AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW. (continued 5)

The discovery and colonization of America, led to consequences which re-modelled all Europe; and her emancipation from European thraldom will, in like manner, force upon that portion of the world a new state of things. Europe, in her present situation, cannot do without America,—while, on the other hand, America has no occasion for Europe. America can, and will, therefore, become independent of Europe; but, in the present state of things, Europe cannot become independent of America. That almost universal empire which Europe attained by the superiority of her intelligence,—by the tribute she exacted from every other quarter of the globe, and by the superiority of her skill as well as of her industry, cannot be sustained for a much longer period.

Wrapped up in a sense of his superiority, the European reclines at home, shining in his borrowed plumes, derived from the product of every corner of the earth, and the industry of every portion of its inhabitants, with which his own natural resources would never have invested him, he continues, as the author observes, revelling in enjoyments which nature has denied him;—accustomed from his most tender years, to wants which all the blessings and donations of the land and the ocean, produced within the compass of his own quarter of the globe, are unable to satisfy. While, therefore, the rest of the world has become tributary to him, he, in return, has become dependent on it, by those wants,—the supply of which, custom and education have made indispensably necessary.

America alone furnishes in a sufficient quantity those precious metals, which constitute the basis on which the existing relations of all the different classes of society, and indeed the whole concatenation of the civil institutions of society in general, have been formed, and retained to the present time. All the elements of modern splendour were derived from her,—and it was her gifts to Europe, which changed almost all the constituents of social life. The costly woods of the new world, banished the native products of the old;—her cochineal and indigo furnish the choicest materials for the richest dyes;—her rice is become an article of cheap and general nourishment to the European world;—her cotton, tobacco, coffee, sugar, molasses, cocoa and rum;—her numerous and valuable drugs;—her diamonds and precious stones;—her furs, and, in time of scarcity, the rich redundant stores of grain she pours forth from her bosom, constitute so large a portion of the wants and luxuries of Europe, that it is not too much to say, the latter is in a great measure dependent upon America. A great portion of these cannot be domesticated in the former, or produced in such quantities, as to supply the demand which custom has made indispensable, nor upon such terms, as would enable the people of Europe to indulge in their consumption. On the contrary, experience has demonstrated, that all the natural productions of Europe, its olives, and even its boasted vines, can be naturalized in some one of the various regions of this quarter of the globe, which comprehends in itself every climate and every soil. There is not the least doubt, that, when the habits of the people, or the interests of the country point to such a course, all these will be produced in sufficient quantities, not only for domestic use, but foreign exportation.

America, thus standing in need of none of the natural productions of Europe, and possessing within herself much more numerous, as well as precious gifts of nature, than any other quarter of the globe, will soon be able to dispense with the products of foreign industry. Whenever she can command the necessary stock of knowledge, and a sufficient number of industrious hands, which emigration, aided by her own increasing population, will soon place at her disposal, this will inevitably take place. Where there exist materials, and understanding to use them, the freedom of using them at pleasure, and security in the enjoyment of the fruits of labour, the spirit of enterprise is inevitably awakened into life and activity, and with it must flourish every species of industry:—

"North America," observes the author, "at the commencement of her revolution, found herself nearly destitute of all mechanical resources and means of resistance,—whereas now she possesses fortifications, and plenty of military supplies of all kinds, with the means of multiplying them, as occasion may require. She has already formed an efficient, spirited and increasing navy, which will before long dispute the empire of the seas; she is complete mistress of the several branches of knowledge, and contains within herself all the mechanical institutions requisite for the increase and maintenance of these things. She can equip an army or a navy, without a resort to Europe, for the most insignificant article."

The author then goes on to express an opinion that the complete emancipation of South America, which he anticipates as soon to happen, will lead to similar results, in that portion of the continent, and produce an entire and final independence, political as well as commercial. He does not pretend to designate the precise period in which this will take place, but confines himself to the assertion, that in the natural and inevitable course of things, it must and will happen, after a determined opposition from European jealousy.

An inquiry is then commenced, into the possibility that Europe will be enabled to supply the loss of America, by means of new connexions with the other quarters of the globe. If she cannot procure a new market for her surplus manufactures, how is she to acquire the means of purchasing those productions of the new world, which have become indispensable to her existence, in the sphere she has hitherto occupied? To do this she must not only retain in their fullest extent, all the remaining branches of her commerce, but obtain others, by entering into new connexions with Asia and Africa, and colonizing new regions. To do this, not only does the necessary energy seem wanting, but Europe will have to encounter the competition of America, with all our unequalled celerity of enterprise, and all our rapidly increasing powers of competition. She is much more likely to lose her remaining colonies than to acquire new ones; and it approaches to an extreme degree of probability, that she will be driven from many of her accustomed branches of commerce, by the superior energy and enterprise of America, rather than obtain new marts for her manufactures. Already the North American cottons are finding their way to India, and banishing the productions of the British looms from the markets of the southern portion of this continent. The trade to China is already assuming an entire new character, and will probably before long be carried on without the instrumentality of Spanish dollars.

We think the positions of our author are eminently entitled to consideration. The situation of a part of the continent of America, south of the Isthmus of Darien, is much more favourable to a commercial intercourse with Asia, western Africa, than that of Europe. The coast of Guinea can be much more easily visited from Caraccas, Cayenne, and Surinam, than from any portion of Europe; and the Cape of Good Hope, lying directly to the east of the great river La Plata, is much better adapted to an intercourse with Rio Janeiro, and Buenos Ayres, than any of the Dutch or English colonies. The Isles of France, Bourbon, and Madagascar, situated between the Cape of Good Hope, and the eastern coast of Africa, are much more suited to a communication with the new states of South America, than with the mother countries. Such is the case with the Philippine islands, New-Holland, the Marquesas, the Friendly and Society islands. The geographical relations between all these, and different portions of South America, sufficiently indicate that when the reins shall have fallen from the hands of Europe, the intercourse will in a great measure change its course, and centre in the new instead of the old world.

The principle, we are aware, has been assumed, that whatever state supports the most powerful navy for the protection of its commerce, will always take the lead. But it hardly now remains a question, whether the states of the new world will not be able ere long, to direct trade into the free channel which nature herself seems to point out for all nations, but which the exorbitant naval power of one has forced into artificial and circuitous directions.

Europe will not for ever be able to wield the trident of the seas, nor sway the sceptre of intellectual superiority. There is a time for all things. There was a time when she borrowed her arts, her literature, her refinements, and her civilization, from Asia. These are for ever passing from one nation, and from one continent to another. The descendents of Europeans in the new world, have not degenerated, and possessing as they do as many advantages of situation as were ever enjoyed by any people under the sun, with as great a field for their exercise as was ever presented for human action, it would be departing from the natural order of things, and the ordinary operations of the great scheme of Providence; it would be shutting our ears to the voice of experience, and our eyes to the inevitable connexion of causes and their effects, were we to reject the extreme probability, not to say moral certainty, that the old world is destined to receive its impulses in future, from the new. Already we see the bright dawnings of this new relation, in the universal diffusion of the spirit of emancipation, first sought in the wilds of America. It was there that was first lighted that spark which is now animating and stimulating the nations of the old world to become free and happy like ourselves. The unshackled genius of the new world is now exerting itself with gigantic vigour, aided by the infinite treasures of nature, to strengthen its powers, increase its commerce, its resources, and its wealth. No other quarter of the globe, much less a single nation, will eventually be able to dispute the empire of the seas, with the new world.

We shall devote the remainder of this article to a consideration of events which have occurred in Europe since the publication of the work before us, which richly merits a better translation, as well as a republication in this country. This course is necessary to our purpose, although it is our humble opinion, that the writers and publications of this country, give a disproportionate attention to the affairs of other people, and of consequence, neglect our own. Let us look to ourselves; preserve the purity of the national manners and institutions—foster our natural and accidental advantages, and observe, and gather lessons of wisdom as well as moderation from the folly and excesses of rulers and people in the old superannuated world. Above all, let us ever bear in mind and continue to act upon the sentiment of Daniel Webster, and be careful that "while other nations are moulding their governments after ours, we do not break the pattern."

The present state of Europe, we think, offers additional probabilities to the theory laid down in the work of the Danish philosopher. Two great principles are now approaching to a struggle, which will, in all human probability, ere long, produce not only wars, but the worst of wars, internal dissensions, aggravated by external struggles with foreign powers. Although the principle of emancipation is common to the revolution of America, and the revolutionary spirit now at work in Europe, all other circumstances are essentially different. With us, it was throwing off a dominion seated at a vast distance beyond the seas, and only known among us by its representatives. In Europe, on the contrary, it is a central power existing in the heart, and pervading every portion of the body politic. A revolution then, must overturn thrones, church establishments, standing armies, hereditary orders, and prejudices hallowed by ages of reverence and submission. The whole frame and organization of society must be dissolved, changed into new elements, and be arranged into new forms.

