IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

lii |28

t us,

12.2

2.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

^ 6" -

►

^;.

o-^

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. I4S80

(7)6) 872-4503

t' c^,

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagee

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e

I I Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes g^ographiques en couleur

□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 film^es.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl6mentaires:

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu6s ci-dessous.

D
D
D

Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^es

Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaur6es et/ou pellicul(§es

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d^color^es, tachetdes ou piqu^es

□Pages detached/
Pages detachees

Showthrough/
Transparence

I I Quality of print varies/

Quality in^gale de I'impression

includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6td film^es d nouveau de fa^on d
obtenir la meilleure image possible

T
t(

P
o

G
b
tl

81
O

si
o

si
T

M
IV

ei
b
ri
r(
n

Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction
10X 14X 18X

indiqu^ ci-dessous
22X

26X

SOX

12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X

The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thenke
to the generosity of:

Douglas Library
Queen's University

L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grAce A la
g6n4rosit4 de:

Douglas Library
Queen's University

The Images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

Les images suivantes ont AtA reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la netteti de l'exemplaire film*, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exempleires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est ImprimAe sont filmAs en commen^ant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
derniire page qui comporte une empreinta
d'impression ou d'illustretion, soit par le second
plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exempleires
originaux sont filmis en commen^ant par la
premiere pege qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustretion et en terminant par
la dernlAre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol — »- (meaning "CON-
TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparaltra sur la
dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols -^ signifie "A SUIVRE ", le
symbols V signifie "FIN".

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too lerge to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames es
required. The following diegrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent utre
filmAs d des taux de reduction diff^rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clichA, il est 1\\m6 d partir
de I'engle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droits,
et de heut en bes, en prenant le nombre
d'imeges n<icessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la m^thode.

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

■4I

wri

V_^ ( lA^-) (^ i^h <-. " -> .) (y^ "^^

^ ^

hni

i^J

I fu

'S {/iiC^

\ '*'

.4 1 :

t r>.

*X i^Hl'-t

(

M>e^^^^t

MEMOIMES

EUFUS CIIOATE

WITH SOJIK CONhlUEHATIt.N OF

HIS STUDIES, MKTIIODS, AND OPINIONS. AND OF
HIS STYLE AS A SPEAKER AND WlilTEU

JOSEPH NEILSON

BOSTON
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

New York: II East Seventeenth Street

CtlK RiberfliUe Prrorf, CambnUoe

1884

lit

V\\<^ .Cs4%

CopyrlRhf, 1884,
Br JOtiEl'H NillLSOX.

^11 rights reserved

The Riverside Press, Cambridge t
Elcctrotyped ana Printed b, U. 0. UouThton & Co.

1290

TriE MEMORY OF 'HIE l.ATE

ISAAC GKANT TJIOAIPSON,

AT WHOS£ SUaUESTfON IT WAS C.VDEBTABM,

IS rJEUICATiJD.

COjS^TRIBUTORS.

JOSHUA M. VAN COTT.

ALFRED P. PUTNAM, I). D.

WILLIAM STIiONG.

KICIIARD S. STOIIPS, D. D.
MATT. IL CARPENTER.
JAME.S T. FIELDS.
HENRY K. OLIVER.
W. C. BOVDEN.
PROFESSOR WASHBURN.
ENOCH L. FANCHER.

GEORGE H. NESMITH.

PROFESSOR SANBORN.

EDWARD B. GILLETT.
NATHAN CROSBY.
ROSWELL D. HITCHCOCK, D.D.
EDWARD E. PRATT.
OTIS P. LORD.
WILLIAM W. STORY.
GEORGE P. MARSH.
JOHN WINSLOW.

AND OTHERS.

i Uiil

PREFACE.

»'■'

In this series of articles, I have sought to re-
vive somewhat the love and reverence due to
the memory of Rufus Choate. There was, in-
deed, little hope of doing justice to his learning
and genius. That had been attempted by abler
hands. But I was led to believe that, with the
aid of others, his gifts and services, the devotion,
dignity, simplicity, and usefulness of his life might
be so recalled and illustrated as to be useful to my
professional brethren, and interesting to the gen-
eral reader. It was also believed that facts and
incidents, resting in the silent memories of his
friends, might be called out and preserved ; and
herein lay the motive for taking up the subject.

With these views, I sought the cooperation of
gentlemen known to have been intimate with
him. The kindness with which my applications
were treated left me no reason to regret the
office which I had assumed. I received many
letters approving of my purpose. But some of
my correspondents, advanced in years and feeble

PREFACE.

in health, were not equal to the labor proposed.
Their letters, written with tremulous hands, can-
not be read without emotion. They refer to Mr.
Choate in affectionate terms, and some of them
express the hope — now known to be delusive —
that returning strength might enable them to
comply with my request.

The writers whose contributions are now pub-
lished held various relations to Mr. Choate, —
his associates in the college, his students in the
law office, his professional brethren, his friends, —
those friends who were with him in hours of joy
and of sorrow, and those who saw and heard him
occasionally, and knew him in the supreme felicity
and attraction of his genius and character.

In respect to almost any other memory, those
writers might not have been inclined to turn aside
from their favorite studies or official labors to take
part in a commemoration. But, in this instance, a
loving spirit moved them, and presided over their
work. With the loyalty of disciples, and the faith-
fulness due to a trust, they give delineations of
Mr. Choate. The poetical, the practical, the ear-
nest, the loyal, the serious, the reverential traits
of his character, as revealed at home and abroad,
are set forth with freedom and fidelity.

Mr. Edwin P. Whipple, who had written of Mr.
Choate as early as 1847, was requested to take up

•^1

PREFACE.

hose
side
ake
e, a
leir
ith.
of

ar-
aits

ad,

VIr.
up

the subject again. After some time and prepara-
tion, he wrote nie that — the materials having ac-
cumulated on his hands to an extent not adapted
to my use — he had concluded to send his paper
to the Harpers, and was pleased to say, " I have
taken great delight in your series of articles and
communications." His recollections were published
in the " Half -Hour Series,"

Mr. Augustus Russ, of the Boston bar, had the
kindness to send me a list of all the cases — the
titles, books, and pages — given in the law re-
ports, in which Mr. Choate had appeared as
counsel. I was much impressed by his courtesy,
as the clerical force in his office must have been
severely taxed in making that collection.

I take special pleasure in expressing my grate-
ful sense of the kindness of Mr. Brown, President
of Hamilton College. In the Preface to the last
edition of his '' Life of Rufus Choate," he makes
favorable mention of the papers which I furnished
to the "Law Journal" in 1877 and 1878, and ex-
presses the hope that they " will be published in
a form easily accessible to the many who would
delight to read them."

I am indebted to Mr. Edward Ellerton Pratt,
Mr. Choate's son-in-law, for special and valuable
information.

My thanks are due to Messrs. Little, Brown and

Xll

PREFA CE.

I ' !

Company for allowing me to use, in my Appen-
dix, Mr. Choate's Remarks at the meeting of the
bar on the occasion of Mr. Webster's death.

Some of my articles were submitted to the late
Emory Washburn. In a letter received from him,
written a few days before his death, he said, " I
am glad that Mr. Choate is taking his true position
as the scholar, the orator, and the jurist, among
the men of genius and learning of our country.
I am glad that you have told the public, in cool-
ness, candor, and discrimination, just what sort of
a man he was, and his true claims up in their ad-
miration and respect."

It was gratifying to receive like suggestions
from gentlemen of distinction, residing in differ-
ent States, to whom I had not applied for help.
I am induced to make an extract from one of
these letters, as readers will be desirous of know-
ing the opinion which the late William Cullen
Bryant entertained of Mr. Choate. He says,
" The lives of distinguished lawyers and great
orators are peculiarly interesting ; and in the
subject of your memoir you have a most remark-
able man of that class, endowed with the gift of
persuasion to a degree of which there are very
few instances on record."

An application to the late William Adams,
D. D., LL. D., President of the Union Theological

I -I

PREFACE.

Xlll

at
Ihe
k-
of

Seminary, for his recollections of Mr. Choate, was
made at a time when the burden of work and duty
on his hands was too ^reat for his strenii-th. His

lett

eply contained the first information I

To the sorrow which

une
had of his declining health,
the fact of his illness gave me was added the
regret that I had troubled him with such an ap-
plication. But his letter was so genial and kind,
the tone and spirit of it so cheerful — as if pres-
ent troubles were chastened by hope and trust —
that I almost ceased to regret my untimely inter-
ference. As I valued highly the few words he
was able to write about Mr. Choate, I was grateful
for permission to use them as I might see fit. In
the last clause of his letter, he says : —

" I feel a profound interest in everything per-
taining to Mr. Choate, and sincerely regret my
inability to add anything to your own valuable
recollections. It was not my good fortune to hear
Mr. Choate in public assemblies, or at the bar,
very often. My acquaintance with him was per-
sonal and domestic, and my admiration for him
unbounded. I heard his New England Society
oration in New York (December, 1843), bein^ the
chaplain on that occasion, and remember v ell his
turning to me for an explanation of the extraor-
dinary bursts of applause which prevented his ad-
vance three several times, after he had uttered

iill

XIV

PREFACE.

what may have seemed to him very simple sen-
tences. You will readily admit, my dear sir, the
reasonableness of what I have stated as excusing
me from a service which otherwise would have
been a pleasure and an honor. Thanking you
again for the enjoyment I have had, in hours of
illness, in reperusing the brilliant oratory of Mr.
Choate in the books you have so kindly sent me,
and in reading your contributions to his fame in
the ' Journal,' I remain," etc.

When some of my articles, and of the letters
received, were sent to the "Law Journal," this
form of publication had not been contemplated.
I have since rewritten parts of those articles,
omitted parts, and have taken up some addit'onal
topics. As it was not my purpose to dwell upon
subjects which my correspondents had considered,
I have had no occasion to speak of Mr. Choate's
studies at Dartmouth College or at the Law School
in Cambridge, little occasion to speak of his genius
as an orator and advocate, of his learning as a
jurist, of the wit and wisdom which characterized
his conversation, or of the qualities which drew
others to him in love and sympathy. Even his
birthplace has been so described by one who made
a loving pilgrimage to it that the " Hill by the
Sea " seems as if visibly present.

The reader will also find — it may be contrary

PREFACE.

X'V

'tt

to expectation — that, owing to the nature and
variety of Mr. Choate's gifts and pecuHarities,
more than twenty correspondents have found
material for their narrations without repeating
each other.

Mr. Choate's use of language has excited so
much remark that I have deemed it proper to
give that subject special consideration. I have
caused his entire vocabulary, as found in print,
to be collected, and so classified as to show its
constituents. With a view especially to the rela-
tive proportions of Anglo-Saxon and of classical
terms used, I have also taken twenty notable
papers, — arguments, orations, essays, — by minds
of the first order within the last hundred years, in
England and America, and have had them sub-
jected to the same analysis.

The illustrations — a likeness of Mr. Choate,
and views of his birthplace and of his grave —
have been approved by friends of the family.

J. N.

Brooklyn, N. Y.

■':n

CONTENTS.

ciiapti:r I.

Ancestry ANr> Birth. — IIomk Influence. — Early I'uom-
ISE. — Ad.mlssion to the Bar, — Practice at Danvkrs
AND at Salem. — Choate and Weuster. — Criminal
Cases. — Popular Fallacy. — Krskine. — Counsel in
Criminal Casks necessary ; Familiar Instances. —
Opinions ok Professors Washrurn and Parsons. — The
Case of J'rofkssor Werster. — Statements of Mr.
Pratt and Judue Lord. — Duty and Privilege of an
Advocate

PAGE

CHAPTER II.

The Study of Law. — Powers of Memory. — Inference
OF Unknown P'acts, and as to the Characters of
Jurors and Witnesses. — Silent Conference with a
Juryman. — Opinions of Professor Parsons, Mr. Lor-
ING, Mr. D.\na, and Judge Sprague. — The Number of
Mr. Choate's Cases. — IIis Treatment of Witnesses .

CHAPTER III.

Eminent Men misunderstood. — The Advocate and Mis-
taken Critics. — As to creating a Taste for a Pecul-
iar Style. — How readily Choate was understood. —
Alexander H. Stephens and Professor Sanborn as
to Choate. — The Born or Natural Orator. — The
Office of the Orator 44

xvm

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IV.

PAOK

Vacations for IIkahinc. — Stuuiks with Rooks and with-
out TIIK.M. — CoNVKUSATIONS WITH Mil. I'UATT AM> Mlt.

Caki-kntku. — Soi.icnx'DK as to Imi'Kovkmkxt. — Tasti;,

IlI.USTKATIONS ok. — FuU.MATlON OF CUAUACTKU. — COLO-
NIAL Exi'eiuf:nck 03

CIIAPTEll V.

Classical Studies. — Anciknt Gueeck. — The Saxons.-
The Latin. — Knolish in India. — Macaulay's Seuvke.

— As TO Et^UIVALENTS IN SAXON FOU SoME OK OUK

WoitDS 79

CHAPTER VI.

The Study of Wokds. — The Pekcentage of Anglo-
Saxon, Latin, and Greek used iiy Mk. Ciioate and
OTHER Eminent Scholars. — The Methods ok Sharon
Turner and George P. Marsh. — Tables as to Deriv-
atives 90

CHAPTER VIL

Style, Variations of. — Long Sentences. — The Metho-
dist Church Case. — Hahits of Revising Speeches. —
A Contrast. — The Importance of Rhetorical Dec-
orations. — The Freedom of Discourse necessary to
AN Advocate. — Long Arguments 112

CHAPTER VIII.

Rev. Dr. Hitchcock's View of Mr. Ciioate. — Extracts
from Journal. — The Comparative Advantages of Liv-
ing IN the Old World. — Music — Vindication of Sir
Walter Scott. — Intervention ; Kossuth's Visit. —
Eulogy of Webster 128

CONTENTS.

XIX

CIIAPTKR TX.

PAQC

Prf.pauation for Servick in CoNURKSfl. — Rank A\rt Ac-
CKi'TANci:. — Lost SrKK.Liii-.s. — Annkxation ok Tixas, —
TiiK TAitii 1 . — IIoMi; Industry and tiik MKciiAMtAL
Arts; rRouRiss. — Conclrrknt Vilws ok otiikr Statks-
mkn l'>l

CIIAPTKR X.

T. ■: Indictmknt or McLkod. — Tiik Ilii.r, ok Imminitv
■jggkstkd hy Mr. Fox. — Tiik Coursk itrsi'kd iiy tiik

yKCRK.TARY OF StATK. — DkHATKS IN CoNGRKSS. — Dk-

kknsk, of Mr. Wkiistkr. — Tiiivi. of McLk.od. — Act as

TO IvKMKDIAL Jl'STUK. — OtIIKR (QUESTIONS RKKORK TIIK

5SKNATK. — Thk Bank. — Mr. Clay's Intkrfkrknck in
Deuate 173

. 112

CHAPTER XI.

A Shout Term in Congress, a Sacrifice. — Resigns to
return TO the Profession. — Modest Estimate ok his
OWN Powers. — The Rewards of Puokessioxai. Work.
— Continued until his Health failed. — His Last

Case. — Cheerful to the Last A Sea Voyacje for

Health too late. — His Death. — His Love of the
Union. — Conversations with Mr. Pratt. — ArrRE-
iiENDS Civil AVar. — In that War, after his Death,

HE 13 WELL KEI'RESENTED 194

CHAPTER XII.

RUFUS ClIOATE AND LORD MaCAULAY : A CONTRAST

ii:

204

128

CONTENTS.

LETTERS.

i'l

JosnuA Van Cott .

A. P. PUTXAM, D. D. .

Enoch L. Faxciier .
Gkokge W. Xksmitii .
William Stuoxg
K. S. Stohrs, U. D.
Matthkw II. Carpenter
James T. Fields .

Dr. lioVDEN

Emory Washburn
E. D. Saniu)r.v .
Edward B. (;illett
Nathan Crosry
Henry K. Oliver
William W. 8toi£y ,
George P. Marsh
John Winslow .

From Choate to Sumner

. 229
2.32

. 255
2G1

. 270
275

. 29.'3
299

, 307
312
327
331
340
352
3G2
375
383

414

APPENDIX.
Remarks before the Circuit Court on the Death of Mr

\\ EBSTER

INDEX

. 433

453

. 229
2.32

. 255
2G1

. 270
275

. 293
299

, 307
312
327
334
340
352
3G2
375
383

. 433
453

■HHMI

ill'

It-

.u ■

"■%

%' '

;

li i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

CHAPTER I.

Ancestry and Birth. — Home Influence. — Early Promise. —
Admission to the Bar. — Practice atDanvers and at Salem. —
Clioate and Webster. — Criminal Cases. — Popular Fallacy.

— Erskine. — Counsel in Criminal Cases necessary ; Familiar
Instances. — Opinions of Professors Washburn and Parsons.

— The Case of Professor Webster. — Statements of Mr.
Pratt and Judge Lord. — Duty and Privilege of an Advo-
cate.

-.^^ ':■

■>,^.-

RuFus CriOATE came of Puritan ancestry.
John Clioate, the first of the lineage who came
over from England, settled at Ipswich, now Essex,
in Massachusetts. Of some of his descendants in
the next four generations we have interesting
particulars. His son was for several years a mem-
ber of the Colonial Legislature, juid died in 1G95.
Thomas Clioate, born in 1G71, upheld his pastor,
the Rev. John Wise, in opposing the tyranny of
Governor Andros, and was so devoted to pidjlic
affairs that he was commonly called " Governor
Choate." Francis Choate, born in 1701, was a jus-
tice of the peace for about thirty years, and was a

:|it'

? a

»i

2 MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

writer antl <i s^oeaker of some repute. William
Clioate, born in 1730, followed the sea for several
years, and later in life was a teacher in the public
schools. One of his sons, David, was born on the
20tli day of November, 1757. At the age of nine-
teen, he went into the army under General Gates,
and afterward served in a Continental regiment
under Lafayette. After peace had been declared,
he made voyages to Southern ports and to Spain.
On the 15tli of October, 1791, he married Mir-
iam, a daughter of Aaron Foster ; and from that
time until his death, in 1808, he resided at Ips-
wich, his native jilace. To them were born six
children, — Mary, Hannah, David, Rufus, Wash-
ington, and Job.

Rufus Choate was born at Ipswich, on the first
day of October, 1799.^ Until fifteen years of age,
when he went for some months to the Acadeni}' in
Hampton, N. H., he remained at home. In this
he was fortunate. His father and mother were
persons of rare endowments. Intelligence, prin-
ciple, cheerfulness, sound common sense, in each
of them, were wrought together in the integrity
of a complete character. The family training
gave the proper bias to his sentiments. In his
youth he was full of promise ; in a marked degree,
aspiring and intellectual. At an age when boys

1 See Dr. Putnam's description of bis birthplace.

i . ■

HOME INFLUKXCE. 3

are expected to care for none of these things, he
had a thirst for knowledge, a fondness for reading,
and a fine sense of the use of words. It appears
that wlien he was six years old he had " devoured
the Pilgrim's Progress," and used to surprise his
playmates by recitations from it ; and that, before
his tenth year, he had read most of the books in
the village liljrary. Beneficent iniluences, acting
on a delicate, docile, suscepti))le, emotional nature,
— a nature easily chilled, if not perverted, by
contact with the world, — had been at work in
advance of the schools. Thus it was that, in due
time, the boy went out to those schools mature in
moral and intellectual strength, prepared to exer-
cise the manly patience given to his riper studies.
He carried with him the devotion, the genial
spirit of his home life ; and the early love never
faded from his heart.

In his sixteenth year he entered Dartmouth
College, and, after his graduation there, remained
a year as tutor. He then went to the Law School
at Cambridge, and, after the usual course of study,
became a student in the office of Mr. Wirt, Attor-
ney-General of the United States. Still later he
was a student in the law offices of Mr. Andrews
at Ipswich, and of Judge Cummins at Salem. He
was admitted to practice by the Court of Common
Pleas in 1823, and by the Supreme Court in 1825.

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

|i|

1 1

He began practice at Danvers. The biiikling
in which he had his office has been taken down.
While living there, he married Helen Olcott, an
alliance which gave grace and dignity to his social
life. He was chosen a member of the Legislature
and of the State Senate, and was thus brought
into near relations with the leading; men of the
Commonwealth, some of whom became his life-
long^ friends. In 1828 he moved to Salem. There
further political honors came to him. He was
elected to Congress, and, having served one term,
was reelected ; but, at the close of the first session,
he resigned, and soon after settled in Boston.
He had then acquired great repute as an advo-
cate. But, although his knowledge of the law
and his command of all that gave power and
beauty to illustrations of it had been severely
tested at Salem, where there was a strong bar, he
may have had some misgivings as to the competi-
tion that awaited him in his future labors. The
field chosen was occupied by lawyers who, in learn-
ing, eloquence, experience, judgment, and dignity
of character, compared favorably with the mem-
bers of the profession in any city of the world.
Among such men, by the studies and contentions
of a few years, he won his way to the highest
and best assured professional renown. The gifts
and acquisitions, the zeal, energy, and persever-

WEBSTER AND C HO ATE.

■I

ance necessary to secure that distinction must
have been very great. The highest proofs of
merit are found hi that achievement, and in the
fact that the members of the bar loved him ; as is
shown by brotherly attentions while he lived, and
by the eloquence of sorrow ^vhen he died.

From their first appearance at the bar, as op-
posing counsel, comparisons were made between
Daniel Webster and Rufus Choate, as if their rela-
tive merits as lawyers and advocates could be thus
determined. But these men were so unlike in
genius and in style that the comparison was futile ;
it was unjust. When Mr. Choate came to Boston,
Mr. Webster stood on vantage ground. It was
not merely that he had had great experience, and
was enjoying the finne of his triumph in the Dart-
mouth College case before Mr. Ciioate took up the
study of law, but that, by a series of signal and
impressive services, ministering to the interests,
the pride, and the honor of the people, he had
won their love and confidence, and had become
invested with a degree of weight and authority
which no member of the bar, as such, could have
secured. The glamour of his greatness would im-
press, if not mislead, the average juryman. In the
forensic tournament he was thus doubly armed,
whether his quarrel were just or not. Mr. Choate
had no such special claim to attention, had no ar-

■psBr

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

mor but such as industry, learning, and eloquence
could supply. He led no one to regard him as the
rival of Mr. Webster; his taste would have been
olt'ended at the suggestion of such rivalry. His
estimate of Mr. Webster's powers was too generous
to admit of such qualification. In the like spirit,
Mr. Webster often expressed his admiration of
Mr. Clioate's learning and eloquence. Indeed, it
may be doubted whether he ever went into a trial
or an argument in opposition to Mr. Choate with-
out being conscious that he was meeting an ath-
lete whose dexterity and strength were equal to
his own. Enough is known of their causes to jus-
tify the belief that none of them was lost or won
because either counsel had failed to make a proper
presentation of the facts to the jury, or of the
law to the Court, in whatever form or domain of
jurisprudence that law might have been discover-
able.

Most young lawyers of shining parts have had
occasion to undertake the defense of criminal cases
as a source of income, or as the most direct ap-
proach to popular notice and favor. As Mr.
Choate's relation to such cases has been freely
and, at times, unfavorably mentioned, some obser-
vations on that subject may be proper.

While in practice at Danvers and at Salem, he
had often acted as counsel for persons accused of

niACTICE IN CRIMINAL CASES.

! ;

ced, it

crime. It has been said that no one defended by
him was convicted. The like fortune, to a great
extent, attended his subsequent efforts. In im-
portant cases, where the indications of guilt were
thought to be strong, his clients were acquitted.
Such instances gave rise to the popular notion
that his powers of persuasion could lead jurymen
to sympathize with and shield the guilty. Some
laymen were shocked on learning that shades of
mental disorder, with new names, had been dis-
covered. Others — as if one who, while walking
in his sleep, kills another, should be punished —
objected to the defense of sonniambulism inter-
posed for the benefit of Tirrell. There were, I
may say in passing, two indictments against Tir-
rell ; one for murder, the other for arson ; both
depending on circumstantial evidence. The ver-
dicts were not obtained against the rulings or the
instructions of the Court. Indeed, in one of the
cases, Chief Justice Shaw, in his charge to the
jury, strongly discredited some of the witnesses
for the prosecution. These cases excited as much
effeminate criticism as anv in which Mr. Choate
was supposed to have had undue influence with
the jury, but the general sense of the profession
was satisfied with the acquittal of Tirrell.

Mr. Choate was not less sought for, nor less
successful, in civil cases. But his brilliant de-

li.

MEMOniES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

"I I

fcn.scs In tlio other department of the law had
excited more attention, and led to the imposition
of a title which represented the least imi)ortant
part of his labors: tliat of "The Great Crim-
inal Lawyer." To those familiar with legal and
forensic history this title implied no disparage-
ment ; none, certainly, not equally deserved by
advocates of historic renown, ever to be held in
reverence, who, after counsel could be heard for
the accused in State Trials in England, devoted
their skill and inlluence to the protection of life
and liberty.

There came a time, perhaps about midway in
his professional career, when the pressure of crim-
inal cases was especially distasteful to Mr. Choate.
He may have been conscious that his sympathies
were not always under his control, and that in the
fervor of discussion he was lial)le to be carried be-
yond the line of logical argument which his de-
liberate judgment would have approved. It may
be believed, however, that he had no other or fur-
ther cause for regret. No one has suggested that
he ever practiced any artifice or evasion to enable
the guilty to escape. It would seem, therefore,
that the eulogist of that other great criminal law-
yer, Daniel O'Connell, could have had the assent
of few sensible persons when he referred to Rufus
Choate as the man " who made it safe to murder ;

ore,

,,;-

aw-

ifus

EARyESTXESS IN HIS PROFESSroX.

and of whose health thieves asked before they be-
gun to steal."

Mr. Wendell i'hillips niiiy have known little of
the matter implied in that aspersion, of the merits
of the eases in which Mr. Choate had Ijeen en-
gaged, or of tiic spirit which led liiiu to defend
the rights of persons charged with crimes of which

mt.

ler ;

3 Dcen nuiocei
the pure, intlexible, benign administration of the
law more dear than to Mr. Clioate. His letters
and speeches prove that devotion. But to no one
could the feeble presentation of a case, half giving
it away, have been more offensive. This is shown
by his example. From first to last, he did his
work with all his might. It is further proved by
an entry in his Journal as to a trial which he had
witnessed at the Old Bailey : that of Pate, charged
with striking the Queen. Mr. Clioate says, " The
prisoner'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."
It is apparent that he should have saved him, as
" All seemed to admit that the prisoner was so far
insane as to make wdiipping improper, yet that he
was not so insane as not to be guilty." No coun-
sel could thus neglect the rights of the accused
without being guilty of a moral offense deserving
the severest reprobation. In such a case, it would

'P^

f .

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CUD ATE.

i ■ I

be more jii.st and humane to err, if at all, by excess
of zeal than by want of it.

The fact that, as occasion required, Mr. Choate
did defend criminal cases, is to be regarded with
graicfid pride. It illustrates not merely a spirit
of self-sacrifice, the sympathy which led him to
consider those who were in sore, perhaps unde-
served, distress, but also the sense he had of his
duty as an advocate. Still he does not seem to
have adopted the opinion of Cicero : that, where
life was at stake, it was more honorable to defend
than to prosecute. lie had respect for the wants
of the State as well as for those of the citizen. In
one of the few cases in which Mr. Webster acted
for the people, that of Knnpp, charged with aid-
ing and aljctting in the murder of White, Mr.
Choate, then too young at the bar to take a prom-
inent part, was with him as associate counsel ; and,
twenty-three years later, when he could select
the work best suited to his taste, he accepted
office as Attorney-General of Massachusetts.

The popular fallacy which imputes want of
moral tone to lawyers who are willing to defend
those apparently guilty of crime has been exposed
by Dr. Johnson and other moralists.^ Sydney
Smith's article on " Counsel for Prisoners"- bris-

1 Boswoll's Lifi of Johnson, vol. iii., ch. ii. ; ib., ch. be. ; vul. iv., ch. i.

2 Edinburgh Review, 1826.

ERSKINE\S CLAIMS UPON US.

ties with facts and arguments in favor of the
rights of the accused. Erskine, in terms and by
example, denies the right of counsel to withhold
their services. In his defense of Thomas Paine,
the author of the " Rights of Man," in which he
utterly failed, Erskine went further in assorting
the duty of the advocate than, under like cir-
cumstances, Choate might have done. But, in
resisting the importunity of his friends who
sought to prevent his undertaking that defense,
the question with Erskine became one of right or
privilege, rather than of duty. He was asserting
his independence as a member of the bar. Yet, in
a later case, one in every sense more inviting and
respectable, he speaks as though he had the right
• to withdraw. Except in the case of Paine, he was
fortunate in Uie character of his professional work.
His name is dear to us, and will be to future gen-
erations, because, in defending those who were
charu!:ed with offenses against the State, he had
occasion to expose the fallacy of constructive trea-
son, and to assert the independence of the jury
and the liberty of the press. Therein lies his
claim to remembrance.

That the services of counsel are necessary in
criminal cases has been proved by bitter experi-
ence. In England, able lawyers were called in to
represent the Crown, even when the accused was

I ;r'

.!iiJ

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

denied such aid. Thus Coke and Bacon served,
and in some cases to their Listing discredit. This
course largely contributed to the "judicial mur-
ders " which darken the pages of history prior to
the reign of William and Mary, and which emi-
nent English authors — Hume, Mackintosh, Camp-
bell, Macaulay — have deplored.

Mr. Scarlett, afterwards Lord Abinger, whose
experience at the bar had been great, w\as of opin-
ion that, unless the prisoner had the benefit of
counsel, justice could not be safely administered.
He declared that he had often seen persons, whom
he thought innocent, convicted for want of acute
and intelligent counsel. Expressions of like im-
port abound in debates in Parliament and in legal
biography.

In illustration of this view it may be well to re-
fer to a few familiar cases at home.

In 1770 some British soldiers were to be tried
in Boston for murder. The circumstances were
such as to excite popular indignation and horror.
Josiali Quincy, Jr., then a young lawyer, came
forward to defend them. For a time he suffered
great reproach. But a letter of remonstrance
from his venerable father, evidently written in
great distress, must have given him deeper con-
cern. He answered the letter in becoming terms,
stating the principle by which he was governed ;

L'ied
rove
ror.
ime
[red
aice
in
|on-

OPINIONS OF WASHBURN AND PARSONS. 13

and acting with John Adams and Sampson S.
Blowers, he went on in the discharge of his duty.
Some of the accused were acquitted ; others were
found guilty of manslaughter ; not one of them
was convicted of murder.

In a lecture on the " Study and Practice of the
Law," delivered in the Law School of Harvard
University, the late Professor Washburn refers,
with exultation, to the fact that the case was thus
defended, and says that it secured to the State
one of its " noblest moral triumphs." That distin-
guished jurist, Theophilus Parsons, in an address
to the students of that Law School, in 1859, upon
the " Character and Services of Rufus Choate,"
said, '^ There never was a case nor a criminal that
a lawyer should not defend, with the profound
conviction that, while he keeps the law with him,
he is safe in his reputation, safe in his standing in
the community and among his fellows." He re-
fers with pride and satisfaction to the defense of
the British soldiers by Adams and Quincy. He
also refers with shame and sorrow to " the dark
and bloody page upon which arc recorded the
trials of the witches in 1G92," and says, "that
none of the protective forms or rules of justice
shielded those unfortunates, and that no lawyer
was permitted to act as their counsel." He adds,
" If a lawyer had defended them, and had applied

ill

t , ■

i' . ;
\ i

.■Mpillf.^PWpWIfWWWPW^WP^

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

■I

I: ^l

the test of cross-examination to the wild and fran-
tic stories of the witnesses, and a judge had been
there who could tell the jury what the law was,
and a jury had been there willing to learn the law
and to obey it, this black and ineffaceable spot had
not fallen ujoon the childhood of Massachusetts."

In 1741, what has been known as the "Negro
Plot," a supposed conspiracy to burn the city of
New York and to massacre its inhabitants, threw
the people into great excitement and alarm. The
accused, put on trial, had no counsel. The At-
torney-General, assisted by several counsel, con-
ducted the prosecution. Of the persons arrested
and tried, some were hanged, some burned, and
others transported. In his " Criminal Trials,"
Chandler refers to the testimony as contradic-
tory, and insufficient to prove the crime charged ;
and agrees with Bancroft that the pretended plot
" grew out of a mere delusion." That view has
been generally accepted.

In 1735, John Peter Zenger, against whom the
Attorney-General had filed an information charg-
ing him with having published a malicious and se-
ditious libel, was tried before the Supreme Court
in the city of New York. The counsel, who first
appeared for him, raised a question of jurisdic-
tion, and were excluded from the bar. Zenger's
friends brought Andrew Hamilton, then about

PROFESSOR WEBSTER'S CASE.

eighty years of age, from Philadelphia, and he
conducted the defense. He admitted the publica-
tion, but sought to show the truth of the paper,
and claimed that the jury were to pass on the mo-
tive and intent of the defendant, and so determine
the question of guilt or innocence. The jury
found the defendant not guilty, " in the teeth," it
is said, " of the instructions of the Court."

These instances may suffice. Is it not reason-
able to infer that some of the British soldiers
might have been found guilty of murder, and that
Zeno-er would have been condenmed, if the aid of
counsel had been denied them, and that, with
such aid, the victims of the supposed " Negro
Plot " could have been saved }

When Professor Webster was charged with the
murder of Dr. Parkman, it came to be generally
understood in Boston that Mr. Choate was unwill-
ing to act as his counsel. That he refused to un-
dertake the defense was known only to his family
and to those who had a special interest in the fate
of the prisoner. Indeed, so reticent was Mr.
Choate that all his friend, Professor Brown, could
say, long afterwards, was that, for reasons which
he judged satisfactory, he had declined. This
statement excited, rather than satisfied, curiosity.

But, now that the occasion for such silence has
passed away, it seems proper, as due to Mr.

1 !

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C 110 ATE.

Choate's memory, that all doubt should be re-
moved. Entertaining this view, Mr. Edward El-
lerton Pratt and the lion. Otis P. Lord, Judge of
the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, an intimate
personal and professional friend of Mr. Choate,
have kindly made to me the following state-
ments.

Mr. Pratt says, " Mr. Franklin Dexter, one
of the leaders of the bar in New England, was
gr.nitl^ jiterested in Professor Webster's case,
believed that he was innocent, and was persist-
ently ci> merit tjiat Mr. Choate should defend him
on that ground. The Hon. Charles Sumner, also
holding that view, urged Mr. Choate to undertake
the defense, as he expressed it, in the interest of
humanity, and was quite angry with him for
refusing. At that time the testimony taken be-
fore the coroner was known ; that taken by the
grand jury, by whom the indictment had been
found, was not publicly known. The question of
the Professor's guilt or innocence was the absorb-
ing topic, and the excitement 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, 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

MR. DEXTER AXD MR. CIIOATE.

;r *l

Mr.

the
lo lay
lioate

for

nearly three hours ; and, as he afterwards told
me, it was one of the most vigorous and per-
suasive arsfuments he ever heard. That estimate
may well be accepted, when we remember Mr.
Dexter's ability, his friendship for Professor Web-
ster, and his belief that, if Mr. Choate could be
secured as counsel, the accused might be saved.

" The argument 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 can-
not now state the points thus presented, but my
general recollection of the account given me by
Mrs. Choate and Mr. Dexter is, that those ques-
tions presented insuperable difficulties underly-
ing the defense. Mr. Dexter, as if transfixed, sat
musing deeply, his head l^ent upon his hand, for
several minutes, and, finally, as if hopeless of find-
ing an answer, and seeking relief, he arose sud-
denly, and said, ' Brother Choate, have you read

's book ? If not, do so, and you will find it

charming.' Mr. Choate accepted this changed
mood, parted from him soon after with kindly
expressions of interest, and the subject was never
again alluded to between them."

Judge Lord says, " I had a conversation with
Mr. Choate on this subject. It was more than

.1(1

::ii

a lu

■ I

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

!■

'i!

twenty years ago, and, of course, it is impossible
to reproduce precisely his language, but the inter-
view w^as substantially this. I said to Mr. Choate,
* Is it true that you refused to defend Professor
Webster ? ' to which he rejilied, — not in direct
terms, but by implication, — that he did not ab-
solutely refuse, but that they did not want him.
Pausing for a while, he added, * There w as 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 risen
and said, substantially, that, in a case of this im-
portance, of course counsel had no right to con-
cede 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 not he there. But, assuming that Dr. Park-
man 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-defense, or
whether it was the result of a violent alterca-
tion. Possibly the idea of murder may be sug-
gested, but not with more reason than apoplexy,

MR. Clio ATE' S MODE OF DEFENSE.

or other form of sudden death. As the prisoner
himself cannot speak, the real controversy will
probably be narrowed to the alternative of justi-
fiable homicide in self-defense, or of manslaughter
by reason of sudden altercation." '

" Having said this, he added, ' But Professor
Webster would not listen to any such defense as
that,' accompanying that statement with language
tending to show that the proposed defense was re-
jected, not only by the accused but by his friends
and advisers.

" He then said, ' The difficulty in that defense
was to explain the subsequent conduct of Professor
Webster,' and he proceeded with a remarkable
and subtle analysis of the motives of men, and the
influences that govern their conduct, to show that
the whole course of the accused, after the death,
could be explained by a single mistake as to the
expediency of instantly disclosing what had hap-
pened ; that hesitation or irresolution or the de-
cision, ' I will not disclose this,' adhered to for a
brief half-hour, might, by the closing in of cir-
cumstances around him, have led to all that fol-
lowed. Having concealed 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 con-
cluded, * It would have been impossible to convict

1!'

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

I '

Professor Webster of murder with that admis-
sion.'

" I suggested that the possession of the note by
Professor Webster, as paid, was an awkward fact.
He said, * Yes, but it might seem to become a
necessity after his first, false step of conceahnent.'
He added, ' Dr. Parkman was known to have been
at the hospital. When, and under what circum-
stances, and to explain what statements made by
him, the Professor thought it expedient to say he
had paid the note, or to obtain possession of it,
would probably never appear. It was simply an
incident whose force could be parried, if he could
obtain credit for the position that the concealment
was a sudden and impulsive after-thought, which
took possession of and controlled him in his subse-
quent conduct.' "

We have, in these statements, the desired testi-
mony as to Mr. Choate's relation to that case.
We have also an illustration of his view of the
duty and privilege of an advocate. It is apparent
that, while accepting the theory that, in a crim-
inal case, a lawyer is not at liberty to withhold
his services absolutely, Mr. Choate did not think
him bound to go into court, contrary to his own
convictions, and assert what he did not believe to
be true, or take a line of defense which he con-
sidered untenable. Thus, for instance, as he was

niGIirS OF CRIMINALS.

satisfiGcl that, at the time and place alleged, Dr.
Parkinan had died in Professor Webster's pres-
ence, Mr. Choate was not willing to act on the
theory that Dr. Parknian was alive after that time,
and to call and examine witnesses to testify, as
they finally did, under a mistake as to identity,
that they had seen him day after day in the
streets of the city. That theory was set up on the
trial and failed, as Mr. Choate had fore'-.een that it
would fail.

In taking leave of this subject, and recalling
the fact that, in England, the right of the accused
to speak by counsel in State trials was secured, as
a national reform, long desired by the people and
by the Ijest and wisest men in Parliament, we may
well be grateful that our system of criminal prac-
tice was, at an early day, framed on just and hu-
mane principles. With us, the right of the accused
to be defended by counsel has been respected, in-
deed secured, by the Constitution ; and, if need
be, counsel is appointed for that purpose by the
Court. It is to be confessed, however, that, even
with our improved methods of discovering tl.o
truth and our humane administration of the law,
mistakes have been committed. Instances have
occurred where skill and learning could not un-
ravel complicated circumstances, and the innocent
have been condemned to die. So also, in the light

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

1 1

of newly discovered evidence, it has been seen
that men have been unjustly consigned to the
state prison ; and after they may have suffered
the bitterness of death for years, we open the
doors with a humiliation scarcely less than that
inflicted on them. We are thus admonished to
improve our methods, to give the accused every
reasonable means of defense, and to accept cor-
dially whatever aid can be properly rendered in
determining the guilt or innocence of those who
are tried as criminals.

CHAPTER II.

Tho Study of Law. — Powers of Memory. — Inference of Un-
known Facts, and as to tho Characters of Jurors and Wit-
nesses. — Silent Conference with a .Turyman. — Oi)inions
of Professor Parsons, Mr. Loring, ^Ir. Dana, and Judge
Sprague. — The Number of Mr. Choate's Cases. — His
Treatmeut of Witnesses.

ALTnorcii endowed with great in^'llectual pow-
ers, Mr. Clioate was as careful, method ical, and
sohcitoiis in regard to mental helps as any student
who might have been less conscious of innate
strength. He seems to have been mindful that
excellence was attainable not only by those who
could pass on swiftly and easily, but by those who,
less favored of nature, were superior in diligence.
Thus, regarding genius as the mere capacity to
acquire knowledge and to use it, he gave himself
up to habitual study.

Some perils attend students who possess great
intellectual gifts. From the time when such a
one perceives how receptive he is to suggestions
of truth and beauty, and how readily the barriers
which impede others yield to his touch, he may
become the victim of a delusive self-confidence,

p.> ( 5

r ;i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

and be led to accept the notion that the fruitful-
ness of his life will be of spontaneous growth. As
he seems to apprehend intuitively the less occult
relations of things, he regards close and prolonged
study as unnecessary. So, content with some ap-
pear{uice of culture, he falls into easy ways, and
ii-oes throuEfh life as the louno:er saunters throut»;h
the streets. He is like the slothful miner who
gathers up the bits of precious metal exposed to
view, without acting on the hint nature gives of
the wealth hidden beneath the surface. Another
student, of like gifts, moves on earnestly, acquires
knowledge, does some good work. Having found
that what he should learn is easily acquired, he
assumes that there need be no limit to his attain-
ments. Like the student in " Faust," he confers
with the evil spirit and is encouraged to inquire
into mysteries too subtile for his comprehension.
He takes to such studies, and thenceforth swims
not with the current but against it. He is vain
and unstable in proportion as he evades the influ-
ence of natural laws, the checks and hindrances
designed to hold him in restraint, and which are
as necessary for his safety as the wall built at the
side of the road by the river is for the protection
of travelers. He undertakes to inform the school-
men m their specialties, and his speculations on
science and on the nature and relations of man

MR. CIIOATE'S LONG-IIEADEDNESS.

partake of the artificial texture of his life. As he

has done some good work in certain departments,
his speculations secure respect and confidence.
Thus his best eiiorts may have aii evil intUience.

Rufus Choate escaped the perils which thus be-
set students. He knew the need and the use of
study ; he knew also the limitations that were to
be respected. A conservative spirit held him in
restraint, and repressed longings to slake his thirst
at fountains beyond his reacli. In early life he
refused to follow a friend into the labyrinths of
German mysticism, or to explore the region which
Swedenborg had made his own. This reserve be-
came him, not simply because ho did not wish to
be " shocked, waked, or stunned" out of settled
convictions, but because the duties before him,
with the studies they involved, would consume
his time and strength. So he put aside as improv-
ident whatever was remote from the purposes of
his life. He never lost his balance hy reaching
out too far, nor, like one of old, walked into the
water while gazing at the stars.

The special and seemingly alien qualities of Mr.
Choate's nature were strongly marked. He was
gentle, yet exigent ; simple, yet suljtile ; natural,
yet artistic ; poetic in conception and tone, yet
acute and logical. But his studies were so conso-
nant to his wants, and his work so wisely chosen,

i'i

.^h

'i !'

^»^^

i I t

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

that those qualities of mind, acting in harmony,
were moulded into perfect unity of character. In
the record he has left, we can clearly discern his
love of nature, and of all that is good and true
and beautiful ; the loyalty, sagacity, and prudence
that guided him in his public services, and the
tenderness and cheerfulness that made his . lue-
life as a perpetual summer. But, however we
may indulge in speculations as to his peculiar gen-
ius, he should finally be accepted as his own inter-
preter.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Professor Brown
for havinti: collected the frao;ments that could be
found of Mr. Choate's Journal. A part of it, writ-
ten when he was traveling abroad, he no doubt
intended for his family and friends. The other
part, especially that which relates to his studies,
may have been for the benefit of his son, then a
student. But the Journal having, as we may as-
sume, served its purpose, shared the fate of much
else that he had written. How much of it was
lost is not known. The parts of it which we have
are rich in suggestion and instruction, the style
exquisite in its unstudied grace and beauty.

Mr. Choate's study of the law was extraordi-
nary. I find in legal biography no instance of
equal devotion. In speaking of his early course,
he told Mr. Parker, the author of the " Reminis-

1 1

7/75 LEGAL ENTHUSIASM.

cences," that in studying law he gave his mind
wholly to it ; that his habit was to read until two
o'clock in the morning. After that early experi-
ence, his legal studies became less exclusive, as he
was seeking a broader and more generous culture
than the law could give. But, even in his latest
years, he sought inspiration from Coke on Little-
ton, lest his legal taste should decline. That he
might be in full communion with the spirit and
philosophy of our language and institutions, and
of our legal science, — the law of the law, —
he studied, almost daily, other languages and other
systems of jurisprudence and of government.

He was wont to accept judicial determinations
of important questions with jealous scrutiny. His
modes of inquiry, adhered to long after he had
attained great fame for his learning in the law,
were peculiar and characteristic. He was in the
habit of collecting the facts stated in cases reported
in the books, and of preparing arguments for or
against the decisions ; of criticising the authorities
cited, and liuding others to confirm or to qualify
them ; and of seeking to discover how far a doc-
trine, underlying a series of adjudications, might
be made to appear more or less just in the light
of history, of reason, and of scientific principles.

Equally special and exhaustive was his study of
the cases in which he was to appear as counsel.

IP. ...

fl^

'^n

ji 1

ii' \

i (

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

Each case was tested and tortured until every con-
ceivable phase of strength and of weakness was re-
vealed. His son-in-law and partner, the late Mr.
Bell ; his student, the late Senator Matt. H. Car-
penter ; and Judge Fancher, who was concerned in
a case with Mr. Clioate, agree as to the thorough-
ness of his preparation. He studied pen in hand.
The facts and qualifying circumstances were en-
tered in a little book. Books of this kind, with
notes of decisions, were used by Erskine. Mr. Espi-
nasse says that, aftej: great experience at the bar,
Erskine used to bring his little book into court and
read cases from it. On one occasion his opponent,
affecting to ridicule the habit, said that he wished
Erskine would lend him his Ijook. Lord Mansfield
said, " It would do you no harm, Mr. Baldwin, to
take a leaf from that book, as you seem to Avant
it." Erskine thus used his book when he souo-ht
to show that the impeachment of Warren Hastings
was at an end, owing to mere suspension on the
dissolution of Parliament. Edmund Burke, easily
excited by opposition of any kind in regard to
that impeachment, had a tling at " ideas that
never traveled beyond a nisi j)rlus case," and a
sneer for the book.^ Mr. Clioate had little need

1 In this ri'liUion it is grateful to recall the fact that, a short time
before his death, Burke called on Erskine, and, holding out his hand,
said. ' ^'ouie, Erskine, forgot all. I shall soon quit this stage, and
wish to die at peace with everybody, especially with you."

DAILY PRACTICES.

the

lily
to

liat

led

lime
tLiid,
and

of his book in court, as what he had written was
deeply, if not indelibly, impressed upon his mem-
ory. But the book of facts, thus useful in prepa-
ration, would be further useful to be revised and
extended, should the case be put over to another
term. So, too, in the multitude of cases, it might
prevent confusion. It is said that Sugden once
got hold of the wrong brief and argued in support
of his opponent's side of the case, and that Dun-
ning made a like blunder. No such mistake has
been reported of Erskine or of Choate.

In his Journal, Mr. Choate describes his studies ;
tells how the early hour was employed. He had a
few minutes with favorite authors, English, Greek,
Latin, French, often a lesson from each, and then
the genius of the law beckoned him away. Thus,
for instance, he is in London, and after saying,
" Mr. Bates called and made some provision for
our amusement," he adds that he read the Bible,
the Prayer Book, a half dozen lines in Homer and
Virgil, and a page of Williams's " Law of Keal
Property." It was a rule with him to read at least
one page of some law book daily. All this to keep
the simple elements of the law fresh in mind ; a
ptirpose from which not even the delights of
travel, of new scenes and associations could wholly
divert him. Thus trained and strengthened, his
vision could take in, as from a tower of observa-

i:i

) ;f

^mm

k'
'i'i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

tion, the domain of the law. It lay before him as
a familiar and inviting landscape. Hence it was
that when, on a trial or an argument, principles
apparently adverse or decisions not anticipated
were cited against him, the countervailing doc-
trine, if there was any, was in his mind ready for
use. The study of law, thus pursued, leads to
logic, to ethics, to metaphysics ; in a word, to the
whole ran^^ of special sciences. Mr. Choate may
have accepted the Justinian definition, " JurisjDru-
dence is the knowledge of things divine and hu-
man ; the science of what is just and unjust." If
so, that may suggest some of the reasons which
led him to adopt more liberal studies than are
usually thought necessary to professional success.

We all know that many men less studious and
learned than Mr. Choate become distinguished
and useful lawyers, and have great weight and in-
fluence in public affairs. But it may be safely
said that only those who are endowed with spe-
cial gifts, as if set apart and consecrated to the
service, can become great advocates. How some
of these special gifts waited upon Mr. Choate and
served him may be readily recalled.

His power of memory was so marvelous and so
useful that some further reference to it may be
proper. The " Law Reporter," ^ in describing the

1 Vol. vl, p. 386.

NOTE ON THE riKENIX BANK TRIAL.

trial of the Phoenix Bank cases (1844), in which
Mr. Webster and Mr. Clioate were counsel for dif-
ferent defendants, has the following note : —

" In the cour.se of the trial, and in a mo.st excit-
ing passage, when all the counsel appeared to be
intent upon the case and nothing else, Mr. Web-
ster wrote on a slip of paper the favorite couplet
of Pope, and passed it to Mr. Choate : —

' Lo, whore Masotis sleeps, and softly flows
The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.'

Mr. Choate Avrote at the bottom ' wrong ' —

* Lo, where Ma^otis sleeps, and hardly flows
The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows.'

Mr. Webster rejoined ' riirht,' and offered a washer.
A messenger was dispatched for Pope, when it ap-
peared that the present Senator (Choate) had the
advantage of his predecessor (Webster), and 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 ear-
nest consultation on some difficult point of law."

In his " Reminiscences of Daniel Webster" (p.
358), Mr. Peter Ilarvey gives what would seem to
be the same incident, thouuh referrinu: to another
author. The title of the case on trial is not stated,
nor are the lines of the poet. But it is said, " Mr.
Webster sent an extract from Cowper, which Mr.

I (1:^

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Clioate corrected and returned, intimating that
there had been a misquotation. Mr. Webster re-
peated his first version and chiimed that he was
right. A messenger was sent for Cowper's ' Task ; *
the place was found, and Mr. Webster saw that
the sentiment was as Mr. Choate had corrected
it. He smiled, and wrote with a pencil upon the
margin of the page containing the disputed pas-
sage, ' A spurious edition.' "

Mr. Parker, in the " Reminiscences of Rufus
Choate" (p. 183), relates how, at a special gather-
ing in Washington, in the winter of 1850, the con-
versation having turned upon " Young America,"
Mr. Webster referred to the lad in severe terms, but
Mr. Choate, claiming that he was no new thing in
the world's history, cited the following passage, as
proof of the antiquity of the character : " Statim
sajnunt, statim sc'mnt omnia; neminem verentur,
imitantiir neminem, atque ipsi sibi exemjila simi."
Which may be translated, less liberally than by
Mr. Parker, At once they are wise, at once they
know all things ; they reverence no one, they imi-
tate no one, and follow only their own example.
Mr. Benton thought that the quotation was too
happy to be genuine ; and Mr. Choate referred
him to the younger Pliny, where it was found in
the twenty-third letter of the eighth book.^

^ As felicitous as Swift's quotation from Virgil upon the injury of

i^y

:ed

m
mi

MR. CHOATE'S KEEN PENETRATION.

It is obvious that, with such power of memory,
Mr. Choate could readily recall the proofs peculiar
to a case on trial and apply thcui to instant use.
In special cases, he might not know, often could
not know, upon what proofs his adversaries relied.
But he could, by an intellectual and redoctive
process, infer much that belonged to the other
side of a case. This power of reasoning from the
known to the unknown, of judging how men
would act, was possessed by him in a remarkable
degree. Of this an esteemed correspondent gives
an illustration. He says, " In my early experi-
ence I had a complicated case of some importance,
in which Mr. Choate was retained as counsel.
There had been no consultation, and I was to pre-
pare a full statement of the facts. With the aid
of my client, I arranged the points, more than
thirty in number, with the proofs as to each, in
their apparent order and relation. I then went
to Mr. Choate and read the paper to him. He
said, ' Please repeat numbers 2G and 27.' I did
so. He said, ' There is something Avanting ; the
human mind does not work in that way. The case
drifts on naturally enough down to 2G, but there a
peculiar complication comes up, and your state-
ment does not meet it. At that juncture, the par-

a violin by fire communicated from a lady's garment hangln<T next
it: ^^ Mantua, vce! miserce nimium vicina Cremonce."
S

1]
if

H ■

III ,

i I
I I

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ties, influencofl by business habits, by interest, or
by desire to overreach each other, had several
courses open to them ; ' and he proceeded to in-
dicate each in his pecuhar way. I resumed the
study of the case, had conferences with witnesses ;
my client found additional correspondence ; and it
finally appeared that Mr. Choato was right. The
new matter under 2G presented a more full and
connected view of the case on its merits, quite in
harmony with one of Mr. Choate's illustrations,
and on the trial of the action had controlling in-
fluence."

Mr. Clioate was almost always able to fix npon
the theory on which his cases should be tried.
This called for the exercise of great judgment.
He seldom disclosed his theory until it was seen
that the proofs at large were consistent with it.
But, when the current of testimony set in against
it too strongly and baflled expectation, his theory
was abandoned and a new one devis(Al. The transi-
tion was made so adroitly that few could perceive
that he had been disappointed.

A correspondent, long a loader of the Boston
bar, in referring to Mr. Choate's perception and
sagacity as exceptional, says, " He could read the
mind and infer the character of a juryman or of a
witness with wonderful readiness and certainty. I
have sat by him in court when jurors were se-

1' *

AN UNUSUAL CASE.

l>n
1(1
le
la
I

Icctcd, and when witnesses, strangers to him, -were
called, and been told what he thought of each of
them in turn, and I cannot remember an instance
in which ho was mistaken. Nearly allied to that
was his ability to judge of ciicumstances in their
relation and bearing. I have been with him in
the trial of cases when the party and the attorney
for whom he acted had little conception of the
difficulties to be encountered, and have often
witnessed the ease and readiness with which he
met and unraveled complications which threatened
defeat. In this relation, an action I had brought
to recover the price of a cargo of goods which my
client had sold on credit may be worthy of notice.
The defense set hp w\as fraud. The defendant
claimed that my client had represented the goods
to be sound and mercliantnl)le when he knew that
they were not ; that, relying on that representa-
tion, he had purchased and shipped the goods to a
foreign market and had suffered ixreat damage.
My client denounced the defense as a scheme to
put off the payment of an honest claim, and was
too indignant to confer aljout it. Accepting his
views, I assumed that there would bo no attempt
to prove the defense, and on the day of trial at-
tended with him and a witness to prove the ac-
count. Brooks, the broker who had acted wdth us
in making the sale, had recently died. (I pause

II!

I ;

I 1

:ll!i

li.

»i

I !

MEMORIES OF IIUFUS CIIOATE.

a moment to state some facts of which we were
then ignonint. In the same month and before my
chent's .sile, the defendant had pnrchascd of an-
other person and shipped to tlie same marlvet a
hke cargo of goods, and had, it seems, been de-
frauded as in his plea alleged. Brooks, the broker,
had also acted with that person in making the
sale.) At court, the defendant and his counsel
met us ready for trial *, my client still had his
' Pshaw ! pshaw ! ' as to the defense. But I got
nervous, and sent for Choate to help me, and hap-
pily he came.

" Our formal proofs were put in. The defend-
ant's counsel then opened the defense, and pro-
ceeded to prove it. My client was in great wrath.
Choate said to me, ' He is honest, and we shall
find our way out of the scrape.' Tlie last and
principal witness for the defense appeared to be a
sensible, substantial sort of person. He spoke to
the whole case, and explained how he knew that
the >,oods Avere made of bad materials, not fit for
use. He was employed on the ship that had taken
the goods, and was the only witness to prove tli«
false representations alleged. I said to Mr. Choa
' He is inventing that.' He replied, ' No, he m
truthful, but mistaken ; ' and went on to cross-
examine. He and the witness were soon on the
most friendly terms. I never saw Mr. Choate

A TRUTHFUL BUT FALSE WITNESS.

1 -«

appear so simple and 8low of apprehension. Tiie
■witness, not thinking that he was mnch of a law-
yer, took to him kindly, and was anxious to have
him understand the whole matter. Mr. Choate,
seeniiiiij^ to admit that the representations had been
made and were false, was very solicitous about the
party making them. The witness was quite clear
that the name was that of the plaintiff, and was
disposed to argue the question on the ground that
Brooks, whom he had known, was with us, as we
had admitted. He described the seller of the
goods; his size, complexion, whiskers, dress. When
all that had been fixed beyond recall, and my
client had come forward to be identified, Mr.
Choate, turning to the witness, with changed man-
ner and terrible emphasis, said, ' Can you, on your
oath, say that this is the man ? ' The likeness
which had been given was so unlike, ^o Jlagrant, as
to excite roars of laughter, in which the jury
joined. The witness answered, ' You know that's
not the man ; what do you want to make fun of
me for ? ' Mr. Choate assured him that ho was
not responsible for the blunder of charging fraud
on the wrong person, and said he would like to
have him repeat the name of the ship in which
tlie goods had been taken and state positively the
mne of sailing. These facts having been given,
Mr. Choate said to the Court that he would prove

'>r^

mh >

D' H' ■

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

more fully that our goods wore sold two weeks
later, and were sent by a dii'ferent vessel. On
that having been shown, the defendant's counsel
abandoned the defense.

'"' Without assuming to judge of the defendant's
integrity, I am satisfied that his counsel Avas no
party to the trick ; had not dreamed of the mis-
take. But I can say that Mr. Choate was the first
to suspect that there had been some real transac-
tion as to which the witness was speaking truly.
He discovered the blunder when we were blind to
it, and dealt with the witness accordingly. My
client was very grateful. Mr. Choate made light
of his services, and accepted only half of the fee
I brought him. My client refused to take the
otliei' half back, and it was sent as a gift to Dr.
Adams's church."

Another correspondent says, " I went into court
to see Mr. Choate, and found him addressing a
jury. The proceedings having been suspended lor
a few minutes, I said to him, ' We Avant an inter-
view in B.'s case ; how long will you be v.\ closing
your argument ? ' He said, ' I don't know. That
red-headed juror on the back seat docs not seem to
ujiderstand the case yet, and I must feel of him,
and put some points in a new light.' I went back
to my seat, and he remained looking at the jury,
without apparent concern. When the Chief Jus-

PROFESSOR PARSOXS'S RECOLLECTIONS. 39

tice came Ou the bench agahi, Mr. Choate, rismg,
said, ' li' your Honor please, I detain you no longer.
Gentlemen of the jury, that is our case.' He had
a verdict. As we walked to his office, I told him
how amazed I had been, and asked why he had
changed his plan. He said, ' When you mentioned
B.'s case, 1 was conferring with my red-headed
juryman, and, after some further conference, I
saw I had him.' "

In his address before the Law School of Harvard
University, to which I have already referred. Pro-
fessor Parsons, after speaking of his long-continued
intimacy with Mr. Choate and of a trial in which
they had been opposing counsel twenty-four years
before, says, '• I have the more right to make this
use of his memory, Ijeoause b.e was one of us. It
vas in this school that he laid the foundations
upon which he afterward Ijuilt up his great knowl-
edge of the law. And we have the right to say
that they were ample, deep, and strong, when wo
remember the vast and l^eautiful structure which
rested upon them." He also says, '' I have, in-
deed, no hesitation in savinu" that he was one of
the most learned lawyers 1 have ever met with.
And his learning was excellent in its kind and
quality."

The proceedings of the Suffolk bar, on the oc-
casion of Mr. Choate's deatl;, fitly illustrate the

'ill

LUJ

ff^

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

. i !
! i

i.1* i

r f

estimation in -which he was held as a scholar, as
an advocate, and as a citizen. It would be diffi-
cult to find in modern biography anything more
touching and impressive.

In presenting the resolutions at the meeting of
the bar, as instructed by the committee, Mr.
Charles G. Loring, among other things, said,
" 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 fre-
quently as any other member of it, I may well be
competent to bear witness to his peculiar abilities,
resources, and manners in professional services.
And having, in the varied experiences of nearly
forty years, not infrequently encountered some of
the giants of the law, whose lives and memories
have contributed to render this bar illustrious
throughout the land, — among whom I may include
the honored names of Prcscott, Mason, Hubbard,
Webster, Dexter, and others among the dead, and
those of others yet witli us to share in the sorrows
of this hour, — I do no injustice to the living or the
dead in saying that, for the peculiar powers desir-
able for a lawyer and advocate, for combination of
accurate memory, logical acumen, vivid imagina-
tion, profound learning in the law, exuberance of
literary knowledge, and command of language,
miited with strategic skill, I should place him at

'fl'U

VIEWS OF MR. DANA AND JUDGE SPRAGUE. 41

the Lead of all whom I have ever seen in the
management of a cause at the bar."

Mr. Richard H. Dana, Jr., other parts of ^vhose
address have been often quoted, said, '' 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 compe-
tent than I am will teach it, — that his power here
rested not merely nor chicily upon his eloquence,
but rested principally upon his philosophic and di-
alectic power. He was the greatest master of
loo:ic we had among us. No man detected a fal-
lacy so quickly, or exposed it so felicitously as he,
whether in scientific terms to the bench, or popu-
larly to a jury ; and who could play with a fallacy
as he could ? Ask those venerated men who coin-
pose our highest tribunal, with whom all mere
rhetoric is worse thr ^ wasted when their minds
are bent to the single purpose of arriving at the
true results uf 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
his learning."

When the resolutions wxn-e presented at the
District Court of the United States, Mr. Justice
Sprague made some inter3sting remarks from
which I quote a few words. '' Others have spoken

;-'i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

» *.'

fully and eloquently of his emiuence and excel-
lence in various departments. We may here at
least apj)ropriately say something of him as a law-
yer and an advocate. His life was mainly devoted
to the practice of his profession, and this court
was the scene of many of his greatest efforts and
highest achievements. I believe him to have been
the most accomplished advocate that this country
has produced."

Mr. Clioate was, year by year, engaged in the
trial and argument of cases more continuously
than any other memljer of the bar whose name I
can recall. But tiie extent of his work cannot, at
this late day, be stated. Of the causes in which
he was counsel and argued questions of law and
equity, in the State and Federal Courts, three hun-
dred and thirty-three have appeared in the regular
Reports, and are familiar to the profession. Many
of them were of grave importance, and called for
the application of principles in special and novel
relations. But, as other counsel were often con-
cerned with Mr. Clioato, it cannot be said how
much of the work should be ascribed to him.

The number of his trials before juries is not
known. Many of them were described in the
public prints, and parts of some of his arguments
were given. But, as the reporters had not the
skill men of that class now have, the reports were

EXAMINATION OF WITNESSES.

imperfect. Owing to the same or a like defi-
ciency, I cannot find a fair report of his cross-ex-
amination of witnesses. A correct report would
be worth preserving as a model. His fairness in
the treatment of witnesses often secured their
favor and the good- will of the jury. If the wit-
ness was timid, he was encouraged ; if nervous,
soothed ; if eager, repressed ; if honest, protected;
if crafty and adverse, exposed. Witnesses who
wished to tell the truth found him patient, cour-
teous, helpfulj considerate. He knew that they
often err from want of memory, perhaps from ina-
bility to distinguish what they know from what
they have heard. So, having the sanctity of an
oath in mind, he cared for the witness as he cared
for himself. Such witnesses often remembered
him with gratitude, while dishonest witnesses
learned to fear him. Herein Mr. Choate was the
friend of the Court. Judge Sprague must have
thought so wdien he said of him, " His skill in the
examination of witnesses was consummate. I have
never seen it equaled." What Mr. Choate said of
this kind of Daniel Webster's work may be fitly
applied. " His efforts in trials by jury compose a
more traditional and evanescent part of his pro-
fessional reputation than his arguments at law ;
but I almost think they were his mightiest pro-
fessional displays, or displays of any kind, after
all."

' i

■f !;,-:.

■J " ^

I ■

! ;

j'lr ■■,■;

'I "■

1;'

jl
1!

f) r

I r

ill

CHAPTER III.

Eminent Men misunderstood. — The Advocate and Mistaken
Critics. — As to creating a Taste for a Peculiar Style. —
How readily Clioate was understood. — Alexander H. Ste-
phens and Professor Sanborn as to Choate. — The Born or
Natural Orator. — The Oirice of the Orator.

The power of making good jokes and telling
good stories, if exerci.sed in public by a man of
eminence, may detract from the proper estimate
of his character. Sydney Smith has won lasting
reputation as a wit ; and his wit w\as often used
in the interest of truth and right, but it stood
squarely in the way of his ecclesiastical prefer-
ment. President Lincoln had a quaint humor that
relieved the terrible gloom of his darkest hours,
but he is credited with jokes and stories that never
fell from his lips. It was somewhat thus with Mr.
Choate. Those who had no personal intercourse
with him, and who formed hasty judgments from
his peculiarities, adopted erroneous views. To that
error he may have casually contributed. In legal
contentions, he was so happy in his retorts that an
adversary seldom gained anything by interrupting
his arguments. But the reports of those retorts

A SHARP RETORT.

(and they wore sure to be reported) wanted the
spirit and grace that had charmed his opponents.
I can recall but one instance in which his retort
gave olTense. In answering a lawyer who had .ad-
dressed the Court in a loud tone, Mr. Choate play-
fully referred to his " stentorian powers." To
his surprise, his opponent rose, and hotly replied
that nothing in his mode of address would justify
such a stricture. As he went on thus, his voice
rose again to a high key, and rang through the
court-house ; Mr. Choate half rose, and said, in the
blandest tones, " One word, may it please the
Court; only one word, if my brother will allow.
I see my mistake. I heg leave to retract what I
said.'* The effect was irresistible ; the court was
convulsed with laughter.

Mr. Choate's witticisms in court had their in-
ception and growth at the moment, had strict re-
lation to the exciting cause, and were generally
helpful and for practical purposes. But he used
occasionally an expression so whimsical as to create
great amusement. It was caught up and passed
from one person to another, as current coin. The
more grotesque the utterance, the better for the
gosr"ips; but the more certain was it to give the
public a wrong conception of his method and style.
Yet it was well to expose a fallacy by some inci-
sive word, some epithet or epigram. Time was

ii'l

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

m>'

thus saved, and the error made more apparent.
Thus, when a State line to which he objected was
of unstable character, it was pertinent to say,
" The Commissioners might as well have defined
it as starting at a bush, thence to a blue-jay,
thence to a hive of bees in swarming time, and
thence to five hundred foxes with fire-brands tied
to their tails." But the people remember that,
and repeat it still in various forms ; while of the
argument made by him on that occasion, however
valuable or characteristic, they remember nothing.

It would seem that a knowledge of Mr. Choate's
quaint use of words has been treasured up in
gentle minds. I give extracts from the letters of
two correspondents, women of culture, who took
an interest in his peculiarities. One extract is
called " A Bit of Persiflage."

