, and whose place he, if
any one, was not unworthy to fill. In these different
positions, he displayed consummate ability. His ap
pearance, his silent demeanor, in either House of
Congress, commanded respect. He was one of the
few whose very presence in a public assembly is a
call to order.
" In the daily routine of legislation he did not take
an active part. He rather shunned clerical work, and
consequently avoided, as much as duty permitted, the
labor of the committee-room ; but on every great
question that came up while he was a member of
either House of Congress, he made a great speech ;
and when he had spoken, there was very little left
for any one else to say on the same side of the ques
tion. I remember on one occasion, after he had been
defending, on broad national grounds, the policy of

406 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
affording a moderate protection to our native indus
try, showing that it was not merely a local but a
national interest, and seeking to establish this point
by a great variety of illustrations, equally novel and
ingenious, a Western member, who had hitherto
wholly dissented from this view of the subject, ex
claimed that he ' was the most persuasive speaker he
had ever heard.'
" But though abundantly able to have filled a promi
nent place among the distinguished active statesmen of
the day, he had little fondness for political life, and no
aptitude whatever for the out-doors management, —
for the electioneering legerdemain, — for the wearisome
correspondence with local great men, — and the heart
breaking drudgery of franking cart-loads of speeches
and public documents to the four winds, — which are
necessary at the present day to great success in a po
litical career. Still less adroit was he in turning to
some personal advantage Avhatever topic happens for
the moment to attract public attention ; fishing with
ever freshly baited hook in the turbid waters of an
ephemeral popularity. In reference to some of the arts
by which political advancement is sought and obtained,
he once said to me, with that well-known characteris
tic look, in which sadness and compassionate pleasan
try were about equally mingled, ' They did not do
such things in Washington's day.'
" If ever there was a truly disinterested patriot,
Rufus Choate was that man. In his political career
there was no shade of selfishness. Had he been
willing to purchase advancement at the price often
paid for it, there was never a moment, from the time
he first made himself felt and known, that he could

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF MR. EVERETT. 407
not have commanded any thing which any party could
bestow. But he desired none of the rewards or
honors of success. On the contrary, he not only for
his individual self regarded office as a burden — an
obstacle in the way of the cultivation of his profes
sional and literary tastes — but he held, that of
necessity, and in consequence of the strong tendency
of our parties to assume a sectional character, conser
vative opinions, seeking to moderate between the
extremes which agitate the country, must of necessity
be in the minority ; that it was the ' mission ' of men
who hold such opinions, not to flll honorable and
lucrative posts which are unavoidably monopolized by
active leaders, but to speak prudent words on great
occasions, which would command the respect, if they
do not enlist the sympathies, of both the conflicting
parties, and thus insensibly influence the public mind.
He comprehended and accepted the position : he
knew that it was one liable to be misunderstood, and
sure to be misrepresented at the time ; but not less
sure to be justified when the interests and passions of
the day are buried, as they are now for him, beneath
the clods of the valley.
" But this ostracism, to which his conservative opin
ions condemned him, produced not a shade of bitter
ness in his feelings. His patriotism was as cheerful
as it was intense. He regarded our Confederated
Republic, with its wonderful adjustment of State
and Federal organization — the States bearing the
burden and descending to the details of local ad
ministration, the General Government moulding
the whole into one grand nationality, and represent
ing it in the family of nations — as the most won-

408 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. X
derful phenomenon in the political history of the
world. " Too much a statesman to join the unreflecting
disparagement with which other great forms of
national polity are often spoken of in this country, he
yet considered the oldest, the wisest, and the most
successful of them, the British Constitution, as a far
less wonderful political system than our Confederated
Republic. The territorial extent of the country ; the
beautiful play into each other of its great commercial,
agricultural, and manufacturing interests ; the mate
rial prosperity, the advancement in arts and letters
and manners, already made ; the capacity for further
indefinite progress in this vast theatre of action in
which Providence has placed the Anglo-American
race, — stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific,
from the Arctic circle to the tropics, — were themes
on which he dwelt as none but he could dwell ; and
he believed that with patience, with mutual forbear
ance, with a willingness to think that our brethren,
however widely we may differ from them, may be as
honest and patriotic as ourselves, our common country
would eventually reach a height of prosperity of which
the world as yet has seen no example.
" With such gifts, such attainments, and such a
spirit, he placed himself, as a matter of course, not
merely at the head of the jurists and advocates, but
of the public speakers of the country. After listen
ing to him at the bar, in the Senate, or upon the
academic or popular platform, you felt that you had
heard the best that could be heard in either place.
That mastery which he displayed at the forum and
in the deliberative assembly was not less conspicuous
in every other form of public address.

1858-1859.] ADDRESS OF MR, EVERETT. 409
" As happens in most cases of eminent jurists and
statesmen, possessing a brilliant imagination, and able
to adorn a severe course of reasoning with the charms
of a glowing fancy and a sparkling style, it was some
times said of him, as it was said before him of Burke
and Erskine, of Ames and Pinkney, — that he was
more of a rhetorician than a logician ; that he dealt in
words and figures of speech more than in facts or ar
guments. These are the invidious comments by which
dull or prejudiced men seek to disparage those gifts
which are farthest from their own reach.
" It is, perhaps, by his discourses on academical and
popular occasions that he is most extensively known in
the community, as it is these which were listened to
with delighted admiration by the largest audiences.
He loved to treat a pure literary theme ; and he knew
how to throw a magic freshness — like the cool morn
ing dew on a cluster of purple grapes — over the most
familiar topics at a patriotic celebration. Some of
these occasional performances will ever be held among
the brightest gems of our literature. The eulogy on
Daniel Webster at Dartmouth College, in which he
mingled at once all the light of his genius and all the
warmth of his heart, has, within my knowledge, never
been equalled among the performances of its class in
this country for sympathetic appreciation of a great
man, discriminating analysis of character, fertility of
illustration, weight of sentiment, and a style at once
chaste, nervous, and brilliant. The long sentences
which have been criticised in this, as in his other per
formances, are like those which Dr. Channing admired
and commended in Milton's prose, — well compacted,
full of meaning, fit vehicles of great thoughts.

410 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
" But he does not deal exclusively in those ponder
ous sentences. There is nothing of the artificial,
Johnsonian balance in his style. It is as often
marked by a pregnant brevity as by a sonorous
amplitude. He is sometimes satisfied, in concise,
epigrammatic clauses, to skirmish with his light troops
and drive in the enemy's outposts. It is only on fit
ting occasions, when great principles are to be vindi
cated and solemn truths told, when some moral or
political Waterloo or Solferino is to be fought, —
that he puts on the entire panoply of his gorgeous
rhetoric. It is then that his majestic sentences swell
to the dimensions of his thought, — that you hear
afar off the awful roar of his rifled ordnance, and —
when he has stormed the heights and broken the
centre and trampled the squares and turned the
staggering wing of his adversary, — that he sounds
his imperial clarion along the whole line of battle, and
moves forward with all his hosts in one overwhelming
charge. " Our friend was, in all the personal relations of life,
the most unselfish and disinterested of men. Com
manding, from an early period, a valuable clientage,
and rising rapidly to the summit of his profession, and
to the best practice in the courts of Massachusetts,
and in the Supreme Court of the United States, with
no expensive tastes or habits, and a manner of life
highly unostentatious and simple, advancing years
overtook him with but slender pi-ovision for their
decline. He reaped little but fame, where he ought
to have reaped both fame and fortune. A career
which in England would have been crowned with
affluence, and probably with distinguished rank and

1858-1859,] ADDRESS OF MR. EVERETT, 411
office, found him at sixty chained to the treadmill of
laborious practice.
" He might, indeed, be regarded as a martyr to his
profession. He gave to it his time, his strength, and
neglecting due care of regular bodily exercise and
occasional entire relaxation, he might be said to have
given to it his life. He assumed the racking anxie
ties and feverish excitements of his clients. From the
courts, where he argued the causes intrusted to him,
with all the energy of his intellect, rousing into corre
sponding action an overtasked nervous system, these
cares and anxieties followed him to the weariness of
his midnight vigils, and the unrest of his sleepless
pillow. In this way he led a long professional career,
worn and harassed with other men's cares, and sacri
ficed ten added years of active usefulness to the inten
sity with which he threw himself into the discharge
of his duties in middle life.
" There are other recollections of our friend's career,
other phases of his character, on which I would gladly
dwell ; but the hour has elapsed, and it is not neces
sary. The gentlemen who have preceded me, his pro
fessional brethren, his pastor, the press of the country,
generously allowing past differences of opinion to be
buried in his grave, have more than made up for
any deficiency in my remarks. His work is done, —
nobly, worthily, done. Never more in the temples of
justice, — never more in the Senate Chamber, — never
more in the crowded assembly, — never more in this
consecrated hall, where he so often held listening
crowds in rapt admiration, shall we catch the un
earthly glance of his eye, or listen to the strange
sweet music of his voice. To-morrow we shall follow

412 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. X
him, — the pure patriot, — the consummate jurist, —
the eloquent orator, — the honored citizen, — the be
loved friend, to the last resting place ; and who will
not feel, as we lay him there, that a brighter genius
and a warmer heart are not left among living men ! "
During this meeting, the steamboat which brought
the remains from Nova Scotia came to anchor in the
harbor. The next morning, Saturday, July 23, a
private funeral service was held at the house of the
deceased, in Winthrop Place, and the body was then
taken to the Essex Street Church, where a funeral
address was made by Rev. Dr. Nehemiah Adams.
The service was attended by the public functionaries
of the State, by the judges of the court, the members
of the bar, and a large concourse of people. These
ceremonies over, the body was borne, with every tes
timonial of respect, — the booming of minute guns,
the tolling of bells, and the waving of flags hung
at half-mast, — to its last resting place, under the
shadows of Mount Auburn.

Chap. XT.] LETTER FROM HON. J. H. CLIFFORD. 413

CHAPTER XL
Letter from Hon. John H. Clifford — Reminiscences of Mr. Choates
Habits in his Office — Thoroughness of Preparation of Cases —
Manner of Legal Study — Intercourse with the Younger Members
of the Bar — Manner to the Court and the Jury — Charges and
Income — Vocabulary — AVit and Humor — Anecdotes — Elo
quence — Style — Note from Rev. Joseph Tracy — Memory —
Quotations — Fondness for Books — Reminiscences by a Friend
— Life at Home — Conversation — Religious Feeling and Belief.
It may be proper to present, in this concluding chap
ter, a few additional testimonials, and briefly to
indicate some of the striking characteristics of Mr.
Choate, for which a place could not be found in th^
body of the memoir without interrupting the course
of the narrative. From Hon. John H. Clipfoed.
"New Bedfokd, Mass., October 26, 1860.
" Mt dear Sie, — It gives me pleasure to comply with
your request, and say an unstudied word of remembrance of
my professional associate and friend.
" I do this the more readily, as I was prevented by circum
stances from participating in the public manifestations of
respect and sorrow, from my brethren of the bar, and other
associations, with which we were connected, which followed
immediately upon his death.
" In reply to your specific inquhy, respecting the selection
to be made from Mr. Choate's arguments, as the most valu
able for illustration of his powers and quality as an advocate,
I can only say that a very inadequate and unsatisfactory
impression of either can be derived from any of the meagre
reports of his great efforts at the bar. To those who were

414 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI.
familiar with his wonderful genius, his wealth of learning,
his genial humor, and his unparalleled combinations of the
most brilliant rhetoric with the most massive logic, the
attempts that have been made to reproduce them have been
painfully disproportionate to their subject ; while upon others
they can hardly fail to produce a belittling ahd disparaging
impression of his great powers. I fear that, in this respect,
his fame must share the melancholy fate of most great law
yers and advocates, to be taken upon trust, and as a tradition,
by posterity, rather than to be verified to it by its own critical
judgment of his recorded labors.
" In regard to Mr. Choate's ' theory of advocacy,' there
has been much ignorant and unconsidered criticism since his
death, as there was, indeed, during his life. In the remarks
of Judge Curtis to the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachu
setts, upon the presentation of the resolutions adopted by the
bar at the time of Mr. Choate's decease, there is a just and
most satisfactory exposition of the true theory of advocacy.
Assuming the -views expressed in that admirable address to
have been those entertained by iMr. Choate, as I have no
doubt they were in substance, it seems to me that the flippant
denunciations of what has been called the ' unscrupulous
ness of his advocacy ' are the merest cant — as unsound and
untenable in the view which they imply of a lawyer's duty,
as they are unjust to his memory.
" I had opportunities of observation, for many years, of the
practical application by him of his views of professional obli
gation in this respect, both in civil and criminal cases, almost
always as an adversary, though occasionally as an associate.
I believe that a conscientious conviction of his duty led him,
at times, to accept retainers in the latter class of cases, when
the service to be performed was utterly repugnant and dis
tasteful to him. As a striking confirmation of this opinion, I
may state that, in 1853, when I vacated the office of Attorney-
General, to assume the administration of the Executive
Department of the government, it was intimated to me by a
common friend that the place would be agreeable to Mr.
Choate. I, of course, had no hesitation in promptly availing
myself of this opportunity of making the conceded chief of
the bar its official head. Upon tendering to him the appoint
ment, which was unhesitatingly and gracefully accepted, I
learned that one of the principal inducements, leading him to
assume the post, while he was under the weightiest pressure

CuAP. XI ] LETTER FROM HON. J. H. CLIFFORD. 415
of private practice, was the avenue of escape which it afforded
him from the defence of criminal causes. Regarding the
profession of his choice as an office, and not as a trade, he felt
that he was not at liberty, when pressed by the friends of
parties accused of crime, to refuse his services to submit their
defence to the proper tribunal, merely because this depart
ment of professional labor was not agreeable to him, while
the acceptance of the post of public prosecutor would give him
an honorable discharge from this field of practice.
" It is rare for a person whose life, like his, had been spent
almost exclusively in the practice of his profession, to secure
the affectionate attachment of so large and diversified a body
of friends. Much as he was devoted to books, he saw more
of the various classes of men, from every one of which there
were sincerer mourners over his bier than falls to the lot of
most great lawyers. This arose from his varied and exten
sive clientage, and the broad range of his practice. An
English barrister, who is confined almost exclusively to a
particular circuit, and under their system of minute subdivision
of labor, frequently to one class of causes, can with difficulty
comprehend the hfe of one who, like Mr. Choate, was familiar
with all the judicial tribunals of a country like ours, from the
highest to the lowest. Federal and State, and with every
department of the law, in all its diversified relations to ' the
business and bosoms of men.' Still more difficult is it for him
to conceive how a practitioner in such a wide field as this
could be, as Mr. Choate incontestably was, facile princeps,
wherever he appeared.
" The highest proof of his superiority is to be found in the
united testimony of those who ' stood nearest to him.' And
no one who witnessed the manifestations of respect for his
great powers, and of affection for the man, which were exhib
ited by his brethren of the bar, upon receiving the sad intelli
gence that he was to be with them no more on earth, can
doubt the sincerity with which they assigned to him the first
place among this generation of American lawyers.
"For myself, I count it as one of the privileges and
felicities of my professional life, that Rufus Choate was my
contemporary, associate, and friend.
" I am, dear Sir, with sincere respect, truly yours,
"John H. Cliffoed.
"Peof. S. G. Brown."

416 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Ch.u-. XI.
Mr. Choate's business was almost wholly connected
with cases in court. It might be said that he had no
conveyancing, almost no drawing up of contracts or
wills, and very rare occasions for giving written
opinions. Comparatively few cases were commenced
in the office. Most of his business was the result of
outside retainers in cases commenced, or to be com
menced, by other counsel, or in defending cases already
commenced. Of Mr. Choate's habits in his office and in the
courts, a memorandum, by his son-in-law and part
ner, Joseph M. Bell, Esq., will afford the best possible
information. " When I went to him," says Mr. Bell, " in Jan
uary, 1849, we took an office at 1^ Tremont Row,
then entirely out of the range of the fraternity. His
habits then were these : Regularly at nine o'clock (or,
if to go into court, a trifle earlier) he came to the
office, and spent the morning there. Generally his
room was filled with clients. If not, he was busily
engaged in preparing his cases for trial or argument ;
or, if no immediate necessity existed for this, a care
ful examination of the latest text-books and reports
was made, or a course of studj"-, already marked out,
pursued. He was rarely idle for a moment, and by
this I mean he was rarely without book and pen in
hand. He studied pen in hand, rarely sitting down
with book alone. He had an old, high, pine desk,
such as were in lawyer's offices many years ago,
which he specially prized. It had been used by
Judge Prescott, — the father of William H. Prescott,
— in Salem, and perhaps by other lawyers before him.
Upon its top there was a row of pigeon-holes for

Ch.vp.XI.] habits est HIS OFFICE. 417
papers. A tall counting-house chair, with the front
legs some three inches shorter than the back ones, so
as to incline the seat forward, enabled him to keep in
nearly a standing position at the desk, and there, and
in that position, come upon him when you might, he
was to be found, pen in hand, hard at work. He was
patient of interruption, beyond any man I ever met.
Unless specially engaged upon matters which brooked
no delay, his time and learning were at the disposal
of the poorest and most ignorant. It was very rarely
indeed that I heard him say to any one, ' I cannot
attend to you now.' The old desk alluded to, I suc
ceeded in getting out of his office ; but one not much
better took its place. If a person came into his office
-with a case, his invariable habit, when possible, was
to converse with him pen in hand, and write down
every particular bearing upon it. If the case in
volved doubt, as soon as the client had gone, he made,
aut per se aut per alium, a strict examination of the
law, of which he made a careful record. He may be
said to have studied all his cases all the time. He
never seemed to have one of them out of mind for an
instant. If, in reading law, or any thing else, diverse
intuito, any thing occurred which could be useful in
any of his numerous cases, down it went upon some
of the papers — Greek to the world, but clear to him.
And this leads me to say that in all the apparent con
fusion of his papers, there was the utmost regularity,
after his kind. He was a great lover of order, and
strove hard for it, but there seemed to be a certain
mechanical dexterity of which he was destitute. I
think it would have been impossible for him to fold
regularly half a dozen sheets of paper. His papers
27

418 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
were tied together in a confused mass ; but they were
all there, and he could find them. Untie and arrange
them in order, and he liked it ; but the first time the
parcel was re-opened by him it returned to its original
condition. But this was want of manual dexterity
only. He was ever striving to have his office regular
and orderly, like other offices, but without effect.'
"For a year or so after going in with him, I rarely
saw him at the office in the afternoon. He was in
the habit of going to the Athenseum, and other places
where books were to be found. After that time, he
was at the office afternoon as well as forenoon, unless
occupied in the law outside. His cheerfulness was
constant; and he never appeared in greater spirits
than when every thing seemed tangled and snarled
beyond extrication. Little things sometimes troubled
him ; real difficulties, never. He did and wanted
every thing done on the instant ; and if this could not
be brought about, he would often seem to lose all
interest in it. I have often been astonished at his
willingness to perform every one's work. That never
seemed to trouble him ; and it was a rare thing to
hear him complain of others. In regard to his court
engagements, he was promptitude itself. No one
ever knew him a minute behind time, if by possibility
he could eome at all. He had a method of imparting
instruction, peculiar to a race of legal giants now
passed away, by short, pithy, or sarcastic and ironical
^ He was entirely aware of this himself. Speaking once of the
oificer known to the English Court of Common Pleas as the Filacer,
or Filazier, so called because he files those writs on which he makes
out process, he playfully remarked, " There would be little use for
eucli a person in our office." And yet he generally could put his
hand at once upon what he wanted.

