FUNERAL ORATION ox THE DRATH OF HOK DAKIEL WEBSTER BY y AMASA MoCOY. *) LETTERS FROM DISTINGUISHED SOURCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE DEATH OF HON. DANIEL WEBSTER [From Hon. John K. Porter.] Albany, Nov. 20, 1852. My Bear Sir : I have just finished a second reading of your Funeral Oration on the death of Mr- Webster, and cannot refrain from congratu- lating you on the masterly ability which characterizes the production. T have read it with more gratification than any of the other numerous addresses which have been occasioned by his death. It seems to me to be in entire accordance with his own views of his claims upon the present and after times. It spealis bodly, what he felt deeply— the truth that his countrymen in refusing to requite his services by elevating him to the first office in the government, were equally unjust to him and to them- selyes. It does justice to his character and position. It speaks of him as he should be spoken of in history, and this with a beauty and eloquence, which cannot fail to make it peculiarly acceptable to the friends of Mr. AVubst Gr« If the Oration should be published in pamphlet form, may I ask you to favor me with a copy. Yours very truly. Prof. Amasa McCoy. JOHN K. PORTEK. [From Rt. Rev. Bishop Kip.] Albany, Nov. 23, 1852. Dear Sir : I received yesterday a number of the New-York Express, containing your Funeral Oration on the death of Daniel Webster; for which attention I suppose I am indebted to you. I avail myself there- fore of an early opportunity to thank you for it, and express the pleasure which it afi"orded me. I have no hesitation in saying, that I consider it the most able I have seen on this event; and well worthy of the com- mendation bestowed upon it by the editor of the Express. Your estimate of Webster's character and writings strikes me as being peculiarly felicitous. AVith my best wishes for your success in your literary career, I remain Yours, very respectfully. Prof. McCoy. W. INGRAHAM KIP. [From President Fillmore.] Washington, Nov. 24th, 1852- Sir : I had the honor to receive your note of the Ifith inst., accompanied by a copy of your eulogy upon the late Daniel Webster, for which I beg leave to return you my thanks. My time has been so much occupied, that I have only been able to peruse a few paragraphs, with which I have been much pleased; and I doubt not you have done the subject ample justice. Respectfully yours, ' MILLARD FILLMORE. [From Hon. Edward Everett ] Department of State, Nov. 29, 1852. Dear Sir : I have received to day your favor of the 26th, with the copy of your Oration which accompanied it. I am greatly indebted to you for giving me the opportunity of reading it in a corrected form. I have given it a hasty perusal, but amidst such incessant interruptions, and such pre- occupation, that I have not done justice to myself in reading it. I have laid it carefully by for a leisure hour, with the sure promise of a rich intellectual treat. AVhat I have read, sufficiently shows me, that you have entered deeply into the great theme- Be pleased to accept my thanks for the kindness of your personal allusions, and believe me, with much regard, Very respectfully, yours, EDWARD EVERETT. Prof. Amasa McCoy, National Law School, Ballston Spa, N. Y. [From the Same.] Boston, 1 Dec, 1855. Dear Sir : I am f^reatly obliged to .vmi for a copy of your admirable eulogy on ^Ir. Webster; and for giving me an opportunity of re-perusing, in a revised form, what afl'orded me so much pleasure at its first appear- ance. • »«»•**♦«*♦« I remain, dear sir, with much consideration. Very truly, j'ours, I'rof. McCov, Albany, N. Y. " "EDWAKD EVERETT. [From the family of the late Hon. Jeremiah Mason.] Boston, Nov. 25th, 1852. Dear Sir : The pleasure our family circle (that of the late .Jeremiah Mason — .Mr. Webster's early friend) have received this evening, while listening to an .address of yours, delivered at the church in Ballston Spa, on the (leath of Mr. Webster, induces me to write to you to ask if the address has been puldished in pamphlet, and where we can obtain a num- ber of copies. Your eloquent and warm-hearted tribute to the memory of one who from infancy I have loved and revered, is my only apology for thus troubling you. With much respect, MARIANNE MASON CRAFTS, i'rof. AjfASA McCoy, Ballston Spa. [From the Same.] Boston, Jan. 3d, 1853. My Dear Sir : I have sent you by the mail, several copies of your address on the death of Mr. Webster, for which we are indebted to Mr. Samuel Lawrence, who was so much interested in it, that he had it printed in pamphlet form. I notice several errors in it, but the imperfect news- paper report will account for that. 1 am glad of the opportunity of sending a tribute so just and pleasant to friends at a distance. We have pleasant memories of the past summer, having been three times at Marshfield. and seen Mr. AVebster in the home he loved so well. You admired the great man for his public acts, and so do I; but I cannot remember the time I did not love him as my father's early and constant friend — a friendship over which for thirty years never passed a cloud. Believe me, respectfully vours, MARIANNE MASON CRAFTS. A. McCoy, Esq., Ballston Spa, N. X. [From Messrs. Harper A Brothers.] New-York, Nov. .30th, 1852. Dear Professor: ***«»*«*« We should have been glad to have received your Oration in time for publication in our Magazine (as what we have published in our December number does not suit us) ; but unfortunately, our January number (ex- cepting the monthly summary) is alreadj' on the press. • • **• **•« «« • I'ours, truly, HARPER k BROTHERS. [From Rev. Dr. Jacob, Principal King's College, Province N. Brunswick.] King's College, Fredericton, N. B., 6th December, 1852. Dear Sir : • • I will not pretend to describe the admiration with which I have read this El ieoan eulogy on the apotheosis of your trans- lated Elijah; but content myself with avowing the gratification with which I receive your testimony, that possibly an Englishman, at the head of such an institution as this from which I write, might not have irrecoverably participated in Provincial jircjudices against the merits and memory of a wise and good, and therefore great American. I shall transmit the Oration to ... . Having already conceived, and I may add, declared, his high regard for such republicans as Channing, Everett, Story and Webster, he will I am sure be far from regretting that such a soul and voice as yours, should have migrated to a country where you can be duly heard, folt, and appreciated. I have one remark to offer on tho life, and another on the death of the departed. On tho life, and its attrilmted iiupertVctions — that it must be tho maxim of the politician (and mi^^lit not I add, of the moralist and divine to take men as they are, and make the liest of them. On tlic death, with its painful anil disappointing circumstances — that tragedy (as long since observed by tho groat critic), above all other rc]ireseiitation?, is adapted to purify the human soul. The martyrs of every description are the " chosen vessels '" to communicate Ihe riches of immortal trutli, spirit, and life. Pray favor me with future communications, and believe me, Sir, Your sincerely obliged, ED\VT^J JACOB. Prof. Amasa McCov, Ballston Spa, N. Y., U. S. [From Hon. Kobt. C. V\ inthrop.] Boston, 6 Dec, 1852. My Dear Sir: \''our obliging note