the memorials of the occasion furnished by Mr. March, and, subsequently, by Mr. Lanman, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Clark, Edward Everett, and others, leave nothing to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are adopted by Mr. Everett, in his memoirs of Mr. Webster, and, in an abridged form, are given below, in connection with the perspicuous statements of Tefft and others relating to the general issue. The speech was also reported by Mr. Joseph Gales, at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio, and other senators. On canvas, too, Healey, the master-painter, has commemorated in an enduring manner, the orator and the occasion.

The subject of discussion before the senate, in the persons of these two intellectual gladiators, grew out of a resolution brought forward by Senator Foot, of Connecticut, just at the close of the previous year, with a view to some arrangement concerning the sale of the public lands. But this immediate question was soon lost sight of in the discussion of a great, vital principle of constitutional law, namely: the relative powers of the states and the national government. Upon this, Mr. Benton and Mr. Hayne addressed the senate, condemning the policy of the eastern states, as illiberal toward the west. Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of New England and of the policy of the government. It was then that Mr. Hayne made his attack-sudden, unexpected, and certainly unexampled,-on Mr. Webster personally, upon Massachusetts and the other northern states politically, and upon the constitution itself; in respect to the latter, Mr. Hayne taking the position, that it is constitutional to interrupt the administration of the constitution itself, in the hands of those who are chosen and sworn to administer it, by the direct interference, in form of law, of the states, in virtue of their sovereign capacity. All of these points were handled by Mr. Hayne with that rhetorical brilliancy and power which characterized him as the oratorical champion of the south, on the floor of the senate; and it is not saying too much,

that the speech produced a profound impression.

Mr. Hayne's great effort appeared to be the result of premeditation, concert and arrangement. He selected his own time, and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to Mr. Webster, for, at that moment, the supreme court were proceeding in the hearing of a cause of great importance, in which he was a leading counsel. For this reason, he requested, through a friend, a postponement of the debate; Mr. Hayne objected, however, and the request was refused. The time, the matter, and the manner, indicated that the attack was made with a design to crush so formidable a political opponent as Mr. Webster had become. To this end, personal history, the annals of New England and of the federal party, were ransacked for materials. It was attempted, with the usual partisan unfairness of political harangues, to make him responsible, not only for what was his own, but for the conduct and opinions of others. All the errors and delinquencies, real or supposed, of Massachusetts, and the eastern states, and of the federal party, during the war of 1812, and, indeed, prior and subsequent to that period, were accumulated upon him.

Thus it was, that Mr. Hayne heralded his speech with a bold declaration of war, with taunts and threats, vaunting anticipated triumph, as if to paralyze by intimidation; saying that he would carry the war into Africa, until he had obtained indemnity for the past and security for the future. It was supposed that, as a distinguished representative man, Mr. Webster would be driven to defend what was indefensible, and to uphold what could not be sustained, and, as a federalist, to oppose the popular resolutions of '98.

The severe nature of Mr. Hayne's charges, the ability with which he brought them to bear upon his opponents, his great reputation as a brilliant and powerful declaimer, filled the minds of his friends with anticipations of complete triumph. For two days, Mr. Hayne had the control of the floor. The vehemence of his lan

guage and the earnestness of his manner gave added force to the excitement of the occasion. So fluent and melodious was his elocution, that his cause naturally begat sympathy. No one had time to deliberate upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweeping and accumulated statements. The dashing nature of the onset; the assurance, almost insolence, of its tone; the serious character and apparent truth of the accusations, confounded almost every hearer. The immediate impression from the speech was most assuredly disheartening to the cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratulations from almost every quarter were showered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said, in the full senate, that much as Mr. Hayne had done before to establish his reputation as an orator, a statesman, a patriot, and a gallant son of the south, the efforts of that day would eclipse and surpass the whole. Indeed, the speech was extolled as the greatest effort of the time, or of other times, neither Chatham, nor Burke, nor Fox, had surpassed it, in their palmiest days.