" When Mr. Choate was in Washington, the
ladies were anxious that Mrs. Choate should be
there, and often beset him about it. On one oc-
casion, when they asked if he thought Mrs. Choate
would come, he answered, * Yes, I now think she
may ; I have wantten her to come, and have of-
fered to pay half the expenses.' "

The other extract is entitled " A Rebuke," and
relates to the cross-examination of a new-light
preacher.

" Mr. Choate. What are you, sir ?

sARCAs^f OF A wtt:^ess.

" Wlt)iess. A candle of the Lord.

*' ChUf Justice. A what, sir ?

" 3fr. Choate. A dipped candle of the Lord, if
your Honor please."

My correspondent reminds me that " a clipjjed
candle is of the cheapest sort ; one that gives next
to no light at all," and says that " therein lies the
sarcasm."

In a letter from the late Professor "Washburn, he
objected to " the blazing, comet-like creation of
fact and fancy in which several writers had been
disposed to picture Mr. Choate." He may have
had in mind writers whose infelicitous inventions
had been taxed to fasten upon Mr. Choate jests
and gibes which he never uttered ; or those who,
not content with treating Mr. Choate as a man,
had sought to depict him as a magician. The
work of such a writer is before mo. I turn the
leaves of the volume, and collect some interesting
reminiscences of Mr. Choate's special powers and
methods. Thus we have, as to his active brain,
" his head expanding with a thousand thoughts ; "
as to his rapid study and apprehension, that '- he
grasped the thoughts of a book like lightning ; "
as to the impression he made upon a jury, that he
'• dashed his view into their minds with all the
illuminating and exaggerating lightnings of his
portentous passion ; " as to his exhaustive argu-

1 ( ;. ...i I

1 '

;;^Li

■tl

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

m r.

mentation, that he " advanced with a diversified
but long array, which covered the heavens ; thun-
der-bolts volleying, auroras playing, and sunlight,
starlight, and gaslight shooting across the scene in
meteoric radiance ; " and as to his power to excite
an audience, that " It was literally almost as if a
vast wave of the united feeling of the whole mul-
titude surged up under every one's armpits."

These quotations may suffice ; and yet I am
strongly tempted to refer to other statements
equally worthy of respect ; and especially to no-
tice how Mr. Choate would " hurl his argument
home in solid, intense mass that crushed upon
the ear ; " how he would " launch a fiery storm of
logical thunderbolts ; " and how, " If a witness lay
athwart his verdict, he was crushed down and
crushed up and marched over."

But that author is not always so complaisant.
He says that in 1855 Mr. Choate was injured by
a fall ; and that "After the consequent illness, his
oratory underwent a marked revolution; he no
longer tore a passion to tatters."

Somewhat akin to this, and equally unjust, is a
statement which the author quotes with approba-
tion. " The jury advocate must, to a certain ex-
tent, be a mountebank, if not a juggler and a trick-
ster." A more miserable conceit was never ut-
tered. Was Mr. Webster, while before a jury, a

i *!ii ^

"■ m

SPIIUT AXD TONE OF AN ADVOCATE.

mountebank, a jiifr^lor, or a trickster ? "Was Er-
skine, or Dexter, Piukney, Parsons, or Curtis, Wil-
liam Kent, Daniel Lord, or Marshall S. Bidwell?

Uncharitable things have been «aid of many
great advocates ; but, as an illustration, one of the
worst things ever said of Mr. Choate was, that he
could play the art fid dodfjer in reading a deposi-
tion. This is a rude description of fine, forcible,
and effective readinijr; reading which gives .signifi-
cance and character to vital passages, discloses
their latent sense and spirit, aids the apprehension,
and insures a certain and, it may be, a favorable
interpretation. Such a reader, natural, yet artis-
tic, " tells the great greatly, the small subordi-
nately ; " and thus we have heard Macready play
the artful dodger ; thus Fanny Kemble Butler ;
thus the gentle Melancthon may have read ; thus
every pulpit orator, from Wliitefield down.

A merely clever man, with no high aims or love
of truth ; a wordy, sharp, false man, however
adroit and plausible ; the artful dodger, the moun-
tebank, juggler, trickster, he who tears a passion
to tatters, can never be a jury advocate. With all
his gifts and acquisitions, the advocate must be a
high-toned, moral man, not a harlequin ; a vital
utterance, not a mere sham. Jurors are repre-
sentative men and are practical, sensible, and
often sagacious men, as fond of fair dealing in

i-i

!•

!»t|

ill

i \

1, ;

MEMORIES OF liUFUS CIIOATE.

connsol as in suitors. Hence, in cases involving
life, liberty, or character, an able advocate goes to
the jury in a spirit akin to that with which Esther
went in before the king to plead for her people.
At such an hour, he indulges in no mere fancies,
his style becomes a reflex of his own mind and
heart ; if, as in Mr. Clioate's or in Mr. Pinkney's
efforts, a flash of poetic thought or beauty gleams
forth, it is merely because the vision is in his
spirit, and reveals itself as naturally as the simplest
conception. He is not the less dealing with reali-
ties after his fashion.

He would be adventurous indeed who should
attempt to correct or reconcile much that has been
written about Mr. Choate. Failing in such a pur-
pose, he might be driven to adopt the plea of the
poor fellow under constraint, " I am not mad, but
numbers have prevailed against n e." Yet I ven-
ture upon some corrections. In ti»'^ first place, it
may be said that attention has been diverted
from Mr. Choate's real character by some not
unfriendly writers. For this there was neither
necessity nor excuse. His views and principles,
his habits and manners, his daily life, were well
known; in effect he had lived as one with all
doors and windows open ; no disguise, no conceal-
ment, no reservation.

But Mr. Choate was a genius, as they all de-

^ tW< jBa^iK-"-iWar pi

SOME FORMAL CORRECTIONS.

claro, and tliat fact was suflicicnt to inisluacl, and
stinuilate the invention of some critics.

They discovered that he was a man of words,
whereas he was a man of ideas fitly represented
by his words ; that his style is florid, whereas his
style is clear and unconstrained, effective in its
simplicity. Those who think that prose should
have no alliance with poetry, for<;et that a poetic
spirit enters into the growth of language, into the
prattL' of children, and into the eloquence of sav-
age tribes; forget that the beauty which sparkles
and flashes over the natural world was intended to
give tone and color to the world of thought, the
outer glory to become an inner experience ; forget
that he who, uniting the wisdom of the past with
the sagacity of the present, absorbs the power and
grace of other languages into his own, gives to
old theories a modern aspect, and to later dis-
coveries their best application, making the truth
appear more truthful, the beautiful more beauti-
ful, becomes a benefactor to his age and people.
Those who doubt this, who do not perceive that a
spirit of poetry, of w'it and humor, may be helpful
to culture in thought, language, and style, and
may be held in such subjection and mellow use
that we recognize the poet, though he build no
rhyme, the wit though he excites tears rather
than laughter, will consign Edmund Burke, Syd-

;•

i V

l!i

lii.

»f'

ili .»■!■

II:

Iffii

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ney Smith, and Riifus Clioate to the upper shelf.
Such spirits, though in a different guise, are, in
effect, near of kin to the Gradgrind school. In
inquiry and argument, they always profess to go
down to what they call the hard-pan. For aught
we know, the mole does that, and without being
the wiser for it. They insist upon the facts ; will
be content with no^iiing less. I connnend Mr.
Clioate to theui, a very high-priest of their order,
a most relentless inquisitor after facts. He would
know the facts in history, what m fact had jjeen
the rulings in the Year Books, and by judges of
later times ; the facts as to the policy, dates, a3id
modifications of statutes ; the facts stated in the
pleadings in a cause ; and, in a trial, he was so
pertinacious in his quest for the facts thnt wit-
nesses who began to testify with certain mental
reservations were led, as by gentle compulsion, to
make full and circumstantial disclosures. It must
be confessed, however, that the facts as discovered
by the Gradgrinds ma}^ have been dry, inert, and
wanting in relation ; the facts as used by Mr.
Choate may have been essential to an exposition
of vital force, instinct with demonstration.

We have been told by one ' entitled to great
respect, that Mr. Choate created a taste for his
peculiar style. Was the impression made on his
first appearance before Chief Justice Shaw excep-

i''i

J' i

MR. CIIOATE IX CONGRESS.

tional ? We learn from Professor Brown that tlie
Chief Justice said, •' I had an opportunity to see
Mr. Choate and witness his powers as an advocate,
very early, when he first opened his office in Dan-
vers ; and when I had scarcely heard his name
mentioned." "As he was previously unknown to
us by reputation, and regarding him, as we did, as
a young lawyer just connnencing practice in a
country town, we were much and very agreealdy
surprised at the display of his powers. It appeared
to me that he then manifested much of that keen
legal discrimination ; of the acuteness, skill, and
comprehensive view of the requirements of his
case, in the examination of witnesses ; and that
clearness and force in presenting questions, both
of fact and of huv, by which he was so much dis-
tinguished in his subsequent brilliant professional
career."

It further appears that the taste, which it is
said Mr. Choate created for his peculiar style, must
have been of sudden growth. His first juries un-
derstood him, his early trials, triumphs ; and the
people, when he appeared before great assenddies,
a stranger, hung upon his lips with breathless in-
terest. He was master of the pathetic in oral
discourse, and by that power the world has been
moved. He always adapted liii iself to the oc-
casion, and went to tlicf marrow of the business in

( I

■M

f if f'

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

lijind. Professor Brown mentions the favor with
which liis first speech in Congress was received.
Thus, Benjamin Ilardin, member of Congress from
Kentucky, indisposed to hear others upon the side
of a question he intended to advocate, was about
to leave as Mr. Choatc rose to speak, but having
lingered a moment, and noticed the tone of his
Yoi.e, was constrained to stay, and said, " I was
captivated oy the power of his eloquence, and
found myself wholly unable to move until the
last word of his beautiful speech had been ut-
tered." So, as Mr. Everett has it, a AVestern
member said, " He was the most persuasive speaker
I ever heard." After hearing: Mr. Choate in the
Senate, James Buchanan, replying to him, said,
" It is the first appearance of the Senator in de-
bate here, and, judging of others l)y myself, I
must say that those who have listened to him once
will be anxious to hear him again."

He was heard quite early before the Supreme
Court at Washington : Mr. Webster was with him ;
Randolph and Whipple opposed. Mr. Choate's
argument is said to have made a strong impres-
sion upon all the judges. Judge Catron said, " 1
have heard the most eminent advocates, Ijut he
surpasses them all." A member of the New York
bar, speaking of the address of which Mr. Van
Cott and Dr. Adams have written, said, " The peo-

fr.

UXCONSCIOUS A PPL A rSE.

pie coiikl not keep their seats, but kept ckipping
and applauding without being conscious of it."

Under date of March 1, 1852, Mr. We])ster,
writing from New York to Mr. Havens, said, " Mr.
Choate must l)e here Friday evening. The idea
of hearing him is universally received with the
greatest enthusiasm. He must con\e ; do not fail
to persuade him to do so. If he should not, there
will be a disappointment not to be appeased."

Mr. "Weljster knew that Mr. Choate could speak
without special preparation ; that the people would
understand him ; and that no one could fill the
place which hiul been assigned to him.

Before attempting to correct an error which
confronts us in book form, touching Mr. Choate's
natural gifts for oratory, as compared with the
gifts of some others, I cite the opinion of a compe-
tent critic, Hon. Alexander H. Stephens.

In 1843, when Mr. Stephens was a member of
Congress, he heard Mr. Choate in tlio Senate for
the first time. He was speaking on the question
of terminating the joint occupancy of Oregon.
Mr. Stephens says, '' Every one was enraptured
with his eloquence." He adds, '•' 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 possess, of never tir-

■:'|ir

I Hi .

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ing his hearers. Several years after, I heard him
in the Supreme Court argue the case of the boun-
dary hne between Rhode Ishmd and Massachu-
setts. 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 Mr. Choate's reply. From
the moment he commenced, he enchained the au-
dience and enlivened the dull subject by apt his-
torical allusions and pleasing illustrations. The
logical connection of his argument was excellent,
and so well-arranged that in two hours he had
finished a thoroui2;li arii;ument which w;is inter-
spersed throughout with sublime imagery. K\ery
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."

A correspondent, long intimate with Mr. Choate,
and having the best means of forming opinions as
to his natural gifts, calls my attention to a work
with an auriferous title which I had overlooked.^

^ In his letter, Professor Sanborn says, " Colonel Parker, in his

Golden A<jc of Anitrican Orators, a work much read by students,

Clio ATE' S RIVALS IN ORATORY.

On taking up the book, I leani that jMr. Choate
■was " the first and foremost of made orators," but
"was not a natural orator — a born orator," —
though " Chatham and Patrick Henry were nat-
ural orators of superior order, and Henry Clay
was of the same school."

The statement that Choate was not a natural
orator would disturb no one who could accept the
suggestion that Dr. Johnson was not a natural
critic, or Faraday a born chemist. The inference
would be that each of them had to " toil terribly "

attempts to [)rove that Mr. Choate was not ' a natural orator,' like
Henry and Clay. I think that Mr. Choate's early history refutes
that theory. 1 learned from Professor Shurtleff, his teacher, some-
thing of his elo(iuence in college. lie then gives an extract from
Choate's Valedictory Address, which, so far as I can judirC) indi-
cates the freeilom and range of thought and the felicity of expres-
sion that might distinguish an orator ' to the manner born,' and
ad<ls, ' In this brief pai-agraph are the key-notes of his life — attach-
ment to friends, love of leiirning, ami admiration of nature. The
Professor also mentions two circumstances which illust.''ato the
character of the address and the effect of its delivery, from which it
might be inferred that, if nature ever "trieil her prentice hanu " in
fashioning a com[)lete orator, she did so with young Choate. lie
says that when Choate spoke, " His pathos drew tears from many
who were not used to the melting mood." Also that '-One rustic
maiden was there from Norwich, Vt. She was all ears, eyes, and
heart ; she gazed and wept. On the following ]\Ionday, wdiile bend-
ing over the wash-tub, she said, ' ]\Iother, you can't think how
pretty that young man who had the valedictory, spoke. He was
•• interesting that I cried; and, law I' she added, holding up her
checkered apron to her eyes, ' I can't help crying now, only think-
ing ou 't.'"

U,^ 1'

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOArE.

in climbing up to the eminence attained. The
idea is as simple as that the tillage of the soil
makes possible the harvest. But we are distiu'bed
when told that some men — Ciiatham, Henry, and
Clay — were, as distinguished from Choate, nat-
m\al, or born orators.

English authors have paid due attention to the
preparatory studies of Lord Chatham and of his
son. Nature, prodigal in gifts, left to each the
common legacy of toil as the condition of his be-
cominii: an orator. We are told that " The best
clew to Pitt's (Chatham's) own mental tasks, more
especially in the field of oratory, is afforded by
those which he enjoined to this favorite son." We
are also told, on the authority of Stanhope, that
" The son ascribed his lucid order of reasoning to
his early study of the Aristotelian logic, and his
ready choice of words to his father's practice in
making him every day, after reading over to him-
self some paper on the classics, translate it aloud
and continuously into English prose." As to Pat-
rick Henry, 1 would abate none of the praise that
can l)e l)est()\ved upon him consistently with na-
ture and with experience. But it may be observed
that, like many fluent speakers, he had acquired
great experience by talking'- " an infinite deal of
nothing " up to the hour when the vision of our
independence, to be achieved by war, opened be-

VIEWS OF ISAAC GRAXT THOMPSON.

fore him ns an apocalypse, transformed his spirit,
and irave a proplietic tone to his utterances. As
to Henry Clay, I need only recall his efforts in
the debating society to cultivate a hahit of speak-
ing, and his confession, made long after, to a class
of students, that he owed his " success in life to
the habit, early formed and for some years con-
tinued, of reading daily in a book of history or
science, and declaiming the substance of what he
had read in some solitary place." In this, Mr. Clay
was not peculiar. Wheaton, in his life of William
Pinkney, says that "He always continued to de-
claim in private."

But in the chapter " On the Study of Forensic
Eloquence," which Mr. Isaac Grant Thompson has
inserted in his edition of '" \yarren's Law Studies "

— perfecting the work by the scholarly treatment
of an important topic which Warren had neglected

— illustrative instances are given. He regards
" the opinion that excellence in speaking is a gift
of nature, and not the result of patient and per-
sistent labor and study," as mischievous ; and
happily enforces that view by referring to the
studious efforts of Cicero, Chatliam, and Fox, Cur-
ran, Choate, and others. Of Choate, he saj's, '" Fo-
rensic rhetoric was the great study of his life, and
he pursued it with a patience, a steadiness, a zeal,
equal to that of Chatham and Curran." He re-

ill

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

inincls lis thiit Murray, afterwards Lord Mansfield,
carried on the study of oratory with the utmost
zeal, and that ca friend had caught him in '' the
act of practicing ])efore a glass, ^vhilc Pope (the
poet) sat by to aid him, in the character of an in-
structor," and adds, " Such are the arts by ^vhicll
are produced those results that the uninitiated as-
cribe to genius."

This matter is of present interest, as I would
not have the student adopt the notion that Mr.
Choatc was goaded on in his studies by a sense of
want of which other great orators had not been
conscious. Nor should he regard the statement
that Chatham and others were natural orators as
signifying anything more than that they possessed
gifts favorable to the cultivation of eloquence. A
good memory and ready command of language,
fine and quick perception, delicate wit and fancy,
a fervid hnagination, an exquisite sense of the
beautiful, a voice sweetly tormenting the hearer,
even in the remembrance of it, a gracefid and im-
pressive manner, — all of which Mr. Choate had,
— however important as prerequisites, do not
qualify the orator. It is his oilice to instruct,
persuade, and convince ; but without study there
can be no knowledge, without knowledge no ar-
gument, without argument no real influence in
the discussion and disposition of public affairs. In

II 11 i

^HT:

CRITICAL AND EXACTING AUDIENCES. 61

the courts find in Icirislativc and popular assem-
blies, the question certain to arise is, whether the
speaker is master of his suhject in its substance,
details, and relations. The persons addressed may
distinguish immature from ripe thought ; informa-
tion from knowledge ; mere impressions from ex-
perience. They know tiiat, while the voice may
be train(Hl for oral discourse, as it may be for
mKsic, the mind should have a corresponding cul-
ture. Many of them, pitiless as critics, w^ould ac-
cept the statement of Cicero that the orator must
possess a knowledge of many sciences, without
which a mere liow of words is vain; and would
agree with Dr. Johnson, when he checked the
praise bestowed on a fine speaker, not often heard,
as having irreat resources, " You cannot know as
yet ; the pump works well, but how are we to
know whether it is supplied by a spring or a
reservoir ? " Mr. Choate's view of the studies
proper to the orator was most exacting. His ideal
of excellence in oratory, considering it as one of
the line arts, may have been so high that he
never could have fully satisfied his own aspira-
tions. But, in his lectures and addresses, his sen-
timents are given in the spirit of an unfaltering
disciple ; his precepts have an electric touch —
glow like stars in the firmament of thought. lie
knew what he tauuht, in larii:e measure, and in

m i

■V\\ :

MEMORIES OF nUFUS CIIOATE.

minute details. lie fortified himself hy appeals
to hiistory, to experience, and to natural laws.
The moral element in his topics, however obscure,
never eludes his grasp ; the most rugged event
or feature he touches palpitates as with a spirit
of life and beauty. The philosopliy of history is
taught suggestively, not by a tedious process, but
Hashes upon the page as a revelation. His illus-
trations have a logical llavor ; his inferences the
certainty of mathematical deductions ; and his lan-
guage, when rising to the utmost fervor, is tem-
pered by earnest and constant attention to prac-
tical affairs. The student may, therefore, follow
him with assured steps. Indeed, no student should
fail to study addresses like those on " The Colonial
Age of New England," on " The Power of a State
Developed by Mental Culture," on " The Conser-
vative Force of the American Bar," and on " The
Elorpience of Revolutionary Periods."

He who has given his days and nights to De-
mosthenes and Cicero, Thucydides and Tacitus,
will find his apprehensions quickened, and the
wealth he has garnered up in his mind enriched
by the spirit of Mr. Choate's expositions.

m i

CHAPTER IV.

Vacations for Reading. — Studies with TJonks and witliout
them. — Conversations with Mr. I'rutt and .Air. Carpenter.
— Solicitude as to Improvement. — Taste, Illustrations of. —
Formation of Character. — Coloinal Experience.

It has boon considered straiif^o tliat, with all
his work, JMr. Chotite could find time lor classical
study. The ex[)lanation may 1)0 found in his in-
tellectual motiiods, and in his mental tictivity and
economy of time.

In his address at the dedication of the Peabody
Institute, he gave advice to those who were in
pursuit of knowledge under difficulties and re-
straints, in which he seems to have drawn upon
his own experience. He reminded them that va-
cations for the still air of delightful studies were
fragments of time, — half-hours before the morn-
ing or midday meal was ready, a rainy after-
noon, the priceless evening, — and that such were
the chances they could borrow or create for the
luxury of reading. Mr. Choatc himself gave to
study the time he might well have given, the time
others gave, to repose. He could read some verses

nil

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

.<\.„

9 ^, V

£/ .^>

^■0 ^ //

1.0

I.I

1.25

:■ ii£ IIIIIM

U IIIIII.6

C>1

c^l

'>.

*;,

/(^

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

:%'

.<?

<3-

(il

i
1

•1

i f

^:r>iii

i ■-

■■ ■ 111 ^

liili

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

in the Greek Testament, a few lines in Virgil, in
Bacon, or in Burke, and go out to his walk repeat-
intr these lessons in their order and turns. I do
not know that he ever advised others to adopt
this method, but it was wisely chosen for nimself.
He could thus lessen the burden of study by so
chani2:infj; its forms as to combine intellectual and
physical exercise, and, in passing from one form of
study to another, find relaxation.

Such may have been his habits when he was
young, and in practice at Salem. A correspond-
ent of Mr. Parker says that, in Mr. Choate's long,
solitary walks in the pastures, his " full and
melodious voice was sometimes heard by other
strollers in those solitudes." In his " Recollections
of Mr. Choate," Mr. E. P. Whipple refers to this
habit of out-door study, and says that, when he
met Mr. Choate in one of his contemplative moods,
he made it a point of honor not to interrupt his
meditations.

In the last conversation I had with the late
Matt. II. Carpenter, Mr. Choate's special studies
with his books and without them were mentioned.
Among other things, Mr. Carpenter said, " It was
one of the efforts of Mr. Choate's professional life
to extend and perfect what he called a lawyer-like
memory. In his view, a mere every-day memory,
left to take care of itself, would not enable an

CULTIVATION OF MEMORY.

advocate so to hold in mind as instantly to recall,
for use, the facts disclosed in a long trial l^efore a
jury, and the name, appearance, and manner, the
speech, too ready or too reluctant, of each witness
examined." He also said, *' Mr. Choate had found
that special kind of memory improved by reading
fragments of authors on divers disconnected sub-
j(*cts, and recalling and repeating them after his
books had been laid aside."

As Mr. Choate's faith in study was unqualified,
we can well believe that, to one who spoke of a
line, intellectual performance as the result of acci-
dent or inspiration, he said, " Nonsense ! you might
as well drop the Greek alphabet on the ground
and expect to pick up the ' Iliad.' "

I am indebted to Mr. Edward I^llerton Pratt
for some interesting particulars. He says, " Mr.
Choate was the most imtiring worker I ever met.
He was up by five o'clock in the morning, as a
rule, made a cup of tea for himself, worked a while
over his books, went out for a walk, came home
to breakfast, went to business at nine, worked all
day, and perhaps was before some legislative com-
mittee for an argument in the evening ; and I
have known him to be all that time without
taking any food. Indeed, I have seen a check
for half a dollar which he had given at the close
of such a day, when, having no money with him,
5

■wi'

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

he had become conscious of the need of refresh-
ment.

" When the late James T. Fields was collecting
and editing Thomas De Quincey's works, he showed
Mr. Choate an article which had appeared in some
magazine, with no external evidence as to the au-
thor. On looking over it, Mr. Choate said it was
written by De Quincey. Mr. Fields then wrote to
De Quincey, who answered that he had not written
the paper, had never thought of the subject-mat-
ter of it. With some exultation, Mr. Fields showed
that letter to Mr. Choate, who said, ' Never you
mind ; let me have the article again, and I will go
over it more carefully.* He did so, and the next
day Mr. Choate wrote him, ' De Quincey did write
it, De Quincey to the contrary, notwithstanding.'
After a time, De Quincey sent to Mr. Fields the
original manuscript of the article, with a letter
stating that he had found it among old papers ;
and, as it was the work of his pen, he must confess
the authorship, though all recollection of it had
passed away.

" In his studies, Mr. Choate kept pace with the
colleges, and with modern thought as there illus-
trated. He used to buy the text-books of Harvard
and Yale, beginning with the Freshman year, and,
in effect, graduating with the students. I once
asked him why he did this. He said, * I don't like

!i !

MODE AXD METHOD OF TRANSLATION. 07

to have those young fellows come out of college
crowing over me ; they fresh and bright, I dull
and rusty ; we must habitually go back to the
elements, first principles, and note new applica-
tions of them by those whose special business it
is to teach."

In his zealous striving after higher culture, Mr.
Choate had a steadfast belief in the value of trans-
lation as an intellectual discipline, and as a means
of testing the power and spirit of our words as
equivalents for the words of other languages.
Speaking of Mr. Choate's method in tra^'-slating,
Professor Parsons says, " He would return day
after day to the same passage, until he had ex-
hausted the resources of the language in giving to
the sentence exactness, strength, and elegance."

In the " Reminiscences," Mr. Parker reports
Mr. Choate as saying, " Translation should be pur-
sued to bring to mind, and to employ, all the words
you already own, and to tax and torment invention
and discovery, and the very deepest memory for
addition." 1, rich, and admirably expressive words.
In translating, the student should not put down
a word until he has thought of at least six syno-
nyms, or varieties of expression, for the idea. I
would have him fastidious and eager enough to go,
not unfrequently, half round his library puUing
down books to hunt up a word — the word."

« V-

I '.

"y ;

i u

;;H

! i

1 '

Af EMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

By this kind of work, Mr. Choatc sought to per-
fect hi.s knowledge of things as well os of words.
Thus, he says, that, in translating Cicero's " Cati-
line Orations," he had in view the matter and the
manner of a great master of speech, and a remark-
able portion of history. So, also, he translated
Thucydides for the purpose of deducing lessons of
history and applying them to America.

In his Journal, Mr. Choate recalls with fidelity,
as if for his own encouragement or admonition,
his studies in various departments. At times he
seems hopeful, almost glad in view of what he
perceives he may attain ; at other times, he ap-
pears sad, as if his studies had been partial and
inadequate. As an instance, after lie had gar-
nered up in his mind and heart such wealth of
learning as only one so devoted and receptive
could acquire, we find him saying : —

" I have written only this translation of Quin-
tilian since Saturday ; professional engagements
have hindered me. But I have carefully read a
page or two in 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 Phteacia,
kept along in Tacitus, and am reading a pretty
paper in the * Memoirs ' on the old men of Ho-

h.,

SPECIAL STUDIES.

mcr. 1 read Homer more easily and with more
appreciation, thougli "svith no helps but Cowper
and Donneiran's Lexicon. Fox and Cannin<i:'s
speeches are a more professional study, not use-
less, not negligently pursued. Alas, alas I there is
no time to realize the dilating and bin-ning idea
of excellence and eloquence inspired by the great
gallery of the innnortals in which I walk ! "

Again, he says, " How difficult it is to arrest
these moments, to aggregate them, to till them,
as it were, to make them day by day extend our
knowledge, refine our tastes, accomplish our whole
culture I "

His solicitude as to the improvement of his
taste is freely confessed. Thus he says: —

" I have- been long in the practice of reading
daily some first-class English v/riier, chiefly for
the copia verhorum, to avoid sinking into cheap
and bald fluency, to give elevation, energy, sono-
rousness, and refinement to my vocabulary. Yet
with this ol)ject I would unite other and higher
objects, — the acquisition of things, — taste, criti-
cism, facts of biography, images, sentiments."

In the same spirit, as to a contemplated course
of study, he says : —

" The investigations it will exact ; the collec-
tions of authorities ; the constant use of the pen,
the translations, the speculations, ought to consti-

4.3 I

« i

4'.,

■Vi.
fill

'V.\

■ift

ti-

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

tute an admirable exercise in reasoning, in taste,
in rhetoric, as well as in history."

Again, noting some classical works he must
have and use on a journey, he says, " This, lest
taste should sleep and die, for which no compen-
sations shall pay."

Referriui": to a course of readinii: considered too
desultory, he states the benefits thus : —

" No doubt taste has been improved, sentiments
enlarged, language heightened, and many of the
effects, inevitable, insensible, and abiding, of lib-
eral culture, impressed on the spirit."

Mr. Choate's taste was exacting and severe in
a sense not perhaps to the fancy of some senti-
mental scholars ; of this a few words from Chief
Justice Chapman may be illustrative. lie says of
Mr. Choate, " 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 English
language was the speech of Mr. Standfast in the
river. I went home and read the speech soon
afterwards, and I confess I appreciated John Bun-
yan's eloquence as I never had done before."

In a plea for mental culture Mr. Choate refers
to John Quincy Adams, " the old man eloquent,"

ADVICE TO A STUDEXT.

and finds him using " the liappiest word, the
aptest literary illustration, the exact detail, the
precise rhetorical instrument, the ease demands."
Mr. Choate had a clear conception of the means
by which sucli powers of arL^ument might possibly
be ac(iuired. His theory of preparatory study was
as exacting as that of Hugh Miller, who thought
that an anatomical acquaintance with the bones
and muscles was necessary for the painter who
represents the human figm-e, and that he who
describes natural scenery should know the strata
and the science of the rocks.

In a letter of advice to a student, — Richard S.
Storrs, Jr., — Mr. Choate says, " As immediately
preparatory to the study of the law, I should fol-
low the usual suggestion, to review thorougldy
English history, — constitutional history in Hallam
particularly, and American constitutional and civil
history in Pitkin and Story. Rutherford's In-
stitutes, and the best course of moral philosophy
you can find, will bo very valuable introductory
consolhhdhnj matter. Aristotle's Politics, and all
of Edmiuid Burke's works, and all of Cicero's
works would form ar admiral »le course of read-
ing, ' 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

''I

■i!

' I.'

t
tilt

■'IM

(J IP

t ■

■s ' i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

would know by lieart ; both superliitively great, —
the hitter the greatest, hving in n later age, be-
longing to the modern mind and genius, though
the former had more power over an audience, —
both knew everything.

" I would read every day one page at least, —
more if you can, — in some fine English writer,
solely for elegant style and expression. Willijim
Pinkney said to a friend of mine, ' He never read
a fine sentence in any author without connnitting
it to memory.' The result was decidedly the most
splendid and most powerful English spoken style I
ever heard."

A like result may be traced to Mr. Choate him-
self. Perhaps no great orator ever owed less to
borrowed thoughts and forms of speech, or, in a
higher and better sense, more to the ministration
of other minds. But the benefits were absorbed by
a process as natural as that by which trees gather
nutriment from the sun, air, rain, and from a gen-
erous soil. In reading him, we are reminded of
his favorite authors. As, in hearing a preacher
full of divine instruction, one may perceive indi-
cations of his familiarity with the Scriptures, so
Mr. Choate reveals his intimate communion with
master minds.

It was perhaps well for him that some degree
of poverty fell to his early lot. I believe he

FORMATION OF CIIAF iCTER.

would have chosen such a lot, had the choice been
left to him. He valued, as few men have valued,
the discipline and the strength which came as the
fruits of toil and study ; the I'aith and the con-
stancy of those who, having sown the seed, could
wait patiently for the harvest. He appears to
have had a clear concei)tion of the s[)iritual mean-
iuir which resides in material thin<i:s, and of the

n'"'

iw of compensation

that

(governs men m fi

all tl

leir

relations, and makes or mars their fortunes.

To illustrate his views as to the fornuition of
character and the elements which may minister to
its strength, I quote a few detached passages from

one of

Ins

lectu

re-

After having referred to the planting of the
Colonies along our coast, in the seventeenth cen-
tury, and to events which furnished the matter of
colonial history, he says, " I regard those events
altogether as forming a vast and various series of
inlluences, — a long, austere, effective course of
discipline and instruction, — by which the early
settlers and their children were slowly and pain-
fully trained to achieve their independence, to
form their constitutions of State governments and
of Federal government, and to act usefully and
greatly their part as a separate political commu-
nity in the high places of the world.

" It has been said that there was never a great

i. i

III!

. ' I

4-t

':i\

'.4

}f EMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

character, — never a truly strong, masculine, com-
manding character, — which was not made so hy
Huccessivc strn<i:gles with great diirundties. Such
is the general rule of the moral world, undoubt-
edly. All history, all l)iogra|)hy, verify and illus-
trate it, and none more remarkably than our own.
It has seemed to me probalde that if the Puritans,
on their arrival here, had found a home like that
they left, and a social system made ready for them,
— if they had found the forest felled, roads con-
structed, rivers bridged, fields sown, houses built,
a rich soil, a bright sun, and a balmy air ; if Eng-
land had covered over their infancy with her
mighty wing, spared charters, widened trade, and
knit child to mother by parental policy, — it is
probable that that impulse of high mind, and that
unconquerable constancy of the first innnigrants,
might have subsided before the epoch of the drama
of the Kevolution. Their children might have
grown light, luxurious, vain, and the sacred fire
of liberty, cherished by the fathers in the times
of the Tudors and Stuarts, might have died away
in the hearts of a feeble posterity.

'' Ours was a difterent destiny. I do not mean
to say that the whole colonial age was a scene of
universal and constant suffering and labor, and
that there was no repose. But in its general
course, it was a time of suffering and of privation.

ISrirEXrE OF LOVE FOlt UllEllTY

of poverty or inediocrity of fortune, of wleepless
ni^uhts, grave duties, serious aims ; ami I say it
wns a trial better fitted to train u[) a nation ' in
true wisdom, virtue, magnanimity, and the likeness
of God,' — better fitted to form temperate habits,
strong character, resolute spirits, and all the radi-
ant train of public and private virtues which stand
before the stars of the throne w liberty, — than
any similar period in the history of any nation, or

any

but

one.

that

ever cis

ted.

" The necessaries of freedom if T may say so,
— its plainer food and honulier garments and
humbler habitations, — were theirs. Its luxuries
and refinements, its festival?, it:^ lettered ami so-
cial glory, its loftier poit and prouder look and
richer graces, were tlie growth of a later day ;
these came in with independence. Here was lib-
erty enough to make them love it for itself, and
to fill them with those lofty and kindred senti-
ments which are at once its fruit and its nutri-
ment, and safeguard in the soul of man. But their
liberty was still incomplete, and it was constantly
in danger from England ; and these two circum-
stances had a powerful elTect in increasing that
love and cor firming those sentiments. It was a
condition precisely adapted to keep liberty, as a
subject of thought and feeling and desire, every
moment in mind. Every moment they were com-

;■*

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

paring what they had possessed with what they
wanted and had a right to ; they were restive and
impatient and ill at ease ; a galling wakefulness
possessed their faculties like a spell. Had they
been wholly slaves, they had lain still and slept.
Had they been wholly free, that eager hope, that
fond desire, that longing after a great, distant,
yet practical good would have given way to the
placidity and luxury and carelessness of complete
enjoyment ; and that energy and wholesome agi-
tation of mind would have gone down like an
ebb-tide. As it was, the whole vast body of
waters all over its surface, down to its sunless,
utuiost depths, was heaved and shaken and puri-
fied by the spirit that moved above it and through
it, and gave it no rest, though the moon waned
and the winds were in their caves ; they were like
the disciples of the old and bitter philosophy of
Paganism, who had been initiated into one stage
of the greater mysteries, and who had come to
the door, closed and written over with strange
characters, which led up to another. They had
tasted the truth and they burned for a fuller
draught ; a partial revelation of that which shall
be hereafter had dawned ; and their hearts
throbbed eager, yet not w'ithout apprehension, to
look npon the glories of the perfect day. Some
of the mysteries of God, of Nature, of Man, of the

TRIUMPH OF PATIENCE AND ENERGY. 77

Universe, had been unfolded ; might they, by
prayer, by abstinence, ])y virtue, by retirement,
by contemplation, entitle themselves to read an-
other page in the clasped and awful volume ?

'"• How glorious a triumph of patience, energy,
perseverance, intelligence, and faith ! And then,
how powerfully, and in how many ways, must the
fatigues, privations, interruptions, and steady ad-
vance, and ultimate completion of that long day's
work have reacted on the character and the mind
of those who performed it ! IIow could such a
people ever again, if ever they had been, be idle
or frivolous or giddy or luxurious ? With what
a resistless accession of momentum must they turn
to every new, manly, honest, and worthy labor !
How truly must they love the land for which they
have done so much ! How ardently must they
desire to see it covered over with the beauty of
holiness and the glory of freedom, as with a gar-
ment ! With what a just and manly self-approba-
tion must they look back on such labors and such
success ; and how great will such pride make any
people ! "

Thus it appears that this man, so delicate, re-
fined, emotional, with a keen sense of what was
sweet and beautiful in life, sentiment, and study,
was not the less able to deal with stern and sober
subjects, to appreciate the trials and struggles of

*,•? i

' . ilH

|i .

Mm '

' . ■ ■ f

, >

tltiiiii

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

those who labored in obscurity with no embellish-
ment to their lives, save such as came from the
performance of humble yet important duties. He
loved to dwell upon and illustrate such examples,
and may have found strength and encouragement
in the conviction that the toil and service which
conferred benefits upon others would most surely
enrich himself.

CHAPTER V.

Classical Studies. — Ancient Greece. — The Saxon-;. — The
Latin. — p]nglisli in India. — Macaulay's Service, — As to
Equivalents in Saxon for Some of our Words.

By way of review, and as a solace in weary
hours, Mr. Clioate's communion with the chissics
was continued to the end of his hfe. He found
therein some of his chief delights and consola-
tions ; and, in final token of his appreciation of
them, the " Iliad " and the " Georgics " were
among the books selected as companions in his
last voyage.

It may be thought that such studies were not
wisely chosen or pursued. Such, no doubt, is the
popular impression. Indeed, some authors of re-
pute have declared that an acquaintance with
what is called the dead languages need not be
sought by those who wish to excel in the use of
English. In support of this opinion, reference is
made to instances of good, exceedingly good,
English, written by men without classical train-
ing, — Franklin, Erskine, Shakespeare, Bunyan,
and some others.

•fc

! ■ i

- !

^CF

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Of tliese authors, Bunyan alone is well cited.
He was, indeed, exceptional. In a divine frenzy,
lie could look into his heart and write.

It is to be remembered that the style of Frank-
lin was formed by the study of " The Spectator,"
and that of Erskine by intense devotion to Mil-
ton and Burke ; and that, in seeking to acquire
the spirit and diction of authors whose English
was the representative and outgrowth of classical
study, these men reaped the benefit at a single
remove.

The reference to Shakespeare, as an example,
is not fortunate. The saying of Ben Jonson's
that Shakespeare possessed '• small Latin and less
Greek," may be taken as proof that he knew
something of those languages. Of his early youth
and studies, we know nothing; and, where much
is left to conjecture, one supposition is often as
good as another. In speaking of " Love's Labour 's
Lost," Coleridge refers to the strong presumption
which the diction and allusions of that play afford
of Shakespeare's scholarly habits, and Mr. Charles
Knight suggests that his happy employment of
ancient mythology lends countenance to the sup-
position. As to the " Comedy of Errors," Knight
says, " The commentators have puzzled them-
selves, after their usual fashion, with the evidence
this play undoubtedly presents of Shakespeare's

SHAKESPEARE ASSISTED BY OTHERS.

ability to read Latin, and their dogged resolution
to maintain the opinion that, in an age ot gram-
mar-schools, our poet never could have attained
that common accomplishment."

In a loving and profound estimate of the ele-
ments of greatness peculiar to Shakespeare, Em-
erson notices the fact that, Avhen he came from
Stratford to London, '"A irreat body of stage-
plays, of all dates and writers, existed in manu-
script," and that Shakespeare altered and made
them his own. He says, "In 'Henry YHL,' I
think I see plainly the cropping out of the orig-
inal rock on wliicli his own finer stratum was laid.
The first play was written by a superior, thought-
ful man, with a vicious ear. I can mark his lines,
and know well their cadence." Emerson accepts
Malone's laborious computations in regard to the
first, second, and third parts of '• Henry VL," in
which "out of 0,04.3 lines, l.TTl were written by
some author preceding Shakespeare ; 2,o73 by
him, on the foundation laid by his predecessors ;
and 1,899 were entirely his own." Thus, in
working upon materials, excellent in themselves,
the outcome of many other minds. — the minds,
it may be, of students in history, in law, in medi-
cine, and in the classics, — Shakespeare adopted
parts of the plays which now bear his name. His
genius enabled him to make mellow music of what

111

i^ll

lii

=^^

MEMORIES OF RVFUS CIIOATE.

had been discordant. In the mass of preexisting
phiys and tak's from which he drew, there must
have been the work of some minds of classic lore,
so tliat if we were compelled to .suppose that he
had none of it, yet his works, being eclectic, are
not fair specimens of the results attainable with-
out the aid of classical studies.

The theoiy as to the value of such studies which
contrasts the practice of the ancient Greeks in the
use of their language with the treatment given to
the Saxon and the Eni-'lish need not here receive
much attention. It is said that the Grc ks studied
no lanujuai'-e but their own, and, reirarding other
tonu'ues as barbarous, did not borrow from them.
The inference souii:ht to be drawn would seem to
be that a like course should have been pursued in
the culture and use of the Anglo-Saxon.

It is to be remembered that, when Ancient
Greece became known to the modern world, her
hmguage had been so perfected that aid from
other peoples was not needed ; and that the
contributions and the culture which, in ante-
Homeric times, had given supernal grace and
beauty to her speech cannot be stated or defined.
It is also to be remembered that after the facts
and fables found in Homer had been considered,
after such scholars as Person and Choate, in the
spirit of their studies, standing face to face with

77//; GREEKS OF DUAL ORIGIN.

the Greek, could in;ike his felieitie.s of speech
their own. an nnappeasable curiosity as to the
early progress of the race remained, as it will
remain forever.

Much curious research and ingenious specula-
tion have been displayed in the endeavor to trace
the early history of the Greeks, and to determine
their origin. All the tests afforded l)y philology,'
ethnolo'gy, and geography have been applied.
On philological grounds mainl}', Mr. Gladst(mc
ascribes a dual origin to the Greek people like
that of the English. The f!:eneral belief of his-
torians is, that a race known as Pelasgians. at a
period antecedent to -written history, spread from
the .south over Greece and Italy. They are de-
scribed as a dark-eyed, dark-haired, swarthy,
heavily-built race, industrious, patient, excelling
in agriculture and architecture. These character-
istics lend force to the supposition that they came
from Egypt ; and that those of them who went
to Italy, more remote from the early centres of
population, developed the best capabilities of that
race, and. by their substantial qualities, ^ iIJ. the
foundation for Roman greatness. Pat, as to
Greece, another race, the Hellenic, was infused
among the Pelasgi, and grafted upon the stock.
They were tall, light-complexioned, light-haired,
blue-eyed, enthusiastic hunters and warriors, and

II'

I , ■

i !

■hi

lltl

I1"

nil

|::i"i:

1 ^m

I ■

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

came probably from a mountainoii.s country, by
northward-lying paths, through Thrace and Mace-
donia, into Northern Greece, forcing themselves
among the Pelasgi, and by their active and aggres-
sive qualities becoming dominant in public atfairs.
This infusion of new blood would seem to have
given rise to what, properly speaking, may be
called the Greek people, which thus arose from
the mingling of dili'erent tribes on Grecian soil.
To this admixture are to be ascribed the differ-
ences which subsist between the Greek and the
Latin tongue, and the wide divergence of the
Greek from that earlier speech, the foundation
of both, of which the Sanskrit is believed to be
the nearest representative. The Greek would ap-
pear to be a composite language. In later times,
fixed by custom or prides, it became intolerant of
foreign words. This was a departure from the
principle on which it was formed ; — to say other-
wise is to beg the question against both evidence
and probability.

Although it is impossible to trace the develop-
ment of the Greek tongue, it must be assumed
that in its inception and growth it was governed
by universal laws. From a rude state it was car-
ried forAvard to a more perfect condition by cen-
turies of tasteful culture, and, during all that long
probation, the Greeks, as other aspuing people

ACQUIRED WEALTH.

■ft

have done, profited by external and available
means of improvement. As the cultivation and
refinement of a people ma}' be known by its lan-
guage, laws, and works of art, it may be worth
noting that the early memorials of the Greek
race, as lately brought to light by the researches
of Schliemann and others, show a primitive, al-
most barbarous, condition of the arts, which it
is fair to suppose was accompanied by a similar
condition of their speech. It is evident that the
growth from the rude conception and clumsy ex-
ecution of early days to the exquisite grace, sym-
metry, and freedom of later Greek art must have
consumed centuries, — time for perfecting and
unifying the language, that most enduring token
of their civilization.

Mr. Choate had intended to write a history of
Greece, and to that end his special studies were
for a time directed. But, constrained by profes-
sional and other duties, he abandoned that design.
How reluctantly he did so may be inferred from
the fascination which afterwards held him to the
study of the Greek genius and character. In his
Journal he makes significant suggestions as to the
origin and progress of that people, but he does
not seem to think that they had rejected foreign
aid until their language had risen to a higher de-
gree of perfection than that of any other nation.

i \^

■i*

.• !

■i|

■ti

Wl!!

i'iii

ii'

lii i !

fjii

MEMORIES OF nUFUS CIIOATE.

TIio English - speaking people have not yet
reached such supreiiiaey. Their only iiope of ever
reaciiing it has been inspired by the use that could
be made of wealth derived from alien sources.
They have borrowed from almost every other peo-
ple. The work of verbal adoption might have
been easy, if, as has been said, the Anglo-Saxon
tongue had had a craving appetite, had been ra-
pacious of words. But it required many years of
preparatory training to create that appetite. The
inlluence came from without rather than from
within. Indeed, the natural characteristics of the
early people of Britain were not favoral)le to an
improvement of their accustomed speech. The
Saxons had no conceptions of beauty or grace, of
harmony in thought or in expression ; and, when
they could make their wants and wishes known,
had little aptitude to find and use other and bet-
ter words. As an offshoot of the Teutonic lan-
guage, the Saxon dialect inherited the rough,
hard, inflexible qualities of the parent stock.

Need we wonder that in working upon such
materials, in infusing life, variety, and refinement
into a semi-barbarous tongue, it was necessary to
sift out and cast away many rugged and fruitless
forms of speech, and to weave in words more
melodious and articulate ? Would it have been
well if all the uncouth terms that came from

UXTVEnSALITY OF LATIN.

Saxon lips liad boon rotninod ? Wlint if wonls
exi)rossive of our (iiKM' feelings nnd aspirations, of

our sense of i^raco. hcautv. and liarnionv — words
of progress, rernuMncnt. and civilization — had not
Ijeen borrowed I Those who regret that wo are
largely indebted to the Greek, Latin, and French
must be conscious tiiat the improvement of our
language has kept pace with the growing intelli-
gence of the people, and that attempts to (pialify
or dissolve that relation would be unwise and
fruitless.

The Latin, spoken of as a dead language, sur-
vives in the s})eech of many nations, with whom
we and our mother-country have intimate com-
mercial relations in the Old and in the New
World. It has been justly said that in his travels
the Latin scholar would find few cities, however
strange and remote, where he could not make
himself understood by some of the inhabitants.
The variety and the fertility of the Latin in form-
ing compounds are important, as this quality the
words retain when brought into other lanixuau-es.
An idea of this maybe formed by counting the de-
rivatives from a few Latin v>'ords. Thus, the terms
derived from the verb nascor, in various forms,
are 17 in number ; from vcrto 22, from tenco 23,
tendo 29, ccdo 21, duco 20, curro 18, speelo 19,
video 14, lego 22, mitto 22, ven'io 17, rego 15, from

I ■!

lit I

t r. .
;■ i ■

i:il

iil.i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

caj)io more tlum 27, and from sumo, which has
nearly tlie same nioan'mg, U more: — 10 roots
yielding 285 distinct terni.s by tlio n.sc of prefixes
and sndixes. The aid to co[)iousnes.s of exi)res-
sion thus afforded is self-evident, and justifies Mr.
Choate and all others who have the taste, time,
and opportunity for the study of that language.

But the Saxon tongue, not thus fruitful, never
had, and of itself never could have had, Avidely
extended life and relations. Had it wholly sur-
vived, working out its destiny in exclusive use, it
would have made England as insular as could the
sea itself.

AVhen Macaulay was in the public service in
India, he luul occasion to consider what system of
national education should be adopted. Mr. Tre-
velyan, in his life of Macaulay, gives the particu-
lars. The Committee of Public Instruction, com-
posed of ten able men, were divided in opinion,
and for some time "All educational action had
been at a stand." " Half of the members were
for maintaining and extending the old scheme of
encouraging oriental learning by stipends paid
to students in Sanskrit, Persian, and Arabic, and
by liberal grants for the publication of works in
those languages. The other half were in favor of
teaching: the elements of knowledn-e in the vernac-
ular tongues, and the higher branches in English."

i:.\GLisif ran natiosal kducatwx.

The advocates of both sjstoins wore heard before
the ISupreine Council, of ^^hi('ll Macaulay was a
member. In duo time he hiid his opinion before
the Council, and urged that the people should be
tauL!:ht in the Knuiish lani:iia<i:e. Anionic other
things, he said, *' Whoever knows that language
has ready access to all the vast intellectual wealth
^vhicll all the wisest nations of the earth have
created and hoarded in the course of ninety gen-
erations." '• JIad our ancestors acted as the Com-
mittee of Public Instruction has hitherto acted ;
had they neglected the language of Cicero and
Tacitus ; had they confined their attention to the
old dialects of our own island ; had they printed
nothing and taught nothing at the universities
but chronicles m Anglo-Saxon and romances in
Norman-French, would England have been what
she now is? What the Greek and Latin were to
the contemporaries of More and Ascham, our
tongue is to the people of India." His views
prevailed. While in India, Macaulay, in a letter
to his father, said, '' Our English schools are
flourishing wonderfully. We find it dillicult —
indeed, in some places, impossible — to provide
instruction for all who want it. At the single
town of Ilooghly, fourteen hundred boys are
learning English. Tl^e effect of this education
on the Hindoos is prodigious. No Hindoo who

; I

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CUOATE.

has received an English education ever remains
sincerely attached to his religion."

It was fortunate for England and for the people
of India tlfat Macaulay could thus secure the adop-
tion of that system of education. It was a more
important service than was the preparation of his
Code, in which Macaulay took great pride; more
important, indeed, than all his other work com-
bined.

To include the study of Greek and Latin in that
scheme of national education would have been
premature and unwise, yet even that would have
been more wise, as tending to make an alliance
between the English and the Indian mind possible,
than would have been the study of the Sanskrit,
the Persian, and the Araljic. Mr. Macaulay knew
that the time might never come when those dusky
students of the East would wish to study Cicero
and Tacitus in the orii2:inal, and that it would re-
quire the culture of English in those schools for
centuries before such a question could arise.

It is to be confessed that even with us the study
of the ancient lano:ua<2:os should be recommended
with reserve and discrimination, not simply be-
cause the intellectual wealth mentioned by Macau-
lay is before us in translations, ministering to a
great degree of culture, but because, with many
students, such a study would be a sacriiice of time

ADVICE AS TO THE CLASSICS.

and strenixtli. Even some minds of crreat power

have sul't'ered under such studie;

wou

Id 1

hard to find stronger expression>' of detestation
than Byron used with reference to Horace, or than
Gray, as noticed hy Moore, ai)phed to the enforced
duty of reading Virgil. Lamartine, speaking of
his choice of authors, says, " Among the poets the
ones that I preferred were not the ancients, whose
classic pages h.ad too early been bedewed with my
sweat and tears." But we need not seek for ex-
amples. It is obviously unjust, it is bad economy,
to prescril)e such tasks for a student without re-
gard to his taste, or to the course of life he is to
pursue. Whatever his calling is to be, he nmst,
study his own language closely, critically, pro-
foundly, and be conversant with the best authors
in it. Especially must he study the Bible daily,
and cultivate a love for its words and style. lie
may thus become a good English scholar. He
must master many sul)jects of practical importance
also, and in the history, life, and contentions of
the world be well informed. In all this he will be
following Mr. Choate's example.

There is no reason to fear that too much atten-
tion will be given to classical stud}'. From lack
of taste and inclination, of early training and
agreeable association, or by reason of the nature
and variety of studies soliciting his choice in the

iH , I

■i:li!^

- ; i

'■■

I i

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

curricula of our higher schools, the student is
likely, rather, to undervalue the claims of Latin
and Greek.

But he who looks forward to a life of literary
leisure, and to the highest intellectual enjoyments
attainable, or aspires to one of the learned pro-
fessions, must take up the ancient classics. Such
studies, however, are to be vigorously pursued.
In its early stages the work is difficult and full of
discouragements. Only after much devotion, ^'er
he has passed the region of toil and pain, does uie
student enter into the spirit of the language, and
take delight in the literature. Of that delight he
who abandons the study early feels and knows
nothing. It is as when two travelers attempt to
climb a mountain. In the morning mist they see
only the steep and stony path under their feet.
After much effort, one becomes weary and turns
back. The other pushes on and reaches the top.
The rising sun illumines the summit, chases the
shadows from the valleys, and gradually takes pos-
session of the earth. lie sits bathed in a flood
of glory never before conceived, never to be for-
gotten.

We are reminded of the advice, '' Soak your
mind with Cicero," — advice often repeated by
Mr. Choate, and illustrated in his early life.

Classical study trains the memory, the inven-

EFFECT OF CLASSICAL STUDY.

tion, the imagination, the judgment, taxing them
all in a high degree. It furnii^hes thoughts, which
yield themselves up to patient lal)or and ingenu-
ity. But before they can be expressed in trans-
lation they must be grasped and subdued.

The student thus becomes habituated to the
thoughts of great minds, in a sense makes them
his own, and acquires a power for profound inves-
tiu'ations. It cannot be denied that the ancient
classics, properly pursued, compel the highest dis-
cipline of which the intellect is capable. In the
seminaries to which students from other institu-
tions are admitted, some of whom have had classi-
cal training, while others have not, it is found,
after years of dilficult study, that the former show
a marked superiority. This has been proved in
the German schools, and the statistics are given in
the government reports. It has been proved in
schools of our own also.

A critical knowledge of Latin, not difficult to
attain, is the best preparation for the study of the
French and other modern languages. E(|ui2)ped
with this, the acquisition of the other tongues be-
comes easy. Latin and Greek are also great helps
in perfecting a knowledge of the English lan-
guage. Nowhere else do we find reflected the
exquisite grace and beauty of the Greek mind ;
and, ■when compared with the works of the great

i.';

! i

^ A'
f:
I

V'l

tx ■• ii

i!i

ir—

!!! • m

;

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Greek and Latin authors, those of the French and
German appear crude and immature.

It would be kimentable indeed if the study of
the ancient classics in our higher schools were un-
duly discouraged. It would, moreover, be illogi-
cal to accept as proof that such studies are no
longer necessary, the fact that good English has
been written by men ignorant of Latin and Greek,
men to whom translations of classical productions
have given aid not easily estimated. Such men
may not owe much directly to the classic writers,
but who can compute their indirect indebtedness,
since their ideals have been writers whose style
has been formed upon the great models furnished
by Athens and by Rome ?

The reader may have noticed that some authors,
while objecting to the elements of Greek and
Latin in our language as excessive, habitually use
words of classic derivation, and praise Saxon words
for their brevity, simplicity, directness, manly
vigor, and moral purity as if these words had been
lost ; and claim that to relieve our poverty the stu-
dent should go back to the days of Chaucer to find
them. Yet these and other like words, treasured
up with a wise economy, are in actual use and have
intimate relations with the affairs of every-day life.
But they are wanting in scope and variety. It is to
be observed that scholars and critics, like Professor

1 1 . . ;|

BORROWED TERMS.

Hunt, who agree with Sharon Turner in oxtolhng
the extent and power of the Anglo-Saxon lan-
guage, have not told us how to find therein equiv-
alents for sueh familiar words as rc/ifjlon, line,
face, relation, conunon, animal, nature, jja^/e, and
for hundreds of other words. Nor have they
shown us why, now that we have such words, we
should not use them, rather than search in ancient
mounds for roots from which we might possibly
cultivate their equivalents.

With a grateful appreciation of our language,
we believe that on the grounds of harmony, of ex-
pressiveness, of variety, of convenience, the bor-
rowing of terms from classic tongues was wise ;
and that English reduced to Saxon, if such a de-
cline were possiljle, would not be a gain or a bless-
mg, but an nnspeakable calamity. Standing as
the English language does to-day, with its wealth
of derived words, its acquisition is made easier to
millions of our fellow-men, and its usefulness to
ourselves is thereby greatly increased.

i :i

■: M

■i 1

•if

"5 t
'I

\ ■

{S; .;

' .*.

CHAPTER VI.

The Study of Words. — The Percentage cf Anglo-Saxon,
Latin, and Greek used by Mr. Choate and other Eminout
Scholars. — The Methods of Sharon Turner and George P.
Marsh. — Tables as to Derivatives.

Mil. Ciioate's solicitiulo as to the choice and
use of words was very great. Professor Parsons
says, " With all his variety and intensity of labor
there was nothing; he cultivated with more care
than words." That he was not peculiar in this
branch of study appears from familiar instances.
Cicero had taught that the orator's style must
be formed by the choice of words and the skill-
ful arranuemcnt of them in sentences. That in-
struction has been repeated by great teachers
from Quintilian down. Dr. Johnson and Dean
Swift refer to a perfect style as proper words
in proper places. When Gibbon wrote, several
times over, the first chapter of his history, and
Brougham the close of his speech in the Queen's
case, they were striving by choice words to im-
prove the style. That Byron found it difficult
to satisfy himself is shown by notes to an ap-

THE STUDY OF WORDS.

proved edition of his poems. Many changes were
made. In one instance which I recall, he erased
a word and substituted anoiher ; then rejected
the substitute and restored the original ; still in
doubt, he wrote below, " Ask GilTord." Emer-
son regarded Montaigne's choice with favor, as
he says, " Cut these words and they would bleed ;
they are vascular and alive." Of some of Mil-
ton's lines, Macaulay says, '• Change the structure
of the sentence, substitute one synonym for an-
other, and the whole effect is destroved." Pitt
thought verbal study important when he went
twice through Bailey's Dictionary, carefully con-
sidering every word. So also did Choate when
he formed the habit of reading the dictionary by
the page, and when he said to a student, '• You
want a diction whose every word is full freighted
with suggestion and association, with beauty and
power."

To acquire such a diction was a work calling
for intense and continuous application. But to
master the words which Mr. Choate needed was a
preparatory study. The question as to their best
use remained, and appealed to a large and ripe
experience. Writers and speakers differ in that
use, as they differ in culture and taste, in percep-
tion and judgment; but they would agree that
the grace, beauty, and power of the words used

W; :

■ til

! '1

ill

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

il) ifei

I' P

itr

depend on the harmony of their relations to each
other and to the thoughts expressed.

Mr. Choate valued highly those synonyms which
are useful in denoting distinctions, however slight,
and in enabling a speaker to avoid a wearisome
sameness of expression. His use of adjectives is a
noticeable feature of his style. They were chosen
with especial reference to the effect desired, and
each furnishes a new outline. Used thus, adjec-
tives are important for precision and definiteness.
It is by them chiefly (and by their cognates, the
adverbs) that qualification, so necessary to exact
statement, can be attained. Mr. Choate once said
to a friend of mine that the value of adjectives
could be learned by studying botany. On taking
up this study, one finds that the descriptive lan-
guage in it is largely composed of adjectives ; and
that to outline each tint, form, and garniture of
leaf and flower is an admirable instance of what
can be done by the use of such words.

Mr. Choate was in full communion with the
spirit of our language. He knew how strong, yet
how flexible, the words are ; he knew their line-
nge and their history. He did not attempt to coin
new words, or to reclaim those rejected because
violating the anaiogies of the language, or to re-
vive those that hod become obsolete. Nor did he,
when writing or speaking, pause or turn aside to

THE USE OF WELL-ACCEPTED WORDS. 99

find or to avoid Saxon words or words of foreign
derivation. In a conservative spirit he accepted
our language as nourished and developed to its
present strength and maturity. Believing that
its wealth is as precious in the realms of thought
as coin and credit in the world of commerce, he
sought to evolve and quicken its power to express
with grace and precision every shade of sentiment
and doctrine, however delicate or ahstruse.

No one who has considered the nature of lan-
guage, or the poverty of which he is conscious
wdien some of his emotions cannot be described,
and yet believes that the development of lan-
guage attends the growing refinement of the peo-
ple, will doubt the wisdom that guided Mr. Choate
in his studies, even when he was seeking a perfec-
tion not yet attainaljle. Much has been said in
vague and general terms as to the qualit}'- and
extent of his vocabulary. Some not unfriendly
critics have thought that he gave an undue pref-
erence to words of foreign derivation ; and that
his classic studies had perverted his taste and
judgment in respect to our strong, homely, and
simple native words. Such suggestions have had
weight in confirming my wish to ascertain the rel-
ative proportions of native and foreign words used
by Mr. Choate and by some other distinguished
scholars.

^11

Mt^

ii:

III

I i i i

100

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

In his history, Sharon Turner gave some atten-
tion to such a question for the avowed purpose of
proving " the copiousness and power of the Anglo-
Saxon language ; " but his method, though sugges-
tive, was partial and inadecjuate. lie quoted a
few lines from fourteen authors, and marked the
Saxon words, — marked some of them many times.
The particulars appear in the table at the end of
this chapter.

In his lectures on the Eniirlish language, Mr.
George P. Marsh gave the subject more attention,
but his collections and estimates include repeated
words. That distinguished philologist. Dr. Weisse,
followed a different method.

As the more weighty words, those upon which
the sense of an author largely dej^ends, are of
classic derivation and not often repeated, and as
some of the small words, the Saxon, do recur
many times in every sentence, it is obvious that
to include the repeated words in an estimate un-
duly augments the percentage that should be as-
signed to the Anglo-Saxon. The vocalnilary of
a speaker or writer cannot thus be determined.
When told that Milton used 8,000 words and
Shakespeare 15.000, one need not be told that in
these estimates repeated words are not counted.

In treating of Mr. Choate's vocabulary, I have
caused all his words found in print, found by dili-

MR. CIIOATE'S VOCABULARY.

101

gent srarcli, to l)c urittoii dcnvii, and classified ac-
cording to their derivation, and the percentage of
the whole "which each class furnishes ascertained.
But dates, proper names, and ((notations have
been omitted, and repeated words avoidctl ; the
question really heing as to his total vocabulary,
and not as to the frequency with which any class
of words reappears in his writings. I lind that
Mr. Choate used 1 l,(»l)o unrepeated words. Of
these, 3.421 are Teutonic; 7,223 ai-e Latin; "30
are Greek ; 123 arc common or Indo-European ;
and 187 are scattering. The percentage of the
•whole number which the Teutonic furnishes is,
therefore, .2')3 ; the Latin, .618; the Greek, .002;
the Indo-European, .011 ; and the scattering, .016.
A like test has been applied to twenty other au-
thors, ten American and ten British ; — the unre-
peated words used by each of them in one paper
or more, on some subject or occasion of grave im-
portance, have been classified and counted. That
these authors dili'er from each other and from Mr.
Choate in the percentage of Anglo-Saxon used
may be ascribed in some measure to the varied
nature of the subjects discussed by them, and to
the number of words considered. The subject
discussed in each instance, and the derivations of
the words used, are given in the tables at the close
of this chapter. These authors, I am persuaded,

■i

;;!

iii

102

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

will 1)0 regarded as fit exponents of tlio English
language at its best estate. It is evident that, if
they could have expressed their views with equal
freedom, fidelity, precision, and force in Anglo-
Saxon and had done so, our indc^pendence of the
classic elements in our language would be gen-
erally confessed.

My purpose, at first, was merely to learn the
percentage of Anglo-Saxon used by these authors
and by Mr. Choate. But, on further consideration,
it seemed proper to extend the incpiiry to words
from other sources. In doing this, the words
seemed naturally to fall into these five classes : —

Fh'st. The Teutonic. By this I mean princi-
pally, and almost exclusively, Anglo-Saxon. But,
in all the writings examined, there is a slight
sprinkling (1) of Norse, or Scandinavian, words ;
(2) of old, middle, or modern High - German
words ; and (3) of Dutch words. These, too few
in number to justify separate classification, and
not strictly Anglo-Suxon words, though near of
kin to them, coiiiri properly be classed with such,
under the generic heading Teutonic, and so have
been.

Secondly. The Latin ; including, of course, the
words coming into the English through the
French, the Italian, the Spanish, and the Portu-

guese.

!, {

CLASSES OF DERIVATIVES.

103

Thirdly. The Greek.

Fourllthj. The Indo-European. This class em-
braces words which belong to most or to all of the
seven great members of our family of languages.
Belonging to most or to all, they could not be
classed with any one of them.

Flffhlf/. Scattering. Of the words of this class
by far the larger part are purely Celtic. But oc-
casionally there was found a Hebrew or an Arabic
word, one distinctly Russian, or Persian, or Indian,
or one from some other source, and a separate
classification of these in the tables was not called
for.

It should be said, further, that what was evi-
dently the most essential part of any compound
determined the classification of the word. Where
there were prefixes or suffixes, or both, the rooi
settled the class to which the word was assiij^ned.
Where the parts were still independent words,
that part modified in meaning or limited in scope
by the other part or the other parts was allowed
to determine the class.^

In a letter from the late George P. Marsh, to be
found in another part of this work, he says that

^ The classification of the wordsi, the (lotcrniination of the per-
centages, and the preparation of the tables are, with little of my
help, the work of my learned friend, Brainerd Kellofrg, Professor
of English Language and Literature ia the Collegiate and Poly-
technic Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y.

'1.1

104

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

■ ':

i -mm

he had thought Mr. Choate's vocabuJary consisted
of more words than I have given. As some of my
readers may have a hke impression, it is proper to
speak of the rigorous excision practiced by the
Professor, — an excision by which great niunbers
of words standing alphabetically in the columns
prepared for him were cut out. No word in any
one author, occurring as a single part of speech,
was counted more than once, though used often
bv him in the same form, or in diifercnt forms.
As, for instance, (jrow, grows, (jrew, (jrowing,
groicn, found many times in the same author,
were regarded as one word ; and taller or tallest
was not counted if tall had been ; nor was the
plural of any noun, if the singular had been.

Let me, however, illustrate a seeming exception
to this guiding ride stated and exemplified above.
Is, teas, and been are parts of one verb. But
they are from different roots ; consequently, when
found hi an author, they were called three differ-
ent words. For the same reason, heifer and worse,
comparatives of the adjective good and the ad-
verlj hadly, were counted, though the positives
had been. So were the forms, thus differently de-
rived, of all other parts of speech.

The number of Mr. Choate's words as first col-
lected, 15.559, was thus reduced to 11,G93.

With these explanations of the principles by

COMPARA TIVE PERCENTA GES.

105

which the learned Professor was governed in
the preparation of the tables, the lessons taught
may be readily understood.

