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 ^''^^^^z^^-^.^j^^^^^S^
 
 THE 
 
 MOST EMINENT 
 
 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES; 
 
 COXTAINIXG SKETCHES OF THEIS LIVES, SPECIMENS Ot THEIR ELOQUENCE, 
 AND AN ESTIMATE OF THEIR GENIUS. 
 
 BY 
 
 DAVID A. HARSHA 
 
 " Eo tf)e fatnou* ©rators repair."— Miltoh. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 ALBANY: W. C. LITTLE & CO. 
 
 MDcrrr v
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
 
 DAVID A. HARSHA, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Northern 
 
 District of New York. 
 
 MILLKR & CO., 
 
 Stereotypers, 
 
 78 State street, Albany.
 
 4057 
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 In offering the following work to the public, the author 
 would advert to a few of its distinguishing features. 
 
 It consists of historical and critical sketches of some of 
 those who have been most eminent both as orators and as 
 statesmen ; including a plain and brief account of the leading 
 events in the public life of each. 
 
 To render the volume useful for reference, particular 
 attention has been given to the insertion of dates. The 
 time when the most celebrated speeches were made, is 
 mentioned. This is also true with reference to memorable 
 historical incidents. In furnishing extracts from speeches, 
 as well as in noticing biographical events, strict chronological 
 order has been observed. Such a plan is preferable, as it 
 gives the reader a distinct view of the subject. 
 
 Copious extracts are made from the best orations and 
 speeches. In this department the work is very compre- 
 hensive. Embracing the most beautiful specimens of the 
 style of each orator, it thus contains some of the firost pas- 
 
 ^^ 
 
 7153G3
 
 »▼ PREFACE. 
 
 sages in English and American literature. Where can we 
 find, for instance, finer models for study and admiration 
 than in the great speeches of Chatham and Burke ; of 
 Grattan and Erskine ; of Pitt and Fox ; of Henry and 
 Allies ; of Calhoun and Clay ; of Webster and Everett ? 
 
 It is to be hoped that the graceful passages in which 
 this volume abounds, may create in the mind of the reader 
 a deeper interest for the study of eloquence. The author 
 fears that this subject has not received the attention which 
 its importance demands. It is certainly true that the best 
 speeches of our greatest orators are not generally read. 
 The principal cause of this neglect is, that most of those 
 highly wrought sentences, which most delight every reader 
 of fine taste, " are often combined with a quantity of matter 
 of temporary interest only — with a mass, in fact, of political, 
 iinancial, and statistical detail, which the public or parlia- 
 mentary business of the moment required. Unless the 
 reader has some particular object in view, his mind hesitates 
 to encounter this formidable obstacle to its gratification. 
 The precious gem lies in a heap, it is true, but the labor 
 and perseverance of the diamond seeker can alone arrive 
 at their possession." Now one design of the author has 
 oeen to collect those gems of literature, which are spe- 
 cimens of all that is beautiful and sublime in oratory. 
 Without the labor of searching through voluminous collec- 
 tions of speeches, the admirer of eloquence can here turn, 
 at once, to those exquisite passages with which he will love
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 to store his mind.* But still, the man of letters v/ill do 
 well lo read with care the most elaborate speeches of the 
 famous orators. To those who wish to peruse the best 
 speeches of eminent British statesmen, we can unreservedly 
 commend the excellent collection of Professor Chauncey A. 
 Goodrich. 
 
 Another important feature of this volume is a delineation 
 of the oratorical character — an analysis of that eloquence 
 whose bewitching strains have enchanted listening senates 
 and popular assemblies. Comments are made on the lead- 
 ing peculiarities of each orator. His forte is generally 
 pointed out, the great secret of his power unfolded, and the 
 charms of his manner described. To aid in the execution of 
 this difficult task, opinions of judicious critics and cotempo- 
 rary writers have often been cited. Many beautiful sketches 
 of character, ''drawn by master-hands, are thus embodied in 
 the work. For several of these spirited descriptions, the 
 author is indebted to Mackintosh, VVraxall, Brougliam, 
 Wirt, Goodrich, Jenkins, March, and Cleaveland. 
 
 Many valuable hints on the art of public speaking are 
 thrown out. These, the student of oratory will do well to 
 regard. 
 
 * The young student of oratory can find in this volume many 
 of the choicest pieces for declamation. For other specimens of 
 eloquence not included in this work, we refer the student to 
 the Standard Speaker, by Epes Sargent — an excellent book, 
 which we strongly commend to those of our readers who are 
 pursuing an academic or collegiate course.
 
 ri PREFACE 
 
 A number of anecdotes are related, making the book 
 amusing as well as instructive. 
 
 In the notes which are subjoined, will be found notices of 
 other pohtical orators, whose names are not included in the 
 table of contents ; such as Mansfield, Mirabeau, Wilber- 
 force, Hamilton, Hayne, Wirt, Choate, and Kossuth. 
 
 It was the original design of the author to embrace in 
 the present collection the most celebrated pulpit orators of 
 France, Great Britain, and America, including some living 
 divines ; but it has been thought best to reserve them for a 
 separate volume of the same size as the present. 
 
 In conclusion, the author would state that this work is 
 intended to be a text book for students in our academies 
 and colleges ; one which shall lie on the table of every one 
 engaged in the study of oratory, and be an every-day 
 book of reference for the literary man, the clergyman, the 
 lawyer, and the pohtician. 
 
 David A. Harsha. 
 
 South Argyle, N. K, 1855.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ^ ^ » »■ < 
 
 CHAPTER I. Vage. 
 
 Demosthenes, 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Cicero, 35 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 Lord Chatham, 75 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Edmund Burke, 122 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Henry Grattan, 168 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Charles James Fox, 185 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Lord Erskine, 211 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 John Philpot Curran, 230 
 
 CHAPTER IX, 
 >j^iCHARD Brinsley Sheridan, 240 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 William Pitt 256
 
 vui CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. P3g^ 
 
 George Canning 281 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Lord Brougham, 297 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Patrick Henry, 308 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Fisher Ames, _^__ 333 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Henry Clay, _^ 353 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 John C. Calhoun, 395 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Daniel Webster __ 429 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Edward Everett, 491 
 
 k
 
 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 < • ■ » > 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 
 
 " To the famous orators repair, 
 Those ancients, whose resistless eloquence 
 Wielded at will that fierce democracy, 
 Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece 
 To Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne." — Milton. 
 
 It is pleasant and interesting to contemplate the orators, 
 whose eloquence has instructed, delighted, swayed and 
 astonished thousands. To sketch the lives of a few of 
 them; to draw their character; to exhibit some specimens 
 pf their eloquence will be the object of this volume. The 
 history of those " famous orators " whom we design to 
 notice, is full of incidents of extraordinary interest, and 
 over their names is shed a luster which will never grow 
 dim. 
 
 Before we contemplate the prince of orators, it will be 
 interesting to advert to the history of ancient Grecian 
 eloquence We shall do this very briefly. 
 
 It was not until the later ages of the republic that ora- 
 tory made its appearance, and assumed its true character. 
 After Greece had adopted the popular forms of govern- 
 ment; after Solon had framed a new constitution; after 
 the incomparable poems of Homer had been collected and
 
 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 studied, oratory began to be cultivated, as an art, until it 
 was brought to perfection by Demosthenes. Its duration, 
 however, was but short. The golden age of Grecian elo- 
 quence may be said to extend from the era of Solon (about 
 600 B. c), to that of Alexander (b. c. 336). Within this 
 space are to be found the most renowned orators. Tnis 
 has been admirably called the brightest period in the 
 annals of Greece — a glorious day, at the close of which her 
 sun went down in clouds and never rose again in its native 
 splendor. 
 
 The history of Grecian oratory presents itself under 
 three different aspects; the first, "in which the statesman 
 was subordinate to the general; the next, in which the 
 general was subordinate to the statesman; and the third, 
 in which the statesman acted independently of the general." 
 Three eras will designate the peculiar character of Grecian 
 eloquence. The first has been called tliat of Themistocles; 
 the second, that of Pericles; and the third that of Demos- 
 thenes. 
 
 Themistocles, who flourished about 480 years b. c, was 
 an able general, an accomplished statesman, and a powerful 
 orator. In him predominated the bravery of the hero 
 His ruling passion was a love of military glory. After the 
 battle of Marathon, when all Greece was resounding 
 with the fame of the victorious Miltiades, it is said that 
 Themistocles complained to his friends, " The trophies of 
 Miltiades will not suffer me to sleep." Soon afterwards 
 we find him arousing his countrymen by his eloquence, 
 to resist the Persian powers, and, at tjie memorable battles 
 of Salamis and Plataa, leading the Greeks on to victory 
 He hurled defiance at the Persian throne, and sustained the 
 pillars of government amid the political convulsions of 
 the age. Like Ccesar, he spoke with the same force with 
 which he fought. Bold, powerful, and magnificent, his 
 eloquence was the most distinguished of the times in
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 3 
 
 ■which he lived; and, as an orator and statesman, he ac- 
 quired over the Athenians unlimited sway. 
 
 The second period in the history of Grecian eloquence 
 opens with a more magnificent prospect " On hearing the 
 age of Pericles mentioned, a crowd of glorious associations 
 is called up ; he who becomes more profoundly acquainted 
 with it, soon finds that no pure ideal of perfection then 
 existed. To behold the mere citizen of a republic, raising 
 his nation, and by means of his nation all mankind, to a 
 higher position, is a spectacle which history has never but 
 once been able, under similar circumstances, to repeat, in 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent. Enviable men, around whose 
 brows the unfading laurel twines its verdure ! If fame in 
 succeeding generations, if the grateful remembrance of 
 posterity is no vain felicity, who would not willingly 
 exchange his claims for yours?"* Forty years Pericles 
 governed Athens with great ability. His talents were of 
 the highest order, and his eloquence was of that vehement 
 kind which the human passions can not resist, and which 
 overcomes all opposition. So powerful was the voice of 
 Pericles that the surname of Olympias was given him, for 
 it was said that, like Jupiter, he thundered when he spoke- 
 Over those who had fallen in the first campaign of the 
 Peloponnesian war, Pericles delivered a funeral eulogium, 
 which Thucydides has embodied in his history of this war. 
 Though the speech in Thucydides is doubtless the composi- 
 tion of the historian, yet from it we may judge of the 
 character of political eloquence during that long and ex- 
 citing conflict. 
 
 " This speech, the most remarkable of all the composi- 
 tions of antiquity — the full transfusion of which into a 
 modern language is an impossibility — exhibits a more com- 
 plete view of the intellectual power and moral character 
 
 * Heeren's Researches on Ancient Greece.
 
 4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of Pericles, than all that the historian and biographers 
 have said of him. The form in which the great orator 
 and statesman has embodied his lofty conceptions, is beauty 
 chastened and elevated by a noble severity. Athens and 
 the Athenians are the objects which his ambition seeks to 
 immortalize, and the whole world is the theater and the 
 witness of her glorious exploits." Pericles died about 429 
 years, b. c, two years after the commencement of the Pelo- 
 ponnesian war. The style of eloquence which prevailed 
 in the time of Pericles was fearless, vehement, dignified and 
 sententious. Of the orators of that day, Cicero says, 
 " Grandes erant verbis, crebri sententiis, compressione re- 
 rum breves, et, ob earn ipsam causam, interdum subobscuri." 
 
 We come now to notice the third and most glorious 
 period in the history of oratory; a period that will eve-r 
 be remembered with admiration. Now we see the great 
 Athenian master ascend the bema. Now we hear the 
 thunders of that powerful eloquence which shook Athens, 
 and " fulmined over Greece to Macedon and Artaxerxes' 
 throne." The age of Demosthenes was one in which oratory 
 made its grandest display; an age which produced many 
 eminent public speakers, of ^vhose brilliant genius and 
 talents there still remain splendid monuments. Demos- 
 thenes, Isocrates, Lysias, Isseus, ^Eschines, and Hyperides, 
 are reckoned among the ten famous Athenian orators who 
 flourished during this, the brightest period of Grecian 
 eloquence. 
 
 In the time of Demosthenes, eloquence was studied in a 
 regular' and systematic form. Schools o^ oratory were 
 instituted, and became the resort of thosfe v/ho wished to 
 distinguish themselves in public speaking. Isocrates was 
 one of the most distinguished teachers of eloquence in 
 those days. To him Cicero ascribes the honor of having 
 formed its general character. We may here remark 
 in general, that almost every branch of literature in
 
 DEMOSTHENES. • 5. 
 
 Greece, was ndw i)utting forth its most beautiful and im- 
 perishable blossoms. Athens had become the renowned 
 seat of the arts and sciences — the birth-place of the most 
 distinguished poets, philosophers, historians and artists. 
 Such, in a word, was ancient Greece when eloquence was 
 to break forth in its brightest glory. The author* of a 
 beautiful sketch of Ancient and Modern Eloquence ob- 
 serves: 
 
 " In tracing the history of Eloquence, we are struck with 
 the remarkable fact, that its earliest annals are also those 
 of its most signal triumphs. In that age of wonders, when 
 Athens burst upon the world in all the splendor of her 
 literature, her arts, and arms, eloquence was born. Like 
 that most beautiful of the mythological fancies, the God- 
 dess of Wisdom, it seems to have sprung at once to 
 perfection, full-armed and glorious. We know, indeed, 
 that Greece abounded in orators before the age of Demos- 
 thenes. But the earlier and ruder efforts of the art, like 
 the impassioned talks of our own Aborigines, perished 
 with the occasions that produced them. The eloquence of 
 Pericles, indeed, was of a higher stamp. He seems to have 
 been the first great orator of Greece and the world. But 
 though we are told, and can believe, that ' he thundered 
 and lightened, and shook all Greece,' no authentic specimen 
 of his powers remains. 
 
 Of the Athenian orators immediately preceding, and 
 contemporary with Demosthenes, we shall make no men- 
 tion here, dimmed as they were and ever must be, by his 
 incomparable splendor." 
 
 Demosthenes was born at Athens, in the fourth year of 
 the 9Sth Olympiad, b. c. 385 years. He lost his father, 
 who was a wealtliy citizen of Athens, at the early age of 
 seven years. He was now left to the care of his mother. 
 
 * N. Cleaveland, Esq.
 
 6 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 The guardians to whom his father committed the adminis- 
 tration of a large property, wasted a great portion of it, 
 thus depriving the youth of the advantages of early 
 education. But there were other obstacles in the way 
 of his literary and oratorical success. From his earliest 
 years, his constitution was feeble, and his health delicate. 
 There was, notwithstanding, a germ in his bosom which 
 the misfortunes of life could not extirjDate; a spark of 
 eloquence which was one day to burst forth in splendor. 
 Sixteen years had scarcely passed when an opportunity 
 occurred to excite the young Athenian. The ambition of 
 Demosthenes to become a j)ublic speaker was first inflamed 
 while he was attending a trial, in which Callistratus, a 
 celebrated orator, won an important cause. When he saw 
 the success of the orator, and heard the acclamations of 
 the audience, he determined to devote himself forthwith 
 to the careful study of eloquence. 
 
 He chose Isaeus as his preceptor, and from Plato,* it is 
 said, that he imbibed much of the richness and grandeur 
 with which the writings of that philosopher are adorned. 
 
 At the age of seventeen years we find Demosthenes before 
 the public tribunals, arguing his own cause against his 
 faithless guardians. In this contest the young orator came 
 ofi' triumi)hantly. His orations were crowned with com- 
 plete success. He next attempted to speak before the 
 people; but, in his first address, was ridiculed and inter- 
 rupted by the clamors of the audience. His feeble and 
 stammering voice, his want of breath, his ungraceful 
 gestures, and his confused sentences, rendered it difficult 
 
 * Plato was one of the noblest characters of all antiquity. He was the 
 disciple of Socrates and founder of the Acadamy at Athens. Here he instructed 
 a large class of young men in the principles of philosophy. So exceedingly 
 beautiful and magnificent is the style of Plato, that Cicero, when treating of 
 the subject of diction, says, " If Jupiter were to speak in the Greek tongucj 
 he would use tlie lajiguage of Plato."
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 7 
 
 for him to be understood, and brought upon him general 
 derision. After one of his unsuccessful attempts at public 
 speaking, he was met, while returning home in the greatest 
 distress, by the actor Satyrus, who requested him to recite 
 some i3assage from Euripides or Sophocles. Satyrus tlien 
 repeated the same passage, so correctly, so gracefully, and 
 with such animation, that it appeared to the young student 
 quite difierent. Demosthenes now saw how far action and 
 enunciation go to form an orator. He also perceived in 
 what his own defects lay, and resolved by the use of all 
 possible means to overcome them. By untiring perseverance 
 he at length accomplished his object, and became the 
 prince of orators. To cure himself of stammering, he 
 spoke with small pebbles in his mouth. It is also related 
 that " he removed the distortion of features, which accom- 
 panied his utterance, by watching the movements of his 
 countenance in a mii-ror^ and a naked sword was sus- 
 pended over his left shoulder while he was declaiming in 
 private, to prevent its rising above the level of the right. 
 That his enunciation might be loud and full of emi^hasis, 
 he frequently ran up the steepest and most uneven walks, 
 an exercise by which his voice acquired both force and 
 energy ; and on the seashore, when the waves were violently 
 agitated, he declaimed aloud, to accustom himself to the 
 noise and tumult of a jjublic assembly. He constructed a 
 subterranean study, where he would often stay for two or 
 three months together, shaving one side of his head, that, 
 in case he should wish to go abroad, the fhame of apjjear- 
 ing in that condition might keep him within. In this 
 solitary retreat, by the light of his lamp, he coj^ied and 
 recopied, ten times at least, tne orations scattered through- 
 out the history of Thucydides, for the purpose of mould- 
 ing his own style after so pure a model."* 
 
 * See an excellent article on Demosthenes in Anthon's Classical Dictionary,
 
 8 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 We come now to notice, briefly, the political history of 
 Demosthenes. Never had a political orator a wider field 
 for the display of the highest powers of patriotic eloquence, 
 than was opened when Philip of Macedon aimed at the 
 overthrow of Grecian liberty. At the age of twenty-four, 
 this crafty prince ascended the throne of Macedon. His 
 first object was to crush his enemies at home, and enlarge 
 his kingdom abroad. Successful in this he next planned the 
 conquest of Greece. Invited by the Thessalians to side with 
 them against the Phocians, in what is called the Sacred War, 
 he marched his army into Thessaly, vanquished the enemy, 
 and made a bold attempt to seize the famous pass of 
 Thermopylas, the key of Greece. By this movement the 
 Athenians were alarmed j an assembly of the people was 
 convened, to determine the best course to be pursued in 
 order to check his ambitious designs. Amidst the general 
 excitement of the assembly, Demosthenes ascended the 
 bema and delivered his first Philippic. Rising like one 
 inspired, he endeavored, by all the j)Owers of his indignant 
 eloquence, to develop their excitement into action and to 
 lead them to make vigorous war against Philip. 
 
 We present the following extracts as the finest specimens 
 of Demosthenes' style. We can gain, however, but a very 
 imperfect idea of his style and manner from a translation. 
 The reader should have recourse to the original. As the 
 orator proceeded in his first Philippic, he broke forth in the 
 following high tone of eloquence: 
 
 " W^hen, therefore, my countrymen ! when will you 
 exert your vigor? Do you wait till roused by some dire 
 event? till forced by some necessity? What then are we 
 to think of our present condition? To freemen, the dis- 
 grace attending on misconduct, is, in my opinion, the most 
 urgent necessity. Or say, is if your sole ambition to 
 wander througli the public places, each inquiring of the 
 other, ' What new advices?' Can any thing be m.ore new
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 9 
 
 than that a man of Macedon should conquer the Atlieuians 
 and give law to Greece! 'Is Philip dead?' 'No; blithe 
 is sick.' Pray what is it to you whether Philip is sick or 
 not? Supposing he should die you would raise up another 
 Philip, if you continue thus regardless of your interest?" 
 
 "Then as to your own conduct: some wander about, 
 crying, Philip hath joined with the Lacedcemonians, and 
 they are concerting the destruction of Thebes. Others 
 assure us that he has sent an embassy to the king of Persia; 
 others, that he is fortifying jDlaces in Illyria. Thus we all 
 go about framing our several tales. I do believe, indeed, 
 Athenians! he is intoxicated with his greatness, and does 
 entertain his imagination with many such visionary pros- 
 pects, as he sees no power rising to oppose him, and is 
 elated with his success." In the third Philippic, Demos- 
 thenes continues in the same high strain: 
 
 " All Greece, all the barbarian world, is too narrow for 
 this man's ambition. And though we Greeks see and hear 
 all this we send no embassies to each other; we express no 
 resentment; but into such wretchedness are we sunk, that 
 even to this day, we neglect what our interest and duty 
 demand. Without engaging in associations, or forming 
 confederacies, we look with unconcern upon Philip's 
 growing power, each fondly imagining that the time in 
 which another is destroyed, is so much time gained on 
 him; although no man can be ignorant that, like the 
 regular periodic return of a fever, he is coming upon those 
 who think themselves the most remote from danger." 
 
 " And what is the cause of our present passive disposition? 
 For some cause sure there must be, why the Greeks who 
 have been so zealous heretofore in defence of liberty, are 
 now so prone to slavery. The cause, Athenians ! is that a 
 principle which was formerly fixed in the minds of all, 
 now exists no more; a princij>le which conquered the 
 opulence of Persia, maintained the freedom of Greece, and
 
 10 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 triumphed over the powers of sea and land. That princi- 
 ple was an unanimous abhorrence of all those who accepted 
 bribes from princes, that were enemies to the liberties of 
 Greece. To be convicted of bribery, was then a crime 
 altogether unpardonable. Neither orators, nor generals, 
 would then sell for gold the favorable conjunctures which 
 fortune put into their hands. No gold could impair our 
 firm concord at home — our hatred of tyrants and barba- 
 rians. But now all things are exposed to sale as in a 
 public market. Corruption has introduced such manners 
 as have proved the bane and destruction of our country. 
 Is a man known to have received foreign money? People 
 envy him. Does he own it? They laugh. Is he convicted 
 in form? They forgive him. So universally has this con- 
 tagion diffused itself among us." 
 
 By the irresistible sway of Demosthenes' eloquence the 
 Athenians were excited to indignation against Phili]?. To 
 check the progress of the aspiring monarch, they im- 
 mediately took up arms, and hastened to the spot, where 
 Leonidas and his brave band had poured out their life- 
 bood for the cause of liberty and of Greece. The remem- 
 brance of this ancient heroism, doubtless, nerved the arm 
 of Athens' noble sons as they marched against Philip, 
 who, at this time, thought it prudent to retire from the 
 pass of Thermopylae. Thus were the liberties of Greece 
 preserved for another, and a fatal blow. The day was not 
 far distant when the ho2:)es of Demosthenes, and other 
 freeborn jiatriots were to be dashed to the earth. 
 
 While the Athenians were wasting their time in fruitless 
 discussions, the wily prince of Macedon was not idle. 
 Under pretence of attacking the Locrians, he marched 
 his army into Greece, surprised and captured Elatffia, a 
 city of Phocis, not very far distant from Athens. The 
 capture of this important place may be said to have opened 
 to Philip a passage into Attica. On the announcement of
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 1 1 
 
 this event the Athenians were struck with terror. The 
 scene of dismay and confusion which j)revailed at Athens 
 when the news came, is graphically described by Demos- 
 thenes in his oration on the crown. We quote his eloquent 
 description here, following Leland's translation: 
 
 " Thus successful in confirming the mutual sejjaration of 
 our states, and elevated by these decrees and these rei)lies, 
 Philip now leads his forces forward and seizes Elataea. 
 You are no strangers to the confusion which this event 
 raised within these walls. Yet permit me to relate some 
 few striking circumstances of our own consternation. It 
 was evening. A courier arrived, and repairing to the 
 presidents of the senate, informed them that Elatsea was 
 taken. In a moment, some started from suj^per, ran to the 
 jjublic place, drove the traders from their stations, and set 
 fire to their sheds; some sent round to call the generals; 
 others clamored for the trumpeter. Thus was the city one 
 scene of tumult. The next morning, by dawn of day, the 
 presidents summoned the senate. The peoj^le were in- 
 stantly collected, and before any regular authority could 
 convene their assembly, the whole body of citizens had 
 taken their places above. Then the senate entered; the 
 presidents reported their advices, and j^roduced the courier. 
 He repeated his intelligence. The herald then asked in 
 form, ' Who chooses to speak?' All was silence. The 
 invitation was frequently repeated. Still no man arose; 
 though the generals, though the ordinary speakers were 
 all present; though the voice of Athens then called on 
 some man to speak and save her; for surely the regular 
 and legal proclamation of the herald may be fairly deemed 
 the voice of Athens. If an honest solicitude for the pre- 
 servation of the state had on this occasion been sufficient 
 to call forth a speaker; then, my countrymen, ye must have 
 all risen and crowded to the gallery, for well I know this 
 honest solicitude had full possession of your hearts. If
 
 1 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 wealth had obliged a man to speak, the three hundred 
 must have risen. If i^atriotic zeal and wealth united were 
 the qualification necessary for the speaker, then should we 
 have heard those generous citizens, whose beneficence was 
 afterward displayed so nobly in the service of the state; 
 for their beneficence proceeded from this union of wealth 
 and patriotic zeal. But the occasion, the great day, it 
 seems, called, not only for a well-affected and an affluent 
 citizen, but for the man who had traced these affairs to 
 their very source; who had formed the exactest judgment 
 of Philip's motives, of liis secret intentions in this his 
 conduct. He who was not i^erfectly informed of these; he 
 who had not watched the whole progress of his actions 
 with consummate vigilance, however zealously affected to 
 the state, however blessed with wealth, was in no v\use 
 better qualified to conceive or to propose the measures 
 which your interests demanded on an occasion so critical. 
 On that day, then, I was the man who stood forth."* 
 
 Demosthenes, on this occasion, aroused his countrymen 
 with a burst of eloquence which must have made even the 
 iron will of Philip to falter on the throne of Macedon. 
 It was then that he delivered that exciting oration which 
 
 * " Demosthenes gives us a picture of the scene by a few distinct character- 
 istic touches — the presidents starting from their seats in the midst of supper — 
 rushing into the market place — tearing down the booths around it — burning up 
 the hurdles even, though the space would not be wanted till the next day — 
 sending for the generals — crying out for the trumpeter — the council meeting 
 on the morrow at break of day — the people (usually so reluctant to attend) 
 pouring along to the assembly before the council had found a moment'? 
 opportunity to inquire or agree on measures — the entering of the council into 
 the assembly — their announcing the news — their bringing forward the m..essen- 
 ger to tell his story. And then the proclamation of the herald, ' Who will 
 speak?' — the silence of all — the voice of their common country, crying out 
 again through the herald, ' Who will speak for our deliverance?' — all re- 
 maining silent — when Demosthenes arose, and suggested measures which 
 caused all these dangers to pass away like a cloud!" — Goodrich.
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 13 
 
 made tlie whole assembly cry out with one voice, " To 
 arms ! To arms ! Lead us agaiust Philip !" 
 
 Two thousand years afterwards, the same enthusiasm 
 which then, amid their graceful columns, inspired the 
 excitable Athenians, and filled their spacious amphitheater 
 with a shout that rose to the warm, blue sky of Greece, 
 awoke among sterner men, in a colder climate, and made 
 the plain walls of a church in Virginia echo with a cry as 
 bold and more determined. That was in response to the 
 words of Patrick Henry, the forest-born Demosthenes, 
 when he uttered in tones of thunder those ever memorable 
 words, " I know not what course others may take, but, as 
 for me, give me Liberty, or give me Death!" 
 
 It is in the darkest crises of national struggles for inde- 
 pendence, amid storms and tempests, that we see the 
 greatest political orators arise, and hear the thunders of 
 their mighty eloquence, shaking thrones and kingdoms to 
 their center. It is then that we hear them exclaim with 
 Patrick Henry, " Whatever others do, I'll fight," and with 
 John Adams, at the solemn crisis of the vote of the 4th of 
 July, 1776, " Independence now, and Ixdependence for 
 
 EVER !" 
 
 At the head of an embassy, Demosthenes hastened to 
 Thebes, and persuaded the Thebans to espouse the cause 
 of Athens. So j^owerful was the efiect of his oratory upon 
 them, that, notwithstanding theii* jirevious attachment to 
 Philip, they warmly united with the Athenians against the 
 common enemy of Grecian liberty.* At length the crisis 
 
 * Tlie strong eloquence of Demosthenes, says an ancient liistorian^ blowing 
 into the soiils of the Thebans like an impetuous wind, rekindled there so 
 warm a zeal for their country, and so ardent a passion for liberty, that, bai/- 
 ishing from their mind? every idea of fear, of prudence, or gratitude, his 
 discourse transported and ravished them like a fit of enthusiasm, and inflamed 
 them solely with the love of true glory. Here we have a proof of the mighty 
 influence wliich eloquence has over the minds of men, especially when it is
 
 14 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 came. In the year 338 b. c, a battle was fouglit between 
 the Athenian and Macedonian forces^ near Cheeronea, a 
 city of Boeotia. The Macedonians were victorious. It is 
 stated that more than a thousand Athenians were left dead 
 upon the field. Demosthenes threw down his arms, and 
 ingloriously fled from the scene of slaughter. This battle 
 proved that he was greater as an orator and statesman than 
 as a soldier; that his courage was political, rather than 
 military. 
 
 By this disastrous conflict, a fatal blow fell upon Greece. 
 Her liberty was lost, and her eloquence, that flame which 
 can burn only on the altars of freedom, was forever 
 extinguished. Well may we say with the poet: 
 
 " Ah Eloquence' thou wast undone; 
 
 Wast from thy native country driven, 
 
 When Tyranny eclipsM the sun, 
 
 And blotted out the stars of heaven." 
 
 Shortly after the battle of Chseronea, Demosthenes dis- 
 played his generosity by repairing the fortifications of 
 Athens, partly at his own' exjDense. In consideration of 
 the many important public services which he had rendered 
 the state, the Athenians, on the proposal of Ctesiphon, 
 decreed him a crown of gold. The reward was strongly 
 opposed by iEschines,* who maintained that the proposal 
 
 heightened by a love and zeal for the public good. One single man svi'ayed all 
 things at his will in the assennblies of Athens and Thebes, where he was 
 equally loved, respected, and feared. 
 
 *.^schines, the celebrated rival of Demosthenes, was born, as some authori- 
 ties state, at Athens, B. c. 30". He was about twelve years older than De- 
 mosthenes. He died at Samos, at the age of 7-5 years. Quintilian places him 
 in the first rank among Grecian orators, next to Demosthenes. 
 
 " The Abbe Barthelemy makes the eloquence of ^schines to be distinguished 
 by a happy flow of words, by an abundance and clearness of ideas, and by ar. 
 air of great ea.se, which arose less frcn art than nature. The ancient writerc 
 appear to agree in this, that the manner of iEschines is softer, more insinuat- 
 ing, and more delicate than that of Demosthenes, but that the latter is more 
 grave, forcible and convincing. The one has more of address, and the other
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 15 
 
 was illegal, and brought a suit against Ctesiphon, which 
 was intended to overpower Demosthenes. This famous 
 prosecution was commenced about the year 338 b. c; but 
 the trial was delayed eight years. At length it came on. 
 To witness this mighty, intellectual contest, an immense 
 concourse of spectators from all parts of Greece, was 
 attracted to Athens. It was the greatest combat of elo- 
 quence that the world has ever witnessed. The harangue 
 of iEschines was powerful and sarcastic* But Demos- 
 thenes was irresistible as a mountain torrent, and bore his 
 accuser down, ^schines did not receive the fifth part of 
 the votec of the judges. By the laws of Athens, he thus 
 became liable to fine and banishment; and accordingly he 
 went in exile to Rhodes. There he established a school 
 of rhetoric, in which he read the two orations to his 
 pupils. His, was received with apin'obation, but that of 
 Demosthenes, with the greatest applause. " What then 
 
 more of strength and energy. The one endeavors to steal, the other to force, 
 the assent of his auditors. In the harmony and elegance, the strength and 
 beauty of their language, both are deserving of high commendation, but the 
 figures of the one are finer, of the other, bolder. In Demosthenes we see a 
 more sustained effort ; in .lEschines, vivid, though momentary, flashes of oratory.'' 
 Of his three orations the most celebrated is that against Ctesiphon, in which 
 he so vehemently denounces Demosthenes. 
 
 * The following brief extract from this oration will afford the reader a spe- 
 cimen of the style of iEschines: 
 
 " When Demosthenes boasts to you, O Athenians, of his democratic zeal, 
 examine, not his harangues, but his life; not what he professes to be, but 
 what he really is; — redoubtable in words, impotent in deeds; plausible in 
 speech, perfidious in action. As to his courage — has he not himself, before the 
 assembled people, confessed his poltroonery! By the laws of Athens, the man 
 who refuses to bear arms, the coward, the deserter of his post in battle, is ex- 
 cluded from all share in the public deliberations, denied admission to our 
 religious rites, and rendered incapable of receiving the honor of a crown. Yet 
 now it is proposed to crown a man whom your laws expressly disqualify!" 
 
 " Which,' think you, was the more worthy citizen, Themistocles, who com- 
 manded your fleet when you vanquished the Persians at Salami-s, or Demos- 
 thenes the deserter? — Miltiades, who conquered the barbarians at Marathon
 
 16 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 would you have thought," exclaimed ^Eschines, " had you 
 heard the lion himself?" 
 
 This speech of Demosthenes is the most perfect speci- 
 men that eloquence has ever produced. " For withering 
 sarcasm, burning invective, lofty declamation, for all 
 that is spirit-stirring and glorious in eloquence, there is 
 not on record, in any language, as noble and perfect a 
 specimen as this oration for the crown." It is regarded 
 as such by two of the most eminent critics of ancient 
 times; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and Quintilian; and 
 such is the opinion of modern writers on eloquence. 
 Lord Brougham styles it, " The greatest oration of the 
 greatest orator." This oration abounds in magnificent 
 expressions, and sudden bursts of overwhelming eloquence. 
 The famous oath by those who fell at Marathon is the 
 sublimest passage in the whole speech. " The most figu- 
 rative and highly wrought passage in all antiquity " says 
 the same writer, " is the famous oath in Demosthenes. 
 
 or this hireling traitor? — Aristides, surnamed the Just, or Demosthenes, who 
 merits a far different surname? By all the Gods of Olympus, it is a profanation 
 to mention in the same breath this monster and those great men! Let him 
 cite, if he can, one among them all to whom a crown was decreed. And was 
 Athens ungrateful? No! She was magnanimous; and those uncrowned 
 citizens were worthy of Athens. They placed their glory, not in the letter 
 of a decree, but in th* remembrance of a country, of which they had merited 
 well, — in the living, imperishable remembrance!'' 
 
 " And now a popular orator — the mainspring of our calamities — a deserter 
 from the field of battle, a deserter from the city — claims of us a crown, exacts 
 the honor of a proclamation! Crown him? Proclaim his worth? My 
 countrymen, this would not be to exalt Demosthenes, but to degrade your- 
 selves, — to dishonor those brave men who perished for you in battle. Crown 
 him.' Shall his recreancy win what was denied to their devotion? This would 
 indeed be to insult the memory of the dead, and to paralyze the emulation of 
 the living!" * * * 
 
 ''• From those who fell at Marathon and at Plataea — from Themistocles — from 
 the very scpulchers of your ancestors — issues the protesting groan of condem- 
 nation and rebuke !"
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 17 
 
 From this oration we present the following passage, set- 
 ting forth the public spirit of the Athenians, and contain- 
 ing the celebrated oath which we have just mentioned: 
 
 " The Athenians never were known to live contented in 
 a slavish though secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary 
 power. No. Our whole history is a series of gallant con- 
 tests lor preeminence: the whole period of our national 
 existence hath been spent in braving dangers, for the sake 
 of glory and renown. And so highly do you esteem such 
 conduct, as characteristic of the Athenian spirit, that those 
 of your ancestors who were most eminent for it are ever 
 the most favorite objects of your praise. And with reason: 
 for, who can reflect, without astonisliment, on the mag- 
 nanimity of those men who resigned their lands, gave up 
 their city, and embarked in their ships, rather than live 
 at the bidding of a stranger? The Athenians of that day 
 looked out for no speaker, no general, to procure them a 
 state of easy slavery. They had the spirit to reject even 
 life, unless they were allowed to enjoy that life in freedom. 
 For it was a principle fixed deeply in every breast, that 
 man was not born to his parents only, but to his country. 
 And mark the distinction. He who regards himself as 
 born only to his parents waits in passive submission for the 
 hour of his natural dissolution. He who considers that 
 he is the child of his country, also, volunteers to meet 
 death rather than behold that country reduced to vassalage; 
 and thinks those insults and disgraces which he must en- 
 dure, in a state enslaved, much more terrible than death." 
 " Should I attempt to assert that it was I who inspired 
 you with sentiments worthy of your ancestors. I should 
 meet the just resentment of every hearer. No : it is my 
 point to show that such sentiments are properly your own; 
 that they were the sentiments of my country long before 
 my days. I claim but my share of merit in having acted 
 on such principles in every part of my administration.
 
 18 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 He, then, who condemns every part of my administration; 
 he who directs voii to treat me with severity, as one who 
 hath involved the state in terrors and dangers; while he 
 labors to deprive me of present honor, robs you of the 
 applause of all posterity. For, if you now pronounce, 
 that, as my public conduct hath not been right, Ctesiphon 
 must stand condemned, it must be thought that you your- 
 selves have acted wrong, not that you owe your present 
 state to the caprice of fortune. But it can not be ! No, 
 my countrymen, it can not be that you have acted wrong 
 in encountering danger bravely for the liberty and safety 
 of all Greece. No ! I swear it by the spirits of our sires, 
 who rushed upon destruction at Marathon ! — by those who 
 stood arrayed at Platsea! — by those who fought the sea- 
 fight at Salamis! — by tlie men of Artemisium! — by the 
 others, so many and so brave, who now rest in our public 
 sepulchers ! — all of whom their country judged worthy of 
 the same honor; all, I say, ^schines; not those only who 
 prevailed, not those only who were victorious. — And with 
 reason. What was the part of gallant men, they all per- 
 formed. Their success was such as the supreme Ruler of 
 the world dispensed to each."* 
 
 * On the style of Demosthenes' orations we subjoin the remarks of three 
 eminent critics: 
 
 " Demosthenes moves, warms, and captivates the heart. Every oration of 
 his is a close chain of reasoning, that represents the generous notions of a soul 
 who disdains any thought that is not great. His discourses gradually increase 
 in force by greater light and new reasons, which are always illustrated by bold 
 figures and lively images. One can not but see that he has the good of the 
 republic entirely at heart, and that nature itself speaks in all his transports; 
 for his artful address is so masterly that it never appears. Nothing ever 
 equaled the force and vehemence of his discourses." — Fenelori's Dialogues 
 Concerning Eloquence,- Dial, i, p. 20. 
 
 " The style of Demosthenes is so strong, so close, and nervous; it is every- 
 where so just, so exactly concise, that there is nothing too much or too little 
 What distinguishes Lis eloquence is the impetuosity of the expression, the
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 19 
 
 Soon after this brilliant, intellectual victory, Demos- 
 thenes was convicted of receiving a bribe from Harpalus,* 
 a fugitive from the army of Alexander the Great. He was 
 fined fifty talents (nearly $50,000); and being unable to 
 pay this sum, was thrown into prison. Escaping from 
 prison, he fled to iEgina, whence he could beliold the 
 shores of his beloved country — that land, for the preser- 
 vation of whose liberties, he had exerted all his powers. 
 On the death of Alexander, in the year 323 b. c. De- 
 choice of words, and the beauty of the disposition; which, being supported 
 throughout and accompanied with force and sweetness, keeps the attention of 
 the judges perpetually fixed." 
 
 " What we admire in Demosthenes is the plan, the series, and the order and 
 disposition of the oration; it is the strength of the proofs, the solidity of the 
 arguments, the grandeur and nobleness of the sentiments and of the style; the 
 vivacity of the turns and figures; in a word, the wonderful art of representing 
 the subjects he treats in all their luster, and displaying them in all their 
 strength."' — Rolliiis Belles Lettres. 
 
 " His orations are strongly animated, and full of the impetuosity and fire of 
 public spirit. They proceed in a continued train of inductions, consequences, 
 and demonstrations founded on sound reason. The figures which he uses, are 
 never sought after; but always rise from the subject. He employs them spa- 
 ringly, indeed; for splendor and ornament are not the distinctions of this 
 orator's composition. It is an energy of thought peculiar to himself, which 
 forms his character, and sets him above all others. He appears to attend much 
 more to things than to words. We forget the orator and think of the business. 
 He warms the mind, and impels it to action. 
 
 '' The style of Demosthenes is strong and concise, though sometimes, it must 
 not be dissembled, harsh and abrupt. His words are very expressive ; his arrange- 
 ment is firm and manly; and though far from being unmusical, yet it seems 
 difficult to find in him that studied, but concealed number, and rythmus, which 
 some of the ancient critics are fond of attributing to him. Negligent of these 
 lesser graces one would rather conceive him to have aimed at that sublime 
 which lies in sentiment." — Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric. 
 
 * During the expedition of Alexander to India, this Harpalus had the charge 
 of the Babylonian treasury, on which he committed great excesses ; fearing the 
 resentment of his master he fled to Attica with five thousand talents accompa- 
 nied by six thousand men, and sought refuge iu Athens.
 
 20 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 mostlienes was recalled from banishment by the Athenians. 
 A public galley was sent by the citizens to convey him 
 from Mgina,. Athens was waiting anxiously for its return. 
 As the day when it was expected approached, groups of 
 citizens gathered every morning on the shore, and looked 
 eagerly over the water to catch its first appearance on the 
 horizon. When at length it appeared, a small speck upon 
 the blue expanse, the joyful news spread from those who 
 stood by the water through the whole city. Onward the 
 tidings passed from citizen to citizen; along the busy 
 streets; through the crowded market place; among the 
 columns of Minerva's temple, till it reached the lofty 
 Acropolis. Men and women hastened to the harbor, and 
 even the children left their toys with shouts that Demos- 
 thenes was returning. Crowded upon the shore, stood 
 young and old, gazing in silence on the galley which was 
 now rapidly approaching. One well-known form stood 
 quietly upon its deck, conspicuous among all around. 
 Those ardent Athenians could not forget it. It was the 
 same which had roused them to fury against Philip; it 
 was the same which had crushed yEscliines with sarcasm; 
 it was the same from which came that sublime oath, " By 
 those who stood arrayed at Plataa." One single movement 
 of that eloquent arm, as the galley approached the Piraus, — 
 and there burst from the crowd tlie cry, " Demosthenes, 
 Demosthenes." Well might he exclaim as tlie galley 
 touched the shore, " Hapi)ier is my return than that of 
 Alcibiades. It Avas through compulsion that the Athenians 
 restored him, but they have recalled me from a motive of 
 kindness." 
 
 But the sunshine of his happiness did not continue long: 
 a dark cloud was soon thrown over his prospects, when 
 Ills hopes were crushed forever. When tlie Grecian con- 
 federacy was destroyed, and when the Macedonian j)arty
 
 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 2 1 
 
 was triumphant, Antipater, its victorious leader, demanded 
 that Demosthenes should be given up to his vengeance. 
 Necessity compelled the Athenians to consent. Pursued 
 by his enemies, Demosthenes took refuge in the temple of 
 Neptune, on the island of Calauria, where he terminated 
 his life by poison, at the age of above sixty years. 
 
 It remains for us, briefly, to notice his oratorical char- 
 acter. Among orators, the name of Demosthenes shines 
 with incomparable splendor. By the unanimous consent 
 of all ages and nations, it has been allowed to stand pre- 
 eminent in the history of eloquence. It is admitted every- 
 where that no one in ancient or modern times ever poured 
 out his eloquence in such a lofty, soul-stirring strain, or 
 with such electric energy as this great master of the human 
 passions. 
 
 Says a wise reviewer, " The superiority of Demosthenes, 
 and his claim to rank as the greatest of orators, is uni- 
 versally admitted. His reputation, like that of Homer, 
 than which it is only less ancient, may be considered as 
 resting on an immovable basis. It is established by the 
 admiration of his acute and fastidious countrymen — by 
 the unbounded sway which he exerted over them — and by 
 the dread with which he inspired their foes. Cicero, the 
 all-accomplished orator, philosopher and statesman, Quin- 
 tilian. the greatest of rhetoricians, and Loginus, the ablest 
 of critics, alike awarded to him the palm of unrivaled 
 eloquence. Nor has the decision of antiquity been reversed 
 by the moderns. Little as his sententious energy has been 
 imitated, its vast superiority has been conceded by all. 
 
 The grand characteristic of this great man is, undoubt- 
 edly, strength. ' His peculiar properties,' says Longinus, 
 ' specially vouchsafed to him by immediate dispensation 
 of the Divinity, were unrivaled and unapproachable vigor 
 and power.' It is, perhaps, more easy to perceive the
 
 22 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 fact, than to tell wherein the great strength of this intel- 
 lectual Samson lay. 
 
 We may say, in the first place, that he was eminently 
 argumentative. No orator can be named, who, in this 
 respect is more original, more ingenious, or more logical 
 In statement he is succinct and clear. His arrangement is 
 perfect without the shoio of arrangement; and he is un- 
 erring in the sagacity with which he discovers his own 
 strong points, and the weak ones of his adversary. 
 
 But his argumentation is never dry — it is never cold. 
 His reasoning seems to proceed as much from the heart as 
 from the head. He so intermingles his declamation with 
 his argument, that it never appears to he declamation. 
 Through the entire texture of his discourse, reason and 
 passion, passion and reason, like warp and woof, are beau- 
 tifully interwoven. Or perhaps it would be more accurate 
 to say of this peculiar feature, that his argument is impas- 
 sioned, and his declamation logical. The profound, bril- 
 liant, impetuous flow of his eloquence is like that of some 
 great river, when having escaped its rocky barriers, it has 
 gained the gentler inclination of the alluvial plains; no 
 longer chafed and frothy as among the hills, nor discolored 
 yet by admixture with the sea — deej^, clear, rapid, spark- 
 ling — it rolls -along, a noble image of beauty, grandeur, 
 and irresistible power. 
 
 His conciseness has already been named. This trait was 
 carried by our orator to such an extreme, tliat some have 
 even deemed it a fault. But this we would be slow to 
 assert. It is unquestionably one great source of his power. 
 Everything is finished with consummate care Every 
 word is significant and apt; and that very place is assigned 
 to each, wliicli makes it most effective. Hence, indeed, 
 arises no small i)art of the difficulty of transfusing his 
 spirit and power into another language;
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 23 
 
 With that exquisite tact, which never forsakes him, he 
 stops always at the precise point of greatest eflect. Having 
 made a bold or happy stroke he passes on to his argument 
 or inference. By no needless explanation — by no super- 
 fluous embellishment, does he endanger the eifect, or incur 
 the hazard of '' tearing his subject to tatters." How unlike, 
 in this respect, to most orators of modern times! 
 
 But nothing s-eems to have attracted the wonder and 
 admiration of his readers so much, as that oblivion of 
 self which is conspicuous on every page. It is to the 
 Olyntliiacs and Philippics that we now refer. In these 
 immortal productions Demosthenes seems to be nothing; 
 his subject — his cause — his country — every thing. Widely 
 different was the case with Cicero, whose elaborate pictures 
 rarely failed to exhibit the orator himself, the most promi- 
 nent figure in the foreground. While we follow the 
 Grecian orator, we cease to wonder at his success. Such 
 earnestness and sincerity; such all-absorbing, self-renoun- 
 cing patriotism, exhibited with such force of argument, 
 and such i^owers of appeal, could not but be resistless, for 
 we can not resist them ourselves. Once fairly in the 
 stream, the torrent bears us on. We think not of stopj^ing ; 
 we can not stop if we would. Unreluctant caj)tives, we 
 surrender at discretion, and realize that it is exciting and 
 delightful, thus to feel the influence of one master mind. 
 
 While still ' our little barks attendant sail, 
 Pursue the triumph, ami partake the gale.' 
 
 As yet we have contemi:)lated the orator only as he is^ — 
 speaking to us from the written page, and in a language, 
 which by a sort of misnomer we call dead. But we shall 
 have only an imjjerfect estimation of his power, until we 
 have formed some adequate conception of what he was. 
 We must cross the western and midland oceans, we must 
 run up the stream of time two thousand years, — we must
 
 24 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 see the orator standing in the pride of his living power, 
 and on the very scene of his immortal triumphs. A native 
 of the small island of Seriphus once reproached Themis- 
 tocles with deriving his greatness from that of his country. 
 ' It may be so,' was the reply, ' but thou could'st no more 
 have been renowned at Athens, than I at Serii^hus. The 
 sentiment thus expressed is of universal aj^plication. 
 Great talents may exist and be discoverable any where, 
 but they can attain to the full measure of their greatness 
 only when Providence places them in a sjjhere of com- 
 mensurate extent. Such a sphere, Demosthenes undoubt- 
 edly had. 
 
 It is well known that all the essential powers of the 
 Athenian state were vested in the people. The government 
 of Athens was to all intents an unmixed and unmitigated 
 democracy. All matters, both of internal and external 
 policy, all questions both of peace and war, were debated 
 and decided in the pojjular assembly. The Athenians were 
 a remarkable race; a people of ardent temperament, and 
 clear and active intellect. Perhaps no other community 
 of equal extent has ever existed, so polished, so universally 
 literary. Accustomed to constant attendance on dramatic 
 exhibitions; that faultless drama, which to this day is the 
 unrivaled model of simplicity and beauty; living in an 
 age and land, in which the fine arts, history, jioetry and 
 eloquence were carried to the very zenith of jjerfection, 
 the Athenians had become in all matters of taste and 
 language, ingeniously acute, ftistidiously critical. Prone 
 to admiration, more prone to distrust; passionately devoted 
 to war and glory, still more devoted to pleasure and ease; 
 indolent, fickle, turbulent, at home; when abroad, active, 
 patient, brave; the Athenian character was a singular com- 
 pound of good and evil. Such was the people whom 
 Demosthenes addressed. 
 Let us enter their assembly. The place of meeting is an
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 25 
 
 amphitheater of vast extent. Its canopy is the open sky. 
 In the rear, but high above them, towers the' Acropolis? 
 glorious with that architectural splendor, on whose crumb- 
 ling relics we still gaze with the admiration of despair. 
 Before them is the blue JEgeaii; their gallant navy riding 
 by the shore, and in the distance, ' unconquered Salamis,' 
 the scene of its early glory. On those stone benches, are 
 seated, within reach of a single speaker's eye and voice an 
 entire myriad of human beings, met here on terms of per- 
 fect equality, to deliberate on the state of the nation. The 
 civil and military power which they wield, is no other than 
 that wliich once repelled the millions of Persia, and which 
 since, on a thousand hard-fought fields of intestine and of 
 foreign war, has drawn around it all that sympathy which 
 we naturally feel in brilliant success and unparalleled 
 disaster. All feel it to be a scene of overwhelming in- 
 terest. The moment is big with the fate of empires. On 
 the decisions of the hour may depend the question, 
 Avhether Athens shall longer be the eye of Greece, and 
 glory of the world. Nay, more — freedom and slavery — 
 national existence and natio-nal extinction may now be 
 oscillating in the balance of fate. 
 
 Philip of Macedon, an ambitious and able monarch, has 
 been long aiming at the sovereignty of Greece. No means 
 likely to effect his purpose have been left untried. One 
 after another of the Grecian states has yielded to Macedo- 
 nian arms, or arts, or gold. Athens alone was competent 
 to resist the usurper. Moved by the threatening danger 
 and harangues of Demosthenes, more than once has she 
 roused herself to tiction, and after checking the tyrant's 
 career, sunk again into security. But intelligence has 
 come of new and more alarming encroachments. Treaties 
 have been violated; provinces overrun; cities in alliance 
 conquered and destroyed. The designs of the king are 
 but too manifest; the danger is great and imminent. Al-
 
 26 OilATORS ^VND STATESMEN. 
 
 ready has the herald, according to custom, called on those 
 who have anything to ofi'er in the present emergency, to 
 come lor ward and give their advice. Already has age 
 uttered its warning voice, and eloquence painted in glow- 
 ing colors the magnitude and difficulty of a war with 
 Philip. The timid, the prudent, and the venal, have 
 united in magnifyiiig the power and clemency of the mon- 
 arch; in portraying the weakness of the republic, and in 
 urging the necessity of conciliation and submission. There 
 are evident indications that the advice is not unwelcome 
 to the indolent and pleasure-loving sons of Athens. Dares 
 any, under these circumstances, offer a contrary opinion? 
 Considering the fearful odds and the great uncertainty, 
 will any venture to propose a war with Philip, knoAving 
 that should the measure be adopted, and prove unsuccess- 
 ful, the author of such advice may be put to death by the 
 laws of his country? But lo! Demosthenes ascends the 
 rostrum. Self-possessed, unassuming, yet conscious of his 
 powers, it is his purpose to stem the tide which he sees 
 advancing; to roll back the current; to operate, in other 
 words, on this mass of mind, and bend, and melt, and 
 mould it to his own. He spends no breath in labored 
 introduction, but enters at once on his subject. In terms 
 of cutting severity, he chides the supineness and false 
 security of his countrymen. Yet so unquestioned is his 
 integrity; such the sincerity of his patriot ardor; so evi- 
 dently good his motive, that he awakens no resentment, 
 excites no feelings but those of shame. He allows, indeed, 
 that much is lost, but much still remains. He suffers no 
 despondence. He unfolds the resources of the state, and 
 convinces his countrymen that nothing is even now needed 
 but resolution and perseverance. Above all, he portrays 
 w4th vi\id In-ightness the injustice and the designs of 
 Philip. The ambitious monarch, the unprincipled man, is 
 set before us. Every winding of his crooked j^olicy is
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 27 
 
 unravelled : every latent motive set in the blaze of day. 
 As he proceeds, indignation glows in every breast — quivers 
 on the lip — kindles in the eye. 
 
 Finally, he calls up the images of the past. The earlier 
 glories of Athens; the spirit of their lathers, who preferred 
 death to ignominy; that renown, beyond the reach even of 
 envy, which they won; the institutions w^hich they be- 
 queathed, and the monuments of their taste and glory still 
 clustering thick around, are touched with equal rapidity 
 and power. One victory, at least, is gained — the victory of 
 the orator. Ten thousand minds feel and acknowledge 
 the mastery of 07ie. Yet such is the charm of his elo- 
 quence, that _ they think not of him — they think not of 
 themselves. High thoughts of country fill every soul. At 
 his Caducean touch, irresolution and pusillanimity have 
 vanished. Philip is no longer dreaded; the Macedonian 
 phalanx is no longer invincible. Marathon and Platsa 
 are before them. Mars once more woos them to his fierce 
 embrace, and Minerva, their own Minerva, marshals them 
 to victory. 
 
 'Thejeirring states, obsequious now. 
 View the patriot's hand on high ; 
 Thunder gathering on his brow, 
 Lightning flashing from his eye." 
 
 ' Borne by the tides of words along. 
 One voice, one mind, inspire the throng; 
 'To arms! to arms! to arnvs!' they cry; 
 ' Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 
 Lead us to Philippi's lord. 
 Let us conquer him — or die !' " 
 
 We may inquire a little more particularly into the cause 
 of the w^onderful success of Demosthenes in public sj^eak- 
 ing. What were some more of his most distinguished 
 characteristics? In w^hat did the great secret of his power 
 lie?
 
 28 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 In contemplating this prince of orators, we find that 
 industry and perseverance were leading traits in his char- 
 acter. Without these inestimable qualities he could never 
 have attained the grand summit at which he finally 
 arrived. What a noble instance of untiring perseverance 
 is displayed in the history of Demosthenes! How deeply 
 does he command our admiration when we contemplate 
 him in solitude, laboring with all his might to overcome 
 his natural defects, and to acquire the most admirable and 
 forcible delivery in public speaking! This persevering 
 energy is the grand characteristic of all who are celebrated 
 for their attainments in oratory, science, and general 
 literature, — whose names shine with resj^lendency on the 
 page of history. To this indomitable trait of character 
 they were indebted for the performance of their greatest ' 
 labors; for the magnificence of those intellectual monu- 
 ments which they have reared for the admiration of all 
 ages and nations. The necessity of untiring labor and 
 perseverance in those who aspire to eminence in the higher 
 walks of scholarship is eloquently enforced by Dr. Chal- 
 mers.* 
 
 " It is by dint of steady labor; it is by giving enough of 
 application to the work, and liaving enough of time for the 
 doing of it; it is by regular pains-taking and the plying 
 of constant assiduities; it is by these, and not by any pro- 
 cess of legerdemain, that we secure the strength and staple 
 of real excellence. It was thus, that Demosthenes, clause 
 after clause, and sentence after sentence, elaborated, and 
 that to the uttermost, his immortal orations; it was thus 
 that Newton pioneered his way, by the steps of an ascend- 
 
 * See the Life and Writings of Thomas Chalmers, D. D., LL.D. by 
 Rev. William Haniia, LL.D. This is an interesting and useful work, 
 and should be in the library of ever literary man. The life of Dr. Chalmers 
 was a particular favorite with Henry Clay, and one of the books which he 
 read most in the evening of his life.
 
 DEMOSTHEi'^ES. '29 
 
 ing geometry, to the mechanism of the heavens — after 
 which, he left this testimony behind him, that he was 
 conscious of nothing else but a habit of patient thinking, 
 which could at all distinguish him from other men." 
 
 But another great secret of Demosthenes' success in 
 oratory lay in his honesty. His political i^rinciples, and his 
 burning eloquence emanated from the depths of his soul. 
 As his sentiments were expressed in the most earnest and 
 impassioned*manner, every one could not but feel that they 
 originated in a patriotic spirit, and were delivered with 
 all the sincerity which characterizes the citizen, whose 
 highest and noblest aim is the promotion of the pros]3erity 
 and hapi)iness of his beloved country. Demosthenes was 
 deeply impressed with tliose principles whicli he endeavored 
 to infuse into the mind of his audience." He was con- 
 vinced of their truth and exiiediency. 
 
 He, moreover, possessed that acute sensibility, without 
 which a public speaker has but little power over a popular 
 asseml^ly. Sensibility is an essential tpiality in the forma- 
 tion of a powerful orator. Without it, he can not control 
 his audience; noj^- can he attain the highest end of elo- 
 quence, which is to affect the heart, to convince the 
 judgment, to move the passions, to sway the whole man. 
 Those sudden and magnificent bursts of oratory, which 
 have delighted and astonished audiences, and produced 
 such irrepressible and thrilling emotions, have emanated 
 from sensibility in the speaker. It was this that inspired 
 Demosthenes in some of the loftiest strains and grandest 
 bursts of his thundering eloquence. It was this, which 
 gave rise to some of the most beautiful, touching, and 
 sublime passages in the speeches of Chatliam, Burke, 
 Grattan, Erskine, Henry, Ames, and Clay. 
 
 The transferring of his own burning thoughts to the 
 hearts of those whom he addi*essed was the sublime end 
 of the great Athenian's oratorical efforts. This should be
 
 30 ORATORS AND STATESMExV. 
 
 the grand object of every public speaker. If his own 
 emotions are thus communicated to his hearers; if his 
 own glowing spirit is poured into their sympathizing souls, 
 success must crown his noble efibrts, and the highest end 
 of eloquence be attained. True eloquence is " logic set 
 on fire. It is a great and fervent spirit, pouring itself, 
 in a living torrent, into the hearts and souls of its audit- 
 ors." Lord Erskine has somewhere forcibly remarked, that 
 " intellect alone, however exalted, without strong feelings, 
 without even irritable sensibility, would be only like an 
 immense magazine of powder, if there were no such ele- 
 ment as fire in the natural world. It is the heart wliich 
 is the spring and fountain of all eloquence." 
 
 " The great orators of antiquity labored long and pas- 
 sionately to develop their own sensibilities, and, in 
 speaking, to make their heart a mighty auxiliary to their 
 intellect. They strove to feed the fires of their eloquence 
 with the choicest materials, selected from the most glowing 
 sources; not as dry quotations, frigid ornaments tagged to 
 the limping dullness of their own stupid thoughts, but as 
 spontaneous contributions of volcanic heat and power, 
 kindling where they fell and blending with the flames 
 they augmented. Their minds were rich with the selectest 
 stores of elegant literature, and as some pertinent maxim 
 or splendid illustration occurred in extemjioraneous dis- 
 course, the gem grew suddenly brilliant amid the corus- 
 cations of inflamed fancy, while the orator poured his 
 whole soul into his quotation, and sent it, revivified and 
 blazing to every enraptured bosom." 
 
 A proper action and pronunciation are indisjoensable to 
 success in oratory. Without them an oration would lose 
 its greatest charm and power. The action and pronuncia- 
 tion of Demosthenes are said to have been uncommonly 
 veliement. 
 
 He was thoroughly convinced of the importance of a
 
 DEMOSTHENES. I 
 
 proper enunciation and action in i>ublic address. Such an 
 importance did he attach to the manner of the public 
 speaker, that, to one who asked him what was the first 
 requisite in an orator, he merely replied, " Delivery," and 
 when asked what were the second and third requisites, he 
 gave the same answer as at first. " His idea was this : a life- 
 less manner on the part of a public speaker, shows that his 
 own feelings are not enlisted in the cause which he is ad- 
 vocating, and it is idle for him, therefore, to seek to make 
 convert sof others, when he has failed in making one 
 of himself. On the other hand, when the tone of voice, 
 the gesture, the look, the whole manner of the orator, 
 display the powerful feelings that agitate him, his emotion 
 is communicated to his hearers, and success is inevitable. 
 It was not, therefore, mere ' action ' that Demosthenes 
 required in an orator, an error into which some have 
 fallen from a mistranslation of the Latin rhetorical term 
 ' actio,' as employed by Cicero {Brut., 37), in mentioning 
 this incident; but was an attention to the whole manner 
 of delivery, the look, the tone, the every movement, as so 
 many unerring indications of internal emotion, and of the 
 honesty and sincerity of the speaker." 
 
 A graceful and vehement style of delivery, imparts to 
 true eloquence its fascinating, overwhelming power. It 
 should be the steady aim of the young orator to attain 
 such a delivery. Let him study the oratorical character of 
 Demosthenes and Cicero, of Chatham and Fox, of Patrick 
 Henry and Clay, of Webster and Everett. Let him dwell 
 on their beauties, and infuse them into his own mind. 
 
 But the greatest charm of Demosthenian eloquence 
 consisted in action. The delivery of Demosthenes must 
 have been admirable, and imposing in the highest degree. 
 The propriety of his enunciation, the gracefulness and 
 vehemence of his action, the glowing expression of his 
 countenance, the fire of his eye, the thunder of his voice,^
 
 32 ORATORS A-ND STATESMEN. 
 
 all combined to render him the first of orators, and to 
 impart to his orations a magical power. 
 
 We have thus seen, that the grand characteristics of 
 this prince of orators, were " strength, sublimity, and a 
 j^iercing energy and force, aided by an emphatic and 
 vehement elocution." 
 
 We may here observe with an able critic, that the great 
 elements of the highest style of eloquence, those which 
 constitute the tsmrris, the nameless energy of the ancients, 
 are close, rapid, powerful, 'practical, reasoning, animated 
 by intense passion. These are the great elements: philo- 
 sophical reflection and splendid imagery, are valuable 
 only as occasional auxiliaries, and are always of subordi- 
 nate importance. Let any one look at the orations of De- 
 mosthenes: his eloquence has but few traces of either of 
 the above qualities. His philosoj)hy never assumes the 
 form of abstract propositions or general reflections; it is 
 rather an application of them to particular circumstances. 
 Like history, his eloquence is philosophy teaching by 
 examples. In the same manner, his illustrations are 
 almost always in the form of metaphor; characterized by 
 force far more than by beauty, and expressed with the 
 utmost possible conciseness. Not an epithet is wasted in 
 mere ornament* 
 
 To the great, absorbing topic of his political career, 
 Demostlienes was, in no small degree, indebted for the 
 glory which has encircled his name as an orator. The 
 subject, on which he expatiated with burning delight, 
 doubtless contributed in some degree, to produce those 
 wonderful ett'ects which are said to have accomi3auied his 
 most impassioned bursts of declamation. It was one of 
 the highest moment to every friend of Grecian liberty, 
 and most favorable for a display of true eloquence. " Elo 
 
 * Henry Rogers.
 
 DEMOSTHENES. 33 
 
 quence," says Cicero, " is speaking in a manner proper to 
 persuade;" and we know that a great part of the political 
 life of Demosthenes was spent in persuading the Atheni- 
 ans to take up arms against Philip. 
 
 Persuasion should be the one grand object at all times 
 kept in view by every public speaker. He should not 
 merely expatiate on the beauties and glories of his theme; 
 he should not merely state propositions, and discuss doc- 
 trines, but persuade his hearers to adopt the principles 
 which he lays down; to embrace the views, which he pre- 
 sents; and to act with promptness and decision as he 
 directs. Throughout the political discourses of Demos- 
 thenes abounds the art of persuasion, and no political 
 orator ever had a finer field for the exercise of its power. 
 Philip was on the point of conquering Greece, the Athe- 
 nians had degenerated, and lost, in a great measure, the 
 heroism and valor of their ancestors, when Demosthenes 
 appeared against the Macedonian tyrant and usurper. 
 The orator warns his countrymen of their danger, arouses 
 them from their inaction, and, by the recital of the military 
 success and glory which crowned the Grecian heroes of 
 former days, at Marathon, Plataea, Thermopylae, and other 
 glorious battle-fields, excites and persuades them to take 
 up arms against the invader of Grecian rights and liber- 
 ties. 
 
 It has been truly said, that Philip formed the political 
 character of Demosthenes. Such orators can be called 
 forth, only in the stormy, revolutionary days of republics. 
 Demosthenes appeared in the last great contest for ancient 
 Grecian liberty. Cicero came forth to sustain the totter- 
 ing pillars of the Roman state, and to avert the impending 
 blow of conspiracy that was about to fall on the liberties 
 of his beloved country; and Patrick Henry was nurtured 
 amid the tumultuous scenes of the American Revolution. 
 
 When the sky of liberty grew dark with clouds; when 
 5
 
 34 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the gathering tempest of oppression, seemed about to 
 burst over our young republic, and extinguish those fires 
 of liberty which had been kindled on every mountain 
 and plain, and in every valley from the granite hills of 
 New Hampshire to the green savannahs of Georgia, then 
 Henry, like Demosthenes and Cicero, poured forth torrents 
 of eloquence that swept away every obstacle and rolled 
 onward with overwhelming force. 
 
 During fourteen years, the great Athenian orator exerted 
 his powerful eloquence in defending his country's rights, 
 against the oppressions of a foreign enemy; but unlike 
 Henry, he fell in the glorious cause he was advocating and 
 with him expired the liberties of his country. 
 
 If from the orator we turn to the statesman, our admira- 
 tion will not in the least be diminished. Not only was 
 Demosthenes the most accomplished of orators, but he 
 was one of the greatest of statesmen. It is true that he 
 had not the power of carrying into eifect the mighty 
 .schemes which his capacious mind had formed; but how 
 deeply does he command our respect and admiration by 
 the skillful employment of those scanty means which he had. 
 
 The statesmen of antiquity, unlike those of modern 
 times, were restricted to very limited means for forming or 
 carrying on military enteritises. They had not, at their 
 command, the power or the resources of the Pitts, the 
 Foxes, the Grenvilles, or the Walj^oles of Great Britain. 
 And yet Demosthenes, by his i)olitical sagacity, was ena- 
 bled, with his contracted means, to cope for a long time 
 with Philip, and to inspire him with more dread than did 
 all the fleets and armies of the Athenians. He maintained 
 his position to the last. It has been eloquently said of 
 Athen's mighty statesman, that it was his high calling to 
 be the pillar of a sinking state. Thirty years he remained 
 true to it, and did not yield till he was buried beneath 
 its ruins.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CICEEO. 
 
 In Rome, as in Greece, eloquence was a " plant of late 
 growth, and of short duration." It w^as not until the 
 transcendent genius of Hortensius and Cicero burst forth 
 with astonishing splendor, in the later ages of the com- 
 monwealth, that Raman oratory assumed its true charac- 
 ter, and was carried to the highest degree of cultivation 
 and perfection. The era of Cicero w'as the golden age of 
 Roman eloquence j a period which the student of classical 
 literature will ever contemplate with admiration. Then 
 weie heard the last and highest notes of patriotic eloquence 
 in Rome. " It was not until about the time of Cicero, that 
 the Latin language had become sufficiently refined, and the 
 general learning and taste of the nation sufficiently en- 
 lightened to appreciate and encourage the higher efforts 
 of oratorical art. With the patronage of. fair 02)portunity, 
 and under the combined influence of freedom and taste, 
 eloquence reappeared in all her native beauty." 
 
 Among the most distinguished Roman orators, i:>receding 
 or contemporary with Cicero, were Cornelius Cethegus, 
 Cato the elder, Scipio Nasica, Mutius Scesvola, Marcus 
 Antonius, Lucius Licinius Crassus, Publius Sulpitius, 
 Cains A. Cotta, Hortensius, Julius Cajsar, Messala, and 
 Brutus. Of these, Hortensius deserves particular notice 
 here, as he was the rival of Cicero, and next to Iiim, the 
 greatest orator of Rome. He was born about the year 115 
 B. c, and was eight years older than Cicero. At the age
 
 36 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of nineteen he began to distinguish himself by his florid 
 eloquence in the Roman forum. He lived in great magni- 
 jBcence, and died at the age of sixty-three. 
 
 Hortensius appears to have possessed almost all the 
 qualities requisite to form an accomplished orator. His 
 imagination was fertile and sparkling, his acquaintance 
 with literature extensive, and the stream of his eloquence 
 cojDious, rapid and vehement. The powers of his mind 
 were extraordinary. " Nature had given him," says Cicero, 
 in his Brutus (c. 88), " so haj^py a memory, that he never 
 had need of committing to writing any discourse which he 
 had meditated, while, after his opponent had finished 
 speaking, he could recall, word by word, not only what 
 the other had said, but also the authorities whir h had been 
 cited against himself.* His industry was indefatigable. He 
 never let a day pass without speaking in the forum, or 
 preparing himself to appear on the morrow; oftentimes 
 he did both. He excelled particularly in the art of divid- 
 jng his subject, and in then reuniting it in a luminous 
 manner, calling in, at the same time, even some of the ar- 
 guments which had been urged against him. His diction 
 was noble, elegant, and rich; his voice strong and pleas- 
 ing; his gestures carefully studied." 
 
 But the fame of Hortensius was dimmed by the incom- 
 parable splendor of Cicero, whom we may, perhaps, regard 
 as the most perfect model of eloquence that the world has 
 ever seen. To notice some of the leading events of his 
 interesting life, and to contemplate the character of his 
 oratory, we now turn with delight. 
 
 * As a proof of his asloiushing memory, it is recorded by Seneca, that, for 
 a trial of his powers of rellection, he remained a whole day at a public auc- 
 tion, and when it was concliuled, he repeated in order \\ hat had been sold, to 
 whom, and at what price. His recital was compared with the clerk's account, 
 and his memory was found to have served him faithfully in every particular. 
 Senec. Pro:/. Lib. I. Controv.
 
 CICERO. . 37 
 
 Marcus Tullius Cicero was born on the 3d of January, 
 107 3B.^c His birthplace was Arpinum, in ancient times a 
 small town of Latium, now part of the kingdom of Naples. 
 Early in life Cicero gave decided indications that he pos- 
 sessed a towering genius and a brilliant intellect j and was 
 placed under eminent instructors. One of his earliest 
 teachers was the celebrated poet Archias, with whom he 
 learned the art of poetry, for which he had a high relish. 
 Subsequently he was placed under the care of Scaevola, a 
 famous lawyer. Under his instruction he soon acquired a 
 profound knowledge of the civil law, and the political in- 
 stitutions of the Romans. Here he laid the foundation of 
 his forensic fame; the luster of which has not been dim- 
 med by any succeeding advocate. Cicero- was first in- 
 structed in Hie principles of i^hilosophy by Philo the 
 Academic. But his attention was soon wholly turned to 
 oratory. He early cherished tlie hope of becoming the 
 most distinguished orator of his age. To accomplish this 
 object he used every means within his power. With the 
 assistance of Molo, the most celebrated teacher of elo- 
 quence then in Rome, he ajJiJlied himself with the utmost 
 assiduity to the study of the art, to the practice of daily 
 declamation, to the repetition of the finest passages of the 
 best poets and orators, and to the exercise of translating 
 the speeches of eminent Greek orators into Latin. This 
 he found to be a useful exercise. It afforded him an op- 
 portunity of enriching his own style with choice expres- 
 sions of that most beautiful of all human tongues — the 
 Greek. While Cicero was attending the oratorical lec- 
 tures of Molo, his emulation was excited by the fame of 
 Hortensius, whose eloquence was then beaming with a 
 splendor which had never before been witnessed in Rome 
 The praises which v.ere lavished upon Hortensius fired the 
 youthful Cicero with tlie laudable ambition of reaching 
 the same exalted position in the oratorical world, which
 
 38 ORATORS AND STATESMEx\. 
 
 this illustrious orator enjoyed. He continued his unre- 
 mitted efibrts to become an accomplished orator. In the 
 pursuit of this, no time was lost. No day was permitted 
 to pass without some exercise in declamation — a practice 
 which should be imitated by every young student. Day 
 and night Cicero j^ursued his favorite study of oratory 
 wuth indefatigable ardor. He did not make himself an 
 orator without severe, intellectual discipline and study. 
 He was a laborious student. No matter how brilliant na- * 
 tural powers may be, study, hard study is absolutely neces- 
 sary to excellence in any art or profession. It was not by 
 a neglect of mental culture — not by trusting to his genius 
 alone, but by an untiring perseverance, by a cultivation 
 of his intellectual and oratorical powers, that Cicero be- 
 came the rival of Demosthenes, and the most celebrated 
 orator of Rome. No man can be an accomplished orator 
 or i^rofound scholar without a severe course of intellectual 
 training. The greatest orators and philosophers have beeii 
 remarkable for their intense application to study. This is 
 true of Demosthenes, of Cicero, of Edmund Burke, of 
 Sir Isaac Newton, of Robert Boyle, and of a host of others, 
 eminent in the v^arious walks of scholarship. Even Pat- 
 rick Henry was not an exception to this rule. While he 
 roamed sportively over the green fields, and along the rip- 
 pling streams, he was reading the grand, unfolded volume 
 of nature; and while he was conversing with men he was 
 studying their character. Thus he knew how to win his 
 way to the heart, to touch the tender cords of the soul, 
 to convince, to move, to delight, to arouse, to astonish. 
 And this is the knowledge and the power which the orator 
 turns to the greatest advantage. When he has gained an 
 intimate acquaintance with the disiiosition and workings 
 of the human heart, and can move the passions irresisti- 
 bly, the loftiest power of eloquence is attained. 
 
 About the age of twenty-six, Cicero presented himself
 
 CICERO 39 
 
 at the bar, and immediately commenced a successful prac- 
 tice. In the following year he undertook his first most 
 important case, the defense of S. Roscius, in a criminal 
 prosecution. Cicero was triumphant, and by a vivid burst 
 of oratory procured the acquittal of his client. In the 
 management of this case he displayed the loftiest elo- 
 quence, which was received with shouts of applause by 
 the audience. This effort firmly established the re^jutation 
 of Cicero as an orator, and placed him in the first class of 
 advocates. 
 
 Thus, at the early age of twenty-seven, the genius and 
 eloquence of Cicero awakened universal admiration among 
 the citizens of Rome. It is somewhat curious to observe 
 that Demosthenes and Patrick Henry were of this age 
 when they began to achieve their most brilliant oratorical 
 triumphs 5 and that Daniel Webster had nearly reached 
 the isame age when he w'on his unfading laurels in the fa- 
 mous Dartmouth College case. 
 
 Shortly after the trial of Roscius, Cicero set out upon a 
 tour to Greece and Asia Minor, where he spent tw'o years 
 in the study of jihilosophy and oratory, under the ablest 
 teachers. At the end of this period he returned to Rome, 
 at the age of thirty, with his mind enriched with the 
 treasures of Grecian literature, and with his style of elo- 
 quence polished and perfected. 
 
 A very interesting account of his oratorical training, 
 both previous to, and during his visit to Athens and Asia, 
 is given by himself in his valuable treatise entitled " De 
 Claris Oratoribus." The following extract will be read 
 with interest by the admirers of the orator : 
 
 " The other chief orators of the day," says Cicero, "be- 
 ing then in the magistracy, were almost daily heard by me 
 in their public discourses. Curio was then tribune of the 
 people, but never spoke, having once been deserted by his 
 audience in a mass. Quiutus Metellus Celer, though not
 
 40 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 an orator, was not wholly unable to speak; Variiis, Carbo, 
 and Pomponius were eloquent, and they were continually 
 upon the rostrum. Caius Julius, also, the curule aedile, 
 almost daily made a set speech. My passion for listening 
 received its first disappointment when Cotta was banished; 
 but in diligent attendance on the other orators, I not only 
 devoted a part of each day to reading, writing, and dis- 
 cussing; but extended my studies beyond the exercises of 
 oratory, to philosophy and the law. In the following year, 
 Varius was banished under his own laAv. In the study of 
 the civil law, I employed myself under Scsevola, who, al- 
 though he did not formally receive jiupils, was willing to 
 admit those who desired it, to be present while he gave 
 legal opinions to his clients. The next year, Sylla and 
 Pompey were consuls, and I formed an intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the whole art of public speaking, in listening 
 to the daily harangues of the tribune Sulpicius. At the 
 same time, Philo, the head of the academy, having, with 
 the rest of the aristocracy of Athens, lied to Rome in the 
 Mithridatic war, I gave myself wholly up to him and the 
 study of i)hilosophy, not merely from the delight I felt in 
 the variety and magnitude of the subject, but because the 
 career of judicial eloquence seemed for ever shut up. 
 Sulpicius had fallen that year, and in the next, three other 
 orators were most cruelly slain; Catulus, Antony, and 
 Julius. The same year, I employed myself under the di- 
 rection of Molo the Rhodian, a consummate pleader and 
 teacher. I mention these things, Brutus, although some- 
 what aside from our purpose, that you might, as you de- 
 sired, become acquainted with my course, and perceive 
 the manner in which I followed in the steps of Hortensius. 
 For three years, the city had respite from war, but the 
 orators were deceased, retired, or banished; even Crassus 
 and the two Lentuli were absent. Hortensius then took 
 the lead as counsel; Antistius daily rose in reputation;
 
 CICERO. 41 
 
 Piso spoke often, Pomponius less freqnently, Carbo rarely, 
 Pliilii^pus once or twice. All this time, I was occupied 
 day and niglit, in every kind of study. I studied with the 
 stoic Diodotus, who, after having long lived with me, 
 lately died at my house. By him I was trained, among 
 other things, in logic, itself a kind of close and com- 
 pendious eloquence, without which even you, Brutus, have 
 admitted, that the true eloquence, which is but expanded 
 logic, can not be acquired. With this teacher, in his nu- 
 merous and various branches, I was so assiduous, that I did 
 not miss a day in oratorical exercises. I had also a de- 
 clamatory discussion (to use the present phrase), with Piso 
 often, and with Quintus Pompey, or some one else, every 
 day. This was frequently in Latin, but oftener in Greek; 
 both because the Greek language, in itself more adapted 
 to ornament, tended to form the habit of an elegant Latin 
 manner, and because, unless I used the Greek language, I 
 could neither receive instruction nor correction from em- 
 inent Greek teachers. Meantime followed the tumults for 
 the restoration of the republic; the cruel deaths of the 
 thiee orators, Scsvola, Carbo, and Antistius; the return 
 of Cotta, Curio, Crassus, the Lentuli, and Pomi^ey; the 
 establishment of the laws and the tribunals; in a word, 
 the restoration of the Commonwealth. Of the orators, 
 however, Pomponius, Censorinus, and Murena, perished. 
 I then, for the first time, undertook the pleading both of 
 public and private causes; not, as is commonly done, 
 learning my profession in the practice of it, but, as far as 
 I had been able to efl'ect it, entering the forum with my 
 profession learned. At the same time I studied under 
 Molo, who had come to Rome, in Sylla's dictatorship, on 
 business of the Rhodians. My first public cause, there- 
 fore, the defense of Sextus Roscius, was so commended, 
 that there was none which I was not thought competent to 
 
 undertake. Many causes were now put iii'o my hands, 
 6 '
 
 42 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 which I brought into court, not merely diligently, but 
 laboriously prepared. 
 
 " And now, since you seem to wish to learn my history 
 thoroughly, I will mention some things, which might other- 
 wise seem unimportant. At this period, I labored under 
 extreme emaciation and weakness of bodyj my neck was 
 long and slender, and my whole frame and constitution 
 such as are usually thought to render the violent exercise 
 of the lungs liital. This circumstance was matter of the 
 greater anxiety to my friends, because I was in the habit 
 of speaking everything on a high key, without variety, 
 with the utmost power of voice and exertion of my body. 
 "When, therefore, my friends and physicians advised me to 
 abandon pleading, I determined to encounter any danger, 
 rather tlian give up the renown wliich I hoped to acquire 
 as an orator. Having, however, come to the conclusion, 
 that by reducing and managing the voice, and changing 
 my mode of speaking, I could escape the impending dan- 
 ger, I determined, for the sake of altering my manner, to 
 visit Asia. Accordingly, after having been two years in 
 the practice of my profession, and acquiring a standing in ■ 
 the forum, I left Rome. When I came to Athens, I devoted 
 myself six months, under Antiochus, a most noble and 
 prudent sage of the old academy, to the study of philoso- 
 phy, a study which I had early cultivated, had never lost 
 sight of, and now renewed under this admirable teacher. 
 At the same time, however, I practiced speaking diligent- 
 ly, under Demetrius, the Syrian, an experienced and re- 
 spectable teacher of the art. I afterwards made the tour 
 of Asia, with orators of the first celebrity, under whom, 
 witli their full assent, I regularly exercised myself in 
 speaking. The chief of these was Menippus of Stratonice, 
 in my opinion the most eloquent Asiatic orator of his 
 time, and, if to be free from everything offensive or im- 
 pertinent be the test of Atticism, not unworthy to be
 
 CICERO. 43 
 
 reckoned among Attic orators. I was also constantly with 
 Diouysius, of Magnesia, ^Eschylus, of Enidus, and Xeno- 
 cles, of Adramyttium; the principal rhetoricians at that 
 time in Asia. Not satisfied with these, I repaired to 
 Rhodes, and applied myself to JMilo, who had instructed 
 me at Rome, who was not only a pleader himself, in real 
 causes, and an eminent writer, but most discreet in re- 
 marking and correcting faults as an instructor. He exerted 
 himself, as far as possible, to reduce my manner, redun- 
 dant as it was, and overflowing with juvenile licence and 
 excess; and sought to bring it within proper limits. After 
 spending two years in this w'ay, I returned, not merely 
 trained, but altered. The extreme eifort of my voice in 
 speaking was reduced. My style had become temperate, 
 my lungs strong, and my general health tolerable." 
 
 Soon after his return to Rome, Cicero was sent to Sicily, 
 as questor. In the faithful and generous discharge of his 
 public duties there, he gained the esteem and friendship 
 of the Sicilians. Subsequently, at their solicitation, he 
 undertook the celebrated prosecution of Verres, late Praetor 
 of Sicily, " a criminal," says Dunlop, " infinitely more 
 hateful than Catiline or Clodius, and to whom the Roman 
 republic, at least, never i^roduced an equal in turpitude 
 and crime." The oppression, extortion, rapine and cruelty 
 which he exercised, while governing the province of Sicily, 
 were most flagrant. On the expiration of his office he was 
 prosecuted bv the Sicilians for these public outrages. 
 Cicero, as has been stated, managed the impeachment, 
 while Hortensius appeared for the defense. To Cicero, a 
 glorious opportunity was now afforded for the display of 
 his eloquence. It was one of the most celebrated prose- 
 cutions Yv'hich ancient histcny records; and it is hardly 
 necessary to say that it called forth, on the part of Cicero, 
 a torrent of overwhelming invective and indignant elo- 
 quence.
 
 44 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " In the renowned cause against Verres, there can be no 
 doubt that the orator displayed the whole resources of his 
 vast talents. Every circumstance concurred to stimulate 
 his exertions and excite his eloquence. Is was the first 
 time he had appeared as an accuser in a public trial — his 
 clients were the injured people of a mighty j^rovince, 
 rivaling in importance the imperial state — the inhabit- 
 ants of Sicily surrounded the forum, and an audience was 
 expected from every quarter of Italy, of all that was 
 exalted, intelligent, and refined. But, chiefly, he had a 
 subject, which, from the glaring guilt of the accused, and 
 the nature of his crimes, was so copious, interesting, and 
 various, so abundant in those topics which an orator would 
 select to afford full scope for the exercise of his powers, 
 that it was hardly possible to labor tamely or listlessly in 
 so rich a mine of eloquence. Such a wonderful assem- 
 blage of circumstances never yet prepared the course for 
 the triumphs of oratory; so great an opportunity for the 
 exhibition of forensic art will, in all probability, never 
 again occur. Suffice it to say, that the orator surpassed by 
 his workmanship the singular beauty of his materials; 
 and, instead of being overpowered by their magnitude, 
 derived from the vast resources which they supplied the 
 merit of an additional excellence, in the skill and discern- 
 ment of his choice." 
 
 Of his six orations against Verres, which liave come 
 down to us, Cicero delivered but one. In the commence- 
 ment of the trial, Verres was overwhelmed by the evidence 
 of guilt, which was produced against him, and, without 
 awaiting his sentence, went into voluntary exile. The 
 other five speeches were intended to be delivered, if Verres 
 should make a regular defense. These orations have 
 always been regarded as among the most splendid monu- 
 ments of their author's genius. They contain many passa- 
 ges of exquisite beauty — admii-ably conceived and exe-
 
 CICERO. 45 
 
 cuted. The most touching and eloquent is that in which 
 we have a description of tlie crucifixion of Publius Ga- 
 vius Cosanus, an innocent Roman citizen. Its conception, 
 is grand; its arrangement, beautiful; its pathos, deep and 
 thrilling. It is not surpassed by anything of the kind in 
 the history of ancient eloquence. Before introducing 
 this passage which has so long been admired, we subjoin 
 a judicious reflection of a learned critic. Says Mr. Dun- 
 lop in his History of Roman Literature: "The punish- 
 ments of'aeath and torture usually reserved for slaves, 
 but inflicted by Verres on freemen of Rome, formed the 
 climax of his atrocities, which are detailed in oratorical 
 2,rogression. After the vivid description of his former 
 crimes, one scarcely expects that new terms of indignation 
 will be found; but the expressions of the orator become 
 more glowing, in proportion as Verres grows more daring 
 in his guilt. The sacred character borne over all the 
 world by a Roman citizen, must be fully remembered, in 
 order to read with due feeling the description of the 
 punishment of Gavius, who was scourged, and then nailed 
 to a cross, which, by a refinement in cruelty, was erected 
 on the shore, and facing Italy, that he might suffer death 
 with his view directed towards home and a land of liberty. 
 The whole is poured forth in a torrent of the most rapid 
 and fervid composition; and had it actually flowed from 
 the lips of the speaker, we can not doubt the prodigious 
 effect it would have had on a Roman audience and on 
 Roman judges." 
 
 Here we have the orator's touching description of the 
 jmnishment and execution of Gavius:* " For why should 
 I speak," said Cicero, " of Publius Gavius, a citizen of the 
 municipality of Cosa, judges? or with what vigor of 
 language, with what gravity of expression, with what 
 
 * The excellent, literal translation of C. D. Yonge, B. A., is adopted.— 
 Bohn's Classical Library.
 
 46 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 grief of mind shall I mention liim? But, indeed, that in- 
 dignation fails me. I must take more care than usual that 
 what I am going to saj be worthy of my subject — worthy 
 of the indignation which I feel. For the charge is of 
 such a nature, that when I was first informed of it I 
 thought I should not avail myself of it. For although I 
 knew that it was entirely true, still I thought that it w^ould 
 not appear credible. Being compelled by the Ibars of all 
 the Roman citizens who are living as traders in Sicily, 
 being influenced by the testimonies of the men of Valen- 
 tia, most honorable men, and by those of all the Rhegians, 
 and of many Roman knights who happened at that time 
 to be at Messana, I produced at the previous pleading only 
 just that amount of evidence which might prevent the 
 matter from appearing doubtful to any one. What shall I 
 do now? When I have been speaking for so many hours 
 of one class of oftepces, and of that man's nejarious 
 cruelty, — when I have now expended nearly all my treas- 
 ures of words of such a sort as are w^orthy of that man's 
 wickedness on other matters, and have omitted to take 
 precautions to keep your attention on the stretch by diver- 
 sifying my accusations, how am I to deal with an aifair of 
 the importance that this is? There is, I think, but one 
 method, but one line open to me. I will place the matter 
 plainly before you, which is of itself of such importance 
 that there is no need of my eloquence — and eloquence, 
 indeed, I have none, but there is no need of any one's 
 eloquence to excite your feelings. This Gavins whom I 
 am speaking of, a citizen of Cosa, when he (among that 
 vast number of Roman citizens who had been treated in 
 the same way) had been thrown by Verres into prison, and 
 somehow or other had escaped secretly out of the stone- 
 quarries, and had come to Messana, being now almost 
 W'ithin sight of Italy and of the walls of Rhegium, and 
 being revived, after that fear of death and that darkness,
 
 CICERO. 47 
 
 by the light, as it were, of liberty and of the fragrance of 
 the laws, began to talk at Messana, and to complain that 
 he, a Roman citizen, had been thrown into prison. He 
 said that he was now going straight to Rome, and that he 
 would meet Verres on his arrival there." 
 
 " The miserable man was not aware that it made no 
 difi'erence whether he said this at Messana, or before the 
 man's face in his own i^rsetorian jDalace. For, as I have 
 shown you before, that man had selected this city as the 
 assistant in liis crimes, the receiver of his thefts, the 
 partner in all his wickedness. Accordingly, Gavins is at 
 once brought before the Mamertine magistrates; and, as it 
 happened, Verres came on that ver}^ day to Messana. 
 The matter is brought before him. He is told that the 
 man was a Roman citizen, who was complaining that at 
 Syracuse he had been confined in the stone-quarries, and 
 who, wheiifhe was actually embarking on board ship, and 
 uttering violent threats against Verres, had been brought 
 back by them, and reserved in order that he himself might 
 decide what should be done with him. He thanks the 
 men and praises their good-will and diligence in his be- 
 half. He himself, inflamed with wickedness and frenzy, 
 comes into the forum. His eyes glared; cruelty was visible 
 in his whole countenance. All men waited to see wliat 
 steps he was going to take, — what he was going to do; 
 when all of a sudden he orders the man to be seized, and 
 to be stripped and bound in the middle of the forum, and 
 the rods to be got ready. The miserable man cried out 
 that he was a Roman citizen, a citizen, also, of the muni- 
 cipal town of Cosa, — that he had served with Lucius Pre- 
 tius, a most illustrious Roman knight, who was living as a 
 trader at Panormus, and from whom Verres might know 
 that he was speaking the truth. Then Verres says that he 
 has ascertained that j;ie had been sent into Sicily by the 
 leaders of the runaway slaves, in order to act as a spy; a
 
 48 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 matter as to which there was no witness, no trace, nor even 
 the slightest suspicion in the mind of any one. Then he 
 orders the man to be most violently scourged on all sides. 
 In the middle of the forum of Alessana a Roman citizen, 
 judges, was beaten with rods; while in the mean time no 
 groan was heard, no other expression was heard from that 
 wretched man, amid all his pain, and between the sound 
 of the blows, except these W' ords, ' I am a citizen of Rome.' 
 He fancied that by this orp. statement of his citizenship he 
 could ward ofi' all blows, and remove all torture from his 
 person. He not only did not succeed in averting by his 
 entreaties the violence of tlie rods, but as he kept <pn re- 
 peating his entreaties and the assertion of his citizenship, 
 a cross — a cross, I say — was got ready for that miserable 
 man, who had never witnessed such a stretch of power." 
 
 " the sweet name of liberty ! the admirable privil- 
 eges of our citizenship! Porcian law! Sempronian 
 laws! power of the tribunes, bitterly regretted by, and 
 at last restored to the Roman jDeople ! Have all our rights 
 fallen so far, that in a province of the Roman people, — in a 
 town of our confederate allies, — a Roman citizen should 
 be bound in the forum, and beaten with rods by a man 
 who only liad the fasces and the axes through the kindness 
 of the Roman people? What shall I say? When fire, and 
 red-hot plates, and other instruments of torture were em- 
 ployed? If the bitter entreaties and the miserable cries 
 of that man had no power to restrain you, were you not 
 moved even by the weeping and loud groans of the Roman 
 citizens who were present at that time? Did you dare to 
 drag any one to the cross who said that he was a Romau 
 citizen?" 
 
 "If you, Verres! being taken among the Persians or 
 in the remotest parts of India, were being led to execution, 
 W'hat else would you cry out but tha^ you were a Roman 
 citizen? And if that name of your city, honored and re-
 
 CICERO. 49 
 
 nowred as it is among all men, would have availed you, 
 a stranger among strangers, among barbarians, among men 
 placed in the most remote and distant corners of the 
 earth, ought not he, whoever he was, whom you were hur- 
 rying to the cross, who was a stranger to you, to have been 
 able, when he said that he was a Roman citizen, to obtain 
 from you, the praetor, if not an escape, at least a respite 
 from death by his mention of and claims to citizenship'^" 
 
 " Men of no imi:)ortance, born in an obscure rank, go to 
 sea; they go to places which they have never seen before; 
 where they can neither be known to the men among whom 
 they have arrived, nor always find people to vouch for 
 them. But still, owing to this confidence in the mere fact 
 of their citizenship, they think that they shall be safe, not 
 only among our own magistrates, who are restrained by 
 fear of the laws and of j^ublic opinion, nor among our 
 fellow-citizens only, who are united with them by com- 
 munity of language, of rights, and of many other things; 
 but wherever they come they think that this will be a pro- 
 tection to them. Take away this hope, take away this 
 protection from Roman citizens, establish the fact that 
 there is no assistance to be found in the words ' I am a 
 Roman citizen;" that a praetor, or any other officer, may 
 with impunity order any jDunishment he pleases to be in- 
 flicted on a man who says that he is a Roman citizen, 
 though no one knows that it is not true; and at one blow, 
 by admitting that defense, you cut off' from the Roman 
 citizens all the provinces, and the kingdoms, all free cities, 
 and indeed the whole world, which has hitherto been open 
 most especially to our countrymen." 
 
 " But why need I say more about Gavins? as if you 
 were hostile to Gavins, and not rather an enemy to the 
 name and class of citizens, and to all their rights. You 
 were not, I say, an enemy to the individual, but to the 
 common cause of liberty. For what was our object in
 
 50 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ordering the Mamertines, when, according to their regular 
 custom and usage, they had erected the cross behind the 
 city in the Pompeian road, to place it where it looked 
 towards the strait 5 and in adding, what you can by no 
 means deny, what you said openly in the hearing of every 
 one, that you chose that place in order that the man who 
 said that he was a Roman citizen, might be able from his 
 cross to behold Italy and to look towards his own home? 
 And accordingly, O judges, that cross, for the first time 
 since the foundation of Messana, was erected in that place. 
 A spot commanding a view of Italy was picked out by 
 that man, for the express purpose that the wretched man 
 who was dying in agony and torture might see that the 
 rights of liberty and of slavery were only separated by a 
 very narrow strait, and that Italy might behold her son 
 murdered by the most miserable and most painful punish- 
 ment appropriate to slaves alone." 
 
 " It is a crime to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him 
 is a wickedness; to put him to death is'almost parricide. 
 What shall I say of crucifying him? So guilty an action 
 can not by any possibility be adequately expressed by any 
 name bad enough for it. Yet with all this that man was 
 not content. ' Let him behold his country,' said hej ' let 
 him die within sight of hvws and liberty.' It was not 
 Gavins, it was not one individual, I know not whom, — it 
 was not one Roman citizen, — it was the common cause of 
 freedom and citizenship that you exposed to that torture 
 and nailed on that cross. But now consider the audacity 
 of the man. Do not you think that he was indignant 
 that he could not erect that cross for Roman citizens in 
 the forum, in the comitium, in the very rostra? For the 
 place in his province which was the most like those 
 places in celehi'ity, and the nearest to them in point of 
 distance, he did select. He chose that monument of his 
 wickedness and audacity to be in the sight of Italy, in the
 
 CICERO. 51 
 
 very vestibule of Sicily, within sight of all passers-by as 
 they sailed to and fro." 
 
 But Cicero acquired his greatest renown as an orator 
 and statesman by detecting and crushing the conspiracy 
 of Catiline * This was the most glorious act of his poli- 
 tical career; and his orations against Catiline are the most 
 splendid monuments of his eloquence. As such they have 
 ever been regarded. They are the most precious remains 
 of ancient eloquence, and are among the first models of 
 style that adorn ancient literature. 
 
 The history of the Catilinarian conspiracy has been ably 
 written by Sallust, and it is familiar to every classical 
 student. We need not, therefore, wait to repeat the whole 
 account of this plot, which, had it been executed, would 
 have involved the city of Rome in conflagration, and the 
 whole republic in ruin. It was to have been carried into 
 effect in this manner. Catiline was to leave Rome and 
 join his forces, assembled in different parts of Italy, while 
 his accomplices in the city were to burn the Capitol, and 
 massacre the senators and citizens. Cicero, by his vigi- 
 lance, having discovered their infernal design, summoned 
 the senate to meet in the temple of Jupiter,! in the Capitol, 
 that he might lay before it the whole circumstance of the 
 deep-laid plot. The presence of Catiline, who had the 
 boldness to ajDpear in the midst of the assembly, so inflamed 
 the orator that he immediately rose and broke out in that 
 severe, overwhelming invective which produced such an 
 electric effect when delivered, and which can not, at this 
 day, be read without emotion. It was in a thundering tone 
 of exasperated eloquence that Cicero exclaimed, as he fixed 
 his eye upon the conspirator, " When, Catiline, do you 
 
 * Cicero was chosen Consul in his forty-fourth year, B. C. 63. Catiline's 
 conspiracy was detected and crushed in the same year. 
 
 f This temple was only used for this purpose on occasions of great danger.
 
 52 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 mean to cease abusing our patience ? How long is that 
 madness of yours still to mock us ? WTien is there to be 
 an end of that unbridled audacity of youi's, swaggering 
 about as it does now ? Do not the mighty guards placed 
 on the Palatine Hill — do not the watches posted through- 
 out the city — does not the alarm of the people, and the 
 union of all good men — does not the precaution taken of 
 assembling the senate in this most defensible place — do 
 not the looks and countenances of this venerable body 
 here present, have any efiect upon you ? Do you not feel 
 that your plans are detected ? Do you not see that your 
 conspiracy is already arrested and rendered powerless by 
 the knowledge which every one here possesses of it 1 
 What is there that you did last night, what the night 
 before — where is it that you were — who was there that 
 you summoned to meet you — what design was there which 
 was adopted by you, with which you think that any one 
 of us is unacquainted ? 
 
 " Shame on the age and on its principles ! The senate 
 is aware of these things; the consul sees them; and yet 
 this man lives. Lives ! aye, he comes even into the sen- 
 ate. He takes a part in the public deliberations; he is 
 watching and marking down and checking off for slaughter 
 every individual among us. And we, gallent men that we 
 are, tliink that we are doing our duty to the republic if 
 we keep out of the way of his frenzied attacks. 
 
 " You ought, Catiline, long ago to have been led to 
 execution by command of the consul. That destruction 
 which you have been long plotting against us ought to 
 have already fallen on your own head. 
 
 " I wish, conscript fathers, to be merciful; I wish not 
 to appear negligent amid such danger to the state; but I 
 do now accuse myself of remissness and culpable inactivity. 
 A camp is pitched in Italy, at the entrance of Etruria, in 
 hostility to the republic; the number of the enemy
 
 CICERO. 53 
 
 increases every dayj and yet the general of that camp, the 
 leader of those enemies, we see within the walls — aye, 
 and even in the senate — planning every day some internal 
 injury to the republic. If, Catiline, I should now order 
 you to be arrested, to be put to death, I should, I suppose, 
 have to fear lest all good men should say that I had acted 
 tardily, rather than that any one should affirm that I acted 
 cruelly. But yet this, which ought to have been done long 
 since, I have good reason for not doing as yet; I will put 
 you to death, then, when there shall be not one person 
 possible to be found so wicked, so abandoned, so like your- 
 self, as not to allow that it has been rightly done. As long 
 as one person exists who can dare to defend you, you shall 
 live; but you shall live as you do now, surraunded by my 
 many and trusty guards, so that you shall not be able to 
 stir one finger against the republic : many eyes and ears 
 shall still observe and watch, you, as they have hitherto 
 done, though you shall not perceive them. 
 
 " As, then, this is the case, Catiline, continue as you 
 have begun. Leave tlie city at least: the gates are open; 
 depart. Thkt Manlian camp of yours has been waiting 
 too long for you as its general. And lead forth with you 
 all your friends, or at least as many as you can ; jjurge the 
 city of your presence; you will deliver m-e from a great 
 fear, when there is a wall between me and you Among 
 us you can dwell no longer. — I will not bear it, I will no*t 
 permit it, I will not tolerate it. 
 
 " For what is there, Catiline, that can now afford you 
 any pleasure in this city ? for there is no one in it, except 
 that band of profligate conspirators of yours, who does not 
 fear you — no one who does not hate you. What brand 
 of domestic baseness is not stamped upon your life? What 
 disgraceful circusnstance is wanting to your infamy in your 
 private affairs? From what licentiousness have your eyes, 
 from what atrocity have your hands, from what initiuity
 
 54 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 has your whole body ever abstained ? Is there one youth 
 when you have once entangled him in the temptations of 
 your corruption, to whom you have not held out a sword 
 for audacious crime, or a torch for licentious wickedness"? 
 
 " Begone from the city, Catiline, deliver the republic 
 from fear ; depart into banishment, if that is the word you 
 are waiting for. What now, Catiline? Do you not 
 perceive, do you not see the silence of these men,- they 
 permit it, they say nothing; why wait you for the authority 
 of their words when you see their wishes in their silence ? 
 
 " Wherefore, conscript fathers, let the worthless be- 
 gone, — let them separate themselves from the good, — let 
 them collect in one place, — let them, as I have often said 
 before, be separated from us by a wall; let them cease to 
 plot against the consul in his own house, — to surround 
 the tribunal of the city praetor, — to besiege the senate- 
 house with swords, — to prepare brands and torches to 
 burn the city; let it, in short, be written on the brow of 
 every citizen, what are his sentiments about the republic 
 I promise you this, conscript fathers, that there shall be 
 so much diligence in us the consuls, so much authority in 
 you, so much virtue in the Roman knights, so much una- 
 nimity in all good men, that you shall see everything made 
 plain and manifest by the departure of Catiline, — every- 
 thing checked and punished."* 
 
 * Catiline did not venture to make any reply to this speech, but he begged 
 the senate not to be too hasty in believing everything vi'hich was said to his 
 prejudice by one who had always been his enemy, as Cicero had; and alleged 
 his high birth, and the stake which he had in the prosperity of the common- 
 wealth, as arguments to make it appear improbable that he should seek to 
 Injure it; and called Cicero a stranger, and a new inhabitant of Rome. But 
 the senate interrupted him with a general outcry, calling him traitor and par- 
 ricide. Upon which, being rendered furious and desperate, he declared aloud 
 ■what he had before said to Cato, that since he was circumvented and driven 
 headlong by his enemies, he would quench the flame which his. enemies were 
 kindling around him in the common ruin. And so he rushed out of the templp.
 
 CICERO. 55 
 
 " In point of effect, this oration must have been perfectly 
 electric. The disclosure to the criminal himself of his 
 most secret purposes — their flagitious nature, threatening 
 the life of every one present — the whole course of his 
 villainies and treasons, blazoned forth with the fire of 
 increased eloquence — and the adjuration to him, by flying 
 from Rome, to free his country from such a pestilence, 
 were all wonderfully calculated to excite astonishment, 
 admiration and horror." 
 
 This speech produced a powerful effect. It was the 
 means of driving Catiline from Rome, and of saving the 
 commonwealth from utter ruin. After the conspirator 
 had fled from the city, Cicero called the people together 
 into the forum, and delivered his second Catilinarian ora- 
 tion, which commences as follows : 
 
 " At length, Romans, we have dismissed from the city, 
 or driven out, or, when he was departing of his own 
 accord, we have pursued with words, Lucius Catiline, mad 
 with audacity, breathing wickedness, impiously planning 
 mischief to his country, threatening fire and sword to you 
 and to this city. He is gone, he has departed, he has dis- 
 appeared, he has rushed out. No injury will now be pre- 
 pared against these walls within the walls themselves by 
 that monster and prodigy of wickedness. And we have, 
 without controversy, defeated him, the sole general of this 
 domestic war. For now that dagger will no longer hover 
 about our sides; we shall not be afraid in the campus, in- 
 the foriim, in the senate-house, — ay, and within our own 
 private walls. He was moved from his place when he was 
 driven from the city. Now we shall openly carry on a 
 regular war with an enemy without hindrance. Beyond 
 all question we ruin the man; we have defeated him 
 splendidly when we have driven him fi cm secret treachery 
 into open warfare. But that he has not taken with him 
 his sword red with blood as he intended, — that he has
 
 5 6 ORATORS AND STATE SMEN . 
 
 left US alive, — that we wrested the weapon from his 
 hands, — that he has left the citizens safe and the city 
 standing, what great and overwhelming grief must you 
 think that this is to him ! Now he lies prostrate, Ro- 
 mans, and feels himself stricken down and abject, and often 
 casts back his eyes towards this city, which he mourns 
 over as snatched from his jaws, but which seems to me to 
 rejoice at having vomited forth such a pest, and cast it out 
 of doors." 
 
 It is well known that 1h is conspiracy was finally sup- 
 pressed by the execution of five of tlie principal conspira- 
 tors, and by the fall of Catiline himself in battle. 
 
 For his effective and patriotic services on this occasion, 
 Cicero received the thanks of the senate, and was univer- 
 sally hailed as the father and deliverer of his country. 
 
 Shortly after the suppression of Catiline's conspiracy, 
 Cicero is supposed to have delivered that beautiful ora- 
 tion in defense of the poet Archias, his early preceptor, 
 whose title to the rights and privileges of a Roman citizen 
 was judicially contested by one Cratius, a jDerson of obscure 
 descent. Cicero gained the case. His sjDeech on this 
 occasion will be admired as long as the art of poetry is 
 cultivated. Mr. Dunlop observes that, " This is one of the 
 orations of Cicero on which he has succeeded in bestowing 
 the finest polish, and it is perhaps the most pleasing of all 
 his harangues." It contains a beautiful eulogium on 
 poetry; and is interspersed throughout witli eloquent 
 maxims and sentences which have been quoted witli admi- 
 ration in all figes. At tlio time of the delivery of this 
 speech, Cicero was about forty-five years of age. Eight 
 years afterwards he pronounced the oration for Marcus 
 Cselius.* This is a fine production, and has been warmly 
 
 * Caclius was a young Roman of considerable talents and acquirements, but 
 of dissolute eharactei, vho had been entrusted to the care of Cicero on his 
 first introduction to the forum. Having imprudently engaged in an intrigue
 
 CICERO. 57 
 
 admired by the greatest statesmen. It was a particular 
 favorite with the celebrated Charles James Fox, who says, 
 in a letter to that eminent scholar and critic, Gilbert 
 Wakefield, " I know no speech of Cicero more full of 
 beautiful passages than this is, nor where he is more in 
 his element."* " Micldletonf has pronounced this to be the 
 most entertaining of the orations which Cicero has left 
 us, from the vivacity of wit and humor with which he 
 treats the gallantries of Clodia, her commerce with Coelius, 
 and in general the gaities and licentiousness of youtli." 
 
 After this, Cicero was driven into exile by the intrigues 
 of the infamous Clodius; but at the end of ten months, he 
 was unanimously recalled by the senate and people, and 
 was received with the greatest demonstrations, of joy as he 
 touched the shores of his native country. 
 
 The return of Cicero from banishment was similar to 
 that of Demosthenes, in point of universal acclamation. 
 In his oration against L. C. Piso, Cicero has himself given 
 us a vivid picture of the joyful scene of his return. In 
 comparing his own return with that of Piso, he says: 
 " Mine was such, that the whole way from Brundusium to 
 Rome I was beholding one unbroken line of the inhabit- 
 ants of all Italy, For there was no district, nor municipal 
 town, nor jirefecture, nor colony, from which a deputation 
 was not sent by the public authority to congratulate me. 
 Why should I speak of my arrival in the diiferent towns? 
 wliy of the crowds of men who thronged out to meet me? 
 
 with Clodia, the well-known sister of Clodius. and having afterward deserted 
 her, she accused him of an attempt to poison her, and of having borrowed 
 money from her in order to procure the assassination of Dio, the Alexandrian 
 ambassador. He was defended by Cicero in a speech still extant, and obtained 
 an acquittal. 
 
 * Correspondence of Wakefield and Fox, p. 50. 
 
 t Life of M. T. Cicero, vol. 1, p. 457. This is the best and most complete 
 biography of the immortal orator of Rome. 
 
 8
 
 58 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 why of the way in which the fathers of families with their 
 wives and children gathered together to greet mel why of 
 those days which were celebrated by every one on my arri- 
 val and return, as if they had been solemn festival days 
 of the immortal gods? That one day was to me like an 
 immortality, on which I returned to my country, and saw 
 the senate which had come forth to meet me, and the 
 whole Roman people j while Rome itself, torn, if I may so 
 say, from its foundations, seemed to come forward to em- 
 brace her savior. Rome, which received me in such a 
 manner that not only all men and all women of all classes, 
 and ages, and orders of society, of every fortune and every 
 rank, but that even the walls and houses of the city and 
 temples appeared to be exulting." 
 
 The next day after Cicero's return he delivered a speech 
 in the senate, in which he said: "Wherefore, since your 
 authority has summoned me, — since the Roman people 
 has recalled me, — since the republic has begged me to 
 return, — since almost all Italy li^s brought me back in 
 triumph on its shoulders, I will take care, conscript 
 fathers, now that those things have been restored to me, 
 the restoration of which did not depend on myself, not to 
 appear wanting in those qualities with which I can pro- 
 vide myself J I will take care, now that I have recovered 
 those things which I had lost, never to lose my virtue and 
 loyal attachment to you." 
 
 The next great forensic effort of Cicero was in behalf 
 of Milo, who was biK)ught to trial for the murder of Clo- 
 dius. The orator has left a brilliant speech in his defense. 
 This oration was regarded both by Cicero himself and by 
 his contemporaries, as the finest effort of his genius. It is 
 enlivened throughout by sallies of wit, sudden bursts of 
 eloquence, deep and thrilling pathos. The whole speech 
 is admirably constructed, and is a fine specimen of an 
 elegant composition.
 
 CICERO. 59 
 
 The last great orations of Cicero were pronounced 
 against Marc Antony, who had taken the place of Julius 
 Caesar on his assassination, and who was looked upon by 
 the great patriotic orator of Rome as a dangerous enemy 
 to the liberties of his beloved country. These orations are 
 known by the name of Philippics. From their resemblance 
 to the invectives of Demosthenes against Philip of Mace- 
 don, they received this appellation.* These fourteen 
 speeches are lasting monuments of their author's genius, 
 patriotism, and eloquence. 
 
 " The PhiliiDpics against Antony, like tho^e of Demos- 
 thenes, derive their chief beauty from the noble expression 
 of just indignation, which indeed composes many of the 
 most splendid and admired passages of ancient eloquence. 
 They were all pronounced during the period which elapsed 
 between the assassination of Caesar, and the defeat of 
 Antony at Modena." 
 
 Our limits do not permit us to quote the most brilliant 
 and highly wrought passages in which these orations 
 abound. But we can not pass over the peroration of the 
 second Philippic, which contains that bold exclamation 
 against Antony: 
 
 " Consider, I beg you, Marcus Antonius, do some time 
 or other consider the republic; think of the family of 
 which you are born, not of the men with whom you are 
 living. Be reconciled to the republic. However, do you 
 decide on your conduct. As to mine, I myself will declare 
 what that shall be. / defended the republic as a young man, 
 I will not abandon it now that 1 am old. I scorned the sword 
 of Catiline, I will not quail before yours. No, I will rather 
 cheerfully expose my own person, if the liberty of the 
 city can be restored by my death." 
 
 * This name was early given to them. Juvenal, who wrote within a hun- 
 dred years of Cicero's time calls them " divina Philippica."
 