of the 26th ultimo, was duly received. I have read with great interest the Oration delivered by you on the death of Mr. Webster. It is a most vigorous and eloquent production, and can- not fail to have been highly impressive in delivery. For the greater part of the last five and twenty years, I have enjoyed his intimate acquaintance and friendshi]), and nobody has a higher opinion of his intellectual ability. The services which he has rendered bis conntry in time of need, have been in the highest degree important, and his jirinted volumes are a treasury of wisdom and eloquence. While therefore, I might differ from you in a few passages of your Eulogy, I appreciate the justice and appropriateness of its general tone. I venture to send you a copy of a speech of mine in the House of I'vej^re- sentatives, just before 1 succeeded Mr. Webster in the Senate, which will give you my views on the question at issue, should you care to know them. Pray send me your Address in pamphlet, if it is so published. Thanking you once more, for your friendly attention, 1 remain, Dear Sir, with great regard. Yours faithfully, Amasa McCoy, Esq. ROBT. C. WINTHROP. [From Hon. Rufus Choate.] Boston, Dee. 11th, 1852. To Amasa McCoy, Prof, of Rhetoric. Dear Sir : I had read a report of your Funeral Oration [on the death of Daniel VA'ebster] with great interest, before you were so kind as to put me in possession of a corrected copy, and I have reperused that with height- ened interest and appreciation. I hope it may not seem arrogant or indelicate to say so, but I regard j'our discourse on the whole, the most adequate to the great subject which I have read. Your limits, any limits, would not suffice for elaborating and consum- mating any important view on the grand aggregate of the conception you had of him. But the outline is perfect, I think, and within your limits the detail is just, vivid, and generous. What a tribute of eloquent feeling he has attracted and deserved ! Multis — OMNIBUS— //c(j(7i.s'. If you publish your discourse in pamphlet, I should be most happy to know where I can obtain that also. I am most truly. Your obedient servant, RUFUS CHOATE. [From Mayor W. W. Seaton.] AVashington, 25th Dec, 1852. My Dear Sir : I feel very sensibly the honor you have done me, in the present, namely, of a copy of your admirable Oration on Mr. Webster. I have read the Oration with pleasure and instruction ; and if we durst venture to discriminate among the multitude of similar productions, from the pulpit and chair, which have reached us, I should he glad to place yours, or at least some portions of it, in the National Intelligencer. It would be read with deep gratification by all of Mr. Webster's countrymen, and especially liy all who wore honored with his friendship, and who enjoyed, us I did for so many years, the i)rivilcgc of familiar intercourse with him, and thereliy learned to appreciate fully his great and shining qualities of head and heart. I am, Sir, vour obliged and very obedient servant. To I'rof. A.MASA McCoy. W. W. SEATON. [From Hon. Joseph Howe, Provincial Secretary of Nova Scotia.] Halifax, Nova Scotia, July 12, 185.3. My Deak Sik : I have read with infinite gratification, your Funeral Oration on Webster. To depict a great man truthfully, there must be ele- ments of greatness in the artist. Webster could not have pronounced a more eloquent eulogium ui)on himself. •««•»*• Pray send me from time to time, any thing of yours that is printed. Yours truly. JOSEPH HOWE. [From Hon. Samuel Lawrence.] Boston, Jan. 17th, 18.')4. M v Dkaii Sir : Your very kind favor of yesterday is at hand, and I hasten to reply ; thanking you for the Canadian notices of your lectures, and a copy of Mr. Clioate's note to you. 1 fully agree with him in his estimate of your Oration on the whole. It is the best L have seen, always excepting his own, at Hanover, last summer. Should you ever come to this place, I beg of you to let me have the pleasure of seeing you ; and remain most truly, Your obedient servant. Prof. Amasa McCoy, Ballston Spa, N. Y. SAM'L LAAVRENCE. [From Hon. William H. Seward.] Washington, July 31, 1854. OkauSiu: ••»«*»«»♦* I beg to thank you even so late as this, for your kindness in sending me a copy of your Eulogium on Mr. Webster. I read it with unmingled admira- tion. It is indeed a jierformance of rare ability ; and while it is faultless in execution, there is no error of opinion in it, which the occasion and the circumstances do not fully excuse. I am. Dear Sir, very respectfully. Your Obedient Servant. AwASA McCoy, Ballston Spa, N. Y. WILLIAM H. SEWARD. [From Fletcher Webster, Esq.] Boston, Aug. 3d, 1854. Ahasa McCoy, Esq., Dear Sir : I am very much your debtor for your kind note of 30th .Tuly. Your statement that it was his published writings that made you an American and a Republican, is very grateful; and ig perhaps the highest compliment that could be paid to him, or his memory, by any individual. The fact I shall, with your leave, jiroduce in the forth-coming volume; and perhai)s, it will best appear by the publication of your note to me. I remember the same remark to have been made by you in your most eloquent and beautiful address. I shall i)rocecd with the work as rapidly as I can, and hope to do no dis- credit to the subject. Renewing my thanks to you for your letter, I am, my dear Sir, very truly yours, FLETCHER WEBSTER. [From Chief Justice Williams, of Connecticut.] Hartford, May 28, 1856. Dear Sir : T beg you to excuse mo for thot, for which 1 cannot excuse myself, and I will at this late hour return my cordial thanks for the cojiy of your eloquent address on the death of Mr. Webster. I read it with great pleasure, and tliink it worthy of the high encomiums it has received. It came too at a time, when I was about uniting more permanently, many pami)hlets on that subject in a volume; among which I need not say yours will occupy a prominent place. I am vcrv respectl'uHv yours, Amasa McCoy, Esq., Albany, N. Y. THOMAS S. WILLIAMS. FUNERAL ORATION ON 'IMIH DI'.A'ril OK HON. DANIEL WEBSTER, DKLIVERF.D AT A COMMEMORATION IN TUK PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, BALLSTON SPA, N. Y., MONDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 8, 1852. BY AMASA McCOY. THIRD EDITION. ■^^■M- BOSTON: C. C. p. MOODY, PRINTER, 52 WASHINGTON STRKET. ■' ' 1856. £7340 I'UBLISIIER'S rUEFACE TO TIIIKl) EDlTlOiN. The first pamphlet edition of this Oration was printed from the newspaper report to the order, and at the expense, of Hon. Samuel Lawrence, of Boston; one of the most devoted personal friends and admirers of the great deceased. The whole edition was circulated in Boston and elsewhere, among those to whom the blow, as in the case of Mr. Lawrence, came nearest and heaviest. This wonld have spoke well for this tribute in honor of Mr. Webster, had there been no other in print. But it makes it much more emphatic and pointed, when we recall the fact that very many similar efforts were already accessible in pami)hlet form. And from a letter, written on the birth-day of Mr. Webster, 1856, we gather that lapse of time ha^* only confirmed Mr. Lawrence's first opinion: "I fully agree with Mr. Cuoate in his estimate of Mr. McCoy's Oration. It is the best 1 have seen, always excepting his own at Hanover, last summer." The death of Webster so stirred the emotions of his contempo- raries, that the most eloquent and gifted of the American Orators who survived him, exceeded themselves in doing him honor j and the undersigned cannot refrain from expressing the hope, that some pub- lishing house will put in one or two volumes all the best of these numerous tributes. Hon. Rdfus Choate, in his admirable Oration delivered at Dartmouth College, 27th of July, 1858, thus confessed himself struck with the splendor and richness of this aggregate tri- bute : — "And yet I hardly know wliat tliere is in piiMic bioprapliy, what there is in litera- ture, to be eompareil in its kind, with the variely and beauty and adequacy of the series of discourses through winch the love and grief, and deliberate reasoning admira- tion of America for this great man, have been uttered." Hon. Edward Everett, at the Celebration of the Seventy-Fourth Anniversary of Mr. Webster's Birth-day, Boston, 17th January. 