As a summary of the less obvious teaching of
the tables, Professor Kellogg has had the khidness,
at my request, to write what follows. He says,
'•• It will be seen by a glance at the tables, that
eight of the twentj^ authors with whom Mr,
Choate is compared use a smaller percentage of
Teutonic words than he does ; that two use the
same ; that the ten who exceed his percentage of
Teutonic exceed it about as much as the others
drop below it ; and that these relations would not
be essentially disturbed if the percentages marked
common (Indo-European, or Aryan) were added to
the Teutonic. It will be seen, also, that thirteen
of these twenty authors use a larger percentage of
Latin words than Mr. Choate does ; and that these
thirteen exceed his percentage much niore than
the remaining seven fall below it. If, with some,
we add the Greek words to the Latin, and call the
resulting list classical, ten of the twenty would
exceed Mr. Choate's percentage of classical words;
one would have the same ; and the remaining
nine would fall below his percentage much less
than the ten would stand above it."

Mr. Choate's vocabulary, the unrepeated words,
is not in any material degree disturbed by the

i ■■ .<

i!ll

ill

^....-*

ii,

'I ^.' '„^

106

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

fact that many of his speeches and arguments
were not published or preserved. He used in
them, no doubt, words not found in the papers
before me, but the number of unrepeated ad-
ditional words would be much less than might
bo supposed, while the percentage of Anglo-
Saxon, of Latin, and of Greek, would be substan-
tially the same.

jU^,

SOME PARTICULARS OF SIIAROX TURNER'S WORKS.

Authors.

Number of ;
Wunls ciiusiil-
ereil.

Of whic'li arc
Angl(j-?axou.

1
iif wliich (An-
i:lii-."-u.\nii) are
Ui-liftitiuU5.

Kei'f'titionof

Woiil.-i fniiii

other juurces.

Sliakesijeiuc . . .

Milton

Cowley

Thonisou ....

G-t

AJdison ....

Speuser

Locke

Pope

17*

Young

Swift

i i

Robertson ....

Humo

101

Gibbon

Johnson ....

1,219

923

333

■t !!

' t i

\ ■ w

108

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

I 1 ]•

Tur Ccut.

> r. ^

^ >^ ■£>

J c -> =>

i .2-= <u

a = _ 3

*— •J "^

I Hi

ti;

o or, o
^ 00 ~<
« I- I— I

c " d

Oo"rt
o ♦-

^ O rt o

o = = o
S< s o CO

. ~ I I 2

c « - V "^

o i) -; '

s^ i:

•-5

c? .. 3-< >" "5 S

Ct ♦J s^ O •p^+J

._ 3

t. 'M

Oi C

o
o

•<

Number

rj..

r.^
I.-I

of Word.s.

•<1>

,_,

I'CT Cout.
Numljer

r>4

Ift
(?)

iif >Vorc.ls.

■*

Per Cent.

•

Niiiiilicr

of W orils.

1— 1

■*

'^,

"cr "cut.

«o

-1>

>— <

NunibiT

l>\

<ri

of Wolds.

■"•

•*

Per Cent.

Xiiiiilipr

«f5

to
•*

(if Wiir.ls.

'!■

•*

1ft

Nuiiit

•T of Unre«

■M

pea

od \\ ords.

1-^

.-^

H
H

cT
o

to
o

I-)
§

O 00

« a
« 2

fi -^

o
- o

o a

yl.l/E/J/C^.V AUTHORS.

o
o

o •

.■S-3

o?5

g C2

^ .?--^ P^

r. —

a
Si

^ 2

o<;

c: a

E 3

a
a o

109

o
o

-I"

-t

■■5

-I-

■J
-p

m
10

— 4J

- .? =>
i.« ^ •"

'JO

I-) ;£

— oi ^ p— I

o -o »^ l-l

■^ . Z- ^

-M to

a?5;3

- f- _,

— Tl — •

*- -^

a ." —

■*-> ^

««t; -

■~ -^ .

ci i

a -u CO

si-

e 3-

- CI

— HO

.--' - i>

a » a
o a

c I. ^
en:*

iij

Nil

i ■ .1

1<,

110

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

Per Cent.

o
o

Xiinilwr

■T

If.

o( Words.

■M

Per ("ent.

•

Numlii'r

— .

C-.

rr,

ifS

^<i Wnnls.

^.M

cr>

Per Cent.

'£

•

Nunilicr

of Words.

-r

•r|

Per Cent.

Ti
O

,__,

Nunilier

of Words.

!>■

—

-t

Ct,

Cfj

Per Cent.

00
Tl

—

,_,

N'Mnit'cr

.— I

of Words.

'•'•

-f

1«

'J.

„^

Numl

3er of Vnre-

CO
CI

in
in

pea

ted \\ ords.

-•

»-H

« •

•

is •

.4-1

•

:^ •

—

o •

•

s •

o .

u •

H •

•

c •

«4-4

■n

&•

•

J-'

--2

s :

g •

2 "'

PS •

4->

-w tc

)£

a •

J— «

C4-*
O

>~»

Sj2

9 .

■rt in

2 •

1— (
o

•<

.25 >

P5
><

i: Tl

t(.%D

- a

f-1

P5
CO

0) C

? ■"

1.1

S
C

2^"

c o

^■'B

o
v-5

§3

"c y

u^ J?

F— •

cS"

^1
S2

1*^

^•s

•cf^

= a)

BRITISH AUTHORS.

Ill

ffl'f

•N

h«

1—*

"o"

•r

I-

-r

e>i

•t

-r

-f

in
1-

—

^iTT

1-^

L*^

•«■

i»

1*1

"^ o

"^-f^

p«ri

~~c^

•«f

•*

■*

..^

't,

Cl_

!—<

1— <

«*H •

M •

tfi

2 ■

4-1

CI _

"tc

c •

•

^ .

1^ •

o •

•

■tJ .

•

«M

.■S Ji

1— 1

o .

•

o ,

o .

t-2

•

>'.

."^ «-^

»!

•-^ ,

S
^

O 2

O H

V-

*-'

'in

b 'T^

►^ ■

.2^

C
4-J

rr.

,2
*7

•A -t"

I— 1

■/i

■ s

S 2

4-^

-u

'r. —

.£

_rt

■4J

e 4

«3

--■

** a

•4->

4-H
O

"s;

I ■

-. !

i.'ll!

I r

;(!

rrr

CHAPTER VII.

Style, Variations of. — Long Sentences. — Tlio ^lethodist
Church Case. — Habits of Revising Speeches. — xV Con-
trast. — The Importance of Rhetorical Decorations. — The
Freedom of Discourse necessary to an Advocate. — Long
Arguments.

The reader who believes, with Lord Karnes,
that to have a specific style is to be poor of
speech, will appreciate Mr. Choate's varied meth-
ods. As a speaker he was copious, reiterative,
and much given to illustrations useful in an ar-
gument ; as a writer he was more simple and
severe.

But, however widely his methods differed, the
same delicate and touching sensibility, the same
vivid and picturesque beauty, the same wealth of
thought and power of expression appeared in what
was spoken and in what was written. In neither
was his brilliant imagery used as a mere embel-
lishment ; the visions of beauty in his mind be-
came articulate without effort ; the musical flow
and rhythm as inimitable as the melody of the
murmuring brook. He evidently believed that
from the harmony that could exist between a sub-

\ik

LONG SENTENCES.

113

ject and the tone of its discussion might arise a
sense of ideal and emotional beauty, pleasing to
the mind; that a brilliant style was consistent with
directness of thought and simplicity of speech ;
and that rhetorical and illustrative imagery, em-
ployed with taste and judgment, — pictures to the
eye and to the mind, — might add to the spirit
and force of an argument.

Mr. Clioate wrote with great freedom, and often
spoke with vehemence and rapidity ; the words
waiting instantly and submissively on the thoughts.
When the subject moved him strongly and was to
be compressed within the limits of a single dis-
course, he sometimes rushed through one of those
long sentences thought to be peculiar to him.
However easy it may have been for him, — and
it appeared to be easy, — the work in its nature
was unique and difficult. To one not having a
powerful memory, great command of language,
and discrimination in the use of words, the achieve-
ment w^ould have been impossible. A long train
of thought and the related parts of the discourse
were to be held in mind, and the particulars so ad-
justed as to be in harmony with each other and
with the argument. Mr. Choate thus gave, in
compact form, extended views of the matter in
hand, without prolixity, confusion, or ambiguity.
The longest sentence he is knowm to have used was

14 5-f;

f •

'ill

■ I

'>'(*

.:l!'"

'i!t

i^i

114

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

in his eulogy of Webster. In that instance and in
other instances of the kind, he was heard with
such unbounded dehght that no one would have
thought of suggesting the common objection that
long sentences tend to weary and perplex the
hearer and the reader. In reading those sen-
tences, as in reading the sovereign examples of
Demosthenes, Cicero, and Milton, the student has
a vivid conception of the argument.

In a letter to Mr. Brazer, referring to a work
on Logic, Mr. Webster accepts what is said of
" argumentative repetition," and of " the effect
of particularization," and says, " The skillful, and
apparently natural, enumeration of particulars is
certainly, in its proper place, one of the best
modes of producing impressions. All the stand-
ard works are full of instances of this sort of
composition." In closing his letter, Mr. Webster
adds, " ' After all,' says Cobbett, ' he is a man of
talent that can make things move ; ' and after
all, say I, he is an orator that can make me
think as he thinks, and feel as he feels."

Was not Mr. Choate such an orator ? From one
of my correspondents I cite a few words relating
to an occasion when Choate was speaking upon a
familiar topic, "As Choate approached the climax,
Webster's emotions became uncontrollable ; the
great eyes were filled with tears, the great frame

INFLUENCE OF THE PATIIETTC.

115

shook ; he bowed his head to conceal his face in
his hat, and I ahnost seemed to hear him sob."
Was not Mr. Choate's a style that could make
Webster think as he thought, and feel as he felt ?
When, in listening to any other orator, speaking
in whatever style, was Webster so moved ? Those
tears, that emotion, prove and illustrate his judg-
ment, and blot out forever some of the loose and
casual chat about Choate's style which Mr. Harvey
reports in his '* Reminiscences." If Webster ever
did find fault with Choate's style, it would be in-
teresting to know in what mood he was. If he
talked of Choate's pile of flowers, and praised his
logic rather than his style, Webster must have
forgotten the care and patience with which he had
cultivated his own flowers of speech, and the in-
terest which they gave to some of his discourses.
But he really differed from Choate, in the use of
such forms of expression, less than may be com-
monly supposed. In his popular addresses, Web-
ster employed them more freely than when speak-
ing to legislative bodies or in the courts. He used
them, however, in each kind of seivij.?, when
moved by passion, or when anxious to awaken or
quicken the attention of his hearers. Yet, in re-
vising his speeches for publication, he plucked
away the flowers whose bloom and fragrance then
pleased him less than when they had been adopted.

m
%

i
•i-

i ■';

l.l\

■^%

!i.'

'J!

WTr>

116

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

But Mr. Choate's flowers of speech, of spontaneous
growth and use, were left with his other words, in
their original relations.

In his essay, introductory to his selections from
Mr. Webster's speeches, Mr. Whipple takes special
and favorable notice of several figurative expres-
sions which had been retained. They have great
merit. I refer to one of them, illustrative some-
what of the dehberation with which such embel-
lishments were sought. Mr. Whipple gives the
history. When Webster was once on the heights
of Quebec, at an early hour of a summer morning,
he heard the drum-beat calling the garrisor
duty. It flashed upon him that England's mu^..
ing drum would go on beating elsewhere to the
hour when it would again sound in Quebec. In
his speech in the Senate, on the " Presidential Pro-
test," after noticing the fact that our Revolution-
ary fathers went to war in respect to mere taxa-
tion, Webster said, " On this question of principle,
while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised
their flag against a power, to which, for the" pur-
pose of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome,
in the height of her glory, is not to be compared ;
a power which has dotted over the surface of the
whole globe with her possessions and military
posts; whose morning drum-beat, following the
sun, and keeping company wdth the hours, circles

THE REVISIOX OF ARGUMENTS.

117

the earth witli one continuous and unbroken f^train
of the martial airs of En<^"lan(l."

As indicating the attention which that rlietor-
ical ilhistration excited, Mr. Wlii[)i)le notices the
report that, at the conclusion ol' this speech, John
Sergeant of Philadelphia came up to the orator,
and eagerly asked, " Where, Wel)ster, did you get
that idea of the morning drum-beat ? "

Mr. "Webster evidently believed that the idea of
an unbroken circle of power, extending round the
globe, originated with him and at Quebec. Mr.
Whipple, however, refers to a passage in Goethe's
*' Faust" for the same idea, but says that Webster
never read " Faust." He could also have referred
to the ''Odyssey," which We))ster had read in the
original and as translated, for a passage equally
suggestive : —

" Hear nic, Xi'ptune ! thou whoso arms are hurled
From shore to shore and gird the solid world."

The idea was old. Mr. Webster gave it a new
form and office.

In respect to the final improvement of their
speeches, the difference between the habits of
Webster and those of Choate is not less striking
and significant. As a consequence, it may be said
that he who would know iliese orators from their
printed pages should remc iber that while one of
them appears as in state-dress, every part care-

^iM

imm

iai.

I .

t'1"

'f < i

I ,;

miiu ' Misiiua aassi.'.

118

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

! f i

fully arranged, the other appears in the unstudied
dress of e very-day life.

An interesting statement, by the Hon. Enoch
L. Fancher, as to Mr. Choate's relation to the
Methodist Church case, appears in another part
of this work. I am indebted to Judge Fancher
for a copy of the report of that case which con-
tains the arguments of counsel. I turn the pages
of the book with conllicting emotions, — pleasure,
in recalling what interested and impressed me
many years ago ; sadness, in remembering what
the country and the profession have since lost.
On that trial, Judges Nelson and Betts presided,
and liufus Choate, Daniel Lord, George Wood,
and Iieverdy Johnson were of counsel, not one of
whom is now living'.

The reader will learn, from Judge Fancher's
paper, that he sought in vain to have Mr. Choate
revise his argument for publication. The refusal
was in keeping with Mr. Choate's habit. The
work in hand having been performed, he turned
to other labors or to his favorite studies, free from
the ambition of appearing well in print. Ho al-
ways sought to master his subject before under-
taking its discussion. In this he was unsparing.
But, in speaking, he could use appropriate terms,
and be content to leave his words as they fell
from his lips. It would, I think, be admitted by

A CONTRAST.

119

those \vlio have often hoard him and have studied
hiin cloxely, that, owing to the character and ex-
tent of his studies and the inliuence of his natural
gifts, — memory, taste, judgment. — the words that
would best express and illustrate his views were
present to him as they were wanted, even when
he was in the free and rapid current of discourse.
Professor Parsons was sensible of this when he
said that Choate '• was never at a loss for ihe
word."

In contrast with such command of words and
such indisposition to revise what had been said on
a trial or in an argument, the reader will (ind in
Mr. Whipple's essay, to which I have referred, a
circumstantial account of the manner in which, by
changing words, definitions, and illustrations, Mr.
Webster " tormented reporters, proof-readers, and
the printers who had the misfortune to be en-
gaged in putting one of his performances into
type, not because this or that word was or was
not Saxon or Latin, but because it was inadequate
to convey perfectly his meaning."

Mr. Whipple mentions, also, jMr. Welister's re-
vision of discourses whicli had been delH^erately
prepared. Thus he says, " On the morning after
he had delivered his J^'vilogy on Adams and Jefl'er-
son, he entered his office with the manuscript in
his hand, and threw it down on the desk of a

'if t

i 'I

' i ■ I

,i ;

;l '4

!!;'

> ii

•II

(!!

> 1

i I ;

120

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ll'

'M '

ffi-'

' 11 '

„.i-

wm\^

i i'

•a

m ^'1

p ::f

r '■

ll:';

young student at Law, whom he greatly esteemed,
with the request, ' There, Tom, please take that
discourse and weed out all the Latin words.' "

The puhlicatiou, in pamphlet form, of Mr. Web-
ster's Plymouth oration of 1820 was delayed for
about a year. Mr. Whipple says, " It is probable
that the Plymouth oration, as we i ssess it in
print, is a better oration, in respect to composi-
tion, than that whicli was heard by the applaud-
ing crowd before which it was originally deliv-
ered."

Mr. Webster's taste was so exacting and severe
that he was not easily satisfied with his own work.
In that he was fortunate. He was fortunate also
in his close communion with the great masters of
speech. In the Eulogy, Mr. Choate refers to sev-
eral writers from whom Mr. Webster had souiirht
inspiration, and says, " To the study and compari-
son, but not to the copying, of authors such as
these ; to habits of writing and speaking and con-
versing on the capital theory of always doing
his best ; — thus, somewhat, I think, was acquired
that remarkable production, ' the last work of
combined study and genius,' his rich, clear, cor-
rect, harmonious, and weighty style of prose."

Mr. Richard Grant White has like views upon
such an acquisition. After suggesting that style
cannot be taught, and that the student will derive

W ^

CONVERSATION WITH MACKINTOSH. 121

little benefit from mere rhetoric, he says, " It is
general culture — above all, it is the constant sub-
mission of a teachable, apprehensive niincl to the
influence of minds of the highest class, in daily
life and in books, that bring out upon language
its daintiest Ijloom and its richest fruitage."

In using picturesque figures of speech and ar-
gumentative illustratioi:-!, Mr. WeJjster and Mr.
Choate were following the examples of great mas-
ters of speech from Cicero down to their own
times. But some critics, not able to conform to
these standards, commend plainness of style, and
object to rhetorical embellishments. Those who
condenni what they cannot emulate deserve little
attention. But it would seem that views occasion-
ally ascribed to distinguished authors may have
given such critics some encouragement. I m»ke
special mention of one instance.

Sir James Mackintosh is reported to have said,
in a conversation with Alexander II. Everett,
" Eloquence is the power of gaining your purpose
by words. All the labored definitions of it to be
found in the diit'erent rhetorical works amount in
substance to this. It does not, tlierefore, require
or admit the strained and false ornaments tliat
are taken for it by some. I hate those artificial
flowers without fragrance or fitness. Nol)ody ever
succeeded in this way but Burke. Fox used to

.1 'A

iillill

. j:

'ill ;(

11 'If p Si!

122

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

say, ' I cannot bear this thing in anybody but
Burke, and he cannot help it, it is his natural
manner.' Mr. Wilberlorce's voice is beautiful ;
his manner mild and perfectly natural. He has
no artificial ornament, but an easy, natural image
occasionally springs up in the mind that pleases
very much." ^

In some respects, the contrast between Wilber-
force and Burke was very great. Yet there is no
reason to suppose that images sprang uf) in the
mind of one of them more naturally than in the
mind of the other. Mackintosh cites Fox with ap-
probation, and could do so properly, as Fox knew
Burke by heart. But when Fox, speaking of the
abundant and gorgeous imagery of Burke, says
that he could not help it, it was his natural man-
ner, he recognizes Burke's genius, and, in effect,
denies that he emploj-ed strained and false orna-
ments or artificial flowers.

In his definition of eloquence. Mackintosh could
have said that the speaker who seeks to gain his
purpose by words must be true to his nature, and
that to check or to stimulate his powers by limit-
ing himself to the use of a plain style, or by striv-
ing after ornamentation, would betray great weak-
ness. How far he would have tolerated Choate's
and Webster's flowers of speech it would be haz-

* North American Review, 1832.

1 1^-

It CLE FOR THE FOUEXSIC SPEAKER. 123

ardous to surmi.se. But lie could not think it
more feasible or just to apply a law of repression
to the luxurious diction of a man of genius than it
would be to add " lead and ballast to the under-
standing " to bring it down to the level of connnon
minds. Either course would be as reasonable as
to clip the wings of eagles, formed by nature to
cleave the upper air. It is obvious that he who
would l)y words secure the assent of others must
be allowed to speak as the spirit moves him, with
no other sense of restraint than his culture, taste,
and judgment, the character of his hearers, and
the nature of his subject may impose. Such free-
dom is most essential to the advocate.

It has been suggested as the rule for the foren-
sic speaker that he should pass over inferior mat-
ters, and concentrate his efforts upon the more
material points in a case ; whereas, it was charac-
teristic of Mr. Clioate that he did, in some sense,
just the opposite. It is to be rememljered, how-
ever, that with great freedom of suggestion, of
illustration, of argument, his discourse was tem-
pered by a keen and steady watchfulness of the
effect he was producing. He peered, as it were,
into the very souls of the jury to read the stage
of conviction to which they had been brought.
He knew that the less important points of a case
may give the jury trouble, may even prevent

^^M

\ s^^^^^^E

1
J

i ■

)

. i

i'tl

'. ;f

I' ^ w '

' ■, ' »■.,

' i;!

^: i

^iili

Jii

ill!

124

MEMORIES OF IIUFUS CIIOATE.

their agreeing upon a verdict. Then, too, mat-
ters which, as first considered, ajopear to be of
little moment, may in combination, or in their re-
lation to unexpected developments on a trial, be-
come important. It would, indeed, be interesting
to know^ by what prevision, in cases like those of
Tirrell, where a* life was at stake, and of Dalton,
where a woman's honor was in peril, counsel could
sif^ out what might be passed over in silence as
immaterial.

It has been sui2:fi:ested, also, that Mr. Choate's
arguments before juries were long, with the im-
plication that they were too long. The objection
might be reasonable if it had been observed that
in any case he did not keep the attention of the
jury to the end of the discussion. We can recall
no instance of such failure. He often tried ques-
tions of fact with the brevity for wdiich Sir James
Scarlett and Judge Curtis have been commended.
But in desperate cases, the testimony conflicting
and doubtful, such economy of time and strength
would not have been proper. In his Recollections
of Mr. Cboate, from which I have permission to
quote, Mr. Whipple saj-s, " On one occasion I hap-
pened to be a witness in a case where a trader
was prosecuted for obtaining goods under false
pretenses. Mr. Choate took the ground that the
seeming knavery of the accused was due to the

ARGUMENT IN A TRYING CASE.

125

circumstance that he had a deficient business in-
telligence — in short, that he unconsciously rated
all his geese as swans. He (Choate) was right in
his view. The foreman of the jury, however, was
a hard-headed, practical man, a model of business
intellect and integrity, but with an incapacity of
understanding any intellect or conscience radically
differing from his own. Mr. Choate's argument,
as far as the facts and the law were concerned,
was through in an hour. Still he went on speak-
ing. Hour after hour passed, and yet he con-
tinued to speak with constantly increasing elo-
quence, repeating and recapitulating, without any
seeming reason, facts which he had already stated
and arguments which he li.ad already urged. The
truth wos, as I gradually learned, that he was en-
fj^aijred in a hand-to-hand — or rather in a brain-
to-brain and a heart-to-heart — contest with the
foreman, whose resistance he was determined to
break down, but who confronted him for three
hours with defiance observable in every rigid line
of his honest countenance. ' You fool 1 ' was the
burden of the advocate's ingenious argument ;
' you rascal ! ' was the phrase legibly printed on
the foreman's incredulous face. But at last the
features of the foreman began to relax, and at the
end the stern lines melted into acquiescence with
the opinion of the advocate, who had been storm-

1:!

' -' ' «

fwr>

Hi:

12G

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

ing at the defenses of his mind, Ids heart, and his
conscience for five hours, and had now entered as
victor. lie compelled the foreman to admit the
mipleasant fact that there were existing human
bein<!;s whose mental and moral constitution dif-
fered from his own, and who were yet as honest
in intention as he was, but lacked his clear per-
ception and sound judgment. The verdict was,
'Not guilty.' It was a just verdict, but it was
mercilessly assailed by merchants who had lost
money by the prisoner and who were hounding
him down as an enemy to the human race, as an-
other instance of Choate's lack of mental and
moral honesty in' the defense of persons accused
of crime. The fact that the foreman of the jury
that returned the verdict belonged to the class
that most vehemently attacked Choate was suf-
ficient of itself to disprove such allegations. As I
listened to Choate's argument in this case, I felt
assured that he would go on speaking until he
dropped dead on the floor rather than have relin-
quished his clutch on the soul of the one man on
the jury who he knew would control the opinion
of the others."

I may be allowed to say that the stubborn juror
could not have been persuaded to adopt Mr.
Choate's views by the mere repetition of facts and
arguments, or by a determination to break him

LONG ARGUMENTS.

127

down. His peciiliiiritles were to bo consulted,
and his self-respect encouraged by making him
feel that he represented the higher intelligence of
the jury. To his sense and apprehension there
were or should have been no Ijiild and verbal
repetitions; these would have oflendcd his pride
and been fruitless ; would have involved a tau-
tology which Mr. Choate abhorred. In the course
of that discussion, no doubt varied relations were
recalled, recognized difliculties qualified, points
which had been stated put in new lights, and a
sense of novelty and interest excited. On the last
occasion when I heard Mr. Choate, he dealt with
the jury after that fashion. I was reminded of
what Stanhope says of Fox's repetitions — that
one argument stated in five different forms may
be equal to five different arguments.

The critic who thinks that Mr. Choate's argu-
ments were long would do well to recall the suc-
cess that often crowned his efforts ; also that one
of Erskine's speeches occupied seven hours ; that,
with us, counsel, sensible of the value of time,
have been known to speak to the purpose in a
case and entertain a jury for a week ; and that in
the Star Route trial the arguments of two of the
counsfel consumed, each, seven days.

■ I'

i.^i

:\ I;

«^^XKmiii^!rx£Sjsx.jUui

;;

CHAPTER VIII.

Eev. Dr. Hitchcock's View of Mr. Clioate. — Extracts from
Journal. — The Comparative Advantages of living in the
Okl World. — iMusic. — Vindication of Sir Walter Scott. —
Intervention. — Kossuth's Visit. — Eulogy of Webster.

Mr. Ciioate's study of the great masters of
speech in several languages left him in the use
of a style that was best suited to his taste and
genius. Hence it is that a wholesome relation
appears between the sympathetic power of his
early and of his later speeches. Such was the
opinion of Chief Justice Perley, who entered col-
lege when young Choate was there, and knew him
up to the close of his life. In speaking of his
early studies, the Chief Justice says, " He was
already remarkaljle for the same brilliant qualities
which distinguished him in his subsequent career.
To those who knew him then, and watched his
on»vard 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 by more exacting
occasions."

< i

nEV. DR. HITCHCOCK ON" CHOATE.

129

I am indebted to the Rev. Roswell D. Hitch-
cock, D. D,, President of the Union Theolo^ncal
Seniinarv, New York, for the following: : '• Between
the 3'ears 1845 and 1852, when I was living in
Exeter, N. II., and was often in Boston, I used
to see Mr. Choate in Burnliam's antiquarian Ijook-
store, on Cornhill. I had no speaking acquaint-
ance with him, but more than once lie jj-ave a sort
of gracious half-recognition, which seemed to me
the very perfection of courtesy and kindliness. As
he moved about among the old books, findinu; now
and then something that pleased him, there was
no mistaking the rare quality of the man. That
fine face, so deeply furrowed, the keen, but genial,
glance of the eye, the whole air so self-respecting
and yet so sweetly deferential to others, always
thrilled me at the time, and haunted my memory
long afterwards."

Of Mr. Choate's style and its effect, Dr. Hitch-
cock says, " Certainly he seldom failed to carry
his point with any jury, or any popular assembly.
He caught men up and swept them along, as the
wind sweeps leaves and dust. Whoever seeks to
know the secret of this will find it preeminently
in the innermost, essential character of the man.
He was pure, and just, and true, and tender, so
that whatever he said commended, and still com-
mends, itself to what is best and highest in our

I ,i

■1m

■•■«{!■ ^

i'i

I
■{

■';

130

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIJOATE.

common nature. lie was not only tliorouglily
good, but liis goodness wan fine and ehivalric.
The fascination was moral. The heart was cap-
tured first, and after that the imagination. His
marvelous fertility of invention, wealth of allu-
sion, and swift succession of inimitable felicities
of thought and diction never seemed like devices
to blind and betray the judgment, but came as
naturally as the bloom of fruit-trees, or the foam
of crested waves. His voice was one of a thou-
sand, of ten thousand rather, now like a tlute for
softness, and now like a clarion."

Mr. Choate could say what he would, in what-
ever style ho would, with ease and certainty. He
writes and speaks as one thoughtless of mere
style, and there seems to be almost no limit to
the variety of tone and exjiression.

I give some extracts, mere fragments, from his
Journal,^ showing briefly some of his impressions
in 1850, when he was traveling abroad.

" Monday, August 5, Lucerne. This, then, is
Switzerland. It is a sweet, burning midsummer's
morning at Lucerne. Under one of m^^ wi^ dows
is a little garden in which I see curra. jbages,

pear-trees, vines, healthfully growi. Before

me, from the other, I see the lake of Lucerre, —
beyond it, in farthest east, I see the snowy peaks

1 Browii's Memoirs^ vol. i.

FRAGMENTS OF THE JOURNAL.

131

of Alps. I count some tlo/x'u distinct .summits on
"svliicli the snow is lying, composing a rangu of
many miles. On my extromo right ascends JNIount
Pilate, — splintered, bare granite, — and, on the
other, Righi, high and bold, yet wooded nearly to
the top. It is a scene of great beauty and inter-
est, Avhere all ' save the spirit of man ' may seem
divine. We left IJasle at nine on Saturday morn-
ing, and got to Zurich that evening at six. This
ride opened no remarkaldc 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 ap-
proaching the base of mountains of the first class
in a high northern latitude. The agricultural
productions (except the exotic vine), the grass,
weeds moderate ; wheat — clover — whiteweed —
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, — cer-

( 'r

'4:

'tH

I i

if ti

J. hi ^

132

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

tainly a poorer people. They assiduously accu-
mulate manure, and women of all ages were reap-
ing in the fields.

"• Zurich is beautiful. The lake extends beau-
tifully to the south before it. Pleasant gardens
and orchards and heights lie down to it and ad-
joining 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, un-
supported beneath, of a city of the sky out of
sight.

" All things in Zui-ich announce Protestantism,
— activity of mind, the university, the books, the
learned men, the new buildings, the prosperity.

" I shall never forget the sweet sensations wnth
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 idong
the 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 excellent road, but,
to overcome the mountain, its course is zigzag, and
is practicable only for a walk of the horses. I got

Z URICH — L UCERNE.

133

out, and ascended on foot, crossing from one ter-
race of road to another, hy paths through pleasant
woods. As I ascended, the whole valley of Zurich,
— the city, the lake, in its whole length, the
amphitheatre of country inclosing it, the glorious
Alps, and, at last, Righi and 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, ascend-
ing before them, — successively evolved itself. I
saw over half of Switzerland. Spread on it all
was the sweet, not oppressive, unclouded, sum-
mer's sunlight. A pure, clear air enfolded it, —
the Sunday of the pastoral, 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 cliapel of Tell. The first view
of the peculiar sharp points of Alps was just from
the very top 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

r^jBHII

■

^^Wm

I ' fifW

{, I \[W

\ii

i 1 M

W''

' •^' v

::.

; i

R .

•'M

«il

■"i

hi.:

v>\

i
1

( ,

i ■ ■ .
i I 1 I

......liii

uy^

:r>:-:v

ni-

% v

lif *!■

134

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

nothing, and seemed architecture of heaven — pa-
vilions — the tents of a cavalcade travehng above
the earth.

" Berne, Wednesday, 7th. 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 hist
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 can-
tons. What I saw of Lucerne disappointed me.
The soil, I should think, cold and ungrateful, and
the mind of the lal)orer not open. Crucifixes
everywhere, and all over everything, — weeds in
corn and grass. Once in Berne all changes. Man
docs his duty. Excellent stone bridges ; good
fences ; fewer weeds ; more wheat and grass ;
more look of labor; better buildings; better,
newer, larger houses and barns ; no crucifixes ;
express the change. Throughout I find a small-
ish, 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 venous system of the world of trade and in-
fluence, — though the great pulse of business and
politics beats not — though life might seem to
stagnate, — is happiness and goodness too. Some-

BERXE.

135

times a high Swiss mind emerges, and, speaking
a foreign 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 atjcain before we 0:0.

" I saw at Berne the place of the state bears,
and two of the pensioners, the high terraced
ground of vie\v, the residence of the patricians,
and the Cathedral, containing, among other things,
tablets to the memory of those who fell in 1708,
enumerating them ; and the painted windows of
Protestant satire. Our journey to Vevay had
little interest, a grim horizon of cloud and a con-
stant fall of rain wholly obscured the Alps. Frei-
burg is striking, its suspended bridge sublime, and
it holds one of the best organs of the world. We
arrived here (Vevay) at ten, and I have this morn-
ing looked out on the whole beauty of this part
of the lake, — from Ilautevillc, and from a point
on the sho. above it, and towards the direction
of Chillon, — and admitted its supreme interest,
and its various physical and associated beaut3\
The day is clear and warm and still. Tlie slight-
est breeze stirs the surface of the lake ; light
clouds curl half-wa}' 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

Ifii

\'i

\v\\

:».Mii

Mi' ■

136

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

I' •■ \

W^~

\.\ r! i

: r 1 - !■

the southeast upon the water, in that valley,
sheltered by the mountahi, nestling among those
trees, eniljraced and held still in the arms of uni-
versal love, is Clarens, — fit, unpolluted asylum
of love and philosophy ; before it, on its left, is
the castle of Chillon, 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
inspiration of Rousseau and De Stael ; the shelter
of liberty ; the cradle of free-thinking ; the scene
in which tlie character and fortune of Puritanism
were shaped and made possible ; the true birth-
place of the civil and religious order of the north-
ern New World.

" Geneva, 9th August, Friday. The lake was
smooth and bright, and our voyage of five hours
pleasant and prosperous ; and we had the extraor-
dinary 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 W£ls in a blaze with the
descending glory. At first it was a mere reflec-
tion, 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,

li I

MONT BLANC.

137

beamed, some time longer ; one bright turret of
the building not made with hands, kindled from
within, self-poi.sed, or held by an unseen hand.
Under our feet ran the Rhone, leaping, joyful,
full, blue, to his bed in the Mediterranean. Be-
fore us is the city of thought, liberty, power, in-
fluence, the beautiful and famous Geneva. More
than ail in interest was the house of the father of
Madame de Stael, and the home of the studies of
Gibbon.

" I went on Saturday, August 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, and beyond
somewhat, a well-constructed royal road. AVithin
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 excellent road ascends
by the side of the Arve, itself a mad, eager stream,
leaping from the mcr Je r/Iace, and running head-
long, 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 hanging

i ■: t

■ I

i! '

1
%

i- 1 ■
i

1 .1

. i.1...

jiii

w.i..i

I'.. /'

V;||.;

138

MEMORIES OF ItUFUS CIIOATE.

over you, as projecting beyond their base. Theso
are so near, and our view so unoljstructed, and
they are all of ,a height so comprehensible and
appreciable, so to speak, so little is lost by an un-
availing elevation, that they make more impres-
sion than a mountain five times as high. It is
exactly as in the Notch, where the grandeur, in-
stead 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, sil-
ver threads of hundreds, perhaps of thousands,
of feet long from source to base of cliff, often
totally floating off from the side of the hill, and
the bed 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 fiow, were
condensed again into mere streams. These have
no character of waterfall as you ride along, but
discharge a great deal of water in a very pictur-
esque, holiday, and wanton fashion. This kind
of scenery grows bolder and ^vilder, and at last,
and suddenly, at St. Martin, Ave saw again, above
it, and beyond it all, the range of Mont Blanc,
covered with snow, and at first, its summit covered
too 'vith clouds. Thenceforth this was ever in
view, and some hours before sunset the cloud.^
lifted themselves and vanished, and we looked till

COMPARA TIVE ADVANTA GES.

139

all ^vas dark upon the unveiled siunniit itself.
Again Ave had a beautiful evening sky ; again,
but this time directly at the foot of the mountain,
we stood and watched the survivin<r, 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 morn-
ing's imagination only."

His impressions as to the contrast between the
advantages of living In the Old and in the New
World are of special interest.

"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 anything earlier there is nothing. All earlier
is of the ancient life, is in books, and may be ap-
propriated 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, educational spec-
tacles of architecture, picture, statue, gardening,
fountains, — are rich, rich, and some of them we
can never have nor use.

i.:)

I \>% \ '

», i »i> ■ f. • ,.tB

■ i jit f *

1 -^

} - ";

•I

I (
i

• f ^

: ; ^ J ., ■

' 1 * ■

!-»». '

t *

Ml [i

i M-'

140

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

" On how many European minds, in a genera-
tion, is felt edueationally the inthience of that
large body of spectacles specifically European, and
which can never be transferred ? Kecollect, first,
that all her books we can have among us perma-
nently. 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 j^lcice ; whatsoever and all which
comes from living in and visitinii; memorable
places. How many in Europe are influenced, and
how, by this last ? The recorded history affects
us as it docs them. In which hemisphere 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 in-
flexible 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 refinement, and
irenius, — how with them ?

OUR ADVANTAGES THE GREATEST.

141

\C' i =

*' Mom. The enjoyment of an Americjin of re-
fined tastes and a spirit of love of man is as high
as that of a European of the same class. He has
all but ^vhat 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 ac-
complish 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 more ; suck into its veins less nutriment,
less essence, less perception 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 inllu-
ence ? "

Those who have thought that Mr. Clioate had
little taste for music may wish that they had
stood by him in the Cathedral of Strasburg,
"where mass was performing, and a glorious

1 :

■ ,1

^t ^

;• 1

t '

!i -^

i i

{ .

!^i

142

MEMORIES or nUFUS C HO ATE.

organ was lilling that iinboiinckHl interior with
tlio grandest and the sweetest of music, tlirough
whose pauses you heard the muttered voice of
the priest, and the chanting of a choir wholly out
of sight." Or, at St. Deni.s, where " The organ
was played just enough to show what oceans and
firmaments full of hai'inony are there accumu-
lated. Some drops, some rivulets, some grandest
peals we heard, identifying it, and creating long-
ings for more,"

Mr. Clioate had a fervent admiration for Sir
Walter Scott. In his lecture on our '• Obliga-
tions to the British Poets," delivered in 1S56,
he defends Scott and his novels against one of
the detractors. The following will illustrate the
moderate tone which was peculiar to Mr. Clioate
when indulging in controversy. He says, '• It has
pleased Mr. Thomas Carlyle to record of these
novels, — 'The sick heart will 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
Shakespeare must answer, * These are not mine
to give.' To heal that sickness, to pour that light

GEXTLK TONE IN CONTROVERSY.

143

on that gloom, to awaken that j^lcop of ;^rontness
in the soul in the lii|j;hest sense, iar other pro-
vision 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 the message of the prophet,
till that snccession 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 practice of public
life. To ns only, and at last, is given the trne
light. For ns only is the great Physician pro-
vided. In our cars, 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, Shake-
speare, 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 tlie
same general treatment, by the same form of suf-
fering humanity by which Homer, Virgil, Dante,
Shakespeare heal the sick heart, give light to the
darkened eye, and guidance to blundering feet,

uV.W

I j'

' i

I ■:

't|

ii>

,nll

( •

:'i

144

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

{111(1 kindlo the heroic in man to life, — if ho
ineanH 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 iiway, to the darkness of whose despond-
ing he has given light, to whose sentiments of
honor, duty, courage, truth, maidiness, he has
given help, — let tliem gather around the capitol
and answer for themselves and him. I am afraid
that that I)eli)hic and glorious Madame de Stael
knew sickness of the heart in a sense and with a
depth too true only ; and she had, with other con-
solation, the fisherman's funeral, in the * Anti-
quary,' re.'ul to her on her death-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 — Ave who
speak the tongue of England and hold the ethics
of Plato, of Cicero, of Jeremy Taylor, and Ed-
mund Burke should understand, — 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

APPEALS TO HEROIC SPIRITS.

145

knows no otlicr 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, e([ual to all
ofhces of war or peace, above jealousy, above in-
justice — if this is the heroic, and if b}^ the divine
awakcnin<j^ voice he meant that artistic and lit-
erary 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 Olym-
pus of his worship ; that were flippant and indec-
orous, nor within my competence. But who and
where, in any literature, in any walk of genius,
has sketched a character, imagined a situation,
conceived an austerity of glorified suffering, bet-
ter adapted to awaken all of the heroic in man
or woman that it is fit to awaken, than Kcbecca
in act to leap from the dizzy verge of the parapet
of the castle to escape the Templar, or awaiting
the bitterness of death in the list of Tomplestowe
and rejecting the championship of her admirer ? —
or than Jeanie Deans refusing an untruth to save
her innocent sister's life and then Avalking to Lon-
don to plead for her before the Queen, — and so
pleading ? — than Macbriar in that group of Gov-

-S

i.t

i-ii

i:r *

! •

t .
1 i

I
I i

1 )

k ■■-:

'i^!'

1 1* . ,'^,,

|i JiL,.

140

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

enanters in " Old Mortality " in presence of the
Privy Council confessing for himself, whom terror,
whom torture could not move to the betrayal '-^ an-
other; accepting sentence of death, after anguish
unimaginable, his face radiant with joy ; a trial of
manhood and trust, a sublimity of trial, a mani-
festation of the heroic to which the self-sacrifice
of a Leonidas and his three hundred was but a
wild and ^^lad revelry, — a march to the ' Dorian
music of flutes and soft recorders,' — a crowning,
after the holiday contention of the games, with
all of glory a Greek could covet or conceive ? "

In an address on the " Intervention of the New
"World in the Affairs of the Old," delivered in
1852, Mr. Choate thus speaks of Kossuth. I cite
this passage as illustrative of his style ; also be-
cause Kossuth's visit to us is of interest as matter
of history, and is nowhere else so fitly given.

" On the fifth day of the last December, there
came to this land a man of alien blood, of foreign
and unfamiliar habit, costume, and accent ; yet
the most eloquent 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 lias, 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. Iinper-

\A,

KOSSUTH'S VISIT.

147

feet in his mastery of our tongue, — lie 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 audiences in Southampton, in Birming-
ham, Manchester, and Guildhall ; Ijred in a school
of taste and general culture with which our An-
glo-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 Eu-
rope, but Oriental still as ever, in all but its Chris-
tianity ; 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,
abstracted eye, before which one image seemed
alone to hover, one procession to be passing, the
fallen Hungary — the ' unnamed demigods,' Iier
thousands of devoted sons ; that earnest and full
soul, laboring with one emotion, has held thou-
sands and thousands of all degrees of suscepti-
bility ; the coldness and self-contio! of the East,
the more spontaneous sympathies of the West,
the masses in numbeis 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, — every-

^illl^

''. !

miL

'^iinr>K

f i'

148

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CTIOATE.

where 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.

" The trilmte of tears and applaudings ; the
tribute of sympathy and of thoughts too deep for
applaudings, too deep for tears, have attested his
sway. For the first time since the transcendent
gi'nlus of Demosthenes strove with the downward
age of Greece ; or since the prophets of Israel an-
nounced — each tone of the hymn grander, sad-
der, than before — the successive 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 elo-
quence of an expiring nation.

" For of all this tide of speech, flowing 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 Englani i ;
but to the mere emotion of sympathy for a single
family of man oppressed by another — contending
to be free, cloveri down on the field, yet again
erect ; her body dead, her spirit incapable to die ;

THE SYMPATHY KOSSUTH AWAKENED. 149

the victim of treachery ; the victim of power ; the
victim of intervention ; yet breathing, singing,
lingering, dying, hoping, through all the pain, the
bliss of an (Kjony of <jh}rij ! For this perishing
nation — not one inhabitant of which Ave ever
saw ; on whose territory we had never set a foot ;
whose ])Ooks 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 diplomac}' ; for
this nation he sought 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 meas-
ure, to his heart's content.

" When shall we be quite certain again that the
lyre of Orpheus did not kindle the savage na-
ture to a transient discourse of reason, — did not
suspend the labors and oiiarm the pains of the
damned, — did not lay the keeper of the grave
asleep, and win back Eurydice 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 perform-
ance."

ii'i

150

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

A few pages, taken from Mr. Choate's eulogy
of Daniel Webster, happily illustrate the best and
most endearing elements of his nature. In no
other relation, no other phase or feature of his
life and character, however brilliant and imposing,
— not even as depicted by Mr. Choate, — does
Webster appear more worthy of remembrance.
Yet, how clear, simple, compact, with what wealth
of thought and economy of words, with what
freedom from rhetorical ornament, is the revela-
tion made !

" There must be added next, tlie element of an
impressive character, inspiring regard, trust, and
admiration, not unmingled \vilh love. It had, I
think, intrinsically a cliurm such as belongs only
to a good, noble, and beautiful nature. In its
combination with so much fame, so much force of
will, and so much intellect, it filled tuid fascinated
the imagination and heart. It was affectionate in
childhood and youth, and it was more than ever
so in the few last months of liis lony: life. It

is the universal testimony that he gave to his
parents, in largest measure, honor, love, obe-
dience ; that he eagerly appropriated the first
means which he could connnand to relieve the
father from the debts contracted to educate his
brother and himself ; that he selected his fi rst
place of professional practice that he might soothe

EULOGY OF WEBSTER.

151

the comiiifi; on of bis old age ; that all through
life he iienlected no oecasion — sometimes when
leanmg on the nrm of a friend, alone, with falter-
ing voice, sometimes in the presence of great as-
seml)lies. where the tide of general emotion made
it graceful — to express his ' affectionate venera-
tion of him who reared and defended tlie log
cal)in in which his elder brothers and sisters were
born, a'j-iiinst savaiji:e violence and destruction,
cherished all the domestic virtues beneatli its
roof, and, through the fire and blood of some
years of lievolutionary War, shrank from no dan-
ger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and
to raise his children to a condition better than his
own.'

*' Equally beautiful w-as his love of all his kin-
dred and of all his friends. When I hear him ac-
'iiised of selfishness, and a cold, bad nature, I re-
call him lying sleepless all night, not without
tears of boyhood, conferring with Ezekiel how the
darling desire of both hearts should be compassed,
and he, too, admitted to the precious privileges
of education ; courageously j^jleading the cause of
both brothers in the morning ; prevjuling by the
wise and discerning affection of the mother; sus-
pending his studies of the law, and registering
deeds and teaching school to earn the means, for
both, of availing themselves of the opportunity

ii'

152

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

which the parental self-sacrifice had placed witliin
their reach ; loving him through life, mourning
him when dead, ^Yith a love, and a sorrow very
wonderful, passing the sorrow of woman ; I rectdl
the husband, the father of the living and of the
early departed, the friend, the coimselor of many
years, and my heart grows too full and liquid for
the refutation of words.

" His afi'ectionate nature, craving ever friend-
ship as well as the presence of kindred blood, dif-
fused itself through all his private life, gave sin-
cerity to all his hospitalities, kindness to his eye,
w^armth to the pressure of his hand ; made his
greatness and genius unbend themsevles to the
playfulness of childhood, flowed out in graceful
memories indulged of the past of the dead, of in-
cidents when life was young and promised to be
happy, — gave generous sketches of his rivals, —
the high contention now hidden hy the handful of
earth, — hours passed fifty years ago with great
authors, recalled for the vernal emotions which
then they made to live and revel in the soul.
And from these conversations of friendship, no
man — no man, old or young, went away to re-
member one word of profaneness, one allusion of
mdelicacy, one impure thought, one unbelieving
suggestion ; one doubt cast on the reality of vir-
tue, of patriotism, of enthusiasm, of the progress

EULOGY OF WEBSTER.

153

of man, — one doubt cast on the righteousness,
or temperance, or judgment to come.

'" Every one of his tastes and recreations an-
nounced the same type of character. Ilis love of
agriculture, of sports in the open air, of the out-
ward workl in starhght and storms, and sea and
boundless wilderness, — partly a result of the in-
fluences of the first fourteen years of his life, per-
petuated like its other affections and its other les-
sons of a mother's love, — the Psalms, the Bible,
the stories of the wars, — partly the return of an
unsophisticated and healthful nature, tiring, for
a space, of the idle business of political life, its
distinctions, its artificialities, to emploj-ments, to
sensations which interest without agitating the
universal race alike, as God has framed it, in
which one feels hiuiself only. a man, fashioned
from the earth, set to till it, appointed to return
to it, yet made in the image of his Maker, and
with a spirit that shall not die, — all displayed a
man whom the most various intercourse with the
world, the longest career of strife and honors, the
consciousness of intellectual supremacy, the com-
ing in of a wide fame, constantly enlarging, left,
as he was at first, natural, simple, manly, genial,
kind.

" I have learned by evidence, the most direct
and satisfactory, that m the last months of his life,

irTwiif^

,! :

■ ( J

Wr-

' ' :i.

ll
■ ^,

■ 'i

■ 1

i,; ;

;

154

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

the whole aU'ectionatcness of his nature, his con-
sideration of others, his gentleness, his desire to
make them happy and to see them happy, seemed
to come out ii. more and more lieautiful and habit-
ual expression thnn ever before. The long day's
pul)lic tasks were felt to be done ; the cares, the
uncertainties, the mental contlicts of high places
were ended ; and he came home to recover him-
self for the few years which he might still expect
would be his Ijefore he should go hence to be hero
no more. And there, I am assured and fullv be-
lieve, no unbecoming regrets pursued \m\\ ; no dis-
content, as for injustice suffered or expectations
unfulfilled ; no self-reproach for anything done or
anything omitted by himself; no irr'tation, no
peevishness unworthy of his noble nature ; but in-
stead, love and hope for his country, when she
became the subject of conversation, and for all
around him, the dearest and most indifferent, for
all breathing things about him, the overflow of
the kindest heart o-rowinsx in o-entleness and be-
nevolence ; paternal, patriarchal alTections" seem-
ing to beconi(3 more natural, warm, and commu-
nicative every hour. Softer and yet brighter
grew the tints on the sky of parting day ; and the
last lingering rays, more even than the glories
of noon, announced how divine was the source
from which they proceeded ; how incapable to

A CHARACTER TO BE LOVED.

155

be qucncliod ; how certain to rise on a morning
which no night should follow.

'' Such a character was made to be loved. It
was loved. Those who knew and saw it in its
hour of calm — those who could repose on that
soft green — loved him. His plain neighbors
loved him ; and one said, when he was laid in his
grave, ' How lonesome the world seems ! ' Edu-
cated young men loved him. The ministers of
the gospel; the general intelligence of the coun-
try, the masses afar off loved him. True, they
had not found in his speeches, read by millions,
so much adulation of the people ; so much of the
music which robs the public reason of itself ; so
many phrases of humanity and philanthropy ; and
some had told them he was lofty and cold, —
solitary in his greatness ; Ijut every year they
came nearer and nearer to him, and, as they came
nearer, they loved him better ; the}" heard how
tender the son had been, the husband, the brother,
the father, the friend, and neighbor ; that lie was
plain, simple, natural, generous, hospitable, — the
heart laruer than the brain ; that he loved little
children and reverenced God, the Scriptures, the
Sabbath day, the Constitution, and the law, — and
their hearts clave unto him. More truly of him
than even of the great naval darling of England
might it be said, that ' His presence would set the

^'ifl

I "

:i»i .;

1 i ; is

15G

MTuM DRIES OF RUFUS CTIOATE.

clmrcli-bolls ringing, and give 8cliool-])oys a holi-
day, — Avould bring children from school and old
men from the chimney-corner to gaze on him ere
he died.' The great and imavailing lamentation
first revealed the deep place he had in the hearts
of his countrymen."

ill
liii;

ink

Mi'

H:=

1- '•! ;.

ii'

CHAPTER IX.

Preparation for Service in Congress. — Riuik and Arccptancc.
— Lost Speeches. — Annexation of Toxa;-. — Tlio Tariil'. —
Home Indnstry and tlio Moclianioal Arts. — Progress.—
Concurrent Views of Otlier Statesmen.

The minuteness of investigation .shown in Mr.
Choate's professional and classical studies entered
into bis preparatory work as a statesman. On his
election to the lower House of Congress in 1830,
and to the Senate in 1841, he took up critically
the great questions winch it was expected might
require legislative attention. Few members, cer-
tainly no new members, could have trusted more
safely to the information already possessed, and
to the inspirations of the hour in debate. But a
conscientious roirard for tlie duties to Ije dis-
charged, and a cultivated indisposition to take
that for granted which could be proved, led him
to an extended course of study, and to its faithful
continuance as other questions afterwards arose.

The services of Mr. Choate in the Senate would
seem to have been more important than those
rendered in the House of Representatives. This
may be owing, in part, to the nature of the sub-

''l

1 1

lii

^<Ju

.^^K w.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

l4o

J*^

1.0

I.I

I?.';

2.2

2.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

.4 6" -

►

<W^ A

r.% v^'

<p3

^»^

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WSBST«K !".'. 14580

(716) 372-4503

L<?

&?/

IL,
1 4

158

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

jects considered, and, in part, to the better pres-
ervation of his later speeches. But many of his
arguments were not preserved. The reiterated re-
quest in the " Globe," that members would write
out their speeches, had little effect on him. The
Hon. Alexander H. Stephens recently wrote out
from memory the concluding part of one of Mr.
Choate's speeches which had not appeared in the
" Globe." Professor Brown, always exact in his
statements, says, " Those who heard Mr. Choate's
speech in favor of the confirmation of Mr. Ever-
ett as Minister to England considered it one of
the most brilliant ever delivered within the Sen-
ate chamber." So, too, one of the regents of
the Smithsonian Institution said that Mr. Choate's
speech before the Board against a departure from
the library-plan " was the most beautiful that
ever fell from human lips." Yet we have noth-
ing of these speeches, nothing of some other
speeches equally commended.

We may well treasure up what remains. His
contributions to the discussion of questions, then
of grave public concern, are so rich and generous,
rise so far " above the penury of mere debate,"
that they may be read witli Interest by those
whose preconceived notions differ from his views,
and with gratitude by those who find their cher-
ished opinions illustrated and confirmed.

THE QUALITIES OF A STATESMAN.

159

I have to confess that my early estimate of Mr.
Choate as a statesman has kindled into admiration
with the occasional reading of the debates in which
he took part. It was not merely, or mainly, that
from the day he was first heard in either House
he was regarded as worthy of a place in the front
rank of the distinguished men with whom he
served ; that no imperious member of either party
saw in him the mere lawyer, indulging in a style
peculiar to another forum, and so, after the man-
ner of Pitt towards Erskine, disdained to reply ;
that, under his mode of treatment, subjects worn
out in debate awakened new interest ; or that his
views were presented with such zeal and power
as to encourage his friends, with such grace and
courtesy as almost to persuade his opponents ; but,
also and especially, that he possessed and exempli-
fied the sagacity, prudence, judgment, and conti-
nence proper to the statesman, and the devotion
which proved the strength and the piu'ity of his
patriotism.

He went into the Senate with reluctance ; he
withdrew from it as soon as he could do so con-
sistently. But, during his short term of service,
questions of special diiiiculty and importance came
up for consideration. Without undertaking to
follow him throughout his labors, — the reports
before me forbid that, and many of the subjects

I «'

. ; ]:i

1 ,'
. i <

\ !

j
f i

;

, i
.^11 ll

■WIW^aHBWlME

160

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

:|!

I' \

have long been at rest, — I propose to notice his
attitude in respect to some of the topics to which
he gave special attention.

It may be observed that those who think that
Mr. Choate erred in opposing the annexation of
Texas should consider his position at the time,
and seek to distinguish what might possibly have
been foreseen from what could be learned only by
a later experience. If he erred, it is proper to
remember tHat Henry Clay, Martin Van Buren,
and Silas Wright erred with him. His views were
clouded and his zeal inflamed by no personal con-
siderations. He sought no promotion, could suffer
no loss but such as the country might also suffer.
Mr. Van Buren failed to receive a nomination for
the presidential office and Mr. Clay lost his chance
of an election to it by opposing that annexation.
Mr. Wright was constrained to decline a nomina-
tion for the office of vice-president, as its accept-
ance would have implied a difference of opinion
between his friend, Mr. Van Buren, and himself
on that subject. In his " Thirty Years' View," Mr.
Benton attempts to show that, by the manage-
ment of the friends of annexation, Mr. Webster
was forced to retire from the cabinet of President
Tyler, as his presence there was a hindrance to
the negotiation. That those statesmen had con-
sidered the question with great solicitude none

DISCRIMINATION TO PROTECT LABOR. 161

can doubt. To finite apprehension, the evils to
flow from that scheme, — war with Mexico, and
a larger voluntary surrender to slavery, — were
imminent and certain ; the benefits, — Texas and
California, free and contributing to the wealth
and stability of the Republic, — were remote and
uncertain.

An equal degree of respect, and perhaps on
more specific grounds, is due to Mr. Choate's po-
sition on the question of protecting American la-
bor. The expedient of providing the means nec-
essary to defray the expenses of tl: o government
by imposing duties on imports, a mode of indirect
taxation, having been adopted at an early day,
questions as to the rates of duties to be fixed
with regard to the wants of the government, act-
ual and prospective, and to the encouragement or
protection of our manufacturers, vexed the na-
tional councils under almost every administration.
That was due to the fact that, for either purpose,
the rate of duties fluctuated with the change of
circumstances, and to the further fact that many
able and judicious men regarded legislation de-
signed to stimulate special branches of industry
into artificial activity as neither politic nor wise.

In March, 1842, Mr. Choate addressed an argu-
ment to the Senate to show that, in assessing the
duties which were to yield the desired income,
11

•'» !

,iV

liif

162

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Congress could discriminate for the protection of
labor. He faithfully collated the proofs drawn
from many sources, and built up and fortified an
argument, legal and historical, which those who
agree with him can find little occasion to extend
or modify. But, going beyond the mere question
of power, he sought, by subtile and delicate in-
ferences and suggestions, to reconcile his hearers
to the policy of protection. He appealed to the
past, to the maxims of statesmen, and gracefully
referred to the opinion of Mr. Madison.

It is not to be denied that our commerce with
foreign nations may be regulated by imposing
such restraints upon the products of foreign labor
brought here as may promote our interests. That
power has often been exeicised. All that re-
mained, after Mr. Choate's exposition, was the in-
quiry whether the policy which had led to the
exertion of that power for the encouragement of
our manufacturers should be continued, and, if so,
to what extent.

Mr. Choate took up that question, in some of
its aspects, 'n April, 1844, when opposing a bill
hostile to the theory of protection.* As a friend
of that theory, he was on the defensive ; and it
must be assumed that he spoke from his knowl-
edge of our manufacturing interests, and of the

1 Globe, Appendix, p. 641.

HOSTILITY TO THE THEORY OF PROTECTIOX. 163

consequences which might flow from a sudden
withdrawal of the protection given them. He
opened his argument by chiiming that the mat-
ter of protection was not an open question except
as to the details, the rates of duties to be im-
posed ; declaring, however, that " When the lights
of a fuH and fair experience prescribe tlie change
of a duty, it is to be changed." He says, " And
why not open ? Because, Sir, I find such a sys-
tem of protection in operation dcjiire and de facto
to-day ; because I know perfectly well, or all our
annals are a dream and a lie, that the American
people established the Constitution and the Union
very much to insure the maintenance of such a
system ; because it has been slowly maturing for
years ; because so large a concurrence of patriot-
ism, intelligence, and experience has helped to
build it up ; because, whether it was wise or un-
wise to introduce such a system by direct legisla-
tion at first, it would be supreme madness now,
now when the first stages are past, when the evil,
if any there ever was, is all done, and the com-
pensations of good are just fairly comincncing,
when capital has taken this direction, when prices
are brought down, skill learned, habits formed,
machinery accumulated, and the whole scheme of
things accommodated to it, when its propitious in-
fluence is felt palpably upon agriculture, upon the

164

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

comfort and the standing of labor, upon domestic
and foreign trade, upon defense, upon independ-
ence, — it would be supreme madness, worthy
only of a government nodding to its fall, now to
overturn it ; because, finally, it is the daily labor
and the daily bread of men, women, and children,
our countrymen and countrywomen, whom we
reckon by millions."

He then goes into particulars, and amplifies the
proofs, the inference, the illustrations, but only to
establish the thesis laid down at the opening of
his speech. A few specific references may suffice
to show how, by appeals to the rise and progress
of our manufactures, and to the history of our
legislation, he seeks to defeat the bill in ques-
tion.

After having shown that the people, from the
first, had sought to be relieved from competition
with foreign labor, that the early acts of Congress
granted that protection, according to the condition
of our manufacturing interests, he says, "And
now we are prepared to compare or to contrast
with tliis the second system — the existing system
— that which began in 1816 and was matured in
1824 and 1828. Sir, it is exactly the system of
1789, accommodated to the altered circumstances
of the nation and the world. The statesmen of
the last period followed in the very footsteps of

PROGRESS OF MECHANIC ARTS.

1G5

their fathers. Tlie Congress of 1789 found many
manfacturing and mechanical arts starting to life,
and soliciting to be protected. The Congress of
1816 and that of 1824 found families and groups
and classes of manufacturing and mechanical arts,
far more numerous, far more valuable, far more
sensible also, and with more urgent claims, so-
liciting protection. In the interval between 1789
and 1810, this whole enterprise had not only im-
mensely enhanced its value but had totally changed
its nature. Instead of a few plain, hardy, coarse,
simple, household employments, it had become a
various, refined, sensitive industry — demanding
associated capital, skill long and highly trained,
costly and improving machinery — more precious,
but presenting a far broader mark to the slings
and arrows of fortune, to hostility, to change, to
the hotter foreign competitions which its growth
is sure to provoke. Now you all praise the hus-
bandry of 1789, which so carefully guarded the
few blades just timidly peeping forth in the rain
and sunshine of that April day, hardly worth the
treading down; will you depreciate the husbandry
of 1824, which, with the same solicitude, but at
the expense o^ a higher wall, guarded the grain,
then half-grown, and evincing what the harvest
was to be ? "

By way of showing the influence of the pro-

■,

: t •

. V,

t HI

I ('

166

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATR.

tcctive policy, and how, gradually thus fostered,
our manufactures had crept into existence, he
states some interesting facts drawn from the high-
est authority. Thus, that in 1789 there was not
a cotton spindle in the United States ; that in
1805 and 1806 there were only 5,000; in 1810,
80,000 ; that the first cotton mill was erected in
Rhode Island in 1791, another in 1795, and two
more in Massachusetts in 1803-04 ; and that dur-
ing the next three years ten more were erected
or commenced in Rhode Island, and one in Con-
necticut.

In his desire to elevate his subject above the
mere counting of factories and spindles, he says,
" The real truth is. Sir, that manufacturing and
mechanical and commercial industry is ' the pro-
lific source of democratic feeling.' Of the two
great elements which must be combined in all
greatness of national character and national des-
tiny — permanence and progression — these em-
ployments stimulate the latter ; agriculture con-
tributes to the former. They are of those acting
and counteracting, opposing yet not discordant,
powers, from whose reciprocal struggle is drawn
out the harmony of the universe."

He invokes the prudence of the Senate thus :
" Sir, let me respectfully recommend cautious and
delicate handling of these interests. Vast, vari-

INFLUENCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES.

1G7

ous, prosperous as they are, a l)reath can unmake
them as a breath has made. This bill strikes a
blow, the extent, degree, and nature of whose
injurious eflects no man can foresee or limit or
cure. That which you certainly do mean to do
involves consequences which you certainly do not
mean. You begin by saying profits are too high.
Then you propose to reduce profits. You begin
by saying more foreign manufactures must be
imported, because you propose to increase reve-
nue by reducing duties. This demands, of course,
enlarged importation. To that extent, to a new
and undefined extent, you displace, disturb, di-
minish the domestic market of your own manu-
factures. But can you really strike down the
general profits and break up the actual market of
American labor and yet leave it prosperous, re-
warded, and contented ? "

I have thought that, if called upon to consider
the policy of such legislation when first proposed,
Mr. Choate would not have favored the theory
of protection. The conservative character of his
mind, his respect for principles, for system, as
contrasted with mere expedients, might have held
him in restraint. But his relation to the matter
came later and in quite another form. As he
looked back, he saw that the legislation which
began and continued that policy had been favored

i i

168

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

by statesmen whoso wisdom and fidelity he luid
always held in reverence. As he looked round
him he saw that the growth of the mechanic arts
was the life of New England, that rough and
barren places and lonely waterfalls had been made
prorital)le, and that the inventive genius of the
people had been urged forward to countless im-
provements. So it was that, in representing his
State and in studying the interests of other States,
he had been brought to believe that the arts,
thus nursed into life, should be preserved. lie
accepted the reasons for protecting them given by
statesmen of 181G and 1824, and declared that,
" after the evil is done and the good is beginning,"
it would be unwise to let them die.

He finds consolation in the fact that his own
State had not helped to adopt protection. Thus
he says to Senators, " Consider that Massachusetts
never made a protective tariff ; that she took no
leading or influenti^,! part in 1816 ; that she op-
posed that of 1824 with almost her entire vote,
and with great zeal and ability ; that she voted
against that of 1828; that she has done nothing
but just to stay where you placed her." Then, as
a few passages may show, he clings with pride, to
the further credit due to his State. " Certainly,
Sir, we are very much in these employments.
You may thank yourselves for that. And is it not

A rilEORY ARTIFICIAL AND UXSTATirK. 109

nn oxct'llciit tliiii«( for voii tluit wo are ? Are wo
not Ji very iiiucli more ust'ful iiu'iiihi'r of llie jmrt-
nersliip, more ust-fiil to tlie other partners, timu
we could he without ? Is it not a jj^ood. Iionest,
genial, social, 'live and let live' nort of husines.s
yon have driven us into?" ''Is it nothin^^ that we
take and consume, within that single State, an an-
nual amount of more laan forty milli(»ns of doUar.s
of your pro(lu('tions?" " Is it not a truly national
business which wr au'suo ; ni^'ional ni the surface
it spreads over; nation: ' in the good it does ; na-
tional in the alfectioii-s it generates?" " Yes, Sir'
Manufacturers and mecb'inics are unionists by pro-
fession; unionists hy necessity; unintiists always.
Learn to know your friends. The time may come
when you will need them."

In resisting the reduction of duties in so far as
the changes might have brought swift and certain
ruin to manufacturers who had been making large
investments on the faith of what seemed to be the
policy of our government, Mr. Clioate was invok-
ing the spirit of deliberation which should attend
legislative reforms. It seems to me that many of
those who could not accept his views as to the in-
fluence of such protection upon American l.d)or,
or as to the inherent merit of such an expedient,
would have regarded his argument with respect
if not with favor. But in practice, such protection

Ii ' I

«l

■t 'k

i,'.

111

•i

\ 1 1 ■

1\ \t

1 i,^

170

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

■ lid

admits of neither stability, uniformity, nor repose.
It is one of those artificial devices which, in varied
forms, return to plague the inventors. When Mr.
Choate claimed that the existing duties should be
continued, the manufacturers may have needed
that protection. They have little need of it now.
What they need is a market for their commodities.
The transition from one want to the other is the
natural result of a policy which gave an artificial
stimulus to home industry, but discouraged the
exchange of the fruits of our labor for foreign
products. It is quite obvious that no tariff
has benefited the Southern States or helped our
agricultural or commerical interests. When Mr.
Choate spoke of New York as " a city which with
one hand grasps the golden harvests of the West,
and with the other, like Venice, espouses the ever-
lasting sea," he indicates how necessary a liberal
foreign commerce was to her prosperity. But it
is well to remember that Mr. Choate was not
peculiar in his views upon this subject. Under
claims less urgent than those of his constituents,
other distinguished statesmen have thought and
voted as he did. In instances, not to be briefly
enumerated, protection of specific articles has been
claimed by those not friendly to the theory in its
extended application. Thus, for example, Silas
Wri":ht wished the duties increased on coarse

.ill!

MR. MURPHY ON LEGISLATIVE REFORMS. 171

wool, Thomas II. Benton on lead and indigo. In
1842, Mr. Wright voted for a protective tariff,
after having sought to amend the bill, — that be-
ing the only mode in which the government could
raise the needful revenue. Mr. Benton voted for
the protective tariffs of 1824, 1828, and 18-32, and
in the debates in 1844 declared himself, willinn; to
give protection to manufacturers. In the Con-
gress of 1844, Henry C. Murphy gave an exposi-
tion of the principles which, as he thought, should
be respected in framing a tariff.^ He believed in
a tariff' for revenue, with such incidental protec-
tion as could be given alike to all sections of the
country, — his conception of free trade, — and by
a strong array of facts and illustrations sought to
show that the existing tariff imposed higher du-
ties on some articles used by the poor than on
those used by the rich, and in several respects
was sectional and oppressive.