 60 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " May the indignation of the Roman people at last bring 
 forth what it has been so long laboring with. In truth, if 
 twenty years ago in this very temple I asserted that death 
 could not come prematurely upon a man of consular rank, 
 with how much more truth must I now say the same of an 
 old ma,n? To me, indeed, conscript fathers, death is 
 now even desirable, after all the honors which I have 
 gained, and the deeds which I have done. I only pray for 
 these two things: one, that dying I may leave the Roman 
 j)eople free. No greater boon than this can be granted me 
 by the immortal gods. The other, that every one may 
 meet with a fate suitable to his deserts and conduct towards 
 the republic." * 
 
 The peroration of the sixth Philippic, addressed to the 
 people, in which the orator shows the impossibility of re- 
 ducing Roman citizens to slavery, also deserves our 
 attention : 
 
 " It is impossible," exclaimed Cicero, " for the Roman 
 people to be slaves; that people whom the immortal gods 
 have ordained should rule over all nations. Matters are 
 now come to a crisis. We are fighting for our freedom. 
 Either you must conquer, Romans, which indeed you 
 will do if you continue to act witli such piety and such 
 unanimity, or you must do anything rather than become 
 slaves. Other nations can endure slavery. Liberty is the 
 inalienable possession of the Roman people." 
 
 But it may truly be said that these eloquent speeches of 
 Cicero were the last warning notes of freedom, which the 
 Roman people ever heard. Their fetters were now already 
 forged, and their liberty was at an end. The third trium- 
 virate between Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, had been 
 formed, and tliese ambitious men were hailing Avith joy 
 the downfall of ancient freedom. Tlie hour of proscrip- 
 tion had now arrived, and Cicero was among the first 
 to fall. He was included in the proscription of Antony,
 
 CICERO. 61 
 
 u'hose indignation lie had excited, and was slain by a 
 party of soldiers, headed by one Pompilius, whom he had 
 formerly successfully defended in a criminal jarosecution 
 His head and hands were severed from his body, and, by 
 order of the triumvir, publicly exhibited on the rostrum* 
 at Rome. 
 
 Thus died Cicero in the sixty-fourth year of his age, 
 B. c. 43. 
 
 The death of Cicero was similar to that of Demosthenes 
 Both these great statesmen perished in the cause of free- 
 dom, and with them exj^ired the liberties of their respect- 
 ive countries. But what noble examples have they left 
 behind them for the imitation of patriotic orators and 
 statesmen in all ages ! And how often have their tongues 
 of fire, and their voices of thunder nerved the' arm of the 
 freeborn patriot in battling for the cause of liberty! Who 
 can tell, for instance, how much the first orators of free- 
 dom in our own country were indebted to the eloquence 
 of these patriotic statesmen for the erection of that temple 
 of liberty which is the glory of our beloved land? It was 
 such eloquence that burned in the heart, flashed from the 
 eye, and burst from the lips of Warren, Henry, Otis, 
 Quincy, Adams, and other kindred spirits, in our revolu- 
 tionary struggle; and, amid the gloom of that fearful 
 night, pointed a sufl'ering, desponding country to a bright 
 and happy morn. Demosthenes and Cicero helped to 
 kindle and keep alive the flame of liberty which has been 
 fed by every lover of his country; of a republican gov- 
 ernment, and of free institutions. Long may these fires 
 continue to burn with undimmed splendor, blazing ven- 
 
 * The rostrum was a scaffold, or elevated place in the forum, from which 
 the orators used to address the Roman people. It received this name by being 
 adorned with the beaks of the ships captured from the Antiates. Here the 
 patriotic eloquence of Cicero had often dilated upon the glory of Rome, and 
 burned against the enemies of his country, and of freedom.
 
 62 ORATOFS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 geance and destruction on every system of oppression, 
 and blasting to cinders " every fetter and every tyrant's 
 accursed throne." We come now to consider the character 
 of Cicero as an orator. 
 
 Quintilian has admirably said of him, that his name " is 
 only anotlier for eloquence itself, and that he united in 
 his manner the vehemence of Demosthenes, the copious- 
 ness of Plato, and the sweetness of Isocrates." It is impos- 
 sible to form a proper conception of the power of that 
 graceful, winning and impassioned eloquence of which 
 this prince of Roman orators was a perfect master. The 
 most glowing verbal description can but imperfectly paint 
 the charms of Ciceronian eloquence. Its greatest force 
 lay in the living voice — the vehement gesture — the ani- 
 mated and expressive countenance — the beaming eye — 
 the impassioned flow of words — the varying tone, now 
 low and soft as music, and now swelling into bursts of 
 thunder — these were some of the grand characteristics 
 of that matchless oratory which so often delighted and 
 thrilled the heart of a Roman audience. " But we can not 
 transfer to the written or printed page the tone, look and 
 manner, the vivida vis, the natural and overwhelming 
 energy, the pathos and power of tone, which thrill the 
 hearer as with the shocks of a spiritual electricity." In 
 order then, properly to appreciate the oratorical power of 
 Cicero, we should have witnessed the display of his glo- 
 rious eloquence, we 
 
 " Should have seen him in the Campus Martius, — 
 In the tribunal, — shaking all the tribes 
 With mighty speech. His words seemed oracles, 
 That pierced their bosoms: and each man would turn, 
 And gaze in won(}er on his neighbor's face, 
 That with the like dumb wonder answer'd him: 
 Then some would weep, some shout, some, deeper touch'd, 
 Keep down the cry with motions of their hands. 
 In fear but to have lost a syllable."
 
 CICERO. 63 
 
 We sliould have seen him when he boldly faced the 
 enemies of his country; when he raised his voice in tones 
 of thunder against the audacious Catiline — when he broke 
 out in that scathing, terrible invective, " Quosque tan- 
 dem abutere Catilina, patientia nostra? Quamdiu etiam 
 furor iste tuus nos eludef? Quem ad finem sese eff'renata 
 jactabit audacia?" or when he hurled his daring exclama- 
 tions against Marc Antony We should then have seen 
 the most powerful exhibition of indignant, denunciatory 
 eloquence that has, perhaps, ever terrified the enemies of 
 liberty. We should then have perceived how much true 
 eloquence is indebted for its efiectiveness, to the tone, the 
 look, the gesture, the wliole manner of the orator. 
 
 In Cicero were combined all the essential qualities of an 
 accomplished orator. He was endowed with an intellect 
 of the highest order. He possessed a warm, rich, brilliant 
 imagination — abundance of wit — strong argumentative 
 powers — a fine, intense sensibility — glowing zeal and 
 lofty patriotism — a memory ready and retentive — a mel- 
 lifluous, -sonorous voice, well adapted to expre-ss the vari- 
 ous passions of the human soulj and a delivery graceful, 
 impressive and vehement. 
 
 We may here observe more particularly that Cicero, 
 like Demosthenes, insisted strongly on the importance of' 
 proper, graceful, vehement gestures in public speaking 
 All the great orators of antiquity paid the closest attention 
 to the manner in public addi-ess, and far excelled most 
 modern public speakers in the vehemence of their gestures 
 and action.* 
 
 * "I observed before, that tbe Greeks and Romans aspired to a more sublime 
 species of eloquence, than is aimed at by the moderns. Theirs was of the 
 vehement and passionate kind, by which they endeavored to inflame the 
 minds of their hearers, aud hurry their imagination away: and, suitable to 
 this vehemence of thought, vras their vehemence of gesture and action; the 
 ' supplosio pedis,' the ' percassio frontis et femoris,' were, as we learn from
 
 64 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 We are convinced that most orators of the present age 
 are not sufficiently impressed with the importance of aim- 
 ing at that forcible action, that impassioned delivery which 
 is the crowning glory of oratorical art. Cicero has forcibly 
 remarked that " the hands are the common language of 
 mankind;" and another distinguished Roman orator was 
 accustomed to declare that " he was never fit to talk, till 
 he had warmed his arm." So important is a graceful 
 manner in public address, that Quintilian, the prince of 
 ancient rhetoricians laid it down as a primary maxim, 
 that "it is this alone that governs in speaking; without 
 which the best orator is of no value, and is often defeated 
 by one, in other respects, much his inferior." " Utterance 
 is not confined to words. Our souls speak as significantly 
 by looks, tones, or gestures, the subtile vehicles of our 
 more delicate emotions, as by set words and phrases." 
 How true is it that — 
 
 " Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
 More learned than the ears." 
 
 In his writings, Cicero has mentioned some of the quali- 
 ties which a perfect orator must possess. His views on 
 the subject of oratory are very interesting; and may be 
 said to contain a fine description of his own wonderful 
 powers. We select a few of his thoughts here: 
 
 In the first place, Cicero, in his treatise, entitled The 
 Orator, addressed to M. Brutus, dwells forcibly on the 
 importance of action and elocution in declamation. " For," 
 
 Cicero^s writings, usual gestures among them at the bar ; though now the) 
 would he reckoned extravagant any where, except upon the slage. Modern 
 eloquence is much more cool and temperate ; and in Great Britain especially, 
 has confined itself almost wholly to the argumentative and rational. It is 
 much of that species which the ancient critics called the ' Tenuis,' or ' Sub- 
 tilis;' which aims at convincing and instructing, rather than affecting the 
 passions, and assumes a tone not much higher than common argument and 
 discourse." — Dr. Blair.
 
 CICERO. 65 
 
 says he, " action is a sort of eloquence of the body, con- 
 sisting as it does of voice and motion. Now there are as 
 many changes of voice as there are of minds, which are 
 above all things influenced by the voice. Therefore, that 
 perfect orator which our oration has just been describing, 
 will employ a certain tone of voice regulated by the way 
 in which he wishes to appear afl'ected himself, and by tho. 
 manner also in which he desires the mind of his hearer 
 to be influenced. And concerning this I would say more 
 if this was the proper time for laying down rules concern- 
 ing it, or if this was what you were inquiring about. I 
 would speak also of gesture, with which expression of 
 countenance is combined. And it is hardly possible to 
 express of what importance these things are, and what 
 use the orator makes of them. For even people without 
 speaking, by the mere dignity of their action, have often 
 produced all the eflect of eloquence; and many really 
 eloquent men, by tlieir ungainly delivery liave been thought 
 ineloquent. So that it was not without reason that De- 
 mosthenes attributed the first, and second, and third rank 
 to action. For if eloquence without action is nothing, but 
 action without eloquence is of such great power, then cer- 
 tainly it is the most important part of speaking." 
 
 " He, then, who aims at the highest rank in eloquence, 
 will endeavor with his voice on the stretch to speak ener- 
 getically; with a low voice, gently; with a sustained voice, 
 gravely; and with a modulated voice, in a manner calcu- 
 lated to excite compassion." 
 
 " For the nature of the voice is something marvelous ; 
 for all its great power is derived from three sounds only, 
 the grave sound, the sharp sound, and the moderate sound; 
 and from these comes all that sweet variety which is 
 brought to perfection in songs." 
 
 "A good voice also is a thing to be desired; for it 
 
 is not naturally implanted in us, but practice and use 
 9
 
 QQ ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 give it to us. Therefore, the consummate orator will 
 vary and change his voice; and sometimes straining it, 
 sometimes lowering it, he will go through every degree of 
 tone." 
 
 " And he will use action in such a way that there shall 
 be nothing superfluous in his gestures. His attitude will 
 be erect and lofty; the motion of the feet rare, and very 
 moderate; he will only move across the tribune in a very 
 moderate manner, and even then rarely; there will be no 
 bending of the neck, no clenching of the fingers, no rise 
 or fall of the fingers in regular time; he will rather sway 
 his whole body gently, and employ a manly inclination of 
 his side, throwing out his arm in the energetic parts of 
 his speech, and drawing it back in moderate ones. As to 
 his countenance, which is of the greatest influence possible 
 next to the voice, what dignity and what beauty will be 
 derived from its expression ! And when you have accom- 
 plished this, then the eyes too must be kept under strict 
 command, that there may not appear to be any thing un- 
 suitable, or like grimace. For as the countenance is the 
 image of the mind, so are eyes the informers as to what 
 is going on within it. And their hilarity or sadness will 
 be regulated by the circumstances which are under dis- 
 
 cussion." 
 
 " The eloquent orator, then (for that is what, according 
 to Antonius, we are looking for), is a man who speaks in 
 the forum and in civil causes in such a manner as to 
 prove, to delight, and to persuade. To prove, is necessary 
 for him; to delight, is a proof of his sweetness; to per- 
 suade, is a token of victory. For that alone of all results 
 is of the greatest weight towards gaining causes. But 
 there are as many kinds of speaking as there are separate 
 duties of an orator. The orator, therefore, ought to be a 
 man of great judgment and of great ability, and he ought 
 to be a regulator, as it were, of this threefold variety of
 
 CICERO. 67 
 
 duty. For he will judge what is necessary for every one; 
 and he will be able to speak in whatever manner the cause 
 requires. But the foundation of eloquence, as of all other 
 things, is wisdom." 
 
 " The orator must be a master of civil law, which foren- 
 sic debates are in daily need of. For what is more shame- 
 ful than for a man to undertake the conduct of legal and 
 civil disputes, while ignorant of the statutes and of civil 
 law? He must be acquainted also with the history of past 
 ages and the chronology of old time, especially, indeed, 
 as far as our own state is concerned; but also he must 
 know the history of despotic governments and of illus- 
 trious monarchs." " For not to know what happened 
 before one was born, is to be a boy all one's life. For 
 what is the life of a man unless by a recollection of 
 bygone transactions it is united to the times of his prede- 
 cessors? But the mention of antiquity and the citation of 
 examples give authority and credit to a speech, combined 
 with the greatest pleasure to the hearers." 
 
 " The third kind of orator is the sublime, copious, dig- 
 nified, ornate speaker, in whom there is the greatest 
 amount of grace. For he it is out of admiration for 
 whose ornamented style and copiousness of language na- 
 tions have allowed eloquence to obtain so much influence 
 in states; but it was only this eloquence, which is borne 
 along in an impetuous course, and with a mighty noise 
 which all men looked up, and admired, and had no idea 
 that they themselves could possibly attain to. It belongs 
 to this eloquence to deal with men's minds, and to influence 
 them in every imaginable way. This is the style which 
 sometimes forces its way into and sometimes steals into 
 the senses; which implants new opinions in men, and 
 eradicates others which have been long established." 
 
 These excellent remarks of Cicero, on the art of oratory, 
 ought to be duly considered br every one ^vhose high
 
 68 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 calling it is to address public assemblies. We know of 
 no better rules on this subject laid down by any ancient 
 rhetorical writer than those which we find in the oratorical 
 treatises of Cicero. 
 
 The idea of an accomplished orator existed in the mind 
 of Cicero from his earliest years; and he exerted all his 
 energies through a long and brilliant period, to attain per- 
 fection in the oratorical art. 
 
 " Ambitious from his youth of the honors attending a 
 fine speaker, he early traveled to Greece, where he accu- 
 mulated all the stores of knowledge and rules of art, 
 which could be gathered from the rhetoricians, historians, 
 and philosophers, of that intellectual land. While he 
 thus extracted and imbibed the copiousness of Plato, the 
 sweetness of Isocrates, and force of Demosthenes, he, at 
 the same time, imbued his mind with a thorough knowledge 
 of the laws, constitution, antiquities, and literature of his 
 native country. Nor did he less study the peculiar tem- 
 per, the jealousies, and enmities of the Roman peojjle, 
 both as a nation and as individuals, without a knowledge 
 of which, his eloquence would have been unavailing in 
 the forum or comitia, where so much was decided by 
 favoritism and cabal. By these means he ruled the passions 
 and deliberations of his countrymen with almost resistless 
 sway — upheld the power of the senate — stayed the pro- 
 gress of tyranny — drove the audacious Catiline from 
 Rome — di rected the feelings of the state in favor of Pom- 
 pey — shook the strong mind of Cresar — and kindled a 
 llame by which Antony had been nearly consumed. But 
 the main secret of his success lay in the warmth and 
 intensity of his feelings. His heart swelled with patriot- 
 ism, and was dilated with the most magnificent conceptions 
 of the glory of Rome. Though it throbbed with the fond- 
 est anticipations of posthumous fame, the momentary 
 acclaim of a multitude was a chord to which it daily and
 
 CICERO. 69 
 
 most readily vibrated; while, at the same time, his high 
 conceptions of oratory counteracted the bad effect which 
 this exuberant vanity might otherwise have produced. 
 Thus, when two speakers were employed in the same 
 cause, though Cicero was the junior, to him was assigned 
 the peroration, in which he surpassed ell his contempora- 
 ries; and he obtained this preeminence not so much on 
 account of his superior genius or knowledge of law, as 
 because he was more moved and affected himself, without 
 which he would never have moved or affected his judges." 
 
 " With powers of speaking beyond what had yet been 
 known in his own country, and j^erhaps not inferior to 
 those which had ever adorned any other, Cicero possessed, 
 in a degree superior to all orators, of whatever age or 
 nation, a general and discursive acquaintance with philo- 
 sophy and literature, together with an admirable facility 
 of communicating the fruits of his labors, in a manner 
 the most copious, perspicuous, and attractive. To this 
 extensive knowledge, by which Ids mind was enriched and 
 supplied with endless topi'j of illustration — to the lofty 
 ideas of eloquence, which perpetually revolved in his 
 thoughts — to that image which ever haunted his breast, of 
 such infinite and superhuman perfection in oratory, that 
 even the periods of Demosthenes did not fill up the meas- 
 ure of his conceptions, we are chiefly indebted for those 
 emanations of genius, which have given, as it were, an im- 
 mortal tongue to the now desolate forum and ruined senate 
 of Rome."* 
 
 It has been eloquently said that " Demosthenes snatched 
 from Cicero the glory of being the firsts — Cicero from 
 Demosthenes that of being the only orator." A compari- 
 son has often been drawn between these princes of ora- 
 tors, by ancient and modern critics. One of the most 
 
 *■ Dunlop's History of Roman Literature.
 
 70 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 beautiful and forcible sketches of this kind is that by the 
 celebrated Longinus in his treatise on the sublime: 
 
 " The sublimity of the one," he remarks, "consists in his 
 abruptness, that of the other in his dififuseness. Our 
 countryman (Demosthenes), from the force, the fire, the 
 mighty vehemence with which he bears down all before 
 him, may be compared to a tempest or thunderbolt; 
 while Cicero, like a wide-spreading conflagration, devours 
 and rolls onward in every direction, ever maintaining its 
 destructive energy, and nourished and supported from 
 time to time by the fuel of various kinds with which it is 
 continually supplied in its progress." 
 
 In comparing these two great orators of antiquity, most 
 of the modern French critics give the palm to Cicero. 
 The famous archbishop Fenelon, however, looks upon De- 
 mosthenes as the greatest orator. In a passage of remark- 
 able beauty, he says: " I am not afraid to say that I think 
 Demosthenes a greater orator than Cicero. I protest there 
 is no man admires Cicero more than I do. He embel- 
 lishes every thing he handles. He is an honor to speech; 
 and makes that happy use of words that no one else could. 
 He has a vast variety of wit. He is even concise and 
 vehement when he designs to be so against Catiline, Verres, 
 and Antony. But we may perceive some finery in his dis- 
 courses. His art is wonderful; but still we discern it. 
 While he is concerned for the safety of the republic, he 
 does not forget that he is an orator, nor does he let others 
 forget it." 
 
 '• Demosthenes seems transported; and to have nothing 
 in view but his country. He does not study what is beau- 
 tiful, but naturally falls into it without reflecting. He is 
 above admiration. He uses speech, as a modest man does 
 his clothes, only to cover himself. He thunders; he light- 
 ens; he is like a torrent that hurries every thing along
 
 CICERO. 71 
 
 with it* We can not criticise him, for he is master of 
 our passions. We consider the things he says, and not his 
 words. We lose sight of him: we think of Philip only, 
 who usurps every thing. I am charmed with these two 
 orators; but I confess that Tully's prodigious art and mag- 
 nificent eloquence affect me less than the vehement sim- 
 plicity of Demosthenes." 
 
 Most of the English and American critics give the pre- 
 ference to Demosthenes. Mr. Hume in his Essays, speaking 
 of the charms of Ciceronian eloquence, says: " Some ob- 
 jections, I own, nowithstandiug his vast success, may lie 
 against some passages of the Roman orator. He is too 
 florid and rhetorical; his figures are too striking and pal- 
 pable; the divisions of his discourse are drawn chiefly 
 from the rules of the schools; and his wit disdains not 
 always the artifice even of a pun, a rhyme, or jingle of 
 words. The Grecian addressed himself to an audience 
 much less refined than the Roman senate or judges. The 
 lowest vulgar of Athens were his sovereigns, and the ar- 
 biters of his eloquence. Yet is his manner more chaste 
 and austere than that of the other. Could it be copied, 
 its success would be infallible over a modern' assembly. 
 
 * A late writer, sketching the character of Scotland's greatest pulpit ora- 
 tor, says, with much beauty and force, while adverting to the indescribable 
 charms of his vehement delivery which doubtless closely resembled that of 
 the Prince of Orators: " It is this peculiar energy which distinguishes Chal- 
 mers, and which distinguishes all great orators. His mind is on fire with his 
 subject, and transfers itself all glowing to the minds of his hearers. For the 
 time being all are fused into one great vThole, by the resistless might of his 
 burning eloquence. In this respect Chalmers has been thought to approach, 
 nearer than any other man of modern times, the style and tone of Demos- 
 thenes. His manner has a torrent-vehemence, a sea-like swell and sweep, a 
 bannered tramp as of armies rushing to deadly conflict. With one hand on 
 his manuscript, and the other jerked forward with electric energy, he thun 
 ders out his gigantic periods, as if winged with ' volleyed lightning.' The 
 hearers are astonished, — awed, — carried away, — lifted upas on the wings 
 of the wind. an.d borne ' whitherjoever the :-"C!s|pi- listoth.' "
 
 72 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 It is rapid harmony, exactly adjusted to the seuse; it is 
 vehement reasoning, without any appearance of art; it is 
 disdain, anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued 
 stream of argument. And of all human productions, the 
 orations of Demosthenes present to us the models which 
 approach the nearest to perfection."* 
 
 Prof. Anthon observes: "Cicero's eloquence is like a 
 consular triumph; he is himself the most conspicuous 
 figure in the procession, which is swollen with the grand- 
 eur and riches of conquered j)rovinces. Demosthenes is 
 the terrible sweep of a vast body of cavalry. Cicero's 
 oratory was local, fitted only to the audience; in Athens it 
 Avould not have been tolerated. Demosthenes was for the 
 whole earth, and at all times. In Rome he would have 
 been as resistless as in Athens; and his eloquence would 
 be as convincing now as it was in the popular assemblies 
 of old," 
 
 Another eminent American critic, in noticing the grand 
 characteristics of Demosthenian and Ciceronian oratory, 
 has furnished us with the following beautiful comparison 
 which will form an appropriate conclusion of this sketch: 
 
 " It is not a little remarkable that Roman eloquence, like 
 that of Greece, should have been illustrated by a single 
 name, so transcendently brilliant, that, in the effulgence 
 which surrounds it, predecessors and contemporaries seem 
 merged and lost If the fame of Demosthenes rests upon 
 a roch, that of his great pupil has a substratum equally 
 solid, and still broader, for his eloquence, learning and 
 l>hilosophy, have charmed and instructed countless thou- 
 sands, to whom the orations of the former were as but a 
 sealed book. " Cicero," it has sometimes and not extrava- 
 gantly been said, " is only another name for eloquence.^' 
 And for what department of deep research and eloquent 
 
 * Essays, xii, vol. 1, p. 120.
 
 CICERO. 73 
 
 literature tlien open to the liuman mind, is not Cicero 
 another name ? Where else shall we look for such a 
 combination of all the elements of greatness? He was 
 at once a retorician and orator — a j^hilosopher and 
 statesman — a man of profound erudition, and lively 
 wit. He lived and died a spotless patriot; and both 
 in precept and example, was only less than a Christian 
 moralist. 
 
 These considerations must not be deemed out of place, 
 though our object be to speak of Cicero as an orator. They 
 suggest the main source of his acknowledged superiority. 
 Others may have equaled or surpassed him, possibly, in 
 single qualities, but who else ever drew the perennial 
 streams of eloquence from a fountain so inexhaustible? 
 He has indeed one great competitor, whose transcendent 
 merits he has himself acknowledged and portrayed with 
 equal candor and ability. The names of Cicero and De- 
 mosthenes have long been coupled, and must ever sliine 
 like twin stars in the sky. Yet, let us say it reverently, 
 they ' differ in glory.' While Demosthenes is brief and 
 compact, Cicero is almost always diffuse. With the former, 
 ornament is rare, and of secondary consideration; with 
 the latter, abundant and evidently valued. Both abound 
 in thought, but in one it is prominent and angular, like 
 the muscular frame of Hercules, while in the other it is 
 rotund and beautiful, as the Belvidere Apollo. Each 
 makes use of consummate art; but while one conceals, the 
 other displays it. The style of Demosthenes is nervous, 
 that of Cicero liowing and graceful. The latter kindles 
 the fancy, warms the passions, awakens the admiration of 
 his hearers; but the former, with a giant's grasp, seizes 
 their understandings and wills, and bends them to his 
 purpose. Both added to their powers as orators the 
 knowledge and abilities of the statesman, as both admin- 
 istered for a time the government of their respective 
 
 10
 
 74 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 countries. In fine, to the Grecian orator we concede the 
 superiority on great occasions, the spirit and the energy 
 which could rouse a nation from apathy ; but for him of 
 Rome, we claim a higher praise as the orator of all occa 
 sions, the delight and wonder of humanity."
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 LOED CHATHAM. 
 
 The latter part of the eighteenth century was the golden 
 age of modern parliamentary, and forensic oratory. It 
 was a period illuminated by the brilliant genius of Mira- 
 beau and Vergniaud in France, — of Mansfield, Chatham, 
 Burke, Fox, Pitt, Sheridan, Grattan, Currjan, and Erskine 
 in Great Britain, — of Henry, Otis, Quincy, Warren, Han- 
 cock, Lee, Hamilton, and the Adamses in America. It was 
 not only an age of oratorical glory, but one, pre-eminently, 
 of literary and scientific greatness. Some of the most 
 distinguished men that ever enlightened mankind then 
 shone in the intellectual world. It was a period, too, for- 
 ever illustrious in political history for some of the most 
 important events that have ever occurred on our globe. 
 
 This era, which we may designate as that of George III, 
 is so beautifully described by Mr. Alison that we are 
 tempted to repeat a passage of his graphic description, 
 affording a grand view of the world wlien the flame of 
 eloquence shone so steadily and so brightly in Europe 
 and America. 
 
 " The reign of George HI," says that accomplished his- 
 torian, " embraces, beyond all question, the most eventful 
 and important period in the annals of mankind. In its 
 eventful days were combined the growth of Grecian demo- 
 cracy with the passions of Roman ambition; the fervor of 
 plebeian zeal with the pride of aristocratic j)Ower; the 
 blood of Marius with the genius of Caesar; the opening of
 
 76 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 a nobler hemisphere to the enterprise of Columbus, with 
 the rise of a social agent as mighty as the press or the 
 powers of steam. 
 
 " But if new elements were called into action in the 
 social world, of surpdssiug strength and energy, in the 
 course of this memorable reign, still more remarkable 
 were the characters which rose to eminence during its 
 continuance. The military genius, unconquerable courage, 
 and endui-ing constancy of Frederick; the ardent mind, 
 burning eloquence, and lofty patriotism of Chatham; the 
 incorruptible integrity, sagacious intellect, and philosophic 
 spirit of Franklin; the disinterested virtue, prophetic 
 wisdom, and imperturbable fortitude of Washington; the 
 masculine understanding, feminine passions, and blood- 
 stained ambition of Catharine, would alone have been 
 sufficient to cast a radiance over any other age of the 
 world. But bright as were the stars of its morning light, 
 more brilliant still was the constellation which shone forth 
 in its meridian splendor, or cast a glow over the twilight 
 of its evening shades. Then were to be seen the rival 
 genius of Pitt and Fox, which, emblematic of the antagonist 
 powers which then convulsed mankind, shook the British 
 senate by their vehemence, and roused the spirit destined, 
 ere long, for the dearest interests of humanity, to array 
 the world in arms; then the great soul of Burke cast off 
 the unworldly fetters of ambition or party, and, fraught 
 with a giant's force and a prophet's wisdom, regained its 
 destiny in the cause of mankind; then the arm of Nelson 
 cast its thunderbolts on every shore, and preserved 
 unscathed in the deep the ark of European freedom; and, 
 ere his reign expired, the wisdom of Wellington had 
 erected an impassable barrier to Gallic ambition, and said, 
 even to the deluge of imperial power, ' Hitherto shalt 
 thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves 
 be staved.' Nor were splendid genius, heroic virtue,
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 77 
 
 gigantic wickedness, wanting on the opposite side of this 
 heart-stirring conflict. Mirabeau had thrown over the 
 morning of the French Revolution the brilliant but de- 
 ceitful light of democratic genius; Danton had colored its 
 noontide glow with the passions and the energy of tribuni- 
 tian powxr; Carnot had exhibited the combination, rare in 
 a corrupted age, of republican energy with private virtue; 
 Robespierre had darkened its evening days by the blood 
 and agony of selfish ambition; Napoleon had risen like a 
 meteor over its midnight darkness, dazzled the world by 
 the brightness of his genius and the luster of his deeds, 
 and lured its votaries, by the deceitful blaze of glory, to 
 perdition. 
 
 " In calmer pursuits in the tranquil walks of science 
 and literature, the same age was, beyond all others, fruit- 
 ful in illustrious men. Doctor Johnson, the strongest 
 intellect and the most profound observer of the eighteenth 
 century; Gibbon the architect of a bridge over the dark 
 gulf which separates ancient from modern times, whose 
 vivid genius Ijas tinged with brilliant colors the greatest 
 historical work in existence; Hume, whose simple but 
 profound history will be coeval with the long and eventful 
 thread of English story; Robertson, who first threw over 
 the maze of human events the light of philosophic genius 
 and the spirit of enlightened reflection; Gray, whose 
 burning thoughts had been condensed in words of more 
 than classic beauty; Burns, whose lofty soul spread its 
 own pathos and dignity over the ' short and simple annals 
 of the poor;' Smith, who called into existence a new sci- 
 ence, fraught with the dearest interests of humanity, and 
 nearly brought it to perfection in a single lifetime ; Reid, 
 who carried into the recesses of the human mind the 
 torch of cool and sagacious inquiry; Stewart, who cast 
 a luminous glance over the philosophy of mind, and 
 warmed the inmost recesses of metaphysical inquiry by
 
 7 8 ORATORS AND STATESMExV. 
 
 the delicacy of taste and the glow of eloquence; Watt, 
 who added an unknown power to the resources of art, and 
 in the regulated force of steam, discovered the means of 
 approximating the most distant parts of the earth, and 
 spreading in the wilderness of nature the wonders of Eu- 
 ropean enterprise and the blessings of Christian civiliza- 
 tion; these formed some of the ornaments of the period, 
 during its earlier and more pacific times, forever memo- 
 rable in the annals of scientific acquisition and literary 
 greatness," 
 
 There is but little to interest us in the study of modern, 
 parliamentary eloquence until we come to the time of Lord 
 Chatham. It is true that we find some sudden bursts of 
 genuine, patriotic eloquence in the speeches of Pym, Eliot, 
 Vane, and other statesmen of the English Commonwealth, 
 under Oliver Cromwell, yet we hear not the highest notes 
 until Chatham arises and sways the British senate by the 
 spell of his matchless oratory. Here, then, we date the 
 era of parliamentary eloquence in the British nation; and, 
 commencing with the name of Lord Chatham, we now 
 proceed to contemplate some of her most illustrious ora- 
 tors and statesmen. 
 
 The " great and celebrated name " of Chatham will be 
 repeated with admiration as long as the soul-stirring 
 strains of " eloquence divine " shall continue to please the 
 ear and charm the heart. 
 
 William Pitt, first earl of Chatham, was born at London, 
 on the 15th of November, 1708. At an early age, he was 
 sent to Eton, where he was distinguished for the brilliancy 
 of his talents, and for the constancy of his application to 
 study. Wliilc at Eton, we are told that he was the pride 
 and boast of the school; that his preceptor valued himself 
 on having so bright a scholar, and showed him to every one 
 ns a youth of extraordinary parts. Here he acquired that 
 love of the classics which he ever afterwards cherished,
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 79 
 
 and which, doubtless, had considerable influence in form- 
 ing his character as an accomplished orator. After the 
 usual course of study at Eton, Mr. Pitt was removed, at 
 the age of eighteen, to the University of Oxford. Here 
 he devoted the principal portion of his time to the study 
 of history and the classical writers of antiquity. He now 
 commenced the practice of writing out translations from 
 the most celebrated orators and historians of Greece and 
 Rome. He chose Demosthenes as his model, and, in order 
 to acquire a terse and forcible style, he translated, several 
 times over, a large part of his orations into English. Such 
 a practice is highly commended by Cicero. It is the best 
 means of obtaining an extensive command of language, 
 and of acquiring a copious diction. " It aids the young 
 orator far more effectually in catching the spirit of his 
 model than any course of mere reading, however fervent 
 or repeated. It is likewise the severest test of his com- 
 mand of language." 
 
 Mr. Pitt also read with the greatest pleasure, the best 
 English classics. It is said that he perused some of Dr. 
 Barrow's sermons so often that he knew them by heart; 
 and that he went twice through with the folio Dictionary 
 of Bailey. " At this time, also, he began those exercises 
 in elocution by which he is known to have obtained his 
 extraordinary powers of delivery. Though gifted by 
 nature with a commanding voice and person, he spared 
 no effort to add every thing that art could confer for his 
 improvement as an orator. His success was commensurate 
 with his zeal. Garrick himself was not a greater actor, in 
 that higher sense of the term in which Demosthenes de- 
 clared action to be the first, and second, and third thing 
 in oratory. The labor which he bestowed on these exer- 
 cises was surprisingly great. Probably no man of genius 
 since the days of Cicero, has ever submitted to an equal 
 amount of drudgery."
 
 80 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Ill health compelled Mr. Pitt to leave the University 
 without taking a degree. For the benefit of his health he 
 traveled in France and Italy, where he enriched his mind 
 with a vast amount of historical and literary information. 
 He had but one object in view, and that was a preparation 
 for public life. " He thus acquired," says Lord Chester- 
 field, " a vast amount of premature and useful knowledge." 
 Returning to England, he entered the army as a Cornet of 
 Horse. 
 
 In 1735, at the age of twenty-six, Mr. Pitt obtained a 
 seat in Parliament as member for Old Sarum. He imme- 
 diately took a prominent part in opposition to Robert 
 Walpole, the Prime Minister. It is said that this distin- 
 guished statesman, surrounded as he was with such power, 
 and the support of a decided majority, never heard the 
 voice of Pitt, in the House of Commons, without being 
 alarmed and thunder-struck, so terrible were his invectives, 
 and so overwhelming his eloquence. 
 
 On the 29th of April, 1736, Mr. Pitt delivered his maiden 
 speech, on the motion of Mr. Pulteney for a congratulatory 
 address to the King, on the marriage of the Prince of 
 Wales. This speech was received with the greatest ap- 
 plause. The first sound of Mr. Pitt's voice terrified Sir 
 Robert Walpole, who immediately exclaimed, after hear- 
 ing the speech, " We must, at all events, muzzle that ter- 
 rible Cornet of Horse." It is said that Walpole offered to 
 promote Pitt in the army, provided he would give up his 
 seat in Parliament. How'ever this may have been, Walpole 
 finding him unalterably attached to the Opposition, de- 
 prived him of his commission. An act so arbitrary only 
 rendered Walpole and the court more odious than they 
 had been, while it increased the popularity of Pitt, by 
 creating a general sympathy in his favor. About the same 
 time Lord Lyttleton addressed him in the following lines, 
 which were widely circulated:
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 81 
 
 " Long had thy virtues marked thee out for fame, 
 Far, far superior to a Cornet's name; 
 This generous Walpole saw, and grieved to find 
 So mean a post disgrace the human mind, 
 The servile standard from the free-born hand 
 He took, and bade thee lead the Patriot Band.'"' 
 
 From 1736 to 1744, Mr. Pitt was an active member of 
 the Opposition. For nearly seven years, he strenuously 
 exerted himself to put down Sir Robert Walpole. By the 
 force of his genius, and the power of his eloquence, he 
 soon became one of the most influential members of Par- 
 liament. He gained a complete ascendency over the House. 
 All acknowledged the vast resources of his mind, and the 
 transcendent powers of his oratory. Few dared oj^pose 
 him, and none could withstand his scathing invectives. 
 Even Murray* (afterwards Lord Mansfield), his great anta- 
 gonist, whenever he came into collision with him, trembled 
 and shrunk. A striking instance of Mr. Pitt's silencing 
 and terrifying this distinguished statesman is on record. 
 It well exhibits the bold, dashing eloquence of Pitt, before 
 which even the greatest orators of the British senate were 
 confounded. In 1754, Mr. Pitt delivered two speeches, 
 
 * William Murray, first Earl of Mansfield, was born at Scone Castle, near 
 Perth, in Scotland, on the 2d of March, 1705, and died on the 20th of March, 
 1793, in the eighty-ninth year of his age. He was one of the most powerful 
 Parliamentary and forensic orators that ever shone in the senate or the forum. 
 " The countenance of Lord Mansfield," says a friend and contemporary, "was 
 uncommonly beautiful, and none could ever behold it, even in advanced years, 
 without reverence. Nature had given him an eye of fire; and his voice, till 
 It was affected by the years which passed over him, was perhaps unrivaled in 
 the sweetness and variety of its tones. There was a similitude between his 
 action and that of Mr. Garrick." — " His manner was persuasive, with 
 enough of force and animation to secure the closest attention. His illustra- 
 tions were always apposite, and sometimes striking and beautiful. His lan- 
 guage, in his best speeches, was select and graceful ; and his whole style of 
 speaking approached as near as possible to that dignified conversation which 
 has always been considered appropriate to the House of Lords." 
 
 11
 
 82 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ostensibly against Jacobitism, but really intended to crusli 
 Murray, who had just been raised from the office of Soli- 
 citor to that of Attorney General. " In both speeches," 
 says Fox, " every word was Murray, yet so managed that 
 neither he nor any body else could take public notice of 
 it, or in any way reprehend him. I sat near Murray, who 
 suffered for an hour." It was, perhap;'!, on this occasion, 
 says Butler, in his Reminiscences, that Pitt used an ex- 
 pression which Vv^as once in every mouth. After Murray 
 had " suffered " for a time, Pitt stopped, threw his eyes 
 around, then fixing their whole power on Murray, ex- 
 claimed, " I must now address a few words to Mr. Attorney; 
 they shall be few, but sliall be daggers." Murray was 
 agitated; the look was continued; the agitation increased. 
 " Felix trembles !" exclaimed Pitt, in a tone of thunder; 
 " lie shall hear me some other day !" He sat down. Murray 
 made no reply; and a lan^iid debate showed the paralysis 
 of the House. Such were the effects of Mr. Pitt's oratory 
 when he wished to be severe. 
 
 Another instance of Mr. Pitt's confounding a member 
 of Parliament, and awing the House into silence, occurred 
 several years after, when he had become an invalid. Hav- 
 ing finished a speech in the House of Commons, he walked 
 out with a slow step, being severely afflicted with the 
 gout. A silence ensued until the door was opened to let 
 him pass into the lobby, when a member started up, saying, 
 " Mr. Speaker, I rise to reply to the right honorable gen ■ 
 tleman " — " Pitt, who had caught the words, turned back 
 and fixed his eye on the orator, wlio instantly sat down. 
 He then returned towards his seat, repeating, as he hob- 
 bled along, the lines of Virgil, in which the poet, conduct- 
 ing iEneas through the shades below, describes the terror 
 which his presence inspired among the ghosts of the Greeks 
 who had fought at Troy."
 
 LORD CHATHAM. S,1 
 
 " Ast Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniaeque phalanges 
 Ut videxe virum, fulgentiaque arma per umbras, 
 Ingenti trepidare metu; pars vertere terga, 
 Ceu quondam petiere rates ; pars toUere vocem 
 Exiguam : inceptus clamor frustratur Mantes.^ 
 
 Virgil JEn., vi., 489. 
 
 Reaching his seat, Pitt exclaimed, in a tone that terrified 
 the whole House, " Now let me hear what the honorable 
 gentleman has to say to me!" One who was present, being 
 asked whether the house was not convulsed with laugh- 
 ter, at the ludicrous situation of the poor orator and the 
 aptness of the lines, replied, "No, sir; we were all too 
 much awed to laugh." 
 
 A similar anecdote is recorded of the celebrated Mira- 
 beaujf in the debate of the National Assembly , when Neckar 
 
 * The Grecian chiefs, and Agamemnon's host, 
 When they beheld the MAN with shining arms 
 ' ■ Amid those shades, trembled with sudden fear. 
 
 Part turned their backs in flight, as when they sought 
 Their ships. * * * * Part reused 
 A feeble outcry ; but the sound commenced. 
 Died on their gasping lips. 
 
 t Honorc Gabriel Riquette, Compte de Mirabeau was bom at Bignon, in 
 France, on the 9th of March, 1749. He was the greatest of the French 
 political orators. The following graphic sketch of his oratorical character, 
 which will afford the reader some idea of his vehemence as a public speaker, 
 is furnished by a distinguished French writer. 
 
 "• Mirabeau in the tribune was the most imposing of orators: an orator so 
 consummate, that it is harder to say what he wanted than what he possessed. 
 
 " Mirabeau had a massive and square obesity of figure, thick lips, a forehead 
 broad, bony, prominent ; arched eyebrows, an eagle eye, cheeks flat and some- 
 what flabby, features full of pock-holes and blotches, a voice of thunder, an 
 enormous mass of hair, and the face of a lion. 
 
 " His manner as an orator is that of the great masters of antiquity, with 
 an admirable energy of gesture and a vehemence of diction which perhaps they 
 had never reache-l. 
 
 " Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was adrniiable. But what was 
 be not in his exlompcr-ineoiis effusions? His natural vehemence, of which he
 
 y4 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 had proposed an extraordinary subsidy by a vole of credit, 
 as the only escape from national bankruptcy. Mirabeau 
 supported this, in a speech which carried the vote of the 
 Assembly by storm. A member got up and said, " I rise 
 to reply to M. de Mirabeau." Mirabeau glared on his 
 opponent; and the assembly gazed with silent surprise at 
 the man who could venture to reply to such a speech. 
 The unlucky orator, after standing for a moment with his 
 mouth open and his arm raised, sat down without uttering 
 another word. 
 
 In December, 1756, Mr. Pitt entered on the duties of 
 Prime Minister. During his brief, but glorious adminis- 
 tration, he was supported by the unanimous voice of the 
 people; but the King regarded him with personal dislike; 
 and in April, 1757, he was deprived of his office. So great 
 
 repressed the flights in his prepared speeches, broke down all barriers in his 
 improvisations. A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his vihole frame 
 an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast dilated with an impe- 
 tuous breathing. His lion face became wrinkled and contorted. His eyes shot 
 forth flame. He roared, he stamped, he shook the fierce mass of his hair, all 
 whitened with foam ; he trod the tribune with the supreme authority of a 
 master, and the imperial air of a king. What an interesting spectacle to be- 
 hold him, momently, erect and exalt himself under the pressure of obstacle! 
 To see him display the pnde of his commanding brow ! To see him, like the 
 ancient orator, when, with all the powers of his unchained eloquence, he was 
 wont to sway to and fro in the Ibrum the agitated waves of the Roman multi- 
 tude! Then would he throw by the measured notes of his declamation, habitu- 
 ally grave and solemn. Then would escape him broken exclamations, tones 
 of thunder, and accents of heartrending and terrible pathos. He concealed 
 with the flesh and color of his rhetoric the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. 
 He transported the Assembly, because he was himself transported. And yet^ — 
 80 extraordinary was his force — he abandoned himself to the torrent of his 
 elo(]uence, without wandering from his course; he mastered others by its sov- 
 ereign sway, without losing for an instant his own self-control." 
 
 As a fine specimen of his burning eloquence, we quote his beautiful eulogium 
 on our immortal Franklin, pronounced on the 11th of June, 1790: 
 
 "Franklin is dead! Restored to the bosom of the divinity is that genius 
 which gave freedom to America, and rayed forth torrents of light upon Europe.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 85 
 
 was the popularity of Mr. Pitt, that immediately after his 
 dismissal, he received addresses of thanks, expressed in 
 the warmest language, from all parts of the kingdom. 
 " For some weeks," says Horace Walpole, " it rained gold 
 boxes ! " In vain did the king attempt to form another 
 administration; and Pitt was borne back to the cabinet, 
 as it were, " on the shoulders of the people." 
 
 In June, 1757, his second administration commenced; 
 It was, perhaps, the most brilliant one that British history 
 has ever recorded. By the powers of his sagacious mind, 
 and unrivaled eloquence, Mr. Pitt raised England from 
 the brink of ruin to a high position among the nations of 
 the world. His administration infused a new spirit into 
 the political and military affairs of the nation. Every- 
 thing was done with promptness while he held the reins 
 of government. England was then at war with France; 
 
 The sage whom two worlds claim — the man whom the hrstory of empires 
 and the history of science alike contend for — occupied, it can not be denied, 
 a loft.y rank among bis species. Long ervough have political cabinets signal- 
 ized the death of those who were great in their funeral eulogies only. Long 
 enough has the etiquette o-f courts prescribed hypocritica:l mournings. For 
 their benefactors only should nations assume the emblems of grief ; and the 
 representatives of nations should commend only the heroes of humanity to 
 public veneration. 
 
 " In the fourteen states of the confederacy, Congress has ordained a mourn- 
 ing of two months for the death of Franklin; and America is at this moment 
 acquitting herself of this tribute of honor to one of the Fathers of her Consti- 
 tution. Would it not become us, gentlemen, to unite in this religious act; to 
 participate in this homage, publicly rendered, at once to the rights of man, 
 and to the philosopher who has contributed most largely to their vindication 
 throughout the world? Antiquity would have erected altars to this great and 
 powerful genius, who, to promote the welfare of mankind, comprehending 
 both the heavens and the earth in the range of his thought, could at once 
 snatch the bolt from the cloud and the scepter from tyrants. France, enlight- 
 ened and free, owes at least the acknowledgment of her remembrance and 
 regret to one of the greatest intellects that ever served the united cause of 
 philosophy and liberty. I propose that it be now decreed that the National 
 Assembly wear mourning, during three days, for Benjamin Franklin.'" Mira- 
 beau (lied in 1791.
 
 86 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and, during his administration, she won several of the 
 most brilliant victories that ever graced the British arms. 
 The English were victorious in almost every quarter; in 
 Asia, Africa, and America. Their flag waved triumph- 
 antly over the seas. It was at this time that Admiral 
 Hawke gained his brilliant naval victory off Quiberon, 
 and that the gallant Wolfe, whom Pitt himself had brought 
 forward, exjDired in the arms of victory, at Quebec. The 
 vigorous plans which Mr. Pitt formed for carrying on the 
 war with France, and the great ability with which lie 
 managed the whole affairs of government, proved that he 
 was the greatest statesman that England had produced.* 
 
 France was soon effectually humbled, and, in 1761, 
 sought for peace. Mr. Pitt declared to his friends, when 
 about to enter on the negotiation, that " no Peace of 
 Utrecht should again stain the annals of England." In 
 the meantime, France entered into a close alliance with 
 Spain. The French minister, now changing his tone, came 
 forward with proposals which Mr. Pitt spurned. He de- 
 clared that " he would not relax one syllable from his 
 terms, until the Tower of London was taken by storm." 
 But Mr. Pitt could no longer carry his measures. George 
 III had ascended the throne, and with his accession anew 
 favorite, the Earl of Bute, rose into power. The proposal 
 of Mr. Pitt, for immediately declaring war against Spain, 
 was voted down by an obsequious cabinet; whereupon he 
 instantly resigned, " in order not to remain responsible for 
 measures which he was no longer allowed to guide." 
 Thus ended his glorious ministry, on the 5th of Octo- 
 ber, 1761. 
 
 ■* "As a statesman, his influence over the minds of the people was more 
 nniversal and powerful than that of any minister whom the world has seen. 
 He spread an enthusiasm amongst the people which never before was equaled. 
 He persuaded the nation that it was invincible and irresistible, and he lived to 
 prove the truth of his assertions. — Thackeray.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 87 
 
 During the remainder of his life, with the exception of 
 a brief season, he acted with the opposition. On the 
 downfall of the Rockingham administration, Mr. Pitt was 
 called upon to frame a new ministry. Giving the lead to 
 Charles Townsend, he withdrew from the House of Com- 
 mons, selected for liimself the office of Lord Privy Seal, 
 and passed into the Up^ er House, with the title of Lord 
 Chatham. Acquiring no glory in his new administration, 
 he resigned office, October 15th, 1768. He was grieved t < 
 find that the news of this event attracted but little notice 
 throughout England. His glorious career seemed to have 
 terminated in obscurity. " His sun ajjipeared to have sunk 
 at mid-day, amid clouds and gloom. Little did any one 
 imagine that it was again to break forth with a purer 
 si3lendor, and to fill the whole horizon around with the 
 radiance of its setting beams." His eloquence shone 
 brightest in the evening of his days. Then it broke forth 
 " with a fury and splendor that might have awed the 
 world, and make kings tremble." He came forward as 
 the advocate of liberty — as the defender of the rights of 
 his fellow-citizens — as the enemy of tyranny — as the 
 f friend of his country, and of mankind. Lord Chatham 
 acquired his greatest glory as an orator in advocating the 
 cause of the American colonies against the injustice and 
 tyranny of the mother country. 
 
 When Mr. George Grenville brought forward his obnox- 
 ious Stamp Act in 1765, Mr. Pitt was prevented by illness 
 from attending the House of Commons, but he took the 
 earliest opportunity of protesting against such an Act — 
 of raising his voice in a lofty strain of eloquence for its 
 repeal. He boldly asserted that " the British Parliament 
 had no right to tax America, that country not being repre- 
 sented in the House of Commons." 
 
 On the 14th of January, 1766, Mr. Pitt delivered his 
 celebrated speech again t the Stamp Act, i i which he ably
 
 88 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 discussed the right of taxing America. This speech was 
 reported with considerable accuracy by Sir Robert Dean, 
 aided by Lord Charlemont. 
 
 We shall presently present some of the finest passages 
 of Chatham's eloquence. He who would teach eloquence, 
 as Hume well observes, must do it chiefly by examples ; 
 and where can be found, in the whole range of English 
 oratory, specimens of greater beauty for the imitation and 
 admiration of the young student, than some of the fine 
 passages of Lord Chatham's speeches? 
 
 From his speech in 1766, for the repeal of tlie Stamp 
 Act, a speech which contains several sublime passages, and 
 exhibits a fair specimen of his style of composition, we 
 present the following extracts: 
 
 " Mr. Speaker, — I came to town but to-day. I was a 
 stranger to the tenor of his Majesty's speech, and the pro- 
 posed address, till I heard them read in this House. 
 Unconnected and unconsulted, I have not the means of 
 information. I am fearful of offending through mistake, 
 and therefore beg to be indulged with a second reading 
 of the proposed address. [The address being read, Mr. 
 Pitt went on.] T commend the King's speech, and approve 
 of the address in answer, as it decides nothing, every gen- 
 tleman being left at perfect liberty to take such a part 
 concerning America as he may afterward see fit. One 
 word only I can not apj^rove of: an ' early,' is a word that 
 does not belong to the notice the ministry have given to 
 Parliament of the troubles in America. In a matter of 
 such importance, the communication ought to have been 
 iinmediate ! 
 
 " I speak not now with respect to parties. I stand up in 
 this place single and independent. As to the late minis- 
 try [turning himself to Mr. Grenville, who sat within one 
 of him], every cajutal measure they have taken has been 
 entirely wrong! As to the present gentlemen, to those at
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 89 
 
 least whom I have in my eye [looking at the bench where 
 General Conway sat with the lords of the treasury] , I have 
 no objection. I have never been made a sacrifice by any 
 of them. Their characters are fair; and I am always glad 
 when men of fair character engage in his Majesty's ser- 
 vice. Some of them did me the honor to ask my oj^inion 
 before they would engage. These will now do me the 
 justice to own, I advised them to do it — but, notwithstand- 
 ing (for I love to be explicit), I can not give them t.iy con- 
 ■fidence. Pardon me, gentlemen [bowing to the ministry], 
 confidence is a plant of slow growth in an aged bosom. 
 Youth is the season of credulity. By comparing events 
 with each other, reasoning from effects to causes, methinks 
 I plainly discover the traces of an overruling influence.* 
 
 " It is a long time, Mr. Speaker, since I have attended 
 in Parliament. When the resolution was taken in this 
 House to tax America, I was ill in bed. If I could have 
 endured to be carried in my bed — so great was the agita- 
 tion of my mind for the consequences — I would have 
 solicited some kind hand to have laid me down on this 
 floor, to have borne my testimony against it! It is now an 
 act that has passed. I would speak with decency of every 
 act of this House; but I must beg the indulgence of the 
 House to speak of it with freedom." 
 
 In reply to Mr. Grenville who said, that, " the seditious 
 spirit of the colonies owes its birth to the factions in this 
 House, and that America was almost in open rebellion," 
 Mr. Pitt exclaimed in a lofty strain of bold, impassioned 
 
 * Says Butler, in his Reminiscences, "Those who remember the air oi 
 condescending protection with which the bow was made, and the look given, 
 when he spoke these words, will recollect how much they themselves, at the 
 moment, were both delighted and awed; and what they themselves then con- 
 ceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being 
 that surrounded him. In the passages which we have cited, there is nothing 
 which an ordinary speaker might not have said; it was the manner, and the 
 manner only which produced the effect." 
 
 12
 
 90 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 eloquence, " Gentlemen, Sir, have been charged with 
 giving birth to sedition in America. They have spoken 
 their sentiments with freedom against this unhap2:>y act, 
 and that freedom has become their crime. Sorr}' I am to 
 hear the liberty of speech in this House imputed as a 
 crime. But the imputation shall not discourage me. It 
 is a liberty I mean to exercise. No gentlemen ought to be 
 afraid to exercise it. It is a liberty by which the gentle- 
 man who calumniates it might have profited. He ought to 
 have desisted from his project. The gentleman tells us, 
 America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. 
 I rejoice that America has resisted.* Three millions of 
 people, so dea 1 to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily 
 to submit to be slaves, would have been fit instruments to 
 make slaves of the rest."' 
 
 " A great deal has been said without doors of tlie 
 power, of the strength of America. It is a topic that 
 ought to be cautiously meddled with. In a good cause, 
 on a sound bottom, the force of this country can crush 
 America to atoms. I know the valor of your troops. I 
 know the skill of your officers. There is not a company 
 of foot that has served in America, out of which you may 
 not pick a man of sufficient knowledge and experience to 
 make a governor of a colony there. But on this ground, — 
 on the Stamp Act, which so many here will think a crying 
 injustice, — lam one who will lift up my hands against 
 it." 
 
 "In such a cause, your success would be hazardous. 
 America, if she fell, would fall like the strong man; she 
 would embrace the pillars of the state, and pull down the 
 Constitution along with her. Is this your boasted peace — 
 not to sheathe the sword in its scabbard, but to sheathe it 
 in the l)owels of your countrymen? Will you quarrel 
 
 * The immortal Grattan used to pronounce this passage finer than any- 
 thing in Demosthenes.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 91 
 
 with yourselves, now the whole house of Bourbou is 
 united against you; while France disturbs your fisheries in 
 Newfoundland, embarrasses your slave trade to Africa, 
 and Vv' ithholds from your subjects in Canada their property 
 stipulated by treaty; while the ransom for the Manillas is 
 denied by Spain; and its gallant conqueror basely traduced 
 into a mean plunderer! a gentleman (Colonel Drai3er),whose 
 noble and generous spirit would do honor to the j3roudest 
 grandee of the country? The Americans have not acted 
 in all things with prudence and temper: they have been 
 wronged; they have been driven to madness by injustice. 
 Will you punish them for the madness you have occa- 
 sioned? Rather let prudence and temper come first from 
 this side. I will undertake for America, that she will 
 follow the example. There are two lines in a ballad of 
 Prior's, of a man's behavior to his wife, so applicable to 
 you and your colonies, that I can not help repeating 
 them: 
 
 ' Be to her faults a little blind; 
 Be .to her virtues very kind.' 
 
 " Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the House what 
 is my opinion. It is, that the Stamp Act be repealed abso- 
 lutely, totally, and immediately." 
 
 Through the eloquence of Pitt, Colonel Barre, Burke, 
 and other kindred spirits, a bill, repealing the Stamp Act 
 passed, after a stormy debate; but it was accompanied 
 with a Declaratory Act, which asserted the authority of 
 the King and Parliament in making laws that should 
 " bind the colonies and peoj^le of America in all cases 
 whatsoever!'''' This Act met with decided opposition from 
 Lord Camden in the House of Lords. "My position," 
 said he, " is this — I repeat it — I will maintain it to the 
 last hour: Taxation and representation are inseparable. 
 This position is founded on the laws of nature. It is 
 more; it is in itself an eternal law of nature. For what-
 
 92 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ever is a man's own is absolutely his own. No man has a 
 right to take it from him without his consent, either ex- 
 pressed by himself or his representative. Whoever at- 
 tempts to do this, attempts an injury. Whoever does 
 it, commits a robbery. He throws down and destroys 
 the distinction between liberty and slavery." The Decla- 
 ratory Act finally passed, and Charles Townsend, carrying 
 out its principles the next year (1767), formed a new^ plan 
 of taxing America, by imposing duties on glass, paper, 
 pasteboard, white and red lead, painters' colors and tea, 
 imported into the colonies. When the fatal measure was 
 proposed, Lord Chatham w^as confined in the country by 
 severe illness. Charles Townsend was thus left at the 
 head of affairs; and it is said that he was continually 
 goaded by Mr. Grenville on the subject of American 
 taxation. "You are cowards! You are afraid of the 
 Americans. You dare not tax America!" The hasty 
 spirit of Townsend was roused by these attacks. " Fear?" 
 said he, " Cowards? Dare not tax America? 1 dare tax 
 America!''* After a momentary pause, Grenville said, 
 " Dare you tax America? I wish you w^ould do it." 
 Townsend replied, " I will, I will." Thus originated the 
 measure which resulted in the achievement of American 
 Independence. When this bill was passed, it immediately 
 raised another storm throughout the colonies. Lord 
 North, on coming into power, about two years after, intro- 
 duced a bill repealing all the duties imposed by the act of 
 1767, except that on tea. This still recognized the right 
 of taxation, to which the colonies would never submit. 
 They resolved that the tea should not be landed. In Bos- 
 ton, on the evening of December 18th, 1773, a large com- 
 pany of men, disguised as Indians, wx'ut on board the 
 British ships, lying in the harbor, broke open 342 chests 
 of tea and emptied their contents into the water. To 
 punish the inhabitants of Massachusetts for their oj^po-
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 98 
 
 sition to siicli tyrannical acts, Parliament passed still more 
 arbitrary laws, closing the port of Boston, depriving Mas- 
 sachusetts of her charter, and authorizing the quartering 
 of British soldiers on the inhabitants of Boston. Such 
 measures only tended to increase the flame of liberty, 
 which had already been kindled in every patriotic bosom. 
 At length the torch of war was lighted, and the thunder 
 of cannon shook the land. 
 
 Lord Chatham, though in a very feeble state of health, 
 came into Parliament to raise his voice once more against 
 the oppressive laws of his country, and to urge the ado^i- 
 tion of such measures as would bring about a speedy 
 reconciliation between the colonies and the mother country. 
 But it was too late; the revolution was now fairly in pro- 
 gress. The storm had gathered and burst on America; 
 and the patriotic band of brothers and of freemen there, 
 pledging to each other their lives, their fortunes, and their 
 sacred honor, had resolved to fight on, through fears, 
 through darkness, through distress, until the clouds should 
 break away, and the genial sky of liberty smile in peace 
 and happiness over a redeemed country — until the star 
 spangled banner, elevated by Washington, and Franklin, 
 and Adams, and Jefi'erson, and a host of other brave hearts, 
 on the portals of our Capitol, should wave triumphantly 
 in the air of freedom, bearing aloft this glorious inscrip- 
 tion, " Independence now, and Independence forever! " 
 
 The disturbances which terminated in the American 
 revolution gave rise to five of the most celebrated speeches 
 of Lord Chatham. It is a very favorable circumstance 
 that these speeches were reported with a considerable de- 
 gree of verbal accuracy by Mr. Hugh Boyd, and Sir Phili]) 
 Francis,* and that the best of them — that on a motion 
 
 * Sir Philip Francis is supposed by many to have been the author of the 
 celebrated letters of Junius, which are so justly admired for their brilliant and 
 forcible style. Among others the great historian of England, Mr. Macaulay, 
 IS firmly convinced that this distinguished statesman was Junius.
 
 94 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 for an address to tlie Throne, containing the famous reply 
 to Lord Sufiblk, relating to the employment of the Indian;-; 
 in the war — was revised by Lord Chatham himself. These 
 speeches were the last and greatest efibrts of Chatham, 
 and they afford some of the most beautiful, vehement and 
 sublime passages that eloquence has ever produced. On 
 the style and construction of these speeches, Prof Good- 
 rich, one of the most eminent of American critics, well 
 observes: " They are the best specimens we possess of his 
 style and diction; and it would be difficult, in the whole 
 range of our literature, to find more perfect models for 
 the study and imitation of the young orator. The words 
 are admirably chosen. The sentences are not rounded or 
 balanced periods, but are made up of short clauses, which 
 flash themselves upon the mind with all the vividness of 
 distinct ideas, and yet are closely connected together as 
 tending to the same point, and uniting to form larger 
 masses of thought. Nothing can be more easy, varied, 
 and natural than the style of these speeches. There is no 
 mannerism about them. They contain some of the most 
 vehement passages in English oratory; and yet there is no 
 aj^pearance of effort, no straining after effect. They have 
 this infallible mark of genius — they make every one feel, 
 that if placed in like circumstances, he would have said 
 exactly the same things in the same manner." 
 
 On the 27th of Way, 1774, Lord Chatham delivered the 
 first of these celebrated speeches, in the House of Lords, 
 on the bill authorizing the quartering of British troops on 
 the citizens of Boston. In the course of this speech he 
 said: " My Lords, I am an old man, and would advise the 
 noble Lords in office to adopt a more gentle mode of gov- 
 erning America; fur tho day is not far distant when Amer- 
 ica may vie with these kingdoms, not only in arms, but 
 in arts also. It is an established fact that the jirincipal 
 towns in America are learned and polite, and understand
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 95 
 
 the constitution of the empire as well as the noble Lords 
 who are now in office; and, consequently, they will have a 
 watchful eye over their liberties, to prevent the least en- 
 croachment on their hereditary rights. 
 
 " This, my Lords, though no new doctrine, has always 
 been my received and unalterable opinion, and I will carry 
 it to my grave, that this country had no right under heaven 
 to tax America. It is contrary to all the principles of jus- 
 tice and civil polity, which neither the exigencies of the 
 state, nor even an acquiescence in the taxes, could justify 
 upon any occasion whatever. Such proceedings will never 
 meet their wished-for success. Instead of adding to their 
 miseries, as the Inll now before you most undoubtedly 
 does, adopt some lenient measures, which -may lure them 
 to their duty. Proceed like a kind and affectionate parent 
 over a child whom he tenderly loves, and, instead of those 
 harsh and severe proceedings, pass an amnesty on their 
 youthful errors, clasp them once more in your fond and 
 affectionate arms, and I will venture to affirm you will find 
 them children worthy of their sire." 
 
 Notwithstanding this eloquent speech, full of warning 
 and remonstrances, the bill was passed by a majority of 
 57 to 16. 
 
 On the 20th of January, 1775, Lord Chatham delivered 
 a most eloquent speech, on a motion for an address to his 
 Majesty, for the immediate removal of the British troops 
 from Boston. When he arose to speak, says one who 
 witnessed the scene, " all was silence and profound atten- 
 tion. Animated, and almost inspired by his subject, he 
 seemed to feel his own unrivaled superiority. His vener- 
 able figure, dignified and graceful in decay, his language, 
 his voice, his gesture, were such as might, at this moment- 
 ous crisis, big witli the fate of Britain, seem to characterize 
 him as the guardian genius of his country." In the diary 
 of Josiah Quincy, jr., we find the following memorandum.
 
 96 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 alluding to this speech. " Attended the debates in the 
 House of Lords. Good fortune gave me one of the best pla- 
 ces for hearing, and taking a few minutes. Lord Chatham 
 rose like Marcellus. His language, voice and gesture were 
 more pathetic than I ever saw or heard before, at the bar 
 or senate. He seemed like an old Roman senator, rising 
 with the dignity of age, yet speaking with the fire of 
 youth." Lord Chatham thus commenced his siDeech: " My 
 Lords, after more than six weeks' possession of the papers 
 now before you, on a subject so momentous, at a time 
 when the fate of this nation hangs on every hour, the 
 ministry have at length condescended to submit to the 
 consideration of this House, intelligence from America 
 with wliich your Lordsliips and the public have been long 
 and fully acquainted. 
 
 " The measures of last year, my Lords, which have pro- 
 duced the present alarming state of America, were founded 
 upon misrepresentation. They were violent, precipitate, 
 and vindictive. The nation was told that it was only a 
 faction in Boston which opposed all lawful government: 
 that an unwarrantable injury had been done to private 
 property, for which the justice of Parliament was called 
 upon to order reparation; that the least appearance of 
 firmness would awe the Americans into submission, and 
 upon only passing the Rubicon we should be 'sine clade 
 victor.'* 
 
 "I wish, my Lords, not to lose a day in the urgent, 
 23ressing crisis. An hour now lost in allaying ferments in 
 America may produce years of calamity. For my own 
 part, I will not desert, for a moment, the conduct of this 
 weighty business, from the first to the last. Unless nailed 
 to my bed by the extremity of sickness, I will give it un- 
 remitted attention. I will knock at the door of this 
 
 * Victorious without slaughter.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 97 
 
 sleeping and confounded ministry, and will rouse them to 
 a sense of their danger. 
 
 " When I urge this measure of recalling the troops from 
 Boston, I urge it on this pressing principle, that it is 
 necessarily prefjaratory to the restoration of your peace 
 and the establishment of your prosperity. It will then 
 appear that you are disposed to treat amicably and equita- 
 bly; and to consider, revise and repeal, if it should be 
 found necessary (as I affirm it will), those violent acts and 
 declarations which have disseminated confusion through- 
 out your empire. 
 
 " Resistance to your acts was necessary as it was just; 
 and your vain declarations of the omnipotence of Parlia- 
 ment, and your imperious doctrines of the necessity of 
 submission, will be found equally imjootent to convince 
 or to enslave your fellow-subjects in America, w^ho feel 
 that tyranny, whether amhitioned by an individual part of 
 the Legislature, or the bodies who compose it, is equally 
 intolerable to British subjects. 
 
 " Tliis resistance to your arbitrary system of taxation 
 might have been foreseen. It w^as obvious from the nature 
 of things, and of mankind; and, above all, from the whig- 
 gish spirit flourishing in that country. This glorious whig 
 spirit animates three millions in America, who prefer 
 poverty with liberty, to gilded chains and sordid affluence; 
 and who will die in defense of their rights as men, as 
 freemen. What shall oppose this spirit, aided by the 
 congenial flame glowing in the breast of every whig in 
 England? ' 'Tis liberty to liberty engaged,' that they will 
 defend themselves, their families, and their country. In 
 this great cause they are immovably allied: it is the alli- 
 ance of God and nature, — immutable, eternal, — fixed as 
 the firmament of heaven. 
 
 " But it is not repealing this act of Parliament, it is not 
 
 repealing a piece of parchment, that can restore America 
 13
 
 98 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 to our bosom- You must repeal her fears and her resent- 
 ments, and you may then hope for lier love and gratitude. 
 But now, insulted with an armed force posted at Boston, 
 irritated with a hostile army before her eyes, her conces- 
 sions, if you could force them, would be suspicious and 
 insecure; they will be ' irato animo' [with an angry spirit] ; 
 they will not be the sound, honorable passions of freemen; 
 they will be the dictates of fear and extortions of force. 
 But it is more than evident that you can not force them, 
 united as they are, to your unworthy terms of submission. 
 It is impossible. And when I hear General Gage censured 
 for inactivity, I must retort with indignation on those 
 whose intemperate measures and improvident counsels 
 have betrayed him into his present situation. His situa- 
 tion reminds me, my Lords, of the answer of a French 
 general in the civil wars of France — Monsieur Conde, 
 opposed to Monsieur Turenne. He was asked how it hap- 
 pened that he did not take his adversary prisoner, as he 
 was often very near him. ' J'ai peur,' replied Conde, very 
 honestly, 'j'ai peur qu'il ne me prenne;' Tm afraid he'll 
 take me. 
 
 " Wlien your Lordships look at the papers transmitted 
 us from America — when you consider their decency, 
 firmness, and wisdom, you can not but respect their cause, 
 and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must declare 
 and avow, that in all my reading and observation — and 
 it has been my favorite study — I have read Thucydides, 
 and have studied and admired the master-states of the 
 world — that for solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, 
 and wisdom of conclusion, under such a complication of 
 difficult circumstances, no nation or body of men can 
 stand in preference to the general Congress at Phihxdel- 
 phia. I trust it is obvious to your Lordships that all at- 
 tempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish 
 despotism over such a mighty continental nation, must be
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 99 
 
 vain, must be fatal. We shall be forced ultimately to 
 retract J let us retract while we can, not when we must. 
 I say we must necessarily undo these violent, oppressive 
 acts.* They must be repealed. You will repeal them. I 
 pledge myself for it, that you will, in the end, repeal 
 them. I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be 
 taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed-! Avoid, 
 then, this humiliating, disgraceful necessity. 
 
 " Every motive, therefore, of justice and of policy, of 
 dignity and of prudence, urges you to allay the ferment 
 in America, by a removal of your trooj)s from Boston, 
 by a repeal of your acts of Parliament, and by demonstra- 
 tion of amicable dispositions toward your colonies. On 
 the other hand, every danger and every hazard impend, 
 to deter you from perseverance in your present ruinous 
 measures; — foreign war hanging over your heads by a 
 slight and brittle thread, — France and Spain watching 
 your conduct, and waiting for the maturity of your 
 errors. 
 
 " To conclude, my Lords, if the ministers thus persevere 
 in misadvising and misleading the King, I will not say 
 that they can alienate the affections of his subjects from 
 his crown, but I will affirm, that they will make the crown 
 not worth his wearing. I will not say that the King is 
 betrayed, but I will pronounce that the kingdom is undone!'^ 
 
 After a long debate, the motion was lost by a vote of 
 68 to IS. Dr. Franklin, who was present at the debate, 
 and listened to Chatham's speech, said that " he had 
 seen, in the course of his life, sometimes eloquence 
 without wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence; in 
 
 * The Boston Port Bill, and the act taking avay the charter of Massa- 
 chusetts. 
 
 t This prediction of Lord Chatham was verified. After three years' fruitless 
 war, a repeal of these acts was sent out to propitiate the colonists, but it was 
 too late.
 
 100 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the present instance, he saw both united, and both, as he 
 thought, in the highest degree possible." 
 
 On the 30th of May, 1777, Lord Chatham made another 
 powerful speech in favor of America. For more than two 
 years the great statesman had been prevented by his in- 
 firmities from taking his seat in Parliament. But he was 
 anxious to make one effort more for ending the war with 
 America, and came into the House of Lords, swathed in 
 flannel, and supported on crutches, to move an address to 
 the King, recommending that speedy and efiectual meas- 
 ures be taken to put an end to hostilities in America. 
 
 *' My Lords," said he, " this is a flying momentj perhaps 
 but six weeks left to arrest the dangers that surround us. 
 The gathering storm may break j it has already opened, 
 and in part burst;" and again, " You may ravage — you 
 can not conquer — it is impossible — you can not conquer 
 the Americans. You talk, my Lords, of your numerous 
 friends among them to annihilate the Congress, and of 
 your powerful forces to disperse their army. / might as 
 well talk of driving them before me with this crutch ,'" 
 
 The greatest efibrt of Lord Chatham, was his speech on 
 a motion for an address to the Throne, delivered in the 
 House of Lords, November IS, 1777. He was now sinking 
 under the weight of years and disease — his sun was cast- 
 ing its last rays- -the shades of night were gathering 
 around him, yet the splendor of his oratory shone with 
 purer luster than it perhaps ever did before; his venerable 
 form became animated by all the fire of youth, — his lan- 
 guage, his tone, his gesture, his whole manner, were such 
 as might have awed the world, and made tyrants tremble 
 on their thrones. " It would, indeed, be difficult," says 
 Prof. Goodrich, " to find in the Avhole range of parlia- 
 mentary history, a more splendid blaze of genius, at once 
 rapid, vigorous, and sublime." 
 
 As the orator proceeded with his speech he broke forth
 
 LORD CHATHAJM. 101 
 
 into the following lofty strain of eloquence: "You can 
 not, I venture to say it, you can not conquer America. Your 
 armies in the last war effected every thing that could be 
 effected 5 and what was it? It cost a numerous army, un- 
 der the command of a most able general [Lord AmherstJ , 
 now a noble Lord in this House, a long and laborious 
 campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French 
 America. My Lords, you can not conquer America. What 
 is your present situation there? We do not know the 
 w^orst; but we know that in three campaigns we have 
 done nothing and suffered much. Besides the sufferings, 
 perhaps total loss of the Northern force,* the best apijointed 
 army that ever took the field, commanded by Sir William 
 Howe, has retired from the American lines. He was obliged 
 to relinquish his attempt, and with great delay and danger 
 to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. W^e shall 
 soon know, and in any event have reason to lament, what 
 may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore, my 
 Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may swell every 
 expense and every effort still more extravagantly ; pile and 
 accumulate every assistance you can buy or borrow; — 
 traffic and barter with every little pitiful German prince 
 that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of a for- 
 eign prince; your efforts are forever vain and impotent — 
 doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for 
 it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your 
 enemies, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of 
 
 * Under General Burgoyne. This prediction of the total loss of General 
 Burgoyne's army was too faithfully verified. While advancing from Canada 
 to support the operations of General Howe, who was marching on Philadelphia, 
 he was compelled by the Americans, under General Gates, to surrender his 
 whole army, by a convention concluded at Saratoga, October 16, 1777. Th« 
 intelligence of this defeat did not reach England until the beginning of De- 
 cember.
 
 102 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 rapine .mJ plunder, devoting them and their possessions 
 to the rapacity of hireling cruelty ! If I were an Ameri- 
 can^ as I am an Englishman^ while a foreign troop was 
 landed in my country, I never woidd lay down my arms — 
 never — neve') never /" 
 
 Lord Sulfolk, in the course of this debate, attempted to 
 defend the employment of Indians in the American war. 
 He contended that, besides its policy and necessity, the 
 measure was also allowable on principle; for that " it was 
 perfectly justifiable to use all the means that God and 
 nature put into our hands !'^ This unnatural remark roused 
 Lord Chatham, and drew from his lips some of the severest 
 passages, and sublimest bursts of eloquence that can be 
 found in the English language 
 
 "I am astonished!" exclaimed Lord Chatham, as he rose, 
 "shocked! to hear such principles confessed — to hear 
 them avowed in this House, or in this country; — princi- 
 ples equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian ! 
 
 " My Lords, I did not intend to have encroached again 
 upon your attention, but I can not repress my indignation. 
 I feel myself impelled by every duty. My Lords, we are 
 called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian 
 men, to protest against such notions standing near the 
 Throne, polluting the ear of Majesty. ' That God and 
 nature put into our hands ! ' I know not what ideas that 
 Lord may entertain of God and nature, but I know that 
 such abominable principles are equally abhorrent to reli- 
 gion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanc- 
 tion of God and nature, to the massacres of the Indian 
 scalping-knife — to the cannibal savage, torturing, mur- 
 dering, roasting, and eating — literally, my Lords, eating 
 the mangled victims of his barbarous battles ! Such hor- 
 rible notions shock every precept of religion, divine or 
 natural, and every generous feeling of humanity. And,
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 103 
 
 my Lords, they shock every sentiment of honor; they 
 shock me as a lover of honorable war, and a detester of 
 murderous barbarity. 
 
 " These abominable principles, and this more abomina- 
 ble avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 
 I call upon that right reverend bench, those holy ministers 
 of the gospel, and pious pastors of our church — I conjure 
 them to join in the holy work, and vindicate the religion 
 of their God. I appeal to the wisdom and the law of this 
 learned bench, to defend and support the justice of their 
 country. I call upon the BishojDS, to interj)Ose the unsul- 
 lied sanctity of their lawnj upon the learned Judges, to 
 interpose the purity of tlieir ermine, to save us from this 
 pollution. I call uj^on the honor of your Lordships, to 
 reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain 
 your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my 
 country to vindicate the national character. I invoke the 
 genius of the Constitution. From the tapestry that adorns 
 these walls, the immortal ancestor of this noble Lord 
 frowns with indignation at the disgrace of his country.* 
 In vain he led your victorious fleets against the boasted 
 Armada of Spain; in vain he defended and established 
 the honor^ the liberties, the religion — the Protestant reli- 
 gion — of this country, against the arbitrary cruelties of 
 popery and the Inquisition, if these more than popish 
 cruelties and inquisitorial practices are let loose among 
 us — to turn forth into our settlements, among our ancient 
 connections, friends, and relations, the merciless cannibal 
 thirsting for the blood of man, woman, and child! to send 
 for the infidel savage — against whom? against your Pro- 
 testant brethren; to lay waste their country, — to desolate 
 their dwellings, and extirpate their race and names with 
 
 * " The tapestry of the House of Lords represented the English fleet led 
 by the ship of the lord admiral, Effingham Howard (ancestor of Suffolk), to 
 engage the Spanish Armada."
 
 104 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 these horrible hell-hounds of savage war, — liell-lwunds, J 
 say, of savage war! Spain armed herself with blood- 
 hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of America, and 
 we improve on the inhuman example even of Spanish 
 cruelty; — we turn loose these savage hell-hounds against 
 our brethren and countrymen in America, of the same 
 language, laws, liberties and religion, endeared to us by 
 every tie that should sanctify humanity, 
 
 " My Lords, this awful subject, so important to our honor, 
 our Constitution, and our religion, demands the most 
 solemn and effectual inquiry. And I again call upon your 
 Lordships, and the united powers of the state, to examine 
 it thoroughly and decisively, and to stamp upon it an in- 
 delible stigma of the public abhorrence. And I again 
 implore those holy prelates of our religion to do away 
 these iniquities from among us. Let them perform a lus- 
 tration; — let them purify this House, and this country, 
 fiom this sin. 
 
 " My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to 
 say more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong 
 to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my 
 bed, nor reposed my head on my pillow, without giving 
 this vent to my eternal abhorrence of such j^reposterous 
 and enormous principles!" 
 
 On the 7th of April, 1778, Lord Chatham made his 
 appearance, for the last time, in the House of Lords. It 
 is a day memorable for the occurrence of one of the most 
 affecting scenes ever witnessed in Parliament — a day when 
 the great master of modern oratory was overwhelmed by 
 the effort of his own powerful eloquence. 
 
 Lord Chatham was ignorant of the real state of feeling 
 in America. He imagined that the colonies might be 
 brought back to their former allegiance to the British gov- 
 ernment. He did not wish to see the extensive dominion 
 of old Enghnid rent in twain, and the Independence of
 
 LORD CHATHAM. ITS 
 
 America recognized He could not endure these thoughts. 
 He therefore heard " witli unspeakable concern " that the 
 Duke of Richmond intended, on the 7th of Aj^ril, to move 
 an address to the king, advising him to effect a conciliation 
 with America, involving her independence. Such a mea- 
 sure he thought was disastrous and ruinous to the pros- 
 perity and happiness of England. He determined to take 
 a bold stand against it, and accordingly, was carried to the 
 House of Lords, to raise his voice against the dismember- 
 ment of the empire. " He was led into the House of Peers 
 by his son, the Honorable William Pitt, and his son-in-law, 
 Lord Mahon. He was dressed in a rich suit of black 
 velvet, and covered up to the knees in flannel. Within 
 his large wig, little more of his countenance was seen than 
 his aquiline nose, and his penetrating eye, which retained 
 all its native fire. He looked like a dying man, yet never 
 was seen a figure of more dignity. He appeared like a 
 being of a superior species. The Lords stood up and 
 made a lane for him to pass to his seat, while, with a grace- 
 fulness of deportment for which he was so eminently dis- 
 tinguished, he bowed to them as he proceeded. Having 
 tiiken his seat, he listened with profound attention to the 
 Duke of Richmond's speech." When Lord Weymouth 
 had finished his reply in behalf of the ministry. Lord 
 Chatham rose with slowness and great difficulty, and de- 
 livered the folloAving speech, " Supported by his two 
 relations, he lifted his hand from the crutch on which he 
 leaned, raised it up, and, casting his eyes toward heaven, 
 commenced as follows :" 
 
 " I THANK God that I have been enabled to come here 
 to-day — to perform my duty, and speak on a subject which 
 is so deeply impressed on my mind. I am old and infirm. 
 I have one foot — inore than one foot — in the grave. I 
 have risen from my bed to stand up in the cause of my 
 
 country — perhaps never again to sj^eak in this House." 
 
 14
 
 106 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 [''The reverence, the attention, the stillness of the 
 House," said an eye witness, " were here most aSecting; 
 had any one dropped a handkerchief, the noise would have 
 been heard."] 
 
 " As he proceeded, Lord Chatham spoke at first in a low 
 tone, with all the Aveakness of one who is laboring under 
 severe indisposition. Gradually, however, as he warmed 
 with the subject, his voice became louder and more dis- 
 tinct, his intonations grew more commanding, and his 
 whole manner was solemn and impressive in the highest 
 degree." 
 
 " My Lords," he exclaimed, " I rejoice that the grave 
 has not closed upon me; that I am still alive, to lift up 
 my voice against the dismemberment of this ancient and 
 most noble monarchy! Pressed down as I am by the hand 
 of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country in this 
 most perilous conjuncture; but, my Lords, while I have 
 sense and memory, I will never consent to deprive the 
 offspring of the royal house of Brunswick, the heirs of 
 the Princess Soj^hia, of their fairest inheritance. Shall 
 we tarnish the luster of this nation by an ignominious 
 surrender of its rights and fairest possessions? Shall this 
 great nation, that has survived, whole and entire, the 
 Danish depredations, the Scottish inroads, the Norman 
 conquest — that has stood the threatened invasion of the 
 Spanish Armaela, now fall prostrate before the liouse of 
 Bourbon? Surely, my Lords, this nation is no longer what 
 it was ! Shall a people that seventeen years ago was the 
 terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell its ancient 
 inveterate enemy. Take all we have, only give us peace? It 
 is impossible." 
 
 " In God's name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare 
 either for peace or war, and the former can not be preserved 
 with honor, why is not the latter commenced without delay? 
 1 am not, I confess, well-informed as to the resources of
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 107 
 
 this kingdom, but I trust it has still sufficient to maintain 
 its just rights, though I know them not. But, my Lords, 
 any state is better than despair. Let ns at least make one 
 efibrt, and, if v^e must fall, let us fall like men!" 
 
 When Lord Chatham had taken his seat Lord Temple 
 said to him, " You have forgotten to mention what we 
 have been talking about. Shall I get upl" " No," replied 
 Lord Chatham "/will do it by-and-by." 
 
 After the Duke of Richmond had concluded his speech. 
 Lord Chatham made a strenuous attempt to rise; but after 
 repeated efforts, to regain an erect position, he suddenly 
 pressed his hand to his heart, and fell down in convulsions. 
 The Duke of Cumberland, Lord Temple, Lord Stanford 
 and other peers, caught him in their arms; and his son, 
 the celebrated William Pitt, then a youth of seventeen, 
 sprang forward to supj^ort him.* The debate was imme- 
 diately adjourned. Lord Chatham was conveyed in a state 
 of insensibility from the House to his country residence at 
 Hayes, where he lingered a few days, and expired on the 
 lltli of May, 1778, aged seventy years. 
 
 As Demosthenes and Cicero are allowed to have been 
 the greatest orators of which antiquity can boast, so Lord 
 Chatham has generally been regarded as the most brilliant 
 and powerful senatorial orator of modern times. Cer- 
 tainly, no political speaker, since the days of the Grecian 
 and Roman masters, ever controlled a jiopular assembly 
 
 * " It is this moment which Copley has chosen for his picture of the death 
 of Lord Chatham." " History," says an able writer, '• has no nobler scene to 
 show than that which now occupied the House of Lords. The unswerving 
 patriot, whose long life had' been devoted to his country, had striven to the 
 last. The aristocracy of the land stood around, and even the brother of the 
 sovereign thought himself honored in being one of his supporters ; party enmi- 
 ties were remembered no more; every other feeling was lost in admiration of 
 the great spirit which seemed to be passing away from among them." 
 
 Seventy years afterwards, a similar scene was witnessed in the halls of the 
 American Capitol, when the venerable JohnQuincy Adajms experienced the
 
 108 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 with such absohite sway as Lord Chatham did, by the 
 force of his oratory. His eloquence Avas irresistible. The 
 fire of his eye, the majesty of his countenance, and the 
 thunder of his voice, awed an assembly into silence, or 
 struck them with terror. 
 
 It is to be regretted that so little of the history and elo- 
 quence of this great orator and statesman, has been 
 transmitted to our times. An able English critic of the 
 present age observes: " There is hardly any man in modern 
 times, with the exception, perhaps, of Lord Somers, who 
 fills so large a si3ace in our history, and of whom we know 
 so little, as Lord Chatham; and yet he is the person to 
 whom every one would at once point, if desired to name 
 the most successful statesman and most brilliant orator 
 that this country ever produced. It is singular how much 
 of Lord Chatham, who flourished within the memory of 
 the present generation, still rests upon vague tradition. 
 As a statesman, indeed, he is known to us by the events 
 which history has recorded to have happened under his 
 administration. Yet even of his share in bringing these 
 about, little has been preserved of detail. So, fragments 
 of his speeches have been handed down to us, but these 
 bear so very small a i)roportion to the prodigious fame 
 which his eloquence has left behind it, that far more is 
 manifestly lost than has reached us; while of his written 
 
 stroke which soon terminated his earthly career. That touching scene will 
 never be forgotten by those who were its eye-witnesses. On the 21st of Feb- 
 ruary, 184S, Mr. Adams entered the hall of the House of Representatives for 
 the last time. Like Chatham, he was fouml faithful at his post, serving his 
 country, when his spirit " plumed its pinions to soar to other worlds." "T/a's 
 is the last of earth!'''' said the dying statesman, in faltering accents, " T AM 
 CONTENT !" What an impressive svibject for contemplation — the death of Lord 
 Chatham^ and John Quincy Adams! 
 
 For a faithful and interesting sketch of the life and public services of the 
 great American statesman, the reader is referred to his biography by the Hon. 
 William H. Seward.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 109 
 
 compositions, but a few letters have hitlierto been given to 
 the world." 
 
 An American reviewer states with equal beauty and cor- 
 rectness, that, in the British nation. " The era of Parlia- 
 mentary Eloqusnce can be dated back no farther than the 
 time of the elder Pitt. Regular reporting indeed did not 
 begin until after his day. All that we have of his speeches, 
 we owe to the occasional and necessarily meager sketches 
 of members and spectators. Still the eloquence of Chat- 
 ham formed an epoch in the annals of the art. No one fa- 
 miliar with the public and j)rivate memoirs of that period 
 can doubt that he was the most effective speaker of modern 
 times. But what was the secret of that efficiency? We 
 contemplate with vain regret the scantiness .of his remains, 
 and the few materials we have for satisfying our curiosity. 
 Yet even in these we find passages which give us a vivid 
 sense of his ability; passages of more than Demosthenian 
 fire, which must live as long as the language in which 
 they were uttered. Still there is nothing to justify us in 
 the belief that his speeches ever exhibited tliat broad, 
 luminous, philosophical range of thought, which we find 
 often in Cicero, and almost always in Burke. There can 
 be no doubt that he was greatly indebted to his manner. 
 In his exterior he lacked nothing which nature could give. 
 We are told that he was in look and action, both graceful 
 and dignified; but that dignity was the predominant fea- 
 ture His countenance was wonderfully expressive. His 
 eye, when directed in anger, or scorn, had a penetrating 
 and insufferable brightness, which most men found as 
 difficult to meet, as they would to have gazed at the cloud- 
 less sun. His voice had great sweetness, power and variety 
 of intonation, and was employed through its whole range, 
 from the lowest whisper, distictly audible, to its highest 
 point of loudness and key, when it filled and electrified 
 the House. His diction was simple and select, and he
 
 110 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 spared no pains to cliasten and enrich it. Add now, to 
 these advantages, his energy and weight of character, the 
 universal impression of his immense talents, produced by 
 his vigorous and successful administration, even more than 
 by his oratorical eftbrts; and we may have some faint con- 
 ceptions of what Chatham was, and shall wonder less, 
 that ' rebuked by the presence of higher qualities,' pride 
 and wealth, and rank, and i^ower, quailed beneath the 
 lightnings of his eye, and the thunders of his voice. 
 
 To our countrymen the fame of Chatham has always 
 been dear. They had contributed to the triumphs and felt 
 the benefits of his ministerial career. And when, at 
 length,^ other counsels prevailed; when those colonies 
 which he had fostered with a father's care, became the 
 objects of step-motherly oppression; his mighty voice was 
 still raised in their behalf. He was indeed a great and 
 fortunate name; and we scarcely know that other which 
 we would put in its j^lace, in those beautiful and well- 
 known words of his pious countryman: 
 
 ' Tis praise enough 
 To fill the ambition of a common man 
 That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.' " 
 
 So little is known, at this day, of the eloquence of Lord 
 Chatham, that it would be impossible to present a critical 
 analysis of his character as an orator. We shall merely 
 mention ^ome of the characteristics of that oratory, which 
 for its wonderful effects has, perhaps, surpassed any that 
 has been displayed since the palmy days of Greece or 
 Rome. 
 
 " All other modern orators, and almost all ancient ones, 
 seem dwarfed by comparison with him. Perhaps Mirabeau 
 among the moderns comes nearest to him. Demades 
 among the ancients possibly equaled him. I, of course, 
 always except Demosthenes, the perfect, the unapproacha- 
 ble in every branch of eloquence."
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 1 1 1 
 
 The testimony of Ms contemporaries will give us some 
 faint conceptions of Lord Chatham's oratory; and one of 
 the most animated descriptions of this kind, which we 
 present, is from the pen of Mr. Boyd, a gentleman of high 
 literary attainments, who had often listened to the impas- 
 sioned eloquence of the great English statesman, and who 
 could best describe its wonderful characteristics. It was 
 written in 1779, — one year after the death of the orator; 
 and is as follows: 
 
 4 
 
 " Of all the characteristic features, by which his oratory 
 was distinguishd, none was more eminent than the bold 
 purity and classical force of phraseology. 
 
 " Those who have been witness to the wonders of his 
 eloquence — who have listened to the music of his voice, 
 or trembled at its majesty — who have seen the persuasive 
 gracefulness of his action, or have felt its force; — those 
 who have caught the flame of eloquence from his eye — 
 who have rejoiced at the glories of his countenance — or 
 shrunk from his frowns — will remember the resistless 
 power with which he impressed conviction. In these 
 sketches of his original genius, they will read what they 
 have heretofore heard; and their memory will give due 
 action to the picture, by refiguring to their minds what 
 they have with admiration seen. But to those who never 
 heard nor saw this accomplished orator, the utmost effort 
 of imagination will be necessary to form a just idea of 
 that combination of excellence, which gave perfection to 
 his eloquence, — his elevated aspect, commanding the awe 
 and mute attention of all who beheld him; whilst a certain 
 grace in his manner, conscious of all the dignities of his 
 situation, and of the solemn scene he acted in, as well as 
 his own exalted character, seemed to acknowledge and 
 repay the respect he received: — his venerable form, bowed 
 w'ith infirmity of age; but animated by a mind which 
 nothing could subdue: — his spirit shining through him;
 
 112 ORATOKS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 arming his eye with lightning, and clothing his lips with 
 thunder j* or, if milder topics oflered, harmonizing his 
 countenance in smiles, and his voice in softness; — for the 
 compass of his powers was infinite. As no idea was too 
 vast, no imagination too sublime, for the grandeur and 
 majesty of his manners; so no fancy was too playful, 
 nor any allusion too comic for the ease and gaiety with 
 which he could accommodate to the occasion. But the 
 character of his oratory was dignity; this presided through- 
 out; giving force, because securing respect, even to his 
 sallies of pleasantry. This elevated the most familiar 
 language, and gave novelty and grace to the most familiar 
 allusions; so that in his hand, even the crutch became a 
 weapon of oratory." 
 
 Rev. Francis Thackeray, in his excellent life of Chatham, 
 says, when drawing his character, " The claims of Cicero 
 and Demosthenes as orators, are not, upon the whole, I 
 think, superior to those of Lord Chatham. Promptitude 
 is, perhaps, as essential to eloquence as to wit. In this 
 respect the Briton has a right to precedence. The labor 
 bestowed by Demosthenes upon his orations is become 
 proverbial, and the exquisite polish of Cicero's speeches 
 are proofs of the time devoted to their composition. But 
 Lord Chatham was ever ready for debate, and some of the 
 grandest efforts of his eloquence were called forth by the 
 circumstances of the moment. Nor were the occasions 
 which offered themselves to Lord Chatham so favorable to 
 the display of eloquence as those in which the most splen- 
 
 * A distinguished writer of our day beautifully remarks: " If there be one 
 attribute of man supreme in dignity and worth, it is that of oratory. The 
 illusions of the eye, combined with the enchanting power of music, constitute 
 an infli>ence less potent upon the imagination and will, than the spirit-stirring 
 appeals of ' eloquence divine.' Other charms are mostly drawn from the ex- 
 ternal world, but this emanates from the unseen spirit within; its splendors 
 gleam through animated clay and proclaim the superior majesty of immortal 
 mind." — Maqoon.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 113 
 
 did speeches of Demosthenes and Cicero originated. No 
 opportunity during the life of Lord Chatham was so much 
 calculated to excite the powers of an orator as that which 
 Philip and Catiline respectively afforded to Demosthenes 
 and Cicero. 
 
 " Lord Chatham's eloquence was peculiar, distinct, and 
 unrivaled. Occasionally wild and extravagant, it was at 
 all times bold, nervous, and impassioned. Many speakers 
 have surpassed him in smoothness of expression, correct- 
 ness of language, and subtilty of argument, but none, 
 perhaps, ever obtained such an ascendency over his hear- 
 ers. He possessed a species of oratory by which he was 
 wont to strike his adversaries dumb, and against which no 
 arguments could avail." 
 
 The most wonderful quality of Lord Chatham's eloquence 
 was i\ie fascinating manner in which it was displayed. In 
 his delivery, force and majesty were combined. They 
 were its prevailing characteristics. In this respect. Lord 
 Chatham exhibited in the highest degree the principles 
 of true eloquence; the leading qualities of which are 
 force and dignity. Much of the force of his eloquence 
 arose from the fire of his eye and the majesty of his fea- 
 tures. When he arose to speak, his venerable countenance 
 was animated by an expression of dignity and greatness 
 that inspired respect, reverence, and admiration in the 
 hearts of all.* 
 
 A sudden glance of the eye greatly assists an orator in 
 adding force and animation to his eloquence. The eye of 
 Lord Chatham was his most wonderful feature. Its fiery 
 glare was too powerful for his antagonists to bear. • By a 
 single glance of scorn or contempt, which beamed from 
 
 * As to his person, nature had stamped more forcibly on no man the im- 
 pression of an orator. His figure was tall and manly, and the ordinary spec- 
 tator was struck with the grace and dignity of his look and deportment," — 
 Thackeray. 
 
 15
 
 114 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 that eye, they were often overwhelmed with terror, and 
 thrown into confusion in the midst of their own speeches* 
 A clear, deep, full and melodious voice, is an invaluable 
 quality for an orator. Such a voice had Lord Chatham. 
 " It was both full and clear. His lowest whisper was dis- 
 tinctly heard J his middle notes were sweet and beautifully 
 varied; and, when he elevated his voice to its highest 
 pitch, the House was completely filled with the volume 
 of sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished 
 to cheer or animate; then he had spirit-stirring notes 
 which were perfectly irresistible." No orator, perhaps, 
 ever had a better control of his voice than Lord Chatham. 
 He could vary it instantaneously, when necessary to pro- 
 duce a striking effect. He could do this apparently with- 
 out the least effort. He would often suddenly rise from 
 the lowest whispers to the loudest tones. His voice was 
 both musical and sonorous; and to.its ]3roj)er exercise — 
 its varied notes — its melodious sound — its majestic 
 thunder — was owing, in a great measure, his success in 
 oratory. 
 
 t The following oratorical sketch by the celebrated John Wilkes, who was 
 contemporary with Chatham, and a member of the English Parliament, is 
 worthy of our notice here: 
 
 '■ Lord Chatham was born an orator, and from nature possessed every out- 
 ward requisite to bespeak respect, and even awe. A manly figure, with the 
 eagle eye of the famous Condo, fixed your attention, and almost commanded 
 reverence the moment he appeared; and the keen lightning of his eye spoke 
 the high respect of his soul before his lips had pronounced a syllable. There 
 was a kind of fascination in his look when he eyed any one askance. Nothing 
 could withstand the force of that contagion. The fluent Murray' has faltered, 
 and even Fo.x^ shrunk back appalled from an adversary ' fraught witli fire 
 nnquenchable,' if I may borrow the expression of our great Milton. He had 
 not the correctness of language so striking in the great Roman orator, but he 
 had the verba ardcntia, the bold, glowing words." 
 
 ' Lord Mansfield. * Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 115 
 
 The action of Lord Chatham, like that of the great 
 Athenian orator, was perfectly suited to the nature of the 
 sublimest eloquence. It was forcible and animated, — 
 graceful and vehement, — on many occasions, as Lord 
 Orford observes, worthy of Garrick himself. By means 
 of his action alone, he produced some of the most aston- 
 ishing effects. 
 
 The force of Lord Chatham's eloquence arose partly 
 from a lively imagination and partly from a sympathetic 
 soul. A vigorous and lofty imagination is among the 
 prominent characteristics of an accomplished orator. The 
 imagination of Chatham was of this castj and it contri- 
 buted in a high degree to form his character as the greatest 
 of modern orators. 
 
 " It is this faculty which exaltsybrce into the truest and 
 most sublime eloquence. In this respect, Chatham ap- 
 proached more nearly than any speaker of modern times, 
 to the great master of Athenian art." Burke had more 
 imagination, but, wild and irregular, it was almost con- 
 stantly on the wing, " circling around the subject, as if to 
 display the grace of its movements, or the beauty of its 
 plumage;" while that of Chatham "flew an eagle flight, 
 forth and right on." It struck directly at its object. 
 
 The intellect of Lord Chatham as well as his eloquence, 
 was of the very highest order. His capacious mind em- 
 braced the widest range of thought, comprehended the 
 most complicated subject almost at a single glance, grasped 
 it with the greatest vigor, and held it with unrelenting 
 firmness 
 
 In his grandest exclamations, Lord Chatham was actuated 
 by sympathy. In this manner he achieved some of his 
 greatest oratorical triumphs. By the spell of his match- 
 less eloquence poured from a sympathizing souL glowing 
 with its subject, he exercised an uncontrollable sway over
 
 116 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 a popular assembly.* Says Hazlitt, " The principle by 
 •which the Earl of Chatham exerted his influence over 
 others, was sympathy. He himself evidently had a strong 
 passion of his subject, a thorough conviction, an intense 
 interest; and this communicated itself from his manner, 
 — from the tones of his voice, — from his commanding 
 attitudes, and eager gestures, instinctively and unavoidably, 
 to his hearers." 
 
 " The range of his powers as a speaker was uncommonly 
 wide. He was equally qualified to conciliate and subdue. 
 When he saw fit, no man could be more plausible and 
 ingratiating; no one had ever a more winning address, or 
 was more adroit in obviating objections and allaying pre- 
 judice. When he changed his tone, and chose rather to 
 subdue, he had the sharpest and most massy weapons at 
 command — wit, humor, irony, overwhelming ridicule and 
 contempt. His forte Avas the terrible; and he employed 
 with equal ease the indirect mode of attack with which he 
 so often tortured Lord Mansfield, and the open, withering 
 invective with which he trampled down Lord Suffolk. 
 
 * We subjoin a glowing description of Chatham's eloquence by the second 
 Lord Lyttleton. 
 
 " The two principal orators of the present age (and one of them, perhaps, a 
 greater than has been produced in any age), are, the Earls of Mansfield and 
 Chatham. The former is a great man; Ciceronian, but, I should think inferior 
 to Cicero: the latter is a greater man; Demosthenian, but superior to Demos- 
 thenes. The first formed himself on the model of the great Roman orator; he 
 studied, translated, rehearsed, and acted his orations: the second disdained 
 imitation, and was himself a model of eloquence, of which no idea can be 
 formed, but by those who have seen and heard him. His words have some- 
 times frozen my young blood into stagnation, and sometimes made it pace 
 with such a hurry through my veins, that I could scarce support it. He, 
 however, embellished his ideas by classical amusements, and occasionally read 
 the sermons of Barrow, which he considered as a mine of nervous expressions; 
 but, not content to correct and instruct imagination by the works of mortal 
 men, he borrowed his noblest images from the language of inspiration." — 
 Letters, p. 172.
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 117 
 
 His burst of astonishment and horror at the proposal of 
 the latter to let loose the Indians on the settlers of America, 
 is witliout a parallel in our language for severity and 
 force."* 
 
 " His invective," says Lord Brougham, " was unsparing 
 and hard to be endured, although he was a less eminent 
 master of sarcasm than his son, and rather overwhelmed 
 his antagonist with the burst of words and vehement in- 
 dignation, than wounded him by the edge of ridicule, or 
 tortured him with the gall of bitter scorn, or fixed his 
 arrow in the wound by the barb of epigram. These things 
 seemed, as it were, to betoken too much labor and too 
 much art — more labor than was consistent with absolute 
 scorn — more art than could stand with heartfelt rage, or 
 entire contempt inspired by the occasion, at the moment, 
 and on the spot. But his great passages — those by which 
 he has come down to us — those which gave his eloquence 
 its peculiar character, and to which its dazzling success 
 was owing, were as sudden and unexpected as they were 
 natural. Every one was taken by surprise when they 
 rolled forth — every one felt them to be so natural, that 
 he could hardly understand why he had not thought of 
 them himself, although into no one's imagination had they 
 ever entered. If the quality of being natural without 
 
 * The following is a graphic sketch of Chatham by Henry Grattan : 
 " Chatham was a man of great genius, great flight of mind. His imagina- 
 tiou was astonishing. I heard him several times when I was at the Temple — 
 on the American war, on the King's speech in 1770, and on the privileges of 
 Parliament. He was very great and very odd. He spoke in a style of conversa- 
 tion., not, however, what I expected: it was not a speech, for he never came 
 with a prepared harangue. His style was not regular oratory, like Cicero or 
 Demosthenes, but it was very fine and very elevated. He appeared more like 
 a grave character advising than mingling in the debate. His gesture wa? 
 always graceful; he w^as an incomparable actor. Had it not been so., it would, 
 have appeared ridiculous. His address to tlie tapestry and to Lord EiBngham's 
 memory required a fine actor, and he was that actor."
 
 iiy ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 being obvious is a pretty correct description of felicitous 
 expression, or what is called fine writing, it is a yet more 
 accurate representation of fine passages, or felicitous hits 
 in speaking. In these all popular assemblies take bound- 
 less delight; by these above all others are the minds of 
 an audience at pleasure moved or controlled. They form 
 the grand charm of Lord Chatham's oratory; they were 
 the distinguishing excellence of his great predecessor, and 
 gave him at will to wield the fierce democracy of Athens, 
 and to fulmine over Greece." 
 
 It is said that on many occasions, the sentences of 
 Chatham were delivered with such remarkable emphasis 
 that a thrill of astonishment was produced throughout the 
 House, accompanied by breathless silence. 
 
 His eloquence was of the very highest order — bold, 
 nervous, vehement, impassioned — it rolled onward like 
 an impetuous torrent, " peculiar and spontaneous, famil- 
 iarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wis- 
 dom — not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid 
 conflagration of Tully, it resembled, sometimes the thun- 
 der, and sometimes the music of the sj)heres. Like Murray 
 [Lord Mansfield] , he did not conduct the understanding 
 through the painful subtilty of argumentation; nor was 
 he, like Townsend, forever on the rack of exertion, but 
 rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point 
 by the flashings of his mind, which, like those of his eye, 
 were felt, but could not be followed." 
 
 Lord Chatham was an extemporaneous speaker. His 
 memory was strong and retentive. His mind was richly 
 stored with information on every subject, and he was 
 always ready for debate. In this respect he excelled De- 
 mosthenes and Cicero, whose orations were prepared with 
 immense labor, i)revious to their delivery. Unlike the 
 ancient orators, Chatliam often " poured out his thoughts 
 and feelings just as they rose in his mind."
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 119 
 
 Promptitude is essential to success in debate or declama- 
 tion. Here Lord Chatham equaled, if not surpassed all 
 other orators. Some of his grandest efforts were called 
 forth by the occurrence of unexpected circumstances, or 
 a sudden glance of the eye. In his rei3ly to Lord Suffolk, 
 he caught a single glance at the tapestry which adorned 
 the walls, around him, and one " flash of his genius gave 
 us the most magnificent passage in our eloquence. His 
 highest power lay in these sudden bursts of passion."* 
 
 A distinguished eye-witness of some of his oratorical dis- 
 plays thus writes: " When without forethought, or any other 
 preparation than those talents which nature had supplied 
 and education cultivated, Chatham rose — stirred to anger 
 by some sudden subterfuge of corrujjtion or device of 
 tyranny — then was heard an eloquence never surpassed 
 either in ancient or in modern times. It was the highest 
 power of expression ministering to the liighest power of 
 thought." 
 
 The same writer adds : " That he was the most powerful 
 orator that ever illustrated and ruled the senate of this 
 empire — that for nearly half a century, he was not 
 merely the arbiter of the destinies of his own country, but 
 the foremost man in all the world — that he had an un- 
 paralleled grandeur and affluence of intellectual powers, 
 softened and brightened by all the minor accomplish- 
 ments — that his ambition was noble — his views instinct- 
 ively elevated — his patriotism all but excessive — that in 
 all the domestic relations of life he was exemplary and 
 amiable — a fine scholar, a finished gentleman, a sincere 
 Christian — one whom his private friends and servants 
 
 * "' Sudden bursts which seemed to be the effect of inspiration — short 
 sentences which came like lightning, dazzling, burning, striking down every 
 thing before them — sentences which spoken at critical moments, decided the 
 fate of great questions — sentences which at once became proverbs — sentences 
 which everybody still knows by heart ' — in these chiefly lay the oratorical 
 power of Mirabeau and Chatham, Patrick Henry and James Otis."
 
 120 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 loved as a good man, and all the world admired as a gl-eat 
 one — these are the praises which his contemporaries 
 awarded, and which posterity has, with little diminution, 
 confirmed." 
 
 We have noticed several of those sublime passages, 
 which occur in the speeches of Chatham. We mention 
 one more — perhaps the finest specimen of his eloquence 
 that has come down to us. When Lord Bute was 
 compelled to increase the revenues of Britain in order to 
 obtain means for carrying on the war with France, he 
 introduced a bill subjecting cider to an excise. " An 
 Excise Bill has always been odious to the English. It 
 brings with it the right of search. It lays open the private 
 dwelling, which every Englishman has been taught to 
 regard as his ' castle.' ' You give to the dipping-rod,' said 
 one, arguing against such a law, ' what you deny to the 
 scepter!' Mr. Pitt laid hold of this feeling, and opposed 
 the bill with his utmost strength." His speech was not 
 reported. All that remains of it, is a single passage, which 
 will go down to the most distant posterity. " The poorest 
 man,'''' exclaimed Mr. Pitt, " may in his cottage hid defiance 
 to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail — its roof 
 may shake — the wind may blow through it — the storm may 
 enter — the rain may enter — but the King of England can 
 not enter! — all his forces dare not cross the threshold of the 
 ruined tenement!'''* 
 
 * It was by the repetition of this passage, applied to the spiritual independence 
 oi' the Church, that Dr. Chalmers produced such an electric effect in one of his 
 London Lectures, in defense of Religious Establishments. When the eloquent 
 man came to these words, being in a sitting attitu(ie, he sprang unconsciously 
 to his feet, and delivered them with such overwhelming power, that, when he 
 uttered the words " the King can not — the King dare not " — the entire audi- 
 ence imitated his movement and rose to their feet." 
 
 " The words, the King can not — the King dare not," says an eye-witness, 
 were uttered in accents of prophetic vehemence, that must still ring in the 
 ears of all who heard them, and were responded to by a whirlwind of enthu- 
 siasm, which was probably never exceeded in the history of eloquence."
 
 LORD CHATHAM. 121 
 
 " Upon the whole," we may say in the glowing words of 
 Grattau, " there was in this man something that could 
 create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, and 
 an eloquence to summon mankind to society, or to break 
 the bonds of slavery asunder, and rule the wildness of 
 free minds with unbounded authority; — something that 
 could establish or overwhelm empire, and strike a blow in 
 the world that should resound through its history." 
 
 We shall close this brief and imperfect sketch of the 
 immortal Lord Chatham with the following lines of 
 Cowper : 
 
 " Not so — the virtue still adorns our age 
 Though the chief actor died upon the stage. 
 In him Demosthenes was heard again, 
 Liberty taught him her Athenian strain, 
 She cloth'd him with authority and awe, 
 Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law. 
 His speech, his form, his action, full of grace, 
 And all his country beaming in his face, 
 He stood, as some inimitable hand 
 Would strive to make a Paul or Tullj stand. 
 No sycophant or slave, that dar'd oppose 
 Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose, 
 And ev'ry venal stickler for the yoke 
 Felt himself crush'd at the first w^ord he spoke.*' 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 \ 
 
 EDMUND BUEKE. /\ 
 
 Edmund Burke was born in Dublin, on the 1st of Janu- 
 ar}^ 1730. Of his early history very little is known, 
 except that he was of a delicate and consumptive habit, 
 and, while at school, gave no peculiar promise of his 
 future greatness. It is said, however, that, during his 
 youthful years, he exhibited his extraordinary powers of 
 memory, and the exuberance of his fancy. 
 
 In 1744, at the age of fourteen, he entered Trinity Col- 
 lege, Dublin, where he remained six years, pursuing a 
 regular course of severe study. When he left the Univer- 
 sity his mind was well stoi;ed with knowledge. As to his 
 course of reading during his college life, we have the fol- 
 lowing account: "He had mastered most of the great 
 writers of antiquity Demosthenes was his favorite orator, 
 though he was led in after life, by the bent of his genius, 
 to form himself on the model of Cicero, whom he more 
 resembled in magnificence and copiousness ol thougHfT* 
 He delighted in Plutarch. He read most of the great poets 
 of antiquity; and was peculiarly fond of Virgil, Horace, 
 and Lucretius, a large part of whose writings he committed 
 to memory. In English he read the essays of Lord Bacon 
 again and again with increasing admiration, and pro- 
 nounced them ' the greatest works of that great man.'" 
 Shakespeare was his daily study. But his highest rever- 
 ence was reserved for Milton, ' whose richness of language, 
 boundless learning, and scriptural grandeur of conception,'
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 123 
 
 were the first and last themes of his applause. The philo- 
 soi:<irieaH:cTrdeney of his mind began now to displaylt^elf 
 with gTp,t ili>tinetness, and became, from this period, the 
 mSsfei' ,paiuciiJle of his genius. 'Rerum cognoscere caM- 
 sas,'' seems ever to have been his delight, and soon became 
 the object of all his studies and reflections. He_liad an 
 exquisite sensibility to the beauties of nature, of art, and 
 of elegairr^£mp)osition, but he could never rest here. 
 ' Whence this enjoyment?' On what principle does it de- 
 pend?' ' How might it be carried to a still higher, point?' 
 these are the questions which seem almost from boyhood 
 to have occurred instinctively to his mind. His attempts 
 at philosojohical criticism commenced in college, and led 
 to his producing one of the most beautiful "works of this 
 kind to be found in any language. In like manner, history 
 to him, even at this early period, was not a mere chronicle 
 of events, a picture of battles and sieges, or of life and 
 manners; to make it history, it must bind events together 
 by the causes which produced them. The science of 
 politics and government was in his mind the science of 
 man; not a system of arbitrary regulations, or a thing 
 of policy and intrigue, but founded on a knowledge of 
 those principles, feelings, and even prejudices, which unite 
 a people together in one community — ' ties,' as he beauti- 
 fully expresses it, ' which though light as air, are strong as 
 links of iron.' Such were the habits of thought to which 
 his mind was tending even from his college days, and they 
 made him pre-eminently the great Philosophical Orator of 
 our language." 
 