Chap. XI.] PREPARATION OF CASES. 41i
sentences. You were often to determine his meaning
rather by what he did not say than from what he did.
I have heard him talk an hour in this way ; and if one
had taken in sober earnest what he said for what he
meant, he would have made a slight mistake. The
gravest law talk, -with one who could understand him,
was fun alive.
" With his vast command of language, he delighted
to use some expressive slang phrase in familiar con
versation. I remember one that tickled him hugely.
A man in the office told him a story of some fight
that he was a witness of; and after describing it
graphically, said, ' And then the stones flew my way,
and I dug.' He never could resist the use of this last
expression, and never used it without laughing heart
ily. And this reminds me that I rarely — I may say
never — heard him laugh out loud. He would throw
his head back, open his mouth -wide, and draw in his
breath -with a deep respiratory sound, while his whole
face glowed -with fun.
"He rarely left his office to pass a half-hour in
another's, except on business. He took a great many
papers and periodicals at the office, but seldom read
one. Sometimes they went into the fire in the origi
nal -wrappers.
" Mr. Choate's method of preparing his ¦ cases for
trial and argument depended so much upon the vary
ing circumstances of the cases, that it is very difficult
to say that he had any particular plan. But this
always was his practice, when he had time for it : —
" If for the plaintiff, a strict examination of all the
pleadings, if the case had been commenced by others,
was immediately made, and, so far as practicable, per-

420 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI.
sonal examination of the principal -witnesses, — accu
rate study of the exact questions raised by the plead
ings, and a thorough and exhaustive preparation of
all the law upon those questions. This preparation
completed, the papers were laid aside until the day of
trial approached. At that time a thorough re-exami
nation of the facts, law, and pleadings had to be made.
He was never content until every thing which might
by possibility bear upon the case had been carefully
investigated, and this investigation had been brought
down to the last moment before the trial.
" If for the defence, the pleadings were first exam
ined and reconstructed, if in his judgment necessary,
and as careful an examination of the law made as in
the other case.
" In his preparation for the argument of a question
of law, he could never be said to have finished it until
the judgment had been entered by the court. It. com
menced -with the knowledge that the argument was to
be made ; and from that time to the entry of the judg
ment, the case never seemed to be out of his mind ;
and whenever and wherever a thought appropriate to
the case occurred to him, it was noted for use. It
would often happen that the case was nearly reached
for argument at one term of the court ; every possible
preparation having been made and the brief printed ;
yet the term would end and the case not come on.
The former preparation then made but a starting
point for him. At the next term a fuller brief
appeared ; and this might happen several times. The
finished brief of the evening had to be altered and
added to in the morning ; and it frequently went into
the hands of the court with the undried ink of his last

Chap. XI,] PREPARATION OF CASES. 421
citations. If, after argument, a case uncited then was
discovered, or if a new view of it occurred to him, the
court was instantly informed of it.
" And so in the trial of a case at nisi prius. Every
intermission called for a full examination of every
law-book which could possibly bear upon questions
already before the court, or which he purposed to
bring before it. No difficulty in procuring a book
which treated upon the question before him ever hin
dered him ; it was a mere question of possibility.
" He had a plan for the trial of every case, to which
he clung from the start, and to which every thing
bent. That plan often appeared late in the case, per
haps upon his filing his prayer to the court for special
rulings to the jury. But that plan was at any time
— no matter how much labor had been put into it —
instantly thrown over, and a new one adopted, if, in
his judgment, it was better. He bent the whole case
to his theory of the law of it ; and, if accidentally a
new fact appeared which would enable him to use a
clearer principle of law, the last from that moment
became his case. I remember perfectly an example of
his quickness and boldness in this respect. In an insur
ance case, we were for the plaintiff. A vessel had been
insured for a year, -with a warranty that she should
not go north of the Okhotsk Sea. Within the year
she was burned north of the limits of the Okhotsk Sea
proper, but south of the extreme limits of some of that
sea's adjacent gulfs. The defendant set up that there
was no loss within the limits of the policy ; and nu
merous witnesses had been summoned by both parties,
— on our side to show that by merchants the Okhotsk
Sea was considered to include the bays and gulfs ; on

422 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
the other side, to prove the contrary. A protracted
trial was expected, and every thing had been prepared.
As we were walking to the court-house, he said, ' Why
should we prove that we were not north of that sea ?
— why not let them prove that we were ? What do
you think of it ? ' — 'It seems to be the right way,
certainly,' said I. 'Let us do it, — open the case on
that idea.' I did so, and put on the mate to prove
the burning at a certain time within the year. No
cross-examination followed, and we rested our case.
The other side was dumbfounded. They had ex
pected that we should be at least two days putting in
our case on the other theory, and had no witnesses at
hand. They fought our plan stoutly; but the court
was with us, and they were obliged to submit to a
verdict in our favor. The case lasted one hour.
" In many cases I have known him to dismiss wit
nesses that had been summoned for proof of particular
facts, because he had changed his plan, and would not
require them.
" One of the most striking characteristics of Mr,
Choate was the tenacity with which he persisted in
trying a case once commenced, under no matter what
disadvantages. If a case seemed untenable, and in
deed always before suit, he was very willing to settle.
Divorce cases and family disturbances, and suits be
tween friends, he strained every nerve to adjust before
they became public, and even after. But when a case
was fairly before the court, he seemed absolutely to
hate the idea of a compromise, and never felt the case
lost so long as there was standing in court. No matter
how hopeless seemed the chance of success, he would
say, ' It will never do to say die,' and plunge boldly

Chap. XL] PREPARATION OF CASES. 423
into the trial. And it was astonishing to find him so
often successful where there seemed no hope. While
a trial was going on in court, every word of every
witness was taken down, and every legal incident
noted. This was taken home, and before the court
opened the next day, arranged and studied, and his
argument commenced and kept along with the days
of trial, often changed and re-written. He kept loose
paper by him in court, on which were jotted down
questions for witnesses, and ideas of all kinds con
nected with the case." ^
I The following account is from the pen of Judge Enoch L. Fan
cher, contained in a letter to Judge Neilson, and published in the
" Albany Law Journal," March 17, 1877.
" I knew Mr. Choate : visited him at his residence in Boston, and
spent some time in consultation with him in the Methodist Church
case, which was tried in New York in May, 1851. Being one of my
flrst cases of iraportance, I took pains to become acquainted with the
facts, and went to Boston to engage Mr. Choate as chief counsel.
After a conversation in his office, the interview was adjourned to his
house, where, at four o'clock in the afternoon, I met him iu his
library, and he commenced a, series of questions, standing at an up
right desk. His hand was drawn up as high as his shoulder, and
from that hour till ten o'clock at night, with the exception of about
thirty minutes while we were at the tea-table, he continued his
incisive questions touching the government of the Methodist Episco
pal Church, its pecuUar economy, and the questions involved in this
case between the North and the South. He at once manifested great
interest in the case ; spoke with much earnestness in reference to it ;
said that it involved so many important questions that he felt it to be
one of tlie greatest cases that he had ever studied. He would stop
me in the middle of a sentence by holding up his hand, and, after
writinu; wliat I had said, would ask me to go on from the very part
of the sentence that had been broken to the end of it.
" Ills enthusiasm was so great, that I found it a pleasure to
reveal to him all I knew of the subject under examination. During
the course of the evening, a hand-organ was playing in the street
under tlie window. He sprang to the bell, spoke to his servant, and
said, '.lohn, go and hire that man to go out of the street,' at the same

424 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
As might be inferred from this, his notes were gen
erally very ample and complete. To a student who
was going to take the depositions of some witnesses
where he could not be present, he said, " Take down
every adjective, adverb, and interjection that the wit
nesses utter." His brief, too, was alwaj's full, though
in addressing a jury he was entirely untrammelled,
and often hardly referred to it. In addressing the
court he sometimes seemed to follow his notes closely,
almost as if he were repeating them, laying aside page
after page as he proceeded.
In determining the theory of his case, he was never
time giving him fifty cents. After this visit at Boston, he came to
see me in the city of New York. We had another interview, in
reference to the case, at my residence. It was wonderful to see him
seize, as by intuition, the chief points of the great controversy in
volved in that case. It was still more wonderful to listen to his
magnificent oratory, when he argued the case, bringing into view
almost every fact I had repeated to him in Boston, and in my other
interviews with him. The trial was in the Circuit Court of the United
States, at New York. It lasted several days. During the trial Mr.
Choate became unwell, and was obliged to go to his hotel, while a
portion of the argument of Mr. Lord was made. He requested me to
write down every word Mr. Lord said, and bring it to him. I did so,
and, at the same time, found Mr. Choate sick in bed, with a physi
cian in attendance, who was prescribing calomel, and asked Mr.
Choate how large a dose he was accustomed to take. Choate replied
that he did not know, but said, ' Give me the largest dose you ever
gave a man in your life.' The next day he rose from his sick bed,
came into court, and began the grand argument which he made in
the case, which lasted during the entire day, and nearly all the fol
lowing day. While he was speaking, the perspiration, like rain
drops, fell from his bushy hair all over the paper on which I was
writing. Taking it altogether, that was the greatest speech I ever
heard. Some of the tones of his voice were more than arguments
of themselves. His classical allusions, his eloquent fiights, his mag
nificent argument and beautiful illustrations, combined to entrance
the court and auditors."

Chap. XI.] HIS MANNER IN COURT. 425
satisfied until he had met every supposition that could
be brought against it. But he had no love for a
theory because it was his own, however great the
labor it had cost him, but was perfectly ready to
throw it aside for another, when that appeared better.
This change of front he sometimes made in the midst
of the trial, under the eye of the court, and in the face
of a watchful and eager antagonist. He was never
more self-possessed, nor seemed to have his entire
faculties more fully at command, nor to exercise a
more consummate judgment, than when in the very
heat of a strongly contested case, where a mistake
would have been fatal. In the preparation of a case
he left nothing to chance ; and his juniors sometimes
found themselves urged to a fidelity and constancy
of labor to which they had not been accustomed.
In his cases, it was not the magnitude of the in
terests involved, and certainly Hot the hope of fame
or of pecuniary reward, that seemed to move him, so
much as a certain inward impulse, a spirit and fire
whose energy was untiring and resistless. The action
of his mind was its own reward. He was like a blood
horse. Once on the course, the nervous force was
uncontrollable whether thousands were at stake or it
was a mere movement for pleasure. Hence into cases
of comparatively little consequence, before referees,
or a commissioner, or a judge in chambers, with no
audience to stimulate him, he threw the whole force
and brilliancy of his powers. Nothing less would
satisfy himself, however it might be with court or
client. " One of the last times I heard him," says his honor
Chief Justice Chapman, " was in a matter relating to

426 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. XI.
the railroad crossings and depots in the northern part
of Boston. It was before commissioners, in one of the
rooms of the Boston and Maine depot, -with the
opposing counsel and two or three officers of rail
road corporations present ; and he displayed on that
occasion some of the richest and most beautiful
specimens of his oratory. It would have charmed
a popular audience."
In intercourse with junior counsel, no one could be
more unselfish and generous. He assumed their diffi
culties, protected them if necessary, often insisting to
the chent that the junior was fully equal to the case,
and after the case was won yielding to him a full
share of the honor.
" He was the best senior counsel," said an eminent
lawyer,^ " that ever lived. Other men almost always
make you feel that you are second ; he so made sug
gestions that you seemed to come to the knowledge
of your own motion. If you came to him with a prop
osition which could not be sustained, instead of say
ing, ' That's not the law,' he would begin by asking
you questions, or by making statements to which you
at once assented, till he led you round to a point just
the opposite of that from which you started."
" How often I think of Choate ! " writes one of the
most distinguished of the j'ounger members of the
bar, a few months after his death. "You do not
know what a hold he had on me, or rather what
a necessity of life he had become to me. When I have
seen any thing peculiar in the development of human
nature, of social or political systems, I have thought,
' I will tell that to Choate ' — and then, — Is he in-
1 Mr. Justice Lord.

Chap. XI,] HIS MANNER IN COURT. 427
deed dead? gone — never to be seen, or heard, or con
versed with again ? All that wisdom and wit, — that
kindness to me, as of a father or elder brother ? Is it
possible ? I tell you, my dear friend, if I pass the
rest of my life at the Boston bar, — life wUl be a
different thing to me without Choate."
Never assuming pre-eminence, or standing upon his
dignity, he was on the kindest and most familiar terms
with his brethren at the bar. The morning after his
letter to the Whigs of Maine appeared in the news
papers, a brother-lawyer — a Democrat — suddenly
opened the door of his office, and saluted him with
the question: "Well, Mr. Choate, how was it, —
money down, or bond and mortgage ? " No one rel
ished such a sally more than he.
It did not disturb him to interrupt him. When
you came into his office, he would turn from his
papers with some joke, a cant phrase or word (such
as " flabbergasted "), recreate himself by some witty
speech, quiz you a little playfully, and then turn back
again to his work.
During the progress of a trial, though intently
watchful of aU the proceedings, he was abounding in
good-nature and courtesy. "If his wit and pleas
antry in the court-room," said one of the most emi
nent of his profession, "could be gathered up, they
would be unsurpassed in all the annals of the law."
His addresses to the jury were singularly impas
sioned ; every muscle of his frame quivered with
emotion ; the perspiration stood in drops even upon
the hair of his head.^ Yet he was always dignified
' Always after speaking he was obliged to wrap himself up in two
or three overcoats to prevent taking cold, and almost always after a
strong effort suffered from an attack of sick-headache.

428 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
and conciliatory, as if speaking to friends. To wit
nesses he was unfailingly courteous, seldom severe
even with the most reluctant, but drawing from them
the evidence by the skill of his examination. In
cross-examining, he knew by instinct when a witness
testified to what he knew, or only what he thought he
knew. To the latter point he always directed his
inquiries so as to bring out the exact state of the case.
To the Bench he was remarkable for deference in
manner, and quietness, felicity and precision in lan
guage. I happened once to go into the Supreme
Court-room, when not more than a dozen persons
were present, and many of them officials, but all the
judges were upon the bench, and Mr. Choate was
standing at a table before them, arguing a question
of law. He stood erect and quiet, made no gesture
except a slight movement of the right hand from the
wrist, nor changed his position except when necessary
to obtain a book for an authority, but spoke for more
than an hour in a low, clear, musical voice, with a
felicity of language, a logical precision, a succinctness
of statement, a constantly expanding and advancing
movement of thought, and a gentle, slightly exhilarat
ing warmth of feeling, which I never heard equalled,
and which was even more fascinating than his appeals
to the jury. His motions and gestures were, as I
have said, vehement, but not affected nor ungraceful.
They were a part of himself, one with his style and
method. The sweep of his arm, the tremulous hand,
the rising and settling of his body, the dignified tread,
the fascinating eye, the tone, gentle, musical, persua
sive, vehement, ringing, never querulous, never bitter
— all sprang from the nature of the man, spontane-

Chap. XI.] REFUSAL OF DOUBTFUL CASES. 429
ous and irrepressible. Never was there a speaker
less artificial.
Mr. Choate's knowledge of his profession never
grew more rapidly and more solidly than during the
last ten years of his life. In the midst of ever-increas
ing labors, he found time for constant and careful
study of the science of the law. On the appearance
of a new volume of the Massachusetts Reports, he
was accustomed to take every important case on
which he had not been employed, make a full brief
upon each side, draw up a judgment, and, finally,
compare his work with the briefs and judgments re
ported. This was a settled habit for many years be
fore he died. To say that he had a high sense of
professional honor would only ascribe to him a virtue
that is not rare in the American bar ; yet few, per
haps, have had a clearer or more refined and delicate
apprehension of the proprieties and ethics of the pro
fession. He held an exalted idea of the office and
duties of an advocate. " The order of advocates is as
ancient as the office of the judge, as noble as virtue,
and as necessary as justice." So wrote the great
jurist of France, D'Aguesseau ; and so have ever felt
the wisest and most upright judges of law and equity.
During the latter part of his career, he was more re
luctant to undertake doubtful criminal cases. Though
accepting every clear duty of his profession, he held
himself more in reserve. This was partly because of
his constant and intense occupation, partly because his
tastes led him to other branches of the profession, and
in part, perhaps, because he had to contend against his
own fame, and instinctively shrunk from annoying and
¦vulgar criticism. When solicited to defend Dr. Web-

430 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. XI.
ster, he argued with the friend who consulted him,
that it would be really better for the accused to have
other counsel.
Up to the year 1849, notwithstanding his large
business, Mr. Choate had been too careless, both in
charges and in collections, to realize an adequate
return for his services. He seemed, indeed, to be
the only person who placed a low estimate upon the
value of his own labors. The client almost deter
mined for himself what he should pay, and several
cases actually occurred where the advocate rated his
services so ridiculously low that the client would not
be satisfied until the charges were doubled. The
amount of the fee never affected Mr. Choate's wfll-
ingness to take a case, or the earnestness with which
he threw himself into it. It was the case, and not
the reward, which stimulated his mind.^
On first opening his office he kept no book of ac
counts. Being, however, at one time, apparently,
struck with a sudden fit of economy, he obtained a
proper book, and entered, as the first item of an
orderly expenditure, the office debtor to one quart
of oil, 37J cents. The next entry was six months
later, and closed the record.
He was generous to a fault. Whoever asked re
ceived. Any one, almost literally any one, could
draw from him five or ten dollars ; and his office was
1 Mr. Horace H. Day, in a letter to the " New York Tribune,"
dated Feb. 11, 1875, says of Mr. Choate, "All who knew that noble
man will not for one moment give the least credit to the thought
that money could influence him in any question. I have employed
many lawyers, but I have had but one lawyer who was wholly un-
selflsh, and that was Rufus Choate. His memory I have occasion to
cherish with more satisfaction than that of any man I ever met."