Mr. Murphy and Mr. Choate had like views as
to the spirit which .should govern legislative re-
forms. Mr. Murphy, who was, in the usual ac-
ceptation, an anti-tariff man, says, " Onerous and
unjust as the present tariff is, partial and oppres-
sive as its operation is, I am not for breaking
down, at a blow, those establishments which have
been brought into existence and kept up by it;

' Globe, Appendix, p. 414.

I- !?;

^ IP

', 1

.t ?

•M

f!i

■'W

; ;

i'ir. !

iMi

III

iiii

I i

;l ^ii

i {

172

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

for extreme change in laws affecting the industry
of the country I hold to be frequently as unjust,
both to labor and to capital, as a bad law which is
stable, for they may be accommodated to it. We
should, therefore, proceed in this, as in other meas-
ures of reform, gradually, and with a due regard
to the interests which we have nurtured."

The imposition of duties on imports to the ex-
tent necessary to defray the expenses of the gov-
ernment gives protection to the manufacturers.
It may, as an incident, benefit labor skilled in the
mechanic arts. But the benefits do not reach the
laborers who clear the forest and till the soil, who
dig the canals, make the roads and bridges, open
the quarries and build our cities. Such limitations
must exist. But, if we have a tariff, we can say,
with Mr. Choate, that when the lights of a full
and fair experience prescribe the change of a
duty, it is to be changed.

Ill

CHAPTER X.

The Indictment of McLeod. — The Rule o' Immunity suggested
by Mr. Fox. — The Course pursued by the Secretary of
State. — Debates in Concjress. — Defense of IMr. AVebster.
— Trial of McLeod. — Act as to Remedial Justice. — Other
Questions before the Senate. — The Bank. — Mr. Clay's In-
terference in Debate.

Soon after Mr. Choate took liis scat in the Sen-
ate, he had occasion to defend the poHcy of Presi-
dent Tyler's administration in a matter of national
concern. In December, 1837, diu'ing the disturb-
ance in Upper Canada commonly called tlie Mac-
kenzie Rebellion, the provincial authorities sent
over into the State of New York a band of armed
men, by whom the steamer Caroline was de-
stroyed, and our government claimed that Great
Britain should make reparation. In 1841, Alex-
ander McLeod, a British subject, was indicted in
the Court of Sessions of Niagara County for the
murder of Amos Durfoe, and was held for trial.
Great Britain demanded his liberation. Mr. Fox,
the British Minister, in his notes to Mr. Forsyth,
the Secretary of State in President Van Buren's
administration, and to Mr. Webster, as such Sec-

: !1

I ^

?li

! i

I rl

. «fe

I r

• :

t '

: l|

1 1'

li f

lit

174

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

retary under President Tyler, assuming that Mc-
Leod had been thus indicted and held as one of
those engaged in the destruction of the Caro-
line, claimed that, as that was the public act of
persons obeying the order of their superior au-
thorities, it could not be the ground of legal pro-
ceedings against one of them ; a theory rejected
by Mr. Forsyth, but accepted by Mr. Webster.

Great attention had been, and continued to be,
given to the affair of the Caroline and to the Mc-
Leod case, in both Houses of Congress. In adopt-
ing the rule of personal immunity suggested by
Mr. Fox, and by his letter instructing the Attor-
ney-General of the United States to attend the
trial of McLcod in New York, and confer with and
advise his counsel, Mr. Webster drew down upon
himself severe and prolonged criticism. Some
able lawyers were of opinion that he had erred in
seeking to apply that rule to one in McLeod's
situation. Mr. Calhoun deliberately stated his
objections to Mr. Webster's course ; Mr. Benton
fervently criticised and denounced it ; and Mr.
Buchanan took an early and impressive part in
the discussion. It was in answer to Mr. Buchan-
an's first argument on the subject that Mr. Choate
addressed the Senate on the 11th of June, 1841.^

After some preliminary observations, Mr. Choate

^ Glohe, Appendix, p. 417.

RESPONSIBILITY FOR NATIONAL CRIMES. 175

stated with precision the ground on which, and on
which alone, Mr. Webster had recognized the rule
in question. Thus he said, " What is the conces-
sion of the Secretary of State ? Why, only and
exactly this : that a soldier or sailor, — de facto
such, — actually engaged in a military or naval
enterprise of force, under the authority, in obe-
dience to the command of his government, and
keeping himself within the scope of that author-
ity, is not guilty, as the law of nations is adminis-
tered to-day, of a crime against the municipal
code of the country upon which he thus helps to
carry on war; that he is not punishable as for
such crime by that country ; and that the respon-
sibility rests upon his own government alone to
answer, as nations answer for their crimes to their
equals. That is the concession. He does not deal
at all with the case of a soldier straggling away
from his colors to commit a solitary and sep-
arate murder. .He does not deal with the case
of alleged excess of authority. He supposes him
to obey the precise directions of his government,
and, so doing, he declares him clothed with the
personal immunity." " If you turn to the fourth
page of his letter, you may see that the murder
for which he supposes McLeod indicted ' was a
murder alleged to have been committed in the
attack/ forming an inseparable, very painful part

lit!'

'. }

1 ■ :

; '. i

■in

III

176

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

of the entire military violence exerted to capture
and destroy the vessel, and not succeeding it. For
the purpose of the concession, he takes as true the
express declaration of Mr. Fox, ' that the transac-
tion on account of which Mr. McLeod has been
arrested and is to be put on his trial,' including
the homicide as an unavoidable incident in it, ' was
a public transaction conducted by Her Majesty's
government.' Such is the concession. I have the
honor to submit, first, that the concession is right
in point of international law, and then that it was
the duty of the Secretary of Sta e to make it, and
of the government to act upon it, exactly as it
was made and acted upon."

Mr. Choate characterized this transaction as an
act of war, — informal, insolemn hostility, — and,
illustrating his subject freely, he proceeded to an-
swer some points of special difficulty which had
been presented by Mr. Buchanan. To show that
no war need be preceded by a declaration, and
that the rule of personal exemption from liability
as for crime extends to actors in wars of" the im-
perfect sort, reprisals or other acts of hostility, he
cited Rutherforth. That the injustice of the hos-
tile attack does not affect the soldier's right to im-
munity, and that no distinction is made between
regular soldiers and volunteers, he referred to
Rutherforth and to Vattel.

THE MCLEOD DEBATE.

177

Regarding Riitherforth as an authority in re-
spect to the more modern theory, and wishing to
qualify some differences between him and an older
author, Mr. Choate said, '' Grotius, admirable for
his genius, his studies, his most enlarged and ex-
cellent spirit, lived too early to witness the full
development of his own grand principles, and the
accomplishment of his own philanthropic wishes.
The existing law of nations has been slowly built
up since his time, and to learn it we must have
recourse to writers far his inferiors in capacity
and learning, but fortunate in being able to re-
cord the ameliorated theory and practice of a bet-
ter day."

In defending his friend, the Secretary of State,
Mr. Choate was performing a delicate service.
With what prudence, grace, and dignity he per-
formed it, his principal opponent in debate ap-
pears to have been conscious. In his reply, Mr.
Buchanan said, " I desire to pay a deserved com-
pliment both to the argument of the Senator from
Massachusetts, Mr. Choate, and to the feeling dis-
played by him throughout his remarks."

Having thus called attention to Mr. Choate's
relation to the case of McLeod, I would willingly
refrain from further reference to it. But as some
professional interest, not perhaps well-defined, still
attaches to that case, it may be well to state the

ill

■ini*

[ \

sS'^'

'II

w ' 1

\ ■

'"M

, 1^

.iff*

178

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

ground on which, as I conceive, it should have
been placed and regarded throughout.

At the time Mr. Webster wrote his note to Mr.
Fox, and his instructions to the Attorney-General,
this troublesome affair was before the country in
two aspects ; — one, as to the breach of the ami-
cable relations existing between the two govern-
ments, a fit subject for diplomatic discussion ; the
other, as to the guilt of McLeod, charged with an
offense against the laws of the State of New York,
a question of which the courts of that State had
taken cognizance. It was possil^le that these two
offenses, apparently so unlike, might prove to be
one and the same ; — that charged against the
prisoner merged in and inseparable from the other.
But no presumption to that effect could arise. All
the facts that Mr. Fox, Sir Francis Bond Head,
and Colonel McNabb could lay before Mr. Webster
were to the effect that the destruction of the Car-
oline was deemed necessary in self-defense, and
was therefore within the scope of the provincial
authority ; that the armed men by whom the
vessel was destroyed had been sent over on that
service ; and that the act had been approved by
the home government. But whether, apart from
that service, McLeod had perpetrated the crime
charged, neither Mr. Fox, Governor Head, nor
Colonel McNabb could say anything. Indeed,

ERRONEOUS INFORMATION.

179

the note in which Mr. Fox told Mr. Webster that
McLeod had been charged with having been en-
gaged in tlio capture and destruction of the Caro-
line — the death of Durfee a mere incident in the
attack — began with the words, '•I am informed."
But while the indictment against McLeod, a copy
of which is before me, has counts for murder and
arson, the first counts charged him with having
killed Durfee ''feloniously, wilfully, with malice
aforethought, and with premeditated design." In
each of the first counts, it is charged that the
crime was committed by him in the Town and
County of Niagara ; in neither of them is any ref-
erence made to the Caroline affair. It is obvious,
therefore, that the information which Mr. Fox
had received, and on which he stated to Mr. Web-
ster the charge supposed to have been made against
McLeod, was not correct. This error may have
arisen from the fact that neither Mr. Fox nor any
of those with whom he had conferred had ever
read the indictment. In his correspondence, Mr.
Webster had not noticed the question whether Mc-
Leod might not be guilty, quite apart from the
capture of the vessel, nor had that question been
suggested in the case that was laid before him.
Moreover, there is reason to suppose that Webster
himself had never seen that indictment. A mem-
ber of Congress, a distinguished jurist and states-

'< :\

t»

l,>f

^ I

: . f ■

} :.

hi'

't >

180

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

man, while defending Mr. Webster as warmly as
Mr. Clioate had done, declared that the case might
become proper for a jury. Thus Mr. Caleb Gush-
ing said, " It may be, for instance, that McLeod, if
he killed Durfee, did so from private malice, and,
if so, he is clearly responsible to the laws of New
York for the act ; and, if he did so, I cannot but
think that the English government, instead of un-
dertaking to protect him, would be glad to see
him punished, and the rather if he should have
sought purposes of private malice under the cover
of simulated obedience to the orders of his gov-
ernment. It may be that these orders did not
cover this fact.^

The case having been moved into the Supreme
Court of the State of New York, and a habeas
corjms granted by Mr. Justice Cowen, an applica-
tion for the discharge of McLeod absolutely, or on
his own recognizance, or by a nolle 2)roseqid, was
heard and denied. In his opinion. Judge Cowen
considered the law of nations quite at large ; and,
as the two governments were at peace, no decla-
ration of war having been made, he came to the
conclusion that no rule growing out of the usages
of nations could be applied to the relief of the
prisoner. It must be conceded that this part of
the opinion was not necessary to the decision.

1 Glohet 1841, Appendix, p. 422.

VIEWS OF HON. JOnX W. EDMUNDS.

181

But, if the rule sugj^csted by Mr. Fox had been
accepted by Justice Cowcn, McLeod must still
have been held for trial. In no possible view of
the case could the application have l)een granted.

The idea that McLeod sliould be discharged or
be allowed to go on his recognizance could not
have been seriously entertained.

As the indictment was for murder, the regular
practice was not even to accept bail. That is the
rule now, and I trust ever will be. The instances
in which bail has been taken after such indict-
ments are exceptional, clearly distinguished by
qualifying circumstances from the case of Mc-
Leod. As the Governor of the State, Mr. Sew-
ard, an able lawyer, had refused to interfere, and
as the District Attorney of Niagara County and
the Attorney-General of the State were before
the court claiming that McLeod should be tried
by a jury, a 7ioUe jjroseqid could not have been
entered. The power and the duty of the court
on the habeas corjnis were "well stated in The
People vs. Martin, 1 Park. Or. C. 191, by the
Hon. John W. Edmunds, a judge of great learn-
ing and experience. In speaking of the Mc-
Leod case, that learned judge said, " The question
raised there was, whether, after indictment, the
court, on habeas corpus, would entertain the
question of guilt or innocence, and on that ques-

4 J

' i I

ifN

11.

182

MEMOniE!^ OF RUl'irs Clio ATE.

tion tlie aiitliorities had been very uniform that it
would not ; and for the very phiiii and simple
reason that, as the testimony before the o;rand
jury would not ])e written, and could not be looked
into, the court or oflicer on the habeaa corpus could
not ascertain on what evidence the «;rand jury
had acted, and could not entertain the question
without receivinj^ precisely the same testimony
which the jury would be obliged to receive on
the trial, and thus in fact usurping the province of
the jvn-y. Hence it has been the practice of the
English courts and our own, which was followed
in the McLeod case, not to look into the question
of guilt or innocence on habeas corpus after in-
dictment."

I have never believed that Mr. Webster wished
to have McLeod liberated without a formal trial.
He could not have properly moved a step in that
direction without an investigation. When, on in-
quiry, he had learned what the terms of the in-
dictment were, and that, as shown before Judge
Cowen, Durfee had been killed when he was at
some distance from the Caroline, and, possibly,
without his havino; been engas-ed in resisting: the
attack on the vessel, Mr. Webster would have
favored a formal trial, or, what would have been
most becoming, declined to interfere. His friends,
while approving his views on the narrow basis

END OF Till-: MCLEOD DIFFICULTIES.

183

stntod, would luive ndniitUHl tliiit a foniiMl invosti-
giition was necessary. That (juestion did not arise
in tlie debate in wliich Mr. Clioate took part, save
that, in defending Mr. Webster, he hiys stress, as
wo liave seen, upon the fact tliat lie does not deal
"with the case of a soldier stra_i:\uling away from
his colors to commit a solitary and separate mur-
der." Ihit, if any argument and admonition were
necessary, the observations I have cited from Mr.
Cushing's speech would have been sullicient.

It is grateful to remember how lia[)j)ily this
afTair, in both of its aspects, was disposed of by
the general government and by the Supreme
Court of New York, each acting in its appro-
priate sphere, without undue and factitious in-
terference. A few gentle words by Ashburton,
in the tone of national regret, were accepted in
satisfaction for the forcible intrusion upon our
territory ; and, the venue in the McLeod case
having been changed to Oneida County, he was
tried before Judge Gridley and a jury, ;uid was
acquitted.

The testimony against him was as to his silly
and repeated boast that he had helped to destroy
the Caroline, and '• had finished Durfcc." But it
appeared that McLeod was not one of the party
sent over to capture the vessel, and that he was
not in the State of New York at the time Durfee

'■fir

iiili

^t :

,'M

ill-

184

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

was killed. The proof to establish the alibi -waa
clear and conclusive.

After the excitement caused by that case had
subsided, the power of the United States court
"was extended by the Remedial Justice Bill, passed
Jul}'- 7, 1842. The purpose was to authorize the
removal from the state courts, at an early stage
of an accusation, cases like that of McLeod, and
to give to the federal courts power to inquire
into contentions likely to create international com-
plications. The measure was just and wise. Mr.
Choate gave it his earnest support. He thus
stated the practice under the bill : " The national
tribunals interpose so far only as to determine
whether the laws of nations entitle the prisoner
to his discharge. If they do, he is discharged ;
if not, whatever the evidence or the deficiency of
evidence against him, he is remanded to the court
of the State for general trial."

It may bo observed that had this law and prac-
tice been in full force before the charo-e against
McLeod was made, and had the first counts of the
indictment, to which I have referred, been omit-
ted, and it had appeared that McLeod was one of
the party ordered over by the provincial author-
ity, and that the death of Durfee occurred as an
unavoidable incident in the capture of the Caro-
line, the prisoner might have been released ; but,

OTHER SUBJECTS OF IMPORTANCE.

185

with the case as it actually existed, McLeod could
have had no relief under the Remedial Bill.

Other subjects of im]iortance engaged Mr.
Choate's attention while he remained in the Sen-
ate. In the discussion of some of them, he took
a leading part. Of his three speeches relating
to the Oregon Territory, one only has been pre-
served. It is conciliatory in spirit and of com-
manding ability. lie contributed largely to the
confirmation of the treaty between this govern-
ment and Great Britain, which had been nego-
tiated by Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton ; a
treaty by which important claims, long held in
suspense, were adjusted, and causes of olfense,
which threatened to disturb the amicable relations
of the two governments, were removed.

•In common with the leading members of the
Whig party, Mr. Clioate was in favor of creat-
ing a national bank. It seems probable that if
the President, Mr. Harrison, had survived, such
an institution would have been established. But
upon his death on the 4th of April, 1841, Mr.
Tyler became President. When he was chosen
Vice-President, it was known that, on constitu-
tional grounds, he was opposed to such a bank.
As might have been expected, he held to that
opinion.

In the special session of 1841, efforts were

1:11

: it

'■'t'

1 ,

:ilL

186

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

I i

made to create such a bank — a Fiscal Agency —
and notably upon a plan which had been reported
by the Secretary of tbe Treasury. To the bill,
founded on that plan, an amendment was pro-
posed to the effect that the assent of a State
should l)e obtained before establishinu; branches
of the bank therein. Mr. Choate supported the
amendment in a speech ^ from which I take some
extracts. He says, " I do not vote for the bill
from any doubt of the constitutional iwer of
Congress to establish 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 anj^where than of your power to buikl
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, of our greatest names ; with our
national judicial tribunal, and with both the two
grec.t, original, political parties ; with Washing-
ton, Hamilton. Marshall, Story, Madison, Monroe,
Crawford, and with the entire Republican admin-
istration and organization of 1816 and 1817.
" But it does not follow, because we possess this

* Globe, Appendix, p. 356.

Clio ATE SUPPORTS THE AMENDMENT. 187

:^i;-

or any other power, that it i.s wise or needful, in
any given case, to attempt to exert it. We may
find ourselves so situated that we cannot do it if
wo would, for w\ant of the concurrence of other
judgments ; and therefore a struggle might he as
unavailing as it would be mischievous and un-
seemly. We may find ourselves so situated that
we ouu-ht not to do it if we could. All thinu^s
which are lawful are not convenient, are not prac-
ticable, are not wise, are not safe, are not kind.
A sound and healing discretion, therefore, the
moral coercion of irresistible circumstances, may
fitly temper, and even wholly restrain, the exer-
cise of the clearest power ever belonging to hu-
man government.

" By uniting here on this amendment, 3'ou put
an effective bank in operation, to some useful and
substantial extent, by the first of January. Turn
now to the other alternative. Sir, if vou adhere
to the bill reported by the committee, I fully be-
lieve you pass no bank charter 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 proceedings here, decorum, pride, regret "
would all prevent my doing it. I have no per-
sonal or private grounds for the conviction which

188

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

■ ■

; :..

holds me fast ; but I judge on notorious and, to
my mind, decisive indications ; and I know that it
is my duty to act on my belief, whether well or
ill-founded, and however conjecturally derived.

" Let me say, Sir, that to administer the con-
tested powers of the Constitution 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 existence ; do
not surrender them ; retain them with a provi-
dent 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 of-
fensive expedients of wisdom, effectually secure
to the people all 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 exercise a contested power
without necessity, on the notion of keeping up
the tone of government, is not much better than
tyranny, and very improvident and impolitic tyr-
anny, too. It is turning ' extreme medicine into
daily bread.' It forgets that the final end of gov-
ernment is not to exert restraint but to do good.

" Within this general view of the true mode

CONTESTED CONSTITUTIONAL POWERS. 189

of {idministering contestctl powers, I think the
measure we propose is as wise as it is concilia-
tory ; wise, because it is concili.'itory ; w'ise, be-
cause it reconciles a strong theory of the Consti-
tution with a discreet and kind administration of
it. I desire to give the country a bank. Well,
here is a mode in which I can do it. Shall I re-
fuse to do it in that mode because I cannot at the
same time and by the same operation gain a vic-
tory over the settled constitutional opinions, and
show my contempt for tlie ancient and unappeas-
able 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 con-
stitutional 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 eloquence, under many an October and many
an Auirust 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 actual circumstances of our time, a chance
to lead a quieter and more secure life, so to speak,

i,'!

(■• I

; I ■

It
■ i

• r

•'lit

.;■

; f 1

6 'J

y 6

''*i^
•^

'0? .V

lllj

11 i^

iiti!

190

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

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 exist-
ence 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 exer-
tion of your power, throwing off its branches
without reiiard to the wishes or wants of the
States, as judged of by themselves, and without
any attempt to engage their auxiliary coopera-
tion, 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 de-
sfrable for usefulness and profit. I do not wish to
see it standing 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 hos-
tility. No, Sir. Even such an institution, under
conceivable circumstances, it might be our duty
to establish and maintain in the face of all oppo-
sition and to the last gasp. But so much evil at-
tends such a state of things, so much insecurity,
so much excitement ; it would be exposed to the

INTERRUPTION OF DEBATE.

191

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 unconstitution:d, 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
domestic institution, reposing in the bosom of our
law and of our attachments. Established by the
concurrent 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 stru2:":le will be harmless and brief ;
and, when that is over, all is over. The States
which exclude it will hardly exasperate them-
selves farther about it. Those which admit it ^wll
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 as-
pect which has rendered it offensive, and become
sooner blended with the mass of domestic inter-
ests, cherished by the same regards, protected by
the same and by a higher law."
At the close of this speech, Mr. Choate was

' '■■■ »,':1

\\\

.' (1:

IV (

>:ij[

■ li

I l

■f,f.

192

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

li;

interrupted by Mr. Clay, and an altercation,
questions and answers, followed. The Washing-
ton " Globe " had a full and correct report of the
affair. Professor Brown gives a like account.
But, in his " Recollections of Rufus Choate," Mr.
Whipple has a different version. As he was not
present to witness the occurrence, what is said
in his " Recollections " to the prejudice of Mr.
Choate may be allowed to pass without correction.
In stating his belief that the bill, as reported,
would not become a law, Mr. Choate had in view
the well-known opinion of President Tyler. That
is obvious. He could not with propriety refer
directly to that opinion, and says, '' Decorum,
pride, regret, would all prevent my doing it."
Regret for what? Regret for the fact that the
President was, as everybody knew, opposed to a
naitional bank. So he judges on what he calls no-
torious indications. What Mr. Choate said would
not support the opinion that he had conferred
with the President or the Secretary of State on
the subject. He stated his own convictions, his
right to act upon them, " however conjecturally
derived." There was, therefore, nothing to jus-
tify the imputation implied in the questions put
by Mr. Clay. That Mr. Choate did not lose his
temper or self-possession is evident from his last
replies to Mr. Clay's demands : —

AN APOLOGY.

193

(1.) " Sir, I insist on my right to explain what
I did say, in my own words ; " and (2.) " He will
have to take the answer as I choose to give it."
That Mr. Clay was utterly wrong appears from
the fact that the next morning, in the Senate
chamber, he made an explanation in the nature of
an apology.

Mr. Choate's argument in support of the amend-
ment to the bill was wise and conciliatory. A
bank thus created would have been, in a sense, a
state institution, its character utterly unlike that
of the old United States Bank. His argument, so
moderate in tone, so persuasive, would almost lead
us to think well of such an agency ; to think as
well of it as we can of our present national banks.

i.ti

ti i

!M1

11 i

i'i

CHAPTER XL

A Short Term in Congress a Sacrifice. — Resigns to return to
the Profession. — Modest Estimate of his own Powers. —
The Rewards of Professional Work. — Continued until his
Health failed. — His Last Case. — Cheerful to the Last. —
A Sea Voyage for Health too late. — His Death. — His
Love of the Union. — Conversations with Mr. Pratt. — Ap-
prehends Civil War. — In that War, after his Death, he is
well represented.

A FEW words of explanation may be due to the
reader who regrets that a more minute deUnea-
tion of Mr. Choate's career as statesman has not
been given. Many of the subjects in the discus-
sion of which he took part in the lower House,
and in the Senate, have lost their significance, or
have become familiar in history. Many of his
speeches have not been preserved, and we can-
not, from mere hearsay, outline or estimate the
arguments which gave weight and attraction to
them. His published efforts are widely read,
and he who reads them carefully, catching their
spirit and tone, may claim to know him better
than he who is familiar with the mere acts and
incidents of his life. It has, therefore, seemed

A SHOUT TERM IN CONGRESS.

195

to be sufficient for the present purpose to refer
in general terms to tlie course pursued by liim
in Congress, and to call attention to his treatment
of some subjects of importance.

In view of Mr. Choate's usefulness in his pro-
fession, and of his love of home-life and quiet
study, some may regret that he was ever called
into the legislative councils. His term in both
Houses of Congress, little more than six years,
was long enough to impose great sacrifices, but
not long enough to secure the highest rewards.
No doubt there were some compensations. New
channels for exertion were opened to him, and
he had the satisfaction of discussing some of the
vexed questions of the day before deliberative
bodies composed of men of great political sagac-
ity and experience. He must have highly valued
the new friends who were thus drawn to him,
some of whom ever held him in close and loving
remembrance. But to enable a member of either
House, whatever be his gifts and attainments, to
achieve national fame, and become a vital pres-
ence in the memory of the people, he must re-
main in the service long enough to assume special
relations to a great variety of measures of public
interest. The mention of such measures would
thereafter recall the name of the member, the
mention of the name recall the subjects with

' 1

•'!i

( ;

:;n

■i\i

IPI

190

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

which ho was identified. Such has been the in-
heritance of Clay, of Webster, of Sumner, of Ben-
ton, whose terms ranged from fourteen to thirty
years.

It may be inferred that such honors sat lightly
on Mr. Choate, inasmuch us he retired from the
Senate before the term for which he had been
elected had expired, that he might resume with
greater freedom his practice in the courts. In-
deed, honors and distinctions wliich he could
have gracefully accepted, but which would have
changed his relations to the law, were not desired
by him. Thus it was that his friends sought in
vain to induce him to accept the position, in-
formally tendered, of professor in the Cambridge
Law School, a place made illustrious by the ser-
vices of Judge Story. So, also, he declined the
office of judge of the Supreme Court of Massa-
chusetts, offered him by Governor Briggs; and
the yet higher distinction of justice of the Su-
preme Court of the nation, as successor of Judge
Woodbury.

I have thought that Mr. Choate had a modest
estimate of his own powers. In the trial and
argument of causes, he had had no occasion to
doubt his ability to perform his whole duty. But
he may not have been satisfied that he could in
equal degree discharge his duties as judge. The

.H. ■ (I

MODEST ESTIMATE OF IIIS OWX POWERS. 197

notion prevailed in the profession, and perhaps
M'aa credited by liiin, that, wanting tlie jiuHcial
temperament, tlie greatest advocate, whose modea
of thouglit and of reasoning peculiar to the bar
could not be easily qualified, might not be a great
judge. He must have regarded the late Benjamin
R. Curtis as an exception to that theory, since he
favored his appointment as justice of the Supreme
Court, the place Mr. Choate himself might have
accepted. He seldom erred in estimating the
qualities of other minds, and did not err in this
instance ; the great advocate became preeminent
as a judge.

But there w^re serious objections to Mr. Choate's
acceptance of judicial office. By years of study,
devotion, and work suited to his taste and genius,
he had secured a position and an income that
might have satisfied the ambition of almost any
man. It would have required a great effort to
cast aside the robes he had with honor worn so
long. In that service, without being hard or ex-
acting, without wronging any man, he had se-
cured the means necessary to support his family
in a manner suited to his position, to educate his
children, to collect the books he loved, to pro-
mote the interests of schools and of moral and
literary associations, and, in a generous spirit, to
relieve the wants of others, — even of those who

i»

li i

■■H

»►

I '

- ■ ■ -*

MnLill

IWw

198

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

ffi^

had no claims upon him. But it remained for
him to lay up more securel}^ a competence for his
family. To that end he must continue his profes-
sional work. He did so until his desires would
seem to have been fulfilled.

The qualities of Mr. Choate's nature, his habits,
the incentives which moved him, and the prin-
ciples which he cherished have been illustrated
by my correspondents. From first to last he ap-
pears to have been true to his own nature. Early
in life he saw his vocation, and, without faltering
or repining, accepted it, — the representative of
those who, being dumb, need an advocate. Had
he been proud, austere, or imperious in tone and
manner, no one would have wondered ; but he
was neither. In his courtesy to his brethren at
the bar, in his kindness to his juniors, — too sov-
ereign to seem like condescension, — in his fidelity
to his clients, in his gonial spirit and sweetness of
temper, in his freedom from egotism, and in his
love of study and submission to labor, he gave
grace and dignity to a weary and a useful life.
"What more could he do to perfect a character
which the student may regard as an example ?
What more to inspire us with love and grati-
tude ?

Mr. Choate continued his professional work after
his physical strength had begun to fail. He was

Ills DEATH.

199

before the Supreme Court, in Gage vs. Tudor, in
March, 1859. The next month he attended at
chambers on a mere motion. Later in the month,
and at Salem, he took part in a contention as to
the vahdity of a will, but was not able to remain
in court until the case had been fully heard.^ We
are told that he never went to his office again.

I have few words to add. I put aside letters,
in which friends have given many particulars as
to his sufferings for some weeks after he had left
the court for the last time. As I am not writing
the life of Mr. Choate in detail, I spare myself
and the reader the pain of such recitals. It is
grateful, however, to learn that, to the last, his
mind was clear and active ; that the cheerfulness
which had been a sovereign trait of his charac-
ter remained ; and that the lessons — fragments
of favorite authors — which his daughters and
his son read to him, were heard with a lively in-
terest, the old interest, and were soothing to his
spirit.

After much consideration, and upon medical
advice, he undertook a voyage to Europe to im-
prove his health. But, alas ! it was too late. He
left Boston on the Europa, on the 29th of June.
Not being abl-i to continue the voyage, he landed

^ My friend, Benjamin E. Valentine, Esq., liaving examined the
records, assures mo that this was Mr. Choate's last case.

I .<,

Dill

M,t

' I ,'

*i »

200

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

i .'

!
I!!

at Halifax, where, on the 13th of July, 1859, he
died.

From his studies and convictions, Rufus Choate
was conservative. He had a profound regard for
our organic laws. To him the Constitution was
sacred, to be observed, or to be amended in the
orderly methods appointed. He saw that slavery
was a state institution, under the control of, and
to be abolished by, the States where it existed ;
and that Congress had no power to touch the
question whether it should be continued or not.
He deprecated our feverish and fruitless discus-
sions as to the duties of the Southern States, —
our attempts to regulate, as a matter of sentiment,
an evil which we could not cure or even modify.
This drew down upon him the reproach of a party
which claimed to represent the spirit of higher
and more humane laws than those which had been,
or by our instrumentality could be, enacted. Yet
it cannot well be suggested that the man who is
now loyal to the Constitution and to our laws is
entitled to more respect than was Mr. Choate, who
ever cherished such a spirit.

Mr. Choate sought to inspire the people with
such love for the Constitution and the Union as
might make secession impossible. Had he lived,
he would doubtless have continued that instruction,
in the hope that free men, acting faithfully and

)' li

CONVERSATION WITH MR. PRATT.

201

with patience, might devise means for the cure of
all the evils of the body politic. I believe that,
had the sentiment of the North and of the South
been ripe for it, his plan would have been to pur-
chase the freedom of the slaves. But there was
no hour in his life when such a scheme could have
been suggested. He foresaw the trouble which
at last came, and with an anxious heart, solicitous
for the preservation of the Union, gave no uncer-
tain indication of what he would do, should he live
until the day of wrath and conflict.

Edv/ard Ellerton Pratt, Esq., gives me the
substance of a conversation which he had with Mr.
Clioate in the summer of 1856. They were sit-
ting on the rocks at Marblehead, and looking over
the waters in which the frigate Constitution was
chased by British cruisers in the war of 1812-14.
Mr. Pratt says, " In speaking of that war, the
question arose as to the next struggle in which
this country might be engaged. Mr. Choate said,
' I shall not probably live to see it, but I fear there
will ere long be a civil war between the North and
the South.' I expressed my horror at such an
idea, and asked how that could be possible. Said
he, ' It is a very easy thing to get up such a con-
flict when one large section of the country, in-
flamed by interest, pride, and resentment, is hos-
tile and united. We at the North, if we wished,

•

Vf-' ''If'

m i

iii ''r

^11

rl m

y'^

202

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

could bring it about ; so could they at the South ;
and the adverse feeling is getting so bitter that
one side or the other xnay provoke the issue. If
the Democrats, now about to elect Buchanan, have
prudence and good temper, they can tide the
trouble over for a while, perhaps until there may
come a better understanding and more friendly
feeling. But I fear they will not show such mod-
eration and prudence.' Mr. Choate appeared to
think it probable that within ten years a civil war
would break out, and told me that it would be my
duty, the duty of all, to do what was possible to
maintain the Union whether war could or could
not be averted."

The war came, and, when the sound of the
guns at Fort Sumter awakened the North, Rufus
Choate, Jr., then a young lawyer in Boston, and
Joseph M. Bell, a lawyer of large reading and
experience, wlio had married Mr. Choate's eldest
daughter, entered the service ; in a sense they
gave their lives for the suppression of the Rebel-
lion.

Rufus Choate, Jr., served in the war with great
distinction. He was in several engagements; and,
though ill at the time, took part in the battle of
Cedar Mountain. His exposures brought on the
neuralgia, and he was compelled to resign his
commission as captain, and return home. After

r.»<

:.)«.

Ill

M:' ^i.

-■^/^(::^'$%''t^''

* ^^-.v

I; ", i ■

-'^-.y--"*.

-1

!;ii

:vv/':

If i

m '

^:>*ix

T.ni'iencv; and .4"'"'

L elinj^. Bui 1. ieiir r;
Liii^iun und pnidcuf.\;.'

ik it ^Moli.fblf th.":

V -:.',. M. i.-i.

M ri"

. . i 5 1 1 ' in!

Uulvio. Cboatt-. Jr., Ncrve I
tii,.tiacli'm. II'-'. w t'-'

foi'gii ill at t\)Q Uiai-. U)"'{.
< v;i]!rr'Moun?:ui5. Hi

'OUUS'-V»n :j:^

t:.L?i, iQ

bitter ;h;>l

i:n.:

Vfte

tli

1 1

/ '

i r

ii;

I r

llili t.

REPRESENTED IN THE WAR.

203

a long illness, he died on the 1-jth of January,
18G6.

Major Bell was a member of General Butler's
staff at New Orleans, and acted as provost judge
with great acceptance. After returning to Vir-
ginia, he was stricken with paralysis while presid-
ing over an important trial at Norfolk. After a
time he was brought home. He remained an in-
valid until his death on the 10th of September,
1868.

By a merciful dispensation, it was thus given
to those loyal and devoted men to die in the pres-
ence of loving friends. Thus also it was given to
Rufus Choate himself, who had in the spirit of
his life fought for the Union, to be represented
in the final struggle for its preservation. Had he
been alive, what more could he have done, what
other sacrifice could he have offered up, for that
Union and the Constitution ?

■b -

I i-

1 ;

f * i

\ i

li- ^ ^^

CHAPTER XII.

Rufus Choate and Lord Macaulay : a Contrast.*

The double relation wliicli distingiiislied men
have held to other men often excites curiosity and
regret. Their public life and service may be well
known, their private life and character, however
worthy, may remain unknown. The information
is generally sought for in biographies. But the
veil which separates those conditions, or states of
being, may intervene even between friends, and
limit or qualify the most faithful revelations. We
may well be grateful, however, for delineations by
writers of taste and judgment, who knew, as well
as could be known, the men whose genius and
character they have earnestly and lovingly sought
to commemorate. Thus could Professor Brown
write of Rufus Choate, and Mr. Trevelyan of Lord
Macaulay.

The work by Trevelyan was necessary. It was
well that something more definite and personal
than had been learned from Carlisle, Arnold, and

1 This paper was written before the previous chapters and for sep-
arate use.

' l)< »l

MACAULArS SELF-ESTIMATE.

205

Cockbiirn .slioukl be known of Macaulay. Beyond
casual references, some sketclies, and a few anec-
dotes, grown so familiar that no prudent diner-out
would venture to repeat them, we knew him from
his speeches and course in Parliament, his Essays
and Reviews, his services in India, and from the
History. But tiie inferences to be drawn were
general ; the veil behind which lay his private life
remained undisturbed. As an author, he came to
us after elal)orate preparation, as if in state dress,
and took the reading public by storm. His writ-
ings had a fascination strong enough to divert stu-
dents from their lessons, the readers of romantic
tales from their dissipations. At the time when
he was expressing to Mr. Everett his surprise that
any but " a few highly educated men " in this
country were interested in his History, our
wives and daughters were reading it. It seems
incredible that he could have thought his work
too profound or " insular in spirit " for general
readers ; a history which, though dealing with
principles in large relations, appealed strongly
to the imagination, gave tho lomantic side of
events, and, in highly wrought and felicitous de-
scriptions, called, from the depths of the past,
forms regal in their adornment and beauty. But
in calmer hours, Mr. Macaulay may have had a
just estimate of his labors. He must have knov n

' 1

ii!i

1 1

\-\\

''!

!'!

r f

■■]- : ■■

> i

,11M

if! , I

ni' ■

i!^

i .'^ t

206

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

that his services in Parliament had boon of less
value and importance than these of Brougham ;
that he had lacked the almost proph '*" uppre-
hension, the logical precision, the iK^.^iiony of
thought and expression of Edmund Burke; and
that his Essays, rich in poetic sentiment and illus-
tration, his criticisms, more acrid to the taste than
the invectives of Junius, could not take deep root
in firm soil. But, in the retrospect, he was, no
doubt, satisfied with the policy which had led him
to seek relation with the names of some of the
men who had helped to shape history, as well as
with an interesting period of the natio^ l life of
England. In that he was wise, as th iserva-
tive element, respected by time, lies in the na-
ture of the subject rather than in an author's
mode of treatment. Macaulay's verses will be
read, as they are the " Lays of Ancient Rome ; "
his History will be known when most of his other
writings are forgotten. In the coming genera-
tions, none will care whether Croker was a bad
fellow, and ignorant of Greek ; whether Barere,
when he ceased to write trifles, began to write
lies ; whether Robert Montgomery was a poet or
not.

But Macaulay's strongest claim to remembrance
rests on his services in India. He thus won a
place in legal history. But for that service, we

CLOSE RELATION OF NATURAL CilFTS. 207

should luivo no pride in the fact that he was a
lawyer, and be less ready, perhaps, to recognize
the resenihlanceH and the contrasts which existed
between some of his characteristics and those of
Rufus Choate. Not that they liad anything in
connnon, as lawyers, save in their mastery of
legal principles applied by the one in his labors
in India, illustrated by the other in the hibors of
his life. Mr. Choate never had occasion to frame
a code for a peculiar people. Mr. Macaulay, hav-
ing been called to the English bar, held a short
and silent flirtation with his mistress, the law, and,
finding her coy and cold, gave her up. He had,
indeed, one case in court and but one. There
was, therefore, nothing like professional brother-
hood between him and Mr. Choate. The likeness
and unlikeness, material to our purpose, are to be
found elsewhere.

They were fortunate in their lineage ; each
came of good stock. They had admirable train-
ing at home, cherished great love for those related
to them by family ties, and were blessed in the
return of that love. With a poetic temperament,
exquisite sensibility, and a fondness for the ro-
mantic, were united loyalty to the truth, and
aversion to everything like duplicity, or artifice
in life and conduct. They also had great indus-
try, devotion to study, and desire to excel. But

I \ if

.:!i

!l!

■-, !,

I'll !

i 4 i

208

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

■I

nature, as if to' perfect her work, and set these,
her favorite children, quite apart from others,
gave to each of them great, indeed marvelous,
powers of memory. In their boyhood they be-
came so familiar with Bunyan's Pilgrim that they
could recite most of it. Later in life, they appre-
hended and retained the sense of what they had
rapidly or casually read, and could recall the dates
and the relations of events. Instances illustrative
of such powers, when suddenly called into exercise,
have been given by their biographers. In speak-
ing of his knowledge of certain books, Mr. Macau-
lay said that if, by some miracle of Vandalism,
they were destroyed off the face of the earth, he
could, from memory, reproduce them. It is quite
possible that Mr. Choate could have made a like
boast, if he had allowed himself to speak of the
extent of his own acquisitions. It appears that
what he had read, and considered worthy of atten-
tion, he remembered to a remarkable extent, and
could use with precision, ease, and celerity. That
is clearly shown in some of his speeches delivered
in the heat and pressure of debate. The powers
of memory possessed by Choate and Macaulay
challenge our admiration, however, not simply be-
cause they were marvelous in sudden and signal
display but because of their healthy origin and
growth J they were held to the last in perfect co-

COMPARISON OF THEIR WORK.

ordination with tlieir other powers. Both were ar-
dently devoted to classical studies, had an intimate
acquaintance with the Latin and the Greek, and
knew something of some other languages. They
did not take up the German early in life ; — Mr.
Choate studied it with his daughter, Mr. MacauLiy
on his return voyage from India, and after his
method of beginning with the Bible, which he
could read without a dictionary. In some respects
he was more fortunate than Mr. Choate. lie had
more leisure, a larger acquaintance with learned
men and with society, and should have attained
a higher and broader culture. He had access to
many books which could not be found in this coun-
try, but was a mere reader of some works of im-
portance, which Mr. Choate studied, and in parts
translated. He wrote out his speeches, and revised
them for the press, and with care treasured up his
thouixhts and words. Mr. Choate let his thouurhts
and words — many speeches and arguments which
had excited unbounded enthusiasm in learned men
and severe judges — go to the winds as uttered.
That economy and the want of it bore their ap-
propriate fruits. Mr. Macaulay's name became fa-
miliar in every household. Mr Choate's merits, if
not his namc; would have passed out of mind, but
for the zeal of his friend and biographer, who illus-

fell

i !

; !

i t:

I !

h ^ ' f

(;

:i .

210

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

trated his virtues, and collected mere fragments of
his works.

But, now that Mr. Treveljan gives us the let-
ters, diary, and journal of Macaulaj, as Professor
Brown had given us those of Clioate — the same
forms of literary labor, representing more truly
than other forms the habits ot nought, and modes
of expression peculiar to each of them — the
reader may consider their relative merits. After
lingering over and seeking to compare their work,
our conviction is that in the simplicity and un-
studied grace of his letters, in the earnest purpose
and profound study disclosed in his diary, in the
descriptions, criticisms, and suggestions recorded
in his Journal, in tone and spirit, in the use of
clear, compact, nervous, beautiful, yet simple Eng-
lish, Mr. Choate appears to greater advantage
than j\Ir. Macaulay.

Mr. Choate's suggestion, that one who would
write well should write slowly, had respect to the
example of some great authors — Sallust, Virgil,
Tacitus — as well as to the instructions of Cicero
and of Quintilian. The virtue of such delibera-
tion was recognized by Mr. Macaulay. When the
materials for his History had been collected and
arranged, his task was to write two pages daily ;
and, in one instance, after having been engaged
nineteen days on thirty pages, he was not satisfied

USE OF FOREIGN TERMS.

211

with the character of his work. The habits of
Burke, Bossuet, Gibbon, and others, in correcting
their compositions, are well known. Macaiilay
bettered the instruction. lie was constantly re-
vising his work. Having stated in his diary the
time by which the third volume of his History
might be written — " rough-hewn " — he adds,
"Of course tl ; polishing and retouching will be
an immense labor." Of that care and industry,
great certainly, and worthy of commendation, Mr.
Thackeray, with characteristic extravagance, said,
" He reads twenty books to write a sentence ; he
travels a hundred miles to make a line of descrip-
tion."

By his example, Mr. Macaulay has happily put
in a protest against the free use, by English writ-
ers, of words and phrases from other languages.
With reasonable success, he resisted the tempta-
tion to indulge in such quotations. That was no
slight victory as, with his well-stored and active
memory, such words and phrases, often laden with
a delicacy and fragrance not to be retained in any
translation, must have frequently occurred to him.
Mr. Choate had not, in equal degree, that power
of resistance. In pages of his Journal, and in
some of his arguments, we do not find him using
foreign words, nor need he ever have used them.
But, when he did so, it was the well-accepted

T' m

f •

' I- ■ I f

It;

f'Hil

t .

1 , .

i^ \

212

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

aphorism, the ripe fruit of ancient experience, to
which he stood related as an heir, that he wished
to appropriate. The maxim or precept pressing
upon his mind had 1)een so familiar that he was
led to take it in its old attire, as an imperial hand
might accept tribute in a foreign coin. But he
applied freely, and in simple English, the teach-
in<i:s of the old masters. The foreitj^n word or
phrase, when used, was a mere adjunct, an ad-
ditional rap of the hammer after the nail had
been driven, — the argument complete without it,
the terms luminous, the sense transparent. He
was, therefore, always understood even by those
wdio knew nothing of Latin or Greek. It may
be inferred from the directness and ease with
which he continually expressed in English the
most subtile thousiihts and distinctions that he
never could have been conscious of anything
like poverty in our language. It served him in
a spirit of entire obedience. He illustrated its
strength, contributed to its wealth and dignity.
His pride in it would seem to have been intense,
his faith in its mission unfaltering, his ideal of it
akin to that perfection which Cicero may have
had in view, when he extolled the discourse of an
old philosopher as a river of flowing gold. Mr.
Choate has left us some of the best specimens of
modern English. But he had not, like Macaulay

METHODS OF WORK.

213

or Yirgil, the leisure to give a day to the writing
of two pages, or of two verses, or even to revise
and polish much that he had written. Some of
his best lectures and arguments were prepared in
the short intervals of professional toil. The wise
counsel, the profound deduction, the brilliant
thought and illustration, the exceeding grace and
beauty of expression, " skiey sentences, aerolites,
which seem to have fallen out of Heaven," were
conceived while the pen was doing its rapid work,
or in the excitement of the moment when he was
speaking. A friend found him in the night sit-
ting up in bed, writing.^ He could only thus make
up for delay which other duties had imposed. He
was preparing the eulogy of Daniel Webster, to
be delivered at Dartmouth College. When, some
days later, before an audience representing the
highest culture known among us, he had set forth
the life and character of Mr. We])ster, according
to his conception of them — the profound study
and discernment, the long, patient, patriotic ser-
vice, the great example, the loss " incapable of
repair," the love and reverence due to his memory
then and evermore, — the audience drawn into
profound sympathy with the subject, strong men
in tears, — Mr. Clioate, as if the fervent thoughts
that possessed him demanded more free utterance

i Edward Ellerton Pratt.

i ::l

'I ^W

1 :

1 *

i I''

1 1)

. i

^li

cli

Ill

t i'

;

!■■■

''i

^■-

f^: ^

'?'

li-:

214

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

from the heart, cast aside his notes, and gave his
peroration without tliem.

Some significant words as to the rehition of our
language to the Bible deserve attention. After a
conversation with Lady Holland, in which she had
condemned the use of such words as " constitu-
ency," " talented," " gentlemanly," Mr. Macaulay
says, " I did not tell her, though I might have
done so, that a person who professes to be a critic
in the delicacies of the English language ought to
have the Bible at his fingers' ends." Speaking of
the Bible in schools, Mr. Choate says, " I would
have it read not only for its authoritative revela-
tions and its commands and exactions, obligatory
yesterday^Jto-day, and forever, but for its English,
for its literature, for its pathos, for its dim im-
agery, its sayings of consolation and wisdom and
universal truth." ^ He read it daily. Something
of the spirit of it pervades his speeches sugges-
tively, giving tone and an air of authority to the
argument. That is especially so in those sjieeches
in which he illustrated the character of our Pil-
grim Fathers, their faith and endurance, the bless-
ings of peace, of education, and of the law. In
his references to favorite authors, his admira-
t, if not amountin": to hero-^^

ship

' See Dr. Spear's Religion and (he State, as to the Bible in our
public schools.

PARADISE REGAINED.

215

yet assigns them a subordinate place. Thus, in
noting in his Journal his morning's study, he
refers to Milton. " 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 built upon those few and awful
verses — ' Paradise Regained.' I recognize and
profoundly venerate the vast poetical luminary
' in this more pleasing light, shadowy.' Epic sub-
limity the subject excludes ; the anxious and
changeful interests of the drama are not there.
It su<>:n:ests an occasional recollection of the book
of Job, but how far short of its pathos, its agen-
cies, its voices of human sorrow and doubt and cu-
riosity, and its occasional, unapproachable grand-
eur ! Yet it is of the most sustained elesxance of
expression. It is strewn and burning with the
pearl and gold of the richest and loftiest and best
instructed of human miagi nations."

Mr. Choate had faith in the inspiration of the
Scriptures and in the scheme of redemption. He
had a profound reverence for " the foolishness of
preaching." He attended faithfully, for years,
the church of the Rev. Dr. Adams in Boston. On
the hearing of the last case in which he appeared
as counsel at New York, Mr. Choate was ill, and
the court adjourned over from Friday morning to
Monday, when he proceeded with his argument.

: . i

I !

t ia '

l! ^.

til

216

MEMORIES OF RUFUS ClIOATE..

But on the intervening Sunday, I met him at the
old Briclv Church ; where, though nervous and
suffering, he hstened devoutly, to a plain sermon
by the liev. Gardiner Spring. If Mr. Macaulay
had like faith, he had not like reverence. He re-
garded ecclesiastical matters " exclusively from
the standpoint of the state;" a sermon as an
intellectual performance. If the discourse was
learned and fine, it was well to be in church.
He leaves a record of two occasions when he was
there — the one on a day appointed for national
humiliation and prayer — and he says, " Nothing
could be more solenm and earnest than the as-
pect of the congregation, which was numerous.
The sermon was detestable ; ignorance, stupidity,
bigotry. If the maxims of this fool," etc. On
the other occasion, the preacher was dull, and
Macaulay says, " I withdrew my attention and
read the Epistle to the Romans. I was much
struck by the eloquence and force of some pas-
sao-es." " I know of few thimi-s finer than the end
of the first chapter and the ' Who shall separate
lis from the love of Christ ? ' " We do not pause
to inquire when and where he knew the finer
things, however few, being in turn much struck
by the deference he so loftily pays to " the elo-
quence and force of some passages." We recall
nothing so exquisitely complaisant in Hume or

11 il
IP wM

AX IRRITATING QUESTIOX.

217

Gibbon, and confess that no such generous criti-
cism could have been conceived or perpetrated by
Rufus Choate.

A sensible man always respects the delicacy of
the situation in which he may be placed, quiets a
difficulty, and smoothes over an impertinence. Mr,
Choate wiis so fortunate in observing the "due
temperance " that his life never rose to the dig-
nity of a single quarrel ; yet his patience was often
severely tried in the courts, in the Senate, and in
popular assemblies. But it may be well to observe
how easily Macaulay could get up trouble by evad-
ing or answering a simple question. At a public
meeting, an elector in the crowd asked what his
religious creed was. Macaulay cried out, '• Let
that man stand up where I can see him." It was
a Methodist preacher. They hoisted him up on a
form, and Macaulay, inveighing against bigotry,
poured out a torrent of reproaches, and finally
declared, " Gentlemen, I am a Christian." The
poor preacher, about to be roughly handled by
the fellows near him, slid down and crept away.
The crowd cheered, perhaps because of Macau-
lay's virtuous indignation, perhaps because of the
vital discovery that had been made. "We think
Mr. Choate would have answered such a question
without heat or irritation.

At an early day, Macaulay was admonished to

1 !;l

i.,

, 1

! .

..1«

■ i

218

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

improve his temper. Later, Disnieli said, " He
mu.st get rid of his rabidity." Sydney Smith told
hiin that his " great danger was tliat of taking a
tone of too much asperity and contempt in contro-
versy." As we are contrasting him witli one who
never needed siicli advice, who never had a re-
venge to gratify or an enemy to pursue, the llower
and fruit of that rabidity, asperity, and contempt,
as shown in Macaulay's treatment of others, de-
serve notice. We do not pause to ask whether
the studied denunciation of Mr. Croker or of Rob-
ert Montgomery, running tlirough a dozen pages
or so, had or had not some justice to quahfy the
apparent malignity. All that could bo allowed to
pass as belonging to, even if not dignifying, criti-
cism. But not until Mr. Trevelyan had unrolled
the record for inspection, did we know that Ma-
canlay could go so far beyond the office of the
critic as to treasure up bitter personal animosities,
and that, writing in quiet hours, he could illus-
trate that evil temper by unbecoming words. He
calls Croker, then in Parliament, a " varlet;" and
says, " I detest him more than cold boiled veal."
We also learn that Montgomery, finding the ar-
ticle denouncing him republished and hawked
about, the bitter cup ever held to his lips, was in
great distress, and wrote again and again to Ma-
caulay and his publisher, asking " to be let out of

A TRIVIAL SPITE.

219

the pillory," and that Macaiilay put on the record,
'' Never with my consent." While we turn with
repugnance from much that he wrote of Lord
Krougham, we (juote a few words. Macaulaysays
of him, '• lie has outlived his power to injure."
Again, '' Strange fellow! his powers gone ; his spite
• immortal ; a dead nettle." The grounds of his
liatred of that great man were trivial, such as most
persons would have passed over in silence. We are
told by Macaulay that Lord Brougham thought
that the' seat given to him in Parliament should
have been given to another ; that Brougham pro-
fessed not to have read the "Essays;" had not
complimented him on his speeches when others
had done so ; and that he aspired to too mncli con-
trol over the " Edinburgh Review." Thus Macau-
lay states his grievances, distempered dreams, and
rejoices over Brougham's supposed mental as well
as political decline, although Brougham had been
the friend of Macaulay's father, and had favored
his projects. How much more graceful and be-
coming if Macaiday had been silent, or had treated
Brougham with something of the respect Choate
always manifested for Daniel Webster !

In speaking of Rufus Choate, Mr. Charles G.
Loring said, " He rarely permitted himself to in-
dulge in personalities, and never in those of an of-
fensive and degrading nature." Mr. Richard H.

fii

.'lln

iiil

I !

220

MEMUllIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

Diina, Jr., asks, '' Who ever heard from liini an un-
kind word?" And Pnjfessor IJrown says, '• llo
never spoke ill ot" the absent, nor would sul't'er
others to do so in his presence." We contrast
with .such concurrent testimony what jNIacaulay
deliberately wrote of other members of Parlia-
ment. In a letter to Ellis, as to the close vote on
a reform bill, he says, ''• And the jaw of Peel fell ;
and the face of Twlss was as the face of a danuied
soul ; and Ilerries looked like Judas taking? his
necktie off for the last operation."

Since Lord Coke announced that two leaks
would drown any ship, we have learned that the
principle admits of extended application ; that a
single flaw will spoil a mirror, too much alloy the
largest coin in the realm, and that a spirit of rab-
idity and asperity being cherished in the heart,
other evil spirits will enter in and take possession.
We must confess, however, that w^e always re-
garded Macaulay gratefully until we began to read
his letters, diary, and journal, and that from
thenceforth we have felt great concern ns to Lis
taste, style, and manners.

In a letter to his sister, M ^y mention -i his

introduction to Lady Ilollan and her gracious
invitation to Holland House. In otl ^r letters, he
refers to his visits there after this fashion : " I
dined yesterday at Holland House ) all lords ex-

AN" UNGRATEFUL GUEST.

221

copt myself." He met tliei'o many (listin.LriiislKMl
persons; for the first time licard 'J'alleyrand, then
famous, talk, and tell stories. The I'cader of the
'• Life of Sydney Smith," by his dan^diter, will re-
call his estimate of the honor conferreil u[)on him
when, yoim^' and poor, he was reeeived into tiiat
society, and of the kindness shown him bv Lord
and Lady Holland, — a <^rateful and beautiful pic-
ture. As the doors of ITolland House were thrown
wide open to Macaulay, and as he was treated by
Lord and Lady Holland as a son might have been,
that sovereign courtesy shouhl have been sufli-
cient to inspire in one fit to Ije introduced a grate-
ful respect, a decent degree of reticence. But
what record does Macaulay leave ? The little
household flurries are depicted ; the unguarded
chat and prattle of the most gracious hostess that
ever smiled a welcome to her guests are given ;
her freaks, fears, superstitions, lamentations, and
" her tantrums " are described, even to the extent
of saying that she was hysterical about Macaulay's
going to Lidia, and had to be soothed by Lord
Holland. No zealous attorney was ever more
faithful in getting up a bill of particulars.

Macaulay's sorrow for the dead and dj'ing dig-
nifies a pathetic letter to his sister. Thus he
writes : " Poor Scott is gone, and I cannot be
sorry for it. A powerful mind in ruins is the

< I

\\m

't'li .;

• ■ i'

■ '

, f

222

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

'•i

most heart-breaking tiling win ■! it is possible
to conceive. Ferdinand of Spain is gone, too ;
and I fear old Mr. Stephen is going fast. I am
safe for Leeds. Poor Hyde Villiers is very ill."

How considerate the transition from the want
of hope for others to his own flushing hope in the
coming election ! Through the dark shadows, t^^e
light breaks in so naturally, — " Don't fret, sister,
I am safe for Leeds."

Mr. Clioate read with discrimination the authors
of his day. Mr. Trevelyan says, " Macaulay had
a very slight acquaintance with the works of some
among the best writers of his own generation."
But his reading seems to have been incessant,
fragmentary, and capricious. He says, " I walked
the heath in glorious weather, and read ' The
Mysteries of Paris.' Sue has quite put poor
Plato's nose out of joint." Again, he says,
" Read ' Northanger Abbey ' ; worth all Dickens
and Pliny together. Yet it was the work of a
girl. She was certainly not more than twenty-
six. Wonderful creature ! Finished Plin3^ Cap-
ital fellow, Trajan, and deserving of a better
panegyric." Most scholars have been satisfied
with the picture drawn of the Emperor Choate
commended Pliny as " one who seldom colored
too highly."

Mr. Choate was never severe as a critic ; his

f !i

A SEVERE CRITIC.

223

dissatisfaction was always expressed in becoming
terms. Mr. Macaulay's criticisms, as we now have
them, were often crude, mere freaks of fancy,
rashly and rudely stated. Thus he says, '• Looked
in the ' Life of Hugh Blair,' — a stupid book, by
a stupid man, about a stupid man." Blair was
not a great man, but he was always, and espe-
cially in his style, respectable. His first volume
of " Sermons " was published on the advice of
Boctor Johnson. Macaulay refers to two of Gib-
bon's critics thus : " Thai: stupid beast, Joseph
Milner." " But Whitakcr was as dirty a cur as
I remember." This may excite surprise, as Ma-
caulay remembered so many curs. He puts down
some men as beasts, several as asses, others as
curs. The association brinii-s to mind what Cole-
ridge said of Burke, in his public character, to
wit, " That he found himself, as it were, in
Noah's ark, with a very few men and a great
many beasts." But neither of those critics was
stupid. Mr. Choate thought well of Milner, and
we turn poor Whitaker over to Mr. Charles But-
ler, a la.vyer, a great controversialist, one who
always wrote as became a gentleman. He says,
"Dr. Whitaker's criticism of his (Gibbon's) his-
tory is rough, but powerful."

We do not pause to illustrate Macaulay's ego-
tism and vanity ; the proofs cropping out in many

■ !■■ i!

vl!

:i,

■ ; ' !

fUi

1
1

224

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

j)ages of his letters and diary would be burden-
some. As conipared with Macaulay's self-lauda-
tions, — from the " My speech has set me in th*^
front rank," on down to the " How white poor
Peel looked while I was speaking," and to the two
damsels who, having paid their shilling to see the
hippopotamus, abandoned the show to get a look
at Macaulay, — Mr. Choate's record would seem to
be poor indeed. Not a shade of egotism or vanity
was ever imputed to him. Nor need we, after our
quotations from Macaulay, enforce our conviction
that his style, unlike the style of Mr. Choate, had
caught no grace from Grecian studies, no strength
from biblical reading.

The spirit of grace and courtesy which indi-
cates social and literary refinement in a man not
morbidly selfish shines forth in his words, spoken
or written, and in his enforced intercourse with
decent strangers. Mr. Macaulay has given us
some evidence of the amenity of his manners,
when he was approached respectfully by persons
wishing to do him honor. He says, " What odd
things happen ! Two gentlemen, or at least two
men in good coats and hats, overtook me as I was
strolling through one of the meadows close by the
river. One of them stared at me, touched his hat,
and said, ' Mr. Macaulay, I believe.' I admitted
the truth of the imputation. So the fellow went

USES OF BIOGRAPHY.

on, ' I suppose, sir,' " etc. But he soon got rid
of the fellow. Macaiilay was at Rome, and says,
"Yesterday as I was looking at some superb por-
traits by Raphael and Titian, a Yankee clergyman
introduced himself to me ; told me that he had
heard who I was ; that he beffsjed to thank me for
my writings in the name of his countrymen. I
bowed, thanked him, and stole away, leaving the
Grand Duke's picture a great deal sooner than I
had intended." In contrast with these exhibi-
tions, the statement of the Rev. Dr. Adams may
be cited. lie said that Mr. Choate " Treated
every man as thougli he were a gentleman ; and
he treated every gentleman almost as he would
a lady."

The poverty which often attaches to biogra-
phies qualifies, in some aspects, these works of
Professor Brown and Mr. Trevelyan. This was
unavoidable. It is quite apparent that no one
€■ 'Id fathom the mystery of Mr. Clioate's genius,
or state its precise character. His friends could
only wonder and admire, — seek to measure its
power in the intellectual performance. Mr. JMa-
caulay had, from first to last, been so silent in
respect to a matter of the most vital concern, as
to the life that now is and that which is to come,
that his nearest friends coidd make no discovery,
his biog.-apher no revelation.

i:r f

I'lh

Lm'i'i

I'!

jit 1

) ■'

'n i

^1'

226

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

But no one ^vho had considered Macaulay in
his works previously published, and who now con-
siders him in his other writings, will doubt the
uses of biography. If one who is supposed to
give tone to society has an artificial voice full of
melody when abroad, a natural voice full of dis-
cord when at home, that should be known. If an
author, who has beguiled us into a high estimate
of his merits, appeared as a poet in prose as well
as in verse, his words and sentences polished and
full of measured sweetness, — "a burnished fly in
the pride of May," — was, in reality, weak in tone
and sentiment, bitter and unforgiving, ungrateful
for social service and distinction, often rude in
manners, and as a writer, and in his natural,
every-day style, was diffuse and ungraceful, if
not rough, all that should also be known. If such
a character appears in its true light when con-
trasted with one whose life, open as the day, was
a perpetual benediction, full of beneficent influ-
ences, inciting to everything that was just, loyal,
noble in sentiment, beautiful in speech, uniform
and exemplary in conduct, we may well be thank-
ful that biographies could be written.

LETTERS.

I '

i«l

iiii

LETTER FROM JOSHUA M. VAN COTT.

Mr. Joshua M. Van Cott, having, in casual
conversation, mentioned an interesting occasion
when he heard Mr. Choate, had the kindness, at
rffy request, to send me this note — he calls it " a
scrap."

In December, 1843, the New Englandors in
New York celebrated the anniversary of the land-
ing of the Pilgrims, Rufus Choate being the ora-
tor, and his theme, " The Age of the Pilgrims,
our Heroic Period." ^ 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. Web-
ster and other distinguished public men were on
the platform. Mr. Choate was then in his prime,
and his presence was hardly less striking than
that of the great expounder. He was tall, thin ;
his complexion a rich olive ; his eyes large, liq-

^ Sec the oration in vol. i. of Brown's Life and Writings of
Choate.

1 iU

- »

\ ]

230

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

iiid, glowing ; the face oriental, rather than that
of an American, and generally rather sad than
eager and passionate. His voice was a rich bari-
tone, sonorous, majestic, finely modulated, and in-
imitable in the expression of pathos. He philo-
sophically developed the rise of Puritanism and
the causes of the Pilgrim emigration, and came
down to the Mayflower, to Miles and Rose Stan-
dish, 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
that of the beautiful Eose Standish. Pausing,
with 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, 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 more moved.
The orator had skillfully led up to this passage,
and then, with a voice surcharged with emotion, he
thus 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

A SYMPATHETIC AUDIENCE.

231

i\:^ Mi

lain down on the shore of the Eternal Sea. As
Choate approached the chniax, Webster's emotion
became iincontrolhdjle ; tlie great eyes were filled
with tears, the great frame shook ; he bowed his
head to conceal his face in his liiit, 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 the 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 early dead.

We have had but one Ruf us 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 (jucstion deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong
For his advantage still did wake and sleep:
To make the weeper laugh, the laugh<!r weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will."

Shakespkare's Lufcr's Complaint.

">l :

(1 !■►■•
i ■

't:!f

Ill

LETTER FROM REV. A. P. PUTNAM, D. D.

"When the Rev. A. P. Putnam, D. D., was about
leaving Brooklyn for his summer vacati(.)n, know-
ing that he was a native of Danvers, and that he
proposed to remain for some time in the vicinity
of Mr. Choate's early dwelling-place, I asked him
to keep in mind the subject to which these arti-
cles have been devoted, and to favor me, at his
convenience, with such impressions as occurred to
him and such facts as he miu'lit learn. I grate-
fully acknowledge the kindly and generous spirit
in which he has complied with the request.

My Dear Judge, — I beg you to accept my
thanks for the copies which you have kindly sent
of " The Albany Law Journal," containing your
exceedingly interesting and timely articles illus-
trative of the life and character of Mr. Choate.
I rejoice that your efforts to rescue so much valu-
able testimony to his worth and so many facts
concerning his habits and historv, before those
who from their personal friendship or acquaint-

'%' -i:

VISIT TO MR. Clio ATE.

233

ance are best qualiliod to furnish .such iniiturial
have quite passed ol'l' the stage, are so widely and
gratefully appreciated. Though a native of Dan-
vcrs, where he began the practice of the law, yet,
while he was there, 1 was too young to see and
hear him as many of the older residents were
wont to do. But I recall how frequently he was
a favorite theme of conversation with my father,
who was associated with him not a little in politi-
cal and town affairs, and who had the greatest re-
spect and admiration for his talents and virtues.
After he removed from Salem to Ijoston, the
charm of the man and of his eloquence lingered
long in the minds of all classes of people in Essex
County, and stories of his early successes at the
bar and predictions of his brilliant future contin-
ued to be rife in and about the scenes of his open-
ing professional career. I well remember how, on
one occasion, when, thirty or forty years ago, he
came from Boston to Danvers to try a case of
local interest, a most eager desire to see him was
manifested by the villagers, who assembled about
the hotel to witness his arrival, and then crowded
into the hall to listen to his argument. I was
myself but a boy in the thronged apartment, and
have no very distinct recollection of what he said
at the time ; but I shall never lose the impression
which his look, manner, and voice made upon me.

■ vlll

i^!i

, ( ,

ni!

234

MEMORIES OF nUFUS CIIOATK.