 In 1750, Mr. Burke commenced the study of law; but 
 he was never particularly interested in legal studies, 
 and soon afterwards abandoned them for his favorite 
 pursuits — those of literature and philosophy. 
 
 I^ 1756, appeared his first avowed work, entitled th« 
 Vindication of Natural Society. This work aims at the
 
 124 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 overthrow of Lord Boliiigbroke's i:)liilosopliical principles. 
 It exposes the unsoundness of the infidel's reasonings and 
 the fallacy of his arguments. Ajiplying to civil society 
 the mode of reasoning against religion adopted by Boling- 
 broke, he undertook in the closest imitation of his 
 Lordship's style to expose " the crimes and wretchedness 
 which have prevailed under every form of government, 
 and thus to show that society is itself an evil, and the 
 savage state the only one favorable to virtue and happi- 
 ness." 
 
 It is very gratifying to find so great a statesman as 
 Burke, in the beginning of his political career, advocating 
 the cause of Christianity. He was a firm believej;:..in the 
 sublime doctrines of the gospel-j and knew perfectly well 
 that a general promulgation and universal reception of 
 these doctrines Avere the best means of jn-oducing peace, 
 order, and happiness in civil society — of advancing the 
 cause of education, and of elevating the character of a 
 nation. He saw that, if the princij^les of Bolingbroke 
 were carried out in civil society, no government could 
 exist; but anarchy, bloodshed and death would be the dire- 
 ful consequences. Imi3ressed with these important truths, 
 he boldly came forward as the advocate of religion and 
 morality; and his name will ever be held in grateful 
 remembrance by all those who love the blessed doctrines 
 of the Bible. 
 
 Before tlie close of 1756, Mr. Burke published his cele- 
 brated Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. The compo- 
 sition of this work is a master-piece; it displays a wonder- 
 ful depth of philosophical investigation, — immense ex- 
 cursions of genius, — transcendent powers of fancy — rich 
 veins of thought, — and surpassing elegance of diction.. 
 
 Such a profound philosophical work, coming froni the 
 pen of so young a man, excited a lively interest among the 
 friends of literature, and at once raised its author to a
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 125 
 
 high position in the literary world. Wherever he went, 
 Mr. Burke was greeted with applause as the author of the 
 Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful; and his acquaintance 
 was sought by the most distinguished literary men of the 
 age — such as Goldsmith, Lord Lyttleton, Murphy, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Hume, Johnson, and many others. In 
 conversation, Burke excelled almost every other man in ease 
 and freedom of expression, the display of boundless stores 
 of knowledge, and the force and beauty of his language. 
 
 Dr. Johnson, the Colossus of- English literature, always 
 spoke of him in terms of the highest regard. " Burke," 
 said he, " is an extraordinary man. His stream of talk is 
 perpetual; and he does not talk from any desire of dif^ 
 tinction, but because his mind is full." "He is the only 
 man," said he, at a later period, when Burke was at the 
 zenith of his reputation, " whose common conversation 
 corresponds with the general fame which he has in the 
 world. Take him up where you please, he is ready to 
 meet you." " No man of sense," he said, " could meet 
 Burke by accident under a gateway to avoid a shower, 
 without being convinced that he was the first man in 
 England." A striking confirmation of this remark oc- 
 curred some years after, when Mr. Burke was passing 
 through Litchfield, the birth-jjlace of Johnson. Wishing 
 to see the Cathedral during the change of horses, he 
 stepped into the building, and was met by one of the 
 clergy of the place, who kindly offered to point out tho 
 principal objects of curiosity. "A conversation ensued; 
 but, in a few moments, the clergyman's pride of local 
 information was completely subdued by the copious and 
 minute knowledge displayed by the stranger. Whatever 
 topic the objects before them suggested, whether the theme 
 was architecture or antiquities, some obscure passage in 
 ecclesiastical history, or some question respecting the life 
 of a saint, he touched it as with a sun-beam. His inform-
 
 126 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ation appeared universal; liis mind, clear intellect, with- 
 out one particle of ignorance. A few minutes after their 
 separation, the clergyman was met hurrying through the 
 street. ' I have had,' said he, ' quite an adventure. I 
 have been conversing for this half hour past with a man 
 of the most extraordinay powers of mind and extent of 
 information which it has ever been my fortune to meet 
 with; and I am now going to the inn, to ascertain, if pos- 
 sible, who this stranger is.' " 
 
 The laborious application which the composition of the 
 Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful required, considerably 
 injured Mr. Burke's health. He was compelled to seek re- 
 pose at Bath. Here, he was invited by Dr. Nugent, an 
 eminent physician, to his house. The consequence of this 
 visit was not only the recovery of Mr. Burke's liealth, but 
 a strong attachment between him and the amiable and ac- 
 complished daughter of Dr. Nugent. A union for life was 
 soon formed. They were married in 1757, This happy 
 union, Mr. Burke always regarded as the chief blessing of 
 his life. So sweet were the enjoyments of domestic life to 
 him, that, as he often said, every care vanished the moment 
 he entered beneath his own roof. 
 
 In the same year, 1757, Mr. Burke published, in two 
 octavo volumes. An Account of the European Settlements 
 in America — a work of which he was the principal, 
 though not the sole author. It was perhaps prepared in 
 conjunction with his two brothers. The extensive know- 
 ledge of the early history of the British colonies which 
 Mr. Burke acquired by his researches on this subject, was 
 of great advantage to him, nine years after, when he first 
 rose before the approaching storm of the American revo- 
 lution, and shook the walls of the British senate-house 
 with an eloquence that astonished even the greatest speak- 
 ers of the age. 
 
 He had closely studied the character of the American
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 127 
 
 people, he knew that it was impossible to impose servi- 
 tude on such a nation, animated, as they were, by an indom- 
 itable love of liberty. He was, moreover, a friend of the 
 Americans. He loved their cause, heartily espoused it, 
 and always remained true to it. When the storm actually 
 burst on our beloved country, he came forward as the ad- 
 vocate of an oppressed nation, as the champion of free- 
 dom — came forward " with those rich stores of knowledge, 
 and those fine trains of reasoning, conceived in the truest 
 spirit of philosophy, which astonished and delighted, 
 though they failed to convince, the Parliament of Great 
 Britain." 
 
 In 1765, Mr. Burke fully entered on his political career. 
 The administration of Lord Rockingham was now formed, 
 and, through the kindness of the new minister, Mr. Burke 
 obtained the office of private secretary, with a seat in 
 Parliament, as member for Wendover. He came into 
 Parliament at a very eventful period in English his- 
 tory — when one of the most important questions that 
 ever engaged the attention of the British nation was to be 
 discussed. American Taxation was the all-absorbing topic 
 of the day; and it afforded Mr. Burke, and the other ora- 
 tors of Parliament, a fine field for displaying the higher 
 powers of eloquence. 
 
 At the opening of the se ^on, Ja m t ai y , 17<jt_), Mi-. Burke 
 cameTorwi^ ^/m a lualdcu speech of great power and elo- 
 quence, on the Stamp Act. This first eftbrt was crowned 
 with complete success. It immediately placed him among 
 the greatest orators of the age. Thus his parliamentary 
 and oratorical reputation burst at once into full splen- 
 dor. Dr. Johnson has said of Burke, that probably no 
 Ojaan at his fii-st'"app'(?aHh"ce ever ubtaliied :^i. much repiF" 
 tatiSn-before. Lord Chatham, who followed Burke in the 
 debate, and delivered his celebrated speech on the right 
 of taxing America, spoke of him in the highest terms of 
 
 :v\
 
 128 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. _ 
 
 commendation. " He commenced by saying, that the 
 young member had proved a very able advocate. He had 
 himself intended t,o enter at length into the details, but 
 he had been anticipated with such ingenuity and elo- 
 quence, that there was but little left for him to say. He 
 congratulated him on his success, and his friends on the 
 value of the acquisition they had made." — " Such an en- 
 comium, from the greatest of English orators, gave him at 
 once a high reputation in the House and in the country. 
 To a mind like Mr Burke's, it afforded an ample recom- 
 pense for all his labors. ' Laudari a laudato viro^"* is per- 
 haps the highest gratification of genius." 
 
 The three great subjects wliich successively engaged the 
 attention and occupied the labors of Mr. Burke's poli- 
 tical life were those relating to America, India, and France. 
 His parliamentary career may then be divided into three 
 periods. The first, extends from 1766, when he took his 
 seat in Parliament, to the end of the American war in 
 1782. This was the most brilliant period of his senato- 
 rial life. Next to Lord Chatham, he was then regarded as 
 the most eloquent speaker in Parliament. His fame, as a 
 debater, was not yet eclipsed by the rising genius of Fox. 
 He stood for many years without a rival in the House of 
 Commons. Like Chatham, he derived his greatest glory 
 as an orator from the American war, during which, he 
 was the acknowledged leader of the Rockingham Whigs 
 in the House. 
 
 On the 19th of April, 1774, Mr. Burke delivered his 
 celebrated speech on American Taxation. It was the first 
 speech which he committed to writing and gave to the 
 world. The following interesting incidents connected 
 with the delivery of this speech have come down to us: 
 
 " The evening was far advanced before he rose to address 
 
 * Praise from the praised.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 129 
 
 the House. The opening of the debate was dull, and 
 many of the members had withdrawn into the adjoining 
 apartments or places of refreshment. But the first few 
 sentences of his stinging exordium awakened universal 
 attention. The report of what was going on spread in 
 every quarter; and the members came crowding back, till 
 the hall was filled to the utmost, and resounded through- 
 out the speech with the loudest expressions of applause. 
 Highly as they had estimated Mr. Burke's talents, the House 
 were completely taken by surprise. Lord John Townsend 
 exclaimed aloud, at the close of one of those powerful 
 passages in which the speech abounds, ' Heavens! what a 
 man this is! Where could he acquire such transcendent 
 powers!'" 
 
 The eloquence which Mr. Burke displayed on this occa- 
 sion filled every heart with admiration; " and the apjdause 
 so lavishly bestowed upon this speech was highly merited 
 No one had ever been delivered in the Parliament of 
 Great Britain so full at once of deep research, cogent 
 reasoning, cutting sarcasm, graphic description, profound 
 political wisdom, and fervid declamation. Lord Chatham 
 alone had surpassed it in glowing and impassioned elo- 
 quence." 
 
 Of this splendid speech — one of the finest specimens 
 of parliamentary oratory in the English language, we 
 select the following passage containing the admirable 
 sketch of Lord Chatham and his third administration, 
 framed in 1766: 
 
 " I have done," said Mr. Burke, " with the third period 
 
 of your policy — that of your repeal; and the return of 
 
 your ancient system, and your ancient tranquility and 
 
 concord. Sir, this period was not as long as it was hapity 
 
 Another scene was opened, and other actors appeared on 
 
 the stage. The state, in the condition I have described it, 
 
 ■was delivered into the hands of Lord Chatham — a great 
 
 17
 
 130 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and celebrated name — a name that keeps the name of this 
 country respectable in every other on the globe. It may 
 be truly called 
 
 Clarum et venerabile nomen, 
 Gentibus, et multum nostras quod proderat urbi.* 
 
 " Sir, the venerable age of this great man, his merited 
 rank, his superior eloquence, his splendid qualities, his 
 eminent services, the vast space he fills in the eye of 
 mankind, and, more than all the rest, his fall from power, 
 which, like death, canonizes and sanctifies a great charac- 
 ter, will not suft'er me to censure any part of his conduct. 
 I am afraid to flatter him; I am sure I am not disposed to 
 blame him. Let those who have betrayed him by their 
 adulation, insult him with their malevolence. But what I 
 do not presume to censure, I may have leave to lament. 
 For a wise man, he seemed to me at that time to be go- 
 verned too much by general maxims. I speak with the 
 freedom of history, and, I hope, without offense. One or 
 two of these maxims, flowing from an opinion not the 
 most indulgent to our unhappy species, and surely a little 
 too general, led him into measures that were greatly mis- 
 chievous to himself; and, for that reason, among others, 
 perhaps, fatal to this country; measures, the effects of 
 which, I am afraid, are forever incurable. He made an 
 administration so chequered and speckled; he j)ut to- 
 gether a piece of joinery so crossly indented and whimsi- 
 cally dovetailed; a cabinet so variously inlaid; such a piece 
 of diversified mosaic; such a tesselated pavement without 
 cement; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of 
 white; patriots and courtiers, king's friends and Republi- 
 cans, Whigs and Tories, treacherous friends and open 
 enemies; that it was indeed a very curious show, but 
 
 * A name illustrious and revered by nations, 
 And rich in blessings for our country's good.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 131 
 
 utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to stand on. The 
 colleagues whom he had assorted at the same boards, stared 
 at each other, and, were obliged to ask, ' Sir, your name? 
 Sir, you have the advantage of me — Mr. Such-a-one — I 
 beg a thousand pardons.' I venture to say, it did so hap- 
 pen, that persons had a single office divided between them, 
 who had never spoke to each other in their lives, until 
 they found themselves, they knew not how, pigging to- 
 gether, heads and points, in the same truckle-bed."* 
 
 " Sir, in consequence of this arrangement, having put 
 so much the larger portion of his enemies and opposers in 
 power, the confusion was such, that his own principles 
 could not possibly have any effect or influence in the con- 
 duct of aifairs. If ever he fell into a fit of the gout, or if 
 any other cause withdrew him from public cares, principles 
 directly the contrary were sure to predominate. When he 
 had executed his plan, he had not an inch of ground to 
 stand upon. When he had accomplished his scheme of 
 administration, he was ho longer a minister. 
 
 " When his face if^^s hid but for a moment, his whole 
 system was on a mide sea, without chart or compass. 
 The gentlemen, his particular friends, who, with the 
 names of various departments of ministry, were admitted 
 ^•/^. to seem as if they acted under him, with a modesty that 
 • ' becomes all men, and with a confidence in him which was 
 justified, even in its extravagance, by his superior abilities, 
 had never, in any instance, presumed upon an opinion of 
 their own. Deprived of his guiding influence, they were 
 whirled about, the sport of every gust, and easily driven 
 into any port; and as those who joined with them in 
 manning the vessel were the most directly opjjosite to his 
 opinions, measures, and character, and far the most artful 
 
 * Supposed to allude to the Right Honorable Lord North, and George Cooke, 
 Esq., who were made joint paymasters in the sumn:er of 1766, on the removal 
 of the Rockingham administration.
 
 .132 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 • 
 
 and most powerful of the set, they easily prevailed, so as 
 to seize upon the vacant, unoccupied and derelict minds 
 of his friendsj and instantly they turned the vessel wholly 
 out of the course of his policy. As if it were to insult 
 as well as to betray him, even long before the close of the 
 first session of his administration, when everything was 
 publicly transacted, and with great parade in his name, 
 they made an act declaring it highly just and expedient 
 to raise a revenue in America. For even then, sir, even 
 before this splendid orb was entirely set, and while the 
 western horizon was in a blaze with his descending glory, 
 on the opposite quarter of the heavens arose another lu- 
 minary, and, for his hour, became lord of the ascendant. 
 
 " This light, too, is passed and set forever. You under- 
 stand, to be sure, that I speak of Charles Townsend, 
 officially the reproducer of this fatal scheme, whom I can 
 not even now remember without some degree of sensibility. 
 In truth, sir, he was the delight and ornament of this 
 House, and the charm of every society which he honored 
 with his presence. Perhaps there never arose in this 
 country, nor in any country, a man of a more pointed and 
 finished wit and (where his passions were not concerned) 
 of a more refined, exquisite, and penetrating judgment. 
 If he had not so great a stock as some have had who flour- 
 ished formerly, of knowledge, long treasured up, he knew 
 better by fiir, than any man I ever was acquainted with, 
 how to bring together within a short time all that was 
 necessary to establish, to illustrate, and to decorate that 
 side of the question he supported. He stated his matter 
 skillfully and powerfully. He particularly excelled in a 
 most luminous explanation and display of his subject. 
 His style of argument was neither trite and vulgar, nor 
 subtle and abstruse. He hit the House just between w^ind 
 and waterj and, not being troubled with too anxious a 
 zeal for any matter in question, he was never more tedious
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 133 
 
 or more earnest than the preconceived opinions and pre- 
 sent temper of his hearers required, to whom he was always 
 in perfect unison. He conformed exactly to the temper of 
 the House; and he seemed to guide, because he was always 
 sure to follow it. 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir, if, when. I speak of this and other 
 great men, I appear to digress in saying something of 
 their characters. In this eventful history of the revolu- 
 tions of America, the characters of such men are of much 
 importance. Great men are the guide-posts and land-jnarks 
 in the state. The credit of such men at court, or in the 
 nation, is the sole cause of all the public measures. It 
 would be an invidious thing (most foreign, I trust, to what 
 you think my disposition) to remark the errors into which 
 the authority of great names has brought the nation, with- 
 out doing justice at the same time to the great qualities 
 whence that authority rose. The subject is instructive to 
 those who wish to form themselves on whatever of excel- 
 lence has gone before them. There are many young mem- 
 bers in the House (such of late has been the rapid succes- 
 sion of public men) who never saw that prodigy, Charles 
 Townsend, nor, of course, know what a ferment he was 
 able to excite in everything, by the violent ebullition of 
 his mixed virtues and failings. For failings he had, un- 
 doubtedly. Many of us remember them. We are this 
 day considering the effect of them. But he had no failings 
 which were not owing to a noble cause — to an ardent, 
 generous, perhaps an immoderate passion for fame — a 
 passion which is the instinct of all great souls. He wor- 
 shijted that goddess wheresoever she appeared; but he 
 paid his particular devotions to her in her favorite habita- 
 tion, in her chosen temple, the House of Commons." 
 
 Such is a specimen of the style of this speech, which is 
 pronounced by a judicious critic of England to be equal in 
 beauty to any speech Mr. Burke ever composed; and in
 
 134 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 nerve and force,— in all the essentials of powerful elo- 
 quence, — to surpass most of them. 
 
 " The moment Mr. Burke closed, his friends crowded 
 around his seat, and urged him to commit his speech to 
 writing, and give it immediately to the world, as a protest 
 against the headlong measures which threatened tlie dis- 
 memberment of the empire. He did so, and on five other 
 occasions he repeated the task j tlius leaving us six speeches 
 as representatives of several hundreds, many of which are 
 said to have been equal, if not superior in eloquence to 
 those which were thus preserved. One especially, delivered 
 about four years after, on the employment of the Indians 
 in the war, was spoken of by his friends as the most 
 powerful appeal which he ever made. Colonel Barre, in 
 the fervor of his excitement, declared that, if it could be 
 written out, he would nail it on every church door in the 
 kingdom. Sir George Savile said, ' He who did not hear 
 that speech, has failed to witness the greatest triumph of 
 eloquence within my memory.' Governor Johnstone said 
 on the floor of the House, ' It was fortunate for the noble 
 Lords [North and Germaine] that spectators had been 
 excluded during that debate, for if any had been present, 
 they would have excited the people to tear the noble Lords 
 in pieces in their way home. ' " 
 
 On the 20th of February, 1775, Lord North brought for- 
 ward his insidious scheme, professedly for the purpose of 
 "conciliating the differences with America," but really 
 intended " to divide the colonies among themselves, by 
 exempting from taxation those who, through their General 
 Assemblies, should contribute their pro])ortion to the 
 common defense." Such is the substance of a plan which 
 was intended to crush America by internal dissensions. 
 But Lord North was ignorant of the glorious spirit which 
 actuated tlie whole body of the American people, in 
 resisting the chains of tyranny and oppression, forged by
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 135 
 
 the British Senate, and which led them, like the brave 
 sons of Lacedsemon, to choose death rather than life, if 
 they could not inhale the pure air of liberty. With the 
 public spirit, national character, and history of the Ameri- 
 can colonists, Mr. Burke was better acquainted than 
 any man in Great Britain; and on the 22d of March, 1775, 
 he came forward in one of the most powerful speeches 
 he ever delivered, exhibiting in vivid colors the nourishing 
 condition of America — her growing population, agricul- 
 ture, commerce, and education; showing the utter impos- 
 sibility of rejDressing the firm and intractable spirit of the 
 Americans, and that concession on the j^art of the English 
 government was absolutely necessary in order to effect 
 conciliation He proposed " tn admit the Americans to an 
 equal interest in the British constitution and place them at 
 once on the footing of other Englishmen.^^ 
 
 This celebrated speech on Conciliation with America 
 should be closely studied by every orator — by every citizen 
 and lover of our country. It is perhaps the mo-st elabor- 
 ate of Mr. Burke's speeches, and displays an admirable 
 richness of imagery, and beauty of style, as well as a 
 wonderful extent and variety of useful information. 
 
 Sir James Mackintosh has pronounced it " the most fault- 
 less of Mr. Burke's productions;" and Prof. Goodrich 
 remarks that " it will be read probably more than any of 
 his other speeches, for the richness of its style and the 
 lasting character of the instruction it conveys. Both of 
 Mr Burke's speeches on America, are full of materials 
 for the orator and the statesmen. After all that has been 
 written on the origin of our Revolution, there is nowhere 
 else to be found so admirable a summation of the causes 
 which produced it. They both deserved to be studied 
 with the utmost diligence by every American scholar." 
 
 In the speech on Conciliation with America we have a 
 fine amplification on American agriculture and fisheries:
 
 136 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " I pass, therefore," said Mr. Burke " to the colonies in 
 another point of view — their agriculture. This they have 
 prosecuted with such a spirit, that, besides feeding plenti- 
 fully their own growing multitude, their annual export of 
 grain, comj)rehending rice, has, some years ago, exceeded 
 a million in value. Of their last harvest I am persuaded 
 they will export much more. At the beginning of the cen- 
 tury, some of these colonies imported corn from the mother 
 country. For some time past the old world has been fed 
 from the new. The scarcity which you have felt Avould 
 have been a desolating famine, if this child of your old 
 age, with a true filial piety, with a Roman charity, had not 
 put the full breast of its youthful exuberance to the mouth 
 of its exhausted parent. 
 
 " As to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from 
 the sea by their ISsheries, you had all that matter fully 
 opened at your bar. You surely thought those acquisi- 
 tions of value, for they seemed even to excite your envy; 
 and yet, the spirit by which that enterprising employment 
 has been exercised, ought rather, in my opinion, to have 
 raised your esteem and admiration. And pray, sir, what 
 in the world is equal to it? Pass by the other parts, and 
 look at the manner in which the people of New England 
 have of late carried on the whale fishery. While we 
 ibllow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and 
 behold them penetrating the deepest frozen recesses of 
 Hudson's Bay and Davis' Straits — while we are looking 
 for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they have 
 pierced into tlie opposite region of polar cold — that they 
 are at the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen Serpent 
 of the south.* Falkland Island, which seemed too remote 
 and romantic an object for the grasp of national ambition, 
 is but a stage and resting-place in the i>rogress of their 
 
 * The Hydrus, or Water Serpent, is a small constellation lying very fax to 
 the south, within the antartic circle.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 137 
 
 victorious iiidii;sti-y. Nor is the equinoctial heat more 
 discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of 
 both the poles. We know that while some of them draw 
 the line and strike the harjDOon on the coast of Africa, 
 others run the longitude and pursue their gigantic game 
 along the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by 
 their fisheries, No climate that is not witness to their 
 toils. Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity 
 of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of English 
 enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy 
 industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this 
 recent peojjle — a peoj)le who are still, as it were, D.:t in 
 the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of man- 
 hood. When I contemplate these things -r- when I know 
 that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to any 
 care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into this 
 happy form by the constraints of watchful and susj^icious 
 government, but that, through a wise and salutary neglect, 
 a generous nature has been sufl'ered to take her own way 
 to perfection — when I reflect upon these effects — when I 
 see how profitable they have been to us, I feel all the 
 pride of power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom 
 of human contrivances melt, and die away within me. 
 My rigor relents. I pardon something to the spirit of 
 liberty." 
 
 The orator's allusion to education in America, in those 
 days, is interesting: " Permit me, sir," continued Mr. 
 Burke, " to add another circumstance in our colonies, 
 which contributes no mean part toward the growth and 
 eflect of this untractable spirit — I mean their education. 
 In no country perhaps in the world is the law so general a 
 study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful; 
 and in most provinces it takes the lead. The greater num- 
 ber of the deputies sent to Congress were lawyers. But all 
 
 who read, and most do read, endeavor to obtain some 
 17
 
 138 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 smattering in that science. I have been told by an emi- 
 nent bookseller, that in no branch of his business, after 
 tracts of pojiular devotion, were so many books as those 
 on the law exported to the Plantations. The colonists 
 have now fallen into the way of printing them for their 
 own use. I hear that they have sold nearly as many of 
 Blackstone's Commentaries in America as in England. 
 General Gage marks out this disposition very particularly 
 in a letter on your table. He states, that all the people in 
 his government are lawyers, or smatterers in law 5 and that 
 in Boston they have been enabled, by successful chicane, 
 wholly to evade many parts of one of your capital penal 
 constitutions. The smartness of debate will say, that this 
 knowledge ought to teach them more clearly the rights of 
 legislature, their obligations to obedience, and the penal- 
 ties of rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my hon- 
 orable and learned friend [Mr., afterward Lord Thurlow] 
 on the floorj who condescends to mark what I say for ani- 
 madversion, will disdain that ground. He has heard, as 
 well as I, that when great honors and great emoluments 
 do not win over this knowledge to the service of the state. 
 it is a formidable adversary to government. If the spirit 
 be not tamed and broken by these happy methods, it is 
 stubborn and litigious. Abeunt studia in mores* This 
 study renders men acute, inquisitive, dexterous, j^romj^t in 
 attack, ready in defense, full of resources. In other 
 countries, the people, more simple and of a less mercurial 
 cast, judge of an ill principle in government only by an 
 actual grievance. Here they anticipate the evil, and judge 
 of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the 
 principle. Tliey augur misgovernment at a distance; and 
 snuft" the approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze." 
 
 The peroration of this speech is uncommonly fine: " My 
 hold of the colonies," added Mr. Burke, " is in the close 
 
 * Studies pass into habits.
 
 EDMUND BURKE l;iD 
 
 {.flection which grows from common names, from kindred 
 blood, from similar privileges, and equal protection. 
 Tliese are ties, which, though light as air, are as strong as 
 links of iron. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their 
 civil rights associated with your government; they will 
 cling and grapj^le to you, and no force under heaven will 
 be of pow'er to tear them from their allegiance. But let 
 it be once understood that your government may be one 
 thing, and their privileges another; that these two things 
 may exist without any mutual relation; the cement is 
 gone; the cohesion is loosened; and everything hastens to 
 decay and dissolution. As long as you have the wisdom to 
 keep the sovereign authority of this country as the sanctu- 
 ary of liberty, the sacred temple consecrarted to our com- 
 mon faith, w^herever the chosen race and sons of England 
 worship Freedom, they will turn their faces toward you.* 
 The more they multiply, the more friends you will have. 
 The more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will 
 be their obedience. Slavery they can have any where. It 
 is a weed that grows in every soil. They may have it from 
 Spain; they may have it from Prussia; but, until you 
 become lost to all feeling of your true interest and youi" 
 natui-al dignity, freedom they can have from none but you. 
 This ii the commodity of price, of which you have the 
 monopoly. This is the true Act of Navigation, which 
 
 * " This is one of those beautiful allusions to the Scriptures with which Mr. 
 Burke so often adorns his pages. The practice among the Jews of worshiping 
 toward the temple in all their dispersions, was founded on the prayer of Solo- 
 mon at its dedication: 'If thy people go out to battle, or withersoever thou 
 shalt send them, and shall pray unto the Lord toward the city which thou hast 
 chosen, and toward the House that I have built for thy name, then hear thou in 
 heaven their prayer and their supplication, and maintain their cause.' — 1st 
 Kings, ix, 44— j. Accordingly, ' When Daniel knew that the writing was 
 signed, he went into his house ; and his windows being open toward Jerusalem, 
 he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed and gave thanks before 
 his God, as he did aforetime.' — Dan., vi., 10."
 
 140 ORATORS AND STATESMICN. 
 
 binds to you the commerce of the colonies, and through 
 them secures to }'uu the wealth of the world. Deny them 
 this participation of freedom, and you break that sole 
 bond which originally made, and must still preserve, the 
 unity of the empire. Do not entertain so weak an imagi- 
 nation as that your registers and your bonds, your affida- 
 vits and your sufferances, your cockets and your clear- 
 ances, are what form the great securities of your com- 
 merce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your 
 instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things 
 that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious 
 whole. These things do not make your government. 
 Dead instruments, passive tools as they are, it is the spirit 
 of the English communion that gives all their life and 
 efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English Constitu- 
 tion, which, irifuscd through the mighty- mass., pervades, Jeeds, 
 unites, invigorates, vivifies every part of the empire, even 
 down to the minutest memher.'''' 
 
 On the 6th of September, 1780, Mr. Burke delivered his 
 celebrated speech previous to the election at Bristol. Sir 
 Samuel Romilly speaks of this effort as " perhaps the best 
 piece of oratory in our language;" and Prof. Goodrich 
 commends it to the young orator as well worthy of his 
 study and imitation: " This is," says he, " in many respects, 
 the best s^^eech of Mr. Burke for the study and imitation 
 of a young orator. It is more simple and direct than any 
 v^f his other speeches. It was addressed to merchants and 
 business-men J and while it abounds quite as much as any 
 of his productions in the rich fruits of political wisdom, 
 and has occasionally very bold and striking images, it is 
 less ambitious in style, and less profluent in illustration, 
 tlian his more elaborate efforts in the House of Commons." 
 
 It was on this occasion that Mr. Burke gave utterance 
 to one of those touching reflections, which has been 
 always admired for the beauty of its imagery, and for the
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 141 
 
 instructive le:sson whicli lie I'lu-iiislies. The circumstauce^; 
 which led Mr. Burke to make the rehection which follows, 
 were these: "One of his competitors, Mr. Coombe, over- 
 come by the excitement and agitation of the canvass, had 
 died the preceding night. Such an event was indeed ' an 
 awful lesson against being too much troubled about any 
 of the objects of ordinary ambition/ Well might Mr. 
 Burke say, in taking leave, ' The worthy gentleman who 
 has been snatched from us at the moment of the election, 
 and in the middle of the contest, while his desires were as 
 warm, and his hopes as eager as ours, has feelingly told 
 us, what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue.''* 
 
 Notwithstanding those eloquent remonstrances of Burke 
 against the violent and oppressive measure:^ of Parliament, 
 relating to America, an infatuated King and Ministry were 
 determined to enforce their arbitrary laws with the sword. 
 The war of the Revolution had already commenced. The 
 streets of Lexington and Concord had been stained with 
 blood. A shout of victory went up from Bunker Hill; and 
 the whole country flew to arms. 
 
 Mr. Burke continued to oppose the American war. On 
 a second scheme of conciliation, which he brought for- 
 ward, he delivered a speech which is said to have been a 
 
 * Who can read this without being reminded of the striking words of In- 
 spiration. " Our days on earth are as a shadow, eind there is none abiding." 
 I Chron. xxix, 15. "Man is like to vanity, his days are as a shadow that 
 passeth away." — Psalm cxliv, 4, "He cometh forth like a flower, and is cat 
 down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not." — Job, xiv, 2. 
 
 Similar to the serious expression of Mr. Burke was the language of Patrick 
 Henry on one of the proudest days of his life, when he was triumphantly elected 
 as a member of the State Legislature. As he was receiving the homage and 
 applause of political friends amidst an enthusiastic crowd, a Baptist preacher 
 asked fhe people aloud why they thus followed Mr. Henry about. "Mr. 
 Henry," said he, "is not a god." " No," responded Mr. Henry, deeply af- 
 fected. " No, indeed, my friend; I am but a poor xcorm of the dust — as fleeting 
 and unsubstantial as the shadow of the doud that flies over your fields, and ia 
 remembered no mere!"'
 
 3 42 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 wonderful eifort of oratory. One of his most eloquent 
 and powerful Philippics against the prosecution of the war, 
 was delivered on the 27th of November, 1781 No full or 
 accurate report of it was ever madej one passage, con- 
 taining a very striking figure — that of shearing the wolf, 
 will ever be remembered: 
 
 " The noble Lord," said Mr. Burke, " tells us that we 
 went to w^ar for the maintenance of rights: the King's 
 speech says, we will go on for the maintenance of our 
 rights. Oh, invaluable riglits, that have cost Great Britain 
 thirteen provinces, four islands, a hundred thousand men, 
 and seventy millions of money ! Oh, inestimable rights, 
 that have taken from us our rank among nations, our im- 
 portance abroad, and our happiness at homej that have 
 taken from us our trade, our manufactures, our commerce; 
 that have reduced us from the most flourishing empire in 
 the world, to be one of the most miserable and abject 
 powers on the face of the globe! All this we did because 
 we had a right to tax America! Miserable and infatuated 
 ministers! Wretched and undone country! not to know 
 that right signifies nothing without might — that the claim, 
 without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle! 
 We had a right to tax America! Such is the reasoning by 
 wliich the noble Lord justifies his conduct Similar was 
 the reasoning of him who was resolved to shear the icoJf! 
 What! shear a wolf ? Have you considered the difficulty, 
 the resistance, the danger? No ! says the madman, I have 
 considered nothing but the right! Man has a right of 
 dominion over tli-' inferior animals. A wolf has wool; 
 animals that have wool are to be shorn; therefore I will 
 shear the wolf."* 
 
 * " Well might Mr. Burke employ such language; for the news had reached 
 London only two days before, that Lord Cornwallis had capitulated at York- 
 town with the loss of his entire army. When the intelligence w\is carried to 
 Lord North, he received it, says an eye-witness, ' as he would have taken a
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 143 
 
 The second period of Mr. Burke's political life, which 
 extends from the close of the Revolutionary war in 1782, 
 to tlie commencement of the French Revolution in 17S9, 
 is memorable for including the impeachment and trial of 
 Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India. 
 
 At the close of the American war the attention of Par- 
 liament was turned to India. Dreadful were the cruelties 
 inflicted upon the natives of that unhappy land through 
 the agency of British rulers. The country was ravaged, — 
 the miserable inhabitants given up to the sword, — hus- 
 bands, wives, and children were torn from each other, and 
 slaughtered without mercy.* Governor Hastings was 
 regarded by Burke and many others as the author of many 
 of the cruelties practiced in India. 
 
 The principal object of these atrocities was the extortion 
 of money from the wealthy inhabitants of India. Millions 
 of pounds were thus unjustly extorted to replenish the 
 treasury of the East India Company, while thousands of 
 lives were inhumanly sacrificed in the attempt to obtain 
 this wealth. No wonder then that Burke, who had 
 devoted ten years to the investigation of English atrocities 
 in India, and knew who was the responsible author of 
 them, resolved on the impeachment of Warren Hastings 
 Preparatory to this step, he delivered several brilliant 
 speeches on the state of India, the greatest of which was 
 that on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, in 1785. 
 
 Never perhaps was a speech delivered under more un- 
 favorable circumstances. " The theme was unpromising, 
 and he rose to speak under every jjossible disadvantage. 
 It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, and 
 the house was so exhausted by the previous debates, and 
 
 ball into his breast !' He threw open his arnns, exclaiming wildly, as he 
 paced the room, ' It is all over! it is all over!' " 
 
 * On this subject the reader will find it interesting to consult Mill's History 
 of British India.
 
 144 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 SO weary of the whole subject, that they seemed almost to a 
 man determined not to hear him. He i:)roceeded, however, 
 amid much noise and interruption, and j^oured out his 
 feelings for nearly five hours, with an ardor and impetu- 
 osity which he had never before equaled. In this speech 
 we have the most surprising exhibition to be found in any 
 of Mr. Burke's productions, of the compass and variety of 
 thought which he was able to crowd into a single effort. 
 In rhetorical address, vivid painting, lofty declamation, 
 bitter sarcasm, and withering invective, it surpasses all his 
 former speeches." 
 
 Lord Brougham has pronounced this speech " by far the 
 first of all Mr. Burke's orations." The most eloquent pas- 
 sage that he ever produced is universally allowed to be his 
 vivid and forcible description of Hyder Ali sweeping over 
 the Carnatic with fire and sword. Hyder Ali was a cele- 
 brated Indian sovereign who, at the head of an army of 
 ninety thousand men, invaded the territories of the East 
 India Company in 1790, and shook the British power there 
 to its foundation. Here we have the eloquent passage: 
 
 " When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do 
 with men who either would sign no convention, or whom 
 no treaty and no signature could bind, and who were the 
 determined enemies of human intercourse itself, he deci'eed 
 to make the country possessed by these incorrigible and 
 predestinated criminals a memorable example to mankind. 
 He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of a mind capacious 
 of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting 
 monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desolation 
 as a barrier between him and those against whom the faith 
 which holds the moral elements of the world together was 
 no protection. He became at length so confident of his 
 force, so collected in his might, that he made no secret 
 whatsoever of his dreadful resolution. Having terminated 
 his disputes with every enemy and every rival, who buried
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 145 
 
 tlieir mutual animosities in tlieir common detestation 
 against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew from 
 every quarter whatever a savage ferocity could add to his 
 new rudiments in the arts of destruction; and compound- 
 irng all the materials of fury, havoc, and desolation into 
 one black cloud, he hung for a while on the declivities of 
 the mountains. While the authors of all these evils were 
 idly and stupidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which 
 blackened all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured 
 down the whole of its contents upon the plains of the Car- 
 natic. Then ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no 
 eye had seen, no heart conceived, and which no tongue can 
 adequately tell. All the horrors of war before known or 
 heard of were mercy to that new havoc. A- storm of uni- 
 versal fire blasted every field, consumed every house, 
 destroyed every temple. The miserable inhabitants, llying 
 from their fiaming villages, in part were slaughtered; 
 others, without regard to sex, to age, to the respect of 
 rank, or sacredness of function; fathers torn from child- 
 ren, husbands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of 
 cavalry, and, amid the goading spears of drivers and the 
 trampling of juirsuing horses, were swept into captivity, 
 in an unknown and hostile land. Those Avho were able to 
 evade this tempest fled to the walled cities, but, escaping 
 from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the jaws of 
 famine."* 
 
 On the 10th day of Ma v. 1787. Mr. Burke, attpmrlprl hy 
 the mem bers of the Ho use of Commons, went to thp hai- nC 
 the House of Lords, and impeached Warren Hastings of 
 high crimes and mlsdemeanOTSr- — 
 
 * ' ' The reader will find it interesting to compare this passage with the most 
 eloquent one in Mr. Fox's speeches, beginning ' And all this without an intel- 
 ligible motive;' and also with Demosthenes' description (about the middle of 
 his Oration for the Crown) of the terror and confusion at Athens, when the 
 news arrived that Elateia had been seized by Philip." 
 
 18
 
 .^ 
 
 146 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 The conduct of the trial was committed to a body of 
 managers, the princij^al of whom were Burke, Fox, Sheri- 
 dan, Windham, and Sir Philip Francis. The trial of 
 Warren Hastings was one of the greatest that the world 
 has ever witnessed. Never, perhaps, was there ever such 
 magnificent bursts of impassioned eloquence, vivid descrip- 
 tions, withering invectives, cutting sarcasms, and lofty 
 declamations, as those which electrified and shook West- 
 minster Hall, when the united voices of those great ora- 
 tors were raised in tones of thunder against the governor 
 of India. 
 
 " Never did eloquence so delight the ear as on this occa- 
 sion. The greatest orators of an age of oratorical splendor 
 exerted themselves to the utmost. Burke, Fox, Sheridan, 
 Windham, followed each other in apparently endless suc- 
 cession, and, to use the striking language of Mr. Erskine, 
 * shook the walls of Westminster Hall with anathemas of 
 superhuman eloquence.' Mr. Burke never spoke with 
 such transcendent effect as on this memorable occasion." 
 
 On the 13th of February, 1788, this celebrated trial com- 
 menced in Westminster Hall, in the presence of a vast 
 assemblage, amid the most august and imposing scenes. 
 
 " Afte r two days spent in the prelim inary ceremonies, 
 Mr. Burke opened J hfi_£ase in a s^ eechjvhicJiJasTe^^ four 
 days, and was designed to give the members of the ,c(5urt a 
 view of the character and condition of the people of India; 
 the origin of the power exercised by the East India Com- 
 pany; the situation of the natives under the government 
 of the English; the miseries they had endured through the 
 agency of Mr. Hastings; and the motives by which he was 
 influenced in his multiplied acts of cruelty and oppression. 
 T1iis _,spf^f'f,h has^ perhaps, been t ruly characterized a^^e 
 \ greatest intellectual effort ever made before the Parliament^ 
 
 ^/> y qi Great Britain . A writefadverae to the impeachment 
 -/ has remarked that ' Mr. Burke astonished even those who
 
 EDMUND BURKE. . 1 1? 
 
 were most intimately acquainted with him, by the vast 
 extent of his reading, the variety of his resources, the 
 minuteness of his information, and the lucid order in 
 which he arranged "the whole for the support of his sub- 
 ject, and to make a deep impression on the minds of his 
 auditory.' On the third day, when he described the cruel- 
 ties intiicted upon the natives by Debi Sing, one of Mr. 
 Hastings' agents, a convulsive shudder ran throughout the 
 whole assembly. ' In this part of his speech,' says the 
 reporter, ' his descriptions were more vivid, more harrow- 
 ing, more horrific, than human utterance, on either fact or 
 fancy, perhaps ever formed before.' Mr. Burke himself 
 was so much overpowered at one time that he dropped his 
 head upon his hands, and was unable for some minutes to 
 proceed; while ' the bosoms of his auditors became con- 
 vulsed with passion, and those of more delicate organs or 
 a weaker frame swooned away.' JEven Mr. Hastings him- • 
 self, who, not having ordered these inflictions, had always 
 claimed that he was not involved in their guilt, was utterl}'' 
 overwhelmed In describing the scene afterward, he said, 
 ' For half an hour I looked up at the orator in a revery of 
 wonder, and actually felt myself to be the most culpable 
 man on earth.' I ' But at length ' (in reference to the 
 grounds just' mentioned), ' I recurred to my own bosom, 
 and there found a consciousness that consoled me under 
 all I heard and all I suffered.' " 
 
 ./^Such is the nature of genuine eloquence, that it alter- 
 nately overpowers the soul with astonishment, wraps it in 
 the deepest sorrow, transports it with joy, and bears it 
 away in a pleasing ecstasy. The effect of this speech was 
 electric. The stern Lord Thurlow, w^ho was melted during 
 its delivery, remarked some time afterwards, that " their 
 Lordships all knew the effect upon the auditors, many of 
 whom had not to that moment, and perhaps never would, 
 recover from the shock it had occasioned."
 
 148 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 j/C 
 
 The beautiful and imi^ressive peroration of this great 
 speech must not be omitted j we select the following pas- 
 sages : 
 
 *' In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all 
 this villainy upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment 
 of my application to you. 
 
 " My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act 
 of national justice? Do we want a cause, my Lords? You 
 have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of 
 the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted king- 
 doms. 
 
 " Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there 
 so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, 
 my Lords, you must not look to punish any other such 
 delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left 
 substance enough in India to nourish such another delin- 
 quent. 
 
 " My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have be- 
 fore you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors; 
 and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent 
 progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious 
 sight than that of men, separated from a remote peojde by 
 the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the 
 bond of a social and moral community — all the Commons 
 of England resenting, as their own, the indignities and 
 cruelties that are oliered to all the people of India. 
 
 " Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of 
 antiquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the 
 range of human imagination, can supply us with a tribunal 
 like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in the mind's 
 eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose autho- 
 rity you sit, and whose power you exercise. We see in 
 that invisible authority, what we all feel in reality and 
 life, the beneficent powers and protecting justice of his 
 Majesty."
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 149 
 
 " My Lords, you have here, also, the lights of our reli- 
 gion 3 you have the bishops of England. You have the 
 representatives of that religion which says that their God 
 is love, that the very vital spirit of their institution is 
 charity — a religion which so much hates oppression, that 
 when the God whom we adore appeared in human form, 
 he did not appear in a form of greatness and majesty, but 
 in sympathy with the lowest of the people, and thereby 
 made it a firm and ruling principle that their welfare was 
 the object of all government, since the person who waLS the 
 Master of Nature, chose to appear himself in a subordinate 
 situation. These are the considerations which influence 
 them, which animate them, and will animate them, against 
 all oppression; knowing that He who is called first among 
 them, and first among us all, both of the fl-ock that is fed 
 and of those who feed it, made himself ' the servant of all.' 
 " My Lords, these are the securities which we have in 
 all the constituent parts of the body of this House. We 
 know them, we reckon, we rest upon them, and commit 
 safely the interests of India and of humanity into your 
 hands. Therefore it is with confidence, that,, ordered by 
 the Commons, 
 /"''"I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes 
 s. and misdemeanors. 
 
 ) "I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great 
 A Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary 
 1 I trust he has betrayed. 
 
 V-7 "I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of 
 
 j// Great Britian, whose national character he has dishonored. 
 
 " I impeach him in the name of the people of India, 
 
 whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose 
 
 property he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste 
 
 and desolate. 
 
 " I impeach him in the name, and by virtue of those 
 ternal laws of justice which he has violated.
 
 1 5 OR ATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 [ "I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, 
 yvhlch he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed, in 
 rooth sexes, in every age^, rank, situation, and condition of 
 \lile."* 
 
 The trial of Warren Hastings exte.nded^ thrqugh^seven 
 years. On the 16th of July, 1794, Mr. Burke deliiiexed-his 
 closing speech in behalf of t he m aaagefs. 
 
 " It was in the darkest season of the French Revolution, 
 a few days before the fall of Robespierre, when the British 
 emjjire was agitated w'ith conflicting passions, and fears 
 were entertained by many of secret conspiracies to over- 
 throw the government. To these things he referred at the 
 close of his peroration, which has a grandeur and sub- 
 limity becoming the conclusion of such a trial." 
 
 " My Lords," said he, " I have done ! The part of the 
 Commons is concluded! With a trembling hand, we con- 
 sign the joroduct of these long, Jong labors to your charge. 
 Take it! Take it ! It is a sacred trust ! Never before was 
 a cause of such magnitude submitted to any human tribu- 
 nal! 
 
 " My Lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Com- 
 mons, and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I 
 attest the advancing generations, between which, as a link 
 in the chain of eternal order, we stand. We call this 
 nation, we call the world, to witness, that the Commons 
 have shrunk from no labor; that we have been guilty of 
 no prevarications; that we have made no compromise with 
 crime; that we have not feared any odium whatsoever, in 
 the long warfare which we have carried on w'ith the 
 crimes, the vices, the exorbitant wealth, the enormous 
 and overpowering influence, of Eastern corruption. 
 
 * Nothing more impressive or imposing than this peroration is to be found 
 injudicial oratory, and the effect of the whole speech was so powerful upon 
 the auditory, that it was only after sometime and repeated efforts that Mr. Fox 
 could obtain a hfjaring.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 151 
 
 " A business wliicli has so long occupied the councils 
 and tribunals of Great Britain, can not possibly be hurried 
 over in the course of vulgar, trite, and transitory events. 
 Nothing but some of those great revolutions that break the 
 traditionary chain of human memory, and alter the very 
 face of nature itself, can possibly obscure it. My Lords, 
 we are all elevated to a degree of importance by it. The 
 meanest of us will, by means of it, become more or less the 
 concern of posterity. 
 
 " My Lords, your House yet stands; it stands a great 
 edifice ; but, let me say, it stands in the midst of ruins — 
 in the midst of ruins that have been made by the greatest 
 moral earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered this 
 globe of ours. My Lords, it has pleased Providence to 
 place us in such a state, that we apjDcar every moment 
 to be on the verge of some great mutation. There is one 
 thing, and one thing only, that defies mutation — that 
 which existed before the world itself. I mean Justice; 
 that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, has a 
 place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our 
 guide with regard to ourselves, and with regard to others; 
 and which will stand after this globe is burned to ashes, 
 our advocate or our accuser before the great Judge, when 
 he comes to call upon us for the tenor of a well spent life 
 
 " My Lords, the Commons will share in every fate with 
 your Lordships. There is nothing sinister which can 
 happen to you, in which we are not involved. And if it 
 should so happen that your Lordships, stripped of all the 
 decorous distinctions of human society, should, by hands 
 at once base and cruel, be led to those scafiblds and ma- 
 chines of murder upon which great kings and glorious 
 queens have shed their blood, amid the prelates, the nobles, 
 the magistrates who supported their thrones, may you in 
 those moments feel that consolation which I am per-
 
 152 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 suaded tliey felt in the critical moments of their dreadful 
 agony! * * * 
 
 " My Lords, if you must fall, may you so fall! But if 
 you stand — and stand I trust you will, together with the 
 fortunes of this ancient monarchy; together with the 
 ancient laws and liberties of this great and illustrious 
 kingdom — may you stand as unimpeached in honor as in 
 power! May you stand, not as a substitute for virtue; may 
 you stand, and long stand, the terror of tyrants; may you 
 stand, the refuge of afflicted nations; may you stand, a 
 sacred temple for the perpetual residence of inviolable 
 justice!" 
 
 Mr. Ha stings was at length acquitted bv t he-H oiise of 
 Lordsj^_but this does not prove that he was innocent of 
 those crimes laid to his charge, or that the cruelties which 
 Mr. Burke so eloquently described were not inflicted upon 
 the natives of India. The voice of histoJiy : confl rms^the 
 astounding statements of the orator . No one will now 
 dispute them, l iiey sfand open beiore the world in all 
 their horrors; and that Warren Hastings was the respon- 
 sible author of the most of these atrocities, we think is 
 also very clear. 
 
 The third stage of Mr. Burke's eventful career, is memo- 
 rable for the commencement of one of the greatest revo- 
 lutions that ever shook the world in modern times — the 
 French Revolution of 1789. From the very first, Mr. 
 Burke regarded this revolution with jealousy and alarm. 
 It called forth some of the most brilliant efforts of his 
 genius in the last years of liis life. 
 
 In 1790 Mr. Burke published his most remarkable work, 
 entitled Reflections on the Revolution in France. Per- 
 haps no political treatise in the English language has ever 
 awakened so lively an interest. In England alone thirty 
 thousand copies were sold in less than a year after its pub-
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 153 
 
 lication. It was translated into French, and extensively 
 circulated through Europe. In many respects this work 
 surpasses all that Mr. Burke ever wrote, — as a literary 
 efibrt it eclipses the fame of his earlier publications. 
 
 " In a literary view," says Prof. Goodrich, " there can be 
 but one opinion of this work. Though desultory in its 
 character, and sometimes careless or prolix in style, it 
 contains more richness of thought, splendor of imagina- 
 tion, and beauty of diction, than any volume of the same 
 size in our language." Robert Hall has truly said, " Mr. 
 Burke's imperial fancy has laid all nature under tribute, 
 and has collected riches from every scene of the creation, 
 and every walk of art. His eulogium on the queen of 
 France is a master-piece of pathetic composition, so select 
 in its images, so fraught with tenderness, and so rich with 
 colors ' dipt in heaven,' that he who can read it without 
 rapture may have merit as a reasoner, but must resign all 
 pretensions to taste and sensibility." 
 
 The celebrated eulogium on the beautiful but ill-fated 
 Maria Antoinette will ever be admired: 
 
 " It is now sixteen or seventeen years," said Mr. Burke, 
 
 " since I saw the queen of France, the dauphiness, at 
 
 Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which 
 
 she hardly seemed to touch, a more delighted vision. I 
 
 saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering 
 
 the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glittering 
 
 like the morning star, full of life, and splendor, and joy. 
 
 Oh! what a revolution! and what a heart must I have, to 
 
 contemplate, without motion, that elevation and that fall ! 
 
 Little did I dream, when she added titles of veneration to 
 
 those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she 
 
 should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against 
 
 disgrace concealed in that bosom; little did I dream that 
 
 I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her 
 
 in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor 
 20
 
 lO -i ORATORS AND STATESMEX, 
 
 and of cavaliers. I tliouglit ten thousand swords must have 
 leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that 
 threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is 
 gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has 
 succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for- 
 ever. Never, never more shall we behold that generous 
 loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that digni- 
 fied obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept 
 alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted 
 freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheajD defense 
 of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic en- 
 terprise is gone ! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, 
 that chastity of honor, which felt a stain like a wound, 
 which inspired courage while it mitigated ferocity, which 
 ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself 
 lost half its evil by losing all its grossness." 
 
 On the French Revolution, Burke and Fox were divided 
 in sentiment. While the former, as has been stated, op- 
 posed the principles of the revolutionists, the latter hailed 
 them with delight. In the course of one of his speeches, 
 Mr. Burke declared that "he would abandon his best 
 friends, and join with his worst enemies, to oppose French 
 principles." A few evenings after, in a debate, Mr. Fox 
 praised the new constitution of France in the following 
 terms: " I for one admire the new constitution, considered 
 altogether, as the most glorious fabric ever raised hy human 
 integrity since the creation ofmany 
 
 This difierence of opinion on such an important sub- 
 ject, finally led to a breach of friendship between these 
 two great statesmen. It was one of the most painful 
 events in the lives of Burke and Fox, who had so long 
 been friends. The affecting scene which occurred in the 
 House of Commons, when the bonds of theif friendship 
 were forever dissolved, is thus described by Chateaubriand, 
 who was an eye-witness:
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 15f^ 
 
 " 111 1791 1 was present at the memorable sitting of the 
 House of Commons, when Burke renounced his political 
 connection with Fox. The question related to the French 
 revolution, which Burke attacked, and Fox defended. 
 Never did the two speakers, who had till then been friends, 
 display such eloquence. The whole House was affected, 
 and tears trickled down Fox's cheeks when Burke con- 
 cluded his reply in these words: — 
 
 ' The right honorable gentleman, in the speech which he 
 has just made, has treated me in every sentence with un- 
 common harshness. He has brought down the whole 
 strength and heavy artillery of his judgment, eloquence, 
 and abilities upon me, to crush me at once by a censure 
 upon my whole life, conduct and opinions. Notwithstand- 
 ing this great and serious, though on my part unmerited, 
 attack and attempt to crush me, I will not be dismayed. 
 I am not yet afraid to state my sentiments in this House or 
 any where else, and I will tell all the world that the con- 
 stitution is in danger. It certainly is an indiscretion at 
 any period, but especially at my time of life, to provoke 
 enemies, or to give my friends occasion to desert me; yet, 
 if my Arm and steady adherence to the British canstitu- 
 tion places me in such a dilemma, I will risk all; and, as 
 public duty and public prudence teach me, with my last 
 words exclaim. Fly from the French Constitution!' 
 
 Mr. Fox here whispered 'that there was no loss of 
 friends.' ' Yes,' exclaimed Burke, ' there is a loss of 
 friends: I know the price of my conduct. I have done my 
 duty at the price of my friend. Our friendship is at an 
 end. Before I sit down, let me eari:i^stly warn the two 
 right honorable gentlemen* who are the great rivals in 
 this House, whether they hereafter move in the political 
 hemisphere as two flaming meteors, or walk together like 
 brothers hand in hand, to preserve and cherish the British 
 
 * Fox and Pitt.
 
 156 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 constitution, to guard against innovation, and to save it 
 from the danger of those new theories."* 
 
 After Mr. Burke had concluded his speech, Mr. Fox 
 rose, bathed in tears; it was for some minutes before he 
 was able to proceed. As soon as he could speak, he 
 pressed upon Mr. Burke the claims of a friendship of 
 twenty-five years' duration; but it was all to no purpose. 
 The breach was irreparable; they never met again as 
 friends.f 
 
 The most painful affliction which ever lay in the earthly 
 pathway of Mr. Burke was that occasioned by the loss of 
 his only son, — "the hope of his age, the stay of his life, 
 the only comfort of his declining and now joyless years." 
 Richard Burke was a young man of great abilities, and 
 possessed a high moral j^rinciple; but in the very midst 
 of life and buoyant hopes, he was cut down by disease 
 Consumption had laid its iron grasp upon him, and he 
 
 * Sketches of English Literature, vol. ii, page 275. 
 
 t The latter period of Mr. Burke's life was not so happy as the former. 
 The number of his enemies had greatly increased; and they endeavored by all 
 the means in their power to obscure the brightness of his political career. In 
 the heat of debate Mr. Burke often lost his temper and thus became exposed to 
 the cutting sarcasm and withering contempt of his antagonist. Several of his 
 opponents adopted a course of systematic insult for the purpose of putting him 
 down. " ' Muzzling the lion ' was the term applied to such treatment of the 
 greatest genius of the age. When he arose to speak, he was usually assailed 
 with coughing, ironical cheers, affected laughter, and other tokens of dislike. 
 Such things, of course, he could not ordinarily notice; though he did, in one 
 instance, stop to remark, that ' he could teach a pack of hounds to yelp with 
 more melody and equal com^irehension.' George Selvvyn used to tell a story 
 with much effect, of a coilhtry member who exclaimed, as Mr. Burke rose to 
 speak with a paper in his hand, ' I hope the gentleman does not mean to read 
 that large bundle of papers, and bore us with a speech into the bargain! Mr. 
 Burke was so much overcome, or rather suffocated with rage, that he w£is in- 
 capable of utterance, and rushed out of the House. ' Never before,' said Sel- 
 wyn, ' did I see the fable realized, of a lion put to flight by the braying of an
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 157 
 
 wasted away till on the 2d of May, 1794, when he expired, 
 in the thirty-sixth year of his age. The scene which im- 
 mediately preceded his deiiarture is too afiecting and 
 mournful to be passed over: 
 
 " The last moments of young Burke present one of those 
 striking cases in which nature seems to rally all her 
 powers at the approach of dissolution, as the taper often 
 burns brightest in the act of going out. His parents were 
 waiting his departure in an adjoining room (for they were 
 unable to bear the sight), when he rose from his bed, 
 dressed himself comi^letely, and leaning on his nurse, en- 
 tered the apartment where they were sitting. ' Speak to 
 me, my dear father,' said he, as he saw them bowed to the 
 earth under the jwignancy of their grief. ' I apa in no terror; 
 I feel myself better and in spirits; yet my heart flutters, I 
 know not why ! Pray talk to me — of religion — of mo- 
 rality — of indifl'erent subjects.' Then turning, he ex- 
 claimed, ' What noise is that? Does it rain? Oh no, it is 
 the rustling of the wind in the trees;' and broke out at 
 once, with a clear, sweet voice, in that beautiful j)assage 
 (the favorite lines of his father), from the Morning Hymn 
 in Milton: 
 
 His praise, ye winds, tiiat from four quarters blow, 
 Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, 
 With every plant in sign of worship wave! 
 
 He begau again, and again repeated them with the same 
 tenderness and fervor, bowing his head as in the act of 
 worship, and then ' sunk into the arms of his parents as 
 in a profound and sweet sleep.' It would be too painful 
 to dwell on the scenes that followed, until the father laid 
 all that remained to him of his child beneath the Beacons- 
 field church, adjoining his estate." 
 
 Mr. Burke lived only three years after the death of 
 his son. This affliction, doubtless, tended to prostrate 
 his energies and hasten his own dissolution, which took
 
 158 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 place on the 9th of July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year 
 of his age. He died in the blessed hope of a glorious 
 immortality. He hoped to obtain the divine mercy, as he 
 declared, through the intercession of a blessed Redeemer, 
 " which," to use his own words, " he had long sought 
 with unfeigned humiliation, and to which he looked with 
 a trembling hope." 
 
 It is said that Mr. Burke spent the greater part of the 
 last two days of his life in reading Wilberforce's Practical 
 View; that he derived much comfort from it, and said that 
 if he lived he would thank Wilberforce for having sent 
 such a book into the world. 
 
 The following touching lines on the death of Mr. Burke, 
 were from the pen of an old friend: 
 
 ' ' 'Tis o'er : — that lamp is quench'd iu endless night, 
 Which Nature kindled at her purest flame; 
 By science fann'd, — if science could enhance. 
 
 A genius from which science caught new rays; * 
 
 No, 'tis not quench'd; the spark ethereal lives, 
 And it shall blaze along the track of time. 
 While we, who joy'd beneath the radient beam, 
 Shall mix unheeded with our kindred clay. 
 
 That star is set, on earth to shine uo more. 
 
 On which admiring nations wond'ring gaz'd; 
 
 That pow'rful stream of eloquence is dry. 
 
 Which with commanding force o'erwhelm'ed the miad. 
 
 Oh! mourn for this, that from a barren world 
 
 Such excellence is fled! But, public care 
 
 Apart, in pensive solitude retired, 
 
 Lamenting friendship drops the silent tear. 
 
 There tender recollection calls to mind 
 The sweet benevolence which mark'd that mien; 
 That mien which unadmiring who could view! 
 'Tis hers, with soft regret and pleasing pain, 
 To trace the social and domestic scene, 
 Where, ever shining, most of all he shone. 
 She saw the lib'ral hand, the healing balms
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 159 
 
 Dispense unboasting; and to haggard eyes, 
 BedimmM with poverty, and pain, and care, 
 The vivid rays of health, and hope restore. 
 Th' unvarying friendship, and the candid mind, 
 Prompt to forgive, and ready to atone. 
 Were his. — And Oh! how close the tender ties 
 Of father, husband, brother, bound his heart!' 
 
 One of the greatest men of the eighteenth century was 
 Edmund Burke. On the page of history, his name will 
 shine with the purest luster to the latest posterity. Man- 
 kind will ever contemplate with admiration the charac- 
 ter of this mighty Orator, Statesman and Philosopher, 
 whose name is enrolled in the records of immortality, side 
 by side with Cicero and Bacon. The amplitude of his 
 mind — the exuberance of his fancy — the comprehensive- 
 ness of his understanding — the subtilty of his intellect — 
 the grandeur and variety of his expression — the magnifi- 
 cence of his language — the richness and splendor of his 
 eloquence, — and above all, the boundless stores of know- 
 ledge which he possessed, will always create delight and 
 wonder in the mind. 
 
 To assist us in forming a proper estimate of hir oratori- 
 cal character we must have recourse to the descriptive 
 sketches of his cotemporaries, whose united opinion will 
 corroborate what we unhesitatingly affirm, that in many 
 respects Edmund Burke was the most consummate orator, 
 the wisest statesman, and the most powerful debater the 
 world has ever seen. 
 
 " The variety and extent of his powers in debate was 
 greater than that of any other orator in ancient or modern 
 times. No one ever poured forth such a flood of thought 
 — so many orignal combinations of inventive genius; so 
 much knowledge of man and the working of political 
 systems: so many just remarks on the relation of govern- 
 ment to the manners, the spirit, and even the prejudices 
 of a people; so many wise maxims as to a change in con-
 
 1 G ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 stitutions and laws; so many beautiful effusions of lofty 
 and generous sentiment; sucli exuberant stores of illus- 
 tration, ornament, and apt allusion; all intermingled with 
 the liveliest sallies of wit or the boldest Hights of a sublime 
 imagination." 
 
 No one can contemplate Mr. Burke without admiring 
 the vast extent of his knowledge, the beauty of his 
 imagery, the richness, variety, and splendor of his elo- 
 quence. In what follows we have the leading traits of his 
 character as an orator noticed. 
 
 Sir N. W. Wraxall, a parliamentary cotemjiorary, thus 
 writes of Burke: " Nature had bestowed on him a boundless 
 imagination, aided by a memory of equal strength and 
 tenacity. His fancy was so vivid, that it seemed to light 
 up by its own powers, and to burn without consuming the 
 aliment on which it fed: sometimes bearing him away into 
 ideal scenes created by his own exuberant mind, but from 
 which he, sooner or later, returned to the subject of debate; 
 descending from his most aerial flights by a gentle and 
 imperceptible gradation, till he again touched the ground. 
 Learning waited on him like a handmaid, presenting to 
 his choice, all that antiquity has culled or invented, most 
 elucidatory of the topic under discussion. He always 
 seemed to be oppressed under the load and variety of his 
 intellectual treasures. Every power of oratory was wielded 
 by him in turn: for, he could be during the same evening, 
 often within the space of a few minutes, pathetic and hu- 
 morous; acrimonious and conciliating; now giving loose 
 to his indignation or severity; and then, almost in the 
 same breath, calling to his assistance, wit and ridicule. It 
 would be endless to cite instances of this versatility of 
 disposition, and of the rapidity of his transitions, 
 
 ' From grave to gay, from lively to severe,' 
 
 that I have, myself, witnessed."* 
 
 * Historical Memoirs, p. 203.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 161 
 
 " The political knowledge of Mr. Burke might be con- 
 sidered almost as an EncyclopEedia; every man who "ap- 
 proached him received instruction from his stores. He 
 irradiated every sphere in which he moved. What he 
 was in public, he was in private j like the star which now 
 precedes and now follows the sun, h« was equally brilliant 
 whether he 
 
 ' Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky, ' 
 
 or led on with a milder luster the modest hosts of evening." 
 " Let me," says Dr. Parr, " speak what my mind prompts 
 of the eloquence of Burke — of Burke, by whose sweet- 
 ness Athens herself would have been soothed, with whose 
 amplitude and exuberance she would have been enraptured, 
 and on whose lips that prolific mother of genius and 
 science would have adored, confessed, the Goddess of 
 Persuasion." " Who is there," adds the same learned 
 critic, " among men of eloquence or learning more pro- 
 foundly versed in every branch of science? Who is there 
 that has cultivated philosophy, the parent of all that is 
 illustrious in literature or exploit, with more felicitous 
 success? Who is there that can transfer so happily the 
 result of laborious and intricate research to the most 
 familiar and popular topics? Who is there that possesses 
 so extensive yet so accurate an acquaintance with every 
 transaction recent or remote? Who is there that can 
 deviate from his subject for the purposes of delight with 
 such engaging ease, and insensibly conduct his readers 
 from the severity of reasoning to the festivity of wit? Who 
 is there that can melt them if the occasion requires with 
 such resistless powder to grief or pity? Who is there that 
 combines the charm of inimitable grace and urbanity with 
 such magnificent and boundless expansion?" 
 
 In what high terms of praise and admiration do his co- 
 temporaries speak of him as an orator ! On viewing Balli- 
 21
 
 162 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 tore, the scene of his early acquisitions in knowledge, 
 one writes: "The admiration, nay astonishment, with 
 which I so often listened to Mr. Burke gave an interest to 
 every spot connected with his memory, and forcibly brought 
 to my recollection the profundity and extent of his know- 
 ledge, while the energy, w^armth, and beauty of his 
 imagery captured the heart and made the judgment tribu- 
 tary to his will As an orator he surpassed all his cotem- 
 poraries, and was perhaps never exceeded." 
 
 " As an orator," adds another, " notwithstanding some 
 defects, he stands almost unrivaled. No man was better 
 calculated to arouse the dormant passions, to call forth 
 the glowing affections of the human heart, and to ' harrow 
 up ' the inmost recesses of the soul. Venality and mean- 
 ness stood appalled in his presence; he who was dead to 
 the feelings of his own conscience was still alive to his 
 animated reproaches; and corruption for awhile became 
 alarmed at the terrors of his countenance." 
 
 One of his biographers states, that in the more mechani- 
 cal part of oratory — delivery, his manner w^as usually 
 bold, less graceful than powerful, his enunciation vehem- 
 ent, and unchecked by any embarrassment, his periods flow- 
 ing and harmonious, his language always forcible, some- 
 times choice, but when strongly excited by the subject, acri- 
 monious or sarcastic, his epithets numerous, and occasion- 
 ally strong or coarse, his invective furious, and sometimes 
 overpowering.* 
 
 As an interesting sketch of Mr. Burke's manner and 
 power in debate, drawn by an eye-witness, we introduce 
 the graphic description of the Duke de Levis of France. 
 The occasion, it is stated, was on the French Revolution: 
 
 " The man whom I had the greatest desire to hear was 
 the celebrated Mr. Burke, author of the Essay on the 
 Sublime and Beautiful, and often himself sublime. At 
 
 * Prior's Life of Burke, vol. ii, p. 427.
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 163 
 
 length he rose, but in beholding him I could scarcely re- 
 cover from my surprise. I had so frequently heard his 
 eloquence compared to that of Demosthenes and Cicero, 
 that my imagination, associating him with those great 
 names, had represented him to me in a noble and imposing 
 garb. I certainly did not ex2)ect to Und him in the British 
 Parliament dressed in the ancient toga j nor was I prepared 
 to see him in a tight brown coat, which seemed to impede 
 every movement, and, above all, the little bob-wig with 
 curls. * * * I22 the mean time he moved into the 
 middle of the House, contrary to the usual practice, for 
 the members speak standing and uncovered, not leaving 
 their places. But Mr. Burke, with the most natural air 
 imaginable, with seeming humility, and with folded arms, 
 began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I could 
 scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming ani- 
 mated by degrees, he described religion attacked, the bonds 
 of subordination broken, civil society threatened to its 
 foundations; and in order to show that England could 
 depend only ujoon herself, he pictured in glowing colors 
 the political state of Europe; the spirit of ambition and 
 folly which pervaded the greater part of her governments; 
 the culpable apathy of some, the weakness of all. When 
 in the course of this grand sketch he mentioned Sixain, 
 that immense monarchy, which appeared to have fallen 
 into a total lethargy, ' What can we expect, said he, ' from 
 her? — mighty indeed, but unwieldy — vast in bulk, but 
 inert in spirit — a whale stranded upon the sea-shore of 
 Europe." The whole House was silent; all eyes were 
 upon him, and this silence was interrupted only by the 
 loud cries of Hear ! hear ! a kind of accompaniment which 
 the friends of the speaking member adopt in order to direct 
 attention to the most brilliant passages of his speech. 
 But these cheerings were superfluous on the present occa- 
 sion; every mind was fixed; the sentiments he expressed
 
 164 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 spread themselves witli rapidity; every one shared his 
 emotion, whetlier he represented the ministers of religion 
 proscribed, inhumanly persecuted and banished, imploring 
 the Almighty in a foreign land to forgive their ungrateful 
 country; or when he depicted in the most affecting man- 
 ner the misfortunes of the Royal Family, and the humilia- 
 tion of the daughter of the Ceesars. Every eye was bathed 
 in tears at the recital of these sad calamities supported 
 with such heroic fortitude. Mr. Burke, then, by an easy 
 transition, j^assed on to the exposition of those absurd 
 attemjDts of inexperienced men to establish a chimerical 
 liberty; nor did he spare the petulant vanity of upstarts 
 in their pretended love for equality. The truth of these 
 striking and animated pictures made the whole House pass 
 in an instant from the tenderest emotions of feeling to 
 bursts of laughter; never was the electric power of elo- 
 quence more imperiously felt; this extraordinary man 
 seemed to raise and quell the passions of his auditors 
 with as much ease, and as rapidly, as a skillful musician 
 passes into the various modulations of his harpsichord. I 
 have witnessed macy, too many political assemblages and 
 striking scenes where eloquence performed a noble part, 
 but the Avhole of them appear insipid when compared with 
 this amazing effort." 
 
 After sketching the oratorical character of the elder Pitt, 
 an American reviewer thus vividly portrays that of Burke: 
 
 " Ere the orb of Pitt went down another luminary had 
 risen, which was destined at length to fill the skies and 
 brighten earth with its prolific radiance. That Edmund 
 Burke is by far the greatest name in the annals of modern 
 eloquence, and in some important respects in those of all 
 eloquence, is a position which few probably will controvert. 
 
 Had the claims of Burke rested only on that sort of 
 merit wliicli we have just conceded to Lord Chatham; had 
 he left no other, or no more enduring memorials of his
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 165 
 
 mind than Chatham left, his reputation would scarcely 
 have survived to our time. He certainly was not remark- 
 able for his powers of delivery. It was not by a command- 
 ing person, a flashing eye, or voice of thunder, that he 
 gained his triumphs. Neither was his the gladiatorial skill 
 of a great debater. In most of these particulars he was 
 indeed respectable; bu* they are not the foundation of his 
 fame," — a fame which, though long since severed from all 
 these artificial aids, has continued to grow and to spread. 
 
 ' The blaze of eloquence 
 Set with its sun; but still it left behind 
 The enduring produce of immortal mind.' 
 
 To great natural endowments this distinguished man 
 added the stores of a profound and varied erudition. 
 His imagination was brilliant and excursive. . His taste 
 was intuitively quick and correct. But the learning of 
 Burke was not, like that of many, an inert and cumbrous 
 load. It was iometliing which he always carried with 
 ease, and wielded with dexterity. At one time it was the 
 rattling quiver of Apollo, from which he drew many a 
 feathered shaft; at another, it Avas a battle-axe in his 
 hands which would cleave the toughest skull.* 
 
 * On reviewing the character of Edmund Burke, one asks with admiration: 
 " Where shall we find among orators or statesmen so muct depth and origin- 
 ality of thought, fullness of information, variety of diction, vigor of expres- 
 sion, bold and sublime imagery; so much of grandeur and energy of eloquence, 
 or of beautiful and impressive writing?" 
 
 " His style," says Henry Rogers, " is equal to all the exigencies of thought, 
 and transforms itself with every change of sentiment and emotion. It now 
 puts on the decent simplicity, the unadorned grace suited to artless narration 
 or didactire severity, and now arrays itself in all the pomp and gorgeousness 
 of expression, to do justice to some splendid illustration or some sublime and 
 elevated sentiment. At one time it flows on in gentle munnurs through scenes 
 of exquisite and tranquil beauty, like the stream of summer; at another, rolls 
 on with the majestic flood of a full and mighty river, or pours out in foam and 
 cataract, its terrible flood of waters." — Biographical and Critical Introduction 
 to the works of Burke. Eng. ed.. vol. i. p. 47.
 
 lOf) ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Equally remarkable was the cliaracter of liis imagina- 
 tion. This power with him was no wild spirit, playing 
 fantastic tricks only to amuse and dazzle; but the hand- 
 maid of reason — a creature as useful as she was beauti- 
 ful. The ornament with whicli his diction abounds, 
 rarely fails to illustrate and to strengthen his argument. 
 It is this which gives vivacity and richness to his style, 
 without imj^airing its strength; a trait by Avhich he is 
 distinguished, and which he never sacrificed to less effect- 
 ive qualities. This property in Burke lias not the severe 
 simplicity of the Grecian master, nor the grace and flow 
 of the great Roman model. It is rather a medium between 
 the two; iiiferior in some respects, and in some superior 
 to both. But the distinguishing excellence of Burke con- 
 sists, undoubtedly, in the profound and comprehensive 
 views which he brings to the discussion of his subjects. 
 He seemed to be gifted with a deeper insight into the 
 nature and tendencies of*measures and events, than is 
 allotted to common men. In his speeches and writings we 
 are constantly meeting Avith general princij^les. Political 
 science in his hands is no longer narrow and technical — 
 a doctrine of mere expedients — for literature and philoso- 
 phy, the testimony of experience and the teachings of 
 common sense, all conspire to enhance its dignity, and to 
 enforce its lessons. 
 
 Burke was the orator and teacher, not of a day- not 
 of a single nation, or his own age merely. His political 
 and practical wisdom was based on the immutable founda- 
 tion of truth and right. He had read, with intuitive eye 
 and tenacious memory, the page of human nature, the 
 book of Providence, and the library of universal history. 
 To these sterling qualities of mind, he added unquestioned 
 honesty of purpose, and a philanthropic heart. Who 
 could be better fitted, or entitled to become the instructor 
 of his race? And such he has become. To his works, as
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 167 
 
 to an exhaustless storehouse of principles and reasoning, do 
 the statesmen of England and America resort. And thither 
 will they no doubt resort, until a greater than Burke shall 
 appear among the Commons of Britain or in the halls of 
 Congress." 
 
 We can not conclude the sketch of this wonderful man, 
 without adding the magnificent eulogies of Sheridan and 
 Grattan: 
 
 "To whom," said Sheridan, "I look u]) with homage, 
 whose genius is commensurate to his philanthrojoy, whoso 
 memory will stretch itself beyond the fleeting objects of 
 any little, partial, temporary shuffling, through the whole 
 range of human knowledge and honorable aspirations after 
 human good, as large as the system which forms lil^i' as 
 lasting as those objects which adorn it;" " A gentleman 
 whose abilities, hapj^ily for the glory of the age in which 
 we live, are not entrusted to the j^erishable eloquence of 
 the day, but will live to be the admiration of that hour 
 when all of us shall be mute, and most of us forgotten." 
 
 " His immortality," says Grattan, " is that which is com- 
 mon to Cicero or to Bacon — that which can never 
 be interrupted while there exists the beauty of order or 
 the love of virtue, and which can fear no death except 
 what barbarity may impose upon the globe."
 
 CHAPTER .IV. 
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 
 
 Henry Grattan was born at Dublin on the 3d of July, 
 1746. At the age of seventeen he entered Trinity College, 
 Dublin, where he soon became distinguished for the bril- 
 liancy of his imagination, for his diligence as a student, 
 for the impetuosity of his feelings, and for the energy of his 
 character. Graduating in 1767, with a high literary repu- 
 tation, he repaired to London, and commenced the study 
 of the law. He had been there but a short time, pursuing 
 his literary and professional studies, when politics began 
 to engage his attention. He attended the debates in Par- 
 liament, and became an enthusiastic admirer of the great- 
 est orator of the day. It was then that Lord Chatham, in 
 the zenith of his fame, was sending forth those inimitable 
 bolts of eloquence, which electrified and shook the British 
 senate. The wonderful oratory of this great man made a 
 powerful impression on the glowing mind of young Grat- 
 tan, who listened with indescribable pleasure to those 
 grand bursts of declamation which rolled from the lips of 
 the orator. Bold, nervous, and fiery, the eloquence of 
 Chatliam was jDcrfectly suited to the nature of the impetu- 
 ous young Irishman; upon whom it acted "with such 
 fascination, as seemed completely to form his destiny." 
 He now determined to become an orator and chose Lord 
 Chatham as his model. " Every thing was forgotten in 
 the one great object of cultivating his powers as a public 
 speaker. To emulate and express, through the peculiar
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 169 
 
 forms of his own genius, the lofty conceptions of the 
 great English orator, was from this time the object of 
 his continual study and most fervent asj^irations."* 
 
 Returning to Ireland in 1772, Mr. Grattan became a 
 member of the Irish Parliament, in 1775.f 
 
 The one great object which he had in view, during his 
 brilliant political career, was the comjDlete independence 
 of his country. Ireland had been long treated by the 
 English like a conquered nation. During the reign of 
 George the First, an act was j^assed, asserting " that Ireland 
 was a subordinate and dependent kingdom; — that the 
 Kings, Lords, and Commons of England had jwwer to 
 make laws to bind Ireland; — that the Irish House of 
 Lords had no jurisdiction, and that all proceedings before 
 that court were void." Mr. Grattan determined that the 
 Parliament of his country should be free if it was in his 
 power to break the chains thrown around her. He re- 
 solved to effect the repeal of this arbitrary act Accord- 
 
 * "Even in those early days, Grattan was preparing sedulously for his 
 'iiture destination. He had taken a residence near Windsor Forest, and there 
 it was his custom to rove about moonlight, addressing the trees as if they were 
 an audience. His landlady took such manifestations much to heart. ' What 
 a sad thing it was,' she would say, ' to see the poor young gentleman all day 
 talking to somebody he calls Mr. Speaker, when there's no speaker in the 
 house except himself!' Her mind was clearly made up upon the subject." — 
 Curran and his Contemporaries, p. 86. 
 
 t Contemporary with Mr, Grattan, and a warm friend of his, was the 
 famous Peter Burrowes another orator of Ireland, noted, above all, for his 
 absent-mindedness. " He was," says Charles Phillips, " a most singular per- 
 sonage, uniting to an intellect the most profound, the most childlike simplicity. 
 Though walking on the earth, he seldom saw or heard any thing round him. 
 As he rolled his portly figure through the streets, his hands in his breeches 
 pockets, and his eyes glaring on his oldest friend as if he had never seen him, 
 it was plain to all men that Peter was in the moon. It is recorded of him, 
 that, on circuit, a brother barrister found him at breakfast-time standing by 
 the fire with an egg in his hand and his watch in the saucepan!" 
 
 The following is another example of this nature: " A murder, which caused 
 
 much excitement, had been committed, and Mr. Burrowes had to state the case 
 22
 
 170 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ingly on the 19th of April, 1780, he made his memorable 
 motion for a' Declaration of Irish Right, which denied the 
 authority of the British Parliament to make laws for Ire- 
 land. In taking this bold step, Mr. Grattan was cheered 
 on by the whole body of the Irish nation. The speech 
 which he delivered on that occasion in support of his 
 motion " was the most splendid piece of eloquence that 
 had ever been heard in Ireland." It was always regarded 
 by the orator himself as the greatest triumph of his elo- 
 quence. " As a S2)ecimen of condensed and fervid argu- 
 mentation," says Prof. Goodrich, " it indicates a high order 
 of talent; while in brilliancy of style, pungency of appli- 
 cation, and impassioned vehemence of spirit, it has rarely, 
 if ever, been surpassed. The conclusion, especially, is one 
 of the most magnificent passages in our eloquence." In 
 the boldest tone, Mr. Grattan thus finished his speech: 
 
 " I might, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand 
 my liberty. I do call upon you by the laws of the land, 
 and their violation; by the instructions of eighteen coun- 
 ties; by the arms, inspiration, and providence of the pre- 
 sent moment — tell us the rule by which we shall go; 
 assert the law of Ireland; declare the liberty of the land! 
 I will not be answered by a public lie, in the shape of an 
 amendment; nor, si)eaking for the subjects' freedom, am I 
 to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in 
 this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the 
 air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be to break 
 your chain and contemplate your glory I never will be 
 satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland 
 
 for the prosecution. In one hand — having a heavy cold — he held a box of 
 lozenges, and in the other the small pistol bullet by which the man met his 
 death. Ever and anon, between the pauses in his address, he kept supplying 
 himself with a lozensre, until at last, in the very middle of a sentence, his 
 bosom heaving and his eyes starting, a perfect picture of horror, Peter bel- 
 lowed out, ' Oh — h — h — gentlemen — by the heaven above me — Tve swal- 
 lowed the bullet.''''''
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 171 
 
 has a link of the British chain chinking to his rags. He 
 may be naked, he shall not be in irons. And I do see the 
 time at hand; the spirit is gone forth; the Declaration of 
 Right is planted; and though great men should fall ofi' 
 yet the cause shall live; and though he who utters this 
 should die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the humble 
 organ who conveys it, and the breath of liberty, like the 
 word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but 
 survive him."* 
 
 Mr. Grattan's motion did not pass at that time; but, not- 
 withstanding his temx)orary defeat, he never, for a moment, 
 faltered; — he ever kept his eye fixed on Parliamentary 
 emancipation. Nothing short of this could satisfy the 
 spirit of liberty that glowed within his patriotic bosom. 
 The same spirit pervaded Ireland; the nation rose in 
 arras and demanded their liberty. Mr. Grattan availed 
 himself of this general enthusiasm; and mainly by his 
 efforts carried the Irish Revolution of 1782, thus achieving 
 a victory " which," to use the words of Lord Brougham, 
 " stands at the head of all the triumphs ever won by a 
 patriot for his country in modern times; he had effected 
 an important revolution in the government without vio- 
 lence of any kind, and had broken chains of the most 
 degrading kind by which the injustice and usurpation of 
 three centuries had bowed her down." 
 
 It was on the 16th of April, 1782, while his countrymen 
 were armed, ready for open rebellion, that Mr. Grattan 
 repeated his motion in the Irish House of Commons for a 
 Declaration of Irish Right. His speech on that occasion 
 
 * " The reader -will be interested to observe the rhythmus of the last three 
 paragraphs; so slow and dignified in its movement; so weighty as it falls on 
 the ear; so perfectly adapted to the sentiments expressed in this magnificent 
 passage. The effect will be heightened by comparing it with the rapid and iam- 
 bic movement of the passage containing Mr. Erskine's description of the 
 Indian chief." — Goodrich.
 
 172 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 was universally admired for its " boldness, sublimity, and 
 compass of thought." The unwearied efibrts of the orator 
 were at length crowned with complete success. The griev- 
 ances of Ireland were redressed, a bill reiDcaling the act of 
 George the First was soon after passed; and Mr. Grattan 
 was congratulated by shouting thousands on his success, 
 and hailed throughout Ireland as the deliverer of his 
 country. " Her chains fell off as at the bidding of an 
 enchanter. Her commerce free, and her independence 
 recognized, Ireland took her place among the nations, un- 
 fettered, save by gratitude to him, her child — her more 
 than champion, her deliverer — w^ho, with fire-touched 
 lips and lion heart, achieved her liberty. Captive to him 
 she was, and willingly. If it be a grand and noble specta- 
 cle to see- the sovereign of a state rewarding service, 
 whether rendered on flood or field, or in the more peace- 
 ful labors of the forum or the senate — as assuredly it is — 
 how much more grand, how much more touching is it to 
 see a nation on its knees, offering a heart-homage to the 
 patriotism that had redeemed it!" 
 
 The services of Mr. Grattan were remunerated by a 
 grant of ^£100,000 from the Parliament of Ireland. His 
 noble heart, beating only for his country's happiness and 
 glory, at first led him to decline the reception of this high 
 expression of gratitude; but by the interiDOsition of his 
 friends, he was, subsequently, induced to accept one-half 
 the amount granted. 
 
 Shortly after this victory, Mr. Grattan was led into a 
 personal quarrel with Mr. Flood, a rival member of Par- 
 liament. The animosity had arisen to such a height that 
 Mr. Flood stigmatized his opponent as " a mendicant patriot, 
 subsisting on the juiblic accounts — who, bought by his 
 country for a sum of money, had sold his country for 
 prompt payment." He also sneered at Mr. Grattan 
 " ajiing the style of Lord Chatham." Grattan immediately
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 173 
 
 replied in an overwhelming invective, " depicting the 
 character and political life of his opj)onent, and ingeui- 
 ousl}'" darkening every shade that rested on his reputa- 
 tion." 
 
 " It is not the slander of an evil tongue," said Mr. Grat- 
 tan, " that can defame me. I maintain my reputation in 
 public and in private life. No man, who has not a bad 
 character, can ever say that I deceived. No country can 
 call me a cheat. But I will suppose such a public char- 
 acter. I will suppose such a man to have existence. I 
 will begin with his character in his political cradle, and I 
 will follow him to the last stage of political dissolution. 
 
 " With regard to the liberties of America, which were 
 inseparable from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to 
 have been an enemy decided and unreserved; that he 
 voted against her liberty, and voted, moreover, for an ad- 
 dress to send four thousand Irish troops to cut the throats 
 of the Americans; that he called these butchers ^ armed 
 negotiators,' and stood with a metaphor in his mouth and 
 a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of 
 America, — of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the 
 only refuge of the liberties of mankind. Thus defective 
 in every relationship, whether to constitution, commerce, 
 and toleration, I will suppose this man to have added much 
 private improbity to public crimes; that his probity was 
 like his patriotism, and his honor on a level with his oath. 
 He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt 
 him, and say: 
 
 " Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your 
 talents have been as great as your life has been reprehen- 
 sible. You began your parliamentary career with an acri- 
 mony and personality which could have been justified only 
 by a supposition of virtue; after a rank and clamorous 
 opposition, you became, on a sudden, silent ; you were 
 silent for seven years; you were silent on the greatest
 
 ■V. 
 
 174 ORATORS Ai\D STATESMEN. 
 
 questions, and you were silent for money! You supported 
 the un]3aralleled profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's 
 scandalous ministry. You, Sir, who manufacture stage 
 thunder against Mr. Eden for his anti-American princi- 
 ples,— you. Sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to the 
 immortal Hampden; — you. Sir, approved of the tyranny 
 j exercised against America, — and you, Sir, voted four 
 I thousand Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans 
 / fighting for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fight- 
 
 ing for the great principle, liberty! But you found, at 
 
 last, that the Court had bought, but would not trust you. 
 Mortified at the discovery, you try the sorry game of a 
 trimmer in your progress to the acts of an incendiary; 
 and observing, with regard to Prince and People, the 
 most impartial treachery and desertion, you justify the 
 suspicion of your Sovereign by betraying the Government, 
 as you had sold the People. Such has been your conduct, 
 and at such conduct every order of your fellow-subjects 
 have a right to exclaim! The merchant may say to you, 
 the constitutionalist may say to you, the American may 
 say to you, — and I, I now say, and say to your beard. Sir, — 
 you are not an Jionest man!'' 
 
 The invectives of Mr. Grattan, like those of Lord Chat- 
 ham, were terrible. One of the most scathing pieces of 
 this kind which he ever pronounced, was that against Mr. 
 Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer, delivered during 
 the debate on the union of Ireland with England, Febru- 
 ary 14, 1800. It led to a duel between Grattan and Corry, 
 in which the latter was wounded in the arm. The oc- 
 casion of Mr. Grattan's satirical speech was a remark 
 from Mr. Corry that his opponent instead of having a 
 voice in the councils of his country, should have been 
 standing as a culprit at her Bar. As this is one of the 
 most powerful invectives to be found in the English lan- 
 guage we quote it at length:
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 175 
 
 " Has the gentleman done? Has lie completely done? 
 He was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of 
 his speech. There was scarce a word that he uttered that 
 was not a violation of the privileges of the House; but I 
 did not call him to order. Why? Because the limited 
 talents of some men render it impossible for them to be 
 severe without being unparliamentary; but before I sit 
 down I shall show him how to be severe and parliamen- 
 tary at the same time. On any other occasion I should 
 think myself justifiable in treating with silent contempt 
 any thing which might fall from that honorable member; 
 but there are times when the insignificance of the accuser 
 is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. I know the 
 difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under when he 
 attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of our 
 characters, public and private, there is nothing he could 
 say which would injure me. The public would not believe 
 the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge 
 were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the 
 manner I sliall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply 
 to it when not made by an honest man. 
 
 " The right honoiable gentleman lias called me ' an un- 
 impeached traitor.' I usk, why not " traitor,' unqualified 
 by any epithet? I will tell him; it was because he dare 
 not. It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to 
 strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not 
 call him a villain, because it would be unparliamentary, 
 and he is a privy counselor, I will not call him a fool, 
 because he happens to be Chancellor of the Exchequer; 
 but I say he is one who has abused the privilege of Parlia- 
 ment and the freedom of debate, to the uttering language 
 which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only 
 with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low 
 his character, how contemptible his speech; whether a 
 privy counselor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow.
 
 17G ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
 The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 
 honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of 
 Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he does, I 
 can prove to the committee there was a physical impossi- 
 bility of that report being true; but I scorn to answer 
 any man for my conduct, whether he be a political cox- 
 comb, or whether he brought himself into power by a false 
 glare of courage or not. 
 
 " I have returned not, as the right honorable member has 
 said, to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge 
 an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that con- 
 ferred a great reward for past services, which, I am proud 
 to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned 
 to protect that Constitution of which I was the parent and 
 the founder, from the assassination of such men as the 
 honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. They 
 are corrupt — they are seditious — and they, at this very 
 moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have 
 returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given 
 to the public under the appellation of a report of the 
 committee of the Lords. Here I stand, ready for impeach- 
 ment or trial; I dare accusation. Ldefy the honorable 
 gentleman; I defy the government; I defy the whole pha- 
 lanx. Let them come forth. I tell the ministers I will 
 neither give them quarter nor take it. I am here to lay 
 the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of 
 this House, in defense of the liberties of my country. 
 
 " The right honorable gentleman has said that this was 
 not my place — that, instead of having a voice in the 
 councils of my country, I should now stand a culprit at 
 her bar — at the bar of a court of criminal judicature, to 
 answer for my treasons. The .Irish people have not so 
 read my history; but let that pass; if I am what he said I 
 am, the people are not therefore to forfeit their Constitu-
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 177 
 
 tion. In point of argument, therefore, the attack is bad — 
 in point of taste or feeling, if he had either, it is worse — 
 in point of fact, it is false, utterly and absolutely false — as 
 rancorous a falsehood as the most malignant motives 
 could suggest to the prompt sympathy of a shameless and 
 a venal defense. The right honorable gentleman has sug- 
 gested examples which I should have shunned, and exam- 
 ples which I should have f: owed. I shall never follow 
 his, and I have ever avoided it. I shall never be ambitious 
 to purchase public scorn by private infamy — the lighter 
 characters of the model have as little chance of weaning 
 me from the habits of a life spent, if not exhausted, in 
 the cause of my native land. Am I to renounce those 
 habits now forever, and at the beck of whom? I should 
 rather say of what — half a minister — half a monkey — a 
 'prentice politician, and a master coxcomb. He has told 
 you that what he said of me here, he would say anywhere. 
 I believe he would say thus of me in any place where he 
 thought himself safe in saying it. Nothing can limit his 
 calumnies but his fears — in Parliament he has calumni- 
 ated me to-night, in the King's courts he would calumniate 
 me to-morrow; but had he said or dared to insinuate one- 
 half as much elsewhere, the indignant spirit of an honest 
 man would have answered the vile and venal slanderer 
 with — a blow." 
 
 Mr Grattan was always vehemently opposed to the 
 union of Ireland with England. To prevent it in 1800, 
 when the question was strongly discussed, he delivered a 
 speech of unrivaled power in argumentation and invective, 
 from which the following eloquent passage is taken: 
 
 " The ministers of the Crown will, or may, perhaps, at 
 
 length find that it is not so easy, by abilities, however 
 
 great, and by power and corruption, however irresistible, 
 
 to put down forever an ancient and respectable Nation. 
 
 Liberty may repair her golden beams, and with redoubled 
 23
 
 1 7 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 heat animate the country. The cry of loyalty will not 
 long continue against the principles of liberty. Loyalty 
 is a noble, a judicious, and a capacious principle; but in 
 these countries, loyalty, distinct from liberty, is corruption, 
 not loyalty. 
 
 " The cry of disaffection will not, in the end, avail 
 against the principles of liberty. Yet I do not give up the 
 country. I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead. 
 Though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still 
 there is on her lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow 
 of beauty: 
 
 ' Thou art not conquered ; beauty's ensign yet 
 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
 And Death's pale flag is not advanced there.' 
 
 " While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not 
 leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and 
 carry the light bark of his faith with every new breath of 
 wind; I will remain anchored here, with fidelity to the 
 fortunes of my country, faithful to her freedom, faithful 
 to her fall!" 
 
 His countrymen were so much divided that the efforts 
 of Mr. Grattan were unavailing. In vain did he exert his 
 oratorical powers on this subject. 
 
 In 1805, Mr. Grattan became a member of the British 
 Parliament, where he stood proudly eminent among the 
 leading orators and statesmen of the age. " His debut 
 in the Imperial Parliament," says Charles Phillips, " was 
 a bold and hazardous experiment. He had told Flood, 
 and somewhat propheticallyj ' that an oak of the forest 
 was too old to be transplanted at fifty;' and yet here he 
 was himself! whether he would take root was the ques- 
 tion; and for some moments very questionable it was 
 When he rose, every voice in that crowded House was 
 hushed — the great rivals, Pitt and Fox, riveted their eyes 
 on him — he strode forth and gesticulated — the hush be-
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 179 
 
 came ominous — not a cheer was heard — men looked in 
 one another's faces, and then at the phenomenon before 
 them, as if doubting his identity; at last, and on a sud- 
 den, the indication of the master-spirit came. Pitt was 
 the first generously to recognize it; he smote his thigh 
 hastily with his hand — it was an impulse when he was 
 pleased — his followers saw it, and knew it, and with a 
 universal burst they hailed the advent and the triumph of 
 the stranger." 
 
 Soon after he had become a member of the Imperial 
 Legislature, he delivered the speech on the Catholic ques- 
 tion, which contains that highly figurative expression — 
 one of the finest passages of such eloquence that can be 
 found in our language. Referring to the rise and fall of 
 the parliamentary independence of his country, he said,— 
 "The Parliament of Ireland! of that assembly I have a 
 parental recollection. I sat by her cradle — I followed her 
 hearse!''* 
 
 Although a Protestant, Mr. Grattan was a bold and 
 zealous advocate of the claims of the Catholics, and to 
 their entire emanciiDation, his parliamentary exertions were 
 principally confined during his political career. 
 
 The earthly course of this great orator and patriot was 
 terminated at London, on the 14th of May, 1820. He was 
 buried in Westminster Abbey, with the highest honors of 
 a grateful nation. 
 
 Charles Phillips thus describes the personal appearance 
 of Mr. Grattan: " He was short in stature, and unprepos- 
 sessing in appearance. His arms were disproportionably 
 long. Hiswalk was a stride. With a person swaying like 
 
 * Rufus Choate might have had this striking passage in his mind when he 
 uttered the following touching sentiment. Speaking of the fidelity of his 
 native state to the Constitution, he says, '• Massachusetts will ever be true to 
 the Constitution. She sat among the most affectionate at its cradle,- she will 
 foilmv^ the saddest of the procession of sorrow, the hearse.''^
 
 180 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 a pendulum, and an abstracted air, he seemed always in 
 thought, and each thought provoked an attendant gesticu- 
 lation. Such was the outward and visible form of one 
 whom the passenger would stop to stare at as a droll, and 
 the philosopher to contemplate as a study. How strange 
 it seems that a mind so replete with grace and symmetry, 
 and power and splendor, should have been allotted such a 
 dwelling for its residence. Yet so it was; and so also was 
 it one of his highest attributes, that his genius, by its 
 ' excessive light,' blinded the hearer to his physical imper- 
 fections. It was the victory of mind over matter. The 
 man was forgotten in the orator." 
 
 In closing the historical sketch of this great man we 
 would present the outlines of his character as an orator. 
 " The style of his speaking," says his son, " was strikingly 
 remarkable, — bold, figurative, and impassioned; — always 
 adaj^ted to the time and circumstance, and peculiarly well 
 suited to the taste and temper of the audience that he had 
 to address. In the latter part of his career, his arguments 
 were more closely arranged; there was less ornament, but 
 more fact and reasoning; less to dazzle the sight, and more 
 to convince the understanding." 
 
 It will be remembered that Mr. Grattan endeavored to 
 form his manner of speaking after the style of Lord Chat- 
 ham. In many respects his eloquence resembled that of 
 the great English statesman. Like him, he excelled in the 
 highest characteristics of oratory — in vehemence of 
 action — condensation of style — rapidity of thought — 
 closeness of argumentation — striking figures — grand 
 metaphors — beautiful rhythmus — luminous statements — 
 vivid descriptions — touching pathos — lofty declama- 
 tion — bitter sarcasm, and tierce invective. His language, 
 like that of Chatham, is remarkable for its terseness, ex- 
 pressiveness, and energy. His periods are made up of 
 short clauses which flash upon the mind with uncommon
 
 HENRY GRATTAN 181 
 
 vividness. Passing over the minutiae of his discourse, he 
 seized the principal points in debate and presented them 
 in the strongest light. The intensity of feeling by which 
 his mental operations were governed gave rise to this 
 characteristic of eloquence, which distinguishes the most 
 powerful orators. Aiming directly at his object, he gen- 
 erally struck the decisive blow in a few words. 
 
 " Deep emotion strikes directly at its object. It struggles 
 to get free from all secondary ideas — all mere accesso- 
 ries. Hence the simi)licity, and even bareness of thought, 
 which we usually find in the great passages of Chatham 
 and Demosthenes. The whole turn-s often on a single 
 phrase, a word, an allusion. They put forward a few great 
 objects, sharply defined, and standing boldly out in the 
 glowing atmosphere of emotion. They pour their burn- 
 ing thoughts instantaneously upon the mind, as a jjerson 
 might catch the rays of the sun in a concave mirror, and 
 turn them on their object with a sudden and consuming 
 power." 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Grattan may be compared to a 
 deep and rapid stream, now sweeping in smoothness and 
 beauty through " verdant vales and flowery meads," and 
 now dashing abruptly over some lofty precipice, delighting 
 and astonishing the beholder by its majestic fall and tre- 
 mendous roar. 
 
 " Among the orators, as among the statesmen ©f his 
 age, Mr. Grattan occupies a place in the foremost rank; 
 and it was the age of the Pitts, the Foxes, and the Sheri- 
 dans. His eloquence was of a very high order, all but of 
 the very highest, and it was eminently original. In the 
 constant stream of a diction replete with epigram and 
 point — a stream on which floated gracefully, because 
 naturally, flowers of various hues, — was poured forth the 
 closest reasoning, the most luminous statement, the most 
 persuasive display of all the motives that could influence,
 
 182 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and of all the details that could enlighten his audience 
 Often a different strain was heard, and it was declamatory 
 and vehement — or pity was to be moved, and its pathos 
 was as touching as it was simple — or above all, an ad- 
 versary sunk in baseness, or covered with crimes, was to 
 be punished or to be destroyed, and a storm of the most 
 terrible invective raged, with all the blights of sarcasm, 
 and the thunders of abuse."* 
 
 In a splendid critique on the genius of Grattan, Prof. 
 Goodrich observes, " The speeches of Mr. Grattan afford 
 unequivocal proof, not only of a powerful intellect, but 
 of high and original genius. There was nothing common- 
 place in his thoughts, his images, or his sentiments. 
 Every thing came fresh from his mind, with the vividness 
 of a new creation. His most striking characteristic was, 
 condensation and rapidity of thought. ' Semper instans 
 sibi,' pressing continually upon himself, he never dwelt 
 upon an idea, however important; he rarely presented it 
 under more than one aspect; he hardly ever stopped to fill 
 out the intermediate steps of his argument. His forte was 
 reasoning, but it was 'logic on fire;' and he seemed ever 
 to delight in flashing his ideas on the mind with a sudden, 
 startling abruptness. Hence, a distinguished writer has 
 spoken of his eloquence as a ' combination of cloud, whirl- 
 wind^ and flame ' — a striking representation of the occa- 
 sional obscurity and the rapid force and brilliancy of his 
 style. But his incessant effort to be strong made him 
 sometimes unnatural. He seems to be continually strain- 
 ing after effect. He wanted that calmness j^nd self-possess- 
 ion which mark the highest order of minds, and show 
 their consciousness of great strength. When he had mas- 
 tered his subject, his subject mastered him. His great 
 efforts have too much the air of harangues. They sound 
 
 * Brougham's Historical Sketches of Statesmen, vol. i, p. 235.
 
 HENRY GRATTAN. 183 
 
 more like the battle speeches of Tacitus than the orations 
 of Demosthenes. 
 
 " His style was elaborated with great care. It abounds in 
 metaphors, which are always striking, and often grand. 
 It is full of antithesis and epigrammatic turns, which give 
 it uncommon point and brilliancy, but have too often an 
 appearance of labor and affectation. His language is 
 select. His periods are easy and fluent — made up of 
 short clauses, with but few or brief qualifications, all 
 .uniting in the expression of some one leading thought. 
 His rhythmus is often uncommonly fine. Tn the perora- 
 tion of his great speech of April 19th. 1780, we have one 
 of the best specimens in our language of that admirable 
 adaptation of the sound to the sense which distinguished 
 the ancient orators. 
 
 " Though Mr. Grattan is not a safe model in every respect, 
 there are certain purposes for which his speeches may be 
 studied with great advantage. Nothing can be better 
 suited to break up a dull monotony of style — to give 
 raciness and point — to teach a young speaker the value 
 of that terse and expressive language which is to the ora- 
 tor, especially, the finest instrument of thought." 
 
 We have the delivery of Mr. Grattan vividly described 
 by Charles Phillips: "The chief difficulty in this great 
 speaker's way was the first five minutes. During his 
 exordium laughter was imminent. He bent his body 
 almost to the ground, swung his arms over his head, 
 up and down and around him, and added to the gro- 
 tesqueness of l^s manner a hesitating tone and drawling 
 emphasis. Still there was an earnestness about him 
 that at first besought, and, as he warmed, enforced, 
 nay, commanded attention. The elevation of his mind, 
 the grandeur of his diction, the majesty of his declama- 
 tion, the splendor of his imagery, and the soundness of 
 his logic, displayed in turn the ascendancy of a genius
 
 184 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 whose sway was irresistible. He was fine and judicious 
 in his panegyric J but his forte — that which seemed to 
 conjure up and concentrate all his faculties — was the 
 overwhelming, withering severity of his invective. It 
 was like the torrent-lava; brilliant, inevitable, fatal. It 
 required such qualifications to overcome the peculiarity 
 of his aj^pearance, and the disadvantages of his manner. 
 Truly indeed might it be said of him, as he said of Chat- 
 ham, ' he was very great and very odd.'' For a time the 
 eye dissented from the verdict of the mind; but at last 
 his genius carried all before it, and, as in the oracle of 
 old, the contortions vanished as the inspiration became 
 manifest." 
 
 The character of Mr. Grattan was irreproachable. It 
 was remarked by Sir James Mackintosh, that he was as 
 eminent in his observance of all the duties of private life, 
 as he was heroic in the discharge of his public ones. He 
 may be said to have lived only for his country, and died 
 in advocating her cause. Wilberforce declared that he 
 never knew a man whose patriotism and love for his 
 country seemed so completely to extinguish all private 
 interests, and to induce him to look invariably and exclu- 
 sively to the public good. 
 
 Of Grattan it may then truly be said: "No government 
 ever dismayed him; the world could not bribe him; he 
 thought only of Ireland; lived for ho other object; dedi- 
 cated to her his beautiful fancy, his manly courage, and 
 all the splendor of his astonishing eloquence."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 
 
 Charles James Fox was born on the 24ih of January, 
 1749. He was the second son of Lord Holland, the great 
 antagonist of Lord Chatham. Lord Holland, who was a 
 man of dissolute habits, resolved to lead his son in the 
 same ruinous pathway, and yet to make him an orator 
 and a statesman. Young Charles, though much indulged 
 by his father, gave great promise of future eminence in 
 literature and oratory. He early manifested those won- 
 derful powers of memory, and that frankness, intrepidity, 
 and brilliant wit for which he was ever afterwards dis- 
 tinguished. At a private school, where he was sent from 
 childhood, he made rapid progress in the acquisition of 
 classical literature. " Here he laid the foundation of that 
 intimate acquaintance with the classics, for which he was 
 distinguished beyond most men of his age. He can hardly 
 be said to have studied Latin or Greek after he was six- 
 teen years old. So thoroughly was he grounded in these 
 languages from boyhood, that he read them throughout 
 life as much as he read English, and could turn to the 
 great authors of antiquity at any moment, not as a mental 
 effort, but for the recreation and delight he found in their 
 pages. 
 
 This was especially true of the Greek writers, which 
 were then less studied in England than at present. He 
 took up Demosthenes as he did the speeches of Lord 
 
 Chatham, and dwelt with the same zest on the Greek tra- 
 24
 
 186 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 gedians as on the plays of Shakespeare. As an orator, he 
 was much indebted to his study of the Greek writers for 
 the simplicity of his taste, his severe abstinence from 
 every thing like mere ornament, the terseness of his style, 
 the point and stringency of his reasonings, and the all- 
 pervading cast of intellect which distinguishes his speeches, 
 even in his most vehement bursts of impassioned feeling." 
 
 After remaining four years at Eaton, where he maintained 
 the highest rank as a scholar, he was removed to Oxford. 
 Here he devoted the most of his time to severe mental 
 application. He, however, pursued a course of study 
 entirely suited to his own taste. He had but little relish 
 for mathematical or political science. " His studies were 
 confined almost entirely to the classics and history; he 
 paid but little attention to the mathematics, a neglect which 
 he afterwards lamented as injurious to his mental training; 
 and perhaps for this reason he never felt the slightest 
 interest, at this or any other subsequent period, in those 
 abstract inquiries which are designed to settle the founda- 
 tions of morals and political science. His tastes were too 
 exclusively literary. With those habits of self-indulgence 
 so unhappily created in childhood, he rarely did any thing 
 but what he liked — he read poetry, eloquence, history, 
 and elegant literature, because he loved them, and read 
 but little else." Throughout life the classics were his 
 constant companions. He corresponded with several of 
 the most eminent literary men of the age, on the nicest 
 questions of Greek and Latin criticism. 
 
 Leaving the University at the age of seventeen, Mr 
 Fox traveled two years on the Continent, where he made 
 great proficiency in Italian and French literature. 
 
 In November, 1768, he took his seat in Parliament as a 
 warm supporter of the Duke of Grafton's ministry, and 
 delivered his maiden speech on the 15th of A])ril, 1769. 
 When Lord North's administration commenced in 1770,
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 1 87 
 
 Mr. Fox was appointed a junior Lord of the Admiralty. 
 In the House, he nou b.'ga i tj display those extraordinary 
 powers of eloquence for which he was distinguished beyond 
 almost every other statesman of his time. We shall soon 
 have occasion to speak of the nature of his oratory. 
 
 There is one dark shade resting on the character of 
 Fox — his unhappy passion for gambling. So entirely was 
 he under the intluencc of this passion, that, to a friend 
 who asked him what was the greatest happiness in life, he 
 replied, "To play and win;" — being asked what was the 
 next greatest, he replied, " To play and lose." It is said 
 that, in the early part of his political career, he often lost 
 from five to ten thousand pounds at a single sitting. 
 
 It is gratifying, however, to find Mr. Fox,- subsequently 
 forming more correct habits, — changing his political prin- 
 ciples, and becoming an ardent champion in the cause of 
 liberty throughout the world. When American taxation 
 became the absorbing tojDic of the day, he entered at once 
 with his whole soul into the cause of the Colonies, and 
 was the first man in the House, who came forward and 
 took the bold ground of denying the ?ight of Parliament 
 to tax the Americans without their consent. He became 
 associated with Burke, Dunning, Barre, and the other 
 leaders of that noble band in Parliament, whose sole aim 
 was to overturn the administration of Lord North, and to 
 advance the cause of freedom in our oppressed country. 
 Mr. Fox was among those lovers of liberty — of popular 
 governments — of free institutions, — who rejoiced at the 
 resistance and triumphs of America over British arms. In 
 a speech in 1780, showing the results of the American 
 war, he expressed such feelings in the following beautiful, 
 glowing language: 
 
 " We are charged with expressing joy at the triumphs of 
 America. True it is that, in a former session, I proclaimed 
 it as my sincere opinion, that if the Ministry had sue-
 
 188 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ceeded in their first scheme on the liberties of America, 
 the liberties of this country would have been at an end. 
 Thinking this, as I did, in the sincerity of an honest heart, 
 I rejoiced at the resistance which the Ministry had met to 
 their attempt. That great and glorious statesman, the 
 late Earl of Chatham, feeling for the liberties of his na- 
 tive country, thanked God that America had resisted. 
 But, it seems, ' all the calamities of the country are to be 
 ascribed to the wishes, and the joy, and the speeches, of 
 Opposition,' 0, miserable and unfortunate ministry! 0, 
 blind and incapable men! whose measures are framed with 
 so little foresight, and executed with so little firmness, 
 that they not only crumble to pieces, but bring on the 
 ruin of their country, merely because one rash, weak, or 
 wicked man, in the House of Commons, makes a speech 
 against them! 
 
 " But who is he who arraigns gentlemen on this side of 
 the House with causing, by their inflammatory speeches, 
 the misfortunes of their country? The accusation comes 
 from one whose inflammatory harangues have led the 
 Nation, step by step, from violence to violence, in that in- 
 human, unfeeling system of blood and massacre, which 
 every honest man must detest, which every good man must 
 abhor, and every wise man condemn! And this man im- 
 putes the guilt of such measures to those who had all 
 along foretold the consequences; who had prayed, en- 
 treated and su])plicated, not only for America, but for the 
 credit of the Nation and its eventful welfare, to arrest the 
 hand of Power, meditating slaughter, and directed by 
 injustice! 
 
 " What was the consequence of the sanguinary measures 
 recommended in those bloody, inflammatory speeches? 
 Though Boston was to be starved, though Hancock and 
 Adams were proscribed, yet at the feet of these very men 
 the Parliament of Great Britain was obliged to kneel,
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 189 
 
 flatter, and cringe; and, as it had the cruelty at one time 
 to denounce vengeance against these men, so it had the 
 meanness afterwards to implore their forgiveness. Shall 
 he who called the Americans ' Hancock and his crew,' — 
 shall he presume to reprehend any set of men for inflam- 
 matory speeches'? It is this accursed American war that 
 has led us, step by step, into all our present misfortunes 
 and national disgraces. What was the cause of our 
 wasting forty millions of money, and sixty thousand lives'? 
 The American war! What was it that produced the 
 French rescript and a French war? The American war! 
 What was it that produced the Spanish manifesto and 
 Spanish war? The American war! What was it that 
 armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the argu- 
 ments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets? 
 The American war! For what are we about to incur an 
 additional debt of twelve or fourteen millions? This 
 accursed, cruel, diabolical American war!" 
 