Chap. XI] HIS GENEROSITY, 431
sometimes quite besieged with solicitors of charity.
To some objects he gave regularly. Among these
was a very worthy man, but indigent, and a con
firmed invalid. " On one occasion," says the gentle
man who often acted as the almoner of his bounty,
" he requested me to call at his office at the earliest
opportunity. After making the usual inquiries about
our friend and his sufferings, and expressing his
sympathy, he said : ' I believe I have been neglectful
of his wants for a year or two past.' Then, with one
of his nervous shudders, he seized his pen and filled
out a check for fifty dollars ; and he would not make
the least abatement, though I assured him our friend
did not stand in any present need of such a munifi
cent donation."
Many came to borrow of him, and almost always
successfully, if he were not himself pressed for money.
Of these he frequently took neither note nor obligation
of any sort in return, and the transactions were fre
quently forgotten. When asked why he did not try
to collect of his borrowers, " Ah," he replied, " many
of them are cologne bottles without any stoppers."
He was, indeed, most indifferent to money ; care
less of keeping it, and losing, without question, thou
sands of dollars every year from neglecting to make
any charge at all for his services. " I remember,"
says a gentleman who studied with him, " that one
morning he came rushing into his office for $500,
remarking, in his sportive way, ' My kingdom for
$500 ; have I got it ? ' He went to his blue bank
book, looked at it, and said, ' Not a dollar, not a
dollar,' and was going out, either to borrow or collect,
when I stopped him. The old book had been filled,

432 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. XI.
and the teller had given him a new one without
entering in it the amount to his credit, the month not
being ended when the accounts were usually balanced.
I showed him the old book, and there was a balance
in his favor of $1,200. He looked surprised, and said,
' Thank God.' But if the $1,200 had disappeared,
he never would have been the wiser."
It could be no surprise, then, to those who knew
his habit, that in his early career he accumulated very
little property. For the last ten years of his life,
through the care of his partner, his affairs were man
aged with more method, and with growing prosperity.
Even then, however, when it became necessary for
Mr. Choate himself to fix the scale of his remunera
tion, it fell about to the old standard, until his junior
learned to regulate the amount of their charges by
those of the eminent counsel to whom they were
generally opposed.
The average annual receipts of his office for the
eleven years from 1849 to 1859, inclusive, were nearly
$18,000. The largest receipts were in 1852, when
they amounted to more than $20,000 ; in 1855, when
they were nearly $21,000 ; and 1856, when they some
what exceeded $22,000. In only one year of the
eleven did they fall below $13,000. The largest fee
Mr. Choate ever received was $2,500. An equal one
was given, so far as is known, on but four occasions.
A fee of from |1,500 to $2,000 was more frequent ;
and he once received a retaining fee of $1,500. Dur
ing these eleven years his engagements in actual
trials, law arguments, and arguments before the
legislature, amounted to a yearly average of nearly
seventy.

Ch.vp. XL] PREPARATION OF CASES. 433
Always free of his services, there was one which,
however great or costly to himself, was always ren
dered without charge. I refer to his exertions in
political contests. He was frequently importuned to
receive compensation, as the labor was frequently
most wearisome and exhaustive. But as a matter of
character, and to keep himself pure from the sem
blance of stain, and broad and independent in his pub
lic course, he uniformly refused. He prided himself
on his honor and purity in his relations to the State.
When approaching the argument of a great cause,
or the delivery of an important speech, his mind was
absolutely absorbed with it. The lights were left
burning all night in his library, and after retiring he
would frequently rise from his bed, and, without
dressing, rush to his desk to note rapidly some
thought which flashed across his wakeful mind. This
was repeated sometimes ten or fifteen times in a
night. Being once engaged in the trial of an impor
tant case in an inland county of Massachusetts, his
room at the tavern happened to open into that of the
opposing counsel, who, waking about two o'clock in
the morning, was surprised to see a bright light
gleaming under and around the loosely fitting door.
Supposing that Mr. Choate, who had retired early,
might have been taken suddenly ill, he entered his
room, and found him dressed and standing before
a small table which he had placed upon chairs, with
four candles upon it, vigorously writing. Apologies
and explanations at once followed, Mr. Choate saying
that he was wakeful, had slept enough, and the
expected contest of the morrow stimulated him to
every possible preparation. 28

434 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
Every important and difficult cause took such pos
session of him that he would get no sound sleep till it
was finished. His mind, to use his own illustration,
became a stream that took up the cause, like a ship,
and bore it on night and day till the verdict or judg
ment was reached. It is not surprising, then, that he
came from a trial so much exhausted. Almost every
considerable case was attended or followed with a se
vere attack of sick-headache. But his recuperative
power was as wonderful as his capacity for work. A
friend once asked how long it took him to recover
from the wear of a heavy case, and how long to enter
into a new case with full force. He said, that often
three or four hours were enough to recover in, and
almost always a day. As to getting into a case, he
said, that the moment his eye struck a hook, or legal
paper, the subject lifted him, and that five minutes
were sufficient to give him full power for work and
command of his faculties. He was then in full sail.
Although so familiar with the courts, and always
master of himself, he was often filled with a nervous
agitation when approaching the argument, sometimes
saying that he " should certainly break down ; every
man must fail at some time, and his hour had come."
However deeply absorbed in the cause before him, he
seemed to see every thing that was going on in the
court-room. As he was once addressing a jury, a
woman in a distant part of the court-room rose and
went out, with some rustling of silk. Being asked
afterwards if he noticed it, " Noticed it ! " he said,
" I thought forty battalions were moving."
With a vocabulary so rich, and a fancy so lively, it
is not surprising that he sometimes gave license to his

Chap. XL] HIS WIT AND HUMOR. 435
powers, and now and then " drove a substantive and
six," but no one could at will be more exact, or more
felicitously combine the utmost precision with the
most delicious music of words. Ever alive to the
ludicrous, he often dexterously caught up cant
phrases, or popular terms of the day, and eviscer
ating them of every thing like vulgarity, forced them
for a moment into his ser-vice — all redolent of the
novel odors of the field, the market, or the fireside,
where they had their birth, — and then dismissed them
for ever.
" His -wit," says one who knew him well, " was of
the most delightful kind, playful and pungent, and
his conversation was full of the aptest quotation,
always, however, parce detorta, so as to take off any
possible tinge of pedantry, and generally with a more
or less ludicrous application. He was fond of bring
ing out the etymology of words in his use of them,
as, for example, when speaking of a disappointed
candidate for an important nomination, he said, the
convention " ejaculated him out at the window ;" and
of new and odd applications of their figurative mean
ings, as when he said of a very ugly artist who had
produced a too faithful representation of himself,
" Mr.  has painted his own portrait and it is a
flagrant likeness."
His wit and humor were fresh and peculiar ; seldom
provoking loud laughter, but perpetually feeding the
mind with delight. He never prepared nor reserved
his good things for a grand occasion, and to those
who knew him best was as full of surprises as to a
stranger. In the little office of a justice of the peace,
— in a retired roora of a railroad depot, in presence

436 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
of a few interested members of the corporation, t-
before two or three sensible, but not brilliant, referees
in the hall of a country tavern, he displayed nearly
the same abundance of learning, the same exuberance
of language, and felicity of allusion, the same play
fulness and beauty, as when he spoke before the most
learned bench, or the elegant and cultivated assem
blies of Boston. This might seem like a reckless
expenditure of unnecessary wealth. In one sense,
perhaps, it was so ; yet he had a marvellous faculty
of adaptation, as well as the higher power of drawing
all to himself, and I doubt if anybody ever listened
to him with greater delight and admiration than
plain, substantial yeomen who might not be able to
understand one in a hundred of his allusions. They
understood quite enough to delight and convince
them, as well as to afford food for much laughter,
and, if they chose, for much meditation.
The sweetness of his temper so pervaded and con
trolled every thing that he said, that although pecu
liarities of character, or circumstances, or manner, or
appearance, sometimes drew down the flash of his
pleasantry, as the unguarded spire the lightning from
the surcharged cloud, it was a harmless bolt, unless
(which was very rarely the case), he was provoked
by injustice or harshness to give proof of his power.
Sayings of his, innumerable, have been current among
the members of the bar, but I never heard of a man
who felt aggrieved by any of them. His regard for
Chief Justice Shaw amounted to veneration. " With
what judge," he once, in substance, said, " can you
see your antagonist freely conversing, without the
slightest apprehension, as you can with him ? " Look-

Chap. XI.] HIS WIT AND HUMOR. 437
ing once at an engraving of Sir Matthew Hale, " A
very great judge," he said, " but not greater, I think,
than the Chief," as Judge Shaw was familiarly called.
An eminent lawyer, engaged with him in a case, was
once rising to contest what seemed an unfavorable, if
not an unfair, ruling. Mr. Choate drew him back and
whispered in his ear, " Let it go. Sit down. Life,
liberty, and property are always safe in his hands." ^
One anecdote has been often told incorrectly, and so
as to convey a wrong impression, which I am able to
give in the words of an eminent lawyer, who was him
self an actor in the scene. " It was in the East Cam
bridge court-house, at the law term. The full Bench
were present ; a tedious argument had been dragging
its weary length along for an hour or two ; the session
had lasted several hours, and the Chief Justice had
yielded for a moment to drowsiness, — being no more
than mortal. Mr. Choate and I were sitting in the
bar, being concerned in the next case. As I looked
up at the Bench, the large head of the Chief Justice
presented itself settled down upou his breast about as
far as it could go, his eyes closed, his hair shaggy and
disordered, having on a pair of large black spectacles
' " The Chief-Justice," says the Hon. Emory Washburn, " had a
way of expressing disapproval of what seemed to him a fallacy in
an argument, or a questionable mode of proceeding in a cause, which
sounded very like reproof, and often gave pain to the subject of it
from the manner in which it was done. Nor did Mr. Choate escape.
On one occasion, after listening with respect to one of those rebukes,
as he did to every thing that fell from the court, Mr. Choate turned
to two or three of his brethren, who had heard it, and quietly
remarked, with that expression upon his countenance which always
told the mood he was in, that ' he did not suppose that any one ever
thought the Chief-Justice was much of a lawyer, but that nobody
could deny that he was a man of pleasant manners.' "

438 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
which had slid down to the very tip of his nose, and
his face seeming to have discharged, for the time,
every trace of intelligence,
' Matris Ke (dieoTiv r4 riv 'Efiixevai, ll<j>poy(l t aSras.^ *
I looked, and then looked at Mr. Choate, whose eyes
had followed mine, and then said to him, ' that not
withstanding the curious spectacle he sometimes fur
nished us, I could never look at the Chief Justice
without reverence.' ' Nor can I,' he replied. 'When
you consider for how many years, and with what
strength and wisdom he has administered the law, —
how steady he has kept every thing, — how much we
owe to his weight of character, — I confess I regard
him as the Indian does his wooden log, curiously
carved ; I acknowledge he's ugly, but I bow before a
superior intelligence ! ' You can imagine the twinkle
of the eye, and the parenthetical tone with which the
' I acknowledge he's ugly' came in. I hope you will
be able to get together many of Mr. Choate's felici
ties; they must abound in all memories."^
As an instance of his pleasant way of announcing
what might seem to be an ordinary fact, a member of
the Massachusetts bar^ writes: "While a student in
1 Iliad HI. 220.
2 The following is from a letter of the Hon. Matt. H. Carpenter to
Judge Neilson. " Stevenson, the sculptor," he says, " told me that
he was once engaged iu carving a lion of exaggerated size; that
while he was engaged on the head and mane, Mr. Choate took the
liveliest uiterest in the work, calling every morning as he came down,
and every evening on his way home, to mark its progress. Steven
son, being curious, asked Mr. Choate why that work interested him
so much. ' Why,' said Mr. Choate, ' that is the best likeness ol Chief
Justice Shaw that I ever saw.' "
8 Charles P. Thompson, Esq., of Gloucester.

Chap. XL] HIS WIT AND HUMOR. 439
the office of the late Benjamin F. Hallett, of Boston,
I went into the Law Library to deliver some message
to him. I found him engaged in preparing his points
in a cause that was then about to be heard at a law
term of the Supreme Court. Mr. Choate was in the
ease then being heard ; Mr. Hallett's being the next
in order. When Mr. Choate's cause was finished, he
notified Mr. Hallett — just putting his head inside the
door — in these words : ' Mr. Hallett, there is nothing
now betweeii you and that justice which you seek.'
The manner in which this was said was so happy, his
voice so musical, that it made an impression upon my
mind I shall never forget."
His pleasantry was exuberant and unfailing, in
defeat as well as in victory. It was a safeguard
against depression and discouragement. Under defeat
especially, by some ludicrous absurdity, some witty
exaggeration, some jocose extravagance, some half-
earnest, half-sportive criticism of judge or jury, —
never for a moment misunderstood by those who
knew him — he lightened the disappointment of
others as well as himself. Receiving, one morning,
a note from a gentleman engaged with him in a cause
at Washington, informing him that the Court had
decided against them, he at once wrote back : —
" Dear Sir, — The Court has lost its little wits. Please
let me have — 1. Our brief (for the law). 2. The defend
ant's brief (for the sophistry). 3. The opinion (for the
foolishness), and never say die. E. C."
Coming to his office once after the Supreme Court
of the State had decided an important cause against
him, he threw his books and papers on the desk, and
after announcing the decision to those present, went

440 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
on to say : " Everjr judge on that bench seems to be
more stupid than every other one, and if L were not
afraid of losing the good opinion of the court, I would
impeach the whole hatch of them." ^
In 1847, Mr. Choate argued a cause before the
United States Circuit Court in Boston, which in
volved, to a certain extent, the question of State-
rights, so called, then prominent in the politics of the
country. Mr. Choate's client based his claim upon
some United States law or process ; his opponent
claiming under State authority. The eminent judge,
presiding over the court, was supposed to be a prob
able Democratic candidate for the presidency, a prom
inent competitor being the Hon. Silas Wright of New
York. The case was elaborately argued on both
sides, and held by the court for consideration. In
the mean time the news reached Boston of the sudden
death of Mr. Wright. Soon after, the Court inti
mated that an opinion would be given on the ques
tion before it, which the counsel on both sides were
of course anxious to hear. It so happened, however,
that the junior associate of Mr. Choate, — Mr. D., —
being accidentally detained, did not reach the court
room in season, but met Mr. Choate coming down the
stairs and looking very lugubrious. He at once con
jectured trouble, and asked what was the decision.
" Against us," said Mr. Choate, in sepulchral tones.
" Dead against us : mainly on the ground of Silas
'Wright's death!"
He was rather fond of talking of his contempora
ries, but rarely spoke of any of them otherwise than
kindly and favorably, — lingering upon their merits,
1 Hon. Matt. H. Carpenter. "Albany Law Journal," March, 1877.