The enemies of statu quo, and the genius of change, are now arraying their respective powers, and in proportion as the people have been debarred from all participation in the government, will be their ardour to govern without controul. Such a struggle cannot end in a day, or in a year,—nor will it be decided in all probability, except through a long series of gradations, which will finally rest at last on a basis suitable to the present state of the human mind. We cannot, therefore, but anticipate heavy times for Europe. A long course of internal and external wars, is fatal to the great interests of a state. Commerce decays, and seeks other more peaceful climes—agriculture is robbed of its labourers, and of the products of labour, to recruit and feed the armies,—and manufacturers are deprived of their foreign purchasers. The powers of the intellect, too, are diverted from the pursuits of science and literature, into the bloody paths of warfare,—and thus it has ever happened, that a long continuance of national struggles, produces a neglect of the arts of peace, and an approach to barbarism.

Insecurity of property is one of the inevitable consequences of civil wars. The products of the land are the common stock of plunder for both parties, and the land itself becomes a prey to confiscation. At this day, a vast portion of the wealth of Europe is vested in stocks, which are still more fatally operated upon by civil wars. Their value, in fact, becomes, in such a state of things, merely nominal; and it depends upon the success of one or other of the parties in the struggle, whether they again attain to their original prices, or become worthless. Such a crisis seems fast approaching in Europe. When once the conflicting elements of anarchy and despotism commence their warfare, who shall say where and when it will end? Prophecy, in this case, would be presumption,—when it does end, the result will be equally uncertain. Whether a chastened freedom, guarantied by a fair representation of the people in the governments, a despotism without limits, or an anarchy without controul, is beyond the reach of human foresight to predict.

One thing, however, we think, is certain. This unsettled state of life, liberty and property, in Europe, will produce a vast accession of wealth and population in the new world, and accelerate its progress to the sceptre of intellect and power, hitherto, for so long a time, wielded by the old. The neighbouring nations of Europe, being all nearly in the same state of internal insecurity, afford no safe refuge to fugitives or property, from each other—even if their national antipathies did not present a barrier to emigration. The United States, on the contrary, with nothing to disturb their tranquillity, but the peaceable struggles of an election, and stretching out a hand of welcome to all nations, and all ranks of mankind, from the exiled monarch to the mechanic or peasant, coming in search of employment and bread, will present a safe deposit for the wealth of Europe,—a sanctuary where the persecuted, the harassed, and the timid spirit, may find repose from the storms that vex his native land.

Thus, to our native energy, intelligence, and resources, will be added a large portion of those of the other quarter of the world, and the united result, in all human probability, must be the fulfilment of the great prophecy, that the empire of the world was travelling towards the setting sun. The sceptre will depart from the east, and be wielded by the west. Power, dominion, science, literature, and the arts, hitherto the satellites of despotism, will become the bright and beautiful handmaids of a brighter goddess than themselves, and the glory of Europe, like that of Asia, be preserved in her history and her traditions.

The anticipation is as rational as glorious to an American. Look at the state of Europe once more, and separate it into its constituent parts. Let us begin with France. What has she gained by her revolution of July but a branch of the same tree, in the room of the rotten trunk? Has she won freedom or repose? Not even the freedom of complaint,—nor any other repose, but the repose of the National Guards. What is the cry of the people of Paris? Not liberty alone, but "give us employment and bread." Thus irritated by a feeling of disappointment on one hand, and goaded on by hunger, can they stop where they are? Certainly not; it is not in the nature of man, nor the nature of things. Two such impulses can only be satisfied by the grant of their demands, and only quelled by force.

Look at the great rival of France on the opposite side of the channel. The same mighty evils are at work there—discontent aggravated by hunger. At the moment we are writing, a question is depending in the Parliament of England, which agitates the island to its centre, and the decision of which, either one way or other, is acknowledged by both parties to amount to the signal of a revolution. The opponents of the Bill of Reform maintain, that, if carried, it will destroy the basis of the government; and the advocates assert, that, if not carried, it will produce a revolution, originating in the disappointment and indignation of the people.

Will the aristocracy of England—the most wealthy and powerful aristocracy in the world—voluntarily, and without a mighty struggle, divest themselves of one of their chief sources of power in the state. Will they sacrifice their parliamentary influence, which constitutes one of the regular modes and means of providing for younger sons and poor relations? Nay, which enables them to dictate to their sovereign? We believe not. Will the people remain quiet under the disappointment of their newborn hopes, aggravated as it will be by poverty and distress, among so large a number? Perhaps they will, so long as there is an army of sixty or eighty thousand men, disposed so happily for the protection of order in the United Kingdom, that every breath of discontent is met by a bayonet. But let the monarchs who maintain order in Europe, by means of standing armies, recollect the lesson of history, which teaches us, that throughout all ages, and countries, the power which sustained the throne by force, in the end by force overthrew it. There is but one solid permanent support of power, and that is, the attachment of the people.

In the present state of Europe, we incline to the opinion that the safest course for kings to take, would be to identify themselves with the people, and become the organs of their wishes. We see no other means for the present King of England to make head successfully against the weight of the opposition of the church and nobility, in case he decisively sustains the present ministry in their plans of parliamentary reform, than to make common cause with his people, and say to them honestly, "I have become your champion, do you become my supporters." The government of England is acknowledged on all hands to be a mixed government of king, lords, and commons. Who represents the commons of England? The House of Commons. But can it do this effectually, while a large portion of the members are returned by the House of Lords? We should think not. The spirit and purity of the system can only be preserved by the commons, and the commons alone, selecting their representatives in their own house, and not the nobility. Does the House of Commons interfere in the same way in the creation of the members of the House of Lords? They have no voice or influence in the business. Why, then, should the House of Lords interfere in the election, or appointment rather, of the members of the House of Commons? In this point of view, therefore, we can perceive no sort of foundation for the argument of the opponents of reform, that the measure will operate to destroy the balance of the government. We rather think it will restore the balance, and bring it back to the true old theory of three distinct powers—king, lords, and commons.

We believe that the people will be satisfied with this reform for a time, if it take place. When they shall see, as no doubt they will see, that the burthens of the state, and consequently their own, remain the same, or perhaps increase with the increase of those who require relief, and the decrease of those who are able to bestow it; when they shall find that a reform in Parliament will not give them liberal wages, or feed their suffering families, then will they become more dissatisfied than ever. Then, too, will the result disclose where the shoe of reform pinched the opponents of reform. The increased representation of the people will then enable the people to make themselves heard and felt, and to force the government into measures that may indeed destroy the constitution of England, if there be any such invisible being. Whichever way we look, therefore, we perceive the same causes of discontent, the same spirit of emancipation at work, that agitates the continent of Europe; and so long as this state of things continues, it requires no spirit of prophecy to predict, that England, so far from advancing in power or intelligence, will, in all probability, invincibly slide from the summit of power, and become the victim of internal weakness at last.

The state of Holland and Belgium, of Italy and Germany, and Russia and Prussia, and Spain and Poland, is still more unfavourable to arts, science, commerce, literature, and agriculture. The rulers are employed in schemes for keeping the people in subjugation, and the people in wresting the promised privileges from their rulers. In such a state of things, the one party has no time to devise schemes for enriching or enlightening the people, but is employed, on the contrary, in placing them, as far as possible, in ignorance and poverty. The other is so taken up with politics, that its habits of economy, steadiness, and enterprise, are forgotten by degrees in the whirlpool of turbulent excitement. Each and all of these countries, with the exception perhaps of Russia, instead of advancing, will gradually recede in wealth and intelligence, not only from internal dissensions, but on account of the large portion of both, that will from time to time, as long as this state of things shall last, direct its course to the new world.

The change from old to new times; from the inapplicable maxims of the past, to the practical truths of the present, has, every where, and in all past ages, been a period of suffering to the human race. The approaches to this state of regeneration, are marked by turbulent disaffection on one hand, inflexible severity on the other; its progress is marked by the dissolution of the social ties, and its crisis with blood and tears. The people have to encounter the most formidable difficulties, under which they probably sink many times, before they rise at last and make the great successive effort. These evils are aggravated and perpetuated as long as possible, by the stern inflexible rigidity of old-established institutions, worthless in proportion to their obstinacy, aided by the blind besotted pride of kings, who seem never to have learnt the lesson of yielding to the changes produced by time and circumstance, and sacrificing gracefully, what will otherwise be taken from them by force.