! 1

In form, feutiire, and expros.s'ion lie whs tlien the
perfection of nuinly beauty, while he had already
won an enviable fame as an orator and advocate.
Loni? afterward it fell to me to go to the city to
cn'-iiire him for a lecture. 1 found him at home,
.seated in a soft, comfortable arm-chair, and suffer-
ing severely from neuralgic pains in his head.
The brief interview is precious to me in memory,
as well because it was the only opportunity that
was ever permitted me to exchange words with
him as because he seized the moment to pay a
tender tribute of esteem and affection to one who
had recently died, and who was yet dearer to me
than to himself. I always, however, sought to
hear him whenever it was announced that he
would speak in public, and whenever it was pos-
sible for me to be present. Some of his later po-
litical speeches found no response in one of my
anti-slavery convictions ; but there w\as magic in
his spell, and there was also truth in the man.
For, however questionable his reasoning may now
seem, in view especially of all that has since oc-
curred in our national history, who can for a mo-
ment doubt that a soul so sensitive and conserva-
tive, yet so patriotic and unselfish as his, must
have been deeply in earnest, as he foresaw and
dreaded the conflict that was near at hand, and
did all that he could to stay the storm. One of

in. K

COXSTITUTIOXAL CONVENTIOX. 235

the ablest utterances I ever heard from him was,
I think, liis speech on the jiuhciary question, July
14, 1803, in the Massacliusetts convention, held
during that year in IJoston, lor revising and
amending the state Constitution. It was an ex-
ceedingly powerful argument, and it was as capti-
vating in style and delivery as it wiis sound and
irresistible in its logic. The hall of the House of
Representatives was crowded in lloor and in gal-
Ie>'v, and the attention of all was riveted to the
end. Tlie perforation was a splendid tribute to
the people of Massachusetts, and ended thus:
" They have nothing timorous in them as touch-
ing the largest liberty. They rather like the
exhilaration of crowding sail on the noble old
ship, and giving her to scud away before a four-
teen-knot breeze ; but they know, too, if the
storm comes on to blow and the masts go over-
board, and. the gun deck is rolled under water,
and the lee shore, edged with foam, thunders un-
der her stern, that the sheet anchor and best
bower then are everything ! Give them good
ground tackle, and they will carry her round the
world and back asjrain till there shall be no more
sea." The effect of such a speech, with these
concluding words, may be better imagined than
described. Immediately as he finished it, he put
on his wraps, even though it was summer, and

.11

iilli

! Ill

ilt.

1 1

23G

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

>ii*y

H V

I ■:

like some mysterious personage walked out of the
assembly, followed by the gaze of the impressed
and admiring multitude.

His judgment respecting one of the notable
men of the convention is interesting. The towns
and cities of the Conmion wealth seemed to have
vied with each other in electing as members their
lerding statesmen, 2:)oliticians, lawyers, jurists,
scholars, authors, editors, teachers, reformers,
clergyuien, merchants, or farmers. It was a very
remarkable body of men, and among them were
Rufus Choate, Charles Sumner, R. II. Dana, Jr.,
Marcus Morton, Otis P. Lord, Henry Wilson,
Charles W. Upham, Benjamin F. Butler, William
Appleton, J. Thomas Stevenson, John C. Gray,
Sidney Bartlett, N. P. Bai;ks, Anson Burlingame,
Charles Allen. Samuel A. Elliot, Georn-e N. Brisxgs,
George S. Boutwell, Henry L. Dawes, F. B. Crown-
inshield, George S- Ilillard, and many others of
state, if not of national, reputation. But Mr.
Choate told a friend of mine, who was a member
from Roxbury, that the man who was the ruling
genius of the bod}', most powerfully controlling
its deliberations and shaping its proceedings, hav-
ing; the most thoroui2:h knowledu-e of all his asso-
ciates, and most fertile of methods in adapting
means to ends, always carrying the whole busi-
ness of the Convention in his mind, ever watchino:

HIS BIRTHPLACE,

237

his opportunity, and never failing to accomplisl"
his purpose, was Henry Wilson. Such testimony
from such authority, with regard to the '' Natick
Cobbler," giving him so proud a preeminence
amidst the assembled wisdom of the State, was a
tribute indeed.

While spending my summer vacation at Bev-
erly a few months ago, I took the cars one day
for Essex, in order to visit the spot where the
great advocate was born. On reaching the vil-
lage, I wont with a friend to the head of the
creek where the ship-builders launch their barks,
and there joining two of Mr. Choate's nephews,
Rufus and William, we rowed together down the
winding stream for about two miles, until we
came to the small bay whose waters inclose the
island on which he first saw the light, and which
is itself shut in by the enfolding arms of the white
sand beaches that project from, or lie along, the
shore. The land on either side, as we proceeded
on our way, was mostly level and marshy, but
about midway, on our left, it rose into a gentle
swell, and was largely shaded by a noble ii;r th
of walnut trees, presenting a lovely site for a suin-
mer residence. It was long a cherished dream of
Mr. Choat;'s — to which his biographer makes a
passing allusion — that he should one day build
himself a house here, where he might each year

!■ !

S!f

238

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

\m\'

n !

\i-< i

iM'l

u t

H!,'

come and rest a while from his arduous profes-
sional toils, and refresh himself with the cool sea
airs and the old familiar scenes of his infancy and
youth. Yet it was too lonely a spot for the
younger members of the family, and the project
was never realized. Also at the left, and within
the little bay, is what is known as Dean's Island,
It is a small extent of land, covered with trees
and entirely uninhabited. One could easily be-
lieve concerning it that it was never the abode
of any living creature. Mr. Choate was one day
gliding past it, in company with the nephev. who
bears his name, and was hearing the latter teil
how he had visited the silent and unfrequented
spot. It w\as at a tunc when the cholera was
raging in various parts of the country, and was
the subject of general and anxious remark, and
the uncle, affecting a great horror of the scourge,
asked with a touch of his subdued yet delicious
liumor, " And Eufus, did you find any cholera
there ? "

The island on which Mr. Choate was born is
just opposite the mouth of the creek, and is sep-
arated from the mainland by a wide channel of
water at high tide, but may with some difficulty
be reached with a horse and wagon when the tide
is out. Its surface consists of about three hundred
acres, and the whole rises into a well-rounded ^m-

Clio ATE ISLAND.

239

inence, whose summit must ])e about two hundred
feet above the level of the water. Its bald, naked
aspect is quite unrelieved by trees or vegetation,
except as the more southern slopes are brought
under some degree of cultivation by those who oc-
cupy the three farm-houses situated there. In one
of these houses llufus Choate was born ; but when
he was only six months old the family removed to
the village where he grew up to early manhood.
The house is painted white, and has latterly re-
ceived a piazza on the front, which faces the south.
The larger part of the island has l)een in the pos-
session of the Choate family for seven genera-
tions. Its proper name is " Choate Island," a
name to which the .'acts of its original and contin-
ued proprietorship well entitled it, and which is
actually given it in the maps of the Coast Survey.
A considerable portion of the land is now owned
by the nephew, Kufus. His illustrious uncle al-
ways turned to his birthplace with fond alfection,
and was wont to go thither in the sunnner for a
time, taking with him some books and friends. It
is reasonable to suppose that the spot and its sur-
roundings must have exercised more influence
upon his mind and character than those who have
written about him have been wont to trace. Who
can tell how much of the marvelous beauty of his
lost lecture on " The Romance of the Sea," or

I|l =

is t'

' ' I '

210

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

how much of tlic pathos or -witchery or eloquence
of many another of his productions must have
been due to what, in youth, as in niaturer life, he
thus often saw and felt there at his '" native isle."
From the brow of the hill, he could discern, in
clear weather, far away at the north, the moun-
tains of Maine and New Hampshire. Beyond the
marshes and the village that lay innnediately at
the west, he coidd see not a few of the towns and
villages of Essex County, numbering many a glit-
tering spire, and delight himself with a richly di-
versified and most pleasing landscape. Just at
the southeast, the great cape extended its lofty
ridge far out toward the sea, while close along the
nearer shore lay various larger or smaller islands
or sand-bars, with their white cliffs and shining
levels, washed on the one side by the waters of
several rivers that poured down their cm-rents
from the interior, and on the other by the waves
of the ocean, whose vast expanse, l)roadening to
the view, specked with sails, and fascinating with
its ever-changing hues, completed the circuit of the
range. In all this scenery there was a l)readth
and a variety, a certain lonely grandeur and per-
petual revelation, which, for one who was such an
ardent lover of nature, and who was so susceptible
and imaginative as Mr. Choate, could not have
failed to possess an indescribable charm.

EARLY LETTERS.

241

We drank at the well from the " old oaken
bucket, the iron-bound bucket," whose water was
as cool and reviving as that which at Salisbury,
N. II., once evoked from Mr. Webster, in his old
age, the fervent ejaculation, " This water of my
father's well, it is sweeter than the nectar of the
gods." And then we entered the house, saw the
room where the infant Rufus made his advent, and
the other apartments which have been so familiar
to successive generations of his name, listening to
many an interesting story of the lives of those who
have there had their home. A fresh breeze had
sprung up as we returned to our boat, and we
were borne gayly up the stream down which we
had been rowed. We took tea with the family of
the late David Choate, at the homestead to which
Rufus was taken when an infant, and which was
from that time his abode until he went forth into
the wider world. It was [)leasant to talk with
such of the nearest relatives of the departed as are
still living in Essex, hear them speak of one of
whom they are so justly proud, and see the memo-
rials and keepsakes that tell of their love for him.

Some of the early letters of Mr. Choate have
come to light since Professor Brown published his
" Memoirs." These, in view of the fact that they
were written, chiefly, in his school-day life, and in
consideration of the paucity of such materials as

1*^

/i Lik

I ¥ '■

, r

242

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

are illustrative of his history, may be regarded as
of some interest and importance, though there is
nothing in them of very remarkable significance.
I was permitted to take them for a time and make
such use of them as I might see fit. A few ex-
tracts from them may prove welcome to the read-
ers of these pages as showing more fully his hab-
its of study, his tastes and predilections, and his
peculiarities of mind in that formative period of
his lite. It is possible that one or more of these
letters may have been partly given in some form
to the public before, but I am not aware that such
has really been the case, and I am told by his
nephew that, as a whole, they are quite unknown
beyond the immediate circle of his friends or rela-
tives. Some of them abound in fun and absurd-
ities. Others are thoughtful and sad. Nearly all
of them indicate an original cast of mind, an ear-
nest love of knowledge, and a strong determina-
tion to conquer, with a tender and ardent affection
for his home and the dear ones who were there.

The first is dated June 17, 1815, and was
written to his brother David from Hampton, N.
H., where he was fitting himself at an academy
to enter college. He refers at the outset to a
charge which he had received from the " com-
bined powers," or " the folks," at home, that he
should write immediately "a long, solid letter."

EARLY LETTERS.

243

Then he proceeded thus : " Did you ever see a
definition of the word solid f If not, I will give
you one from Bailey's Dictionary. 'Solid (F.
sollde, L. solidus), massive, hard, firm, strong,
real, substantial, sound, lasting.' How," he asks,
" can I build a ' solid letter,' then, with such ma-
terials as these ; viz., thin paper, no bigger than
a four and a half penny, shallow brain, and no life
at all ? " Instantly he dashes off into a strain of
bombast, interspersed with quotations about the
storms and desolations of winter and the sunshine
and loveliness of the season that had succeeded,
suggesting that it may all serve to " fill up " what
he evidently means as a sort of burlesque of the
thing his family have asked for. Toward the end
of the letter, he writes that he has begun the
" De Oratore," and hopes soon to be " fit." But
he depends much on spending a month or two
at home "•' before the Dartmouth ' Scrape ' comes
on." He is now in the sixteenth year of his age.

Then there is another of these letters from
Hampton, dated July 20th of the same year,
and addressed also to his brother David, in which
he debates the question, in lawyer-like fashion,
whether he shall go home before the end of the
quarter, the disputants being '" liufus & /." The
reasons for his going prevail. " The die is cast."
He says, " I want some time for relaxation and

. ■ (

i I

■'if ! 1-

\:u

244

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ili

^1 ,

!•

! .;•

Fm-1^" '

■ A

delivery from purgatory previous to besetting
Dartmouth College."

He entered college in the summer of 1815, and
in a letter written from Hanover and dated De-
cember 5, 1815, he gives an account of his ex-
penses, which certainly were small enough, and
arranges with his brother for a visit home early
in January. He adds, " Only about ten or twelve
of my class remain. The rest have taken schools.
How thankful ought I to be that I am not ohllrjed
to resort to this for assistance. We who remain
have a chance to improve in the languages par-
ticularly."

Early in the following March he had returned
to Dartmouth, and he writes to David, " Should I
have my health, my acquirements ought to be
great. Whether the measles are hanging about
me or not is uncvirtain. I feel rather unwell, but
a few days will decide. Respecting the affairs of
the college, everything is at present in dread un-
certainty. A storm seems to be gathering, the
sky lowers, and ere long may burst on the present
government of the college. What the event may
be time will discover. If the State (and there is
no doubt of it) be Democratic, a revolution will
take place. Probably President Brown will be
dismissed. In that case the rollcii-e will fall.
However, say nothing — all may yet be well, and

AT DARTMOUTH.

245

if not, we are not to blame." ..." The class is
ambitious; and to bo among the first, in one
which is pronounced the best in college, will be
an arduous undertaking. Good health will be ab-
solutely necessary for a candidate."

" These hints about health may make you un-
easy, but you must not mind it. I sincerely hope
to be al)le to study hard, but shall never injure
myself in that way. I suppose Washington* is
getting through with the " Reader." He must
attend closely to Latin and Greek. Two years
would make a thorouorh scholar out of anything,
and if this college should fail, the more he must
study to enter at Cambridge." He says he has
paid Mrs. D. for his board, has " discharged all
debts " and has " some left ; " but as certain nec-
essary expenses will soon absorb what little money
remains to him, he half sportively adds, " I don't
know what more to write, but suppose in about a
month you send me a little money." And again,
" I will now close, requesting you to write imme-
diately and pay the postage."

On November 3, 181G, he again writes from
Hanover to David, who had evidently been very
sick, " My dear brother, my feelings, on receiv-
ing another letter from you, I shall not pretend or

1 A younrriT brother who was born January 17, 1803, and died
during his sunior year at college.

! 1

ii.

i I '

. ^ ^ !' f I

24G

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

h rn^'

' i

attempt to describe. You can conceive with what
anxiety I was waiting news from home and the
joy I must liave felt in recognizing your well-
known liiind — the hand indeed of one, as you
observe, ' almost literally raised from the dead.'
How grateful ought we both to feel. And, if I
know anything of myself, I do feel so. These
gloomy foreljodiugs that distracted my waking
hours, and the dreams that haunted my sleep
have now left me, and I can think of home with-
out its appearing dreary and melancholy ; but I
will only add, my heart's desire is that the cure
may be perfected. Respecting my own situation,
I would tell you that it is in the highest degree
pleasant. My room is good, and room-mate agree-
able, and our fellow students in the house, seven
in number, mostly seniors, friendly and familiar.
Compared with last term, my eyes are well,
though I do not attempt studying evenings, this
circumstance rendering application in the day-
time necessary. I have too much neglected exer-
cise, and my head suffers for it. Since convers-
ing, however, with Dr. Mussey, I have altered my
habits and regularly exercise once a day. The
instruction we enjoy is most excellent. President
Brown hears us in Horace, and Professor Shurtleff
in Algebra ; and it is our own fault if we do not
make suitable advances. By abridging hours of

LEGISLATIVE INTERFERENCE.

247

recreation, I have made myself master of the
Frencli grammar, and read, without a translation,
one or tAvo pages in the original of Telemaehiis as
an exercise every morning. We have a task as-
signed the class, of rather a singular nature, and
such a one as will with dilTiculty be well per-
formed — it is the rendering into English poetry
one of the Odes of Horace, and this, with two or
three other exercises which fall upon us, will I
fear oblige me to hurt my eyes by application in
the evening. I forgot to observe, when speaking
of instruction, that Professor Adams corrects our
compositions."

Yet again, he writes from Hanover to David,
under date of December 16, 1810, " I have been
unavoidably prevented, till this moment, from
answering your last, and expressing my joy at its
contents. You will be sorry to hear what 1 liave
to tell you respecting affairs of the college. In-
telligence has just reached us, that another act
has passed both branches of the Legislature, and
become a law, authorizing nine of the new trus-
tees only to do business, — a number which, it is
supposed, can very easily at any time be assembled.
That this body will convene inmiediately, perhaps
before the end of the term, and remove the whole
of the present government of the college, and
supply their places with men of their own party,

i i!'

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

"■o ^ //,. ^^

lA
^

1.0

I.I

1.25

' ' *" lillM

■36 1™^^

;: i;s 112.0

u mil 1.6

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY 14580

(716) 872-4503

Q-

248

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

is what the best amongst us confidently expect.
The situation of the institution is, you perceive,
critical in the extreme ; ' Consternation turns
the good man pale.' You may judge better of
the singular state of the college, and of the con-
fusion Avhich prevails, from the following circum-
stance. It is customary for the sophomore class
to take on itself the business of getting the cata-
logue of officers and students annually printed.
It was, as usual, done by my class this fall, with
the introduction, if I may so express it, ' Cata-
logue of the Officers and Students of Dartmouth
College.' The few Democrats and fellows of ' the
baser sort ' amongst us immediately employed our
Hanover Democratic printer to strike off an edi-
tion in this form : ' Catalogue of the Officers and
Students of Dartmouth University, together with
the Trustees (old and new) and Overseers of the
same ! ' So much for affairs of college. ... I
have been exceedingly troubled with headache,
and my eyes have become somewdiat weak. I,
therefore, look with impatience for the close of
the term. I would, however, observe that, if my
health is continued, I shall employ the coming
vacation in diligent and profitable study ; and,
excepting the Londonderry visit, which I heartily
dread, I shall shut myself up. I have secured
* Smith's Botany ' and a ' Telemaque ' of Dr.

A TEACHER AT WASHINGTON.

Mussey, to which my attention will this winter
be devoted."

The last of these letters which I have in hand
was written to Mr. Choate's sister Ilannaii, while
he was studying law under Mr. Wirt at Washing-
ton, and is dated September 21), 1821. It begins
thus: " We sent you such a storm of letters two
or three weeks since that somehow we hardly
thought to be turned off with but one in answer,
however full and excellent it might be, and so
have waited and waited, unreasonably, you will
say, in daily expectation of another or two. But
I have taken hold at last, and a letter you shall
have, — with nothing in it though, but very much
love to you all, very much joy at David's so grati-
fying recovery, and the word ' all 's loelL' " A
little farther on he writes, ^' M. and E. went to
Mount Vernon yesterday, and have brought back
leaves, acorns, etc., plucked from the grave that
hallows that place and makes it a spot so dear to
the heart of every American. Sister S. and I
hope to go down next Saturday." Besides his
regular study of the law, he tells us that he is
'' engaged every other day in the week, three
hours, in a school of yeung ladies, as ajwrtcmt, —
all for cash, of which the Doctor does not manage
to have any very great abundance, or for which
I do not choose to ask him." He continues, " I

250

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

1 t

have some trifling debts which it is my determina-
tion you at home never shall pay ; and, seriously
as 1 regret the inroad on my hours of study, I
cheerfully resign from 11 to 2. You can hardly
imagine how much I long to go back to you, and
look around once more on our famil}'^ circle, and
on the hills, dales, and waters of our much-loved
birthplace. Sometimes I almost determine to re-
turn this fall, but then what shall I do for money,
and how shall I dispose of my professional studies ?
So, on the whole, I must stand by, I think, till
June, 1822. In the mean time, as soon at least
as the session begins, we must contrive to hear
from each other oftener, and when D., who I hope
is nearly well enough already, has so recovered as
to write, once a week must be the word. I like
this city very little, and hope and believe I never
shall make up my mind to stay here for life. That
question as to the place of my future residence
begins at last to be a very serious one, and I think
of it daily and nightly. Still there are more than
two years to me yet before I need decide, and all
I ought to wish to do is to improve them to the
very utmost." Again, as often in the course of
these letters, his fond affection for his brother
David finds its wonted expression. " You don't
know how it delights me to hear of D.'s recovery,
and how we want to see it under his own hand
and seal."

HIS HANDWRITING.

251

This David, who died about five years ago, at
the age of seventy-six, was, I scarcely need add,
a man of much prominence and great usefuhicss.
He possessed, in no small degree, many of the
extraordinary natural gifts that distinguished his
more celebrated brother ; and, though he had had
less favorable opportunities for early culture, he
nobly justified the bright hopes that clustered
about his promising youth by the solid and lasting
service which he rendered, through all his man-
hood, in the interests of education, law, and re-
ligion.

Among several scraps which I have in Mr.
Choate's handwriting, is a letter which he wrote
from Washington, when he was no longer a law
student there, but about twelve years later, Feb-
ruary 4, 1833, while he was a member of Con-
gress. A short extract affords us a glimpse of
what some of the national representatives were
thinking about and doing. " Things stand pretty
dubiously yet. However, the Union is well enough.
The tariff we mny save by a bargain." The last
law case which Mr. Choate was ever engaged in
has been referred to in a previous communication.
A brief, written at the time with his own hand, is
also in my possession, and is a curiosity in its way.
Its chirography makes quite credible the story, —
which, however, comes to me from very good au-

I'M

: M '

,.1.' r

;? !

252

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

■I

thority, — that a now deceased member of the
Middlesex bar once received from him a letter
respecting a suit in which the two were associated ;
and, being unaljle to road it, or to find any one
else who could do so, he took it back to the writer,
who was actually unable to decipher its strange
characters himself. And were the latter to re-
appear amongst us, after this lapse of years, I
fear he would be equally unsuccessful in making
out the brief I have mentioned.

I have often heard Massachusetts lawyers speak
of the strong prejudice which Mr. Choate soon en-
countered from the older and more conspicuous
members of the profession after his advent at the
Boston bar. The way he had of gaining victories
by his brilliant style, his captivating eloquence,
his wonderful power over juries, and his new and
novel methods of procedure, was deemed an im-
pertinent departure from the long-established rule
and routine. Few could understand his tactics,
and more than a few persistently disparaged his
talents and attainments, ridiculed his ell'orts and
peculiarities, and sought to annoy and perplex
him in court by unusual rudeness. On one occa-
sion, when he had borne patiently many an un-
friendly interruption and bitter taunt, some one
who was near asked him why he endured such
treatment, and why he did not retort. " I shall

AN UNSELFISH MISD.

253

retort," he said, " by getting the case." And he
got it.

Others fitted for the task have already, perhaps,
given us a satisfactory analysis of Mr. Choate's
mind and character. It is not for me to attempt
it, and my letter is even now too long. But I
cannot forbear adding a word about what has al-
ways seemed to mo one of the very finest of his
traits. During my summer sojourn at IJeverly, I
was a near neighbor of the venerable Dr. Boyden,
whose testimony, as that of the only surviving
college classmate of the great lawyer, you gave to
the public in connection with your last article. In
several interviews I had with him, he dwelt much
upon the many rare virtues and excellences of his
distinguished and life-long friend, and touched
particularly upon his generous appreciation of
whatever was good in others, and his absolute
freedom from all Qiwy and jealousy. Kufus
Choate always wished and aimed to excel, but he
was glad to see his companions and competitors
excel also, and was ever ready to help them in
their struggles and toils. He coveted no preemi-
nence that must be purchased at the cost of those
who were striving with him for fame and glory.
He had no habit of disparaging his associates or
rivals at school, at the bar, in legislative hall, or
in the political arena. I can think of only one in-

ill

\'.

.f'

254

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

stance by way of exception. When Charles Fran-
cis Adams, during the early years of the Free Soil
movement, was pointing the people to the one
straight path of duty and safety, Mr. Choate,
whose honest views and sympathies and actions
took a very difierent direction, indulged in the
sarcasm of referring to John Quincy Adams as the
" last of the Adamses." He did not live to see, to
the full extent, how unfortunate was the word.
For, when the awful conflict came which no ora-
torical gifts or skillful compromises could avert,
and the peerless magician of the courts and of
popular assemblies had himself forever quit the
stagi f, it was that same son of the " old man elo-
quent " who, through long and perilous years,
rendered his country a service abroad which his-
tory will claim as scarcely inferior, in measure
and value, to any that was performed by the
wisest and best of our statesmen at home.

Yours, very truly,

A. r. rUTNAM.

LETTER FROM HON. ENOCH L. FANCHER.

TnE following was received from the Hon.
Enoch L. Fancher : —

MR. CIIOATE AND THE METHODIST CHURCH CASE.

One of the most important cases of my early
practice was the so-called Methodist Church case.
It was brought by Henry M. Bascom and others,
as commissioners and representatives of tht M. E.
Church South, against the commissioners of tlie
M. E. Church and the agents of its Book Concern
in the city of New York.

The suit was tried at New York, in the United
States Circuit Court, before Judges Nelson and
Betts, in May, 1851.

Previous to the trial, I ^vent to Boston to en-
gage Mr. Choate as counsel for the defendants,
and to acquaint him with the facts and questions
involved in the case. After a brief interview at
his office, an appointment was made by Mr.
Choate, according to which the Rev. Dr. George
Peck, one of the defendants, and myself were to

! I

250

MEMORIES OF liUFUS CIIOATE.

meet him at his resitlencc at four o'clock in the
afternoon.

Dr. Peck and myself were punctual to the en-
gagement, and Mr. Choate received us in his li-
brary, which comprises the entire second story of
his residence, shelved to the ceiling, with trans-
verse cases, all filled with books, through which
you wound as in a lal)yrinth. There were all the
Greek authors, most of the Latin, a large collec-
tion of law books, and a well-selected collection of
miscellaneous works of every description.

In one of the passages between the cases stood
a high desk, at which Mr. Choate stationed him-
self, drawing his hand and arm, as he wrote, as
high as the shoulder. On a lounge, near by, my
companion and myself were seated, and from four
till ten o'clock, deducting an interval of about
thirty minutes for tea, we were plied with ques-
tions from Mr. Choate, while he scrawled in quaint
hieroglyphics what we supposed he intended as
answers to the queries propounded. His eye di-
lated, his voice grew tremulous, his lips quivered,
and his great frame seemed to shake with the
thoughts whose symbols were so strang-elv re-
corded. He would at times cry out, " Stop there,"
holding up his left hand till he had written what
he desired ; then, dropping the hand, would say in
tones as musical as a flute, " Go right on, give me

r -4

THE METHODIST CHUnCII CASE.

257

all of that view." Occasionally pausing, he would
add, " This is the greatest case I ever studied ; I
want you to leave with me every scrap of brief
you have made." 1 left him with no doubt that
he fully understood the whole case, and had en-
listed in it strange enthusiasm.

Subsequently he visited me at my residence in
New York, when he reviewed, with masterly abil-
ity, the general features of the great controversy
between the Church South and tlie M. E. Church ;
and asked further questions concerning the case,
which seemed to arouse his ardent enery;ies.

During the long trial of the case he became
ill ; and one day was obliged to leave the court-
room and go to his hotel. He charged me to
take down every word of Mr. Lord's argument,
and to bring to him the notes of it in the even-
ing. I found him in bed with a physician present,
who told him he should prescribe calomel. " How
• large a dose have you been accustomed to?"
asked the physician. " I don't know," replied
Mr. Choate, " but give me the largest dose you
ever gave a man in your life ! "

On account of his illness, the court was ad-
journed from Friday to Monday ; and, on the
morning of the latter day, Mr. Choate came into
court looking wan and showing signs of his indis-
position. He began to speak, evidently in wea-

I t

258

MEMORIES OF liUFUS CIIOATE.

rinesa, but growing stronger as he continued ;
and, thenceforward, all that day and for the most
of the next day he poured forth strains of elo-
quence and argumentative power that I have
never heard rivaled. His brief was a mass of
loose letter sheets, on which, in his peculiar chi-
rography, he had jotted down in dashes, tranunols,
hooks, quavers, and quail-tracks, such memoranda
of the case as seemed, from his argument, to cover
the whole controversy. The rain fell from his
bushy locks ; his voice (I never heard such .i
voice) kept tone to the rhythm of his eloq .once
and power of his argument. No man living could
have excelled him in that speech.

In his opening remarks, full of pathos and
beauty, he deprecated the events of " sad and
singular interest " that had led to the dismem-
berment of the great Methodist Church, and ven-
tured the expression of the hope that if the steps
the plaintiff had taken should turn out to be " un-
profitable as well as devious," it would be easier
to retrace them. " Many times," said he, " I re-
member the historian tells us, many times, the
alienating states of Greece had all but made up
their minds to discontinue the common consulta-
tion of the Oracle of Delphi, and seek for the will
of Jove in divers local temples ; and they would
have done so had not the impracticability of par-

THE MimiODIST CIU'RCII CASK.

259

titioning the tronsures wliicli tlio i)ii'ty of mo
many geiu'rations hud gathered on the ehanned,
neutral gi'ound necessitated a salutary delay."

His whole argument was one ol triuni})hant
vigor; and had it been made thirty years later,
when the sentiments that ruK'd eourts and judges
on the Sout'" rn (|uestion had come to a sounder
basis, it would have been successful. No judge,
with his c^'" on the prc-'denoy, co ild. at that day,
be convinced by th; elo(inence ol" a Choatc or the
logic of a Plato, if that conviction resulted in a
judgment against the South. The great North
was, however, right that day, though the Court
gave the palm of victory to the South.

After the stenographer had written out the
speech of Mr. Choate. I mailed it, directed to him
at Boston, with the retjuest that he would correct
and return it, as it was intended to preserve a full
history of the case and of the arguments as well.
He returned it without the correction of a word,
writing me a humorous and interesting letter. A
filibuster, named Lopez, had, just befoie, set sail
with an expedition against Cuba. Mr. Choate
wrote that he had not found time to correct the
speech, and probably would not lind time to do
so, '' until Lopez hoisted his piratical Hag over
Havana! "

When the question of what should be the char-

!* ;

I >■'. '

I '

1-'

260

MEMORIES OF HUE US C HO ATE.

acter of the Smithsonian Institution was under
discussion in tlie Semite of the United States, Mr.
Choate, who had been hitely made a seuiitor for
Massachusetts in place of Mr. Webster, promoted
to the cabinet, took part in the debate. He
made, as I was tokl by the late Dr. Bishop, who
was present, the great speech of the occasion.
He ranged over the field of literature, and por-
trayed the beneficent influence of literary institu-
tions, and claimed for the Smithsonian a founda-
tion of broad character. Senators crowded around
him to listen to the new wonder ; and, as he re-
sumed his seat, Calhoun, who stood near, leaning
on the back of a chair, exclaimed to some sena-
tors, '• Massachusetts sent us a We])ster. but, in
the name of heaven, whom have they sent us
now :

I do not shrink from recording my deliberate
opinion that Rufus Choate was the greatest law-
yer and the most eloquent orator of his time.
Probably, as a belles letires scholar he had no
superior ; while the vast range of his rich and
copious vocabulary was equaled only by the vocal
music that charmed it, and that wonderful play
of thought that set both in motion. Under his
magic wand,

*' A l)ri;;litt'r (•(lUTald twinkleil in the ^rass,
A (h'ej)er sajjfihire melted in the sea."

LETTER FROM HON. GEORGE W. NESMITH.

The Honorable George W. Nesmitli, late one of
the justices of the Supreme Court of New Hamp-
shire, who was in college with Mr. Choate and
was his confidential friend afterwards, has had the
kindness to send me this paper : —

My dear Sir, — I confess it would be a hope-
less task for me to delineate the character of Ru-
fus Choate. You have given, in your own fin-
ished style, a concise, yet comprehensive, view of
what he was and did, and you have been aided by
those who saw and heard him UiOre frequently
than myself. Yet I will place my memory at
your service.

I knew him well .while at college. Our ac-
quaintance commenced in 1816. He was one
year in advance of me in collegiate standing and
in age. I belonged to the same literary society
with him for three years, and remember with
pleasure his leadership there. During my last
year rft college he was a tutor.

ill

»>

1 1

2G2

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

After graduation we lived a hundred miles
apart. I frequently saw him when I visited Bos-
ton, had interviews with him, and occasionally
heard him in courts of justice. I was with him
in the Whig presidential conventions at the nomi-
nations of General Taylor, at Philadelphia, and of
General Scott, at Baltimore. At both conven-
tions we supported Mr. Webster as a candidate.
I afterwards heard his famous eulogy upon Mr.
Webster. A short time before his death, I had
an interesting conversation with him, in which he
announced the unwelcome intelHgence that his
physicians had notified him to quit all labor and
to take a sea voyage, as this offered the only
hope of recruiting his feeble bodily frame.

The only reminiscence of his college life which
occurs to me as not already narrated by your cor-
respondents was an amusing practical joke perpe-
trated by him and some other students. They
exchanged potatoes for ajoples in the sole remain-
ing sack of a farmer of the name of Johnson,
from Norwich, and then induced Johnson to offer
the contents of the sack for sale at the college.
A purchase was made by the students who had
been notified of his approach, and then, upon
opening the sack, an outcry was raised against
Johnson for attempted imposition. Protestations
of innocence were met with ridicule, and sug-

I ■ii 1

EARLY EXHORTATION.

263

gestions of the interference of the Evil One.
Choate, standing in front of Johnson, amused at
the perplexity depicted upon his countenance,
exclaimed, " Would that Hogarth were here ! "
Johnson caught at the name with suspicion, and
afterward ol'fered to rj ward us if we would tell
where Hoicarth was to be found.

One of Choate's most eloquent and effective
speeches was delivered in his senior year at col-
lege, in the autumn of 1818, while acting as presi-
dent of our literary society. It was upon the
occasion of the introduction of many members
from the Freshman class. The custom of presi-
dents of the association had been to make a brief
formal speech', setting forth the objects of the so-
ciety and the duties of its members, and that was
all we expected. We were surprised by a well
prepared and eloquent address of considerable
length. At that time he was in vigorous health
and full of energy. The silvery tones of his voice,
resounding through our little hall, kept the as-
sembly spell-bound while he discoursed upon those
elements of character essential to the formation of
the ripe scholar and the useful citizen. The late
Chief Justice Perley was one of the young men
then made members of the society of " Social
Friends." In after-life I often heard him allude,
in terms of high commendation, to that perform-

i I

264

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

ance. On the following day I undertook to note
down in a little scrap-book some of the thoughts
to which Choate had given utterance, although
I could not reproduce the brilliant language in
which they were expressed. I give some of those
memoranda : —

" To make the successful scholar, patient, con-
stant, well-directed labor is an absolute requisite."
" He must aim at reaching the highest standard
of excellence of character. Good mental endow-
ments must be allied to conscience, truthfulness,
manliness. In the affairs of life, brains are essen-
tial, but truth, or heart, more so." " Not genius
so much as sound principles, regulated by good
discretion, commands success. We often see men
exercise an amount of influence out of all pro-
portion to their intellectual capacities, because,
by their steadfast honesty and probity, they
command the respect of those who know them.
George Herbert says, * A handful of good life is
worth a bushel of learning.' Burns' father's ad-
vice to his son was good, —

' He bade me act the manly part,
Though I had ne'er a farthing,
For, without an honest, manly heart,
No man was worth regarding.'

"A critic said of Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
that, if he had possessed reliableness of character,

MORAL FIRMNESS.

265

he might have ruled the world ; but, for want of
it, his splendid gifts were comparatively useless.
Burke was a man of transcendent gifts, but the
defect in his character was want of moral firnmess
and good temper. To succeed in life we must not
only be conscientious, we must have also energy
of will, — a strong determination to do manly
work for ourselves and others. The strong man
channels his own path, and easily persuades others
to walk in it." " When Washington took com-
mand of the American army, the country felt as
if its forces had been doubled. So, when Chat-
ham was appointed Prime Minister in England,
great confulence was created in the government."
"After General Greene had been driven out of
South Carolina by Cornwallis, having fought the
battle of Guilford Court House, he exclaimed, ' I
will now recover South Carolina, or die in the at-
tempt.' It was this stern mental resolve that en-
abled him to succeed." " Every student should
improve his opportunities to cultivate his powers.
He owes this duty to his friends, his instructors,
and his country. Our learned men are the hope
and strength of the nation. ' They stamp the
epochs of national life with their own greatness.'
They give character to our laws and shape our in-
stitutions, found new industries, carve out new
careers for the commerce and labor of society ;

■I

15 a .

{ \

: < ft

r ^n

► » fc

p I

!,!!!«

.I!l

irJ

266

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

they are, in fact, the salt of the earth, in hfe as
well as in death. Constituting, as they do, the
vital force of a nation and its very life-blood,
their example becomes a continual stimulant and
encouragement to every young man who has aspi-
rations for a higher station or the higher honors
of society. Now, my brethren and young friends,
we beseech you to strive earnestly to excel in this
honorable race for just fame and true glory, and
in your efforts to mount up upon the fabled lad-
der do not be found, in he spirit of envy, pulling
any above you down, but rather, in the exercise
of a more liberal spirit, holding out a helping hand
to a worthy brother who may be struggling below
you. Be assured you exalt yourselves in propor-
tion as you raise up the humbler ones."

The second part of his discourse was specially
devoted to the pleasure and rewards derived from
an intimate acquaintance with classical learning.
His suggestions were valuable and impressive, and
urged home upon our attention with great rhe-
torical force. If this speech had been published,
it would have furnished the young student with a
profitable guide in his pursuit of knowledge.

Mr. Choate has been rightly described to you
as an original nondescript. He was like no other
person in his style of writing, or in his oratory.
He perceived quickly and acquired rapidly. He

,.i.i(

FASHIONED FOR A POET.

possessed a retentive memory, appropriating to
himself readily the thoughts of others. To his
able reasoning powers he united an imagina-
tion " richly perfumed from Carmel's llowcry top,"
powerful, soaring, unbounded. lie seemed to
have been fashioned for a poet. lie remarked to
me one day that he loved jooetry, but poetry did
not love him.

As to teuiper, he was always indulgent and
kind, speaking evil of none. In his daily inter-
course with others, he was courteous and liberal
to a fault. He was naturally gentle ; but, when
pressed hard, was capable of intlicting blows that
left an impression. I once heard him deal with a
bad witness in court. He did not call him hard
names, but covered him over with an oily sar-
casm so deep that the jury did not care to look
after him. In other words, the witness was slain
politely, and laid out to dry.

Not far from the year 1845, the Hon. Levi
"Woodbury was invited by the literary societies of
Dartmouth College to deliver an oration at the an-
nual Commencement in July. Going thither, I
had a seat in the stage coach with Mr. Webster,
Mr. Woodbury, and Mr. Choate. A good oppor-
tunity was presented of witnessing their conversa-
tional powers. Mr. Webster and Judge Woodbury
had for many years resided in Portsmouth, N. H.,

268

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

and topics relative to men and scenes there were
much discussed by them. Of course I could not
but be an interested listener. The early history
of our State, the character of the settlers, their
leaders, their privations and sufferings by reason
of Indian warfare, the character of our early gov-
ernors, and the growth of the State, with historical
reminiscences and anecdotes, were introduced. I
was surprised to find that Mr. Clioate was so fa-
miliar with our early history as to give dates and
evcntg with accuracy. By easy transitions they
passed to the judiciary of the State and the mem-
bers of the bar, discussing their respective merits.
On these local subjects the New Hampshire men,
of course, had the vantage ground. Wishing to
give new direction, therefore, to the conversation,
I asked Mr. Choate as to his later reading. He
answered that he had recently been occupied in
the perusal of Milton's prose and poetry. Mr.
Webster said to him, " As you are so recently out
of Paradise, will you tell me something about the
talk that Adam and Eve had before and after the
fall ?" Mr. Choate asked, " Do you intend that as
a challenge to me ? " Webster answered, " Yes, I
do." Choate hereupon recited promptly portions
of the addresses of Adam to Eve, and Eve to
Adam, much to the edification of his audience.
Webster rejoined with the description of the con-

ESTIMATE OF III' MAN GLORY.

2G9

flict between Gabriel aiid S;it;in, from the sixth
book of '' Paradise Lost." Tlis recitation was re-
ceived with applause. John Milton himself, had
he been present, would have been .satisfied witii
the performers on that occasion. We had seen
celebrated actors on the sta<'e, but none before
like those in the statjro.

At my last interview with !Mr. Choate in Boston,
after alluding to his incessant and severe labor at
the bar for man}^ years, he said he was literally
worn out, and added, in a melancholy way, *• I
have cared much more for others than for my-
self ; I have spent my strength for naught." I re-
minded him that he had gained high reputation
in his profession, and also as a scholar, and that
this was his reward. He said, '• We used to read
that this kind of fame was but an empty bubble ;
now I know it is nothing else." Such was Mr.
Choate's estimate of human glory when con-
sciously near the termination of his eventful and
honored life. He added, '"My light here is soon
to be extinguished. I tliink often of the grave.
I am animated by the hope of that glorious im-
mortality to be enjoyed in a kingdom where sin
and sorrow cannot oouie."

I remain, very respectfully, etc.,

GEO. W. XESMITH.
To Hon. Jos. Nkilson.

t- ?

i !i :w SI

I I

!■ (

■'I ' ■

: H

' IJ'l

LETTERS FROM HON. WILLIAM STRONG.

Although not written for publication, I am per-
mitted, upon my special request, to give the fol-
lowing portions of letters received from the Hon.
William Strong, Associate Justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States.

EXTRACTS FROM LETTER OF JANUARY 30, 1877.

'' I read twice, carefully, Trevelyan's ' Life of
Macaulay ' immediately after its publication in
this country. I had previously read Mr. Brown's
charming biography of Mr. Choate, and read it, I
believe, more than once. Until your article in the
' Albany Law Journal ' appeared, it had not oc-
curred to me to compare the two men, and even
now I find it difficult to compare them. In my
judgment, they were very unlike. Undoubtedly
there were some particulars in which they resem-
bled each other. Both had remarkable powers
of memory, but Macaulay's was rather the mem-
ory of words, while Choate's was that of ideas
as well as of words. Each of them had a large

A SPATdNG GIVER.

271

element of the dramatic. Each was a natural
poet. Each was a man of great industry and of
brilliant accomplishments. But here the resem-
blance seems to me to cease. Considering that
Macaulay was free from the cares and pressures of
a profession, and, indeed, from any demands that
interfered with his entire devotion to any subject
that interested him, he gave comparatively little
to society and to the world. He made a few
speeches (not many) in the House of Commons.
He wrote a few reviews and essays. He wrote
some pretty poetry, and he wrote his ' History of
England.' He prepared also (with much help) his
Indian Code. All these things were well done ;
most of them were brilliant. They were, and they
will long continue to be, very readable. But
every one of them was the product of long and
uninterrupted labor ; written and re-written again
and again, and never permitted to go from him
until he had expended upon it his best culture and
his highest power. We see, therefore, in Trevol-
yan's Life, Macaulay at his best, and only on the
very apices of his powers. Choate never had time
for such expenditure of labor, and he was less
careful of his posthumous reputation. Yet he was
at least equally brilliant, more versatile, and far
more logical. His style, undressed, is as beautiful
as that of Macaulay arrayed in its best costume,

t n

(

' -i

272

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE,

and his oratorical powers seem to mo to have been
much higher. Ills abihty to influence and .sway
other minds has never been surpassed. But I
have no time to go into an analysis of Macaulay's
and Choate's mental powers, acquisitions, and cul-
ture."

" In moral traits the two men are not to be
compared. Though Macaulay was tender and lov-
ing to his mother and sisters, perhaps also to Ellis,
he loved himself supremely. Beyopd this narrow
circle there can hardly be said to have been any
who had a place in his heart. He was conspicu-
ously vain, envious, jealous, and lastingly malig-
nant. Yet he was a great and brilliant man. But
how imlike the great and brilliant American ! "

" I shall wait for the completion of your articles
with much interest, and perhaps I should not have
thrown out the crude observations I have made.
Yet I will add one remark. Perhaps the mellow-
ing influence of a cordial acceptance of Christian-
ity will account for the superior loveliness of Mr.
Choate's character over that of Macaulay. Can
there be anything more touching than the former's
conduct at the baptism of his dying daughter ? "

EXTRACTS FROM LETTER OF JUNE 16, 1877.

" I have read with great interest all you have
said of Mr. Choate in the * Albany Law Journal.*

MUCH TO ADMIRE.

273

You certainly have no reason to regret the work
you have done in bringing before the thought of
the country tlie most remarkable man (in some
particulars) who in modern times has appeared in
the legal profession. I have admired your analy-
sis of his character and endowments. You have
done a work I should have feared to attempt.
There was so much to admire in Mr. Choate, from
whatever stand-point one looked at him, that it is
difficult to speak the truth of him without expoi-
ure to the charge of exaggeration. His aflection
and his domestic life how charming ! His sense
of honor how keen ! His subjection to the control
of high moral principles how complete and con-
stant ! His imagination how brilliant and chaste !
His logical power how masterly ! His memory
how tenacious, and his industry how untiring !
He seems to have united in himself the highest
excellences that are generally considered inconsist-
ent with each other ; for illustration, the power of
exact reasoning and of sharp discrimination, with
the most playful fancy ; and a devotion to his
professional engagements, apparently disdainful of
rest, with a ceaseless and demonstrative outflow
of the best affections of the heart. He proved
that these virtues are not necessarily incongruous.
And then where could he have found time for so
much classical reading ? Macaulay had no profes-

,;: ii; ■ :

?' I

i !

i I

s«

f; '

i§

,f t

274 MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

sion to which he was tied. His business was to be
a reader and a general student. Mr. Choate had
enough for a Hfe's work which demanded his first
attention, and that work was always done."

> I

f I

t: 1

iii

LETTER FROIM REV. R. S. STORRS, D. D.

In this paper the Rev. Richard S. Storrs, D. D.,
LL. D., pays a becoming tribute to the genius
and personahty of Mr. Choate. With a profound
sense of the harmony that exists between the
written and the suggested eulogy, I may be al-
lowed to say that, while I have often heard old
friends of Mr. Choate speak of the magnetic at-
traction of his voice and manner, of the fascina-
tion with which others were drawn to him as by
some spell not to resisted or forgotten, I never
before had so clear a conception of the power of
such sovereign qualities. By this paper we are
led to think of Mr. Choate as in his old manner ;
and, through the mazes of life, study, and service,
catch glimpses of him everywhere. We are also
reminded that, beyond the skill which may be
taught and learned, more natural, vivid, subtile,
and enduring ; richer, higher, and holier far than
mere outward manifestation, was the influence
which Mr. Choate exerted in forming the taste
and style, strengthening the loyalty, faith, devo-

njjui

iii'

276

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

tion, and judgment of those who were broiiglit
into communion witli him. It may also be under-
stood how one thus favored and impressed can
write as if the voice of his long-lost friend could
still be heard, as if the clouds and shadows of the
intervening time were swept aside, and what is
told had occurred but yesterday.

My dear Judge Neilson, — I wish that it were
in my power to send you si reminiscences of
Mr. Choate as would be worthy to be associated
with your excellent articles, and with the interest-
ing and valuable letters which you are gathering
from others. But so many years have passed
since I had frequent occasion to meet him, and my
thoughts in the long interval have been so closely
occupied with the incessant duties of a different
profession, that I could hardly hope to furnish
anything of incident which other pens have not
anticipated, or to add a needed line or tint to your
careful picture. It is a pleasure to me, however,
and the impulse of a sincere gratitude to one who
was kind to me in my youth, and whose genius
and spirit were full to me then of a fine inspira-
tion, to record my sense of the extraordinary gifts
of the man, and of his beautiful and unselfish tem-
per. It will hardly be worth while to print Avhat
I write. If it shall give you any suggestion as to

AN IMPRESSION.

277

how he appeared from my point of view, it will
have fully served its purpose.

I saw Mr. Clioate for the first time at Amherst,
nearly forty years ago,^ — I think in 1838, —
when he tried a case there before referees, his
opponent being Hon. Isaac C. Bates, then of
Northampton. Mr. Bates was a man of great
personal dignity and grace, as wxll as of com-
manding ability, whom it was always delightful
to see and to hear ; but one of the faculty of the
college had incidentally said to me that this Mr.
Choate was a man who should have been a Greek
professor, but who somehow had wandered into
the law, and my curiosity was keenly excited to
see one who read Plato or Demosthenes " with
his feet on the fender," and who still conde-
scended to argue questions of contracts, usury,
and the title to lands. The details of his argu-
ment have long since passed from my recollection ;
but I remember, as if it had been yesterday, the
power which he showed in the cross-examination
of some specially shrewd and stubborn witnesses,
the vigor and rapidity of his argumentation, the
force of his invective, and the exceeding beauty
of two or three swift touches of description with
which he fairly illuminated the landscape, with
some of whose crooked boundary-lines his argu-

1 Written in 1877.

;
't

' 1 1

i
1

!,! if.

I •, i

I Ml

1i!

'ini

S li

»m

i.i

I !

278

MEMOniES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

raeiit was concernetl. Tones of his voice which I
then heard are still in my ear; and the unique
and mysterious enchantment of his presence — his
curling locks, dark as the raven's wiuf*- ; his weird,
sad, unworldly eyes; a certain remote and solitary
air which seemed to invest him — stirred my im-
agination, fastened to him my wondering thought.
I was reminded of the personal effect then pro-
duced on me, when standing, many years after, in
the Florentine chapel, before the darkening mar-
ble of the famous statue of Duke Lorenzo, whose
face

•' Is lost in shade; yet, like the basilisk,
It fascinates, and is intolerable."

Mr. Choate's appearance, at that time in his
life, was potent as a spell over young imagina-
tions. It chained the eye, and haunted the mem-
ory„ Oue longed, yet almost feared, to know him.
He appeared to my fancy a sort of Oriental emir,
hardly at home in our strange land, who would
have spoken with more abundant natural freedom
in one of the great Semitic dialects, and among
whose treasures there must be no end of jewels,
spiceries, and inestimable mails.

I afterwards heard him many times : in his
eulogy on President Harrison, for example, in
Faneuil Hall, in 1841 ; in several of his political
speeches, at one of which, in Boston, I remem-

I-

A STUDENT AT LAW.

279

ber still his glancing description of the recent
nomination of Briggs and Reed for governor and
lieutenant-governor of Massachusetts, as fitly rep-
resenting the State in its completeness, — " Berk-
shire and Cape Cod, the mighty backbone and the
stronii: rii^ht-arm of the old Commonwealth." I
heard him on one Fourth of July at Concord,
when he followed Webster, Berrien, and others,
in an address of extraordinary force and splendor,
which fairly whirled upon its feet one of the most
exacting assemblies that I remember to have seen.
I not infrequently heard him in court, though not,
as it happened, in any one of the causes cclebres
with which his public fame is conspicuously con-
nected. I heard his magnificent eulogy on Web-
ster, at Hanover, in 1853 ; and I met him for the
last time, I think, at Salem, in 1856, when his
genius, wit, and kindly courtesy were as abound-
ing and delightful as ever, though the shadows on
his face and the unfathomed pathos of his eye
were as impressive as anything ever seen on coun-
tenance or canvas.

In the autumn of 1840, I was received by Mr.
Choate as a student in his office, though circum-
stances forbade, at the time, my residence in Bos-
ton. Early in 1841, he was elected to the na-
tional Senate, as the successor of Mr. Webster;
and I thenceforth saw him only occasionally,

ti' i

I
I

I I

I i>

MM-

.mm

■0 jf_^r .^

',m

\ (

•\ 'i

280

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

though for the following year and a half I was all
the time pursuing my studies under his direction,
and at intervals reporting my progress to him. I
really knew him better, I think, after this tran-
sient connection with his office had ceased than
while it continued ; and the thought has been a
pleasant one to me that the church of which I
have long been the pastor took an impulse to its
formation from that transcendent address of his
in New York, in 1843, of which Mr. Van Cott has
eloquently written.

The instant and eager boyish admiration with
which I at first regarded Mr. Choate gave place,
as I knew him, and as my own mind advanced to-
ward maturity, to a more discriminating yet more
profound sense of his varied and prodigal intel-
lectual gifts. I can but repeat what others have
said. My only excuse for repeating it at all is
that you have asked me, and that my impression
is not copied from others, but was individual and
received at first-hand.

He was a scholar by instinct and by the d. h'-
mining force of his nature. All forms of high
intellectual activity had charm and reward for his
sympathetic and splendid intelligence. He espe-
cially delighted, however, in history, philosophy,
eloquence, and the immense riches of the ancient
literature. His library was peopled to him with

ins RELISH FOR STUDY.

281

living minds. The critical and august procedures
in history were as evident to him as processions in
the streets. No inspiring and majestic voice had
spoken from Athenian htma, in Roman forum, in
English Parliament whose vital words, even whose
tones, did not still echo in his ear. He would
have made a Greek professor, elegant in scholar-
ship, rich in acquisition, energetic and liberal in
instruction. I am not aware that he ever made
special study of theology. He simply took it up,
I think, with a literary interest, when its great
discussions came in his way ; yet Professor Park
once said of him, after a half day's conversation,
that " If he had not been the first lawyer of his
time, he might have been its most eminent theo-
logian." (It is only fair to add that Mr. Choate,
knowino; notliiuL'' of this remark, said to the same
gentleman — Mr. Lawrence, tl^en of Andover, —
that " If Professor Park had not been the great
theologian that he was, he would have surpassed
any man whom he knew at the American bar.")

His relish for thought, and for the powerful ex-
pression of thought in the most fit and admirable
words was only matured by his life-long habit.
From the crowd in the court-room, the pressure
of cases, the pursuit of clients, and all the ele-
ments and the incidents of suits, still quivering
with the excitement which had searched every

! j j|l

'■''

■>.i

{

>.M||lil

t,;j

:i,L:J

h
if

' I

282

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

nerve in his throbbing frame, he retreated to the
authors, ancient and modern, in whom he de-
lighted ; and it was as if he had changed the
noisy world for another, more serene and exalt-
ing. There were the bloom and the music that
he loved, the clearer lights on statelier shores, the
spirits that touched his to expand and renew it.
He could not go to the "White Mountains, on a
four-days' journey, without taking with him a
trunkful of books. He was simply true to his
consciousness in saying that, if he were to go to
Newport for pleasure without his books, he should
hang himself before evening.

Yet, with his instinctive delight in learning, and
in the commerce with illustrious minds to which it
introduced him, with the accumulating acquisitions
with which it enriched him, and the constant im-
pressions upon his own intellect which came from
eminent orators and thinkers, he retained, abso-
lutely, the native peculiarities of a genius as gen-
uine, and certainly as striking, as has anywhere
appeared among American public men. You
have contrasted him with Macaulay. But in one
respect they were certainly alike. Both " carried
lightly their load of learning." His mental eye
was as fine as a microscope for almost impercep-
tible distinctions. He penetrated instantly, with
affirmative insight, to the secret of entangled and

h
d

Ills IMAGINATION.

283

complex matters. His logical faculty was as keen
and expert as if he had never done anything else
but state and argue questions of law m the courts.
His memory had a grasp, which was utterly re-
lentless, on any principle, fact, or phrase ; while
his judgment was as prompt, within its limits as
sagacious, as if he had never heard of Greek par-
ticles and never had read a Latin page. But the
hnagination was certainly supreme in him ; while
his fancy was also as sparkling and exuberant as
if no argument had ever been wrought by him in
its constraining and infrangible links. This made
his mind not only stimulating but startling, abun-
dant in surprises, suddenly radiant on far themes.
He said nothing in a connnoni^lace way. A flash
of unfamiliar beauty and power was in his slight
and casual remarks. The reports of some of them
are still, I suspect, as current in court-rooms as
when he lived ; while, on the larger historical or
philosophical subjects, his sentences, now and
then, were as literal sunbursts, enlightening half
a continent with their gleam. He said as little,
I should think, as any man who ever lived, of
like culture and equal eminence, on the supreme
matters of God, destiny, immortality ; but I can
easily understand, what I used to be told, that,
when in rare and preeminent moods he touched
these topics, among intimate friends, his words

- 1

I ' k,

!i!i

.WiX'i.

284

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

were to the usual words of men on similar sub-
jects as superb, tropical passion-flowers among the
duller, connnon growths, purple and golden in
their hues, while inclosing at their heart memorial
signs of the Divine sadness.

With this sensitive, vigorous, and various gen-
ius, and these large acquisitions, Mr. Choate
threw himself, with all the energy of his strenuous
will, into his chosen profession of the law. He
loved it, and he idealized it. He was proud of
its history ; he exulted in its great names. The
law was to him the expression of the highest jus-
tice of the state, enlightened and directed by its
instructed and intuitive reason. It essentially con-
cerned, therefore, the moral life of communities
and of centuries. It had immense historical re-
lations. As obtaining among us, for example, it
was the impalpable, vital presence which con-
nected our recent, fragmentary history, our cir-
cumscribed American life, with the great life of
England, and with its renowned and crowded an-
nals, back to the time of Edward the Confessor
and " the common folk-right of the realm ; " back,
indeed, to the days of King Alfred. He meant
to be master of it, by the most exact, profound,
indefatigable study of statutes, cases, and the prin-
ciples they involved. I perfectly remember how
this sovereign and far-reaching view of the law

LOVE FOR THE LA W.

285

impressed my thought, ami stirred my enthusiasm,
when I first talked with him ; how fundamental
it was in the scheme of study which he outhned
before me ; how incessantly it reappeared, when-
ever I met him. He was at one time, certainly, a
most searching and systematic student of the vast
Roman law ; and no novel ever fastened the eyes
of its readers as did any book which ilkistrated
the principles, the practice, or the history of the
law, the eyes and mind of Mr. Choate. lie loved
to regard it as radically grounded, with whatever
imperfections, in the enduring cosmical equities,
deriving from them its virtue and validity. The
country had to him historical importance as tiie
home of a matured and ubiquitous law, guarding
the weak, avenging the humble, restraining wliile
protecting the wealthiest and highest. The colo-
nization of the country was impressive to him, not
so much for its picturesque incidents as because it
had brou":ht hither this o-reat inheritance of riu'lits
and of rules, acquired through ages. Tlie magis-
trates of the law were venerable to him, however
plainly inferior to himself in ability and learning.
The courts were temples of order and justice. He
spoke only the feeling of his life when he said
before the legislative committee, " I never read,
without a thrill of sublime emotion, the conclud-
ing words of the Bill of Rights, — ' to the end

111

•f-f ffl-

'\WM\

■Hi!

: il!

ii: !h

!l'l

f \

28G

MEMORIES OF ItUFUS CIIOATE.

£i 1

m il

that this may be a government of law, and not
of men.' "

The application of the law to cases requiring
careful adjudication was, therefore, to him a mat-
ter of real and serious importance. In connection
with it he recoiled from no labor, and was impa-
tient of no details. The most trivial incidents
became critical and grave when they furnished
occasions for declaring and administering those
permanent rules of social order whicli had been
elaborated through centuries of years, for whicli
brave men had fought and suffered, and which
had their fruit in the peace of the state, as they
had their life in the supreme ethical liar monies.

I do not at all mean to imply that he was not
intensely ambitious of success, in whatever cause
he undertook. Certainlv he was ; and the fervid
passion grew with his growth, was more eager
after each victory, became most intense when
hts famous successes had prejudiced juries, made
judges wary if not hostile, and rendered future
yirnilar victories almost impossible. Indeed, his
normal rule of practice distinctly was, that each
party should present his case in its fullest strength,
with whatsoever could make it persuasive ; so
that out of the sharpest possible collisions of argu-
ment and of testimony the final result might be
deduced. He thought of his client, and of no-

THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW

287

body else, when ho stood for him before a tril)u-
iiiil. Everythinjj^ that could jxjssibly .serve tluit
client coiniiiiinded, thereby, his zealous approval.
Everythin<^ that threatened him was somehow
or other to be overcome. If the lloor ot the
court-room had fallen beneath him, unless it had
stunned him, I am sure that it would not have
beaten from his mind the thought of his case for
more than a minute. But in spite of this he had,
when 1 knew him, an ideal sense of the majesty
of the law, of its moral dignity, and its historical
oflice, which gave an undertone, delicate and
grand, to all his common professional work. He
could not have labored with that intensity which
was constant with him, except for this inspiriting
force ; yet I have no idea that he ever knowingly
misrepresented a principle of the law to serve the
client, who was to him, for the passing moment, as
his own life. Governor Bullock once mentioned to
me an incident which came under his notice when
Webster and Choate were antagonists before the
court. Mr. Choate had lucidly, with great em-
phasis, 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 re-
monstrance against such a sad and strange per-
version. " That is the law, may it please your

«•.•

i-;)r

U \l

288

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

Honor," thundered Mr. Choate, catching the
ghmce, advancing a step, and looking full in Web-
ster's face, " That is the law, in spite of the ad-
monishing, the somewhat ijateriial look in the eye
of my illustrious friend," ^ And it was the law,
as affirmed by the court.

The fervent enthusiasm with which Mr. Choate
devoted himself to the trial of his cases could
only be understood by those who recognized the
genius of the man, craving exercise and excite-
ment, his culture supplying him with unmeasured
resources, and the admiration which he felt for the
law, with its magistrates and tribunals. It had
little to do with fees or with applause. It was
sometimes shown in the unnoticed case, in the
small back-office of some referee, with no audience
present, as fully as in the echoing court-room, on
a grand field-day. I never heard of a mind of
such compass as his, so energetic and so aflluent,
which heated so quickly. It -vvas like a superb
Corliss engine, driven for days with a bushel of
coal. The mere attrition of any case, where the

* Such tlainty anil humorous use of words was constant with liiin.
"When I liail been two days on the lihino," he said to me at Han-
over, " I knew the whole river perfectly ; couldn't have known it
better if I 'd been drowned in it." A reputation which had been
damaged in the courts was, " to make the best of it, sadly tene-
brious." His "overworked participle," his description of the wit-
ness testifying, in a case where a tailor was concerned, " with at) eye
to jmntaloons in the distance," etc., are well-known.

HIS ENTHUSIASM.

289

facts were in doubt and the principles obscure,
was enough to set his whole force in activity.
And the enthusiasm, so easily enkindled, was as
enduring as it was instantaneous. It almost liter-
ally knew no limit. It saw every difiiculty, faced
every juridical danger, snatched every instrument
of impression, watched the face of every juror,
took instant suggestion from the eye or even
the attitude of the judge, felt the subtile force
of the general feeling pervading the court-room,
kept all the facts and all the principles incessantly
in mind, transfigured them all in the radiance of
genius, and shot his vivid interpretation of all
upon the jury, in the most plausible, deferential,
captivating, commanding utterance which even
lips so skilled and practiced could attain. Weak-
ness, languor, sickness itself vanished before this
invinciljle spirit. Haggard, wan, after a night of
sleepless suffering, his throat sore, his head throb-
bing, swathed in flannels, buried under overcoats,
with wrappings around his neck, a bandage on his
knee, a blister on his chest, when he rose for his
argument all facts reported by witnesses in the
case, all the related and governing precedents, all
legal principles bearing upon it, all passages of
history, letters, life, that might illustrate his argu-
ment or confound his antagonists seemed visibV
present to his mind. He thought of nothing but

ilii!

' \\

\\.

I '

>.\

1
I

\ ■

^\A

290

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

jury and verdict. His eloquence was then as
completely independent of technical rule as are
screams of passion, or the shouts of a mob. He
was after a favorable decision of the case, as if
his own life depended on it. Short, sharp, shat-
tering words rattled like volleys before and after
resounding sentences. Language heaped on his
lips. Images, delicate, homely, startling, blazed
upon his pictured words. The common court-
room became a scene of the most astonishing
intellectual action. Judge Shaw looked at him
as he might have looked at the firm-set heavens,
glittering with meteors. The farmers, mechanics,
traders, on the jury, were seized, swept forward,
stormed upon, with an utterance so unbounded in
variety and energy, sometimes so pathetic, some-
times so quaint, sometimes so grotesque, always so
controlling and impellent, as only his hearers ever
had heard. The velocity of his speech was almost
unparalleled, yet the poise of his mind was as
undisturbed as that of the planet ; and each vague
doubt, in either mind, was recognized and com-
bated, unconscious prejudices were delicately con-
ciliated, each tendency toward his view of the
case was encouraged and confirmed, each leaning
toward his opponent was found out and fought,
with a skill which other men toiled after in vain,
which seemed in him a strange inspiration.

HIS COURTESY.

291

No wonder that he sometimes wrenched the
verdict from unwilUng hands, in cases which
looked to outsiders as desperate as Bonaparte's
charge upon the bridge of Areola ! No wonder
that his profession loved and admired him with a
fervor of feeling which twenty years have not
diminished, and that " grace and renown " were
felt to have departed from darkened court-rooms
when his incomparable mind and mien were no
more present ! No wonder that Mr. R. H. Dana
said, in substance, at the meeting of the bar after
his death, " The great Conqueror, unseen and
irresistible, has broken into our temple, and has
carried off the vessels of gold, the vessels of sil-
ver, the precious stones, and the ivory, and we
must content ourselves hereafter with vessels of
wood and stone and iron!"

I have spoken, my dear Judge, simply of Mr.
Choatc's intellectual endowments, and of his rare
mental equipment, as these impressed me more
than thirty years ago. Of the sweet courtesy
of his feeling and manner in social life, of his
constancy to his friends, his generosity toward
his juniors, his unfeigned deference toward the
bench, of his unresentful spirit toward assailants,
his utter want of political ambition or pecuniary
greed, his chivalrous devotion to what he esteemed
the best public policy, though it severed him from

.ij '?

M ■

ill'

1.1 1

292

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

lit)

friends and added new shadows to his last years,
of his blanielessness of life, especially of his habit-
ual respect for the Divine Revelation, and for the
house and the ordinances of worship, — of these
I retain such happy recollections as all those must
who chanced then, even slightly, to know him.

But I have immensely outrun already the in-
tended limits of my letter, and other pens must
delineate these. I have said enough, I am sure,
to show you why I am grateful for his influence
upon me, which was far greater than he knew,
and why — though I see the limitations of his
mind, and was never in sympathy with some of
his opinions — I retain his image with a fond-
ness and a regret that never will cease. I cannot
think of him to-day without being braced against
any temptation to languor in study or remissness
in work ; without feeling afresh the vastness and
the charm of that world of thought and of elegant
letters in which his spirit rejoiced to expatiate ;
without being consciously grateful to God 'that,
at the age when I took impressions most readily
from others, I was brought for a time into con-
tact with a mind so remarkable as his, so rich in
knowledge and so replete with every force, with
a temper so engaging, with an intellectual en-
thusiasm so incessant and inspiring.

Ever, my dear Judge, faithfully yours,

R. s. STORRS.

LETTER FROM MATTHEW II. CARPENTER.

Ilf

Tnis letter from the late Matthew H. Carpen-
ter, formerly United States Senator from Wiscon-
sin, is important not only by reason of his high
character as a lawyer, but because he had been a
student under Mr. Choate.

Dear Sir, — Returning from Washington, I have
just found yours of the 18th. I have read your
two articles in the " Law Journal " on Rufus
Choate. Your articles are an excellent and truth-
ful generalization of his character, professional and
political.

He was more than a father to me, and I loved
him next to idolatry. I studied law with him
in 1847 and 1848. The most striking of nil his
characteristics was his reo:ard for the feelings of
others. Whatever he might say in the excite-
ment of a trial in regard to the opposite party, or
even of witnesses whom he disbelieved, he was. in
his office, and in all professional and social inter-
course, most considerate of the feelings of others.

It!

294

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

I never heard him speak an impatient or angry
word in my life. Especially to young men did he
show this tender consideration. Webster's pres-
ence overawed a young man ; Choate impressed
the young man with his greatness, but he did so
by lifting him for the time up to his own level.
His genius seemed to be an inspiration to every
young man who entered his presence ; and those
who had the honor of his acquaintance regarded
him with an admiration akin to hero-worship.
Even the old man who tended the fire in the of-
fice never entered Mr. Choate's room without re-
ceiving some kindly salutation. His name was
John — John what I never knew. But Mr. Choate
always called him Johannes^ with a tone of ten-
derness and affection which delighted him, and
which lingers in my ear to this day.

One of Mr. Choate's characteristics was to
idealize everything. His perception of subtile
analogies tinged his mind, and appears in his
utterances; in his mental atmosphere all things,
however common or even unclean, became trans-
formed, beautiful.

Another feature was his charity. From those
who would borrow he turned not away. I re-
member an occasion when he was exceedingly
driven in the preparation of a brief that had to
be printed for use the next morning. He was ex-

IN A WE OF WEBSTER.