1856, expressed his sense of the extraordinary merit and enduring interest of these Orations, as follows : — " I do not rise to pronounce the eulogy of Daniel Webster. That \\ork was performed, at the time of his lamented decease, in almost every part of the country and by a greater number of the distinguished writers and speakers of tlie United Stales than liave. in any former instance, vUh the single exception of ^Vashington, paid tlii.s last odice of respect to departed worth It was in many cases performed with extra- ordinary ability. ****** whose pertbrmances, besides doing noble justice to lliis great theme, will take a permanent place in the literature of the country." The Publisher of this pamphlet feels very certain that it will inte- rest the friends of Mr. Webster, and the admirers of this Oration, (the only considerable one, as far as he knows, by a person of foreign birth *) when he informs them that among the orders on file for this his Third Edition, is one of 200 copies from a distinguished citizen in California; and who says in writing from San Francisco, that he has " read it with such delight and admiration, that I desire to put a copy in every Division Room and Library in the State of California, where I believe, it will be read and preserved with much interest." C. C. P. MOODY. 52 Washington Street, Boston. * Mr. McCoy is now a naturalized citizen of the United .States ; is Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory in the Law School of the Albany University, and Editor of the distin"^uished Temperance Monthly, The PiiouiiiiTiONisT, published at Albany, by the New York State Temperance Society. priiijsiiKirs vwEvxcv. to se(^()ni) kdjtiox. Tut luidcrsigiied, liaviug issued a pamphlet edition of the Ibllovv- ing Oratiou, for private circulation by an eminent merchant of this city, very frequent enquiries have been made of him for extra copies. These, together with the liigh commendation bestowed upon it by tlie most eminent friends of Mr. Webstkr, have induced the publication of this second edition. The New York Express, the first paper in which the discourse was printed, accompanied the report with these remarks: — " We publisli to-tlay a beautiful oration, delivered by Amasa McCoy, Esq., of Ball- stoii .Spa, N. Y„ anil for tlie pa.st two years Professor oi" Rlietorie in the National Law School, The style of the orator in the delivery was faultless, and so riveted was the attention of the vast audience, that a pin might have been lieard to fall in any part of tiie edifice duriiiir the pronouncing of the eiilogy Proltssor McCoy is yet a youns man, and he has liut to pursue the path lie has 'marked out, to acquire a world-wids reuowni as an elo(|nent public .speaker." — New York Express. It is an admirable oration It will be read with deep gratification by all of Mr. Webster's counlrymeu.—Ko/i. W. W. Seatun, Ed. ISational Inlelligencer. A more sublime oration, a more splendid burst of eloquent eulogiuni. we never liad the pleasure of perusing —St. John {N. B.) Courier. 1 have no hesitation in saying, that 1 consider it the most able I have seen on this event, and well worthy the conimendation bestowed upon it bv the Express. His esti- mate of Webster's character and wrilings strikes me as being singularly felicitous — Hev. W. Ingrahain Kip, D. D., cf Albany. I have read the oraiion with great uiterest. It is a incst vigorous and eloquent pro- duction— Ho;i. /Jo6er( C H7«//i/-o/). AfK^r reading il amid incessant interruptions, I liave laid it by for a leisure hour with tlic sure promise of a rich intellectual treat. Professor McCoy has entered deepiv nilo the great theme. — Hon. Edii-ard Everett. I have re-pcruscd Prof McCoy's Funeral Oration on Mr Webster with height- ened mterest and appreciation. I regard tliis discourse, on the whole, as the most ade- quate to the great subject which 1 have read.— iion. Rvfus Clwate. Thougli these are but a part of the evidences of the fiivor with which the Oration has been regarded by those most competent to pro- nounce upon its merits, they are surely more than enough to warrant the publisher in l)elieving, that in making it accessible to the public in a better form than it has yet appeared, he is adding, in his way, to the numerous tributes to the illustrious deceased, and administering to the gratification of his sorrowing countrymen. C. C. P. MOODY. 52 Washingto.n Street, Boston. i)iR(;i:. [As a part of the jireliminary exercises, the following Dirge composed for the occasion by the distinguished American poet, Alfred B. Street, Esq., of Albany, was sung by the Choir, in a very solemn and pathetic manner, to the venerable tune of 'Old Hundred.'] A shade like night, is o'er us flung; Our Eagle's wing in grief is hung; Our brightest star the sky hath cross'd! Its lordliest plume that wing hath lost. But though the orb hath left our eyes, It but glides on to future skies ; And memory of the plume will bring New strength to lift that spreading wing. His stately form in death is laid ; But his proud glory ne'er shall fade. On Time's last wave, no brighter fame Shall glow than that of WEBSTER'S name. ORATION. The tolling bells of twice ten thousand stee- ples, proclaim that we have met with no ordinary loss. Populous and opulent cities, thousands of miles from each other, celebrate these obsequies with all that can engage the imagination, and impress the heart. Even in a retired village, which makes no pretensions to parade, and where there is nothing of magnificence, save the sombre pomp of nature herself, the citizens of Ballston Spa, without distinction of party ; the Board of Supervisors representing every town in the County of Saratoga ; the members of the Ballston Institute, coming from different sections of the State ; the students of the Na- tional Law School, representing more than half the States of the Union ; have assembled under these sable hangings, to join in the sublime lament which is now being sung by the nation. These expressions of public sorrow, however 8 numerous and solemn, can be of no use, it is true, to the dead. But they may justly admin- ister to the consolation of the living. To echo words once uttered by those lips, which because they are sealed in death, we are now convened : " the tears w^liich flow, and the honors that are paid, when the founders of the Republic die, give hope that the Republic itself will be im- mortal." Daniel Webster, Secretary of State in the United States, died at his farm at Marshfield, on the