But all that is great, or good, or valuable, in this world, must be attained by labour, perseverance, courage, and integrity. Liberty is too valuable a blessing to be gained or preserved without the exercise of these great virtues. It must have its victims, and its charter must be sealed with blood. A people afraid of a bayonet, are not likely to be free while Europe swarms with standing armies, having little or no community of interests or feeling with those who maintain them by the sweat of their brow. When the oppressed states of Switzerland, sent forth patriots who made a breach in the forest of German bayonets opposed to them, by circling them in their arms, and receiving them into their bosoms, they deserved to be free—they became free, and their liberties are still preserved. But so long as a host often thousand brawling and hungry malcontents, can be quieted and dispersed by the sound of a bugle, the clattering of a horse's hoofs, or the glittering of a musket barrel, can such people expect to be free? Assuredly not, we think. No where will despotism or aristocracy peaceably resign their long established preponderance without a struggle, and like our own revolution, the contest will at last come to the crisis—"we must fight, Mr. Speaker, we must fight," as said the intrepid Patrick Henry,—and we did fight. So must Europe if it expects emancipation. All the governments of that quarter of the globe, are now sustained by a military force—and by force only can they be overthrown or modified, to suit the great changes which have taken place in the feelings and relative situation of the different orders of society.

That the present state and future prospects of that renowned and illustrious quarter of the globe, are ominous of a continued succession of storms and troubles, we think appears too obvious. The night that is approaching, will be long and dark, in all human probability—it may end in a total regeneration—in a confirmed and inflexible despotism; or in that precise state of things which characterized what are called, the dark ages of Europe—in the establishment of a hundred petty states, governed by a hundred petty tyrants, eternally at variance, and agreeing in nothing but in oppressing the people. Great standing armies are at present the conservators of the great powers of Europe, and public sentiment is no longer the sole or principal cement of empires; when these are gone, as they must be, ere the nations which they oppress can be free, then all the little sectional and provincial jealousies and antipathies, every real or imaginary opposition of interests, and even feelings of personal rivalry, will have an opportunity of coming into full play, and the result may very probably be, the erection of a vast many petty states, which will never be brought to act together in any great system of policy. Thus situated, they will never be able to make head against the growing power of the vast states of the new world, which whatever may be their minor causes of difference, will naturally unite in those views of commercial policy, which being common to all, will be sought by a common effort.

The South American states, it is true, have not yet realized the blessings of emancipation, partly owing to their inexperience in the practical secrets of civil liberty; partly to the want of public virtue in the people, and their rulers, and partly, as we are much inclined to suspect, to the secret intrigues of more than one European power. But their natural and inevitable tendency is, we believe, towards a stable government, combining a complete independence of foreign powers, with such a portion of civil liberty as may suit their present circumstances and situation. They are serving their apprenticeship—they will soon be out of their time, and may safely set up for themselves.

But, however doubtful may be the final result of the great struggle between the kings and the people—or of the aristocracy and the people—for this seems to be the real struggle after all—whatever may be its final result, one thing is certain as fate. While it continues, it must inevitably arrest the prosperity of Europe, such as it is, and force it to retrograde for a time. Instead of devoting their attention to the interests of the nation abroad, and encouraging the industry and intelligence of the people at home, kings will be employed in watching and restraining their subjects. Fearing the intelligence and wealth, as the means of increasing their discontents as well as their power, they will seek to diminish both by new restraints or new exactions; and thus the best ends of government will be perverted to purposes of ignorance and oppression. This is the history of the degradation, and consequent internal weakness of all nations, and a perseverance in such a course in Europe, will only afford another example, that the same effects proceed from similar causes, every where, and at all times.

In the mean while, as oppression, civil wars, internal disaffection, anarchy, and expatriation of wealth and numbers, all combined, are gradually undermining the strength of Europe, and draining her veins, the new world will be, in all human probability, every day acquiring what the old is losing. If she once pass the other, if it be only by the breadth of a single hair, it is scarcely to be anticipated that age and decrepitude will ever be able to regain the vantage ground, against the primitive energies of vigorous youth. Once ahead, and the new world will remain so, until the ever revolving course of time, and the revolutions it never fails to accomplish, shall perhaps again transfer to Asia the sceptre of arts, science, literature, power, and dominion, which was wrested from her by Europe.

To realize these bold anticipations, nothing seems necessary but for the people of the United States to bear in mind, that they are the patriarchs of modern emancipation—that the spark which animates the people of Europe was caught from them—that they led the way in the great common cause of all mankind—that the eyes of the world are upon them—and that they stand under a solemn obligation to do nothing themselves, to suffer their leaders to do nothing, which shall bring the sacred name of liberty into disgrace, or endanger the integrity of our great confederation. "While other nations are moulding their governments after ours, may we not destroy the pattern."

Art. VII.—Speeches and Forensic Arguments, by Daniel Webster: 8vo. pp. 520. Boston: 1830.

It has often enough been objected to books written and published in the United States, that they want a national air, tone, and temper. Unhappily, too, the complaint has not unfrequently been well founded; but the volume before us is a striking exception to all such remarks. It consists of a collection of Mr. Webster's Public Addresses, Speeches in Congress, and Forensic Arguments, printed chiefly from pamphlets, already well known; and it is marked throughout, to an uncommon degree, with the best characteristics of a generous nationality. No one, indeed, can open it, without perceiving that, whatever it contains, must have been the work of one born and educated among our free institutions,—formed in their spirit, and animated and sustained by their genius and power. The subjects discussed, and the interests maintained in it, are entirely American; and many of them are so important, that they are already become prominent parts of our history. As we turn over its pages, therefore, and see how completely Mr. Webster has identified himself with the great institutions of the country, and how they, in their turn, have inspired and called forth the greatest efforts of his uncommon mind, we feel as if the sources of his strength, and the mystery by which it controuls us, were, in a considerable degree, interpreted. We feel that, like the fabulous giant of antiquity, he gathers it from the very earth that produced him; and our sympathy and interest, therefore, are excited, not less by the principle on which his power so much depends, than by the subjects and occasions on which it is so strikingly put forth. We understand better than we did before, not only why we have been drawn to him, but why the attraction that carried us along, was at once so cogent and so natural.

When, however, such a man appears before the nation, the period of his youth and training is necessarily gone by. It is only as a distinguished member of the General Government,—probably in one of the two Houses of Congress, that he first comes, as it were, into the presence of the great mass of his countrymen. But, before he can arrive there, he has, in the vast majority of cases, reached the full stature of his strength, and developed all the prominent peculiarities of his character. Much, therefore, of what is most interesting in relation to him,—much of what goes to make up his individuality and momentum, and without which, neither his elevation nor his conduct can be fully understood or estimated, is known only in the circle of his private friends, or, at most, in that section of the country from which he derives his origin. In this way, we are ignorant of much that it concerns us to know about many of our distinguished statesmen; but about none, probably, are we more relatively ignorant than about Mr. Webster, who is eminently one of those persons, whose professional and political career cannot be fairly or entirely understood, unless we have some acquaintance with the circumstances of his origin, and of his early history, taken in connection with his whole public life. We were, therefore, disappointed, on opening the present volume, not to find prefixed to it a full biographical notice of him. We were, indeed, so much disappointed and felt so fully persuaded, that neither the contents of the volume itself, nor the sources of its author's power, nor his position before the nation, could be properly comprehended without it, that we determined at once to connect whatever we should say on any of these subjects, by such notices of his life, as we might be able to collect under unfavourable circumstances. We only regret that our efforts have not been more successful,—and that our notices, therefore, are few and imperfect.

Mr. Webster was born in Salisbury, a farming town of New-Hampshire, at the head of the Merrimack, in 1782. His father, always a farmer, was a man of a strongly marked and vigorous character,—full of decision, integrity, firmness, and good sense. He served under Lord Amherst, in the French war, that ended in 1763; and, in the war of the Revolution, he commanded a company chiefly composed of his own towns-people and friends, who gladly fought under his leading nearly every campaign, and at whose head he was found, in the battle of Bennington, at the White Plains, and at West-Point, when Arnold's treason was discovered. He died about the year 1806; and, at the time of his death, had filled, for many years, the office of Judge of the Court of Common Pleas, for the state of New-Hampshire.

But, during the early part of Mr. Webster's life, the place of his birth, now the centre of a flourishing and happy population, was on the frontiers of civilization. His father had been one of the very first settlers, and had even pushed further into the wilderness than the rest, so that the smoke sent up amidst the solitude of the forest, from the humble dwelling in which Mr. Webster was himself born, marked, for some time, the ultimate limit of New England adventure at the North. Undoubtedly, in any other country, the sufferings, privations, and discouragements inevitable in such a life, would have precluded all thought of intellectual culture. But, in New England, ever since the first free school was established amidst the woods that covered the peninsula of Boston, in 1636, the school-master has been found on the border line between savage and civilized life, often indeed with an axe to open his own path, but always looked up to with respect, and always carrying with him a valuable and preponderating influence.