295

amining the authorities, and dictating to me as
his amanuensis. By some inadvertence, his door
was not locked, as it usually was, and a squalid
beggar made his way into Mr. Choate's presence.
He had all day refused to see lawyers, doctors,
authors, and others. But, seeing the old man,
he turned to me and said, " My boy, charity is a
privileged subject, always in order. Let us hear
what the old man has to say." After listening for
a while, he determined to give him three dollars,
and made faithful search through his pockets
without findiniij the amount. lie then borrowed
the money of me, and gave it to the old man ;
and the next morning, when he came into the
office with three or four overcoats on, he had
three dollars in his hand, which he threw down
on my table saying, " There is nothing quite so
mean as borrowing a small sum of money and
forgetting to pay it."

He always stood in awe of Webster, and spent
nights in preparation when about to contend with
him at the bar. This I never could understand ;
as a mere lawyer, I think Choate as much the
superior of Webster as Webster was the superior
of lawyers generally. His knowledge of the law,
his readiness in using all his resources, legal, liter-
ary, historical, or poetical, his power of advocacy,
the magnetism of his presence and the absolute

I :

4:1

M'A

Xi'

296

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

! .)

U:l

enchantment in which he wrapt both court and
jury never were equaled in any other man, I
believe. I remember an instance of one of
Choate's clients coming into his office in great
glee, and informing Mr. Choate that he had just
met his antagonist, who had said he expected to
be beaten in the case, because he had nobody but
Mr. Webster, who would pay no attention to the
case until it was called for trial, while Mr. Choate
would be thoroughly prepared on every polut.
Mr. Choate seemed to be rather displeased than
flattered, and, turning to his client in a soleum,
almost tragic, manner, he said, " Beware of any
hope that rests upon undervaluation of Mr. Web-
ster. He will be there on the morning of the
trial with one case from the Term Reports exactly
in point; and, if we escape with our lives, so
much the better for us."

I think he had formed the resolution that no
man should leave his office except in a pleasant
mood, if not in a roar of laughter. I remember
that on one occasion a clergyman came to consult
him about a matter full of sorrow. During the
consultation, Mr. Choate was very much afTectcd,
and I knew from his tremulous tone, without look-
ing at him, that his eyes were filled with tears. I
thought at that time that the old clergyman
would be an exception, but I was mistaken. Mr.

BADINAGE AND REVERENCE.

297

Cho.ate followed him to the door mid opened it
and made some remark which I did not hear, but
which literally convulsed the old clergyman.

Mr. Choate's wit and humor were all the more
effective from the fact that God never put upon
a man, except perhaps Lincoln, so sad a face.

During all the time I was with him, his health
was more or less disturbed, and his face was elo-
quently expressive of constant anguish. Many a
time I have seen him come into the ofhce from
the court-room, the personification of weariness
and sorrow, so much so that often merely looking
in his face has forced the moisture to my eyes.
But the tear never reached my cheek before he
would set me laughing with some quaint remark.
I remember his coming into the ofBce and telling
me that the Supreme Court of Massachusetts had
just decided an important cause against him, evi-
dently to his great surprise. He threw down
some books and papers on his desk, and after tell-
ing me of the decision, added in a half-serious,
half-playful way, " Every judrje on that bench
seems to be more stupid ihcui every other one;
and if I were not afraid of Icsing the good opinion
of the Court I would impeach the whole l)atcli of
them." Yet, notwithstanding such badinage, his
reverence for the Court, and especially for Chief
Justice Shaw, was unbounded. As a further in-

!>.

i 1, i t

H V 1

■■ir\
i

■il,^

298

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CLVATE.

stance of such pleasantry, Stevenson, the sculptor,
told me that he was once engaged in carving a
lion of exaggerated size ; that, while he was en-
gaged on the head and mane, Mr. Choate took the
liveliest interest in the work, calling every morn-
ing as he came down, and every evening on his
way home, to mark its progress. Stevenson, be-
ing curious, asked Mr. Choate why that work in-
terested him so much. " Why," said Mr. Choate,
" that is the best likeness of Chief Justice Shaw
that I ever saw."

His complete mastery over the melancholy, the
gloomy emotions of human nature, has reconciled
me to Shakespeare's representation of Richard the
Third's making love to Anne in the funeral pro-
cession of her husband. Had Mr. Choate thus
met her, he could have lifted the shadows from
her heart.

I could go on much longer without being weary
of the subject ; and, although this has been dic-
tated in haste, it may be some confirmation of the
view of Mr. Choate's character which you have so
admirably set forth. Yours truly,

MATT. H. CARrENTER.
To Hon. J. Neilson.

LETTER FROM JAMES T. FIELDS.

It was fortunate that the late James T. Fields
was able to leave this record of his love and ad-
miration of Mr. Choate : —

'i ^^"

My dear Sir, — I thank you for those numbers
of the " Albany Law Journal " containing your
interesting papers on Mr. Choate. Everything
with reference to that great man is most attrac-
tive to me, and I could not resist the impulse of
writing a lecture not long ago on his brilliant
career, that I might say something to young stu-
dents, inadequate though it might be, that would
perhaps incite them, by his example of untiring
industry, to a more enthusiastic pursuit of knowl-
edge, and a more earnest study of the art of elo-
quence. That lecture has already been delivered
in various colleg-s and law schools, and I hope
has led some of my listeners to read Professor
Brown's memoir of our great advocate, your own
papers in the " Law Journal," and the reminis-
cences of Dr. Storrs, Mr. Carpenter, and others,
who knew and appreciated him.

t I

300

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

I wish I had the opportunity to comply more
closely with your kind rcquo«t, and send a better
response to your invitation. . can only, before
getting off for the summer, send you this fragmen-
tary epistle.

Mr. Choate is now, to employ Lander's signifi-
cant line,

"Beyond the arrows, shouts, and views of inon,"

and his supreme qualities are only beginning to be
apparent in their grander aspects. As a law \ or,
ranking among the highest ; as an eloquent advo-
cate, second not even to Lor^ Erskine, whom he
far surpassed in scholarship a patriot, devoted
to public duty solely ; he is now taking his place
without a rival and without a cavil. Years ago I
hung up his portrait in the little room we called
" our library," for a constant reminder of the long-
continued enjoyment it was my own good fortune
to have derived from the kind-hearted Mentor and
friend. To have had the privilege of living in the
same city with him for so many years, of hearing
the sound of his voice in public and in private for
a quarter of a century, was indeed of itself an ed-
ucation. To the young men of my time, who
lived so much under the spell of his eloquence, he
was an inspirer, an initiator ; for he taught us by
his example to reverence and seek whatever was
learnino;, and excellent in t]

'b>

igi

Mkitim

INFLUENCE ON YOUNG MEN.

301

ch.aractor. As yoiuiG^ stiuloiits of lltoraturo, eager
to listen and aoquire if we could, wo found a new
power created within us hy contact even with such
a teachei" and guide. To follow hiin, to wait upon
his footsteps through the courts of law, the Senate,
or the lecture-room, was in a rortain sense to be

" From unreflecting ignorance prcservc^l."

His own great acquirements taught us to nurse
that noble self-discontent which points and leads
to a loftier region of culture, and impelled us to
aspirations avc had never dreamed of until his af-
fluent genius led the way. Like Charles Fox, he
was born with the oratorical temperauicnt, and so
he magnetized all the younger men who flocked
about him eager to be instructed. I do not believe
the " high-placed personage " ever lived in any
community who had more affection and reverence
from the youth of his time than Mr. Choate.
There were about him habitually that diffusive
love and tenderness which make idolatry possible
even among one's contemporaries. While he elec-
trified us, he called us l)y our Christian names ;
and when he beckoned us to come, we dared and
delighted to stand by his side and listen. Ilis will-
ing and endearing helpfulness made him beloved
by his inferiors as few men of his conspicuous em-
inence ever were before, and one could not ap-
proach him and remain unmoved or only partially

■ : ■

rti*

302

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

1 a • ii !

'Ml

attracted. You could not meet him on the street,
even, without having a fresh imjiulse given to
your circulation. During the period when he took
early morning walks, some of us, mere boys at
that time, loving the sight of the man and the
music of his voice, used to be on his track, watch-
ing for him on his matutnial rounds. As he came
sailing into view

" On broad, imf)enal wings,"

with that superb and natural gait so easily recog-
nized by those who knew him,

" Far off bis coming shone."

As he swung himself past, he w^ould drop into
our greedy ears some healthy, exhilarating quota-
tion, fresh from the fount of song ; some golden
sentence suited to the day and hour ; something
ample and suggestive that would linger in our
memories and haunt our young imaginations years
afterward, influencing perhaps our whole lives
onward.

Happy the youth who was occasionally privi-
leged to walk with him on such occasions,

" Under the opening eyelids of the morn,"

for then he would discuss, perhaps in his deep and
never-to-be-forgotten tones of admiration, the lofty
Homeric poems ; quote the divine, and to him fa-
miliar, words of Plato ; dilate with a kindred rap-
ture over some memorable passage of Plutarch ;

PARTY STRIFE DISTASTEFUL TO HIM. 303

or hold up for counsel and admonition some of the
sublimcst inspirations of the Bible. Well might a
young man, thus enchanted, exclaim Avith Comus,

" Ob, such a sacred and bonie-fclt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss
I never beard till now! "

He seemed ever on the alert to quicken and in-
spire thought in the heart and understanding of
the voung. I remember, on the eve of saiUu"; on
my first brief visit to Europe, he passed me on the
stairs at a crowded reception, and whispered as he
went by, " Don't fail, my young friend, if you go
near it in your travels, to pause at the grave of
Erasmus for me."

It was dangerous for any young man, not a stu-
dent at law, to hear him discourse of the profession
as he fully and solemnly believed in it, accepting
as he did the splendid metaphor of Hooker, —
" Her seat the bosom of God ; her voice the har-
mony of the world ; all things in heaven and
earth doing her homage ; the very least as feel-
ing her care, and the greatest as not exempted
from her power." One of Choate's former oilice
students once said to him, " The more I get into
practice the more I like the law." " Like it ! "
said Choate, " of course you do. There is noth-
ing else for any man of intellect to like." This
was said in that fine frenzy of exaggeration which

i i \

304

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

he sometimes delighted in, but no young man
could hear him discourse of jurisprudence and not
wish to join the ranks. Law was tlie banner of
his pride ; the llux and reilux of party strife were
distasteful to every fibre of his intellect ; and he
always gave us tc understand that he considered
his profession worthy of all the hope of ambition,
and all the aspirations for excellence. At the
bar Mr. Choate towered superior to every kind
of jealousy, of suspicion, of malevolence, to every
narrow and sordid motive, to all the meaner
trepidations of mortality, lie was by nature a
gentleman, and he had no petty vanities, either
public or private. He was indeed an inspired ora-
tor. What power, what tenderness, what magnet-
ism pervaded his utterances ! His voice vibrated
with every sentiment, every impulse of beauty
and wisdom. He ran over the whole gamut of
expression at will. When he spoke of flowers, his
words seemed to have the very perfume of flowers
in them ; and when he painted the ocean, which
he loved so fondly, his tone was as the scent of
the sea when the wind blows the foam in our faces.
As Churchill said of Garrick, he also had indeed

•' Strange powers that lie
Within the magic circle of his eye."

If he habitually composed for the ear more than
for the eye, it was because his victories were to

BEN JONSON AND LORD BACON.

305

be won face to face with his fellow-men. I have
heard him argue a hundred cases, perhaps, large
and small, and he always seemed alike invincible,
as if no mortal power could take his verdict from
him. His manner to the opposing counsel wms
full of courtesy and conciliation ; but if that coun-
sel became arrogant and insulting he would slay
him with a sentence so full of suavitv and keen-
ness that the unmannerly victim never knew what
killed him.

There were uninstructed and unsympathetic lis-
teners, of course, who described Mr. Choate as
declamatory, and accused him of being over-
worded and over-colored, — " driving a substan-
tive and six," as they called it, — but those same
platitudinous dwellers in the twilight of the mind
would no doubt quarrel with the tints in Milton's
"L' Allegro," and find Colhns's "Ode to the Pas-
sions " highly improper. Mr. Choate was no
doubt rich and exuberant in his style, but who
w^ould not prefer the leap of the torrent to the
stagnation of the swamp ? It was truly said by
Mr. Everett, in Faneuil Hall, at the sad hour of
our sharp bereavement in 1859, that with such
endowments as Mr. Choate possessed he could fill
no second place. Thinking of the magic orator,
the profoimd lawyer, logician, and scholar, I recall
Ben Jonson's memorable words on the wonderful

•■I

^ItM

'M!

Ill

306

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

power of Lord Bacon, for they are all applicable
to Mr. Choate, — " There happened in my time
one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his
speaking. His language (where he could spare
or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious. No man
ever spoke more neatly, more pressly, more
weightily, or suffered less idleness in what he ut-
tered. No member of his speech but consisted of
his own graces. His hearer could not cough or
look aside from him without loss. He commanded
where he spoke, and had his judges angry and
pleased at his devotion. No man had their affec-
tions more in his power. The fear of every one
that heard liim was lest he should make an end."
And that was just the fear we all had when Choate
was speaking, — lest he should stop, lest the sound
of his perfect voice should cease, — lest he too
should make an end. I cannot but lament that
those who have more recently put on the legal
robes, and whose steps are yet on the threshold of
life, can have no chance of ever hearing those
magic tones which so thrilled the young students
of my time, and realized to us that sovereign gen-
ius which unites the faculty of reasoning with the
faculty of imagination.

My letter is already too long. Pardon my pro-
lixity, and believe me, dear sir, most cordially

yours

JAMES T. FIELDS.

To Judge Neilson.

mi'

LETTER FROM DR. BOYDEN.

Dr. Boyden, of Beverly, Mass., an intimate
friend of Mr. Choate's, had the kindness to send
me the following : —

We entered college together in 1815. He was
betAveen fifteen and sixteen years of age, very
youthful and engaging in appearance, modest and
unpretentious in manner. He had been fitted for
college in a rather desultory way, his preliminary
studies with the minister, the doctor, and the
schoolmaster having been interrupted by seasons
of work on his father's farm. He had spent a
short time at Hampton Academy just before com-
ing to Dartmouth. Several students, fresh from
Andover, entered at the same time. They were
more fully prepared than he, and, at the start,
showed to better advantage in their recitations.
But by and by some of these began to fall from
their first estate, and it was remarked about the
same time, that " That young Choate in the cor-
ner recited remarkably well." Before the end of

^iii

*'nnlli

I W

* i

[

'Ui^

t ,.

308

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

ml f

the first term he was the acknowledged leader of
the class, and he maintained that position until
graduation, without apparent difficulty. No one
pretended to rival him, nor did he invite compari-
son. He paid little attention to the proficiency
of his fellow-students. His talk was of eminent
scholars of other countries and of former times,
and they seemed the objects of his emulation.
One European scholar being mentioned as hav-
ing committed to memory the Greek primitives,
Choate seems to have accepted the suggestion as
a valuable one. A few weeks afterward I was in
his room, and he asked me to hear him recite. I
took a book and heard him repeat page after
page of Greek primitives, without ostentation, but
merely, to all appearance, to test himself.

He did not limit his studies to the curriculum.
After the first year he read a great deal beyond
the prescribed coarse, especially in Cicero, of
whose works he thus went over several, and took
up, besides, some of the Greek authors.

He neglected athletic exercises almost entirely.
His chief relaxations from study were of a so-
cial character. He would get half a dozen of the
students into his room, and, refreshments being
obtained, would give himself up with them to
having a " good time."

In the public exercises of the college he at-

,!s;

AN OLD LAWYER SURPRLSED.

309

,t-

tracted much attention. If lie had an oration to
deUver, the audience was ahvays eager to hear it,
and generally was rewarded by a masterly effort.
• As we adopted different professions, he the law,
and I medicine, I had, much to my regret, few
opportunities of witnessing the displays of his
maturer powers. But our personal intimacy was
very great, and continued through life.

I had, from the first, no doubt that he would
strive for, and attain, the foremost rank in his
profession. When he commenced practice in Sa-
lem, w^e had two or three old lawyers, of whom
Mr. Thorndyke was one. I said to him, " Mr.
Clioate is not in the Superior Court yet (his time
not having expired in the Common Pleas) ; but I
know him very well, and he will be at the head of
the Essex bar as soon as he can get there." The
old lawyer looked at me with surprise and incre-
dulity ; but I had the pleasure of hearing him,
before many years had elapsed, admit the fulfill-
ment of my prophecy.

During the earlier years of his practice, he
sometimes spoke to me of his aspirations, one of
which was to be one of our chief justices. He
was offered a judgeship afterward, but never
could afford to accept.

His professional income he spent lavishly. He
gave away a great deal, and neglected, in many

f- 'ti'

J i

nf^

i nm

1 1 i'»

Ill

■km

l^'

i ;

4 »

! '

iJl.

i i;

'ii ■». m

\ -f >\

%iM^

;l \\mu

310

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

instances, to collect or to charge for his services.
He was careless in payment, too, but never to the
point of injustice. Having borrowed a sum of
money when a young man, he retained it for
many years, always paying interest, though it is
certain he could have repaid the principal many
times over if it had been necessary. Finally I, as
the representative of one of the heirs of the
lender, had occasion to ask for the money, and it
was paid at once. When paying the interest, he
said to me on one occasion, " You have had some
trouble about this, I will give you your law ; "
and he did, both advice and service, when needed.
I had occasion to know much of his benefactions,
as I was sometimes his almoner. Some instances
of his generosity I communicated to Mr. Brown,
when he was preparing his book.

His love of study lasted through life, and he
accounted it as one of his chief blessings. In
speaking to me of his son one day, he held up his
hand and said, " I would give that finger if it
would make him love study as I do."

The humorous side of his character has been,
to so great an extent, that on which the public
attention has been hitherto fixed that it needs
no illustration. But the evenness of his temper
is worth remarking. He was always agreeable,
genial, companionable, playful even, toward those

NOT LIKE OTHER MEN.

311

with whom he was intimate. I could never be
long in his company without hearing some en-
livening pleasantry.

I do not think Mr. Choate was fitted to be a
leader in politics. He was constitutionally timid
and conservative. Given a leader, like Webster,
he was a useful and zealous supporter. Let him
have a question to argue, and, if he felt that the
country was his client, he waxed eloquent and
sought eagerly for victory. During Webster's
lifetime he initiated no policy. The latter, on his
death-bed, told Choate, " You have a great future
before you if you go with the party and direct
them." Choate could go with the party — he
could even go against it ; but the instinct of lead-
ership was weak in him ; to control the party was
work to which he was not fitted, an up-hill labor.

It is exceedingly difficult to describe or to char-
acterize such a man. He was unlike any other I
have known. Webster seemed to be a good deal
like other folks, only there was more of him.
But Choate was peculiar; — a strange, beautiful
product of our time, not to be measured by refer-
ence to ordinary men.

.!.

i ' -f i

ii!

. ' I

. . •' ■ i

i
1 1.

'1- '

K \ ,.:. ,

Jt^i

iim^

rFfT

tiUHi:

if-l

LETTER FROxM EMORY WASHBURN.

The late Emory Washburn sent me this tribute
to the memory of Ruf us Choate : —

Dear Sir, — It is with much hesitation and
misgiving that I enter upon the attempt to com-
ply with your flattering request to give you some
of my recollections of Mr. Choate. Aside from
the difficulty in describing a man of such varied
and peculiar characteristics and qualities, it is to
be borne in mind that it is already seventeen
years since his death, and that, during that time,
impressions originally strong have been growing
fainter, and the incidents and events of his life
becoming less distinctly defined, and that many
things which were worthy of notice at the time
they occurred have lost their interest for want of
surrounding circumstances. All I ohall attempt
will be to recall general impressions rather than
distinct incidents.

While I have no right to claim any special in-
timacy with Mr. Choate, I met him too often,

HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE.

313

after our first meeting in the Legislature of 1825,
in private and social life, as well as at the bar and
in the courts and in public assemblies, not to re-
ceive and retain pretty decided ini])ressions of the
power and qualities for which he became so widely
known and admired. He was about four months
my senior in agc\

In stature Mr. Choate was nearly, if not quite,
six feet in height, strong and muscular, without
being in the least gross. His head was finely
formed, and covered with a profusion of very
dark, curly hair. His complexion was dark, his
features regular, his lips thin, and, when his coun-
tenance was at rest, were generally closely shut,
giving his mouth an expression of contemplation
rather than firmness. His eye was dark, was
mildly piercing, and, at times, had a pensive cast,
which was in harmony with his whole expression
when bv himself. His movements, without Iteing
awkward or abrupt, indicated nervous energy
rather than muscular power. When in company
with others, his face assumed as many shades of
expression as he had changing moods of thought.
From the quiet rest of deep contemplation it would
light up by a sudden flash of playful humor, or an
expression of intense interest, when he gave utter-
ance to some new or inspiring thought. But al-
though a ready humor, thus modified, was perhaps

* 1^

Hlh

iliikia

314

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIJOATE.

■Is

'«

r ■.,:

one of the most cli<aracteristic marks of the ami-
able temperament for which he was distinguished,
it never degenerated into boisterous mirth nor
broke out into laughter. I doubt if any one ever
heard him laugh aloud, though no one ever had a
keener sense of the ridiculous, or loved fun more
heartily.

While such was the general temperament of
the man, as he appeared to others in the ordi-
nary intercourse of society or business, to his
more intimate friends, as often as leisure or op-
portunity offered, this playful habit of thought
and fancy manifested itself in a great variety of
forms. When in such a mood, it was delightful to
see him unbend, and give conversation free play.
He would indulge in such extravagant forms of
expression, such exaggerated statements, such ab-
surd opinions, and conclusions so utterly at vari-
ance with his well-known sentiments, half gravely
uttered, and yet understood by all, that it was an
occasion of constant merriment ; in which, with-
out even descending to dio . ho was often
carrying on gravf ' sions, or attacking some

popular whim or oi\ minglii; wit with logic,
and fun with grave r rodities of life.^ There
would be no end to the anecdotes illustrative of

1 It Tras thus, perhaps ia more extravagant forms, wiUi Sydney-
Smith. J. N.

CHIEF JUSTICE SUA W.

315

this phase of his mind, if any one had talvon the
pain.s to preserve them. One has been often re-
peated, of his opinion of Chief Justice Shaw, for
■whom, by the way, he had a profound veneration
for his (piahties as a judge, and between whom
and Mr. Ciioate there was a mutual admiration
and respect. No man had a kinder nature tlian
the Chief Justice, and no man would have sooner
shrunk from saying or doing anything which
could wound the sensibilities of another; and as
for conscious partiality in favor of any one, be-
cause of his rank or position in society, no man
even suspected it. But, unfortunately, he had a
way of expressing his 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 everything which 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, " I do not suppose that any one ever thought
the Chief Justice was much of a lawyer, but
nobody can deny that he is a man of pleasant

'i 1lv

hi J

316

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

manners." On one occaiion he was engaged in a
very important case in a remote county, when it
fell to me to hold the term of the court. He
gave up two days to the preparation before the
commencement of the term, but found one suf-
ficient, so that the other day was lost in waiting.

b one who could not tolerate an idle hour this
was inexpressibly irksome. I arrived in town in
due time, and met Mr. Choate at the door of the
hotel, and was greeted with '^ I am glad you have
come at last, for I have been waiting for you just
fifty thousand years ; " which, considering his im-
patience in losing time, was hardly an exagger-
ated expression of his estimate of it.

In the composition of Mr. Choate's nature, the
prevailing element was sweetness. Bitterness was
entirely left out. His spirit, like the action of
his mind, was quick and easily aroused ; but he
could not carry anger, nor keep alive a feeling
of resentment. He had no false pride of opinion,
and could laugh at his own mistakes as readily as
others. After witnessing in court, one day. with
two or three others, the queer rulings of a certain
judge, who had made himself somewhat conspic-
uous in his mode of conducting trials, one of them
turned to him and said, " Let us see, did you not
join in a petition to have this man appointed ? "
" Headed it," said Mr. Choate, with the quietest

iH^fll

SOCIAL INTERCOURSE.

317

possible liumorj and went on with his conversa-
tion.

In his family no one could be more delightful,
ministering to the happiness of the circle of which
he was the special centre, and in which his con-
versation was full of pleasant humor and profit-
able instruction. So, in his intercourse with his
friends, though free from everything like re-
straint, he never talked without some purpose or
aim, or without saying something that might be
remembered. His voice was pleasant and well
modulated; and, though clear and resonant, never
loud or harsli, even when excited before a popu-
lar audience. His command of languagre was lit-
erally wonderful. No man had a richer vocabu-
lary of choice and apt words. lie was never at
a loss for the right form of expression, nor did
he obscure a vigorous thought by the beautiful
drapery in which he clothed it.

In his manner of addressing an audience, es-
pecially a jury, he made use of a great deal of
action, but without rant or violent gesticulation.
II J grew animated by the very effort of speaking ;
every muscle seemed to bo Ijrought into \)\i\y, and
his whole person gave signs of euiotion. The
perspiration would fall in large drops from his
hair and run down his face ; which, at times, grew
pale and haggard while he poured out, in one

I' '

r 1

■J

Mil

318

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

m-'i

|1i|:r

unbroken current, language full of thought, emo-
tion, or rare illustrations, of which his public ad-
dresses largely partook. But, though a casual
listener might be dazzled by the brilliancy of his
rhetoric and the charm of his eloquence, no one
who followed his train of thought, when desiring
to convince his audience of some interesting truth,
could be more impressed by the beauty of his
oratory than by the clear statement and logical
arrangement of his argument, which carried with
them the conviction of his hearers. One pecul-
iarity marked his style, whether oral or written,
and that was the continuous and unbroken train
of thought upon which he sometimes entered ;
which, instead of being exhausted by being pur-
sued to any given extent, seemed to gather new
exposition and illustration as he proceeded, until
there seemed no place left at which to arrest it.
If some important idea or proposition presented
itself to his mind, it seemed to call up so many
kindred and associated ideas, and one thought
came crowding so closely upon another, that there
was left him no place for pause or suspension, and
he would go on through an entire page without a
space for a punctuation mark, beyond an occa-
sional dash to hold its parts together.

Whenever he spoke, he played upon his au-
dience as a master with the tones or harmonies of

BUSINESS HABITS.

319

an organ, at one moment delighting them with
his humor, at another moving them to indignation
at some unmerited wrong, and touching at an-
other a shade of dehcate sensibiUty, leading them,
it might be by a train of profound thought and
subtile reasoning, to the conclusion which he was
aiming to reach. And it was not easy, at times,
to say in which of these exhibitions of moral and
intellectual power he was most to be admired.

And yet, when one recalled the grave or even
sad cast of his countenance when at rest, and re-
membered the change that came over it as it
lighted up almost to inspiration when he was deal-
ing with reasons and the passions of his fellow-men,
in masses, and saw how he moulded and gave
form to the opinions of others by the mere force
of his powers of persuasion, he could not fail to
perceive that his true strength lay in the region
of sober dialectics rather than in that of brilliant
oratory.

In the management of his own affairs, Mr.
Choate wa3 careless in charging or collecting
moneys, while he was generous, almost to a fault,
in his contributions to the necessities of others.
But in no way was this readiness to bestow the
fruits of the labors, by which he earned his liveli-
hood, more marked than in the frequent devo-
tion of his time to the preparation or delivery of

i ■■!)!■

S20

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

■ l

!■'•:

,]■;;'

orations, lectures, and addresses on occasions of
literar}^, joatriotic, political, and commemorative
gatherings, for which he could expect no other
compensation than the consciousness of its being
a means of directing and controlling the thoughts
and opinions of others. This constant strain upon
his mental and physical energies, in connection
with a frequent recurrence of severe headaches,
began, at last, to tell upon his constitution as well
as upon his looks. The lines and furrows of his
face grew deeper and more visible ; his counte-
nance began to bear a worried and haggard look,
except when animated in debate ; and age, while
it spared the lustre of hair, gave signs of prema-
ture progress. But whatever he lost of muscular
activity seemed to be more than made up by an
added supply of nervous and intellectual energy,
till both gave way before the approach of the dis-
ease which terminated his life. His sweetness
and kindness of manner, however, remained with
him till the last.

I can speak of his qualities as a senator only
from the published accounts of the day. Nor
would I venture to speak of his scholarship with
confidence, except from the testimony of others.
No one, however, could be with him any length
of time without perceiving his familiarity with
classic authors and their literature. In his pub-

NATURAL BENT OR INCLINATION. 321

lie addresses, and even in liis arguments be-
fore juries, he not infrequently resorted to quota-
tions from these authors, when he wished to give
some happy thought an epigrammatic force. And
those best capable of judging were unqualified in
their high appreciation of the extent and accuracy
of his attainments in classic learning. I remem-
ber his showing me at his own house, with a kind
of affectionate pride, a beautiful copy of Cicero,
and remarking with considerable emphasis that he
never suffered a day to pass by in which he did
not read one or more pages in that volume. I
have no doubt that, if his memory had rested upon
his attainments as a classical scholar, it would
have associated his name with some of the first in
the land ; yet he did not limio himself to the lit-
erature of the ancients, but was equally thorough
in that of his own language.

But the sphere in which Mr. Choate was most
ambitious to excel, and in which ho achieved his
most signal success, was that of the bar. To that
he gave his best energies, and in its service he
wove out the physical powers of a vigorous con-
stitution. He cultivated the law as a broad and
hberal science, while, in applying it to the prac-
tical questions cognizable by the courts, he spared
neither time nor labor to make it serve the pur-
pose of equal justice. To this end he applied great

i ■ 1 4:

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOaTE.

quickness of apprehension, patience in research, a
generous pride in his profession, and an aptitude
for hibor which shrunk from no degree of dih-
gence or requisite amount of exhaustion. Nor
were these qualities displayed occasionally only.
Whether his case was small or large, whether his
cause was upon the civil or the criminal side ol
the court, whether his client was rich or poor, or
his fee was a large or a small one, he went into it
thoroughly prepared, and ready at all points;
and, when in, he gave to it his whole energy, and
spared nothing which could insure success. Nor
were his arguments confined to the details of the
more technical points of his case ; he made free
use, at will, of that store of learning and illustra-
tion which his memory was at all times ready to
supply. 1 heard him, on one occasion, address the
court, when I presided, upon a motion to dismiss
an indictment, charging embezzlement upon an
officer of a bank, on the ground that the statute
prescribing the form of stating the charge, and
under which the indictment had been drawn, was
ex 2)ost facto, it having been passed subsequently
to the alleged act of embezzlement. It was purely
a constitutional argument, and the point lay with-
in a narrow compass. But, for beauty of diction,
aptness of illustration, and force of reasoning, it
was one of his best efforts. He dwelt, among

HIS METHODS.

323

other things, upon the history of our Constitution,
and showed how its provisions, many of them at
least, had their origin in tiie events of English
history. He spoke of the Star Chamber, the bills
of attainder, the progress of English liberty dur-
ing the Conunon wealth and at the Revohition,
and of the last struggle of prerogative with the
free spirit of the Constitution in the attainder and
execution of Sir John Fcnwick, and brought tliese
all to bear upon the danger, as a precedent, of
holding a man to answer for a crime under an act
of legislation passed subsequently to the commis-
sion of the deed, especially where, as in this case, a
popular odium had been awakened against him as
a public officer.

Nor was his skill in conducting the trial of a
cause less remarkable tlian the ability with which
he presented it, in the end, to the court and jury.
In the cross-examination of witnesses, he seemed
to know intuitively how far to pursue it and
where to stop. He never aroused opposition on
the part of the witness by attacking him, but dis-
armed him by the quiet and courteous manner in
which he pursued his examination. He was quite
sure, before giving him up, to expose the weak
parts of his testimony, or the bias, if any, which
detracted from the confidence to be given it. On
the other hand, he never allowed himself to ap-

:\ i' ^'' I

I fi)|:|

! ' I

■ii

324

MEMORIES OF liUFUS CHOATE.

pear surprlsecl or disconcerted by anything in the
way of evidence or argument which niiglit come
out in the course of a trial, however damaging it
might seem to the case. To the jury it seemed to
come as a matter of course, and nothing on his
part served to give it any special importance.
Anecdotes of this character were often told of
him, — one of which I give, as it was told to me,
to illustrate his coolness and self-possession, as
well as his adroitness in warding off what he
could not meet. In giving his testimony, a wit-
ness for his antagonist let fall, with no particular
emphasis, a statement of a most important fact,
from which he saw that inferences greatly dam-
aging to his client's cause might be drawn, if
skillfully used. He suffered the witness to go
through his statement ; and then, as if he saw in
it something of great value to himself, requested
him to repeat it carefully, that he might take it
down correctly. He as carefully avoided cross-
examining the witness, and in his argument made
not the least allusion to his testimony. When the
opposing counsel, in his close, came to that part
of his case in his argument, he was so impressed
with the idea that Mr. Choate had discovered that
there was something in that testimony which
made in his favor, although he could not see how,
that he contented himself with merely remarking

MANNER IN COURT.

325

that, thoiigli Mr. Choate had seemed to think that
the te.stiinony bore in favor of his cUent, it seemed
to him that it went to sustain the opposite side,
and then lie went on wdth the other parts of his
case.

In the trial of his cases, Mr. Choate took full
notes of the testimony, to whicli he often seemed
to refer, though to one who looked on it was dif-
ficult to see anything tliere that was legible or
could be deciphered. His handwriting, at best,
was a puzzle, little better than hieroglyphics.
His minutes of testimony were far worse, being
made up of words and symbols and, now and then,
a spiral curve longer than the rest, which he
seemed to be able to read and interpret, though
no one else would think of attempting it.

In his manner to the Court, he was always def-
erential and respectful, even when the judge was
his iunior in years or his inferior in learninii; or
ability. Indeed, courtesy, a kindness of manner,
was a part of his nature, wliich he uniformly ex-
hibited in his intercourse wdth the bar as well as
with others.

When he died, therefore, he left no wounds for
time to heal ; no resent mc^nts for injuries un-
atoned for ; and when, with what he might have
regarded as still many years of brilliant success
before him, he died at the age of fifty-nine, every

' (

•

326

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

one felt tliere was a void, which no one could fill,
within the circle in which he had moved ; while to
such as knew him in the more intimate relations
of private life it was the loss of a companion, a
friend endeared by the qualities which men love
and admire.

I stop here, not because I have exhausted the
subject, but because I have found it is not within
my power to treat it as it ought to be. But you
asked me " to recall facts, incidents, and events,
personal, professional, and domestic," and I hope
you will accept this as an earnest of good inten-
tions. Yours truly, etc.,

EMORY WASHBURN.
Judge J. Nkilson.

LETTER FROM E. D. SANBORN.

Mr. E. D. Saxborn, professor in Dartmoiitli Col-
lege, sends me the following reminiscence of Mr,
Choate : —

'i i

ilfl

M}' acquaintance with Mr. Choate began as
early as I80I, when I was a student in college.
He was warmly attached to Hanover, where the
happiest days of his life were spent in study and
in teaching. Here, too, he found his wife ; and
the old home, where the young tutor and the
beautiful girl who won his heart met to enjoy the
passing hours and make their plans for coming
years, was peculiarly dear to him. The late
Cyrus P. Smith, at the commencement dimier
of 1875, recited a little incident in the history
of Mr. Choate's tutorial life. Tlie students knew
that their teacher often passed some of the small
hours of the night in Mr. Olcott's parlor. Mr.
Smith and a few of his associates used to sere-
nade the young couple occasionally. One night
they took their stand on the deck of the steeple

328

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

.! ,i|-Jl

'\hn\-

w
if

near the liouse, whenc*; the whole villago could
lioiir. In their song they .substituted the iianies
of the parties for classic names, and made the
refrain loud and long. In the morning Mr.
Choate sent for Mr. Smith, whose voice he had
recognized, and admonished him to select a hum-
bler stand, and a more seasonable hour for his
musical exhibitions. Thus ended the farce.

My first introduction to Mr. Choate was in the
library of " The United Fraternity." Ilis con-
versation was of books. He called my attention
to some good authors for a young man to read.
Among others he took from its shelf an old folio,
much worn and defaced, and said that he had
found great benefit from the careful reading of
that work. It was Dr. William Chillingworth's
work, entitled " The Religion of Protestants a
Safe Way to Salvation." Ilallam says, " This
celebrated work, which gained its author the epi-
thet of immortal, is now, I suspect, little studied,
even by the clergy." Mr. Choate pronounced the
author the greatest rcasoner, in that age of giants,
in logic. He said he knew no work to be com-
pared with it, except "Edwards on the Will."
He had read Chillingworth with great profit, and
advised all young men to study it who desired to
become good logicians. From that time to the
day of his death, I never met Mr. Choate without

A MIDNIGHT RECREAriON.

329
His

gaining instruction from his conversation
discourse was always of lofty themes.

I once had an opportunity to spend a few hours
in his library by his invitation. His books were
the latest and best editions of standard authors. I
was then interested in the classics. That depart-
ment of his library I carefully examined. I found
there the most recent and most ai)proved editions
of Greek and of Latin authois. 1 took the books
from their shelves, one by one, to learn, if pos-
sible, what use the owner had made of them. In
some of them I found traces of his study through
the entire work, in others the leaves had been
cut, and marginal notes made in one third or
one half of the work. I happened then to bo
staying at a house opposite that of Mr. Clioate.
I woke about midnight and saw, across the street,
Mr. Choate standing at a high desk by the win-
dow, evidently employed in rending. So, after
the fatigues of the day, he refreshcl his mind
with good books at night.

Once I was invited to meet his pastor, Rev. Dr.
Adams, and a few other friends, at dinner. It was
at the time when Dr. Adams was so severely cen-
sured for his book called " The Southside View,"
in which he ventured to recite his personal recol-
lections of some good men at the South. The
friends of Dr. Adams had held a public meeting

;|^

r"ii r

! 'if*!'

jji"

111' * ■

} IS; '

I 3
I'!.,':!

'!!

I',

■f

330

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

to express their confidence and affection for the
author of that famous book. Mr. Choate made a
speech, commending his pastor for preaching the
gospel instead of poUtics. and remarked that, af-
ter spending six days in controversy at the bar
and on the phitform, he was rejoiced to have his
attention called to reliu;ion on the seventh. This
speech gave birth to a new party cry, " The Gospel
according to Choate," which was as widely printed
and commented upon as his famous phrase, " glit-
tering generalities," applied to the Declaration of
Independence. At the dinner-table, Mr. Choate,
in a quiet, confiding, deferential tone, called out
his guests on their own specialties. His twinkling
eye, pleasant smile, and genial comments made
the occasion one long to be remembered.

At the luneral of Daniel Webster, I walked
with Mr. Choate to the cemetery. He made
many considerate and thoughtful remarks on Mr.
"Webster's life. He spoke of him with filial sad-
ness and reverence. Mr. Webster was " his guide,
counselor, and friend." I felt almost abashed at
his appeals to me for my opinions, as though T
could possibly know anything of the great orator
which he did not know ; but that was his mental
habit. He made those with whom he conversed
feel that he regarded them as equals, to whom
he could often show deference.

■| i i:

■^^

A MOST APPRECIATIVE TRIBUTE.

331

ir.

I-

e,
at

T
or

al
ed

After miiltitiiclos of orators had euloii m1 the
deceased statesman, Mr. Choate came fj his old
haunts in Hanover, and in the old church uttered
his memorable eiilo,2:y, — perhaps the most brill-
iant and appreciative tribute to departed worth
ever made by mortal man. If any one can
name a greater, let him '' speak, for him have
I olfended."

Mr. Choate prepared a speech for the Webster
dinner at Boston, a short time after Mr. Weljster's
death, lie was too ill to deliver it; it was never
published. Fletcher Webster was permitted to
read it. One paragraph he copied, and sent to
me. It was as follows : '' Sometimes Mr. Webster
incurred the lot of all the great, and was traduced
and misrepresented. Sometimes he was pursued,
as all central figures in great triumphal proces-
sions are pursued, as all glory is pursued, by cal-
umny ; as Demosthenes, the patriotic statesman ;
as Cicero, the father of his country ; as Grotius,
the creator of public law ; as Somers and Sidney,
as Burke, as Grattan, as Hamilton, were traduced.
Even when he was recently dead, tl. *^ears and
jorayers of the whole country did not completely
siknee one rohed and reverend backbiter." The
shiide of Theodore Parker, it is hoped, will receive
w"th such candor as marked the living man, this
honest tribute to his ministerial labors.

'M^:^

332

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

•If!'

, iifi^j

' I

^;J

Mr. Abbott Lawrence once said to me, at his
house, that, when he was Minister at the Court of
St. James, he frequently met eminent lawyers
who were very desirous of learning everything
they could about Mr. Webster and Mr. Choate,
especially their personal appearance, habits, and
opinions. They questioned him respecting their
interpretations of great questions of law. Mr.
Lawrence ventured to propose several of their
questions to Mr. Choate, and his replies were re-
ceived with great respect by En<rlisb lawyers.

Mr. Clioate was religiously e Ui>Mtted, and the
instructions of his parents modified and controlled
his whole life. Mr. James W. Paige, of Boston,
informed me that Mr. Webster and Mr. Choate
often met at his house, where they sometimes
discoursed of " high and holy themes." One
evening allusion was made by one of them to
the custom of committing to memory devotional
poetry in childhood. Mr. Webster challenged
Mr. Choate to recite Watts's psalms and hymns
from meniorv, to ascertain which could hold out
longest. They continued the exercise for a full
hour, till the ladies cried *' Hold ! enough!" be-
cause they desired to hear these gentlemen talk
ou ether subjects.

Mr. Choate was once walking, on Commence-
ment Day, in Hanover, when a lady attempted to

INCIDENTS.

333

■' ■ !•

pass him in the crowd, wearing one of those ele-
gant shawls whose knotted fringe always catches
the button of the pew door of country churches,
when suddenly he found himself caught by the
button of his coat. He turned and said, "'^ Madam,
I beg pardon ; I should be dehghted to go with
you, but I have an engagement in the opposite
direction." I remember an amusing incident re-
cited to me by one of the students, showing how
much he was absorbed in a case he was studying,
" totus in Hits." A client was consulting him
whose name was Stoughton. At that time a pop-
ular nostrum, called " Stoughton's Bitters," was
everywdiere advertised. Mr. Choate had seen the
advertisements,. "Mid, curing all the interview, he
addressed his client as " Mr. Bitters."

Yours truly,

E. D. SANDORN.

LETTER FROM EDWARD B. GILLETT.

A DiSTiXGUisiiED member of the Massacluisetts
bar, residing at Westtield, who was much at the
bar with Mr. Choate, writes me : —

J < I

My dear Sir, — I take pleasure in trying to
comply with your request to furnish some per-
sonal reminiscences of Mr. Choate. Perhaps, by
way of illustrative notes to your articles, you may
utilize some of them.

I called upon Mr. Choate when he was confined
to his ] 10 use by a lame knee. He was always in
his library, surrounded by his five or six thousand
silent friends, covering the walls of the second
story of liis dwelling on Franklin Street.

On one occasion I found him before his table
turning the leaves of Macaulay's History. 1 in-
quired if he was revising the judgments recently
expressed in his lecture upon that subject. He
replied. No. that he was readinir Cowley's poems,
which always greatly interested him ; tb t he had
just discovered in the volume an expression simi-

•"^w

COWLEY AND MILTON.

335

jnd

iii-
uly
lie

■liul
mi-

lar to that found in the first hook of " Paradise
Lost," '' The height of tliis great argument,"
which he thought a fine and extraordinary phrase.
He had thereupon hegged liis wife, the irracious
purveyor to his inlirniities, to hand down Macau-
hiy to him that he might detect whether MiUon
had " hooked " from Cowley, or Cowley from Mil-
ton. " But," said he, " Cowley has got him. It
is, however, only the equitable 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."

I have in my possession his copy of Cowdey's
works. The pencil marks along the margins of
pages suggest the remark he once made to me,
that he " often found a single ' winged word ' as
suggestive as the most germinant thoutrht." This
may explaiu what is said to have been his haljit of
frequent reading and study of the dictionary '' by
the page."

Upon a mantel in his li])rary, as 1 now some-
what indistiuctly remember, were placed, at one
end, a bronze 1)ust or statuette of Demosthenes ;
at the other end, a similar one of Cicero. Over
Demosthenes was suspended a small engraving of
Daniel Webster : over Cicero an engraving of Ed-
ward Everett. Upon my speak iug of ihe appro-
priateness of the juxtapositions, he drew some par-

330

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

m •

allels and contrasts between the groat orators, and
in a few minutes said more m'.viiorable things, by
way of characterization, tlian I have over heard
compacted into the same number of sentences. I
remember that he pronounced Cicero to be " the
greatest master of speech who had ever lived.'*

I was associated with Mr. Clioate in the trial of
a railroad case before a committee of the Massa-
chusetts Legislature. lie was then preparing an
address upon Macaulay's " History of England,"
to be delivered before the Mercantile Library As-
sociation in Boston. On the morning of the day
he was to give his address, he said that it was not
nearly written. I suggested that he would be
compelled to extemporize a portion of it. He re-
plied that he would "cut out" from the hearing
and go into an adjoining lobby and write while
the witnesses were being examined in chief, if I
would call him so that he could be present at the
cross-examination. This arrangement was carried
out, and it was wonderful to note how intuitively
and instantly he gathered the scope of the direct
testimony given in his absence. On one occasion,
I followed him almost instantly from the commit-
tee room to the lobby, and found him already
writing at the top of his speed. He said that his
only way of making preparation for such occasions
was to postpone it until the last possible moment,

■H:

■ 5

WOMEN AS WITNESSES.

337

and then work totis vir'thus ; that he had been al-
ready writing since three and a half o'clock that

morning.

Mr. Choate, on one occasion, came into tho court-
room of the District Court in Boston, while I was
trying a case before a jury. lie was accompanied
by Mr. B. R. Curtis, their object being to discuss
before Judge Spraguo, then presiding, some inter-
locutory motion during the recess. Mr. Choate
drew his chair to my side, and placed his hand on
my shoulder in that magnetic way of friendly
confidence which did so much to endear him to
younger members of the profession. He then in-
quired with a sort of comical eagerness, " Pray tell
me whose witnesses are all these women ? " 1 an-
swered, " Part are mine and part are the plain-
tiff's." Then he said, " Pray tell me which side
has the majority ? " I said that I had. He replied,
" I will give you my word the case is yours. But
now," said he with humorous solonmity, '' let me
give you my dying advice, — never cross-examine
a woman. It is of no use. They cannot disinte-
grate the story the^' have once told ; they cannot
eliminate the part that is for you from that which
is against you. They can neither combine nor
shade nor qualify. They go for the whole thing,
and the moment you begin to cross-examine one
of them, instead of being bitten by a single rattle-

■1

338

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIWATE.

snake, you are bitten by a whole barrel full. I
never, excepting in a case absolutely desperate,
dare to cross-examine a woman."

Ilis library was especially rich in ancient clas-
sics. He pointed out that department to me with
evident satisfaction ; one shelf was filled by dif-
ferent editions of the Greek Testament, some in
elegant modern binding, and others in " old vel-
lum." I alluded to this. He then said, " You re-
call a visit I once received in my room from Mr.
Webster, when I was Senator at Washington, en-
deavoring to impose upon the people of this Com-
monwealth the delusion that I was an eminent
statesman. 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
turned to me with one of his smiles, such as never
transfigured the face of any other man or of any
woman, and said, "I observe, brother Choate,
that you are true to your instincts in Washington,
as at home, — seven editions of the Greek Testa-
ment, but not a copy of the Constitution."

You cannot, my dear sir, fail to see that I
have written very hurriedly; but, as you have
the choice both of excision and exclusion, I do
not hesitate to send you my meagre materials.
I beg leave to thank you that you are willing
to freshen our memory of that wonderful man.

PROFITABLE COMPANY.

339

whose profound and precise learning as a lawyer
was hardly surpassed by his marvelous genius for
advocacy, but who was nowhere more delightful
or amusing than in private conversation. Carlyle
is right when he tells us that '• Great men, taken
in any way, are profitable company."

With very great respect,

EDWARD 13, GILLETT.
To Judge Neilson.

T f

LETTER FROM HON. NATHAN CROSBY.

fi I

The Hon. Nathan Crosby, one of Mr. Choate's
early friends, who has been for more than thirty
years in judicial service, writes the following let-
ter. The reader will think it natural, as well as
fortunate, that old college friends, in writing
about Mr. Clioate, should recur to those early
days.

A short time before the death of the Rev. Jo-
seph Tracy, D. D., he had written an article on
the religious character of Mr. Choate, intended
for publication in some religious magazine. But
the article was not given to the public. Judge
Crosby has been kind enough to obtain it from
the family or representatives of the writer and
send it to me.

After statino; the fact that much had been writ-
ten about Mr. Choate, and suggesting that much
yet remained to be written. Dr. Tracy asks, " But
what have the orthodox reviewers to do with
Rufus Choate ? " and answers, '' Much, on many
accounts. In all the religious or ecclesiastical re-

r 'tf

^F^PIlyp

IN COLLEGE WITH CIIOATE.

341

lations which h« .sustained, ho was one of us. lie
was educated from his earliest infancy in our
faith. He studied it, understood it, was convinced
of its truth, avowed and defended it on what lie
deemed proper occasions, public or private, to the
end of his life."

lie proceeds to illustrate that view by refer-
ences to Mr. Choate's example, opinions, and ad-
dresses, making special use of his remarks on the
occasion of the twenty-fifth amiiversary of Dr.
Adams's pastorate of the Essex Street Church, in
which — the last public address ever made by Mr.
Choato — he avowed his faith in the doctrines
there taught.

rom
and

'Ht-
luch
But
ivith
any
re-

Mr DEAR Judge, — Mr. Choate was one year
before me in college. AVhen I entered, he had
already acquired the reputation of leader of his
class. My earliest personal knowledge of him was
obtained through two of his rivaling classmates,
Ileydock and Tracy, who had been with me in
Salisbury Academy. Mr. Choate came to Han-
over at an opportune period, as, in fact, we all
did. The college difliculties had just divided the
old residents into two partisan, though quite un-
equal, bodies, both of which changed the former
limited courtesies extended to students into open
blandishments and friendly alliances. President

I f

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

li^ 11128

1.4

2,2

•■■ m

t IAS IIIIIIO

1.6

<%^' A

'c^l

.>. ■■'s

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. <4580

(716) 873-4503

342

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

Brown waa young and enthusiastic, and desirous
not only that the students should acquit them-
selves well as scholars, but that they should be
kindly received and hould make friends for them-
selves and the institution in the village, and so
carry with them to their homes good accounts o^
the college and the people. Mr. Choate found
an old and valuable friend in Dr. Mussey, the
head of the medical school. Dr. Mussey had
practiced in Essex during the childhood of Mr.
Choate, and had boarded in his father's family.
Upon being appointed to a professorship, he had
given up his practice to Dr. Sewall, who after-
ward married Mr. Choate's sister, and first taught
Latin to Rufus.

He was fortunate, therefore, in his surround-
ings at Hanover, but more fortunate in his eager-
ness to learn and his aptitude for study. His
ambition, which we saw in his acts and habits, ap-
pears now, by confession, as it were, in the letters
of his college life, recently furnished by your cor-
respondent, the Rev. Dr. Putnam. The amenities
of the people and the absence of rowdyism on the
part of the students were alike notable during
President Brown's administration ; and many who
were there ai this period, besides Mr. Choate, owe
much to the graceful influences of the cultured
ladies of their early acquaintance.

I ''It

HIS HABITS.

343

Mr. Choate was sociable as well as studious, but
did not care for play, lie found exercise in walks
over the hills around the college, and up and
down his room while pursuing his studies. His
most frequent out-door companion was his class-
mate Tenney, who furnished a ready laugh to
Choate's equally ready wit. Tenney was a jolly,
light-hearted youth, well suited to clear the cob-
webs from an overworked brain, and as such,
doubtless, he ministered, perhaps unconsciously,
but none the less beneficially, to his friend.
Choate's room was of ready access to his mates,
and was a sort of centre of mirth and wit; but
when sport was over he turned to his studies
with avidity. He possessed a wonderful power of
concentration, and studied with great intensity.
I roomed near him for a year, and could appreci-
ate this somewhat, as he studied very much aloud,
making his voice and ear and his gestures, too,
probably contribute each its power of impression
upon the memory. He dropped into study read-
ily as a habit, and thus, at brief intervals, doubt-
less, through life, added much to his stores of
knowledge. We boarded together for a while at
Professor Adams's ; and when in the dining-room,
before the bell called us to take our seats at the
table, Mr. Choate would stand at the sideboard,
where lay a large reference Bible, and turn over

■1

'■ ■

!■

■; ■».

-'}

'II

1 I >

: -u

■ » t

344

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

jP:

the leaves from place to place, as if tracing out
some chain of theological inquiry.

Mr. Choate by ardent, if frequently interrupted,
labor became the ideal scholar and the pride of
the college. No one had ever more completely
won the admiration of the faculty, of his fellow-
students, and of the people of Hanover. Not a
lisp of irregularity, of incivility, or neglect was
heard against him from any quarter. But toward
the close of his college life he became an invalid,
was emaciated, walked feebly, his place in the
recitation-room was often vacant, his condition a
source of anxiety and alarm. Dr. Mussey took
him to his house, and watched over him by day
and by night. At length the appointments for
Commencement were made, and Mr. Choate was
set down for the valedictory. Great fears were
entertained that he might be unable to participate
in the exercises. As the day drew near, the lead-
ing topic of inquiry and discussion was his condi-
tion, — the last report from his chamber the most
important news ; — and old graduates, as they
arrived from day to day to participate in the
proceedings, came to share in the anxiety, and
feared that they might not hear him whom they
perceived to be so universally admired and be-
loved. The day came at length, and with it un-
certain reports intensifying the anxiety, and cast-

ili

niS VALEDICTORY.

345

ing doubt not only on the probability of his ap-
pearance on the platform, but as to the duration
of hi.s life. The procession was formed without
him, and moved to the church, amid general
gloom, for the public exercises. Tlie place was
crowded j the graduating class responded to the
orders of the day down to the valedictory. Then
a few moments of hushed suspense, and Mr.
Choate was called. He advanced slowly and fee-
bly, as if struggling to live and to perform this as
a last scholarly duty. Tall and emaciated, closely
wrapped in his black gown, with his black, curly
hair overshadowing his sallow features, he trem-
blingly saluted the trustees and officers of the col-
lege, and proceeded in tremulous and subdued
tones with his address, which was full of beautiful
thoughts, couched in chaste and elegant language.
When he came to say the words of parting to his
classmates, his heart poured forth treasures of
affectionate remembrance, closing with swelling
fervor and inimitable power as he exhorted them
not to slacken or misapply tlicir intellectual ener-
gies and tastes, but to press on to the highest
attainments in the domain of learn. ..g. " The
world from this day and place opens wide before
you. You are here and now to drop the power
and aid of the association and emulation of our
happy days, and strike, single-handed and alone,

346

MEMORIES OF JiUFUS C HO ATE.

into the manly struggles of lifo. You may sow
and reap in whatever field or realm you choose,
and gather the glorious rewards of intellectual
culture of pure minds and diligent hands. Go, go
forward, my classmates, with all your honors and
all your hopes. You will leave me behind, lin-
gering or cut short in my way ; but I shall carry
to my grave, however, wherever, whenever I shall
be called hence, the delightful remembrance of
our joys and of our love." I can only give a faint
and imperfect impression of his loving words ; but
my memory of the scene is fresh and vivid. The
great congregation, from admiration, excitement,
and grief, found relief in a flood of tears.

Mr. Choate remained in Hanover one year as
tutor, and was the central figure of a set of lin-
guists then connected with the college. James
Marsh and George Bush, distinguished scholars,
just before him ; George P. Marsh and Folsom, of
my class ; and Washington Choate, brother of Ru-
fus, Perley, and Williston, two classes next after
mine, gave an impulse to the study and love of
classical literature unknown before or since in
that college. Friendly emulation and student
pride led to the daily canvassing of books pub-
lished, authors read, and works studied. Folsom,
W. Choate, and Williston died early; the other
scholars named became eminent men. Washing-

COMPETITION IN SCHOLARSHIP.

347

ton Choate was regarded as equal to his brother
in scholarship, and was eminent for his piety. I
allude to this era of classical study as an exhibi-
tion of Mr. Choate's literary influence

Mr. Choate had great respect and love for his
Alma Mater, and contributed from his early pro-
fessional income toward her support, as well as
to influence her advancing curriculum ; but was
greatly disquieted, and even vexed, when declared
rank in scholarship was abolished. He believed
in laudable ambition and honorable competition.
The old Puritan school-house system of rising from
the foot to the head of the class stirred the little
scholar with an ambition which grew with his
years, and which he thought should not be ignored
or repudiated in higher fields of study. He held
that a great principle of human action was in-
vaded by neglecting to rank scholarship ; that life
is largely made up of struggles for superiority in
mental and physical efforts ; that its rewards are
won by merit ; that the diligent, exact scholar
should receive his merited honors ; and that the
idle or stupid should not be protected from the
exposure of misspent time and opportunity. His
own life was spent in incessant, honorable compe-
tition and legitimate reward.

For several years from 1 82G I practiced law in
Essex County at the same courts with Mr. Choate ;

Hi I

''I

* '■- \

348

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

and from 1838 for a few years I lived in Boston,
kept up my acquaintance with him, and knew
quite well his habits. He died daily, retiring to
bed exhausted, under great nervous prostration,
with headache. Yet he would rise early, often
long before daylight, and take a literary breakfast
before his family or business claimed his atten-
tion. His clients, the courts, and classics com-
pelled long days and short nights. I called upon
him once in the afternoon, and asked him how
early the next morning I could confer with him
upon a matter I wished to investigate during the
evening. *' As early as you please, sir ; I shall
be up." " Do you mean before breakfast, Mr.
Choate ? " " Before light if you wish." 1 called
at the earliest dawn, and found him at his stand-
ing table, with a shade over his eyes, under a brill-
iant light, pressing forward some treatise upon
Greek literature, which he said he hoped to live
long enough to give to the public. The night
had restored his wearied powers ; he was elastic,
as cheery and brilliant as the stars I had left
shining above us.

Seeing and hearing Mr. Choate in the trial of
causes was a perpetual surprise and pleasure. It
seemed to make little difference with him whether
his cause was of great or small importance; he
tried to win it if possible, and ceased not to con-

DECLINES JUDICIAL HONORS.

349

test it until every consideration favorable to his
own side and every one inimical to his adversary
had been presented.

It has already been mentioned that Mr. Choate
was offered a seat upon the bench of the Supreme
Court of Massachusetts, but declined. It may be
proper for me to add that in view of his health,
and the arduous nature of his professional exer-
tions, I pressed him to seek the higher honor of
a seat upon the bench of the United States Su-
preme Court, and so escape the waste of his pow-
ers in the excitements of the advocate, and attain
the more quiet and dignified life of the bench.
Judge Woodbury's seat was at the time vacant,
and I believed he could secure the appointment.
He was then fifty years of age, and in the highest
sense eligible. " But," said he, " I am too poor.
I must remain as I am, live or die. I know my
power and reputation in my profession, and I love
it, but I do not know what the change would
bring upon me, or whether I should like it. I
cannot leave my profession." He survived only
eight years.

He spent his money well for his family and his
library, gave freely to the necessitous, and gave
liberally of his well-earned fees when full pay-
ment might have embarrassed his client. On one
occasion, I was in his office when a client asked for

ill

\ ! ;?

' ^ 1 ,.

' i^k-

(•H

350

MEMOniES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

his bill for a written opinion upon a question of
importance. Said Mr. Choate, " Hand nie one
hundred dollars, and I will give you a receipt in
full ; if you go to my partner in the other room,
who keeps the books, he will make you pay one
hundred and fifty, sure."

Mr. Choate, like Webster and Everett, was an
old Whig politically, and " to the manner born ; "
but toward the close of his life party lines under-
went rapid changes, and men were very uncere-
moniously laid upon the shelf who were not
thought to keep up with the " march of improve-
ment." Mr. Webster lost the nomination for the
presidency, and soon after died at Marshfield;
and, although the nation honored his obsequies
with every token of mourning, Mr. Choate could
not smother his indignation toward the rising ele-
ments of power. The great expounder and states-
man had been rejected through unworthy combi-
nations. His chief, worthy of all homage and
confidence, leader of the Whig party, and the
supporter of its glory for twenty years, had been
slaughtered in the house of his friends.

Mr. Choate's horror of new combinations and
platforms drove him to Buchanan. " I can go no-
where else," said he to me, when I had a long in-
terview with him in regard to his purpose. " But,
Mr. Choate, what becomes of your long cherished

?r'l

POLITICAL PRINCIPLES.

351

Whig principles?" "Whig principles! I go to
the Democrats to find them. Tiiey have assumed
our principles, one after another, till there is little
difference between us." Here he traced them one
after another as they had found adoption. '' And
what becomes of your Whig anti-slavery opin-
ions?" " 1 have settled that matter," said he, " I
am bound to seek the greatest amount of moral
good for the human race. I am to take things as
I find them, and work according to my best judg-
ment for the greatest good of the greatest num-
ber, and I do not believe it is the greatest good
to the slave or the free that four million of slaves
should be turned loose in all their ignorance, pov-
erty, and degradation, to trust to luck for a home
and a living." He amplified somewhat this state-
ment, but the above represents fairly the conclu-
sions of his argument. Mr. Choate's problem,
how to accomplish the greatest good for the great-
est number, has been worked out on a different
plan from that which he wished to see adopted.
The war, the death lists, pollution of morals, de-
struction of prosperity, national debt, present con-
dition and future destiny of the colored race, and
sectional discords are present elements in the
scales testing Mr. Choate's sagacity. Happy for
us if we can find advantages to counterbalance
them. Yours truly,

NATHAN CROSBY.

1 Hf

• m

t i I , ■

LETTER FROM HON. HENRY K. OLIVER.

The Hon. Henry K. Oliver, a student at Dart-
mouth College when young Choate was there,
writes as follows : —

Mayor's Office, City of Salem, AIaos.,

Auffti ?t, 1877.

Dear Sir, — Your favor of the 26th of July
brings vividly to my mind's eye

The face, the form, the 01.111 so true, —

of my beloved college friend, the late Rufus
Choate. Your note 8o quickened my mind's eye
that it again sees his manly and attractive figure
and strangely winning face ; — and my mind's ear
that it again hears his deeply-resonant, sweet-
toned, and impressive voice, wakening in me
many a reminiscence of his gentleness of temper
and disposition, his warm sympathies, his innate
sense of right, his refined courtesy, his love of all
that was beautiful in life, his attractiveness of
person and manner, his memory, his thoroughness
as a scholar, and his excellence in all that makes
a good and great man.

FROM HARVARD TO DARTMOUTH.

353

My first acqimintanre witli him dntos from the
month of Auj^ust, ISlC), whon, ho thi'ii hcgimiing
his Sopiiomore year, I joined tiie Junior ehiss at
Dartmouth Collej^e. 1 had passed my first two
years at Harvard, enterinj^ in IS 14, a youngling
not quite fourteen years of age ; wiien my father,
a Calviii! t of the severer type, hi'comiug uneasy
at the alleged tendeney of Ihirvard toward I'nita-
riani'i ., ami proh:i!j|y feeling the pfessiu-e of the
greater ex >ense thereat, transferred me to Han-
over. T relinquished my old assoeiations at Har-
vard with deepest regret, but the transplanted
roots after a while found <renial soil, and Ix'ucan to
feed from the new earth. A few weeks domieiled
me among my new associates, while the excite-
ment attending the existence at lianover. at one
and the same time, of a " Dartmouth College "
with its corps of teachers and some one hundred
and forty students, and a " Dartmoutli Univer-
sity " with its duet of teachers and its corporal's
guard of students, helped me to think Icf^s of
home and more of surroundings and duty, and I
gradually settled down to my work.

Of those whose active kindness helped to lift
me out of my slough of despond, I recall none
with more earnest gratitude than him of whom I
write, at whose room, in the house of Professor
Ebenezer Adams, I was a frequent visitor.

■B

354

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

(,. :

ill

He was about a year older than myself, but of
an almost incredible maturity of mind. Being
from my own State and county, he encouraged
me by considerate and timely sympathy, and stim-
ulated me, as he did all of us, by his pertinac-
ity in study and success in his work. Yet such
was the simplicity of his character, his freedom of
intercourse with us all, his genial outflow in com-
panionship, — "medicines that he gave us to make
US love him," — that each of us, delighted with
him as a man, and charmed by him as a scholar,
was at all times ready to exclaim, like the shep-
herd in Virgil's Eclogue, —

" Non ccjuidfiii invideo, miror magis ! "

A passage describing Cicero has often come
to my mind when I have thought of Clioate, —
" Quum eas artes disceret, quihus cetas puerlHs so-
let ad humanitatem Informari, ingenium ejus ita il-
luxit, ut eum a'quahs e schold redeuntes, medium,
tanqnam regem circumstantes, domum deducerent ;
imo, eorwn jJCtreiites pueri fama commoti in ludiim
litterarmm ventlfahant ut eum viserenty We looked
upon him as facile princeps, no man in any of
the classes being even named with him in point
of scholarship. In fact we did not count him at
all in rating scholarship, but set him apart and
above ub all, " himself his only parallel."

His method of study seemed to the rest of us to

APPEARANCE AT STUDY.

355

have crystallized into an abiding habit, definite in
nianner and determinate in purpose. I have often
seen him in the act of delving at his books. His
large and well-shaped head usually rested upon
his hands, his elbows upon the table, his fingers
running through the profuse growth of his dark,
curly hair. His eyes also were dark, with a
mild yet penetrating look, always suggestive of
sadness, as were the features of his expressive
face, which enchained one's attention by its very
pensiveness, in marked contrast, not seldom, with
many a playful utterance, which Hashed out with
no effervescence of laughter, or uproar of bois-
terous merriment.

There was a custom, in our day, of assigning,
on each alternate Wednesday, subjects to two or
three members of the Senior and Junior classes,
the essays on which were to be read in chtipel on
the next Wednesday fortnight,. These readings
were open to the public, and ordinarily there was
plenty of room. But when it was Choate's turn
to read, the chapel was crowded, the gentlemen,
ladies, and even the youth of the village Hocking
to hear the brilliant essayist, led thither by his
grasp of the subject, his eloquent diction, and
his beautiful imagery. At times, and always at
the appropriate time, his sense of humor, uncon-
sciously operative, perhaps, lighted up his features

,1 ^ ?

. ■H
• 51'

i. '

356

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

with an infectious smile as he set forth some ab-
surdity in a manner so luminous and palpable that
the air of the chapel would undulate with the soft
murmuring of restrained merriment. And yet no
man was more tender in feeling, or had in him
less of the spirit of ridicule, or more of charity
and good-will to all mankind. If the phrase be
permissible, his humor was characterized by a
stately dignity, which, while fitting the occasion,
most felicitously illustrated his intent, and had
nothing in it of harshness. It lacerated no one's
feelings, provoked no fretful retort. He was
wholly free from any self-complacent conscious-
ness of superiority in talent or acquirement over
his college mates, — so free that I doubt whether
he himself thought any such superiority existed,
manifest though it was to all the rest of us. But
neither in college nor in after-life, so far as I
know, did he give token of any such cognition.
To us, his companionship was a constant benedic-
tion, and we sought his society as we would seek
a haven of repose and comfort.

His influence, both personal and as a scholar,
was operative with every member of the seven
classes that enjoyed college life with him, — an
influence that, feeble in his earlier college life,
assiuned, before the end of the first year, a power
and a reach far beyond that of any other mem-

■'5

INFLUENCE IN COLLEGE.