Chap. XI.] ANECDOTES. 441
and passing over their failings. Occasionally, after
speaking of others, he would refer to himself in the
same connection. Conversing one day with a young
friend about Mr. Franklin Dexter, then just deceased,
he eulogized him as a most able, faithful, and con
scientious prosecuting officer, who never pressed an
indictment for the sake of victory, nor unless he
believed that a verdict against the accused would ful
fil the highest ends of justice. He then proceeded to
speak in general terms of the responsibility of a pub
lic prosecutor, and of his own deep sense of this
responsibility while Attorney-General. He was sol
emn and earnest, and left a profound impression that
never while holding that office was he entirely free
from anxiety that nothing should be done by him, or
through his means, by which a possibly innocent pris
oner should lose his legal chances of acquittal.
When talking with a client, respecting a defence,
his rule was, never to ask him whether he did the act ;
yet he was very watchful for signs of innocence or
guilt. After an inter-view with a person who con
sulted him as to a disgraceful imputation under
which he was laboring, he remarked, " He did it, he
sweats so."
Although one could hardly converse with Mr.
Choate for five minutes without hearing some remark
striking for its beauty, or novelty, or humor, yet few
of these sayings have been recorded, and in most
cases, where the thought has remained, the rare felic
ity of language which graced it has escaped the mem
ory, and the strange, indescribable fascination of
manner with which it was accompanied no one can
reproduce. Any one who has a fresh recollection of

442 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, XI
the impression produced at the time by some sudden
flash of his mind, will be the more reluctant to repeat
what invariably loses in the process. I have been
able to gather up but a few of these unpremeditated
sayings. Those who knew Mr. Choate must supply
for themselves the tone and manner.
The qualifications of a certain office-holder being
discussed in his presence, Mr. Choate said, " Yes, Sir,
you may sum them up by asserting that he is self-
sufficient, all-sufficient, and {^sufficient."
A copy of the " Poetry of the East," by Rev. Mr.
Alger, had been sent to him. Meeting the author at
a party soon after, he remarked to him, " I examined
your ' Poetry of the East ' with a great deal of in
terest. The Orientals seem to be amply competent
to metaphysics, wonderfully competent to poetry,
scarcely competent to virtue, utterly mcompetent to
liberty." For the following I am indebted to the kindness of
Mr. Ticknor: "Mr. Choate was of counsel in the
case of the Federal-Street Church, and I was sum
moned as a witness. Sitting with him in the bar,
after I had been examined, my eye fell accidentally
on his notes, which, you are aware, were somewhat
remarkable, so far as the handwriting was concerned.
It struck me, however, while I was looking at them,
that they much resembled two rather long autograph
letters which I preserve in my small collection of such
curiosities ; one by Manuel the Great of Portugal,
dated in 1512, aud the other by Gonzalvo de Cordova,
'the Great Captain,' written, I suppose, a little earlier,
but with no date that I can make out. I could not
help telling Mr. Choate that I possessed these speci-

Chap. XI.] ANECDOTES. 443
mens of the handwriting of two such remarkable men,
who lived three hundred and fifty years ago, and that
they strongly resembled his notes, as they lay on the
table before us. ' Remarkable men, no doubt,' he
replied instantly ; ' they seem to have been much in
advance of their time ! ' "
This, said with his peculiar suavity and droll ex
pression, the singularity of the comparison and the
grounds of praise, was like a little flash of sunlight
through a cloud.
Taking an early morning walk he met Mr. Prescott,
whose " Philip II." had been for some time impa
tiently expected. " You are out early," said the his
torian. "I wish," he replied, " I could say the same
of you, who are keeping the whole world waiting."
A celebrated lecturer meeting him, said that he was
thinking of writing a lecture on one of the ancient
generals. " That is it," said Mr. Choate ; " Hannibal
is your man. Think of him crossing the Alps in win
ter, with nobody at his back but a parcel of Numidians,
Moors, Niggers, riding on horses without any bridles,
to set himself against that imperial Roman power ! "
Attending the opera on one occasion, and being
but indifferently amused by the acting and music,
which he did not understand, he turned to his daughter
and said, with grave formality : " Helen, interpret
to me this libretto, lest I dilate with the wrong
emotion ! "
" He objected once to an illiterate constable's
return of service, bristling all over with the word
having, on the ground that it was bad. The judge
remarked that, though inelegant and ungrammatical
in its structure, the paper still seemed to be good in

444 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, XI.
a legal sense. ' It may be so, your Honor,' replied
Mr. Choate, ' but, it must be confessed, he has
greatly overworked the participle.' " ^
In replying to a lawyer who had been addressing
the Court in a loud and almost boisterous manner, Mr.
Choate referred playfully to his " stentorian powers."
To his surprise, however, the counsel took it in dud
geon, and as soon as possible rose to protest against
the hostile assault. " He had not been aware of any
thing in his mode of address which would justffy
such an epithet; he thought it unusual and unde
served," &c., &c. Going on thus, his voice uncon-
1 Essays by E, P. Whipple, vol, ii, p, 167.
Of his " dainty and humorous use of words," with meaning a little
bent to suit his purpose, or involving some laughable absurdity,
examples are numerous.
Of a reputation damaged in the courts, it was, he said, " to make
the best of it, sadly tenebrious."
Of an advocate, very erect and very overbearing, he spoke as
stating his position with " a more than ordinary perpendicularity of
assertion." " When I had been two days on the Rhine," he said to Rev. Dr.
Storrs, " I knew the whole river perfectly : couldn't have known it
better if I had been drowned in it."
On one occasion, when opposed to Mr. Webster In a case before
the court, " Mr. Choat;e had lucidly and with great emphasis, stated
the law, Mr. Webster — than whom a greater master of attitude,
gesture, and facial expression, never lived — turned on him the gaze
of his great eye, as if in mournful, despairing remonstrance against
such a sad aud strange perversion. ' That is the law, may it please
your Honor,' thundered Mr. Choate, catching the glance, advancing
a step, and looking full in Webster's face — ' That is the law, in spite
of the admonishing, the somewhat paternal look, in the eye of my
illustrious friend.' And it was the law, as affirmed by the court." —
Rev. Dr. R. S. Storrs, in " Albany Law Journal."
In a criminal case, a friend said to him, " Why, Mr. Choate, I hear
that your client has confessed. Is that so ? " " Yes," said Choate,
" he's 'fessed. He 'fessed he didn't do it."

Chap. Xl.J ANECDOTEb. 445
sciously soon rose again to its highest key, and rung
through the court-house as if he were haranguing an
army; when Mr. Choate half rose, and stretching
out his hand with a deprecatory gesture, said, in the
blandest tones, " One word, may it please the Court ;
only one word, if my brother will allow. / see my
mistake. I beg leave to retract what I said !" The
effect was irresistible. The counsel was silent; the
Court and spectators convulsed with laughter.
Of a lawyer at once pugnacious, obstinate, and
dull-witted, he remarked that he seemed to be a bull
dog with confused ideas. The description was
comprehensive and perfect.
During the trial of Crafts, Mr. Choate was pressing
the Court to make what he thought a very equitable
and necessary order in relation to taking a certain
deposition. The Court, finding no precedent for it,
suggested that the matter be suspended till the next
day, " and then," added the judge, " I will make the
order, if you shall be able to furnish me with any
precedent for such proceeding." " I will look, your
Honor," replied Mr. Choate, in his most deferential
manner, " and endeavor to find a precedent, if you
require it ; though it would seem to be a. pity that
the Court should lose the honor of being the first to
establish so just a rule."
" I met him once," said a member of the New
York bar,^ "at the United States Hotel, in Boston,
when he was boarding there. As we were walking
up and down the hall of the house after dinner, I
happened to see hanging on the wall a map of a piece
of property in Quincy, and remarked that that re-
1 From the memorandum of Hon. Charles A. Peabody.

U6 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
minded me of one whom I must regard as the most
remarkable man of our day (John Quincy Adams).
He said, ' Yes, I think he is. We have no man as
much so, and I think they have none in England.
The Duke I think is less wonderful, all things con
sidered.' I spoke of his remarkable memory, his
vast knowledge, and his marvellous facility in using
it, and alluded to his recent efforts in the House of
Representatives at Washington, where something had
been said about impeaching him, and remarked, that
without waiting to assume the defensive, or say any
thing for himself, he had rushed upon his accusers
and well-nigh demolished them, bringing from the
treasures of his memory every incident of their lives
that could be useful to him, and drawing as from an
armory every variety of weapons practicable for their
destruction. ' Yes,' he replied, ' he has always untold
treasures of facts, and they are always at his command.
He has peculiar powers as an assailant, and almost
always, even when attacked, gets himself into that
attitude by making war upon his accuser ; and he
has, withal, an instinct for the jugular and the carotid
artery, as unerring as that of any carnivorous ani
mal.'" On one occasion Mr. Choate was engaged in a
patent case where a great number of witnesses had
been examined by his opponent, and he was at the
same time a delegate to the Whig convention, which
was to choose between several candidates for the
Presidency, of whom Mr. Webster was one. In
closing the case, when he came to comment on the
witnesses of the opposite party, he said, " The defend
ant has such an array of witnesses on this point,

Chap. XL] HIS ELOQUENCE. 447
that I hardly know where to begin with them ; but
if your Honor pleases, I think I will take them up,
as we shall have to do by and by in canvassing for
candidates for the Presidency, alphabetically ; and
hence I will do here as I should wish to do there,
reverse the alphabet and begin with the W.'s." The
allusion was instantly appreciated by Court, jury,
and audience ; and as most of them were Massachu
setts men, and friends of Mr. Webster, it came near
provoking a very audible demonstration.
Mr. Choate's eloquence was of an extraordinary
nature, which one who never heard him can hardly
understand. It was complex, like his mind ; at once
broad and subtle ; easily understood but impossible
to describe ; compact with all the elements of beauty
and of power ; a spell composed of all things rich and
strange, to fascinate, persuade, and con-vince. It was
not by accident that he reached such success as an
advocate, but through profound study and severe
training. Not to speak of that which lies at the basis
of all permanent success at the bar, a thorough knowl
edge of the law as a science, as well as in its forms,
he was remarkable for sound judgment in the prep
aration and management of a cause. He knew
instinctively what to affirm and what to yield. He
chose the point of attack or defence with consummate
skill ; and if he did not succeed, it was because
success was not possible. His mind moved like a
flash, and an unguarded point, a flaw in an argument,
an un-wise theory of procedure, a charge somewhat
too strong or a little beside the real purpose, were
seized upon with almost absolute certainty and turned
-with damaging effect against his opponents. In the

448 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap. XL
preparation of a case he left nothing to accident
which he could fix by care and labor. In determining
a theory of defence, he was endless in suggestions
and hypotheses till the one was chosen which seemed
impregnable, or at any rate the best that could be
found. In consultation he generally looked first at
his opponent's side, then at his own ; stating in full
force every unfavorable argument, and then endeav
oring to answer them, thus playing the whole through
like a game of chess. In these cases his attention
was given not only to a general proposition but to
all its details. A person once prosecuted the city to
recover damages for injuries received by a fall in con
sequence of a defect in a bridge. At the first meeting
for consultation with the junior counsel he spent an
hour in determining exactly how one could so catch
his foot in a hole as to be thrown in the way to pro
duce the specific injury, till by means of the fender
and coal-hod, with the tongs and shovel, he con
structed a rude model of the dilapidated bridge, and
satisfied himself of the precise manner in which the
accidenthappened. No man was ever more courageous
than he for his client. Sometimes he seemed to run
prodigious risks ; but he knew his ground, and when
once taken, nothing would beat him from it. His
plea of somnambulism in Tirrell's case subjected him
to a thousand innuendoes, to the bantering of the
newspapers and the ridicule of the vulgar. The jury
themselves said that in coming to their verdict, they
did not consider it. But in the second trial he
brought it forward with just as much assurance as
ever. His knowledge of human nature was intuitive. At

Chap. XL] HIS ELOQUENCE. 449
a glance he formed a judgment of the jurymen, and
governed himself accordingly, sometimes addressing
each individual according to his perception of their
several characteristics, repeating and varying his argu
ments till every mind was reached. However forcible
or strong, he never was harsh or coarse. In no orator
were the elements of conviction and persuasion so
beautifully blended. His conviction was persuasive ;
his persuasion, convincing. More truly than was said
of Fox, " his intellect was all feeling, and his feeling
all intellect." No juryman was ever weary with his
argument. The driest matter of fact was enlivened
by some unexpected turn of humor, or unthought-of
illustration. His logic never assumed technical forms,
but was enveloped and carried onward in narrative
and illustration.
In his arguments to a jury, his openings were nat
ural, easy, and informal. He glided into a subject so
gently that you hardly knew it. He, oftener than
otherwise, began with a general statement of the
whole case, making a clear and definite outline,
which no one could fail to understand and remember.
He then proceeded to a careful and protracted analy
sis of the evidence ; his theory of the case, in the
mean time, had been pretty broadly broached, and his
propositions, perhaps, laid down, and repeated with
every variety of statement which seemed necessary
for his purpose. Often his theory was insinuated
rather than stated, and the jury were led insensibly
to form it for themselves. His skill in narrative was
equal to his cogency in argument. He had a wonder
ful power of vivid portraiture, — of compressing an
argument into a word, or phrase, or illustration.
29

450 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
No one could make a more clear, convincing, and
effective statement ; none held all the resources of the
language more absolutely at command. His power
over the sympathies, by which, from the first word he
uttered, you were drawn to him with a strange and
inexplicable attraction, was wonderful. Court, jury,
and spectators seemed fused into one mass of willing
and delighted listeners. They could not help being
influenced by him. Calming the hostility of his hear
ers by kindness, conciliating their prejudices, convert
ing them into friends, bending their will to his in
delightful harmony, he moved on with irresistible
force, boiling along his course, tumultuous but beauti
ful, lifting them bodily, bearing all with him, and
prostrating all before him. His pleasantry and wit,
his grotesque exaggerations, never gross or vulgar,
served to wake up a sleepy juryman, or relieve a dry
detail. They lubricated the wheels of a long train of
discussion. He often put himself so far as he could,
really, or jocosely yet half in earnest, into sympathy
with his opponents themselves. In the Dalton case he
professed at the outset that he spoke in the interest of
both parties. In the case of Shaw v. The Boston and
Worcester Railroad, which was contested with a good
deal of feeling, coming to the close of his argument
he said, turning round and facing the President of the
road, " My friends, the President and Directors of the
Boston and Worcester Railroad, honorable and high-
minded men as I know them to be, have probablj"- con
sidered that they should not be justified in paying to
the plaintiff the large sum of money claimed in this
case without the protection of a judgment in a suit at
law ; but I have no doubt, gentlemen, if you establish

Chap, XL] HIS SELF-POSSESSION, 451
the liability, every one of them would lay his hand on
his heart and say, ' Give her all that she asks, and
God bless her ! ' "
Mr. Choate never lost self-possession. He seemed
to have the surest mastery of himself in the moment
of greatest excitement. He was never beside himself
with passion or anxiety, and seldom disconcerted by
any accident or unexpected posture of affairs, — so
very seldom indeed, that the one or two cases where
he was slightly so, are pretty distinctly remembered
One instance occurred in the trial of a question of
salvage. It was the case of The Missouri, an Ameri
can vessel stranded on the coast of Sumatra, with
specie on board. The master of the stranded vessel,
one Dixey, and Pitman, the master of the vessel that
came to her aid, agreed together to embezzle the greater
part of the specie, and pretend that they had been
robbed of it by the Malays. Mr. Choate was cross-
examining Dixey very closely to get out of him the
exact time and nature of the agreement. The witness
said that Pitman proposed the scheme, and that he
objected to it, among other reasons, as dangerous.
To which, he said. Pitman made a suggestion in
tended to satisfy him. Mr. Choate insisted on know
ing what that suggestion was. The witness was loath
to give it. Mr. Choate was peremptory, and the
scene became interesting. " Well," said Dixey at
last, "if you must know, he said that if any trouble
came of it we could have Rufus Choate to defend us,
and he would get us off if we were caught with the
money in our boots." It was several minutes before
the Court could go on with the business. For a few
moments Mr. Choate seemed uncertain how to take

452 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
it. He did not relish the nature of the compliment,
and yet it was a striking tribute to his fame that two
men, at the antipodes, should concoct a great fraud
relying upon his genius to save them ; and so the
opposing counsel, Mr. Dana, put it, in his argument,
aptly quoting the Quce regio in terris.
His -wit, his ludicrous representations, his sublime
exaggerations, were never without a purpose. They
were not the result of a taste which delighted in such
things as beauties or felicities, but of a desire to attract
the wandering attention, to fasten a thought by a lu
dicrous picture, to relieve the mind of the weary jury,
or to show by an illustration the absurdity ofthe propo
sition he was combating.
In an argument before a committee of the Legisla
ture in 1860, in behalf of the petitioners for a railroad
from Salem to Maiden, he drew one of those pictures
-with which he was accustomed to amuse, but, also,
much more than merely to amuse, a jury. One argu
ment in favor of the new road was, that it would en
able travellers to avoid the East Boston Ferry, and
to gain in speed. In reply, the beauties of the pros
pect in the harbor, and the pleasure of meeting friends
on the boat, were referred to, as an offset.
" The learned though somewhat fanciful gentle
man," said Mr. Choate, " has eloquently set forth the
delight which must be felt by all in catching an
occasional glimpse of the harbor, as they cross in the
boat ; as if the business people of Danvers, Lynn, or
Saugus, would care to stop, or think of stopping, to
gaze upon the threadbare and monotonous beauties
of Boston Harbor when hurrying to transact their
affairs. Unfortunately, too, for the gentleman's case,

Chap. XI.] HIS POWER OVER AN AUDLENCE. 453
in this respect, it so happens that these same people
have compelled this company to arch their boat all
over, and wall it up all round, so that nothing at all
can be seen. Then the delight of meeting and shak
ing hands with an old friend ! Conceive, gentlemen, the
pastoral, touching, pathetic picture of two Salem gentle
men, who have heen in the hahit of seeing each other a
dozen times a day for the last twenty-five years, almost
rushing into each other's arms on hoard the ferry-boat ;
— WHAT TRANSPORT ! We cau oiily regret that
such felicity should be so soon broken up by the
necessity of running a race against time, or fighting
with each other for a seat in the cars."
During the trial of Tirrell, a certain police officer
who was called bj^ the government, took occasion sev
eral times to give his opinion very flippantly and out
of place on several points of the case. This was soon
after the discovery of a new planet, and the appear
ance of several learned papers on it by Prof. Peirce, of
Cambridge. In the course of Mr. Choate's argument,
and when he came to review the testimony of the -wit
ness, he said, " And then, gentlemen, the witness, not
content with coloring and distorting the facts, gravely
and sententiouslj'^ gives us his opinion on this and that
point with all the assurance of an expert. I wonder
what he thinks of the new planet, I am dying to know
his opinion of Prof. Peirce's theory of the aberration
of light touching that stranger in the heavens."
The following ludicrous exaggeration long held its
place among the stories about the Court : —
In April, 1847, the Joint Commissioners of Massa
chusetts and Rhode Island, appointed to ascertain and
establish the boundary line between the two States,