It is to this characteristic trait of New England policy, that we owe the first development of Mr. Webster's powers, and the original determination of his whole course in life; for, unless the school had sought him in the forest, his father's means would not have been sufficient to send him down into the settlements to seek the school. The first upward step, therefore, would have been wanting; and it is not at all probable, that any subsequent exertions on his own part, would have enabled him to retrieve it. The value of such a benefit cannot, indeed, be measured; but it seems to have been his good fortune to be able in part, at least, to repay it; for no man has explained with such simplicity and force as he has explained them, the very principles and foundations on which the free schools of New England rest, or shown, with such a feeling of their importance and value, how truly the free institutions of our country must be built on the education of all. We allude now to his remarks in the Convention of Massachusetts, where, speaking of the support of schools, he says:—

"In this particular we may be allowed to claim a merit of a very high and peculiar character. This commonwealth, with other of the New England states, early adopted, and has constantly maintained the principle, that it is the undoubted right, and the bounden duty of government, to provide for the instruction of all youth. That which is elsewhere left to chance, or to charity, we secure by law. For the purpose of public instruction, we hold every man subject to taxation, in proportion to his property, and we look not to the question, whether he, himself, have or have not children to be benefited by the education for which he pays. We regard it as a wise and liberal system of police, by which property, and life, and the peace of society are secured. We seek to prevent, in some measure, the extension of the penal code, by inspiring a salutary and conservative principle of virtue, and of knowledge, in an early age. We hope to excite a feeling of respectability, and a sense of character, by enlarging the capacity, and increasing the sphere of intellectual enjoyment. By general instruction, we seek, as far as possible, to purify the whole moral atmosphere; to keep good sentiments uppermost, and to turn the strong current of feeling and opinion, as well as the censures of the law, and the denunciations of religion, against immorality and crime. We hope for a security, beyond the law, and above the law, in the prevalence of enlightened and well principled moral sentiment. We hope to continue and to prolong the time, when, in the villages and farm houses of New England, there may be undisturbed sleep, within unbarred doors. And knowing that our government rests directly on the public will, that we may preserve it, we endeavour to give a safe and proper direction to that public will. We do not, indeed, expect all men to be philosophers, or statesmen; but we confidently trust, and our expectation of the duration of our system of government rests on that trust, that by the diffusion of general knowledge, and good and virtuous sentiments, the political fabric may be secure, as well against open violence and overthrow, as against the slow but sure undermining of licentiousness." pages 209, 210.

"I rejoice, Sir, that every man in this community may call all property his own, so far as he has occasion for it, to furnish for himself and his children the blessings of religious instruction and the elements of knowledge. This celestial, and this earthly light, he is entitled to by the fundamental laws. It is every poor man's undoubted birth-right, it is the great blessing which this constitution has secured to him, it is his solace in life, and it may well be his consolation in death, that his country stands pledged, by the faith which it has plighted to all its citizens, to protect his children from ignorance, barbarism and vice." p. 211.

How Mr. Webster's education was advanced immediately after he left these primary schools, is, we believe, not known. It was, however, with great sacrifices on the part of his family, and severe struggles on his own. At last, when he was fifteen or sixteen years old, after a very imperfect preparation, he was entered at Dartmouth College; at least, so we infer, for he was graduated there in 1801. What were his principal or favourite pursuits during the three or four years of his academic life, we do not know. We remember, however, to have met formerly, one of his classmates, who spoke with the liveliest interest of the generous and delightful spirit he showed among his earliest friends and competitors, in the midst of whom, he manifested, from the first, aspirations entirely beyond his condition, and, when the first year was passed, developed faculties which left all rivalship far behind him. Indeed, it is known, in many ways, that, by those who were acquainted with him at this period of his life, he was already regarded as a marked man; and that, to the more sagacious of them, the honours of his subsequent career have not been unexpected.

Immediately after leaving college, he began the study of the law in the place of his nativity, with Mr. Thompson, soon afterwards a member of Congress; a gentleman who, from the elevation of his character, was able to comprehend that of his pupil and contribute to unfold its powers. But the res augustæ domi pressed hard upon him. He was compelled to exert himself for his own support; and his professional studies were frequently interrupted and impaired by pursuits, which ended only in obtaining what was needful for his mere subsistence.

Circumstances connected with his condition and wants at this time, led him to Boston, and carried him, when there, into the office of Mr. Gore. This was, undoubtedly, one of the deciding circumstances of his life. Mr. Gore was a lawyer of eminence, and a gentleman, in the loftiest and most generous meaning of the word. His history was already connected with that of the country. He had been appointed district attorney of the United States for Massachusetts, by Washington; he had served in England as our commissioner under Jay's treaty; and he was afterwards governor of his native state, and its senator in Congress. His whole character, private, political, and professional, from its elevation, purity and dignity, was singularly fitted to influence a young man of quick and generous feelings, who already perceived within himself the impulse of talents and the stirrings of an ambition whose direction was yet to be determined. Mr. Webster felt, that it was well for him to be there; and Mr. Gore obtained an influence over his young mind, which the peculiarly kind and frank manners of the instructer permitted early to ripen into an intimacy and friendship that were interrupted only by death.

Mr. Webster finished the study of his profession in Boston, and was there admitted to the bar in 1805;—Mr. Gore, who presented him, venturing, at the time, to make a prediction to the court respecting his pupil's future eminence, which has been hardly more than fulfilled by all his present fame. At first, he began the practice of his profession in Boscawen, a small village adjacent to the place of his birth; but in 1807, he removed to Portsmouth, where, no doubt, he thought he was establishing himself for life.

As a young lawyer, about to lay the foundations for future success, his portion could, perhaps, hardly have been rendered more fortunate and happy than it was now in Portsmouth. He rose rapidly in general regard, and was, therefore, almost at once, ranked with the first in his profession in his native state. Of course, his associations and intercourse were with the first minds. And, happily for one like him, the presiding judge of the highest tribunal in New-Hampshire was then Mr. Smith, afterwards governor of the state, whose native clearness of perception, acuteness, and power, united to faithful and accurate learning in his profession, and the soundest and most practical wisdom in the fulfilment of his duties on the bench, and in his intercourse with the bar, gave him naturally and necessarily great influence over its younger members. Mr. Webster, as the most prominent among them, came much in contact with him, and profited much from his sagacious foresight and wise and discriminating kindness. He came, too, still more in contact with Mr. Mason, afterwards a senator in Congress, and then and still the leading counsel in New-Hampshire. Mr. Mason was his senior by several years, but there was no other adversary capable of encountering him; and the intellect with which Mr. Webster was thus called to contend on equal terms was one of the highest order, of ample resources, and of the quickest penetration; whose original reach, firm grasp, and unsparing logic, left no safety for an adversary, but in a vigour, readiness and skill, which could never be taken unprepared or at disadvantage. It was a severe school; but there is little reason to doubt, Mr. Webster owes to its stern and rugged discipline much of that intellectual training and power, which render him, in his turn, so formidable an adversary. He owes to it, also, notwithstanding their uniform and daily opposition in court, the no less uniform personal friendship of Mr. Mason in private life.

It was in the midst, however, of this period, both of discipline and success as a lawyer, in New-Hampshire, that he entered public life. In the government of his native state, we believe, he never took office of any kind; and his first political place, therefore, was in the thirteenth Congress of the United States. He was chosen in 1812, soon after the declaration of war; and as he was then hardly thirty years old, he must have been one of the youngest members of that important Congress. His position there was difficult, and he felt it to be so. He was opposed to the policy of the war; he represented a state earnestly opposed to it; and he had always, especially in the eloquent and powerful memorial from the great popular meeting in Rockingham, expressed himself fully and frankly on the whole subject. But he was now called into the councils of the government, which was carrying on the war itself. He felt it to be his duty, therefore, to make no factious opposition to the measures essential to maintain the dignity and honour of the country; to make no opposition for opposition's sake; though, at the same time, he felt it to be no less his duty, to take good heed that neither the constitution, nor the essential interests of the nation, were endangered or sacrificed—ne quid detrimenti respublica accipiat. This, indeed, seems to have been his motto up to the time of the peace; and his tone in relation to it is always manly, bold, and decisive. When Mr. Monroe's bill for a sort of conscription was introduced, he joined with Mr. Eppes, and other friends of the administration, in defeating a project, which, except in a moment of great anxiety and excitement, would probably have found no defenders. But when, on the other hand, the bill for "encouraging enlistments" was before the house, he held, in January 1814, the following strong and striking language, in which, now the passions of that stormy period are hushed, all will sympathize.