morning of the 24tli of October. Ten da3^s ago, his mortal remains were laid away in his family vault. At the time of his death he had passed, some nine months, the limit assigned by the Psalmist to mortal man. Yet had we never come to associate with him the idea of decay. The whole of this long period was filled up with busy and laborious days in the service of his country. He was born, he lived, he died, in a century and a country of Freedom. He first saw the light amid her mountain home, and he died where she lifts her radiant form to enjoy the ocean breeze. His death, since its occurrence, has engrossed the columns of the press ; it has put the marts 9 and the harbor.s ol' c()iiiiii(.'ive in nioiirning; it has heen solemnly noticed by the bar and the bench in the Courts of Justice; in the depart- ments of State ; and in the mansion of the Exe- cutive. And what bespeaks still more a puljlic sense of calamity, it even stopped, and that within a week of the day of ballot, the whole machinerv of a National Election. Meantime, while we have been witnessing this first spontaneous outburst of sorrow, and while more elaborate and sumptuous exj)ressions are but just beginning, these unwelcome tidings have crossed the Atlantic, and deepened the grief of a nation already*, like ourselves, clothed in the habiliments of mourning. The event by this time has been noticed with honor in hun- dreds of English journals; it has alHicted the members of the profession in the courts of West- minster ; it has been mentioned on the floors of Parliament; it has penetrated the cloisters of Oxford and Caml)ridge. And before the action vet to be taken bv the State Legi,slatures, the Supreme Federal Judiciary, and the Houses of Congress ; the intelligence, in the order of its course, will have carried grief to the heart of every lover of freedom in the nations of Europe ; 10 and wliere less will bu expressed than felt, be- cause of the padlock on the lip of Liberty. So that, after all that has been done, and all that will be, that which will not be done, Avill re- dound most to the honor of the great American. The public journals have certainly laid the country under many obligations, by their incre- dible industry in collecting facts respecting this extraordinary life. By so doing they have not only contributed vastly to our edification, but I submit that every fresh particidar only increases our respect for the character of the deceased. The colossal proportions of his intellect had be- come a proverb ; but the impression I think is now general, that great injustice has been done to the qualities of his heart. The tongue of scandal had been busy in bold affirmations res- pecting great frailties and infirmities. No re- flecting man ever doubted that much of this was the invention of political rancor, and a curious proneness there is to seek for weakness in the great. Whatever of this is true, no one should now seek to extenuate, out of regard to the influence of example. The ancient maxim, that nothing should be said of the dead but what is favorable, the better ethics of our time II justly repudiate. History, when true tu its mission, is a dread tribunal; and while it will not allow the least injustice to the dead, it will not be unmindful of its duty to the living. In the mean time, it cannot be denied that many persons whose minds had been alsused, are taken by surprise by the numerous and authentic evi- dence of the genial excellencies which gave warmth and coloring to his character. The nation had been so engrossed with the grandeur of his public career, that few were prepared for any such statement as that his greatness dilated when he entered the social circle. And it is fit in this temple of worship to invitfe those, if any such there be, wdio have assumed to use his name to give respectability to their owai delin- quencies, to ponder now upon some other things. Let them remember tliat vulgar infidelity never polluted his lips. That nothing ever escaped him in his pul)lic speeches, nothing in private conversation, disrespectful to the truths of Christ- ianity. That he was a devout believer in divine Revelation. That he studied the scrip- tures more than many whose high vocation it is to expound them. That he was faithful in his attendance upon the services of the sanctuary. 12 That the attrilnites of the Deity, as displayed in his works, overllowed his capacious nature Avith the enthusiasm of devotion. And for my own part, I join Avitli those who say that none of his great deeds in life, give them such ideas of moral grandeur, as the man- ner of his death. I see him shake the Capitol in his wrath, when a violent hand is laid upon the Constitution ; and yet it does not affect me with such an elevated sense of human greatness, as to mark the meek serenity with which he suf- fers the pangs of death, and abides the good plea- sm^e of his God. His implicit faith in the blood of Christ, his* parting blessings upon his family and domestics, his unmurmuring resignation in the last mortal agony, — tell me, ye who minis- ter at the altar, was not here enough to have suggested to the Christian poet, all his sublime conceptions of ' the chamber where the good man meets his fate V When Mark Anthony appeared before the citizens of Rome, to pronounce his funeral oration over the dead body of CiBsar, his first endeavor was to refute the principal accusation of Caesar's enemies. A grave charge has been preferred against the deceased whom we deplore. in connection with one of his last acts in the Senate, and which it is not to be conceaU'd, in the minds of many, and of some before me, rests at tliis moment as a cloud ii])()ii his memory. The charge is now of over two years' standing. What men have urged and insisted upon again and again, Ijecomes rooted and grounded in their verv nature. The matter in question has become a part of that feeling, hardly less inveterate than religious bigotry, the spirit of party. How idle it would l)e to think of removing it, 1 am w^ell enough persuaded; but that the subject would be referred to on such an occasion might naturally be expected. I deem it expedient to touch upon it in very brief terms at this stage of my remarks. Some persons go as far as this. The Com- promise Measures adopted by Congress in 1850, tended to perpetuate a great evil. Evil should not be done even to sustain the arch of the Union. To such persons I Avould say, what I may not now reason out, that there are nume- rous evils which are the natiu-al consequences of society. But to disband society w^ould be a greater evil. Whoever remains in society, then, acts upon the principle of choosing the least of 14 evils. Society is held together only b}^ mutual compromise. The science of governing to a great extent, is but the science of expedients. The philosopher deals only in abstract truth, and may always be consistent with himself. But between the theories and the practical action of legislators and rulers, there must sometimes be a variance. Such extreme ground, however, is probably occupied by no one present. You frankly admit, if you could believe that the Compromise mea- sures w^ere essential to the integrity of the Union, you would no longer condemn those who voted for them. But you hold that there was no danger of any section seceding ; and I under- stand your chief ground of confidence is this : that secession would