 At a later period, when the French Revolution was con- 
 vulsing the world, and the Americans were solicited by the 
 Revolutionists to espouse their cause, Mr. Fox, in high eulo- 
 gistic terms, spoke of the foreign policy of Washington, 
 who was then President of the United States: 
 
 " How infinitely superior," said he, " must appear the 
 spirit and principles of General Washington, in his late 
 address to Congress, compared with the policy of modern 
 European courts! Illustrious man! — deriving honor less 
 from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity 
 of his mind! Grateful to France for the assistance 
 received from her, in that great contest wiiich secured the 
 independence of America, he yet did not choose to give 
 up the system of neutrality in her favor. Having once 
 laid down the line of conduct most proper to be pursued, 
 not all the insults and provocations of the French minis- 
 ter. Genet, could at all put him out of his way, or bend
 
 190 ORATORS AND STATESMEN . 
 
 him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create astonish- 
 ment, that, placed in circumstances so critical and filling 
 a station so conspicuous, the character of Washington 
 should never once have been called in question; — that he 
 should, in no one instance, have been accused either of 
 improper insolence, or of mean submission, in his transac- 
 tions with foreign Nations. It has been reserved for him 
 to run the race of glory without experiencing the smallest 
 interrui^tion to the brilliancy of his career. The breath 
 of censure has not dared to impeach the purity of his 
 conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise its maglignant glance 
 to the elevation of his virtues. Such has been the trans- 
 cendant merit and the unparalleled fate of this illustrious 
 man! 
 
 " How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he con- 
 sider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct 
 or madness of an individual, by involving a whole con- 
 tinent in the horrors of war? No; he contented himself 
 with procuring satistaction for the insult, by causing 
 Genet to be recalled; and thus, at once, consulted his own 
 dignity and the interests of his country. Happy Ameri- 
 cans! while the whirlwind flies over one quarter of the 
 globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, jou remain 
 protected from its baneful efl'ects by your own virtues, 
 and the wisdom of your Government. Separated from 
 Europe by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of 
 those prejudices and passions which convert the boasted 
 seats of civilization into scenes of horror and bloodshed. 
 You profit by the folly and madness of the contending 
 Nations, and afibrd, in your more congenial clime, an asy- 
 lum to those blessings and virtues which they wantonly 
 contemn or wickedly exclude from their bosom! Culti- 
 vating the arts of peace under the influence of freedom, 
 you advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and distinction; 
 and if, by any accident, you should be compelled to take
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 191 
 
 part in the present unhappy contest, — if you should find 
 it necessary to avenge insult, or repel injury, — the world 
 will bear witness to the equity of your sentiments, and the 
 moderation of your views; and the success of your arms 
 will, no doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your 
 cause!" 
 
 We have already remarked that the political principles 
 of Mr. Fox underwent a thorough change — that he im- 
 bibed the genuine spirit of liberty; hence, he became one 
 of the most popular statesmen that ever lived. His great 
 object was, as he expressively asserted, " to widen the 
 basis of freedom — to infuse and circulate the spirit of 
 liberty." This was the pure, inexhaustible fountain at 
 which he deeply drank, and from which his political prin- 
 ciples ever afterwards emanated. " As an orator, espe- 
 cially," to use the language of an eminent critic, " he 
 drew from this source the most inspiring strains of his 
 eloquence. No English speaker, not even Lord Chatham 
 himself, dwelt so often on this theme; no one had his 
 generous sensibilities more completely roused; no one felt 
 more strongly the need of a growing infusion of this spirit 
 into the English government, as the great means of its 
 strength and renovation." 
 
 It is to those free principles which actuated the mind 
 of Fox that we are indebted for one of the finest strokes 
 of his genius — that admirable passage in his great speech 
 on Parliamentary Reform, delivered in 1797, in which he 
 speaks of the vigor of democratic governments; — of the 
 energy imparted to the Republics of Antiquity by the glo- 
 rious SjDirit of Liberty: 
 
 " When we turn to the ancient democracies of Greece, 
 when we see them in all the splendor of arts and of arms, 
 when we see to what an elevation they carried the powers 
 of man, it can not be denied that, however, vicious on 
 the score of ingratitude or injustice, they were, at least,
 
 192 ORATORS AND STATESMEX. 
 
 the pregnant source of national strength, and that in 
 particular they brought forth this strength in a peculiar 
 manner in the moment of difficulty and distress. When 
 we look at the democracies of the ancient world, we are 
 compelled to acknowledge their oppression of their de- 
 pendencies, their horrible acts of injustice and of ingrati- 
 tude to their own citizens; but they comj^el us also to 
 admiration by their vigor, their constancy, their spirit, 
 and their exertions in every great emergency in which 
 they were called upon to act. We are comj^elled to own 
 that this gives a power of which no other form of govern- 
 ment is capable. Why? Because it incorporates every 
 man with the state, because it arouses every thing that 
 belongs to the soul as well as to the body of man; because 
 it makes every individual feel that he is fighting for him- 
 self, and not for another; that it is his own caus«, his own 
 safety, his own concern, his own dignity on the face of 
 the earth, and his own interest on that identical soil which 
 he has to maintain; and accordingly we find that whatever 
 may be objected to them on account of the turbnlency of 
 the passions which they engendered, their short duration, 
 and their disgusting vices, they have exacted from the 
 common suffrage of mankind the palm of strength and 
 vigor. Who that reads the Persian war — what boy, 
 whose heart is warmed by the grand, sublime actions which 
 the democratic spirit produced, does not find in this princi- 
 ple the key to all the wonders which were achieved at 
 Thermopylae and elsewhere, and of which the recent and 
 marvelous acts of the French people are pregnant exam- 
 ples? He sees that the principle of liberty only could 
 create the sublime and irresistible emotion; and it is in 
 vain to deny, from the striking illustration that our own 
 times have given, that the principle is eternal, and that 
 it belongs to the heart of man," 
 
 In another passage of uncommon beauty, showing that
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 193 
 
 Liberty is strength, lie sets fortli the same principle in the 
 strongest light — in the boldest terms. Speaking on the 
 Stats of Ireland, in 1797, he sajs : — "Llbe/'yis order. 
 Liberty is strength. Look round the world, and admire, 
 as you m st, the instructive spectacle. You will see that 
 liberty not only is power and order, but that it is power 
 and order predominant and invincible, — that it derides 
 all other sources of strength. And shall the preposterous 
 imagination be fostered, that men bred in liberty — the 
 first of human kind who asserted the glorious distinction 
 of forming for themselves their social compact — can be 
 condemned to silence upon their rights? Is it to be con- 
 ceived that men, who have enjoyed, for such a length of 
 days, the light and happiness of freedom, can be restrained, 
 and shut up again in the gloom of ignorance and degra- 
 dation? As well. Sir, might you try, by a miserable dam, 
 to shut up the flowing of a rapid river! The rolling and 
 impetuous tide would burst through every impediment 
 that man might throw in its way; and the only conse- 
 quence of the impotent attempt would be, that, having 
 collected new force by its temporary suspension, enforcing 
 itself through new channels, it would spread devastation 
 and ruin on every side. The progress of liberty is like the 
 progress of the stream. Kept within its bounds, it is sure 
 to fertilize the country through which it runs; but no 
 power can arrest it in its passage; and short-sighted, as 
 well as wicked, must be the heart of the projector that 
 would strive to divert its course." 
 
 At the end of Lord North's administration, Mr. Fox 
 was the acknowledged leader of the Whig party in the 
 House. The most brilliant period in his public life was 
 during the American war, towards the end of the North 
 administration, when liberty, the noblest of political 
 themes, offered a wide field for a display of the highest 
 25
 
 194 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 powers of oratory. This period was also, as has been 
 remarked, the glory of Mr. Burke's career. 
 
 The eloquent voices of Fox and Burke were then united 
 in one glorious cause — the upholding of that sacred 
 fabric of liberty which had been reared by a little band 
 of freemen, on American soil. 
 
 On the downfall of Lord North's administration, Mr. 
 Fox was in the zenith of his fame. He had risen, as Mr. 
 Burke says, by slow degrees to be the most brilliant and 
 accomplished debater the world ever saw 
 
 When Lord Rockingham succeeded Lord North as Prime 
 Minister, in 1782, Mr. Fox was appointed Secretary of 
 State. At the end of thirteen weeks the Rockingham 
 ministry was terminated by the death of his Lordship, 
 when. Lord Shelburne succeeding, and bringing in Wil- 
 liam Pitt as Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Fox, who 
 considered himself ill-treated, instantly resigned. From 
 this time. Fox and Pitt, who had formerly been of one 
 mind on the great questions of the American war and 
 parliamentary reform became antagonists through life, 
 in the greatest intellectual combat the world had wit- 
 nessed since the day when Demosthenes and iEschines 
 contested for the palm of eloquence. Each displayed 
 such astonishing powers of oratory that it is difficult to 
 settle the question of their comparative greatness. 
 
 The Shelburne administration lasted scarcely eight 
 months. It was overthrown by the famous coalition be- 
 tween Mr. Fox and Lord North. 
 
 The great measure of the Coalition ministry was the 
 celebrated East India Bill of Mr. Fox, providing for the 
 removal of abuses in the government of that country. 
 Mr. Pitt who now led the Opposition, attacjied this Bill 
 with consummate eloquence and ability. But in defend- 
 ing it, Fox and Burke shook the walls of the Senate
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 1 95 
 
 House with the loftiest declamation. At the end of a 
 long and vehement debate, in which Powis, Diindas and 
 Pitt took strong ground against the bill, Mr. Fox rose to 
 speak, after two o'clock in the morning, December 1, 1783, 
 and commanded the attention of the House for nearly 
 three hours, pouring forth his feelings in one impetuous 
 torrent of fervid eloquence. This splendid speech of Fox 
 on his East India Bill was one of his greatest efforts. As 
 a specimen of " bold, indignant retort upon his antagonists, 
 it has a high order of merit." In his preliminary remarks 
 on the connection of the Bill with the cause of liberty, he 
 says with much beauty and force : " The honorable gen- 
 tleman " (Mr. Powis) " charges me with abandoning that 
 cause, which, he sa}s in terms of flattery, I had once so 
 successfully asserted. I tell hiarin reply, that if he were 
 to se a'ch the hi.siory of my life, he would hnd that the 
 period of it in which I struggled most for the real, sub- 
 stantial cause of liberty is this very moment that I am 
 addressing you. Freedom, according to my conception of 
 it, consists in the safe and sacred possession of a man's 
 property, governed by laws defined and certain; with 
 many personal privileges, natural, civil, and religious, 
 which he can not surrender without ruin to himself, and 
 of which to be deprived by any other power is despotism. 
 This bill, instead of subverting, is destined to stabilitate 
 these principles; instead of narrowing the basis of free- 
 dom, it tends to enlarge it; instead of suppressing, its 
 object is to infuse and circulate the spirit of liberty. 
 
 " What is the most odious species of tyranny? Precisely 
 that which this bill is meant to annihilate. That a hand- 
 ful of men, free themselves, should exercise the most base 
 and abominable despotism over millions of their fellow- 
 creatures ; that innocence should be the victim of oppres- 
 sion; that industry should toil for rapine; that the harm- 
 less laborer should sweat, not for his own benefit, but for
 
 196 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the luxury and rapacity of tyrannic depredation; in a 
 word, that thirty millions of men, gifted by Providence 
 with the ordinary endowments of humanity, should groan 
 under a system of despotism, unmatched in all the histo- 
 ries of the world?* What is the end of all governmenf? 
 Certainly the happiness of the governed. Others may hold 
 different opinions; but this is mine, and I proclaim it. 
 What, then, are we to think of a government, whose good 
 fortune is supposed to spring from the calamities of its 
 subjects, whose aggrandizement grows out of the miseries 
 of mankind? This is the kind of government exercised 
 under the East India Company upon the natives of Hin- 
 dostan; and the subversion of that infamous government 
 is the main object of the bill in question." - 
 
 He concluded his speech in the boldest language: "I 
 shall now, sir, conclude my speech with a few words upon 
 the opinion of the right honorable gentleman [Mr. Pitt] . 
 He says ' he will stake his character upon the danger of 
 this bill.' I meet him in his own phrase, and oppose him, 
 character to character. I risk my all upon the excellence 
 of this bill. I risk upon it whatever is most dear to me, 
 whatever men most value, the character of integrity, of 
 talents, of honor, of present reputation and future fame. 
 These, and whatever else is precious to me, I stake upon 
 the constitutional safety, the enlarged policy, the equity, 
 and the wisdom of this measure; and have no fear in 
 saying (whatever may be the fate of its authors) that this 
 bill will produce to this country every blessing of com- 
 merce and revenue ; and that by extending a generous and 
 humane sovernment over those millions whom the inscru- 
 
 &^ 
 
 * We have here one of Mr. Fox's peculiarities, on which much of his forco 
 depends, viz., terse and rapid enumeration — the-crowding of many particulars 
 into one striking mass of thought. His enumerations, however, are not made, 
 like those of most men, for rhetorical effect ; they are condensed arguments, as 
 ■will be seen by analyzing this passage. — Goodrich.
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 197 
 
 table destinations of Providence have placed under us in 
 the remotest regions of the earth, it will consecrate the 
 name of England among the noblest of nations." 
 
 The Bill finally passed the Commons by a vote of 217 to 
 103, but when it reached the House of Lords it was de- 
 feated by the inHuence of the King. On the ISth of De- 
 cember, 1783, the Coalition ministry was dismissed, and 
 the celebrated William Pitt came in as Prime Minister at 
 the age of twenty-four. 
 
 In vain did Mr. Fox exert his powerful eloquence to 
 overthrow his illustrious rival. Mr. Pitt held the office 
 of Prime Minister between sixteen and seventeen years. 
 During this long period the great statesmen were opposed 
 to each other on the most important questions that came 
 up for discussion.* Their clashing eloquence (to borrow 
 a beautiful figure from Ossian, when describing the hostile 
 approach of two heroes) may be compared to the rapid 
 course of two deep streams, pouring towards each other 
 from high rocks, and meeting, mixing, and roaring on the 
 plain. For more than twenty years this oratorical warfare 
 was continued withunabated ardor. 
 
 In 1786, Mr. Fox was appointed one of the managers 
 of the impeachment against Warren Hastings. In sustain- 
 
 * During a season of Mr. Fox's unpopularity in 1781, when the elections 
 went against his friends, — when more than a hundred and sixty lost their seats 
 in Parliament — the following is an account of the violent contest in West- 
 minster: "In Westminster, which Mr. Fox and Sir Cecil Wray had repre- 
 sented in the preceding Parliament, the struggle was the most violent ever 
 known — Wray in opposition to his old associate. At the end of eleven days, 
 Mr. Fox was in a minority of three hundred and eighteen, and his defeat 
 seemed inevitable, when relief came from a quarter never before heard of in a 
 political canvass. Georgianna, Duchess of Devonshire, a woman of extra- 
 ordinary beauty and the highest mental accomplishments, took the field in his 
 behalf. She literally became the canvasser of Mr. Fox. She went from 
 house to house soliciting votes; she sent her private carriage to bring mechan- 
 ics and others of the lowest class to the polls; she appeared at the hustings
 
 19S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ing the charge which was assigned him — that, relating to 
 the oppressive treatment of Cheyte Sing, Rajah of Be- 
 nares — he displayed such singular eloquence that it 
 awakened universal admiration of his extraordinary 
 powers as a parliamentary orator. 
 
 In espousing the cause of the French Revolution, Mr. 
 Fox lost the friendship of Mr. Burke. The painful rela- 
 tion of their separation is given in the sketch of that 
 statesman. 
 
 Mr. Pitt ha 1 now gained such an ascendency in the 
 House, that Mr. Fox, having no motive or desire to con- 
 tinue his attendance in Parliament, withdrew from the 
 arena of debate, for nearly five years, and devoted himself 
 to literary pursuits in retiiement. Here he pursued the 
 study of the classics with renewed ardor. It was at this 
 time that he corresponded with Gilbert Wakefield on 
 Greek criticism, and also commenced his work on the 
 English Revolution of 1688. This period has been truly 
 called the golden season of his life. 
 
 In a few years Mr. Fox was again brought into collision 
 with Mr. Pitt in one of the fiercest intellectual conflicts on 
 record. When Bonaparte became first Consul of France 
 in 1799, he immediately made overtures of peace to the 
 
 herself in company with Mr. Fox; and on one occasion, when a young 
 butcher turned the laugh upon her by offering his vote for a kiss, in the enthu- 
 siasm of the moment she took him at his word, and paid him on the spot! 
 With such an ally, Mr. Fox's fortunes soon began to mend, and at the termi- 
 nation of forty days, when the polls were closed, he had a majority over Sir 
 Cecil Wray of two hundred and thirty-five votes. This triumph was cele- 
 brated by a splendid procession of Mr. Fox's friends, most of them bearing 
 fox tails, which gave rise to one of Mr. Pitt's best sarcasms. Some one having 
 expressed his wonder how the people could procure such an immense number 
 of foxes' tails-, ' That is by no means surprising,' said Pitt; ' this has been a 
 good sporting year, and more foxes have been destroyed than in any fo/mer 
 season. I think, upon an average, there has at least one Fox been run down in 
 every borough of the kingdom!' "
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 139 
 
 King of England. These ijroposals were insultingly re- 
 jected by Mr. Pitt. A motion was made by Mr. Dundas, 
 approving the course taken by the Ministry. 'Mr. Fox, 
 who was strongly opposed to the prosecution of the war, 
 determined, if possible, to defeat this motion by a power- 
 ful effort of eloquence. On the 3d of February, 1800, the 
 subject came before the House. After Whitbread, Can- 
 ning, and Erskine had expressed their sentiments, Mr. 
 Pitt rose and delivered the most elaborate oration he ever 
 pronounced in Parliament. After speaking nearly five 
 hours he concluded at four o'clock in the morning, when 
 Mr. Fox, " who was always most powerful in reply, instantly 
 rose and answered him in a speech of nearly the same 
 length, meeting him on all the main topics, with a force of 
 argument, a dexterity in wresting Mr. Pitt's weapons out of 
 his hands and turning them against himself, a keenness of 
 retort, a grajjhic power of description, and an impetuous 
 flow of eloquence, to which we find no parallel in any ol 
 his published speeches." This was, perhaps, the sublimest 
 oratorical contest ever witnessed in the House of Com- 
 mons. Not since the trial of Warren Hastings had such 
 lofty declamation been displayed; " and never were these 
 two great orators brought into more direct competition, or 
 the distintive features of their eloquence exhibited in finer 
 contrast." 
 
 The great speech of Mr. Fox on the Rejection of Bona- 
 parte's overtures for peace, is the ablest of his senatorial 
 orations; — it was so considered by most who heard it. 
 The peroration, which we quote, contains the most elo- 
 quent passage he ever produced. It is a bold strain of 
 mingled argument, irony, and invective: 
 
 "• Wliere then, sir," exclaimed Mr. Fox, " is this war, 
 which on every side is pregnant with such horrors, to be 
 carried? Where is it to stop? Not till we establish the 
 house of Bourbon! And this you cherish the hope of
 
 200 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 doing, because you have had a successful campaign. 
 Why, sir, before this you have had a successful cam- 
 paign. The situation of the allies, with all they have 
 gained, is surely not to be compared now to what it was 
 when you had taken Valenciennes, Quesnoy, Conde, &c., 
 which induced some gentlemen in this House to prepare 
 themselves for a march to Paris. With all that you have 
 gained, you surely will not say that the prospect is brighter 
 now than it was then. What have you gained but the 
 recovery of a part of what you before lost? One cam- 
 paign is successful to you; another to them; and in this 
 way, animated by the vindictive passions of revenge, ha- 
 tred, and rancor, which are infinitely more flagitious, even, 
 than those of ambition and the thirst of power, you may 
 go on forever; as, with such black incentives, I see no end 
 to human misery. 
 
 "And all this without an intelligible motive. All this 
 because you may gain a better peace a year or two hence! 
 So that we are called upon to go on merely as a specula- 
 tion. We must keep Bonai^arte for some time longer at 
 war, as a state of probation. Gracious God, sir! is war a 
 state of probation? Is peace a rash system? Is it danger- 
 ous for nations to live in amity with each other? Are 
 your vigilance, your policy, your common j)owers of ob- 
 servation, to be extinguished by putting an end to the 
 horrors of war? Can not this state of jjrobation be as 
 well undergone without adding to the catalogue of human 
 sufferings? ' But we mu.st pause!'' What! must the bowels 
 of Great Britain be torn out — her best blood be spilled — 
 her treasure wasted — that you may make an exiDeriment? 
 Put yourselves, oh! that you would put yourselves in the 
 field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors 
 that you excite! In former wars a man might, at least, 
 have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance in 
 his mind the impressions which a scene of carnage and of
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 201 
 
 death must inflict. If a man had been present at the 
 battle of Blenheim, for instance, and had inquired the 
 motive of the battle, there was not a soldier engaged who 
 could not have satisfied his curiosity, and even, perhaps, 
 allayed his feelings. They were fighting, they knew, to 
 repress the uncontrolled ambition of the Grand Monarch. 
 But if a man were present now at a field of slaughter, and 
 were to inquire for what they were fighting — ' Fighting!' 
 would be the answer; ' they are not fighting; they are 
 pausing!' ' Why is that man exj^iring? Why is that 
 other writhing with agony? What means this implacable 
 fury?' The answer must be, 'You are quite wrong, sir, 
 you deceive yourself — they are not fighting — do not 
 disturb them — ■ they are merely pausing! This man is 
 not expiring with agony — that man is not dead — he is 
 only pausing! Lord help you, sir! they are not angry 
 with one another; they have now no cause to quarrel; 
 but their country thinks that there should be a pause. 
 All that you see, sir, is nothing like fighting — there is no 
 harm, nor cruelty, nor bloodshed in it whatever: it is 
 nothing more than a political pause! It is merely to try an 
 experiment — to see whether Bonaparte will not behave 
 himself better than heretofore; and in the mean time we 
 have agreed to a paw^e, in jiure friendship!' And is this 
 the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates 
 of order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize 
 the world — to destroy order — to trample on religion — 
 to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of noble 
 sentiment, but the affections of social nature; and in the 
 prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devasta- 
 tion all around you." 
 
 On the peace of Amiens in 1802, Mr. Fox visited Paris, 
 where he was treated with the greatest respect by Bona- 
 parte. 
 
 An anecdote is related by M. Thiers, that, when Fox 
 26
 
 202 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 was in Paris during the cessation of hostilities, as he was 
 one day passing in company with the First Consul and his 
 suite along an apartment of the Louvre, in which there 
 was a terrestial globe of extraordinary size and exactness, 
 one of the followers of Bonaparte turned the globe round, 
 and sarcastically remarked that England filled but a small 
 space in the world. "Yes," replied Fox indignantly, 
 " that island of the Englishmen is a small one. There 
 they are born, and in that island their wish is to die." 
 " But," added he, advancing to the globe and stretching 
 his arms round the two oceans and the two Indias, " but 
 while the Englishmen live, they fill the whole world, and 
 clasp it in the circle of their power." 
 
 On the death of Mr. Pitt in January, 1806, Mr. Fox 
 became Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, but did not 
 long survive his great antagonist. On the 13th of Septem- 
 ber of the same year, Charles James Fox breathed his last, 
 in the fifty-eighth year of his age. On the 10th of 
 October,. he was borne to his final resting-place in West- 
 minster Abbey, amidst the highest honors of the nation. 
 His grave is directly adjoining Lord Chatham's, and 
 within a few feet of the grave of his illustrious rival, 
 William Pitt. 
 
 " The mighty chiefs sleep side by side, 
 Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 
 'Twill trickle on his rival's bier; 
 O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound. 
 And Fox's shall the notes rebound. 
 The solemn echo seems to cry — 
 ' Here let their discord with them die.' 
 Speak not for those a separate doom, 
 Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb. 
 But search the land of living men. 
 Where wilt thou find their like again?" 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce, alluding to Fox on his death-bed, thus 
 "Writes in his diary, June 27th, 1806: — "Poor fellow, how
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 203 
 
 melancholy his case ! he has not one religious friend, or 
 one who knows any thing about it. How wonderful God's 
 providences ! How poor a master the world ! He no sooner 
 grasps his long-sought object than it shows itself a bubbh';, 
 and he is forced to give it up;" and after his death he 
 adds: — " So poor Fox is gone at last. I am more affected 
 by it than I thought I should be. How speedily has he 
 followed his great rival!" Mr. Pitt had breathed his last 
 only a few months before. 
 
 Here we see the end of sublunary greatness. The grave 
 is the home of the hero, the statesman, and the orator, 
 as well as the poor, despised, and illiterate of earth. 
 " This " in the expiring words of John Quincy Adams, 
 " This is the end of earth.'''' 
 
 What a solemn lesson is here taught jDoliticians and 
 statesmen. Let a voice from the graves of Pitt and Fox 
 remind them of their mortality, and amid the ardor of 
 political contests proclaim aloud in their ears, in the im- 
 pressive language of Burke — "PFJiat shadows we are, and 
 what shadows we pursue.'''' Political elevation, oratorical 
 glory and professional fame grow dim and perish forever 
 in that " inevitable hour " when the immortal sjoirit takes 
 its flight from the shores of time to the realms of eternity. 
 And how short is the pathway from the cradle to the man- 
 sions of the dead! Though we may hav^e a tongue that 
 speaks with the eloquence of a Fox or a Pitt — though 
 we may soar aloft to the jiroudest summit of human 
 power and eminence — though we may tread the path of 
 glory on the field of battle; and like an Alexander or a 
 Csesar, ride triumphantly over the fragments of broken 
 thrones, and amid the universal crash of empires, yet the 
 closing scene will soon arrive, when the feeble tenement 
 of clay shall moulder, leaving its only e .taph upon the 
 crumbling marble.
 
 204 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave, 
 Await, alike, th' inevitable hour-, — 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 
 
 Much, lias been said and written on the character of Mr. 
 Fox as an orator. That he holds the first rank among 
 modern parliamen.tary speakers is conceded by all — that 
 in some respects, he approached nearer than any other 
 man, the style and manner of Demosthenes is allowed by 
 some. 
 
 It is not, however, in the published speeches of Mr. 
 Fox that we find full evidences of those high oratorical 
 powers which he is said to have possessed. It is to the 
 living speaker in the strength and glory of his days, that 
 we must turn, if we would behold the proudest triumphs 
 of his vehement eloquence. We must contemplate him in 
 the British Senate, standing in the proud consciousness of 
 his own intellectual strength and superiority, like De- 
 mosthenes, Chatham, or Mirabeau, pouring out with impas- 
 sioned feeling, that eloquence which shook the strong- 
 holds of oppression to their center. 
 
 The leading characteristics of Mr. Fox's oratory were 
 vehemence and simplicity. In these respects he closely 
 resembled Demosthenes, whose manner was so vehement 
 and whose style was so simple. 
 
 When Mr. Fox became deeply engaged in his subject, 
 his sentences were delivered with an earnestness, a pathos, 
 an impetuosity, a sweetness and power of tone that thrilled 
 and subdued every heart. When his sensibility was com- 
 pletely roused, and his passions kindled into an inex- 
 tinguishable flame, impetuous torrents of eloquence burst 
 from his lips, bearing down all opposition. The deep and 
 rapid stream of his oratory, may be compared to a " free 
 and abounding river, sweeping in beauty through the open
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 205 
 
 champaign, gathering volume and strength from tributary 
 streams, glancing through green meadows and dark wood- 
 hmds, rushing through forests and mountains, and finally 
 }Junging, with resistless force and majesty, into the open 
 sea !" His feelings were always poured out with all the 
 simplicity of a child. 
 
 "I have seen his countenance," said Mr- Goodwin, 
 "lighten up with more than mortal ardor and goodness; I 
 have been present Avhen his voice was suffocated with 
 tears." In all this, his powerful understanding went out 
 the whole length of his emotions, so that there was nothing 
 strained or unnatural in his most vehement bursts of pas- 
 sion. " His feeling," says Coleridge, " was all intellect, 
 and his intellect was all feeling." " Never," adds Professor 
 Goodrich, " was there a finer summing up; it shows us at 
 a glance the whole secret of his power. To this he added 
 the most perfect sincerity and artlessness-of manner. His 
 very faults conspired to heighten the conviction of his 
 honesty. His broken sentences, the choking of his voice, 
 his ungainly gestures, his sudden starts of passion, the 
 absolute scream with which he delivered his vehement 
 passages, all showed him to be deeply moved and in ear- 
 nest, so that it may be doubted whether a more perfect 
 delivery would not have weakened the impression he 
 made." 
 
 Vehemence and simplicity are the two most prominent 
 traits in the character of all truly great orators. Sim- 
 plicity in writing,* and vehemence in delivery are the first 
 of oratorical excellencies. Let it then be the constant 
 aim of the young orator, who is aspiring to eminence in 
 the art, to write with simplicity and to speak with vehe- 
 
 * " Beautiful and thrilling speeches may fall and perish at once; while the 
 simple majesty of thought, expressed in the simplest language, — such as the 
 imperishable monuments of Demosthenes, — will live as long as time shall 
 live."— Jiio. Todd.
 
 206 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 mence. It was this that armed the oratory of Fox with such 
 astonishing power, and sent it to the heart with such over- 
 whelming energy. His mind was on fire with his subject, 
 and by the irresistible charms and force of true eloquence, 
 he enchanted his hearers, and transferred those radiant, 
 burning thoughts which were kindled in his own bosom 
 to their captivated minds. 
 
 The nature of such eloquence can not be properly 
 appreciated or described except by those who have been 
 swayed by its power; hence, as Lord Brougham well ob- 
 serves, the eloquence of Mr. Fox was such, that to compre- 
 hend it, you must have heard the orator himself. 
 
 " When he got fairly into his subject, was heartily 
 warmed with it, he poured forth words and periods of fire 
 that smote you, and deprived you of all power to reflect 
 and rescue yourself, while he went on to seize the facul- 
 ties of the listener, and carry them captive along with him 
 withersoever he might please to rush." 
 
 " To speak of him justly as an orator," says Sir James 
 Mackintosh, " would require a long essay. Every where 
 natural, he carried into public something of that simple 
 and negligent exterior which belonged to him in private. 
 When he began to speak, a common observer might have 
 thought him awkward; and even a consummate judge 
 could only have been struck with the exquisite justness 
 of his ideas, and the transparent simplicity of his man- 
 ners. But no sooner had he spoken for some time, than 
 he was changed into another being. He forgot himself 
 and every thing around him. He thought only of his 
 subject. His genius warmed, and kindled as he went on. 
 He darted fire into his audience. Torrents of impetuous 
 and irresistible eloquence swept along their feelings and 
 conviction. He certainly possessed above all moderns 
 that union of reason, simplicity and vehemence which
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 207 
 
 formed the prince of orators. He was the most Demos- 
 thenean speaker since Demosthenes." 
 
 In contradiction to this last sentence, Lord Brougham 
 remarks: " There never was a greater mistake, than the 
 fancying a close resemblance between his eloquence and 
 that of Demosthenes; although an excellent judge (Sir 
 James Mackintosh) fell into it when he pronounced him 
 ' the most Demosthenean speaker since Demosthenes.' 
 That he resembled his immortal predecessor in despising 
 all useless ornament, and all declamation for declamation's 
 sake, is true enough; but it applies to every good speaker 
 as well as to those two signal ornaments of ancient and 
 modern rhetoric. That he resembled him in keeping more 
 close to the subject in hand, than many good and even 
 great speakers have often done, may also be affirmed ; yet 
 this is far too vague and remote a likeness to justify the 
 proposition in question; and it is only a difference in 
 degree, and not a specific distinction between him and 
 others. That his eloquence was fervid, rapid, copious, 
 carrying along with it the minds of the audience, not 
 suffering them to dwell upon the speaker or the speech, 
 but engrossing their whole attention, and keeping it fixed 
 on the question, is equally certain, and is the only real 
 resemblance which the comparison affords. But then the 
 points of difference are as numerous as they are import- 
 ant, and they strike indeed upon the most cursory glance. 
 The one was full of repetitions, recurring again and again 
 to the same topic, nay to the same view of it, till he had 
 made his impression complete; the other never came back 
 upon a ground which he had utterly wasted and withered 
 up by the tide of fire he had rolled over it. The one 
 dwelt at length, and with many words on his topics; the 
 other performed the whole at a blow, sometimes with a 
 word, always with the smallest number of words possible. 
 The one frequently was digressive, even narrative and
 
 208 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 copious in illustration; in the otlier no deviation from 
 his course was ever to be perceived j no disporting on the 
 borders of his way, more than any lingering upon it; but 
 carried rapidly forward, and without swerving to the right 
 or to the left, like the engines flying along a railway, and 
 like them driving every thing out of sight that obstructed 
 his resistless course." 
 
 Professor Goodrich, in his work on British Eloquence, 
 give a most admirable summary of the oratorical char- 
 acter of Fox. After quoting the conflicting remarks of 
 Mackintosh and Brougham, he adds: 
 
 " When two such men differ on a point like this, we may 
 safely say that both are in the right and in the wrong. As 
 to certain qualities, Fox was the veiy reverse of the great 
 Athenian; as to others, they had much in common. In 
 whatever relates to the forms of oratory — symmetry, 
 dignity, grace, the working up of thought and language to 
 their most perfect expression — Mr. Fox was not only 
 inferior to Demosthenes, but wholly unlike him, having no 
 rhetoric and no ideality; while, at the same time, in the 
 structure of his understanding, the modes of its opera- 
 tion, the soul and spirit which breathes throughout his 
 eloquence, there was a striking resemblance. This will 
 appear as we dwell for a moment on his leading pecu- 
 liarities. 
 
 (1.) He had a luminous simplicity, which gave his 
 speeches the most absolute unity of impression, however 
 irregular might be their arrangement. No man ever kept 
 the great points of his case more steadily and vividly be- 
 fore the minds of his audience. 
 
 (2.) He took every thing in the concrete. If he discussed 
 principles, it was always in direct connection Avith the 
 subject before him. Usually, however, he did not even 
 discuss a subject — he grappled with an antagonist. Noth-
 
 CHARLES JAMES FOX. 209 
 
 ing gives sucli life and interest to a speech, or so delights 
 an audience, as a direct contest of man with man. 
 
 (3.) He struck instantly at the heart of his subject. He 
 was eager to meet his opponent at once on the real points 
 at issue; and the moment of his greatest power was when 
 he stated the argument against himself, with more force 
 than his adversary or any other man could give it, and 
 then seized it with the hand of a giant, tore it in pieces, 
 and trampled it under foot. 
 
 (4.) His mode of enforcing a subject on the minds of 
 his audience was to come back again and again to the 
 strong points of his case. Mr. Pitt amplified when he 
 wished to impress; Mr Fox rejyeated. Demosthenes also 
 repeated, but he had more adroitness in varying the mode 
 of doing it. ' Idem hand iisdem verbis.' 
 
 (5.) He had rarely any preconceived method or arrange- 
 ment of his thoughts. This was one of his greatest faults, 
 in which he differed most from the Athenian artist If it 
 had not been for the unity of impression and feeling men- 
 tioned above, his strength would have been wasted in dis- 
 connected efforts. 
 
 (6.) Reasoning was his forte and his passion. Bat he 
 was not a regular reasoner. In his eagerness to press for- 
 ward, he threw away every thing he could part with, and 
 compacted the rest into a single mass. Facts, princi- 
 ples, analogies, were all wrought together like the strands 
 of a cable, and intermingled with wit, ridicule, or impas- 
 sioned feeling. His arguments were usually personal in 
 their nature, ad hominem, &c., and were brought home to 
 his antagonist with stinging severity and force. 
 
 (7.) He abounded in hits — those abrupt and startling 
 turns of thought which rouse an audience, and give them 
 more delight than the loftiest strains of eloquence. 
 
 (8.) He was equally distinguished for his side blows, for 
 27
 
 210 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 keen and pungent remarks flashed out upon his antagonist 
 in passing, as he pressed on with his argument. 
 
 (9.) He was often dramatic, personating the character of 
 his opponents or others, and carrying on a dialogue be- 
 tween them, which added greatly to the liveliness and force 
 of his oratory. 
 
 ( 10. ) He had astonishing dexterity in evading difficulties, 
 and turning to his own advantage every thing that occured 
 in debate. 
 
 In nearly all these qualities he had a close resemblance 
 to Demosthenes. 
 
 In his language, Mr. Fox studied simplicity, strength and 
 boldness. ' Give me an elegant Latin and a homely Saxon 
 word,' said he, ' and I will always choose the latter.' 
 Another of his sayings was this: ' Did the speech read well 
 when reported? If so, it was a bad one.' These two 
 remarks give us the secret of his style as an orator. 
 
 The life of Mr. Fox has this lesson for young men, that 
 early habits of recklessness and vice can hardly fail to 
 destroy the influence of the most splendid abilities, and the 
 most humane and generous dispositions. Though thirty- 
 eight years in public life, he was in office only eighteen 
 months "
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LOED EKSKINE. 
 
 Thomas Erskine was born at Edinburgh on the 10th day 
 of January, 1750. He received the rudiments of his educa- 
 tion at the High School of Edinburgh, and the University 
 of St. Andrew's. On account of the poverty of his father, 
 he did not enjoy the advantages of an early classical 
 education. Of Latin he knew but little, and of Greek 
 his knowledge did not extend far beyond the alphabet. 
 But in the literature of his native tongue he was well 
 instructed. In his boyhood, Erskine had his aspirations 
 after literary celebrity; even then he cultivated a taste 
 for oratorical glory. His youthful dreams, however, were 
 not soon accomplished In consequence of the slender 
 patrimony of his father, young Erskine was compelled to 
 seek his fortune in the wide world. At the age of four- 
 teen, he embarked on the ocean as a midshipman in the 
 navy. In this situation he spent four years, visiting 
 among many other countries the West Indies and the coast 
 of North America. It was during one of these voyages to 
 America that he witnessed, as he stepped on shore, that 
 meeting of an Indian Chief with the governor of a 
 British colony, which he afterwards so graphically de- 
 scribed in the finest of his speeches, " and made the start- 
 ing-point of one of the noblest bursts of eloquence in our 
 language." 
 
 At the end of four years Mr. Erskine returned to Eng- 
 land, and was married in 1770, at the age of twenty. He
 
 212 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 uovv pursued with tlie greatest ardor the study of English 
 literature. lu addition to an extensive course of prose 
 reading, he devoted considerable time to the study of 
 Milton and Shakspeare, a large portion of whose writ- 
 ings he committed to memory. This may account for the 
 grandeur of his style. " Here he acquired that fine choice 
 of words, that rich and varied imagery, that sense of har- 
 mony in the structure of his sentences, that boldness of 
 thought and magnificence of expire ssion, for which he was 
 afterward so much distinguished. It may also be remarked, 
 that there are passages in both these writers which are the 
 exact counterpart of the finest eloquence of the ancients. 
 The speeches, in the second book of the Paradise Lost, 
 have all the condensed energy and burning Ibrce of 
 expression which belong to the great Athenian orator. 
 The speech of Brutus, in Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, has 
 all the stern majesty of Roman eloquence. That of 
 Anthony over the dead body of Ceesar is a matchless 
 exhibition of the art and dexterity of insinuation which 
 characterized the genius of the Greeks. It is not in re- 
 gard to poetry alone that we may say of these great 
 masters, 
 
 ' Hither, as to a fountain, 
 Other suns repair, and in their urns 
 Draw golden light.' 
 
 " In respect to eloquence, also, to use the words of John- 
 son, slightly varied, he who would excel in this noblest 
 of arts must give his days and nights to the study of Mil- 
 ton and Shakspeare." 
 
 In 1775, Mr. Erskine entered on the study of law, and 
 in three years after, was called to the bar. He soon 
 acquired a splendid forensic reputation in defense of 
 Captain Bailie, who, on his removal from the superintend- 
 ence of Greenwich hospital by Lord Sandwich, had pub- 
 lished an appeal to the public, charging several enormous
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 213 
 
 abuses in the management of the institution on his Lord- 
 ship, for which he was prosecuted on the charge of a libel 
 by Sandwich. In the management of this case Mr. Erskine 
 completely astonished the older members of the bar 
 and the immense throng that filled Westminster Hall, by 
 the brilliancy of his genius, the magnificence of his dic- 
 tion, and the splendor of Ms eloquence. Lord Campbell 
 pronounces this, " the most wonderful forensic effort which 
 we have in our annals." Erskine gained the case, and by 
 this single effort made his fortune. As he retired from the 
 hall he received thirty retainers from attorneys who were 
 present and witnessed his extraordinary efforts. His first 
 forensic contests were crowned with as brilliant a victory 
 as were those of Patrick Henry, when he" was called to 
 plead against the clergymen of Virginia, on the tobacco 
 question. 
 
 In 1783, Mr. Erskine took his seat in the House of 
 Commons as member from Portsmouth. He was a zealous 
 sujjporter of the Coalition ministry of Mr. Fox and Lord 
 North. But it is not in the senate that we are to find the 
 greatest display of Mr. Erskine's oratorical powers. In 
 parliamentary debate he was not in his element, as he was 
 when engaged in legal matters. His j)olitical information 
 was not very extensive; his habits were not well suited to 
 senatorial debate, and he was too easily embarrassed by 
 the presence of sneering opponents. Mr. Pitt at on e 
 determined to oppose him with all the powers of his cut- 
 ting sarcasm. An instance of this is given by Mr. Croly 
 in his Life of George IV. He there states that when Mr. 
 Erskine commenced his maiden si:»eech, Mr. Pitt evidently 
 intending to reply, sat with pen and paper in his hand, 
 prepared to catch the arguments of his formidable adver- 
 sary. He wrote a word or two. Erskine proceeded; but 
 with every additional sentence, Pitt's attention to the 
 paper relaxed, his look became more careless, and he obvi-
 
 214 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ously began to think the orator less and less worthy of his 
 attention. At length, while every eye in the Honse was 
 fixed u23on him, with a contemptuous smile he dashed the 
 pen through the paper, and flung them on the floor. Ers- 
 kine never recovered from this expression of disdain; his 
 voice faltered, he struggled through the remainder of his 
 speech, and sank into his seat dispirited and shorn of his 
 fame. Some time afterwards, Mr. Sheridan said to him: 
 " I'll tell you how it happens, Erskine; you are afraid of , 
 Pitt, and that is the flabby part of your character." 
 During his senatorial career, however, Mr. Erskine deliv- 
 ered several speeches which displayed singular eloquence. 
 Indeed, it must be admitted as Lord Brougham well 
 observes that, had he appeared in any other period than 
 the age of the Foxes, the Pitts, and the Burkes, there is 
 little chance that he would have been eclipsed as a parlia- 
 mentary debater. 
 
 It is to the forum that we must turn if we would see 
 Mr. Erskiiie in his element — in his greatness, and in his 
 glory. Here he stands on a proud eminence, towering in 
 grandeur above all other advocates. " As an advocate in 
 the forum," says Lord Campbell, " I hold him to be with- 
 out an equal in ancient or modern times." 
 
 In 1784 Mr. Erskine delivered a speech on the rights of 
 juries in the case of the Dean of St. Asaph which won 
 universal admiration. It showed " a depth of learning 
 which would have done honor to Selden or Hale." This 
 speech is peculiarly interesting to the lawyer for the extent 
 and variety of legal knowledge which it displays; and to 
 the general student in oratory its study will be highly con- 
 ducive to mental discipline. " The young orator of any 
 profession," says an eminent critic, " will find the study 
 of it one of the be^t means of mental discipline, and will 
 rise from the perusal of it with increased admiration of 
 Lord Erskine as a logician and an orator."
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 2 1 5 
 
 But the finest of his forensic speeches undoubtedly is 
 that delivered in defense of Mr. Stockdale, a London book- 
 seller, who was prosecuted by the House of Commons for 
 publishing the Rev. Mr. Logan's pamphlet in vindication 
 of Warren Hastings, reflecting severely on the House in 
 their impeachment of the Governor-General of India, and 
 charging them with having acted " from motives of per- 
 sonal animosity — not from regard to public justice." 
 This speech was delivered on the 9th of December, 1789. 
 It is universally considered the finest specimen of Lord 
 Erskine's oratory, " whether we regard the wonderful skill 
 with which the argument is conducted — the soundness 
 of the principles laid down, and their happy application 
 to the case — the exquisite fancy with which they are em- 
 bellished and illustrated — or the powerful and touching 
 language in which they are conveyed. It is justly regarded 
 by all English lawyers as a consummate specimen of the 
 art of addressing a jury — as a standard, a sort of prece- 
 dent, for treating cases of libel; by keeping which in his 
 eye a man may hope to succeed in special pleading his 
 client's case within its principle, who is destitute of the 
 talent required even to comprehend the other and higher 
 merits of his original. By these merits it is recommended 
 to lovers of pure diction — of copious and animated de- 
 scription — of lively, picturesque, and fanciful illustra- 
 tion — of all that constitutes, if we may so speak, the 
 poetry of eloquence."* 
 
 The celebrated descrij)tion of an Indian Chief meet- 
 ing with the governor of a British Colony — "a passage 
 which verges more toward poetry than any thing in our 
 eloquence;" — and those famous sentences on the nature 
 of the liberty of the press will be admired for their exqui- 
 site beauty and graphic power as long as the English 
 
 * Edinburgh Review, vol. xvi, p. 109.
 
 21G ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 language is spoken in its jmrity. " There are," says Lord 
 Brougliam., " no finer things in modern, and few finer 
 in ancient eloquence than the celebrated passage of the 
 Indian Chief; nor has beautiful language ever been used 
 with more curious felicity to raise a striking and an appro- 
 priate image before the mind, than in the simile of the 
 winds ' lashing before them the lazy elements, which with- 
 out the tempest would stagnate into pestilence.' " With- 
 out their insertion we can not pass over these beautiful 
 passages. They should be committed to memory by every 
 young orator, while the whole speech should receive the 
 closest attention. 
 
 " Gentlemen," exclaimed Mr. Erskine, when about to 
 introduce the grand burst of eloquence on the Indian 
 Chief, " Gentlemen, I think I can observe that you are 
 touched with this way of considering the subject, and I 
 can account for it. I have not been considering it through 
 the cold medium of books, but have been speaking of 
 man and his nature, and of human dominion, from what I 
 have seen of them myself among reluctant nations sub- 
 mitting to our authority. I know what they feel, and how 
 such feelings can alone be repressed. I have heard them 
 in my youth from a naked savage, in the indignant char- 
 acter of a prince surrounded by his subjects, addressing 
 the governor of a British colony, holding a bundle of 
 sticks, as the notes of his unlettered eloquence. ' Who is 
 it,' said the jealous ruler of the desert, encroached upon 
 by the restless foot of English adventure — ' who is it 
 that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, and 
 to empty itself into the ocean? Who is it that causes to 
 blow the loud winds of winter, and that calms them again 
 in summer? Who is it that rears up the shade of those 
 lofty forests, and blasts them with the quick lightning at 
 his pleasure? The same Being who gave to you a country 
 on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us; and
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 2.17 
 
 by this title we will defend it,' said the warrior, throwing 
 down his tomahawk upon the ground, and raising the war- 
 sound of his nation. These are the feelings of subjugated 
 man all round the globe; and depend upon it, nothing but 
 fear will control where it is vain to look for afi'ection."* 
 
 In speaking on the liberty of the press Mr. Erskine 
 stated '' with admirable precision and force, the great 
 principle involved in the law of libel; namely, that every 
 composition of this kind is to be taken as a whole., and not 
 judged of by detached passages." He exposed the evils 
 of too severe a restriction on the press in the following 
 beautiful amplification. 
 
 " If you are firmly persuaded of the singleness and purity 
 of the author's intentions, you are not bound to subject 
 him to infamy, because, in the zealous career of a just and 
 animated composition, he happens to have tripped with 
 his pen into an intemperate expression in one or two in- 
 stances of a long work. If this severe duty were binding 
 on your consciences, the liberty of the press vv^ould be an 
 empty sound, and no man could venture to write on any 
 subject, however pure his purpose, without an attorney at 
 one elbow and a counsel at the other. 
 
 " From minds thus subdued by the terrors of ]3unish- 
 ment, there could issue no works of genius to expand the 
 empire of human reason, nor any masterly compositions, 
 on the general nature of government, by the help of 
 which the great commonwealths of mankind have founded 
 their establishments; much less any of those useful appli- 
 cations of them to critical conjunctures, by which, from 
 time to time, our own Constitution, by the ex.ercise of 
 
 * " The reader will be struck with the rapid flow of the rythmus in this 
 speech of the Indian Chief, so admirably corresponding in its iambic structure 
 with the character of the speaker. It should be read aloud in connection with 
 a corresponding passage of Mr. Grattau, already remarked upon for its slow 
 and majestic movement." — Goodrich. 
 
 23
 
 218 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 patriot citizens, lias been brought back to its standard. 
 Under such terrors, all the great lights of science and 
 civilization must be extinguished; for men can not com- 
 municate their free thoughts to one another with a lash 
 held over their heads. It is the nature of every thing 
 that is great and useful, both in an animate and inanimate 
 world, to be wild and irregular, — and we must be contented 
 to take them with the alloys which belong to them, or live 
 without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criti- 
 cism, but its wanderings are sanctioned by its majesty and 
 wisdom when it advances in its path: subject it to the 
 critic, and you tame it into dullness. Mighty rivers break 
 down their banks in the winter, sweeping away to death 
 the flocks which are fattened on the soil that they fertilize 
 in the summer: the few may be saved by embankments 
 from drowning, but the flock must perish for hunger. 
 Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings and dissipate 
 our commerce; but they scourge before them the lazy ele- 
 ments, which without them would stagnate into pestilence.* 
 In like manner. Liberty herself, the last and best gift of 
 God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is: you 
 might pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape 
 her into a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law, but she 
 would then be Liberty no longer; and you must be con- 
 tent to die under the lash of this inexorable justice which 
 you had exchanged for the banners of Freedom." 
 
 By his i>owerful reasoning, touching language, and fer- 
 vid eloquence, Mr. Erskine secured the acquittal of Stock- 
 dale. The jury soon returned with a verdict of Not 
 Guilty. 
 
 In 1794, Mr. Erskine reached the summit of forensic 
 and oratorical fame, when he came off so triumphantly in 
 
 * " This is one of the finest amplifications in English oratory, beautiful in 
 itself, justified by the innportance of the subject which it enforces, and admira- 
 bly suitea to produce the designed impression." — Goodrich.
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 219 
 
 his defense of Thomas Hardy, Rev. John Home Tooke, the 
 celebrated philologist, and eleven others, who were fool- 
 ishly indicted for high treason, by the English govern- 
 ment. These persons were members of the London cor- 
 responding society, the professed object of w^hich was the 
 promotion of parliamentary reform. Having excited the 
 jealousy of the British government they were prosecuted 
 and brought to trial, and Mr. Erskine was called upon to 
 defend their cases — to save their lives. On the 1st of 
 November, of the same year, he delivered in behalf of 
 Hardy his celebrated speech " which will last forever." 
 He spoke seven hours; but about ten minutes before he 
 closed, his voice failed him, and he was so comjjletely 
 exhausted that he was compelled to lean on the table for 
 support, and could only speak in a whisper. " The im- 
 pression made upon his audience, as they hung with breath- 
 less anxiety on his lips, while he stood before them in this 
 exhausted state, is said to have been more thrilling and 
 profound than at any period of his long professional 
 career. 
 
 The moment he ended, the hall was j&lled with acclama- 
 tions, which were taken up and repeated by the vast mul- 
 titudes that surrounded the building and blocked up the 
 streets." When the case came to be decided, the jury 
 weve out but three hours' when they returned with a ver- 
 dict of Not Guilty. The principles which Mr. Erskine 
 laid down in defending Hardy decided the case of the 
 others who were arraigned before the court. Home 
 Tooke was acquitted, and the other prisoners discharged 
 Thus Mr. Erskine, by the power of his matchless elo- 
 quence "resisted the combination of statesmen, and 
 princes, and lawyers — the league .of cruelty and craft, 
 formed to destroy our liberties — and triumphantly scat- 
 tered to the winds the half-accomplished scheme of an 
 unsparing proscription. Before such a precious service as
 
 220 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 this, well may the luster of statesmen and of orators grow 
 pale."* 
 
 In 1797, Mr. Erskine showed himself a very able advo- 
 cate of Christianity in his vindication of its sublime doc- 
 trines, when they were assailed by the notorious Thomas 
 Paine, who was then disseminating the poisonous seeds of 
 infidelity in every grade of society. The circumstances 
 under which Mr. Erskine came forward to defend the 
 Christian religion against the abusive attacks of the Infi- 
 del, were the following: Williams, a bookseller of infa- 
 mous character in London, was prosecuted by the Society 
 for the Suppression of Vice and Immorality, for publishing 
 Paine's Age of Reason. As counsel for the prosecution, 
 Mr. Erskine opened the case. The plea brought forward 
 by the defendant was " that such an attack was no crime 
 against the government." Mr. Erskine, by the most power- 
 ful arguments and persuasive eloquence endeavored to 
 establish the great and fundamental principle, that " the 
 Christian religion is the very foundation of the laws of 
 the land." His speech on this occasion was delivered on 
 the 24th of July, 1797, before Lord Kenyon and a special 
 jury. It is one of the most beautiful and sublime pieces 
 of eloquence that enriches the literature of our language. 
 The subject was well suited to Mr. Erskine's taste, as he 
 particularly delighted and excelled in lofty declamation, 
 and serious forensic orator}*. " This speech contains a 
 fuller exhibition than any other, of Mr. Erskine's powers 
 of declamation in the best sense of the term — of lofty and 
 glowing amplification on subjects calculated to awaken 
 sublime sentiments, and thus to enforce the argument out 
 of which it springs." 
 
 The most eloquent passage is that in which the orator 
 compares Mr. Paine with the believers in Christianity, — 
 
 * Brougham's Statesmen of George III.
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 221 
 
 witli those distinguished luminaries, Newton, Boyle, Locke, 
 Hale and Milton, — and exhibits the sincere belief of these 
 great minds in the religion of the Savior. 
 
 " In running the mind along the numerous list of sincere 
 and devout Christians, I can not help lamenting that New- 
 ton had not lived to this day, to have had his shallowness 
 filled up with this new flood of light. But the subject is 
 too awful for irony. I will speak plainly and directly. 
 Newton was a Christian! Newton, wiiose mind burst forth 
 from the fetters cast by nature upon our finite c onceptionj 
 Newton, whose science was truth, and the foundation of 
 whose knowledge of it was philosoj^hy. Not those vision-, 
 ary and arrogant assumptions which too often usurp its 
 name, but philosophy resting upon the basis of mathe- 
 matics, which, like figures, can not lie. Newton, who 
 carried the line and rule to the utmost barriers of crea- 
 tion, and explored the principles by which, no doubt, all 
 created matter is held together and exists. But this extra-, 
 ordinary man, in the mighty reach of his mind, over- 
 looked, perhaps, the errors which a minuter investigation 
 of the created things on this earth might have taught him 
 of the essence of his Creator. What shall then be said of 
 the great Mr Boyle, who looked into the organic structure 
 of all matter, even to the brute inanimate substances 
 which the foot treads on. Such a man may be supposed 
 to have been equally qualified with Mr. Paine, to ' look 
 through nature, up to nature's God.' Yet the result of all 
 his contemplation was the most confirmed and devout 
 belief in all which the other holds in contempt as despica- 
 ble and driveling superstition. But this error might, per- 
 haps, arise from a want of due attention to the founda- 
 tions of human judgment, and the structure of that un- 
 derstanding which God has given us for the investigation 
 of truth. Let that question be answered by Mr. Locke, 
 who was to the highest pitch of devotion and adoration a
 
 222 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Cliristian. Mr. Locke, whose office was to detect the 
 errors of thinking, by going up to the fountains of 
 thought, and to direct into the proper track of reasoning 
 the devious mind of man, by showing him its whole pro- 
 cess from the first perceptions of sense to the last conclu- 
 sions of ratiocination; putting a rein, besides, upon false 
 opinion, by practical rules for the conduct of human judg- 
 ment. 
 
 " But these men were only deep thinkers, and lived in 
 their closets, unaccustomed to the traffic of the world, and 
 to the laws which practically regulate mankind. Gentle- 
 men, in the place where you now sit to administer the 
 justice of this great country, above a century ago the 
 never-to-be-forgotten Sir Mathew Hale presided, whose 
 faith in Christianity is an exalted commentary upon its 
 truth and reason, and whose life was a glorious example 
 of its fruits in man; administering human judgment with 
 a wisdom and purity drawn from the pure fountain of 
 the Christian dispensation, which has been, and will be, 
 in all ages, a subject of the highest reverence and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " But it is said by Mr. Paine that the Christian fable is 
 but the tale of the more ancient superstitions of the 
 world, and may be easily detected by a proper understand- 
 ing of the mythologies of the heathens. Did Milton 
 understand those mythologies? Was he less versed than 
 Mr. Paine in the superstitions of the world? No: they 
 were the subject of his immortal song; and though shut 
 out from all recurrence to them, he poured them forth 
 from the stores of a memory rich with all that man ever 
 knew, and laid them in their order as the illustration of 
 that real and exalted faitli, the unquestionable source of 
 that fervid genius, which cast a sort of shade upon all the 
 other works of man:
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 223 
 
 ' He pass'd the bounds of flaming space, 
 Where angels tremble while they gaze; 
 He saw, till, blasted with excess of light, 
 He closM his eyes in endless night!' 
 
 " But it was the light of the body only that was ex- 
 tinguished; ' the celestial light shone inward,' and enabled 
 him to 'justify the ways of God to man.' The result of 
 his thinking was, nevertheless, not the same as Mr. Paine's. 
 The mysterious incarnation of our blessed Saviour, which 
 the ' Age of Reason ' blasphemes in words so wholly unfit 
 for the mouth of a Christian, or for the ear of a court of 
 justice, that I dare not and will not give them utterance, 
 Milton made the grand conclusion of Paradise Lost, the 
 rest of his finished labors, and the ultimate hope, ex- 
 pectation, and glory of the world: 
 
 ' A Virgin is his mother, but his sire 
 The power of the Most High : He shall ascend 
 The throne hereditary, and bound his reign 
 With Earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens.' 
 
 " The immortal poet having thus put into the mouth 
 of the angel the prophecy of man's redemption, follows it 
 with that solemn and beautiful admonition, addressed in 
 the poem to our great First Parent, but intended as an 
 address to his posterity through all generations: 
 
 ' This having learned, thou hast attained the sum 
 Of wisdom: hope no higher, though all the stars 
 Thou knew'st by name, and all th' ethereal powers 
 All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works, 
 Or works of God in heaven, air, earth or sea, 
 And all the riches of this world enjoy'st, 
 And all the rule one empire; only add 
 Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, 
 Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, 
 By name to come called Charity, the soul 
 Of all the rest; then wilt thou not be loth 
 To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess 
 A Paradise within thee, happier far.'
 
 224 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " Thus you find all that is great or wise, or spleudid, or 
 illustrious among created beings — all the minds gifted 
 beyond ordinary nature, if not inspired by their universal 
 Author for the advancement and dignity of the world, 
 though divided by distant ages, and by the clashing 
 opinions distinguishing them from one another, yet join- 
 ing, as it were, in one sublime chorus to celebrate the 
 truths of Christianity, and laying upon its holy altars the 
 never fading ofterings of their immortal wisdom." 
 
 " Gentlemen, I can not conclude without expressing the 
 deejiest regret at all attacks upon the Christian religion 
 by authors who profess to promote the civil liberties of 
 the world. For under what other auspices than Christi- 
 anity have the lost and subverted liberties of mankind in 
 former ages been reasserted? By what zeal, but the warm 
 zeal of devout Christians, have English liberties been 
 redeemed and consecrated? Under what other sanctions, 
 even in our own days, have liberty and happiness been 
 extending and spreading to the uttermost corners of the 
 earth? What work of civilization, what commonwealth 
 of greatness, has the bald religion of nature ever estab- 
 lished? We see, on the contrary, the nations that have no 
 other light than that of nature to direct them, sunk in 
 barbarism or slaves to arbitrary governments; while, 
 since the Christian era, the great care-er of the world has 
 been slowly, but clearly, advancing lighter at every step, 
 from the awful prophecies of the Gospel, and leading, I 
 trust, in the end, to universal and eternal happiness. 
 Each generation of mankind can see but a few revolving 
 links of this mighty and mysterious chain; but, by doing 
 our several duties in our allotted stations, we are sure that 
 we are fulfilling the purposes of our existence. You, I 
 trust, will fulfill yours this day!" 
 
 On the death of William Pitt in 1806, Mr. Erskine was 
 raised to the peerage, and made Lord Chancellor. In this
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 225 
 
 office he presided with dignity for thirteen months, when a 
 change in the ministry taking place, he retired ar-^ <^eased 
 to take an active part in political affairs. "^s fit. 
 
 It is painful to contemplate the evening of Lord'Ers- 
 kine's days. We would merely state here, that they were 
 saddened by poverty, and that the luster of his fame was 
 somewhat obscured by imperfections in character and con- 
 duct. His decease took place on the 17th of November, 
 1823, in the seventy-third year of his age. 
 
 Mr. Wraxall, in his Posthumous Memoirs, gives a very 
 lively sketch of Mr. Erskine's personal appearance: "In 
 his person, Erskine combined great elegance of figure and 
 manner. His movements were all rapid; appropriate to, 
 and corresponding with, the texture of his mind. Intelli- 
 gence flashed from his eyes; and his features, regular, pre- 
 possessing, as well as harmonious, bespoke him of no 
 vulgar extraction. He was slender, finely proportioned, 
 and of a just stature. The tones of his voice, though 
 sharp, were full; destitute of any tinge of Scottish ac- 
 cent, and adequate to every professional purpose or exi- 
 gency '' 
 
 Among forensic orators of ancient or modern times, 
 Lord Erskine stands in the foremost rank. In some re- 
 spects — in the grandeur of his diction — ^^in the melliflu- 
 ence of his voice — in the fascination of his manner, — and 
 in the splendor of his eloquence, he surpasses all lawyers 
 in modern times, and may be considered the ablest and 
 most accomplished advocate that ever graced the Bar. 
 
 By universal consent. Lord Erskine stands at the head 
 of our forensic eloquence. In whatever light we view 
 him in the forum, he appears to be the same exalted char- 
 acter, commanding our respect by the dignity of his 
 appearance, exciting our admiration by the gracefulness 
 of his action, the propriety of his enunciation, the beauty 
 
 of his language, the sweetness of his tones, and fascinating 
 29
 
 226 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 US by the light of his eye, and the magic of his sublime, 
 overpo-aTring declamation. 
 
 T' d or' tory of Lord Erskine was admirably adapted to 
 im]^ - and sway a court or jury. It exercised an unrivaled 
 power over them. By its secret, fascinating influence, suc- 
 cess, in almost all important cases, was inevitable. Lord 
 Erskine's great power lay in addressing a court or jury. 
 Whenever he rose to speak, he poured forth such a rapid 
 stream of unbroken eloquence that both court and jury 
 were carried away in astonishment- It has been curiously 
 remarked of him, as of Scarlett, that " he had invented a 
 machine by the secret use of which, in court, he could 
 make the head of a judge nod assent to his propositions,- 
 whereas his rivals, who tried to pirate it, always made the 
 same head move from side to side." All this was the eftect 
 of genuine, soul-stirring eloquence. 
 
 " The oratory of Erskine owed much of its impressive- 
 ness to his admirable delivery. He was of the medium 
 height, with a slender, but finely turned figure, animated and 
 graceful in gesture, with a voice somewhat shrill but 
 beautifully modulated, a countenance beaming with emo- 
 tion, and an eye of piercing keenness and power." His 
 eye, like that of Chatham's, was his most wonderful fea- 
 ture^ and to its keen lightning his eloquence was indebted 
 for much of its splendor and power. Carrying conviction 
 and insuring victory, it impressed the court and jury with 
 awe, and held them in breathless attention. " Juries," in 
 the words of Lord Brougham, " have declared that they 
 felt it impossible to remove their * looks from him, when 
 he had riveted, and, as it were, fascinated them by his 
 first glance; and it used to be a common remark of men 
 who observed his motions, that they resembled those of a 
 hhod-horse ; as light, as agile, as much betokening strength 
 and speed, as free from all gross superfluity or incum- 
 brance.
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 227 
 
 " Then hear his voice of surpassing sweetness, clear, flexi- 
 ble, strong, exquisitely fitted to strains of serious earnest- 
 ness, deficient in compass, indeed, and much less fitted to 
 express indignation or even scorn than pathos, but wholly 
 free from either harshness or monotony. All these, how- 
 ever, and even his chaste, dignified, and apj^ropriate action, 
 were very small parts of this wonderful advocate's excel- 
 lence. He had a thorough knowledge of men — of their 
 passions and their feelings — he knew every avenue to the 
 heart, and could at will make all its chords vibrate to his 
 touch. 
 
 " To these qualities he joined that fire, that spirit, that 
 courage, which gave vigor and direction to the whole, and 
 bore down all resistance."* 
 
 Of the nature and effects of that glowing eloquence 
 which Lord Erskine so often displayed before an astonished 
 court, we can form no adequate conceptions. The charms, 
 beauty and force of his oratory, like those of the great 
 Athenian orator, lay in his admirable delivery. This was 
 the great secret of his success; and it is the foundation of 
 all good speaking. In order to form a p>roper conception 
 of the splendor and power of Erskine's eloquence, we 
 should have seen that noble form, that animated counte- 
 nance, those graceful and vehement gestures, — • we should 
 have listened to that musical tone, that harmonious sound, 
 
 * " The eloquence of Lord Erskine sprang, indeed, from the purest sources, 
 and was directed to the noblest ends. It emanated from a mind enlarged by 
 gejjeral knowledge ; endowed with singular sensibility, and refined by elegant 
 taste; it was roused to action by the justest and noblest of human passions — 
 an ardent love of freedom and of fame, founded upon the true happiness and 
 lasting glory of his country. Born to what few men acquire, except by severe 
 study and long experience as a lawyer, he attained, almost at once, the highest 
 rank in his profession, and, as an orator, instantaneously to the summit of his 
 art: having gained without effort, he preserved without rivalry, a reputation, 
 the luster of which has never been equaled, and probably will never be sur- 
 passed." — The Pamphleteer, vol. 23, p. 417.
 
 j>28 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 that deep thrilling pathos, and that lofty, soul-stirring 
 strain. In a word, we should have caught the sudden 
 glance of that piercing eye, and heard the low tones and 
 swelling notes of that clear, melodious voice. These were 
 the charms, the indescribable charms., which were thrown 
 around the oratory of Lord Erskine. They centered in 
 delivery. 
 
 " There's a charm in deliv'ry, a magical art, 
 
 That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart; 
 
 'Tis the glance — the expression — the well-chosen word — 
 
 By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirr'd— * 
 
 The smile — the mute gesture — the soul-stirring pause — 
 
 The eye's sweet expression, that melts while it awes — 
 
 The lip's soft persuasion — its musical tone : 
 
 Oh! such were the charms of that eloquent one!" 
 
 The fancy of Lord Erskine was exceedingly brilliant, 
 and sometimes " eminently sportive." The language in 
 which he clothed his thoughts was beautiful and impres- 
 sive. Nothing can exceed the grandeur of his diction or 
 the elegance of his rythmus. 
 
 His written speeches and arguments are among the 
 finest specimens of chaste composition — of close, power- 
 ful reasoning — of lofty, glowing eloquence, — that are to be 
 found in the orations of our orators. The four great 
 arguments of Erskine in the cases of Lord George Gor- 
 don, of the Dean of St. Asaph, of Hardy, and of Hadfleld, 
 are among the finest efforts of genius in the English 
 language, and contain a vast amount of useful informa- 
 tion for the lawyer.* They should not, however, be passed 
 
 * " His speeches, storea as they are with the soundest political doctrines, 
 the finest moral sentiments, and the purest oratorical heauties, are calculated 
 eminently to enlighten, and permanently to please ; they are qualified to make 
 men not only wiser, but better; to expand their views, to confirm their prin- 
 ciples, and to meliorate their hearts; to teach them to pursue the dictates of 
 duty, at every pain and peril; and to uphold the interests of humanity in every 
 ephere and season." — The PampldeUet .
 
 LORD ERSKINE. 229 
 
 over by the general student in oratory. They deserve his 
 closest attention. " Nothing can be more useful to our 
 young orators of any profession, than to make them- 
 selves perfectly acquainted with these admirable speci- 
 mens of reasoning, whatever toil it may cost them. Such 
 productions, as Johnson said of a similar class of writings, 
 ' are bark and steel to the mind.' " 
 
 We shall close our observations on the style of Lord 
 Erskine with the appropriate and judicious remarks of 
 Prof. Goodrich: — 
 
 " His style was chaste, forcible, and harmonious, a model 
 of graceful variety, without the slightest mannerism or 
 straining after effect. His rhythmus was beautiful; that 
 of the passage containing his Indian Chief is surpassed by 
 nothing of the kind in our language. His sentences were 
 sometimes too long — a fault which rose from the close- 
 ness and continuity of his thought. 
 
 " The exordium with which Erskine introduced a speech 
 was always natural, ingenious, and highly appropriate; 
 none of our orators have equaled him in this respect. The 
 arrangement of the matter which followed was highly 
 felicitous; and he had this peculiarity, which gave great 
 unity and force to his arguments, that ' he proposed ' in 
 the w' ords of another, ' a great leading principle, to which 
 all his efibrts were referable and subsidiary — which ran 
 through the whole of his address, governing and elucidat- 
 ing every part. As the principle was a true one, whatever 
 might be its application to that particular case, it gave to 
 his whole speech an air of honesty and sincerity which it 
 was difficult to resist.' " 
 
 We would turn from the contemplation of Lord Ers- 
 kine with feelings of admiration at the brilliancy of his 
 genius, the vast resources of his mind, and the splendor 
 of his astonishing, overpowering eloquence.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 
 
 John Philpot Curran was born at Newmarket, a small 
 village in tlie county of Cork, Ireland, on the 24th of 
 July, 1750. At the age of nineteen, he entered Trinity 
 College, Dublin. Completing his college course, without 
 any marks of distinction, he proceeded to London, and 
 commenced the study of the law in the Middle Temple. 
 Here he pursued his studies with great ardor. He spent 
 his mornings " in reading even to exhaustion, and the rest 
 of the day in the more congenial pursuits of literature." 
 Of his studies and amusements in London, -he thus 
 writes: "I have made some additions to my wardrobe, 
 and purchased a fiddle, which I had till then denied my- 
 self. Do not think, however, from my mentioning these 
 indulgences, that I have diminished my hours of reading. 
 All I have done by the change is employing the time that 
 must otherwise be vacant in amusement instead of soli- 
 tude. I still continue to read ten hours every day — seven 
 at law, and three at history and the general princij)les of 
 politics; and, that I may have time enough, I rise at half- 
 pastfour. I have contrived a machine after the manner 
 of an hour-glass, which perhaps you may be curious to 
 know, which wakens me regularly at that hour. Exactly 
 over my head I have suspended two vessels of tin, one 
 above the other, When I go to bed, which is always at 
 ten, I poar a bottle of water into the upper vessel, in the 
 bottom of which is a hole of such a size as to let the water
 
 JOHN PHJLPOT CURRAX. 231 
 
 pass through so as to make the inferior reservoir overflow 
 in six hours and a half. I have had no small trouble in 
 proportioning these vessels; and I was still more puzzled 
 .for a while liow to confine my head so as to receive the 
 drop, but I have at length succeeded." 
 
 In order to perfect himself in the art of public speak- 
 ing, Mr. Curran commenced a system of discipline almost 
 as severe as that adopted by the great Athenian master. 
 His efforts to become a perfect orator, like those of De- 
 mosthenes, were unremitted; and it is very encouraging 
 for the young student to reflect upon the success with 
 which these efforts were, at length, crowned.* In con- 
 temj^lating the difficulties which he had to surmount in 
 order to become a commanding speaker,- who should 
 despair of ultimate success? Let the student in oratory 
 be animated by the noble example of those eminent 
 speakers who set out with hardly any hope of success, 
 but whose eloquence at last shone in the highest noon 
 of splendor. What triumphs in oratory have been 
 achieved simply by indomitable courage and steady perse- 
 verance! The force of this suggestion will be seen and 
 felt by a recurrence to the early history of Demosthenes, 
 Chatham, Sheridan, Wirt, and Curran. That glory which 
 has encircled them was derived mainly by the persever- 
 ing cultivation of their oratorical powers. 
 
 Curran commenced speaking with a voice so bad, and 
 with an articulation so hasty and confused, that he received 
 the name of " stuttering Jack Curran." " His manner was 
 awkward, his gesture constrained and meaningless, and 
 his whole appearance calculated only to produce laughter, 
 notwithstanding the evidence he gave of superior abilities. 
 All these faults he overcame by severe and patient labor." 
 
 Now for the course which he pursued, — a course which 
 
 * " The art of speaking well requires close application, extensive practice, 
 repeated trials, deep sagacity, and a ready invention." — Quintilian.
 
 232 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 all, wlio would obtain great distinction in eloquence, 
 must adopt. Like Demosthenes, Curran practiced daily 
 before a glass, repeating some of the finest expressions of 
 eminent writers with which he met in a long course of 
 reading and study. In this way he recited admirable 
 passages from Shakspeare, and the best English writers 
 and orators. He regularly attended debating societies, but 
 here he was at first ridiculed by his opponents and morti- 
 fied by repeated failures. One of his earliest efforts be- 
 fore a little debating club, is thus graphically described 
 by himself. Long after his first attempts, some one speak- 
 ing to him of his eloquence, said: " It must have been born 
 with you." " Indeed, my dear sir," replied Curran, " it 
 was not. It was born three and twenty years and some 
 months after me. When I was at the Temple a few of us 
 formed a little debating club, where all the great questions 
 in ethics and politics were discussed and irrevocably set- 
 tled. Upon the first night of our assembling, I attended, 
 my foolish heart throbbing with the anticipated honor of 
 being styled, ' the honored member that opened the debate,* 
 or ' the very eloquent gentleman who had just sat down.' 
 All day the scene had been flitting before my fancy and 
 cajoling it; my ear already caught the glorious melody of 
 'hear him, hear him!' I stood up. The question was the 
 Catholic claims, or the slave trade, I forget which. My 
 mind was stored with about a folio volume of matter. I 
 stood up, trembling through every fibre, but remembering 
 that in this I was imitating Cicero, I took courage, and 
 had actually proceeded as far as ' Mr. Chairman,' when to 
 my astonishment and terror I perceived that every eye 
 was riveted upon me. There was but six or seven present, 
 and the little room could not hold as many more, yet was 
 it to my panic-struck imagination as if I were the central 
 object in nature, and assembled millions were gazing on 
 me with breathless expectation. I became dismayed and
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN, 233 
 
 dumb. My friends cried 'hear him!' but there was noth- 
 ing to hear. So you see it was not born in me. My 
 friends despaired of my ever making a speaker, but I 
 would not give it up. I attended the debates punctually j 
 I said yes and no, till at length one in his speech referred 
 to me, calling me ' orator mum,' whom he doubted not 
 possessed wonderful talents for eloquence although he 
 would recommend him to show it in future by some more 
 popular method than his silence. I followed his advice." 
 
 Curran did truly follow the advice of his opponent; he 
 went on in his glorious career till he triumphed over the pas- 
 sions of his hearers, — till he exhibited the highest powers 
 of oratory, and held admiring courts and juries in breath- 
 less suspense and astonishment. " He turned his shrill 
 and stumbling brogue," says one of his friends, " into a 
 flexible, sustained, and finely-modulated voice; his action 
 became free and forcible; he acquired perfect readiness in 
 thinking on his legs; he put down every opponent by the 
 mingled force of his argument and wit, and was at last 
 crowned with the universal applause of the society, and 
 invited by the president to an entertainment in their 
 behalf" " Well might one of his biographers say, ' His 
 oratorical training was as severe as any Greek ever under- 
 went' " 
 
 From 1783 to 1797, Mr. Curran was a member of the 
 Irish House of Commons. He was a warm advocate of 
 emancipation and reform. As a parliamentary orator, he 
 was never distinguished; it was at the bar that his elo- 
 quence burst forth with such splendor; here it was that 
 he obtained unrivaled mastery over the passions of his 
 auditors, and controlled them like an enchanter. While 
 adiressing the jury he was in his element; his education 
 was forensic, and he was the glory of the forum. Here his 
 intellect shone in all its brightness and steadiness, com- 
 manding the admiration of friends and foes. His greatest 
 
 30
 
 234 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 speeches were made at state trials arising out of the United 
 Irish conspiracy. The most splendid effort of his genius, 
 is his celebrated speech in behalf of Mr. Rowan, who was 
 indicted for the publication of a seditious libel; delivered 
 on the 29th of January, 1794. It contains those admirable 
 passages — the finest he ever produced — on universal 
 emancipation, and the liberty of the press. We quote 
 them here as affording the best specimen of Curran's elo- 
 quence; but still it should be borne in mind that it was 
 not the terseness of language, but the manner, principally, 
 in which his great efforts were made, that invested his 
 oratory with such irresistible power, and caused it to pro- 
 duce such wonderful e%cts. In order then to form an 
 idea of that masterly eloquence which subdued every 
 heart, we must call up in our minds the living speaker, 
 with his glowing eye, and expressive countenance; his 
 bold and impassioned gestures; his finely-modulated voice 
 and musical tones; his wit and mimicry; his tenderness 
 and pathos; his cutting sarcasm, and overwhelming in- 
 vective. 
 
 The first extract which we give from the speech just 
 mentioned, is on the Liberty of the Press. " What then 
 remains? The liberty of the press only — that sacred 
 palladium which no influence, no power, no minister, no 
 government, which nothing but the depravity, or folly, or 
 corruption of a jury, can ever destroy. 
 
 " In that awful moment of a nation's travail, of the last 
 gasp of tyranny and the first breath of freedom, how preg- 
 nant is the example ! The press extinguished, the people 
 enslaved, and the prince undone. As the advocate of 
 society, therefore — of peace — of domestic liberty — and 
 the lasting union of the two countries — I conjure you to 
 guard the liberty of the press, that great sentinel of the 
 state, that great detector of public imposture; guard it, 
 because, when it sinks, there sinks with it, in one common
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 235 
 
 grave, the liberty of the subject and the security of the 
 Crown. 
 
 " There is a sort of aspiring and adventurous credulity 
 which disdains assenting to obvious truths, and delights in 
 catching at the improbability of circumstances, as its best 
 ground of faith. To what other cause, gentlemen, can 
 you ascribe that, in the wise, the reflecting, and the philo- 
 sophical nation of Great Britain, a printer has been found 
 guilty of a libel, for publishing those resolutions, to which 
 the present minister of that kingdom had actually sub- 
 scribed his name? To what other cause can you ascribe, 
 what in my mind is still more astonishing, in such a 
 country as Scotland, a nation cast in the happy medium 
 between the spiritless acquiescence of submissive poverty, 
 and the sturdy credulity of pampered wealth; cool and 
 ardent, adventurous and persevering j winging her eagle 
 flight against the blaze of every science, with an eye that 
 never winks, and a wing that never tires; crowned as she is 
 with the spoils of every art, and decked with the wreath of 
 every muse; from the deep and scrutinizing researches of 
 her Hume, to the sweet and simple, but not less sublime and 
 pathetic morality of her Burns — how, from the bosom of a 
 country like that, genius and character, and talents, should 
 be banished to a distant, barbarous soil; condemned to 
 pine under the horrid communion of vulgar vice and base- 
 born profligacy, for twice the period that ordinary calcil- 
 latiou gives to the continuance of human life? But I will 
 not further joress any idea that is painful to me, and I am 
 sure must be painful to you. I will only say, you have 
 now an example of which neither England nor Scotland 
 had the advantage. You have the example of the panic, 
 the infatuation, and the contrition of both. It is now for 
 you to decide whether you will profit by their experience 
 of idle panic and idle regret, or whether you merely 
 prefer to palliate a servile imitation of their frailty, by a
 
 236 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 paltry aflectation of tlieir repentance. It is now for you 
 to sliow tliat you are not carried away by the same hectic 
 delusions, to acts ©f which no tears can wash away the 
 consequences or the indelible reproach." 
 
 Here we have the fine passage on Universal Emancipa- 
 tion: "I speak in the spirit of the British law, which 
 makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, 
 the British soil — which proclaims, even to the stranger 
 and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British 
 earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy and con- 
 secrated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No 
 matter in what language his doom maybe pronounced; 
 no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an 
 Indian or an African sun may have burned upon him; no 
 matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been 
 cloven down; no matter with what solemnities he may 
 have been devoted upon the altar of slavery; the first 
 moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar 
 and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks 
 abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the 
 measure of his chains that burst from around him, and he 
 stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the 
 irresistible genius of Universal Emancipation."* 
 
 The peroration of this great speech is beautifully con- 
 ceived. It reminds us of some of Grattan's magnificent 
 expressions. " Upon this subject credit me when I say 
 that I am still more anxious for you than I can be for him. 
 I can not but feel the peculiarity of your situation. Not 
 the jury of his own choice, which the law of England 
 allows, but which ours refuses, collected in that box by a 
 
 * " The origin of this fine passage may be traced to the following lines of 
 Cowper : 
 
 ' Slaves can not breathe in England; if their lungs 
 Receive our air, that moment they are free; 
 They touch our country and their shackles fall.' " — Task^ book ii.
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 237 
 
 person certainly no friend to Mr. Rowan, certainly not 
 very deeply interested in giving him a very impartial jury. 
 Feeling this, as I am persuaded you do, you can not be 
 surprised, however you may be distressed at the mournful 
 presage with which an anxious public is led to fear the 
 worst from your possible determination. But I will not, 
 for the justice and honor of our common country, suffer 
 my mind to be borne away by such melancholy anticipa- 
 tions. I will not relinquish the confidence that this day 
 will be the period of his sufferings j and however merciless 
 he has been hitherto pursued, that your verdict will send 
 him home to the arms of his family and the wishes of his 
 country. But if, which Heaven forbid, it hath still been 
 unfortunately determined that, because he has not bent 
 to power and authority, because he would not bow down 
 before the golden calf and worship it^ he is to be bound 
 and cast into the furnace; I do trust in God that there is 
 a redeeming spirit in the Constitution which will be seen 
 to walk with the sufferer through the flames, and to pre- 
 serve him unhurt by the conflagration."* 
 
 In 1806, Mr. Curran was appointed Master of the Rolls; 
 in 1814, he resigned this office on account of ill health, and 
 spent his time in visiting foreign countries. Returning 
 
 * "When Mr. Curran terminated this magnificent exertion, the universal 
 shout of the audience testified its enthusiasm. He used to relate a ludicrous 
 incident which attended his departure from the court after the trial. His path 
 was instantly beset by the populace, -who were bent on chairing him. He 
 implored — he entreated — all in vain. At length, assummg an air of authority, 
 he addressed those nearest to him: ' I desire, gentlemen, that you will desist.' 
 ' I laid great emphasis,' says Curran, ' on the word desist, and put on my best 
 6uit of dignity. However, my next neighbor, a gigantic, brawny chairman, 
 eyeing me, with a somewhat contemptuous affection, from top to toe, bellowed 
 out to his companion, Arrah, blood and turf! Pat, don't mind the little 
 crature; here, pitch him up this minute on my showlder. ' Pat did as he was 
 desired; the ' little, crature ' was carried nolens volens to his carriage, and 
 drawn home by an applaudmg populace. It was a great treat to hear Curran 
 describe this scene and act it.'''' — Charles Phillips.
 
 238 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 to London, he was attacked with ajooplexy, and died in a 
 few days after, on the 14th of October, 1817, in the sixty- 
 eighth year of his age. 
 
 The personal appearance of Mr. Curran is vividly de- 
 scribed by his friend and biographer, the eloquent Charles 
 Phillips,* in his beautiful sketch of the orator and his 
 contemporaries. " Mr. Curran was short of stature, with 
 a swarthy complexion, and ' an eye that glowed like a live 
 coal.' His countenance was singularly expressive; and, 
 as he stood before a jury, he not only read their hearts 
 with a searching glance, but he gave them back his own, 
 in all the fluctuations of his feelings, from laughter to 
 tears. His gesture was bold and impassioned; his articu- 
 lation was uncommonly distinct and deliberate; the modu- 
 lations of his voice were varied in a high degree, and 
 perfectly suited to the widest range of his eloquence." 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Curran was of the most copious, 
 fervid and expressive kind; it almost universally sparkled 
 with wit, humor, fun and ridicule; sometimes it was 
 fraught with the most bitter sarcasm and raging invective; 
 at other times it was expressed in the deepest pathos, 
 causing tears to flow from every eye. " His power lay iu 
 the variety and strength of his emotions. He delighted a 
 jury by his wit; he turned the court-room into a scene of 
 the broadest farce by his humor, mimicry, or fun; he 
 made it ' a place of tears,' by a tenderness and pathos 
 which subdued every heart; he poured out his invective 
 like a stream of lava, 'and inflamed the minds of his 
 countrymen almost to madness by the recital of their 
 
 * " Mr. Phillips' sketch of his friend is certainly one of the nnost extraordi- 
 nary pieces of biography ever produced. Nothing can be more lively and pic- 
 turesque than its ropresentation of the famous original. The reader of it can 
 hardly be said not to have personally known Curran and his contemporaries. 
 It has been justly said of this admirable work that it is Boswell minus Bozzy." 
 — Brougham.
 
 JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN. 239 
 
 wrongs. His rich and powerful imagination furnished the 
 materials for these appeals, and his instinctive know- 
 ledge of the heait taught him how to use them with un- 
 failing success." 
 
 Mr. Curran was one of the most popular orators of his 
 day. His ascendancy over the feelings of his countrymen 
 was complete. He spoke — and the nation listened. He 
 put forth his thoughts in language that stirred the hearts 
 of all. His imagination was fertile; his language was 
 striking and appropriate; his pathos was refined and 
 thrilling; his whole appearance indicated earnestness and 
 sincerity. In many respects, his eloquence was similar to 
 that of his intimate associate and illustrious rival, Thomas 
 Addis Emmet; and the following comments of Justice 
 Story on the character of Mr. Emmet will apply with 
 equal force and truth to Mr. Curran: "His mind was 
 quick, vigorous, searching and buoyant. He kindled as 
 he spoke. There was a spontaneous combustion, as it 
 were, not sparkling, but clear and glowing. His object 
 seemed to be, not to excite wonder or surprise, to capti- 
 vate by bright pictures, and varied images, and graceful 
 groups, and startling apparitions; but by earnest and close 
 reasoning to convince the judgment, or to overwhelm the 
 heart by awakening its most profound emotions. His own 
 feelings were warm and easily touched. His sensibility 
 was keen, and refined itself almost into a melting tender- 
 ness. His knowledge of the human heart was various and 
 exact. He was easily captivated by a belief that his own 
 cause was just. Hence, his eloquence was most striking 
 for its persuasiveness. He said what he felt; and he felt 
 what he said. His command over the passions of others 
 was an instantaneous and sympathetic action. The tones 
 of his voice, when he touched on topics calling for deep 
 feeling, were instinct with meaning. They were utterances 
 of the soul as well as of the lij^s."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EICHARD BEINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan 
 
 Arose to Heaven in her appeal to man, 
 
 His was the thunder — his the avenging rod — 
 
 The wrath — the delegated voice of God, 
 
 Which shook the nations through his lips and blazed, 
 
 Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised. — Byron. 
 
 Richard Brinsley Sheridan was born at Dublin, in Sep- 
 tember, 1751. His father, Thomas Sheridan, was connected 
 with the stage, during most of his life, and was a worthy 
 rival of Garrick. Young Sheridan was sent to Harrow 
 school, where he enjoyed the instructions of the celebrated 
 Dr. Parr. Like Burke, he gave, during his school-boy 
 days, but little promise of future eminence. In indolence 
 and carelessness, he resembled Patrick Henry. 
 
 The attention of Sheridan being early turned to theatri- 
 cal composition, he produced several dramatic essays, 
 which soon placed him in the first rank of comic writers. 
 
 In 1780, Mr. Sheridan entered Parliament as a repre- 
 sentative of Stafford. In the same year he delivered his 
 maiden speech which was an unsuccessful effort. After 
 he had finished his speech he went into the gallery 
 and asked Woodfall, the reporter, with much anxiety, 
 what he thought of his first attempt. " I am sorry to say," 
 replied Woodfall, " that I don't think oratory is in your 
 line — you had better have stuck to your former pur- 
 suits." Such an answer would have discouraged any one
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 241 
 
 but a persevering man. Sheridan, resting liis head on his 
 hand, was struck mute for a few moments, and then ex- 
 claimed with great vehemence, " It is in me, however, 
 Woodiiill, and it shall come out of me!''' And it did come 
 out of him in such richness, variety, fascination and 
 splendor, that listening senates and admiring audiences 
 were delighted, astonished and swayed by its strain. From 
 this moment, Mr. Sheridan devoted himself with the 
 utmost assiduity to the study of oratory. 
 
 During the brief administration of Lord Rockingham 
 in 1782, Mr. Sheridan came into office as Under Secretary 
 of State. On the decease of Rockingham, he resigned 
 with Fox, Burke, and others, when Lord Shelburne was 
 made Prime Minister. 
 
 William Pitt, now coming into the new ministry as 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer, undertook to put Mr. Sheri- 
 dan down by contemptuous allusions to his theatrical pur- 
 suits. Mr. Sheridan retorted upon him with his ready 
 wit — a weapon which he could always use to the greatest 
 advantage. " No man," said Mr. Pitt, " admires more 
 than I do the abilities of that right honorable gentle- 
 man — the elegant sallies of his thought, the gay effusions 
 of his fancy, his dramatic turns, and his epigrammatic 
 point. If they were reserved for the proper stage, they 
 would no doubt receive the plaudits of the audience; 
 and it would be the fortune of the right honorable gentle- 
 man, ' sui plausu gaudere theatri.' " Mr. Sheridan replied 
 to this insolent language, with admirable adroitness, in 
 the following words: " On the particular sort of person- 
 ality which the right honorable gentleman has thought 
 proper to make use of, I need not comment. The propriety, 
 the taste, and the gentlemanly point of it must be obvious 
 to this House. But let me assure the right honorable gen- 
 tleman that I do now, and will, at any time he chooses to 
 
 repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the most perfect 
 
 31
 
 242 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 good humor. Nay, I will say more. Flattered and en- 
 couraged by the right honorable gentleman's panegyric on 
 my talents, if I ever engage again in the composition he 
 alludes to, I may be tempted to an act of presumption, 
 and attempt an improvement on one of Ben Jonson's best 
 characters, that of the Angry Boy, in the Alchemist." 
 " The effect was irresistible. The House was convulsed with 
 laughter; and Mr. Pitt came very near having the title of 
 the Angry Boy fastened on him for the remainder of his 
 life." 
 
 The greatest glory of Mr. Sheridan's career resulted 
 from the trial of Warren Hastings, in which he was chosen 
 one of the managers. On the 7th of February, 1786, he 
 came forward against Mr. Hastings in one of the most 
 wonderful speeches ever delivered. It was founded on the 
 charge relating to Mr. Hastiug's cruel treatment of the 
 Begums, princesses of Oiide, whom he had ordered to be 
 tortured until twelve hundred thousand pounds Avere 
 extorted from them. This celebrated speech not having 
 been reported with any accuracy is now wholly lost; but 
 it is represented as an astonishing exhibition of oratory. 
 Its effects were unexampled in he annals of ancient or 
 modern eloquence. During the delivery of this speech the 
 whole assembly listened with breathless admiration to the 
 orator; and at the conclusion they broke forth into long- 
 continued and tumultuous applause. Mr. Fox declared 
 of this speech, that all he had ever heard, all that he had 
 ever read, wlien compared with it dwindled into nothing 
 and vanished like vapor before the sun; — and Mr. Pitt 
 acknowledged that it surpassed all the eloquence of 
 ancient and modern times, and possessed every thing that 
 genius or art could furnish to agitate or control the 
 human mind. Mr. Burke said that it was the most aston- 
 ishing eilbrt of eloquence, argument, and wit, united, of 
 whicli there was any record or tradition. A motion was
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 243 
 
 immediately made to adjourn, that the House might have 
 time to recover their calmness, and collect their reason 
 after the excitement they had undergone. Sir W. Doblen 
 who made this motion declared that in the state of mind 
 in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him, it was im- 
 possible for him to give a determinate opinion; and Mr. 
 Stanhope, who seconded the motion, affirmed that he had 
 come to the House prepossessed in favor of Mr. Hastings, 
 but such had been the wonderful efficacy of the orator's 
 convincing details of facts and irresistible eloquence, that 
 nothing less than a miracle could now prevent him from 
 voting for the impeachment. Mr. Pitt, in supporting the 
 motion for adjournment, declared that it was impossible 
 to exercise reason freely " while under the wand of the 
 enchanter." In Bisjett's Reign of George III, an anec- 
 dote is related, which, if true, well exhibits the irre- 
 sistible power of this sudden burst of eloquence. It is 
 as follows: — "The Rev. Mr. Logan, a distinguished cler- 
 gyman of the Church of Scotland, and author of a 
 masterly defense of Mr. Hastings, went that day to the 
 House prepossessed for the accused and against the accu- 
 ser. At the expiration of the first hour, he said to a 
 friend, ' All this is declamatory assertion without proof;' 
 when the second was finished, ' This is a most wonderful 
 oration;' at the close of the third, ' Mr. Hastings has acted 
 unjustifiably;' the fourth, ' Mr. Hastings is a most atro- 
 cious criminal;' and at last, ' Of all monsters of iniquity, 
 the most enormous is Warren Hastings!'" Similar 
 remarks relating to this wonderful oration were made 
 long after the heat of excitement had subsided. Twenty 
 years after, Mr. Fox declared it to Ije the best speech ever 
 made in the House of Commons; and Mr. Windham said 
 that the speech deserved all its fame, and was, in spite 
 of some faults of taste, such as were seldom wanting in 
 the literary or in the parliamentary performances of
 
 244 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Sheridan, the greatest that had been delivered within the 
 memory of man. 
 
 Mr. Wraxall characterizes the efforts of Sheridan and 
 Burke on the evening of the 7th of February, 1786, as 
 " the most splendid display of eloquence and talent which 
 has been exhibited in the House of Commons during the 
 present reign. This pre-eminence seems to be accorded 
 by all parties to Sheridan's memorable speech respecting 
 Hastings' treatment of the Begums o' Princesses of Oude. 
 It occupied considerably more than five hours in the 
 delivery, attracted the most intense attention, and was 
 succeeded, at its close, by a general, involuntary pause 
 or hum of admiration, which lasted several minutes. 
 Unquestionably, it formed a most extraordinary effort of 
 human genius, labor, and wit, stamped tnroughout with 
 the characteristic marks of Sheridan's genius; for no man 
 accustomed to his style of composition, oral or written, 
 could for an instant mistake the author. In many parts 
 an 1 passages it was absolutely dramatic; not less so than 
 the ' Duenna,' or the ' School for Scandal.' Those pieces 
 belong indeed to comedy, while the charge in question 
 partook, it may be said, of the nature of tragedy. Yet so 
 admirably could Sheridan adapt his theme to circum- 
 stances, that he contrived to lend point to incidents ths 
 most revolting, and excited smiles while detailing scenes 
 of the deepest distress. Burke, it is true, frequently 
 passed with rapid transitions, from indignation or invec- 
 tive, to raillery, or levity. But he was borne away by an 
 ardent imagination that often outran his reason. Sheri- 
 dan's invocations, allusions, and exclamations the most 
 pathetic, though clothed with all the garb of nature or of 
 passion, were not less the fruit of consummate art and 
 mature reflection. He neither lost his temper, his memory, 
 nor his judgment, throughout the whole performance; 
 blending the legal accuracy of the bar, when stating facts
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 245 
 
 or depositions of witnesses, with the most impassioned 
 appeals to justice, pity, and humanity. Never was the 
 triumph of genius over a popular assembly more signally 
 displayed than in the speech of Sheridan !" 
 
 Soon after the delivery of this brilliant speech a bill of 
 impeachment was found against Mr. Hastings, and Mr. 
 Sheridan was called upon to jiroduce another speech on 
 the Begum Charge. On the 3d of June, 1788, in the 
 presence of one of the most dignified and august assem- 
 blies that was ever congregated in Westminster Hall, he 
 commenced his second speech which lasted four days, 
 during which he delighted and astonished that vast assem- 
 bly of illustrious personages, with an unbroken stream 
 of the loftiest declamation. To such a he-ight was the 
 expectation of the public raised, that an immense con- 
 course of people was brought together to hear the speech; 
 the hall was crowded to suffocation; and such eagerness 
 was manifested to obtain seats that " fifty Guineas were in 
 some instances paid for a single ticket." 
 
 In point of true eloquence this speech was perhaps far 
 inferior to Mr. Sheridan's first effort on the same charge, 
 before the House of Commons, yet it was pronounced by 
 all who heard it, a speech of astonishing power. " Mr. Burke 
 in particular, was carried away in admiration of Mr. 
 Sheridan's oratorical powers. On this occasion he eulo- 
 gized the orator in the following high terms: — 
 
 " He has this day surprised the thousands who hung 
 with raptures on his accents, by such an array of talents, 
 such an exhibition of capacity, such a display of powers, 
 as are unparalleled in the annals of oratory! a display 
 that reflects the highest honor upon himself — luster upon 
 letters — renown upon parliament — glory upon the coun- 
 try. Of all species of rhetoric, of every kind of eloquence 
 t'lat has been witnessed or recorded, either in ancient or 
 modern times: whatever the acuteness of the bar, the
 
 246 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 dignity of the senate, the solidity of the judgment seat, 
 and the sacred morality of the pulpit, have hitherto fur- 
 nished, nothing has surpased, nothing has equaled, what 
 we have this day heard in Westminster Hall. No holy 
 seer of religion, no sage, no statesmen, no orator, no man 
 of any literary descrij)tion whatever, has come up, in the 
 one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality; or, in 
 the other, to that variety of knowledge, force of imagina- 
 tion, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and ele- 
 gance of diction, strength and copiousness of style, pathos 
 and sublimity of conception, to which we have this day 
 listened with ardor and admiration. From poetry up to 
 eloquence, there is not a species of composition of which 
 a complete and perfect specimen might not from that single 
 speech be culled and collected." 
 
 The rejDorts of Mr. Sheridan's speeches are so imperfect 
 and conflicting that we have but little to offer as a fair 
 specimen of his style. The precise language in which 
 they were delivered, we can not possibly have. The same 
 is true of many of those printed senatorial orations of our 
 greatest English orators. The sentiments Tuaj be theirs, 
 but the language, in most instances, is the reporter's. 
 Would it be fair then to judge of the style of an orator 
 simply by the inaccurate reports of his speeches'? 
 
 The best speech of Mr. Sheridan, doubtless is the one 
 above mentioned, yet it is but imperfectly reported. Even 
 thus, however, it contains many passages of lofty and 
 genuine eloquence. The description of the Desolation of 
 Oude — the result of English cruelty and rapacity — is the 
 most graphic and powerful passage in the speeches of 
 Sheridan. We may here remark that some of his most 
 labored passages are cliargeable with some " fault of 
 taste;" but the graphic description which we are about to 
 quote is free from such defects. Tt affords a fine specimen 
 of Mr. Sheridan's stvlc:
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 247 
 
 " If, my Lords, a stranger had at this time entered the 
 province of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since 
 the death of Sujah Dowlah — that prince who with a 
 savage heart had still great lines of character, and who, 
 with all his ferocity in war, had, with a cultivating hand, 
 j)reserved to his country the wealth which it derived from 
 benignant skies and a jjrolific soil — if, observing the wide 
 and general devastation of fields unclothed and brown; 
 of vegetation burned up and extinguished; of villages 
 depopulated and in ruin; of temples unroofed and perish- 
 ing; of reservoirs broken down and dry, this stranger 
 should ask, ' What has thus laid waste this beautiful and 
 opulent land ; what monstrous madness has ravaged with 
 wide-spread v/ar; what desolating foreign -foe; what civil 
 discords; what disputed succession; what religious zeal; 
 what fabled monster has stalked abroad, and, with malice 
 and mortal enmity to man, withered by the grasp of death 
 every growth of nature and humanity, all means of de- 
 light, and each original, simple principle of bare exist- 
 ence?' the answer would have been, not one of these 
 causes! No wars have ravaged these lands and depopu- 
 lated these villages ! No desolating foreign foe! No do- 
 mestic broils! No disputed succession! No religious, 
 super-serviceable zeal ! No poisonous monster! No afflic- 
 tion of Providence, which, while it scourged us, cut off 
 the sources of resuscitation! No! This damp of death is 
 the mere effusion of British amity! We sink under the 
 pressure of their support! We writhe under their perfidi- 
 ous gripe ! They have embraced us with their protecting 
 arms, and lo ! these are the fruits of their alliance ! 
 
 " What then, my Lords, shall we bear to be told that, 
 under such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a 
 whole people, thus spurred on to clamor and resistance, 
 were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the 
 Begums? After hearing the description given by an eye-
 
 248 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 witness [Cjlonel Naylor, successor of Haunay], of the 
 paroxysm of fever and delirium into vvhicli despair threw 
 the natives when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, 
 panting for breath, they tore more widely open the lips of 
 their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution j and 
 while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly 
 eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer 
 that the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their 
 blood; but that it might rise up to the throne of God, and 
 rouse the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their 
 country — will it be said that all this was brought about 
 by the incantations of these Begums in their secluded 
 Zen-ana; or that they could inspire this enthusiasm and 
 this despair into the breasts of a people who felt no griev- 
 ance, and had suffered no torture? What motive, then, 
 could have such influence in their bosom? What motive! 
 That which nature, the common parent, plants in the 
 bosom of man; and which, though it may be less active in 
 the Indian than in the Englishman, is still congenial Avith, 
 and makes a part of his being. That feeling which tells 
 him that man was never made to be the property of man; 
 but that, when in the pride and insolence of power, one 
 human creature dares to tyrannize over another, it is a 
 power usurped, and resistance is a duty. That principle 
 which tells him that resistance to power usurped is not 
 merely a duty which he owes to himself and to his neigh- 
 bor, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting and 
 maintaining the rank which he gave him in his creation. 
 That principle which neither the rudeness of ignorance 
 can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish! 
 That i^rinciple which makes it base for a man to suSer 
 when he ought to act; which, tending to preserve to the 
 species the original designations of Providence, spurns at 
 the arrogant distinctions of man, and indicates the inde- 
 pendent quality of his race."
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, 249 
 
 The success of Mr. Sheridan in those speeches which he 
 delivered against Warren Hastings was celebrated by 
 Byron in the lines which we have placed at the head of 
 this sketch. The fame of Mr. Sheridan had now reached 
 its meridian splendor. In the prosecution and trial of 
 Hastings the loftiest summit of oratorical glory was 
 attained. It was the brightest period in the life of 
 the orator. He never afterwards rose to such a lofty 
 strain of eloquence as that on which he soared when, 
 amid the rapturous applause of a thrilled audience, he 
 shook the walls of Westminster Hall with tones of 
 thunder, — 
 
 " Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised." 
 
 During a parliamentary career of more than thirty 
 years, Mr Sheridan usually took part in almost every im- 
 portant debate and made many able speeches. One of 
 these, delivered in 1803, when England was threatened 
 with invasion from France, is said to have been a speech 
 of uncommon eloquence, and gained him much applause. 
 
 The record of the last days of this highly gifted orator 
 and dramatist is painful. In 1809, his entire property was 
 destroyed by the burning of Drury-lane Theater. But it 
 was his indolence, intemperance, and extravagance, that 
 involved him so deeply in debt, ruin and misery. 
 
 " Wine being no longer of sufficient strength to quicken 
 his faculties for conversation or debate, stronger liquors 
 were substituted. A person sitting one evening in a 
 coffee-house, near St. Stephen's Chapel, saw, to his sur- 
 prise, a gentleman with papers before him, after taking 
 tea, pour the contents of a decanter of brandy into a 
 tumbler, and drink it off without dilution. He then 
 gathered up his papers and went out. Shortly after, the 
 spectator, on entering the gallery of the House of Com- 
 mons, heard the brandy-drinker, to his astonishment, 
 
 deliver a long and brilliant speech. It was Mr. Sheridan!" 
 32
 
 250 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 The continued violation of the laws of nature an u of 
 God will in due time bring its punishment. Thus it was 
 with Mr. Sheridan. By intemperate habits disease was 
 induced, while the miseries of life were thickening in 
 deepest gloom around him. In this sufiering condition, 
 he was continually harrassed by writs and executions^ a 
 sheriff's officer finally arrested the dying man, and was 
 about to carry him to prison, when his physician interfered 
 and prevented his removal. Mr. Sheridan died on the 7th 
 of July, 18 16, at the age of sixty-four, " a melancholy 
 example of brilliant talents sacrificed to a love of display 
 and convivial indulgence." 
 
 In contemplating the mournful end of the most brilliant 
 orator of the past generation we may adopt the following 
 glowing and impressive lines of the poet, and ask: — 
 
 " Was this, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, 
 The pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall — 
 The orator, dramatist, minstrel, — who ran 
 
 Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. 
 
 Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art. 
 From the finest and best of all other men's powers ; — 
 
 Who ruled, like a wizard, the world of the heart, 
 
 And could call up its sunshine, or draw down its showers: — 
 
 Whose humor, as gay as the fire-fly's light, 
 
 Play'd round every subject, and shone, as it play'd; — 
 
 Whose wit, in the combat as gentle, as bright. 
 Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade ; — 
 
 Whose eloquence, brightening whatever it tried, 
 
 Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, 
 Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide. 
 
 As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave!" 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Sheridan was of the highest 
 order. We mention a few of its leading characteristics. 
 It was not of that condensed, fiery energy which inspired 
 Chatham or Mirabeau; it was of a milder kind, — more 
 adapted to please and captivate than to alarm and terrify.
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 251 
 
 It was adorned by lofty flights of fancy, classical allusions, 
 sallies of wit, humor, irony and ridicule. This is a species 
 of oratory in which all popular assemblies take unbounded 
 delight. 
 
 The forte of Sheridan lay in the powerful effusions of 
 brilliant wit, mingled with humor and fun. With this 
 he would often convulse his hearers with laughter. " Good 
 sense and wit were the great weapons of his oratory — 
 shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adversary, 
 and infinite powers of raillery in exposing them." Ready 
 wit is of the greatest advantage to a political orator. It 
 not only enables him to give vivacity to his discourse, but 
 renders him formidable to his opponent. With the keen 
 edge of wit, Sheridan wounded his antagonists the deepest. 
 It was a weapon that he often hurled at Pitt and Dundas, 
 with complete success. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan possessed a remarkable versatility of 
 talents — extensive knowledge of the human heart — great 
 powers of fancy — exuberant stores of wit — a deep, clear, 
 mellifluous voice, whose tones were perfectly suited to 
 invective, descrij^itive, pathetic, or impassioned declama- 
 tion — a singularly piercing eye* — an animated and im- 
 pressive countenance — a fiery and dauntless spirit that 
 never faltered before an antagonist, — and a manner alto- 
 gether striking, -admirable and impressive. His gestures 
 were performed with grace, dignity and force. His atten- 
 tion to theatrical performances doubtless contributed to 
 render him a complete master of that which Demosthenes 
 declared to be the first, and second, and third requisites in 
 eloquence. Much of the power of his oratory lay in his 
 admirable delivery. In this way he triumphed over the 
 passions of his auditors, and fascinated them at hi a pleas-, 
 ure By a stroke of the pathetic, he could, apparently, 
 
 * " It had the singularity of never winking."— io?-i Brougham.
 
 v^ 252 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 without mucli effort, move Ms liearers to tears, and by the 
 sallies of wit and fun, as easily set them into roars of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Of all great speakers of a day fertile in oratory, Sheri- 
 dan had the most conspicuous natural gifts. His figure, 
 at his first introduction into the House, was manly and 
 striking; his countenance singularly expressive, when 
 excited in debate; his eye, large, black, and intellectual; 
 and his voice one of the richest, most flexible, and most 
 sonorous that ever came from human lips. Pitt's was 
 powerful, but monotonous; and its measured tone often 
 wearied the ear. Fox's was all confusion in the com- 
 mencement of his speech; and it required some tension of 
 ear throughout to catch his words. Burke's was loud and 
 bold, but unmusical; and his contempt for order in his 
 sentences, and the abruptness of his grand and swelling 
 conceptions, that seemed to roll through his mind like 
 billows before a gale, often made the defects of his de- 
 livery more striking. But Sheridan, in manner, gesture, 
 and voice, had every quality that could give effect to elo- 
 quence. Pitt and Fox were listened to with profound 
 respect, and in silence, broken only by occasional cheers; 
 but from the moment of Sheridan's rising there was an 
 expectation of pleasure, which, to his last days, was sel- 
 dom disappointed. A low murmur of eagerness ran round 
 the House; every word was watched for, and his first 
 pleasantry set the whole assemblage in a roar. Sheridan 
 was aware of this, and has been heard to say, ' that if a 
 jester would never be an orator, yet no speaker could 
 expect to be popular in a yuU house without a jest; and 
 that he always made the experiment, good or bad, as a 
 laugh gave him the country gentlemen to a man.' " 
 
 Cotemporaries speak in the highest terms of Mr. Sheri- 
 dan's intellectual and oratorical powers. The following 
 sketch of his j^erson and manner of speaking, by Mr.
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 253 
 
 Wraxall, a distinguished member of Parliament, a critic 
 and writer of considerable repute, will be read with 
 pleasure : 
 
 "He possessed a ductility and versatility of talents, 
 which no public man in our time has equaled j and these 
 intellectual endowments were sustained by a suavity of 
 temper, that seemed to set at defiance all a'umpts to ruffle 
 or discompose it. Playing with his irritable or angry an- 
 tagonist, Sheridan exposed him by sallies of wit, or 
 attacked him with classic elegance of satire; performing 
 this arduous task in the face of a crowded assembly, with- 
 out losing for an instant either his presence of mind, his 
 facility of exj)ression, or his good humor. He wounded 
 deepest^ indeed, when he smiled; and convulsed his hearers 
 with laughter, while the object of his ridicule or animad- 
 version was twisting under the lash. Pitt and Dundas, 
 who presented the fairest marks for his attack, found by 
 experience, that though they might repel, they could not 
 confound, and still less could they silence or vanquish 
 him. Jn every attempt that they made by introducing per- 
 sonalities, or illiberal reflections on his private life, and 
 literoiy or dramatic occupations, to disconcert him, he 
 turned their weapons on themselves. Nor did he, while 
 thus chastising his adversary, alter a muscle of his own 
 coun^nance, which, as well as his gestures, seemed to 
 participate and display the unalterable serenity of his 
 intellectual formation. Rarely did he elevate his voice, 
 and never except , in subservience to the dictates of his 
 judgment, with the view to produce a corresponding eifect 
 on his audience. Yet he was always heard, generally 
 listened to with eagerness, and could obtain a hearing at 
 almost any hour. Burke, who wanted Sheridan's nice 
 tact, and his amenity of manner, was continually coughed 
 down; and on those occasions he lost his temper. Even 
 Fox often tired the house by the repetitions which he in-
 
 254 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 troduced into his speeches. Sheridan never abused their 
 patience. Whenever he rose they anticipated a rich 
 repast of wit without acrimony, seasoned by allusions and 
 citations the most delicate, yet obvious in their applica- 
 tion. 
 
 " At this period of his life, when he was not more than 
 thirty-three years of age, his countenance and features 
 had in them something peculiarly pleasing; indicative at 
 once of intellect, humor, and gaiety. All these character- 
 istics played about his lips when speaking, and operated 
 with inconceivable attraction; — for they anticipated, as it 
 were, to the eye, the effect produced by his oratory on the 
 ear; thus opening for him a sure way to the heart, or the 
 understanding. Even the tones of the voice, which were 
 singularly mellifluous, aided the general effect of his 
 eloquence; nor was it accompanied by Burke's unpleasant 
 Irish accent. Pitt's enunciation was unquestionably more 
 imposing, dignified, and sonorous. Fox displayed more 
 argument as well as vehemence; Burke possessed more 
 fancy and enthusiasm; but Sheridan w'on his way by a sort 
 of fascination. 
 
 " Sheridan combined in himself the talents of Terence 
 and of Cicero, the powers of Demosthenes and of Menan- 
 der. In the capital of Great Britain, on one and the same 
 day, he has spoken for several hours in Westminster Hall, 
 during the course of Hastings' trial, to a most brilliant and 
 highly-informed audience of both sexes, in a manner so 
 impressive, no less than eloquent, as to extort admiration 
 even from his greatest enemies. Then repairing to the 
 House of Commons he has exhibited specimens of oratory 
 before that assembly, equaling those which he had dis- 
 played in the morning, when addressing the peers, as one 
 of Hastings' accusers: while, on the same evening, 'The 
 Duenna ' has been performed at one theater, and the 
 ' School for Scandal ' at the other, to crowded audiences,
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 255 
 
 who received tliem with unbounded applause. This is a 
 species of double triumph, of the tongue and of the pen, 
 to which antiquity, Athenian or Roman, can lay no claim, 
 and which has not any jjarallel in our own history. Lord 
 Bolingbroke may perhaps form the nearest approach, as 
 he was both an orator and a writer. So was Burke. Fox 
 himself, after a life passed in the House of Commons, 
 aspired to instruct and to delight by his compositions. 
 But not one of the three can sustain a comparison with 
 Sheridan, who may be considered, in a comprehensive 
 view, as the most highly endowed man whom we have 
 beheld in our time."* 
 
 In a fine critique on the character and genius of cele- 
 brated orators, a late w^riter of our own country has the 
 following beautiful reflection on Sheridan: 
 
 " Associated with Burke and Fox, in their long career 
 of opposition, was the renowned, unhappy Sheridan. If 
 not, as he has been called, ' the worthy rival,' he might, 
 doubtless, in many respects, have been the rival 
 
 ' Of the wond'rous three t 
 Whose words were sparks of immortality.' 
 