"The humble aid which it would be in my power to render to measures of government, shall be given cheerfully, if government will pursue measures which I can conscientiously support. If, even now, failing in an honest and sincere attempt to procure a just and honourable peace, it will return to measures of defence and protection, such as reason, and common sense, and the public opinion, all call for, my vote shall not be withholden from the means. Give up your futile projects of invasion. Extinguish the fires that blaze on your inland frontiers. Establish perfect safety and defence there by adequate force. Let every man that sleeps on your soil sleep in security. Stop the blood that flows from the veins of unarmed yeomanry, and women and children. Give to the living time to bury and lament their dead, in the quietness of private sorrow. Having performed this work of beneficence and mercy on your inland border, turn, and look with the eye of justice and compassion on your vast population along the coast. Unclench the iron grasp of your embargo. Take measures for that end before another sun sets upon you. With all the war of the enemy on your commerce, if you would cease to make war upon it yourselves, you would still have some commerce. That commerce would give you some revenue. Apply that revenue to the augmentation of your navy. That navy, in turn, will protect your commerce. Let it no longer be said, that not one ship of force, built by your hands since the war, yet floats upon the ocean. Turn the current of your efforts into the channel, which national sentiment has already worn broad and deep to receive it. A naval force, competent to defend your coast against considerable armaments, to convoy your trade, and perhaps raise the blockade of your rivers, is not a chimera. It may be realized. If, then, the war must continue, go to the ocean. If you are seriously contending for maritime rights, go to the theatre, where alone those rights can be defended. Thither every indication of your fortunes points you. There the united wishes and exertions of the nation will go with you. Even our party divisions, acrimonious as they are, cease at the water's edge. They are lost in attachment to the national character, on the element where that character is made respectable. In protecting naval interests by naval means, you will arm yourselves with the whole power of national sentiment, and may command the whole abundance of the national resource. In time, you may be enabled to redress injuries in the place where they may be offered; and, if need be, to accompany your own flag throughout the world with the protection of your own cannon."^[5] Speech, pp. 14, 15.

Later in the same Congress, the subject of the establishment and principles of a national bank came into discussion, and the finances of the country being then greatly embarrassed, this subject rose to paramount importance, and absorbed much of the attention of Congress up to the moment when the annunciation of peace put a period, for the time, to all such debates. On the whole matter of the bank and the currency, Congress was divided into three parties. First, those who were against a national bank under any form. These persons consisted chiefly of the remains of the old party, which had originally opposed the establishment of the first bank in Washington's time, in 1791, and in 1811 had prevented the renewal of its charter. They were, however, generally, friends of the existing administration, whose position now called strongly for the creation of a new bank; and, therefore, while they usually voted on preliminary and incidental measures with the favourers of a bank, they voted, on the final passage of the bill, against it; so that it was much easier to defeat the whole of any one project, than to carry through any modification of it. Second, there was a party consisting almost entirely of friends of the administration, who wished for a bank, provided it were such a one as they thought would not only regulate the currency of the country, and facilitate the operations of the government, but also afford present and important aid by heavy loans, which the bank was to be compelled to make, and to enable it to do which, it was to be relieved from the necessity of paying its notes in specie;—in other words, it was a party that wished to authorize and establish a paper currency for the whole country. The third party wished for a bank with a moderate capital, compelled always to redeem its notes with specie, and at liberty to judge for itself, when it would, and when it would not, make loans to the government.

The second party, of course, was the one that introduced into Congress the project for a bank at this time. The bill was originally presented to the Senate; and its main features were, that the bank should absorb a large amount of the depreciated public debt of the United States, and grant to the government heavy loans on the security of a similar debt to be created; that its capital should consist of fifty millions of dollars, of which five millions only were to be specie, and the rest depreciated government securities; and that the bank, when required, should lend the government thirty millions. At the time when this plan was brought forward, all the numerous state banks south of New-England had refused to redeem their notes, or, as it was called "to ears polite," had "suspended specie payments," in consequence of which, their notes had fallen in value from 10 to 25 per cent., and specie, of course, had risen proportionally in value, and disappeared from circulation entirely. To afford the contemplated national bank any chance for carrying on its operations, or even for beginning them, it was to be authorized "to suspend specie payments," which meant, that it was to be authorized never to begin them; for, without this authority, their specie would be drained the moment their notes should be issued equal to its amount. On the other hand, all the taxes and revenues of the government were to be receivable in the paper of the bank, however much it might fall in value. In short, the whole scheme was one of those vast Serbonian bogs, where, from the days of Laws's Mississippi Company, armies whole of legislators and projectors have sunk, without leaving even a monument behind them to warn their followers of their fate.

We must not, however, be extravagantly astonished, that a project which we now know was in its nature so wild and dangerous, should have found favourers and advocates. The finances of the country were then in a critical, and even distressing position; and all men were anxious to devise some means to relieve them. A large part of the nation, too, sincerely entertained the chimerical notion, now universally exploded, that it was practicable to establish and maintain a safe and stable paper currency, even when not convertible into specie at the pleasure of the holder; and the example of England and its national bank was referred to with effect, though, from its history since, the same example could now be referred to with double effect on the other side of the discussion. After an earnest and able debate, then, the bill, on the whole, passed the Senate, and it was understood that a considerable majority of the House of Representatives was in its favour.

When brought there on the 9th of December, 1814, it excited a very animated discussion, which, with various interruptions from the forms and rules of the House, references to committees, and occasional adjournments, was continued till the 2d of January. In this protracted debate Mr. Webster took a conspicuous part; and his efforts, of which the speech now published is but an inconsiderable item, did much to avert the threatened evil, and to establish his reputation, not merely as an eloquent and powerful debater, which had already been settled in the previous session, but as a sagacious and sound statesman.

His principal opposition to the bill was made on the last day of its discussion. He then introduced a series of resolutions, bringing the bank proposed within the limits of the specie-paying principle, and taking off from it the restraints, which placed it too much within the power of the government to make it useful as a monied institution, either to the finances or to the commerce of the country. The objections to the plan then before Congress, and the disasters that would probably follow its adoption, he portrayed in the following strong language, which none, however, will now think to have been too strong.

"The capital of the bank, then, will be five millions of specie, and forty-five millions of government stocks. In other words, the bank will possess five millions of dollars, and the government will owe it forty-five millions. This debt from government, the bank is restrained from selling during the war, and government is excused from paying until it shall see fit. The bank is also to be under obligation to loan government thirty millions of dollars on demand, to be repaid, not when the convenience or necessity of the bank may require, but when debts due to the bank, from government, are paid; that is, when it shall be the good pleasure of government. This sum of thirty millions is to supply the necessities of government, and to supersede the occasion of other loans. This loan will doubtless be made on the first day of the existence of the bank, because the public wants can admit of no delay. Its condition, then, will be, that it has five millions of specie, if it has been able to obtain so much, and a debt of seventy-five millions, no part of which it can either sell or call in, due to it from government.

"The loan of thirty millions to government, can only be made by an immediate issue of bills to that amount. If these bills should return, the bank will not be able to pay them. This is certain, and to remedy this inconvenience, power is given to the directors, by the act, to suspend, at their own discretion, the payment of their notes, until the President of the United States shall otherwise order. The President will give no such order, because the necessities of government will compel it to draw on the bank till the bank becomes as necessitous as itself. Indeed, whatever orders may be given or withheld it will be utterly impossible for the bank to pay its notes. No such thing is expected from it. The first note it issues will be dishonoured on its return, and yet it will continue to pour out its paper, so long as government can apply it in any degree to its purposes.

"What sort of an institution, sir, is this? It looks less like a bank, than a department of government. It will be properly the paper-money department. Its capital is government debts; the amount of its issues will depend on government necessities; government, in effect, absolves itself from its own debts to the bank, and by way of compensation absolves the bank from its own contracts with others. This is, indeed, a wonderful scheme of finance. The government is to grow rich, because it is to borrow without the obligation of repaying, and is to borrow of a bank which issues paper, without liability to redeem it. If this bank, like other institutions which dull and plodding common sense has erected, were to pay its debts, it must have some limits to its issues of paper, and therefore, there would be a point beyond which it could not make loans to government. This would fall short of the wishes of the contrivers of this system. They provide for an unlimited issue of paper, in an entire exemption from payment. They found their bank, in the first place, on the discredit of government, and then hope to enrich government out of the insolvency of their bank. With them, poverty itself is the main source of supply, and bankruptcy a mine of inexhaustible treasure." Pp. 224-5.