357

ber of the college. His preparation had been a
little imperfect, and he did not, therefore, give ns
at first the real impress of Avhat he was. But hav-
hig once taken root, and feeling the power and
strength of the wider instruction, he grew with
marvelous rapidity. His facility at concentrating
his mind upon any given subject, and acquiring
all that was to be learned about it, was without
parallel, and in every department of study rap-
idly put him far in advance of his fellows. The
general standard of scholarship among us received
from him a positive and most noticeable elevation.
This influence was felt among officials and under-
graduates, 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 will, and that a decidedly new departure
had been taken, never to be retraced. And yet
the hindrances that in our time impeded l)otli
teachers and taught were most perplexing and
discouraging. President Wheelock and the board
of trustees had got by the ears, the issue of the
contest bringing him to grief and to deposition
from office. A new president. Rev. Francis Brown,
was elected, and time was required for him to get
well into harness, and to make the college feel the
healthful influence which he afterwards so admi-
rably and efficiently exerted. Never was college

P! S'

III

III I
m .1

358

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

official more beloved and revered. The rival in-
stitution, created by the State legislature, had
been duly inaugurated, had been put into pos-
session of the college seal, and the college library
was its only building and chapel. We lads had
looked out for the two libraries of the college
societies, — the " Fraternity " and the " Social
Friends," — and had safely removed them from
the college buildings to private quarters ; so that
when Professors Dean and Carter of the uni-
versity, with a horde of village roughs, knowing
nothing of such removal, broke into the library
room of the " Social Friends," the members of
the " Fraternity," then in session, hearing the
crash of axes and crowbars, rushed to the rescue,
and made prisoners of the whole crowd, sending
home the ignobile vnlgus, but imprisoning Dean
and Carter vmtil they pledged their honor that
they would " never do so again." They were
then escorted to their homes, each by a trio of
collegians. Neither name of these professors, nor
that of Allen, president of the new university, will
be found in the " Triennial Government Catalogue
of Dartmouth," they being unrecognized inter-
lopers. In fact, the whole creation of the uni-
versity was a political fraud, " a thing of shreds
and patches," which, at the bidding of the Su-
preme Court of the United States, after Webster's

DISTURBING ELEMENTS.

359

great argument, like an " insubstantial pageant
faded," leaving " not a wrack behind." But it
was a disturbing element for a time, and could
not but occupy our thoughts and conversation,
and unfavorably caffect our study.

I remember well the poverty of our illustrative
apparatus, and the ingenious devices to which Pro-
fessor Adams was compelled to resort to supple-
ment it. Not seldom was he constrained to leave
to our imagination the practical demonstration
of some principle in natural philosophy. So, too,
were we without the college library, which, though
then small, had, nevertheless, many valuable books
of reference that would greatly have helped us
through many a difficult passage in our classics.
As for recitation-rooms and a chapel, we got them
in the villnge wherever we could. The whole
situation was a tangle of embarrassments ; and if
there ever was an actual " pursuit of knowledge
under difficulties," it was at Dartmouth College,
— 1815-1818, — when Choate was an undergrad-
uate.

But tlie extraordinary state of affairs itself,
the sympatliy of the college instructors with the
struggling and loyal students, and the sympathy
of the students with the faithful and self-sacri-
ficing teachers generated a spirit of earnest and
successful industry; and I have always believed

"58

<* ■

■I-

ti'

M 1

360

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

that the good order, the thoughtful fidelity to
work, and the unbroken friendship between the
teachers and the taught, supplemented by the
strong religious influence which then pervaded
the institution, were all ministrations which
helped to turn evil into good for us all. Our
successors at the college can never realize the
weight of the troubles that embarrassed us, or
the joy we felt when those troubles j^assed away.
May they, in her prosperity, be as faithful to her
as were we in her deep adversity.

But to return : I graduated in 1818, leaving
Choate behind me. He graduated in 1819, with
the valedictory, — an address which exhibited to
the full his eminent scholarship, his profound
thought, the breadth and extent of his reading,
his comprehensive grasp of fact and power of
statement, and the magnetism of his oratory.

He served afterward a single year as tutor, and
then commenced a course of study at the Law
School at Cambridge, continuing it in the office,
at Washington, of Mr. Wirt, Attorney-General of
the United States. His fidelity in study, and his
purity of life, when an undergraduate, character-
ized him while preparing for his profession. I
lost sight of him mainly during these years, hav-
ing myself entered upon the work of a teacher
in the public Latin School of this city. He, how-

FAITHFUL IN SMALL THINGS.

361

ever, reappeared in our neighborhood, opening
his office in Danvers, that portion of the town
now called Peabody, practically a suburb of
Salem. Here he laid the foundation of his fu-
ture success, by a faithfulness in small things
which proved his fitness to be intrusted ^yith
the conduct of greater. I met him but occa-
sionally, yet always received from him the same
genial recognition that had '^o often made me
happy in college ; and I have always considered
it, and shall continue to consider it, as one of
the highest happinesses of a not short life, that
I was permitted for so many years to enjoy the
friendship of sa good, so pure, so noble a man as
Rufus Choate.

Very truly yours,

HENRY K. OLIVER.

! ml

LETTER FROM WILLIAM W. STORY, LL. D.

I AM indebted to William W. Story, LL. D., ju-
rist, author, and now sculptor at Rome, for the
following letter : —

My dear Sir, — I oeg you to accept my thanks
for the two volumes, one containing the orations
and addresses of Mr. Choate, and the other his life
by Mr. Brown. These, as well as the articles in
the " Albany Law Journal," which you were so
kind as to send me, I have read with great inter-
est and pleasure.

I wish it were in my power, as it certainly is in
my good will, to furnish you, as you request, with
any reminiscences of Mr. Choate which could be
of interest either to his family and friends or
to the public. But, unfortunately, I was never
brought into any intimate relation with him ; and
such was the dift'erence of our ages and positions
during the period that I had the pleasure of
knowing him, that I had few opportunities of
coming into close personal contact with him, and.

HUMOR AND COXVERSATION.

3G3

for the most part, only surveyed him at a dis-
tance, as one darkly groping his way on the out-
skirts of the profession of the law looks up to a
great and dazzling reputation already in its zenith,
and drawing to it the eyes of all.

My first personal acquaintance with him was
while I was studying law in the olHce of Mr.
Charles Sunmer and Mr. George Stillmau Hillard.
His oflice was in the same building, and occasion-
ally he would come in either to consult upon
some professional question, or, what was more fre-
quent, to relax his mind in wide excursions with
them in the varied fields of literature, to wander
into classic regions, to discuss critical questions, to
dissect characters, persons, or authors, and, in a
word, to talk " cle omnibus rebus et quibusdam
aliisy At these interviews I played the part of a
listener, and better talk it would have been diffi-
cult to hear. His conversation, stimulated, as it
was, by such companions as Hillard and Sumner,
who were always ready to turn aside from the
arid paths of the law into any " primrose path of
dalliance," and who were both capable and willing
to explore with him the wide regions of universal
literature, was eminently interesting, and, haud
passihus o'qiiis, I followed as they led, drawn by
a special charm. His conversation was sometimes
grave and critical, with many an allusion and

i»<f|fi

364

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

quotation from classic authors ; sometimes philo-
sophical, with discussions of theories and doctrines
of politics, life, and thought ; sometimes grimly
humorous, with trenchant strokes of characteriza-
tion and finesse of anatomizing. His humor was
very peculiar, and often consisted of a new, orig-
inal, and quite unexpected epithet; as, for in-
stance, when he spoke of a likeness as being
"flagrant;" or of a sly, sudden, and complete re-
versal of what he had previously seemed gravely
to assert. As an instance of this latter peculiar-
ity, I remember that once, when the conversation
happened to turn upon a person whose manners
and bearing were peculiarly distasteful, he gravely
said, as if in deprecation of the criticism of oth-
ers, " He is a person whom I myself should have
no objection to meet " — and then, after a slight
pause, added — " in a procession."

His love of epithets was remarkable, and the
richness of his vocabulary so great that often it
might be said of him, as it was of Shakespeare,
that he needed somewhat to be restrained. But
many as were the adjectives that he habitually
used, they were never idly strung together with-
out definiteness and distinction of mectuing. As
he added one to another, each seemed a new and
calculated stroke to the characterization, and, as it
were, a compressed sentence in itself. He had

:!'I

A LIITERA Tl VE STYLE.

365

carefully stiuliecl the English language in its best
authors, and was a master of its liner distinctions
of expression ; and overwhelming at times as were
his adjectives, they were never hurriedly snatched
at to fill a gap, but, on the contnuy, were care-
fully selected, and with a purpose to strengthen,
enlarge, or make precise his full meaning, culmi-
nating often in one of peculiar signihcance. On
public occasions, as he uttered them, one after
another, slowly and distinctly, and weighing on
each, he lifted himself higher and higher, rising
on tiptoe, his voice also rising with ever stronger
and higher emphasis, until he came to the last
word, and then he suddenly settled down upon
his heels with a downward sway of the body, and,
dropping his voice to a low inflection, flung it, as
it were, almost carelessly down. It was like a
wave that gathers and accumulates and heaves
upward to its fullness of height and then bursts
and falls exhausted on the beach.

In illustration of his highly, alliterative style
and fondness for piling epithets one upon another,
may be instanced the question he addressed to the
jury in his well-known defense of Albert Tirrell
against the charge of murder. If not absolutely
true in fact, it is at least eminently character-
istic of his manner — "What," he cried out,
" must at such a moment have been the feelings

i i

36G

MEMORIES OP RUFUS C HO ATE,

of this fond, foolish, fickle-futed, and infatuated
Albert, when," etc. Possibly this sentence was,
to some extent, invented or enlarged afterwards ;
but it was evidently founded on fact. Nothing
could be more characteristic than that, after the
first word '• fond," he should immediately have
added " foolish," as if he remembered the old
meaning of the word, and translated it into ir'^d-
ern English. Each word is intensified beyonu its
predecessor, and each illustrates the view of Tir-
rell's mind which he desired to impress upon the

jury.

In this connection may be told the mot of Mr.
Justice Wilde, which, as far as I know, has not
been recorded in print. This acute and able
judge was somewhat dry and precise in his style
and manner, and, in most respects, the complete
opposite of Mr. Choate. On one occasion, just
before the opening of the court, when Mr. Choate
was to argue a case, a member of the bar asked
the Judge if he had heard that Mr. Worcester had
just published a new edition of his dictionary,
with a great number of additional words. " No,"
he answered, "I have not heard of it. But for
God's sake don't tell Choate."

No one would have relished this joke more than
Mr. Choate himself, and I think he would have
admitted that Judge Wilde had made a good

FULLNESS OF MIND.

367

lor

point, where he was viilnenible. But, after nil,
it was not in the mind of the learned Judire, or
of any other person, to desire to retrench that
wonderful richness of language which the great
advocate used with such masterly ability and elo-
quence. It was the fullness of his mind, the fine-
ness of his fastidiousness, the extent of his culture
that begot the peculiarities of his utterance. In
his speeches, as in his writings, this double desire
of limitation and exposition, combined with his
large range of active and imaginative thought,
led him often to overflow his banks with a prodi-
gal stream which disdained the boundaries of sim-
ple periods. His sentences refuse to come to a
conclusion. A new illustration or variation or de-
velopment, limitation or side light strikes him
before he can come to a pause, and carries him
away with it; and, with parenthetical involve-
ments, excursions beyond the direct line, inclu-
sions of suspected objections which he is eager to
anticipate, or imaginative illustrations and memo-
ries that will not be refused, he sweeps an undu-
lating train of lengthening clauses along, ana-
conda-like in its movement, yet strong of grasp
as are the anaconda's folds, until his sentence has
grown into a paragraph. But, despite this singu-
lar involvement of style, there is no want of clear-
ness either of thought or of expression j each part

368

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

is knotted to the rest by vertebral articulation.
They are all portions of one whole living thing.

His wonderful power over a jury was not the
result of his eloquence, impetuous and often over-
whelming as it was, so much as of his subtlety of
logic, his acuteness of analysis, his eminent faculty
of marshalling facts and incidents in a new and
unexpected sequence and relation, so as to cast a
doubt on what seemed clear before, or to throw
a new light on what was previously obscure, his
finesse at forcing, so to speak, his view, his imag-
inative elucidations by hypothetical suppositions
and ingenious explanations of apparently simple
events, and his penetration of character which en-
abled him to seize the weak points of witnesses and
parties, and to draw into his confidence the jur3'.

He was in the habit of treating the jury with
assumed deference and politeness, and often se-
lected one among them to appeal to significantly,
as if he were the sagacious person who really saw
and appreciated the point he was enforcing. At
times he would stop in full career, and say some-
thing to this effect, " But it is useless to urge this
further. I see by the intelligent eye of the fore-
man that he has thoroughly comprehended the
extreme force of this view." Then, again, he had
great readiness of parry as well as of assault, and
never was surprised so as to lose his guard or at-

METHODS AT THE BAR.

369

tack, or to be unready for a replique. He was also
wary and acute in the examination of witnesses,
and so bland in his manner as to hide the point of
his question. He never lost his temper, was uni-
formly courteous and urbane to his opponents and
to the Bench, though he often concealed beneath
this urbanity the keenest irony of criticism and
argument. While submitting to the ruling of the
Bench, he had the art to elude its consequences
and diminish its importance. He was never head-
strong, single-viewed, or obstinate to one absolute
course. If he could not make a breach on one
side, he changed his tactics and made an assault
on another. But, besides and beyond all this, he
entered into the facts of a case in an imaginative
spirit, creating new possibilities of explanation,
new theories of action, throwing subordinate inci-
dents into strong light and color, giving positive
value to what was negative, and casting promi-
nent incidents into shade, treading with sure and
balanced step along a line of attack or defense as
narrow as " the unsteadfast footing of a spear."

His extraordinary defense of Tirrell will, I
think, fully justify, in itself, all that I have said
of him as an advocate before a jury.

In his arguments of law to the Court, where

the arts he used in jury cases were of little avail,

he showed himself to be a master of close logical
84

370

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

liii''

i!]"i
:!'ili

reasoning, of acute powers of comparison and dis-
crimination, as well as of clear and persuasive ar-
gument. His guard was close, his rapidity and
subtlety of fence remarkable, his points keen and
well directed.

His personal appearance was remarkable. I
think no one could come into his presence with-
out being impressed by it. His broad, massive
forehead was crowned with a dark mass of richly
curling, fine, and almos' arbulent hair, through
which he constantly passed his hand, and beneath
his overhanging brow were dark, deeply-sunken,
and somewhat weary eyes of serious intent and
expression, framed in dark circles. His nose was
rather large, his upper lip short; and his under
lip, projecting somewhat beyond, he constantly
thrust out as if to grasp and hold it firm ; while a
strong jaw closed and locked up, as it were, the
whole face with purpose and power. His cheeks
were gaunt and hollow, as if worn by study. In-
deed, the whole face was that of a thinker and
student, which long hours of labor by day and
night had made haggard. There was seriousness,
gravity, and a certain pathos of character and
sadness of experience in its repose. In its lighter
moods, it was illumined by genial gleams of humor
and the summer lightning of feeling, and in mo-
ments of excitement it glowed and radiated with

ABSTRACTED BEARING.

371

inward fire like a forge wlien the bellows are in
blast. His frame was large, well knit, and ner-
vous. His ordinary gait in walking, as I remem-
ber him, was inclined to be slouching, as of a
person engaged in introverted thought; and, in
sitting, it was sunken and overweighed, as it were,
into itself. When speaking in public, he was full
of action and nervous gesticulation. He swayed
backward and forward, advancing and retreating,
emphasized by coming sharply down on his heels,
now bending down, and now lifting himself to his
full and commanding height, and enforcing his
utterance with a sharp, impulsive, upward ges-
ture.

I had a great admiration for him, not only on
account of his power as an advocate, of his emi-
nence as a public man, of his genial nature, hu-
mor, sensibility, and accomplishment in letters,
but, beyond all this, for a certain somewhat, mys-
terious and poetic, which always seemed to me to
haunt him, and which lay below all his outer show
of character. There was something in his silent
eyes, in his often abstracted and involved bear-
ing, in the gloom and wan expression of his face,
which seemed to hide an inner life, fed from secret
springs, and given to far aspirations and longings
outside the public and ordinary routine of the life
he seemed to lead. This may have been all vision-

372

MEMORIES OF liUFUS CIIOATE.

ary on my part, but I cannot refrain from stat-
ing this singular impression which he gave me.
What he had missed, what he wanted, I cannot
say ; nor can I say that he had missed or wanted
anything, except as we all miss and want some-
thing which is denied us, indefinite, unexplained,
perhaps, but not the less desired. Still, it always
seemed to me, from what I saw of him nearly,
that he had another life, behind and beneath this
that we knew, " of purer ether, of diviner air,"
perhaps of disappointment around which a mys-
tery hovered. I give my impression for what it is
worth. It is quite possible that it is but a mere
unsubstantial fabric built by my own imagination
in dreamland.

But to return to facts. He brought scholarship
into his profession, and this gave a certain grace,
refinement, and happiness to all intercourse with
him. Sternly as he trod the dusty and thorny
path of the law, he snatched many an interval to
wander into the fields of Arcadia and there make
friends with the spirits of old, and drink of the
ancient springs of philosophy, poetry, history, and
ethics, as well as of the more modern " wells of
English undefiled." The fine edge of his intellect
was sharpened by constant attrition with the great
minds of the past, and the secret sources of feeling
kept fresh by their poetic and enlarging influ-

-^^

HIS CONVERSATION.

373

ences. His conversation was enriched with allu-
sion and quotation from many an author; and
many a flower, gathered in their gardens, gave
fragrance and color to dry legal argument. You
knew where he had been by the odor which ever
clung to his commonest daily life. He was not a
mere lawyer, nor did he deem it necessary to con-
fine himself exclusively to the tread-mill of profes-
sional business. He was capable of severe and
prolonged work, and few men have ever labored
with more earnest zeal. The Law is a jealous
mistress, and makes heavy demands on all who
would win her prizes as he did. But she is apt to
suck the blood of her too assiduous devotees, and
leave them at last dry, rigid, and sapless. Ear-
nest as Mr. Choate was in his duty to her, he did
not forget that there are other fields of study be-
yond hers, to which she did not deny him en-
trance, and from which he brought back many a
fragrant flower to wreathe about her careworn
brow and enliven her dusty courts.

But it is time for me to stop. I did not mean
to write an essay on Mr. Choate's genius, and
you see that I can add little to what has already
been said by others, and nothing that is worthy
of publication. I regret extremely that I can
find in my memory only these vague general im-
pressions, and these few straws and chips of per-

374

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

sonal reminiscence, which are of no value save as

a record of my admiration for one of the greatest

advocates that ever adorned our own or any other

country. I have the honor to be,

Yours most faithfully,

W. W. STORY.
Honorable Chief Justice Neilson.

LETTER FROM HON. GEORGE P. MARSH.

Hon. George P. Marsh, the distingished phi-
lologist, author of works upon the English lan-
guage, and for many years United States Minister
to Italy, had the courtesy to send me the follow-
ing. It was mailed at Rome a few weeks before
his death.

My dear Sir, — The advent of the usual crowd
of strangers and the business demands of the com-
mencement of another year have occupied me so
constantly that I have not found time to thank
you for your very interesting letter and for Mr.
Brown's life of Choate, which I had, indeed, seen
but had never had an opportunity of perusing.

I first knew Mr. Choate as a member of the
Sophomore class at Dartmouth College in the au-
tumn of 1816, when he already towered far above
all our co-disciples, and held the same preeminence
over those who came in contact with him which
he retained through the changes of his after life.
At that time scholarship, not power or influence,

376

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

'■■!

[1 j;

was his aim, and it was not until some years later
that he thought of the bar as a desirable career.
He was then engaged in reading Cicero's works,
which, with such editions and such critical helps
(e. g. the dictionaries of Schrevelius and Ains-
worth) as most American scholars could then com-
mand, was a Herculean task, and I think the study
of Cicero's orations taught him the value of am-
plification, or of abundant collateral illustrations,
in oratory. This was a feature of his eloquence
in which he excelled all other men, though I
think his picturesque allusions were oftener poetic
reminiscences than fruits of the actual observation
of nature. As I was then fresh from the woods,
where my boyish hours were chiefly spent, I
observed his want of sympathy with trees and
shrubs and rivers and rocks and mountains and
plains, as quasi living and sentient beings, and
this was the only defect I could discover in his
mental organization. Having been born and bred
in the interior of what was then popularly called
The New State, I had enjoyed but a single mo-
mentary glimpse of the sea, and I did not at first
perceive that the ocean occupied with Choate the
place which the solid earth, with its thousand
forms and myriad products, organic and inorganic,
held with me; but with Mr. Dana, the distin-
guished author of " Two Years before the Mast,"

CRITICISMS OF CONTEMPORARIES.

377

he was more expansive on this subject, and, as I
learn from that gentleman, showed the greatest
interest in nautical matters and in naval history.
When I was in Congress (1843-49), I often
talked with him about these things, but I found
little response to my enthusiasm for Nature, and
little interest in her material laws.

Choate habitually spoke freely of his profes-
sional allies and opponents, but his criticisms on
them were generally favorable. Of Mr. Webster,
whose method was in some respects the opposite
of his own, he always spoke with the profoundest
admiration, and I remember to have heard him
mention Webster's astonishing power of concen-
trating his argument on a single point, to the sup-
port of which the many points which would have
been taken by other lawyers were made subser-
vient and auxiliary, not independent. He had a
very exalted opinion of Jeremiah Mason, whose
manner was equally opposite to his own, but in
quite another direction, and he more than once
said to me that he did not believe that any man
ever practiced the English law more ably than
Mason. Speaking of a celebrated lawyer who
was censured for the excessive severity of his
cross-examination, Choate said, " He defends him-
self by saying that he is never hard upon a wit-
ness unless he believes the witness to be lying. I

378

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

1 1.

! i

think," added Choate, " that is true ; but he has
a way of making the witness He by his very man-
ner of examining him." Webster often consulted
Choate in the preparation of his Congressional
speeches, and particularly with reference to the
quotations which he wished to introduce into
them ; and Mr. Choate sometimes did me the
honor to confer with me on these points. On one
occasion, I remember he asked me if I could fur-
nish him with the original source of an expression
which in a later age became proverbial : Spartam
quam hahes hanc orna. Being myself at a loss, I
referred him to Mr. John Pennington of Philadel-
phia, who helped us out.

I was much interested in your remarks on
Choate's vocabulary. His study of the English
language was unceasing, and I think he spoke no
other, sacrificing foreign languages to his mother
tongue, although he read some Continental lan-
guages with sufficient facility for ordinary literary
purposes. I should, from general recollection,
have estimated his wealth of words higher than
you find it. It interested me particularly from
some shallow and ignorant criticisms on my lec-
tures on the English language by a speaker who
said he had made a careful estimate of his own
habitual vocabulary, and found it to reach 30,000
words ; and yet the critic did not know the philo-

VOCABULARY.

379

logical meaning of the term word and confounded
derivations from a root with inflections of a stem.
I never met any other man with such a knowl-
edge and command of all the resources of English
as had Mr. Choate, and he had the rare gift of
using words so that each made those with which
it was connected bring out the best, or at least
some special, meaning. He told me that he habit-
ually read the dictionary, and, speaking of his
translation of a part of Thucydides and other
classics, he said he undertook the work for the
sake of the English, not for Greek. Though Mr.
Choate read Greek and Latin with facility and
pleasure, and had a fair acquaintance with the
literature of more than one Continental nation,
yet he did not share in the fashionable American
craze about the pursuit of foreign languages, and
held that for an English-speaking person the Eng-
lish tongue was worth all others. I remember
that he once found me reading Scarron, and in-
quired sharply how I found time for reading such
trash. I answered that I had only a very indif-
ferent French dictionary, and that I was studying
Scarron for the sake of the vocabulary. '' You
may find old words enough," he replied, " in
French authors fit to be read."

The critical adage, " Manner is matter," was
never more forcibly exemplified than by Choate,

iH.^

380

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

who would give wonderful effect both to the
grave and the gay, by mere manner. He would
use, sparingly indeed, but most ell'ectively, popu-
lar cant words and phrases. For example, in a
conversation on the subject of New York politics,
he spoke of a conspicuous editor as having squa-
hoshed ; and of another, who had absconded, as
havinij swartiroidtd. The first of these occurs in
a letter printed by Mr. Brown. Such words, how-
ever, he seldom used except in jocular conversa-
tion. On the contrary, in his public addresses to
popular audiences he was very choice in his lan-
guage, and often even stunned the jury by words
of " learned length and thundering sound." In
defending an action for crim. con., referring to
some testimony of a character very damaging to
his clients, he said, '- Well, suppose they did in-
dulge in some innocent toying, by way of miti-
gating the asperities of hay-making ! " This was
said in a tone of perfect seriousness, and did not
startle, but rather confounded, the jury he was ad-
dressing. Webster said of this rhetorical move-
ment, " Choate is the only man in the world who
could have thus said that'' He Gometimes took
great liberties with the jury. On one occasion,
observing by the manner of a juryman that he
was hostile to his client, he caught the man's eye,
and, pointing directly towards him, said, " I will

A CIIRfSTfAN.

381

ad-

eye,
will

make this point plain — I will make it plain even
to you, sir." The juryman quailed, and finally
agreed to the verdict desired by Mr. Ciioate. I
once heard him say to a lady, in introducing her
to a new member of Congress, " He is the most
learned man in the House — I mean of his age —
1 am two years older." This was not much to
say, but the manner was altogether irresistiblt*.

Mr. Choate was from boyhood a serious think pr,
and a believer in the truth of Christianity, then
1 do not know that he ever became a memljer of
any particular church. But the extreme sensi-
tiveness, so characteristic of him, often led him to
parry playfully any attempt on the part of the
over-zealous to draw him into conversj'tion on re-
ligious subjects. A prominent Christian gentle-
man was once making an earnest effort in that
way, and he prefaced his remarks by referring to
a recent instance of gross depravity, adding, "• Ah !
Mr. Choate, this is a very sinful world ! " " Yes,
it is," replied Mr. Choate, " and they say it will
all burn up some day — what do you think?"
accompanying his answer with an irresistibly lu-
dicrous expression of countenance ; the conversa-
tion ending with a hearty laugh on both sides.

I should say that one of Choate's most remark-
able traits of character was his unresting, unflag-
ging industry, coupled with a readiness to make

^ '!

382

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

any and every sacrifice of his own likings or en-
joyment to the one great object of securing the
highest position in his profession. This was with
him no vulgar ambition, but simply a love of, and
a desire for, perfection. I am not able to add
more at this time.

I am, my dear sir, very truly yours,

GEO. P. MARSH.
To Ch. J. Neilson.

Slli!

LETTER FROM HON. JOHN WINSLOW.

"It is a mistake to suppose that the man of genius is ever a
fountain of self-generating energy ; whosoever expends much in
productive activity must take in much by appropriation ; — whence
comes what of truth is in the observation that genius is a genius
for industry." — Maudsley.

' "'

^ '

My opportunities for observing Rufus Choate
were chiefly when residing, in early hfe, in the
vicinity of Boston. I saw and heard him on vari-
ous public occasions in my youth, early manhood,
and when a student at Cambridge Law School.

So much has been well said in estimation of
Choate's genius and attainments that I do not
feel like adding a word in that direction, except
to say that his efforts on political and forensic
occasions profoundly impressed me with a sense
of his masterly attainments, his extraordinary
powers, and wonderful genius. To speak of his
genius as wonderful may, to one who never
saw the man, appear extravagant ; but it alwa^'s
seemed to me that his genius, as seen through his
public efforts, was wonderful in a very special

i,.

384

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

sense. Besides his liberal attainments as a scholar
and a lawyer, and his great natural abilities, he
seemed to have an added quality which few have,
which stimulated his faculties to most vigorous
and effective action. Sometimes this stimulating
quality is called electricity, which, in our day of
scientific progress, is a word implying, more than
ever, large force, and, in a measure, unrevealed
power and possibilities. In referring to Choate,
one writer says, " When addressing a jury, his
whole frame was charged with electricity, and lit-
erally quivered with emotion." Another speaks of
" his electric bursts of humor."

A cool-headed lawyer, who heard Choate's fa-
mous address before the New England Society of
New York, in 1843, says, " It came upon the au-
dience like a series of electric shocks." Another
well-known writer speaks of Choate's *' magnetic
individuality^" We thus find Choate reminding
observers of electricity, electric bursts, electric
shocks, and magnetic batteries generally.

We are beginning to feel that it is not easy to
limit what may be done with electricity. When
Franklin drew it from the sky on a kite-string, it
was thought marvelous. Since that day we have
seen it guided in the storm, used in medicine, and
become the obedient servant of man, who sends
his message by means of it around the world.

SCIENCE IN DISGUISE.

385

and
lends
lorld.

In later time it comes as a means of brilliant
light, and has been proposed, though not suc-
cessfully, as a means, through nice adjustments,
to relieve, as was hoped, an afflicted nation, by
informing it of the locus of the dreaded bullet in
the body of our late beloved President. Edison
and kindred spirits are at work developing the
capacities of the telephone by the phonograph ;
and an Electrical Congress was lately in session in
Paris, where, among many wonders, was exhibited
an electric railway and a micro tasimeter, which is
so delicate that it will measure the calorific rays
emitted by the fixed stars. What will come of
these things who can tell ?

We hear accounts of the late discovery by M.
Faure, who has invented an accumulator of elec-
tricity, a sort of storage arrangement, the possible
uses of which may not be limited to medicine and
to the arts, but may touch some new and impor-
tant problems.

So, in the case of Mr. Choate, I feel like insist-
ing that in some mysterious way he anticipated
M. Faure, and was, in fact, an accumulator and
storehouse of that subtile force or source of en-
ergy we call electricity, which surcharged his
brain and every nerve to an extraordinary de-
gree, and so helped him, with striking effect, to
display his masterly genius.

386

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

Some have claimed that the "eager and nip-
ping air" of New England, especially in the re-
gion of Boston, has unusual vitalizing power in
stimulating nerve and brain. However this may
be, or to what extent the sensitive temperament
of Choate may have been affected by it, must be
left to conjecture.

To see Choate in one of his imaginative flights,
or when making an impassioned appeal in his best
strength for client or party, was a privilege to be
long and gratefully remembered.

When referring to criticisms by lawyers and
others of Choate' s elocution and style, Mr. Web-
ster said, " There is no man in the world besides
Choate who could succeed with that style. It is
his own. It is peculiar to him. It is as natural
to him as any constitutional trait about him. No-
body can imitate him. He imitates nobody, and
his style is most effective."

Choate was a diligent student. Great and brill-
iant as were his talents, his success was largely
due to his profound and constant studies. Some
one has said his genius was mainly " science in
disguise." If by this is meant that his culture
was large, unremitting, and generous, from which
he drew effectively in his forensic and other
public performances, it is true.

My first remembrance of Choate in politics was

|i| «;

POLITICAL DISCUSSIONS.

387

in the memorable campaign of 1840, when the
prevailing cry was " Tippecanoe and Tyler too."
The canvass was very spirited, and, as the result
showed, quite one-sided. A notable Whig meet-
ing, showing the temper and spirit of the cam-
paign, was held at Bunker Hill, in September.
The gathering of people was tremendous, and
their enthusiasm immense. There was a proces-
sion four miles long, in which were large delega-
tions from various States, with many banners. I
remember one delegation of several hundred men
from Louisiana. This delegation, on its march
in the afternoon back to Boston, encountered a
drenching rain-storm, and one of the men, per-
haps a printer, extemporized a banner to suit
the occasion, upon which were quickly printed
the words, "Any rain but the reign of Matty
Van Buren." There were on the rostrum at
Bunker Hill many leading men, and Webster,
who was the principal orator, spoke in ponder-
ous majesty. Choate spoke in the evening in
Boston, and was received with great favor and
applause. He was all aglow, full of fire and
action such as no other man did or could ex-
hibit. Catching the spirit of the occasion, as he
stood there addressing the people with a mind
freighted with serious thought, and occasionally
making some apt reference to Bunker Hill and its

:il

|1'.

:M'

388

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

patriotic associations, it was evident that Choate
was then and there the favorite orator, at least of
New England, if not of the whole country.

Referring to another political occasion, I re-
member to have heard Choate at Concord, in 1844,
on the fourth day of July, when there was a large
gathering brought together to espouse- the elec-
tion of Henry Clay. Webster and Berrien and
Winthrop and Greeley and Lawrence were there.
Choate was in good condition, and hopeful of
victory. He referred to South Carolina, with
tremulous gesture, as the " Palmetto State," and,
with regretful feeling, alluded to her career as a
nuUifier of the tariff laws in Jackson's term. He
advocated a protective tariff, and wanted to know,
in his effective manner, whether the Free Traders
would carry their doctrine so far as to make us de-
pendent upon foreign nations for the gunpowder
we might have to use in our defense against for-
eign aggression. Among other speakers, Horace
Greeley followed Choate, under the big tent. I
remember Greeley's white pants, somewhat col-
ored by green grass, also his peculiar voice and
intonation, and manner generally. He com-
menced and continued in a quiet, thoughtful
way, but as one who had something worth say-
ing to the people. He was listened to atten-
tively, as he deserved to be.

TOWN GOVERNMENT.

389

Probably no two speakers could be more unlike
in style, manner, and action, than Horace Greeley
and Rufus Choate.

I heard Choate again on an occasion not politi-
cal. It was when he delivered his famous lecture
on the Sea, before a literary association in a large
hall. He seemed full of his wild subject, and
swayed the audience with eloquence, as the storm
sways the sea. The impression left upon me by
this performance is as if I had listened to a breezy,
reverent poem, descriptive of the mighty power of
the sea, and what may be encountered there in
calm or in storm. His manner was very impres-
sive. The tone of the discourse was in the main
serious, and in the spirit of Bryant, who says, —

" The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways
His restless billows."

All regret that the manuscript of this thrilling lec-
ture was lost.

I heard Choate again on a winter evening in
1851, on a very quiet and undemonstrative occa-
sion. The place was the Massachusetts Senate
Chamber, and his audience a Senate committee
and a few others. The special topic was a pro-
posed separation of West Roxbury from Roxbury,
which would create a new town government.
Choate was retained to support the measure, and,
small in number as was the audience, he found in

390

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

his topic enough to arouse his enthusiasm. He
made an eloquent plea for towns and town gov-
ernments, and the usefulness and glory thereof.
He insisted that they are important factors in ed-
ucational growth, especially in what pertains to
state and national interests, and that their contin-
uance was essential to the welfare of the country.
In this argument, Choate, as was his habit, treated
his subject as thoroughly and eloquently as if ad-
dressing a large audience.

In the year 1847, when the breach was more
apparent than before in Massachusetts between
the Conscience and the Cotton Whigs, the for-
mer had hopes that both Choate and Webster
would soon become identified with them. In this
chapter of political history, there was a memorable
day in Faneuil Hall, in September, when I was
present as a spectator, and which may properly be
referred to here, as illustrative of the political at-
mosphere of the period. The Whig State Conven-
tion was in session, and many leading men of both
sides were there. The contest was, as to the plat-
form, whether it should be conservative or of an
anti-slavery type. Before it was reported, Sum-
ner made a speech of great power and eloquence
in favor of aggressive action against the usurpa-
tion of the slave power. In his speech he made
a graceful and forcible appeal to Mr. Webster, and

DANIEL WEBSTER.

391

said, " Dedicate, sir, the golden years of experi-
ence which are yet in store for you to removing
from your country its greatest evil. In this
cause you shall find inspirations to eloquence
higher than any you have yet confessed." Win-
throp was then called out, and made an able reply.
There were two reports on the platform, as was
expected. Speeches were made by kStevenson,
Stephen C. Phillips, Linus Child, Charles Francis
Adams, and Charles Allen. The debate was able,
attended by much excitement, and lasted until
night. The conservatives became alarmed, and
decided to send for Webster. Abbott Lawrence,
who was a member of the convention, soon ap-
peared, with Webster upon his arm, amid tremen-
dous applause. Both Conscience and Cotton
joined in manifestations of respect. As Webster
reached the rostrum, the applause was renewed
with great vigor, and the whole scene was grand
artd inspiring. Webster took his seat, and listened
to Charles Allen, one of the ablest of the Con-
science men, who resumed and finished a stern
and inflexible speech. Webster then arose, the
jonvention rising with him, and in a short ad-
dress made a plea of great power for harmony.
A friend tells me that Sumner said he knew, when
he saw " Black Dan " coming, it was all up with
his side that year. It was in this speech that

Mil

.1;

392

MEMORIES OF RLFUS CIIOATE.

Webster's famous words were uttered which Lave
been so widely quoted. He had been speaking of
his warm attachment to the Whig party, and how
he loved to inhale its " odor of liberty." Then
followed the memorable words spoken in his
grandest and most impressive manner. " Others,"
he said, " rely on other foundations and other
hopes for the welfare of the country ; but, for my
part, in the dark and troubled night that is on us,
I see no star above the horizon promising light to
guide us, but the intelligent, patriotic, united
Whig party of the United States." At this mo-
ment every look and gesture of the orator were in
harmony with his thought. He seemed to speak
as if standing in a dark background, his lustrous
eyes looking above the horizon for the star that
should give the promised light to guide the con-
vention and the people. The power of the speech
and the spectacle was seen and felt in the fact
that a convention of turbulent men, at once sub-
dued, were ready for adjournment without fur-
ther strife.

I heard Choate on several political occasions in
Faneuil Hall, some of which are memorable. It
will be remembered that Webster delivered his
famous, and, according to his opponents of that
day, infamous, 7th of March speech in the Senate,
in 1850, the tone of which was compromise with

FANEUIL HALL REFUSED.

393

the South for the sake of peace and the Union.
Choate was in full sympathy with Webster, as
may be seen in his political speeches of tliat pe-
riod. In April, 1851, Webster, who was on a short
visit to Marshfield, was invited by many citizens
of Boston to a public reception in Faneuil Hall.
Mr. Choate was to address him for the citizens.
Great indignation was aroused by the refusal of
the mayor and aldermen to allow the use of the
hall for the proposed meeting. The reason given
was that Wendell Phillips and the Abolitionists
having been refused the use of the hall for fear
of a riot, they could not consistently grant the
hall to any one else. Webster and his friends,
particularly Choate, were very indignant. A good
many things were said and done to set the matter
right. Choate was very active, and wished Mr.
Webster to know that the action of the city au-
thorities did not represent the citizens or the best
sentiment of Boston. Choate sent friends to
Marshfield to so assure Mr. Webster, among whom
were Peter Harver and Fletcher Webster, the lat-
ter taking a letLci' from Choate. Webster said
sadly to Harvey, " Fletcher came down and mere-
ly told me the bald fact that the city government
had refused the hall, and brought me a note from
Choate which I could not read. By the way, tell
Mr. Choate to write better; his handwriting is

394

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATK.

Pi'

barbarous. I could not read a single word.
There is tlie letter; ]M?'- ^ook at it; tell Choate to
go to a writing-school^ .A take a quarter's les-
sons." Webster finally wrote a letter, which was
much admired by his friends, to the coinniittee
who invited him, in which he said, " I shall defer
my visit to Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American
liberty, until its doors .shall fly open on golden
hinges to lovers of Union as well as lovers of
Liberty."

In the next year, on a spring afternoon, " When
the May sun sheds an a 'ber light," Webster ap-
peared in Faneuil Hall kindly reception ten-
dered him by citizens of both parties. This was
soon after his carriage accident. He was quite
unwell, and much affected by the exhibition of
general kindness and respect. How well I re-
member his appearance when he thundered, " This
is Faneuil Hall — Open."

In the year 1850, and soon after, many large
union meetings, so-called, were held in various
parts of the country in support of the compromise
measures of 1850. There were several held in
Faneuil Hall, where such men as Webster, Choate,
Curtis, Winthrop, and Ashman addressed the peo-
ple. I was present at one in November of 1851.
I think, when Hon. B. R. Curtis, then an emi-
nent member of the Boston bar, and afterwards

ARGYLL'S THEORY

395

Judge of the United States Supreine Court, and
Choatc spoke. The hall was clos>ely packed by
intelligent men standing, and there was much
excitement. Curtis, who presided, led oft' in a
calm, logical speech, and Choate followed. I shall
attempt no statement of what hr" said. It was a
fervent appeal to the country, especially to the
North, to stand by the Union in the spirit of sac-
rifice and concession. In the course of his ar-
gument, the views of men like Charles Francis
Adams, Henry Wilson, and Charles Sumner, who
were then at the front of the anti-slavery hosts,
got some hard knocks. I was sitting very near
Clioato, on the side of the famous rostrum, and
shall not forget one of his gestures. He had
reached in high heat the climax of his speech,
when, under great excitement, almost frenzy,
upon emphasizing his final point, he quickly bent
forward and downward so that his curling hair
nearly touched the floor. In an instant he was
erect again, his whole appearance intensely ner-
vous and magnetic, and drew from the vast au-
dience round after round of applause, and cheers.

The Duke of Argyll, in his treatise on " The
Reign of Law," presents a view which may in
some measure explain Mr. Choate in action as an
orator : —

When, through the motor nerves, the will

396

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

S
U-

orders the muscles into action, that order is en-
forced by a discharge of the electric force, and
upon this discharge, the contractile force is set
free to act, and does accordingly produce the con-
traction which is desired. Such is, at least, one
suggestion as to the means employed to place
human action under the control of the human
will, in that material frame which is so wonder-
fully and fearfully made. And whether this hy-
pothesis be accurate or not, it is certain that some
such adjustment of Force to Mechanism is in-
volved in every bodily movement which is subject
to the will." Whether all or any of this is apjili-
cable to, or accounts for, the appearance of Mr.
Choate in action, in court, or on the rostrum, is
the question submitted.

If " every bodily movement " of the great ora-
tor, " subject to the will," can thus be explained,
he at least was probably innocent of all knowl-
edge of the law that " through the motor nerves
the will orders the muscles into action," " by a
discharge of the electric force," in the manner
stated.

In July of 1851, Choate delivered an oration
before the Story Association of Cambridge Law
School, of whose graduating cl?iss I was a member.
A procession was formed, which marched to the
church where the address was delivered. My

OPIUM AGAINST ELECTRICITY.

397

place in the procession happened to be next to tlie
orator. As showing of what flimsy stuff history is
sometimes made, I may in this connection give an
incident. There was more or less vay-iie hinting
that the great orator was occasionally addicted to
the use of opium. Some were inclined to explain
his nervous action and great excitement, when
speaking, by the opium theory. As the proces-
sion was waiting for its march, Clioate took from
his vest pocket some small particle and put it into
his mouth. " Do you see that," whispered a by-
stander, " Choate is getting ready for his speech ;
he has just taken some opium." As a matter
of fact, the remark of the wiseacre would have
been as just if made of the Rev. Obadiah Smith,
or some other solemn personage who by chance
might have attracted attention in a similar way.
Eather than encourage the opium scandal, I pre-
ferred to rest my theory upon electricity, or Bos-
ton east wind, as the motive power that inspired
the great orator as no other man of the time w'as
inspired.

The topic of the oration in the church was obe-
dience and respect for law as essential for the
maintenance of the Union, which is to be preferred
beyond and above all things else as a means of
political salvation for the country. He made an
elaborate and eloquent appeal to the young men

398

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

!■ li

of the Law School to throw their personal and po-
litical influence for the conservative side of the
great conflict which he seemed to feel, almost as
a prophet, was imminent. His appeal, like Web-
ster's, was " to lovers of Union as well as to lovers
of Liberty."

It was my good fortune to see Choate in court
engaged in trials on various occasions. It is not
worth while, perhaps, to state in detail what I
saw and heard on such occasions. In every case
he seemed to be absorbed for his client's cause.
There was no case in his hands, especially before
a jury, that he did not make a thing of life, and
of profound interest.

Many anecdotes and incidents of Choate as a
lawyer in the courts have been given, some of
which, I trust, will find a place in this book. I
happened in court one Saturday, in Boston, when
Choate had charge of a case that involved some
improvement in the handling of cotton. In the
course of a very spirited argument to the jury,
he took occasion to discuss our agricultural and
manufacturing resources as cooperative in develop-
ing the country and promoting general prosperity.
He made a masterly and interesting statement of
his view, which was in itself broad statesmanship.

When he brought forward somnambulism as a
defense in part for his client, Tirrell, who was in-

'I i

ANECDOTES.

399

dieted for murder, there were many good women
and children, not to speak of " the rest of man-
kind," who thought the defense very absurd, if
not very wicked. The jury, however, thought
otherwise.

I am indebted to a prominent citizen of Brook-
lyn, a native of Salem, where Choate studied law,
fcr the following. Leverett Saltonstall, who was
an able and noted Massachusetts Federalist, was
not an admirer of the irrepressible Caleb Cusiiing,
then a rising man in his region. Gushing, though
a younger man than Saltonstall, was considered
his rival, and rumor was afloat to the effect that
Cushing's wife had written and published in a
newspaper a very eulogistic article about her hus-
band, which rumor Saltonstall was willing to be-
lieve. Choate at this time was a young lawyer in
Saltonstall's office in Sa^em. One morning while
at his desk, S. rushed in excitedly and exclaimed,
" Cushing is dead and buried, — dead and bi^ried."
" Dead ! " said Choate — " and buried ! When ?
where ? " " Lead and buried ! " cried Saltonstall.
" Well," said ' 'hoate, " you don't tell me when he
died or where he is buried ; but I '11 venture he is
not buried so deep but what he '11 sprout."

I am also indebted to a gentleman, now of
Brooklyn, formerly of Boston, who was a client of
Choate's, for the following : The client had been

i't

t'l '

400

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

consulting Choate in litigations concerning some
vessels about to arrive at New York. One day
the client said, " Mr. Choate, the vessels will soon
arrive in New York, and I am going there to re-
side. Now, what lawyer do you think of that you
would advise me to consult in this matter ? "
" Let me see," said Choate. Then turning to his
partner, he said, " Crowninshield, what is the
name of that young lawyer in Ne v York, who did
so well in defending Monroe Edwards, and had a
counterfeit ^1,000 bill put on him for his fee ? "
" His name is Evarts," said Crowninshield. " Yes,"
said Choate, " Evarts, he is the man for you. Em-
ploy him."

Is not this an instance, in re Evarts, of coming
events casting their shadows before ? Choate
must have felt the coming greatness of New
York's distinguished lawyer.

A few days previous to Choate's oration before
the Story Association at Cambridge, to which
I have referred, Choate was under discussion at
the Law Library among a group of a dozen stu-
dents. The conversation turned chiefly upon the
comparative merits of Choate and Brougham, as
lawyers and orators. I remember how ardently
one of the students, of rather mature years,
from the Southwest, insisted that Choate was
the greater lawyer and orator, and referred to

INCIDENTS.

401

cases and occasions in the career of each to
prove his position. There was a disposition to ac-
quiesce in the view that Choate was the supe-
rior. While this circumstance is not decisive, it is
useful as showing how deep an impression Choate
was then making upon appreciative minds.

The late Mr. Somerby was a distinguished mem-
ber of the Boston bar, and was frequently asso-
ciated with Choate in the trial of causes. He was
an enthusiastic admirer of Choate, and one day,
while riding with a friend through Mount Auburn
Cemetery, took off his hat at a certain spot with
so reverent an air that his companion asked him
the reason: Mr. Somerby pointed to a grave
near by, and said, " There is the grave of Rufus
Choate. The man who goes by that grave with-
out taking off his hat is not fit to live on earth."

In his intercourse with the bar, Mr. Choate,
though resolute, was disposed to be kind and
courteous. One day I saw him engaged in court,
in Boston, in a jury trlul involving some question
of patent right in a rifle. One of his adversaries
was a well-known lawyer of the New York bar,
who seemed to be very earnest and pronounced
in his ways and methods. He was quite an ex-
pert in his knowledge of fire-arms, and handled
the rifle as if familiar with its use. He would
hold and aim it as if about to fire in the court-

402

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

room. Choate did not shine in that way. In
the course of the trial, his New York adversary
made some abrupt and impolite remark to Choate
as to the admissibility of certain evidence. In
reply, Choate, who was evidently not pleased with
the remark, noticed it by referring, in a sombre
way, to the learned counsel from New York,
whom he could not call his brother.

A Plymouth friend sends me the following :
A gentleman was in his study one day, and Mr.
Choate, who had a closet in which he kept bottles
and glasses and ice-water, had taken out his de-
canter, and was enjoying a social glass (a thing,
by the way, which he did very rarely, and with
great moderation), when he heard some one com-
ing up the stairs, and, expecting the Rev. Dr.
Adams, he suddenly and hastily gathered all the
implements, thrust them into the closet, and shut
it, when his library door opened, and, instead of
Dr. Adams, there appeared before him his friend,
Mr. Peter Harvey. " Why, Harvey ! is that yor. ?
I thought it was a Presbyterian foot-fall." And
he immediately replaced the paraphernalia so
suddenly hidden from sight.

A Boston gentleman says, " On one evening,
when Mr. Brough and others gave a concert in
Boston, my informant was one of the last comers
of a crowded audience, and consequently had to

ANECDOTES.

403

take his seat near the door, and as far as the
dimensions of the hall would permit from the
singers' platform. He was happy to find himself
seated next to Mr. Choate. At a late period of
the performance, Mr. Brough came upon the stage,
and comported himself so oddly that my friend
said to Mr. Choate, 'I think the man must be
drunk.' ^ I smelled his breath the moment he
came upon the stage,' replied Choate."

He once passed the night at the once famous
inn of Mrs. Nicholson, in Plymouth, — a some-
what rambling house, in which the only room
not necessarily used as a passage-way to other
rooms was occupied by Justice Wilde of the
Supreme Court. Most of the members of the
Plymouth bar, inmates of the house, including
Eddy, Coffin, Baylies, Packard, and Young, were
playing cards until a late hour. At breakfast,
Justice Wilde, whose Puritanical manner was not
unmixed with humor, knowing well the situa-
tion of things, said, " Well, Mr. Choate, I sup-
pose you slept well ? " " Admirably, your Honor,
except that I slept in the highway," replied Mr.
Choate.

I remember hearing Mr. Choate defend the
master of the schooner Sally Ann, tried in the
United States Court, in Boston, on a charge of
casting away his vessel, in defraud of the under-

404

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

writers, on the coast of St. Domingo. The jury
had disagreed in a former trial, conducted by
District Attorney Robert Rantoul, Jr. George
Lunt, appointed his successor, had secured ad-
ditional testimony, with, as he thought, a cer-
tainty of conviction. The testimony on both
sides was closed ; and, during a short recess taken
before the arguments, Mr. Choate, in passing
through the entry, accidentally overheard the
colored cook of the vessel, who had been called
as a government witness, but not used, speak of
the captain's crying when he left his vessel and
took to his boat. Choate hurried into court,
and, with great impressiveness, asked permission
to put in an important piece of testimony, which
had only at that moment come to his knowledge.
With the permission of the judge, the cook was
called ; and, in reply to the question of Mr. Choate
as to the deportment of the master on leaving his
vessel, said, " He cried like a child." " That is
all," said Mr. Choate ; and, with this single straw
of sentiment to save his case, his appeals to the
jury were so pathetic that a verdict of acquittal
followed, wrung out of the chords in the human
heart, which he knew so well how to touch, and
which resented the idea that a man could cry over
the loss of his dear Sally Ann if he were guilty of
her destruction.

INCIDENT IN COURT,

405

I am indebted to a venerable and learned mem-
ber of the Boston bar for the following : —

One day, at the close of the testimony In an
important trial in a civil action, in which Mr.
Choate was engaged before the Supreme Court,
at Dedham, Judge Shaw said he did not think
there was any question of fact to submit to the
jury, and the better course would be to take a
verdict pro forma, and reserve the law questions
for the full bench. Then, turning to Mr. Choate,
the judge said, " Mr. Choate, upon the view sug-
gested, if agreeable to you, I will order a verdict
against your client." Choate stepped forward,
and, bowing in his fine manner, gravely replied :
" If your Honor please, as to whether the course
you propose will be agreeable to me, I desire to
say that I do not remember any case ever in my
charge wherein I would not have found it agree-
able to have a verdict in favor of my client."
The reply and Choate's inimitable manner caused
much merriment among the lawyers and spec-
tators.

The late Vice-President Wilson — a name likely
to grow in importance in American political his-
tory — was, I think, a warm admirer of the genius
and eloquence of Rufus Choate, though not of his
entire political course. I remember meeting Mr.
Wilson (whom I knew as a life-long friend) soon

i :

406

MEMORIES OF RUFUS C HO ATE.

after the Whig National Convention that nomi-
nated General Scott, in 1852, at Baltimore.
Choate was there, strenuously advocating the
nomination of Mr. Webster. In speaking of the
convention, Wilson said that Choate made an
ingenious and brilliant speech for Webster, upon
the basis of accepting the compromise measure
of 1850 as a finality, and that there was no
orator in the convention that equaled Choate.

In his work entitled " Rise and Fall of the Slave
Power in America," Mr. Wilson, in referring to
the resolutions introduced by Mr. Ashman, which
were believed to be in harmony with Mr. Web-
ster's views, speaks of " the impassioned and brill-
iant speech which Mr. Choate made on their re-
ception and in their behalf." Again, he states
in the same work, that, " In answer to vociferous
calls, Mr. Choate addressed the convention in a
speech of great forensic brilliancy and force, in
which, however, was far more apparent the spe-
cial pleading of the advocate than the calm con-
sideration of the statesman."

In the same work, the author refers, in a kindly
way, to the part taken by Mr. Choate as counsel
for the Commonwealth, in 1836, when the Supreme
Court decided, in the case of the slave child Med,
brought to that State by its owner, "that an
owner of a slave in another State where slavery is

THE ASHDURTON TREATY.

407

warranted by law, voluntarily bringing such slave
into this State, has no authority to retain hi)n
against his will, or carry him out of the State
against his consent, for the purpose of being held
in slavery." This important opinion, which was so
much quoted in subsequent controversies, was de-
livered by Ch'ef Justice Shaw. Again, on the Otii
of August, 1842, the Ashburton Treaty was signed
at Washington. It was largely aimed at the
suppression of the slave trade, and required the
United States to cooperate with an armed force
on the coast of Africa. The treaty was bitterly
assailed in the Senate by Mr. Benton of Missouri,
Mr. Buclianan, Mr. Conrad of Louisiana, and oth-
ers. The latter said, " If ratified. Great Britain
will unfurl the banner of abolition still more con-
spicuously before your slaves. She will accustom
them to consider her as their benefactor, the cham-
pion of their rights, the avenger of their wrongs."
Referring to the hot debate in the Senate, and
characterizing the motives of the men and news-
papers that opposed the treaty (which was rati-
fied), Mr. Wilson, in his work, says that " Many
saw their true spirit, but none more fitly described
them than Rufus Choate, then in the Senate, who
spoke of them as ' restless, selfish, reckless, the
cankers of a calm world and a long peace, pining
with thirst of notoriety, slaves to their hatred of

408

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

England, to whom the treaty is distasteful, to
whom any treaty and all tilings but tlie glare and
clamor, the vain pomp and hollow circumstance,
the toil and agony and inadequate results of war,
— all but those would be distasteful and dreary.' "

Again, in the same work, Mr. Wilson refers
to Mr. Choate's opposition to the joint resolution
for the annexation of Texas in 1844, and says,
" Rufus Choate, of Massachusetts, made a brilliant
and eloquent speech in opposition, both on the
ground of power and expediency. * We could
not,' he contended, ' admit Texas by the joint
resolution of the House, if it would insure a thou-
sand years of liberty to the Union. If, like the
fabled garden of old, its rivers should run pearls,
and its trees bear imperial fruit of gold, — yet
even we could not admit her, because it would
be a sin against the Constitution.' "

In their earlier private and public life, Sumner
and Choate were warm friends, though differing
widely on political questions in later years. Mr.
Pierce, author of M( noirb, oic., of Sumner, men-
tions several i its that s''ow this. As early
as 1834, Sumn was brought into personal rela-
tions with Choate wh- n he was in Washington, a
member of the House, and Sumner wr"^ there on
a professional errand.

In 1834, and for several years after, No. 4

NO. 4 COURT STREET.

409

Court Street, Boston, must have been an attract-
ive place. There were gathered there, at this pe-
riod, several lawyers, since well known, some of
whom have achieved permanent fame. On the
same lloor with Sumner and Ilillard were Thcoph-
ilus Parsons, Rufus Choate, the two Chandlers,
and John A. Andrew, afterwards governor. On a
floor above was Horace Mann, who in after years
displayed great ability as a member of Congress,
and when in charge of important educational in-
terests. Here also were Edward G. Loring and
Luther S. Cushing. When Hillard left the build-
ing in 1856, he wrote in verse a graceful '' Fare-
well to Number Four," which called forth some
happy rejoinders. Judge Story, Greenleaf, Fel-
ton. Park Benjamin, and George Bancroft were
frequent callers at No. 4, which was thus closely
identified with the daily life of Mr. Choate. Hil-
lard, writing to Sumner from New York, in 1836,
recalls, in contrast with the law offices of that
city, " our cool and pleasant office, and the quiet
and cultivated friends who drop in."

In 1834-35 we find Sumner and Choate with
Edward Everett, Hillard, and others, announced
in a course of lectures before the Boston Lyceum
at Boylston Hall. In a letter to Longfellow in
August, 1837, Sumner refers to Choate in terms
of mutual friendship. Mr. Pierce says that Sum-

I i

410

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

ner '^much enjoyed his friendly relations with
Rufus Clioate, whose office was at No. 4 Court
Street. They talked of politics and literature,
particularly of Burke, for whom Mr. Choate had
an extravagant admiration. When the latter was
in the United States Senate, 1841-42, they treated
of the same themes in correspondence. Later
they were associated professionally in 'uhe boun-
dary dispute between Massachusetts and Rhode
Island." In June, 1841, Sumner wrote Dr. Lie-
ber, " Choate will be glad to renew his acquaint-
ance with you ; his speech on McLeod's case is
masterly." In 1842, Sumner wrote two articles
maintaining the qualified right of search, which
attracted much attention. Choate, while in the
Senate, worked with Sumner, approving the posi-
tion taken. In February, 1842, in a letter to
Dr. Lieber, Sumner wrote, •' I am glad you like
Choate so well. His position here is very firm.
He is the leader of our bar, with an overwhelm-
ing supertluity of business, with a strong taste for
books and learned men, with great amiableness of
character, with uncommon eloquence and untir-
ing industry." Again, in a letter to Lord Mor-
peth, September 6, 1842, uuching the Ashburton
Treaty, Sumner refers to what Choate thinks in-
fluenced the British authorities in the matter. In
a letter to Dr. Lieber, September, 1843, Sumner

USE OF ADJECTIVES.

411

writes, " Choate is entirely uncommitted on the
subject of international copyright. He has never
looked at it ; and, if he sees his way clear to be its
advocate, he will enter into it. He asked me to
state to him in a few words the argument on both
sides. I thought of Madame de Staiil and Fichte,
— " ^ Donnez moi vos idees en dix mots.' I did it,
and he muses still."

In 1844, Perkins edited the American edition of
" Brown's Chancery Reports," and dedicated it to
Mr. Choate. Sumner wrote to Perkins, " Your
dedication cannot fail to give great pleasure to
Mr. Choate. It is a beautiful, and, I think, a well
deserved, tribute from a former pupil. It is with
hesitation that I venture to touch rudely what is
chiseled so carefully. But, as a general rule, it
seems to me that one cannot be too abstemious of
adjectives in an inscription which should be close
and lapidary in its character." While Sumner's
view is doubtless correct, it may be that " adjec-
tives," even in an inscription, did not worry
Choate, who knew how to marshal them in lonjjc
array ; as, for instance, the following, when he
spoke of a harness as " a safe, sound, substantial,
suitable, second-rate, second-hand harness," or
spoke of the Greek mind as " subtle, mysterious,
plastic, apprehensive, comprehensive, available."

Mr. Choate felt a proper reverence for the

412

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

things that belong to religion. Whether he be-
lieved in a creed, in a technical, Cal vinistic sense,
is doubtful. But that he had a deep religious
nature, which found expression in various ways,
there can be no doubt.

My cousin, the late Rev. Hubbard Winslow,
who for several years was pastor of the Bowdoin
Street Church, in Boston, was an admiring and
warm friend of both Webster and Choate, and
received from them many tokens of reciprocal
regard. I visited Marshfield, in 1862, with Dr.
Winslow, at the Webster mansion, when I saw, in
the kind welcome extended to him, and expres-
sions of friendship at dinner, ample evidence of
mutual respect and esteem. Dr. Winslow once
gave me a touching recount of his baptism of
one of Mr. Choate's children, — Caroline, the
youngest, and deeply beloved, who was sick, and
near death. Having received a note from Mr.
Choate, requesting his kind offices in the baptism
of his child. Dr. Winslow went to the residence,
and there met the family in great affliction. In
his account of what occurred, and his description
of the scene, with Mr. Choate as a central figure,
and heart-stricken father, Dr. Winslow left a clear
impression upon my mind that he thought Choate
a sincere and profound believer. I will not here
repeat the story of the baptism scene, as related

BURKE ON A GREAT NAME.

413

to me by the minister; it was an experience
which brought out impressively, in the presence
of death, the affectionate and reverent side of Mr.
Choate's character.

Hon. E. L. Pierce and the late Professor Long-
fellow were appointed literary executors by Sum-
ner's will. I am permitted, by the kindness of
Mr. Pierce, to subjoin several interesting letters
of Choate's to his friend Sumner, which further
illustrate his views and character.

In closing this contribution thus made in com-
pliance with the polite request of Judge Neilson,
my regret is that I did not see and know more of
the patriotic, scholarly lawyer, of whom it may
be justly said he was primus inter pares.

Burke, whom Choate admired so much, said of
Lord Chatham, " A great and celebrated name ;
a name that keeps the name of this country re-
spectable in every other on the globe." So, for
his own country, the name of Ruf us Choate, as an
accomplished jurist, shall fulfill a like office.

JOHN WINSLOW.

LETTERS BY CHOATE TO SUMNER.

Washington, Saturday, May 29, 1841.

My dear Sir, — I found the inclosed, addressed
to me here, and have great pleasure in giving it a
chance to pass under your critical, and yet benev-
olent, eye. T have hardly done more than wash
off the " variation of each " dust accumulated, all
the way from Boston, on my pen, ink, and paper,
— more commonly in this country, and more
conveniently, called stationery, since it included
wafers, wax candles, penknives, and the like, —
and settle myself in an airy third-story. Yet I
see and feel — in green peas, ripe cherries, mown
grass, roses, and a thermometer at 80° — the new
climate I have come to.

The President is in high spirits — making a
good impression. He will stand by Mr. Webster,
and the talk of an unfriendly conservative action
is true, but not terrifying. Gushing will not be
Speaker, and "White, I should think, will, — of
Kentucky, — a Clay nomination. But, I forget

ii' i

APPOINTMENT OF EVERETT.

415

the worthlessness of this gossip, — and leave yon
to your studies, business, ladies, and claret

Very truly yours,

R. ClIOATE.

Wasiiixgton.

My dear Sumner, — I have just received the
memorandum, and will turn it nochirna et di-
urna 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 con-
fidentially gratified) with the squahoshment of
the Whigs ^ that he will talk of nothing else.
He thinks he can Seal better with Sir Robert
Peel et id genius. Can he? Your acquaintance
was made with so whiggish a set that I suppose
you mourn as for the flight of liberty. But,
mark you, how much more peaceably, i^urehj,
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 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

* Lord Melbourne's Ministry.

416

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

like a potter's vessel. But as Ercles' vein is not
lightly nor often to be indulged in — {nee Deus
inter sit nisi, et cet).

I give love to Hillard, salute you, and am

Very truly yours,

R. C.
We shall have a veto after all, ut timeo.

Dear Sumner, — I have this moment received
the inclosed, with a civil note from our friend
of Waterloo and the Encyclopedia. I hope you
and he are plotting nothing against Christianity,
though I doubt about you both grievously. He
expects you to answer through me, and I beg you

would. In a line to , yesterday, I adverted

to the cases of Dr. Howe and Mrs. Bayard, quod
vide. Neither goes as we would wish, alas for
the wishes of friendship and the dreams of love.

We shall this morning, probably, — it is near 8
A. M., and our committee meets at 10, — report a
more erect and self-sustaining and respected char-
ter than Mr. Ewing's.

The debauched state of public opinion exceeds

belief. Fejor actus. Write me a long letter.

Very truly yours,

R. CHOATE.
21 June, 1841.

APPLICATIONS DOUBTFUL.

417

8
a

(private.)

September 12<A, 1841.

My dear Sumner, — I am indignant at such
indolent and careless discourtesy — but hang,
shoot, and drown me if I can help it. I have
spoken to him a hundred times — and although I
do not think he takes strongly to the application
— indeed — there is no vacancy — I did suppose
he had written.

Just now, a real crisis — harassed — distract —
arranging cabinets — etc., etc. — he is impenetra-
ble to these duties of kindness, propriety — I read
him your letter — in a voice loud enough for
Faneuil Hall. He surely will lorite, at least.

(Private.)

We spent yesterday all day on Everett. Al-
though I say, as I should not say it, T am inno-
cent of the man's blood. After five hours, we
found by sounding round the Chamber we should
be 24 X 24 — so we adjourned, and I have great
hopes we shall carry it to-morrow.

The session ends to-morrow, but I shall stay
three or four days. " God bless you."

Very truly yours,

R. CHOATE.
27

418

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Washington, December 9, 1841.

My dear Sir, — I have just got yours, shall
have great pleasure in expressing myself in Mr.
T.'s behalf. The " all powerful words " arc few,
nay, rather lost — but just and friendly ones all
may speak.

Yes, I ought to have composed that strife as I
ought to have done much other good — Pulcher
et multa minans, vero nee recti nee suavitcr.

But not to diffuse myself in any more philoso-
phy — all thrown away on young chaps,
I abruptly declare myself, truly yours,

R. CIIOATE.

My dear Sir, — I have received and trans-
mitted your papers for Lieber ; and read the
D. A. with edification and assent. We are wrong.

Lieber sent me a strong paper on this same
subject. He is the most fertile, indomitable, un-
sleeping, 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. CIIOATE.

7 January, 1842.

C. Sumner, Esq.

INVOCATION AS TO THE CREOLE

419

f !

Washington, Jununry lUh, 1842.

My dear Sir, — I cry your pardon in the mat-
ter of your letter. It was all just right, and
showed inc well enough that you were quite
enough in earnest — but was an uncommon docu-
ment for Boards of Commissioners. However, I
sent it, with high praise of you and the Doctor.

You are clearly right in the Search question.
I never was more gratified than to have been
asked — by a spoon, though — if I did not write it.

Discuss the Creole — as quick — and as well as
you possibly can.

Lord Morpeth is just come, and pleases univer-
sally. He attends our atrocious spectacles in
H. H., with professional relish.

Most truly yours,

R. C.

My dear Sumxer, — I hoped to write ])efore
now to tell you what can be done for the elegant
and tuneful Professor.

No certain thing do I get yet, but I trust soon
to have. It is the age of patronage of genius you
see. Hecjnat Apollo, as one may say. . . .

That was a most rich speech of Hillard's, as is
all his speaking, Avhether to listening crowds or to
appreciating circles of you and me. We hear
that one Mrs. Dickens called on him and Mrs.

420

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

Hillard with a significant and expressive civility
and respect. In his heart, I have no doubt the
Secretary of State agrees with you. But think of
tliis : Shall we not give E. a right by treaty to
search for enough to find the American character,
— on condition that by treaty she agrees to assist
our slave ships in distress in the W. I. ? To get
such treaties, must we not begin by denying all her
claims to search ? How cheerful, genial, and fra-
grant, as it were, are our politics ! What serried
files of armed men, shoulder to shoulder, keeping
time 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, and so forth —
though the surrounding country is undoubtedly
beautiful. Love to Hillard. Lieber writes in
Latin. I mean to answer him in any tongue
whatever he chooses to speak, and for that pur-
pose must break off and go at him.

Truly yours,

K. CHOATE.

19 February, 1842.

A SHE UR TON TREA T Y.