 " Sheridan had not the classical attainments, nor th ^. 
 political and general information of his great contempo- 
 raries. He could not generalize with Burke, nor debate 
 with Pitt and Fox. But his flow of wit was inexhausti- 
 ble. On great occasions, and with sufficient preparation, 
 he could put forth the highest powers of oratory. A 
 richer tribute was perhaps never paid to eloquence, than 
 was universally accorded to him after his great speech on 
 the Begum charge in the trial of Hastings; 
 
 ' In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied, 
 The praised, the proud, who made his praise their pride.* * 
 
 * Posthumous Memoirs of his Own Time, p. 20, 22. 
 + Burke, Fox, and Pitt.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 
 
 William Pitt, the younger, was born at Hayes, in Kent, 
 on the 2Sth of May, 1759. He was the second son of Lord 
 Chatham. In childhood, Pitt gave indications of a superior 
 mind; and the buddings of that young intellect were 
 watched with peculiar pleasure by a father, himself the 
 greatest of English statesmen, who was proud to train up a 
 son that would continue his own fame in another generation. 
 On account of the wecikness of his constitution, young 
 Pitt was not sent to a j^ublic school, but pursued his studies 
 at home, under a private tutor, and under his father's 
 superintendence. At fourteen, he was sent to the Univer- 
 sity of Cambridge. Even then — so great was his proficiency 
 in knowledge, — he was well versed in the rudiments of 
 English literature, and familiarly acquainted with the 
 Greek and Roman classics. According to his tutor, Dr. 
 Prettyman, he seldom met with difficulty in Latin authors, 
 and it was no uncommon thing for him to translate into 
 English six or eight pages of Thucydides which he had not 
 previously seen, with only two or three mistakes, or even 
 without any. Before he was twenty, it is said, that there 
 was scarcely a Greek or Latin classical writer of any emi- 
 nence, the whole of whose works Mr. Pitt had not read in 
 the original. 
 
 in anticipation of entering on a political career, one 
 great, leading idea, — that of becoming an accomplished 
 and distinguished orator in Parliament, — seems to have
 
 WILLIAM PITT, 257 
 
 absorbed the mind of young Pitt. When his father was 
 elevated to the peerage, the youth, at that time in his 
 seventh year, is said to have exclaimed, " Then must I take 
 his place in the House of Commons !" In the hope of being 
 one day numbered among the most eminent orators of the 
 age — an age of oratorical greatness and glory — the youth- 
 ful Pitt pursued with indefatigable perseverance the study 
 of the ancient classics, the mathematics, and the logic of 
 Aristotle. These studies seem to have engaged his closest 
 attention for several years. Such was the foundation on 
 which he erected the superstructure of his persuasive 
 eloquence. Like his illustrious father, he was formed 
 on the classic model. He was, perhajDs, as intimately 
 acquainted with the elegant literary productions of an- 
 tiquity as his celebrated rival, Mr. Fox. The classics 
 were Mr. Pitt's daily companions. He was in the habit of 
 spending hours on the most beautiful expressions of the 
 ancient orators and historians, and of copying the most 
 striking passages in their works. The jDractice of render- 
 ing the Greek and Roman classics into English, and of 
 committing to memory the most eloquent passages which 
 occur in reading, is the best exercise in which the young 
 student can engage. It imparte a command of language, 
 aids him in acquiring a forcible style, affords the best men- 
 tal disciiDline, strengthens his memory, cultivates his taste, 
 invigorates his intellect, and gives him a relish for the 
 sublime and beautiful in writing. Such a course has been 
 pursued by all who have attained the greatest eminence in 
 public speaking. Let the young orator adopt this plan, 
 and he will improve. Let him not only read the classics 
 " by day and study them by night," but commit to memory 
 those eloquent passages which we have introduced in this 
 volume — those passages of Demosthenian fire 
 
 Mr. Pitt took great delight in the ancient and modern 
 
 poets. Their finest passages he committed to memory. 
 33
 
 258 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 » 
 
 Like Erskine, lie was a warm admirer of Sliakspeare, and 
 knew by heart a large portion of his writings. In English 
 literature, Mr. Pitt's knowledge was extensive. He was 
 familiar with the best historians. Middleton's Life of 
 Cicero, Bolingbroke's political works, and Barrow's Ser- 
 mons, were his favorite models of style. 
 
 Having studied law, Mr. Pitt was called to the bar in 
 1780, and the next year, at the age of twenty-two, took his 
 seat in Parli^jment. He immediately united with Burke, 
 Fox and other distinguished members of the House, in 
 opposing Lord North's administration, which was now verg- 
 ing towards its downfall. His maiden speech, which was 
 wholly unpremeditated, was delivered about a month after 
 he became a member of Parliament, when one of Mr. 
 Burke's bills on economical reform was under debate. 
 Such remarkable and astonishing powers of eloquence did 
 the young speaker manifest in his first oratorical effort, 
 that all eyes were turned towards him in wonder and admi- 
 ration, and a burst of applause broke from every quarter 
 of the House. After he had finished his speech, Burke took 
 him by the hand, declaring that he was " not merely a chip 
 of the old block, but the old block itself" Fox had him 
 enrolled among the elite oS the Whigs, and so great was 
 his admiration of the youth's oratory, that, when some one 
 was remarking, at the end of the session, " Pitt promises 
 to be one of the first speakers that was ever heard in Par- 
 liament," he instantly replied, " He is so already^ 
 
 " Thus, at the age of twenty-two, when most men are 
 yet in the rudiments of political science, and just com- 
 mencing their first essays in oratory, he placed himself at 
 a single bound in the foremost rank of English statesmen 
 and orators, at the proudest era of English eloquence." 
 
 One of the most praiseworthy efforts of Mr. Pitt, about 
 this time (November, 1781), was his strenuous exertion to 
 terminate the American war. In a speech on the subject,
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 259 
 
 he denounced it in the following bold, eloquent terms, 
 which may serve as a fair specimen of his style of compo- 
 sition. 
 
 " Gentlemen have passed the highest eulogiums on the 
 American war. Its justice has been defended in the most 
 fervent manner. A noble lord, in the heat of his zeal, has 
 called it a holy war. For my part, although the honorable 
 gentleman who made this motion, and some other gentle- 
 men, have been, more than once, in the course of the 
 debate, severely reprehended for calling it a wicked and 
 accursed war, I am persuaded, and would affirm, that it was 
 a most accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, 
 unjust and diabolical war! It was conceived in injustice; 
 it was nurtured and brought forth in folly; its footsteps 
 were marked with blood, slaughter, persecution and devas- 
 tation; — in truth, everything which went to constitute 
 moral depravity and human terpitude were to be found in 
 it. It was pregnant with misery of every kind. 
 
 " The mischief, however, recoiled on the unhappy people 
 of this country, who were made the instruments by which 
 the wicked purposes of the authors of the war were effect- 
 ed. The Nation was drained of its best blood, and of its 
 vital resources of men and money. The expense of the 
 war was enormous, — much beyond any former experience. 
 And yet, what has the British nation received in return? 
 Nothing but a series of ineifective victories, or severe 
 defeats; — victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph 
 over our brethren, whom we would trample down and des- 
 troy; victories, which filled the land with mourning for 
 the loss of dear and valued relatives, slain in the impious 
 cause of enforcing unconditional submission, or with nar- 
 ratives of the glorious exertions of men struggling in the 
 holy cause of liberty, though struggling in the absence of 
 all the facilities and advantages which are in general 
 deemed the necessary concomitants of victory and success.
 
 260 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 Where was the Englishman, who, on reading the narratives 
 of those bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain 
 from lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in 
 such a cause; or from w^eeping, on whatever side victory 
 might be declared?" 
 
 At the termination of the Rockingham Administration, 
 in 1782, Mr. Pitt was made Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 under Lord Shelburne. Mr. Fox, W'ho considered himself 
 slighted, instantly resigned his office as Secretary of State, 
 and united with Lord North in opposing the Shelburne 
 Administration. The new ministers were voted down, and 
 a motion w^as made, strongly censuring them or the terms 
 on which they had made peace. After a long debate, the 
 vote of censure was finally passed, whereupon the Earl of 
 Shelburne resigned. 
 
 Next followed the coalition ministry (April 2d, 1783), 
 •which was dismissed in a few^ months. William Pitt then 
 came in as Prime Minister, at the age of twenty -four (Dec. 
 22d, 1783). 
 
 Mr- Fox, who still had the majority on his side, now 
 labored hard to put down the young minister. But it was 
 in vain. Mr. Pitt's popularity increased every day, until 
 he was firmly established in his new office as Premier. He 
 stood at the helm in the administration of the British gov- 
 ernment for nearly seventeen years, during one of the most 
 eventful and stormy periods in English history. With such 
 consummate wisdom and ability did he manage the affairs 
 of the nation in those perilous times, that he has been 
 justly styled, the " pilot that weathered the storm." 
 
 With respect to the former part of his administration, 
 Gibbon, the historian, speaks in the highest terms of com- 
 mendation; and says, that " in all his researches in an- 
 cient and modern history, he had nowhere met with a 
 parallel — with one who at so early a period of life had so 
 important a trust reposed in him, which he had discharged
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 261 
 
 with so much credit to himself and advantage to the 
 kingdom." And Mr. GiflFord, in his life of the orator pays 
 a beautiful tribute to his character as a statesman — as one 
 of the ablest that England had produced. "As a statesman, 
 the resources, as w^ll as the firmness of Mr. Pitt's mind, 
 have been amply demonstrated by the measures which he 
 adopted, to meet the various and unforeseen difficulties with 
 which the British nation was surrounded during the period 
 of his administration. Abroad, he had to struggle with 
 the most gigantic ]-)Ower, which ever raised itself in oppo- 
 sition to the greatness of his country; while, at home, he 
 had to support at the same time commercial and national 
 credit, t6 allay the turbulent spirit of mutiny, to extin- 
 guish the raging flames of rebellion, to provide even for 
 the importunate calls of famine. The energies of his mind 
 were most eminently exerted upon these important occa- 
 sions; and, in spite of internal distractions, he carried the 
 power of the nation to a greater height than it had ever 
 attained at any former period." 
 
 During his administration, several important measures, 
 affecting the peace, happiness and prosperity of Great 
 Britain, India, and Africa were brought forward or sustain- 
 ed by Mr. Pitt. In most of these measures he showed him- 
 self one of the ablest and most sagacious statesmen that 
 ever controlled the affairs of England. Our limited sjiace 
 does not permit us to follow Mr. Pitt through his long 
 career. We shall mention but one or two of his host par- 
 liamentary efforts. The act which reflects the highest hon- 
 or on his character as a philanthropist, — as an opponent of 
 oppression, — as the friend of universal liberty, is his uniting 
 with Mr. Wilberforce in advocating the immediate aboli- 
 tion of the slave trade, in which England was at that time 
 engaged. His noble exertions in behalf of the oppressed 
 sons of Africa entitle him to the lasting regard of Christ- 
 endom. The African slave trade roused all the sympathies
 
 262 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of Mr. Pitt, aud called fortli the sublimest effort of Ms 
 eloquence. 
 
 Early in 1792, hundreds of petitions against the slave 
 trade were iH'esented to Parliament j and on the 2d of April, 
 Mr. Wilberforce made a motion for its immediate suppres- 
 sion, which he supported by a speech of great compass and 
 power. In reply to Addington and Dundas, who opposed 
 Wilberforce's plan of immediate abolition, Mr. Pitt rose 
 and delivered the most eloquent speech on this subject, 
 ever pronounced in the House of Commons. It is the finest 
 of all his ^parliamentary efforts, combining " with the most 
 impassioned declamation, the deepest pathos, the most live- 
 ly imagination, and the closest reasoning." 
 
 Mr. Wilberforce, alluding to this sjDeech in his journal, 
 writes, " Windham, who has no love for Pitt, tells me that 
 Fox and Grey, with whom he walked home from this debate, 
 agreed in thinking Pitt's speech one of the most extra- 
 ordinary displays of eloquence they had ever heard. For 
 the last twenty minutes he really seemed to be inspired;" 
 and Lord Brougham says, " We have it from a friend of 
 his own, who sat beside him on this memorable occasion, 
 that its effects on Mr. Fox were manifest during the whole 
 period of the delivery, while Mr. Sheridan expressed his 
 feelings in the most hearty and even passionate terms j 
 and we have it from Mr. Windham that he walked home 
 lost in amazement at the comjjass, till then unknown to 
 him, of human eloquence." 
 
 In tones of the loftiest eloquence he exposed the evils 
 of that guilty traffic which had long inflicted misery upon 
 Africa and east disgrace on England. 
 
 " The last four paragraphs of this speech, together with 
 three others at the opening of the third head, ' But now, 
 sir, I come to Africa,' are specimens of that lofty declama- 
 tion with which Mr. Pitt so often raised and delighted the 
 feelings of the House. His theme in such cases was
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 263 
 
 usually his country — what she had been, what she might 
 be, what she ought to accomplish. His amplifications are 
 often in the best manner of Cicero adapted to modern 
 times." 
 
 We introduce all these passages at length: "But now, 
 sir, I come to Africa. That is the ground on which I rest, 
 and here it is that I say my right honorable friends do not 
 carry their i^riuciples to their full extent. Why ought the 
 slave trade to be abolished? Because it is incurable injus- 
 tice ! How much stronger, then, is the argument for im- 
 mediate than gradual abolition! By allowing it to con- 
 tinue even for one hour, do not my right honorable friends 
 weaken — do not they desert, their own argument of its 
 injustice? If on the ground of injustice it ought to be 
 abolished at last, why ought it not now? Why is injustice 
 to be suffered to remain for a single hour? From what I 
 hear without doors, it is evident that there is a general 
 conviction entertained of its being far from just, and from 
 that very conviction of its injustice some men have been 
 led, I fear, to the sui>position that the slave trade never 
 could have been permitted to begin, but from some strong 
 and irresistible necessity; a necessity, however, which, if 
 it was fancied to exist at first, I have shown can not be 
 thought by any man whatever to exist at present This 
 plea of necessity, hus presumed, and presumed, as I sus- 
 pect, from the circumstance of injustice itself, has caused 
 a sort of acquiescence in the continuance of this evil. 
 Men have been led to place it in the rank of those neces- 
 sary evils which are supposed to be the lot of human 
 creatures, and to be permitted to fall upon some countries 
 or individuals, rather than upon others, by that Being 
 whose ways are inscrutable to us, and whose dispensations, 
 it is conceived, we ought not to look into. The origin of 
 evil is, indeed, a subject beyond the reach of the human 
 understanding; and the permission of it by the Supreme
 
 264 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Being, is a subject into which it belongs not to us to 
 inquire. But where the evil in question is a moral evil 
 which a man can scrutinize, and ^vhere that moral evil 
 has its origin with ourselves, let us not imagine that we 
 can clear our consciences by this general, not to say irre- 
 ligious and impious way of laying aside the question. If 
 we reflect at all on this subject we must see that every 
 necessary evil supposes that some other and greater evil 
 would be incurred were it removed. I therefore desire to 
 ask, what can be that greater evil which can be stated to 
 overbalance the one in question? I know of no evil that 
 ever has existed, nor can imagine any evil to exist, worse 
 than the tearing of eighty thousand persons annually 
 from their native land, by a combination of the most 
 civilized nations in the most enlightened quarter of the 
 globe ; but more especially by that nation which calls her- 
 self the most free and the most happy of them all. Even 
 if these miserable beings were proved, guilty of every 
 crime before you take them off' (of which how^ever not a 
 single proof is adduced), ought we to take upon ourselves 
 the office of executioners? And even if we condescend 
 so far, still can we be justified in taking them, unless we 
 have clear proof that they are criminals? 
 
 "But if we go much farther; if we ourselves tempt 
 them to sell their fellow creatures to us, we may rest as- 
 sured that they wdll take care to provide by every method, 
 by kidnapping, by village-breaking, by unjust wars, by 
 iniquitous condemnations, by rendering Africa a scene of 
 bloodshed and misery, a supply of victims increasing in 
 proportion to our demand. Can we, then, hesitate in 
 deciding whether the wars in Africa are their wars or 
 ours? It was our arms in the River Cameroon, put into 
 the hands of the trader, that furnished him with the 
 means of pushing his trade; and I have no more doubt 
 that they are British arms, put into the hands of Africans,
 
 WILLUM PITT. 265 
 
 whicli promote universal war and desolation, than I can 
 doubt their having done so in that individual instance. 
 
 " I have shown how great is the enormity of this evil, 
 even on the supposition that we take only convicts and 
 prisoners of war. But take the subject in the other wayj 
 take it on the grounds stated by the right honorable gen- 
 tleman over the way; and how does it stand? Think of 
 EIGHTY THOUSAND persous Carried away out of their country, 
 by we know not what means; for crimes imputed; for light 
 or inconsiderable faults; for debt, perhaps; for the crime 
 of witchcraft; or a thousand other weak and scandalous 
 pretexts! Besides all the fraud and kidnapping, the vil- 
 lainies and perfidy, by which the slave trade is supplied. 
 Reflect on these eighty thousand persons thus annually 
 taken oil* ! There is something in the horror of it, that 
 surpasses all the bounds of imagination. Admitting that 
 there exists in Africa something like to courts of justice; 
 yet what an office of humiliation and meanness is it in 
 us, to take upon ourselves to carry into execution the par- 
 tial, the cruel, iniquitous sentences of such courts, as if 
 we also were strangers to all religion, and to the first 
 principles of justice." 
 
 " Thus, sir, has the perversion of British commerce 
 carried misery instead of happiness to one whole quarter 
 of the globe. False to the very principles of trade, mis- 
 guided in our policy, and unmindful of our duty, what 
 astonishing — I had almost said, what irreparable mischief, 
 have we brought upon that continent! How shall we hope 
 to obtain, if it be possible, forgiveness from Heaven for 
 those enormous evils we have committed, if we refuse to 
 make use of those means which the mercy of Providence 
 hath still reserved to us, for wiping away the guilt and 
 shame with which we are now covered. If we refuse even 
 this degree of compensation; if, knowing the miseries we 
 have caused, we refuse even now to put a stop to them,
 
 266 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 liow greatly aggravated will be the guilt of Great Britain! 
 and what a blot will these transactions forever be in the 
 history of this country! Shall we, then, delay to repair 
 these injuries, and to begin rendering justice to Africa? 
 Shall we not count the days and hours that are suffered to 
 intervenej and to delay the accomplishment of such a 
 work? Reliect Avhat an immense object is before youj 
 what an object for a nation to have in view, and to have a 
 prospect, under the favor of Providence, of being now 
 peimitted to attain! I think the House will agree with 
 me in cherishing the ardent wish to enter without delay 
 upon the measures necessary for these great ends; audi 
 am sure that the immediate abolition of the slave trade is 
 the first, the principal, the most indispensable act of policy, 
 of duty, and of justice, that the Legislature of this coun- 
 try has to take, if it is indeed their wish to secure those 
 important objects to which I have alluded, and which we 
 are bound to pursue by the most solemn obligations." 
 
 " Having now detained the House so long, all that I 
 will further add shall be on that important subject, the 
 civilization of Africa, which I have already shown that I 
 consider as the leading feature in this question. Grieved 
 am I to think that there should be a single person in this 
 country, much more that there should be a single member 
 in the British Parliament, who can look on the present 
 dark, uncultivated, and uncivilized state of that continent 
 as a ground for continuing the slave trade; as a ground 
 not only for refusing to attempt the improvement of 
 Africa, but even for hindering and intercepting every ray 
 of light which might otherwise break in upon her, as a 
 ground for refusing to her the common chance and the 
 common means with which other nations have been 
 blessed, of emerging from their native barbarism." 
 
 ",We, sir, have long since emerged from barbarism. We 
 have almost forgotten that we were once barbarians.
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 267 
 
 We are now raised to a situation which exhibits a striking 
 contrast to every circumstance by which a Roman might 
 have characterized us, and by which we now characterize 
 Africa. There is, indeed, one thing wanting to complete 
 the contrast, and to clear us altogether from the imputa- 
 tion of acting even to this hour as barbarians; for we con- 
 tinue to this hour a barbarous traffic in slaves; we con- 
 tinue it even yet, in spite of all our great and 'undeniable 
 pretensions to civilization. We were once as obscure 
 among the nations of the earth, as savage in our manners, 
 as debased in our morals, as degraded in our understand- 
 ings, as these unhappy Africans are at present. But in the 
 lapse of a long series of years, by a progression slow, and 
 for a time almost imperceptible, we have become rich in 
 a variety of acquirements, favored above measure in the 
 gifts of Providence, unrivaled in commerce, pre-eminent 
 in arts, foremost in the pursuits of philosophy and science, 
 and established in all the blessings of civil society. We 
 are in the possession of peace, of happiness, and of liberty. 
 We are under the guidance of a mild and beneficent reli- 
 gion; and we are protected by impartial laws, and the 
 purest administration of justice. We are living under a 
 system of government which our own haj^py experience 
 leads us to jDronounce the best and wisest which has ever 
 yet been framed; a system which has become the admira- 
 tion of the world. From all these blessings we must for- 
 ever have been shut out, had there been any truth in those 
 princiides which some gentlemen have not hesitated to lay 
 down as applicable to the case of Africa. Had those prin- 
 ciples been true, we ourselves had languished to this hour 
 in that miserable state of ignorance, brutality, and degra- 
 dation, in which history proves our ancestry to have been 
 immersed. Had other nations adopted these principles iu 
 their conduct towards us; had other nations applied to 
 Great Britain the reasoning which some of the senators
 
 268 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of this very island now apply to Africa; ages might have 
 passed without our emerging from barbarism; and we 
 who are enjoying the blessings of British civilization, of 
 British laws, and British liberty, might, at this hour, have 
 been little superior, either in morals, in knowledge, or 
 refinement, to the rude inhabitants of the coast of 
 Guinea. 
 
 " If, then, we feel that this perpetual confinement in the 
 fetters of brutal ignorance would have been the greatest 
 calamity which could have befallen us; if we view with 
 gratitude and exultation the contrast between the peculiar 
 blessings we enjoy, and the wretchedness of the ancient 
 inhabitants of Britain; if we shudder to think of the 
 misery which would still have overwhelmed us had Great 
 Britain continued to the present time to be a mart for 
 slaves to the more civilized nations of the world, through 
 some cruel policy of theirs, God forbid that we should any 
 longer subject Africa to the same dreadful scourge, and 
 preclude the light of knowledge, which has reached every 
 other quarter of the globe, from having access to her 
 coasts. 
 
 " I trust we shall no longer continue this commerce, to 
 the destruction of every improvement on that wide conti- 
 nent; and shall not consider ourselves as conferring too 
 great a boon, in restoring its inhabitants to the rank of 
 human beings. I trust we shall not think ourselves too 
 liberal, if, by abolishing the slave trade, we give them the 
 same common chance of civilization with other parts of 
 the world, and that we shall now allow to Africa the 
 opportunity, the hope, the prospect of attaining to the 
 same blessings which we ourselves, through the favorable 
 dispensations of Divine Providence, have been permitted, 
 at a much more early period, to enjoy. If we listen to 
 the voice of reason and duty, and pursue this night the 
 line of conduct which they prescribe, some of us may
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 269 
 
 live to see a reverse of that picture from which we now 
 turn our eyes with shame and regret. We may live to 
 behold the natives of Africa engaged in the calm occu- 
 pations of industry, in the pursuits of a just and legiti- 
 mate commerce. We may behold the beams of science 
 and philosophy breaking in upon their land, which at 
 some happy period in still later times may blaze with full 
 luster; and joining their influence to that of pure religion, 
 may illuminate and invigorate the most distant extremities 
 of that immense continent. Then may we hope that 
 even Africa though last of all the quarters of the globe, 
 shall enjoy at. length, in the evening of her days, those 
 blessings which have descended so plentifully upon us in 
 a much earlier period of the world. Then, also, will 
 Europe, participating in her improvement and prosperity, 
 receive an ample recompense for the tardy kindness (if 
 kindness it can be called) of no longer hindering that 
 continent from extricating herself out of the darkness 
 which, in other more fortunate regions, has been so much 
 more speedily dispelled. 
 
 Nos que ubi primus equis oriens afflavit anhelis ; 
 
 Illic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper. 
 
 "Then, sir, may be applied to Africa those words, 
 originally used, indeed, with a different view: 
 
 His demum exactis 
 
 Devenere locos Isetos, et amcena vireta 
 Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas; 
 Largior hie campos iEther et lumine vestit. 
 Purpureo :* 
 
 " It is in this view, sir — it is an atonement for our long 
 
 * " These words introduce Virgil's description of the Elysian fields in his 
 region of departed spirits. — {^neid, hook vi., lines 637-41): 
 
 These rites performed, they reach those happy fields, 
 Gardens, and groves, and seats of living joy, 
 Where the pure ether spreads with wider sway, 
 And throws a purple light o'er all the plains."
 
 270 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and cruel injustice toward Africa, that the measure pro- 
 posed by my honorable friend most forcibly recommends 
 itself to my mind. The great and happy change to be 
 expected in the state of her inhabitants, is, of all the 
 various and important benefits of the abolition, in my esti- 
 mation, incomparably the most extensive and important. 
 
 " I shall vote, sir, against the adjournment; and I shall 
 also oppose to the utmost every proposition which in any 
 way may tend either to prevent, or even to postj^one for 
 an hour, the total abolition of the slave trade: a measure 
 which, on all the various grounds which I have stated, we 
 are bound, by the most pressing and indispensable duty, 
 to adopt." 
 
 The impression made by this speech was great; but not- 
 withstanding the splendor of Mr. Pitt's eloquence, and the 
 force of his masterly arguments for the immediate extinc- 
 tion of the slave trade, Mr. Dundas's plan of a gradual 
 abolition was triumphant in the House. But the subject 
 of immediate abolition did not rest here. Session after 
 session, it w'as brought up by Mr. Wilberforce,* and he 
 
 * William Wilberforce, was born at Hull, England, on the 24tli of August, 
 1759. Having finished his college course at Cambridge, he entered Parliament, 
 at the age of twenty-one, as an opponent of the American war, and of Lord 
 North's administration. Wilberforce was an intimate friend of Pitt, and 
 generally a warm supporter of his administration. But the one grand object 
 of his political life, which called forth all the resources of his mind, was the 
 abolition of the African slave trade. He delivered several speeches of great 
 compass, power and eloquence, on this subject. One of the most eloquent of 
 these, delivered on the I2th of May, 1789, produced an electric effect. Mr. 
 Burke, referring to this effort said : " The principles were so well laid down, and 
 supported with so much force and order, that it equaled any thing that he had 
 heard in modern times, and was not perhaps to be surpassed in the remains of 
 Grecian eloquence." 
 
 The oratorical character of Mr. Wilberforce is drawn by a master-hand. 
 Says Lord Brougham: " His eloquence was of the highest order. It was per- 
 suasive and pathetic in an eminent degree; but it was occasionally bold and 
 impassioned, animated with the inspiration which deep feeling alone can
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 271 
 
 finally succeeded in accomplishing tliis great object, for 
 which he had labored nearly twenty years. 
 
 In 1806, a resolution was passed declaring " that the 
 slave trade was inconsistent with justice, humanity, and 
 sound policy, and that measures ought to be taken for its 
 immediate abolition," and on the 6th of February, 1S07, 
 a bill abolishing the traffic was passed and received the 
 royal assent. The 1st of January, 1808 was appointed for 
 the termination of the African slave trade. It was a 
 joyful day for Mr. Wilberforce, but the eyes of Mr. Pitt 
 were not permitted to behold it; they were, at this time, 
 closed in death; and that tongue, once so eloquent, was 
 forever mute in the grave. 
 
 Another of the greatest displays of Mr. Pitt's oratory 
 was on the subject of the French Revolution. His great 
 speech on his refusal to negotiate with Bonaparte, deliv- 
 ered on the 3d of February, 1800, was, jierhaps, the most 
 
 breathe into spoken thought, chastened by a pure taste, varied by extensive 
 information, enriched by classical allusion, sometimes elevated by the more 
 sublime topics of holy writ — the thoughts and the spirit. 
 ' That touch'd Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire.' 
 
 " Few passages can be cited in the oratory of modern times of a more electrical 
 effect than the singularly felicitous and striking allusion to Mr. Pitt's resisting 
 the torrent of Jacobin principles: 'He stood between the living and the dead, 
 and the plague was stayed.' The singular kindness, the extreme gentleness 
 of his disposition, wholly free from gall, from vanity, or any selfish feeling, 
 kept him from indulging in any of the vituperative branches of rhetoric; but 
 a memorable instance showed that It was any thing rather than the want of 
 power which held him off from the use of the weapons so often in almost all 
 other men's hands. When a well-known popular member thought fit to desig- 
 nate him repeatedly, and very irregularly, as the ' Honorable and religious 
 gentleman,'''' not because he was ashamed of the Cross he gloried in, but 
 because he felt indignant at any one in the British senate deeming piety a 
 matter of imputation, he poured out a strain of sarcasm which none who heard 
 it can forget. A common friend of the parties having remarked to Sir Samuel 
 Romilly, beside whom he sat, that this greatly outmatched Pitt himself, the 
 great master of sarcasm, the reply of that great man and just observer, was
 
 272 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 elaborate of all his orations. " It is the most elaborate 
 of all his efibrts; and though worse reported than the 
 other two, so far as language is concerned (Mr. Canning, 
 indeed, says that Mr. Pitt sufi'ered more in this respect 
 than any orator of his day), it can hardly be too much 
 admired for its broad and luminous statements, the close- 
 ness of its reasonings, and the fervor of its appeals." 
 
 It was to this speech that Mr. Fox replied in such tor- 
 rents of unbroken eloquence. Mr. Pitt was, notwithstand- 
 ing, successful. The address approving of his conduct was 
 passed by a majority of 265 to 64 
 
 In 1801, Mr. Pitt, in consequence of a difi'erence with 
 the King, resigned his office as Prime Minister, after hold- 
 ing it between sixteen and seventeen years. Mr. Adding- 
 ton succeeded him as Minister, and concluded the peace 
 of Amiens, in 1802. 
 
 On the renewal of the w^ar in 1803, Mr. Pitt came for- 
 ward with all the power of his oratory for its vigorous 
 prosecution, while Mr. Fox strongly opposed it. The 
 speech of Pitt on this subject was among the last and most 
 
 worthy to be remarked, ' Yes,' said he, ' it is the most striking thing I almost 
 ever heard ; but I look upon it as a more singular proof of Wilberforce's virtue 
 than of his genuis, for who but he ever was possessed of such a formidable 
 weapon, and never used it?' 
 
 " Against all these accomplishments of a finished orator there was little to 
 set on the other side. A feeble constitution, which made him say, all his 
 life, that he never was either well or ill ; a voice sweetly musical beyond that 
 of most men, and of great compass also, but sometimes degenerating into a 
 ■whine; a figure exceedmgly undignified and ungraceful, though the features of 
 the face were singularly expressive ; and a want of condensation, in the latter 
 years of his life, especially, lapsing into digression, and ill-calculated for a 
 very business-like audience like the House of Commons — these may be noted 
 as the only drawbacks which kept him out of the very first place among the 
 first speakers of his age, whom, in pathos, and also in graceful and easy and 
 perfectly elegant diction, as well as harmonious periods, he unquestionably 
 excelled." Mr. Wilberforce died on the 29th of July, 1533. He was buried 
 within a few yards of his illustrious contemporaries, Pitt, Fox and Canning.
 
 WILLIAM PITT. ' 273 
 
 splendid of his oratorical efforts. " His speech on this 
 occasion (which, through an accident in the gallery, was 
 never reported) is said by Lord Brougham to have * ex- 
 celled all his other performances in vehement and sj^irit- 
 stirring declamation; and this may be the more easily 
 believed wlien we know that Mr. Fox, in his reply, said. 
 The orators of antiquity would have admired, probably 
 would have envied it. The last half hour is described as 
 having been one unbroken torrent of the most majestic 
 declamation.' " 
 
 In 1804, Mr. Pitt was again made Prime Minister, and 
 held the office till his death. He soon formed his last 
 great coalition against Bonaparte, but the famous battle of 
 Austerlitz, which was fought on the 2d of December, 1805, 
 dashed his hopes to the ground. It was now apparent 
 that the termination of his earthly career was rapidly 
 approaching. With a broken constitution, crushed with 
 care and anxiety he was already standing on the verge of 
 the grave. He died on the 23d of January, 1806, in the i 
 forty-seventh year of his age. He was buried with high j 
 honors in Westminster Abbey, near his illustrious father, j 
 and a monument was erected to his memory. 
 
 " As a parliamentary orator, Mr. Pitt's powers were 
 various. In statement he was perspicuous, in declamation 
 animated. If he had to explain a financial account he was 
 clear and accurate. If he wanted to rouse a just indig- 
 nation, for the wrongs of the country, he was rapid, ve- 
 hement, glowing, and impassioned. And whether his dis- 
 course was argumentative or declamatory, it always 
 displayed a happy choice of expression, and a fluency of 
 diction, which could not fail to delight his hearers. So 
 singularly select, felicitous, and appropriate was his lan- 
 guage, that, it has often been remarked, a word of hi^s 
 speech could scarcely be changed without prejudice to its 
 
 harmony, vigor, or eflfect. He seldom was satisfied with 
 35
 
 274 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 standing on the defensive in debate j but was proud to 
 contrast his own actions with the avowed intentions of 
 his opponents. These intentions, too, he often exposed 
 with the most jiointed sarcasm; a weapon which, perhaps, 
 no speaker wielded with more dexterity and force than 
 himself. 
 
 " Of his eloquence, it may be observed generally, that 
 it combined the eloquence of Tully with the energy of 
 Demosthenes. It was spontaneous; always great, it shone 
 with peculiar, with unequaled splendor, in a reply, which 
 precluded the possibility of previous study; while it 
 fascinated the imagination by the brilliancy of language, 
 it convinced the judgment by the force of argument, — 
 like an impetuous torrent, it bore down all resistance; 
 extorting the admiration even of those who most severely 
 felt its strength, and who most earnestly deprecated its 
 effect. It is unnecessary, and might be presumptuous 
 to enter more minutely into the character of Mr. Pitt's 
 eloquence ; — there are many living witnesses of its power — 
 it will be admired as long as it shall be remembered."* 
 
 Brougham appropriately remarks on the style of Pitt's 
 eloquence : " If from the statesman we turn to the orator, 
 the contrast is indeed marvelous. He is to be placed, 
 without any doubt, in the highest class. With a sparing 
 use of ornament, hardly indulging more in figures, or 
 even in figurative expression, than the most severe exam- 
 ples of ancient chasteness allowed — with little variety of 
 style, hardly any of the graces of manner — he no sooner 
 rose than he carried away every hearer, and kept the 
 attention fixed and unflagging till it pleased him to let it 
 go; and then 
 
 ' So charming left his voice, that we, awhile, 
 Still thought him speaking, still stood fixed to hear.' 
 
 •* See Gifford's History of the Political Life of Hon. William Pitt.
 
 WILLLiM PITT. 275 
 
 " This magical effect was produced by his unbroken flow, 
 which never for a moment left the hearer in pain or doubt, 
 and yet was not the mean fluency of mere relaxation, 
 requiring no efibrt of the speaker, but imposing on the 
 listener a heavy task; by his lucid arrangement, which 
 made all parts of the most complicated subject quit their 
 entanglement, and fall each into its place; by the clear- 
 ness of his statements, which presented at once a picture 
 to the mind; by the forcible appeals to strict reason and 
 strong feeling, which formed the great staple of the dis- 
 course; by the majesty of the diction; by the depth and 
 fullness of the most sonorous voice, and the unbending 
 dignity of the manner, which ever reminded us that we 
 were in the presence of more than an advocate or debater, 
 that there stood before us a ruler of the people. Such 
 were the effects invariably of this singular eloquence ; and 
 they were as certainly produced on ordinary occasions, as 
 in those grander displays when he rose to the height of 
 some great argument; or indulged in vehement invective 
 against some individual, and variegated his speech with 
 that sarcasm of which he was so great, and indeed so little 
 sparing a master; although even here all was uniform and 
 consistent; nor did any thing, in any mood of mind, ever 
 drop from him that was unsuited to the majestic frame of 
 the whole, or could disturb the serenity of the full and 
 copious flood that rolled along." 
 
 The character of Mr. Pitt is delineated in an able man- 
 ner by his political associate and admirer, the celebrated 
 Mr. Canning. His sketch is particularly interesting as 
 coming from a classical writer and a felicitous speaker: 
 
 " The character of this illustrious statesman early passed 
 its ordeal. Scarcely had he attained the age at which 
 reflection commences, when Europe with astonishment 
 beheld him filling the first place in the councils of his 
 country, and managing the vast mass of its concerns with
 
 276 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 all the vigor and steadiness of the most matured wisdom.. 
 Dignity — strength — discretion — these were among the 
 masterly qualities of his mind at its first dawn. He had 
 been nurtured a statesman, and his knowledge was of that 
 kind which always lay ready for practical application. 
 Not dealing in the subtilties of abstract politics, but 
 moving in the slow, steady procession of reason, his con- 
 ceptions were reflective, and his views correct. Habitu- 
 ally attentive to the concerns of government, he spared no 
 pains to acquaint himself with whatever was connected, 
 however minutely, with its prosperity. He was devoted 
 to the state. Its interests engrossed all his study and 
 engaged all his care. It was the element alone in w^hich 
 he seemed to live and move. He allowed himself but 
 little recreation from his labors. His mind was always on 
 its station, and its activity w^as unremitted. 
 
 " He did not hastily adopt a measure, nor hastily aban- 
 don it. The plan struck out by him for the preservation 
 of Europe was the result of prophetic wisdom and pro- 
 found policy. But, though defeated in many respects by 
 the selfish ambition and short-sighted imbecility of foreign 
 powers — whose rulers were too venal or too weak to fol- 
 low the flighl of that mind which would have taught 
 them to outwing the storm — the policy involved in it 
 has still a secret operation on the conduct of surrounding 
 states. His j^lans were full of energy, and the principles 
 which inspired them looked beyond the consequences of 
 the hour. 
 
 " He knew nothing of that timid and wavering cast of 
 mind which dares not abide by its ow^n decision. He 
 never suffered popular prejudice or party clamor to turn 
 him aside from any measure which his deliberate judg- 
 ment had adopted. He had a proud reliance on himself, 
 and it was justified. Like the sturdy warrior leaning on
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 277 
 
 his own battle-axe, conscious where his strengh lay, he did 
 not readily look beyond it. 
 
 " As a debater in the House of Commons, his speeches 
 were logical and argumentative. If they did not often 
 abound in the graces of metaphor, or sparkle with the 
 brilliancy of wit, they were always animated, elegant and 
 classical. The strength of his oratory was intrinsic; it 
 presented the rich and abundant resource of a clear dis- 
 cernment and a correct taste. His speeches are stamped 
 with inimitable marks of originality. When replying to 
 his opponents, his readiness was not more conspicuous 
 than his energy. He was always prompt and always dig- 
 nified. He could sometimes have recourse to the sportive- 
 ness of irony, but he did not often seek any other aid than 
 was to be derived from an arranged and extensive know- 
 ledge of his subject. This qualified him fully to discuss 
 the arguments of others, and forcibly to defend his own. 
 Thus armed, it was rarely in the power of his adversaries, 
 mighty as they were, to beat him from the field. His elo- 
 quence, occasionally rapid, electric, and vehement, was 
 always chaste, winning, and persuasive — not awing into 
 acquiescence, but arguing into conviction. His under- 
 standing was bold and comprehensive. Nothing seemed 
 too remote for its reach or too large for its grasp. 
 
 " Unallured by dissipation and unswayed by pleasure, 
 he never sacrificed the national pleasure to the one, or 
 the national interest to the other. To his unswerving 
 integrity the most authentic of all testimony is to be found 
 in that unbounded public confidence which followed him 
 throughout the whole of his political career. 
 
 " Absorbed as he was in the pursuits of public life, he 
 did not neglect to prepare himself in silence for that 
 higher destination, which is at once the incentive and 
 and reward of human virtue. His talents, superior and
 
 278 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 splendid as they were, never made him forgetful of that 
 Eternal Wisdom from which they emanated. The faith 
 and fortitude of his last moments were affecting and ex- 
 emplary." 
 
 Fox and Pitt have often been compared as orators. In 
 an elaborate article on Eloquence in the Biblical Reposi- 
 tory, Mr. Cleaveland, after giving a description of Burke's 
 oratory, has the following excellent observations on the 
 style of Fox and Pitt: 
 
 " Mr. Burke may be said to have belonged to a Trium- 
 virate of eloquence — the greatest, unqestionably, that 
 ever divided among them the empire of mind. Mr. Fox, 
 although a much younger man, entered on his Parliament- 
 ary career, nearly at the same time with Burke. For a 
 while he was willing to rank as his disciple and follower; 
 but in a few years his growing abilities — his great skill in 
 debate — the charm of his disposition and manners — and 
 his superior political connections, gave him the ascend- 
 ency, and made him the acknowledged leader of the oppo- 
 sition ranks. When some twelve years later the youthful 
 Pitt appeared upon the scene, he found those great men 
 in ful] possession of the stage. The ease and suddenness 
 with which he vaulted to the first place of honor and 
 power, is well known. That he should succeed against 
 such competition, was the strongest proof of talent he 
 could give. At the age of twenty-three years, he had van- 
 quished an opposing majority in the House of Commons, 
 led by Fox, Sheridan and Burke — had won the nation to 
 his side — and was wielding the destinies of the British 
 empire. 
 
 ' See ! with united wonder, cried 
 The experienced and the sage, 
 Ambition in a boy supplied 
 With all the skill of age!
 
 WILLIAM PITT. 279 
 
 Discernment, eloquence and grace, 
 
 Proclaim him born to sway ' 
 The scepter ' in the highest place, 
 And bear the palm away.' 
 
 * The oratory of Fox and Pitt was very unlike that of 
 the great Triumvir already described. Their scene of 
 glory was the arena of debate. Theirs was the skill and 
 power acquired by the breaking of lances, by the parrying 
 and giving of blows, in many a ' passage of arms.' More 
 dexterous or powerful combatants never engaged in 
 political warfare: a warfare maintained by them with 
 scarce an intermission, for more than twenty years. The 
 question of their comparative greatness it would be diffi- 
 cult to settle, but we can easily perceive- that they were 
 very unlike.* Fox was persuasive, impetuous, powerful. 
 To strong argument, and vehement aj)peal, he could add 
 the lighter but often more effective weapons of ridicule 
 and wit. Before his rushing charge, nothing, for the 
 moment, could stand. But he was often incautious, and 
 generally lacked that higher power, which is necessary to 
 turn even victory to account. His antagonist had far 
 more dignity, vigilance and prudence. He could never be 
 thrown from his guard. He was lofty and fluent, but not 
 impassioned; sarcastic, but not witty. The conflicts of 
 these rival statesmen was often that of Roderick Dhu and 
 Snowdown's Knight. The giant strength and fiery valor 
 
 * "It is not easy to decide relative to their respective superiority in elo- 
 quence. Fox's oratory was more impassioned; Pitt's could boast greater cor- 
 rectness of diction. The former exhibited, while speaking, all the tribunitian 
 rage; the latter displayed the consular dignity." " Pitt observed more mode- 
 ration and measure than Fox; who on great occasions, seemed, like the 
 Pythian priestess, ' to labor with th' inspiring God,' and to dissolve in floods 
 of perspiration. Pitt, it is true, became sometimes warmed with his subject, 
 and had occasionally recourse to his handkerchief; but rather in order to take 
 breath, or to recall his thoughts, by a momentary pause, than from physicaJ 
 agitation." — Wraxall.
 
 280 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of the highland chief are wasted on the air. — But ' Fitz 
 James' blade is sword and shield.' Even the personal 
 qualities of the two men, influenced probably in some de- 
 gree, the judgments which were formed of their eloquence. 
 Who can doubt that Mr. Fox would have been even more 
 admired, and trusted, and beloved, if to his winning 
 manners, and brilliant powers, he had added the virtuous 
 circumspection of his illustrious rival?"
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 
 
 George Canning was born in London, on the 11th of 
 April, 1770. He was earlj sent to Eton, where he soon 
 became distinguished for the brilliancy of his genius and 
 his habits of close, mental application. Here he pursued 
 with great assiduity his favorite study — that of classical 
 literature, and also acquired some celebrity as a poet. 
 He wrote elegant Latin, Greek and English verses, and this 
 ability gave him a high reputation at Eton. When about 
 sixteen years of age, he established, in connection with 
 some of his young companions in school, a weekly paper 
 called the Microcosm, of which he was the principal 
 editor. Many of the articles in this periodical possessed 
 merit, and attracted the attention and admiration of the 
 literary world. From Eton, at the age of seventeen, Mr. 
 Canning was removed to Oxford. The distinction which 
 he had acquired at Eton he fully maintained at the Uni- 
 versity. At the completion of his collegiate education he 
 had gained an exalted reputation as a man of brilliant 
 genius,, a fine scholar, a chaste writer, and an able orator 
 and debater. Mr. Canning, leaving the University, in the 
 twenty-second year of his age, was at the close of 1793 
 brought into Parliament by William Pitt who had heard 
 of his talents and of his oratory, and who was anxious to 
 obtain the aid of such men as Canning to resist the tide 
 of opposition. In Mr. Canning he found a firm friend, a 
 faithful adherent, and an ardent champion of his political
 
 282 . ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 measures. Mr. Canning was always a warm admirer of 
 Mr. Pitt, and paid several eloquent tributes to his memory. 
 So high was his regard for the character of the great 
 Minister that he truly said, " In the grave of Mr. Pitt my 
 political allegiance lies buried." 
 
 In January, 1794, Mr. Canning made his first speech in 
 the House of Commons. The oratorical powers which he 
 displayed in his first effort commanded general respect, but 
 did not cause that enthusiastic admiration which he after- 
 wards called forth when he had attained the summit of 
 his fame. As a public speaker, the highest qualities of 
 Mr. Canning were not exhibited at once in all their splen- 
 dor. He rose slowly to that grand point of oratorical 
 eminence, which he finally occupied. " He was from the 
 first easy and fluent j he knew how to play with an argu- 
 ment when he could not answer it; he had a great deal of 
 real wit, and too much of that ungenerous raillery and 
 sarcasm, by which an antagonist may be made ridiculous, 
 and the audience turned against him, without once meet- 
 ing the question on its true merits. There was added to 
 this an air of disregard for the feelings of others, and even 
 of willingness to oflend, which doubled the sense of injury 
 every blow he struck; so that during the first ten years 
 of his parliamentary career, he never made a speech, it 
 was said, on which he particulary plumed himself, with- 
 out making likewise an enemy for life." 
 
 In 1796, Mr. Canning was made Under-Secretary of 
 State; in 1804, he became Treasurer of the Navy; and on 
 the death of Mr. Pitt, in 1806, he went into opposition, as 
 he did not receive any appointment in the new Cabinet. 
 In 1807, he came in as Secretary of State for Foreign 
 Affairs under the Duke of Portland; in 1814, he was sent 
 as ambassador to Portugal; in 1822, he was appointed 
 Governor-General of India, and was about to embark for 
 Calcutta, when he was informed of the sudden death of
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 283 
 
 Lord Castlereagli, Secretary of Foreign Affairs. Mr. Can- 
 ning was again called to fill this important office, at a very 
 critical period in English history. His elevation to office 
 at this time was an honor to the British nation and a bless- 
 ing to his country. The career of foreign policy which 
 he now commenced was brilliant, and has justly excited 
 the admiration of his countrymen, and of all impartial 
 judges; but as our object is more particularly to dwell 
 upon the beauties of orators and the leading character- 
 istics of their style, we proceed to notice a few of the 
 finest passages in the speeches of Mr. Canning, with the 
 time and circumstances of their delivery. 
 
 In 1823, during a visit to Plymouth, the well-known 
 seat of British naval power, he delivered a" speech which 
 created a profound sensation in Europe on account of the 
 political views that it expressed. It contains that immor- 
 tal passage of the orator — his beautiful allusion to those 
 " mighty masses " of ships, which were presented to his 
 view, as an emblem of England while reposed in the 
 arms of j:)eace: 
 
 " But while we thus control even our feelings by our 
 duty, let it not be said that we cultivate peace either 
 because we fear, or because we are unprepared for war; 
 on the contrary, if eight months ago the government did 
 not hesitate to proclaim that the country was prepared for 
 war, if war should be unfortunately necessary, every 
 month of peace that has since passed has but made us so 
 much the more capable for exertion. The resources 
 created by peace are means of war. In cherishing those 
 resources, we but accumulate those means. Our present 
 repose is. no more a proof of inability to act, than the state 
 of inertness and inactivity in which I have seen those mighty 
 masses that float in the waters above your town, is a proof 
 that they are devoid of strength, and incapable of being 
 fitted out for action. You well know, gentlemen, how soon
 
 284 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 oiie of those stupendous masses, now reposing on their sha- 
 dows in perfect stillness — how soon, upon any call of patriot- 
 ism', or of necessity, it would assume the likeness of an ani- 
 mated thing, instinct with life and motion — how soon it would 
 ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage — how quickly it would, 
 put forth all its beauty and its bravery, collect its scattered 
 elements of strength, and awaken its dormant thunder. Such 
 as is one of these magnifcent machines when springing from 
 inaction into a display of its might — such is England her- 
 self, while, apparently passive and motionless, she silently con- 
 centrates the power to be put forth on an adequate occasion. 
 But God forbid that that occasion should arise. After a 
 war sustained for near a quarter of a century — sometimes 
 single-handed, and with all Europe arranged at times 
 against her, or at her side, England needs a i^eriod of 
 tranquillity, and may enjoy it without fear of miscon- 
 struction. Long may we be enabled, gentlemen, to im- 
 prove the blessings of our present situation, to cultivate 
 the arts of peace, to give to commerce, now reviving, 
 greater extension, and new spheres of employment, and to 
 confirm the prosperity now generally diffused throughout 
 this island. Of the blessings of peace, gentlemen, I trust 
 that this borough, with which I have now the honor and 
 happiness of being associated, will receive an ample share. 
 I trust the time is not far distant, when that noble structure 
 of which, as I learn from your Recorder, the box with 
 which you have honored me, through his hands, formed 
 a part, that gigantic barrier against the fury of the waves 
 that roll into your harbor, will protect a commercial marine 
 not less considerable in its kind than the warlike marine 
 of which your port has been long so distinguished an 
 asylum, when the town of Plymouth will participate in 
 the commercial prosperity as largely as it has hitherto done 
 in the naval glories of England." 
 "This is not merely eloquence — it is poetry in the
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 285 
 
 beauty of its conception, it is painting in the complete 
 delineation of its images; it is music in the harmony of 
 its language." It is but seldom that we meet with a pas- 
 sage of such uncommon beauty in the writings of any 
 author, ancient or modern; and as long as the English 
 language shall exist in its purity, it will be admired for 
 the grandeur of its conception, and the splendor of its 
 imagery. 
 
 Mr. Canning was a complete master of sarcasm. One 
 of the finest specimens of this power is the following, 
 which is found in the debate on the King's speech, in 1825. 
 It comes down on Lord Brougham, his political antagonist, 
 with overwhelming force: 
 
 " I now turn to that other j^art of the honorable and 
 learned gentleman's [Mr. Brougham's] speech, in which he 
 acknowledges his acquiescence in the passages of^ the ad- 
 dress echoing the satisfaction felt at the success of the 
 liberal commercial principles adopted by this country, and 
 at the steps taken for recognizing the new states of Ameri- 
 ca. It does happen, however, that the honorable and 
 learned gentleman being not unfrequently a speaker in 
 this House, nor very concise in his speeches, and touching 
 occasionally, as he proceeds, on almost every subject 
 within the range of his imagination, as well as making 
 some observations on the matter in hand — and having at 
 different periods proposed and supported every innovation 
 of which the law or Constitution of the country is sus- 
 cei^tible — it is impossible to innovate, without appearing 
 to borrow from him. Either, therefore, we must remain 
 forever absolutely locked up as in a northern winter, or 
 we must break our way out by some mode already sug- 
 gested by the honorable and learned gentleman, and then 
 he cries out, ' Ah, I was there before you! That is what 
 I told you to do; but as you would not do it then, you 
 have no right to do it now.' In Queen Anne's reign there
 
 286 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 lived a very sage and able critic, named Dennis, who, in 
 his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy, that he had 
 himself written all the good things in all the good plays 
 that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any 
 author he insisted was his own. ' It is none of his,' Den- 
 nis would always say; 'no, it's mine!' He went one day 
 to see a new" tragedy. Nothing particularly good to his 
 taste occurred, till a scene in which a great storm was 
 represented. As soon as he heard the thunder rolling over 
 head, he exclaimed, 'That's my thunder!' So it is with 
 the honorable and learned gentleman; it's all his thunder. 
 It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or 
 make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thunder. 
 But it is due to him to acknowledge that he does not 
 claim every thing; he -will be content with the exclusive 
 merit of the liberal measures relating to trade and com- 
 merce. Not desirous of violating his own j^rinciples, by 
 claiming a monopoly of foresight and wisdom, he kindly 
 throws overboard to my honorable and learned friend 
 [Sir J. Mackintosh] near him, the praise of South America. 
 I should like to know whether, in some degree, this also is 
 not his thunder. He thinks it right itself; but lest we 
 should be too proud if he approved our conduct in toto, 
 he thinks it wrong in point of time. I differ from him 
 essentially; for if I pique myself on any thing in this 
 affair, it is the time. That, at some time or pther, states 
 which had separated themselves from the mother country 
 should or should not be admitted to the rank of indepen- 
 dent nations, is a proposition to which no possible dissent 
 could be given. The whole question was one of time and 
 mode. There were two modes: one a reckless and head- 
 long course, by which we might have reached our object 
 at once, but at the expense of drawing upon us conse- 
 quences not highly to be estimated; the other was more 
 strictly guarded in point of principle; so that, while we
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 287 
 
 pursued our own interests, we took care to give no just 
 cause of offense to other powers." 
 
 On the 12th of December, 1826, Mr. Canning delivered 
 his celebrated speech on affording aid to Portugal when 
 invaded from Spain. It was perhaps the noblest efi'ort he 
 ever made in the House, and called forth tremendous 
 applause from every quarter. " This," says his biographer, 
 " is the master-piece of his eloquence. In propriety and 
 force of diction — in excellence of appropriate and well- 
 methodized arrangement — in elevation of style and sen- 
 timent; and in all the vigorous qualities of genuine manly 
 eloquence — boldness — judgment — firmness, it fully sus- 
 tains its title to the high eulogy given it by Mr. Brougham 
 at the close of the debate." 
 
 " Mr. Canning was now at the height of his power, 
 wielding an influence more extended and complete than 
 any foreign minister in this country had ever enjoyed 
 before. The subject to which he addressed himself in this 
 instance was one that invoked the grandest attributes of 
 his genius, and derived a peculiar felicity from being de- 
 veloped by a British minister; and, above all, by that 
 minister w^ho had liberated the New World and crushed 
 the tyrannies of the Old. It was not surprising, then, 
 that, bringing to it all the vigor and enthusiasm of his 
 intellect, and that vital beauty of style which was the 
 pervading charm of his great orations, he should have 
 transcended on this occasion all his past efforts, and 
 delivered a speech which not merely carried away the ad- 
 miration of his hearers, but literally inflamed them into 
 frenzy. The fabulous spells of Orpheus, who made the 
 woods dance reels and sarabands, never achieved so won- 
 derful a piece of sorcery as this speech of Mr. Canning 
 achieved over the passions, the judgment, the prejudices, 
 and the stolid unbelief of the House of Commons. 
 
 " This speech, as has been said of the eloquence of
 
 28 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Cliatliam was an era in the Senate.' The effect was tre- 
 mendous. ' It was an epoch in a man's life,' says a mem- 
 ber of the Commons, ' to have heard him. I shall never 
 forget the deep, moral earnestness of his tone, and the 
 blaze of glory that seemed to light up his features when 
 he spoke of the Portuguese Charter.' The same writer 
 furnishes the following details: 
 
 ' He was equally grand when, in his reply, he said, I do 
 not believe that there is that Spain of which our ancestors 
 were so justly jealous, that Spain upon whose territories 
 it was proudly boasted the sun never set! But when, in 
 the style and manner of Chatham, he said, I looked to 
 Spain in the Indies; I called a new world into existence to 
 redress the balance of the old, the effect was actually ter- 
 rific. It was as if every man in the House had been elec- 
 trified. Tierney, who before that was shifting in his seat, 
 and taking off his hat and putting it on again, and taking 
 large and frequent pinches of snuff, and turning from side 
 to side, till he, I suppose, wore his breeches through, 
 seemed petrified, and sat fixed, and staring with his mouth 
 open for half a minute ! Mr. Canning seemed actually to 
 have increased in stature, his attitude was so majestic. I 
 remarked his flourishes were made with his left arm; the 
 eff'ect was new and beautiful; his chest heaved and ex- 
 panded, his nostril dilated, a noble pride slightly curled 
 his lip; and age and sickness were dissolved and forgotten 
 in the ardor of youthful genius; all the while a serenity 
 sat on his brow that pointed to deeds of glory. It reminded 
 me, and came up to what I have heard, of the effects of 
 Athenian eloquence.' " 
 
 He concluded this speech of unrivaled power with the 
 following beautiful and noble peroration: " Let us fly to 
 the aid of Portugal, by whomsoever attacked, because it is 
 our duty to do so; and let us cease our interference where 
 that duty ends. We go to Portugal not to rule, not to
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 289 
 
 dictate, not to prescribe constitutions, but to defend and 
 to preserve the independence of an ally. We go to plant 
 the standard of England on the well-known heights of 
 Lisbon. Where that standard is planted, foreign dominion 
 shall not come." 
 
 On the death of Lord Liverpool in 1827, Mr. Canning 
 was made Prime Minister of England (Aj^ril 12th). The 
 summit of his ambition had now been fully attained; but, 
 he was soon to fall. His health failed him, and on the 
 8th of August, 1827, he died, in the fifty -eighth year of his 
 age. On the 16th of August, his remains were borne to 
 Westminster Abbey, where he was buried at the foot of 
 Mr. Pitt's tomb. Thousands of hearts ached with sorrow 
 at the sad event; the grief was universal and profound; 
 the nation sincerely mourned his loss; and "Faction her- 
 self wept upon his grave." 
 
 The following impressive lines on his funeral, from the 
 pen of Lord Morpeth, deserve to be inserted in this sketch : 
 
 " I stood beside his tomb; no choral strain ^^ 
 
 Peal'd through the aisle, above the mourning train^" 
 But purer, holier, seem'd to rise above 
 The silent sorrow of a people's love. 
 
 No banner'd scroll, no trophied car w£is there; 
 No gleaming arms, no torches' murky glare: 
 The plain and decent homage best defin'd 
 The simple tenor of his mighty mind. 
 
 His hard-earned, self-acquired, enduring fame 
 Needs not what wealth may buy or birth may claim; 
 His worth, his deeds, no storied urns confine — 
 The page of England's glory is their shrine. 
 
 Are others wanting? Mark the dawn of peace 
 That gilds the struggle of regenerate Greece;* 
 On Lisbon's heights see Britain's flag unfurl'd — 
 See Freedom bursting o'er an infant world. t 
 
 • One of the last and noblest efforts of Mr. Canning was in behalf of oppressed Greece, 
 t Mr. Canning boldly recognized the new states of South America as independent states. 
 
 37
 
 290 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Ask ye how some have loved, how all revere? 
 Survey the group that bends around his bier; — 
 Read well the heaving breast, the stifled moan, — 
 Kings with their kingdoms could not win that groan." 
 
 " In the person of Mr. Canning there were no extremes. 
 His dress was plain, but in thorough good taste. In most 
 things, he seemed to partake of the character of his elo- 
 quence; open and manly, conscious of power, and conse- 
 quently simple and unpresuming, He was in the prime 
 of his life, what might be called ' a very handsome man;' 
 tall, well-made, his form moulded between strength and 
 activity. His countenance beamed with intellect and bore 
 a cast of firmness; yet a mild and good-natured expression 
 lay over all. His head was even then bald as the ' first 
 Cffisar's;' his forehead lofty and capacious; his eye reflect- 
 ive, but at times lively ; and his whole countenance ex- 
 pressive of the kindlier affections, — of genius, and of 
 intellectual vigor 
 
 " The elaborateness of his eloquence was not visible in 
 his carria,^ in the drawing-room, nor his somewhat the- 
 atrical manner of delivering his parliamentary speeches. 
 His gait, as he paced the carpet, was natural, and wholly 
 free of constraint. He seemed reserved, rather than 
 communicative; he spoke quick, his voice full in tone, 
 harmonious and clear. 
 
 " The mind of Canning was, in the highest degree, cul- 
 tivated and refined. It apprehended rather by a touch 
 than agra.s]), and illustrated a subject more by its lucidity 
 than its intenseness. * * * If eloquence is the child 
 of knowledge, Canning was legitimately an orator, for his 
 intellect was rich in varied and comprehensive learning. 
 His distinct and accurate conceptions were expressed in 
 clear and luminous language, illustrated rather by allusion 
 than imagery, and betraying less the profundity than the 
 appropriateness of his acquirements. The range of his
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 291 
 
 academic studies, wider by far than that of any of his 
 great contemporaries, gave a beauty and simplicity to his 
 style, and a point to his classical illustrations, altogether 
 fascinating."* 
 
 " Statutes of the departed statesman, and monuments, 
 exist in many places in the world: and it is wellj but the 
 niche in history where the world holds the mind of the 
 man enshrined forever, is his only worthy monument." 
 " In him were combined, with a rich profusion, the most 
 lively, original fancy — a happily retentive and ready 
 memory — singular powers of lucid statement — and occa- 
 sionally wit in all its varieties, now biting and sarcastic 
 to overwhelm an antagonist — now pungent or giving 
 point to an argument — now playful for mere amusement, 
 and bringing relief to a tedious statement, or lending a 
 charm 1o dry chains of close reasoning." — " His declama- 
 tion, though often powerful, always beautifully ornate, 
 never deficient in admirable diction, was certainly not of 
 the very highest class. It wanted depth; it came from 
 the mouth, not from the heart; and it ticEIed or even 
 filled the ear rather than penetrated the bosom of the 
 listener. The orator never seemed to forget himself and 
 be absorbed in his theme; he was not carried away by his 
 passions, and carried not his audience along with him. 
 An actor stood before us, a first-rate one, no doubt; but 
 still an actor; and we never forgot that it was a repre- 
 sentation we were witnessing, not a real scene. The 
 Grecian artist was of the second class only, at whose fruit 
 the birds pecked; while, on seeing Parrhasius's picture, 
 men cried out to draw aside the curtain." 
 
 The character of Mr. Canning has been well portrayed 
 by Sir James Mackintosh. His description may be intro- 
 
 * American Quarterly Review for 1834, Vol. 16, No. 31: Art. Life and 
 Policy of Canning.
 
 292 ORATORS AND ST ATESMf^N. 
 
 duced here as a very beautiful and appropriate couclusion 
 of this sketch: 
 
 " Mr. Canning seems to have been the best model among 
 our orators of the adorned style. The splendid and sub- 
 lime descriptions of Mr. Burke — his comprehensive and 
 profound views of general principles — though they must 
 ever delight and instruct the reader, must be owned to 
 have been digressions which diverted the mind of the 
 hearer from the object on which the speaker ought to have 
 kept it steadily fixed. Sheridan, a man of amiable sense 
 and matchless wit, labored to follow Burke into the foreign 
 regions of feeling and grandeur. The specimens preserved 
 of his most celebrated speeches show too much of the 
 exaggeration and excess to which those are peculiarly 
 liable who seek by art and effort what nature has denied. 
 By the constant part which Mr. Canning took in debate, 
 he was called upon to show a knowledge which Sheridan 
 did not possess, and a readiness which that accomplished 
 man had no such means of strengthening and displaying. 
 In some qualities of style Mr. Canning surpassed Mr. Pitt. 
 His diction was more various — sometimes more simple — 
 more idiomatical, even in its more elevated parts. It 
 sparkled with imagery, and was brightened by illustration; 
 in both of which Mr. Pitt, for so great an orator, was 
 defective. 
 
 " Had he been a dry and meager speaker, Mr. Canning 
 would have been universally allowed to have been one of 
 the greatest masters of argument; but his hearers were 
 so dazzled by the splendor of his diction that they did not 
 perceive the acuteness and the occasional excessive refine- 
 ment of his reasoning; a consequence which, as it shows 
 the injurious influence of a seductive fault, can with the 
 less justness be overlooked in the estimate of his under- 
 standing. Ornament, it must be owned, when it only 
 pleases or amuses, without disposing the audience to adopt
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 293 
 
 the sentiments of the speaker, is an ojffense against the first 
 law of public speaking; it obstructs instead of promoting 
 its only reasonable purpose. But eloquence is a widely- 
 extended art, comprehending many sorts of excellence, in 
 some of which ornamented diction is more liberally em- 
 ployed than in others, and in none of which the highest 
 rank can be attained without an extraordinary combina- 
 tion of mental powers. 
 
 " No English speaker used the keen and brilliant wea- 
 pon of wit so long, so often^ or so efi'ectively, as Mr. Can- 
 ning. He gained more triumphs, and incurred more en- 
 mity by it than by any other. Those whose imjjortance 
 depends much on birth and fortune are impatient of 
 seeing their own artificial dignity, or that of their order, 
 broken down by derison; and perhaps few men heartily for- 
 give a successful jest against themselves, but those who are 
 conscious of being unhurt by it. Mr. Canning often used 
 this talent imprudently. In sudden Hashes of wit and in 
 the playful description of men or things, he was often 
 distinguished by that natural felicity which is the charm 
 of pleasantry, to which the air of art and labor is more 
 fatal than to any other talent. The exuberance of fancy 
 and wit lessened the gravity of his general manner, and 
 perhaps also indisposed the audience to feel his earnestness 
 where it clearly showed itself. In that important quality 
 he was inferior to Mr. Pitt, 
 
 ' Deep on whose front engraven, 
 Deliberation sat, and public care;' 
 
 and no less inferior to Mr. Fox, whose fervid eloquence 
 flowed from the love of his country, the scorn of baseness, 
 and the hatred of cruelty, which were the ruling passions 
 of his nature. 
 
 " On the whole, it may be observed that the range of Mr. 
 Canning's powers as an orator was wider than that in
 
 294 ORA.TORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 whicli he usually exerted them. When mere statement 
 only was allowable, no man of his age was more simi>le. 
 When infirm health compelled him to be brief, no speaker 
 could compress his matter with so little sacrifice of clear- 
 ness, ease, and elegance. As his oratorical faults were 
 those of youthful genius, the progress of age seemed to 
 purify his eloquence, and every year appeared to remove 
 some speck which hid, or at least dimmed, a beauty. He 
 daily rose to larger views, and made, perhaps, as near 
 approaches to j:)hilosophical principles as the great diifer- 
 ence between the objects of the philosopher and those of 
 the orator will commonly allow. 
 
 " Mr. Canning possessed, in a high degree, the out- 
 ward advantages of an orator. His expressive counte- 
 nance varied Avith the changes of his eloquence^ his voice, 
 flexible and articulate, had as much compass as his mode 
 of speaking required. In the calm part of his speeches, 
 his attitude and gesture might have been selected by a 
 painter to represent grace rising toward dignity. 
 
 " In social intercourse Mr. Canning was delightful. 
 Happily for the true charm of his conversation, he was 
 too busy not to treat society as more fitted for relaxation 
 than for disiDlay. It is but little to say that he was neither 
 disputatious, declamatory, nor sententious — neither a 
 dictator nor a jester. His manner was simple and unob- 
 trusive; his language always quite familiar. If a higher 
 thought stole from his mind, it came in its conversational 
 undress. From this plain ground his pleasantry sprang 
 with the happiest effect; and it was nearly exempt from 
 that alloy of taunt and banter whicli he sometimes mixed 
 w^ith more precious materials in public contest. He may 
 be added to the list of those eminent persons who pleased 
 most in their friendly circle. He had the agreeable quality 
 of being more easily pleased in society than might have 
 been expected from the keenness of his discernment and
 
 GEORGE CANNING. 295 
 
 the sensibility of his temper; still, he was liable to be dis- 
 composed, or even silenced, by the presence of any one 
 whom he did not like. His manner in company betrayed 
 the political vexations or anxieties which preyed on his 
 mind: nor could he conceal the sensitiveness to public 
 attacks which their frequent recurrence wears out in most 
 English politicians. These last foibles may be thought 
 interesting as the remains of natural character, not de- 
 stroyed by refined society and political aflairs. 
 
 " In some of the amusements or tasks of his boyhood 
 there are passages which, without much help from fancy, 
 might appear to contain allusions to his greatest mea- 
 sures of ] olicy, as well as to the tenor of his life, and 
 to the melancholy splendor which surrounded his death. 
 In the concluding line of the first English verses written 
 by him at Eton, he expressed a wish, which has been 
 singularly realized, that he might 
 
 ' Live in a blaze, and in a blaze expire.' 
 
 It is a striking coincidence, that the statesman, whose 
 dying measure was to mature an alliance for the deliver- 
 ance of Greece, should, when a boy, have written English 
 verses on the slavery of that country; and that in his 
 prize poem at Oxford, on the Pilgrimage to Mecca — a 
 composition as much applauded as a modern Latin poem 
 can aspire to be-r^he should have so bitterly deplored the 
 lot of other renowned countries now groaning under the 
 same barbarous yoke, 
 
 ' Nunc satrapae imperio et saevo subdita Turcae.' 
 
 " To conclude: He was a man of fine and brilliant 
 genius, of warm afiections of a high and generous spirit — 
 a statesman who, at home, converted most of his oppo- 
 nents into warm supporters; who, abroad, was the sole 
 hope and trust of all who sought an orderly and legal
 
 296 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 liberty, and who was cut off in tlie midst of vigorous 
 and splendid measures, which, if executed by himself or 
 with his own spirit, promised to place his name in the 
 first class of rulers, among the founders of lasting peace 
 and the guardians of human improvement."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 
 
 Henry Brougliam was born at Edinburgh in 1779. At 
 the High School of that city he received the rudiments of 
 his education. While there, he made rapid progress in 
 acquiring an extensive knowledge of the various branches 
 of science and general literature. He was eager in the 
 pursuit of his studies — in obtaining information on 
 almost every subject embraced within the range of human 
 investigation; hence, as an eminent critic remarks, "he 
 has brought into his speeches a wider range of collateral 
 thought than any of our orators, except Burke." 
 
 Entering the University of Edinburgh at the age of 
 sixteen, he soon gained the highest distinction for his 
 attainments in mathematical studies. His knowledge of 
 science was, indeed, extraordinary for one so young. 
 Before he was seventeen years of age, his essay on the 
 " Flection and Reflection of Light " appeared, which was 
 inserted in the Edinburgh Philosophical Transactions. 
 
 Having finished his college course, Mr. Brougham com- 
 menced the study of the law, as a profession. He was 
 soon called to the bar, and began his practice with great 
 success, in Edinburgh. Besides attending to his profes- 
 sional businsss, he devoted a large portion of his time to 
 literature, history, and politics. He has written and pub- 
 lished more than most of the English orators; and his 
 
 writings are highly esteemed, especially for the excellent 
 38
 
 298 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 reformatory sentiments with wLicli they abound. Lord 
 Brougham is one of the greatest political reformers that 
 ever sat in Parliament. He has labored hard to eradicate 
 some of the evils existing in the English government ; and 
 success has, in many instances, ci owned his exertions. 
 
 His first work, entitled The Colonial Policy of the Euro- 
 pean Powers, was published in 1803; and his volume on 
 the State of the Nation appeared after his removal to 
 London. His speeches in four octavo volumes are very 
 highly valued for their bold assertion of the rights of the 
 people,- for their exhibition of the abuses existing in the 
 administration of the British government; and for their 
 eloquent appeals in behalf of Law and Parliamentary 
 Reform. In advocating his principles, Lord Brougham 
 met with decided opposition from the enemies of re- 
 form. In a passage of extreme beauty, which is well 
 worthy of insertion here, he shows what has been the fate 
 of the reformer in all ages of the world: 
 
 " I have heard it said that, when one lifts up his voice 
 against things that are, and wishes for a change, he is 
 raising a clamor against existing institutions, a clamor 
 against our venerable establishments, a clamor. against the 
 law of the land; but this is no clamor against the one or 
 the other, — it is a clamor against the abuse of them all. 
 It is a clamor raised against the grievances that are felt. 
 Mr. Burke, who was no friend to popular excitement, — 
 who was no ready tool of agitation, no hot-headed enemy 
 of existing establishments, no under-valuer of the wisdom 
 of our ancestors, no scoffer against institutions as they 
 are, — has said, and it deserves to be fixed, in letters of 
 gold, over the hall of every assembly which calls itself a 
 legislative body, — ' Where there is abuse, there ought to 
 BE clamor; because it is better to have our slumber broken 
 
 BY THE fire-bell, THAN TO PERISH, AMIDST THE FLAMES, IN OUR 
 
 BED.' I have been told, by some who have little objection
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 299 
 
 to the clamor, that I am a timid and a mock reformer; 
 
 and by others, if I go on firmly and steadily, and do not 
 allow myself to be driven aside by either one outer}' or 
 another, and care for neither, that it is a rash and danger- 
 ous innovation which I propound j and that I am taking, 
 for the subject of my reckless experiments, things which 
 are the objects of all men's veneration. I disregard the 
 one as much as I disregard the other of these charges 
 
 ' False honor charms, and lying slander scares, 
 Whom, but the false, and faulty?' 
 
 ' It has been the lot of all men, in all ages, who have 
 aspired at the honor of guiding, instructing, or mending 
 mankind, to hate their jiatlis beset by every persecution 
 from adversaries, by every misconstruction from friends j 
 no quartei from the one, — no charitable construction from 
 the other! To be misconstrued, misrepresented, borne 
 down, till it was in vain to bear down any longer,* has been 
 their fate. But truth will survive, and calumny has its 
 day. I say that, if this be the fate of the reformer, — if 
 he be the object of misrepresentation, — may not an infer- 
 ence be drawn favorable to myself? Taunted by the 
 enemies of reform as being too rash, by the over-zealous 
 friends of reform as being too slow or too cold, there is 
 every reason for presuming that I have chosen the right 
 course. A reformer must proceed steadily in his career; 
 not misled, on the one hand, by panegyric, nor discouraged 
 by slander, on the other. He wants no praise. I would 
 rather say, — ' Woe to him when all men speak well of 
 him !' I shall go on in the course w^hich I have laid down 
 for mysell ; pursuing the foot-steps of those who have 
 gone before us, who have left us their instructions and 
 success, — their instructions to guide our walk, and their 
 success to cheer our spirits." 
 Another of the finest passages of his eloquence is con-
 
 300 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 tained in his great speecli on Parliamentary Reform, de- 
 livered in tlie House of Lords, October 7, 1831. When 
 Earl Grey came in as Prime Minister in 1830, the Reform 
 Bill was brought forward; after it had reached the House 
 of Lords on the 31st of October, 1831, Brougham took up 
 the subject, and answered the arguments of his opponents 
 in one of the most powerful speeches ever made. " He 
 began in a mild and conciliatory manner, unwilling to 
 injure his cause by the harshness in which he too com- 
 monly indulged, and answered a part of the arguments in 
 a strain of good-humored wit and pleasantry which has 
 rarely been surpassed. But after repeated interruptions, 
 some of them obviously designed to put him down, he 
 changed his tone, and spoke for nearly three hours more 
 wdth a keenness of rebuke, a force of argument, and a bold- 
 ness of declamation which secured him a respectful hear- 
 ing, and extorted the confession from his adversary, Lord 
 Lyndhurst, that a more powerful speech of the kind had 
 never been delivered in the House of Lords." 
 
 Showing the danger of delay, in the peroration of this 
 speech, he summoned all his energies and broke forth in a 
 strain of the loftiest declamation, attracting the admira- 
 tion of his friends, and exciting the fear of his enemies by 
 the power of his arguments and the vehemence of his elo- 
 quence. 
 
 " My Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude 
 which I feel for the event of this debate, because I know 
 full well that the peace of the country is involved in the 
 issue. I can not look without dismay at the rejection of 
 the measure. But grievous as may be the consequences 
 of a temporary defeat — temporary it can only be; for its 
 ultimate, and even speedy success, is certain. Nothing 
 can now stop it. Do not suffer yourselves to be persuaded 
 that even if the present ministers w^ere driven from the 
 helm, any one could steev you through the troubles which
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 301 
 
 surround you without reform. But our successors would 
 take up the task in circumstances far less auspicious. Un- 
 der them, you would be fain to grant a bill, compared with 
 which the one we now profier you is moderate indeed. 
 Hear the parable of the Sibyl j for it conveys a wise and 
 wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and 
 offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — 
 of wisdom and peace. The price she asks is reasonable j 
 to restore the franchise, which, without any bargain, you 
 ought voluntarily to give; you refuse her terms — her 
 moderate terms — she darkens the porch no longer. But 
 soon, for you can not do without her wares, you call her 
 back; again she comes, but with diminished treasures; the 
 leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless 
 hands — in part defaced with characters of blood. But 
 the prophetic maid had risen in her demands — it is Par- 
 liaments by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is 
 suffrage by the million! From this you turn away indig- 
 nant, and for the second time she departs. Beware of hej 
 third coming; for the treasure you must have; and what 
 price she may next demand, who shall tell? It may even 
 be the mace which rests upon that wool-sack. What may 
 follow your course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I can not 
 take upon me to predict, nor do I wish to conjecture. But 
 this I know full well, that, as sure as man is mortal, and 
 to err is human, justice deferred enhances the price at 
 which you must purchase safety and peace; nor can you 
 exj^ect to gather in another crop than they did who went 
 before you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable 
 husbandry, of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. 
 
 " But among the awful considerations that now bow 
 dow'u my mind, there is one which stands pre-eminent 
 above the rest. You are the highest judicature in the 
 realm; you sit here as judges, and decide all causes, civil 
 and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's first duty
 
 302 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 never to pronounce sentence in the most trifling case with- 
 out hearing. Will you make this the exception? Are 
 you really prepared to determine, but not to hear, the 
 mighty cause upon which a nation's hopes and fears hang? 
 You are. Then beware of your decision ! Rouse not, I 
 beseech you, a peace-loving, but a resolute people; alien- 
 ate not from your body the affections of a whole empire. 
 As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of 
 my country, as the faithful servant of my Sovereign, I 
 counsel you to assist with your uttermost efforts in pre- 
 serving the peace, and upholding and perpetuating the 
 Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort you not to 
 reject this measure. By all you hold most dear — by all 
 the ties that bind every one of us to our common order 
 and our common country, I solemnly adjure you — I warn 
 you — I implore you — yea, on my bended knees., I suppli- 
 cate you — reject not this bill!"* 
 
 Lord Brougham has always been a warm friend of litera- 
 ture. He has ever taken the greatest delight in the pro- 
 motion of science and erudition. Even before his removal 
 to London, he united with some of his literary friends in 
 establishing the Edinburgh Review; and for nearly twenty 
 years he continued to be one of the regular contributors 
 to that celebrated periodical. 
 
 Perhaps the most valuable production of his pen is his 
 Historical Sketches of Statesmen who flourished in the 
 time of George HI. It is indispensable to the student in 
 oratory, for the delineation of character, which it presents. 
 
 * " So completely had Lord Brougham wrought up his own feelings and 
 those of his hearers at the close of this speech, that it was nothing strained or 
 unnatural — it was, in fact, almost a matter of course — for him to sink down 
 upon one of his knees at the table where he stood, when he uttered the last 
 words, 'I supplicate you — reject not this bill!' But the sacrifice was too 
 great a one for that proud nobility to make at once, and the bill was rejected 
 by a majority of forty-one, of whom twenty-one belonged to the board of bishops 
 of the Established Church "
 
 LORD BROUGHAM 1]03 
 
 It contaius a large amount of original matter on tliis 
 subject, exhibiting, in lucid light, the leading traits in the 
 character of England's greatest statesmen. 
 
 Lord Brougham is certainly one of the most powerful 
 orators that ever swayed the British senate. In vehement, 
 sarcastic eloquence he has but few equals. For many 
 years have the thunders of his eloquence shaken the 
 senate of his country; and now, when he has nearly 
 reached the close of a long and useful life, he is the " old 
 man eloquent" 
 
 As an antagonist in debate, no one is more to be dreaded 
 than Brougham. No one can overwhelm an adversary 
 with more piercing sarcasm than he. The following ac- 
 count of an intellectual collision between him and Can- 
 ning, exhibiting the peculiar characteristics of their ora- 
 tory, will be a fitting close to this sketch. It is related by 
 an eye-witness: 
 
 " The following comparison between the subject of this 
 sketch and his great parliamentary rival vvill interest the 
 reader as presenting the characteristic qualities of each 
 in bolder relief from their juxtaposition. It is from the 
 pen of one who had watched them both with the keenest 
 scrutiny during their conflicts in the House of Commons. 
 The scene described in the conclusion arose out of a 
 memorable attack of Mr. Canning on Lord Folkestone for 
 intimating, that he had ' truckled to France.' ' The Lace- 
 daemonians,' said Mr. C, ' were in the habit of deterring 
 their children from the vice of intoxication by occasion- 
 ally exhibiting their slaves in a state of disgusting ine- 
 briety. But, sir, there is a moral as well as a physical 
 intoxication. Never before did I behold so perfect a per- 
 sonification of the character which I have somewhere 
 seen described, as exhibiting the contortions of the Sibyl 
 without her inspiration. Such was the nature of the 
 noble Lord's speech." Mr. Brougham took occasion, a
 
 304 . ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 few evenings after, to retort on Mr. Canning and repeat 
 the charge, in the manner here described; but first we 
 have a sketch of their characteristics as orators. 
 
 " Canning was airy, open, and prepossessing; Brougham 
 seemed stern, hard, lowering, and almost repulsive. Can- 
 ning's features were handsome, and his eye, though deeply 
 ensconced under his eyebrows, was full of sparkle and 
 gayety; the features of Brougham were harsh in the ex- 
 treme: while his forehead shot up to a great elevation, his 
 chin was long and square; his mouth, nose and eyes 
 seemed huddled together in the center of his face, the 
 eyes absolutely lost amid folds and corrugations; and 
 while he sat listening, they seemed to retire inward or to 
 be vailed by a filmy curtain, which not only concealed the 
 appalling glare which shot from them when he was aroused, 
 but rendered his mind and his purpose a sealed book to 
 the keenest scrutiny of man. Canning's passions appeared 
 upon the open champaign of his face, drawn up in ready 
 array, and moved to and fro at every turn of his own ora- 
 tion and every retort in that of his antagonist. Those of 
 Brougham remained within, as in a citadel which no artil- 
 lery could batter and no mine blow up; and even when he 
 w^as putting forth all the power of his eloquence, when 
 every ear was tingling at what he said, and while the 
 immediate object of his invective was writhing in helpless 
 and indescribable agony, his visage retained its cold and 
 brassy hue; and he triumphed over the passions of other 
 men by seeming to be without passion himself. When 
 Canning rose to speak, he elevated his countenance, and 
 seemed to look round for applause as a thing dear to his 
 feelings; while Brougham stood coiled and concentrated, 
 reckless of all but the power that was within himself. 
 
 " From Canning there was expected the glitter of wit 
 and the glow of spirit — something showy and elegant; 
 Brougham stood up as a being whose powers and inten-
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 305 
 
 tions were all a mystery — whose aim and effect no living 
 man could divine. You bent forward to catch the first 
 sentence of the one, and felt human nature elevated in the 
 specimen before you; you crouched and shrunk back from 
 the other, and dreams of ruin and annihilation darted 
 across your mind. The one seemed to dwell among men, 
 to join in their joys, and to live upon their praise; the 
 other appeared a son of the desert, who had deigned to 
 visit the human race merely to make it tremble at his 
 strength. 
 
 " The style of their eloquence and the structure of their 
 orations were just as different. Canning arranged his 
 words like one who could play skilfully upon that sweetest 
 of all instruments, the human voice; Brougham proceeded 
 like a master of every power of reasoning and the under- 
 standing. The modes and allusions of the one were 
 always quadrable by the classical formulae; those of the 
 other could be squared only by the higher analysis of the 
 mind; and they soared, and ran, and pealed, and swelled 
 on and on, till a single sentence was often a complete ora- 
 tion within itself; but still, so clear was the logic, and so 
 close the connection, that every member carried the 
 weight of all that went before, and opened the way for all 
 that was to follow after. The style of Canning was like 
 the convex mirror, which scatters every ray of light that 
 falls upon it, and shines and sparkles in whatever i30sition 
 it is viewed; that of Brougham was like the concave 
 speculum, scattering no indiscriminate radiance, but hav- 
 ing its light concentrated into one intense and tremendous 
 focus. Canning marched forward in a straight and clear 
 track; every paragraph was perfect in itself, and every 
 coruscation of wit and of genius was brilliant and de- 
 lightful; it was all felt, and it was felt all at once: 
 Brougham twined round and round in a spiral, sweeping 
 
 the contents of a vast circumference before him, and 
 39
 
 306 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 uniting and pouring tliem onward to the main point of 
 attack. 
 
 " Such were the rival orators, who sat glancing hostility 
 and defiance at each other during the session of eighteen 
 hundred and twenty-three — Brougham, as if wishing to 
 overthrow the Secretary by a sweeping accusation of 
 having abandoned all principle for the sake of office; 
 and the Secretary ready to parry the charge and attack in 
 his turn. An opportunity at length offered. Upon that 
 occasion the oration of Brougham was disjointed and 
 ragged, and apparently without aim or application. He 
 careered over the whole annals of the world, and col- 
 lected every instance in which genius had prostituted 
 itself at the footstool of power, or principle had been 
 sacrificed for the vanity or the lucre of place; but still 
 there was no allusion to Canning, and no connection, that 
 ordinary men could discover, with the business before the 
 House. When, however, he had collected every material 
 which suited his purpose — when the mass had become big 
 and black, he bound it about and about with the cords of 
 illustration and argument; when its union was secure, he 
 swung it round and round witli the strength of a giant 
 and the rapidity of a whirlwind, in order that its im- 
 petus and its efiects might be the more tremendous; and 
 while doing this, he ever and anon glared his eye, and 
 pointed his finger, to make the aim and the direction sure. 
 Canning himself was the first that seemed to be aware 
 where and how terrible was to be tlie collision; and he 
 kept writhing his body in agony and rolling his eye in 
 fear, as if anxious to find some shelter from the impending 
 bolt. The House soon caught the impression, and every 
 man in it was glancing fearfully, first toward the orator, 
 and then toward the Secretary. There was, save the voice 
 of Brougham, which growled in that under tone of mut- 
 tered thunder which is so fearfully audible, and of which
 
 LORD BROUGHAM 307 
 
 no speaker of the day was fully master but himself, a 
 silence as if the angel of retribution had been flaring in 
 the faces of all parties the scroll of their personal and 
 and i^olitical sins. The stifihess of Brougham's figure had 
 vanished; his features seemed concentrated almost to a 
 point; he glanced toward every part of the House in suc- 
 cession; and, sounding the death-knell of the Secretary's 
 forbearance and prudence with both his clenched hands 
 upon the table, he hurled at him an accusation more 
 dreadful in its gall, and more torturing in its effects, than 
 had ever been hurled at mortal man within the same walls. 
 The result was instantaneous — was electric. It was as 
 when the thunder-cloud descends upon the giant peak; 
 one flash — one peal — the sublimity vanished, and all 
 that remained was a small and cold pattering of rain. 
 Canning started to his feet, and was able only to utter 
 the unguarded words, 'It is false!'' to which followed a 
 dull chapter of apologies. From that moment the House 
 became more a scene of real business than of airy display 
 and angry vituperation."
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 PATEICK HENET. 
 
 The earliest specimens of American eloquence are sub- 
 lime and patriotic. The erection of the glorious fabric of 
 liberty in this country called forth the highest efforts of 
 oratory. The Revolutionary contest afforded an ample 
 theme for the exhibition of all that is touching, indignant, 
 daring, grand and overwhelming in eloquence j hence, we 
 find in the speeches of our Revolutionary orators, some 
 of the most vehement passages that ever stirred the human 
 soul. It was then that the orators of freedom raised their 
 voices in tones of thunder against oppression. It was the 
 brightest period in the history of British and American 
 eloquence. 
 
 " The period of our Colonial and Revolutionary history 
 was, in fact, an era of great superiority in eloquence, at 
 home and abroad. England then presented an array of 
 orators such as she has known at no other time. In West- 
 minster Hall, the accomplished Mansfield was constantly 
 heard in support of kingly power, w^hile the philosophic 
 and argumentative Camden exercised his mighty intellect 
 in defence of popular rights. Burke had awoke with all 
 his wealth of fancy, daring imagination and comprehen- 
 sive learning, t'ox had entered the arena of forensic and 
 senatorial gladiatorship, with his great, glowing heart, and 
 titanic passions, all kindled into volcanic heat. Junius, 
 by his sarcasm and audacity, stung the loftiest circles into 
 desperation. Erskine embellished the darkened heavens
 
 PATRICK HEIVRY. 309 
 
 by the rainbow tints of his genius; and Chatham, worthily 
 succeeded by his ' cloud-compelling ' son, ruled the bil- 
 lowy sea of excited mind with the majesty of a god." 
 
 Among the most renowned American orators and patriots 
 who flourished during the period of which we are speak- 
 ing, we may mention the names of James Otis, Samuel 
 Adams, Josiah Quincy, Joseph Warren, John Hancock, John 
 Adams, Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee. 
 
 The style of eloquence prevalent in those days may be 
 readily seen by a reference to the speeches of our Revo- 
 lutionary patriots and orators. A few brief extracts from 
 such orations will not be deemed inappropriate here. 
 While the banner of Liberty shall continue to spread its 
 folds over our Republic, the sentiments of our patriotic 
 forefathers can not be repeated without thrilfing emotions. 
 What American can read the speech of Gen. Warren on 
 the Boston massacre without being moved? 
 
 " The voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the 
 ground, My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met the 
 frowns of tyrants; in vain we crossed the boisterous 
 ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the hajopy 
 residence of liberty; in vain we toiled, in vain we fought, 
 we bled in vain, if you, our offspring want valor to repel 
 the assaults of her invaders! Stain not the glory of your 
 worthy ancestors; but, like them, resolve never to part 
 with your birthright. Be wise in your deliberations, and 
 determined in your exertions for the preservation of your 
 liberties. Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist 
 yourselves under the sacred banner of reason. Use eA'ery 
 method in your power to secure your rights. At least, 
 prevent the curses of posterity from being heaped upon 
 your memories. 
 
 " If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the tor- 
 rent of oppression; if you feel the true fire of patriotism 
 burning in your breasts; if you from your souls despise
 
 310 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the most gaudy dress that slavery can wear; if you really 
 prefer the lonely cottage (whilst blessed with liberty) to 
 gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery, — 
 you may have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her 
 whole accursed train, will hide their hideous heads in 
 confusion, shame and despair. If you perform your part, 
 you must have the strongest confidence that the same Al- 
 mighty Being, who protected your pious and venerable 
 forefathers, who enabled them to turn a barren wilder- 
 ness into a fruitful field, who so often made bare his arm 
 for their salvation, will still be mindful of you, their off- 
 spring. 
 
 " May this Almighty Being graciously preside in all our 
 councils. May he direct us to such measures as he him- 
 self shall ajiprove, and be pleased to bless. May we ever 
 be a people favored of God. May our land be a land of 
 liberty, the seat of virtue, the asylum of the oppressed, a 
 name and a praise in the whole earth, until the last shock 
 of time shall bury the empires of the world in one com- 
 mon, undistinguished ruin!" 
 
 Similar to this is the language of Quincy. A little 
 before the storm of the Revolution burst on the land, he 
 addressed his townsmen in a memorable speech, from 
 which the following is an extract: " Oh, my countrymen! 
 what will our children say when they read the history of 
 these times, should they find we tamely gave way, without 
 one noble struggle, the most invaluable of earthly bless- 
 ings? As they drag the galling chain, will they not exe- 
 crate us? If we have any respect for things sacred; any 
 regard to the dearest treasure on earth; — if we have one 
 tender sentiment for posterity; — if we would not be de- 
 spised by the world; — let us, in the most open, solemn 
 manner, and with determined fortitude swear, — we will 
 die, — if we can not live freemen !" 
 
 On the 5th of March, 1774, John Hancock made an ani-
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 311 
 
 mating speech to the citizens of Boston which was con- 
 cluded with the following elevated sentiments: " I have 
 the most animating confidence, that the present noble 
 struggle for liberty will terminate gloriously for America. 
 And let us play the man for our God, and for the cities of 
 our God; while we are using the means in our power, let 
 us humbly commit our righteous cause to the great Lord 
 of the universe, who loveth righteousness and hateth 
 iniquit3^ And having secured the approbation of our 
 hearts, by a faitliful and unwearied discharge of our duty 
 to our country, let us joyfully leave our concerns in the 
 hands of Him who raiseth up and pulleth down the em- 
 pires and kingdoms of the world." 
 
 The terrible denunciations which he poured forth in his 
 oration on the Boston Massacre, are a striking example of 
 Hancock's style: " Let this sad tale of death never be told 
 without a tear; let not the heaving bosom cease to burn 
 with a manly indignation at the relation of it, through 
 the long tracts of future time; let every parent tell the 
 shameful story to his listening children till tears of pity 
 glisten in their eyes, or boiling passion shakes their tender 
 frames. 
 
 "Dark and designing knaves, murderers, parricides! 
 how dare you tread upon the earth which has drunk the 
 blood of slaughtered innocence, shed by your hands? 
 How dare you breathe that air which wafted to the ear of 
 heaven the groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your 
 accursed ambition? But if the laboring earth does not 
 expand her jaws — if the air you breathe is not com- 
 missioned to be the minister of death — yet, hear it, and 
 tremble ! The eye of heaven penetrates the secret cham- 
 bers of the soul; and you, though screened from human 
 observation, must be arraigned — must lift your hands, 
 red with the blood of those whose death you have procured, 
 at the tremendous bar of God."
 
 312 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Such was that eloquence which came from the lips of 
 the first orators of freedom in our country. But we pro- 
 ceed to notice the subject of this sketch, who has been 
 admirably styled the " forest-born Demosthenes " and the 
 " incarnation of Revolutionary zeal." 
 
 Patrick Henry was born on the 29th of May, 1736, at 
 Studley, Hanover county, Virginia. His father, Col. John 
 Henry, was a native of Aberdeen, in Scotland, and he is 
 said to have been a nephew of Dr. William Robertson, the 
 celebrated historian. 
 
 Patrick Henry was early sent to school, where he pur- 
 sued common English studies, and acquired a superficial 
 knowledge of Latin. He never became a thorough scholar. 
 Like Shakspeare, he knew little Latin and less Greek. He 
 learned to read tlie character, but never to translate Greek. 
 Literary pursuits had little attraction for his youthful 
 mind. On the contrary, he delighted in hunting and fish- 
 ing. No persuasions, says his biographer, could bring him 
 either to read or work. He ran wild in the forest, like 
 one of the aborigines of the country, and divided his life 
 between the dissipation and uproar of the chase and the 
 languor of inaction. He was often seen with his angle- 
 rod lying alone, under the shade of some tree that over- 
 hung the sequestered stream, watching, for hours, at the 
 same spot, the motionless cork of his fishing line, Avithout 
 one encouraging symptom of success, and without any 
 apparent source of enjoyment, unless he could find it in 
 the ease of his posture, or in the illusions of hope, or, 
 which is most probable, in the stillness of the scene, and 
 the silent workings of his own imagination. 
 
 Though he studied but few books, Mr. Henry was deeply 
 read in the great volume of human nature. To a friend 
 who said to him, " I have just heard of a new work, which 
 I am extremely anxious to peruse," he replied, " Take my 
 word for it, we are too old to read books: read men —
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 313 
 
 they are the only volumes that we can peruse to advan- 
 tage." 
 
 At the age of fifteen, Mr. Henry was placed behind the 
 counter of a country store. The next year he became a 
 merchant, but soon failed. At the early age of eighteen, 
 he married, and went to labor on a small farm. "It is 
 curious to contemplate this giant genius, destined in a 
 few years to guide the councils of a mighty nation, but 
 unconscious of the intellectual treasures which he pos- 
 sessed, encumbered, at the early age of eighteen, with 
 the cares of a lamily; obscure, unknown, and almost un.- 
 pitied; digging, with wearied limbs and with an aching 
 heart, a small spot of barren earth, for bread, and blessing 
 the hour of night which relieved him from toil. Little 
 could the wealthy and great of the land, as tliey rolled 
 along the highway in splendor, and beheld the young 
 rustic at work in the coarse garb of a laborer, covered 
 with dust and melting in the sun, have suspected that this 
 was the man who was destined not only to humble their 
 pride, but to make the prince himself tremble on his dis- 
 tant throne, and to shake the brightest jewels from the 
 British crown." 
 
 After a short trial, Mr. Henry abandoned agricultural 
 pursuits, and engaged again in mercantile business. He 
 met with still worse success than before. He was reduced 
 to extreme poverty. He now turned his attention to the 
 law, and after six weeks' study, obtained a license to 
 practice. He was then twenty-four years of age. When 
 he had reached his twenty- seventh year an opjDortunity 
 was afforded for exhibiting, in their full splendor, those 
 powers of oratory which he possessed. 
 
 A suit, familiarly known as the " parsons' cause," in 
 
 which the clergy and people of Virginia were arrayed in 
 
 opposition, was to be tried. The controversy caused great 
 
 excitement, and people from a distance assembled to hear 
 40
 
 314 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the trial. Mr. Henry was counsel for the people, and was 
 victorious. It was then that his genius first broke forth. 
 The scene and circumstances of this, his first triumph in 
 eloquence, are graphically described by Mr. Wirt:* 
 
 " Soon after the opening of the court, the cause was 
 called. It stood on a writ of inquiry of damages, no plea 
 having been entered by the defendants since the judgment 
 on the demurrer. The array before Mr. Henry's eyes was 
 now most fearful. On the bench sat more than twenty 
 clergymen, the most learned men in the colony, and the 
 most capable as well as the severest critics, before whom 
 it was possible for him to make his debut. The court- 
 house was crowded with an overwhelming multitude, and 
 surrounded with an immense and anxious throng, who, 
 not finding room to enter, were endeavoring to listen with- 
 out, in the deepest attention. But there was something 
 still more awfully disconcerting than all thisj for in the 
 chair of the presiding magistrate sat no other person than 
 his own father. Mr. Lyons opened the cause very briefly: 
 
 * William Wirt was born at Bladensburg, Maryland, on the 8th of Novem- 
 ber, 1772. He obtained his license to practice law, in 1792. In 1807, he 
 gained a wide reputation in the trial of Aaron Burr, against whom he was 
 employed as prosecuting counsel. The British Spy was written in 1803; the 
 Old Bachelor, in 1812-, and the Life of Patrick Henry appeared in 1817. la 
 the same year, Mr. Wirt was appointed by President Monroe, Attorney- 
 General of the United States. He died at Washington, on the 18th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1834. 
 
 Sir. Wirt ranks among the first class of forensic orators. " His manner in 
 speaking was singularly attractive. His manly form, his intellectual counte 
 nance and musical voice, set off by a rare gracefulness of gesture, won, in ad- 
 vance the favor of his auditory. He was calm, deliberate and distinct in his 
 enunciation, not often rising into any high exhibition of passion, and never 
 sinking into tameness. His key was that of earnest aud animated argument, 
 frequently alternated with that of a playful and sprightly humor. His lan^ 
 guage was neat, well chosen, and uttered without impediment or slovenly 
 repetition. The tones of his voice played, with a natural skill, through the 
 various cadences most appropriate to express the flitting emotions of his mind, 
 and the changes of his thought. To thef e external properties of his elocution
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 315 
 
 in the way of argument he did nothing more than explain 
 to the jury, that the decision upon the demurrer had put 
 the act of seventeen hundred and fifty-eight entirely out 
 of the way, and left the law of seventeen hundred and 
 forty-eight as the only standard of their damages; he then 
 concluded with a highly -wrought eulogium on the benevo- 
 lence of the clergj'. 
 
 " And now came on the first trial of Patrick Henry's 
 strength. No one had ever heard him speak, and curiosity 
 was on tiptoe. He rose very awkwardly, and faltered 
 much in his exordium. The people hung their heads at 
 so unpromising a commencement; the clergy were observed 
 to exchange sly looks with each other; and his father is 
 described as having almost sunk with confusion from his 
 seat. But these feelings were of short duration, and soon 
 gave place to others, of a very different character. For 
 now were those wonderful faculties which he possessed, 
 for the first time, developed; and now was first witnessed 
 that mysterious and almost supernatural transformation 
 
 we may ascribe the pleasure which persons of all conditions found in listening 
 to him. Women often crowded the court-rooms to hear him, and as often 
 astonished him, not only by the patience, but the visible enjoyment with which 
 they were wont to sit out his argument to the end, — even when the topic 
 was too dry to interest them, or too abstruse for them to understand his dis- 
 course. It was the charm of manner, of which the delicate tact of woman is 
 ever found to be the truest gauge and the most appreciative judge. His ora- 
 tory was not of that strong, bold and impetuous nature which is often the 
 chief characteristic of the highest eloquence, and which is said to sway the 
 Senate with absolute dominion, and to imprison or set free the storm of human 
 passion, in the multitude, according to the speaker's will. It was smooth, 
 polished, scholar-like, sparkling with pleasant fancies, and beguiling the 
 listener by its varied graces, out of all note or consciousness of time. 
 
 " Without claiming for Mr. Wirt the renown of the most powerful orator 
 or the profoundest lawyer in the country, it is sufficient praise to say, that he 
 stood beside the first men of his day, equal in rank and repute, and superior 
 to most, if not all, in the various accomplishments which he brought to the 
 adornment of his profession. — Memoirs of the Life of William Wirt by J. P. 
 Kennedy, vol. 2. p, 384.
 
 316 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of appearance, wliich the fire of liis own eloquence never 
 failed to work in him. For as his mind rolled along, and 
 began to glow from its own action, all the exuvicB of the 
 clown seemed to shed themselves spontaneously. His 
 attitude, by degrees, became erect and lofty. The spirit 
 of his genius awakened all his features. His counte- 
 nance shone with a nobleness and grandeur which it never 
 before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes which 
 seemed to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, 
 bold and commanding; and in the tones of his voice, but 
 more especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar 
 charm, a magic of which any one who ever heard him 
 will speak as soon as he is named, but of which no one 
 can give an adequate description. They can only say that 
 it struck upon the ear and upon the heart, in a manner 
 wliich language can not tell. Add to all these, his wonder- 
 working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology in which he 
 clothed its images; for he i:»ainted to the heart with a force 
 that almost petrified it. In the language of those who 
 heard him on this occasion, ' he made their blood run cold, 
 and their hair to rise on end.'' 
 
 " It will not be difficult for any one who ever heard this 
 most extraordinary man, to believe the whole account of 
 this transaction, which is given by his surviving hearers; 
 and from their account, the court-house of Hanover 
 connty must have exhibited on this occasion, a scene as 
 picturesque, as has ever been witnessed in real life. They 
 say that the people, whose countenance had fallen, as he 
 arose, had heard but a very few sentences before they 
 began to look up; then to look at each other with surprise, 
 as if doubting the evidence of their own senses; then, 
 attracted by some strong gesture, struck by some majestic 
 attitude, fascinated by the spell of his eye, the charm of 
 his emphasis, and the varied and commanding expression 
 of his countenance, they could look away no more. In
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 317 
 
 less than twenty minutes, they might be seen in every part 
 of the house, on every bench, in every window, stooping 
 forward from their stands, in deathlike silence; their 
 features fixed in amazement and awe; all their senses 
 listening and riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the 
 last strain of some heavenly visitant. The mockery of 
 the clergy was soon turned into alarm; their triumph into 
 confusion and despair; and at one burst of his rapid and 
 overwhelming invective, they fled from the bench in pre- 
 cipitation and terror. As for the father, such was his sur- 
 prise, such his amazement, such his rapture, that, forgetting 
 where he was, and the character which he was filling, tears 
 of ecstacy streamed down his cheeks, without the power 
 or inclination to repress them. 
 
 " The jury seem to have been so completely bewildered, 
 that they lost sight, not only of the act of seventeen hund- 
 red and forty-eight, but that of seventeen hundred and 
 fifty-eight also; for thoughtless even of the admitted right 
 of the plaintiff", they had scarcely left the bar, when they 
 returned with a verdict of one penny damages. A motion 
 was made for a new trial; but the court, too, had now lost 
 the equipoise of their judgment, and overruled the motion 
 by a unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment over- 
 ruling the motion, were followed by redoubled acclama- 
 tions, from within and without the house. 
 
 " The people, who had with difficulty kept their hands 
 off' their champion, from the moment of closing his ha- 
 rangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally sealed, 
 than they seized him at the bar, and in spite of his own 
 exertions, and the continued cry of ' order ' from the 
 sheriffs and the court, they bore him out of the court-house, 
 and raising him on their shoulders, carried him about the 
 yard, in a kind of electioneering triumph. 
 
 " 0! what a scene was this for a father's heart! so sud- 
 den; so unlooked for; so delightfully overw^helming ! At
 
 318 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the time, lie whs not able to give utterance to any senti- 
 ment; but, a few days after, when speaking of it to Mr. 
 Winston (the present Judge Winston), he said, with the 
 most engaging modesty, and with a tremor of voice which 
 showed how much more he felt than he expressed, ' Pat- 
 rick spoke in this cause near an hour, and in a manner 
 that surprised me! and showed himself well-informed on 
 a subject, of which I did not think he had any knowledge!' 
 
 " I have tried much to procure a sketch of this cele- 
 brated speech. But those of Mr. Henry's hearers who 
 survive, seem to have been bereft of their senses. Tliej'" 
 can only tell you, in general, that they were taken cap- 
 tive; and so delighted with their captivity, that they fol- 
 lowed implicitly, withersoever he led them: that, at his 
 bidding, their tears flowed from pity, and their cheeks 
 flushed with indignation: that when it was over, they felt 
 as if they had just awaked from some ecstatic dream, of 
 which they were unable to recall or connect the particu- 
 lars. It was such a speech as they believe had never be- 
 fore fallen from the lips of man; and to this day, the old 
 people of that county can not conceive that a higher com- 
 pliment can be paid to a speaker, than to say of him, in 
 their own homely j)hrase: — ' He is almost equal to Patrick, 
 when he plead against the parsons.'' "* 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Henry on this occasion struck the 
 people with amazement, and gained for him the most en- 
 thusiastic applause. He was now regarded as one of the 
 greatest orators of his country — rising suddenly to the 
 summit of universal renown. " His sun had risen," says 
 J\Ir. Wirt, *•' with a splendor which had never before been 
 witnessed in this colony; and never afterward did it dis- 
 grace this glorious rising." Such was the effect of Mr. 
 Henry's eloquence on its first display, and yet a nobler 
 triumph awaited him. 
 
 * Sketches of the Life and Character of Patrick Henry.
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 319 
 
 The chief glory of Mr. Henry's career, was the part 
 which he took in the American Revolution. This event 
 he was undoubtedly the means of hastening. Thomas 
 Jefferson declared that Mr. Henry certainly gave the first 
 impulse to the ball of the revolution. 
 
 In January, 1765, the famous Stamp Act, was passed by 
 the British Parliament. The storm of the Revolution 
 which was soon to burst on the colonies, now began to 
 thicken. At this crisis, Patrick Henry came forward to 
 sound the alarm — to prepare his countrymen for the ter- 
 rible approach — to arouse them to a sense of their duty, 
 and to lead them to resist the aggressions of the British 
 Government. 
 
 In the month of May, 1765, Mr. Henry was elected a 
 member of* the house of burgesses, and now the first notes 
 of his lofty, patriotic eloquence began to fall on the ear, 
 and to animate the heart of a desponding '.nation. On a 
 blank leaf of an old law book, " unadvised, and unas- 
 sisted," he wrote the five famous resolutions of 1765, 
 against the Stamp Act, and against the right of the British 
 Parliament to tax the American colonies. On offering 
 them to the House, they met with violent opposition. 
 
 " The debate," in the forcible language of Jefferson, 
 " was most bloody," but torrents of sublime, irresistible 
 eloquence from Henry prevailed, and the resolutions were 
 carried by a small majority. It was then that Mr. Henry 
 put forth his great strength, seized, demolished, and tram 
 pled under foot the arguments of his opponents. " The 
 cords of argument, with which his adversaries frequently 
 flattered themselves that they had bound him fast, became 
 pack-threads in his hands. He burst them with as much 
 ease as the unshorn Samson did the bands of the Philis- 
 tines. He seized the pillars of the temple, shook theih 
 terribly, and seemed to threaten his opponents with ruin. 
 It was an incessant storm of lightning and thunder, which
 
 320 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 struck them aghast. The faint-hearted gathered courage 
 from his countenance, and cowards became heroes while 
 they gazed upon his exploits." 
 
 His powers increased in proportion to the magnitude of 
 his theme. His eloquence never assumed a loftier tone. 
 He summoned all his energies for a terrible blow — a stroke 
 that should be felt in the court of England, and resound 
 through all time. At length it fell. It was on this ever- 
 memorable occasion that Henry electrified the house by a 
 burst of intrepid eloquence unsurpassed in the annals of 
 ancient or modern oratory. 
 
 " It was in the midst of this magnificent debate, while 
 he was descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act, 
 that he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, and with the 
 look of a god: — ' Csesar had his Brutus — Charles the 
 First, his Cromwell — and George the Third'* — (' Treason,' 
 cried the speaker — ' Treason, treason!' echoed from every 
 part of the house. It was one of those trying moments 
 which is decisive of character. Henry faltered not for 
 an instant; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on 
 the speaker an eye of the most determined fire, he finished 
 his sentence with the firmest emphasis) — 'may "projit by 
 their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.' " 
 
 On the 4th of September, 1774, the old Continental 
 Congress met at Carpenters' Hall, Philadelphia. Among 
 the delegates from Virginia, were Peyton Randolj)h, 
 Richard Henry Lee, George Washington, Richard Bland, 
 Benjamin Harrison, Edmund Pendleton, and Patrick 
 Henry. A nobler set of men never assembled in any laud 
 to erect and display the proud standard of liberty. Here 
 the patriotic eloquence of Mr. Henry shone in its purest 
 luster. Here it burst forth with irresistible power. The 
 long silence which followed on the organization of that 
 
 * If Philip of Macedon formea the character of Demosthenes, George III 
 may be said to have moulded that of Patrick Henry.
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 321 
 
 august body was first broken by the thunders of Henry's 
 undaunted oratoi y. " In the midst of this deep and death- 
 like silence, and just when it was begirning to become 
 painfully embarrassing, Mr. Henry rose slowly, as if borne 
 down by the weight of the subject. After faltering, ac- 
 cording to his habit, through a most impressive exordium, 
 in which he merely echoed back the consciousness of 
 every other heart, in deploring his inability to do justice 
 to the occasion, he launched gradually into a recital of 
 the colonial wrongs. Rising, as he advanced, with the 
 grandeur of his subject, and glowing at length with all 
 the majesty and expectation of the occasion, his speech 
 seemed more than that of mortal man. 
 
 " Even those who had heard him in all his glory, in the 
 house of burgesses of Virginia, were astonished at the 
 manner in which his talents seemed to swell and expand 
 themselves, to fill the vaster theater in which he was now 
 placed. There was no rant — no rhapsody — no labor of 
 the understanding — no straining of the voice — no con- 
 fusion of the utterance. His countenance was erect — his 
 eye, steady — his action, noble — his enunciation, clear 
 and firm — his mind poised on its center — his views of 
 his subject comprehensive and great — and his imagination 
 coruscating with a magnificence and a variety, which 
 struck even that assembly with amazement and awe. He 
 sat down amid murmurs of astonishment and applause; 
 and as he had been before proclaimed the greatest orator 
 of Virginia, he was now, on every hand, admitted to be 
 the first orator of America." 
 
 On the 20th of March, 1775, the Virginia Convention of 
 delegates assembled in the " Old Church "* at Richmond. 
 