The resolutions proposed by Mr. Webster, and supported in this speech, were not passed. Probably he did not expect them to pass, when he proposed them; but the same day, the main question was taken upon the passage of the bill itself; and, as it was rejected by the casting vote of the speaker, there can be no reasonable doubt, that without his exertions this portentous absurdity would not have been defeated. It is but justice, however, to the supporters of the measure, to say, that the mischievous consequences of its adoption, were by no means so apparent then as they are now. We have since had no little experience on the whole matter. It required all the power and influence of the general government, and of the present sound and specie-paying Bank of the United States, acting vigorously in concert for several years after the war, to relieve the country from the flood of depreciated notes of the state banks with which it was inundated, and to restore a safe and uniform currency. When or how this evil could have been remedied, if, at the very close of the war, it had been almost indefinitely increased by the establishment of a vast machine, issuing every day as much irredeemable paper as would be taken at any and every discount, and thus co-operating with the evil itself, instead of opposing it, is more than any man will now be bold enough to conjecture. We should, no doubt, have been in bondage to it to this hour, and probably left it as a yoke upon the necks of our children.

But, at the time referred to, the necessities of the government were urgent; and, on motion of Mr. Webster, the rule that prevented a reconsideration at the same session of a subject thus disposed of, was suspended the very next day, and a bill for a bank was on the same day, January 3, recommitted to a select committee. On the 6th, the committee reported a specie-paying bank, with a much diminished capital, which was carried in the house, with the fewest possible forms, on the 7th; Mr. Webster and most of his friends voting for it. It passed the senate, too, though with some difficulty; but was refused by the president, on the ground, that it was not sufficient to meet the exigencies of the case, which, indeed, we now know, no bank would have been able to meet. This project, however, being thus rejected, another was immediately introduced into the senate, the basis of which was to be laid, like that of the first bank proposed, in a paper currency. It passed that body; but on being brought into the house met a severe and determined opposition, which ceased only when, on the 17th, the news of peace being received, the bill was indefinitely postponed.

Mr. Webster's exertions, however, on the subject of the currency, did not cease with the overthrow of the paper bank system. He was re-elected to New-Hampshire for the fourteenth Congress, and sat there during the sessions of 1815-16; and 1816-17. The whole state of things in the nation was now changed. The war was over, and the great purpose of sound statesmanship was therefore to bring the healing and renovating influences of peace into the administration and finances of the country. The present bank was chartered in April 1816, and was placed, substantially on the principles maintained in Mr. Webster's resolutions of the preceding year. But still it seemed doubtful whether this institution, however wisely managed, would alone have power enough to restore a sound currency. The small depreciated notes of the state banks south of New-England, still filled the land with their loathed intrusion; and, what was worse, the revenue of the general government, receivable at the different custom-houses, was collected in this degraded paper, to the great injury of the finances of the country, and to the still greater injury of the property of private individuals, who, in different states, paid, of course, different rates of duties to the treasury, according to the value of the paper medium in which it happened to be received. Mr. Webster foresaw the mischiefs that must follow from this state of things, if a remedy were not speedily applied. He, therefore, in the same month of April 1816, introduced a resolution, the effect of which was, to require the revenue of the United States to be collected and received only in the legal currency of the United States, or in bills equal to that currency in value.

In stating the nature of the evil, after showing by what means the paper of the state banks south of New-England had become depreciated; he says,—

"What still farther increases the evil is, that this bank paper being the issue of very many institutions, situated in different parts of the country, and possessing different degrees of credit, the depreciation has not been, and is not now, uniform throughout the United States. It is not the same at Baltimore as at Philadelphia, nor the same at Philadelphia as at New-York. In New-England, the banks have not stopped payment in specie, and of course their paper has not been depressed at all. But the notes of banks which have ceased to pay specie, have nevertheless been, and still are, received for duties and taxes in the places where such banks exist. The consequence of all this is, that the people of the United States pay their duties and taxes in currencies of different values, in different places. In other words, taxes and duties are higher in some places than they are in others, by as much as the value of gold and silver is greater than the value of the several descriptions of bank paper which are received by government. This difference in relation to the paper of the District where we now are, is twenty-five per cent. Taxes and duties, therefore, collected in Massachusetts, are one quarter higher than the taxes and duties which are collected, by virtue of the same laws, in the District of Columbia." Pp. 233-4.

A little further on, after showing that if this state of things is not changed by the government, it will be likely to change the government itself, he adds,—

"It is our business to foresee this danger, and to avoid it. There are some political evils which are seen as soon as they are dangerous, and which alarm at once as well the people as the government. Wars and invasions therefore are not always the most certain destroyers of national prosperity. They come in no questionable shape. They announce their own approach, and the general security is preserved by the general alarm. Not so with the evils of a debased coin, a depreciated paper currency, or a depressed and falling public credit. Not so with the plausible and insidious mischiefs of a paper money system. These insinuate themselves in the shape of facilities, accommodation, and relief. They hold out the most fallacious hope of an easy payment of debts, and a lighter burden of taxation. It is easy for a portion of the people to imagine that government may properly continue to receive depreciated paper, because they have received it, and because it is more convenient to obtain it than to obtain other paper, or specie. But on these subjects it is, that government ought to exercise its own peculiar wisdom and caution. It is supposed to possess on subjects of this nature, somewhat more of foresight than has fallen to the lot of individuals. It is bound to foresee the evil before every man feels it, and to take all necessary measures to guard against it, although they may be measures attended with some difficulty and not without temporary inconvenience. In my humble judgment, the evil demands the immediate attention of Congress. It is not certain, and in my opinion not probable, that it will ever cure itself. It is more likely to grow by indulgence, while the remedy which must in the end be applied, will become less efficacious by delay.

"The only power which the general government possesses of restraining the issues of the state banks, is to refuse their notes in the receipts of the treasury. This power it can exercise now, or at least it can provide now for exercising in reasonable time, because the currency of some part of the country is yet sound, and the evil is not universal. If it should become universal, who, that hesitates now, will then propose any adequate means of relief? If a measure, like the bill of yesterday, or the resolutions of to-day, can hardly pass here now, what hope is there that any efficient measure will be adopted hereafter?" pp. 235-6.

The doctrine of this speech is as important as it is true. A sound and uniform currency is essential, not only for the convenient and safe management of the fiscal concerns of a government; but, no less so, for the security of private property. It is, indeed, at once the standard and basis of all transfer and exchange; and, whenever the circulating medium has become much deranged in any country, it has been found an arduous, and sometimes a dangerous task, to restore it to a sound state. The effort almost necessarily brings on a conflict between the two great classes of debtor and creditor, into which every community is divided,—the creditor claiming the highest standard of value in the currency, and the debtor the lowest; and the results of such a conflict have not unfrequently been found in changes, convulsions, and political revolution. From such a conflict we were saved in this country, by the defeat of the paper-currency bank proposed in 1814,—by the establishment of the present specie paying bank, and by the adoption of Mr. Webster's resolution, which was approved by the President on the 30th of April, 1816.

It was at this period, however, that Mr. Webster determined to change his residence, and, of course, to retire for a time at least, from public life. He had now lived in Portsmouth nine years; and they had been to him years of great happiness in his private relations, and, in his relations to the country, years of remarkable advancement and honour. But, in the disastrous fire, which, in 1813, destroyed a large part of that devoted town, he had sustained a heavy loss, which the means and opportunities offered by his profession in New Hampshire were not likely to repair. He determined, therefore, to establish himself in a larger capital, where his resources would be more ample, and, in the summer of 1816, removed to Boston, where he has ever since resided.

His object now was professional occupation, and he devoted himself to it for six or eight years exclusively, with unremitting assiduity, refusing to accept office, or to mingle in political discussion. His success corresponded to his exertions. He was already known as a distinguished lawyer in his native state; and the two terms he had served in Congress, had placed him, notwithstanding his comparative youth, among the prominent statesmen of the country. His rank as a jurist, in the general regard of the nation, was now no less speedily determined. Like many other eminent members of the profession, however, who have rarely been able to select at first what cases should be entrusted to them, it was not for him to arrange or determine the time and the occasion, when his powers should be decisively measured and made known. We must, therefore, account it for a fortunate accident, though perhaps one of those accidents granted only to talent like his, that the occasion was the well known case of Dartmouth College; and, we must add, as a circumstance no less fortunate, that the forum where he was called to defend the principles of this great cause, and where he did defend them so triumphantly, was that of the Supreme Court of the United States, at Washington.