have been contrary to their own interests. I ask, is it an unheard-of thing that men should act contrary to their own interests ? especially men of pride and spirit, and most especially when they believe, or even imagine that any injustice is being done them? Were there not thousands of men, as intelligent and as honest as yourselves, who did believe some such compromise necessary ? And have not multitudes who then condemned such legis- 15 latioii, yince avowed tlieir approval ? Was not the measure acquiesced in hv hundreds of min- isters of religion, whose learning and pifty make them the ol)jects of reverence ? Did a majority of hoth houses of Congress, did .so many of their numher, of patriotism hitherto above suspicion, walk in open day to the sham- bles of corruption, and traihc away the accu- mulated honor of life ? Did Millard Filhnore do so ; did Henry Clay ; did Daniel Webster ? When Nullification was coiling its fatal folds around this body politic, entire fruit of the revo- lution, and just about to send to its extremities the icy chill of death, you need not be told whose mighty arm it was that slew the monster as with a battle axe. ' If you have writ your annals true, alone he did it.' This great cham- pion of public liberty, whose whole fame was associated with its defence, and who saw that manv would now brand him as an apostate and traitor — do you believe that he was condemned also by his own conscience ? Have those who have been so unsparing of censure, ever summetl up the penalty he paid for taking this step? Reproach, reproach, from how many quarters — with what bitterness — and how long sustained ! And this I'roiii oldest friends, upon whom the heart had learned to lean for support. The stab of Brutus, you know, that was the unkindest cut of all. If then, my friend and fellow-citi- zen, 3'Ou cannot yet view this matter as I do, but must still insist in vour heart, that he was guilty of a grievous fault, — at least, you will not refuse to remember how grievously he hath answered it. And while no powers of persua- sion can eftace from your memory the single evil you have contended he did, that American heart within you, whose depths he has so often stirred as with notes of battle and of victory, is surely too just and magnanimous to insist upon interring with his bones all that he ever did of good. In common with the whole country, fellow- citizens, you have frequently reviewed, since its termination, Mr. AVebster's great career. If it had not occurred to you l)efore, you must now l)e impressed with the fact, that of the many distinguished citizens of his day, few owed less to ibrtuitous circumstances. Mr. Webster was not a man whose fame grew up over night. He owed liis eminence to no accident, no com- ])rouiise of factions, no chance of battle, no 17 freak of fortune. None of his inlluenrt' was acquired by Mattering the people, but only by serving them. He more than once opposed a farther introduction into the government of tlic popular element; and in doing so, used tlie whole -weight of his intluence and talent, lie not only repudiated the idea of a Democracy ; for that is dreamed of bv no one. But he evidently had fiiitli in nothing less than the representative Ivepublic, with all its checks and balances, as framed by the fathers. He acquired none of his distinction then, by introducing sweeping re- forms in government. Indeed I undertake to say, that the most general characteristic of that whole career which the country is now contem- plating with so much reverence, is that of the great conservator. He borrowed no honor from office, for his mere entry into it covered it with lustre forever ; and whoever might be elevated to the Presidency, Webster still continued the most eminent citizen of the Republic. The explanation of Mr. Webster's flime, consists simply, in wonderful native endowments, dis- ciplined by the last severity of culture, and dis- played in professional and public service. To eloquence, to law, to civil polity, he devoted 18 mure study, than most public men to all united. Tf Buffon, as he said, owed ten or twelve volumes of his writings to his servant, who forced him to rise at six, — it would be interest- ing, if it could be ascertained, to know what proportion of Mr. Webster's greatness is ascrib- able to his having risen at four. The extinction of this great light afflicts no class more sorely than that scattered brother- hood who make up the republic of letters. In our part of that realm he was chief. No other man in this country ever exercised in so large a measiu-e that sway over the human mind which belongs to literature. His supremacy over men was in proportion as they were educated. In Boston he reigned in all the sovereignty of rea- son. Had this whole country been made up of Bostons — he would long since have been called, by acclamation, to the Chief Magistracy of the Union. More than any other American of his day, more than any Englishman, Mr. Webster's style was chaste, lucid, and perspicuous. Every sen- tence was a crystal. He scattered among the people no ambiguous words. When Webster had spoken, you might din'er from him indeed; 19 but you knew his moauinj^-. Wliiitever he touched, he not only adorned, but he shed over it a perpetual light. Such was the literary excellence of Mr. Webster's speech, that its influence did not cease with its delivery. There was always a charm over the printed report, that attracted and captivated innumerable read- ers. There were men of his day, and Mr. Clay was one of them, who exercised a more talis- manic swav over their immediate hearers ; )jut who spoke with such commanding eloquence to the nation ? When it was known that Webster was to speak, is it any exaggeration to say that the Ptepublic was one eager auditory ? Give me a name if you can, for glory like this : never to have risen, but millions hung upon his lips; never to have sat down, but millions were wiser men and better patriots. Webster's printed speeches were re-read, and put carefully away, and committed. How many of his sen- tences, laden with noble truth and glowing patriotism, have become familiar as household words ! Plutarch informs us that so thoroughly were the priests instructed in the writings ol Numa, that the law-giver, assured that they would be preserved in spirit and in letter, 20 ordered tlieni to be burned with his body. Such is the impression made upon the minds of his countrymen, by the productions of Webster, that had all written record of them been in- terred with his remains, every principle and pre- cept could be collected from the memory of living- men ; and all his great orations, I doubt not, could be restored to print, word for word. His sentiments are not onlv en<2;raven on the minds of his countrymen, but they blend themselves with the surface of the country itself. Spots Avhicli the blood of our fathers has consecrated, this great master of eloquence has made classic. Even Bunker Hill, of hallowed memory, has borrowed additional interest and renown from his transcendent powers of speech. They have given birth indeed to the noblest monument of that eventful day. Any country, any people could have erected the granite obe- lisk. Of his contemporaries, who but the great New England orator could have delivered such discourses? It is not intimated that Bunker Hill Monument is not everything that could reasonably