454 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
made an agreement and presented it to their respec
tive Legislatures.
Parties living in Massachusetts, whose rights were
affected by this decision, petitioned the Legislature
against the acceptance of the Commissioners' report.
]\Ir, Choate appeared for these remonstrants. A por
tion of the boundary line was described in the agree
ment as follows : "Beginning," &c., &c., " thence to
an angle on the easterly side of Watuppa Pond, thence
across the said pond to the two rocks on the westerly
side of said pond and near thereto, then westerly to
the buttonwood tree in the village of Fall River,"
&c., &c.
In his argument, commenting on the boundary,
Mr. Choate thus referred to this part of the descrip
tion : —
" A boundary line between two sovereign States
described by a couple of stones near a pond, and a
buttonwood sapling in a village. The Commissioners
might as well have defined it as starting from a blue
jay, thence to a swarm of bees in hiving-time, and
thence to five hundred foxes with firebrands tied to
their tails ! "
Mr. Choate's style was peculiar, and entirely his
own. Its exuberance, its stateliness and dignity, its
music and its wealth, were as fascinating as they
were inimitable. One can hardly fail to recognize,
even in the least characteristic of his speeches, a true
nobleness, a touch of imperial grace, such as has been
vouchsafed only to the supreme masters of the lan
guage. His style has sometimes been criticised by
those who have forgotten that his speeches were
meant for hearers rather than for readers, and that a

CiiAp. XL] HIS STYLE. 455
mind of such extraordinary affluence and vigor will,
of necessity, in many respects, be a law to itself. He
was, however, quite aware that a style of greater sim
plicity and severity would be necessary for a writer ;
and this, probably, was one thing which prevented
him from entering seriously on those literary labors
which were evidently, at one time, an object of real
interest. I am glad to be able to introduce here some subtle
and suggestive remarks on this subject by an obser
vant and thoughtful critic, — Rev, Joseph Tracy.
"I do not know," he says, "that I can describe
suitably, on paper, that peculiarity of Mr. Choate's
style of which we were speaking, and which is so
marked in his famous ' long sentences.' Many have
observed that it was not wordiness. He had words
and used them, in rich abundance ; but if you ex
amine even the most sounding of his long sentences,
you find in them no redundant words. Each of its
several members is made up of such words, and of
such only, as were needed for the perfect expression
of the thought.
"Nor was it in that cumulative power by which
one idea, image, or argument, is piled upon another,
so as to make up an overwhelming mass. He had
this power in a remarkable degree ; but so had many
others — perhaps almost all great orators. Cicero
has left some splendid examples of it.
"It was rather the result of the peculiar logical
structure of his mind ; for in him logic and rhetoric
were not separate departments, but one living pro
cess. He instinctively strove to present an idea, a
thought, in its perfect completeness, — the thought,

456 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, XI,
the whole thought, and nothing but the thought ; so
to present it that there would be no need of adding
to his statement of it, subtracting from it, or in any
way modifying it, after it had once been made. He
seemed to use words not exactly to convey ideas to his
hearers, but rather to assist and guide their minds in
the work of constructing the same ideas that were in
his own. In carrying their minds through this pro
cess, he must give them, not merely the idea which
had been the result of his own thinking, but its
elements, their proportions, their limitations, their
bearings on the results. In this process, clauses of
definition, of discrimination, of limitation, were often
as necessary as those of a contrary character. Any
element of thought which contributed to the result
only in some qualified sense must be mentioned with
the proper qualification, lest there should remain a
doubt whether it ought to be mentioned at all. It is
in this respect that his long sentences seem to me to
differ, characteristically, from the long sentences of
other orators, which are merely cumulative. The
practical effect was, that the hearer found himself not
merely overwhelmed by the multitude of grand things
that had been said, but also led, by a safe logical pro
cess, to the desired conclusion.
" How else can we account for the effect which his
long sentences certainly did produce on even common
minds ? Could such minds, after hearing one of
them, recollect and appreciate all the particulars
contained in it? But few, even of educated men,
who read them, can do that. The effect is produced
by the logic which runs through them and does its
work during the progress of the sentence, so that

Chap, XL] HIS LONG SENTENCES. 457
when the sentence is ended the conclusion is
reached. " A remarkable example of such long sentences as
I have tried to describe, is found in Mr. Choate's re
marks at the meeting of the Suffolk Bar on the death
of Mr. Webster. I have often thought that studying
that address, so as thoroughly to master it (and the
same may be said of his Eulogy on Mr. Webster, and
other elaborate performances), would be a good ex
ercise for a theological student, about to enter on the
study of Paul's Epistles, where he will find many long
sentences which seem to be made long on the same
principle, and as a result of the same logical instincts.
Paul's parentheses, like those of Choate, are put in,
that the reader, when he arrives at the end of a sen
tence, may have constructed in his own mind exactly
the right idea, with all the limitations, qualifications,
and appurtenances which are essential to its identity
and completeness."
Mr. Choate's memory was exact and tenacious. He
could generally repeat considerable portions of what
he had recently read ; was always ready with an apt
quotation, and able to correct those who made a
wrong one. An interesting illustration of this oc
curred during the trial of William Wyman, in 1843,
for embezzling the funds of the Phoenix Bank. An
array of counsel was assembled such as is rarely
seen, and the court-house was crowded with in
tensely interested spectators. " In the course of the
trial, and in a most exciting passage, when all the
counsel appeared to be intent upon the case and
nothing else, Mr. Webster wrote on a slip of paper a
favorite couplet of Pope, and passed it to Mr. Choate,

458 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
' Lo where Mseotis sleeps, and softly flows
The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.'
Mr. Choate wrote at the bottom ' wrong.'
' Lo where Maeotis sleeps, and hardly flows
The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.'
Mr. Webster rejoined, ' right,' and offered a wager.
A messenger was despatched for Pope, when it ap
peared that Mr. Choate was right. Mr. Webster
gravely wrote on the copy of Pope, ' spurious edition,'
and the subject was dropped. All this while the
spectators were in the full belief that the learned
counsel were in earnest consultation on some difficult
point of law." ^
The profound admiration which Mr. Choate felt for
Mr. Webster was sincerely reciprocated. During this
trial some ladies said to Mr. Webster that they longed
for the arguments to come on, as they wished to hear
him. To which he replied to the effect that he was a
matter-of-fact old man, and that if he ever had the
power of interesting, it had gone. He then spoke
with great warmth and earnestness of Mr. Choate,
characterizing him as the genius of the American
bar. He afterwards spoke of Pinkney, and said that
Choate was the only American lawyer who had
equalled him, both as a lawyer and an advocate, and
that he surpassed him. " In the past," said Mr.
Webster, " the question was asked of a rising lawyer,
' how near Pinkney is he ? ' In the future it will be,
how near Choate ? As a mere dry lawyer, he is
equal to himself as an advocate, and what more can
be said ? " ' Law Reporter, January, 1814.

Chap. XL] HIS FELICITY OF QUOTATION. 459
One will not unfrequently notice in Mr. Choate's
speeches and writings, as they might have in his
conversation, fragmentary quotations, — half -lines of
poetry, — a single catchword of a wise maxim, — a
partially translated proverb, — which harmonized with
his thought, but which to those familiar -with them
were suggestive of much more than was said. An
instance of his readiness in felicitous quotation is
given by Mr. Parker in his " Reminiscences," which
I am permitted to extract.
" In the winter of 1850, a large party was given in
Washington, and many illustrious personages were
present, who have since, like Mr. Choate, gone down
to the grave amid the tears of their countrymen. The
Senate, at that time worthy of the name, was well
represented on this occasion of festivity, and the play
and airy vivacity of the conversation, -with ' the cups
which cheer but not inebriate,' relaxed at intervals
even senatorial dignity. During the evening the
subject of ' Young America ' was introduced, —
his waywardness, his extravagance, his ignorance,
and presumption. Mr. Webster observed, that he
hoped the youth would soon come to his senses,
and atone, by the correctness of his deportment,
for his juvenile dissipation. At the same time, he
added, that, in his opinion, the only efficient rem
edy for the -vice and folly of the lad would be found
in early religious training, and stricter parental re
straint. Mr. Choate declared, that he did not view
the hare-brained youth in the same light with his
illustrious friend ; that every age and every country
had, if not their ' Young America,' at least something
worse. The character of Trajan, the best and purest

460 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
of Roman emperors, said he, was unable, with all its
virtue and splendor, to check the ' Young Italy ' of
that day. Our lads would seem to have sat for the
picture which has been drawn of the Roman youths,
by the hand of one who seldora colored too highly.
' Statim sapiunt, statim soiunt omnia ; neminem verevr
tur, imitantur neminem, atque ipsi sihi exempla sunt,'
which, translated, reads thus: 'From their cradles
they know all things, — they understand all things, —
they have no regard for any person whatever, high or
low, rich or poor, religious or otherwise, — and are
themselves the only examples which they are disposed
to follow.' Mr. Benton thought the quotation too
happy to be genuine, and demanded the author. Mr.
Choate, with the utmost good humor, replied, that his
legal habits had taught him the importance of citing
no case without being able to give his authorities ;
he called for the younger Pliny, and triumphantly
showed the passage, amid the admiration of that
brilliant assembly, in the 23d letter of the 8th book.
Our informant remarks, that the history of literature,
perhaps, cannot show an equally felicitous quotation."
His fondness for books was a striking characteris
tic. The heart of his home was his library. Hither
he retreated from the distractions of business, and
the disappointments of politics, to discourse with the
great spirits of other times ; yielding with unfailing
delight to the lofty stimulus of great minds, and
communing with them as with friends. He reposed
among his books. He bought them freely, generally
for use, though in some departments, and with some
favorite authors, he allowed free scope to his tastes,
and adorned his shelves with choice editions. In a

Chap, XL] HIS LOVE FOR BOOKS, 461
city he gravitated toward a bookstore or a public
library, as if by a fixed and unvarying law of nature.
During the earlier years of his residence in Boston,
when professional occupation allowed him leisure, he
was often found in Burnham's Antiquarian Bookstore,
poring over the heterogeneous treasures of that im
mense depository.
Shortly after his death there appeared in the " New
York Times " a communication from a well-known
dealer in old and rare books,^ which merits preserva
tion, as a simple, unvarnished statement of the truth.
" Rupus Choate's Love for Books.
" The death of this illustrious man brings to my
mind certain reminiscences of him, which I think
worthy of keeping in remembrance.
" About ten years ago, when on a visit, or passing
through this city, Mr. Choate called at my store,
about ten o'clock, A.M., and introduced himself as a
lover of books and an occasional buyer, and then
desired to be shown where the Metaphysics, and the
Greek and Roman Classics, stood. He immediately
commenced his researches, with great apparent eager
ness ; nor did he quit his toil till he was compelled
to do so by the store being shut up, thus having been
over nine hours on a stretch, without food or drink.
He remarked that ' he had quite exhausted himself,
mentally as well as bodily.' He had been greatly
interested, as well as excited, at what he had seen ;
' for,' continued he, ' I have discovered many books
that I have never seen before, and seen those that
I had never heard of; but, above all, I have been
1 William Gowans.

462 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. XL
more than overjoyed at discovering, in your collec
tion, a copy of the Greek bishop's ^ famous commen
tary on the writings of Homer, in seven volumes,
quarto, a work that I have long had an intense desire
to possess.' He afterwards purchased the precious
volumes. I had the seven volumes bound in three,
in handsome and appropriate style. These works no
doubt still grace his library. W. G."
To the last he was studious of letters, full of
sympathy with literary men and their works, and
especially fond of the classics, and of imaginative
literature. During the most busy period of his pro
fessional labor he managed to secure at least an hour
every day — rescued from sleep, or society, or recrea
tion — for Greek or Latin, or some other favorite
study. He sometimes, at the commencement of a
college term, would mark out his course of study by
the curriculum as laid down in the catalogue, and
thus keep on pari passu with one or two of the classes.
He was indifferent to ordinary amusements, had no
love for horses, or field sports ; and seemed hardly to
desire any other rest than that which came from a
change of intellectual action. In the later years of
his life he undertook the study of German with one
of his daughters, learning the grammar during his
morning walks, and reciting at table.
If the question were asked, to what pursuits Mr.
1 Eustathius (Archbishop of Thessalonica) was bom in the twelfth
century at Constantinople, He was the author of the well-known
voluminous commentary on Homer, written in the same language as
the Hiad. His commentaries were first printed at Rome, 1550, in two
volumes folio. Besides these commentaries, he was the author of
several other critical works.

Chap, XI.] HIS LOVE FOR BOOKS. 463
Choate's tastes, unobstructed, would have led him, I
am inclined to think the answer would be — to letters
rather than to the law.^ Books were his passion.
His heart was in
" The world of thought, the world of dreams."
¦with philosophers, historians, and poets ; and had his
fortune allowed, he would have endeavored to take
rank with them, — to illustrate, perhaps, some great
period of history with a work worthy of the best
learning and the widest culture ; or to unfold the
sound and deep principles of a true political phil
osophy. He might not, indeed, have avoided, but
rather have sought, public life ; for he felt its fascina
tions, and fairly estimated its grand opportunities.
His ambition might have been to move in the sphere
of Burke (of whom he sometimes reminds one) or
Macaulay, rather than that of Erskine or Eldon.
1 In illustration not only of his love of letters, but of the remark
which he himself once made that he " often found a single winged
word as suggestive as the most germinant thought," Mr. E. B.
Gillett writes in a letter to Judge Neilson : " I called upon Mr. Choate
when he was confined to his house by a lame knee. ... On one
occasion I found him before his table, turning the leaves of Macau
lay's History. I inquired if he was revising the judgments recently
expressed in his lecture upon that subject. He replied no ; that he
was reading Cowley's Poems, which always greatly interested him ;
that he had just discovered in the volume an expression similar to
that found in the first book of 'Paradise Lost,' — 'The height of this
great argument,' which he thought a flne and extraordinary phrase.
He had thereupon begged his wife, ' the gracious purveyor to his
infirmities,' to hand down Macaulay to him, that he might detect
whether Milton had ' hooked ' from Cowley, or Cowley from Milton.
' But,' said he, ' Cowley has got him. It is however only the equi
table thing. Milton had a right to forage the whole intellectual
world in the way of reprisal, for his disjecta membra are scattered
thick through all literature.' "

464 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap, XI.
Hence, though bringing to the Law marvellous apti
tude, wonderful diligence, and entire self-devotion,
sacrificing, as some thought, in the sharp contests of
the bar, powers which might better have graced an
other and higher sphere, — he was never a mere
lawyer. And yet, so absorbed was he in his profes
sion, — it was a necessity, and at least a second love,
— that with the exception of a few columns in the
newspapers, a brief article in the " North American
Review," a few speeches and orations, I know not
that he fully prepared any thing for the press.
He cared nothing for money; little, too little per
haps, for society, beyond his own immediate friends ;
and less than any able and brilliant man I ever knew,
or almost ever heard of, for fame ; but study, books,
intellectual labor and achievements, poetry, truth —
these were controlling elements of his life. However
prostrated or worn, a new intellectual stimulus would
raise him in an instant. " One day," says a former
student of his,' "he came into the office tired and
sick ; the great lines of his face yellow and deep ; his
eyes full of a blaze of light, yet heavy and droop
ing. Throwing himself exhausted on the sofa, he
exclaimed, ' The law — to be a good lawyer is no
more than to be a good carpenter. It is knack, —
simply running a machine.' Soon after a man came
in with a splendid edition of Sir William Hamilton's
' Reid,' fresh from London. He was changed in a
moment. Springing from the sofa, he glanced ad
miringly over the philosophy, saying, ' Here's food ;
now I will go home and feast. There's true poetry
^ Rev, J. M, Marsters, to whom I am indebted for many interest
ing particulars.

Chap. XL] HIS LOVE FOR BOOKS. 465
in these metaphysicians.' And so he went off to
refresh himself with that light reading." ^
The following recollections of Mr. Choate are
from a gentleman who saw him frequently and
familiarly : —
"Dear Sir, — The principal reason for my neg
lect to send you any reminiscences of Mr. Choate is,
that when I have tried to put them into shape, they
have seemed too meagre and insignificant to be worth
your notice. Indeed, I think that the recollections
of his daily life, retained by any one who saw him
familiarly ' in his habit as he lived,' are extremely
difficult of development in words. Every thing which
' Speaking of his love of books, Mr. Gillett says that, being in
Mr. Choate's library, he noticed one shelf fllled with different editions
of the Greek Testament, some in elegant modern binding, and others
in old vellum. Alluding to this, Mr. Choate replied, " You recall a
visit I once received in my rooms from Mr. Webster, wheu I was
Senator in Washington. . . .
"I saw Mr. Webster's wonderful black eyes peering over my
books, as if in search, and asked him what he would please to have.
He tumed to me with one of his smiles, such as never transfigured
the face of any other man or woman, and said : ' I observe, brother
Choate, that you are true to your instincts in Washington as at
home ; seven editions of the Greek Testament, but not a copy of the
Constitution.' "
The Rev. Dr. Storrs, in a letter to Judge Neilson, says with as
much truth as beauty : " He was a scholar by instinct, and by the
determining force of his nature. All forms of high intellectual
activity had charm and reward for his sympathetic and splendid
intelligence. He especially delighted, however, in history, philoso
phy, eloquence, and the immense riches of the ancient literature.
His library was peopled to him with living minds. The critical and
august procedures in history were as evident to him as processions
in the streets. No solemn and majestic voice had spoken, from the
Athenian bema, in Roman forum, in English Parliament, whose tones,
even whose vital words, did not still echo in his ear."
30

466 MEMOm OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap, XI.
he said produced an impression on the hearer ; but
an attempt to repeat the saying, and reproduce the
impression on one who did not know him, results in
failure. The flavor is gone. It proceeded from the
time, the occasion, the manner, the tone, the personal
magnetism of the man. There were some subjects on
which Mr. Choate always liked to talk, — about his
contemporaries, or on his favorite classics, or to young
men about their studies, or the best preparation for
practical success, or the true ends and aims of life,
and the ways and means of civil and professional
activity and usefulness.
" I used, when I knew Mr. Choate to be at leisure
and alone, to stroll from my room into his, and start
some topic. He would at once enter into it with all
interest, and as if that were the very subject he had
been studying most carefully and recently. You may
imagine, I was always inclined to hear rather than to
be heard. Still, his remarks were always suggestive
of answers; and it was easier to talk with him — really
to converse, not merely to listen — than with any man
of note whom it has been my fortune to meet. He
did not lecture nor preach. Frequently he drew out
the knowledge or opinions of the person conversing
with him, — whether young or old, learned or other
wise, — by direct questions ; and in such cases he
always seemed to be actually seeking information, —
not attempting to find out, like a tutor at a recita
tion, how much the catechised individual knew. I
always felt, after spending ten minutes with him, as
if I had been not only stocked with fresh stores, but
developed, — quite as much educated as instructed.
Then, what he said was so stimulant and encouraging.

