mass of the audience; while the friends present from the cities in the neighborhood, were almost without exception of a class who think little of huzzas, and care still less to have their friends overloaded with them. Besides all this, the audience were too intent upon drinking in instruction, often to interrupt the flow of it. They showed more interest in their faces and in their demeanor, than could be shown by all the shouts or the clapping that could have been exhibited. It was a kind of testimony which no man could fail to read, none could mistake. And when the bursts of applause did come, it was, as has been intimated, mere spontaneous feeling that occasioned them. There was no plan on the part of the speaker to call them out, and none on the part of any of his hearers to regulate their number.

The speaker said nothing but what his subjects demanded, nor in any way which was not entirely consistent with pure rhetorical taste. It is impossible but that the unalterable fixedness of look upon him, which continued down to the last word that he uttered, must have given him greater satisfaction than any clapping of hands or hurrahs. I do not say that these should be altogether suppressed in meetings of such a nature as the one in question; they may have their uses when soberly and judiciously employed; but as they are more generally managed of late years, any man of real weight and dignity of character must look upon them with emotions bordering upon contempt.

If any one will turn to the report of Mr. W.'s speech as printed in the Commercial, which I believe is the only full and complete one in all its parts, he may see that the audience of Mr. W. seldom missed in their judgment, where applause was manifested. One case of particular delicacy of feeling I noticed, which is worth recording. The day, as I have said, though clear, was severely cold for the season. Mr. W. had taken off both his surtout and hat, when he prepared to make his address. Being admonished by some friend near him, as I believe, that it was dangerous to speak so long with his head uncovered, he after some time resumed his hat, with a simple parenthetic sentence in the way of apology. In an instant there was a wide and universal, although not boisterous, testimony of approbation from his audience, telling him at once, and fully, that in these circumstances it argued no want of respect to them that he addressed them with his head covered.

There are passages in his Address, where one might be strongly tempted to testify aloud his approbation, but which passed without such a mode of approval. I noticed it at the time. But nothing was easier than to account for it. The simple truth is, that the assembly was too deeply interested in what was said, and too intent upon what they expected would be said, to interfere often with the current of the discourse, or interrupt their own fixed attention. And well did they judge, in my humble opinion Any man of sense would rather be heard with respectful attention and silence, than to hear either clapping or hurrahs. The great agitator of Ireland, as I observe, not only has regular hurrahs at the end of paragraphs and sentences, but often at the end of single clauses, and sometimes of single words. If his reported speeches are true copies, it seems to make very little difference what is said, or how it is said; for at certain places his audiences must stop and hurrah, until they get out of breath and cool down their burning patriotism a little, and then they let their "deliverer" go on. Not so a New England audience; and above all, not so with Daniel Webster as speaker before them. Enough of this. But I must add that when, at the close of his discourse, Mr. W. came to speak of himself, and the official course which he had pursued, there was such a thunder of applause, so often repeated and so long continued, as left no possibility of misapprehending the feelings of the audience. One was tempted to think that they had lost their sobriety, were it not that they immediately relapsed into their former frame, as soon as the excrcises were closed; for they marched to the place of refreshment with the same order and quietness as they had come to the station.

There was some excellent speaking at the dinner table; in particular Mr. King, the Representative elect to Congress from the South Essex district, addressed the large concourse there, with great animation; General Dearborn, also, who was displaced last winter from his office, because he had lent some state arms to the conservatives of Rhode Island, made a very eloquent speech on the subject of lending these arms, and of their subsequent sale by order of the last winter's Legislature. But the severity of the cold forced me from the place, just before he concluded.

On review of this whole occasion, I count it one of those periods of a man's life which cannot often recur, but which leave behind them deep and lasting impressions. Every thing was sober, grave and decorous; unless, indeed, some one should say that the occasional play of wit in some of the toasts, and the speeches after them, might infringe upon this. But on such an occasion there is doubtless some latitude to be given to the play of the imagination and the fancy, in order to enliven an audience that had been fixed, so long as this had been, by most earnest and devoted attention. More than two hours, or rather nearly three, including all the previous exercises, had they been in this attitude. At all events, neither the toasts

nor the addresses that followed them were inspired by wine. The whole entertainment was conducted strictly upon temperance principles.