 * " Hallowed are the associations connected with that venerable church in 
 Richmond ! Often has the writer sought its precincts alone, and pondered there 
 on the scene when, within the walls yet standing, Henry, as the embodiment 
 
 of the Revolution and all its sublime results, rose like ono inspired, and de^ 
 41
 
 322 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 It was on this occasion that Mr. Henry delivered that im- 
 mortal speech which has furnished thousands of Ameri- 
 can youths with a patriotic theme for scholastic declama- 
 tion. The report of this speeeh is the best specimen that 
 we possess of Mr. Henry's style. It is an efl'ort that will 
 never be forgotten in the annals of oratory. He rose at 
 this time with a majesty unusual to him in an exordium, 
 and with all that self-possession by which he was so in- 
 variably distinguished. " No man," he said, " thought 
 more highly than he did of the patriotism, as well as 
 abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who had just 
 addressed the house. But different men often saw the 
 same subject in different lights; and, therefore, he hoped 
 it would not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, 
 if, entertaining as he did, opinions of a character very 
 opposite to theirs, he should speak forth his sentiments 
 freely, and without reserve. 
 
 " This," he said, " was no time for ceremony. The 
 question before this house was one of awful moment to 
 the country. For his own part he considered it as nothing 
 less than a question of freedom or slavery. And in pro- 
 portion to the magnitude of the subject, ought to be the 
 freedom of the debate. It was only in this way that they 
 could hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great respon- 
 sibility which they held to God and their country. Should 
 he keep back his opinions at such a time, through fear of 
 giving offense, he should consider himself as guilty of 
 treason toward his country, and of an act of disloyalty 
 toward the Majesty of heaven, which he revered above all 
 earthly kings. 
 
 " Mr. President," said he, " it is natural to man to in- 
 dulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our 
 eyes against a painful truth — and listen to the song of 
 
 livered that speech unequaled in the history of man, ending with the omi- 
 nous words. ' Give me liberty, or give me death.'' — Magoon.
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 323 
 
 that siren, till she transform us into beasts. Is this the 
 part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle 
 for liberty? Were we disposed to be of the number of 
 those, who having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear 
 not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal 
 salvation? For his part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
 might cost, he was willing to know the whole truth j to 
 know the worst, and to provide for it. 
 
 " He had," he said, " but one lamp by which his feet 
 were guided; and that was the lamp of experience. He 
 knew of no way of judging of the future but by the past. 
 And judging by the past, he wished to know what there 
 had been in the conduct of the British ministry for the 
 last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen 
 had been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is 
 it that insidious smile with which our petition has been 
 lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare 
 to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a 
 kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our 
 petition comports with those warlike preparations which 
 cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and 
 armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? 
 Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
 that force must be called in to win back our love? Let 
 us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
 of war and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
 kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this mar- 
 tial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? 
 Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? 
 Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, 
 to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? 
 No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can 
 be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and 
 rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry 
 have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose
 
 n 
 
 24 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying 
 that for the last ten years. Have we any thing new to 
 offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the sub- 
 ject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has 
 been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble 
 supplication? What terms shall we find, which have not 
 been already exhausted. Let us not, I beseech you, Sir, 
 deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything 
 that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming 
 on. We have petitioned — we have remonstrated — we 
 have supplicated — we have prostrated ourselves before 
 the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
 the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our 
 petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have pro- 
 duced additional violence and insult; our supplications 
 have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with 
 contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after 
 these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and 
 reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 
 If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate 
 those inestimable privileges for which we have been so 
 long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the 
 noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and 
 which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until 
 the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained! we 
 must fight! — I repeat it. Sir, we must fight! An appeal 
 to arms and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us!" 
 
 After he had finished his speech and taken his seat, no 
 murmur of applause was heard. The effect was too deep. 
 After the trance of a moment, several members started 
 from their seats. The cry, ' to arms !' seemed to quiver on 
 every lip, and gleam from every eye. Richard Henry Lee* 
 
 * Mr. Wirt, in contemplating some of the " stars of the first magnitude' 
 that shone in the House of Burgesses in the year 17C5 thus writes: " Richard 
 Henry Lee was the Cicero of the house. His face itself was on the Roman
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 325 
 
 arose and supported Mr. Henry, with his usual spirit and 
 elegance. But his melody was lost amid the agitations of 
 that ocean, which the master-spirit of the storm had lifted 
 up on high. That supernatural voice still sounded in 
 their ears, and shivered along their arteries. They heard, 
 in every pause, the cry of liberty or death. They became 
 impatient of speech, their souls were on fire for action." 
 
 During the Revolutionary war, Mr. Henry performed 
 many efficient services for his suffering country. On the 
 adoption of the constitution of Virginia in 1776, he was 
 chosen the first republican governor of the state. In the 
 two following years he was re-elected to the same office. 
 After declining a third re-election as governor in 1779, 
 he was returned to the state legislature. Here he con- 
 tinued for several years to display his unrivaled powers 
 of oratory. Conspicuous among other measures which he 
 so eloquently advocated, was the return of the British 
 fugitives after the close of the war. In sustaining this 
 measure, Mr. Henry uttered a prediction of the future 
 greatness and glory of America, which we see amply ac- 
 comj^lished. Take the following passages as a specimen of 
 his eloquence: 
 
 model; his nose Caesarean; the port and carriage of his head, leaning persua- 
 sively and gracefully forward; and the whole contour noble and fine. Mr. 
 Lee was, by far, the most elegant scholar in the house. He had studied the 
 classics in the true spirit of criticism. His taste had that delicate touch, which 
 seized with intuitive certainty every beauty of an author, and his genius that 
 native affinity which combined them without an effort. Into every walk of 
 literature and science, he had carried this mind of exquisite selection, and 
 brought it back to the business of life, crowned with every light of learning, 
 and decked with every wreath, that all the muses and all the graces could 
 entwine. His defect was, that he was too smooth and too sweet. His style 
 bore a striking resemblance to that of Herodotus, as described by the Roman 
 orator: 'He flowed on, like a quiet and placid river, without a ripple.' He 
 flowed, too, through banks covered with all the fresh verdure and variegated 
 bloom of the spring; but his course was too subdued, and too beautifully regu- 
 lar. A cataract, like that of Niagara, crowned with overhanging rocks and
 
 326 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " I venture to prophesy, there are those now living who 
 will see this favored land amongst the most powerful on 
 earth, — able, Sir, to take care of herself, without resort- 
 ing to that policy, which is always so dangerous, though 
 sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. Yes, 
 Sir, they will see her great in arts and in arms, — her 
 golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable ex- 
 tent, her commerce penetrating the most distant seas, and 
 her cannon silencing the vain boasts of those who now 
 proudly affect to rule the waves. But, Sir, you must have 
 men, — you can not get along without them. Those heavy 
 forests of valuable timber, under which your lands are 
 groaning, must be cleared away. Those vast riches which 
 cover the face of your soil, as well as those which lie hid 
 in its bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the 
 skill and enterprise of men. Your timber, Sir, must be 
 worked up into ships, to transport the productions of the 
 soil from which it has been cleared. Then, you must have 
 commercial men and commercial capital, to take off your 
 productions, and find the best markets for them abroad. 
 Your great want. Sir, is the want of men; and these you 
 must have, and will have speedily, if you are wise. 
 
 mountains, in all the rude and awful grandeur of nature, would hai^e brought 
 turn nearer to the standard of Homer and of Henry. 
 
 Mr. Wirt again speaks of Mr. Lee in the old Congress as " charming the 
 House with an eloquence — chaste — classical — beautiful — his polished 
 periods rolling along without effort, filling the ear with the most bewitching 
 harmony, and delighting the mind with the mos-t exquisite imager)^ The 
 cultivated graces of Mr. Lee's rhetoric received and at the same time reflected 
 beauty, by their contrast with the wild and grand effusions of Mr. Henry. 
 Just as those noble monuments of art which lie scattered through the celebrat- 
 ed landscape of Naples, at once adorn, and are in their turn adorned by the 
 surrounding majesty of Nature. 
 
 " Two models of eloquence, each so perfect in its kind, and so finely con- 
 trasted, could not but fill the house with the highest admiration; and as Mr. 
 Henry had before been pronounced the Demosthenes, it was conceded on every 
 haiKl, that Mr. Lee was the Cicero of America.
 
 PATRICK HEx\KY. 327 
 
 ««■■ 
 
 Do you ask how you are to get them? Open your 
 doors, Sir, and they will come in! The population of 
 the Old World is full to overflowing. That population is 
 ground, too, by the oppressions of the Governments under 
 which they live. Sir, they are already standing on tijjtoe 
 upon their native shores, and looking to your coasts with 
 a wistful and longing eye. They see here a land blessed 
 with natural and political advantages, which are not 
 equaled by those of any other country upon earth j — a 
 land on which a gracious Providence hath emptied the 
 horn of abundance,— a land over which Peace hath now 
 stretched forth her white wings, and where Content and 
 Plenty lie down at every door! 
 
 " Sir, they see something still more attractive than all 
 this. They see a land in which Liberty hath "taken up her 
 abode, — that Liberty whom they had considered as a 
 fabled goddess, existing only in the fancies of poets. They 
 see her here a real divinity, — her altars rising on every 
 hand, throughout these happy States; her glories chanted 
 by three millions of tongues, and the whole region smiling 
 under her blessed influence. Sir, let but this, our celestial 
 goddess. Liberty, stretch forth her fair hand toward the 
 People of the Old World, — tell them to come, and bid 
 them welcome, — and you will see them pouring in from 
 the North, from the South, from the East, and from the 
 West. Your wilderness will be cleared and settled, your 
 deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will 
 soDn be in a condition to defy the powers of any ad- 
 versary. 
 
 " But, Gentlemen, object to any accession from Great 
 Britain, and particularly to the return of the British refu- 
 gees Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded 
 people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own inter- 
 ests most wofully j and most wofully have they suffered the 
 punishment due to their ofiences. But the relations which
 
 328 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 we bear to them, and to their native country, are now 
 changed. Their King hath acknowledged our indepen- 
 dence; the quarrel is over; peace hath returned, and found 
 us a free People. Let us have the magnanimity, Sir, to 
 lay aside our antipathies and j^rejudices, and consider the 
 subject in a political light. Those are an enterprising, 
 moneyed people. They will be serviceable in taking ofi' 
 the surplus produce of our lands, and supplying us with 
 necessaries, during the infant state of our manufactures. 
 Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and 
 principle, I can see no objection, in a political view, ill 
 making them tributary to our advantage. And, as I have 
 no prejudices to prevent my making this use of them, so 
 Sir, I have no fear of any mischief that they can do us. 
 Afraid of them! — What Sir, shall we, who have laid the 
 proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps?*'' 
 
 In 1784, Mr. Henry was again chosen Governor of Vir- 
 ginia. In 1788, he was a member of the Virginia conven- 
 tion which met at Richmond to consider the Constitution 
 of the United States. Mr. Henry put forth all his intel- 
 lectual resources against its adoption; but his powerful 
 efforts were unavailing. Unhappily, he advocated the 
 wrong side of the question. But his motives for doing so 
 were, doubtless, pure and patriotic. 
 
 In 1796, Mr. Henry was once more chosen Governor of 
 Virginia, but declined the office. In the spring of 1799, 
 feeling it to be his duty to offer himself as a candidate for 
 the State Legislature he was triumphantly elected, but did 
 not live to take his seat again in that body. 
 
 On the 6th of June, 1799, the great orator and statesman 
 of Hanover was no more — the sj^irit of Patrick Henry 
 had passed " like the anthem of a breeze away."* 
 
 * The following noble sentiment is in the closing paragraph of the will of 
 Patrick Henry: "I have now disposed of all my property to my family; 
 there is one thing more I wish I could give them, and that is The Christian
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 329 
 
 No one has so graphically delineated Mr. Henry's ora- 
 torical character as the eloquent Wirt. No student of 
 oratory can peruse the following sketch without profit. 
 No one can turn to it too frequently: 
 
 " It was on questions before a jury, that Mr. Henry was 
 in his natural element. There, his intimate knowledge of 
 human nature, and the rapidity as well as justness of his 
 inferences, from the flitting expressions of the counte- 
 nance, as to what was passing in the hearts of his hearers, 
 availed him fully. The jury might be composed of entire 
 strangers, yet he rarely failed to know them, man by man, 
 before the evidence was closed. There was no studied 
 fixture of features that could long hide the character from 
 his piercing and experienced view. The slightest un- 
 guarded turn of countenance, or motion of the eye, let 
 him at once into the soul of the man whom he was ob- 
 serving. Or, if he doubted whether his conclusions were 
 correct, from the exhibitions of countenance during the 
 narration of the evidence, he had a mode of playing a 
 prelude, as it were, upon the jury, in his exordium, which 
 never failed to ' wake into life each silent string,' and show 
 him the whole compass as well as pitch of the instrument; 
 and, indeed (if we may believe all the concurrent accounts 
 of his exhibitions in the general court), the most exquisite 
 performer that ever ' swept the sounding lyre ' had not 
 more a sovereign mastery over its powers, than Mr. Henry 
 had over the springs of feeling and thought that belong to 
 a jury. There was a delicacy, a taste, a felicity in his 
 touch, that was perfectly original, and without a rival. 
 His style of address, on these occasions, is said to have 
 resembled very much that of the Scriptures. It was 
 strongly marked with the same simplicity, the same energy, 
 
 Religion. If they had this, and I had not given them one shilling, they 
 would be rich; and if they had not that, and I gave them all the world, they 
 would be poor." 
 
 42
 
 330 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the same pathos. He sounded no alarm; he made no 
 parade, to put the jury on their guard. It was all so 
 natural; so humble, so unassuming, that they were carried 
 imperfectly along, and attuned to his purpose, until some 
 master-touch dissolved them into tears. His language of 
 passion was perfect. There was no word ' of learned 
 length or thundering sound,' to break the charm. It had 
 almost all the stillness of solitary thinking. It was a 
 sweet revery, a delicious trance. His voice, too, had a won- 
 derful effect. He had a singular power of infusing it into 
 a jury, and mixing its notes with their nerves, in a manner 
 which it is impossible to describe justly; but which pro- 
 duced a thrilling excitement, in the hajDpiest concordance 
 with his designs.* No man knew so well as he did what 
 kind of topics to urge to their understandings; nor what 
 kind of simple imagery to present to their hearts. His 
 eye, which he kept riveted upon them, assisted the pro- 
 cess of fascination, and at the same time informed him 
 
 * An amusing incident which well exhibits the power that Mr. Henry 
 possessed over a court by the spell of his eloquence is related by Mr. Wirt. 
 It shows, in a forcible manner, what effect genuine, popular eloquence pro- 
 duces upon the mind. The case is that of John Hook: "Hook was a 
 Scotchman, a man of wealth, and suspected of being unfriendly to the Ameri- 
 can cause. During the distresses of the American army, consequent on the 
 joint invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in seventeen hundred and eighty-one, 
 a Mr. Venable, an army commissary, had taken two of Hook's steers for the 
 use of the troops. The act had not been strictly legal ; and on the establish- 
 ment of peace. Hook, under the advice of Mr. Cowan, a gentleman of some 
 distinction in the law, thought proper to bring an action of trespass against 
 Mr. Venable, in the district court of New London. Mr. Henry appeared for 
 the defendant, and is said to have disported himself in this cause to the infinite 
 enjoyment of his hearers, the unfortunate Hook always excepted. After Mr. 
 Henry became animal ed in the cause, says a correspondent (Judge Stuart), he 
 appeared to have complete control over the passions of his audience: atone 
 time he excited their indignation against Hook: vengeance was visible in 
 every countenance: again when he chose to relax and ridicule him, the whole 
 audience was in a roar of laughter. He painted the distress of the American 
 army, exposed almost naked to the rigor of a winter's sky. and marking the
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 331 
 
 what theme to press, or at what instant to retreat, if by 
 rare accident he touched an uupropitious string. And 
 then he had such an exuberance of appropriate thoughts, 
 of apt illustrations, of apposite images, and such a melo- 
 dious and varied roll of the happiest words, that the 
 hearer was never wearied by repetition, and never winced 
 from an apprehension that the intellectual treasures of the 
 speaker would be exhausted. 
 
 " His features were manly, bold, and well-proportioned, 
 full of intelligence, and adapting themselves intuitively 
 to every sentiment of his mind, and every feeling of his 
 heart. His voice was not remarkable for its sweetness; 
 but it was firm, of full volume, and rather melodious than 
 otherwise. Its charms consisted in the mellowness and 
 fullness of its note, the ease and variety of its inflections, 
 the distinctness of its articulation, the fine effect of its 
 emphasis, the felicity with which it attuned itself to every 
 emotion, and the vast compass which enabled it to range 
 
 frozen ground over which they marched, with the blood of their unshod feet — 
 ' where was the man,' he said, ' who had an American heart in his bosom, who 
 would not have thrown open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his 
 house, the portals of his breast, to have received with open arms, the meanest 
 soldier in that little band of famished patriots? Where is the man? — There 
 he stands — but whether the heart of an American beats in his bosom, you, 
 gentlemen, are to judge.' He then carried the jury, by the powers of his 
 imagination, to the plains around York, the surrender of which had followed 
 shortly after the act complained of: he depicted the surrender in the most 
 glowing and noble colors of his eloquence — the audience saw before their 
 eyes the humiliation and dejection of the British, as they marched out of their 
 trenches — they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriot face, and 
 heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of Washington and liberty as it rung 
 and echoed through the American rank, and was reverberated from the hills 
 and shores of the neighboring river — 'but hark! what notes of discord are 
 these which disturb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory — 
 they are the notes of John Hook, hoarsely brawling through the^ American 
 camp, beef! beef! beef! ' 
 
 The whole audience were convulsed : a particular incident will give a better 
 idea of the effect, than any general description. The clerk of the court-
 
 332 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 through the whole empire of humau passion, from the deep 
 and tragic half whisper of horror, to the wildest exclama 
 tion of overwhelming rage. In mild jDersuasion, it was 
 as soft and gentle as the zephyr of springs while in rous- 
 ing his countrymen to arms, the winter storm that roars 
 along the troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. 
 It was at all times perfectly under his command ; or rather, 
 indeed, it seemed to command itself and to modulate its 
 notes, most happily to the sentiment he was uttering. It 
 never exceeded, or fell short of the occasion. There was 
 none of that long-continued and deafening vociferation, 
 which always takes place, when an ardent speaker has lost 
 possession of himself — no monotonous clangor, no dis- 
 coiJant shriek. Without being strained, it had that body 
 and enunciation which filled the most distant ear, without 
 distressing those which were nearest him: hence it never 
 became cracked or hoarse, even in his longest speeches, 
 but retained to the last all its clearness and fullness of 
 intonation, all the delicacy of its inflection, all the charms 
 of its emphasis, and enchanting variety of its cadence 
 " His delivery w^as perfectly natural and well-timed. It 
 
 uoable to command himself, and unwilling to commit any breach of decorum 
 in his place, rushed out of the court-house, and threw himself on the grass, in 
 the most violent paroxysm of laughter, where he was rolling, when Hook, with 
 very different feelings, came out for relief into the yard also. ' Jemmy Step- 
 loe,' said he to the clerk, ' what the devil ails ye, mon?' Mr. Steptoe was 
 only able to say that he could not help it. ' Never mind ye,' said Hook, ' wait 
 till Billy Cowan gets up ; /i«'Zi show him the la'.' Mr. Cowan, however was 
 so completely overwhelmed by the torrent which bore upon his client, that 
 when he rose to reply to Mr. Henry, he was scarcely able to make an intelli- 
 gible or audible remark. The cause was decided almost by acclamation. - The 
 jury retired for form sake, and instantly returned with a verdict for the de- 
 fendant. Nor did the effect of Mr. Henry's speech stay here. The people 
 were so highly excited by the tory audacity of such a suit, that Hook began 
 to hear around him a cry more terrible than that of beef,- it was the cry of tar 
 and feathers: from the application of which it is said, that nothing saved him 
 but a precipitate flight and the speed of his horse."
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 333 
 
 has indeed been said, that, on his first rising, there was a 
 f P3cies of suh-cantus very observable by a stranger, and 
 rather disagreeable to him; but that in a very few mo- 
 ments even this itself became agreeable, and seemed, in- 
 deed, indispensable to the full effect of his peculiar dic- 
 tion and conceptions. In point of time, he was very happy: 
 there was no slow and heavy dragging, no quaint and 
 measured drawling, with equidistant pace, no stumbling 
 and floundering among the fractured members of deranged 
 and broken periods, no undignified hurry and trepidation, 
 no recalling and recasting of sentences as he went along, 
 no retraction of one word and substitution of another 
 not better, and none of those affected bursts of almost in- 
 articulate impetuosity, which betray the rhetorician rather 
 than display the orator. On the contrary, ever self-col- 
 lected, deliberate and dignified, he seemed to have looked 
 through the whole period before he commenced its delivery; 
 and hence his delivery was smooth, and firm, and well- 
 accented; slow enough to take along with him the dullest 
 hearer, and yet so commanding, that the quick had neither 
 the power nor the disposition to get the start of him. 
 Thus he gave to every thought its full and appropriate 
 force; and to every image all its radiance and beauty. 
 
 " No speaker ever understood better than Mr. Henry the 
 true use and power of the pause: and no one ever prac- 
 ticed it with happier effect. His pauses were never resorted 
 to for the purpose of investing an insignificant thought 
 with false importance; much less were they ever resorted 
 to as Su finesse to gain time for thinking. The hearer was 
 never disposed to ask, ' why that pause?' nor to measure 
 its duration by a reference to his watch. On the contrary, 
 it always came at the very moment when he would him- 
 self have wished it, in order to weigh the striking and im- 
 portant thought which had just been uttered; and the 
 interval was always filled by the speaker with a matchless
 
 334 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 energy of look, which drove the thought home through the 
 mind and through the heart. 
 
 " His gesture, and this varying play of his features and 
 voice, were so excellent, so exquisite that many have re- 
 ferred his power as an orator principally to that cause; 
 yet this was all his own, and his gesture, particularly, of 
 so peculiar a cast, that it is said it would have become no 
 other man. I do not learn that it was very abundant; for 
 there was no trash about it,- none of those false motions 
 to which undisciplined speakers are so generally addicted j 
 no chopping nor sawing of the air; no thumping of the 
 bar to express an earnestness which was much more 
 powerfully, as well as more elegantly expressed by his eye 
 and countenance. Whenever he moved his arm, or his 
 hand, or even his finger, or changed the position of his 
 body, it was always to some purpose; nothing was ineffi- 
 cient; every thing told; every gesture, every attitude, 
 every look was emphatic; all was animation, energy, and 
 dignity. Its great advantage consisted in this — that va- 
 rious, bold, and original as it was, it never appeared to be 
 studied, affected, or theatrical, or ' to overstep,' in the 
 smallest degree, 'the modesty of nature;' for he never 
 made a gesture, or assumed an attitude, which did not 
 seem imperiously demanded by the occasion. Every 
 look, every motion, every pause, every start was completely 
 filled and dilated by the thought which he was uttering, 
 and seemed indeed to form a part of the thought itself 
 His action, however strong, was never vehement. He was 
 never seen rushing forward, shoulder foremost, fury in his 
 countenance, and phrensy in his voice as if to overturn 
 the bar, and charge his audience, sword in hand. His 
 judgment was too manly and too solid, and his taste too 
 true, to permit him to indulge in any such extravagance. 
 His good sense and his self-possession never deserted him. 
 In the loudest storm of declamation, in the fiercest blaze
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 335 
 
 of passion, there was a dignity and temperance which 
 gave it seeming. He had the rare faculty of imparting to 
 his hearers all the excess of his own feelings, and all the 
 violence and tumult of his emotions, all the dauntless 
 spirit of his resolution, and all the energy of his soul, 
 without any sacrifice of his own personal dignity, and 
 without treating his hearers otherwise than as rational 
 beings. He was not the orator of a day; and therefore 
 sought not to build his fame on the sandy basis of a false 
 taste fostered, if not created, by himself. He spoke for 
 immortality; and therefore raised the pillars of his glory 
 on the only solid foundation — the rock of Nature. 
 
 " His feelings were strong, yet completely under his 
 comruand; they rose up to the occasion, but were never 
 suflered to overflow it; his language was often careless, 
 sometimes incorrect; yet upon the whole it was pure and 
 perspicuous, giving out his thoughts in full and clear pro- 
 portion; free from affectation, and frequently beautiful; 
 strong without effort, and adapted to the occasion; nervous 
 in argument, burning in passion, and capable of matching 
 the loftiest flights of his genius. 
 
 " It may perhaps assist the reader's conception of Mr- 
 Henry's peculiar cast of eloquence, to state the points in 
 which he differed from some other orators. Those which dis- 
 tinguished him from Mr. Lee have been already exhibited, 
 ("olonel Innis's manner was also very different. His 
 habitual indolence followed him into debate; he generally 
 contented himself with a single view of his subject; but 
 that was given with irresistible power His eloquence was 
 indeed a mighty and a roaring torrent; it had not, how- 
 ever, that property of Horace's stream, labitur ct labetur, 
 in omne vohibilis cEvum — on the contrary, it commonly ran 
 by in half an hour. But it bore a striking resemblance to 
 the eloquence of Lord Chatham; it was a short but bold 
 and most terrible assault — a vehement, impetuous and
 
 336 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 overwhelming burst — a magnificent meteor, which shot 
 majestically across the heavens, from pole to pole, and 
 straight expired in a glorious blaze. 
 
 " Mr» Henry, on the contrary, however indolent in his 
 general life, was never so in debate, where the occasion 
 called for exertion. He rose against the pressure, with 
 the most unconquerable perseverance. He held his sub- 
 ject up in every light in which it could be placed; yet 
 alw^ays with so much power, and so much beauty, as never 
 to weary his audience, but on the contrary to delight 
 them. He had more art than Colonel Innis: he appealed 
 to every motive of interest — urged every argument that 
 could convince — pressed every theme of persuasion — 
 awakened every feeling, and roused every passion to his 
 aid. He had more variety, too, in his manner; sometimes 
 he was very little above the tone of conversation; at others 
 in the highest strain of epic sublimity. His course was 
 of longer continuance — his flights better sustained, and 
 more diversified, both in their direction, and velocity. He 
 rose like the thunder-bearer of Jove, when he mounts on 
 strong and untiring wing, to sport in fearless majesty over 
 the troubled deep — now sweeping in immense and rapid 
 circles — then suddenly arresting his grand career, and 
 hovering aloft in tremulous and terrible suspense — at one 
 instant, plunged amid the foaming waves — at the next, 
 reascending on high, to play undaunted among the light- 
 nings of heaven, or soar toward the sun. 
 
 " He difi'ered too, from those orators of Great Britain, 
 with whom he had become acquainted by their printed 
 speeches. Pie had not the close method and high polish of 
 those of England; nor the exuberant imagery which dis- 
 tinguishes those of Ireland. On the contrary, he was 
 loose, irregular, desultory — sometimes rough and abrupt — 
 careless in connecting the parts of his discourse, but grasp- 
 ing whatever he touched with gigantic strength. In short,
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 337 
 
 he was the Orator of Nature; aud such a one as Nature 
 might not blush to avow.* 
 
 " If the reader shall still demand how he acquired those 
 wonderful powers of speaking which have been assigned 
 to him, we can only answer with Gray, that they were the 
 gift of Heaven — the birthright of genius. 
 
 ' Thine too, these keys, immortal boy! 
 This can unlock the gates of joy; 
 Of horror, that, and thrilling fears. 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.' 
 
 (( 
 
 It has been said of Mr. Henry, by Mr. John Randolph, 
 of Roanoke., with inimitable felicity, that ' he was Shak- 
 SPEARE and Garrick combined !' Let the reader then imagine 
 the wonderful talents of those two men united in the same 
 individual, and transferred from scenes of fiction to the 
 business of real life, and he will have formed some con- 
 ception of the eloquence of Patrick Henry. In a word, 
 he was one of those perfect prodigies of Nature, of whom 
 very few have been produced since the foundations of the 
 earth were laid; and of him may it be said, as truly as of 
 any one that ever existed: — 
 
 ' He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 We ne'er shall look upon his like again.'' " 
 
 * For the fullest account of the life and character of Patrick Henry the reader 
 is referred to his admirable biography, by William Wirt. Every one should 
 procure a copy of this beautiful and interesting work. Every American citi- 
 zen, — every lover of his country — should, by all means, read it. No library, 
 public or private, can be considered complete without containing a copy. 
 
 43
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FISHEK AMES. 
 
 Fisher Ames was born on the 9th of April, 1758, at 
 Dedham, Massachusetts. He was the youngest son of Dr. 
 Nathaniel Ames. When but six years old, Fisher com- 
 menced the study of Latin. In 1770, at the age of twelve, 
 he was admitted to Harvard College, and graduated in 
 1774. 
 
 After receiving his degree, he devoted considerable 
 time, before entering on his professional course, to the 
 study of English literature. About this time, as he fre- 
 quently said, he read with avidity bordering on enthusi- 
 asm almost every author within his reach. He read works 
 on Greek and Roman antiquities, ancient mythology, 
 natural and civil history. He was passionately fond of 
 poetry — he read the principal English poets, and like 
 Erskine, devoted himself with the greatest ardor to the 
 study of Milton and Shakspeare, committing their most 
 magnificent passages to memory. He studied Virgil with 
 the greatest delight; and, at this time, could repeat con- 
 siderable portions of the Eclogues, Georgics, and the most 
 beautiful passages of the iEneid. 
 
 Several years after graduating, he commenced the study 
 of law in the office of Judge Tudor. In 1781, he began 
 the practice of his profession at Dedham, his native place. 
 In 1788. he was elected to Congress for 'Suffolk county. 
 During the eight years of Washington's glorious adminis-
 
 FISHER AMES. 3:] 9 
 
 tration he remained in Congress, displaying such trans- 
 cendent powers of eloquence as had scarcely ever been 
 witnessed in our young republic. 
 
 In the discussion of all the great measures which were 
 brought before Congress during that eventful period, Mr. 
 Ames took a prominent part. On Madison's resolutions — 
 on the British treaty — on the manner in which the public 
 debt was to be disposed of — on the regulations required 
 by commerce — on the neutrality to be preserved with 
 regard to France — on the settlement of the difficulties 
 with Spain and Great Britain — on all these and similar 
 important themes, Mr. Ames spoke with persuasive and 
 irresistible power. His speeches on Mr. Madison's resolu- 
 tion and the British treaty claim our particular attention. 
 They atford the best specimens of his style. The latter 
 was the most extraordinary and brilliant efibrt of his 
 genius. The importance of the subject under considera- 
 tion, and the strength of the opposition, roused him to the 
 utmost exertion, and called forth a lofty strain of eloquence 
 that has seldom been equaled in parliamentary debate. 
 It is stated that during the delivery of this speech, a 
 crowded house listened with profound attention to the 
 thrilling remarks of the orator j and when, in the conclu- 
 sion, he alluded in a touching manner " to his own slen- 
 der and almost broken hold upon life," the audience were 
 moved to tears. As he took his seat, the question was 
 loudly called for; but the opposition dreaded the effects 
 of a speech so hostile to their views, and one of its mem- 
 bers moved that the decision of the question be postponed 
 to the ensuing day, lest they should act under the influence 
 of feelings which their calm judgment might condemn. 
 
 A similar effect was produced by the eloquence of the 
 immortal Sheridan when he concluded his great speech 
 against Warren Hastings amidst the tumultuous and rap- 
 turous applause of the British Senate.
 
 340 3RAT0RS AND STATESMEX, 
 
 As well might you attempt to stop a mighty river in its 
 course as to withstand the overwhelming force 'of genuine 
 eloquence. It breaks through every barrier, wins its way 
 to the heart, and leads the hearer a willing captive. Thus 
 have all great orators enchained the hearts, enlisted the 
 attention, and controlled the passions of their hearers. 
 Thus Demosthenes moved the Athenians, and thus Cicero 
 delighted and transported the Roman commonwealth. 
 
 The speech on the British treaty was delivered in the 
 House of Representatives, on the 28th of April, 1796, in 
 support of the following motion: Resolved, That it is ex- 
 pedient to pass the laws necessary to carry into effect the 
 treaty lately concluded between the United States and the 
 King of Great Britain. 
 
 In this speech we have a powerful passage against sur- 
 rendering the frontier posts, in which, by a stroke of his 
 imagination, the orator brings before the eye the horrors 
 of Indian warfare: 
 
 " If any should maintain that the peace with the Indians 
 will be stable without the posts, to them I will urge 
 another reply. From arguments calculated to produce 
 conviction, I will appeal directly to the hearts of those 
 who hear me, and ask whether it is not already planted 
 there? I resort especially to the convictions of the west- 
 ern gentlemen, whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, 
 the settlers will remain in security? Can they take it 
 upon them to say, that an Indian peace under these cir- 
 cumstances, will prov^e firm? No sir, it will not be peace, 
 but a sword; it will be no better than a lure to draw vic- 
 tims within the reach of the tomahawk. 
 
 On this theme, my emotions are unutterable. If I could 
 find words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to 
 my zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remon- 
 strance, it should reach every log-house beyond the mount- 
 ains I would say to the inhabitants, wake from your
 
 FISHER AMES. 341 
 
 false security. Your cruel dangers, your more cruel appre- 
 hensions are soon to be renewed: the wounds, yet unhealed, 
 are to be torn open again. In the day-time your path 
 through the woods will be ambushed. The darkness of 
 midnight will glitter with the blaze of your dwellings. 
 You are a father — the blood of your sons shall fatten 
 your corn-field. You are a mother — the war-whoop shall 
 wake the sleep of the cradle. 
 
 " On this subject you need not suspect any deception 
 on your feelings. It is a spectacle of horror which can 
 not be overdrawn. If you have nature in your hearts, 
 they will speak a language compared with which all I have 
 said or can say, will be poor and frigid. Will it be whis- 
 pered that the treaty has made me a new champion for the 
 protection of the frontiers; it is known that my voice as 
 well as vote has been uniformly given in conformity with 
 the ideas I have expressed. Protection is the right of the 
 frontiers; it is our duty to give it. 
 
 " Who will accuse me of wandering out of the subject? 
 Who will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our mea- 
 sures? Will any one answer by a sneer, that all this is 
 idle preaching? Would any one deny that we are bound, 
 and I would hope to good purpose, by the ijiost solemn 
 sanctions of duty for the vote we give? Are despots alone 
 to be reproached for unfeeling indifference to the tears and 
 blood of their subjects? Are republicans unresponsible? 
 Have the principles on which you ground the reproach 
 upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no binding 
 force? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, in- 
 troduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, 
 or to furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows 
 of that state-house? I trust it is neither too presumptuous 
 nor too late to ask, Can you put the dearest interest of 
 society at risk, without guilt and without remorse? It is 
 vain to offer as an excuse, that public men are not to be
 
 342 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from 
 their measures. This is very true, where they are unfore- 
 seen or inevitable. Those I have depicted are not unfore- 
 seen; they are so far from inevitable, we are going to 
 bring them into being by our vote. We choose the con- 
 sequences, and become as justly answerable for them as for 
 the measure that we know will produce them. 
 
 " By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we 
 bind the victims. This day we undertake to render ac- 
 count to the widows and orphans whom our decision will 
 make; — to the wretches that will be roasted at the stake; 
 to our country, and I do not deem it too serious to say, to 
 conscience and to God, we are answerable; and, if duty 
 be any thing more than a word of imposture, if conscience 
 be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make ourselves as 
 wretched as our country. 
 
 " There is no mistake in this case. There can be none. 
 Experience has already been the prophet of events, and 
 the cries of our future victims have already reached us. 
 The w^estern inhabitants are not a silent and uncomplain- 
 ing sacrifice. The voice of humanity issues from the 
 shade of the wilderness. It exclaims, that while one hand 
 is held up to reject this treaty, the other grasps a toma- 
 hawk. It summons our imagination to the scenes that will 
 open. It is no great effort of the imagination to conceive 
 that events so near are already begun. I can fancy that I 
 listen to the yells of savage vengeance, and the shrieks of 
 torture ! Already they seem to sigh in the west wind ! Al- 
 ready ttiey mingle with every echo from the mountains .'" 
 
 In the spring of 1796, at the close of the Congressional 
 session, Mr. Ames traveled in Virginia for the improve- 
 ment of his health. It was then that the college of New- 
 Jersey conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws. 
 
 Notwithstanding the infirm state of his health, Mr. Ames 
 attended the next session of Congress, and was chairman
 
 FISHKR AMES. 343 
 
 of the committee which prepared the answer to Washing- 
 ton's speech. At the termination of the session, he retired 
 to his private residence at Dedham, that he might enjoy 
 repose in the bosom of his family after the storms of politi- 
 cal life. 
 
 When Washington died, Mr. Ames was called upon to 
 pronounce his eulogy before the Legislature of Massachu- 
 setts. It was among the last of his great oratorical efforts; 
 and a noble one it was. On this occasion his eloquence 
 shone with transcendent splendor. His sun was now soon, 
 alas! too soon to set, and the western horizon seemed to 
 be" in a blaze with his descending glory." It was a fitting 
 close to such a brilliant career. 
 
 His eulogy on Washington is a splendid production. 
 In glowing language does the orator hold up his immortal 
 hero as worthy the admiration and imitation of the pre- 
 sent and succeeding generations. The speech abounds in 
 beautiful figures and sentiments which fully exhibit the 
 powerful imagination of the orator. As an excellent 
 specimen of his descriptive and imaginative powers, we 
 will take the following extract: 
 
 " Great generals have arisen in all ages of the world, 
 and perhaps most in those of despotism and darkness. In 
 times of violence and convulsion, they rise, by Ihe force 
 of the whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and direct the 
 storm Like meteors, they glare on the black clouds with 
 a splendor, which, while it dazzles and terrifies, makes 
 nothing visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes is 
 indeed growing vulgar; they multiply in every long war; 
 they stand in history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as 
 undistinguished as their own soldiers. 
 
 " But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears 
 like the pole-star in a clear sky, to direct the skillful states- 
 man. His Presidency will form an epoch, and be distin- 
 guished as the age of Washington. Already it assumes its
 
 344 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 high place in the political region. Like the milky way, it 
 whitens along its alotted portion of the hemisphere. The 
 latest generations of men will survey, through the tele- 
 scope of history, the space where so many virtues blend 
 their rays, and delight to separate them into groups and 
 distiui^t virtues. As the best illustration of them, the 
 living monument, to which the first of patriots would have 
 chosen to consign his fame, it is my earnest prayer to 
 heaven, that our country may subsist, even to that late 
 day, in the plenitude of its liberty and happiness, and 
 mingle its mild glory with Washington's." 
 
 On the mournful death of Alexander Hamilton,* in 
 1804, Mr. Ames wrote a glowing sketch of his character, 
 which was read to a select company of friends, and fii'st 
 published in the Repertory, July, 1804. As a specimen of 
 his elaborate composition, no finer example can be pro- 
 duced than the following from this sketch: 
 
 " It is rare that a man, wlio owes so much to nature, 
 descends to seek more from industry j but he seemed to 
 depend on industry, as if nature had done nothing for him. 
 His habits of investigation were very remarkable j his 
 mind seemed to cling to his subject, till it had exhausted 
 it. Hence the uncommon superiority of his reasoning 
 powers, a superiority that seemed to be augmented from 
 every scarce, and to be fortified by every auxiliary, learn- 
 ing, taste, wit, imagination, and eloquence. These were 
 embellished and enforced by his temper and manners, by 
 his fame and his virtues. It is difficult, in the midst of 
 
 * Alexander Hamilton was one of the naost commanding orators that shone 
 in our national councils immediately after the adoption of the federal govern- 
 ment. It is to be regretted that so few specimens of his electrifying eloquence 
 remain. " Our opinion of Hamilton's eloquence must rest mainly on the tes- 
 timony of those who heard him. His speeches, as they have come to us, do 
 not correspond with our impressions of his remarkable powers. Great and 
 eloquent beyond most, if not all men of his day, he certainly was, if we may 
 believe the concurrent statements of friends and foes."
 
 FISHER AMES. 345 
 
 such various excellence, to say in what particular the 
 effect of his greatness was raost manifest. No man more 
 promptly discerned truth; no man more clearly displayed 
 it: it was not merely made visible — it seemed to come 
 bright with illumination from his lips. But prompt and 
 clear as he was, fervid as Demosthenes, like Cicero, full of 
 resource, he was not less remarkable for copiousness and 
 completeness of his argument, and left little for cavil, and 
 nothing for doubt. Some men take their strongest argu- 
 ment as a weapon, and use no other; but he left nothing 
 to be inquired for more — nothing to be answered. He 
 noC only disarmed his adversaries of their pretexts and 
 objections, but he stripped them of all excuse for having 
 urged them; he confounded and subdued, aa well as con- 
 vinced. He indemnified them, however, by making his 
 discussion a complete map of his subject; so that his oppo- 
 nents might, indeed, feel ashamed of their mistakes, but 
 they could not repeat them. In fact, it was no 'common 
 effort that preserved a really able antagonist from becoming 
 his convert; for the truth, which his researches so dis- 
 tinctly presented to the understanding of others, was ren- 
 dered almost irresistibly commanding and impressive by 
 the love and reverence, which, it v«ras ever apparent, he 
 profoundly cherished f(jr it in his own. While patriotism 
 glowed in his heart, wisdom blended in his speech her 
 authority with her charms." 
 
 In 1804, Mr. Ames was chosen president of Harvard 
 College, but his ill-health compelled him to decline this 
 honor. From this period his health continued rapidly to 
 decline, until his death on the morning of the 4th of July, 
 1808. As he lived the life, so he died the death of the 
 Christian. His death-bed was a sublime scene of com- 
 posure and triumph. " I have peace of mind," said he; 
 " I think it is founded on a belief of the Gospel. And 
 
 again he exclaimed, " My hope is in the mercy of God, 
 44
 
 346 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 throagh Jesus Christ." Thus died the eloquent Ames in 
 the bright, joyous hope of immortal bliss. 
 
 The remains of Mr. Ames were carried to Boston, and 
 there interred with the highest honors. His eulogy was 
 pronounced by Mr. Samuel Dexter on the 6th of July; 
 and the following beautiful lines, ascribed to Rev. Dr. 
 Gardiner, were sung in Kings Chapel on the occasion: 
 
 " As, when dark clouds obscure the dawn, 
 
 The day-star's luster disappears, 
 So Ames beheld our natal morn, 
 
 And left desponding friends in tears. 
 Soon as the distant cannon's roar. 
 
 Announced that morn's returning ray, 
 He feared its early hopes were o'er 
 
 And flew to everlasting day. 
 0, drop thy mantle, sainted shade, 
 
 On some surviving patriot's name. 
 Who, great by thy example made. 
 
 May yet retrieve a nation's fame ! 
 The manly genius, ardent thought. 
 
 The love of truth, and wit refined. 
 The eloquence that wonders wrought, 
 
 And flashed its light on every mind, — 
 These gifts were thine, immortal Ames! 
 
 Of motive pure, of life sublime; 
 Their loss our flowing sorrow claims, — 
 
 Their praise survives the wreck of time." 
 
 The person of Mr. Ames was above middle stature and 
 well formed. His countenance was handsome, and his eye 
 expressive. His features were not strongly marked. His 
 forehead was neither high nor expansive. His eyes were 
 blue and of middling size; his mouth was beautiful; his 
 hair was black, and short on the forehead, and, in his latter 
 years, unpowdcred. He was very erect, and when speak- 
 ing he raised his head. His expression was usually com- 
 placent, when in debate, and if he meant to be severe, it 
 was seen in good-natured sarcasm, rather than in acrimo- 
 nious words. '
 
 FISHER AMES. 347 
 
 Fisher Ames stands among the first class of orators and 
 statesmen. So copious and glowing was his eloquence 
 that those who never heard him can form no proper con- 
 ception of its magnificence and power. 
 
 Mr. Ames possessed most of those characteristics which 
 are essential in the formation of an accomplished orator — 
 a clear, comprehensive intellect, a lofty, brilliant imagina- 
 tion, a correct enunciation, a mellifluous voice, an extra- 
 ordinary memory, a fine sensibility, and an impassioned 
 delivery. There was altogether an indescribable charm 
 about his manner of speaking, which rendered him the 
 delight of the senate and of the forum. 
 
 The mind of Mr. Ames was of the highest order; and 
 was enriched with the treasures of ancient and modern 
 literature. In history, he was more profoundly versed 
 than in any other branch of learning. He delighted to 
 trace the rise, glory and downfall of ancient nations, and 
 to contemplate the character of such renowned personages 
 as Lycurgus, Alexander, Hannibal, Casar, Brutus, and 
 Cicero. He looked upon the character of the great Roman 
 orator with fervent admiration. The Greek and Roman 
 classics were his daily companions. Herodotus, Thucy- 
 dides, Livy, Tacitus and Plutarch were his favorite authors 
 among the ancients. He was familiar also with the best 
 modern historians of Greece and Rome. The history of 
 modern nations, especially of England and France, he 
 studied with much care. To the study of political science 
 he devoted considerable time. Thus he had always at 
 hand, a large amount of historical information for illus- 
 trating and embellishing his discourses, and for instruct- 
 ing those with whom he conversed. The perusal of his 
 writings abundantly evinces his familiarity with the history 
 and politics of the world. 
 
 Mr. Ames was always an enthusiastic lover of poetry. 
 He was a great admirer of Homer and Virgil. He often
 
 348 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 perused Pope's Homer; and two years before his death, 
 read Virgil with increased delight. But above all, he was 
 a diligent student of the Bible. His biographer says that 
 he was accustomed to read the Scriptures, not only as 
 containing a system of truth and duty, but as displaying 
 in their poetical parts, all that is sublime, animated, and 
 aifecting in composition. He repeatedly made the follow- 
 ing remark, " I will hazard the assertion, that no man ever 
 did, or ever will become truly eloquent, without being a 
 constant reader of the Bible, and an admirer of the purity 
 and sublimity of its language." 
 
 We have presented several eloquent extracts from the 
 writings of Mr. Ames; but they afford us a very inade- 
 quate conception of his powers. The magical effects of 
 his eloquence were produced by his living tones, his grace- 
 ful and impressive delivery. Let us then look at the living 
 speaker in his brightest days, before disease had prostrated 
 his energies. How noble his form! How expressive his 
 countenance! How dignified his manner! He had the 
 power to enlighten, to persuade, to please, to sway, and to 
 charm. His tones were peculiarly sweet and musical. 
 Many of his expressions were poetical. In his speaking 
 there was no visible effort — "no straining aftereffect:" 
 all was ease, grace and harmony. What Charles Phillips 
 said of the eloquence of a distinguished Irish orator, is 
 equally true of Ames' manner. 
 
 The language, the look, the action wonderfully harmo- 
 nized. The Avords which flowed from his lips so smoothly 
 and so sweetly told not more surely on his audience than 
 did the gesture which accompanied them. The passions 
 invoked by the incantations of his tongue seemed to dwell 
 for a moment on his countenance. There never, perliaps, 
 lived a more splendid illustration of the mighty Greek's 
 eulogy on action. Every attitude was grace; every pause, 
 expression; every play of the features a visible portraiture
 
 FISHER AMES. 349 
 
 of the thoughts uttered, aud the sincerity which seemed 
 to inspire them. While Ames enchained you by the magic 
 of his diction, he also so enchanted you by the charm of 
 his manner, that ear, and eye, and understanding owned 
 the spell together. 
 
 " His words had such a melting flow, 
 And spoke of truth so sweetly well, 
 They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow, 
 And all was brightness where they fell." 
 
 In giving an estimate of the genius of Mr. Ames, we 
 would notice more particularly a few of the leading 
 characteristics of his oratory. The most distinguished 
 feature of his mind was his brilliant imagination. Like 
 Burke's, it was imperial, ranging over the whole universe 
 of nature and art, collecting materials from every source, 
 and ornamenting his speech with the most beautiful and 
 sublime figures. " Now it assembled most pleasing images, 
 adorned with all that is soft and beautiful; and now rose 
 in the storm, wielding the elements and flashing with the 
 most awful splendors." 
 
 The writings of Mr. Ames abound in exuberance of 
 imagery. His use of figures of speech is, sometimes, too 
 copious. In this respect he closely resembles Burke, who 
 employed them with so unsparing a hand. In the ora- 
 tions of Ames, every great truth is beautifully illustrated 
 and adorned by an apt metaphor, a lively image, or a strik- 
 ing allusion. President Dwight, of Yale College, has some- 
 where remarked of Mr. Ames, that his imagination was 
 perhaps too brilliant and too rich. It could hardly be said 
 that any of the pictures which it drew were ill-drawn or 
 out of place; yet, it might, I think, be truly said, that the 
 gallery was crowded. The excess was not, however, the 
 consequence of a defective taste, or a solicitude to shine; 
 but the product of a fancy ever creative, always exuber- 
 ant, and exerting its powers more easily in this manner
 
 350 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 than in any other. To speak and write as he actually 
 spoke and wrote, was only to permit the thoughts and 
 images which first oftered themselves to flow from his lips 
 or his pen. 
 
 The specimens of Mr. Ames's style, which we have 
 quoted, are among the most figurative of his expressions,* 
 and may well serve to illustrate his imagination. Another 
 example of this kind we mention. In his eulogy on Wash- 
 ington, when contrasting French with American liberty, he 
 says, " Here, liberty is restraint; there, it is violence: here, 
 it is mild and cheering, like the morning sun of our sum- 
 mer, brightening the hills, and making the vallies green; 
 there, it is like the sun, when his rays dart pestilence on 
 the sands of Africa. American liberty calms and re- 
 strains the licentiou:5 passions, like an angel that says to 
 the winds and troubled seas, be still; but how has French 
 licentiousness appeared to the wretched citizens of Switz- 
 erland and Venice? Do not their haunted imaginations, 
 even when they wake, represent her as a monster, with 
 eyes that flash wild fire, hands that hurl thunderbolts, a 
 voice that shakes the foundation of the hills? She stands, 
 and her ambition measures the earth; she speaks, and an 
 epidemic fury seizes the nations." 
 
 Mr. Ames possessed acute sensibility, and patriotic en- 
 thusiasm. These were the cause of his success — the 
 means by which he gained possession of the heart, and 
 held his audience in breathless attention and admiration. 
 The highest style of oratory is that in which sensibility, 
 enthusiasm and force, predominate. It is not the nature 
 of true eloquence. to be calm. It does not — it can not, — 
 proceed from an uuanimated speaker, but flows from a 
 burning heart — a soul enraptured with its theme. " A 
 true orator is an enthusiast, in the highest sense of the 
 word God is in him, by lofty conception, — by pure and 
 profound emotion. He establishes between himself and
 
 FISHER AMES. 351 
 
 Ms hearers a real connection, like that which exists be- 
 tween the poles of a magnetic circuit, through which he 
 l^ours his spirit, all a-glow, into their sympathizing and 
 receptive souls; so that, for the time being, speaker and 
 hearers are one, under the blending influence of a common 
 thought and a common impulse." Mr. Ames possessed 
 this power of transmitting to others his own sympathetic 
 emotions, his own glowing sentiments. He could strike 
 those " delicate notes of soul-harmony which a sympathetic 
 audience always repeat with rapture in their own hushed 
 hearts." 
 
 The fires of enthusiasm must be kindled, and burn with 
 undimmed splendor in the bosom of that speaker who 
 would charm and persuade his hearers. " A mind kindled 
 with enthusiasm unfolds its grandeur in the" light of its 
 own flames, as the seals never more grand than at night 
 when it heaves, storm-tossed and brilliant, with the illu- 
 mination of its own i^hosphorescence. When fully aroused 
 in debate, Ames frequently trembled from head to foot; 
 he wept in irrepressible emotion, and paused in the struggle 
 to embody the inarticulate eloquence of his heart. He 
 bent under the reflex passions he aroused in others, and 
 then in turn bowed them under the augmented weight of 
 his own." " In public speaking," says President Kirkland, 
 " he trusted much to excitement, and did little more in his 
 closet than to draw the outlines of his speech and reflect 
 on it, till he had received deeply the impressions he in- 
 tended to make; depending for the turns and figures of 
 language, illustrations and modes of appeal to the passions, 
 on his imagination and feelings at the time. This excite- 
 ment continued, when the cause had ceased to operate 
 After debate his mind was agitated, like the ocean after a 
 storm, and his nerves were like the shrouds of a ship torn 
 by the tempest." 
 
 The style of Mr. Ames is striking and deserves particu-
 
 352 ORATORS AJ\'D STATESMEN. 
 
 lar regard. It is remarkable for its clearness, strength, 
 terseness, and conciseness. Like Lord Chatham's, his sen- 
 tences are made up of short clauses; his words are ad- 
 mirably chosen, and so well arranged that what he says 
 can be readily comprehended. " He aimed rather at the 
 terseness, strength, and vivacity of the short sentence, 
 than the dignity of the full and flowing period." In the 
 elaborateness of his composition, he excels Fox, Sheridan, 
 Henry, Clay, and many others of our greatest statesmen. 
 His style afibrds an excellent model for the young orator. 
 It is not, however, entirely free from faults. But on the 
 whole, there is more to be admired and imitated in his 
 composition, than in that of most political writers or 
 speakers. His orations and essays will long be regarded 
 as among the most perfect models of a chaste and terse 
 style. 
 
 Mr. Ames has been admirably called the orator of elabo- 
 rate beauty. " His eloquence is generally flowing and de- 
 lightful, rising at times to passages of great power and 
 pathos, — and conveyed always in a diction remarkably 
 correct, terse and beautiful. Like Burke, he is distinguished 
 by philosophic and comprehensive views. Such is the 
 skill with which he draws from human nature, and from 
 history, his lessons of political wisdom, that his orations 
 and writings are as instructive as they are pleasing. Hence 
 he is one of the few writers, whom we read with interest, 
 long after the occasions and the excitements, which called 
 them forth, have passed away."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HENET CXAT. 
 
 Henry Clay was born on the 12th of April, 1777, in 
 Hanover county, Virginia, in a district well known as The 
 Slashes — not far from the birth-i)lace and home of Patrick 
 Henry. At an early age he lost his father, a respectable 
 Bai3tist clergyman. For the want of means, Mr. Clay did 
 not receive a classical education. All the instruction he 
 obtained was at a common school. Among the youths of 
 Hanover that sat in the log-cabin school-house of The 
 Slashes, under the instruction of master Peter Deacon, 
 who would have imagined that there was one master-mind 
 destined, ere long, to preside over the deliberations of his 
 countrymen in the halls of Congress; — 
 
 Th' applause of listening senates to comnaandj 
 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise; 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 
 
 And read his history in a nation's eyes? 
 
 At the age of fifteen, Mr. Clay entered the office of Peter 
 Tinsley, Esq., clerk of the High Court of Chancery. Four 
 years after, he commenced the study of the law, and was 
 admitted to practice when he had attained his twentieth 
 year. 
 
 In November, 1797, he removed to Lexington, Kentucky, 
 
 where he established himself in the profession of the law, 
 
 and soon obtained an extensive practice. In a speech 
 45
 
 354 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 made at Lexington, June 9, 1842, lie alludes to this early 
 period of liis life in the following touching manner: 
 
 " In looking back upon my origin and progress through 
 life, I have great reason to be thankful. My father died 
 in 1781, leaving me an infant of too tender years to retain 
 any recollection of his smiles or endearments. My sur- 
 viving parent removed to this State in 1792, leaving me, a 
 boy of fifteen years of age, in the office of the High Court 
 of Chancery, in the City of Richmond, without guardian, 
 without pecuniary means of support, to steer my course as 
 I might or could. A neglected education was improved 
 by my own irregular exertions, without the benefit of 
 systematic instruction. I studied law principally in the 
 office of a lamented friend, the late Governor Brooke, 
 then Attorney-General of Virginia, and also under the 
 auspices of the venerable and lamented Chancellor Wythe, 
 for whom I had acted as an amanuensis. I obtained a 
 license to practice the profession from the Judges of the 
 Court of Appeals of Virginia, and established myself in 
 Lexington in 1797, without patrons, without the favor or 
 countenance of the great or oj^ulent, without the means 
 of paying my weekly board, and in the midst of a bar 
 uncommonly distinguished by eminent members. I re- 
 member how comfortable I thought I should be, if I could 
 make ^100 Virginia money per year, and with what 
 delight I received the first fifteen shilling fee. My hopes 
 were more than realized. I immediately rushed into a 
 successful and lucrative practice." 
 
 Shortly after his removal to Lexington, Mr. Clay took 
 part in a debating society, but like many other eminent 
 public speakers in the commencement of their oratorical 
 career, he lacked confidence in making his first eflbrt. 
 His feelings, when he rose, must have been similar to 
 those of Curran, when he attempted to speak before a 
 debating club. Wlien Mr. Clay commenced his speech he
 
 HEXRY CLAY. 35 
 
 K 
 
 became extremely embarrassed and addressed the President 
 of the Society by the title of Gentlemen of the Jury^ but 
 after a moment of confusion, and stammering out a repe- 
 tition of the phrase Gentlemen of the Jury, " he gradually 
 gained confidence from his own efforts, and, finally, con- 
 centrating all his powers ujDon the subject in debate, he 
 surprised his audience with a beauty and compass of 
 voice, an exuberance of eloquence, and a force of argu- 
 ment well worthy of a veteran orator. A gentleman who 
 heard this speech has assured us, that it would hardly 
 suffer in comparison with the most brilliant efforts made 
 by its author in after life. His reputation as a speaker 
 was of course established, and he became immediately a 
 leading champion in all the debates of the society." 
 
 In 1803, Mr. Clay was elected to the Legislature of Ken- 
 tucky; in 1806, he was chosen to the Senate of the United 
 States to fill a vacancy. After the expiration of his term 
 in the Senate, he was re-elected to the State Legislature, 
 and chosen speaker of that body for several successive 
 years. 
 
 In 1809, he was again elected to the Senate of the 
 United States to fill another vacancy. From the first, he 
 took a prominent part in the discussion of the leading 
 questions before Congress, and came forward as an ardent 
 advocate of internal improvement, of domestic manu- 
 factures, and of a protective policy. The eloquent defense 
 of such public measures has rendered the orator of Ash- 
 land one of the most popular of American Statesmen. 
 
 When his term of service in the Senate again expired, 
 Mr. Clay was immediately elected to the House of Repre- 
 sentatives of the United States, and took his seat, on the 
 4th of November, 1811. On the first day of that Con- 
 gressional meeting, he was chosen speaker of the House 
 by a triumphant vote — an honor which had never before 
 been conferred upon a new member. This station he held,
 
 356 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 with the exception of two short intervals, until 1825, when 
 he was appointed Secretary of State by President John 
 Quincy Adams. He was elected speaker of the House 
 seven times, and occupied the chair in all, about thirteen 
 years. Mr. Clay was one of the most influential, popular 
 and eloquent speakers ever chosen by the House of Repre- 
 sentatives of the United States. He presided over the 
 deliberations of that body with great ability and sagacity. 
 
 Mr. Clay entered the halls of Congress during the 
 stormy period of our late contest with Great Britain. That 
 nation had committed a long series of outrages on our 
 government by harrassing our commerce, searching our 
 vessels, and impressing our seamen. Such injuries could 
 be no longer endured by the Americans, and war was de- 
 clared against Great Britain, on the 18th of June, 1812. 
 Mr. Clay urged this declaration with " almost as much 
 vehemence and pertinacify, as Cato the destruction of 
 Carthage." On the 31st of December, 1811, he made a 
 brilliant speech on " Arming for War 3" and another " On 
 the increase of the Navy," delivered January 22, 1812. 
 
 When the war had commenced, Mr. Clay exerted all his 
 burning eloquence for its vigorous j)rosecution. In one 
 of the most powerful speeches he ever made — that " On 
 the New Army Bill," delivered in the House of Represen- 
 tatives, Januarys, 1813, — he said, with the enthusiasm of 
 a patriot and with the eloquence of Demosthenes: "My 
 plan would be, to call out the ample resources of the 
 country, give them a judicious direction, prosecute the 
 war with the utmost vigor, strike wherever we can reach 
 the enemy, at sea or on land, and negotiate the terms of a 
 peace at Quebec or at Halifax. We are told that England 
 is a proud and lofty nation, which, disdaining to wait for 
 danger, meets it half way. Haughty as she is, we once 
 triumphed over her; and, if we do not listen to the coun- 
 sels of timidity and despair, we shall again prevail. In
 
 HENRY CLAY. 357 
 
 such a cause, with the aid of Providence, we must come 
 out crowned with success, but if we fail, let us fail like 
 men, — lash ourselves to our gallant tars, and expire to- 
 gether in one common struggle, fighting for free trade and 
 seamen's rights!" 
 
 At the commencement of the year 1814, Mr. Clay was 
 appointed one of the Commissioners to negotiate a treaty 
 of peace with Great Britain; and on the 19th of January, 
 he resigned his station as speaker of the House, in a very 
 impressive address: "Gentlemen," said he, "I have .at- 
 tended you to-day, to announce my resignation of the 
 distinguished station in this House, with which I have 
 been honored by your kindness. In taking leave of you, 
 gentlemen, I shall be excused for embracing this last occa- 
 sion, to express to you personally my thanks for the frank . 
 and liberal support, the chair has experienced at your 
 hands. Wherever I may go, in whatever situation I may 
 be placed, I can never cease to cherish, with the fondest 
 remembrance, the sentiments of esteem and respect with 
 which you have inspired me." 
 
 " I was a member of the House during the war," writes 
 one, " and was present when Mr. Clay made his farewell 
 speech on resigning the Speakership. It was an impressive 
 occasion. Not only were all the seats of members occu- 
 pied, but many senators attended, and a large miscellaneous 
 crowd. The war which he had been most active in hast- 
 ening, and most energetic in prosecuting, he was now com- 
 missioned with others to close. He was the youngest of 
 the Commissioners, but sagacious far beyond his years. 
 The hopes of the country, tired of a protracted struggle, 
 grew brighter by his appointment. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, at this time, even in his youthful age, 
 he had no rival in popularity. His name was every where 
 familiar as ' household words.' His own bearing evinced 
 a consciousness of his favor in the country. I was struck
 
 358 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 with Ms appearance on this occasion. There was a fire in 
 his eye, an elation in his countenance, a buoyancy in Ms 
 whole action, that seemed the self-consciousness of coming 
 greatness. Hope brightened, and joy elevated his crest. 
 As full of confidence, gallant bearing, and gratified look, 
 he took his seat in the Speaker's chair, his towering height 
 even more conspicuous than usual, I could not but call to 
 mind Vernon's description of Henry, Prince of Wales, in 
 Shakspeare: 
 
 ' I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
 His cuisses on his thigh, gallantly armed, 
 Rise from the ground, like feather'd Mercury, 
 And vaulted wdth such ease into his seat. 
 As if an angel dropped down from the clouds. 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 And witch the world with noble horsemanship.' 
 
 " Age at this time had not withered, nor custom staled 
 the infinite variety of his genius. The defects of his 
 character had not been developed; prosperity had not 
 sunned them, and they lie unsprouted in his heart; nor 
 had he committed any of the blunders of his later life, 
 which, in a political view, have been pronounced worse 
 than crimes. 
 
 "After he had resigned the chair, in a neat and appro- 
 priate speech, he came down to the floor; and members 
 surrounded him, to express their great grief at his with- 
 drawal,— mingled, however, with congratulations upon 
 his appointment, and with the expression of sanguine an- 
 ticipations of the success of his mission." 
 
 Mr. Clay took a leading part in the negotiation of the 
 Treaty of Ghent.* Before his return home he visited 
 
 * The following anecdote is worth relating here: While Mr. Clay was on a 
 tour through the Netherlands, preparatory to the negotiation, Hon. Henry 
 Goulbourn, one of the British Commissioners, procured and sent him a file of 
 London papers, containing accounts of the burning of Washington by the
 
 HENRY CLAY. 359 
 
 several portions of Europe, and was received every where 
 with marked attention. On his return to the United 
 States, he was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm, and 
 unanimously re-elected to Congress. On taking his seat, 
 in December, 1815, he was again triumphantly chosen 
 speaker of the House. " He was welcomed back to the 
 seat in which he had gained such eminent distinction. 
 His popularity in the country had nearly reached its cul- 
 minating point. Peace with Great Britain, which the 
 heart of the people longed for now, as before for the de- 
 claration of war, had been satisfactorily arranged, and 
 partly through his agency; and the multitude, ever seeking 
 some tangible object of worship, lavished upon him every 
 expression of grateful feeling and personal devotion. He 
 was associated in their minds with the national glory and 
 national prosperity. All the government had proposed by 
 waging war against Great Britain — the freedom of our 
 commerce, the safety of our seamen, and the honor of our 
 flag, — had been secured, if not by express condition in 
 the Treaty of Peace, yet, by the readiness with which the 
 war had been entered upon, the earnestness with which it 
 had been carried on, and its ultimate success. Those, 
 therefore, who had been most warm for the declaration of 
 war, and most active in its vigorous prosecution, were now 
 most endeared to the hearts of the nation." 
 
 Among the most splendid and magnanimous efibrts of 
 Mr. Clay in the halls of Congress will ever be reckoned 
 his famous speeches on the Emancipation of South Ameri- 
 ca, and on the Greek Revolution. No one can forget his 
 
 British troops, with a courteous epistle, stating that he presumed that Mr. 
 Clay would bo happy to receive the latest news from America. Mr. Clay 
 returned his thanks for the civility, and, in further acknowledgment, enclosed 
 to Mr. Goulbourn a later file of Paris papers, containing accounts of the defeat 
 of Sir George Provost, at Plattsburgh, and the utter destruction of the British 
 flotilla in the fight off that place.
 
 360 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 burning eloquence in advocacy of the independence of 
 these countries. 
 
 In the spring of 18 18, the question on the recognition of 
 South American independence was ably discussed in Con- 
 -gress. On the 24th of March, Mr. Clay delivered his 
 memorable speech in the House of Representatives, on the 
 emancipation of that country. In expressing, on this oc- 
 casion, the sentiments of freedom by which he was ani- 
 mated, the orator fearlessly asserted the right of an 
 oppressed people, when practicable, to break their chains, 
 and unfurl the banner of liberty. Said he: "I maintain, 
 that an oppressed people are authorized, whenever they 
 can, to rise and break their fetters. This was the great 
 principle of the English revolution. It was the great 
 principle of our own. Vattel, if authority were wanting, 
 expressly supports this right. We must pass sentence of 
 condemnation upon the founders of our liberty — say that 
 they were rebels — traitors, and that we are at this mo- 
 ment legislating without competent powers, before we can 
 condemn the cause of Spanish America. Our revolution 
 was mainly directed against the mere theory of tyranny. 
 We had suffered comparatively but little; we had, in some 
 respects, been kindly treated,- but our intrepid and intelli- 
 gent fathers saw, in the usurpation of the power to levy 
 an inconsiderable tax, the long train of oppressive acts 
 that were to follow. They rose; they breasted the storm; 
 they achieved our freedom. Spanish America for centuries 
 has been doomed to the practical effects of an odious 
 tyranny. If we were justified, she is more than justified. 
 
 " I am no propagandist. I would not seek to force 
 upon other nations our principles and our liberty, if they 
 do not want them. I would not disturb the repose even of 
 a detestable despotism. But, if an abused and oppressed 
 people will their freedom; if they seek to establish it; if, 
 in truth, they have established it, we have a right, as a
 
 HENRY CLAY. 361 
 
 sovereign power, to notice the fact, and to act as circum- 
 stances and our interest require. I will say, in the lan- 
 guage of the venerated father of my country: 'Born in a 
 land of liberty, my anxious recollections, my sympathetic 
 feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly excited, when-* 
 soever in any country I see an ojipressed nation unfurl 
 the banners of freedom.' Whenever I think of Spanish 
 America, the image irresistibly forces itself upon my mind 
 of an elder brother, whose education has been neglected, 
 whose person has been abused and maltreated, and who 
 has been disinherited by the unkindness of an unnatural 
 parent. And, when I contemplate the glorious struggle 
 which that country is now making, I think I behold that 
 brother rising, by the power and energy of his fin^ native 
 genius, to the manly rank which nature, and nature's God, 
 intended for him." " . 
 
 In another portion of this speech he said -with great 
 effect: " Are we not bound then, upon our own principles, 
 to acknowledge this new republic? If wc do not, who 
 will?*' Are we to expect that kings will set us the example 
 of acknowledging the only republic on earth, except ovir 
 own? We receive, promptly receive, a minister from what- 
 ever king sends us one. From the great powers and the 
 little powers we accredit ministers. We do more: we 
 hasten to reciprocate the compliment; and anxious to 
 manifest our gratitude for royal civility, we send for a 
 minister (as in the case of Sweden and the Netherlands) 
 of the lowest grade, one of the highest rank recognized 
 by our laws. We are the natural head of the American 
 family. I would not intermeddle with the affairs of Eu- 
 
 * " The simple words, ' ivho willV are said, by an intelligent observer, who 
 was present, to have been uttered in a tone of such thrilling pathos, as to stir 
 up the deepest sensibilities of the audience. It was by such apparently simple 
 appeals that Mr. Clay, with the aid of his exquisitely modulated voice, often 
 produced the most powerful and lasting effects." 
 
 46
 
 362 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 rope. We wisely keep aloof from tlieir broils. I would 
 not even intermeddle in those of other parts of America, 
 further than to exert the incontestable rights appertaining 
 to us as a free, sovereign, and independent power; and, 
 I contend, that the accrediting of a minister from a new 
 republic is such a right. We are bound to receive their 
 minister, if we mean to be really neutral." 
 
 This was one of the happiest of Mr. Clay's oratorical 
 efforts. It is a most magnificent address. " No abstract," 
 says one who heard it, " can furnish an adequate idea of 
 a speech, which, as an example of argumentative oratory, 
 may be safely tried by the test of the most approved mod- 
 els of any age or country. Rich in all the learning con- 
 nected with the subject; methodized in an order which kept 
 that subject constantly before the hearer, and enabled the 
 meanest capacity to follow the speaker without efibrt, 
 through a long series of topics, principal and subsidiary; 
 at once breathing sentiments of generous philanthropy 
 and teaching lessons of wisdom: presenting a variety of 
 illustrations which strengthened the doctrines that they 
 embellished; and uttering prophecies, on which, though 
 rejected by the infidelity of the day, time has stamped the 
 seal of truth: this speech will descend to the latest pos- 
 terity and remain embalmed in the praises of mankind, 
 long after the tumults of military ambition and the plots 
 of political profligacy have passed into oblivion." 
 
 When the subject of the Greek Revolution was intro- 
 duced in Congress, Mr. Clay made another bold and noble 
 effort in behalf of human freedom. His great speech on 
 the Greek Revolution was delivered in the House of 
 Representatives, on the 20th of January, 1824, in support 
 of Mr. Webster's resolution providing by law for defray- 
 ing the expenses incident to the appointment of an agent 
 or commissioner to Greece, whenever the president should 
 deem it expedient to make such appointment. It would
 
 HENRY CLAY. 363 
 
 be impossible to describe the effect produced by this mas- 
 terly address. It was an effort in which the eloquence of 
 Mr. Clay gleamed with unrivaled splendor. Every ear was 
 pleased, every heart was charmed with the spirit-stirring 
 appeals which flowed from the lips of the speaker. Like 
 the great orations of the famous orators of antiquity this 
 speech will be held in lasting admiration. It abounds in 
 passages of patriotic ferv^or. Take the following for ex- 
 ample: 
 
 " There is reason to apprehend that a tremendous storm 
 is ready to burst upon our happy country — one which 
 may call into action all our vigor, courage, and resources. 
 Is it wise or j)rudent, in preparing to breast the storm, if 
 it must come, to talk to this nation of its incompetency 
 to repel European aggression, to lower its spirit, to weaken 
 its moral energy, and to qualify it for easy conquest and 
 base submission? If there be any reality in the dangers 
 which are supposed to encomjjass us, should we not ani- 
 mate the people, and adjure them to believe, as I do, that 
 our resources are ample; and that we can bring into the 
 field a million of freemen, ready to exhaust their last drop 
 of blood, and to spend the last cent in the defense of the 
 country, its liberty, and its institutions? Sir, are these, 
 if united, to be conquered by all Europe combined? All 
 the perils to which we can possibly be exposed, are much 
 less in reality than the imagination is disi)osed to paint 
 them. And they are best averted by an habitual contem- 
 plation of them, by reducing them to their true dimensions. 
 If combined Europe is to precipitate itself upon us, we 
 can not too soon begin to invigorate our strength, to teach 
 our heads to think, our hearts to conceive, and our arms 
 to execute, the high and noble deeds which belong to the 
 character and glory of our country. The experience of 
 the world instructs us, that conquests are already achieved, 
 which are boldly andjirmly resolved on; and that 7nen only
 
 364 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 become slaves wlw have ceased to resolve to be free. If we 
 wish to cover ourselves with the best of all armor, let us 
 not discourage our people, let us stimulate their ardor, let 
 us sustain their resolution, let us proclaim to them that we 
 feel as they feel, and that, with them, we are determined 
 to live or die like freemeb. 
 
 " Surely, Sir, we need no long or learned lectures about 
 the nature of government, and the influence of property 
 or ranks on society. We may content ourselves with 
 studying the true character of our own people; and with 
 knowing that the interests are confided to us of a nation 
 capable of doing and suffering all things for its liberty. 
 Such a nation, if its rulers be faithful, must be invincible. 
 I well remember an observation made to me by the most 
 illustrious female* of the age, if not of her sex. All 
 history showed, she said, that a nation was never con- 
 quered. No, Sir. no united nation that resolves to be free, 
 can be conquered. And has it come to this? Are we so 
 humbled, so low, so debased, that we dare not express our 
 sympathy for suffering Greece, that we dare not articulate 
 our detestation of the brutal excesses of which she has 
 been the bleeding victim, lest Ave might offend some one 
 or more of their imperial and royal majesties'? If gentle- 
 men are afraid to act rashly on such a subject, suppose, 
 Mr. Chairman, that we unite in an humble petition, ad- 
 dressed to their majesties, beseeching them that of their 
 gracious condescension, they would allow us to express 
 our feelings and our sympathies. How shall it run? ' We, 
 the representatives of the/ree people of the United States 
 of America, humbly approach the thones of your imperial 
 and royal majesties, and supplicate that, of your imperial 
 and royal clemency,' — I can not go through the disgusting 
 recital — my lips have not yet learned to pronounce the 
 
 * Madame de Stael.
 
 HENRY CLAY. 365 
 
 sycophantic language of a degraded slave! Are we so 
 mean, so base, so desi^icable, that we may not attempt to 
 express our horror, utter our indignation, at the most 
 brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth or shocked 
 high heaven; at the ferocious deeds of a savage and infu- 
 riated soldiery, stimulated and urged on by the clergy of 
 a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in all the 
 excesses of blood and butchery, at the mere details of 
 which the heart sickens and recoils.' 
 
 " If the great body of Christendom can look on calmly 
 and coolly, whilst all this is perpetuated on a Christian 
 people, in its own immediate vicinity, in its very presence, 
 let us at least evince that one of its remote extremeties is 
 susceptible of sensibility to Christian wrongs, and capable 
 of symj^athy for Christian sufierings; that in this remote 
 quarter of the world, there are hearts not yet closed 
 against compassion for human woes, that can pour out 
 their indignant feelings at the oppression of a people en- 
 deared to us by every ancient recollection, and every 
 modern tie." 
 
 The peroration is conceived in the boldest language of 
 an ardent patriot: " But, Sir, it is not for Greece alone 
 that I desire to see this measure adopted. It will give to 
 her but little sujDport, and that purely of a moral kind. 
 It is principally for America, for the credit and character 
 of our common country, for our own unsullied name, that 
 I hope to see it pass. What, Mr. Chairman, appearance 
 on the page of history would a record like this exhibit? 
 ' In the month of January, in the year of our Lord and 
 Savior, 1824, while all European Christendom beheld, 
 with cold and unfeeling indifference, the unexampled 
 wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian Greece, a 
 proposition was made in the Congress of the United States, 
 almost the sole, the last, the greatest depository of human 
 hope and human freedom, the representatives of a gallant
 
 366 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 nation, containing a million of freemen ready to fly to 
 arms, while the people of that nation were spontaneously 
 expressing its deep-toned feeling, and the whole continent, 
 by one simultaneous emotion, was rising, and solemnly 
 and anxiously supplicating and invoking high Heaven to 
 spare and succor Greece, and to invigorate her arms, in 
 her glorious cause, while temples and senate houses were 
 alike resounding with one burst of generous and holy 
 sympathy; — in the year of our Lord and Savior, that Sa- 
 vior of Greece and of us — a proposition was offered in 
 the American Congress to send a messenger to Greece, to 
 inquire into her state and condition, with a kind expres- 
 sion of our good wishes and our sympathies — and it was 
 rejected!' Go home, if you can, go home, if you dare, to 
 your constituents, and tell them that you voted it down — 
 meet, if you can, the appalling countenances of those who 
 sent you here, and tell them that you shrank from the de- 
 claration of your own sentiments — that you can not tell 
 how, but that some unknown dread, some indescribable 
 apprehension^, some indefinable danger, drove you from 
 your purpose — that the specters of cimeters, and crowns, 
 and crescents, gleamed before you and alarmed you; and 
 that you suppressed all the noble feelings prompted by 
 religion, by liberty, by national independence, and by hu- 
 manity. I can not bring myself to believe that such will 
 be the feeling of a majority of the committee. But, for 
 myself, though every friend of the cause should desert it, 
 and I be left to stand alone with the gentleman Irom Mas- 
 sachusetts, I will give to his resolution the poor sanction 
 of my unqualified approbation." 
 
 One of the best eSbrts of Mr. Clay in favor of Internal 
 Improvement — a cause in which his feelings were so 
 deeply enlisted, during the whole period of his public 
 career, was his speech of the 16th of January, 1824. It 
 contains a luminous statement of his views in relation to
 
 HENRY CLAY. 367 
 
 the great work of improving the country We can not 
 omit the following felicitous sentences which occur in this 
 address. Speaking of the loyalty of the Western States 
 to the Union, the orator rose to a thrilling strain: "No por- 
 tion of the population," said he, " is more loyal to the 
 Union, than the hardy freemen of the west. Nothing can 
 weaken or eradicate their ardent desire for its lasting pre- 
 servation. None are more prompt to vindicate the interests 
 and rights of the nation from all foreign aggression. Need 
 I remind you of the glorious scenes in which they partici- 
 pated during the late war — a war in which they had no 
 peculiar or direct interest, waged for no commerce, no sea- 
 men of theirs. But it was enough for them that it was a 
 war demanded by the character and the honor of the na- 
 tion. They did not stop to calculate its cost of blood or 
 of treasure. Tliey flew to arms ; they rushed down the valley 
 of the Mississippi, with all the impetuosity of that noble river. 
 They sought the enemy. They found him at the beach. 
 They fought ; they bled; they covered themselves and their 
 country ivith immortal glory. They enthusiastically shared 
 in all the transports occasioned by our victories, whether 
 won on the ocean or on the land. They felt, with the 
 keenest distress, whatever disaster befell us. No, Sir, I 
 repeat it, neglect, injury itself, can not alienate the affec- 
 tions of the west from this government. They cling to it, 
 as to their best, their greatest, their last hope. You may 
 impoverish them, reduce them to ruin, by the mistakes of 
 your policy, and you can not drive them from you." 
 
 Such passages deserve to be treasured up with the most 
 precious gems of ancient and modern literature. 
 
 In 1825, -Mr. Clay was appointed Secretary of State by 
 President Adams. After remaining two years in retire- 
 ment after the close of Mr. Adams' administration, he was 
 elected to the Senate of the United States in the autumn
 
 368 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of 1831. He continued in the Senate until he resigned his 
 seat in 1842. 
 
 It would exceed our narrow limits to follow Mr. Clay 
 through his political career. We merely mention one or 
 two of the most distinguished services which he rendered 
 to hisS country during this brilliant period of his senator- 
 ship. One of these was his introduction of the famous 
 Compromise Bill which restored peace and harmony to a 
 distracted nation. On the 12th of February, 1833, Mr, 
 Clay entered the senate-chamber with this olive-branch 
 of peace in his hand, while the awful tempest of civil war 
 threatened to sweep through the land and stain this fair 
 Republic with streams of fraternal blood. 
 
 On presenting the Compromise Bill, Mr. Clay addressed 
 the Senate with feeling eloquence: "If there be any who 
 want civil war — who want to see the blood of any por- 
 tion of our countrymen spilt — I am not one of them. I 
 wish to see war of no kindj but, above all, I do not desire 
 to see a civil war.* When war begins whether civil or 
 foreign, no human sight is competent to foresee when, or 
 how, or where it is to terminate. But when a civil war 
 shall be lighted up in the bosom of our own happy land, 
 and armies are marching, and commanders are winning 
 their victories, and fleets are in motion on our coast — tell 
 me, if you can, tell me if any human being can tell its 
 duration. God alone knows where such a war would end. 
 In what a state will be left our institutions? In what 
 
 * " Civil wars strike deepest of all into the manners of the people. They 
 vitiate their politics; they corrupt their morals; they pervert even the natural 
 taste and relish of equity and justice. By teaching ns to consider our fellow- 
 citizens in a hostile light, the whole body of our nation becomes gradually less 
 dear to us. The very names of affection and kindred, which were the bond of 
 charity whilst we agreed, become new incentives to hatred and rage, when 
 the communion of our country is dissolved." — Edmund Burke.
 
 HENRY CLAY. 369 
 
 Slate our liberties? I want no war ; above all, no war at 
 home. 
 
 " Sir, I repeat, that I think Soutli Carolina has been rash, 
 
 intemperate, and greatly in the wrong, but I do not want 
 
 to disgrace her, nor any other member of tliis Union. 
 
 No: I do not desire to see the luster of one single star 
 
 dimmed, of that glorious confederacy which constitutes 
 
 our political system; still less do I wish to see it blotted out, 
 
 and its light obliterated for ever. Has not the State of 
 
 South Carolina been one of the members of this Union in 
 
 ' days that tried men's souls?' Have not her ancestors 
 
 fought along side our ancestors? Have we not, conjointly, 
 
 w^on together many a glorious battle? If we had to go 
 
 into a civil war with such a state, how would it terminate? 
 
 Whenever it should have terminated, v.hat would be her 
 
 condition? If she should ever return to the Union, what 
 
 would be the condition of her feelings and aflections; 
 
 w^hat the state of the heart of her people i She has been 
 
 with us before, w^hen her ancestors mingled in the throng 
 
 of battle, and as I hope our posterity will mingle with hers, 
 
 for ages and centuries to come, in the united defense of 
 
 liberty, and for the honor and glory of the Union, I do 
 
 not wish to see her degraded or defaced as a member of 
 
 this confederacy. 
 
 " In conclusion, allow me to entreat and implore each 
 individual member of this body to bring into the con- 
 sideration of this measure, which I have had the honor of 
 proposing, the same love of country which, if I know 
 myself, has actuated me, and the same desire of restoring 
 harmony to the Union, which has prompted this effort. If 
 we can forget for a moment — but that would be asking 
 too much of human nature — if we could suffer, for one 
 moment, party feelings and party causes — and, as I stand 
 here before my God, I declare I have looked beyond those 
 
 considerations, and regarded only the vast interests of 
 47
 
 370 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 this united people — I should hope that, under such feel- 
 ings, and with such dispositions, we may advantageously 
 proceed to the consideration of this bill, and heal, before 
 they are yet bleeding, the wounds of our distracted 
 country." 
 
 In the Senate, the jDassage of the Compromise Act 
 was opposed by Mr. Webster and others. To their argu- 
 ments Mr. Clay replied in a masterly manner, in a s^Deech 
 supporting his measure, delivered in the Senate on the 
 25tli of February. Toward the close of this speech he 
 said: " While we would vindicate the federal government, 
 we are for peace, if possible, union and liberty. We want 
 no war, above all, no civil war, no family strife. We 
 want to see no sacked cities, no desolated fields, no smoking 
 ruins, no streams of American blood shed by American 
 arms!" 
 
 In answer to the charge ol ambition which had been 
 brought against him in presenting the Compromise Act he 
 said in concluding this powerful effort: " I have been ac- 
 cused of ambition in presenting this measure. Ambition ! 
 inordinate ambition! If I had thought of myself only, I 
 should never have brought it forward. I know well the 
 perils to which I expose myself; the risk of alienating 
 faithful and valued friends, with but little j^rospect of 
 making new ones, if any new ones could compensate for 
 the loss of those whom we have long tried and loved j and 
 the honest misconceptions both of friends and foes. Am- 
 bition! If I had listened to its soft and seducing whis- 
 pers; if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, 
 calculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood still 
 and unmoved. I might even have silently gazed on the 
 raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders and left those 
 who are charged with the care of the vessel of State, to 
 conduct it as they could. I have been heretofore often 
 UJijustly accused of ambition. Low, groveling souls,
 
 HENRY CLAY. 371 
 
 who are utterly incapable of elevating themselves to the 
 higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism — beings who, 
 forever keeping their own selfish aims in view, decide all 
 public measures by their presumed influence on their 
 aggrandizement, judge me by the venal rule which they 
 prescribe to themselves. I have given to the winds those 
 false accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches 
 my motives. I have no desire for office, not even the 
 highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the 
 incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless 
 visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the 
 practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine free- 
 dom. I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the 
 people of these States, united or separated j I -never wish, 
 never expect to be. Pass this bill, tranquilize the country, 
 restore confidence and affection in the Union, and I am 
 willing to go home to Ashland, and renounce public ser- 
 vice for ever. I should there find, in its groves, under its 
 shades, on its lawns, amidst my flocks and herds, in the 
 bosom of my family, sincerity and truth, attachment and 
 fidelity, and gratitude, which I have not always found in 
 
 the walks of public life Yes, I have ambition, but it is 
 
 the ambition of being the humble instrument, in the 
 hands of Providence, to reconcile a divided j^eople, once 
 more to revive concord and harmony in a distracted land — 
 the pleasing ambition of contemjilating the glorious spec- 
 tacle of a free, united, prosperous and fraternal people!" 
 In 1833, the removal of the public deposits was effected 
 by the order of President Jackson. Mr. Duane, Secretary 
 of the Treasury, who refused to remove them, was dis- 
 missed from office, and Roger B. Taney, the present Chief 
 Justice, was appointed in his place. Mr. Taney imme- 
 diately ordered the removal of the deposits, according to 
 the wish of General Jackson. This act of the President 
 aroused the indignation of thousands throughout the
 
 372 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 country. It moreover drew from Mr. Clay one of his 
 ablest arguments, and most fervent appeals. When Con- 
 gress met, he offered the following resolutions in the Sen- 
 ate, on the 26th of December, 1833: 
 
 1. Resolved, That by dismissing the late Secretary of 
 the Treasury, because he would not, contrary to his sense 
 of his own duty, remove the money of the United States 
 in deposit with the Bank of the United States and its 
 branches, in conformity with the President's opinion, and 
 by ai^pointing his successor to effect such removal, which 
 has been done, the President has assumed the exercise 
 of a power over the Treasury of the United States, not 
 granted to him by the Constitution and laws, and danger- 
 ous to the liberties of the people. 
 
 2, Resolved, That the reasons assigned by the Secretary 
 of the Treasury for the removal of the money of the 
 United States, deposited in the Bank of the United States, 
 and its branches, communicated to Congress on the third 
 day of December, 1833, are unsatisfactory and insufficient. 
 
 On introducing these resolutions, Mr. Clay delivered a 
 speech which created enthusiastic applause. It displayed 
 great powers of argument and of eloquence. In this effort 
 he put forth his intellectual might. He gave his whole 
 heart to the speech. " His burning eloquence carried away 
 his audience, and loud plaudits from the gallery accom- 
 panied and interrupted him. These demonstrations of 
 sympathy were of course immediately suppressed by the 
 chair, who could not; however, prevent entirely their 
 recurrence. 
 
 He passed from wit to argument, from satire to denun- 
 ciation, ' from lively to severe,' with such rapidity that 
 extremes seemed to touch, and laughter and indignation 
 almost commingled. He put forth the whole variety of 
 his intellect, omitting nothing, stinting nothing, exaggera- 
 ting nothing.
 
 HENRY CLAY. 373 
 
 His illustrations were peculiarly felicitous. The civil 
 and loving expressions with which General Jackson ejected 
 Mr. Duane — his recusant Secretary of the Treasury — re- 
 minded him he said, of one of the most remarkable char- 
 acters which our species has produced: " When Oliver 
 Cromwell was contending for the mastery in Great Britain 
 or Ireland (I do not remember which), he besieged a cer- 
 tain Catholic town. The place made a brave and stout re- 
 sistance; but, at length, being likely to be taken, the poor 
 Catholics proposed terms of capitulation, among which 
 was one stipulating for the toleration of their religion 
 The paper containing the conditions being presented to 
 Oliver, he put on his spectacles, and, after deliberately 
 examining them, cried out, ' Oh, yes, granted, granted, 
 certainly; but,' he added with stern determination, 'if 
 one of them shall dare be found attending mass, he shall 
 be instantly hanged.' 
 
 There were many not less apposite than this, and some 
 more illustrative of the points he made in his argument. 
 He was listened to throughout with profound attention." 
 
 In the conclusion of this speech, he said: " The eyes and 
 the hopes of the American peoj^le are anxiously turned 
 to Congress. They feel that they have been deceived and 
 insulted; their confidence abused; their interests betrayed; 
 and their liberties in danger. They see a rapid and alarm- 
 ing concentration of all power in one man's hands. They 
 see that, by the exercise of the positive authority of the 
 executive, and his negative power exerted over Congress, 
 the will of one man alone prevails, and governs the Re- 
 public. The question is no longer what laws will Con- 
 gress pass, but what will the executive not veto? The 
 President, and not Congress, is addressed for legislative 
 action. We have seen a corporation, charged with the 
 execution of a great national work, dismiss an experienced, 
 faithful and zealous President, afterwards testify to his
 
 374 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 ability by a voluntary resolution, and reward his extra- 
 ordinary services by a large gratuity, and appoint in his 
 place an executive favorite, totally inexperienced. and in- 
 competent, to propitiate tlie President. We behold the 
 usual incidents of ai3proaching tyranny. The land is 
 filled with spies and informers; and detraction and denun- 
 ciation are the orders of the day. People, especially 
 official incumbents in this place, no longer dare speak in 
 the fearless tones of manly freemen, but in the cautious 
 whisjjers of trembling slaves. The premonitory symptoms 
 of despotism are upon us; and if Congress do not apply 
 an instantaneous and effective remedy, the fatal collapse 
 will soon come on, and we shall die — ignobly die! base, 
 mean, and abject slaves — the scorn and contempt of man- 
 kind — unpitied, unwept, unmourned!" 
 
 The first resolution of Mr. Clay, censuring the President, 
 was somewhat modified before it was adopted. Both of 
 his resolutions finallj"" passed, and were recorded in the 
 journal of the Senate. 
 
 The next great effort of Mr. Clay which we shall notice 
 was made in 1837, on the Expunging Resolution. On the 
 6th of January, 1837, a resolution, offered by Col. Benton, 
 to expunge Mr. Clay's resolution censuring President 
 Jackson for removing the deposits, passed the Senate by a 
 vote of 24 to 19. 
 
 In vain did Mr. Clay opi^ose this resolution with all his 
 energy. It was carried by a party vote. On this occasion 
 he poured forth a torrent of cutting sarcasm, indignant 
 invective, and scathing eloquence, of which the following 
 extract is a fine specimen. It is the conclusion of his 
 great speech: "What patriotic purpose is to be accom- 
 plished by this expunging resolution? Can you make that 
 not to be which has been? Can you eradicate from memory 
 and from history tlie fact, that in March, 1834, a majority 
 of the Senate of the United States passed the resolution
 
 HENRY CLAY. 375 
 
 wliicli excites your enmity? Is it your vain and wicked 
 object to arrogate to yourselves that power of annihilating 
 the past which has been denied to Omnipotence itself? 
 Do you intend to thrust your hands into your hearts, and 
 pluck out the deeply rooted convictions which are there? 
 or is it your design merely to stigmatize us? You can not 
 stigmatize us. 
 
 ' Ne'er yet did base dishonor blur our name.' 
 
 "Standing securely upon our conscious rectitude, and 
 bearing aloft the shield of the Constitution of our country, 
 your puny efforts are impotent, and we defy all your 
 power. Put the majority of 1834 in one scale, and that 
 by which this expunging resolution is to be carried in the 
 other, and let truth and justice, in heaven above and on 
 the earth below, and liberty and patriotism decide the pre- 
 ponderance. 
 
 " What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this 
 expunging? Is it to appease the wrath, and to heal the 
 wounded pride of the Chief Magistrate? If he be really 
 the hero that his friends represent him, he must despise 
 all mean condescension, all groveling sycopliancy, all 
 self-degradation, and self-abasement. He would reject 
 with scorn and contempt, as unworthy of^ his fame, your 
 black scratches, and your baby lines in the fair records of 
 his country. Black lines! Black lines! Sir, I hope the 
 Secretary of the Senate will preserve the pen with which 
 he may inscribe them, and present it to that Senator of 
 the majority whom he may select, as a proud trophy, to be 
 transmitted to his descendants. And hereafter, when we 
 shall lose the forms of our free institutions, all that now 
 remain to us, some future American monarch, in gratitude 
 to those by whose means he has been enabled, upon the 
 ruins of civil liberty, to erect a throne, and to commem- 
 orate especially this expunging resolution, may institute a
 
 376 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 new order of knighthood, and confer on it the appropriate 
 name of the knight of the black lines. 
 
 " But why should I detain the Senate or needlessly 
 waste my breath in fruitless exertions. The decree has 
 gone forth. It is one of urgency, too. The deed is to be 
 done — that foul deed, like the blood-stained hands of the 
 guilty Macbeth, all ocean's waters will never wash out. 
 Proceed, then, to the noble work which lies before you, 
 and like other skillful executioners, do it quickly. And 
 when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and 
 tell them what glorious honors you have achieved for our 
 common country. Tell them that you have extinguished 
 one of the brightest and purest lights that ever burnt at 
 the altar of civil liberty. Tell them that you have 
 silenced one of the noblest batteries that ever thundered 
 in defence of the constitution, and bravely spiked the 
 cannon. Tell them that, henceforward, no matter what 
 daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you 
 have forever hermetically sealed the mouth of the Senate. 
 Tell them that he may fearlessly assume what power he 
 pleases — snatch from its lawful custody the public purse, 
 command a military detachment to enter the halls of the 
 Capitol, overawe Congress, trample down the Constitution, 
 and raze every bulwark of freedom; but that the Senate 
 must stand mute, in silent submission, and not dare to 
 raise its opposing voice. That it must wait until a House 
 of Representatives, humbled and subdued like itself, and 
 a majority of it composed of the partisans of the Presi- 
 dent, shall prefer articles of impeachment. Tell them 
 finally, that you have restored the glorious doctrine of 
 passive obedience and nonresistance, and, if tlie people 
 do not pour out their indignation and imprecations, I have 
 yet to learn the character of American freemen." 
 
 After Mr. Clay had finished his speech he retired from 
 the Senate with the determination not to witness the draw-
 
 HENRY CLAY. 377 
 
 ing of the black lines across his resolution After he had 
 retired, the act was soon done in the Senate Chamber, 
 amidst vehement and repeated hisses from the galleries. 
 
 Another of the finest strokes of Mr. Clay's genius and 
 the best specimen of his style, is contained in an unpre- 
 meditated reply to Mr. Rives in 1841, in which he gives 
 us his celebrated definition of public virtue. It is one of 
 the finest passages in our language. When President Tyler 
 vetoed the Bill chartering a Bank of the United States, 
 which had passed both Houses of Congress, Mr. Clay ad- 
 dressed the Senate on this subject, on the 19th of August. 
 He was immediately followed by Mr. Rives who vindicated 
 the act of the President. When he had concluded his 
 remarks, Mr. Clay rose and addressed the Senate in an 
 unpremeditated rejoinder, of which the following is a 
 specimen: 
 
 " I rose not to say one word which should wound the 
 feelings of President Tyler. The senator says that, if 
 placed in like circumstances, I would have been the last 
 man to avoid putting a direct veto upon the Bill, had it 
 met my disa^jprobation; and he does me the honor to 
 attribute to me high qualities of stern and unbending in- 
 trepidity. I hope, that in all that relates to personal firm- 
 ness, all that concerns a just appreciation of the insignifi- 
 cance of human life — whatever may be attempted to 
 threaten or alarm a soul not easily swayed by opposition, 
 or awed or intimidated by menace — a stout heart and a 
 steady eye, that can siu'vey, unmoved and undaunted, any 
 mere personal perils that assail this poor, transient, perish- 
 ing frame, I may, without disparagement, compare with 
 other men. But there is a sort of courage, which, I 
 frankly confess it, I do not possess, a boldness to which I 
 dare not asj^ire, a valor which I can not covet. I can not 
 lay myself down in the way of the welfare and happiness 
 
 of my country. That I can not, I have not the courage to 
 
 48
 
 378 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 do I can not interpose the power with which I may be 
 invested, a power conferred not for my personal benefit, nor 
 for my aggrandizement, but for my country's good, to 
 check her onward march to greatness and glory. 1 have 
 not courage enough, I am too cowardly for that. I would 
 not, I dare not, in the exercise of such a trust, lie down, 
 and place my body across the path that leads my country 
 to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of courage 
 widely different from that which a man may display in his 
 private conduct and personal relations. Personal or pri- 
 vate courage is totally distinct from that higher and nobler 
 courage which prompts the patriot to ofier himself a volun- 
 tary sacrifice to his country's good. 
 
 " Nor did I say, as the senator represents, that the Pre- 
 sident should have resigned. I intimated no personal wish 
 or desire that he should resign. I referred to the fact of 
 a memorable resignation in his public life. And what I 
 did say was, that there were other alternatives before him 
 besides Vetoing the Bill; and that it was worthy of his 
 consideration whether consistency did not require that 
 the example which he had set when he had a constituency 
 of one State, should not be followed when he had a con- 
 stituency commensurate with the whole Union. Another 
 alternative was, to suffer the Bill, without his signature, 
 to pass into a law under the provisions of the Constitu- 
 tion. And I must confess, I see, in this, no such escaping 
 by the back door, no such jumping out of the window, a? 
 the senator talks about. 
 
 " Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firm- 
 ness sometimes impel us. to perform rash and inconsiderate 
 acts. It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the im- 
 putation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, ego- 
 tism, so unamiable and offensive in private life, are vices 
 which partake of the character of crimes, in the conduct 
 of public affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions
 
 HENRY CLAY. 379 
 
 can not see beyond the little, petty, contemi^tible circle of 
 his own personal interests. All his thoughts are Avith- 
 (Irawn from his country, and concentrated on his consis- 
 tency, his hrmness, himself. The high, the exalted, the sub- 
 lime emotio7i8 of a patriotism, which, soaring toward Jieaven, 
 rises Jar above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed 
 by one soul-transporting thought of the good and the glory 
 of one'* country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. 
 That patriotism, which, catching its inspirations from the im~ 
 mortal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below 
 all lesser, groveling, personal interests and feelings-, animates 
 and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, 
 and of death itself — that is public virtue ; that is the noblest, 
 the sublimest of all public virtues .'''* 
 
 On the 31st of March, 1842, Mr. Clay resigned his seat 
 in the Senate. When it was known that he w^as to deliver 
 his farewell address, a large audience was brought together 
 in the Senate chamber. It Avas an interesting and solemn 
 scene. Mr. Clay rose and addressed the Senate in a most 
 affecting speech, from which the following beautiful ex- 
 tracts are taken: 
 
 '^' Full of attraction, however, as a seat in the Senate is, 
 sufficient as it is to satisfy the aspirations of the most am- 
 bitious heart, I have long determined to relinquish it, and 
 to seek that repose which can be enjoyed only in the shades 
 
 * Several years afterwards, Mr. Clay referred to this passage as the most 
 effective burst of eloquence that ever flowed from his lips. To the following 
 
 question proposed to him by a distinguished foreigner, " Mr. Clay, which of 
 your jHibiic speeches do you consider the most effective and powerful?" he re- 
 plied, " There is a portion of the speech on the Veto of Mr. Tyler, on the 
 Bank Bill, in reply to Mr. Rives, which produced the most electrifying effect 
 of any thing I ever uttered. The immediate subject was Patriotism. Nature," 
 added he, smiling, '" had singularly favored me by giving me a voice peculiarly 
 adapted to produce the impressions I wished in public speaking; now," said he, 
 " its melody is changed, its music gone !" (And this was said as I'f in mockery, 
 in sounds of exquisite sweetness.)
 
 380 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of private life, in the circle of one's own family, and in 
 the tranquil enjoyments included in one enchanting word — 
 
 HOME. 
 
 " I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Kentucky 
 now nearly forty -five years ago; I went as an orphan boy 
 who had not yet attained the age of majority; who had 
 never recognized a father's smile, nor felt his warm 
 caresses; poor, penniless, without the favor of the great; 
 with an imperfect and neglected education, hardly suffi- 
 cient for the ordinary business and common pursuits of 
 life; but scarce had I set my foot upon her generous soil 
 when I was embraced with j)arental fondness, caressed as 
 though T had been a favorite child, and patronized with 
 liberal and unbounded munificence. From that j)eriod the 
 highest honors of the State have been freely bestowed upon 
 me; and when, in the darkest hour of calumny and detrac- 
 tion, I seemed to be assailed by all the rest of the world, 
 she interposed her broad and impenetrable shield, repelled 
 the poisonous shafts that were aimed for my destruction, 
 and vindicated my good name from every malignant and 
 unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable plea- 
 sure to linger a while longer, and mingle with the warm- 
 hearted and whole-souled people of that State; and, when 
 the last scene shall forever close upon me, I hope that my 
 earthly remains will be laid under her green sod with 
 those of her gallant and patriotic sons. 
 
 " That my nature is warm, my temper ardent, my dis- 
 position, especially in relation to the public service, en- 
 thusiastic, I am ready to own; and those who suppose that 
 I have been assuming the dictatorship, have only mistaken 
 for arrogance or assumption that ardor and devotion which 
 are natural to my constitution, and which I may have dis- 
 played with too little regard to cold, calculating and 
 cautious prudence, in sustaining and zealously supporting
 
 HENRY CLAY 381 
 
 important national measures of policy wliicli I have pre- 
 sented and espoused. 
 
 " In the course of a long and arduous public service, 
 especially during the last eleven years in which I have 
 held a seat in tlie Senate, from the same ardor and enthu- 
 siasm of character, I have no doubt, in the heat of debate, 
 and in an honest endeavor to maintain my opinions 
 against adverse opinions alike honestly entertained, as to 
 the best course to be adopted for the public welfare, I may 
 have often inadvertently and unintentionally, in moments 
 of excited debate, made use of language that has been 
 offensive, and susceptible of injurious interpretation to- 
 ward my brother Senators. If there be any here who re- 
 tain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction produced 
 on such occasions, I beg to assure them that I now offer 
 the most ample apology for any departure on my jjart 
 from the established rules of parliamentary decorum and 
 courtesy. On the other hand, I assure the Senators, one 
 and all, without exception and witliout reserve, that I re- 
 tire from this chamber without carrying with me a single 
 feeling of resentment or dissatisfaction to the Senate or 
 any one of its Members. 
 
 " I go from this place under the hope that we shall mu- 
 tually consign to perpetual oblivion whatever personal 
 collisions may at any time unfortunately have occurred 
 between us; and that our recollections shall dwell in 
 future only on those conflicts of mind with mind, those 
 intellectual struggles, those noble exhibitions of the powers 
 of logic, argument, and eloquence, honorable to the Senate 
 and to the Nation, in which each has sought and contended 
 for what he deemed the best mode of accomplishing one 
 common object, the interest and happiness of our beloved 
 country. To these thrilling and delighful scenes it will 
 be my pleasure and my pride to look back in my retirement 
 with unmeasured satisfaction."
 
 382 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. -.5 
 
 In the conclusion of Ms speech, he invoked the blessing 
 of Heaven upon the Senate in a manner that electrified all 
 present. No one who had the pleasure of hearing that 
 address will ever forget the thrilling tones with which he 
 gave utterance to these parting words: 
 
 " May the most precious blessings of Heaven rest upon 
 the whole Senate and each member of it, and may the 
 labors of every one redound to the benefit of the nation 
 and the advancement of his own fame and renown. And 
 when you shall retire to the bosom of your constituents, 
 may you receive that most cheering and gratifying of all 
 human rewards — their cordial greeting of ' Well done, 
 good and laithful servant' 
 
 " And now, Mr. President, and Senators, I bid you all a 
 long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell."* 
 
 The whole audience was overcome by Mr. Clay's fasci- 
 nating tones. There was not a dry eye in the Senate. 
 For a few moments no one moved. At length Mr. Pres- 
 ton, of South Carolina, rose and remarked that what had 
 just taken place was an epoch in their legislative history: 
 and, from the feeling which was evinced, he plainly saw 
 that there was little disposition to attend to business. 
 On the motion of Mr. Preston the Senate immediately ad- 
 journed, and the crowd dispersed. 
 
 After the resignation of his seat in the Sea^^te, Mr. Clay 
 retired to jMivate life. In 1844, he was '4- ^^^hig candi- 
 date for the Presidency, but was defeated by the election 
 of James K. Polk. In December, 1848, Mr. Clay -^ras again 
 elected to the Senate of the United States by a unanimous 
 vote. 
 
 The senatorial life of Mr. Clay was one of lofty patriot- 
 
 ■f When Mr. Clay ceased to speak, many rose to take him by the hand. 
 His noble rival, Mr. Calhoun, walked across the floor, and offered his hand; it 
 was cordially taken; but it is said that their mutual feelings overcame them; 
 and they separated without the power of uttering a word.
 
 HENRY CLAY. 383 
 
 ism. He always pursued the course which he thought was 
 best for the whole country. However men may difler 
 with regard to the expediency of his political principles 
 no one can deny that he remained faithful to the last, to 
 the Constitution and the Union. In the last years of his 
 public career he was actively engaged in framing measures 
 which he considered to be advantageous to the nation. To 
 heal the controversy on the subject of slavery, which 
 raged so high in Congress after the Mexican war, w^hen the 
 new territory was to be annexed to the Union, Mr. Clay 
 ofiered in the Senate, on the 29th of January, 1850, a 
 series of resolutions known as the Compromise. In sup- 
 port of these resolutions he addressed the Senate on the 
 5th and 6 th of February. His speech on the Compromise 
 is regarded as one of the ablest eflbrts he ever made in the 
 Senate. It shows his strong attachment to the Union, and 
 portrays in vivid colors the direful consequences which 
 must follow its dissolution. We quote his closing remarks 
 which can not be too deeply imprinted on the mind of 
 Americans — which Avill be read wuth interest by those 
 who love the Union and the Constitution — who dread 
 civil war as among the worst of human calamities — wiio 
 ardently desire to see one great and glorious republic con- 
 tinue to hold up the light of civil liberty as the beacon 
 of oppressed nations, the hope and admiration of the 
 world. 
 
 " Mr. President, I have said wiiat I solemnly believe — 
 that the dissolution of this Union and war are identical 
 and inseparable; that they are convertible terms. Such 
 a war, too, as that would be, following the dissolution of 
 the Union! Sir, we may search the pages of history, and 
 none so furious, so bloody, so implacable, so exterminating, 
 from the wars of Greece down, including those of the 
 •Commonwealth of England, and the revolution of France — 
 none, none of them raged with suoii violence, or was ever
 
 384 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 conducted with such bloodshed and enormities as will that 
 war which shall follow that disastrous event — if that 
 event ever happens — of dissolution. 
 
 " And what would be its termination'? Standing armies 
 and navies, to an extent draining the revenues of each 
 portion of the dissevered empire, would be created; ex- 
 terminating wars would follow — not a war of two or 
 three years, but of interminable duration — an extermi- 
 nating war would follow, until some Philip or Alexander, 
 some Ceesar or Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian 
 knot, and solve the problem of the capacity of man for 
 self-government, and crush the liberties of both the dis- 
 severed portions of this Union. Can you doubt it? Look 
 at history — consult the pages of all history, ancient or 
 modern; look at human nature — look at the character of 
 the contest in which you would be engaged in the suppo- 
 sition of a war following the dissolution of the Union, 
 such as I have suggested — and I ask you if it is possible 
 for you to doubt that the final but perhaps distant termi- 
 nation of the whole will be some despot treading down 
 the liberties of the people? — that the final result will be 
 the extinction of this last and glorious light which is 
 leading all mankind, who are gazing upon it, to cherish 
 hope and anxious expectation that the liberty which pre- 
 vails here will sooner or later be advanced throughout 
 the civilized world? Can you, Mr. President, lightly con- 
 template the consequences? Can you yield yourself to a 
 torrent of passion, amidst dangers which I have depicted 
 in colors far short of what would be the reality, if the 
 event should ever happen? I conjure gentlemen — whether 
 from the South or the North, by all they hold dear in this 
 world — by all their love of liberty — by all their venera- 
 tion for their ancestors — by all their regard for pos- 
 terity — by all their gratitude to Him who has bestowed 
 upon them such unnumbered blessings — by all the duties
 
 HENRY CLAY. 385 
 
 which they owe to mankind, and all the duties they owe 
 to themselves — by all these considerations I implore them 
 to pause — solemnly to pause — at the edge of the preci- 
 pice, before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken in the 
 yawning abyss below, which will inevitably lead to certain 
 and irretrievable destruction. 
 
 " And, finally, Mr. President, I implore, as the best 
 blessing which Heaven can bestow upon me upon earth, 
 that if the direful and sad event of the dissolution of the 
 Union shall happen, I may not survive to behold the sad 
 and heart-rending spectacle." 
 
 The Compromise resolutions continued to be agitated 
 in Congress during the entire sjDring session of 1850. On 
 the 13th of May, Mr. Clay made another speech on these 
 resolutions, which was concluded as follows: 
 
 " Mr. President, I trust that the feelings of attachment 
 to the Union, of love for its past glory, of anticipation of 
 its future benefits and happiness; a fraternal feeling which 
 ought to be common throughout all parts of the country; 
 the desire to live together in peace and harmony, to pros- 
 per as we have prospered heretofore, to hold up to the 
 civilized world the example of one great and glorious 
 Republic fulfilling the high destiny that belongs to it, de- 
 monstrating beyond all doubt man's capacity for self- 
 government; these motives and these considerations will, 
 I confidently hope and fervently pray, animate us all, 
 bringing us together to dismiss alike the questions of ab- 
 straction and form, and consummating the act of concord, 
 harmony, and peace, in such a manner as to heal not one 
 only, but all the wounds of the country." 
 
 The arduous and incessant duties of the Senate doubtless 
 tended to impair the health of Mr. Clay, which, from this 
 period gradually declined till his decease, which took place 
 on the morning of the 29th of June, 1852, in the seventy- 
 sixth year of his age. 
 49
 
 386 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 When his death was announced in Congress, several 
 eloquent tributes were paid to his memory by distinguished 
 members of both Houses. In the House of Representa- 
 tives Mr. Breckenridge of Kentucky b6re the following 
 testimony to the serenity of his mind in relation to his 
 prospects beyond the grave: " Not long before his death, 
 having just returned from Kentucky, I bore to him a token 
 of aflfection from his excellent wife. Never can I forget 
 his appearance, his manner, or his words. After S23eaking 
 of his family, his friends, and his country, he changed the 
 conversation to his own future, and looking on me with 
 his fine eye undimmed, and his voice full of its original 
 compass and melody, he said, ' I am not afraid to die, sir. 
 I have hope, faith, and some confidence. I do not think 
 any man can be entirely certain in regard to his future 
 state, but I have an abiding ti-ust in the merits and media- 
 tion of our Savior.' " 
 
 This statement was corroborated by the declaration of 
 Mr. Venable of North Carolina, who followed the Senator 
 jfrom Kentucky in an eloquent eulogy: " It was my privi- 
 lege, also, a short time since, to converse with this dis- 
 tinguished statesman on the subject of his hopes in a future 
 state. Feeling a deep interest, I asked him frankly what 
 were his hopes in the world to which he was evidently 
 hastening. * I am pleased,' said he, ' my friend, that you 
 have introduced the subject Conscious that I must die 
 very soon, I love to meditate upon the most important of 
 all interests I love to converse and to hear conversations 
 about them. The vanity of the world, and its insufficiency 
 to satisfy the soul of man, has been long a settled convic- 
 tion of my mind. Man's inability to secure by his own 
 merits the approbation of God, I feel to be true. I trust 
 in the atonement of the Savior of men, as the ground of 
 my acceptance and my hope of salvation. My faith is 
 feeble, but I hope in His mercy and trust in His promises.'
 