Chap. XI.] HIS CONVERSATION. 467
One always went away, not depressed by the sense of
his own inferiority, but determined to know more
about what he had been talking of, and confident that
he had been put in the right way to learn more.
" Nothing pleased his young friends so much as the
deference with which he received what they had to
say. I remember his once asking what I thought of a
point which he was about to argue to the Bench, and
about which I had very imperfect ideas. I made some
sort of vague reply ; but was agreeably surprised,
shortly afterwards, by hearing my exact words intro
duced to the full Court in an abundance of good com
pany, and in a connection which gave them some
significance. The junior associate in a case could not
whisper to him in the middle of an argument -without
his saying to judge or jury, ' My learned brother has
just suggested to me,' — and the suggestion, or some
thing like it, would come forth, freed from error and
crudity, illustrated, and made telling.
" His serious conversation was always exact and
terse in expression, and he disliked any looseness
in that respect in others. He asked me once what
the judge had charged the jury in a certain case. I
answered — ' That they must find the fact thus and
so,' — meaning that they were charged, unless they
found it so, not to bring in a verdict for the plaintiff.
He replied very quickly, ' I suppose he told them to
find it as it was really, didn't he ? ' In grammar and
pronunciation he was precise even in his peculiarities ;
and any error he would reprove by introducing the
same into his next sentence with — ' as you call it.'
" Mr. Choate's playful conversation it seems impos
sible to put into a book, and retain the sparkle. And

468 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
yet his quaintness was perhaps his most distinguishing
characteristic to those -with whom he was intimate.
They remember him asking after his only grand
daughter with ' How is the boy ? ' — or coming into a
room with a question or a remark wholly incongruous
-with the time and the surroundings ; — or interspers
ing- the business of a trial -with all sorts of ludicrous
remark and by-play, audible and visible only to those
just around him in the bar ; — or speaking of a hus
band, from whom he had just obtained a settlement
for his client, an injured but not very amiable wife, as
a sinner, and adding, ' Mrs.  is a sinner, too,' —
then immediately correcting himself with 'No, Sir,
she is not a sinner, for she is our client, but she is cer
tainly a very disagreeable saint ;' — or ingeniously
harassing a nervous legal opponent, in private con
sultation upon a compromise, until he rushed from
the room in distraction, and then quietly finishing the
sentence to the nervous gentleman's associate, as if it
had been originally addressed to him, and his friend's
departure had not been noticed. All these things,
amusing and puzzling when seen as well as heard, are
flat and stale in the mere relation.
" I have mentioned how much Mr. Choate liked to
talk upon the classics. His reputation as a classical
scholar was, as you know, very high, and I think
deservedly so. He had all the qualifications, except
time, for fine scholarship in this department, — an
ardent love of the subject, a fondness for the general
study of language, a vast and accurate memory, and
great assiduity and minuteness in investigation. You
know how rich his library was in classical works ; and
I always used to see upon his office-table the German

Chap. XL] HIS SCHOLARSHIP. 469
periodical catalogues of new editions and philological
publications. I do not suppose that he equalled the
linguists of the universities in thoroughness and pre
cision of learning. This was not compatible with the
variety and pressure of his other pursuits. But dur
ing the few minutes which he daily bestowed upon
Latin and Greek, he studied rather than read, spend
ing the time upon one sentence, not upon several
pages. With half-a-dozen editions of his authors open
before him, and all the standard lexicons and gram
mars at hand, he referred to each in turn, and
compared and digested their various authority and
opinion. I imagine he always translated (not con
tenting himself with the idea in its original dress) for
the sake of greater precision of conception, and also
of practice in idiomatic English. You will notice in
his written translations how he strives to find a phrase
which will sound as familiar to an English ear, as the
original to that of a Greek or Roman. When he uses
an ancient idiom, in translation or original composi
tion, it seems intentional, and as if he thought it
would bear transplanting.
" In his scholarship, as in other things, he was
anxious to be accurate, and spared no pains in inves
tigating a disputed point. In this, as in law, the
merest novice could put him upon inquiry, by doubt
ing his opinion. He was not positive at the outset,
but set himself to studying at once ; and when he
had finally reviewed his position no one could stir
hini from his final conclusion. I remember once
showing him a new Quintilian which I had bought.
He opened it, and began translating aloud. Dis
agreeing with his translation of some technical word,

470 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE, [Chap. XI.
I called his attention to it. He heard what I had to
say, and said little in return. The next day he came
armed with authorities, and challenged me to support
my position, I found some authorities on my side ;
but I think he did not let me rest for weeks, nor until
we had between us brought every thing in the books
to bear upon the question. The result was, that I
was convinced he was right at first.
" Nothing pleased him more than to bring his classics
to bear upon his daily pursuits. He quoted Latin and
Greek to juries, sometimes much to their astonishment.
He wished to be such a legal orator as Demosthenes
and Cicero. He used to say that if he desired to
form a nisi-prius lawyer, he should make him, above
all, study Quintilian. He delighted in Thucydides
as illustrating the great question of confederation or
disunion between small republics. These authors,
and Homer and Horace for relaxation, and Tacitus
for comparison with Thucydides as a philosophical
historian, were his favorite and principal classical
reading. " Greek history was a constant study with him. I
have no doubt that at one time he meditated a work
upon it, and sketched some plans and collected some
materials. He was always enthusiastic upon this
subject. I shall never forget the animation with
which, finding his son, Rufus, and myself reading the
part of Herodotus preceding the first Persian war, he
broke out with, ' You are just seeing the curtain rising
on the great drama.'
" Mr. Choate's activity was, as you know, perfectly
restless. He could not endure any thing that seemed
like trifling with time. Formal dinner-parties, un-

chap. XIJ HIS SCHOLARSHIP. 471
less they were also feasts of reason, he studiously
eschewed. The mere conventionalities of society
bored him.
" Unceasing as was his labor, he was, nevertheless,
a great procrastinator. He could not prepare his
cases for trial weeks and months in advance, as is the
habit of some of our lawyers. He said to me once,
' I cannot get up the interest until the struggle is
close at hand ; then I think of nothing else till it is
over.' He has sometimes been known not to have
put a word of an oration on paper, at a time when the
day of delivery was so near that an ordinary man
would have thought the interval even too short for
mere revision and correction. But he was seldom
caught actually unprepared. The activity of the
short period of preparation was intense ; and as at
some time or other in his life he had studied almost
every thing, and as he never forgot any thing that he
once knew, his amount and range of acquisition gave
him a reserved force for every emergency, which
could be brought into instant use. Moreover, his
grasp of a subject was so immediate, that he did as
much in a moment as another could in a day. He
would sometimes be retained in a cause just going to
trial, and before his junior had finished his opening,
Mr. Choate would seem to know more about that case
than any other man in the court-room. His mental
rapidity showed itself in every thing. It was won
derful to see him run through the leaves of a series of
digests, and strike at a glance upon what would most
strongly avail him, and reject the weak or irrelevant.
So in all his reading he distilled the spirit (if there
was any) instantly from any dilution."

472 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap, XI
I shall venture to give here a few familiar reminis
cences of Mr. Choate's home-life, exactly as they
were written by a daughter, for the amusement of
one of his grandchildren, without thought of their
serving any other purpose.
" Whoever had seen your grandpapa with any of
us children would have soon found that with all his
study and hard work, he always had time to make
home happy, and romped and played with us to our
hearts' content, — laughed at our dolls and cats, read
our compositions, heard our lessons, and when a
leisure evening came would join us in our games of
Royal Goose, and Loto, which was his especial
favorite. I am afraid because, for some unknown
reason, he always got the candy in the pool ! . . . But
we thought the best game of all -with him was tag,
and that always came off just after dinner, before he
went back to his office. There never could be again
such a noise as we made, and your poor grandmamma
would have to shut her ears and hide herself from the
tumult. We always ended by rushing after him,
sometimes far into the street, and would not give up
until he allowed himself to be tagged the last. But
although he was so frolicsome and bubbling up with
fun when -with us alone, he would change wholly if
any ' outsider ' by any chance were with us. If one
of our playmates came in during our game of tag, he
at once stopped the game, took his green bag and
was off.
" And he was just as fond of playing with you as
he ever was with us ; and when you were brought
into the city from Dorchester and were the centre of
an admiring group of uncles and aunts, grandpapa

Chap. XI.] HOME-LIFE. 473
would dart in and catch you up and run with you in
his arms to the library, and then he would lock the
door so as to have you all to himself, and sometimes
we would peep in and see him lying on the floor to
let you have a free pull at his curls, or he would
show you pictures, or chase you about the room ;
until having expended from half an hour to an hour
in this way he would return you to me, saying he
didn't think much of you any way, and couldn't for
his life see what there was about you that attracted
people ; that he'd had you in the library for an hour,
and there was nothing satisfactory about you.
" He used to love to have us sing to him, and there
was hardly a day when he did not steal a little time
to hear some of his favorites, and never a Sunday
evening passed without our singing, all together, the
hymns and chants he loved so well. I can hear him
now calling for one after another, and for the last,
' Now, children, let us have China : sing up loud and
clear.' — And such good times we used to have at
dinner with him, and how -with all the fun he would
try to teach us something, and often he would call
out, ' Not a child at this table, I suppose, can tell
me where this line comes from ; ' and then he would
repeat it, and perhaps one of us would be fortunate
enough to know, and if all did, which sometimes
happened, you can imagine what a noise we made,
calling it out all together. It did not trouble him at
all when we would talk and discuss among ourselves,
and he would take an interest in each one's particular
-views from oldest to youngest.
" He wanted us to like books, and always gave
them to us for our Christmas and birthday presents,

474 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
and he made these come round pretty often too. I
remember feeling something hard under my pillow
one night, and took out a book, which proved to be a
beautiful English edition of Miss Edgeworth's Moral
Tales, bound in purple morocco ! How often he used
to say to us, ' Be good children ; be accurate and
honest, and love your books.'
" He was always so sympathizing and generous
when any one was in trouble or difficulty, and would
never fail to help them if they applied to him, and
sometimes he helped the wrong one. We used to
laugh at him a great deal whenever he was imposed
upon. Once, especially, I remember, when we were
all seated at the dinner-table, the servant handed
him a card upon which was written a gentleman's
name, with his title ' Chief Justice of Arkansas.' So
grandpapa left the table and went into the library
where the gentleman was waiting, and after being
absent a short time returned, and told us that the
Chief Justice seemed very glad to meet him again,
and said he remembered seeing him very often in
Washington. I shall never forget how troubled an
expression he had when he said to grandmamma,
' Helen, I was mortified that I had quite forgotten
him ; ' and then he went on to say that the Chief
Justice had been very unfortunate in losing his
money, and as he was quite a stranger he had no one
to call upon, and apologized over and over again for
the liberty he was taking, which your grandpapa
wouldn't listen to at all, and assured him that it was
a pleasure to assist him. So the Chief Justice retired
with renewed thanks, promising to repay just as
soon as he should hear from his friends, which would

Chap. XI.] HOME-LIFE. 475
be in a day or two. But days and months and years
rolled away, and the gentieman quite forgot his
promises, or else never heai-d from his fi-iends, which
is quite sad to think of. In the mean time we were
never tired of asking him, ' Have you heard lately
from your friend the Chief Justice of Arkansas ? '
" Whenever he went away from home, which he
often had to do, he would send us such nice letters ;
and he tried to print them for us, as his \^-riting was
just a little bit hard to read. Many -wiser heads than
GUI'S would have puzzled long even over his priuting,
but in the s:reat red seal of the letter we would
almost always find a silver quarter of a dollar, wliich
seemed a fortune to us.
"He never was too weary, or busy, or sick, to
have us near him ; and one of the earliest memories
I have is that of seeing him at his high desk, where
he always wrote standing, with m}' little three-year-
old sister, whom you never saw, sitting on his
shoulder playing with his curls, her golden hair
floating about her face and his.
" We children used to have very fierce wordy war
fare -with oui- playmates as to the merits of our re
spective parents ; and I well remember that one
little girl (^whom I'm afraid I quite hated for it)
eon\"incingly showed her father to be taller and
stronger, and that he had more hair, aud longer
whiskers, and more of all the other virtues, than
your grandpapa, when I brought the dispute to a
triumphant conclusion by declaring that my father
could repeat the story of The House that Jack Built
quicker than her father could, which she was unable
to deuv, because her father had never told it to her

476 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
at all, and so, all comparison being out of the question,
— since my father could do something well which
her father never had done in any way, — I remained
the victor.
" When your grandmamma went away on a visit,
the amusing of us children and keeping us happy was
grandpapa's work. And pretty hard work it must
sometimes have been, for we would insist on his writ
ing stories and songs ; and on one occasion he kept us
very merry the whole evening till bed-time, by writing
a parody on Wordsworth's ' Pet Lamb,' writing a
verse when we had got to be unusually turbulent, and
thus stilling the tempest of noise during the time we
took to read and learn it. We all thought that he had
unlimited powers, and that Scott was poor compared
with the stories which he composed. I should really
like very much to read one of them now, aud see what
it was that so fascinated us.
" He was very particular as to the books we read,
and it used to seem to me as though almost every
novel I could lay my hands upon had a ' bad tone '
to it. Our staples were Scott, Barbauld, and Edge-
worth. He always lured us to read poetry, especially
the Bible, Shakspeare, Cowper, and Wordsworth.
He always contrived to give us the idea, that when a
boy he was very fond of these mature writers, but
once confessed that he perfectly well remembered his
thrill of pleasure upon taking up a novel which began
with ' " Villain, beware," exclaimed a voice ' ! When
we were older we read and were very fond of Tenny
son, and Mr. and Mrs. Browning, whom he, to vex us,
and pretending not to know, would always call the
Brownriggs. He would gently stimulate our enthu-

Chap. XL] HOME-LIFE. 477
siasm by denying their merits, and making us find out
and express in language the reason for the faith that
was in us ; and then, after a hard contest, he would
always give in and say, ' Well, well, there is something
in these Brownriggs, after all,' and adding ' iri poetry
there are many mansions.' Then he would make us
read again such passages as had struck him. He al
ways, or almost always, realized such lines by applying
them to some action or some person ; as, for example,
he stopped me at Mr. Bro-wning's lines,
' Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
Leamed his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and to die.'
and say, ' What a picture of Mr. Webster that is ! '
To the last day of his life he teased us in a good-
natured way, and we teased back again ; but my re
membrance is that he almost always came off victor.
On one occasion your Aunt Helen had sat up quite
late in the evening to finish a composition, which she
handed to him the next morning for correction and
criticism, saying she was so wearied in writing it that
she had slept after it for twelve hours. He read it
carefully, and handed it to her, saying, with great
gravity, ' I don't wonder at your long sleep after such
an effort : history has but one parallel, the sleep of
the elder Pitt after one of his great speeches.'
" He worked more continuously than any one I have
ever seen, so that, finally incessant labor got to be a
necessity. Nothing in the shape of pleasure would
induce him to be away from his library for more than
a day or two at a time ; and when we wanted him,
when quite ill, to pass a week with us in the middle
of the summer at the seashore, he said ' A week ! why

478 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATB. [Chap, XI
in forty-eight hours the only question left would be,
Where is the highest rock and the deepest water? '"
One cannot help seeing from these pictures for a
child that Mr. Choate's life at home was the most
hearty, cheerful, and affectionate that could be im
agined. He was kind, familiar, and playful with his
children, full of jocoseness, sensitive, and with a fem
inine susceptibility and tact. When his daughters,
from out of town, came into the house, if he were in
his library, unless they came to see him at once, he
would generally walk to the head of the stairs, and
call their attention for a moment to himself, by utter
ing some jocose remark, or a familiar quotation, a
little changed to suit his purpose, such as " Did
Ossian hear a voice ? " then, after exchanging a few
words, would retreat to his work.
This same affectionateness of nature, as of a woman,
was warmly manifested towards all his relatives. His
mother was tenderly reverenced and loved, and he
never failed to minister in all possible ways to her
comfort. On her death, though not unexpected, since
she had attained the advanced age of more than eighty,
he wrote to his brother, " I am stricken with this news,
as if I had not known it was so inevitable and so near.
Dear, dear mother, — the best of human beings, the
humblest, most patient, truest to every duty of her
lot. My heart bleeds that I could not have seen her
again." He was very fond of music, especially sacred
music. Every Sunday evening, after tea, he would
gather his children around the piano, and occa
sionally joining, have them sing to him the old psalm-

Chap. XL] HOJIE-LIFE. 479
tunes and chants. In his last illness, when at Dor
chester, his children would sing to him almost every
night. It was not thought of till he had been there
for a week or two, but one eveniu"- thev all sang at his
request, and he slept much better after it than he
had done for a longtime. Every night after that the
concert was repeated. He loved martial, stirring
music, too. " The Marseillaise," and " God save the
Emperor," and all national airs, were favorites. A
Turkish marcii (so called) always pleased him, be
cause, under its little spell, he saw " The Turkish
moons wandering in disarray." It alwa3's troubled
him that there was no Italian national air. His imag
ination gave life to whatever he read, and he instinct
ively realized the pictures of poets and the narratives
of historians. Reading Campbell's " Battle of the
Baltic," he remarked on the line,
" It was ten of April morn by the chime,"
how -vi-vidly it brought to one's mind the peaceful,
calm proximity of the city, — the water's unruffled
surface. — the piers crowded with anxious faces to
witness the great sea-fight, as the sound of the bells
of Copenhagen came over the waters.
One of his daughters said to him, that " The Sol
dier's Dream '" was a sad thing to her, owing to the
uncertainty whether the dream was ever realized.
He said his understanding of it was, that " Thrice
ere the morning I dreamt it again " signified that it
came to pass, referring in proof to some popular be
lief in a dream thrice dreamed before morning coming
true. He often read aloud passages from the newspapers

480 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI.
which interested him, interspersing them with remarks
or familiar quotations. At the time of Louis Phi
lippe's flight, he read the account at table, uttering
after every few sentences, as if it were in the paper,
" What shadows we are, and what shadows we pur
sue ! " So, after the death of Nicholas he read it aloud,
adding in the same tone a verse of the Psalms : " I
have said ye are gods, but ye shall die like men and
perish like one of the princes."
He had more than a feminine sensitiveness to phys
ical suffering. From this, some presumed to doubt
his courage, though I know not with what reason.
His moral courage, certainly, could not be questioned.
He was bold enough for his clients, and his indepen
dence in forming and maintaining his political creed
was thought by some of his friends to be carried even
to an extreme.
It seemed as if nobody was ever so gentle and
sweet-hearted and tender of others as he. And when
we consider the constant provocations of his profession,
— his natural excitability, — the ardor with which he
threw himself into a case, — the vigor and tenacity of
purpose with which he fought his battles, — as well as
his extreme sensitiveness to sharp and unkind words,
— it seems little less than a miracle. "He lavished
his good nature," it was truly said, " upon all around
him, — in the court and the office, — upon students,
witnesses, servants, strangers." He was so reluctant
to infiict pain that he would long endure an annoy
ance, — as of a troublesome and pertinacious visitor,
— or put himself to considerable inconvenience in
escaping from it, rather than to wound the feelings of
another by a suggestion.