On the whole, the scene, the demeanor of the assembly, the peculiarity of the place, the character of the audience, the deep silver trumpet tone of the orator of the day, his gestures, his looks, his words-they made an impression never to be eradicated or forgotten.

I crave pardon for being so prolix on this part of my subject. I am only reiterating the language and the feelings of the thousands who were present.

But I have matters of more serious import in view; and I hasten to them without a word of preface.

A respectable Whig journal, in reporting only a part of Mr. W.'s speech, remarks, that "the speech has none of that fire, that vigor, that deep-toned, heart-born eloquence, which, in the glorious campaign of 1839-40, were wont to mark the efforts of Mr. W. in the furtherance of the good cause, and to stir all true Whig hearts like the sound of a trumpet." The writer goes on to speak of the "restraint" which manifests itself in the speech, as "contrasting with the frank, open and noble manner of former speeches on public matters."

This, or something like to this, has been said in a few other Whig journals; but, so far as I know, only in a few. I take the general impression to be that, take it all in all, the Andover address is one of the best and most useful and important of all Mr. W.'s speeches.

I can give some specific reasons for differing from the opinion of the journal above mentioned. It must certainly be admitted that different occasions call for addresses of different character. The perfection of any address consists, in its being wholly appropriate to the occasion which called it forth. Now what was the nature of the call in the present instance? The state election in Massachusetts was indeed pending, yet the committee who invited Mr. W. expressly say to him, that they do not invite him to address them for the purpose of aiding their town, district, or state election. They ask him to discuss topics of universal interest to the country-the topics in dispute between the two great parties that divide the nation. They ask him to discuss these, in such a way as will be adapted to arrest the attention of both parties, and cast light on the subject discussed, of which both may avail themselves. They did not think it would be courteous and respectful to Mr. W., situated as he now is, to invite him to come and prepare a mere local party banquet. He certainly would not have come for such a purpose. He could not do it without a degree of degradation.

How, then, has Mr. W. executed the task which he was invited to perform? There is but one answer to be made to this question. He has done just what the committee invited him to do. He has given his views on the most important topics which divide the opinions and feelings of the country, and given them in a manner that will not soon be forgotten. Is there one word in all that he has said, which is uttered ad captandum? Is there any invidious, sarcastic, vilifying remark in the whole speech, against such as differ from him in political opinion? Not one. Mr. W. is one of those men who believe that the minds of his fellow citizens are to be convinced and persuaded by argument and reason, and not by reproaches, and sarcasms, and hard names.

His political opponents may say what they please of his speech; but one may challenge them to produce from all their ranks, in the North or South, a single great speech on the topics in question, which has not more of party feeling and severity in it than the Andover Address. I am aware that some of the Whigs like it the less on this very account; but I am not aware that there is any good measure of candor, or magnanimity, or true policy, in such a feeling.

Nothing can be more unjust in criticism than to complain of Mr. W., that he had not all the excitement and fire of Harrison times, on the present occasion. First of all, we are not in the midst of Harrison times. We have fallen, alas! upon very different times. As Mr. W. was not invited to make any local or state elections his particular object, so there was none of the excitement that belongs to a heated political canvass to be expected from him, or demanded of him. It would have been aside from good taste for him to exhibit it. No general election for the whole country is yet fairly upon the tapis. It was not for Mr. W. to anticipate this. Nothing could be said, at this juncture, which was particular and personal, that would not have been misinterpreted and perverted. Mr. W. has been too long in public life to commit himself in this manner.