be asked. Lifting itself from that memorable summit, "rising over the land, and over the sea, and visible at their homes, to three 21 hundred thousaiid citizens ol" Massaehusetts," it is indeed a stnpendous structure. And vet it is less imposing and majestic tlian tlie oi-ations pronounced there by Wel)ster. " Towering- high above the cohinui which our liands ha\e builded, beheld, not by a single city, or a single state, ascends the colossal grandeur" ol" these sublimer remembrancers. The influence of Mr. Webster's speed les was not limited to this country. In this connection, permit one born imder another government, and among a people at that time prejudiced beyond belief, to say that my own experience furnishes me with data, which from the good iortune of your birth, you would probably omit to take into the account. Happening to fall in witli these great pro(hictions, I not only bowed in homage to the talents of the author, but immediately conceived respect, then admiration, and b(>fore I got through, enthusiasm and reverence, for the history, the great men, and the institutions of America. I said to m} sell" that in the wonder- ful attributes of this gTeat orator, and the heroic virtues of his coimtrymen whom he celebrates, is more than realized, wdiat in Berkley, a cen- tury and a quarter ago, seemed an extravagant 22 flight, eveu lor poetry ; that here should rise up, and here should be sung, "The good and great inspiring epic rage. The wisest heads and noblest hearts." Thus does it happen, that for the high privi- lege of American citizenship, for such a proud distinction, and crowning felicity, I am indebted to the sway of his living words, to whom in death, from the fullness of a swollen heart, I now make this poor acknowledgment. Plato thanked heaven that he was born in the same age with Socrates. What a heart should I have, if it did not overflow with gratitude, that I have not only been thus for contemporary with the deceased, have experienced the divine luxury of his thought, and heard two orations from his lips, but that I am now entitled against the world, to claim a share in his immense renown. " Praise enough To fill th' ambition of a private man. That Webstkr's language was his mother tongue, And Clay's great name compatriot with his own." I have spoken of my native Province as at that time prejudiced beyond belief, against what- ever pertained to the neighboring Republic. I rejoice to do it justice. Such was the respect they had come to entertain for the citizen now deceased, that when in one of its villu<;es* the annoimcement was made that ho was dead, the people gave expession to their leelings in a sahite of an hnndred guns from Englisli artillerv. Not only in the Ilnlsemann letter, at tlie Plymonth dinner, and on tlie Greek question, but on numerous other occasions, Mr. Webster's resistless eloquence, defining the position, and speaking the sentiment of the American llepub- lic, has fulmined over Europe, " To Macedoii and Artaxerxes' throne." Those who make it out so clearly to their own satisfaction that he was gnilty of such astoimding apostacy, let them not fail to notice this. That his death breaks a spell of dread to Absoluteism. Tyrants rejoice, that Webster has fallen ! A full survey of the public life and services of Mr. Webster, can be taken only by his bio- grapher. Let those who assume such an enume- ration, not omit to include the following. Tiiat out of the treasury of his single intellect, he has paid another installment on the debt of civili- zation, we owe the mother Empire, it consists not alone in the light he has shed upon the sci- ■ Si. Stephens, New Bruiiswirk. 24 ences of international law, and civil polity. Viritil considered himself covered with olory, when he was called a pillar of the Latin tongue ; and English scholars, in the fine enthusiasm, and high magnanimity of letters, will acknow- ledge Avith feelings of admiration and gratitude, that even to that gorgeous temple, whose base, and whose dome were the productions of a Shakspeare, the doric contributions of the great American orator, have given additional strength, suljlimity and grandeur. Cicero thought Plato used such language as Jupiter would, had he talked in the Greek The English of Webster suggests the same notion of majesty. And if Cicero had given us his idea of the fabled deity in the act and attitude of speaking, it is by no means certain that he would have invested him with a more imposing presence. Conceptions of this kind are fur- nished in poetry, which have been things of joy to the scholars of manv generations. But 1 question whether votaries of letters most famil- iar with the heathen Jove of Homer, the Tro- jan leader of Virgil, the royal Dane of Shak- speare, and the primitive great sire of Milton, ever had in their mind's eye, a figure which so 25 impressed the heart, as when they {jjazcd upon the solemn front, and eye sublime of our ilhis- trious countryman. Not only have Eui-opean ' masters in sculpture huno- over his bust enam- oured, as a model beyond even their iinest ideal ; but persons of no culture whatever, equally strangers to his fame, aud to the enthusiasm of poetry and art, have given involuntary utter- ance to the sentiment of the admiring Queen of Carthage — " Quern sese ore ferena !"* These outward indications of power, without example in his own age, added immensely, as might be supposed, to the grandeur of his spoken eloquence. Of other orators, the audience made his present speech the gauge of his intellect. And I suppose it often happened that Mr. "Web- ster did his utmost; but with that massive amplitude of brow before you, and that vision and faculty divine, it was impossible to believe it. Bring forward what lie might, you still said, 'the greatest is l)ehiud.' Make ever so great a conquest, the spectators reported : " Yet half his strength, he put not forth, but check'd His thunder in mid- volley." * " How ereat does he show himself in \m countenanoe I 4 26 And when the historian, glorying in his theme, shall have recounted to the men of another age, the mighty feats of his genius, it needs must cap the climax of their wonder to be told; that such was his superb exterior, and so vast in promise, that he left his contemporaries in doubt, had he been called to meet a crisis so much greater, or grapple with an adversary so much more formi- dal^le, whether he had it not in him, to have achieved in one single triumph, what would have eclipsed the sum of his others. It would be very proper in the presence of so much aspiration for professional honor, to dwell at some length upon the character of the deceased as a lawyer. And in adequate hands, what more noble theme for discourse. But an attempt at such an analysis of his mind, or such summing up of his attainments by any one who has not devoted to the law his ' twenty years of vigils,' would amount in my esteem, to irreverent presumjDtion. Let us leave this part of the sub- ject then, after expressing only what is in the mind of every educated man in the country. His published arguments at the bar, have never yet l)een spoken of as less than consummate models of forensic discussion. And the projDor- 27 tion of Ills adinircrs ifs not siiuill, who insist that this is the theatre where the prowess oi' his mind achieved its greatest feats. As has heen said by an old man eloquent, a patriarch of col- lege presidents, respecting Hamilton : " he strode through the cause with the club of Hercules, and left nothing living in his path." If you inquire who stands at the head of the profession in any given city or State, different persons will give you a different name; whereas not only now in the generosity of funeral eidogium, but any time during the last third of his life, and that by universal acclaim, the first place at the Bar of the American Union was accorded to Webster. And when of all this assemblage there remains not on earth the slightest vestige of remembrance, jwsterity will marvel as we do now, at this amazing triumjih of intellect; to have won the palm which cost Pinckney and Wirt the sustained struggle of a life ; and vet at the same time, in the higher path of statesman- ship, which they almost entirely avoided, to have clonib to equal pre-eminence; and in addi- tion to all this, and perhaps for the first time in the history of America, to have given a classic to the language. 