Crap. XI.] CONVERSATIONAL POWER. 481
Though sometimes ruffled, he
" Carried anger as the flint bears fire,
Which, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again."
He never spoke ill of the absent, nor would suffer
others to do so in his presence. He was affectionate,
obliging, desirous to make every one about him happy,
— with strong sympathy for any one in trouble.
Hence it was almost impossible for him to refuse a
client in distress who strongly desired his aid.
Dr. Adams, in his Funeral Address, tells a charac
teristic little anecdote. " He had not walked far, one
morning a few years ago, he said, and gave as a reason,
that his attention was taken by a company of those
large creeping things which lie on their backs in the
paths as soon as the light strikes them. ' But of what
use was it for you to help them over with your cane,
knowing that they would become supine again ? ' —
' I gave them a fair start in life,' he said, ' and my re
sponsibility was at an end.' He probably helped to
place more people on their feet than otherwise ; and
no one has enjoyed it more than he."
Though friendly with all, he had few or no inti
mates. He did not, as has been said, permit himself to
indulge freely in what is called " society," finding
the draught too much upon his leisure and his
strength ; yet few received or conferred more pleas
ure in the unrestrained freedom of conversation.
" Mr. Choate's conversational power," says Chief
Justice Chapman, " was scarcely less remarkable than
his forensic power. It was by no means limited to
the subject of oratory. Indeed, so far as my acquaint-
31

482 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI.
ance with him is concerned, he never made that a
prominent topic of conversation ; but I recollect one
of his conversations on eloquence. He was talking of
Burke's speeches, of which he was known to be a
great admirer, and remarked to a friend of mine who
was extolling Burke above all other men, that he
thought on the whole that the most eloquent and
mellifluous talk that was ever put together in the Eng
lish language was the speech of Mr. Standfast in the
river. I went home and read the speech soon after
wards, and I confess I appreciated John Bunyan's
eloquence as I never had done before.
" But it never occurred to me that Mr. Choate had
any conversational hobby of any kind. He was inter
ested in all current topics, — political, social, moral,
or religious, — and there seemed to be nothing in
literature, history, philosophy, or jurisprudence, that
he did not know ; and in his private conversation I
always thought he was very frank. When I called
on him, whether alone or with a friend, I generally
found him standing at his desk, pen in hand. The
moment he left it, he turned with freshness to what
ever topic came up ; generally throwing himself upon
his lounge, and entering into general conversation, or
the details of a new case, as if it were a recreation.
He was remarkably original and brilliant in his
badinage ; and I have thought he was rather fond of
saying in playfulness what he would not have said
seriously, and what it would be unjust towards him to
repeat — though he never transcended the limits of
delicacy and good taste. On a few occasions his con
versation turned on religious faith and doctrines.
I have never met with a layman whom I thought to

Chap. XT.] HIS HANDWRITING. 483
be more familiar with theological science than he.
I am sure he understood the points on which the
debates of the present day turn, and the arguments
by which controverted doctrines are supported. I
think he was a thorough believer in the doctrines
preached by his pastor. Rev. Dr. Adams. He was an
admirer of Edwards, and on one occasion he spoke
familiarly of his ' History of Redemption ' and his
' Treatise on the Will.' He had at his tongue's end
a refutation of Pantheism, and talked freely of its
logical and moral bearings. Yet, while he seemed to
be master of all the subtleties of polemic debates, he
never seemed inclined to controversy ; and I can
readily believe that he would gracefully and skilfully
turn the subject aside when in conversation with a
gentleman holding theological opinions widely differ
ent from his own. . . .
" Among other things I have heard him express a
high opinion of the ecclesiastical organization and
theological system of the old Puritans, as ha-ving con
tributed largely to stamp upon New England charac
ter the best of its peculiar features."
It is undoubtedly true that among his many studies
he had not neglected a somewhat critical examination
of the Holy Scriptures. He was quite familiar with
the arguments for the genuineness and authenticity of
the various books, even to the minor Epistles of Paul ;
and not many clergymen probably could readily bring
up such an array of learning on this subject as he had
at perfect command.
Mr. Choate's handwriting was famous for obscurity.
It was impossible for one not famUiar -with it to deci
pher its intricacies, and in his rapid notes, with abbre-

484 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI.
"viations and unfinished words, for any one but himself
to determine the meaning ; and even he, when the
subject was forgotten, sometimes was at a loss. And
yet, when closely examined, it will be seen not to be a
careless or stiff or angular scrawl ; each letter is gov
erned by a law and seems striving to conform to the
normal type ; and it has been observed, by one much
accustomed to criticise penmanship, the lines have
certain fiowing, easy, and graceful curves, which give
a kind of artistic beauty.
" Mr. Sprague (now Judge Sprague) and I," wrote
a distinguished member of the Boston bar, Hon. C. G.
Loring, " were trying a case against Mr. Choate.
Coming into the Court one morning we found a
sheet of paper with his scrawls upon it, and I tried
to read it, and as I thought made it out. I handed
it to S,, and after some difficulty he read it, but
quite differently. Mr. C. P. Curtis coming along I
handed it to him, and he read it, but unlike both of
us. Choate entering, I said to him, ' What in the
world is this which we can't make out ? ' ' Why,'
said he, ' what's the trouble ? That's as plain as
Roman print ; ' and proceeded to read it differently
from us all."
Mr. Choate was a little more than six feet in height ;
his frame robust, strong, and erect ; his walk rapid,
yet easy and graceful, and with a force, too, that
seemed to bear onward not only himself but all about
him ; his head was covered with a profusion of black
curling hair, to the last with but a slight sprinkle of
gray ; his eye was dark, large, and, when quiet,
with an introverted, meditative look, or an expression
dreamy and rapt, as of one who saw afar off what you

Chap. XL] COURTESY. 485
could not see ; ^ his smUe was fascinating, and his
whole manner marked with peculiar and inimitable
grace. " He gave you a chair," said Rev. Dr. Adams
in his Funeral Address, " as no one else would do it.
He persuaded you at his table to receive something
from him in a way that nothing so gross as language
can describe. He treated every man as though he
were a gentleman ; and he treated every gentleman
almost as he would a lady." His whole appearance
was distinguished ; and though he always, -with in
stinctive modesty, avoided notice, he never failed to
attract it even among strangers.
With the exception of the time when he suffered
from the accident to his knee, he was never seriously
ill ; but during his whole life he was subject to fre
quent and severe headaches, which for the time quite
disabled him. His nervous system was always in a
state of excitement ; his brain was never at rest, — the
perfervidum ingenium allowing him no quiet. Liberal
of work, impatient of repose, intense in action, spar
ing of recreation, — the wonder is that his powers had
not earlier given way, perhaps with a sudden crash, or
with a longer, more wearisome, more mournful descent
to the dark valley. For many years before his death,
his countenance was haggard, and the lines became
deeper and deeper with age. A vague rumor began
to assume consistency, that he indulged in the use of
opium. The conjecture was entirely false. His phy
sicians have given me their direct testimony on this
' When aroused or interested, his eye gleamed and was very pow
erful. A woman, who had some reputation as a fortune-teller, once
came to consult him. She had not proceeded far in her story before
she suddenly broke ofE with the exclamation, " Take them eyes off of
me, Mr. Choate, take them witch eyes ofE of me, or I can't go on."

486 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XI
point. A Dover's powder would at any time put him
to sleep. If farther proof were needed, we have it in
his never-ceasing labors, in the constant command of
his faculties, early and late, which failed only with his
life, and in his own positive denial of the truth of
the injurious report. He was temperate, and almost
abstemious in eating and drinking ; rarely indulging
in stimulants, and never using them in excess.
During the latter years of Mr. Choate's life, his
mind, never indifferent to religious subjects, was
inclined more than ever to the consideration of man's
nature and destiny, his moral duties, and his relations
to God. He had an implicit faith in the Christian
religion ; and felt a confidence so sure in that form of
it which he had been early taught, that he did not
care to disturb his belief by rash and objectless specu
lation. He regarded- the ancient symbols, especially
as held by the Fathers of New England, with profound
respect and acquiescence. He felt the need of some
creed or formula of religious belief which should hold
the mind firm and unwavering amidst the vagaries and
fluctuations of human opinions ; and a serious devia
tion from the old and established ways was fraught
with he knew not how much error.
He retained also an instinctive regard for the old
habits and practices of his father's house. Though
extremely indulgent, he preferred to have his children
at home and quiet on a Saturday evening, and en
gaged in thoughtful and serious employments. When
prayers were read in the family, he was particular that
all should be present. Though never making a pub
lic profession of religious faith, he often expressed
satisfaction when others did so, and showed beyond

Chap, XI] HIS RELIGIOUS OPINIONS, 487
mistake, in many ways, his respect and veneration for
a truly religious character. His religious reading,
not only of speculative and philosophical, but of prac
tical works, was quite general, and for many of his
later years, constant and habitual. Unlike many
men of eminence, he was specially averse to convers
ing about himself. There was a sacred chamber in
his soul which he opened only to a few of his most
intimate friends, and hardly to them. There he must
be safe .from the intrusion, even of those who might have
some claim to enter. In personal intercourse, up to a
certain point, he seemed without reserve, as he really
was ; beyond it, the most astute diplomatist could not
be more impenetrable or elusive. This was not the
residt of calculation or of -will, but instinctive, — a
part of his idiosyncrasy. It was surprising, and
almost wonderful, -with what ease and certainty he
repelled an attempt to penetrate the sanctuary of his
feelings, and yet with such gentleness that the in
truder at first hardly perceived it, and only discov
ered on reflection that he had not succeeded. He
seldom asked ad-vdce, or depended on the judgment of
others, in determining his own course of action. If
this was true with relation to social or public life, it
was more emphatically true of his religious faith.
His personal belief and hopes you must infer from
what he was, from the affections and sentiments
which he habitually expressed, from the serious tenor
of his life, and from his rare and casual conversations
-with the few who were most in sympathy with him.
To those with whom he disagreed he was always
courteous and deferential, and might sometimes even
appear indifferent as to theological opinions ; but a

488 MEMOIR OF RUFUS CHOATE. [Chap. XL
discussion with such was impossible. The faith of
his father and mother was his to the last, and perhaps
more decidedly at the last than ever before.
He left us still in the prime and vigor of his days,
at an age when many retire from the heated strifes
of the summer of life to a serener autumn. But it is
doubtful whether he could have been contented with
out labor, and whether he would not of necessity have
continued at his post till mind or body gave way.
He was spared longer than many whose names will
always be cherished, — longer than James Otis, longer
than Fisher Ames, longei- than Alexander Hamilton,
or William Pinkney, or Samuel Dexter, or Justice
Talfourd. He died in the fulness of his fame, having
won the universal respect and love of his contempora
ries. He died before his patriotic fears were in any
measure realized ; the country which he so profoundly
loved still united ; no treason consummated ; no crime
against the fairest hopes of the world actually com
mitted ; no rash counsels carried over into desperate
act; no stripe polluted or erased, no star blotted out,
from the flag which to the last was his joy and pride.

APPENDIX.

Since the first edition of the Life of Mr. Choate was pub
lished, three members of his family, each of whom had
rendered some special service in the preparation of it, have
passed away. First of these was Mrs. Choate. She was
the daughter of the Hon. Mills Olcott, of Hanover, N. H.,
for many years a prominent member of the New Hampshire
Bar, a gentleman of great weight of character and influence,
distinguished for intelligence, sagacity, and wisdom in coun
sel, and early taking a prominent part in enterprises tending
to develop the resources of the State. He was remarkable
also for richness of humor, for urbanity and gentle courtesy,
which rendered his society extremely attractive. His ac
quaintance with persons of distinction, both in and out of tbe
State, was large, and his house was the seat of constant and
genial hospitality.
The native gentleness and refinement of Mrs. Choate's
mind, encouraged and developed under the influences of such
a home, were carried with her through life. Her uniform
self-control, serenity, and repose, diffused a beautiful quiet
ness and peace all around her, and served sometimes to con
ceal, except from those who knew her intimately, the quick
insight and sound judgment which gave weight and balance
to her mind. Added to this was a transparent sincerity and
singular pureness and disinterestedness, unaffected by change
of scene or circumstance, by prosperity or sorrow, which won
the confidence and respect as well as the love of all who knew

490 APPENDIX,
her. Underlying all, was her religious faith and hope, early
assumed, simple and undoubting though unobtrusive, cover
ing her with a singular grace and beauty of character, and
perpetuaUy shedding its happy influence over her household.
It is surprising what security and strength such a character
unconsciously imparts to all who come within its sphere.
" Always firm," it was truly said of her, " always serene, she
was the sheet-anchor of strength and hope to all who clung
to her for happiness and courage through life." None felt
the blessing of this more than her husband, whose immense
nervous force, and constant and harassing labors needed the
repose of such a home, and to rest, sometimes, upon the quiet
and inwardly sustained strength of such a pure spirit.
She died suddenly, after a brief illness, on the Sth of
December, 1864.
Eufus Choate, Jr., the only son, for whom his father had
such hopes, after graduating with honor at Amherst College,
studied the law and entered upon its practice in Boston. On
the outbreak of the war he enlisted in the Massachusetts
Second, and followed its fortunes, till a painful neuralgic
affection, from which he never fully recovered, compelled
him to return home. In the earlier skirmishes and battles,
and in the still more trying marches and disheartening
delays, he failed in no duty. He was in the fight at Cedar
Mountain ; and, though in the thickest of it, was one of the
few who escaped unharmed. " All our oflScers," says a cor
respondent of the '' New York Evening Post," in speaking
of this battle, " behaved nobly. Those who ought to have
stayed away wouldn't. Goodwin, Cary, Choate, and Stephen
Perkins were all quite Ul, but would not stay away from
the fight. Choate is the only one of the four not killed.
Goodwin could not keep up with the regiment ; but I saw
him toiling up the hill some distance behind, with the assist
ance of his servant. He had hardly reached the front when
he was kUled. Tt was splendid to see those sick fellows

APPENDIX. 491
walk right up into that shower of bullets, as if it were so
much rain.
" Yesterday I went over the battle-field with the General.
The first man I recognized was Cary. He was lying on his
back, with his head on a piece of wood. He looked calm
and peaceful, as if he were merely asleep. His face was
beautiful, and I could have stood and looked at it a long
while. Next we found Captain Williams, then Goodwin,
Abbott, and Perkins. They had probably been killed almost
instantly, whUe Gary hved untU 2 p. m. of the day after the
fight. His first sergeant was shot in the leg, and lay by him
aU the time. He says he was very quiet, spoke little, and
didn't seem to suffer. We found a dipper of water, which
eome rebel soldier had brought. They took every thing
from him after he died, but returned a ring and locket with
his wife's miniature to the sergeant.
"All these five were superior men. Every one in tho
regiment was their friend. It was a sad day to us when
they were brought in dead, and they cannot be replaced. It
is hard to believe that we shall never see them again, after
having been continually together more than a year. I don't
remember a single quarrel of any importance among our
officers during all that time."
Mr. Choate, who had been advanced to a Captaincy, was
at last obliged by repeated attacks of suffering, which entirely
disabled him, to resign his hardly won commission and leave
the army. He never recovered his full strength ; but after
a lingering and very trying illness, died on the 15th of
January, 1866.
Major Joseph M. BeU married the eldest daughter of Mr.
Choate, and was for many years his partner in business. He
was the son of the Hon. Joseph Bell, for a long time one of
the most distinguished lawyers in New Hampshire, and for
the latter part of his life a resident of Boston. Majoi Bell
was graduated with honor at Dartmouth College, and after-

492 APPENDIX
wards studied his profession ia Boston. Of quite a different
temperament and nature from Mr. Choate, it was weU said,
that " his thorough mastery of the law, sure discrimination,
and comprehensive grasp of mind were of the utmost value to
that great man in preparing and shaping his cases before the
ftUl court," whUe his exact method and habits of business
were of great service in keeping the complicated affairs of
the office free from confusion, and moving in regular order.
Although by education and conviction a Whig, he had
voted for Mr. Buchanan ; but when the first sound of the
guns from Fort Sumter reached the North, be felt that the
constitutional doctrines of Webster must be defended at all
hazards, and he at once prepared to enter the service.
When General Butler went to New Orleans, Mr. BeU was
selected as a member of his staff, and soon came to occupy a
very prominent position. His knowledge of law, his power
of adapting himself to new and unexpected emergencies, his
absolute integrity, his decision of character, and indepen
dence made him invaluable as a counsellor and judicial officer ;
and he was almost immediately promoted to the responsible
position of Provost Judge, which then included the most
important judicial functions of the State.
" Before the war the administration of justice in New
Orleans had cost over $100,000 a year. For the pay of a
Major of Cavalry, Mr. Bell, during General Butler's stay
there, administered justice, civU and mUitary, with such abUity
and fairness that he left with the highest respect of the ablest
lawyers of the city who had practised before him. When he
first held his court, they asked him, to test his quality, under
what code he proposed to practise. His answer was, ' Mainly
under nattu-al law and general orders.' Questions of all
kinds, many of them novel and of large importance, especially
those affecting the rights of person and property of freedmen,
rebels, and aliens, he met with that vigor, directness, grasp,
and comprehensiveness which characterize only first-class

APPENDIX. 493
faculty. His mind was always most at home in discussing
complicated cases in the light of prime governing prin
ciples." *
When General Butler was transferred to Virginia, Major
Bell went with him ; and it was whUe presiding over an
important trial at Norfolk, that he was struck with a partial
paralysis. He was able after a while to return home, but his
health was shattered. He remained an invalid tUl his death,
Sept. 10, 1868.