What was said long ago by a writer, whose short poem on the laws of criticism has been the best manual of rhetoric from the time when it was written down to the present hour, is still true. Difficile est proprie communia dicere, i. e. " it is difficult to speak in an interesting manner on topics with which every body is acquainted." No one is ignorant of the fact that, for the last seven or eight years, the topics on which Mr. W. spoke at Andover have been discussed, from the lofty senate chamber down to the bar-room caucus. Speakers in Congress have discussed and repeated, and repeated and discussed, until the whole matter has not only been worn thread-bare, but reduced to shreds. So has it been in all the state legis

latures, caucuses, county meetings, town meetings, and tavern or other small meetings. Every newspaper, from the stately metropolitan down to the lowest radical off-shoot-the ten dollar papers and the cent-a-piece papers-have harped on the subjects that Mr. W. has canvassed, until they have become tiresome, even to the most violent sticklers for party measures. What hope was there for Mr. W., in such a case? The committee invited him to a task difficult indeed, and one which but few political men would be willing to undertake. How then has he performed this task? Just as the committee hoped and expected; and just as the public, who knew him, expected. He has taken hold of the subjects with giant grasp. He has presented all that is essential and important, in the smallest compass possible, and in a manner so lucid that the most simple reader can understand him. He has brought the much controverted subjects, indeed, into so narrow a compass as to throw them all upon one canvass, sketched out there by his skilful hand. He has made for the country a inanual of political economy-a text book which will go down to future generations, so far as the topics in question are concerned. No man can refute the substance of what he has said. Any one may rail at it, or he may scoff at it, if he is degraded and foolish enough to do so; but to refute his reasoning-the whole political world may be challenged to do it.

What propriety is there, then, in the criticism which complains that there is not the glow or warmth of Harrison speeches? Mr. W. was asked for didactics; he has given them with a witness. He has touched the common, trite, and absolutely worn-out topics with his magic wand, and they have started up before us in a new, simple, and beautiful costume. Every body who reads with candor wonders that such simple things could not be said before. It brings fresh to one's mind another admirable saying of that great master of the true principles of rhetoric, whose words I have quoted above, but whom I must again quote, because I can say nothing so appropriate as he has said:

Ex noto fictum carmen sequar, ut sibi quivis
Speret idem; sudet multum, frustraque laboret
Ausus idem; tantum series juncturaque pollet.

That is: "One may compose a poem on a trite subject, in such a way that every body will feel himself able to accomplish the same thing; yet should they attempt it, after much severe effort, they will find that they have labored in vain: so much do nice arrangement and due connectien of things avail." Never was this more completely verified than in the present instance. The simplicity which is so remarkable in Mr. W.'s discourse, is the genuine fruit of a master-mind, which first strongly and fully grasps a subject, then divests it of all that is extraneous, separates from it all that is unimportant, and lastly holds it up to view so that all its constituent parts will stand in the broad light of day.

It is always the work of a master mind to find the simple and constituent elements of things, that were to all appearance and to common minds intricate and perplexed. This is clearly one of the distinguishing prerogatives of Mr. W.'s mind.

Why now, I repeat the question, should any one say, in the way of undervaluing Mr. W.'s address, that it has not all the fire of Harrison times? If it had, I answer, it would have been inappropriate to the occasion. What if a critic on Cicero should now rise up and "The orations for the poet Archias and in defence of Milo are but tame and insipid performances; for they are destitute of that fire and energy which appear in his invectives against Cataline and Marc Antony?" say: justly be taxed with a failure, because his oration for Phormio, or against Spudias, is not to Or what if one should say that "Demosthenes may be compared, as to fire and energy, with his Oration for the Crown, or his Philippics?" One might surely, and with much propriety, reply, that different occasions call for different kinds of oratory. The highest evidence of the first order of oratorical talent is, that a speaker always says that which is appropriate to the occasion, and in the manner that the nature of the case requires.

It is beyond a doubt that Mr. W.'s eloquence is prevailingly of the Demosthenian order. He never seeks to make a display. He never steps aside to cull a gaudy flower for the sake of ornament. He will scarcely ever admit it even when proffered. He never strains his imagination in search of novel, and seemingly ornate, and striking forms of expression. exhibits simplicity without homeliness, neatness without affectation, strength without roughness. There is a living power in the tenor of his thoughts, which, while its pulse beats deep and high, communicates the energy of its movements to all within its reach. Mr. W. He power lies mainly, as every discriminating hearer or reader must perceive, in his deep, logical, orderly, simple, and energetic vein of thought; indeed his is truly the eloquence of thought. Yet not in such a sense as if words, or the choice of words, were a matter of indifference to him. Nothing can be further from reality than this; for his diction is altogether congruous with his course of thought, and seems to come forth as easily and naturally as water flows along a descent. Often, in the course of his address, was I reminded of the