421

Washington, 10 r. m.

Dear Sumner and IIillaud, — I have ad-
dressed myself with tears of entreaty to the Sec-
retary ; and. if no hidden snag or planter lies
under the muddy Hood, we shall scull the Doctor
into port. There, as Dr. Watts says, ho may

" Sit and sinj^ liimself away,"

or exclaim, —

" Spcs ct fortiina, valete — invcni niiiu' portum,
Lusistis lue satis — ludite iiiiiu' alios " —

which is from the Greek, you know, in Dalzell's
" Gra^c. Majora," vol. 2d, — and closes some edi-
tions of Gil Bias!

The voting on the Ashburton Treaty at nine at
night — seats full — lights lighted, — hall as still
as death — -was not without (jrnndneafi. But why
speak of this to the^)roc?^?Y»j^c.s of that denational-
ized Boston and Massachusetts ?

Yours truly,

R. CIIOATE.

My dear Sir, — I did not get your letter till 10
o'clock p. M., yesterday, Saturday, and it comes
unaccompanied by that more sober and more busi-
ness-like memorandum to which it refers. Where
is that? I had previously written letters for a
Mr. Beal and a Mr. Kittredge — and sent them
by the ears to the Board. Your letter is so full

422

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

of rhetoric, poetry and a certain fashionable un-
conccrnedness tliat I dare not send that. Dr.
Scwall has received nothing. This is Sunday,
and I thinlv to-niglit I shall get the other papers,
and to-morrow the Board shall have thein.

I hope the race will not be so far to the swift
that we shall catch and outrun these mortal men.
I have a notion Kittredge is thorough and honest,
but I suspect his price is high.

I will retain this letter till evening.

Sunday evening, 9 o'clock. I get nothing more
from you, so that all I have is your note. In
this predicament, I think I will address a note to
the Board, stating that the Doctor will apply, and
suggesting, generally, the ground of his equity.

Very truly yours,

R. CIIOATE.

17 Jamtar'j, 1842.

My 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 ; and 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 Anne Page,
you, however, have the great lubberly boy.

Never reading Buckingham,^ I only guess, from

^ Editor of Boston paper.

HE ABUSE Til ME.

423

your kind liint, that he ubuseth mc. The tarifT
speech, I assure you, I sent him.

Lord Ashljurton is a most interesting man,
quick, cheerful, graceful-minded, keen, and pru-
dent. The three young men are also clever ;
young rather ; one a Whig, — all lovers of Lord
Morpeth. Mame comes in ^vilh such exacting
purposes, that, between us, 1 doubt.

R. CIIOATE.

2 June.

My dear Sumxer, — Ten thousand thanks for
your seasonable kindness. I won't quit till 1 beat
both those speeches out and out.

Read not a word of what is called my Oregon
speech till I send one.

I shall return all the papers by W. F. Ilillard,
Esq. Doubtless originals should be kept at home
safe. But nothing is lost or mutilated.

Most truly yours,

R. CIIOATE.

25 Fchruanj, 1814.

My dear Sumxer, — I thank you for the docu-
ments. The case 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.

424

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

Great swelling words of prescriiDtion ought to
be spoken. For the rest, I see no great fertility
or hcif/hts in it.

Most hnrriedly yours,

li. CIIOATE.
Saturdiiy, 5 r, si.

mi ">

I", !

b"^

Saturday, February 17, 1844.

My dear Sir, — To my horror and annoyance,
the court has just continued our cause to the next
terra .

The counsel of Rhode Island moved it yester-
day, 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 th(;re was a vacancy on the bench. The
court v/as, therefore, reduced to six judges. We
opposed the motion.

To-day, Mr. Justice McLean said that, on inter-
changing views, they found that three of the six,
who would try it, have formerly, on the argument
of the plea, come to an opinion in favor of Massa-
chusetts, and that, therefore, they thought it not
proper to proceed. If Rhode Island should fail,
he suggested, she might have cause of dissatisfac-
tion.

I regret this result, on all accounts, and espe-
cially that the constant preparatory labors of a

THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE.

425

month are, for the present, wholly I •vt. I had
actually withdrawn from the Senate Chamber to
make up this argument, whicli may now never be
of any use to anybody. (Private.) Shall I ask
you, as a confidential and special act of friendship,
to make this matter known to the public through
any of our 2^f//;ers, in such manner, inter alia, as
to convey the fact that counsel of Massachusetts
have somewhat engrossingly prepared briefs in
the cause ?

It explains : Silence elsewhere is true and right
and kind. The honest trutli is, I have spent a
full month, day and night, on the thing. Please,
in this, state your general labors in procuring the
local proofs.

There is one quite important piece of evidence
to be at once looked up. We ran the line be-
tween us and Plymouth in 1G64.

It is of great consequence to show that, in so
doing, we asserted our present construction of
the charter, and that the "Angle-tree" is far
south of Balfry's Station. It is important to
show that, in IGTO and 1G71, w ran a line
'':owards the west, from the " Angle-tree " south
of the present line.

Mr. Mitchell will know in regard to the mode
of proving these matters.

We ouy;lit to have our connections and rela-

1.:

Iti!

■■

426

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CIIOATE.

tions, too, up to 1713, since her acquiescence is
as high circumstantial evidence as Rhode Island's.
Excuse all this. Yours,

R CIIOATE.

My dear Sumner, — The book itself is come
at last, looking as much as to say, " Qi'os ego
sed mdfjnos iwo est et comjjonere Jliictus.'' So
has Mr. Packenham come, for did he not sit an
hour last evening at the birth-night ball, with
Mrs. Bayard ? Henceforth no peace with Eng-
hmd. Nay, her very amba; -'ndors should be cast
into \,ells. Truly yours,

11. CIIOATE.

Fehruary 23, 1844.

May I ask you to assure Dr. Palfrey that his
book is here, and to tell me how you denominate
him, — quo nomine quudlt, — Dr. Esq., arma or
toga ?

These transitions play the devil with classilica-
tions.

February, 1844.

My dear St'mner, — All tlio 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 par-

CONTINUANCE OF THE CAUSE.

427

cast

utica-

144.

safe,
Iconio

1 with

par-

tially to bo 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 the-
oc/onies, — but better so than to bo taken.

Yours truly,

U. CIIOATE.

My Dear Seiner, — I have written, by this
mail, to Mr. Paii'ro}', Secretary of State, to send
me instantly certain papers for Massachusetts vs.
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
they shall never know anything else again as
long as they live. Please be most prompt.

Yours,

R. CIIOATE.

15th February. The case is for the 2()th ! !

1),;'
t

mf'\

1 -ji

•

i
s

;8f

nil

428

MEMORIES OF liUFUS C HO ATE.

Dear Sumxer, — I have just had your letter
read to me, on a half-sick bed, and got up, red-
olent 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 "which he appreciates so pro-
foundly, but am most happy to add yours. By
the way, I always admired that very letter in
Prior, if it is the same.

I hope you review Burke in the " North Amer-
ican Review," though I have not got it, and you
do not say so. Mind that he is the fourth Eng-
lishman, — Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, Burke.
I hope you take one hundred pages for the
article. Compare, contrast with Cicero, — both
knowing all things, — but God knows where to
end on Burke. No Englishman, or countryman
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 for-
gave what preceded ; and we, poor un idealized,
Tom Pinilied democrats, do not understand his
marvelous English, universal wisdom, illuminated,
omniscient mind, and are afraid of his principles.
What coxcombical rascal i> it that thinks Boling-
broke a better writer ? Take, pagt by page, the
illusions, the felicities, the immortalities of truth.

ESTIMATE OF BURKE.

429

variety, reason, height, depth, everything, Bohng-
broke is a vohible 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 Mackin-
toshes, 175 Macaulays, 40 Jeffreys, and 250 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. CIIOATE.

Mr. Gorden shall be shown all that we ha\e,
certainly.

■re to

Boston, December 21, ISol.

My dear Mr. Sumxer, — 1 thank you for the
copy of your beautiful speech, and for the making
of it. All men say it is a successful one, parlia-
mentarily expressing it, and I am sure it Is sound,
safe, steering between cold-shoulderism and inlios-
pitality, on the one side, and the splendid folly
and wickedness of cooperation, on the other.
Cover the Magyar with flowers, lave him with
perfume, serenade him with eloquence, and let
him go home alone if he will not live here. Such
is all that is permitted to wise slates aspiring to
" true grandeur." I wish to Heaven you would

430

I 1

111

MEMORIES OF RUFUS CHOATE.

write me de rehus congressus. How does the
Senate strike you? Th' best place this clay on
earth for reasoned, thoughtful, yet stimulant
public speech. Think of that.

Most truly yours, — in the union, —

RUFUS CIIOATE.

Ml"

Sit

3 the
ly on
ulant

:e.

APPENDIX.

REMARKS BEFORE THE CIRCUIT COURT ON
THE DEATH OF MR. WEBSTER.

[Mr. Wr.iiSTKU died on Sunday mornin,, Octol,er 24, I850

The me,.bers of the Suffolk Bar met on Monday n.ornin., and

appo.nted a conunittee to report a series of resolutions. Th
were re 1 „ , ^, ^^ ^^^.^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^^

^vlrTJ^' '""''' '' PIassacbusetts,-CunxKS and

Goorge S. IMard, after which Mr. Choate ma^e the following
remarks.] °

May it please your Honors, - 1 liave been re-
quested by tlie members of tl.e Bar of this Court to
add a few words to the resolutions just read, in which
they have embodied, as tliey were able, their sorrow
for the death of their beloved and illustrious member
and countryman, Mr. Webster; their estimation of his
character, life, and genius ; their sense of the bereave-
ment, -to the country as to his friends, - incapable
of repair; the pride, the fondness, - the filial and the
patriotic pride and fondness,- with which they cherish,
and would consign to history to cherish, the memory of
a great and good man.
28

434

APPENDIX.

Pi '.rsn

It'

hi
m

And yet I could earnestly have desired to bo ex-
cused from this duty. lie must have known Mr.
Webster less, and loved him less, than your Honors, or
than I have known and loved him, who can quite yet,
— quite yet, — before we can comprehend that we
have lost him forever, — before the first paleness with
which the news of his death overspread our cheeks has
passed away, — before we have been down to lay him
in the l*ilgrim soil he loved so well, till the heavens
be no more, — he must have known and loved him
less than we have done who can come here quite yet,
to recount the series of his service, to display with
psychological exactness the traits of his nature and
mind, to ponder and speculate on the secrets — on the
marvelous secrets — and source of that vast power,
which wo shall see no more in action, nor aught in
any degree resembling it, among men. Tliese first
moments should be given to grief. It may employ, it
may promote a calmer mood, to construct a more
elaborate and less unworthy memorial.

For the purposes of this moment and place, indeed,
no more is needed. What is there for this Court or
for this Bar to learn from me, here and now, of him?
The year and the day of his birth ; that birthplace on
the frontier, yet bleak and waste ; the well, of which
his childhood drank, dug by that father of whom he
has said, that " Through the fire and blood of seven
years of revolutionary war he shrank from no danger,
no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and to raise
his children to a condition better than his own ; " the
elm-tree that father planted, fallen now, as father and

APPENDIX.

435

son have fallen ; that training of the giant infancy on
catechism and Bible, and Watts'y version of the Tsalins,
and the traditions of Plymouth, and Fort William
Henry, and the Revolution, and the age of Washing-
ton and Franklin, on the banks of the Merrimack,
flowing sometimes in flood and anger from its secret
springs in the crystal hills ; the two district school-
masters, Chase and Tappan ; the village library ; the
dawning of the love and ambition of letters ; the few
months at Exeter and Boscawen ; the life of college ;
the probationary season of school-teaching ; the clerk-
ship in the Fryebui-g Registry of Deeds ; his admis-
sion to the bar, presided over by judges like Smith,
illustrated by practicers such as Mason, where, by the
studies, in the contentions of nine years, he laid the
foundation of the professional mind ; his irresistible
attraction to public life ; the oration on commerce ;
the Rockingham resolutions ; his first term of four
years' service in Congress, when, by one bound, he
sprang to his place by the side of the foremost of the
rising American statesmen ; his removal to this State ;
and then the double and parallel current in which his
life, studies, thoughts, cares have since flowed, bearing
him to the leadership of the bar by universal acclaim,
bearing him to the leadership of pul)lic life, — last of
that surpassing triumvirate, shall we say the greatest,
the most widely known and admired ? — all these
things, to their minutest details, are known and re-
hearsed familiarly. Happier than the younger Pliny,
happier than Cicero, he has found his historian, un-
solicited, in his lifetime, and his countrymen have him
all by heart I

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

i MP.

1.0

I.I

U; 128
US .

IIM
M

1.8

1.25 1.4

11^

■• 6" —

►

c>m,- .>.

Photogr^hic

Sciences

Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4S03

43G

APPENDIX.

There is, then, nothing to tell you, — nothing to
bring to mind. And then, if I may borrow the lan-
guage of one of his historians and friends, — one of
those through whose beautiful pathos the common
sorrow uttered Itself yesterday, in Faneuil Hall, — "I
dare not come here and dismiss in a few summary
paragraphs the character of one who has filleu such a
space in the history, one who holds such a place in
the heart, of his country. It would be a disrespectful
familiarity to a man of his lofty spirit, his great soul,
his rich endowments, his long and honorable life, to
endeavor thus to weigh and estimate them," — a half-
hour of words, a handful of earth, for fifty years of
great deeds, on high places !

But, although the time does not require anything
elaborated and adequate, — forbids it, rather, — some
broken sentences of veneration and love may be in-
dulged to the soiTOW which oj)presses us.

There presents itself, on the first and to any obser-
vation of Mr. Webster's life and character, a twofold
eminence, — eminence of the very highest rank, — in
a twofold field of intellectual and public display, —
the profession of the law and the profession of states-
manship, — of which it would not be easy to recall
any parallel in the biography of illustrious men.

Without seeking for parallels, and without asserting
that they do not exist, consider that he was, by uni-
versal designation, the leader of the general American
bar ; and that he was, also, by an equally universal
designation, foremost of her statesmen living at his
death ; inferior to not one who has lived and acted

APPENDIX.

437

since the opening of his own public life. Look at
these aspects of his greatness separately, and from op-
posite sides of the surpassing elevation. Consider that
his single career at the bar may seem to have been
enough to employ the largest faculties, without repose,
for a lifetime ; and that, if then and thus the " infin'
itus forcnaium rerum labor " should have conducted
him to a mere professional reward, — a bench of chan-
cery or law, the crown of the first of advocates, juris-
peritorum eloquejitissiinus, — to the pure and mere
honors of a great magistrate, — that that would be as
much as is allotted to the ablest in the distribution of
fame. Even that half, if I may say so, of his illustri-
ous reputation, — how long the labor to win it, how
worthy of all that labor! He was bred first in the
severest school of the common law, in which its doc-
trines were expounded by Smith, and its administra-
tion shaped and directed by Mason, and its foundation
principles, its historical sources and illustrations, its
connection with the parallel series of statutory enact-
ments, its modes of reasoning, and the eviikmce of its
truths, he grasped easily and completely ; and T have
myself heard him say, that for many years, while still
at the bar, he tried more causes, and argued more
questions of fact to the jury than perhaps any other
member of the profession anywhere. I have heard
from others how, even then, he exemplified the same,
direct, clear, and forcible exhibition of proofs, and the
reasonings appropriate to proofs, as well as the same
marvelous power of discerning instantly what we call
the decisive points of the cause in law and fact, by

438

APPENDIX.

which he was later more widely celebrated. This was
the first epoch in his professional training.

With the commencement of his public life, or with
his later removal to this State, began the second epoch
of his professional training, conducting him through
the gi'adation of the national tribunals to the study
and practice of the more flexible, elegant, and scientific
jurisprudence of commerce and of chancery, and to
the grander and less fettered investigations of inter-
national, prize, and constitutional law, and giving him
to breathe the air of a more famous forum, in a more
public presence, with more variety of competition, al-
though he never met abler men, as I have hoard him
say, than some of those who initiated him in the rug-
ged discipline of the courts of New Hampshire ; and
thus, at length, by these studies, these luV)ors, this con-
tention, continued without repose, he came, now many
years ago, to stand omnium aaaensu at the summit of
the American bar.

It is common, and it is easy, in the case of all in
such position, to point out other lawyers, here and
there, as possessing some special qualification or attain-
ment more remarkably, perhaps, because more exclu-
sively, — to say of one that he has more cases in his
recollection at any given moment, or that he was ear-
lier grounded in equity, or has gathered more black
letter or civil law, or knowledge of Spanish or of
Western titles, — and these comparisons were some-
times made with him. But when you sought a coun-
sel of the first rate for the great cause, who would
most surely discern, and most powerfully expound, the

APPENDIX.

439

exact Law, required by the controversy, in season for
use ; wlio coukl most skillfully encounter the opposing
law; under whose powers of analysis, persuasion, and
display, the asserted right would assume the most
probable aspect before the intelligence of the judge ;
who, if the inquiry becams blended with or resolved
into facts, could most completely develop and most
irresistibly expose them ; one " the law's whole thunder
bom to wieUl," — when you sought such a counsel, and
could have the choice, I think the universal })rofession
would have turned to him. And this would bo so in
nearly every description of cause, in any department.
Some able men wieid civil inquiries with a peculiar
ability ; some cruninal. IIow lucidly and how deeply
he elucidated a question of property, you all know.
But then, with what address, feeling, patiios, and pru-
dence he defended, with what dignity and crushing
power, acciisatorio spiritu, he prosecuted tlie aroused of
crime, whom he believed to have been guilty, few have
seen ; but none who have seen can ever forget it.

Some scenes there are, some Alpine eminenees rising
above the high table-land of such a professional life,
to wliich, in the briefest tribute, we should love to fol-
low him. We recall that day, for an instunce, when he
first announced, with decisive display, what manner of
man ho was, to the Supreme Court of the nation. It
was in 1818, and it was in the arcrument of the case
of Dartmouth College. William I'mkney was recruit-
ing his great faculties, and replenishing that reservoir
of professional and elegant acquisition, in Europe.
Samuel Dexter, "the honorable man, and the coun-

440

APPENDIX.

selor, and the eloquent orator," was in his grave. Tlie
boundless old-sehool learning of Luther Miulin ; the sil-
ver voice and infinite analytical ingenuity and resources
of Jones ; the fervid genius of Eniniett pouring itself
along hnmenso ore; the ripe and beautiful culture of
Wirt and Ilopkinson, — the steel point, unseen, nut un-
felt, beneath the foliage ; Harper himself, statesman as
well as lawyer, — these, and such as these, were left of
that noble bar. That day Mr. Webster opened the
cause of Dartmouth College to a tribunal unsurpassed
on earth in all that gives illustration to a bench of law,
not one of whom any longer survives.

One would love to linger on the scene, when, after
a masterly argument of the law, carrying, as wo may
now know, conviction to the general mind of the court,
and vindicating and settling for his lifetime his place
in that foroin, he paused to enter, with an altered feel-
ing, tone, and manner, with these words, on his perora-
tion : " I have brought my Abna Mater to this pres-
ence, that, if she must fall, she may fall in her robes,
and with dignity ; " and then broke forth in that strain
of sublime and pathetic eloquence, of which we know
not much more than that, in its progress, Marshall, —
the intellectual, the self-controlled, the unemotional, —
announced, visibly, the presence of the unaccustomed
enchantment.

Other forensic triumphs crowd on us, in other com-
petition, with other issues. But I must commit them
to the historian of constitutional jurisprudence.

And now, if this transcendent professional reputa-
tion were all of Mr. Webster, it might be practicable.

APPENDIX.

441

though not easy, to find its piinillel elsewhere in our
own, or in Europeiin or chissical biograpliy.

lUit, when you consider that, siile by side with this,
there was growing up that other reputation, — that of
the first American statesman ; that, for thirty-three
years, and those embracing his most Herculean works
at the bar, he was engaged as a member of either
House, or in the highest of the executive de[)artnients,
in the cunduct of the largest national atVairs, in the
treatment of the largest national questions, in debate
with the highest abilities of American public life, con-
ducting iliplomatic intercourse in delicate relatiuus with
all maimer of foreign powers, investigating whole classes
of truths, totally unlike the truths of the law, and rest-
ing on principles totally distinct, — and that here, too,
lie was wise, safe, controlling, trusti'd, the foremost
man ; that Europe had come- to see in his life a guar-
anty for justice, for peace, for the best hopes of civil-
ization, and America to feel surer of her glory and her
safety as his great arm enfolded her, — you see Iiow
rare, how solitary, almost, was the actual greatness !
Who, anywhere, has won, as he had, the double fame,
and worn the double wreath of Murray and Chatham,
of Dunning and Fox, of Erskine and Pitt, of William
Pinkney and Ivufus King, in one blended and tran-
scendent superiority ?

I cannot attemi)t to grasp and sum u[) the aggre-
gate of the service of his public life at such a moment
as this ; and it is needless. That life comprised a
term of more than thirty-three years. It produced a
body of performance, of which I may say, generally,

442

APPENDIX.

it was all which the fiist abilities of the country and
time, employed with unexampled toil, stimulated by
the noblest })atriotism, in the higliest places of the
state, in the fear of God, in the presence of nations,
could possibly compass.

lie came into Congress after the war of 1812 had
begun ; and, though probably deeming it unnecessai'y,
according to the highest standards of public necessity,
in his private character, and objecting, in his public
character, to some of the details of the policy by which
it was prosecuted, and standing by party ties in gen-
eral opposition to the administration, he never breathed
a sentiment calculated to depress the tone of the public
mind, to aid or comfort the enemy, to check or chill
the stirrings of that new, passionate, unquenchable spirit
of nationality, which then was revealed, or kindled to
burn till we go down to the tombs of states.

With the peace of 1815 his more cherished public
labors began ; and thenceforward he devoted himself
— the ardor of his civil youth, the energies of his
maturest manhood, the autumnal wisdom of the ri-
pened year — to the offices of legislation and diplo-
macy; of preserving the peace, keeping the honor,
establishing the boundaries, and vindicating the neutral
rights of his country ; restoring a sound currency, and
laying its foundation sure and deep ; in upholding
public ci'edit ; in promoting foreign commerce and do-
mestic industry ; in developing our uncounted material
resources, — giving the lake and the river to trade, —
and vindicating and interpreting the Constitution and
the law. On all these subjects, — on all measures

APPENDIX.

443

practically in any dogn'o afTocting thorn, — lie lias in-
scribi'd \m opinions and left tlici traces of his hand.
Everywhere the philosophical and patriot statesman
and thinker will find that ho has been before him,
lighting the way, sounding the abyss. His weighty
language, his sagacious warnings, his great maxims of
empire will be raised to view, and live to be deci-
phered when the final catastrophe shall lift the granite
foundation in fragments from its bed.

In this connection, I cannot but remark to how ex-
traordinary an extent had Mr. Webster, by his acts,
words, thoughts, or the events of his life, associated
himself forever in the memory of all of us with every
historical incident, or, at least, with every historical
epoch, with every policy, with every glory, with every
great name and fundamental institutio' and grand or
beautiful image, which are peculiarly and properly
American. Look backwards to the planting of Plym-
outh and Jamestown ; to the various scenes of colo-
nial life in peace and war ; to the opening and march
and close of the revolutionary drama ; to the ag(j of
the Constitution ; to Washington and Franklin and
Adams and Jefferson ; to the whole train of causes,
from the Reformation downwards, which prepared us
to be republicans ; to that other train of causes which
led us to be unionists, — ^ook round on field, work-
shop, and deck, and hear the music of labor rewarded,
fed, and protected ; look on the bright sisterhood of
the States, each singing as a seraph in her motion,
yet blending in a common harmony, — and there is
nothing which does not bring him by some tie to the

444

APrEXDIX:

li;

nu'inory of America. Wo Keem to see Iii.s form and
lu'ar Ills dtep, {^ravo spcc^ch every wlnrc. IJy some
felicity of liis jxtsoiuiI life ; by soiue wise, deep, or
beautiful word, spoken or nritten ; by some service of
his own, or some comnienioration of the services of
others, it has come to pass that " our {granite hills,
our inland seas, and prairies, and fresh, unbounded?
niagiiilieent wiklerness," our encircling ocean, the Kock
of the Pilgrims, our new-born sister of the Pacific, our
popular aHsemblies, our free schools, all our cherished
doctrines of education, and of the inlluence of religion,
and material policy, and the law, and the Constitution,
give us back his name. What American landsca[>e
will you look on, what subject of American interest
will you study, what source of hope or of anxiety, as
an American, will you acknowledge, that does not re-
call him ?

I shall not venture, in this rapid and gcMieral recol-
lection of Mr. Webster, to attempt to analyze that intel-
lectual power which all admit to have been so extraor-
dinary, or to compa'e or contrast it with the mental
greatness of others, in variety or degree, of the living
or the dead ; or even to attempt to appreciate, exactly,
and in reference to canons of art, his single attribute of
eloquence. Consider, however, the remarkable phenom-
enon of excellence in three unkindred, one might have
thought, incompatible forms of public speech, — that of
the forum, with its double audience of bench and jury,
of the halls of legislation, and of the most thronged
and tumultuous assemblies of the people.

Consider, further, that this multiform eloquence, ex-

APPENDIX.

445

actly as his words fell, bocamo at once so Tniicli accos-
sion to permanent literature, in tlie strictest sense,
solitl, attractive, and rich, and ask how ofKMi in the
history of piihUc life audi a thing lias been extiniplidod.
Recall what pervaded all these forms of display, and
every elTort in every form, — that union of naked intel-
lect, in its largest measure, which penetrates to the
exact truth of the matter in hand, by intuition or by
inference, ami discerns everything which may make it
intelligible, probable, or credible to another, with an
emotionid iind moral nature profound, passionate, and
readv to kindle, and with an iniHijination enough to
supi>ly a hundred-fold more of illustration and ag-
grandizement thiin his taste suffered him to accept ;
that union of greatness of soul witii depth of heart,
which made his speaking alm)st more an exhibition of
character than of mere genius ; the style, not merely
pure, clear Saxon, but so constructed, so numerous as
far as becomes prose, so foicible, so abounding in un-
labored felicities ; the words so choice ; the epithet so
pictured ; the matter absolute trutli, or the most exact
and specious resemblance the human wit can devise ;
the treatment of the subject, if you have regard to
the kind of truth he had to handle, — political, ethical,
legal, — as deep, as complete as Paley's, or Locke's,
or Sutler's, or Alexander Hamilton's, of their subjects ;
yet that dei)th and that completeness of sense, made
transparent as through crystal waters, all embodied in
harmonious or well-composed periods, raised on winged
language, vivified, fused, and poured along in a tide of
emotion, fervid, and iuciipable to be withstood ; recall

440

APPENDIX.

the form, tlio eyo, the brow, the tone of voice, the
presence of the intellectual king of men, — recall him
thus, and, in the language of Mr. Justice Story, com-
memorating Samuel Dexter, we may well " rejoice that
we liavo lived in the same age, that we have listened
to his eloquence, and been instructed by his wisdom."

I cannot leave the subject of his eloquence without
returning to a thought I have advanced already. All
that he has left, or the larger portion of all, is the
record of spoken words. His works, as already col-
lected, extend to many volumes, — a library of reason
and eloquence, as Gibbon has said of Cicero's, — but
they are volumes of speeches only, or maiiily; and yet
who does not rank him as a grc;u American author?
an author as truly expounding, and as characteristically
exemplifying, in a pure, genuine, and harmonious Eng-
lish style, the mind, thought, point of view of objects,
and essential nationality of his country as any other of
our authors, professedly so denominated? Against the
maxim of Mr. Fox, his speeches read well, and yet
were good speeches — great speeches — in the delivery.
For 80 grave were they, so thoughtful and true, so
much the eloquence of reason at last, so strikingly al-
ways they contrived to link the immediate topic with
other and broader principles, ascending easily to widest
generalizations, so happy was the reconciliation of the
qualities which engage the attention of hearers, yet re-
ward the perusal of students, so critically did they
keep the right side of the line which parts eloquence
from rhetoric, and so far do they rise above the penury
of mere debate, that the general reason of the country

APPESDIX.

447

lias enslirinetl tliom iit once, and forever, among our
cliissics.

It is a common lu'liof that Mr. Wi'l).stt»r wns a vari-
ous reader; antl I think it is true, even to a greater
degree than lias been believed. In his profession of
politics, nothing, I think, worthy of attention had es-
caped him ; nothing of the ancient or modern pru-
dence; nothing which (rreek or lioman or lunopean
apt' ilation in that walk had explored, or (ireek or Uo-
num or European or universal history or public biogra-
phy ''xempl'ilod. I shall not soon forget with what
admiration he s[)oke, at an interview to which he admit-
ted lae, while in the Law School at Cambridge, of the
politics and ethics of Aristotle, and of the mighty mind
which, as he said, seemed to have " thought through "
so many of the great problems which form the dis-
cipline of social man. American history and American
political literature he had by heart, — the long series
of influences which trained us for representative and
free government; that other series of influences which
moulded us into a united government; the colonial era;
the age of controversy before tlie revolnfion ; every
scene and every person in that great tragic action ;
every question which has successively engaged our pf>li-
tics, and every name which has fig'ired in them, — the
whole stream of our time was open, clear, and present
ever to his eye.

Beyond his profession of politics, so to call it, he
had been a diligent and choice reader, as his extraor-
dinary style in part reveals ; and I think the love of
reading would have gone with him to a later and riper

448

APPENDIX.

ago, if to sucli an age it had been the will of God to
preserve liim. This is no place or time to appreciate
this branch of his acquisitions ; but there is an interest
inexpressible in knowing who were any of the chosen
from among the great dead in the library of such a man.
Others may correct me, but I should say of that interior
and narrower circle were Cicero, Virgil, Shakespeare,
— wL^ra he knew as familiarly as the Constitution, —
Bacon, Milton, Burke, Johnson, — to whom I hope it
is not pedantic nor fanciful to say, I often thought his
nature presented some resemblance ; the same abun-
dance of the general propositions, required for explain-
ing a difficulty and refuting a sophism, copiously and
promptly occurring to him ; the same kindness of heart
and wealth of sensibility, under a manner, of course,
more courteous and gracious, yet more sovereign ; the
same sufficient, yet not predominant, imagination, stoop-
ing ever to truth, and giving affluence, vivacity, and
attraction to a powerful, correct, and weighty style of
prose.

I cannot leave this life and chai'actcr without select-
ing and dwelling a moment on one or two of his
traits, or virtues, or felicities, a little longer. There
is a collective impression made by the whole of an
eminent person's life, beyond and other than, and apart
from, that which the mere general biographer would
afford the means of explaining. There is an influence
of a great man derived from things indescribable,
almost, or incapable of enumeration, or singly insuf-
ficient to account for it, but through which his spirit
transpires, and his individuality goes forth on the con-

APPENDIX.

449

temporary generation. And tlius, I slionld say, one
grand tendency of his life and cliaractor was to elevate
the whole tone of the public mind. He did this, in-
deed, not merely by example. He did it by dealing,
as he thought, truly and in manly fashion, with that
public mmd. He evinced his love of the people, not
so much by honeyed phrases as by good counsels and
useful service, vera pro gratis. He showed how he ap-
preciated them by submitting sound arguments to their
understandings, and right motivs to their free will. Ho
came before them, less with flattery than with instruc-
tion ; less with a vocabulary larded with the words ^i,^-
wia^iVy and p/illanthrop,/, am] progress and brotherJioo,!,
than with a scheme of politics, an educational, social,'
and governmental system, which would have made them
prosperous, happy, and great.

What the greatest of the Greek historians said of
Pericles, we all feel might be said of him,— "He did
not so much follow as lead the people, because he
framed not his words to please them, like one who is
gaming power by unworthy means, but was able and
dared, on the strength of his high character, even to
brave their anger by contradicting their will."

I should indicate it, as anotlun- inlluence of his life,
acts, and opiHons, that it was, in an extraordinary
degree, unifor.Mly and liberally conservative. He saw
with vision as of a prophet, that if our system of united
government can be maintained till a nationality shall
be generated, of due intensity and due comprehension,
a glory indeed millennial, a progress without end, a
triumph of humanity hitherto unseen, were ours ; and,
*\9

450

APPENDIX.

therefore, he addressed himself to maintain that united
government.

Standing on the Kock of Plymouth, he bade distant
generations hail, and saw them rising, "demanding life,
impatient for the skies," from what then were " fresh,
unbounded, magnificent wildernesses ; " from the shore
of the great, tranquil sea, not yet become ours. But
observe to what he welcomes them ; by what he would
bless tliem. " It is to good government." It is to
*' treasures of science and delights of learning." It is
to the " sweets of domestic life, the immeasurable good
of rational existence, the immortal hopes of Christian-
ity, the liglit of everlasting truth."

It will be happy, if the wisdom and temper of his ad-
ministration of our foreign atTairs shall preside in the
time which is at hand. Sobered, instructed by the ex-
amples and warnings of all the past, he yet gathered,
from the study and comparison of all the eras, that
there is a silent progress of the race, — without pause,
without haste, without return, — to which the counsel-
ings of history are to be accommodated by a wise phi-
losophy. More than, or as much as, that of any of our
public characters, his statesmanship was one wliich rec-
ognized a Europe, an old world, but yet grasped the
capital idea of the American position, and deduced from
it the whole fashion and color of its policy ; which dis-
cerned that we are to play a high part in human
affairs, but discerned, also, what part it is, — peculiar,
distant, distinct, and grand as our hemisphere ; an in-
fluence, not a contact, — the stnge, the drama, the ca-
tastrophe, all but the audience, all our own, — and if

APPENDIX.

451

ever he felt himself at a loss, he consultetl, reverently,
the genius of Washington.

In bringing these memories to a conclusion, —for I
omit many things because I dare not trust mvself to
speak of them, -I shall not be misunclerstood,''or give
offense, if 1 hope tha'. one other trait in his public
character, one doctrine, ratlier, of his political creed,
may be remembered and be appreciated. It is one of
the two fundamental precepts in which Plato, as ex-
pounded by the great master of Latin eloquence and
reason and morals, comprehends the duty of tliose who
share in tlie conduct of the State, _ '' ut qucecunque
agunt, totum corpus reipuhlmv curmt, nediirn partem
allquam tuentur, rellquas deserant ; " that they comprise
in their care the Avhole body of the Kepublic, nor keep
one part and desert another. He gives the reason,—
one reason,— of the precept, ^^qui autem parti civium
consulmit, partem neglirjunt, rem pernidoslssimam in
civitatcm inducunt, seditionem atque discordiam:' The
patriotism which embraces less than the whole induces
sedition and discord, the last evil of the state.

How profoundly he had comprehended this truth ;
with what persistency, with what passion, from the
first hour he became a public man to tlie last beat of
the great heart, he cherished it; how little he ac-
counted the good, the praise, the blame of this locality
or that, in comparison of the larger good and the
general and thoughtful approval of his own, and our,
whole Americi^ — she this day feels and announces.
Wheresoever a drop of her blood flows in the veins
of men, this trait is felt and appreciated. The hunter

452

APPENDIX.

beyond Superior ; the fislierraaii on the deck of the
nigh night-foundered skiff; the sailor on the uttermost
sea, — will feel, as he hears these tidings, that the
protection of a sleepless, all-embracing, parental care
is withdrawn from him for a space, and that his path-
way henceforward is more solitary and less safe than
before.

But I cainiot pursue these thoughts. Among the
eulogists who have just uttered the eloquent sorrow of
England at the death of the great Duke, one has em-
ployed an image and an idea which 1 venture to
modify and ap^tropriate.

" The Northmen's image of death is finer than that
of other climes ; no skeleton, but a gigantic figure that
envelops men within the massive folds of its dark gar-
ment." Webster seems so enshrouded from us, as the
last of the mighty three, themselves following a mighty
series, — the greatest closing the procession. The robe
draws round him, and the era is past.

Yet how much there is which that all-ample fold
shall not hide, — the recorded wisdom, the great ex-
ample, the assured immortality.

They spoak of monuments !

" Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven ;
No pyramids set off his memories
But the eternal substance of his greatness;
To which I leave him."

INDEX.

AniNGKK, Lord. See Scarlett, Sir
James.

Adams, Charles Francis, 254, 391, 395.

Adams, Lhonezer, jirofessor at i)art-
mouili, -JiT, ;J4.i, .JO:i, ;j,jy.

Adams. Jcilin, defense of British sol-
diers, 13.

Adams, .Jdlm Quiiicy, his mental cul-
ture, 70; classilieation of words used
by, 108; "the last of the Ad-
amses," i254.

Adams, liev. Dr., Choato's pastor, 215,
■'i-2il; on Choate's treatment ,>( others,

] Ashburton, Lord, action in the Caro-
line affair, IS.J; with WVhster, nego-
tiates tlie (ireyon treaty, 185; ap-
pearance, 423.
Ashburton treaty, 185, 407, 415, 421.

225; consurcd for writing,' "The
Suuthside View," .329; commended
for preaching the gospel, 3.i(».
Adjectives, value i.f, learned by study-
ing botany, 98; did not worry
Choate, 401.
Advocate, duty and privilege of, 20;

the jury, described, 49.
"Age of the Pilgrims," the, 229-231.
Allen, Cliarles, 23i|, 391.
America, advantages of life in, con-
trasted with those of Europe, 140
141.
Andrew, John A., 409.
Anglo-Saxon langiuige, not adapted to
higher forms of expression, 80; prob-
able effect of its exclusive use, 88;
English reduced to, an unspeakable
calamity, 95; Anglo-Saxon words
used by distinguished scholars, 101
107-111.
Appleton, William, 230.
Argyll, Duke of, suggestion as to hu-
man action, 395, 396.

Bacon, Lord, Ben Jonson's tribute to,
300.
i Bancroft, George, 409.
Banks, X. I'., 230.
Bartlett, Sidney, 236.
Bates, Isaac C., 277.
i Bell, .Joseph M., enters the arinv, 202;
I death, 203.
Benjamin, Park, 109.
Benton, Thomas IE, denounces Web-
ster's course in the McLeod case,
174.
Bible, importance of study of, 91; in

schools, 214.
Biogra()liy, uses of, 220.
Blair, Hugh, respectable in his stvle,
223.

Blowers, Sampson S., assists in the de-
fense of British soldiers, 13.
Boundary di-^putu between Rfassachu-

setts anil Kliode Island, 50, 410, 424.
Boutwell, (Jeorgc S., 230.
Boyden, Dr., letter from, 307-311; in

college with Choate, 307; a prophecy

and its fuliillment, 309; estimate of

Choate, 311.
Briggs, (Jeorge N., 230.
Brougham, Lord, revision of speech in

the Queen's case, 90; classineafion

of words used by, 110; Macaulay's

spite for, 219.

454

INDEX,

Brown, Ri'V. Friinci", prosidcnt of

Dartiniiiiili ('ollci;i', 'J-IO, ii.")?.
Br«wn, I'idlisM.r, ao, 5;i, 54, l.j8, 192,

2(14, 210, 220, 241.
Bialuinan, Juiiies, coinpliiiK'Hts Clioate

54, 177; part in the McLeod dubati',

174.
Biinyan, Jdlin, t'loqiu'iicp of, 70; not a

classical xlioiar, 7!t; an exceptional

writer of English, SO.
Burke, Kdniiind, and Erkskino, 2S;

cl.ussilieatlon of words used by. 111;

stylo in speakin;,', 121, 122; CLoate's

o]iinion of, 428.
Burlini,'ani(', Anson, 236.
Burns, Koburt, his father's advice,

2G4.
Bush, (Jcorfic, 34G.
Butler, Hen janiin !•"., 23G.
Butlur, Charles, 22:i.
Byron, Lord, l'a>iidious taste of, 07.

Calhoun, John C, surprise at Choate's
eloquence, 200.

Canipliell, Lord John, classification of
words u<ed liy, 1 11.

Carlyle, Thomas, a detractor of Scott's
novels, 142.

Caroline, affair of the, 173-176, 179,
182-18 1.

Carpenter, Matt. IL, as to Choate's ef-
forts to perfect his memory, 64 ;
letter from, 293-298: studies law
with Cho.'ite, 293; Choato the supe-
rior of \Vel>>ter. 29."); anecdotes, 29.j-
298.

Catron, Judire, quoted, 54, 420.

Chapman, (^hief Justice, on Banyan's
olo(|ucnce, 70.

Character, formation of, 73.

Charity, a privileged subject, 295.

Chatham, Lord, a clew to his mental
tasks, 58 ; "a great and celebrated
name," 413.

Child, Linus, i91.

Choate, David, father of Rufus, 2.

Choate, David, 2; letters to, 241-252.

Choate, Francis, 1.

" Choate Island," liufus Choate's birth-
place, 238.

Choate, Rufus, ancestry. 1; birth, 2;
boyiiood, 2; coll.-e life, 3, 241-252,
2(;2-2il(;, 307, 30S, :!ll-34il, 351-360;
a law student, 3, 3ii0; admitted to
practice, 3; liegins practice at Dan-
vers, 4; marria;;e, 4: moves to .Salem,
4; menilier of li^'i>ialure and state
Senator, 4; elected to Coni;ress, 4;
settles in Boston, 4; early compari-
son with Webster, 5: practice in
criminal cases, 7, 8: lefj;al enthusi-
asm, 9, 26; habits of study, 2!*;
power of memory, 30-32: keen pen-
etration, 33-38; interviewiu!,' a jury-
man, 38; number of his art;uments,
42; nuinnerof examininf^ witnesses,
43, 44, 47; unjust criticisms, 47, 252;
a man of ideas, 51 ; a most relentless
inquisitor after facts, 52; early ef-
forts at the bar, 53; ii master of the
patlii'tic, 53: lirst sjH'ech in Congress,
54; effect of his patlin>^, 57; forensic
rhetoric his j^reat ^tudy, 5M ; habits
of readiufT, 03, 64; efl'orts to improve
his memory, 64; faith in study, 05;
an untiring worker, 65; discovers an
article by Do (Juincey, 66; sjiecial
studies, 08; on improvement, 0:i-71;
advice to a student, 71, 72; on the
formation fif charactir, 73-78; clas-
sical studies, 79; solicitude as to
choice and use of words, 96; study
of words, 97-99; vocabulary, 100-
106, 378, 370; classilication of words
usedb; , 102, 103; variations of style,
112; long sentences, 113, 367, effects
of his eloquence, 115, 231; "(low-
ers of speech," 115; indisposition to
revise his arj^uments, 118, 119, 259;
loufT ar^'umonts, 124; a trying case,
125-127; style in sjieakin;;, and its
effect, 128-130; travels in Kurope —
extracts from his journal, 130-139;
taste for music, 141; defends Scott
and his novels, 142; on Kossuth,
146-149; euloLcy of Webster, 150-
166; preparation for service in Con-
gress, 157; lost speeches, 158; rank
as a statesman, 15!i; ojiposes annex-
aliuu of Texas, 160, 4U8; advocates

IXDKX.

4G5

-71;
the

n jirotective tariff, liil-172; drffiids
W(l)>lii*s course in tiic Mi'l.cdd case,
175-177; Uiuliaiian'-; iiniiiiliiiu'nt,
177; siipport.s tiic Ki'iikmIimIiIi' .Iiis-
ticcliill, 184 ; urines tlie coulinnatioii ,
of l\w Asliliiirton treaty, 18'), 407; '
favorsa iiatimuil liank, ISo-l'jI; liis
sjioecli iiiterniptoil liy Mr. Clay,
l'J2; liis ri'iilies, l!tj; cliaraeter (if
his argiiinciit, l'J3; relin's Inmi the
Senate, !',)(!; returns tu the imifcs-
sion, liMi; ileelinesa i>r(ife-<>(ir>iii|) in
Caniliriiiire Law SilionI, HiG; de- '
dines jiulicial iionurs, I'.iii, ;i(i',i, U\> ; ,
ohjcctions to his aeeeptanee of ju-
dicial olliee, ]'.t7, JU'J ; character as
a lawyer, ]'.i8; his last ca>e, l!l!»;
death, •2m); l.ive of tlie I'nion, '2110;
feard a civil war, 201; reineseiittd
in the war of the Uriiellion. 202, 2o:!:
contrasted with Macaulay, 204; use
of foreign terms, 211, 212; niethoils
of work,2i:i; on the llilile in seiupols,
214; a nioriiini;'s lessim, 21."); tem-
per in debate, 217, 21'.': as a critic,
222,22:!; trealmeiit of others, 22.'>,
2!t.'!. 2!t4; oration, "The A'^c «i the
riljirims,'' 221) -2.il; in Massachu-
setts Convention to revise the (.'(insti-
tution, 23."); " l>id you lind anychi>l-
crn there V " 2.'i8; early letters, 241-
2."iO: a teacher at Washinuton, 24'J ;
liandwritinjr, 251, 2.r2, .')25, :i!iy; un-
scllishness, 25.'{ ; ari^uiiient in the '
Methodist Church case, 257-25'J;
speech in the Si'iiate, 200 ; Calhoun's
surprise at his eloiiiieiice, 2ilO : a col-
leirc joke, 2(!2; a colleire speech, 2():i-
21)0; treatment of a bad witness, 207;
estimate of liiiman f^lory. 2(J!I; oufrht
to have been a (ireek professor, 277;
a scholar by instinct, 280; as a theo-
logian, 231; relish for study, 281,
282; peculiarities of his pMiius, 282,
28.3; love for the law, 284-280; d •-
votion to his clients, 287, 288, 322,
398; anecdotes, 287, 288; entliusi-
nsm, 289, 2!i(); charity, 204 ; awe of ;
Webster, 2it5, iileasai'itries, 2',)0-2'J8,
314-310; mastery over the melaii- i

choly, 208: influence onynniif; men,
300, .fOl, ;!0:i; not a parly l.jider,
311: unlike other men, :ill : persdual
ap|iearance, ;ii:i, ;i70v37l; in social
intercourse, 317; nuinnerof ndtlrcss-
iiii^ a jury, 317, 318; schnlarship,
3211. .iL'l; methods of practice, .•i22-
■'i25 ; the students' seriiiade, 327,
328; o|.inion of Chillin^worth. 328;
niidnij;ht recreation, 320; " The Gos-
pel .tccordin^' to Choato," 330; at
Webster's funeral, 310; respect of
Kniclish lawyers for, .'i:i2; anecdotes,
332-;i;;8; his libr.iry, :;:i4, 330; the
ileal seh(dar, ;;44; an early riser,
348; jiolitieal principles, .'KiO, 351;
views as toabolitiiiii of shivery, 351 ;
in s< hiilarship, himself his (mly par-
allel, 354; his conversation, 30:i, ;i73;
love of epithets, 304; use of adjec-
tives, 305, .301!, 401; developiiuiit of
his armimeiit, :!07; power over .i jnrv,
308; manner at the bar, 3ti0, 380; a
nia'iter of idose lo^'ical rt'a-oiiin^',
370; abstracted bearing;, .'171; criti-
cisms (if cout'iiqioraries, 1177 ; a be-
liever in Christ ianily, .'!81; Webster's
tribute to his style, ;i80 ; cainpai;;ii
speech at Hunker Hill in 1840, ;i87;
speech at Concord in 1844, 388; lec-
ture on the Sea, 380; plea for town
pivernmenis, ;i80, :i!lO; in the Whi,^'
State Convention in 1847, .'iOO, 30! ;
supports comjironiise :ueasures of
18.50, .'!'J5; opium vs. electricity, 3!I7;
aneeddtes, .■5!i8-4n5; in the Wlii;;
National Convention of 18."i2, 400;
case of the slave child Med, 400,
407; letters to Sumner, 414-430; re-
marks before the Circuit Court on
death of Webster, 43.1-452.

Ciioate, liufus, .Ir., in the war of the
Ueb(lli(in, 202; death, 203.

Clioate, Thomas, 1.

Choate, Washini,'ton, 340,

Choate, William, 2.

Cicero, the defense of criminals, 10;
the orator's knowled^'e, CI; a great
master of speech, 08 ; the orator's
style, 'JO; Clioate's opinion of, 330.

456

INDEX.

Classical study, cfTect of, 93.
Cliissies, study of, 7U-'J5; iiei'cs-iity of,

!t2.
Clay, Henry, I'fTorts to cultivate a iiai)it

of speaiiin;,', 5'J: opposes auiR'xatiou

of Ti'xaf, liid; iutciTujits Mr. Clioate,

l'J-2; iiis apol„^'y, VM.
Congress, a siiort term in, a satrilicc,

im.

Conscience and Cotton Whigs, 3!)0, 391.

Constitution of the I'uited States, con-
tested powers of, 188.

Counsel necessary in criminal cases, 11.

Court Stre(;t, No. 4, 40!).

Cowley and Jlilton, ■'!;!.").

Creole', The, ca-e of, 419.

Criminals, rights of, 21, 22.

Croker, J. W., and Maeaulay, 218.

Crosl)y, Nathan, letter frnni, .'UO-'J.')! ;
in college wiih (,'hoate, 341; an early
interview, 348.

Crowinshield, F. 15., 230.

Curtis, Benjamin II., Judge of Massa-
chusetts Suiirenie Court, 197; pre-
siiles at a conipromiso meeting in
18'.0, ;194.

Cushiiig, Caleb, classification of words
used hy, 109; speech in the McLeod
case, ISO.

Gushing, Luther S., 409.

Dana, Richard II., Jr., on the source
of Choate's power, 41; in Massachu-
setts Convention, 230.

Dartmouth College, and the legislative
controversy, 353; deposition of Pres-
ident Wheelock, 357 ; the new presi-
dent, 357; attack on the societies'
libraries, 358 ; rejjulse, 358 ; the
" university" a pulitical fraud, 358;
its collai)se, 358; pursuit of knowl-
edge under diflicultics, 359; loyalty
of the students, 359.

Dawes, Henry L., 230.

De Quincey, Thomas, denies the author-
ship of an ossaj', GO; afterwards finds
the manuscrint, GO.

Derivatives, classes of, 102, 103.

Disraeli, licnjamin, remark on Macau-
lay's temper, 218.

Dexter, Franklin, urges Choato to de-
fend I'rofessor Webster, Hi.

Kdinunds, John W., comment on the
McLeod case, 181, 182.

Electricity, uses and ])ossibiIitics of,
384, 385; the sources of bodily move-
ment, 390; r.i. opium, 397.

Elliot, Samuel A., 2:i(i.

Elotiuence, JIackintosh's definition of,
121.

Emerson, R. W., analysis of "Ilinry
VIII.," 81; Mimtaigiie's choice of
words, 97.

Eminent men niisuiiderstodd, 44.

English reduced to Saxon a calamity,
95.

Erskinc, Lord, on the duty of the ad-
vocate, 11; defense of Tom Paine, a
(piestion of right, 11; his claim to
remembrance, 11; his note-liook,
28; and Hurke. 28; his style formed
bj' studying Milton and Hurke, 80;
classiliciition of words used by, 111;
length of his s])eeches, 127.

Eur(i|)e, comparative advantages of liv-
ing in, 139, 140.

Evarts, William JI., classification of
Words used by, 109; aneciloteof, 400.

Everett, I'.dward, opinion of Ciioate's
persuasive )i(iwers, 54; classification
of words used by, 108; appointed
minister to England, 415, 417.

Fancher, Enoch L., letter from, 255-
200; engages Choate in the Metho-
dist Church case, 259; asks him to
revise his argument, 259; his reply,
259; opinion of Clioate as a lawyer
and orator, 200.

Faneuil Hall, refused for a Webster
reception, 391; "Faneuil Hall —
Open," 394.

Fields, James T., letter from, 299-300.

Forensic speaker, rule for, 123.

Fox, Mr., British minister, 173; sug-
gests rule of personal immunity in
tiie McLeod case, 174, 175; misin-
formed in regard to the McLeod case,
179.

INDEX.

457

Franklin, Benjamin, a writor of good
Kngii^li, 7'J; his .'■tylo forniwl by a
study of " The Spti-tator," 80.

Froude, .lames Anthony, cla.ssilication
of words ii>cd Ijv, llU.

(leniiis is a .u'ciiins for indnstry, :i8:{.
Gilii'lt, EdwanI li., an<i(loti> hy, :vi\~

;i;JD.
Gladstone, \\. V.., ila>.-ili( ation of

words used hy, 111; ast-ribis a dual

oriyin to the Urreks, 8^].
Gray, John C, '->:J0.
Greek art, (Ievi'lo|iniiiit of, 83.
Greek lantfuaici', a <(iiii|iosite Ian,!iuai;e,

84; intolerant of foreign words, 84;

development of, 84; ii>e of Greek

words by distinguished authors, lu8.
Greeks, aneient, studied no language

but their own, 8-J : of dual origin, 8:J;

primitive eondilion of the arts

among, 83.
Greeley, Iloraee. appciirame and

speeeli at Coneord in 1844, .'iSS.
Greene, General Nalhanael, quoted,

20.5.

Hamilton, Andrew, defense of Zenger,
14.

Hardin, Benjamin, effect of Choatc'.'!
eloquence, TA.

Harrison, I'resident, 185.

Harvey, Peter, '-VM.

Hellenic race, 8^!.

Henry, Patrick, stmly of oratory, .")8.

Herbert, George, wnrih of a good life,
204.

Hillard, George S.. 2:30, .^0•3. 400, 410.

Hitchcock, j.'ev. Uoswell D.. impressions
of Choate, 120, LW.

Holland, Lady, invites Macaulay to
visit Holland House, 220; Macau-
lay's criticism ot, 221.

Holland, Lord, 221.

speaker, 01; what is a perfect style,

"JO.
Johnson, Ueverdy, classiliealion of

words used by, 109.
Jollxm, Bell, (piuted, 80, .'lO.j.
Juris|)iudeiU(', the.Iu^tinian delinilion,

;jo.

Kellogg, Brainerd, classification of
word- ii-ed by leading authors, 10;i,
105, 108-111."

Knight, Charles, opinion of Shake-
speare's learning, 80.

Kossuth, Loui.-, visit to .Vmerica, 140;
elo(|iieiice, 140-141); the sympathy
he awakeiieil, 118, 14 J,

Lannirtiue's choice of authors, 01.

Latin language, uni\i'rsality of, 87;
variety and fertility of, 87; its use
in the study (r| nuidern languages,
U'i; use of Latin words by leading
aiitlKus, l(t.S-lll.

Law, the study (d', 2.J ; {."h(iate'.s lovo
for, 284, 28."), .•i04 ; the expres-ioii of
the highest justi<e u{ the Slate, 284;
the connecting link, 284; the llnuiun
law, 285 ; its a|iplic.ition, 280; its
miije»ty, 287 : Iloolier's metaphor,
3(M.

Lawrence. .Abbott, minister to F.ng-
land, ;j-)2; in Whig State Conven-
tion, .7.11.

Learned men, the hope iuid strength of
the nation, 205.

Lord, Judge, conversation on Profes-
sor U'ebster's case, 17; in Massa-
chusetts Convention. 2.'i0.

Loring, Charles G., 210.

Loring, Edward G., 400.

Macaiilay, Lord, secures system of
English education for India, 80, 00;
on the structure of Milton's lines,
97; classitication of word.s used by,
110; contrasted with Choate, 204;
his self-esteem, 205, 200; his strong-
est claim to remembrance, 200; a
short practice at the bar, 207; a flow
Johnson, Dr., criticism of a fine ; writer, 210; protests agaiiLst the use

India, success of English schools in,
89; imi>ortaiice of Macanlay's serv-
ice for, 00.

4GS

INDEX.

(pf f(irci;jn tiTius, 211; on tlip study
iif till! l>il)li', 214; want nf revcreiicf,
21ti ; and tlie Methodist prfaihcr,
217; tcni|HT, -'lit, •JJO; visits td lid-
land llciiM'. --'jn, •_>;;!; want of fnl-
iii;; for otlaTs, -I-IX. "iJS; his rcadin:;,
2;22; a severe critic, 22-1; sclf-landa-
tii'ns, 221 ; fniitnicnt of admirers,
221, 225; conipari'd with Clmalc,
27(1-274.

Mackenzie IJehellion, tlic, 173.

Mackintosh, Sir Janice, dclinition of
('l(ii|iience, 121.

JIcLeod, Alexander, case of, 17''J: his
lil)erati(ni demanded hy (ireat Itrit-
ain, 17.'t-lS4; del»atc on, in Con-
(,'ress, 174; course pursiiod liy Wcb-
Mer in, 174, 178-180; trial and ac-
(|Mitial, I,s:J.

]\IanM, Horace. 40it.

M.iiisliidd, Lord, retort. 28; study of
oratory, (10.

Marsh, (leor-c P., 100, 10.3; letter
from, 375— 'J82.

Marsh, James, 340.

Marshall. Chief Justice, cla-^sideation
of words used liy, 108.

Mason, Jeremiali, Clioaie'.-; estimate of,
377.

Massachusetts Convention to revise the
(Vinstituticn, 235-237.

Massachusetts rt. liliode Island, 50,
410. 424.

Mechanic arts, progress of, 104-100.

Methodist Church case, Choato's rela-
tion to, 118; his study of the case,
250; his brief, 258; his art;unicnt,
257-259.

Jlilton's use of words, 100.

Montf^oniery, Kohert, persecuted by
Macatilay, 218.

Jloral lirmiiess, essential to success,
205.

Morton, Marcus, 230.

Miir|i!iy, Henry C, conception of free
trade, 171.

Nati<inal crimes, responsibility for, 175.

"Xe^'ro I'lot," the, 14.

Nesmith, George W., letter from, 201-

2(>9; a colle;;e joke, 202; journey to
llaiiuver with Webster, Clioate, and

Woiidbury. 2ii7 ; tluir conversation,
203 ; sla;;e-coach n i iiatinns, 208;
la.st interview w itli Clioate, 209.

Oliver, Henry K., letter from, 352-301 ;
transferred froni Harvarcl to l)art-
niouth, 353; lir>t acpiaiiitance with
Choate, 353; |ia--ai:e de-crdiim; Ci-
cero, applied to Choate, 354; life ut
Dartmouth, 357-3(iO.

Orator, natural, or biprn,58; olliceof, 00.

I'aitic, .lames A., anecdote of Ch<iate
and Weli-ler, 332.

I'ark, I'rofessor, would have maile a
j;reat lawyer, 281.

Parker, I-',. (J., a liiint fur a word, 07.

Parker, Theodore, 331.

Parsons, Tiieophilus, the defense of the
criminal, 13; foundations of Choate's
knowled;,'e of the law, 31).

Pate's ease, duty of enunsel i.i. 9.

Pathetic, inliuence of the, 115.

Peck, Kev. (ieiirjie, defendant in Meth-
odist Church case, 225.

Pelase-ians, the, 83.

Perkins, >I. ('., triltule from, 411.

Perley, Chief Justice, opinion of
Choate's style in speakiufj, 123.

Persiflage, a bit of, 40.

Phillips, .Stephen ('., 391.

Phillips, Weiiileil, 8, 9.

I'hicnix liank trial, incident of, 31.

Pinkney, William, declaimed in pri-
vate, 59; habit of memorizing, 72;
classilication of words used by, 108.

Pitt, William, preparatory studies in
oratory, 58 ; study of words, 97 ;
classilication of words used l)y. 111.

Poetry and prose, their alliance, 51.

Pratt, I'.dwanl Kllerton, anecdotes, 05 ;
Choate's fears of a civil war, 201.

Puritans, their trials and triumphs, 74-
77.

Putnam, IJov. A. P., impressions of
(,'lioatt, 232-254; interview with
Choate, 234 ; visits Choate's birth-
place, 237.

jyni'X.

459

(Jiiiiu-y. Josiah, Jr., dcfens* of Briti-h

soMicrs, 1;J.

Hciiilinu', vacations for, fi-l.
KiMiif.lial.le Jii-ti>p Hill, IM.
Ulii'ioricul decoration, iin|N>rtancc of,
122,

Sallnii^tall, I,overctt, anecdote of, ,3!t'J.

Saiib'Mii, i;. 1)., r.'o.llr. tion", .3-_'7-:{;J-i ;
early nc(iiiaiiitiin<-<? with <.'lioato, .'127;
Uilvisoil to ri^ail < 'lil!liii::w..rtli, ■iJ'*;
visits Clioatc. ;j-2'.': at U'<-!>'t<'r's fn-
Ui-Tal, .'l^iO; aiii'<."lo!i:-i, ;JT2, ^J-i-J.

.Saxoii laniiiia!,'!'. See Aii;;U»-.Saxon.

Saxons, the, Hi<.

Siiirlctt, Sir .laini's, a<Ivocate<« counsel
for ]iri-"MiT-, 12.

S(lin|,irslii|), ((.niiwtition in, -347.

.Sciiiiiar, tile slini-^fiil, 2>U.

Si'ott, Sir \Valtt>r, ili^paraiT'^l liy Car-
iylf, 142; d.f.n.l.-.l t.y Clioate, U2-
Hii.

Slialvi<]ioaro, William, a cl.is'-ipal
sciiolar, .SO; lien .loii^on'« ^ayinf,',
80; ('olL'ridiri''s cjpinim, *>• Cliarlcs
Kiii^^lif s ()i)inioii, Hi> : Kiner-on's
niial\>isof •• Iliiiry VIII ,"■ .si; au-
tliorship of " Henry VI.," 81 ;
adopti'el t Ik; work older autliors, 82;
use of words, 1(M>.

Rliaw, ('liii'f .lii>ticf, iliar.'e in Tirrell's
case, 7; early iinpro--ions fif Clioatp,
53; Clioate's reverence for, .31.'): Iiis
way of oxprpssiiii,' disapproval, .31.");
Clioate's remark, •31.'>: an " aaree-
ablc " venlicf, 4'>''i; npinion in the
case of the slave child Med, 407.

Shorilan, 11. IJ., needed reliableness of
character. 2i!4.

Siniili, Cy nis 1'., a colleire serenade.
.'l-JT.

Smith, .Sydney, on coun-el for pri-fin-
crs, 10; classillcation of words nsed
by, 110; adviee to .Macaulay, 218.

"Social I'rieiids,'' society at Dart-
nioiitli, Choate'.s address bi-foro, 2';3.

Somerbv, G. A., at Choate's b'rave,
431. "

Spring, Rev. Gardiner. 210.

Stanley, Arthur Penrbyn, classification

I of Words li-ed by, 1 1(1.

I Star Uoute trial, h>n^ arguments in,
127.
Stephens, Alexander II., opinion of
Clioate'.s eloipience, bh; rescues a
I lost speech, l.'jS.
Stevenson, ,). Thoinas, 2.1(1.
Storrs, liev. IJiehanls .S., classillcation
of Words ii>ed by, ID'.I; litter frotn,
275-2'.t2; lirsl impressions of .Mr.
( hoate, 277, 2TS; student in lii> id-
ti<c-, 27!t.
Siory, William W., letter fium, ;!il2-
' 374.
I Stron^j, William, llu; coniparixiii of

f 'hcate and Macaulay, 270-272.
I Suffolk liar, proi-eedlnLTs on death of
Choale, ;{!t-12; on death of Wel)-ter,
' 433.
Sumner, Charles, interest in I'rofess.ir
Webster's ca-e, III; da^silieaf ion of
; Words used by, lOll ; early acquainl-
aiice with Choate, 408; at No. 4
Court Street, 410; advocates (|uali-
(led riirlit of search, 410; on the ti<e
of adjectives, 411; letters to, from
Choate. 414.
Swift, .loiiathan, describes a jierfect
St vie, 'M.
I

Tariff, protective, 101-172.
Ta-te, ini]irovemi'iit of. liii, 70.
Teutonic lani^iiaLTe, 40l ; percontauo of
words used by leiidiii;^' authors, 108-

! 111.

Texas, annexation of, 1."').
Tlioniii'on, I-aac Grant, on the study

of forensic elo(|uence, W.).
Tirrell's case, 7, '.Wr,, 3(1(1. .'i'.iS, 3!)!).
I Tracy, iJev. .lose;,! , >n Choate's re-
' li^rions character, ;i40.
Translation as an intellectual disci])line,
07.
' Trevelyan's Life of Macaulay, SS, 204-
' 222,270,271.
Turner, Sharon, the power and copious-
ne-s of the Aii,Li;lo-Sa.\on language,
100, 107.
Tyler, Presiilent. 18.-).

400

INDEX.

Ipliain, Charlis W., 230.

Valriiliiic, Dciij.iiniii I"., 199.

Vail Itiii'cii, Mai'iiii, liil).

Vail r'litt, .Id-liiia .M., ili'scription of

■ Clioatii' a oration, 22'.>--2M.

Washliurii, Kiiiory, necessity of coun-
sel ill ciiiiiiiial ea>es, l.'i; olijeclioii to
fanciful iloeripliniis, 47; rt'collcc-
tioiis of Clioate, Mi'li-dn.

Webster, haiiiel, early comparison with
Clidate, 5; adiniralinn of Clioate, (1;
counsel in I lie White niiinler case,
10 ; episiide in the I'lueiiix Ilaiik
ttial. ■11; plea<linj;s before juries his
miu'litiesi effciits, 4;J; classiiieutiun of
wonls used liy, 109; de-erihcs an ora-
tor, 114; ellcet of (hiiate's el<iipieiue
on, 114, 115; "flowers of sju'ech,"
115; at (.Jueliec, ll(i; " Kn^'laiul's
niorninj; driiin," 110, 117; revision
of distoiirses, 117; olijectidii fo Latin
words, nil; the riyniniith oration,
120 ; ne(|uirenient of style, 120;
Choate's eulnijy of, 150-151! ; and an-
nexation of Ti'xas, 11)0; course pur-
sued in Mcl.eod's case, 174; dcfi'iid-
0(1 by Clioate, 175-177 ; nej,'otiates
the Ashburton treaty, 185; journey
to Hanover with Choato and Wood-
bury, 2(i7; a stai,'e-eoach recitation,
2<i3; preparation of cases, 29(1; the
(ireek Testament vs. the Constitu-
tion, .'i.iS ; on Choate's style, 38G;
plea for liarinony in Wlii;,' State Con-
vention, 3!)1: 7th of March speech,
392; shut out from Faiieuil Hall,
393; "Faiicuil Hail — Open," 394;
Choate's handwriting, 394.

Webster, Fletcher, 331, 393.

Webster, I'rofessor, case of. 15; Mr.
l>e.\ter's ihtcrot in, 10; tries to i-e-
ciire Choate's services, 10, 17; Suin-
mr urj;es Clioate to iiiidertaku tho
defense, 10; why he refused, 10; pro-
poseil line (if defense, 18-20; rejection
by Web>t(raiid his friend-. 19; fail-
ure of thior} presented at the trial,
20.

Wliij; Statu Convention of 1847, 390-
392.

Whiffs, Coiuciciice and Cotton, 390,
31)1.

Whipple, K. I'., C!i(iate's hi-' , ( ' out-
d(jor study, ti4; Webster', 'jvision
of I'lymouth oration, 120.

White murder trial, 10.

White, Kichard (iraiit, on aerjuirement
of styl(^ 121', 121.

Wilde, Mr. .histlce, a mot, 300; "I
suppose yon slept widl," 403.

Wilson, Henry, the riillii;,' ^renins in
Massachusetis Consciition 230; his
name likely to grow in importance,
405 ; testimony to Choate's clo-
fpience, 400-4O8.

Wiiislow, IJev. Hubbard. 412.

Winslow, .loliii, letter frinn, 383-413.

Women as witnesses, 337.

Woodbury, Levi, invited to deliver an
oration at HariiiKuith, 207 ; stni;e-
coacli journey with Clioate and Wel>-
ster, 207; their conversation, 208.

Wright, Silas, 100.

Young America, no new thing in hi.s-
tory, 32.

Zcnger, John Peter, case of, H.

; Mr.

Sum-
) tlio

jiro-
tti(.n

fail-
trial,

:m-

3U0,

mit-
isioii

nciit

s in

his

ni-e,

clo-

• an

his-