Hon. David Choate, the oldest son of David and Miriam
(Foster) Choate, was born in Essex, Nov. 29, 1796, and
died there Dec. 17, 1872, at the age of seventy-six. In
many respects he possessed the characteristics of his brother
Eufus. " In his early years," to quote from a sketch by
Prof. E. P. CroweU, " he began to give evidence of the same
marvellous memory, and to exhibit the same playful humor,
the same imagination, the same clearness and force of rea
soning, and the same affluence of language, that, with larger
opportunities for culture, gave his brilliant brother such
eminence in a wider sphere." During his whole life, he was
an admirable example of what an American citizen should
be. He was a lover of sound learning ; directly interested
in education ; for twenty-seven years the master of a school
which by energy and personal effort he raised to the highest
rank ; a trustee of Dummer Academy for ten years ; one of
the founders of the Essex County Teachers' Association ; an
intelhgent and active member of the County Agricultural
Society, to the affairs of which he gave much attention ;
early a justice of the peace, and in 1858 appointed a trial
justice, in which last capacity many important questions
came before him for decision, his steadfast and constant
1 From an article in the " Boston Advertiser," bearing the signa
ture (W.) of a well-known and discriminating writer.

494 APPENDIX.
influence for good was widely felt from early manhood till
his honored old age. As a magistrate, his decisions were
rarely appealed from, and still more rarely, if indeed ever,
was one of his decisions reversed. At different times he
was a member of both Houses of the Legislature, always
commanding respect for intelligence and sound judgment.
His rhetorical ability was of no mean order, and was frequently
put to use in the service of the town, and also in lectures
and addresses. He was an earnest and unfailing supporter
of every thing conducive of the public welfare, whether in
the sphere of industrial activities, or of intelligence, morality,
and virtue. For almost fifty years an office-bearer in the
church, for about forty years the superintendent of its
Sabbath school, he was always a careful and earnest student
of the truth. He was cheerful and happy in a long life of
usefulness and beneficence, and died beloved and greatly
respected by all who knew him. " The place of his burial
is marked by a monument erected by the Sabbath school to
which he had given so large a part of his life, and which
sought thereby to embody in visible form and enduring
material their mingled reverence and affection for his
memory,-'

INDEX.

Abbott, Alfeed A., Letter to,
370.
Adams, Faikohild v., Case of,
266.
Adams, J. Q., 446.
Adams, Rev. Dr. N., 360, 450.
Alger, Rev. W. R., 442.
Baltimore, Whig Convention at,
269.
Bar of Essex, 41 ; Meeting of the,
376.
Bar of Suffolk, Meeting of the, 377.
Bright, Jesse D., Letter to, 158.
Brinlet, Mrs., Letter to, 164.
British Poets of the 19th Century,
Lecture on the, 309.
Buchanan, Jaimes, Letter from,
376.
Bush, Rev. George, Letters to,
58, 59, 63, 109.
Cherokees, Mission to the, 61.
Choate, David, Father of Rufus
Choate, 2.
Choate, David, Brother of
Rufus, his Account of Rufus's
Boyhood, 5, 6.
Choate, Miriam, Mother of
Rufus, 3.
Choate, Rufus. His Birth, 1;
Ancestry and Boyhood, 2 ; Col
lege Life, 11 ; Choice of a Pro
fession, 15; Is Tutor at Dart
mouth College, 24 ; Enters
Law School at Cambridge, 29 ;
Goes to Washington to study
with Mr. Wirt, 29; Death
of his Brother, Washington
Choate, 32 ; Returns to Essex,
32; Testimony of Mr. Wirt,
32 ; Admission to the Bar, 33;

Opens an Office in South Dan
vers, 38 ; Letter to Mr. Marsh,
34 ; Marriage, 35 ; Removal to
Salem, 37 ; The Essex Bar, 39 ;
Counsel in the ICnapp Case,
45 ; His Studies, 46 ; Letter to
President Marsh, 48; Nomi
nated as Representative to
Congress, 49 ; Is elected, 51 ;
Letter to President James
Marsh, 53 ; Enters Congress,
54 ; Speeches ou Revolutionary
Pensions and on the Tariff, 55 ;
Letter to Dr. Andrew Nichols,
57 ; Letters to Professor George
Bush, 58, 59; Georgia and the
Missions to the Indians, 61
Letter to Professor Bush, 62
Re-elected to Congress, 64
Speech on the Removal of the
Deposits, 64 ; Resigns his Seat,
66; Removes to Boston, 66;
Lectures on the Waveriey Nov
els and on the Romance of the
Sea, 66 ; Death of his youngest
Child, 68; His Professional
Advancement, 71 ; Letters to
Richard S. Storrs, Jr., 72, 73;
Chosen Senator in place of Mr.
Webster, 74 ; Deatli of General
Harrison, 74; Eulogy on Gen
eral Harrison, 74 ; Speech on
the McLeod Case, 75 ; The Fis
cal BankBill,76; ColUsion with
Mr. Clay, 76, 84; Nomination of
Mr. Everett as Minister to Eng
land, 85 ; Letter to Mr. Sumner,
87 ; Letters to his Son, 88, 89 ;
Speech on providing Remedial
Justice in the United States
Courts, 90 ; Letters to Mr.
Sumner and Mr. Hillard, 93, 94;

496

INDEX.

The North-Eastern Boundary
Question, 95 ; Journal, 97 ; Ad
dress in New York, 106; Let
ter to Professor Bush, 109;
Letters to Mr. Sumner, 110,
111, 112 ; Letter to his Daugh
ters, 112 ; Debate on the Tariff,
120; Reply to Mr, McDuflit,
124; Congress Adjourned, 130;
Journal, 131 ; Political Contest
of 1844, 141; Speaks for Mr.
Clay, 141 ; Fragmentary Jour
nal, 142 ; Meeting of Congress,
149; Speech against the An
nexation of Texas, 150; Ad
mission of Iowa and Florida,
152 ; Establishment of the
Smithsonian Institution, 153;
Library Plan, 154; Resigna
tion of his position as Re
gent, 158 ; Letter to Hon.
Jesse D. Bright, 158; Letters
to Hon. Charles W. Upham,
160, 161; Illness and Death
of Dr. Sewall, 163; Letter to
Mrs. Francis Brinley, 164 ; Ad
dress before the Law School in
Cambridge, 165; Case of Rhode
Island Boundary, 173 ; Defence
of Tirrell, 174; The Sraith Will
Case, 184 ; Speaks in favor of
General Taylor, 189 ; Offer of
a Professorship in the Cam
bridge Law School, 196 ; Offer
of a Seat upon the Bench, 203
Lecture on the Puritaiis, 203
The PhilUps' Will Case, 208
Fragmentary Journal, 210
Change of Partnership, 215
Voyage to Europe, 215 ; Let
ters to Mrs. Choate, 216, 217,
218, 223 ; Journal, 224 ; Union
Meetings, 250 ; Address on
Washington, 250 ; The Case of
Fairchild v. Adams, 258 ; Meth
odist Church Case, 260; Ad
dress before the Story Associa
tion, 263; Letters to his Son,
265, 266 ; Webster Meeting in
Faneuil Hall, 268 ; India Rub
ber Case Argued, 269 ; Balti
more Convention, 269 ; Address
to the Phi-Beta Kappa Society
in Burlington, Vt., 279; Jour
ney to Quebec, 282 ; Death of

Mr. Webster, 283 ; Letter to B.
Jackson, Esq., 283; Letter to
Harvey Jewell, Esq., 284; Let
ters to Mrs. Eames, 286, 290,
291, 297, 299; Offer of the
Attorney -Generalship, 286;
Convention to revise the Con-
tiCii itionof Massachusetts, 287;
Eulogy on Daniel Webster at
Dartmouth College, 288; Let
ter to Mr. Everett, 291 ;
Letters to his Son, 292, 294,
295 ; Letters to his Daughter,
289, 293, 295; Address at the
Dedication of the Peabody In
stitute at Danvers, 296 ; Letter
to Mr. Everett, 296 ; Accident
and Illness, 297 ; Letter to Mr.
Eames, 298 ; Letter to the Whig
Convention at Worcester, 303 ;
Speaks at Faneuil Hall, 306;
Letter to Rev. Chandler Rob
bins, 307 ; Lecture on the Early
British Poets of this Century,
309; Letters to Mr. Everett,
308, 343, 344 ; Sir Walter Scott,
311 ; Letter to Hon. William
M. Evarts, 321 ; Political Cam
paign of 1856, 320; Determines
to support Mr. Buchanan, 321 ;
Letter to the Whigs of Maine,
321 ; Address at Lowell, 328 ;
Letter to J. C. Walsh, 331 ; His
Library, 334 ; Lecture on the
Eloquence of Revolutionary
Periods, 335; Defence of Mrs.
Dalton, 335; Lecture on Jef
ferson, Burr, and Hamilton,
344 ; Oration before the Boston
Democratic Club, July, 1858,
362 ; Letter to Hon. George T.
Davis, 352; Failing Health,
358 ; Speech at the Webster
Festival, 1869, 359 ; Address at
the Essex Street Church, 369 ;
His last Law Case, 366 ; Goes
to Dorchester, 367 ; Decides to
go to Europe, 369 ; Letter to
Hon. Charles Eames, 370 ; Let
ter to Hon. A. A. Abbott, 370 ;
Embarks for Europe, 370 ; Ill
ness on Board, 371 ; Lands at
Halifax, 372 ; Letter from Hon.
George S. Hillard, 371; Sud
den Death, 376; Proceedings

IN]:)EX.

497

of Public Bodies at Halifax,
375 ; Meeting of the Essex and
Suffolk Bars, 370; Speeclies of
Hon. C. G. Loring, R. H. Dana,
Jr., Judge Cartis, and Judge
Sprague, 377 ; Meeting in Fan
euil Hall, 401 ; Address of Mr.
Everett, 401 ; Letter from Hon.
J. H. Clifford, 413; Habits in
his Office, 416; Method of
Preparation of Cases, 419;
Manner of Legal Study, 417 ;
Intercourse with the Younger
Members of the Bar, 428 ; Man
ner to the Jury, 427 ; Man
ner to the Court, 428 ; Charges
and Income, 430 ; Vocabulary,
434; Wit and Humor, 435;
Conversations and Anecdote.^,
441; Eloquence, 447; Power
over an Audience, 449 ; Exag
gerations, 450 ; Style, 454 ; Let
ter from Rev. Joseph Tracy,
466 ; Memory, 457 ; Quota
tions, 459 ; Fondness for Books,
460 ; Scholarship, 482 ; Favor
ite Pursuits, 463 ; Conversa
tion, 466 ; Home Life, 472 ;
Fondness for Music, 478 ; Gen
tleness, 480 ; Conversational
Power, 481 ; Handwriting,
483 ; Appearance, 484 ; Gene
ral Health, 486 ; Feelings upon
Religious Subjects, 486 ; Death,
488.
Choate, Rufus, Jr., Letters to,
88, 89, 265, 268, 292, 294, 295.
Choate, Sarah B., Letters to,
289, 293, 295.
Choate, Washington, Death
of, 31.
Clay, Henry, Mr. Choace's col-
hsion with, 76, 84.
Clifford, J. H., Letter from, 413.
Constitution of Massachusetts, Con
vention to revise the, 287.
Convention of Whigs at Baltimore,
269.
Convention to Revise the Constitution
of Massachusetts, 287.
Crowninshield, Benjamin W.,
.50.
Curtis, B. 1! , Address of, 392.
Dalton, Mrs., Defence of, 336.

Dana, R. H, Jr., Address of,
.385.
Davis, George T., Letter to, .352.
iMcl'tration qf Independence, The,
Glittering Generalities of, 3^(1.
Democratic Club, Oration before
the, 352.
Eames, Charles, 298, 370.
Eames, Mrs., Letters to, 288, 290,
291, 297, 299.
Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods,
335.
Essex Street Church, Address at,
359.
Evarts, William M., Letter to,
321.
Everett, Edward, Nomination
of, as Minister to England, 85;
Letters to, 291, 296, 308, 343,
344; Address of, at Faneuil
Hall, on the Death of Mr.
Choate, 401.
Fairciii ld v. Adam s, Case of , 258.
Faneuil Hall, Meeting in, 401.
Faneuil HaU, Speech at, 308.
Fiscal Bank BiU, Speech on the,
J7.
Florida, Admission ol, into the
Union, 152.
Hardin, Benjamin, 65.
Harrison, President, Inaugura
tion and Death of, 74 ; Eulogy
on, 74.
Hillard, George S., Letter
frora, 370; Letter to, 94.
Huntington, Asahel, Letter of

Independence. See Declaration.
India Rubber Case, 269.
Iowa, Admission of, into the
Union, 152.
Ipswich, Address at, 66.
Jackson, E., Letter to, 283.
Jewell, Harvey, Letter to, 284.
Knapp, J. F., Trial of, 45.
Kossuth, 279.
Law tScliiiol Camliridije, Address
delivered before, 166 ; Offer of
a Professorship in, 190.

498

INDEX.

Loring, C. G., Address of, 377.
Lowell, Speech at, 328.
Lunt, George, 381.
Marsters, Rev. J. M., 464.
Marsh, Rev. Dr. James, Letters
to, 34, 48, 53.
McDuffie, Mr., Answer to, 124.
McLeod, Alexander, Case of,
76.
New England Society of New Yorlc,
Address before, 106.
Nichols, Dr. Andrew, Letter to,
67.
North-Eastern Boundary Question,

Olcott Mills, 35.
Oliver, Stephen, Letter from,
49.
Oregon Question, The, Speeches
upon, 96, 114.
Peabody Institute, Address at the
Dedication of, 296.
Pensions, Revolutionary, Speech
on, 55.
Pekley, Chief Justice, Eulogy
by, 18.
Phi Beta Kappa Society qf the
University of Vermont, Address
before the, 279.
Phillips's Will Case, 208.
Poland, Lecture on, 86.
Puritans of New England, their
Character, 203.
Remedial Justice, Speech on the
providing further, in the Courts
of the United States, 90.
Rhode Island Boundary Case, 173.
Robbins, Rev. Chandler, Let
ter to, 307.
Scott, Walter, His Genius, 311.
Sea, Romance of the. Lecture on,
66.

Sewall, Dr., Death of, 163.
Shaw, Chief Justice, Letter of,
37.
Smith, Oliver, Will Case of,
184.
Smithsonian Institution, The, 153.
Sprague, Judge, Address of, 396.
Storrs, Richard S., Jr., Letters
to, 72, 73.
Story Association, Address before
the, 263.
Sumner, Charles, Letters to,
87, 93, 110, 111, 112.
Tariffs, Speeches upon the, 55,
120.
Taylor, General, Election of, as
President, 189, 196.
Texas, The Annexation of, 149.
Ticknor, George, 442.
Tirrell, Albert J., Defence of,
174
Tracy, E. C, Testimony of, 13.
Tracy, Rev. Joseph, Letter
from, 455.
Ty'ler, Vice-President, assumes
Duties of the Presidency, 74.
Upham, Charles W., Letters to,
160, 161.
Walsh, J. C, Letter to, 331.
Washington, Address on, 250.
Waveriey Novels, Lecture on, 36,
66,
Webster, Daniel, Appointed
Secretary of State, 74; Meet
ing in Faneuil Hall in Honor
of, 268 ; Death of, 283.
Whig Convention at Baltimore, 269.
Whigs of Maine, Letter to, 321.
Whigs, Convention of, at Worcester,
302.
Whipple, E. P., 444.
Winslow, Rev. Hubbard, 69 ;
Letter to, 69.
Wirt, Hon. William, Toetl
mony of, 32.

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