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remark of Milton-a remark equally discriminating and just—namely, that when a hearty lover of truth, anxious to communicate it to others, would speak, "his words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command, and in well ordered files, as he would wish, fall aptly into their own places." Even under the disadvantage of mere stenographic representation, the scrutiny of the critic will discover few cases indeed in Mr. W.'s discourses, where the diction could be altered for the better. And as to words coming at the bidding of Mr. W., never had a master more complete, absolute, and uncontrollable dominion, than this orator has over "his nimble and airy servitors."

It would be easy to refer to several of Mr. W.'s speeches, where he has shown that he can rival the manner of Cicero, as well as that of Demosthenes. It is undoubtedly true, that an imagination which kindles so easily as his, and a mind so instinct and fraught with poetic imagery and conception, could achieve any thing in the way of ornamented discourse which it might be desirable to achieve. But his chastened taste does not permit indulgence in this way, when he engages in forensic and didactic speaking.

His Bunker Hill Addresses show how easily he can depart from his more usual argumentative and didactic manner-delightful in their kind-Parian marble chiselled into Corinthian columns-while his argumentative discourses are of the solid granite, wrought in the chaste and severe simplicity and grandeur of the Ionic order. And what shall we say of the man who can erect a structure of either shape and material, with equal ease and skill? We have such a one in the Defender of the Constitution of our country.

It would be superfluous for me to recapitulate here the substance of Mr. Webster's Address. It is in every body's hands, and all can read and judge for themselves. But it may be proper merely to notice that the order of the topics which he has discussed, is that which the feelings of his audience and of the country made the most natural and apposite. First, the currency, as the means of trade and commerce, in which every man, rich and poor, is interested; then comes the great and intensely interesting subject of tariff, or, in other words, the subject of patronising and encouraging the manufactures of our country. How great this is, may be judged of in some measure by the products of 1840, a year far inferior as to the quantity of them to 1843. But of the last named year I have no estimate on which I can rely.

In 1840, however, the amount of our productions by manufacture was but a little short of The exact sum, as estimated in the best possible manner, was $239,836,224. If such a vast sum stands as the equivalent of our manufactured productions, what must be the amount of the capital embarked by the manufactures in buildings and machinery? It almost surpasses calculation. And yet it is altogether certain, that but for the tariff a large proportion of this capital would be entirely inactive and worthless. European labor-from four pence to a shilling a day-must enable the manufacturers there to undersell us here, until such time as our machinery, which is every year improving, and superseding more and more the need of numerous operatives, and the quantity and quality of our raw material, shall become so complete, that we can not only sell as cheap as Europe, but even undersell them, and go to foreign markets with our productions. Already has the process commenced; and let the tariff be on ten years longer, and it will extend to nearly all the most important articles produced by our manufacturers.

TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

But my present business is not to argue the point. Mr. W. has rendered it needless. I merely advert to the happy dexterity with which Mr. W. has interwoven documents with his speech, which show that tariff is no novelty under our Government. The opinions and views of Dr. Franklin, and of the leading men in Boston, so far back as 1787, are fully given. Mutatis mutandis, the very same things could be now said, and with still greater power. In fact Mr. W. has so said them.

The subjects of the public lands and of repudiation remain. The first topic is briefly handled, as, on this occasion, was absolutely necessary. In respect to the second, Mr. W. has brought forward a most admirable address of Congress to the States, immediately after the peace in 1783, on the subject of paying their debts. He believes, and has expressed himself in strong and undoubting terms, that our public faith and credit will be yet redeemed. At all events, we shall surely become a hissing and by-word among all nations if they be not. I have seen several gentlemen, lately returned from the continent of Europe and from England. Nothing seems to be talked of there, now, in respect to America, but repudiation, and Lynch-law, and slavery. This is the sombre tri-colored flag that floats, in their view, over all our country. Time was, when Americans, all over the continent of Europe, were received with open arms, and with more cordiality than the men of any other nation. But now an American is pointed at with the finger of scorn, as he passes along the streets, and he may deem himself lucky if the mob do not hoot at and pursue him. Such are the tremendous retributions of dishonesty, of violated public faith, of outraged law and justice, and of an avarice and a selfishness which stop at no bounds marked out by heaven or earth.