There is, indeed, something peculiar in this grave national tribunal, especially with regard to the means and motives it offers to call out distinguished talent, and try and confirm a just reputation, which is worth notice. The judges themselves, selected from among the great jurists of the country, as above ignorance, weakness, and the temptations of political ambition,—with that venerable man at their head, who for thirty years has been the ornament of the government, and, in whose wisdom has been, in no small degree, the hiding of its power—constitute a tribunal, which may be truly called solemn and august. The advocates, too, who appear before it, are no less a chosen few, full of talent and skill, and eager with ambition, who go there from all the ends of the country, to discuss the gravest and most important interests both public and private,—to settle the conflicts between domestic and foreign jurisprudence, or the more perilous conflicts between the authority of the individual states, and that of the general government;—in short, to return constantly upon the first great principles of national and municipal adjudication, and take heed, that, whatever is determined shall rest only on the deep and sure foundations of truth, right, and law. And, finally, if we turn from the bench and the bar, to the audience which is collected around them, we shall find again much that is remarkable, and even imposing. We shall find, that, large as it is, it is gathered together from a city not populous, where every thing, even the resources of fashion, must have a direct dependence on the operations of government; and where the senators themselves, and the representatives of foreign powers, no less than the crowds collected during the session of Congress, by the solicitations of an enlightened curiosity, or of a strenuous indolence, can, after all, discover no resort so full of a stirring interest and excitement, as that of the Supreme Court, into whose arena such practised and powerful gladiators daily descend, rejoicing in the combat. Taking it in all its connexions, then, we look upon this highest tribunal of the country, not only to be solemn and imposing in itself, but to be one of peculiar power over the reputations of these jurists and advocates, who appear before it, and who must necessarily feel themselves to be standing singularly in presence of the nation, represented there as it is, in almost every way, and by almost every class, from the fashion and beauty lounging on the sofas in the recesses of the court-room, up to the eager antagonists, who are impatiently waiting their time to contend for the mastery on some great interest or principle, and the judges who are ultimately to decide it.

Mr. Webster had already appeared once or twice before this tribunal;—but not in any cause which had called seriously into action the powers of his mind. The case of Dartmouth College, however, was one that might well task the faculties of any man. That institution, founded originally by charter from the king of Great Britain, had been in successful operation nearly half a century, when, in 1816, the Legislature of New Hampshire, from some movements in party politics, was induced, without the consent of the college, to annul its charter, and, by several acts, to give it a new incorporation and name. The trustees of the college resisted this interference; and, in 1817, commenced an action in the state courts, which was decided against them. A writ of error was then sued out by the original plaintiffs, to remove the cause for its final adjudication, to the Supreme Court of the United States; and it came on there for argument in March, 1818.

The court room was excessively crowded, not only with a large assemblage of the eminent lawyers of the Union, but with many of its leading statesmen,—drawn there no less by the importance of the cause, and the wide results that would follow its decision, than by the known eloquence of Mr. Hopkinson and Mr. Wirt, both of whom were engaged in it. Mr. Webster opened it, on behalf of the college. The question turned mainly on the point, whether the acts of the Legislature of New-Hampshire, in relation to Dartmouth College, constituted a violation of a contract; for, if they did, then they were contrary to the Constitution of the United States. The principles involved, therefore, went to determine the extent to which a legislature can exercise authority over the chartered rights of all corporations; and this of course gave the case an importance at the time, and a value since, paramount to that of almost any other in the books. Mr. Webster's argument is given in this volume at p. 110, et seq.; that is, we have there the technical outline, the dry skeleton of it. But those who heard him, when it was originally delivered, still wonder how such dry bones could ever have lived with the power they there witnessed and felt. He opened his cause, as he always does, with perfect simplicity in the general statement of its facts; and then went on to unfold the topics of his argument, in a lucid order, which made each position sustain every other. The logic and the law were rendered irresistible. But, as he advanced, his heart warmed to the subject and the occasion. Thoughts and feelings, that had grown old with his best affections, rose unbidden to his lips. He remembered that the institution he was defending, was the one where his own youth had been nurtured; and the moral tenderness and beauty this gave to the grandeur of his thoughts; the sort of religious sensibility it imparted to his urgent appeals and demands for the stern fulfilment of what law and justice required, wrought up the whole audience to an extraordinary state of excitement. Many betrayed strong agitation; many were dissolved in tears. When he ceased to speak, there was a perceptible interval before any one was willing to break the silence; and, when that vast crowd separated, not one person of the whole number doubted, that the man who had that day so moved, astonished, and controlled them, had vindicated for himself a place at the side of the first jurists of the country.

From this period, therefore, Mr. Webster's attendance on the Supreme Court at Washington has been constantly secured by retainers, in the most important causes; and the circle of his professional business, which has been regularly enlarging, has not been exceeded, if it has been equalled, by that of any other lawyer who has ever appeared in the national forum. The volume before us contains few traces of all this. It contains, however, two arguments upon constitutional questions of great interest and wide results. One is the case of Gibbons vs. Ogden, in 1824, involving the question, how far a state has authority to grant the exclusive right of navigating the tide-waters within its territorial limits; refusing that right to all persons belonging to other states, as well as to its own citizens. This question struck, of course, at the great steam-boat monopoly granted by the state of New-York, from motives of public munificence, to Mr. Fulton, the admirable first mover of that national benefit, and Chancellor Livingston, its early and adventurous patron. The case was argued by Mr. Webster and Mr. Wirt against the monopoly, and by Mr. Oakley and Mr. Emmet for it; so that probably as much ability was brought into the discussion on each side, as has been called for by any single cause in our judicial annals. The result was, that the monopoly was declared to be unconstitutional; and thus another great national blessing was obtained, hardly less important than the original invention,—that of throwing open the right to steam-navigation to the competition of the whole Union.

There were circumstances which gave uncommon interest to this cause, independently of its great constitutional importance, and the wide consequences involved in it. It had been litigated, during a series of years, in every form, in the state courts of New-York, where the monopoly had triumphed over all opposition. And it need hardly be said, that the state courts of New-York have maintained as proud a reputation for learning, research, and talent, as any in the Union. What lawyer has not sat gladly at the feet of Chancellor Kent, and Chief Justice Spencer? And what state, in relation to her jurisprudence, can so boldly say—

"Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?"

Mr. Webster's argument in the opening of this case,—which was closed with great power by the Attorney-General, Mr. Wirt,—furnishes, even in the meagre outline still preserved, p. 170-184, a specimen of some of the characteristics of his mind. We here see his clearness and downright simplicity in stating facts; his acute suggestion and analysis of difficulties; his peculiar power of disentangling complicated propositions, and resolving them into elements so plain, as to be intelligible to the simplest minds; and his wariness not to be betrayed into untenable positions, or to spread his forces over useless ground. We see him, indeed, fortifying himself, as it were, strongly within the narrowest limits of his cause, concentrating his strength, and ready at any moment to enter, like a skilful general, at all the weak points of his adversary's position. This argument, therefore, especially as it was originally pronounced in court, we look upon, as a whole, to have been equally remarkable for depth and sagacity; for the choice and comprehensiveness of the topics; and for the power and tact exhibited in their discussion. Yet we are carried along so quietly by its deep current, that, like Partridge in Tom Jones, when he saw Garrick act Hamlet, all seems to us so spontaneous, so completely without effort, that we are convinced, nay, we feel sure, there is neither artifice nor mystery, extraordinary power nor genius, in the whole matter. But, to those who are familiar with Mr. Webster, and the workings of his mind, it is well known, that, in this very plainness; in this earnest pursuit of truth for truth's sake, and of the principles of law for the sake of right and justice, and in his obvious desire to reach them all by the most direct and simple means, is to be found no small part of the secret of his power. It is this, in fact, above every thing else, that makes him so prevalent with the jury; and, not only with the jury in court, but with the great jury of the whole people.

The same general remarks are applicable to his argument in the case of Ogden against Saunders, in 1827, which we notice now, out of the regular series of events, in order to finish at once the little we can say of his professional career as a lawyer. The case to which we now refer, involved the question of the constitutionality of state insolvent laws, when they purported to absolve the party from the obligation of the contract, as well as from personal imprisonment, on execution. In a legal and constitutional point of view, this has always been thought one of Mr. Webster's ablest and most convincing arguments. With the court he was only half successful; there being a remarkable diversity of opinion among the judges. But, taken in connexion with the opinion of Chief Justice Marshall, delivered in the case, with which Mr. Webster's argument coincides, both in reasoning and in conclusion, it seems absolutely to have exhausted the whole range of the discussion on that side, and to furnish all that future inquirers can need to master the question.