28 A uflaiice still briefer at Mr. Webster's achievements in the field of diplomacy. They contributed very greatly to extend his European fame, and certainly rank among his highest claims to the gratitude of his own country. The announcement of his death will come home with great additional effect to Americans who are now travelling abroad ; for they have felt, as they tell us, that his name ever surrounded them as with a guard of protection and of honor. His correspondence with the English Envoy in 1842, not only shed vast light upon the law of nations, and aftbrds a sublime illustration of the compass and divinity of human reason; but they cleared up many difficulties between the United States and England, which at inter- vals for half a century, had threatened to involve these countries in all the horrors of war. They were settled by this great son of joeace, satisfactorily, and forever; without war, and without dishonor. And it may be urged with justice, that the papers which at that time ema- nated from the Secretary of State, contributed greatly to inaugurate a new era in the inter- course of nations. They impressed upon the general heart of the world, what Richelieu 20 utters in handing his weapon ol' war to his page: " Take au'inj Ihc sicurd — Stales can be saved u-ithuttl it .'" • It has come to be a very frequent remark, "What a pity our greatest men cannot be Presi- dent;" and surely there never has been more occasion for regret than in the case of Webster. What a superb piece of rhetoric would it have been, what a feast, what a banquet of reason, and with what a glow of patriotic pride would every American have perused his inaugural address. What annual messages would have illustrated the policy, and enriched the litera- ture of the country. What dignity, what strength, what splendor in his administration. The Presidential chair would have borrowed lustre from the talents and the fame of such an incumbent. For the first time since the line of Revolutionary Presidents, the highest office in the nation would have been adorned with its highest statesmanship. The Union, the Consti- tution, Peace, and every great interest of peace, would have smiled secure under a ruler at once so wise, so mild, so firm. There are many pei- sons present, differing from him on ([uestions of 30 public interest, who would not liiivc voted for liini ; but there is no one in this audience, there is no one in this Republic, who avouM not have contemplated with proud emotion, institutions which could first produce such a citizen, and then give him his place according to the speci- fic gravity of nature. Such would have been the general feeling at home. While abroad, and among foreign pow- ers, as it was said of Washington, it is not pro- bable that any prince or potentate of his day, would have commanded more respect and con- sideration. Throned emperors and kings would have read in this grand embodiment, all the elements that mould up our conception of a con- summate magistrate : " And by these claim their greatness, not by blood." It is usual to say on such occasions that the Pre- sidency could have added nothing to his fame. Such a reflection may possibly be of some solace to afflicted feeling, but it certainly will not stand the test of logical analysis. Mr. Webster, it is true, was a more eminent man than any Presi- dent of his day ; indeed the Secretaries of State for many years, form a more distinguished line of Statesmen than the Presidents. Still the 31 highest post in the government woukl have made even Webster's talents more conspicu- ons. "Pyramids are pyramids in vales." Doubt- less; yet however great the structure, it is imj)Osing in proportion to the elevation of its site. Mr. Webster, nevertheless, amassed a repu- tation on so huge a scale, that any such regrets on his account are almost unconscionable. Five million votes, fifty million votes, could not have done for him, what he did for himself. The truth is, that regrets of this kind, and indeed this whole aggregate of sorrow, spreading the Commonwealth as with a pall, is not for the dead, but for the living. And I, the humblest of all my fellow-citizens, — lifted into notice but for an hour by this sad occasion, and soon to return as is my wont, to the pursuits of retire- ment — with no title to consideration, save as I utter the words of truth — the least of all priests in this vast service of the grave ; yet as such, possessing the ear of the congregation assem- }j\q([ — I assume to summon the American com- munity into the forum of its own conscience. 1 arraign it before the bar of the world. I anti- cipate the verdict of posterity. Ye wlio liave ears to hear, and hearts to understand, incline to 82 what I say, for I speak no idle words. Hearken to the judgment of your children, and your chil- dren's children, to be affirmed by every succeed- ing age. And this it is: That in withholding from one who partook so largely of the spirit, and the wisdom, and the patriotism of Washing- ton, the highest power for good which the Con- stitution entrusts to a single citizen, — A duty has not been performed. A work of patriotism has not been completed. Friends and fellow-citizens : If such thoughts afflict us with compunctious visitings, and full well I know they do, let us remember that they are of use only as they l^eget resolutions for the future. For the past, they are unavailing. Daniel Webster, is no longer among the living. The glory of the Forum, the chief of the Senate, the mighty minister, great man of language, " Farewell, a long farewell, to all thy greatness !" That drama of vigorous heroism is closed. On a stage, not darkened, but rather of heightened splendor, the curtain has fallen. Not as the ordinary great ; nor yet as Socrates, like a philo- sopher ; but with the su])limer exit of a Chris- tian, he has gone from our sight forever. Oh, if this were not the solemn fact — if vou had but 33 just awakened from sleep — if you were assured tliat these impressions of death at Marshfield, of the ensign of the Republic everywhere in crape, of ten thousand men at a private funeral ; that these were not reality, but only the dismal fancies of a dream, — that instead of being in his grave, Daniel Webster was still at his post, as a faithful sentinel on the watch-towers of Liberty — if you could hear there in the darkness of the night his veteran footstep — especially if you should ask as was our wont in a moment of fear, " Watchman, what of the night ?