I is high time that this state of things should be changed. A general conviction of the

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truth of Mr. W.'s positions would change the whole in three months, and cleanse and redeemt our deeply stained character. The importance of the topics, then, which he has discussed, no one will call in question.

It remains to notice the concluding paragraphs of the Andover address, and then I have done. But these involve so many circumstances of interest, and are of so much importance to the country, as well as to Mr. Webster individually, that I shall not venture even to touch upon them in the present communication. I must reserve them for another apportunity; and should that present itself, I believe I may venture to say that I have some communications to make, which will more than atone for the prolixity of the preceding remarks. I have facts to state, respecting what Mr. Webster has accomplished for the country, during and before the time when he took office in the Cabinet, some of which are but partially, if at all, known to the country. A correct knowledge of these must, as it seems to me, in some respects have an important influence on the present state of public opinion. I shall, however, if I find it possible, occupy less room than I have now done; and I hope, at all events, to excite a higher interest in the reader's mind, than I can reasonbly suppose myself to have excited by the preceding communication. ČIVIS.

NUMBER II.

The sketch which I am about to make of our political affairs, and of Mr. Webster's connection with them, during and since 1838, must necessarily be brief and rapid. It would amount to a little volume, should I go minutely into the detail.

The perpetually occurring and harrassing difficulties on the frontiers of Maine, during the year 1838, are fresh in the recollection of all. We were not only in danger of a bitter and bloody war, but one might actually say that a beginning had been made. The question had been long, and, as it was thought, ably discussed between England and our government, as to the right of the case; and both parties believed themselves to be in possession of that right. That England, as well as we, was sincere in this belief, there is no good room for rational doubt.

In the session of Congress of 1838-9, Mr. W. made his great speech in favor of the claims of Maine and Massachusetts to the disputed territory. This diffused general conviction over the United States; but Great Britain was not yet satisfied. Matters were evidently hastening to a fearful crisis; and, in view of this, the great majority in Congress were in favor of a special mission to England. Massachusetts and Maine, without much distinction of party, wished most earnestly that Mr. W. should be nominated by Mr. Van Buren to go on this mission. There would have been a general, if not a universal, approbation of such a

measure.

From a variety of reasons, some of which will present themselves to every discerning reader, Mr. Van Buren declined to make the nomination. Instead of following the advice of Congress, as plainly manifested by the vote of both houses, in making the necessary appropriation, Mr. Van Buren directed Mr. Stevenson to consult England on the subject; and, as was to be expected, England, that is to say Lord Palmerston, saw no use in a special mission. So the matter remained in the hands of the two officials, Lord Palmerston and Mr. Stevenson. The result is known to every body. These negotiators left off where they began. The country was on the very eve of a war, and was only waiting for a first blow to be struck.

In this state of things, Mr. W.'s friends thought that he ought to go to England as a private individual, if not as a special Minister. Moved by their advice, and not without hopes, perhaps, that something might be done for the welfare of his country, he did go in May of 1839. When he arrived in London, Parliament was in session, and the whole world, as Englishmen say, was in London. At this period, and in order to prevent any diversity of feeling with respect to the approaching presidential election, Mr. W., in a letter to a respected friend in New York, made known that he declined any nomination as a candidate for the office of the chief magistracy.

Finding all the influential and leading circles of the English nation in London, Mr. W. had of course ready access to them, and was able to converse at large with them on the difficulties that existed between the two nations. Being a private man, all conversed with him freely, and he found almost every where a ready and listening ear. most of the summer, until the Parliament broke up, in the city of London. Here he saw He stayed through men of both houses of Parliament, and of all classes, from the highest down to the humblest station. His effort was, as opportunity offered, to enlighten their minds as to the true state