But, during the years we have just passed over, Mr. Webster's success was not confined to the bar. In the year 1820-21, a convention of delegates was assembled in Boston, to revise the constitution of Massachusetts. As it was one of those primary assemblies, where no office disqualifies from membership, and as the occasion was one of the rarest importance, the talent and wisdom, the fortunes and authority of that commonwealth were, to a singular degree, collected in it. The venerable John Adams, then above eighty-five years old, represented his native village; Mr. Justice Story, of the Supreme Court of the United States, was a delegate from Salem; Judge Davis, of the District Court of the United States, and the greater part of the judicial officers of the state were there, as well as a large number of the leading members of the Massachusett's bar, and a still larger number of its wealthiest or most prominent land-holders and merchants. No assembly of equal dignity and talent was ever collected in that commonwealth. Mr. Webster was one of the delegates from Boston. What influence he exerted, or how beneficial, or how extensive it was, can be entirely known only there where it was put forth. But, if we may judge from the important committees on which he served; the prominent interests and individuals his duty called him occasionally to defend, to encounter, and to oppose; and the business-like air of his short remarks, which are scattered up and down through the whole volume of the "Journal of Debates and Proceedings" of this convention, published soon afterwards, we should be led to believe, that, though he was then but a newly adopted child of Massachusetts, he had already gained a degree of confidence, respect and authority, to which few in that ancient commonwealth could lay claim. The fruits of it all, in the present volume, are, a short speech on "Oaths of Office;" another on "the removal of Judges upon the address of two-thirds of each branch of the Legislature;" and a more ample and very powerful one on the "Principle of representation in the Senate." They are all strong and striking; and it would be easy to extract something from each, characteristic of its author; but we have not room, and must content ourselves with referring, for a specimen of the whole, to the remarks on the free schools of New-England, from the speech in the Senate, which we have already cited; adding merely, that, to this remarkable speech of Mr. Webster, and to another of great beauty and force, by Mr. Justice Story, was ascribed, at the time, a change in the opinions and vote of the convention, which, considering the importance of the subject, and the long discussion it had undergone, was all but unprecedented.^[6]

While this convention was still in session, a great anniversary came round at the north. The two hundredth year from the first landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, was completed on the 22d of December, 1820; and every man born in New-England, or in whose veins stirred a drop of New-England blood, felt that he had an interest in the event it recalled, and demanded its grateful celebration. Preparations, therefore, for its commemoration, on the spot where it occurred, were made long beforehand; and, by the sure indication of the public will, and at the special invitation of the Pilgrim Society, Mr. Webster was summoned as the man who should go to the Rock of Plymouth, and there so speak of the centuries past, as that the centuries to come should still receive and heed his words. Undoubtedly he amply fulfilled the expectations that waited on this great occasion. His address, which opens the present volume, is one of the gravest productions it contains. He seems to feel that the ground on which he stands is holy; and the deep moral sensibility, and even religious solemnity, which pervade many parts of this striking discourse,—where he seems to have collected the experience of all the past, in order to minister warning and encouragement to all the future,—is in perfect harmony with the scene and the occasion, and produced its appropriate effect on the multitude elected, even at that inclement season, from the body of the New-England states, to offer up thanksgivings for their descent from the Pilgrim fathers. The effect, too, at the time, has been justified by a wider success since; and the multiplied editions of the printed discourse, while they have carried it into the farm-houses and hearts of the New-England yeomanry, are at the same time ensuring its passage onward to the next generation and the next, who may be well satisfied, when the same jubilee comes round, if they can leave behind them monuments equally imposing, to mark the lapse and revolutions of ages.

It would not be difficult to select eloquent passages from this discourse. We prefer, however, to take one containing what was then a plain and adventurous prediction; but what is now passing into history before our very eyes. We allude to the remarks on the principle of the subdivision of property in France, as affecting the permanency of the French government, which Mr. Webster ventured to call in question, on the same general grounds, on which he undertook to prove the permanency of our own.

"A most interesting experiment of the effect of a subdivision of property on government, is now making in France. It is understood, that the law regulating the transmission of property, in that country, now divides it, real and personal, among all the children, equally, both sons and daughters; and that there is, also, a very great restraint on the power of making dispositions of property by will. It has been supposed, that the effects of this might probably be, in time, to break up the soil into such small subdivisions, that the proprietors would be too poor to resist the encroachments of executive power. I think far otherwise. What is lost in individual wealth, will be more than gained in numbers, in intelligence, and in a sympathy of sentiment. If, indeed, only one, or a few landholders were to resist the crown, like the barons of England, they must, of course, be great and powerful landholders with multitudes of retainers, to promise success. But if the proprietors of a given extent of territory are summoned to resistance, there is no reason to believe that such resistance would be less forcible, or less successful, because the number of such proprietors should be great. Each would perceive his own importance, and his own interest, and would feel that natural elevation of character which the consciousness of property inspires. A common sentiment would unite all, and numbers would not only add strength, but excite enthusiasm. It is true, that France possesses a vast military force, under the direction of an hereditary executive government, and military power, it is possible, may overthrow any government. It is in vain, however, in this period of the world, to look for security against military power, to the arm of the great landholders. That notion is derived from a state of things long since past; a state in which a feudal baron, with his retainers, might stand against the sovereign, who was himself but the greatest baron, and his retainers. But at present, what could the richest landholder do, against one regiment of disciplined troops? Other securities, therefore, against the prevalence of military power must be provided. Happily for us, we are not so situated as that any purpose of national defence requires, ordinarily and constantly, such a military force as might seriously endanger our liberties.

"In respect, however, to the recent law of succession in France, to which I have alluded, I would, presumptuously, perhaps, hazard a conjecture, that if the government do not change the law, the law, in half a century, will change the government; and that this change will be not in favour of the power of the crown, as some European writers have supposed, but against it. Those writers only reason upon what they think correct general principles, in relation to this subject. They acknowledge a want of experience. Here we have had that experience; and we know that a multitude of small proprietors, acting with intelligence, and that enthusiasm which a common cause inspires, constitute not only a formidable, but an invincible power." Pp. 47-8.

In less than six years from the time when this statesman-like prediction was made, the King of France, at the opening of the Legislative Chambers, thus strangely and portentously echoed it,

"Legislation ought to provide by successive improvements, for all the wants of society. The progressive partitioning of landed estates essentially contrary to the spirit of a monarchical government would enfeeble the guaranties which the charter has given to my throne and to my subjects. Measures will be proposed to you, gentlemen, to establish the consistency which ought to exist between the political law and the civil law; and to preserve the patrimony of families, without restricting the liberty of disposing of one's property. The preservation of families is connected with, and affords a guaranty to political stability, which is the first want of states, and which is especially that of France after so many vicissitudes."

But the discovery came too late. The foundations, on which to build or sustain the cumbrous system of the old monarchy, were already taken away; and the events of the last summer, while they would almost persuade us, that the "Attendant Spirit" so boldly given by the orator in this very discourse to one of the great founders of our government, had opened to him, also, on the Rock of Plymouth, "a vision of the future;"^[7]—these events, we say, can leave little doubt in the mind of any man, that the speaker himself may live long enough,—as God grant he may!—to witness the entire fulfilment of his own extraordinary prophecy, and to see the French people erecting for themselves a sure and stable government, suited to the foundation, on which alone it can now rest.

In 1825, Mr. Webster was called to interpret the feelings of New-England, on another great festival and anniversary. Fifty years from the day, when the grave drama of the American Revolution was opened with such picturesque solemnity, as a magnificent show on Bunker's Hill, witnessed by the whole neighbouring city and country, clustering by thousands on their steeples, the roofs of their houses, and the hill-tops, and waiting with unspeakable anxiety the results of the scene that was passing before their eyes,—fifty years from that day, it was determined to lay, with no less solemnity, the corner stone of a monument worthy to commemorate its importance. An immense multitude was assembled. They stood on that consecrated spot, with only the heavens over their heads, and beneath their feet the bones of their fathers; amidst the visible remains of the very redoubt thrown up by Prescott, and defended by him to the very last desperate extremity;^[8] and with the names of Warren, Putnam, Stark, and Brooks, and the other leaders or victims of that great day frequent and familiar on their lips. In the midst of such a scene and with such recollections, starting like the spirits of the dead from the very sods of that hill-side, it may well be imagined, that words like the following, addressed to a vast audience,—composed in no small degree of the survivors of the battle, their children, and their grandchildren,—produced an effect, which only the hand of death can efface.

"We know, indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but part of that, which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making known to all future times. We know, that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events we commemorate, where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. But our object is, by this edifice, to show our own deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the principles of the Revolution. Human beings are composed not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart. Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit, which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences, which have been produced, by the same events, on the general interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which must for ever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish, that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold 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 of that event, to every class and every age. We wish, that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish, that labour may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish, that, in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish, that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit." Pp. 58-9.