^' and your ear should suddenly be greeted with those grand old tones, so full, resonant and joyous — All's well, airs well,'' — Oh ! how this whole auditory would start to its feet; and what a burst of transport would shake this solid building to its base ! But alas, these tears we are shedding, they are not the tears of joy, but of grief. And what event but the death of Webster, could have drawn from us so many ? Had each of us lost his father, the stroke could hardly have fallen with more subduing effect. Why, here we touch the secret — We have lost the second Father of his Country. God in heaven, be thou the father of an orphaned people ! a4 When in July, two years ago, death removed an incumbent of the Executive, so strong in the confidence of his countrymen, you well remem- ber how bitter and how universal was the sense of bereavement. It is no disparagement to say that his great office was worthily supplied by his immediate successor. What too often had been only an ingenious stroke of flatterj^, might have been quoted in this instance of accession, with honesty and truth : '•Sol occiibuit ; nox nulla secuta est."* But now, ere yon moon had four times filled her horn, we are called upon to suffer the double eclipse of Clay and Webster. In lesser lights indeed the horizon is not wanting. And such is the tried prudence of the people themselves, and such, if they avail themselves of it, the reflected radience of luminaries no longer seen, that I do not say they will stumble and fall. But alas, alas ! how long may we have to await the appearance again of two orbs of such mag- nitude and splendor, to fill our hearts with joy and our country with glory ! I know indeed the last accents of his lips — " / still live ;" and I have marked with sensi- * " The sun set; but no night (bllowed." 35 bility the eagerness of the nation to extract from them something to solace its smitten feel- ings. Already in the valley of the shadow oi death, it was in his mind only, that the soid had not yet glided from the shore of its mortality. In that solemn instant, it was farthest from him possible to indulge the thought of the ancient, " vivit enim, vivet que semper.''^ Yet the bleeding heart of the nation, so lonesome and desolate, is surely warranted in cherishing such a sentiment. All that was mortal of Daniel Webster, is indeed dead. In the presence of a great cloud of wit- nesses, it was committed to the sacred soil of the Pilgrims. But his words, his works, his wisdom ; the influence of his example, patriotism and deeds — these were not so interred. Heaven vouchsafes to a few superior natures a life to come, even in this world. There are those who rule us from their urns. Yes, " Thou art mighty yet I" Thy spirit walks abroad." Walk ever abroad, illustrious shade ! Thy counsels and precepts are engraven on our memory ; but oh, if in the economy of God, it is allowed to exert a directer influence — if patriots who die the death of the righteous are 36 ever permitted to revisit their earthly seats — then ever venerated spirit, infuse into thy coun- trymen yet more of thy prudence, self-devotion and wisdom ! The older editions of Mr. Webster's speeches, have on the back of the volume, a gold leaf figure of the Capitol at Washington. There is a fitness in this device. Consider how com- pletely identified are his name and efforts with that great palace of the laws. With the House of Representatives, the Chamber of the Senate, the Supreme Federal Judicatory, and with the wing in course of erection, as orator at the lay- ing of its corner-stone. Then what an expan- sive spirit of patriotism pervades those volumes : a school of rhetoric for the nation, instinct with nationality. In this respect, indeed, they are but the counterpart of his own feelings and character. Party and sectional foes might whisper suspicion with their lips ; they might impugn his motives; they might wound his honor; and yet — who but one of his country- men would credit it ; and who that is a coun- tryman disputes it ? — it had come to be a piece of the American heart to believe, that Webster would see that the Republic suffered no harm. 37 That not only her interests, but her lionor and her fame would come out of the fiery ordeal, as he himself would say, without the smell of fire upon her garments. You have all doubtless met the verses which represent a captain's son on board of a ship in a terrific tempest. Veteran sailors are in tears of des- pair, and marvelling at his calmness, they ask the boy, "Are you not afraid?" The noble little fellow, a very picture of surprise, glancing at the stern, asks his interrogators, " Is not my father at the helm?'' Such was the abiding faith of the nation, in this more than Palinurus of the State. Whatever might be the peril, how dark soever the heavens, *' Though the strain'd mast should quiver us u reed," the people still asked, if you expressed alarm, ^"^ Is not Webste?' at the helm?'' Such was the universal sense of his fidelity and patriotism. Nor was it over estimated. Love of country, and of the whole country, was the ever present, and ever paramount passion ol" his being; it penetrated, and pervaded, and engrossed it. Applying the entire energies of his robust, luminous, and comprehensive intel- lect, to the high ministries of its constitution. 38 it was the great mission of his life, to defend and expound it, to ilhistrate and hallow. His first entry into public life was in the service of the' whole Union ; and the summons of death found him still in its harness. No sooner had his eye fallen on her constitution, than he folded it to his heart as the first love of his boyhood; and the latest stroke of his pen, ere it must be laid down forever, attests his loyalty and devotion. And having indentified himself conspicuously with every great interest at home, and more than any citizen of his time, enhanced her repu- tation abroad; in age, as in manhood, and in youth, still earlier than the sun in toiling for her glory ; having thus exhausted his strength, his spirit, and his life, in the service of the country at large ; he bequeathed at his death, to every American citizen, to every several man, in one massive and sumptuous assemblage, the rich inheritance of his name, his works, his example and renown. I am afraid it is one of the solemn lessons of history that unto all states, as to men, it is appointed once to die. Certainly none noAV in ('xistence gives inore vigorous promise than that of England. And yet her eloquent historian has permitted himself to anticipate a time when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a bro- ken arch of London bridge, to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's. It is the most earnest prayer of every heart before me that the people may prove themselves so intelligent, virtuous and prudent, that the Capitol of the American Republic will stand forever. This, my friends, at least is sure ; that while that great temple of Freedom does stand, it shall be as one vast Cenotaph to Webster. And as a sight of that hallowed dome, shall first recall to the beholder the mem- ory of Webster ; so shall come first to his lip, the epitaph now on the general heart of the nation: Well done, good and faithful servant. vK ,i^^'?«'? V OF CONG^p, SS 011 835 126 8