 HENRY CLAY. 387 
 
 To such declarations I listened with the deepest interest, 
 as I did on another occasion, when he said: ' I am willing 
 to abide the will of Heaven, and ready to die when that 
 will shall determine it' " 
 
 In the Senate, Mr. Underwood, his colleague, spoke of 
 the high character of Mr. Clay's eloquence when pro- 
 nouncing his eulogy: "At the bar and in the General 
 Assembly of Kentucky, Mr. Clay first manifested those 
 high qualities as a public speaker which have secured to 
 him so much popular applause and admiration. His 
 physical and mental organization eminently qualified him 
 to become a great and impressive orator. His person was 
 tall, slender and commanding. His temperament ardent, 
 fearless, and full of hope. His countenance, clear, ex- 
 pressive, and variable — indicated the emotion which pre- 
 dominated at the moment with exact similitude. His 
 voice, cultivated and modulated in harmony with the 
 sentiment he desired to express, fell upon the ear like the 
 melody of enrapturing music. His eye beaming with in- 
 telligence and flashing with coruscations of genius. His 
 gestures and attitudes graceful and natural. These per- 
 sonal advantages won the prepossession of an audience, 
 even before his intellectual powers began to move his 
 hearers; and when his strong common sense, his profound 
 reasoning, his clear conceptions of his subject in all its 
 bearings, and his striking and beautiful illustrations, 
 united with such personal qualities, were brought to the 
 discussion of any question, his audience was enraptured, 
 convinced, and led by the orator as if enchanted by the 
 lyre of Orpheus." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that the news of Mr. Clay's 
 death was received throughout the country with tears. 
 His loss was mourned every where. It was truly a national 
 calamity. On the 10th of July, 1852, the remains of the
 
 3 S 8 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Patriot, Orator and Statesman of Ashland were deposited 
 in the cemetery at Lexington, Kentucky. 
 
 The eloquence of Henry Clay was of the very highest 
 order. It was of that impassioned kind which always 
 commands the admiration of the multitude — which goes 
 directly to the heart with irresistible, captivating power. 
 We believe that no political orator of our day has been 
 listened to with such extreme jDleasure as Mr. Clay. This 
 is the testimony of those who have been so happy as to 
 hear him in public address. All the charms of a perfect 
 orator were united in him. He had an absolute control 
 over his audience. All felt the potency of his burning 
 eloquence. By its secret, fascinating influence he could 
 excite in the bosom of his auditors, hope or fear, joy or 
 sorrow, courage or despair. He could instruct, convince, 
 arouse and subdue the mind. At one time, with apparent 
 ease, he could move his hearers to tears, and, perhaps in 
 the very next moment, convulse them with laughter. 
 Such power none but the most accomplished orator can 
 possess. This perfect control over the passions of men 
 rendered the eloquence of Mr. Clay so popular and effect- 
 ive. He was, in an especial manner, the delight and idol 
 of jDopular assemblies. He was emphatically the orator 
 of the people. In traveling through the country he was 
 every where received with enthusiastic apj)lause by ad- 
 miring crowds. 
 
 " I liave seen 
 The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
 To hear him speak: the matrons flung their gloves, 
 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
 Upon him as he passed. The nobles bended, 
 As to Jove's statue; and the commons made 
 A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts: 
 I never saw the like." 
 
 Our limits permit us to mention only a few of the most
 
 HENRY CLAY. 389 
 
 prominent characteristics of Mr. Clay's oratory. In the 
 fii'st place, he was indebted, in no small degree, for the 
 magical effects of his eloquence, to a deep, sweet-toned 
 voice.* It would be impossible to describe the wonderful 
 effects of those melodious strains with which he so often 
 thrilled the heart of an audience. How delightful was it 
 to listen to a voice of such surpassing melody! The utter- 
 ance of Mr. Clay was most charming: 
 
 "But when he speaks, what elocution flows, 
 Soft as the fleeces of descending snows; 
 The copious accents fall with easy art, 
 Melting they fall and sink into the heart." 
 
 What astonishing effects have been produced by such a 
 voice! Much of the force, splendor, and fascination of 
 the oratory of Chatham, Sheridan, Erskine, Henry, and 
 Ames, arose from their tones of music. This was, perhaps, 
 the most captivating attribute of their matchless elo- 
 quence. 
 
 A biographer of Mr. Clay, in noticing his char^icter has 
 the following remarks on his living voice: " The voice of 
 Mr. Clay has been one of great melody, compass and 
 power. With a foundation of low bass, deep and strong, 
 it has been capable of rising to the sharp falsetto, every 
 note in the scale musical and far-reaching. Within this 
 compass, lies the power of expressing all human feelings 
 and passions. The penetrating character of Mr. Clay's 
 voice has been considered remarkable, its common collo- 
 quial notes, being equal in their effect, in the same circum- 
 
 * The voice requires to be sweet as well as strong in an accomplished ora- 
 tor . — Quintilian . 
 
 " The voice of Mr. Clay was sonorous and musical, falling w'th proper 
 cadence from the highest to the lowest tones; at times when in narrative or 
 description, modulated, smooth and pleasing, like sounds of running water; 
 but when raised to animate and cheer, it was as clear and spirit-stirring as the 
 notes of a clarion, the House all the while ringing with its melody."
 
 390 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 stances, to that of the greatest physical exertion of most 
 men. Spectators in the galleries of the senate-chamber, 
 have often heard his private talk at his desk below, while 
 another senator was making a speech. In regard to the 
 modulation of his voice for oratorical purposes, instructed 
 by nature rather than art, and employing his vocal powers 
 chiefly for the practical uses of society, of the forum, and 
 of public debate, Mr. Clay has always escaped the vices 
 of tune or song. Hence his elocution has been felt to be 
 natural, and has consequently been effective." 
 
 The gifted author of the Living Orators in America 
 observes to the same effect: " Mr. Clay's voice has pro- 
 digious power, compass, and richness; all its variations 
 are captivating, but some of its base tones thrill through 
 one's whole frame. To those who have never heard the 
 living melody, no verbal description can convey an ade- 
 quate idea of the diversified effect of those intonations 
 which in one strain of sentiment fall in whispering gen- 
 tleness, ' like the first words of love upon a maiden's 
 lips,' and anon, in sterner utterances, ' ring with the mad- 
 dening music of the main.'* The magician is well aware 
 of the seductive power of his voice, and employs it with 
 great effect in the moderate, as well as the most impassioned 
 portions of his speeches. Such is its fascination, that the 
 most familiar expressions take from it an air of novelty 
 and dignity, and the more excitable in the audience, wait- 
 ing for an eloquential pause, would say: 
 
 * " Once, in defending a favorite bill, Mr. Clay had to encounter much 
 and strong opposition, at the head of which stood Daniel Webster. The col- 
 lision of these eloquent and intellectual giants, is said to have been incon- 
 ceivably grand. Says a gentleman who witnessed it, ' the eloquence of Mr. 
 Webster was the majestic roar of a strong and steady blast, pealing through 
 the forest; but that of Mr. Clay was the tone of a god-like instrument, some- 
 times visited by an angel touch, and swept anon by all the ftiry of the raging 
 elements." "
 
 HENRY CLAY. 391 
 
 ' Thy sweet words drop upon the ear as soft 
 As rose leaves on a well :■ and I could listen, 
 As though the immortal melody of Heaven 
 Were wrought into one word — that word a whisper, 
 That whisper all I want from all I love.' " 
 
 Another charm of Mr. Clay's eloquence was an admira- 
 ble delivery. His action was pleasing, impressive and 
 noble. His gestures were those of a natural orator. There 
 was a language in his very look and action, which could 
 not be misinterpreted — a language which carried force 
 and conviction to the heart. A writer already quoted re- 
 marked of his manner: " Nothing can be more captivat- 
 ing than the smiles that sometimes light up his counte- 
 nance while speaking, not unfrequeiitly succeeded by 
 frowns as impressive, which outward language is as inti- 
 mately mixed and strikingly expressed as the latent emo- 
 tions of his mind. It presents a pleasing series of effects, 
 constituting diversified transitions and perpetual progress, 
 each gleam, when its end is attained, giving place to 
 another, and leaving no trace behind: 
 
 ' Brief as the lightning in the coUied night, 
 That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth ; 
 And ere a man has time to say, behold ! 
 The jaws of darkness do devour it up.' " 
 
 Quintilian, in a chapter on the best manner of deliver- 
 ing a discourse, says, that almost every part of an orator 
 ought to speak; for all the passions which we possess 
 must languish, unless they are kept alive by the glow of 
 voice, look, and action.* " A manifest harmony existed 
 between the suggestions of Mr. Clay's mind and the move- 
 ments of his limbs, and this imparted an indescribable 
 charm to his action. He did not vociferate with weary 
 lungs and sweating brow, at the same time standing with 
 
 * Institutes of Oratory, lib. xi, chap. iii.
 
 392 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 listless hands, and elbows turned to his hips. Whenever 
 he was in earnest, he talked all over, and there was a 
 language in his limbs which said as clearly as that of 
 the lips ' these were given to clasp the beautiful and cleave 
 the wave.' " He did not sufier lii« own passions, nor those 
 of his hearers to be unmoved. In public speaking, he was 
 all animation; and, by the spell of his impassioned elo- 
 quence, he communicated his radiant thoughts with the 
 greatest ease and rapidity, to the rapt minds of his a.udi- 
 tors.* His melodious tones, his beaming eye, his glowing 
 countenance, his vehement gestures and fluent speech, 
 were the most illustrious qualities of that eloquence with 
 which he so often commanded the applause of listening 
 senates, and the acclamation of the multitude. 
 
 Mr. Colton, in his Life and Times of Henry Clay — a 
 work which was published before the demise of the states- 
 man, — gives a very vivid description of his manner in 
 public speaking: " The attributes of Mr, Clay's elo- 
 quence, extend to a wider range than that of voice. His 
 person, tall, erect, commanding; his countenance, as well 
 as his voice, capable of expressing every feeling and 
 passion of the human soul, pleasure or pain, satisfaction 
 or discontent, hope' or fear, desire or aversion, complacency 
 or contempt, lov^e or hatred, joy or grief, ecstacy or anguish, 
 valor or cowardice, kindness or cruelty, pity or revenge, 
 resolution or despair; his large mouth, and swollen upper 
 
 * Nature has given every passion its peculiar expression in the look, the 
 voice, and the gesture; and the whole frame, the look and the voice of a man, 
 are responsive to the passions of the mind, as the strings of the musical instru- 
 ment are to the fingers that touch them. For as the musical instrument has 
 its different keys, so every voice is sharp, full, quick, slow, loud, or low, and 
 each of these keys has different degrees: which beget other strains, such as 
 the smooth and the sharp, the contracted and lengthened, the continued and 
 interrupted, the broken ana divided, the tender, the shrill, and the swelling; 
 all these require to be managed with art and discretion. And the orator makes 
 use of them, as the painter does of his colors, to give variety to bis piece. — 
 Cicero de Orctore, lib. iii, c. 57.
 
 HENRY CLAY. 393 
 
 !ip, working quietly or in agony, as occasions require; his 
 eye, resting in calmness, or beaming with lively emotion, 
 or sparkling with strong feeling, or flashing with high 
 passion like the thunderbolts of heaven in the darkness 
 of the storm; his arms, now hanging easy by his side, now 
 outstretched, now U2:>lifted, now waving with grace, or 
 striking with the vehemence of passion; his finger point- 
 ing where his piercing thoughts direct; the easy, or quiet, 
 or violent movements of his whole frame; the bending of 
 his body forward, or sidewise, or backward; the down- 
 ward or upward look; the composed, or suffused, or im- 
 passioned countenance; the watchful, shifting glances, 
 taking in the field of vision, and making each one feel 
 that he is seen and individually addressed;, the theme; 
 himself; his audience; his fame; his position on the sub- 
 ject in debate or under discussion; his relation to the 
 assembly or body before him; the respect and esteem iu 
 which he is held by them; his dignity, courtesy, defer- 
 ence; his disinterestedness, his philanthropy, his patriot- 
 ism; — all these, and many others that might be named, 
 are among the attributes of Mr. Clay's eloquence, and 
 apj^ertain to that accumulation and concentration of in- 
 fluences, which have given his popular harangues, his 
 forensic efforts, his various public addresses, and his par- 
 liamentary speeches, so much power over the minds, the 
 hearts, and the actions of his countrymen." 
 
 In contemplating Mr. Clay in 1840, a reviewer writes: 
 *' He loves to move on the surface of our earth, and amid 
 the throng of fellow-men; or if at any time disposed to 
 climb, 'tis only to some sunny hill-top, that he may get a 
 wider view of the busy, happy scene below. He is the 
 orator of popular principles* and of common sense. His 
 
 * Rufus Choate, when speaking of the principles of Henry Clay, once re- 
 marked: " They rise like the peaks of a lofty mountain-range, from the table- 
 la;id of all illustrious life." 
 
 50
 
 394 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 views are expansive, rather than deep — his grasp of sub- 
 ject not so strong as it is broad. He needs no interpreter 
 to make more clear his meaning, nor any other index to 
 the kindness of his character, than his homely, but open 
 and expressive face. As a speaker, his style is Cicero- 
 nean; graceful and winning, rather than impetuous. Witty 
 and powerful at repartee, he is more skillful and ready in 
 the skirmish of debate than either of his great com 
 petitors."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 
 
 John C. Callioun was born in Abbeville District, South 
 Carolina, on the 18th of March, 1782. At the age of 
 thirteen, he commenced his academical course of instruc- 
 tion under the care of his brother-in-law, the Rev. Dr. 
 Waddel, who had opened an academy in Columbia county, 
 Georgia. Here, Mr. Calhoun became a diligent and per- 
 severing student. Here too, he acquired that fondness for 
 historical and metaphysical studies, which he always 
 cherished through life. Enjoying the benefit of a public 
 library, he occupied himself with the perusal of the best 
 and most substantial works, to the entire exclusion of 
 light literature. So closely did he apply himself to the 
 study of his favorite authors, that, in the course of four- 
 ten weeks, he read Rollin's Ancient History, Robertson's 
 Charles V, and America, Voltaire's Charles XH, the large 
 edition of Cook's Voyages, Brown's Essays, Locke on the 
 Human Understanding, and several other works.* 
 
 While Mr. Calhoun remained under the care of Dr. 
 Waddel, he prosecuted his studies with such untiring dili- 
 
 * Mr. Calhoun, when a lad, gave great promise of future eminence in the 
 intellectual world. Not many, even of the most illustrious in the highest 
 walks of scholarship, have had their metaphysical acumen so early developed. 
 There are, on record, however, a fe.w noble instances of the precociousness of 
 intellect, especially in those who, like Calhoun, have been renowned for their 
 uncommon genius. It is said that the celebrated Robert Hall perused Edwards 
 on Ihe Will, and Butler's Analogy with intense interest before he was nine
 
 396 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 gence and perseverance that lie well-nigh ruined his con- 
 stitution. 
 
 " So intense was his application that his eyes became 
 seriously affected, his countenance pallid, and his frame 
 emaciated. His mother, alarmed at the intelligence of his 
 health, sent for him home, where exercise and amusement 
 soon restored his strength, and he acquired a fondness for 
 hunting, fishing, and other country sports. Four years 
 passed away in these pursuits, and in attention to the busi- 
 ness of the farm while his elder brothers were absent, to 
 the entire neglect of his education. But the time was not 
 lost. Exercise and rural sports invigorated his frame, 
 while his labors on the farm gave him a taste for agricul- 
 ture, which he always retained, and in the pursuil of 
 which he found delightful occupation for his intervals of 
 leisure from public duties. 
 
 " About this time an incident occurred upon which 
 turned his after life. His second brother, James, who had 
 been placed at a counting-house in Charleston, reiurned 
 to spend the summer of 1800 at home. John had deter- 
 mined to become a jjlanter; but James, objecting to this, 
 strongly urged him to acquire a good education, and pur- 
 sue one of the learned jDrofessions. He rej^lied that he 
 was not averse to the course advised, but there were two 
 difficulties in the way: one was to obtain the assent of his 
 mother, without which he could not think of leaving her, 
 and the other was the want of means. His property was 
 small, and his resolution fixed: he would far rather be a 
 planter than a half-informed physician or lawyer. With 
 this determination, he could not ^ring his mind to select 
 either without ample preparation; but if the consent of 
 
 years old; and that the elder President Edwards, who resembled Calhoun in 
 the metaphysical cast and vigor of his mind, read Lock on the Understanding, 
 with uncommon delight, at the age of thirteen, manifesting at the same age, 
 extraordinary vigor of intellect.
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 397 
 
 their mother should be freely given, and he (James) 
 thought he could so manage his property as to keep him in 
 funds for seven years of study, preparatory to entering his 
 profession, he would leave home and commence his edu- 
 cation the next week. His mother and brother agreeing to 
 his conditions, he accordingly left home the next week 
 for Dr. Waddell's. This was in June, 1800, in the begin- 
 ning of his nineteenth year, at which time it may be said 
 he commenced his education, his tuition having been pre- 
 viously very imperfect, and confined to reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic, in an ordinary country school. His pro- 
 gress here was so rapid that in two years he entered the 
 junior class of Yale College, and graduated with dis- 
 tinction in 1804, just four years from the time he com- 
 menced his Latin grammar. He was highly esteemed by 
 Dr. Dwight, ttien the president of the college, although 
 they differed widely in politics, and at a time when politi- 
 cal feelings were intensely bitter. The doctor was an 
 ardent Federalist, and Mr. Calhoun was one of a very few, 
 in a class of more than seventy, who had the firmness 
 openly to avow and maintain the oj^inions of the Republi- 
 can party, and, among others, that the people were the 
 only legitimate source of political power. Dr. Dwight en- 
 tertained a different opinion. In a recitation during the 
 senior year, on the chapter on Politics in Paley's Moral 
 Philosophy, the doctor, with the intention of eliciting his 
 opinion, propounded to Mr. Calhoun the question, as to 
 the legitimate source of power. He did- not decline an 
 open and direct avowal of his opinion. A discussion en- 
 sued between them, which exhausted the time alotted for 
 the recitation, and in which the pupil maintained his 
 opinions with such vigor of argument and success, as to 
 elicit from his distinguished teacher the declaration, in 
 speaking of him to a friend, that the young man had 
 talent enough to be President of the United States, which
 
 3 9 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 he accompanied by a prediction that he would one day 
 attain that station."* 
 
 After he had completed his College course, Mr. Calhoun 
 entered the celebrated law school at Litchfield, Connecti- 
 cut. " At this school he acquired and maintained a high 
 reputation for ability and application, and in the debating 
 society formed among its members, he successiully culti- 
 vated his talents for extemporary speaking, and in this 
 respect is admitted to have excelled all his associates." 
 
 After leaving Litchfield he completed his legal studies 
 in the office of Mr. De Saussure, and of Mr. George Bowie, 
 of Abbeville, and was admitted to the bar in 1807. 
 
 In the very commencement of his forensic career he 
 took a place in the foremost rank of his profession, and 
 acquired a high reputation. But his attention was soon 
 turned to political affairs by an incident which occurred 
 about this time and which is worthy of notice here : 
 
 " While he was yet a student," says the memoir before 
 quoted, " after his return from Litchfield to Abbeville, an 
 incident occurred which agitated the whole Union, and 
 contributed to give to Mr. Calhoun's life, at that early 
 period, the political direction which it has ever since 
 kept — the attack of the English frigate Leopard on the 
 American frigate Chesapeake. It led to public meetings 
 all over the Union, in which resolutions were passed ex- 
 pressive of the indignation of the people, and their firm 
 resolve to stand by the government in whatever measure 
 it might think proper to adopt to redress the outrage. At 
 that called in his native district, he was appointed one of 
 the committee to prepare a report and resolutions to be 
 presented to a meeting to be convened to receive them on 
 an appointed day. Mr. Calhoun was requested by the com- 
 mittee to prepare them, which he did so much to their 
 
 * Biographical Sketch of Mr. Calhoun, 1843.
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 399 
 
 satisfaction, that he was appointed to address the meeting 
 on the occasion before the vote was taken on the resolu- 
 tions. The meeting was large, and it was the first time 
 he had ever appeared before the public. He acquitted 
 himself with such success that his name was presented as 
 a candidate for the State Legislature at the next election. 
 He was elected at the head of the ticket, and at a time 
 when the prejudice against lawyers was so strong in the 
 district that no one of the profession who had ofl'ered for 
 many years previously had ever succeeded. This was the 
 commencement of his political life, and the first evidence 
 he ever received of the confidence of the people of the 
 state — a confidence which has continued ever since, con- 
 stantly increasing, without interruption or reaction, for 
 the third of a century; and which, for its duration, uni- 
 versality, and strength, may be said to be without a parallel 
 in any other state, or in the case of any other public 
 man." 
 
 At the time of his election to the State Legislature of 
 South Carolina, Mr. Calhoun was but twenty-five years of 
 age. During the two sessions which he served in the Le- 
 gislature, he took an active part in the leading measures, 
 and was ranked among the ablest of the members. " Give 
 a man nerve," says an eloquent writer, " a presence, sway 
 over language, and, above all, enthusiasm, or the skill 
 to stimulate it; start him in the public arena with these 
 requisites, and ere many years, perhaps many months, have 
 passed, you will either see him in high station, or in a fair 
 way of rising to it."* 
 
 " In none of these essentials to success was Mr. Calhoun 
 wanting, as those who knew him will promply bear wit- 
 ness. He had nerve and intrepidity, enthusiasm, the air 
 of one born to command, and fine argumentative powers, 
 
 * Francis' Orators of the Age. , .
 
 400 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 aud his words were, like the verba ardentia of Cicero, cap- 
 tivating and convincing, melting all hearts and fairly 
 burning into every ear that listened." 
 
 But higher offices and higher honors awaited him. In 
 1811, Mr. Calhoun took his seat in Congress, having been 
 elected as a representative of his congressional district, by a 
 triumphant majority He was immediately appointed by the 
 speaker, Henry Clay, on the committe of Foreign Affairs. 
 His maiden speech, a report of which has been preserved, 
 was made on the 19th of December, in behalf of the war 
 resolutions. It was a reply to an able and eloquent speech 
 of Hon. John Randolph, one of the most sarcastic and 
 brilliant orators of his day. The subject was one of un- 
 usual interest. " Public excitement," says a historian, 
 " was strong, the house crowded, and the orator, rising 
 with the greatness of the occasion, delivered a speech, 
 which for lofty patriotism, cogent reasoning, and soul- 
 stirring eloquence, has seldom been equaled. It met un- 
 bounded aud universal applause. He was compared to 
 ' one of the old sages of the old Congress, with the graces 
 of youth,' and the ' young Carolinian ' was hailed as ' one 
 of the master spirits, who stamp their name upon the age 
 in which they live.' " 
 
 Mr. Calhoun gave the declaration of war against Great 
 Britain his earnest support. This war, as is well known, 
 had many able opponents in Congress. The opposition 
 raised the loudest cry against its prosecution, after the 
 brilliant triumphs of England over France, and the down- 
 fall of Bonaparte in 1813. They imagined that all was 
 hopeless, " now that the whole power of the British Em- 
 pire would be brouglit to bear against us." In his speech 
 on the Loan Bill, Mr. Calhoun replied to their arguments 
 in a most masterly manner. " None can read this speech, 
 even at this distance of time, without kindling under that 
 elevated tone of feeling, which wisdom, emanating from a
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 401 
 
 spirit lofty and self-possessed under the most trying cir- 
 cumstances, only can inspire. In order to show the justice 
 and expediency of the war, he took a historical view of 
 the maritime usurpations of Great Britain, from the cele- 
 brated order in council of 1756, to the time of the discus- 
 sion, and demonstrated that her aggressions were not acci- 
 dental, or dependent on peculiar circumstances, but were 
 the result of a fixed system of policy, intended to establish 
 her supremacy on the ocean. After giving a luminous 
 view of the origin and character of the wrongs we had 
 suffered from her, he clearly showed the flimsiness of the 
 pretext by which she sought to justify her conduct, as 
 well as that of the opposition to excuse her, and dwelt 
 upon the folly of hoping to obtain redress by sheathing 
 the sword or throwing ourselves on her justice." 
 
 This was one of the most eloquent and patriotic efforts 
 that Mr. Calhoun ever made. It animated the drooping 
 spirits of his countrymen in one of the most dismal periods 
 of the war. The following remarks — worthy of a Chat- 
 ham — afford a beautiful specimen of our orator's style, 
 and will ever remain as a fine example of his lofty, patri- 
 otic, and animating eloquence. 
 
 In the conclusion of his speech Mr. Calhoun spoke as 
 follows: "This country is left alone to support the rights 
 of neutrals. Perilous is the condition, and arduous the 
 task. We are not intimidated. We stand opposed to 
 British usurpation, and, by our spirit and efforts, have 
 done all in our power to save the last vestiges of neutral 
 rights. Yes, our embargoes, non-intercourse, non-impor- 
 tation, and, finally, war, are all manly exertions to preserve 
 the rights of this and other nations from the deadly grasp 
 of British maritime policy. But (say our opponents), 
 these efforts are lost, and our condition hopeless. If so, 
 it only remains for us to assume the garb of our condition. 
 
 Wc must submit, humbly submit, crave pardon and hug 
 51
 
 402 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 our chains. It is not wise to provoke where we can not 
 resist. But first let us be well assured of the hopelessness 
 of our state before we sink into submission. On what do 
 our opponents rest their despondent and slavish belief ? 
 On the recent events in Europe? I admit they are great, 
 and well calculated to impose on the imagination. Our 
 enemy never presented a more imposing exterior. His 
 fortune is at the flood. But I am admonished by universal 
 experience, that such prosperity is the most precarious of 
 human conditions. From the flood the tide dates its ebb. 
 From the msridian the sun commences its decline. Depend 
 upon it, there is more of sound philosophy than of fiction 
 in the fickleness which poets attribute to fortune. Pros- 
 perity has its weakness, adversity its strength. In many 
 respects our enemy has lost by those very changes which 
 seem so much in his favor. He can no more claim to bo 
 struggling for existence; no more to be fighting the battles 
 of the world in defense of the liberties of mankind. The 
 magic cry of ' French influence ' is lost. In this very hall 
 we are not strangers to that sound. Here, even here, the 
 cry of ' French influence,' that baseless fiction, that phan- 
 tom of faction now banished, often resounded. I rejoice 
 that the spell is broken by which it was attempted to bind 
 the spirit of this youthful nation. The minority can no 
 longer act under cover, but must come out and defend 
 their opposition on its own intrinsic merits. Our example 
 can scarcely fail to produce its effects on other nations 
 interested in the maintenance of maritime rights. But if, 
 unfortunately, we should be left alone to maintain the 
 contest, and if, which may God forbid, necessity should 
 compel us to yield for the present, yet our generous efforts 
 will not have been lost A mode of thinking and a tone 
 of sentiment have gone abroad which must stimulate to 
 future and more successful struggles. What could not be 
 effected with eight millions of people will be done with
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 403 
 
 twenty. The great cause will never he yielded — no, never j 
 never! Sir, I hear the future audibly announced in the 
 past — in the splendid victories over the Guerriere, Java, 
 and Macedonian. We, and all nations, by these victories, 
 are taught a lesson never to be forgotten. Opinion is 
 power. The charm of British naval invincibility is gone.''' 
 
 " Such was the animated strain by which Mr. Calhoun 
 roused the spirit of the government and country under a 
 complication of adverse circumstances calculated to over- 
 whelm the feeble and appal the stoutest. Never faltering, 
 never doubting, never despairing of the Republic, he was 
 at once the hope of the party and the beacon light to the 
 country." 
 
 After a brilliant congressional career of six years, Mr. 
 Calhoun was apj)oiuted to the office of Secretary of War, 
 by President Monroe, in December, 1817. In 1825, he was 
 elected Vice-President; and again in 1828; but before the 
 expiration of his last term, the troubles which threat- 
 ened the integrity of the Union, commenced in South 
 Carolina. At the call of his countrymen, Mr. Calhoun re- 
 signed the office of Vice-President, and was elected to 
 the Senate of the United States as the successor of Col. 
 Hayne, who, to meet the emergency, had been chosen 
 Governor of his native state. 
 
 On the passage of the famous Ordinance of Nullifica- 
 tion by the people of South Carolina, the excitement 
 throughout the Union became intense. The most fearful 
 apprehension of a civil war, and of the dissolution of the 
 Union, prevailed every where. 
 
 On the 10th of December, 1832, Gen. Jackson issued his 
 memorable proclamation against nullification. This was 
 followed by Gov. Hayne's counter-proclamation, " defend- 
 ing the position assumed by the state, and calling out 
 twelve thousand volunteers." 
 
 " The ' crisis ' evidently approached. The United States'
 
 404 OllATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 troops were concentrated, in some force, at Augusta and. 
 Charleston, seemingly for the purpose of repressing any 
 insurrectionary or rebellious movement in the State ; while 
 on the other side, equal j>reparation was made. The 
 militia in certain sections of the State were called out and 
 drilled, muskets were put in order, swords cleaned and 
 sharpened, and depots of provisions and supplies estab- 
 lished. Officers, natives of the State, in the army and 
 navy of the United States contemplated resigning their 
 commissions, and flying to the defense of the State. While 
 some foreign officers, then in the country, actually ten- 
 dered their services to the governor, against the forces of 
 the general government." 
 
 On the 4th of January, 1833, Mr. Calhoun took his seat 
 in the Senate of the Union, as the great champion of Nul- 
 lification. We have now arrived at the most important 
 period in his j)olitical life — a period when the whole 
 resources of his mighty intellect were put forth in defense 
 of his favorite doctrine. His most powerful oratorical 
 effort was made on the 15lh and 16th of February, 1832, 
 against a bill " further to provide for the Collection of 
 Duties on Imports." This was the celebrated Force Bill, 
 introduced by Mr. Wilkins of Pennsylvania; the object 
 of which was to enable the federal executive to enforce the 
 collection of the revenue in South Carolina. 
 
 The speech of Mr. Calhoun against the Force Bill, fur- 
 nishes us with the best specimens of his style. " On this, 
 the greatest occasion of his intellectual and political life, 
 lie bore himself proudly and gloriously. He appeared to 
 hold victory at his command, and yet determined, withal, 
 to show that he deserved it. There was a strengtli in his 
 argument that seemed the exhaustion of thought, and a 
 frequency of nervous diction most appropriate for its ex- 
 pression. The extreme mobility of his mind was felt every 
 where and immediate. It passed from declamation to in-
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 405 
 
 vective, and from invective to argument, rapidly, but not 
 confusedly, exciting and filling the imagination of all. 
 
 " In his tempestuous eloquence, he tore to pieces the 
 arguments of Iiis opponents, as the hurricane rends the 
 sails. Nothing withstood the ardor of his mind; no 
 sophistry, however ingenious, puzzled himj no rhetorical 
 ruse escaped his detection. He overthrew logic that 
 seemed impregnable, and demolished the most compact 
 theory, in a breath." 
 
 On the 15th of February Mr. Calhoun rose and addressed 
 the Senate as follows: " Mr. President, I know not which 
 is most objectionable, the provisions of the bill, or the 
 tem|)er in which its adoption has been urged. If the ex- 
 traordinary powers with which the bill proposes to clothe 
 the Executive, to the utter i^rostration of the Constitution 
 and the rights of the States, be calculated to impress our 
 minds with alarm at the rapid progress of despotism in 
 our country, the zeal with which every circumstance 
 calculated to misrepresent or exaggerate the conduct of 
 Carolina in the controversy is seized on, with a view to 
 excite hostility against her, but too j^lainly indicates the 
 deep decay of that brotherly feeling which once existed 
 between these States, and to which we are indebted for our 
 beautiful federal system,"* 
 
 We quote the following as the most eloquent and forci- 
 ble passages of this extraordinary speech: " Having made 
 these remarks, the great question is now presented, Has 
 Congress the right to pass this bill? which I will next 
 proceed to consider. The decision of this question in- 
 volves the inquiry into the provisions of the bill. What 
 are they? It puts at the disposal of the President the army 
 and navy, and the entire militia of the country j it enables 
 him, at his pleasure, to subject every man in the United 
 
 * A more ingenious, yet seemingly less studied exordium will scarcely be 
 found recorded in parliamentary annals. — March.
 
 406 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 States, not exempt from militia duty, to martial law: to 
 call him from his ordinary occupation to tlie field, and 
 under the penalty of fine and imprisonment, inflicted by 
 a court-martial, to compel him to imbrue his hand in his 
 brother's blood. There is no limitation on the power of 
 the sword, and that over the purse is equally without re- 
 straint j for, among the extraordinary features of the bill, 
 it contains no appropriation, which, under existing cir- 
 cumstances, is tantamount to an unlimited appropriation. 
 The President may, under its authority, incur any expendi- 
 ture, and pledge the national faith to support it. He may 
 create a new national debt, at the very moment of the 
 termination of the former — a debt of millions, to be paid 
 out of the proceeds of the labor of that section of the 
 country whose dearest constitutional rights this bill pros- 
 trates! Thus exhibiting the extraordinary spectacle, that 
 the very section of the country which is urging this 
 measure, and carrying the sword of devastation against 
 us, are, at the same time, incurring a new debt, to be paid 
 by those whose rights are violated; while those who vio- 
 late them are to receive the benefits, in the shape of boun- 
 ties and expenditures. 
 
 " And for what purpose is the unlimited control of the 
 purse and of the sword thus placed at the disposition of 
 the executive? To make war against one of the free and 
 sovereign members of this confederation, which the bill 
 proposes to deal with, not as a state, but as a collection of 
 banditti or outlaws. Thus exhibiting the impious spectacle 
 of this government, the creature of the states, making war 
 against the power to which it owes its existence. 
 
 " The bill violates the Constitution plainly and palpably, 
 in many of its provisions, by authorizing the President, at 
 his pleasure, to place the diiierent ports of this Union on 
 an unequal footing, contrary to that provision of the Con- 
 stitution which declares that no preference shall be given
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 407 
 
 to one port over another. It also violates the Constitution 
 by authorizing him, at his discretion, to impose cash 
 duties on one port, while credit is allowed in others; by 
 enabling the President to regulate commerce, a power 
 vested in Congress alone; and by drawing within the 
 jurisdiction of the United States courts powers never in- 
 tended to be conferred on them. As great as these objec- 
 tions are, they become insignificant in the provisions of a 
 bill which, by a single blow — by treating the states as a 
 mere lawless set of individuals — prostrates all the bar- 
 riers of the Constitution. I will pass over the minor con- 
 siderations, and proceed directly to the great point. This 
 bill proceeds on the ground that the entire sovereignty 
 of this country belongs to the American people, as form- 
 ing one great community, and regards the states as mere 
 fractions or counties, and not as an integral part of the 
 Union: having no more right to resist the encroachments 
 of a government than a county has to resist the authority 
 of a state; and treating such resistance as the lawless acts 
 of so many individuals, without possessing sovereignty or 
 political rights. It has been said that the bill declares 
 war against South Carolina. No. It decrees a massacre 
 of her citizens! War has something ennobling about it, 
 and, with all its horrors, brings into action the highest 
 qualities, intellectual and moral. It was, perhaps, in the 
 order of Providence that it should be permitted for that 
 very purpose. But this bill declares no war, except, in- 
 deed, it be that which savages wage — a war, not against 
 the community, but the citizens of whom that community 
 is composed. But I regard it as worse than savage war- 
 fare — as an attempt to take away life under the color of 
 law, without the trial by jury, or any other safeguard 
 which the Constitution has thrown around the life of the 
 citizen! It authorizes the President, or even his deputies, 
 when they may suppose the law to be violated, without the
 
 408 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 intervention of a court or jury, to kill without mercy or 
 discrimination. 
 
 " It has been said by the senator from Tennessee (Mr. 
 Grundy), to be a measure of peace! Yes, such peace as 
 the wolf gives to the lamb — the kite to the dove. Such 
 peace as Russia gives to Poland, or death to its victim! 
 A peace, by extinguishing the political existence of the 
 state, by awing her into an abandonment of the exercise 
 of every power which constitutes her a sovereign commu- 
 nity. It is to South Carolina a question of self-preserva- 
 tion; and I proclaim it, that should this bill pass, and an 
 attempt be made to enforce it, it will be resisted at every 
 hazard — even that of death itself. Death is not the 
 greatest calamity: there are others still more terrible to 
 the free and brave, and among them may be placed the 
 loss of liberty and honor. There are thousands of her 
 brave sons who, if need be, are prepared cheerfully to lay 
 down their lives in defense of the state, and the great 
 principles of constitutional liberty for which she is con- 
 Tending. God forbid that this should become necessary! 
 It never can be, unless this government is resolved to 
 bring the question to extremity, when her gallant sons 
 will stand prepared to perform the last duty — to die 
 nobly.* 
 
 " It is said that the bill ought to pass, because the law 
 must be enforced. The law must be enforced. The im- 
 perial edict must be executed. It is under such sophis- 
 try, couched in general terms, without looking to the 
 
 * The crowd was great in the Senate chamber during Mr. Calhoun's 
 speech; in the galleries nnore particularly. While he was uttering some of his 
 brilliant periods, in the very torrent, tempest, and whirlwind of his eloquence, 
 a man in the gallery suddenly confounded the audience by exclaiming, in a 
 shriek-like voice, " Mr. President I" and before the presiding officer could take 
 measures to repress the outrage, he continued, " Mr. President, something 
 must be done, or I shall be squeezed to death! ' It was some time before order 
 Could be restored, or the dignity of the Senate re-established. The ludicrous
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 409 
 
 limitations wliicli must ever exist in the practical exercise 
 of power, that the most cruel and despotic acts ever have 
 been covered. It was such sophistry as this that cast 
 Daniel into the lion's den, and the three Innocents into 
 the fiery furnace. Under the same sophistry the bloody 
 edicts of Nero and Caligula were executed. The law must 
 be enforced. Yes, the act imposing the ' tea tax must be 
 executed.' This was the very argument which impelled 
 Lord North and his administration in that mad career 
 which forever separated us from the British crown. Under 
 a similar sophistry, ' that religion must be protected ' how 
 many massacres have been perpetrated? and how many 
 martyrs have been tied to the stake? What! acting on 
 this vague abstraction, are you prepared to enforce a law 
 without considering whether it be just or unjust, consti- 
 tutional or unconstitutional? Will you collect money 
 when it is acknowledged that it is not wanted? He who 
 earns the money, who digs it from the earth with the sweat 
 of his brow, has a just title to it against the universe. No 
 one has a right to touch it without his consent except his 
 government, and it only to the extent of its legitimate 
 wants; to take more is robbery, and you propose by this 
 bill to enforce robbery by murder. Yes: to this result you 
 must come, by this miserable sophistry, this vague ab- 
 straction of enforcing the law, without a regard to the 
 fact whether the law be just or unjust, constitutional or 
 unconstitutional. 
 " In the same spirit, we are told that the Union must be 
 
 nature of the interruption affected the gravity of almost every person present, 
 even of grave Senators; of all, perhaps, but the orator, upon whose counte- 
 nance there passed not the shade of an emotion. The rigid muscles showed no 
 relaxation, but every feature remained unmoved and inflexible. He proceeded 
 as if naught had occurred of singularity, and his deep and earnest tones soon 
 recalled the minds of the audience to the subject they had for a moment for- 
 gotten. — March. 
 
 52
 
 4i0 OEATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 preserved, witliout regard to the means. And how is it 
 proposed to preserve the Union? By force! Does any 
 man in his senses believe that this beautiful structure — 
 this harmonious aggregate of states, produced by the joint 
 consent of all — can be preserved by force? Its very in- 
 troduction will be the certain destruction of this Federal 
 Union. No, no. You can not keep the states united in 
 their constitutional and federal bonds by force. Force 
 may, indeed, hold the parts together, but such union would 
 be the bond between master and slave: a union of exaction 
 on one side, and of unqualified obedience on the other. 
 That obedience which, we are told by the senator from 
 Pennsylvania [Mr. Wilkins] , is the Union ! Yes, exaction 
 on the side of the master; for this very bill is intended to 
 collect what can be no longer called taxes — the voluntary 
 contribution of a free people — but tribute — tribute to 
 be collected under the mouths of the cannon! Your cus- 
 tom-house is already transferred to a garrison, and that 
 garrison with its batteries turned, not against the enemy 
 of our country, but on subjects (I will not say citizens), on 
 whom you propose to levy contributions. Has reason fled 
 from our borders? Have we ceased to reflect? It is mad- 
 ness to suppose that the Union can be preserved by force. 
 I tell you plainly, that the bill, should it pass, can not be 
 enforced. It will prove only a blot upon your statute- 
 book, a reproach to the year, and a disgrace to the Ameri- 
 can Senate. I repeat that it will not be executed: it will 
 rouse the dormant spirit of the people, and open their 
 eyes to the approach of despotism. The country has sunk 
 into avarice and political corruption, from which nothing 
 can arouse it but some measure, on the part of the govern- 
 ment, of folly and madness, such as that now under con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " No little portion of the speech was directed to the 
 consideration of the philosophy of government, and the
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 411 
 
 history of free institutions, — subjects wMcli the orator 
 had studied to complete mastery, and was amply capable 
 to illustrate. He defended himself against the charge of 
 ' metaphysical reasoning.' As he understood the proper 
 use of the term, it meant the power of analysis and com- 
 bination. ' It is the power,' he said, ' which raises man 
 above the brute; which distinguishes his faculties from 
 mere sagacity, which he holds in common with inferior 
 animals. It is this power which has raised the astronomer 
 from being a meiS gazer at the stars to the high, intellect- 
 ual eminence of a Newton or La Place, and astronomy 
 itself, from a mere observation of insulated facts, into that 
 noble science which displays to our admiration the system 
 of the Universe. And shall this high power of the mind, 
 which has efiected such wonders when directed to the laws 
 which control the material world, be forever prohibited, 
 under a senseless cry of metaphysics, from being applied 
 to the mighty purpose of political science and legislation? 
 I hold them to be subject to laws as fixed as matter itself, 
 and to be as fit a subject for the application of the highest 
 intellectual power. Denunciation may indeed fall upon 
 the philosophical inquirer into these first principles as it 
 did upon Galileo and Bacon, when they first unfolded the 
 great discoveries which have immortalized their names j 
 but the time will come when truth will prevail in spite of 
 prejudice and denunciation, and when politics and legisla- 
 tion will be considered as much a science as astronomy 
 and chemistry.' " 
 
 After Mr. Calhoun had finished his great speech, Mr. 
 Webster immediately rose in reply.* 
 
 It is well known that the difficulties between the general 
 government and South Carolina were amicably settled by 
 the adoption of the Compromise Ac^ prepared and intro- 
 duced by Henry Clay. 
 
 * See the sketch of Webster's life for extracts from his speech.
 
 412 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 The position wliicli Mr. Callioun assumed in relation to 
 the Bank agitation during the presidency of Mr. Van 
 Bureu, exposed him to the censure of the Whig jDartj. In 
 1838, he was assailed on the floor of the Senate, by Mr. 
 Clay, who accused him with having changed his opinion, 
 abandoned his principles, and gone over to the enemy — to 
 the administration party. He also made an attack on his 
 intellectual faculties, charging him with being metaphysi- 
 cal, jDossessing too much genius and too little common 
 sense. Such charges were repelled by Mr. Calhoun in a 
 reply, from which the following is an extract. It is one of 
 the most eloquent and indignant retorts ever recorded in 
 the history of parliamentary oratory: 
 
 " But the senator [Mr. Clay] , did not confine his attack 
 to my conduct and motives in reference to the present 
 question. In his eagerness to weaken the cause I support, 
 by destroying confidence in me, he made an indiscriminate 
 attack on my intellectual faculties, which he characterized 
 as metaphysical, eccentric^ too much of genius, and too 
 little of common sense, and, of course, wanting a sound 
 and practical judgment. 
 
 " Mr. President, according to my opinion, there is nothing 
 of which those who are endowed with sui3erior mental 
 faculties ought to be more cautious, than to reproach those 
 with their deficiency to whom Providence has been less 
 liberal. The faculties of our mind are the immediate gift 
 of our Creator, for which we are no farther responsible 
 than for their proper cultivation, according to our oppor- 
 tunities, and their proper application to control and regu- 
 late our actions. Thus thinking, I trust I shall be the last 
 to assume superiority on my part, or reproach any one 
 with inferiority on his; but those who do not regard the 
 rule when applied to others, can not expect it to be ob- 
 served when applied to themselves The critic must expect
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 413 
 
 to he criticized, and he who points out the faults of others, to 
 have his own pointed out. 
 
 " I can not retort on the senator the charge of being 
 metaphysical. I can not acuse him of possessing the pow- 
 ers of analysis and generalization, those higher faculties of 
 the mind (called metaphysical by those who do not possess 
 them) which decompose and resolv^e into their elements 
 the complex masses of ideas that exist in the world of 
 mind, as chemistry does the bodies that surround us in the 
 material world; and without which those deep and hidden 
 causes which are in constant action, and jDroducing such 
 mighty changes in the condition of society, would operate 
 unseen and undetected. ' The absence of these higher 
 qualities of mind is conspicuous throughout the whole 
 course of the senator's public life. ' To this it may be 
 traced that he prefers the specious to the solid, and the 
 plausible to the true. To the same cause, combined with 
 an ardent temperament, it is owing that we ever find him 
 mounted on some popular and favorite measure, which he 
 whijjs along, cheered by the shouts of the multitude, and 
 never dismounts till he has rode it down. Thus, at one 
 time we find him mounted on the protective system, which 
 he rode down; at another, on internal improvement; and 
 now he is mounted on a bank, which will surely share the 
 same fate, unless those who are immediately interested 
 shall stop him in his headlong career. It is the fault of 
 his mind to seize on a few prominent and striking advan- 
 tages, arid to pursue them eagerly, without looking to con- 
 sequences. Thus, in the case of the protective system, he 
 was struck with the advantages of manufactures; and, 
 believing that high duties was the proper mode of pro- 
 tecting them, he pushed forward the system, without 
 seeing that he was enriching one portion of the country 
 at the expense of the other; corrupting the one and alien- 
 ating the other; and, finally, dividing the community into
 
 414 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 two great hostile interests, wliicli terminated in the over- 
 throw of the system itself. So, now, he looks only to a' 
 uniform currency, and a bank as a means of securing it, 
 without once reflecting how far the banking system has 
 progressed, and the difficulties that impede its farther pro- 
 gressj that banking and politics are running together, to 
 their mutual destruction j and that the only possible mode 
 of saving his favorite system is to separate it from the 
 government. 
 
 " To the defects of understanding which the senator 
 attributes to me, I make no rej)ly. It is for others, and 
 not me, to determine the portion of understanding which 
 it has pleased the Author of my being to bestow on me. 
 It is, however, fortunate for me, that the standard by 
 which I shall be judged is not the false, prejudiced, and, 
 as I have shown, unfounded opinion which the senator has 
 expressed, but my acts. They furnish materials, neither 
 few nor scant to form a just estimate of my mental facul- 
 ties. I have now been more than twenty-six years con- 
 tinuously in the service of this government, in various 
 stations, and have taken part in almost all the great ques- 
 tions which have agitated this country during this long 
 and important period. Throughout the whole I have 
 never followed events, but have taken my stand in advance, 
 openly and freely, avowing my opinions on all questions, 
 and leaving it to time and experience to condemn or ap- 
 prove my course. Thus acting, I have often, and on great 
 questions, separated from those with whom I usually acted; 
 and if I am really so defective in sound and practical 
 judgment as ihe senator represents, the proof, if to be 
 found any where, must be found in such instances, or 
 where I have acted on my sole responsibility. Now I ask. 
 In which of the many instances of the kind is such proof 
 to be found? It is not my intention to call to the recol- 
 lection of the Senate all such: but that y.ui, senators, may
 
 JOHx\ C. CALHOUN. 415 
 
 judge for yourselves, it is due in justice to myself, that I 
 should suggest a few of the most prominent, which at the 
 time were regarded as the senator now considers the pre- 
 sent; and then, as now, because, where duty is involved, 1 
 would not submit to party trammels." 
 
 After Mr. Calhoun had ably vindicated his political and 
 intellectual character, he concluded thus: " I have now, 
 senators, repelled the attacks on me. I have settled and 
 canceled the debt between me and my accuser. I have 
 not sought this controversy, nor have I shunned it when 
 forced on me. I have acted on the defensive, and if it is 
 to continue, which rests with the senator, I shall through- 
 out continue so to act. I know too w^ell the advantage of 
 my position to surrender it. The senator commenced the 
 controversy, and it is but right that he should be responsi 
 ble for the direction it shall hereafter take. Be his deter- 
 mination what it may, I stand prepared to meet him." 
 
 A writer in the April number of the Democratic Review 
 of 1838, alluding to this memorable debate, said: " Mr. 
 Calhoun has evidently taken Demosthenes for his model 
 as a si3eaker — or rather, I sui^pose, he has studied, while 
 young, his orations with great admiration, until they pro- 
 duced a decided impression upon his mind. His recent 
 speech in defense of himself against the attacks of Mr. 
 Clay, is precisely on the plan of the famous oration De 
 Corona, delivered by the great Athenian, in vindication 
 of himself from the elaborate and artful attacks of Mi>- 
 chines. While the one says: ' Athenians! to you I appeal, 
 my judges and my witnesses!' — the other says: ' In proof 
 of this, I appeal to you, senators, my witnesses and my 
 judges on this ocv^asion!' iEschines accused Demosthenes 
 of having rer :!ived a bribe from Philip and the latter re 
 torted by saying that the other had accused him of doing 
 what he himself had notoriously done. Mr. Clay says, that 
 Mr. Calhoun had gone over, and he left to time to disclose
 
 416 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 Lis motive. Mr. Calhoun retorts: 'Leave it to time to 
 disclose my motive for going over! I, wlio have changed 
 no 023inion, abandoned no principles, and deserted no 
 party 5 I who have stood still and maintained my ground 
 against every difficulty, to be told that it is left to time to 
 disclose my motive.' The imputation sinks to the earth, 
 with the groundless charge on which it rests. I stamp it, 
 with scorn, in the dust. 1 pick up the dart, which Jell h arm- 
 less at my feet. I hurl it back.* What the senator charges 
 on me unjustly, he has actually done.. He went over on a 
 memorable occasion,! and did not leave it to time to dis- 
 close his motive.' " 
 
 In March, 1843, Mr. Calhoun resigned his seat in the 
 Senate and retired to private life. On the death of Mr. 
 Upshur, Secretary of State, in 1844, he was invited by 
 President Tyler to succeed him at the head of the State 
 Department. He accepted the office, and discharged its 
 duties with fidelity. After the close of Mr. Tyler's Admin- 
 istration, Mr. Calhoun was returned to the Senate of the 
 United States, where he continued till his death. His last 
 great oratorical efforts were in defense of the institution 
 of Slav^ery. His views on this, and other political subjects, 
 
 * A friend who was present during the delivery of Mr Calhoun's speech in 
 reply to Mr. Clay, says thai, although he has heard many puhlic speakers, he 
 never witnessed such intense earnestness, such a display of impassioned elo- 
 quence, as characterized this great effort. The keen, fulgent eyes of the 
 speaker shot lightnings at every glance, his hair stood on end, large drops of 
 sweat rested on his brow, and every feature and muscle were alive with ani- 
 mation. And while this burning flood of indignation was rolling in a deluge 
 from his lips, the audience were so completely enchained that perfect silence 
 was preserved, and a pin might have been heard to drop in any part of the 
 chamber-, and when he declared, with a gesture suited to his words, that he 
 hurled back the dart which had been thrown against him, the eyes of all were 
 involuntarily turned to witness the efl^ect of the blow. — Jenkins. 
 
 t In allusion to the course of Mr. Clay, in the winter of 1825, with refer- 
 ence to the election of Mr, Adams, and his acceptance of the office of Secretary 
 of State.
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 417 
 
 are too well known to be mentioned here. It is not our 
 design to contemplate him as a slaveholder, or a politician, 
 but as an Orator and Statesman. 
 
 The last speech that Mr Calhoun prepared, was on the 
 slavery question. So infirm was his health that he was 
 unable to deliver it himself. It was read in the Senate, by 
 a political friend, on the 4th of March, 1850. The last 
 time that Mr. Calhoun's voice was heard in debate in the 
 Senate, was on the 13th of the same month. On the morn- 
 ing of the 31st of March, 1850, he expired, in the sixty- 
 ninth year of his age. His last words were, " I am per- 
 fectly comfortable." On the 1st of April, his death was 
 announced in the Senate by his colleague, Mr. Butler. On 
 that occasion Daniel Webster delivered the following elo- 
 quent tribute to the memory of the departed Statesman, 
 which contains a beautiful description of his character. 
 
 " I hope the Senate will indulge me in adding a very few 
 words to what has been said. My apology for this pre- 
 sumption is the very long acquaintance which has subsisted 
 between Mr. Calhoun and myself 'We were of the same 
 age. I made my first entrance into the House of Repre- 
 sentatives in May, 1813. I there found Mr. Calhoun. He 
 had already been a member of that body for two or three 
 years. I found him then an active and efficient member 
 of the House, taking a decided part, and exercising a 
 decided. influence, in all its deliberations. 
 
 " From that day to the day of his death, amidst all the 
 strifes of party and politics, there has subsisted between 
 us, always, and without interruption, a great degree of 
 personal kindness. 
 
 " Differing widely on many great questions respecting our 
 institutions and the government of the country, those dif- 
 ferences never interrupted our personal and social inter- 
 course. I have been present at most of the distinguished 
 
 instances of the exhibition of his talents in debate. I have 
 
 53
 
 413 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 always licard him with, pleasure, often with much instiuc- 
 tion, not unfrequently with the highest degree of admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " Mr. Calhoun was calculated to be a leader in whatso- 
 ever association of political friends he was thrown. He 
 was a man of undoubted genius and of commanding talent. 
 A]] the country and all the world admit that. His mind 
 was both perceptive and vigorous. It was clear, quick, and 
 strong. 
 
 " Sir, the eloquence of Mr. Calhoun, or the manner in 
 which he exhibited. his sentiments in public bodies, was 
 part of his intellectual character. It grew out of rhe qual- 
 ities of his mind. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, 
 concise, som '!;mes impassioned, still always severe. Re- 
 jecting ornament, not often seeking far for illustration, his 
 jwwer consisted in the plainness of his propositions, in the 
 closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and energy of 
 his manner. These are the qualities, as I think, which 
 have enabled him through such a long course of years to 
 speak often, and yet always command attention. His 
 demeanor as a Senator is known to us all, is appreciated, 
 venerated, by us all. No man was more respectful to 
 others; no man carried himself with greater decorum, no 
 man with superior dignity. I think there is not one of us, 
 when he last addressed us from his seat in the Senate, his 
 form still erect, with a voice by no means indicating such 
 a degree of physical weakness as did in fact i30ssess him, 
 with clear tones, and an impressive, and, I may say, an 
 imposing manner, who did not feel that he might imagino 
 that we saw before us a Senator of Rome, while Rome sii;- 
 vived. 
 
 / " Sir, I have not, in j>ublic nor in private life, known a 
 more assiduous person in the discharge of his appropriate 
 duties. I have known no man who wasted loss of life in 
 what is called recreation, or employed less of it in any
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. ^ 419 
 
 pursuits not connected with the immediate discharge of his 
 duty. He seemed to have no recreation but the pleasure 
 of conversation with his friends. Out of the chambers of 
 Congress, he was either devoting himself to the acquisition 
 of knowledge pertaining to the immediate subject of the 
 duty before him, or else he was indulging in those social 
 interviews in which he so much delighted. 
 
 " My honorable friend from Kentucky* has spoken in 
 just terms of his colloquial talents. They certainly were 
 singular and eminent. There was a charm in his conversa- 
 tion not often equaled. He delighted esj^ecially in con- 
 versation and intercourse with young men. I suppose that 
 there has been no man among us, who had more winning 
 manners, in such an intercourse and such .conversation, 
 with men comparatively young, than Mr. Calhoun. I 
 believe one great j^ower of his character, in general, was 
 his conversational talent. I believe it is that, as well as a 
 consciousness of his high integrity, and the greatest rever- 
 ence for his talents and ability, that has made him so 
 endeared an object to the people of the State to which he 
 belonged. 
 
 " Mr. President, he had the basis, the indispensable basis 
 of all high character; and that was unspotted integrity and 
 unimpeached honor. If he had aspirations, they were 
 high, and honorable, and noble. There was nothing grov- 
 eling, or low, or meanly selfish, that came near the head 
 or the heart of Mr. Calhoun. Firm in his purpose, perfectly 
 patriotic and honest, as I am sure he was, in the principles 
 that he espoused, and in the measures that he defended, 
 aside from the large regard for the species of distinction 
 that conducted him to eminent stations for the benefit of 
 the republic, I do not believe he had a selfish motive or 
 selfish feeling. However he may have differed from others 
 
 * Mr. Clay.
 
 420 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 of US in his political o2)inions or his political principles, 
 those principles and those opinions will now descend to 
 posterity under the sanction of a great name. He has 
 lived long enough, he has done enough, and he has done it 
 so well, so successfully and so honorably, as to connect him- 
 self for all time with the records of his country. He is now 
 a historical character. Those of us who have known him 
 here, will find that he has left upon our minds and our 
 hearts a strong and lasting impression of his person, his 
 character, and his public performances, which, while w^e 
 live, will never be obliterated. We shall hereafter, I am 
 sure, indulge in it as a grateful recollection, that we have 
 lived in his age, that we have been his contemporaries, that 
 we have seen him, and heard him and known him. We 
 shall delight to speak of him to those who are rising up to 
 fill our places. And, when the time shall come that we 
 ourselves must go, one after another, to our graves, we 
 shall carry with us a deep sense of his genius and charac- 
 ter, his honor and integrity, his amiable deportment in 
 private life, and the purity of his exalted patriotism." 
 
 On the 2d of April, the funeral services were performed. 
 The remains of the orator and statesman were conveyed 
 to Charleston, S. C, and temporarily deposited in a vault 
 in the cemetery of St. Philip's church. 
 
 The personal appearance of Mr. Calhoun was such as to 
 make a lasting impression upon the mind of the beholder. 
 His eye, like that of Chatham and Erskine, was his most 
 remarkable feature. In debate, its glare was calculated to 
 confound his antagonist, and impress his audience with 
 aw^e. No one, who ever saw Mr. Calhoun, will forget his 
 piercing looks or general appearance. His form was as ven- 
 erable, and his countenance as animated and intelligent as 
 those of the great English orators whom we have just named 
 We have the following sketch of Mr. Calhoun's personal 
 appearance, drawn by a distinguished foreigner, in 1846:
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 421 
 
 " His appearance is unlike that of other men. His per- 
 son is tall and thin, and I have always seen him dressed in 
 black. His action is quick, and both in society and in the 
 Senate very expressive. He speaks with the utmost ra- 
 pidity, as if no words could convey his speed of thought; 
 his face is all intellect, with eyes so dazzling, black, and 
 piercing that few can stand their gaze. Sixty-four yeais 
 have left their dark centre yet undimmed, and the sur- 
 rounding blue liquid and pure as the eye of childhood. 
 Sometimes their intense look is reading each thought of 
 your bosom; sometimes they are beaming with the inspira- 
 tions of his own. I have often beheld them suffused with 
 emotion, when the feelings of that ingenuous breast have 
 been excited by honest praise, or moved by sympathy. 
 Mr. Calhoun's general expression is that of unceasing men- 
 tal activity and great decision. His forehead is broad and 
 full; a deep furrow extends quite across, and above the 
 eyebrows there is considerable fullness. His hair is thick, 
 and long, and straight, and gray, and is thrown back from 
 his face; the eyebrows are very near the eye, and the cheeks 
 are denuded of flesh. The mouth is thin, and somewhat 
 inclined downwards at the corners; it is the proud and 
 melancholy lip of Dante. His complexion is bronzed by 
 the sun of the South." 
 
 Among parliamentary orators, Mr. Calhoun stands in the 
 foremost rank. In some respects it has been claimed that 
 he surpasses all other statesmen of modern times. His 
 forte lay in lucid analysis, intense earnestness, and ener- 
 getic delivery. His eloquence flowed forth like a vehment 
 torrent, moving and swaying the heart of his hearers. In 
 metaphysical reasoning and oratorical energj^ he excelled 
 '■ Mr. Calhoun," says a critic, in reviewing his character, 
 " is the acknowledged chief of metaphysical orators. His 
 raind is uncommonly acute, with a rare faculty of seeing 
 or making distinctioni Ills vcasoning is equally subtle
 
 422 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and plausible. He lores to revel and soar in the airy 
 regions of abstraction. He is tlie great Des Cartes of the 
 political academy. His theory is always curious — often 
 beautiful — sometimes sublime j but it is a theory of ' vor- 
 tices.' " 
 
 The character of South Carolina's greatest statesmen, is 
 thus beautifully sketched by his distinguished biographer, 
 Mr. John S. Jenkins. 
 
 " No one ever saw Mr. Calhoun for the first time without 
 being forcibly imi3ressed with the conviction of his mental 
 suiDeriority. There was that in his air and in his appear- 
 ance which carried with it the assurance that lie was no 
 common man. He had not Hyperion's curls, nor the front 
 of Jove. \Miss Martineau termed him, in her Travels in 
 America, the cast-iron man, ' who looked as if he had 
 never been born.' f In person he w' as tall and slender, and 
 his frame appeared gradually to become more and more 
 attenuated till he died. His features were harsh and angu- 
 lar in their outlines, presenting a combination of the 
 Greek and the Roman. A serene and almost stony calm 
 was habitual to them w^hen in repose, but when enlivened 
 in conversation or debate, their play was remarkable — 
 the lights were brought out into bolder relief, and the 
 shadows thrown into deeper shade. 
 
 " His countenance, when at rest, indicated abstraction 
 or a preoccupied air, and a stranger on approaching him 
 could scarcely avoid an emotion of fear; yet he could not 
 utter a word before the lire of genius blazed from his eye 
 and illuminated his expressive features. His individuality 
 was stamped upon his acute and intelligent face, and the 
 lines of character and thought were clearly and strongly 
 defined. His forehead was broad, tolerably high, and 
 compact, denoting the mass of brain behind it. Until he 
 had i^assed the grand climacteric, he wore his hair short 
 and brushed it back, so that it stood erect on the top of
 
 JOHX C. CALHOUN. 423 
 
 his head, like bristles on the angry boar, or ' quills upon 
 the fretful porcupine,' but toward the close of his life he 
 suffered it to grow long, and to fall in heavy masses over 
 his temples. But his eyes were his most striking features: 
 they were dark blue, large and brilliant; in repose glowing 
 with a steady light, in action fairly emitting flashes of 
 fire. 
 
 " His character was marked and decided, not prematurely 
 exhibiting its peculiarities, yet formed and perfected at an 
 early age. He was firm and prompt, manly and independ- 
 ent. His sentiments were noble and elevated, and every 
 thing mean or groveling was foreign to his nature. He 
 was easy in his manners, and aSable and dignified. His 
 attachments were warm and enduring; he did not manifest 
 his afi'ection w^ith enthusiastic fervor, but with deep ear- 
 nestness and sincerity. He was kind, generous and chari- 
 table; honest and frank; faithful to his friends, but some- 
 what inclined to be unforgiving toward his enemies. He 
 was attached to his principles and prejudices with equal 
 tenacity; and when he had adopted an opinion, so strong 
 was his reliance upon the correctness of his own judgment, 
 that he often doubted the wisdom and sincerity of those 
 who disagreed with him.j He never shrank from the per- 
 formance of any duty, however painful it might be, — that 
 it was a duty, was sufficient for him. He possessed pride 
 of character in no ordinary degree, and withal, not a little 
 vanity, which is said always to accompany true genius. 
 His devotion to the South was not sectional, so much as it 
 was the natural consequence of his views with reference 
 to the theory of the government; and his patriotism, like 
 his fame, was coextensive with the Union. 
 
 " In private Hfe he was fitted to be loved and respected. 
 Like Jeiferson, Madison, Marshall, and the younger Adams, 
 he was simple in his habits. When at home, he usually 
 rose at day-break, and, if the weather admitted, took a
 
 424 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 wajk over Ms farm. He breakfasted at half-past seven, 
 and then retired to his office, which stood near his dwell- 
 ing house, where he wrote till dinner time, or three 
 o'clock. After dinner time he read or conversed with his 
 family till sunset, when he took another walk. His tea 
 hour was eight o'clock; he then joined his family again, 
 and passed the time in conversation or reading till ten 
 o'clock, when he retired to rest As a citizen, he was 
 without blemish; he wronged no one; and there were no 
 ugly spots on his character to dim the brilliancy of his 
 public career. His social qualities were endearing, and 
 his conversational powers fascinating in the extreme. He 
 loved to talk with the young; he was especially animated 
 and instructive when engaged in conversation with them, 
 and scarcely ever failed to inspire a sincere attachment in 
 the breasts of those who listened to him. He frequently 
 corresponded, too, with young men, and almost the last 
 letter he wrote, was addressed to a protege attending a law 
 school in New York, and was replete with kind advice and 
 with expressions of friendly interest. 
 
 " He conversed, perhaps, with too great freedom. He 
 prided himself on being unreserved in the expression of 
 his opinions, and yet this was a fault in his character; for 
 in the transaction of business, and in deciding and acting 
 upon important pi>]itical questions, he was ordinarily 
 cautious and prudent. To this very frankness, therefore, 
 may be attributed, not the misrepresentations, but the 
 occasion of the misrepresentations, of which he was the 
 victim. He often complained that he was not understood, 
 but he sometimes forgot that those who would not compre- 
 hend him, might have been already prejudiced by some 
 remark of his, made at the wrong time, or in the wrong 
 presence. 
 
 " His disposition was reflective, and he spent hours at a 
 lime in earnest thought. But he was exceedingly foud of
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. ' 425 
 
 reading history and books of travel. Works on govern- 
 ment, on the rise and fall of empires, on the improvement 
 and decline of the races of mankind and the struggles and 
 contests of one with another, always attracted his atten- 
 tion. Indeed, his whole life was one of study and thought.* 
 
 But let us advert a little more fully to a few of the pro- 
 minent attributes of Mr. Calhoun's elo(|uence. Let us see 
 by what means he acquired such a sway over the human 
 passions. 
 
 1. He excelled in one of the highest characteristics of 
 true eloquence — earnestness of manner. In public ad- 
 dress, he made every one feel that his sentiments came 
 directly from his heart, and were the result of an honest 
 conviction of their truth. 
 
 This lofty earnestness enabled him to control the feel- 
 ings of his audience with perfect ease, and to rivet their 
 attention closely to the subject under discussion. His 
 eiirnest, noble and commanding appearance, when animated 
 in debate, made a lasting impression upon the mind.. 
 When he became deeply engaged with his subject, every 
 word, every look, every gesture was so eloquent that one 
 could not help being moved. Earnestness, then, was one 
 of the most striking marks of his oratory — one which in- 
 vested his eloquence with such unrivaled power and^ 
 superiority. 
 
 "Asa public speaker and debater, Mr. Calhoun was 
 energetic and impressive to the highest degree. Without 
 having much of the action of an orator, yet his compressed 
 lip — iiis erect and stern attitudes — his iron countenance, 
 and flashing eye — all made him, at times, eloquent in the 
 
 * We would refer our readers to the excellent "Life of John C. Calhoun," 
 by John S, Jenkins, Esq. — a work with which every admirer of the statesman 
 will he pleased. It is the best biography of Mr. Calhoun that has been pub- 
 lished. 
 
 64
 
 426 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 full sense of the word. No man could hear him witliout 
 feeling. His power was in clear analysis, suppressed 
 passion, and lofty earnestness." 
 
 2. Another distinguishing quality of Mr. Calhoun's 
 eloquence was the impetuosity and boldness with which 
 his language was uttered. His words came from his lips 
 like 'a rapid, swelling, sparkling stream. They often 
 rushed with such rapidity that he " seemed obliged to clip 
 them off to make room." He was never at a loss for ideas 
 or words to express them. He had great copiousness of 
 language: and he was bold in the utterance of his glowing 
 thoughts. The fearless tone with which he expressed his 
 lofty sentiments inspired one with awe. Every hearer, 
 swayed by a commanding eloquence, felt that he was in 
 the presence of a mighty mind. The speaker's words 
 came forth with a power that captivated and melted the 
 heart. When he became fully aroused on some great topic 
 his voice was elevated to a high pitch, and its loud, shrill 
 tones pierced through the whole frame. 
 
 3. Mr. Calhoun was actuated by a genial enthusiasm. 
 This was an element of great power in his oratory. On all 
 important occasions, he put his whole soul into his subject, 
 and poured forth a stream of eloquence which it was im- 
 possible to withstand. His enthusiasm bore him upward 
 and onward. He often soared into the regions of the 
 beautiful and sublime. Stimulated by the loftiest impulse, 
 he could not but touch the sensibilities and sway the judg- 
 ment of his hearers. " His mighty mind, when aroused in 
 debate, was quick with the thunder thought and lightning 
 will, rendering it as impossible for ordinary antagonists to 
 avert or resist his influence, as for an oak to clasp in its 
 arms the tempest that beats upon it." 
 
 4. As a metaphysical reasoner, Mr. Calhoun, perhaps, 
 towers above every other senatorial orator of ancient and
 
 JOHN C. CALHOUN. 427 
 
 modern times. Where do we read of a statesman that 
 could analyze with such minute discrimination a complex 
 and intricate subject? 
 
 Ou this point, read the following statement of one who 
 knew him well. It was made while the orator was living. 
 
 '•In one faculty of the mind, Mr. Calhoun surpasses any 
 public man of the age, and that is in analysis. His power 
 to examine a complex idea, and exhibit to you the simple 
 ideas of which it is composed, is wonderful. Hence it is 
 that he generalizes with such great 'rapidity, that ordinary 
 minds suppose, at first, he is theoretical; whereas, he has 
 only reached a point at a single bound, to which it 
 would require long hours of sober reflection for them to 
 attain. It is a mistake to suppose that he jumps at his 
 conclusions without due care and consideration. No man 
 examines with more care, or with more intense labor, every 
 question upon which his mind is called to act. The differ- 
 ence between him and others is, that he thinks constantly, 
 with little or no relaxation. Hence the restless activity 
 and energy of his mind always place him far in advance 
 of those around him. He has reached the summit, while 
 they have just commenced to ascend, and can not readily 
 discover the path which has lead him to his lofty and ex- 
 tensive view." 
 
 5. The style of Mr. Calhoun is worthy of great commend- 
 ation. It is distinguished for its simplicity, purity, clear- 
 ness, point and vigor. There is in it that which constantly 
 reminds one of Demosthenes. He seems to have chosen 
 the Athenian as his model — to have studied his orations 
 with great care. His words are well chosen; his sentences 
 are admirably constructed; like those of Demosthenes, 
 they are remarkable for their brevity. His style affords 
 clear evidence of early, and severe intellectual training in 
 the literature of ancient Greece. 
 
 "^
 
 42 S ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 The works of Mr. Calhoun are now before the public in 
 a permanent form.* There they will remain, an enduring 
 monument of their author's genius and fame. To these 
 volumes we must refer the reader, that he may justly ap- 
 preciate the character of Mr. Calhoun's style. He will also 
 find them valuable for the large fund of information on 
 political science, and the history of the country, which 
 they contain. 
 
 * They were lately collected, and are published in four handsome octavo 
 volumes by D. Appleton & Co., N. Y.
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 Daniel Webster was born in the town of Salisbury, New 
 Hampshire, on the 18th of January, 1782, the last year of 
 the revolutionary war. His father, Ebenezer Webster, was 
 a captain in that war^ he was at the battle of White Plains, 
 and in the thickest of the fight at Bennington. After the 
 war was ended, Captain Webster was elected a Representa- 
 tive from Salisbury to the Legislature of New Hampshire; 
 he was subsequently chosen State Senator, and finally 
 became one of the Judges of the Court of Common Pleas. 
 He died in 1806, at the age of sixty-seven. Ebenezer Web- 
 ster was twice married. His second wife, Abigail Eastman, 
 the mother of Daniel and Ezekiel Webster, was a woman of 
 superior mental endowments. 
 
 About the time of his second marriage. Captain Webster 
 built a frame-house near the old log cabin.* He planted 
 
 * In a speech delivered at Saratoga, in 1S40, Mr. Webster thus alludes to his 
 birth-place; " It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin; but my elder 
 brothers and sisters were born in a log cabin, raised amid the snow-drifts of 
 New Hampshire, at a period so early that, when the smoke first rose from its 
 rude chimney, and curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence 
 of a white man's habitation between it and the settlements on the rivers of Can- 
 ada. Its remains still exist. I make to it an annual visit. I carry my chil- 
 dren to it to teach tnem the hardships endured by the generations which have 
 gone before them. I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the kmdred ties, 
 the early affections, and the touching narratives and incidents, which mingle 
 with all I know of this primitive family abode. I weep to think tha; none of
 
 4130 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 an elm sapling and dug a well close to it. In this house 
 the great orator and statesman of New England was born. 
 " The house has long since disapjDeared, from roof to 
 foundation-stone. Nothing indicates its sometime exist- 
 ence but a cellar mostly filled up by stone and earth. But 
 the well still remains, with water as pure, as cool, as limpid, 
 as when first turned to the light; and will remain, in all 
 probability, for ages, to refresh hereafter the votaries of 
 genius, who make their pilgrimage hither to visit the cradle 
 of one of her greatest sons. The elm that shaded the boy 
 still flourishes in vigorous leaf, and may have an exist- 
 ence beyond its perishable nature. Like 
 
 " The witch-elm that guards St. Fillan's Spring," 
 
 it may live in story, long after leaf, and branch, and root 
 have disappeared forever." 
 
 Daniel Webster was brought up amidst the rude, majestio 
 scenery of the Old Granite State. Here his youthful mind 
 was impressed with scenes of grandeur and sublimity, the 
 remembrance of which was never erased from his heart; 
 and which doubtless had great influence over the develop- 
 ment of his moral and intellectual character. " Nearly all 
 the heroism, moral excellence, and ennobling literature of 
 the world, has been produced by those who, in infancy 
 and in youth were fostered by the inspiration of exalted 
 regions, where the turf is covered with a rude beauty, rocks 
 and wilderness are piled in bold and inimitable shapes of 
 savage grandeur, tinged with the hues of untold centuries, 
 
 those who inhabited it are now among the living ; and if ever I am ashamed of 
 it, or if I ever fail in affectionate veneration for HIM who reared and defended it 
 against savage violence and destruction, cherished all the domestic virtues 
 beneath its roof, and, through the fire and blood of seven years' revolutionary- 
 war, shrunk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and to 
 raise his children to a condition better than his own, may my name and the 
 name of my posterity be blotted forever from the memory of mankind 1"
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 431 
 
 and over which awe-inspiring storms often sweep witli 
 thunders in their train. This is the influence which more 
 than half created the Shakspeares, Miltons, Spencers, 
 Words worths, Scotts, Coleridges, Shelleys, Irvings, Coo- 
 pers, Bryants, and Websters of the world." 
 
 In that excellent classic production, entitled Daniel 
 Webster and his Contemporaries, by Mr. Charles W. 
 March, there is an incident of Mr. Webster's earliest youth 
 described so graphically, that we introduce it here: 
 
 "In Mr. Webster's earliest youth an occurrence took 
 place, which aSected him deeply at the time, and has 
 dwelt in his memory ever since. There was a sudden 
 and extraordinary rise in the Merimac river, in a spring 
 thaw. A deluge of rain for two whole days j^oured 
 down upon the houses. A mass of mingled water and 
 snow rushed madly from the hills, inundating the fields 
 far and wide. The highways were broken up, and ren- 
 dered undistinguishable. There was no way for neighbors 
 to interchange visits of condolence or necessity, save by 
 boats, which came up to the very door-steps of the houses. 
 
 " Many things of value were swept away, even things of 
 bulk. A large barn, full fifty feet by twenty, crowded with 
 hay and grain, sheep, chickens and turkeys, sailed majes- 
 tically down the river, before the eyes of the astonished 
 inhabitants; who, no little frightened, got ready to fly to 
 the mountains, or construct another Ark. The roar of 
 waters, as they rushed over precij ices, casting the foam 
 and spray far above, the crashing of the forest-trees as the 
 storm broke through them, the immense sea everywhere in 
 range of the eye, the sublimity, even danger of the scene, 
 made an indelible impression upon the mind of the youth- 
 ful observer. 
 
 " Occurrences and scenes like these excite the imagina- 
 tive faculty, furnish material for proper thought, call inte
 
 432 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 existence new emotions, give decision to character, and a 
 purpose to action." 
 
 When he had attained his fourteenth year, Mr. Webster 
 was taken by his beloved father to the Philip's Academy, 
 Exeter, and placed under the excellent Dr. Benjamin 
 Abbot for tuition. 
 
 Long after, Mr. Webster, in describing a few simple 
 incidentwS and struggles of his youth, refers to the com- 
 mencement of his academical studies — the circumstances 
 which resulted in his going to Philip's Academy — in a 
 manner so touching that we are tempted to repeat his 
 words here: 
 
 "My Father, Ebenezer Webster! — born at Kingston, in 
 the lower part of the State, in 1739 — the handsomest man 
 I ever saw, except my brother Ezekiel, who appeared to 
 me, and so does he now seem to me, the very finest human 
 form that ever I laid eyes on. I saw him in his coffin — a 
 white forehead — a tinged cheek — a complexion as clear 
 as heavenly light! But where am I straying? 
 
 " The grave has closed upon him, as it has on all my 
 brothers and sisters. We shall soon be all together. But 
 this is melancholy — and Heave it. Dear, dear kindred 
 blood, how I love you all! 
 
 " This fair field is before me — I could see a lamb on 
 d-ny part of it. I have plowed it, and raked it, and hoed 
 it, but I never mowed it Somehow, I could never learn 
 to hang a scythe!* I had not wit enough. My brother 
 Joe used to say that my father sent me to college in order 
 
 * On one occasion, Daniel was put to mowing. He made bad work of it. 
 His scythe was sometimes in the ground, and sometimes over the fops of all 
 the grass. He complained to his father that his scythe was not hung right. 
 Various attempts were made to hang it better, but with no success. His father 
 told him, at length, he might hang it to suit himself, and he therefore hung it 
 upon a tree, and said, " There, that's right." His father laughed, and told 
 him to let it hang there. — Private Life of Webster.
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 433 
 
 to make me equal to the rest of his children! On a hot day 
 in July — it must have been one of the last years of Wash- 
 ington's administration — I was making hay, with my 
 father, just where I now see a remaining elm tree, about the 
 middle of the afternoon. The Hon. Abiel Foster, M. C, 
 who lived in Canterbury, six miles ofi', called at the house, 
 and came into the field to see my father. He was a worthy 
 man, college-learned, and had been a minister, but was 
 not a person of any considerable natural powers. My 
 father was his friend and supporter. He talked a while in 
 the field, and went on his way. When he was gone, my 
 father called me to him, and we sat down beneath the elm, 
 on a hay-cock. He said, ' My son, that is a worthy man, 
 he is a member of Congress; he goes to Philadelphia, and 
 gets six dollars a day, while I toil here. It is because he 
 had an education, which I never had. If I had had his 
 early education, I should have been in Philadelphia in his 
 place. I came near it, as it was; but I missed it, and now 
 I must work here.' ' My dear father,' said I, ' you shall 
 not work; my brother and I will >vork for you, and wear 
 our hands out, and you shall rest — and I remember to 
 have cried, and I cry now at the recollection. ' My child,' 
 said he, ' it is of no importance to me; I now live but for 
 my children; I could not give your elder brother the 
 advantages of knowledge, but I can do something for you. 
 Exert yourself — improve your opportunities — learn — 
 learn — and when I am gone, you will not need to go 
 through the hardships which I have undergone, and whicli 
 have made me an old man before my time.' The next May 
 he took me to Exeter, to the Philip's Exeter Academy — 
 placed me under the tuition of its excellent preceptor. Dr. 
 Benjamin Abbott, still living." 
 
 While at this academy, the youthful Webster mastered, 
 in a few months, the principles and philosophy of the 
 
 English grammar, and made respectable progress in his 
 55
 
 434 ORATORS AND STATESMFN. 
 
 other studies. His first Latin lessons were recited to the 
 celebrated Joseph Stevens Buckminster, who was at that 
 time a tutor in the academy. Here, the future states- 
 man was first called upon to speak in public on the stage; 
 and it surely affords some encouragement to the diffident 
 young student who is just commencing an oratorical 
 career in the academy or college, to learn that Daniel 
 Webster " evinced in his boyhood the strongest antipathy 
 to public declamation " — that in his first effort he became 
 embarrassed, and even burst into tears. 
 
 Mr. Webster speaks of his earliest oratorical efforts at 
 this institution in the following manner: " I believe I 
 made tolerable progress in most branches, which I attended 
 to, while in this school; but there was one thing I could 
 not do. I could not make a declamation. I could not 
 speak before the school. The kind and excellent Buck- 
 minster sought especially to persuade me to perform the 
 exercise of declamation, like other boys, but I could not 
 do it. Many a piece did I commit to memory, and recite 
 and rehearse in my own room, over and over again; yet 
 when the day came, when the school collected to hear 
 declamations, when my name was called, and I saw all 
 eyes turned to my seat, I could not raise myself from it. 
 Sometimes the instructors frowned; sometimes they smiled, 
 Mr. Buckminster always pressed and entrealed, most will- 
 ingly, that I would venture. But I never could command 
 sufficient resolution." 
 
 After remaining only a few months at Exeter Academy, 
 Mr. Webster, in February, 1797, was placed under the Rev. 
 Samuel Woods, at Boscawen, where he completed his pre- 
 paration for College. While he remained under the in- 
 struction of Mr. Woods, he applied himself with great 
 ardop to the study of the Latin classics. Cicero was, to 
 this time, and ever afterwards, his favorite author. Like 
 Fisher Ames, Mr. Webster was always an enthusiastic ad-
 
 PANIEL WEBSTER. 435 
 
 mirer of the immortal orator of Rome. Of all the Latin 
 authors which he read, Cicero was the most familiarly 
 known to him. " It may seem a little strange, indeed, that 
 with all his early, eager and constant study of Rome's 
 greatest orator, he should not have imitated unconsciously 
 his manner of expression or thought. He much more re- 
 sembles Demosthenes, in vigor and terseness of expression, 
 and in copious vehemence; whose works, in the mean- 
 while, he never so completely mastered." 
 
 Mr. Webster also faithfully studied Virgil, reading one 
 hundred verses at a lesson.* 
 
 In the summer of 1797, Mr. Webster entered Dartmouth 
 College. Besides pursuing the prescribed studies with 
 diligence, he devoted a portion of his time to general 
 reading, especially to the study of English literature, his- 
 tory and eloquence. For the development of his meta- 
 physical acumen, he perused, among other books, Watts 
 on the Mind, and Locke on the Understanding; and in 
 order to improve his style of speaking, he read Burke, 
 Pitt, Ames, Hamilton, and othei eminent orators. 
 
 While in College, Mr. Webster pronounced an oration 
 
 * The following incident, which occurred while Mr. Webster was unijer the 
 instruction of Dr. Woods, is worthy of being nariated here. On one occa- 
 sion the reverend tutor thought proper to give his scholar Daniel a scolding for 
 spending too much time upon the hills and along the stream, hunting and fish- 
 ing, but still complimented him for his smartness. The task assigned to him 
 for his next recitation was one hundred lines of Virgil; and as he knew ihat 
 his master had an engagement on the following morning, an idea occurred to 
 him, and he spent the entire night poring over his books. The recitation hour 
 finally arrived, and the scholar acquitted himself of his nundred lines and received 
 the tutor's approbation. "' But I have a few more lines that I can recite," said 
 the boy Daniel. " Well, let us have them." replied the doctor; and forthwith 
 the boy reeled off another hundred lines. " Very remarkable,"' said the doctor; 
 " you are indeed a smart boy." But I have another," said the scholar, " and five 
 hundred of them if you please." The doctor was, of course, astonished, but, as 
 he bethought him of his engagement, he begged to be excused, and added, '• You 
 may have the whole day, Dan, for pigeon shooting." — Lanman.
 
 43G ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 at Hanover, N. H., on the 4tli of July, 1800. This speech — • 
 the first published oration of the American statesman — is 
 not embodied in any edition of his published works, but 
 may be found in the library of the Antiquarian Society, 
 and also in that excellent work, The Hundred Boston 
 Orators, by James S. Loring. It was published in 1800, 
 with the following title-page; "An Oration, pronounced 
 at Hanover, N. H., the 4th of July, 1800, being the twenty- 
 fourth Anniversary of American Independence. By Dan- 
 iel Webster, Member of the Junior Class, Dartmouth 
 College. 
 
 ' Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our souls, 
 And make our lives in thy possession happy, 
 Or our deaths glorious in thy just defense.' — Addison." 
 
 This oration is a remarkable production for a youth of 
 eighteen; and is pervaded by the same spirit of Liberty, 
 that characterizes and ennobles the orator's later efforts in 
 the forum, in the halls of Congress, and at public gather- 
 ings. We select a portion of the speech as affording the 
 best specimen of his style at this early period of his life. 
 Even then he was well acquainted with the history of his 
 country, and the origin of our Constitution. He spoke of 
 Bunker Hill, of Warren, of Washington, and of the sur- 
 viving Revolutionary soldiers present, in the same patriotic 
 strain with which he subsequently electrified tens of 
 thousands of his countrymen on that sacred scene of 
 American glory: 
 
 " Recollection," said he, " can still pain us with the 
 spiral flames of burning Charleston, the agonizing groans 
 of aged parents, the shrieks of widows, orphans and in- 
 fants! Indelibly impressed on our memories still live the 
 dismal scenes of Bunker's awful mount, — the grand theater 
 of New England bravery, where slaughter stalked grimly 
 triumphant,— where relentless Britain saw ner soldiers, 
 the unhappy instruments of despotism, fallen in heaps
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 437 
 
 beneath the nervous arm of injured freemen! There the; 
 great Warren fought; and there, alas! he fell. Valuinc 
 lile only as it enabled him to serve his country, he freely 
 resigned himself a willing martyr in the cause of liberty , 
 and now lies encircled in the arms of glory ! 
 
 ' Peace to the patriot's shades! Let no rude blist 
 Disturb the willow that nods o'er his tomb I 
 Let orphan tears bedew his sacred urn, 
 And Fame's loud trump proclaim the hero's name 
 Far as the circuit of the spheres extend!' 
 
 " That was the hour when heroism was proved — when 
 the souls of men were tried. It was then, ye venerable 
 PATRIOTS [speaking to the Revolutionary soMiers present], 
 it was then you stretched the indignant arm, and unitedly 
 swore to be free! Despising such toys as subjugated em- 
 pires, you then knew no middle fortune between liberty 
 and death. Firmly relying in the patronage of Heaven, 
 unwarped in the resolution you had taken, you then, un- 
 daunted, met, engaged, defeated the gigantic power of 
 Britain, and rose triumphant over the ruins of your ene- 
 mies. Trenton, Princeton, Bennington and Saratoga, were 
 the successive theaters of your victories, and the utmost 
 bounds of creation are the limits to your fame. The 
 sacred fire of freedom, then enkindled in your breasts, 
 shall be perpetuated through the long descent of future 
 ages, and burn, with undiminished fervor, in the bosoms 
 of millions yet unborn. 
 
 " Wooster, Montgomery and Mercer, fell bravely in 
 battle, and their ashes are now entombed on the fields 
 that witnessed their valor. Let their exertions in our 
 country's cause be remembered while liberty has an advo- 
 cate or gratitude has place in the human heart! Greene, 
 the immortal hero of the Carolinas, has since gone down 
 to the grave loaded with honors, and high in the estima- 
 tion of his countrymen. The courageous Putnam has long
 
 438 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 slept with his fathers; and Sullivan and Cilley, New 
 Hampshire's veteran sons, are no more numbered with the 
 living. 
 
 *' With hearts penetrated by unutterable grief, we are at 
 length constrained to ask, Where is our Washington? 
 Where the hero who led us to victory? — where the man 
 wh ) gave us freedom? Where is he who headed our 
 feeble army when destruction threatened us, who came 
 upon our enemies like the storms of winter, and scattered 
 them like leaves before the Borean blast? Where. my 
 country, is thy political savior? Wliere, humanity, thy 
 favorite son? The solemnity of this assembly, the lamen- 
 tations of the American people, will answer, ' Alas! he is 
 now no more — tJie mighty has fallen !' 
 
 " Yes, Americans, your Washington is gone! He is now 
 consigned to dust, and ' sleeps in dull, cold marble.' The 
 man who never felt a wound but when it j^ierced his 
 country, who never groaned but when fair Freedom bled, 
 is now forever silent! Wrapped in the shroud of death, 
 the dark dominions of the grave long since received him, 
 and he rests in undisturbed repose. Vain were the at- 
 tempt to express our loss, — vain the attempt to describe 
 the feelings of our souls. Though months have rolled 
 away since he left this terrestrial orb and sought the shining 
 worlds on high, yet the sad event is still remembered with 
 increased sorrow. The hoary-headed partaker of 1776 
 still tells the mournful story to the listening infant, till 
 the loss of his country touches his heart, and patriotism 
 fires his breast. The aged matron still laments the loss of 
 the man beneath whose banners her husband has fought, 
 or her son has fallen. At the name of Washington the 
 sympathetic tear still glistens in the eye of every youthful 
 hero, nor does the tender sigh yet cease to heave in the 
 fair bosom of Columbia's daughters.
 
 DAJ>JIEL WEBSTER. 439 
 
 Farewell, O Washington! a long farewell! 
 Thy country's tears embalm thy memory. 
 Thy virtues challenge immortality ! 
 Impressed on grateful hearts, thy name shall live 
 Till dissolution's deluge drowa the world." 
 
 In August, 1801, Mr. Webster completed his college 
 course and received his degree.* He immediately entered 
 the office of Thomas W. Thompson, as a student of the 
 law. He remained with Mr. Thompson until the next Jan- 
 uary, when he took charge of an academy at Fryburg, in 
 Maine. Being too poor to purchase books, he there bor- 
 rowed and read, for the first time, Blackstone's Commen- 
 taries. It was then that he committed to memory the 
 celebrated speech of Mr. Ames on the British Treaty. In 
 after life he was heard to say, that few things moved him 
 more than the perusal and reperusal of this speech. 
 
 In September, 1802, he returned to Mr. Thompson's 
 office, and resumed the study of law. He also occupied 
 himself with the Latin classics, reading Sallust, Caesar, 
 and Horace. He finished his profsssional studies with the 
 Hon. Christopher Gore, of Boston, and was admitted to 
 the bar in 1805. He began the practice of his profession 
 at Boscawen, whence he removed to Portsmouth, New 
 Hampshire, in 1S07. Here he formed an acquaintance 
 
 * Mr. Webster went through college in a manner that was highly creditablj 
 to himself and gratifying to his friends. He graduated at Dartmouth in ISOl, 
 and though it was universally believed that he ought to have received, and 
 would receive the valedictory, that honor was not conferred upon him, but 
 upon one whose name has since passed into forgetfulness The ill-judging 
 faculty of the college, however, bestowed upon him a diploma, but instead of 
 pleasing, this commonplace compliment only disgusted him, and at the conclu- 
 sion of the commencement exercises the disappointed youth asked a number of 
 his classmates to accompany him to the green behind the college, where, in 
 their presence, he deliberately tore up his honorary document, and threw it to 
 the winds, exclaiming, "My industry may make me a great man, but this 
 miserable parchment can not!" and immediately mounting his horse, departed 
 for home. — Private Life of Daniel Webstc^ p. 29.
 
 440 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 with Samuel Dexter, Joseph Story, Jeremiah Mason, and 
 other distinguished jurists. 
 
 At the age of thirty, Mr. Webster was chosen Repre- 
 sentative to Congress, and took his seat at the extra ses- 
 sion in May, 1813. 
 
 On the 10th of June, of the same year, he delivered 
 his maiden speech on the Berlin and Milan decrees. 
 It took the House by surprise, and at once placed its 
 author in the foremost rank of parliamentary speakers; 
 with Clay, Calhoun, Lowndes, Pickering, Forsyth, and 
 other distinguished leaders in Congress. The effect of 
 this speech upon the House is accurately described by an 
 eye-witness: "No member before ever riveted the atten- 
 tion of the House so closely, in his first speech. Members 
 left their seats where they could not see the speaker, face 
 to face, and sat down, or stood on the floor, fronting him. 
 All listened attentively and silently, during the whole 
 speech; and when it was over, many went up and warmly 
 congratulated the orator; among whom, were some, not 
 the most niggard of their compliments, who most dissented 
 from the views he had expressed." 
 
 Chief Justice Marshall, writing to a friend sometime 
 after the delivery of this speech, said: "At the time 
 when this speech was delivered, I did not know Mr. Web- 
 ster, but I was so much struck with it, that I did not hesi- 
 tate then to state, that Mr. Webster was a very able man, 
 and would become one of the very first statesmen in 
 America, and perhaps the very first;" and the eminent Mr 
 Lowndes even then remaPked of Mr. Webster, that the 
 North had not his equal, nor the South his superior. 
 
 Mr. Webster was re-elected to Congress from New Hamp- 
 shire, in August, 1814, and in August, 1816, removed to 
 Boston, where he devoted himself to the practice of law. 
 
 In the celebrated Dcirtmouth College cause, which he 
 argued at Washington, in 1818, Mr. Webster established
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 441. 
 
 his reputation as a lawyer tlirougliout the coimtry. The 
 vast amouut of legal knowledge, and the commanding, 
 overpowering eloquence which he displayed on that occa- 
 sion, placed him in the front rank of American jurists and 
 orators. His argument in behalf of Dartmouth College 
 was one of the grandest forensic efforts ever made. Its 
 effects upon the audience were prodigious. The con- 
 cluding remarks of his argument were uttered in tones of 
 the deepest pathos which thrilled his hearers. When he 
 ceased to speak, there was a death-like stillness through- 
 out the court-room, which lasted for some moments. It is 
 said that the dignified Chief Justice Marshall was over- 
 come by this manly burst of eloquence — that his furrowed 
 cheeks trembled with emotion, and that his eyes were 
 suffused with tears. " Well, as if of yesterday," lately 
 remarked Rufus Choate, " I remember how it was written 
 home from Washington, that ' Mr. Webster closed a legal 
 argument of great power by a peroration which charmed 
 and melted his audience.' " 
 
 The actual peroration of this celebrated argument is not 
 contained in the published report of the speecli, but is 
 furnished with a graphic description of the scene, by 
 Prof. Goodrich, of Yale College, who went to Washington, 
 as he states, chiefly for the sake of hearing Mr. Webster. 
 
 The Professor's words are quoted by the Hon. Rufus 
 Choate, in his magnificent eulogy on Daniel Webster, pro- 
 nounced at Dartmouth College, July 27, 1853. To this 
 eloquent discourse* we refer the reader who wishes to 
 read Mr. Goodrich's description, as well as to see the in- 
 tellectual and oratorical character of Mr Webster beauti- 
 
 * The Hon. Edward Everett, in his remarks at the Plymouth Festival, a few 
 (lays after the delivery of Mr. Choate's Eulogy on Daniel Webster, thus 
 alludes to this masterly effort: " Our matchless Choate who has just electri- 
 fied the land with a burst of eloouence not easily paralleled in the line of 
 time." 
 
 5e
 
 14 2 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 fully and glowingly described by another of New England's 
 greatest jurists and orators. 
 
 On the 22d of December, 1820, just tw^o hundred years 
 from that eventful hour when our Pilgrim Fathers first 
 set foot on Plymouth rock, Mr. Webster, invited by the 
 Pilgrim Society, delivered a discourse at Plymouth, com- 
 memorative of that memorable landing — oT the first set- 
 tlement of New England. It was an occasion of the 
 highest interest; and an im onse concourse of people 
 assembled at Plymouth to unite in the celebration. Thou- 
 sands were attracted to the consecrated spot merely by the 
 fame of the orator. It was one of the proudest days that 
 the noble descendants of the Pilgrims — those gallant, 
 enterprising sons of New England — ever beheld. 
 
 The address which Mr. Webster made on that occasion 
 was one of the greatest of his literary efforts, and pro- 
 duced the most powerful effect on the minds of the thou- 
 sands who were so fortunate as to hear it. 
 
 When the orator rose to address his vast audience, he 
 commenced by saying: " Let us rejoice that we behold this 
 day. Let us be thankful that we have lived to see the 
 bright and happy breaking of the auspicious morn, which 
 commences the third century of the history of New 
 England. Auspicious, indeed, — bringing a happiness be- 
 yond the common allotment of Providence to men, — full 
 of present joy, and gilding with bright beams the pros- 
 pect of futurity, is the dawn that awakens us to the com- 
 memoration of the landing of the Pilgrims. 
 
 " Living at an epoch wliich naturally marks the progress 
 of the history of our native land, we have come hither to 
 celebrate the great event with which that history com- 
 menced. For ever honored be this, the place of our 
 father's refuge ! For ever remembered the day which saw 
 them, weary and distressed, broken in every thing br.t 
 spirit, poor in all but faith aiid courage, at last secure
 
 TAXIEL WEBSTER. 443 
 
 from the dangers of wintry seas, and impressing this shore 
 with the first footsteps of civilized man!" 
 
 This cek'brated production contains many heart-stirring 
 passages. We select one — hardly excelled in the history 
 of eloquence — exhibiting in the highest degree the powers 
 of the orator's imagination: 
 
 " There is a local feeling connected with this occasion, 
 too strong to be resisted; a sort of genius of the place, 
 which inspires and awes us. We feel that we are on the spot 
 where the first scene of our history was laid; where the 
 hearths and altars of New England were first placed; 
 where Christianity, and civilization, and letters made their 
 first lodgment, in a vast extent of country, covered with 
 a wilderness, and peopled by roving barbarians. We are 
 here, at the season of tlie year at which th-* event took 
 place. The imagination irresistibly and rapidly draws 
 arounds us the principal features and the leading charac- 
 ters in the original scene. We cast our eves abroad on 
 tlie ocean, and we see where the little bark, with the in- 
 teresting group upon its deck, made its slow progress to 
 the shore. We look around us, and behold the hills and 
 j)romontories where the anxious eyes of our fathers first 
 saw the places of habitation and of rest. We feel the 
 cold which benumbed, and listen to the winds which 
 pierced them. Beneath us is the rock on which New 
 England received the feet of the Pilgrims. We seem even 
 to behold them, as they struggle with the elements, and, 
 with toilsome efibrts, gain the shore. We listen to the 
 chiefs in council; we see the unexampled exhibition of 
 female fortitude and resignation; we hear the whisperings 
 of youthful impatience, and we see, what a painter of our 
 own has also represented by his pencil, chilled and shiver- 
 ing childhood, houseless, but for a mother's arms, couch- 
 less, but for a mother's breast, till our own blood almost 
 freezes. The mild dignity of Carver and of Bradford;
 
 444 ORATORS AND STATEMEN. 
 
 the decisive and soldierlike air and manner of Standish; 
 the devout Brewster; the enterprising Allerton,- the 
 general firmness and thoughtfulness of the whole band; 
 their conscious joy for dangers escaped; their deep solici- 
 tude about dangers to come; their trust in Heaven; their 
 high religious faith, full of confidence and anticipation; 
 all of these seem to belong to this place, and to be present 
 upon this occasion, to fill us with reverence and admira- 
 tion." 
 
 In 1820, Mr. Webster served as an elector of President, 
 at Mr. Monroe's second election; and in the same year he 
 was chosen one of the delegates from Boston, to the State 
 Convention which revised the Constitution of Massachu- 
 setts. Among other distinguished members of this conven- 
 tion was the venerable John Adams, then in the eighty- 
 sixth year of his age. Mr. Webster was one of the most 
 eft'ective and powerful members of that renowned assembly, 
 and took a leading part in the discussion of the most im- 
 portant subjects that were brought before the convention. 
 
 In the autumn of 1822, Mr. Webster was triumphantly 
 elected Representative to Congress from the city of Bos- 
 ton, and in December, 1823, took his seat in the House. 
 It was during this session that the question of the Greek 
 Revolution was agitated in Congress. No subject was 
 more congenial to Mr. Webster's feelings than this. Cher- 
 ivshing an indomitable love of liberty and of free institu- 
 tions, he sympathized strongly with the opjDressed, strug- 
 gling Greeks, and raised his eloquent voice against the 
 tyranny which sought to deprive them of the dearest 
 rights of humanity. Like those great champions of hu- 
 man freedom, Edmund Burke, Henry Grattan, and Charles 
 James Fox, he came forward and fearlessly avowed his 
 principles to the world. Early in the session, he moved 
 the following resolution in the House of Representatives: 
 
 Resolved, That provision ought to be made by law for
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 445 
 
 defraying the expense incident to the appointment of an 
 agent or commissioner to Greece, whenever the President 
 shall deem it expedient to make such appointment. 
 
 In support of this resolution, Mr. Webster delivered his 
 famous speech, on the 19th of January, 1824, in " the pre- 
 sence of an immense audience, brought together by the 
 Interesting nature of the subject and by the fame of the 
 speaker, now returned, after six years' absence, to the 
 field where he had gathered early laurels, and to which he 
 had now come back with greatly augmented reputation. 
 The 23ublic expectation was highly excited; and it is but 
 little to say, that it was entirely fulfilled." 
 
 The si^eech of Mr. Webster on The Revolution in 
 Greece, will be remembered as long as there is a trace 
 of American eloquence. Its perusal will animate the heart 
 and nerve the arm of future patriots to the latest posterity. 
 This speech is pronounced by the eminent Jeremiah Ma- 
 son " the best sample of parliamentary eloquence and 
 statesmanlike reasoning which our country can show." 
 The exordium contains that beautiful allusion to Greece, 
 as the mistress of the world in the arts and sciences. For 
 the elegance of its composition the passage deserves a 
 place here, and in the memory of every admirer of ancient 
 Grecian skill and glory: 
 
 "I am afraid, Mr. Chairman, that, so far as my part in 
 this discussion is concerned, those expectations which the 
 public excitement existing on the subject, and certain as- 
 sociations easily suggested by it, have conspired to raise, 
 may be disappointed. An occasion which calls the atten- 
 tion to a spot so distinguished, so connected with interest- 
 ing recollections, as Greece, may naturally create something 
 of warmth and enthusiasm. In a grave, political discus- 
 sion, however, it is necessary that those feelings should be 
 chastised. I shall endeavor properly to repress them, 
 although it is impossible that they should be altogether
 
 446 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 extinguished. We must, indeed, fly beyond the civilized, 
 world J we must pass the dominion of law and the boun- 
 daries of knowledge; we must, more especially, withdraw 
 ourselves from this place, and the scenes and objects which 
 here surround us, — if we would separate ourselves en- 
 tirely from the influence of all those memorials of herself 
 which ancient Greece has transmitted for the admiration 
 and the benefit of mankind. This free form of govern- 
 ment, this popular assembly, the common council held for 
 the common good, — where have we contemplated its ear- 
 liest models? This practice of free debate and public dis- 
 cussion, the contest of mind with mind, and that popular 
 eloquence, which, if it were now here, on a subject like 
 this, would move the stones of the Capitol, — whose was 
 the language in which all these were first exhibited? Even 
 the edifice in which we assemble, these proportioned col- 
 umns, this ornamented architecture, all remind us that 
 Greece has existed, and that we, like the rest of mankind, 
 are greatly her debtors."* 
 
 About the middle of the speech, Mr. Webster has pro- 
 duced one of the finest passages in the language, on the 
 power of public opinion over mere brutal force. To the 
 question as to what this nation should do; whether we 
 should declare war for the sake of Greece, and if not, if 
 we would neither furnish armies nor navies, what we 
 should do; what was in our power? he replied, in some 
 of the happiest language he ever commanded: " Sir, 
 Lais reasoning mistakes the age. The time has been, 
 indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies were 
 the princip9.1 reliances even in the best cause. But, 
 happily for mankind, there has arrived a great change in 
 this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, in 
 
 * The interior of the hall of the House of Representatives is surrounded by 
 a magnificent colonnade of the composite order.
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 447 
 
 proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and 
 the puhlic opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining 
 an ascendancy over mere brutal force. It may be silenced 
 by military power, but it can not be conquered. It is 
 elastic, irrepressible, and invulnerable to the weapons of 
 ordinary warfare. It is that impassable, inextinguishable 
 enemy of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like 
 Milton's angels, 
 
 ' Vital in every part, 
 
 Can not, but by annihilating, die.' 
 
 " Unless this be propitiated or satisfied, it is in vain for 
 power to talk either of triumphs or repose. No matter 
 what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, 
 what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun, there is 
 an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these tri- 
 umphs. It follows the conquerer back to the very scene 
 of his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that the 
 world, though silent, is yet indignant; it shows him that 
 the scepter of his victory is a barren scepter; that it shall 
 confer neither joy nor honor, but shall moulder to dry 
 ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it 
 pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice; it de- 
 nounces against him the indignation of an enlightened and 
 civilized age; it turns to bitterness the cup of his rejoicing, 
 and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the con- 
 sciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind." 
 
 When the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument 
 was laid on the 17th of June, 1825, the fiftieth anniversary 
 of the battle, Mr. Webster was called upon to deliver the 
 address; and it is hardly necessary to say that, on such a 
 spot, and on such a theme, he enchained and thrilled the 
 heart of his immense audience, by a strain of eloquence, 
 as lofty as ever flowed from human lips,* 
 
 * The first great oration of Mr. Webster, on Bunker Hill, it is said
 
 448 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 On such an occasion there was every thing to enkindle 
 the patriotism and enthusiasm of an orator, and cause 
 him to utter sublime ideas, — thoughts that breathe, and 
 words that burn. Among the vast concourse of people 
 that gathered around Bunker Hill to unite in the celebra- 
 tion, were more than one hundred heroes of the ever- 
 memorable battle. General Lalayette was also present, and 
 assisted in laying the corner-stone of the monument. It 
 was the most si^lendid celebration that had been witnessed 
 on Bunker Hill. A brief description of the scene, from 
 the excellent work of Mr. Frothingham, on the Siege of 
 Boston, will be read with interest: 
 
 " This celebration was unequaled in magnificence by 
 any thing of the kind that had been seen in New England. 
 The morning pros^ed propitious. The air was cool, the 
 sky was clear, and timely showers the previous day had 
 brightened the vesture of nature into its loveliest hue. 
 Delighted thousands flocked into Boston to bear a part in 
 the proceedings, or to witness the spectacle. At about ten 
 o'clock a procession moved from the State House towards 
 Bunker Hill. The military, in their fine uniforms, formed 
 the van. About two hundred veterans of the Revolution, 
 of whom forty were survivors of the battle, rode in ba- 
 rouches next to the escort. These venerable men, the 
 relics of a past generation, with emaciated frames, totter- 
 ing limbs, and trembling voices, constituted a touching 
 spectacle. Some wore, as honorable decorations, their 
 old fighting equipments, and some bore the scars of still 
 more honorable wounds. Glistening eyes constituted their 
 
 was modeled, even to its best passages, in Marslipee Brook, — the orator 
 catching trout and elaborating sentences, at the same time. It is further re- 
 lated, that, as the orator drew in some trout particularly large he was heard to 
 exclaim, " Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former genera- 
 tion. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might be- 
 hold this joyous day."
 
 DAXIEL WEBSTER. 449 
 
 answer to the enthusiastic cheers of the grateful multi- 
 tudes who lined their pathway and cheered their progress. 
 To this patriot band succeeded the Bunker Hill Monument 
 Association. Then the Masonic fraternity, in their splen- 
 did regalia, thousands in number. Then Lafayette, con- 
 tinually welcomed by tokens of love and gratitude, and 
 the invited guests. Then a long array of societies, with 
 their various badges and banners It was a splendid pro- 
 cession, and of such length that the front nearljr reached 
 Charlestown Bridge ere the rear had left Boston Common. 
 It proceeded to Breed's Hill, where the Grand Master of 
 the Freemasons, the President of the Monument Associa- 
 tion, and General Lafayette, performed the ceremony of 
 laying the corner-stone, in the presence of a vast concourse 
 of people." 
 
 It was in " the jjresence of as great a multitude as was 
 ever perhaps assembled within the sound of a human 
 voice " that Mr. Webster delivered his great, patriotic ora- 
 tion on Bunker Hill Monument; and it was then that he 
 gave utterance to passages of Demosthenian fire — passages 
 that will live forever — live in the memory of American 
 citizens as uug as the bright bow of Liberty shall over- 
 arch, with its glorioles beams, our happy land. Almost 
 every young American scholar has portions of this cele- 
 brated speech by heart. It is known every where. We 
 select a single passage, the closing lines of which fall so 
 sweetly upon the ear: 
 
 " We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must for 
 ever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that wlioso- 
 ever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hitli , be- 
 
 hold that the place is not undistinguished where the first 
 great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that 
 this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance 
 oi that event to every class and every age. We wish that 
 
 infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from m«- 
 
 57
 
 450 ORATORS AND SI ATESMEN. 
 
 ternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold 
 it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. 
 We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in 
 the midst of its toil. We wUh that, in those days of dis- 
 aster, which, as they come upon all nations, must be ex- 
 pected to come upon us also, desponding patriotism may 
 turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the founda- 
 tions of our national power are still strong. We wish 
 that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed 
 spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contri- 
 bute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of de- 
 pendence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last 
 object to the sight of him who leaves his native shore, 
 and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be some- 
 thing which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory 
 of his country. Let it rise ! let it rise ! till it meet the sun in 
 his coming! — let the ea'^liest light of the morning gild it, 
 and parting day linger and play on its summit.'''' 
 
 On the 4th of July, 1826, the fiftieth anniversay of the 
 Declaration of Independence, the decease of those illus- 
 trious patriots of the Revolution, John Adams and Thomas 
 Jefferson, took place. This was a most extraordinary co- 
 incidence. The removal of these great statesmen by death, 
 on such a day and within a few hours of each other, pro- 
 duced a powerful impression on the public mind. It was 
 an event which spread mourning through the land. In 
 Boston, the demonstration of sorrow was very great, 
 Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American liberty, was shrouded 
 in black. Great pi-eparations were made for performing 
 a grand funeral service there. Mr. Webster was invited by 
 the municipal authorities to deliver an oration commem- 
 orative of the lives and services of the departed states- 
 men; and on the 2d of August, 1826, in Faneuil Hall, in 
 the presence of an immense audience, he pronounced 
 the greatest funeral discourse that any language has pro- 
 
 J
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 451 
 
 duced. " The funeral orations of Bossuet, deservedly so 
 celebrated, have not the repose, the dignity, nor sublimity 
 of this. It sounds like a solemn anthem throughout." 
 It was conceived and executed with rare felicity — in the 
 most glowing and elevated language — in the highest tone 
 of eloquence. What, for instance, can be more thrilling, 
 than the following passage, proclaiming the immortality 
 of Adams and Jefferson: "Although no sculptured marble 
 should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear re- 
 cord of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as 
 lasting as the land they honored. Marble columns may, 
 indeed, moulder into dust, time may erase all impress from 
 the crumbling stone, but their fame remains j for with 
 American liberty it rose, and with American liberty only 
 can it perish. It was the last swelling peal ol yonder 
 choir, 'Their bodies are buried in peace, but their name 
 liveth evermore.' I catch that solemn song, I echo that 
 lofty strain of funeral triumph, ' Their name liveth ever- 
 more.' "* 
 
 In this speech we have Mr. Webster's celebrated defini- 
 tion of genuine, patriotic eloquence. It is one of the 
 finest strokes of his genius, as well as one of the most 
 beautiful descriptions of the kind that ancient or modern 
 eloquence has produced: 
 
 " When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
 occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong 
 passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther 
 than as it is connected with high intellectual and moral 
 endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the 
 
 * It has. perhaps, never been the fortune of an orator to treat a subject 
 in all respects so extraordinary as that which called forth the eulogy on Adams 
 and Jefferson ; a subject in "vvhich the characters commemorated, the field of 
 action, the magnitude of the events, and the peculiar peraonal relations, were 
 so important and unusual. Certainly it is not extravagant to add, that no 
 similar effort of oratory was ever more completely successful. — Everett,
 
 452 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, in- 
 deed, does not consist i:i speech. It can not be brought 
 from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will 
 toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every 
 way, but they can not comj)ass it. It must exist in the 
 man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Afiected passion, 
 intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may 
 aspire to it; they can ujl reach it. It comes, if it come at 
 all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or 
 the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
 original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, 
 the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, 
 shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate 
 of their wives, their children, and their country, hang on 
 the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their 
 power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate Oiatory con- 
 temptible. Even genius itself then f^^ls rebuked and sub- 
 dued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriot- 
 ism i.s eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear 
 conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high 
 purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless S23irit, speaking on 
 the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, 
 and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his 
 object, — this, this is eloquence; or rather it is something 
 greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, noble, 
 sublime, god-like action." 
 
 " The speech ascribed to John Adams in the Continental 
 Congress," says Mr. Everett, " on the subject of declaring 
 the independence of the Colonies, — a speech of which the 
 topics of course present themselves on the most superficial 
 considerations of the subject, l)ut of which a few hints 
 only of what actually was said are supplied by the letters 
 and diaries of Mr. Adams — is not excelled by any thing 
 or tlie kind in our language. Few things have taken so 
 strong a hold of the public mind. It thrills and delights
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 453 
 
 alike the student of history, who recognizes it at once as 
 the creation of the orator, and the common reader, who 
 takes it to be the composition, not of Mr. V ebster, but of 
 Mr. Adams." 
 