Satisfaction, however, with the speech, even among the friends of the orator, was not unanimous. Some of the senators knew, for they had felt, Mr. Webster's power. They knew the great resources of his mind; the immense range of his intellect; the fertility of his imagination; his copious and fatal logic; the scathing severity of his sarcasm, and his full and electrifying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own feelings with reference to the speech were freely expressed to his friend, Mr. Everett, the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's closing effort. He regarded the speech as an entirely unprovoked attack upon the north, and, what was of far more importance, as an exposition of a system of politics, which, in Mr. Webster's opinion, went far to change the form of government from that which was established by the constitution, into that which existed under the confederation,-if the latter could be called a government at all. He stated it to be his intention, therefore, to put that theory to rest forever, as far as it could be done

by an argument in the senate-chamber. How grandly he did this, is thus vividly portrayed by Mr. March, an eye-witness, and whose account has been adopted by all historians:

It was on Tuesday, January the twentysixth, 1830,-a day to be hereafter forever memorable in senatorial annals,—that the senate resumed the consideration of Foot's resolution. There was never before in the city, an occasion of so much excitement. To witness this great intellectual contest, multitudes of strangers had for two or

three days previous been rushing into the city, and the hotels overflowed. As early as nine o'clock in the morning, crowds poured into the capitol, in hot haste; at twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the senate-chamber,-its galleries, floor, and even the lobbies,-was filled to its utmost capacity. The very stairways were dark with men, who hung on to one another, like bees in a swarm.

The house of representatives was early deserted. An adjournment would hardly have made it emptier. The speaker, it is true, retained his chair, but no business of moment was, or could be, attended to. Members all rushed in, to hear Mr. Webster, and no call of the house, or other parliamentary proceedings, could compel them back. The floor of the senate was so

densely crowded, that persons once in could not get out, nor change their position. In the rear of the vice-president's chair, the crowd was particularly dense; Hon. Dixon H. Lewis, then a representative from Alabama, became wedged in here. From his enormous size, it was impossible for him to move without displacing a vast portion of the multitude; unfortunately, too, for him, he was jammed in directly behind the chair of the vice-president, where he could not see, and could hardly hear, the speaker. By slow and laborious effort-pausing occasionally to breathe-he gained one of the windows, which, constructed of painted glass, flanked the chair of the vice-president on either side. Here he paused, unable to make more headway. But determined to see Mr. Webster, as he spoke, with his knife he made a large hole in one of the panes of glass. The courtesy of senators accorded to the fairer sex room on the floor -the most gallant of them, their own

seats.

Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or any other country, had more powerful incentives to exertion; a subject, the determination of which involved the most important interests, and even duration, of the republic; competitors, unequaled in reputation, ability, or position; a name to make still more renowned, or lose forever; and an audience, comprising not only American citizens most eminent in intellectual greatness, but representatives of other nations, where the art of eloquence had flourished for ages.

Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal to, the destinies of the moment. The very greatness of the hazard exhilarated him. His spirits rose with the occasion. He awaited the time of onset with a stern and impatient joy. He felt, like the war-horse of the scriptures, who 'paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: who goeth on to meet the armed men,-who sayeth among the trumpets, ha, ha! and who smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting.' A confidence in his resources, springing from

no vain estimate of his power, but the legitimate offspring of previous severe mental discipline, sustained and excited him. He had gauged his opponents, his subject, and himself. He was, too, at this period, in the very prime of manhood. He had reached middle age-an era in the life of man, when the faculties, physical or intellectual, may be supposed to attain their fullest organization, and most perfect development. Whatever there was in him of intellectual energy and vitality, the occasion, his full life and high ambition, might well bring forth.

He never rose on an ordinary occasion to address an ordinary audience more selfpossessed. There was no tremulousness in his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, nothing simulated. The calmness of superior strength was visible everywhere; in countenance, voice, and bearing. A deepseated conviction of the extraordinary character of the emergency, and of his ability to control it, seemed to possess him wholly. If an observer, more than ordinarily keen-sighted, detected at times something like exultation in his eye, he presumed it sprang from the excitement of the moment, and the anticipation of victory.

The anxiety to hear the speech was so intense, irrepressible, and universal, that no sooner had the vice-president assumed the chair, than a motion was made and unanimously carried, to postpone the ordinary preliminaries of senatorial action, and to take up immediately the consideration of the resolution.

Mr. Webster rose and addressed the senate. His exordium is known by heart everywhere: "Mr. President, when the mariner has been tossed, for many days, in thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he naturally avails himself of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of the sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how far the elements have driven him from his true course. Let us imitate this prudence; and before we float further, on the waves of this debate, refer to the point from which we departed, that we may, at least,

be able to form some conjecture where we now are. I ask for the reading of the resolution." Calm, resolute, impressive, was this opening utterance.

There wanted no more to enchain the attention. There was a spontaneous, though silent, expression of eager approbation, as the orator concluded these opening remarks. And while the clerk read the resolution, many attempted the impossibility of getting nearer the speaker. Every head was inclined closer towards him, every ear turned in the direction of his voice and that deep, sudden, mysterious silence followed, which always attends fullness of emotion. From the sea of upturned faces before him, the orator beheld his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. The varying countenance, the suffused eye, the earnest smile, and ever-attentive look, assured him of the intense interest excited. If, among his hearers, there were those who affected at first an indifference to his glowing thoughts and fervent periods, the difficult mask was soon laid aside, and profound, undisguised, devoted attention

DANIEL WEBSTER.

followed. In truth, all, sooner or later, voluntarily, or in spite of themselves, were wholly carried away by the spell of such unexampled forensic eloquence.

Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's ability to cope with and overcome his

opponents were fully satisfied of their error before he had proceeded far in his speech. Their fears soon took another direction. When they heard his sentences of powerful thought, towering in accumulative grandeur, one above the other, as if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach the very heavens themselves, they were giddy with an apprehension that he would break down in his flight. They dared not believe, that genius, learning,-any intellectual endowment, however uncommon, that was simply mortal, - could sustain itself long in a career seemingly so perilous. They feared an Icarian fall.

No one, surely, could ever forget, who was present to hear, the tremendous-the awful-burst of eloquence with which the orator apostrophized the old Bay State which Mr. Hayne had so derided, or the tones of deep pathos in which her defense was pronounced: "Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts. There she is behold her and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill,

and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every state, from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood. and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it- if partystrife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it-if folly and madness-if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked: it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gather round it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory,

and on the very spot of its origin." No New England heart but throbbed with vehement, absorbed, irrepressible emotion, as Mr. Webster thus dwelt upon New England sufferings, New England struggles, and New England triumphs, during the war of the revolution. There was scarcely a dry eye in the senate; all hearts were overcome; grave judges, and men grown old in dignified life, turned aside. their heads, to conceal the evidences of their emotion.

In one corner of the gallery was clustered a group of Massachusetts men. They had hung from the first moment upon the words of the speaker, with feelings variously but always warmly excited, deepening in intensity as he proceeded. At first, while the orator was going through his exordium, they held their breath and hid their faces, mindful of the fierce attack upon him and New England, and the fearful odds against any one standing up as a champion of the latter; as he went deeper into his speech, they felt easier; when he turned Hayne's flank on Banquo's ghost"—that famous rhetorical figure used by the South Carolinian,

-they breathed freer and fuller. But anon, as he alluded to Massachusetts, their feelings were strained to the utmost tension; and when the senator, concluding his passages upon the land of their birth, turned, intentionally or otherwise, his burning eye upon them, tears were falling like rain adown their cheeks.

No one who was not present can understand the excitement of the scene. No one, who was, can give an adequate description of it. No word-painting can convey the deep, intense enthusiasm, the reverential attention, of that vast assembly, nor limner transfer to canvas their earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. Though language were as subtle and flexible as thought, it still would be impossible to represent the full idea of the occasion.

Much of the instantaneous effect of the speech arose, of course, from the orator's delivery-the tones of his voice, his coun

tenance, and manner. These die mostly with the occasion; they can only be described in general terms. "Of the effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in many parts," says Mr. Everett, himself almost without a peer, as an orator, “it would be in vain to attempt to give any one not present the faintest idea. It has been my fortune to hear some of the ablest speeches of the greatest living orators on both sides of the water, but I must confess I never heard anything which so completely realized my conception of what Demosthenes was when he delivered the Oration for the Crown." There could be no higher praise than this. Kean nor Kemble, nor any other masterly delineator of the human passions, ever produced a more powerful impression upon an audience, or swayed so completely their hearts.

No one ever looked the orator, as he did, —in form and feature how like a god! His countenance spake no less audibly than his words. His manner gave new force to his language. As he stood swaying his right arm, like a huge tilt-hammer, up and down, his swarthy countenance lighted up with excitement, he appeared amid the smoke, the fire, the thunder of his eloquence, like Vulcan in his armory forging thoughts, for the gods! Time had not thinned nor bleached his hair; it was as dark as the raven's plumage, surmounting his massive brow in ample folds. His eye, always dark and deep-set, enkindled by some glowing thought, shone from beneath his somber, overhanging brow like lights, in the blackness of night, from a sepulchre. No one understood, better than Mr. Webster, the philosophy of dress;—what a powerful auxiliary it is to speech and manner, when harmonizing with them. On this occasion he appeared in a blue coat, a buff vest, black pants, and white cravat, a costume strikingly in keeping with his face and expression.

The human face never wore an expression of more withering, relentless scorn, than when the orator replied to Hayne's allusion to the "murdered coalition,"-a piece of stale political trumpery, well