 In the following well known passage, Mr. Webster from 
 the scantiest materials has built up a noble fabric. So 
 admirable is the speech itself, and so characteristic is it of 
 wjiat is known of Mr. Adams, that one is in doubt for 
 which excellence it is deserving the greater praise: 
 
 " In July, 1776, the controversy had passed the stage of 
 argument. An appeal had been made to force, and oppos- 
 ing armies were in the field. Congress, then, was to de- 
 cide whether the tie which had so long bound us to the 
 parent state was to be severed at once, and severed for 
 ever. All the Colonies had signified their resolution to 
 abide by this decision, and the people looked for it with 
 ihe most intense anxiety. And surely, fellow-citizens, 
 never, never were men called to a more important politi- 
 cal deliberation. If we contemplate it from the point 
 where they then stood, no question could be more full of 
 interest; if we look at it now, and judge of its importance 
 by its effects, it appears of still greater magnitude. 
 
 " Let us, then, bring before us the assepably, which was 
 about to decide a question thus big with the fate of em- 
 pire. Let us open their doors and look in upon their de- 
 liberations. Let us survey the anxious and care-worn 
 countenances, let us hear the firm- toned voices, of this 
 band of patriots. 
 
 " Hancock presides over the solemn sitting; and one of 
 those not yet prepared to pronounce for absolute inde- 
 pendence is on the floor, and is urging his reasons for dis- 
 senting from the declaration. 
 
 " ' Let us pause ! This step, once taken, can not be re- 
 traced. This resolution, once passed, will cut oft' all hope 
 of reconciliation. If success attend the arms of England,
 
 454 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 we shall then be no longer Colonies, with charters and 
 with privileges; these will all be forfeited by this actj and 
 we shall De in the condition of other conquered people, at 
 the mercy of the conquerers. For ourselves, we may be 
 ready to run the hazard; but are we ready to carry the 
 country to that length? Is success so probable as to jus- 
 tify it? Where is the military, where the naval power, 
 by which we are to resist the whole strength of the arm 
 of England, for she will exert that strength to the utmost? 
 Can we rely on the constancy and perseverance of the 
 people? or will they not act as the people of other countries 
 have acted, and, wearied with a long war, submit, in the 
 end, to a worse oppression? While we stand on our old 
 ground, and insist on redress of grievances, we know we 
 are right, aad are not answerable for consequences. Noth- 
 ing, then, can be imputed to us. But if we now change 
 our object, carry our pretensions farther, and set up for 
 absolute indej^endence, we shall lose the sympathy of 
 mankind. We shall no longer be defending what we 
 possess, but struggling for something which we never did 
 possess, and which we have solemnly and uniformly dis- 
 claimed all intention of pursuing, from the very outset of 
 the troubles. Abandoning thus our old ground, of resist- 
 ance only to arbitrary acts of oppression, the nations will 
 believe the whole to have been mere pretence, and they 
 will look on us, not as injured, but as ambitious subjects. 
 I shudder before tliis responsibility^ It will be on us, if, re- 
 linquishing the ground on which we have stood so long, and 
 stood so safely, we now proclaim independence, and carry 
 on the war for that object, while these cities burn, these 
 pleasant fields wliiten and bleach with the bones of their 
 owners, and these streams run blood. It will be upon us, 
 it will be upon us, if, failing to maintain this unseasonable 
 and ill-judged declaration, a sterner despotism, maintained 
 by military power, shall be estiblished over our posterity.
 
 = rDANIEL WEBSTER. 455 
 
 wlien we ourselves, given up by an exliausted, a harassed, 
 a misled people, shall have expiated our rashness and 
 atoned for our iiresumption on the scaffold.' 
 
 " It was for Mr. Adams to reply to arguments like these. 
 We know his opinions, and we know his character. He 
 would commence with his accustomed directness and ear- 
 nestness. 
 
 " ' Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give 
 my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, 
 that in the beginning we aimed not at independence. But 
 there's a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice 
 of England has driven us to arms; and, blinded to her 
 own interests for our good she has obstinately persisted, 
 till independence is now within our grasp. We have but 
 to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we 
 defer the Declaration? Is any man so weak as now to 
 hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave 
 either safety to the country and 'its liberties, or safety to 
 his own life and his own honorl Are not you, Sir, who 
 sit in that chair, is not he, our venerable colleague near 
 you, are you not both already the proscribed aud pre- 
 destined objects of punishment and of vengeance? Cut ofl 
 from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can 
 you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? 
 If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to 
 give up, the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures 
 of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all? Do we mean to 
 submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to 
 powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in 
 the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never 
 shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn 
 obligation ever entered into by men, that plighting, before 
 God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting 
 him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the poli- 
 tical hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him,
 
 456 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives? I 
 know there is not a man here, who would not rather see 
 a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earth- 
 quake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted feitli 
 fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months 
 ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be 
 appointed commander of the forces raised, or to be raised, 
 for defense of American liberty, may my right hand for- 
 get her cunning and my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
 mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. 
 
 " ' The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. 
 And if the war must go on, why put off' longer the De- 
 claration of Independence? That measure will strengthen 
 us. It will give us character abroad. The nations will 
 then treat with us, which they never can do while we 
 acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sover- 
 eign. Nay, I maintain that England herself will sooner 
 treat for peace with us on the footing of independence, 
 than consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that 
 her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injus- 
 tice and opi^ression. Her pride will be less wounded by 
 submitting to that course of things which now predesti- 
 nates our independence, than by yielding the points in con- 
 troversy to her rebellious subjects. The former she would 
 regard as the result of fortune; the latter she would feel 
 as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why then. Sir, do 
 we not as soon as possible change this from a civil to a 
 national war? And since we must fight it througli, why 
 not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of 
 victory, if we gain the victory? 
 
 '' ' If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall 
 not fail. Tlie cause will raise up armies; the cause will 
 create navies. The people, the people, if we are true to 
 them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously, 
 through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 4 37 
 
 have been found. I know the people of these Colonies, 
 and I know that resistance to British aggression is deep 
 and settled in their hearts, and can not be eradicated. 
 Ever}^ Colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to 
 follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the Declaration will 
 inspire the i^eople with increased courage. Instead of a 
 long and bloody war for the restoration of privileges, for 
 redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under 
 a British king, set before them the glorious object of en- 
 tire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the 
 breath of life. Read this Declaration at the head of the 
 army; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and 
 the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on 
 the bed of honor Publish it from the pulpit; religion 
 will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling 
 round it, resolve to stand with it, or iiill with it. Send it 
 to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them hear it 
 who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon; let them 
 see it wlio saw their brothers and their sons fall on the 
 field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and 
 Concord, and the very walls will cry out in its support. 
 
 " ' Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I 
 see, I see clearly, through this day's business. You and 
 I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to the time when 
 this Declaration shall be made good. We may die; die 
 colonists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously and on 
 the scaffold. Be it so. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of 
 Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering of 
 my life, the victim shall be ready, at the appointed hour 
 of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I do 
 live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a 
 country, and that a free country. 
 
 " ' But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured 
 
 that this Declaration will stand. It mav cost treasure, 
 
 and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will richly 
 
 58
 
 458 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 compensate for both. Througji tlie thick gloom of the 
 present, I sse the brightness of the future, as tli_- sun in 
 heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. 
 When we are in our graves, our children will honor it. 
 They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, 
 with bonfires, and illumiuations. On its annual return 
 they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of sub- 
 jection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of 
 exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, before God, I 
 believe the hour has come. My judgment approves ths 
 measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, 
 and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am 
 now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave ofi" as I begun, 
 that live or die, survive or pe^i.^h, I am for the Declara- 
 tion. It is my living sentiment and by the blessing of 
 God it shall be my dying sentiment. Independence now, 
 ^ and Independence for ever.' " 
 
 In November, 1826, Mr. Webster was re-elected almost 
 unanimously to Congress; but before the meeting of that 
 body he was chosen, in June, 1827, by the Legislature of 
 Massachusetts, to the Senate of the United States in the 
 place of the Hon. Elijah H. Mills. Mr. Webster continued 
 in the Senate, till he was appointed Secretary of State, 
 under President Harrison, in 1841. 
 
 Passing over the subjects which successively engaged 
 the attention of Mr. Webster, during the first two years of 
 his senatorial career, we come to notice the most import- 
 ant era in his political life; — a period when his intellect 
 and his eloquence shone in the highest noon of splendor; — 
 when he " gained, at once and forever, the highest rank as 
 a debater and orator." We refer, of course, to the great 
 debate on Foot's resolution, in which Mr. Webster, so ably 
 defended the Constitution, sustained the Union, and over- 
 threw the doctrine of nullification, so vehemently urged
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 459 
 
 bj Col. Ha} lie of South Carolina.* It was, in fact, a con- 
 test between the North and the South. 
 
 This greatest intellectual contest of the age, arose out 
 of the following resolution, ofiered in the Senate, by Air. 
 Foot of Connecticut, on the 29th of December, 1829: 
 
 " Resolved, That the Committee on Public Lands be in- 
 structed to inquire and report the quantity of public lands 
 remaining unsold within each State and Territory. And 
 whether it be expedient to limit for a certain period the 
 sales of the public lands to such lands only as have here- 
 tofore been offered for sale and are now subject to entry at 
 the minimum price. And, also, whether the office of Sur- 
 veyor-General and some of the land offices, may not be 
 abolished without detriment to the public interest; or 
 whether it ;> expedient to adopt measures to hasten the 
 sales and extend more rapidly the surveys of the public 
 lands." 
 
 On the 18th of January, Mr. Benton of Missouri, took 
 the floor against the resolution. On the following day, 
 Mr. Hayne spoke at considerable length on the same side. 
 When he took his seat, Mr. Webster rose to reply, but 
 
 * Robert Y. Hayne, the great antagonist of Daniel Webster, and one of 
 the most brilliant orators of the South, was born near Charleston, South 
 Carolina, on the 10th of November, 1791. The Senate of the United States 
 was the theater of his greatest glory. Here he acquired a reputation that 
 will last forever. In 1832, Mr. Hayne was elected governor of South Caro- 
 lina, He died on the 24th ot September, 1841, in the 48th year of his age. 
 
 Col. Hayne possessed some of the highest characteristics of eloquence. He 
 was often vehement and impassioned. His invectives were unsparing. " His 
 voice was full and melodious, and his manner, earnest and impressive. Fall 
 of ingenuous sensibility, his eyes were as expressive as his tongue, and as he 
 poured out his thoughts or feelings, either in a strain of captivating sweet- 
 ness, or of impetuous and overbearing passion, every emotion of his soul was 
 distinctly depicted in the lineaments of his countenance. His mind was active, 
 energetic, and aggressive. He was full of enthusiasm, altogether in earnest; 
 when he spoke, every limb of his body, and every feature of his countenance 
 pymnathized with the action of his mind."
 
 460 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 gav? way to a motion for adjourument from Mr. Benton. 
 On the 20tli, Mr. Webster delivered his first speech on 
 the resolution. On the 21st, Col. Hayne took the floor 
 and spoke an liour, violently attacking New England and 
 Mr. Webster, her most distinguished representative. In 
 the conclusion of his speech, giving Mr. Webster a fair 
 warning of the fate that awaited him, he said: 
 
 " Sir, the gentleman from Massachusetts has thought 
 proper for purposes best known to himself, to strike the 
 South through me; the most unworthy of her servants. 
 He has crossed the border, he has invaded the State of 
 South Carolina, is making war upon her citizens, and en- 
 deavoring to overthrow her principles and her institutions. 
 Sir, when the gentleman provokes me to such a conflict, I 
 meet him at the threshold — I will struggle, while I have 
 life, for our altars and our firesides, and if God gives me 
 strength, I will drive back the invader discomfited. Nor 
 shall I stop there. If the gentleman provokes war, he 
 shall have war. Sir, I will not stop at the border; I will 
 carry the war into the enemy's territory, and not consent 
 to lay down my arms, until I shall have obtained ' indem- 
 nity for the past, and security for the future.' It is with 
 unfeigned reluctance that I enter upon the performance 
 
 " Hayne dashed into debate, like the Mameluke cavalry upon a charge. 
 There was a gallant air about him, that could not but win admiration. He 
 never provided for retreat; he never imagined it. He had an inrincible confi- 
 dence in himself, which arose partly from constitutional temperament, partly 
 from previous success. His was the Napoleonic warfare; to strike at once for 
 the capitol of the enemy, heedless of danger or cost to his own forces. Not 
 doubting to overcome all odds, he feared none, however seemingly superior. 
 Of great fluency and no little force of expression, his speech never halted, and 
 seldom fatigued. 
 
 " His oratory was graceful and persuasive. An impassioned manner, some- 
 what vehement at times, but rarely if ever extravagant; a voice well-modu- 
 lated and clear; a distinct, though rapid enunciation: a confident, but not often 
 offensive address; these, accompanying and illustrating language well selected, 
 and periods well turned, made him a popular and effective speaker."
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 4()1 
 
 of this part of my duty: I slirink, almost instinctively, 
 from a course, however necessary, which may have a ten- 
 dency to excite sectional feelings, and sectional jealousies. 
 But Sir^ the task has been forced upon me, and I proceed 
 right onward to the performance of my duty; be the con- 
 sequences what they may, the responsibility is with those 
 who have imposed upon me the necessity. The Senator 
 from Massachusetts has thought proper to cast the first 
 stone, and if he shall find, according to a homely adage, 
 that ' he lives in a glass-house,' on his head be the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 On Monday, the 25th, in concluding his argument, Col. 
 Hayne made a long and brilliant speech which " was still 
 more strongly characterized than the first with severity, 
 not to say bitterness, towards the Eastern States. The 
 tone toward Mr. Webster personally was not courteous. It 
 bordered on the offensive." When Col. Hayne had con- 
 cluded his speech, Mr. Webster immediately rose to reply, 
 but, it being late in the day, gave way to a motion for ad- 
 journment. 
 
 As the Massachusetts Senator walked down the center- 
 walk in the Capitol park, after the delivery of Col. 
 Hayne's speech, a friend said to him: " Mr. Webster, that 
 will be a difficult speech to answer." " We shall see," 
 said Mr. Webster, taking ofi' his hat, and passing his hand 
 over his forehead, " we — shall — see, sir, to-morrow: we 
 shall see to-morrow, sir!" 
 
 " And they did see — and the country — and the world. 
 Wlien Dciniel W^ebster, with his dark, lustrous eyes, looked 
 through the glass dome of the Senate chamber, over which 
 the banner of his country was floating, he gave utterance 
 to words which will be as immortal as the earth on which 
 that Capitol stands." 
 
 Even after the impetuous onset of Col. Hayne was over, 
 some of \\ii fdonds, who knew Mr. Webster's pow.r.-; who
 
 462 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 h ; I felt it directed against themselves, were doubtful as 
 to the final success of their champion. Among these, 
 were Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Iredell, a senator from North 
 Carolina. The latter remarked to a friend who was j)rais- 
 ing Mr. Hayne's speech; "He has started the lion — but 
 wait till we hear his roar, or feel his claws." The world 
 knows that Col. Hayne and his friends did both hear his 
 roar mid feel his claws. 
 
 The scene in the Senate chamber, on the 26th of Janu- 
 ary, 1830 — the day on which Mr, Webster delivered his 
 great speech on Foot's resolution — is vividly described by 
 M;. March. No writer has presented such a graphic state- 
 ment of the circumstances connected with this remarkable 
 eftbrt as this distinguished author has done. From his 
 animated pages, we present the following extract which 
 will be read with interest as long as that famous debate 
 shall be remembered: 
 
 " It was on Tuesday, January the 26th, 1830, — a day 
 to be hereafter forever memorable in Senatorial annals, — 
 that the Senate resumed the consideration of Foote's Re- 
 solution. There never was before, in the city, an occasion 
 of so much excitement. To witness this great intellectual 
 contest, multitudes of strangers had for two or three days 
 previous been rushing into the city, and the hotels over- 
 flowed. As early as 9 o'clock of this morning, crowds 
 poured into the Capitol, in hot haste; at 12 o'clock, the 
 hour of meeting, the Senate chamber, — its galleries, floor 
 and even lobbies, — was filled to its utmost capacity. The 
 very stairways were dark with men, who hung on to one 
 another, like bees in a swarm. 
 
 " The House of Representatives was early deserted. An 
 adjournment wouM have hardly made it emptier. The 
 Speaker, it is true, retained his chair, but no business of 
 moment was, or could be, attended to. Members all rushed 
 in to hear Mr. Webster, and no call of the House or other
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 463 
 
 Darliamentary proceedings could compel them back. The 
 iloor of the Senate was so densely crowded, that persons 
 once in could not get out, nor change their position; in 
 the rear of the Vice-Presidential chair, the crowd was par- 
 ticularly intense. Dixon H. Lewis, then a Representative 
 from Alabama, became wedged in here. From his enor- 
 mous size, it was impossible for him to move without dis- 
 placing a vast portion of the multitude. Unfortunately 
 too, for him, he was jammed in directly behind the chair of 
 *;he Vice-President, where he could not see, and could hardly 
 hear, the speaker. By slow and laborious effort — pausing 
 occasionally to breathe — he gained one of the windows, 
 which, constructed of painted glass, flanked the chair of 
 the Vice-President on either side. Here he paused, unable 
 to make more h^dway. But determined to see Mr. Web- 
 ster as he spoke, with his knife he made a large hole in 
 one of the jDanes of the glass; which is still visible as he 
 made it. Many were so placed, as not to be able to see 
 the speaker at all. 
 
 " The courtesy of Senators accorded to the fairer sex 
 room on the floor — the most gallant of them, their own 
 seats. The gay bonnets and brilliant dresses threw a 
 varied and picturesque beauty over the scene, softening 
 and embellishing it. 
 
 " Seldom, if ever, has a speaker in this or any other 
 country had more powerful incentives to exertion; a sub- 
 ject, the determination of which involved the most im- 
 portant interests, and even duration, of the republic; 
 competitors, une(iualed in reputation, ability, or position; 
 a name to be made still more glorious, or lost forever; and 
 an audience, comprising not only persons of this country 
 most eminent in intellectual greatness, but representatives 
 of other nations, where the art of eloquence had flourished 
 for ages. All tlie soldier seeks in opportunity was here. 
 
 " Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal to, the destinies
 
 464 ORATORS AND STATESIVIEN. 
 
 of the moment. The very greatness of the hazard exhila- 
 rated him. His spirits rose with the occasion. He awaited 
 the time of onset with a stern and impatient joy. He 
 felt, like the war-horse of the Scriptures, — who ' paweth 
 in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: who goeth on 
 to meet the armed men, — who sayeth among the trumpets. 
 Ha, ha! and who smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder 
 of the captains and the shouting.' 
 
 " A confidence in his own resources, springing from no 
 vain estimate of his power, but the legitimate offspring 
 of previous severe mental discipline sustained and excited 
 him. He had gauged his opponents, his subject and him- 
 self. 
 
 " He was too, at this period, in the very prime of man- 
 hood. He had reached middle age — an era in the life of 
 man, when the faculties, physical or intellectual, may be 
 supposed to attain their fullest organization, and most per- 
 fect development. Whatever there was in him of intel- 
 lectual energy and vitality, the occasion, his full life and 
 high ambition, might well bring forth, 
 
 " He never rose on an ordinary occasion to address an 
 ordinary audience more self-possessed. There was no 
 tremulousness in his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, 
 nothing simulated. The calmness of superior strength 
 was visible everywhere; in countenance, voice and bear- 
 ing. A deep-seated conviction of the extraordinary char- 
 acter of the emergency, and of his ability to control it, 
 seemed to possess him wholly. If an observer, more than 
 ordinarily keen-sighted, detected at times something like 
 exultation in his eye, he presumed it sprang from the ex- 
 citement of the moment, and the anticipation of victory. 
 
 " The anxiety to hear the speech was so intense, irre- 
 pressible, and universal, that no sooner liad the Vice- 
 President assumed the chair, than a motion was made and 
 unanimously carried, to posti3one the ordinary prelimina-
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 465 
 
 ries of Senatorial action, and to take up immediately 
 the consideration of the resolution. 
 
 " Mr. Webster rose and addressed the Senate. His ex- 
 ordium is known by heart, everywhere: 'Mr. President, 
 when the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thick 
 weather, and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails him- 
 self of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of 
 the sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how far the 
 elements have driven him from his true course. Let us 
 imitate this prudence; and before we float further, on the 
 waves of this debate, refer to the point from which we 
 departed, that ive may, at least, be able to form some con- 
 jecture where we now are. I ask for the reading of the 
 resolution.' ^ 
 
 " There wanted no more to enchain the attention. There 
 was a spontaneous, though silent, exj)ression of eager ap- 
 probation, as the orator concluded these opening remarks. 
 And while the clerk read the resolution, many attempted 
 the impossibility of getting nearer the speaker. Every 
 head was inclined closer towards him, every ear turned in 
 the direction of his voice — and that deep, sudden, mys- 
 terious silence followed, which always attends fullness of 
 emotion. From the sea of upturned faces before him, the 
 orator beheld his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. 
 The varying countenance, the suflused eye, the earnest 
 smile, and ever-attentive look assured him of his audi- 
 ence's entire sympathy. If among his hearers there were 
 those who affected at first an indifference to his glowing 
 thoughts and fervent periods, the difficult mask was soon 
 laid aside, and profound, undisguised, devoted attention 
 followed. In the earlier part of his speech, one of his 
 principal opponents seemed deej^ly engrossed in the care- 
 ful perusal of a newspaper he held before his face; but 
 this, on nearer approach, proved to be upsids down. In 
 
 truth, all, sooner or later, voluntarily, or in spite of them- 
 59
 
 466 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 selves, were wholly carried away by the eloquence of the 
 orator. 
 
 " Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's ability to cope 
 with and overcome his opi3onents were fully satisfied of 
 their error before he had proceeded far in his speech. 
 Their fears soon took another direction. When they heard 
 his sentences of powerful thought, towering in accumula- 
 tive grandeur, one above the other, as if the orator strove, 
 Titan-like, to reach the very heavens themselves, they 
 were giddy with an apprehension that he would break 
 down in his flight. They dared not believe, that genius, 
 learning, any intellectual endowment however uncommon, 
 that was simply mortal, could sustain itself long in a 
 career seemingly so perilous. They feared an Icarian fall. 
 
 " Ah ! who can ever forget, that was present to hear, 
 the tremendous, the air^ul burst of eloquence with w^hich 
 the orator spoke of the Old Bay State ! or the tones of 
 deep pathos in which the words were pronounced: 
 
 " ' Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon 
 Massachusetts. There she is — behold her, and judge for 
 yourselves. There is her history: the world knows it by 
 heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and 
 Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill — and there 
 they will remain for ever. The bones of her sons, falling 
 in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled 
 with the soil of every State; from New England to 
 Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where 
 American Liberty raised its first voice; and where its 
 youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in 
 the strength of its manhood and full of its original spirit. 
 If discord and disunion shall wound it — if party strife 
 and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it — if folly 
 and madness — if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary 
 restraint — shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by 
 which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in
 
 DANIEL WE2STER. 467 
 
 the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy 
 was rocked: it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of 
 vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gather 
 round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the 
 proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very 
 spot of its origin.' 
 
 " What New England heart was there but throbbed with 
 vehement, tumultuous, irrepressible emotion, as he dwelt 
 upon New England sufierings. New England struggles, and 
 New England triumphs during the war of the Revolution! 
 There was scarcely a dry eye in the Senate; all hearts 
 were overcome; grave judges and men grown old in dig- 
 nified life turned aside their heads, to conceal the evi- 
 dences of their emotion. 
 
 " In one corner of the gallery was clustered a group of 
 Massachusetts men. They had hung from the first moment 
 upon the words of the speaker, with feelings variously 
 but always warmly excited, deepening in intensity as he 
 proceeded. At first, while the orator was going through 
 his exordium, they held their breath and hid their faces, 
 mindful of the savage attack upon him and New England, 
 and the fearful odds against him, her chami^ion; — as he 
 went deeper into his speech, they felt easier; when he 
 turned Hayne's flank on Banquo's ghost, they breathed 
 freer and deeper. But now, as he alluded to Massachu- 
 setts, their feelings were strained to the highest tension; 
 and when the orator, concluding his encomium upon the 
 land of their birth, turned intentionally, or otherwise, 
 his burning eye full upon them — they shed tears like girls ! 
 
 " No one who was not present can understand the excite- 
 ment of the scene. No one, who was, can give an ade- 
 quate description of it. No word-painting can convey 
 the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the reverential attention, 
 of that vast assembly — nor limner transfer to canvass 
 their earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. Though
 
 468 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 language were as subtle aud flexible as thought, it still 
 would be impossible to represent the full idea of the 
 scene. There is something intangible in an emotion, which 
 can not be transferred The nicer shades of feeling elude 
 pursuit. Every description, therefore, of the occasion, 
 seems to the narrator himself most tame, spiritless, unjust. 
 
 " Much of the instantaneous effect of the speech arose, 
 of course, from the orator's delivery — the tones of his 
 voice, his countenance, and manner. These die mostly 
 with the occasion that calls them forth — the imjjression 
 is lost in the attempt at transmission from one mind to 
 another. They can only be described in general terms. 
 * Of the effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in many 
 parts,' says Mr. Everett, ' it would be in vain to attempt 
 to give any one not present the faintest idea. It has been 
 my fortune to hear some of the ablest speeches of the 
 greatest living orators on both sides of the water, but I 
 must confess, I never heard any thing which so completely 
 realized my conception of what Demosthenes was when he 
 delivered the Oration for the Crown.' 
 
 " The variety of incident during the speech, and the 
 rapid fluctuation of passions, kept the audience in con- 
 tinual expectation and ceaseless agitation. There was no 
 chord of the heart the orator did not strike, as with a 
 master-hand. The speech was a complete drama of comic 
 and i:>athetic scenes: one varied excitement; laughter and 
 tears gaining alternate victory. 
 
 " A great portion of the speech is strictly argumenta- 
 tive; an exposition of constitutional law. But grave as 
 such portion necessarily is, severely logical, abounding in 
 no fancy or episode, it engrossed throughout the undivided 
 attention of every intelligent hearer. Abstractions, under 
 the glowing genius of the orator, acquired a beauty, a 
 vitality, a power to thrill the blood and enkindle the af- 
 fections, awakening into earnest activity many a dormant
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 469 
 
 faculty. His ponderous syllables had an energy, a vehem- 
 ence of meaning in them that fascinated, while they 
 startled. His thoughts in their statuesque beauty merely 
 would have gained all critical judgment; but he realized 
 the antique fable, and warmed the marble into life. There 
 was a sense of power in his language, — of power with- 
 held and suggestive- of still greater power, — that subdued, 
 as by a spell of mystery, the hearts of all. For power, 
 whether intellectual or physical, produces in its earnest 
 development a feeling closely allied to awe It was never 
 more felt than on this occasion. It had entire mastery. 
 The sex, which is said to love it best and abuse it most, 
 seemed as much or more carried away than the sterner 
 one. Many who had entered the hall witli light, gay 
 thoughts, anticipating at most a pleasurable excitement, 
 soon became deeply interested in the speaker and his sub- 
 ject — surrendered him their entire heart; and, when the 
 sj)eech was over, and they left the hall, it was with sadder 
 perhaps, but, surely, with far more elevated and ennobling 
 emotions. 
 
 " The exulting rush of feeling with which he \i'ent 
 through the peroration threw a glow over his countenance, 
 like inspiration. Eye, brow, each feature, every line of 
 the face seemed touched, as with a celestial fire. 
 
 " The swell and roll of his voice struck upon the ears 
 of the spell-bound audience, in deep and melodious ca- 
 dence, as waves upon the shore of the ' far-resounding ' 
 sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his words was the fit ex- 
 pression of his thought and raised his hearers up to his 
 theme. His voice, exerted to its utmost power, penetrated 
 every recess or corner of the Senate — penetrated even 
 the ante-rooms and stairways, as he pronounced in deepest 
 tones of pathos these words of solemn significance: ' When 
 my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the 
 sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken
 
 470 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; no 
 States dissevered, discordant, belligerent! on a land rent 
 ■with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
 blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather 
 behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known 
 and honored throughout the earth, still full high ad- 
 vanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original 
 luster, riot a stripe erased nor polluted, not a single star 
 obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserable inter- 
 rogatory as, What is all this worth? Nor those other 
 words of delusion and folly. Liberty first and Union after- 
 wards; but every where, spread all over in characters of 
 living light, blazing on all its amj^le folds, as they float 
 over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under 
 the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every 
 American heart. Liberty and Union, now and fokever, one 
 
 AND inseparable!' 
 
 "The speech was over, but the tones of the orator still 
 lingered upon the ear, and the audience, unconscious of 
 the close, retained their positions. The agitated counte- 
 nance, the heaving breast, the suffused eye attested the 
 continued influence of the spell upon them. Hands that 
 in the excitement of the moment had sought each other, 
 still remained closed in an unconscious grasp. Eye still 
 turned to eye, to receive and repay mutual sj^mpathy; — 
 and every where around seemed forgetfulness of all but 
 the orator's presence and words." 
 
 The great speech of Mr. \Vebster in reply to Col. Hayne, 
 is justly regarded as the ablest of his productions, and 
 may, probably, with truth, be pronounced, says Mr. Ever- 
 ett, the most celebrated speech ever delivered in Congress. 
 We may say more — that it has no superior in the annals 
 of parliamentary debate — that in many respects, it was 
 the greatest oratorical effort ever made by any statesman 
 in ancient or modern times.
 
 ; DANIEL WEBSTER. 471 
 
 In this great intellectual conflict — this collision of 
 mind with mind — Mr. Webster won laurels, as unfading, 
 as ever graced a Senator's brow. Neither Demosthenes 
 
 j nor Cicero in their palmiest days obtained a brighter 
 
 fame. 
 
 ; The same year that Mr. Webster gained such immortal 
 
 triumph in the Senate, he added additional luster to his 
 fame in the forum, by an extraordinary forensic effort. 
 
 It was in 1830, that he made his argument on the trial 
 of John Francis Knapp, for the murder of Captain Joseph 
 White,* of Salem, Massachusetts. The argument closes 
 with a passage of uncommon beauty on the power of con- 
 science. There is nothing in the language, says Mr. Ever- 
 ett, superior to it. When reminding the jury of the obli- 
 gation they were under to discharge their duty, he thus 
 concluded his effort: 
 
 " With consciences satislied with the discharge of duty, 
 no consequences can harm you. There is no evil that we 
 can not either face or fly from, but the consciousness of 
 duty disregarded. A sense of duty jDursues us ever. It is 
 omnipresent3 like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the 
 wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of 
 the sea, duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us, 
 for our happiness or our misery. If we say the darkness 
 shall cover us, in the darkness as in the light our obliga- 
 tions are yet with us. We can not escape their power, nor 
 fly from their presence. They are with us in this life, will 
 be with us at its close; and in that scene of inconceiv- 
 able solemnity, which lies yet farther onward, we shall 
 still find ourselves surrounded by the consciousness of 
 duty, to pain us wiierever it has been violated, and to 
 
 * The reader will find an interesting account of this remarkable niurder and 
 of the trial, in an article, written by Mr. Merril, and prefixed to Mr. Webster's 
 argument in the sixth volume of his works. Mr. March has also devoted a 
 chapter to this subject in his Rejiiiniscenses of Congress.
 
 472 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 console us so far as God may have given us grace to per- 
 form it." 
 
 In the winter of 1833, when the doctrine of nullification 
 was so vehemently advocated in the Senate by Mr. Cal- 
 houn, — when South Carolina was on the verge of revolu- 
 tion, — wlien the whole country was on the point of being 
 involved in a civil war, — Mr. Webster came forward 
 again, as the delender of the Constitution and the Union. 
 
 Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Webster were now engaged in 
 their greatest intellectual struggle. Each put forth all his 
 resources J — the one to defend, the other to crush the doc- 
 trine of nullification. To witness this great intellectual 
 combat between tw^o of the most accomplished debaters 
 the world has ever seen, multitudes were attracted to the 
 CapitoL The Senate chamber was densely crowded when 
 their speeches were delivered. It w^as on the ISth and 
 16th of February, 1833, that Mr. Calhoun delivered his 
 celebrated speech against the Force Bill, and in support 
 of his own resolutions. It was, perhaps, the greatest effort 
 he ever made in the Senate. As soon as he concluded, 
 Mr. Webster took the floor in reply, and made a speech 
 scarcely inferior to his great speech in reply to Hayne. It 
 is difficult to produce a finer piece of parliamentary logic. 
 Mr. W^ebster commenced by saying: 
 
 " Mr. PREsmEiNT, — The gentleman from South Carolina 
 has admonished us to be mindful of the opinions of those 
 who shall come after us. We must take our chance. Sir, 
 as to the light in which posterity will regard us. I do not 
 decline its judgment, nor withhold myself from its scru- 
 tiny. Feeling that I am performing my public duty with 
 singleness of heart and to the best of my ability, I fear- 
 lessly trust myself to the country, now and hereafter, and 
 leave both my motives and my character to its decision. 
 
 " The gentleman has terminated his speech in a tone of 
 threat and defiance towards this bill, even should it be-
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 473 
 
 coiub a law of llie laud, altogether unusual in the halls of 
 Congress. But I shall not sufl'er myself to be excited into 
 warmth by this denunciation of the measure which I sup- 
 port. Among the feelings which at this moment fill my 
 breast, not the least is that of regret at the position in 
 which the gentleman has placed himself. Sir, he does 
 himself no justice. The cause which he has espoused 
 finds no basis in the Constitution, no succor from public 
 sympathy, no cheering from a patriotic community. He 
 has no foothold on which to stand while he might display 
 the powers of his acknowledged talents. Every thing be- 
 neath his feet is hollow and treacherous. He is like a 
 strong man struggling in a morass: every efibrt to extricate 
 himself only sinks him deeper and deeper. And I fear 
 the resemblance may be carried still farther; I fear that 
 no friend can safely come to his relief, that no one can 
 approach near enough to hold out a helping hand, without 
 danger of going down himself, also, into the bottomless 
 depths of this Serbonian bog. 
 
 " The honorable gentleman has declared, that on the 
 decision of the question now in debate may depend the 
 cause of liberty itself. I am of the same opinion; but 
 then, Sir, the liberty which I think is staked on the con- 
 test is not political liberty, in any general and undefined 
 character, but our own well-understood and long-enjoyed 
 American liberty. 
 
 " Sir, I love Liberty no less ardently than the gentleman 
 himself, in whatever form she may have appeared in the 
 progress of human history. As exhibited in the master 
 states of antiquity, as breaking out again from amidst the 
 darkness of the Middle Ages, and beaming on the forma- 
 tion of new communities in modern Europe, she has, 
 always and every where, charms for me. Yet, Sir, it is 
 our own liberty, guarded by constitutions and secured by 
 
 union, it is that liberty which is our paternal inheritance, 
 60
 
 474 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 it is our established, dear-bought, peculiar American 
 liberty, to which I am chiefly devoted, and the cause of 
 which I now mean, to the utmost of my power, to main- 
 tain and defend." 
 
 The peroration, containing those " words of solemn 
 warning," will be remembered by every friend of the 
 Union and the Constitution, while our country stands 
 united under one free and happy government. 
 
 " Mr. President, if the friends of nullification should be 
 able to propagate their opinions, and give them practical 
 effect, they would, in my judgment, prove themselves the 
 most skillful ' architects of ruin,' the most effectual ex- 
 tinguishers of high-raised exj)ectation, the greatest blast- 
 ers of human hopes, that any age has produced. They 
 would stand up to proclaim, in tones which would pierce 
 the ears of half the human race, that the last great experi- 
 ment of representative government had failed. They 
 would send forth sounds, at the hearing of which the doc- 
 trine of the divine right of kings would feel, even in its 
 grave, a returning sensation of vitality and resuscitation. 
 Millions of eyes of those who now feed their inherent 
 love of liberty on the success of the American example, 
 would turn away from beholding our dismemberment, and 
 find no place on earth whereon to rest their gratified sight. 
 Amidst the incantations and orgies of nullification, seces- 
 sion, disunion, and revolution, would be celebrated the 
 funeral rites of constitutional and republican liberty. 
 
 " But, Sir, if the government do its duty, if it act with 
 firm.ness and with moderation, these opinions can not 
 prevail. Be assured, Sir, be assured, that, among the 
 political sentiments of this people, the love of union is 
 still uppermost. They will stand fast by the Constitution, 
 and by those who defend it. I rely on no temporary expe- 
 dients, on no political combination; but I rely on the true 
 American feeling, the genuine patriotism of the people,
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 475 
 
 and. Liie imperative decision of the public voice. Disorder 
 and confusion, indeed, may arise; scenes of commotion 
 and contest are threatened, and perhaps may come. With 
 my whole heart, I pray for the continuance of the domestic 
 peace and quiet of the country. I desire, most ardently, 
 [Jie restoration of afiection and harmony. to all its parts. 
 I desire that every citizen of the whole country may look 
 to this government with no other sentiments than those of 
 grateful respect and attachment. But T can not yield even 
 to kind feelings the cause of the Constitution, the true 
 glory of the country, and the great trust which we hold in 
 our hands for succeeding ages. If the Constitution can 
 not be maintained without meeting these scenes of com- 
 motion and contest, however unwelcome, they must come. 
 We can not, we must not, we dare not, omit to do that 
 which, in our judgment, the safety of the Union requires. 
 Not regardless of consequences, we must yet meet conse- 
 quencesj seeing the hazards which surround the discharge 
 of public duty, it must yet be discharged. For myself, 
 Sir, I shun no responsibility justly devolving on me, here 
 or elsewhere, in attempting to maintain the cause. I am 
 bound to it by indissoluble ties of afiection and duty, and 
 I shall cheerfully partake in its fortunes and its fate. I 
 am ready to perform my own appropriate part, whenever 
 and wherever the occasion may call on me, and to take 
 my chance among those upon whom blows may fall first 
 and fall thickest. I shall exert every faculty I possess in 
 aiding to prevent the Constitution from being nullified, 
 destroyed, or impaired; and even should I see it fall, I 
 will still, with a voice feeble, perhaps, but earnest as ever 
 issued from human lips, and with fidelity and zeal which 
 nothing shall extinguish, call on the PEOPLE to come to 
 its rescue." 
 
 Mr. Webster concluded his speech in a deep, thrilling 
 tone. The efiect was electric. Scarcely had the last
 
 476 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 charming sound of tlie orator's voice died away, wlien a 
 tremendous buiot of applause from the galleries, testified 
 that the People were with him — that they approved what 
 he said — that Ihey were ready to maintain the Constitu- 
 tion to the last. 
 
 " The throng'.'d Senate-chamber, while it listened to the 
 deep tones of the speaker, as in his most impressive man- 
 ner he pi'oiiounced this eloquent admonition, surged like 
 the sea. You saw the undulating motion of the crowd, 
 leaning forward to catch each word as it fell, and forced 
 back to its original position. It was late in the evening 
 when the orator got through his speech. The emotions of 
 the multitude, which had been repressed during the day 
 did not hesitate to find articulate and forcible expression 
 under the protecting shadows of the night; and hardly 
 had the speaker concluded his remarks, before the galle- 
 ries, rising to a man, gave a hearty, vociferous cheer, for 
 " Daniel Webster, the defender of the Constitution." 
 
 The next great subject that enlisted the attention of Mr. 
 Webster was the Bank controversy. On the 18th of Sep- 
 tember, 1833, the removal of the public deposits from the 
 Bank of the United States w^as effected by the order of 
 President Jackson. This step, as all know, proved most 
 disastrous to the business of the country. When Congress 
 met, about two months after this removal had taken place, 
 Mr. Clay introduced a resolution, which passed the Sen- 
 ate (March 2Sth, 1834), censuring the President for assum- 
 ing power not warranted by the Constitution. On the 
 17th of April, Gen. Jackson communicated to the Senate 
 his memorable Protest against this resolution. This drew 
 from Mr. Webster, on the 7th of May, an argument of 
 great beauty, power, and compass. 
 
 " This speech," says Mr. Everett, " will be ever memo- 
 rable for that sublime passage on the extent of the power 
 of England, which will be quoted with admiration wher-
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 477 
 
 ever our language is spoken^ aud while England retains 
 lier place in the family of nations." 
 
 Regarding the act of the President as an inroad upon 
 the Constitution, aud dangerous to the liberties of the 
 country, Mr. Webster asserted, in his speech, that every 
 encroachment, great or small, is important enough to 
 awaken the attention of those who are intrusted with the 
 preservation of a constitutional government. While ad- 
 verting to the great principles of civil liberty, and to the 
 resistance made by the Revolutionary patriots to the asser- 
 tion of the right of the British Parliament to tax them, he 
 gave utterance to some of the most beautiful aud lofty 
 sentences he ever produced: 
 
 " We are not to wait till great public mischiefs come, 
 till the government is overthrown, or liberty itself put 
 into extreme jeopardy. We should not be worthy sons of 
 our fathers were we so to regard great questions aflecting the 
 general freedom. Those fathers accomplished the Revo- 
 lution on a strict question of principle. The Parliament 
 of Great Britain asserted a right to tax the Colonies in all 
 cases whatsoever; and it was precisely on this question 
 that they made the Revolution turn. The amount of 
 taxation was trilling, but the claim itself was inconsistent 
 with liberty; and that was, in their eyes, enough. It was 
 against the recital of an act of Parliament, rather than 
 against any suffering under its enactments, that they took 
 up arms. They went to war against xa preamble. They 
 fought seven years against a declaration. They poured 
 out tlieir treasures and their blood like water in a contest 
 against an assertion which those less sagacious and not 
 so well schooled in the principles of civil liberty would 
 have regarded as barren phraseology, or mere j)arade of 
 words. They saw in the claim of the British Parliament 
 a seminal principle of mischief, the germ of unjust power^ 
 they detected it, dragged it forth from underneath its
 
 478 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 plausible disguises, struck at it; nor did it elude either 
 their steady eye or their well-directed blow till they had 
 extirpated and destroyed it, to the smallest fibre. On this 
 question of principle, while actual sufferins; was yet afar aff^ 
 they raised their flag against a power, to which, for purposes 
 of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height 
 of her glory, is not to he compared; a power which has dotted 
 over the surface of the whole globe with her jjossessions and 
 military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, 
 and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with 
 one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of 
 England.'''' 
 
 This speech was received with the warmest commenda- 
 tion throughout the Union. Chancellor Kent, in a letter 
 to Mr. Webster, written a few days after the speech was 
 delivered, said " You never equaled this effort. It sur- 
 passes every thing in logic, in simplicity and beauty, and 
 energy of diction; in clearness, in rebuke, in sarcasm, in 
 patriotic and glowing feeling, in just and profound consti- 
 tutional views, in critical severity, and matchless strength. 
 It is worth millions to our liberties." 
 
 On the election of General Harrison to the presidency, 
 in 1840, Mr. Webster was appointed Secretary of State. In 
 1842, he negotiated a treaty with Lord Ashburton, which 
 settled the question of the northeastern boundary, and put 
 an end to a long dispute with England. This was one of 
 the most praiseworthy acts of Mr. Webster's life — one for 
 which his name deserves to be held in lasting remem- 
 brance by a grateful people. Shortly after this honorable 
 adjustment of national difficulties, Mr. Webster resigned 
 the office of Secretary of State under President Tyler, and 
 remained in private life during the residue of the Admin- 
 istration. 
 
 In 1843, when the completion of the Bunker Hill Monu- 
 ment was to be celebrated in an imposing manner, Mr.
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. - 479 
 
 Webster was invited to deliver an oration on the joyous 
 anniversary. He consented; and on the 17th of June, 
 gave utterance to his patriotic sentiments in a noble strain 
 of fervid eloquence which thrilled the heart of his vast 
 audience. It was an occasion of the highest interest. 
 The proudest monument of the land had just been fin- 
 ished; and the greatest orator of the nation was to display 
 his eloquence on a spot moistened by the blood of free- 
 men, and ever dear to American hearts. The day was 
 clear, cool, and delightful. An immense procession moved 
 from Boston to the battle-ground. Mr- Webster stood 
 upon an elevated platform in the open air; above him 
 stretched a clear, blue, smiling sky; beneath him was the 
 sacred ground which had been stained with the blood of 
 the Revolutionary patriots; and before him "was a sea of 
 upturned faces, with the glorious monument towering 
 towards heaven. 
 
 It was estimated that a hundred thousand persons were 
 present. Among this immense multitude were one hund- 
 red and eight surviving veterans of the Revolution, some 
 of whom had been in the hard-fought battle of Bunker 
 Hill. "The ground rises slightly between the platform 
 and the Monument Square, so that the whole of this 
 immense concourse, compactly crowded together, breath- 
 less with attention, swayed by one sentiment of admiration 
 and delight, was within the full view of the speaker. The 
 position and the occasion were the height of the moral 
 sublime." 
 
 Mr. Webster rose and said: — "A duty has been per- 
 formed. A work of gratitude and patriotism is completed. 
 This structure, having its foundations in soil which drank 
 deep of early Revolutionary blood, has at length reached 
 its destined height, and now lifts its summit to the skies." 
 
 " The Bunker Hill Monument is finished. Here it, 
 stands. Fortunate in the high natural eminence in which
 
 4 so ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 it is placed, higher, infinitely higher in its objects and 
 purpose, it rises over the land and over the sea; and, visi- 
 ble, at their homes, to three hundred thousand of the 
 2:)eople of Massachusetts, it stands a memorial of the last, 
 and a monitor to the present and to all succeeding gene- 
 rations. I have spoken of the loftiness of its purpose. If 
 it had been without any other design than the creation ot 
 a work of art, the granite of which it is composed would 
 have slept in its native bed. It has a purpose, and that 
 purpose gives it its character. That purpose enrobes it 
 with dignity and moral grandeur. That well-known pur- 
 pose it is which causes us to look up to it with a feeling 
 of awe. It is itself the orator of this occasion. It is not 
 from my lips, it could not be from any human lips, that 
 that strain of eloquence is this day to flow most competent 
 to move and excite the vast multitudes around me. The 
 powerful speaker stands motionless before us.* It is^a 
 plain shaft. It bears no inscriptions, fronting to the rising 
 sun, from which the future antiquary shall wipe the dust. 
 Nor does the rising sun cause tones of music to issue from 
 its summit. But at the rising of the sun, and at the setting 
 of the sun; in the blaze of noonday, and beneath the 
 milder efiulgence of lunar light; it looks, it speaks, it acts, 
 
 * " When, after saying, 'It is not from my lips, it could not be from any 
 human lips, that that strain of eloquence is this day to flow most competent to 
 move and excite the vast multitude around me, — the powerful speaker stands 
 motionless before us,' lie paused, and pointed in silent admiration to the sub- 
 lime structure, the auaience burst into long and loud applause. It was some 
 moments before the speaker could go on with the address." 
 
 "The thrill of admiration," says Mr, Everett, "which ran through the assem- 
 bled thousands, when, at the commencement of his discourse on that occasion, 
 Mr. Webster apostrophized the monument itself as the mute orator of the day, 
 has been spoken of by those who had the good fortune to be present as an eniD- 
 tion beyond the power of language to describe. The gesture, the look, the 
 tone of the speaker, as he turned to the majestic shaft, seemed to invest it with 
 a mysterious life; and men held their breath as if a solemn voice was about to 
 come down from its towering summit."
 
 DANIKL WEBSTER. 481 
 
 to the full compreliensioii of every American mind, and 
 the awakening of glowing enthusiasm in every American 
 heart. Its silent, but awful utterance; its deep pathos, as 
 it brings to our contemplation the 17th of June, 1775, and 
 the consequences which have resulted to us, to our coun- 
 try, and to the world, from the events of that day, and 
 which we know must continue to rain influence on the 
 destinies of mankind to the end of time; the elevation 
 with which it raises us high above the ordinary feeling of 
 life, surpass all that the study of the closet, or even the 
 inspiration of genius, can produce. To-day it speaks to 
 us. Its future auditories will be the successive genera- 
 tions of men, as they rise up before it and gather around 
 it. Its speech will be of patriotism and courage; of civil 
 and religious liberty; of free government; 'of the moral 
 improvement and elevation of mankind; and of the im- 
 mortal memory of those who, with heroic devotion, have 
 sacrificed their lives for their country."* 
 
 * It will be interesting to read, in connection with Mr. Webster's oration, 
 the thrilling speech of Kossuth on Bunker Hill. What can be more beautiful 
 or vehement in language than the following passage from the address of the 
 noble Hungarian: 
 
 " My voice shrinks from the task to mingle with the awful pathos of that 
 majestic orator! [Pointing to the monument.] Silent like the grave, and yet 
 melodious like the song of immortality upon the lips of cherubim, — a sense- 
 less, cold granite, and yet warm with inspiration like a patriot's heart, — im- 
 movable like the past, and yet stirring like the future, which never stops, — 
 it looks like a prophet, and speaks like an oracle. And thus it speaks: 
 
 " ' The day I commemorate is the rod with which the hand of the Lord has 
 opened the well of liberty. Its waters will flow; every new drop of martyr 
 blood will increase the tide. Despots may dam its flood, but, never stop it. 
 The higuer its dam, the higher the tide; it will overflow, or break through. 
 Bow, and adore, and hope!' 
 
 "Such are the words which come to my ears; and Ibow^ I adore, I hope! 
 
 "'In bowing, my eyes meet the soil of Bunker Hill, — that awful opening 
 scene of the eventful drama to which Lexington and Concord had been the pre- 
 fnce! 
 
 " The spirits of the past rise belore my 'lyes. I see Richard Gridley hastily 
 61
 
 482 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 In 1845, Mr. Webster again took his seat in the Senate 
 of the United States, as successor to Hon. Rufus Choate.* 
 When Mr. Fillmore succeeded to the presidency, on the 
 death of Gen. Taylor, in July, 1850, Mr. Webster was again 
 appointed Secretary of State, and in this department he 
 remained until his death. 
 
 Among the last oratorical efforts which Mr. Webster made 
 in the Senate of the United States, was his great speech 
 for the Constitution and the Union, delivered in the pre- 
 sence of an immense audience, on the 7th of March, 1850. 
 His closing sentences in this speech are so exquisitely 
 finished, and contain such a glowing representation of na- 
 tional glory, that they deserve to be quoted here. 
 
 Speaking of the high trusts which devolve on the present 
 generation of our countrymen, for the preservation of the 
 
 planning the intrenchments. I hear the dull, cold, blunt sound of the pick- 
 axe and spade in the hands of the patriot band. I hear the patrols say that 
 " all is well." I see Knowlton raising his line of rail fence, upon which soon 
 the guns will rest, that the bullets may prove to their message true. I see 
 the tall, commanding form of Prescott marching leisurely around the parapet, 
 inflaming the tired patriots with the classical words that those wlio had the 
 merit of the labor should have the honor of the victory. I see Asa Pollard fall, 
 the first victim of that immortal day; I see the chaplain praying over bim; and 
 now the roaring of cannon from ships ana from batteries, and the blaze of the 
 burning town, and the thrice-renewed storm, and the persevering defense, till 
 powder was gone, and but stones remained. And I see Warren telling 
 Elbridge Gerry that it is sweet and fair to die for the father-land. I see him 
 lingering in his retreat, and, struck in the forehead, fall to the ground; and 
 Pomeroy, with his shattered musket in his brave hand, complaining that he 
 
 * Rufus Choate, who has been admirably styled the Erskine of America, and 
 who is one of the brightest ornaments of the American bar, was born in Essex 
 county, Massachusetts, on the 1st of October, 1799. At school he was early 
 noted for his extraordinary powers of memory, and close application to study. 
 He graduated at Dartmouth College in 18' 9. He commenced the study of law 
 in the Dane Law School, at Cambridge, and afterwards entered the office of the 
 celebrated William Wirt, at Washington. In 18o0, Mr. Choate was elected to 
 the senate of his native state. In 1832, he was chosen as a representative to 
 Congress, and in 1842, he was elected to the Senate of the Union. This sta-
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 483 
 
 constitution, and of the vast extent of tlie American Re- 
 public, he said: " Never did there devolve on any generation 
 of men higher trusts than now devolve upon us, for the 
 preservation of this constitution and the harmony and 
 peace of all who are destined to live under it. Let us make 
 our generation one of the strongest and brightest links in 
 that golden chain which is destined, I fondly believe, to 
 grapple the people of all the states to this constitution for 
 ages to come. We have a great, popular, constitutional 
 government, guarded by law and by judicature, and de- 
 fended by the affections of the whole people. No monar- 
 chical throne presses these states together, no iron chain of 
 military power encircles them; they live and stand under 
 a government popular in its form, representative in its 
 character, founded upon principles of equality, and so con- 
 structed, we hope, as to last for ever. In all its history it 
 
 remained unhurt, when Warren had to die; and I see all the brave who fell 
 unnamed, unnoticed and unknown, the nameless corner-stones of American in- 
 dependence!'* 
 
 Kossuth possesses, in an eminent dejree, those oratorical qualities which 
 are essential to great success in public speaking — those powers by which a 
 speaker is enabled to sweep the chords of huncan feeling. And, what effect has 
 been produced by the delivery of his public speeches, the world knows. While 
 addressing large assemblies, he has been listened to with breathless attention. 
 
 "• Reporters have been too excited to proceed accurately with their notes, and 
 a glow of mysterious delight, like an atmosphere, has pervaded the hall through 
 which floated his melodious tones. In England, men who have heard the elo- 
 quence of parliament for half a century, and could listen motionless to advo- 
 cates whose fame is wide as the empire, while making juries weep, have felt 
 their pulses leap to the sound of his voice. They describe his eloquence as 
 ' Shaksperean,' ' Miltonian,' and ' most thrilling.' " 
 
 tion he resigned in 1845, and was succeeded by Mr. Webster as above stated. 
 Like Lord Erskine, he is in his element while pleading at the bar. The forum 
 is the grand theater of his glory. The Law Reporter remarks on his character 
 as an orator : "He is certainly one of the most gifted orators of New England. 
 A brilliant intellect, which has been developed, by exact and laborious study, a 
 wonderful power of discrimination and abstraction, an exuberant flow of Ian-
 
 484 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 lias been beneficent; it has trodden down no man's liberty; 
 it has crushed no state. Its daily respiration is liberty and 
 patriotism; its yet youthful veins are full of enterprise, 
 courage, and honorable love of glory and renown. Large 
 before, the country has now, by recent events, become vastly 
 larger. This republic now extends, with a vast breadth, 
 across the whole continent. The two great seas of the 
 world wash the one and the other shore. We realize, on 
 a mighty scale, the beautiful description of the ornamental 
 border of the buckle of Achilles: 
 
 ' Now, the broad shield complete, the artist crowned 
 With his last hand, and poured the ocean round; 
 In living silver seemed the waves to roll, 
 And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole,.' " 
 
 At the grand ceremonial of the laying of the corner- 
 stone of the addition to the Capitol, on the 4th of July, 
 
 guage, a sparkling wit, a lively fancy, and an overwhelming enthusiasm, ena- ' 
 ble him to control almost any audience, and entitle him to the name of the 
 American Erskine " " While pleading, his eye flashes, as it turns rapidly 
 from the court to the jury, and the jury to the court. Ever remarking, with 
 intuitive sagacity, the slightest traces of emotion or thought in the eye, lip, 
 face, position or movement, of the judge — ever reading the soul revealed to 
 him," as one graphically sketches, " perhaps to him alone, and comprehended 
 by that mysterious sympathy which unites the orator and auditor, as by an 
 electric atmosphere, through which thoughts ana feelings pass and repass in 
 silence, but in power, Choate is aware, with the certainty of genius and the 
 rapidity of instinct, of the effect he has produced upon the judge, whose slightest 
 word, he knows, is weightier than the eloquence of counsel ; and, at the first 
 slight intimation of dissent, rapidly, but almost imperceptibly, modifies, limits 
 and explains, his idea, until he feels the concert of mental sympathy between 
 mind and mind; and then, like a steed checked into noble action, or a river 
 raising to burst over its barriers, with his mind elevated and excited by oppo- 
 sition, he discourses to the jury loKic, eloquence and poetry, in tones that linger 
 in the memory like the parting sound of a cathedral bell, or the dying note of 
 an organ. His voice is deep, musical, sad. Thrilling it can be as a fife, but 
 it has often a plaintive cadence, as though his soul mourned, aftiid the loud and 
 angry tumults of the forum, for the quiet grove of the academy, or in these
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 435 
 
 1851, Mr. Webster delivered the last of his most eloquent, 
 patriotic addresses. It was one of the noblest of his 
 oratorical efforts — a magnificent burst of the highest elo- 
 quence. Passages of great beauty occur in this speech, 
 which, to adopt the words of one of the most accomplished 
 living orators of our country, " will be read with admi- 
 ration as long as the Capitol itself shall last." " The 
 allusion and apostrophe to Washington," says Mr. Everett, 
 " will be rehearsed by the generous youth of America as 
 long as the English language is spoken on this side of the 
 Atlantic ocean." It was natural that the orator should 
 refer on such an occasion as this to the illustrious Father 
 of his country, who in 1793 had laid the corner-stone of 
 the original Capitol. In the following lines we have the 
 beautiful allusion and apostrophe: 
 
 " Fellow-citizens, what contemplations are awakened in 
 our minds as we assemble here to reenact a scene like that 
 performed by Washington ! Methinks I see his venerable 
 form now before me, as presented in the glorious statue by 
 Houdon, now in the Capitol of Virginia. He is dignified 
 
 evil times sighed at the thought of those charms and virtues which we dare 
 conceive in boyhood, and pursue as men, the unreached paradise of our despair." 
 In a work entitled the " Statesmen of America in 1846," we have a 
 beautiful allusion to a memorable forensic effort of Mr. Choate. The author 
 says: " I have no words to describe the extraordinary effort of this remarkable 
 man. The fluency, rapidity and beauty of his language, his earnest manner, 
 his excited action, and his whole being, conflicting with the most intense 
 emotion; he was all nerve, each sense, each faculty was absorbed in the great 
 duty of the day : and sometimes it seemed that tears alone could relieve the 
 uncontrollable agitation which thrilled through his frame, and quivered oa his 
 lip, and trembled in his voice; the strong nerve of a man alone enabled him to 
 command his struggling feelings ; for an instant he paused, and then again 
 gushed forth his words clothed in each form of argument and persuasion, that 
 the reach of mind and knowledge can suggest or use. His memory supplied 
 quotations, learned and to the point; his imagination called each poetic fancy 
 quick to his aid; and his voice of music attuned itself to all the varied tones of 
 his discourse, awakening in every breast the sentiments and impressions of his 
 own. He is the Proteus of eloquence."
 
 486 • ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 and grave; but concern and anxiety seem to soften the 
 lineaments of his countenance. The government over 
 which he presides is yet in the crisis of experiment Not 
 free from troubles at home, he sees the world in commotion 
 and in arms all around him. He sees that imposing foreign 
 powers are half disposed to try the strength of the recently 
 established American government. We perceive that mighty 
 thoughts, mingled with fears as well as witli hopes, are 
 struggling within him. He heads a short procession over 
 these then naked fields; he crosses yonder stream on a 
 fallen tree: he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose 
 original oaks of the forest stand as thick around him as if 
 the spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here 
 he performs the appointed duty of the day. 
 
 " And now, fellow-citizens, if this vision were a reality; 
 if Washington actually were now amongst us, and if he 
 could draw around him the shades of the great public men 
 of his own day, patriots and warriors, orators and states- 
 men, and were to address us in their presence, would he 
 not say to us: ' Ye men of this generation, I rejoice and 
 thank God for being able to see that our labors and toils 
 and sacrifices were not in vain. You are prosperous, you 
 are happy, you are grateful; the fire of liberty burns brightly 
 and steadily in your hearts, while duty and the law restrain 
 it from bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. 
 Cherish liberty, as you love it; cherish its securities, as you 
 wish to preserve it. Maintain the Constitution which we 
 labored so painfully to establish, and which has been to you 
 such a source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the union 
 of the States, cemented as it was by our prayers, our 
 tears, and our blood. Be true to God, to your country, 
 and to your duty. So shall the whole eastern world 
 follow the morning sun to contemplate you as a nation; 
 so shall all generations honor you, as they honor us; 
 and so shall that Almighty Power which so graciously
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 4S7 
 
 protected us, and which now protects you, shower its ever- 
 lasting blessings upon you and your posterity.' 
 
 ' Great Father of your Country! we heed your words; 
 we feel their force as if you now uttered them with lips of 
 flesh and blood. Your example teaches us, jrour affectionate 
 addresses teach us, your public life teaches us, your sense 
 of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings 
 our fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. 
 Nor do we intend that those who come after us shall be 
 denied the same high fruition. Our honor as well as our 
 happiness is concerned. We can not, we dare not, we will 
 not, betray our sacred trust. We will not filch from pos- 
 terity the treasure i^laced in our hands to be transmitted to 
 other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds in the 
 heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may dis- 
 appear and fall away in the hour appointed by the will of 
 God; but until that day comes, or so long as our lives may 
 last, no ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of 
 Union and Liberty which spans the continent from Wash- 
 ington to California." 
 
 Thus, we have presented the general outlines of Mr. 
 Webster's public career, with the best specimens of his 
 oratory. We must now bring this sketch to a close. 
 
 The decease of Mr. Webster took place at his residence 
 in Marshfield, on the quiet sabbath morning of the 24tli 
 of October, 1852. When the mournful tidings were an- 
 nounced, the heart of the American people was touched 
 with the deepest sorrow. All mourned the departure of 
 one, who, for real mental muscle was regarded as towering 
 above all other men of the age. The great statesman 
 calmly breathed his life away, uttering, as the icy hand of 
 death was sealing his lips forever, those animating words 
 ^^ I still live. ^^ How well did such language express his 
 immortality. The mighty mind of Webster still lives,
 
 488 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 although that once noble form which it inhabited now lies 
 mouldering amidst the clods of the valley 
 
 " Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
 But that which warmed it once can never die." 
 
 On the 29th of October, in the presence of a vast assem • 
 bly of mourners, the remains of Daniel Webster were con- 
 signed to the grave. " His resting-place is where it should 
 be: in the fields which he has tilled; near the haunts alike 
 of his hours of sublime contemplation, and his brighter 
 and more genial moods; within sight of the window from 
 which he looked, in the pauses of his study, upon the 
 white tomb-stones which he had placed over his family — 
 all but one gone before! 
 
 " It is all over! The last struggle is past; the struggle, 
 the strife, the anxiety, the pain, the turmoil of life is over: 
 the tale is told, and finished, and ended. It is told and 
 done; and the seal of death is set upon it. Henceforth 
 that great life, marked at every step; chronicled in jour- 
 nals; waited on by crowds; told to the whole country by 
 telegraphic tongues of flame — that great life shall bo but 
 a history, a biography, ' a tale told in an evening tent.' lu 
 the tents of life it shall long be recited; but no word shall 
 reach the ear of that dead sleeper by the ocean shore. 
 Fitly will he rest there. Like the granite rock, like the 
 heaving ocean, was his mind! Let the rock guard his 
 rest: let the ocean sound his dirge!" 
 
 A critic, already quoted, in describing the character of 
 Mr. Webster's eloquence several years before his decease, 
 says: "In him we behold a mind of great native vigor; 
 early roused to energy by the very necessities of his early 
 origin; — disciplined to habits of severe thought by the 
 laDorious study of law; — trained in alithe arts of intel- 
 lectual warfare on the hard arena of forensic strife; and 
 finally expanded to its present mighty range of eloquence,
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 489 
 
 philosophy, and statesmanship, on the broad and stirring 
 theater of the public councils. Those who have heard 
 Mr. Webster, are well aware that he owes a portion of his 
 power to personal advantages. The lofty brow, the dark 
 and cavernous eye, and the heavy, deep-toned voice, might 
 alone enchant a gazing auditory. These might impart to 
 his calmer and ordinary discourse, a serious earnestness, 
 and a senatorial dignity; but in moments of high excite- 
 ment, by no means of frequent occurrence, they seem like 
 the blackness, and fire, and rolling peals of the o'ercharged 
 and bursting cloud. 
 
 " His style is remarkable for its simplicity. To utter 
 thoughts of the highest order, in language perfectly sim- 
 ple; by lucid arrangement and apt words, to make abstract 
 reasoning, and the most recondite principles of commerce, 
 politics, and law, plain to the humblest capacity, is a 
 privilege and power in which Mr. Webster is equaled, pro- 
 bably, by no living man. This simplicity, which is thought 
 so easy of attainment, is, nevertheless, in this as in most 
 cases, undoubtedly the result of uncommon care. Like 
 the great Athenian orator, Mr. Webster is always full of 
 his subject. Like him, too, he can adorn where ornament 
 is appropriate, and kindle, when occasion calls, into the 
 most touching pathos, or loftiest sublime. 
 
 " As a public man, Mr. Webster is eminently American. 
 His speeches breathe the purest spirit of a broad and gen- 
 erous patriotism. The institutions of learning and liberty 
 which nurtured him to greatness, it has been his filial 
 pride to cherish, his manly privilege to defend, if not to 
 save. 
 
 " In no emergency, on no occasion, where he has yet 
 been tried, have the high expectations formed of his abili- 
 ties, been doomed to disappointment. The time-honored 
 rock of the Pilgrims; Bunker's glorious mound; and old 
 
 Faneuil Hall; have been rendered even more illustrious 
 
 62
 
 490 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 by his eloquent voice. Armed at all points, and ready 
 alike for attack and defense, he has been found equally 
 gieat, whether wrestling Avith champions of the law, be- 
 fore its most august tribunal, or contending on the 
 broader field, and in the hotter conflicts of Congressional 
 warfare," 
 
 " The oratory of Webster will go down to posterity with 
 applause. In the monumental column of the world's elo- 
 quence, formed by the contributions to the illustrious of all 
 ages, the name of the Massachusetts Senator will appear 
 with those of Demosthenes, and Cicero, and Burke, and 
 Fox, and Patrick Henry, and Clay; and if any stones in 
 the column have a brighter polish, or more external 
 beauty, not Grecian marble itself will attract more eyes 
 than the enduring gianite, inscribed with Webster."
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 
 
 Edwaid Everett was born in Dorchester, Massacliusetts, 
 on the 11th of April, 1794. He was a son of the Rev. 
 Oliver Everett, a clergyman of Boston. At the public 
 schools of Dorchester and Boston, young Everett began his 
 education. His preparation for college was com^Dleted 
 in the Phillips Academy at Exeter, New Hampshire, under 
 the instruction of the venerable Dr. Benjamin Abbott, the 
 preceptor of Daniel Webster. 
 
 At a public festival at Exeter, in 1838, in honor of Dr. 
 Abbott, who had been principal of the Academy for fifty 
 years, Mr. Everett, in his remarks alludes, in a beautiful 
 and touching manner, to the scenes of his schoolboy days 
 — those days which he passed so pleasantly and so profita- 
 bly Avithiu the walls of the Exeier Academy: 
 
 "It was my good fortune," said he, "to pass here but a por- 
 tion of the year before I entered college; but I can truly 
 say that even in that short time I contracted a debt of 
 gratitude, which I have felt throughout my life. I return 
 to these endeared scenes with mingled emotion. I find 
 them changed; dwelling-places are no more on the same 
 spots; old edifices have disappeared; new ones, both pub- 
 lic and private, have been erected. Some of the respected 
 heads of society whom I knew, though as a child, are 
 gone. The seats in the Academy-room are otherwise 
 arranged than formerly, and even there the places that 
 once knew me know me no more. Where the objects
 
 492 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 tliemselves are unaltered, the changed eye and the changed 
 mind see them differently. The streets seem narrower and 
 shorter, the distances less considerable j this play-ground 
 before us, which I remember as most spacious, seems sadly 
 contracted. But all, sir. is not changed, either in appear- 
 ance or reality. The countenance of our reverend pre- 
 ceptor has undergone no change to ray eye. It still ex- 
 presses that suaviter in modo mentioned by the gentleman 
 last up (Rev. Professor Ware, Jun.), with nothing of the 
 sternness of the other principle. It is thus I remember itj 
 it was always sunshine to me. Nature, in the larger fea- 
 tures of the landscape, is unchanged; the river still flows, 
 the woods yield their shade as pleasantly as they did thirty 
 years ago, doubly grateful for the contrast they afford to 
 the dusty walks of active life; for the solace they yield in 
 an escape, however brief, from its burdens and cares. As 
 I stood in the hall of the Academy, last evening, and saw 
 from its windows the river winding through the valley, 
 and the gentle slope rising from its opposite bank, and 
 caught the cool breeze that was scattering freshness after 
 the sultry summer's day, I could feel the poetry of Gray, 
 on revisiting, in a like manner, the scenes of his school- 
 boy days — 
 
 ' Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade I 
 
 Ah, jfields beloved in vain! 
 Where once my careless childhood strayed, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain ! 
 I feel the gales that from ye blow 
 A momentary bliss belovv^, 
 
 As, waving fresh their gladsome wing. 
 My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
 And, redolent of joy and youth, 
 To breathe a second spring.' " 
 
 In August, 1807, Mr. Everett, then in the fourteenth 
 year of his age, entered Harvard University. He was the 
 youngest member of his class; but his genius soon began
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 493 
 
 to appear to the deliglit and admiration of his fellow- 
 students and teachers. After a college course of four years, 
 he graduated in 1811, with the highest honors of his class. 
 In the following year he was appointed Latin tutor in the 
 University. 
 
 Mr. Everett was early distinguished for his poetical 
 talents. It was during this period that he composed and 
 delivered a poem for the Phi Beta Kappa Society, on the 
 American Poets — a production which did him honor. 
 
 While a tutor in college, Mr. Everett applied himself to 
 the study of theology under the instruction of the Rev. J. 
 S. Buckminster, and President Kirkland. So rai^idly and 
 thoroughly did he master his theological studies, that he 
 was called to the ministry before he had attained his nine- 
 teenth year J and, in 1813, he became the successor of Mr 
 Buckminster, over the Brattle Street church in Boston. 
 
 Mr. Everett was one of the most popular and eloquent 
 young clergymen that ever commenced a ministerial 
 career. Whenever he preached; large assemblies gathered 
 around him. There was a fascination about his pulpit 
 oratory which carried away his audience in admiration 
 and astonishment. His discourses were heard in breath - 
 less silence. So pure, classical, and soul stirring was the 
 stream of his eloquence that his discourses may be said to 
 resemble " a deep and beautiful river, passing with calm 
 but irresistible majesty through rich and varied scenery ; 
 now gliding around the base of some lofty mountain, the:; 
 sweeping through meadows and cornfields, anon reflecting 
 in their placid bosom some old castle, or vine covered hill, 
 taking villages and cities in their course, and bearing the 
 commerce and population of the neighboring countries on 
 their deepening and expanding tide." 
 
 The pulpit discourses of Mr. Everett were distinguished 
 for their beauty of conception, splendor t)f diction and 
 felicity of execution. They were the productions of a
 
 494 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 weir disciplined mind, familiar with ancient classical lit- 
 erature. But he drew his loftiest strain of pulpit elo- 
 quence from the pages of inspiration. 
 
 In the spring of 1815, before he had attained the age of 
 twenty-one years, Mr. Everett was chosen professor of Greek 
 Literature in Harvard University. Before commencing his 
 new and arduous duties at Cambridge, he was permitted, 
 for the improvement of his health and for his proficiency 
 in ancient and modern literature, to visit Europe and to 
 remain for some time in the principal universities of the 
 old world He immediately embarked at Boston for Liver- 
 pool. Shortly after his arrival at Liverpool he repaired to 
 London, where he remained till after the battle of Waterloo 
 From England he proceeded to Germany. The principal 
 object of his visit to that country was to acquire a know- 
 ledge of German literature. To accomplish this, he spent 
 more than two years at the University of Gottingen, where, 
 applying himself closely to study, he gained a knowledge 
 of the German language, and of other studies appropriate 
 to his professorship. He also became familiar with the 
 mode of instruction adopted in the universities of Germany. 
 While in Germany, Mr. Everett became acquainted with 
 some of the most distinguished literary and scientific men 
 of the day, such as Goethe, Gauss, Heeren, Wolf, Hermann, 
 and Hugo. 
 
 The winter of 1817-18, Mr. Everett spent in Paris, de- 
 voting the principal portion of his time to the study of 
 Italian and modern Greek. Here he enjoyed the society 
 of General Lafayette and many other eminent men. In the 
 spring of 1818, he returned to England, sjient some time at 
 the universities of Cambridge and Oxford; visited Scotland; 
 passed a few days with Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, and 
 with Dugald Stewart. In England, as well as in Germany 
 and France, he became intimately acquainted with many 
 of the most eminent political and literary men, including
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 495 
 
 Sir James Mackintosh, Lord Jeffrey, Campbell, Lord Hol- 
 land, Sir Samuel Romilly, Sir Humphrey Davy, and Lord 
 Byron. 
 
 In the autumn of 1818, Mr. Everett visited Switzerland 
 and Italy. He spent most of the winter of 1818-19 in 
 Rome, Florence and Naples. His time there was pleasantly 
 passed in antiquarian research, and in the society of illus- 
 trious men. In the spring of 1819, he set out for the shores 
 of Greece. He passed by Pharsalia, Thermopylae, Deljihi 
 and Thebes, on his way to Athens. Perhaps the most plea- 
 sant part of his visit to Europe w'as the few weeks which 
 he spent at Athens. After visiting the plain of Troy and 
 Constantinople, he returned to London, took passage for 
 America in Sej^tember, 1819, and safely reached his native 
 country, after an absence of about four years and seven 
 months. He returned to his countrymen, like Cicero from 
 his Grecian and Asiatic tour, with his mind stored with 
 knowledge. He immediately entered upon the duties of 
 his professorship at Cambridge, and also became the editor 
 of the North American Review. About this time he de- 
 livered an admirable course of lectures to the students of 
 Harvard University, on Greek literaTure, containing an 
 account of the life and w'ritings of every Greek classic 
 author of note from the earliest period to the Byzantine 
 age. It is to be hoped that these lectures may yet be given 
 to the world in a permanent form. They will doubtless be 
 a noble contribution to literature. 
 
 The fame of Mr. Everett as an orator was early estab- 
 lished. On the 26th of August, 1826, he pronounced the 
 first of his most brilliant orations at Cambridge, before the 
 Society of Phi Beta Kappa, on The Circumstances Favorable 
 to the Progress of Literature in America. 
 
 This speech called forth universal praise. It was an 
 amazing effort for a young man of thirty years, and at 
 once established his reputation as one of the most accom-
 
 496 ORATORS AND STATESMEN . 
 
 plished orators of Ms country. The peroration, which 
 contains a beautiful apostrophe to General Lafayette, 
 whose presence graced the occasion, thrilled the heart of 
 the immense audience, and was responded to by loud and 
 protracted cheers. A more noble conclusion to an ora- 
 tion of this kind was, perhaps, never made. It was 
 moulded in classic beauty, and pronounced with over- 
 whelming force: 
 
 " Meantime," said the orator, " the years a^e rapidly 
 passing away, and gathering importance in their course. 
 With the present year [1824J will be completed the half 
 century from that most important era in human history — 
 the commencement of our revolutionary war. The jubilee 
 of our national existence is at hand. The space of time 
 that has elapsed since that momentous date has laid down 
 in the dust, which the blood of many of them had al- 
 ready hallowed, most of the great men to whom, under 
 Providence, we owe oui' national existence and privileges. 
 A few still survive among us, to reap the rich fruits of 
 their labors and sufferings; and one has yielded himself 
 to the united voice of a people, and returned in his age 
 to receive the gratitude of the nation to whom he devoted 
 his youth. It is recorded on the pages of American his- 
 tory, that when this friend of our country applied to our 
 commissioners at Paris, in 1776, for a passage in the first 
 ship they should despatch to America, they were obliged 
 to answer him (so low and abject was then our dear native 
 laud), that they possessed not the means, nor the credit, 
 sufficient for providing a single vessel, in all the ports of 
 France. ' Then,' exclaimed the youthful hero, ' I will pro- 
 vide my own.' And it is a literal fact that, when all 
 America was too poor to offer him so much as a passage 
 to her shores, he left, in his tender youth, the bosom of 
 home, of domestic hai)piness, of wealth, of rank, to plunge 
 in the dust and blood of our inausi)icious struggle.
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 497 
 
 " Welcome, friend of our fathers, to our shores! Happy 
 are our eyes, that behold those venerable features ! Enjoy 
 a triumph such as never conqueror nor monarch enjoyed — 
 the assurance that, throughout America, there is not a 
 bosom which does not beat with joy and gratitude at the 
 sound of your name! You have already met and saluted, 
 or will soon meet, the few that remain of the ardent pa- 
 triots, prudent counselors, and brave warriors, with whom 
 you were associated in achieving our liberty. But you 
 have looked round in vain for the faces of many, who 
 would have lived years of pleasure, on a day like this, 
 with their old companion in arms and brother in peril. 
 Lincoln, and Greene, and Knox, and Hamilton, are gone; 
 the heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen before 
 the enemy that conquers all. Above all, the first of heroes 
 and of men, the friend of your youth, the more than 
 friend of his country rests in the bosom of the soil he 
 redeemed. On the banks of his Potomac he lies in glory 
 and in peace. You will revisit the hospitable shades of 
 Mount Vernon, but him, whom you venerated as we did, 
 you will not meet at its door. His voice of consolation, 
 which reached you in the dungeons of Olmiitz, can not 
 now break its silence to bid you welcome to his own roof. 
 But the grateful children of America will bid you welcome 
 in his name. Welcome.' thrice welcome to our shores! 
 and whithersoever your course shall take you, throughout 
 the limits of the continent, the ear that hears you shall 
 bless you, the eye that sees you shall give witness to you, 
 and every tongue exclaim, with heartfelt joy. Welcome! 
 welcome. La Fayette!" 
 
 On the 22d of December of the same year ( 1824), Mr. 
 
 Everett delivered an oration at Plymouth upon the First 
 
 Settlement of New England. It was a masterly effort, 
 
 worthy of the occasion,- and of him who pronounced it. 
 
 The most beautiful sentiments. — thoughts which will 
 63
 
 498 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 never die — abound in this oration. Of this class is the 
 allusion to England, the land of our fathers, the home of 
 the Pilgrims. The passage is above all praise; its form is 
 so graceful; its cadence, so delicioi^s, and its melody, so 
 delightful : 
 
 " Who does not feel," said Mr. Everett, " what reflecting 
 American does not acknowledge, the incalculable advan- 
 tages derived to this land, out of the deep fountains of 
 civil, intellectual, and moral truth, from which we have 
 drawn in England? What American does not feel proud 
 that his fathers were the countrymen of Bacon, of Newton, 
 and of Locke? Who does not know that, while every 
 pulse of civil liberty in the heart of the British empire 
 beat warm and full in the bosom of our ancestors, the so- 
 briety, the firmness, and the dignity, with which the cause 
 of free principles struggled into existence here, constantly 
 found encouragement and countenance from the friends 
 of liberty there? Who does not remember that, when the 
 Pilgrims went over the sea, the prayers of the faithful 
 British confessors, in all the quarters of their dispersion, 
 went over with them, while their aching eyes were 
 strained, till the star of hope should go up in the western 
 skies? And who will ever forget that, in that eventful 
 struggle which severed these youthful republics from the 
 British crown, there was not heard, throughout our con- 
 tinent in arms, a voice which spoke louder for the rights 
 ®f America, than that of Burke, or of Chatham, within 
 the walls of the British parliament, and at the foot of the 
 British throne? No: for myself I can truly say that, after 
 my native land, T feel a tenderness and a reverence for 
 that of my fathers. The pride I take in my own country 
 makes me respect that from which we are sprung. In 
 touching the soil of England, I seem to return, like a de- 
 scendant, to the old family seat; to come back to the abode 
 of an aged and venerable parent. I acknowledge this
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 499 
 
 great consanguinit}' of nations. The sound of my native 
 language, beyond the sea, is a music to my ear, beyond the 
 richest strains of Tuscan softness or Castilian majesty. I 
 am not yet in a land of strangers, while surrounded l\y 
 the manners, the habits, and the institutions under which 
 I have been brought up. I wander, delighted, through a 
 thousand scenes, which the historians and the poets have 
 made familiar to us^ of which the names are inter wove :i 
 with our earliest associations. I tread with reverence the 
 spots where I can retrace the footsteps of our suffering 
 fathers; the pleasant land of their birth has a claim on 
 my heart. It seems to me a classic, yea, a holy land; rich 
 in the memory of the great and good, the champions an I 
 the martyrs of liberty, the exiled heralds of truth; an 1 
 richer, as the parent of this land of promise in the west." 
 
 Near the close of this oration we have another passage 
 of uncommon power and beauty, on tlie suffering and 
 perilous condition of the Pilgrim Fathers during their 
 voyage across the Atlantic, and after their landing on the 
 inhospitable, ice-clad rocks of Plymouth. It is one of 
 the finest strokes that the pencil of the orator or the 
 man of letters has ever drawn; and it is an admirable ex- 
 emplification of Mr. Everett's highly imaginative faculty. 
 Where can we find in the English language — in any lan- 
 guage — sentences more graceful than the following? 
 
 " Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
 vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the 
 prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown 
 sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, 
 the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, 
 and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on 
 the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for 
 shore. I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, 
 crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, 
 del>ayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now.
 
 500 ORATORS AND STATESMEN 
 
 driven in fury before the raging tempest, in th^ir scarcely 
 seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls 
 through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining 
 from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard; 
 the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow; 
 the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the 
 floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against 
 the staggered vessel. I see them, escai3#d from these perils, 
 pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed 
 at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks 
 of Plymouth, weak and exhausted from the voyage, poorly 
 armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of 
 their shipmaster for a draught of beer on board, drinking 
 nothing but water on shore, without shelter, without 
 means, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume 
 of history, and tell me, on any principle of human pro- 
 bability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adven- 
 turers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many 
 months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes 
 enumerated within the boundaries of New England? Tell 
 me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on 
 which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, lan- 
 guish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare 
 for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the 
 abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel 
 of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the 
 houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labor 
 and spare meals? was it disease? was it the tomahaAvk? 
 was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enter- 
 prise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments at 
 the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea?— 
 was it some or all of these united that hurried this forsaken 
 company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that 
 neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able 
 to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible that from a be-
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 501 
 
 ginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so mucli of ad- 
 miration as of pity, there have gone forth a progress so 
 steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a 
 promise yet to be fulfilled so glorious?" 
 
 In the autumn of 1825, Mr. Everett was elected to Con- 
 gress as the representative of Middlesex, by a handsome 
 majority. In December, 1825, he took his seat in Congress 
 for the first time. On the expiration of his first term, he 
 was reelected by large majorities, for four successive 
 terms. His Congressional career was eminently service- 
 able to the nation, and honorable to himself. No man 
 ever labored with a nobler and truer heart for the aggran- 
 dizement of his country than Mr. Everett. No one ever 
 cherished a warmer love for the literary institutions of 
 our land, or was ever a more earnest advocate- of American 
 education. The promotion of the prosperity of the whole 
 Union was the grand object of his political career. For 
 this, he labored with unremitted energy in the halls of 
 Congress during ten successive years 
 
 On the 1st of August, 1826, Mr. Everett delivered his 
 great Eulogy at Charlestown, in commemoration of John 
 Adams and Thomas Jefferson, who expired on the 4th of 
 July preceding. It was pronounced in the presence of a 
 vast assembly, and listened to with breathless attention. 
 This discourse furnishes us with some of the loftiest senti- 
 ments that Mr. Everett ever uttered. Take the following 
 for an example: 
 
 " The jubilee of America is turned into mourning. Its 
 joy is mingled with sadness; its silver trumpet breathes a 
 mingled strain. Henceforward, while America exists 
 among the nations of the e-'^rth, the first emotion on the 
 fourth of July will be of joy and triumph in the great 
 event which immortalizes the day; the second will be one 
 of chastened and tender recollection of the venerable 
 men, who departed on the morning of the jubilee. This
 
 502 . ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 mingled emotion of triumi3li and sadness has sealed the 
 beauty and sublimity of our great anniversary. In the 
 simple commemoration of a victorious political achieve- 
 ment, there seems not enough to occupy our purest and 
 best feelings. The fourth of July was before a day of 
 triumph, exultation, and national pride; but the angel of 
 death has mingled in the glorious pageant to teach us we 
 are men. Had our venerated fathers left us on any other 
 day, it would have been henceforward a day of mournful 
 recollection. But now, the whole nation feels, as with 
 one heart, that since it must sooner or later have been 
 bereaved of its revered fathers, it could not have wished 
 that an}'' other had been the day of their decease. Our 
 anniversary festival was before triumphant; it is now tri- 
 umphant and sacred. It before called out the young and 
 ardent, to join in the public rejoicings; it now also speaks, 
 in a touching voice, to the retired, to the gray-headed, to 
 the mild and peaceful spirits, to the whole family of sober 
 freemen. It is henceforward, what the dying Adams pro- 
 nounced it, a great and a good day. It is full of great- 
 ness, and full of goodness. It is absolute and complete. 
 The death of the men who declared our independence, — 
 their death on the day of the jubilee, — was all that was 
 wanting to the fourth of July. To die on that day, and to 
 die together, was all that was wanting to Jefferson and 
 Adams. 
 
 " Think not, fellow-citizens, that, in the mere formal dis- 
 charge of my duty this day, I would overrate the melan- 
 choly interest of the great occasion; I do any thing but 
 intentionally overrate it. I labor only for words, to do 
 justice to your feelings and to mine. I can say nothing 
 which does not sound as cold and inadequate to myself as 
 to you. The theme is too great and too surprising, the men 
 are too great and good, to be spoken of in this cursory 
 manner. There is too much in the contemplation of their
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 503 
 
 united characters, their services, the day and coincidence 
 of their death, to be properly described, or to be fully felt 
 at once. I dare not come here and dismiss, in a few sum- 
 mary j)aragraphs, the characters of men who have filled 
 such a space in the history of their age. It would be a 
 disrespectful familiarity with men of their lofty spirits, 
 their rich endowments, their long and honorable lives, to 
 endeavor thus to weigh and estimate them. I leave that 
 arduous task to the genius of kindred elevation, by whom 
 to-morrow it will be discharged.* I feel the mournful 
 contrast in the fortunes even of the first and best of 
 men, that, after a life in the highest walks of usefulness; 
 after conferring benefits, not merely on a neighborhood, a 
 city, or even a state, but on a whole continent, and a pos- 
 terity of kindred men; after having stood hi the first esti- 
 mation for talents, services, and influence, among millions 
 of fellow-citizens, — a day must come, which closes all up; 
 pronounces a brief blessing on their memory; gives an 
 hour to the actions of a crowded life; describes in a sen- 
 tence what it took years to bring to pass, and what is 
 destined for years and ages to operate on posterity; passes 
 forgetfully over many traits of character, many counsels 
 and measures, which it cost, perhaps, years of discipline 
 and eflbrt to mature; utters a funeral prayer; chants a 
 mournful anthem; and then dismisses all into the dark 
 chambers of death and forgetfulness. 
 
 "But no, fellow-citizens; we dismiss them not to the 
 chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, 
 and prized, and venerated in them, can never be forgotten. 
 I had almost said that they are now beginning to live; to 
 live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, 
 of unmingled happiness, for which their talents and serv- 
 ices were destined. Th^y were of the select few, the least 
 
 * A Kulogy waj delivered on Adams and Jefferson, on the following day, in 
 Fi'.neuil Elall, in Doston, by Daniel Webster.
 
 504 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 portion of whose life dwells in their physical existence; 
 whose hearts have watched, while their senses have slept; 
 Avhose souls have grown wp into a higher being; whose 
 pleasure is to be useful; whose wealth is an unblemished 
 reputation; who respire the breath of honorable fame; 
 who have deliberately and consciously put what is called 
 life to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those 
 who come after. Such men do not, can not die. To be 
 cold and breathless; to feel not and speak not; this is not 
 the end of existence to the men who have breathed their 
 spirits into the institutions of their country, who have 
 stamped their characters on the j^illars of the age, who 
 have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the 
 public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon 
 sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, 
 not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pour- 
 ing out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent 
 over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his 
 cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who 
 make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is 
 Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow 
 house? That which made these men, and men like these, 
 can not die. The hand that traced the charter of inde- 
 pendence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that 
 sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that con- 
 ceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to 
 such men, ' make it life to live,' these can not expire ; — 
 
 ' These shall resist the empire of decay, 
 When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away, 
 Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
 But that which warmed it once can never die.' " 
 
 On the 28th of May, 1833, Mr. Everett made a speech in 
 Faneuil Hall, on the subject of the Bunker Hill Monument, 
 at a meeting called by the Massachusetts Charitable Me- 
 chanic Association, to take measures for its completion.
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 505 
 
 In closing this address he paid the following beautiful 
 tribute to the memory of General Warren: 
 
 " Two of the periods assigned to a generation of men 
 have passed away, since the immortal Warren appeared 
 before his fellow-citizens on the memorable anniversary 
 of the fifth of March. He was, at that time, in the very 
 dawn of manhood, and as you behold him in yonder deli- 
 neation of his person. Amiable, accomplished, prudent, 
 energetic, eloquent, brave — he united the graces of a manly 
 beauty to a lion heart, a sound mind, a safe judgment, and 
 a firmness of purpose which nothing could shake. At the 
 period to which I allude, he was but just thirty-two years 
 of age; so young, and already the acknowledged head of 
 the cause! He had never seen a battle-field; but the vete- 
 rans of Louisburg and Quebec looked up to him as their 
 leader; and the hoary- headed sages who had guided the 
 public councils for a generation, cam^e to him for advice. 
 Such he stood, the organ of the public sentiment on the 
 occasion just mentioned. At the close of his impassioned 
 address, after having depicted the labors, hardships, and 
 sacrifices, endured by our ancestors in the cause of liberty, 
 he broke forth in the thrilling words, ' The voice of your 
 fathers' blood cries to you from the ground!' Three years 
 only passed away; the solemn struggle came on; foremost 
 ia council, he also was foremost in the battle-field, and 
 offered himself a voluntary victim, the first great martyr in 
 the cause. Upon the heights of Charlestown, the last that 
 was struck down, he fell with a numerous band of kindred 
 spirits,*the gray-haired veteran, the stripling in the flower 
 of youth, who had stood side by side through that dreadful 
 day, and fell together, like the beauty of Israel on their 
 high places!" 
 
 On the death of Lafayette, Mr. Everett was requested by 
 
 theyoung men of Boston to pronounce his Eulogy. He did 
 
 so on the 6th of September, 1834, in the presence of an im- 
 
 64
 
 506 ORATORS AND STATESMEN, 
 
 mense audience assembled in Faneuil Hall. The walls of 
 that venerable edifice, around which so many patriotic 
 associations gather, resounded with an eloquence that sub- 
 dued every heart. The sentences which follow should be 
 carefully treasured in the mind of every American: 
 
 " There is not, throughout the world, a friend of liberty, 
 who has not dropped his head, when he has heard that 
 Lafayette is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Irelandi 
 the South American republics — every country where man is 
 struggling to recover his birthright — have lost a benefactor, 
 a patron, in Lafayette. But you, young men, at whose 
 command I speak, for you a bright and particular lodestar 
 is henceforward fixed in the front of heaven. What young 
 man that reflects on the history of Lafayette — that sees him 
 in the morning of his days the associate of sages —the friend 
 of Washington — but will start with new vigor on the path 
 of duty and renown? 
 
 " And what was it, fellow-citizens, which gave to our 
 Lafayette his spotless fame? The love of liberty. What 
 has consecrated his memory in the hearts of good men? 
 The love of liberty. What nerved his youthful arm with 
 strength, and inspired him in the morning of his days with 
 sagacity and counsel? The living love of liberty. To what 
 did he sacrifice power, and rank, and country, and freedom 
 itself? To the horror of licentiousness; to the sanctity of 
 plighted faith; to the love of liberty protected by law. 
 Thus the great principle of your revolutionary fathers, and 
 of your pilgrim sires, the great principle of the age, was 
 the rule of his life: tlie love of liberty protected by law.'^ 
 
 It is impossible to describe the effect produced upon the 
 audience by that thrilling exclamation with which the 
 orator concluded his masterly effort. Nothing of the kind 
 can be more impressive or elevated than this peroration. 
 It can not fall upon the ear of an American citizen without 
 exciting patriotic feelings in his bosom^— Without recalling
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 507 
 
 to his maid the glorious struggles of our fathers in the 
 cause of liberty. No one who was so happy, on this ocea- 
 sion, as to be within sound of the speaker's voice, can ever 
 forget the deep, swelling, melodious tones with which he 
 closed this magnificent eulogy: 
 
 " You have now assembled within these celebrated walls, 
 to perform the last duties of respect and love, on the birth- 
 day of your, benefactor. The sj^irit of the departed is 
 in high communion with the spirit of the place — the 
 temple worthy of the new name which we now behold 
 inscribed on its walls. Listen, Americans, to the les- 
 son which seems borne to us on the very air we breathe, 
 while we perform these dutiful rites! Ye winds, that 
 wafted the Pilgrims to the land of promise, fan, in their 
 children's hearts, the love of freedom ! Blood, which 
 our fathers shed, cry from the ground! Echoing arches 
 of this renowned hall, whisper back the voices of other 
 days! Glorious Washington,* break the long silence of that 
 votive canvas! Speak, speak, marble lipsjf teach us the 
 
 LOVE OF LIBERTY PROTECTED BY LAW ! 
 
 On the 19th (20th) of April, 1835, Mr. Everett delivered 
 his great oration on the Battle of Lexington. This masterly 
 production will be admired as long as the battle which it 
 commemorates shall be remembered, and would, alone, be 
 sufficient to transmit the fame of its author to the most 
 distant posterity. It was pronounced with electric effect 
 upon the battle plains of Lexington. 
 
 As the orator advances to the close of this oration he 
 seems to soar higher in the grandeur of his conceptions, 
 until he ends with a thrilling apostrophe to the bravest of 
 the brave who had nobly spilt their blood for the freedom 
 of their country on that day of death: 
 
 * The portrait of Washington hung on the western wall, 
 t The bust of Lafiyette stood upon the platform.
 
 508 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 " And you, brave and patriotic men, whose ashes are 
 gathered in this humble place of deposit, no time shall rob 
 you of the welWeseryed meed of praise! You, too, per- 
 ceived, not less clearly than the more illustrious patriots 
 whose spirit you caught, that the decisive hour had come. 
 You felt with them that it could not, must not be shunned. 
 You had resolved it should not. Reasoning, remonstrance 
 had been tried: from your own town meetings, from the 
 pulpit, from beneath the arches of Faneuil Hall, every note 
 of argument, of appeal, of adjuration, had sounded to the 
 foot of the throne, and in vain. The wheels of destiny 
 rolled ouj the great design of Providence must be fulfilled; 
 the issue must be nobly met, or basely shunned. Strange 
 it seemed, inscrutable it was, that your remote and quiet 
 village should be the chosen altar of the first great sacrifice. 
 But the summons came and found you waiting; and here, 
 in the center of your dwelling-places, within sight of the 
 homes you were to enter no more, between the village 
 ehurch where your fathers worshiped and the graveyard 
 where they lay at rest, bravely and meekly, like Christian 
 heroes, you sealed the cause with your blood. Parker, 
 Munroe, Hadley, the Harringtons, Muzzy, Brown: — alas! 
 ye can not hear my words. No voice but that of the arch- 
 angel shall penetrate your urns; but, to the end of time, 
 your remembrance shall be preserved! To the end of time, 
 the soil whereon ye fell is holy, and shall be trodden with 
 reverence, while America has a name among the nations! 
 And now ye are going to lie down beneath yon simple 
 stone, which marks the place of your mortal agony. Fit 
 spot for your last repose ! 
 
 ' Where should the soldier rest, but where he fell?' 
 
 For ages to come, the characters graven in the enduring 
 marble shall tell the unadorned tale of your sacrifice; and 
 ages after that stone itself has crumbled into dust as inex-
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 509 
 
 pressive as yours, history shall transmit the record! Ay, 
 while the language we speak retains its meaning in the 
 ears of men, your names and your memory shall be 
 cherished ! 
 
 On the 25th of August, 1835, Mr. Everett delivered an 
 address before the literary societies of Amherst College, on 
 ;he subject: Education favorable to Liberty, Morals and 
 Knowledge. In this oration, the closing scene in the life 
 of the great Copernicus is thus vividly penciled by a fine 
 stroke of the imagination: 
 
 " It is plain that Copernicus, like his great contemporary, 
 Columbus, though fully conscious of the boldness and the 
 novelty of his doctrine, saw but a part of the change it was 
 to effect in science. After harboring in his bosom for long, 
 long years, that pernicious heresy, the solar" system, he died 
 on the day of the appearance of his book from the press. 
 The closing scene of his life, with a little help from the 
 imagination, would furnish a noble subject for an artist. 
 For thirty -five years, he has revolv* and matured in his 
 mind his system of the heavens. A natural mildness of 
 disposition, bordering on timidity, a reluctance to en- 
 counter controversy, and a dread of persecution, have led 
 him to withhold his work from the press, and to make 
 known his system but to a lew confidential disciples and 
 friends. At length he draws near his end; he is seventy- 
 three years of age, and he yields his work on The Revo- 
 lutions of the Heavenly Orbs to his friends for publication. 
 The day at last has come, on which it is to be ushered into 
 the world. It is the twenty-fourth of May, 1543. On that 
 day,. — the effect, no doubt, of the intense excitement of his 
 mind, operating upon an exhausted frame, — an effusion of 
 blood brings him to the gates of the grave. His last hour 
 has come; he lies stretched upon the couch, from which he 
 never will rise, in his apartment, at the Canonry at Frau- 
 enberg, in East Prussia. The beams of the setting sun
 
 O 1 ORATORS AND STATES^tlEN. 
 
 glance through the Gothic windows of his chamber; near 
 his bedside is the armillary sphere, which he has contriied, 
 to represent his theory of the heavens; his portrait, painted 
 by himself, the amusement of his earlier years, hangs be 
 fore him; beneath it, his astrolabe, and other imperfect 
 astronomical instruments; and around him are gathered his 
 sorrowing disciples. The door of the apartment opens; 
 the eye of the departing sage is turned to see who enters: 
 it is a friend, who brings him the first printed copy of his 
 immortal treatise. He knows that in that book he contra- 
 dicts all that had ever been distinctly taught by former 
 philosophers; he knows that he has rebelled against the 
 sway of Ptolemy, which the scientific world had acknow- 
 ledged for a thousand years; he knows that the popular 
 mind will be shocked by his innovations; he knows that 
 V\^ attempt will be made to press even religion into the 
 service against him; — but he knows that his book is true. 
 He is dying, but he leaves a glorious truth, as his dying 
 bequest, to the world. He bids the friend who has brought 
 it place himself between the window and his bedside, that 
 the sun's rays may fall upon the precious volume, and he 
 may behold it once more before his eye grows dim. He 
 looks upon it, takes it in his hands, presses it to his breast, 
 and expires. But no, he is not wholly gone! A smile 
 lights up his dying countenance; a beam of returning intel- 
 ligence kindles in his eye; his lips move; and the friend 
 who leans over him can hear him faintly murmur the 
 beautiful sentiments, which the Christian lyrist of a later 
 age has so finely expressed in verse: 
 
 'Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all your feeble light! 
 Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale empress of the night! 
 And thou, refulgent orb of day, in brighter flames arrayed, 
 My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere, no more demands thy aid! 
 Ye stars are but the shining dust of my divine abode, 
 The pavement of those heavenly courts, where I shall reign with God.'"
 
 ED WARE! EVERETT. 511 
 
 " So died the great Columbus of the heavens. His doc- 
 trine, at first, for want of a general diffusion of knowledge, 
 forced its way with difficulty against the deep-rooted pre- 
 judices of the age. Tycho Brahe attempted to restore tha 
 absurdities of the Ptolemaic system; but Kepler, with a 
 sagacity which more than atones for all his strange fancies, 
 laid hold of the theory of Copernicus, with a grasp of iron, 
 and dragged it into repute. Galileo turned his telescope 
 to the heavens, and observed the phases of Venus, which 
 Copernicus boldly predicted must be discovered, as his 
 theory required their appearance; and lastly Newton arose, 
 like a glorious sun, scattering the mists of doubt and op- 
 position, and ascended the heavens full-orbed and cloud- 
 less, establishing at once his own renown and that of his 
 predecessors, and crowned with the applauses of the world; 
 but declaring, with that angelic modesty which marked his 
 character, ' I do not know what I may appear to the world; 
 but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy, playing 
 on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in finding now and 
 then a pebble, or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the 
 great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.' " 
 
 Here we have an eloquent passage from the same ad- 
 dress, on knowledge: 
 
 " What is human knowledge? It is the cultivation and 
 improvement of the spiritual principle in man. We are 
 composed of two elements; the one, a little dust caught up 
 from the earth, to which we shall soon return; the other, 
 a spark of that divine intelligence, in which and through 
 which we bear the image of the great Creator. By know- 
 lege, the wings of the intellect are spread; by ignorance, 
 they are closed and palsied, and the physical passions are 
 left to gain the ascendency. Knowledge opens all the 
 senses to the wonders of creation; ignorance seals them 
 up, and leaves the animal propensities unbalanced by 
 rejection, enthusiasm, and taste. To the ignorant man.
 
 512 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 the glorious pomp of day, the sparkling mysteries of night, 
 the majestic ocean, the rushing storm, the plenty-bearing 
 river, the salubrious breeze, the fertile field, the docile 
 animal tribes, the broad, the various, the unexhausted 
 domain of nature, are a mere outward pageant, poorly 
 understood in their character and harmony, and prized 
 only so far as they minister to the supply of sensual wants. 
 How different the scene to the man whose mind is stored 
 with knowledge! For him the mystery is unfolded, the 
 veils lifted up, as one after another he turns the leaves of 
 that great volume of creation, which is filled in every page 
 with the characters of wisdom, power, and love; with les- 
 sons of truth the most exalted; with images of unspeaka- 
 ble loveliness and wonder; arguments of Providence; food 
 for meditation; themes of praise. One noble science 
 sends him to the barren hills, and teaches him to survey 
 their broken precipices. Where ignorance beholds no- 
 thing but a rough, inorganic mass, instruction discerns 
 the intelligible record of the primal convulsions of the 
 world; the secrets of ages before man was; the landmarks 
 of the elemental struggles and throes of what is now the 
 terraqueous globe. Buried monsters, of which the races 
 are now extinct, are dragged out of deep strata, dug out 
 of eternal rocks, and brought almost to life, to bear wit- 
 ness to the power that created them. Before the admiring 
 student of nature has realized all the wonders of the elder 
 world, thus, as it were, recreated by science, another de- 
 lightful instructress, with her microscope in her hand, 
 bids him sit down and learn at last to know the universe 
 in which he lives, and contemplate the limbs, the motions, 
 the circulations of races of animals, disporting in their 
 tempestuous ocean, — a drop of water. Then, wiiile his 
 whole soul is penetrated with admiration of the power 
 which has filled with life, and motion, and sense these all 
 but non-existent atoms, — 0, then, let the divinest of the
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 5 
 
 1 o 
 
 muses, let Astronomy approach, and take him by the hand; 
 let her 
 
 ' Come, but keep her wonted state, 
 With even step and musing gait, 
 And looks commercing with the skies, 
 Her rapt soul sitting in her eyes.' 
 
 Let her lead him to th:^ mount of vision; let her turn her 
 heaven-piercing tube to the sparkling vault: through that 
 let him observe the serene star of evening, and see it 
 transformed into a cloud-encompassed orb, a world of 
 rugged mountains and stormy deeps; or behold the pale 
 beams of Saturn, lost to the untaught observer amidst 
 myriads of brighter stars, and see them expand into the 
 broad disk of a noble planet, — the seven attendant worlds, 
 — the wondrous rings, — a mighty system in itself, borne 
 at the rate of twenty-two thousand miles an hour on its 
 broad pathway through the heavens; and then let him 
 reflect that our great solar system, of which Saturn and 
 his stupendous retinue is but a small part, fills itself, in 
 the general structure of the universe, but the space of one 
 fixed star; and that the power which filled the drop of 
 water with millions of living beings, is present and active, 
 throughout this illimitable creation ! — Yes, yes, 
 
 ' An undevout astronomer is mad!'" 
 
 In the autumn of 1835, Mr. Everett was chosen Gov- 
 ernor of Massachusetts, as the successor of Hon. John 
 Davis,- and occupied the office till 1840, having been three 
 times re-elected. 
 
 In the summer of 1840, he visited Europe a second 
 time.* While there he was appointed Minister to Eng- 
 
 * It is related that, previous to the departure of Mr. Everett from Boston, 
 when present at a public dinner, Hon. Judge Story gave as a sentiment, 
 •' Learning, genius and eloquence, are sure to be welcome where Ever-ett 
 goes." On which Mr. Everett promptly gave, '"Law, Equity and Jurispru- 
 dence: All their efforts to rise will never be able to get above one Story." 
 'o5
 
 514 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 land on the accession of Gen. Harrison to the Presidency 
 in 1841. He discharged the duties of this office in such a 
 manner as to reflect the highest honors on his abilities as 
 a statesman and a diplomatist. He gained the entire con- 
 fidence of his government, and was universally respected 
 in England. 
 
 On his return to the United States in 1845, Mr. Everett 
 was chosen President of Harvard University, which station 
 he was compelled, at the close of three years, to resign in 
 consequence of ill heath. After resigning the Presidency 
 of this university, he prepared an edition of his orations 
 and speeches, which appeared in two octavo volumes, in 
 1850. Besides the orations which we have mentioned in 
 this sketch, they contain many others of the most inter- 
 esting character, on similar topics, such as. The Principles 
 of the American Constitutions; The History of Liberty; 
 The Settlement of Massachusetts; Importance of Scientific 
 Knowledge to Practical Men, and the Encouragement to its 
 Pursuit; Colonization and Civilization of Africa; The 
 Education of Mankind; Agriculture; The Youth of Wash- 
 ington; The Battle of Bloody Brook; The First Battles of 
 the Revolutionary War; The Boyhood and Youth of 
 Franklin; Anecdotes of Early Local History; Superior and 
 Popular Education; Eulogy on John Quincy Adams. The 
 collection closes with a beautiful speech on the Bible, de- 
 livered at the Annual Meeting of the Massachusetts Bible 
 Society in Boston, on the 27th of May, 1850. 
 
 About this time Mr. Everett wrote an interesting me- 
 moir of Daniel Webster, which is contained in the first 
 volume of the great statesman's works. 
 
 On the death of Mr. Webster in 1852, Mr. Everett be- 
 came his successor as Secretary of State 
 
 At the Anniversary of the American Colonization So- 
 ciety, held in the city of Washington, January 18, 1853, he 
 delivered a very interesting and able address which was
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 515 
 
 warmly received. His remarks ou Stability and Progress 
 — his Lecture on the Discovery and Colonization of 
 America^ and his Remarks at the Plymouth Festival, in 
 1853, are widely known and justly admired. 
 
 On the 4th of March, 1853, Mr. Everett took his seat in 
 the Senate of the United States as the successor of Hon. 
 John Davis. This station he resigned in May, 1854, on 
 account of declining health. 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Everett is of the Ciceronean 
 order — copious, graceful, harmonious, correct and flowing. 
 He also rejjembles the great Roman orator in the variety 
 and extent of his knowledge. It may truly be said of 
 him as was remarked of Burke, take him on any subject 
 you please, and he is ready to meet you. His memory is 
 very tenacious. His style is elaborated'with the greatest 
 care and perfection. His sensibilities are very refined. 
 His iniagination is sparkling. His gestures in public 
 si^eaking are graceful; the tones of his voice are sweet 
 and melodious; and his whole manner, elegant and per- 
 suasive. No one can listen to him without being moved, 
 instructed, and delighted. 
 
 It has been well remarked of our distinguished orator, 
 that, "As long as clear and logical reasoning wins the assent 
 of the understanding, as long as true eloquence stirs the 
 blood, as long as ease and grace of style approve them- 
 selves to the taste, so long will the compositions of Edward 
 Everett be read and admired. He is, essentially, a rheto- 
 rician, and, unless France may furnish one or two excep- 
 tions, the most accomplished living. Whatever is requi- 
 site for rhetorical success, Mr. Everett possesses. To the 
 most varied culture, he adds an immense and various 
 learning, a memory equally retentive and prompt, great 
 facility and felicity of expression, a ready power of asso- 
 ciation, and a wit and huQior which seem always to be 
 ready when the occasion calls for them. No knight rode
 
 516 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 in tlie tournament arrayed in more glittering armor, 
 or more dexterous in the use of his weapons. He has 
 enough of imagination ; he has the quick and kindling 
 sensibilities without which there is no eloquence; and, 
 above all, he shows a wonderfully quick jDerception of 
 the state of mind in those whom he addresses. He 
 seems to have more than a double share of nerves in 
 his fingers' ends. If there be truth in animal magnetism, 
 he ought to be one of the most impressible. He pos- 
 sesses that greatest of charms, an exquisite voice, — round, 
 swelling, full of melody, particularly emotional; natu- 
 rally grave, and with a touch almost of melancholy in 
 some of its cadences, but, like all such emotional voices, 
 admirably suited to the expression of humor, and of rising 
 from a touching pathos into the most stirring, thrilling 
 and triumphant tones. There is such harmony between 
 thought and style, manner and voice, that each gives force 
 to the other, and all unite in one effect on the hearer." 
 
 " The great charm of Mr. Everett's orations consists, 
 not so much in any single and strongly -developed intel- 
 lectual trait, as in that symmetry and finish which, on 
 every page, give token of the richly-endowed and thorough 
 scholar. The natural movements of his mind are full of 
 grace; and the most indifferent sentiment which falls from 
 his pen has that simple elegance which it is as difficult to 
 define as it is easy to perceive. His level passages are 
 never tame, and his fine ones are never superfine. His 
 style ^ with matchless flexibility, rises and falls with his subject, 
 and is alternately easy, vivid, elevated, ornamental, or pictur- 
 esque, adapting itself to the dominant mood of the mind, as 
 an instrument responds to the touch of a master's hand. 
 His knowledge is so extensive, and the field of his allu- 
 sions so wide, that the most familiar views in passing 
 through his hands, gather such a halo of luminous illus- 
 trations, that their likeness seems transformed, and we
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 517 
 
 entertain doubts of their identity. Especially, in reading 
 these orations, do we perceive the power which comes 
 from an accurate knowledge of history. No one wields 
 an historical argument with more skill; no one is more 
 fruitful in effective historical parallels and application^. 
 He has, in perfection, #Ae historical eye ^ if we may so speak; 
 the power of running over an epoch and seizing upon its 
 characteristic expression, and of distinguising the events 
 by which that expression is most decidedly manifested. 
 His Phi Beta Kappa oration (the one delivered at Cam- 
 bridge in 1824), is a signal instance of his success in this 
 respect. Whatever may be thought of the soundness of 
 its positions, no one can doubt the ability with which they 
 are maintained, and the ingenuity and admirable rhetori- 
 cal skill, with which the orator presses into his service the 
 long record of the past, to enforce and defend them. The 
 same remarks apply, also, to his Plymouth oration, and in- 
 deed, in a greater or less degree, to nearly all his discourses. 
 Not only has he the comprehensive grasp and power of 
 generalization, which are the attributes of almost all su- 
 perior minds, but he has all the minute accuracy of a 
 chronicler, understands perfectly the significance and effi- 
 cacy of facts and details, and uses them with great skill 
 and success. His picturesque narrative is one of the most 
 striking of his accomplishments. With what vividness 
 does he make a long procession of events pass before our 
 eyes, as in his Lexington, Concord, and Bloody Brook 
 addresses, marshaling every thing into its proper place, 
 without confusion or crowding! How agreeably he relates 
 a familiar incident, like th? anecdote of the dispersion of 
 the London mob, in his Cambridge Fourth of July oration. 
 With what living hues he paints a scene like that of the 
 death-bed of Copernicus, in the Address before the Liter- 
 ary Societies of Amherst College." 
 
 " His style appears to us a nearly perlect specimen of a
 
 515 ORATORS AND STATESMEN. 
 
 rhetorical and ornamental style. Certainly it is so, if 
 the just definition of a good style be, proper words in 
 proper places. He is as careful to select the right word, 
 as a workman in mosaic is to pick out the exact shade of 
 color which he requires. His orations abound w tli 
 those delicious cadences, which thrill through the veins 
 like a strain of fine music,, and cling spontaneously to the 
 memory. 
 
 " The extracts we have made from Mr. Everett's \ ol- 
 umes are specimens of that magnificent declamation which 
 is one of his most obvious and striking characteristics; 
 but some of his discourses are of a practical cast, and 
 disj)lay a corresponding style. His singular power of 
 illustration enables him to give dignity to the lowest, 
 and interest to the dryest subject, while that unerring 
 taste which, in his highest flights, insures him temper- 
 ance and smoothness, preserves him from the unpardon- 
 able sin of being heavy, commonplace, and prosaic. His 
 brilliant intellectual accomplishmsnts and his fine taste rest 
 upon a granite foundation of vigorous good sensed 
 
 In conclusion, we may say, that of all the writings of 
 our greatest senatorial orators, none will, perhaps, be 
 oftener perused or longer admired than the Orations and 
 Speeches of Edward Everett.
 
 i
 
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