power of Edward Everett resembles the sultan Saladin, with his nicely-curved scimitar, marked with meandering lines, who applied its fine edge so dexterously to a silken cushion, that it seemed rather to fall asunder than to divide by force. The eloquent eulogy of Mr. Webster, named at the head of this article, was pronounced on a day selected, it is said, as peculiarly suitable, for the reason that it was the day when the signers of the Declaration of Independence who had not given their signatures on the fourth of July, 1776, rendered it complete by affixing their names. The body of Cæsar was not so much the object of solemn curiosity, as was the eulogy of Mark Antony on his character; and, if possible, as intense was the interest, on this occasion, to listen to Webster's eulogy on the great statesmen. Never, since the pathetic oration of Morton over the remains of Warren, was there a more thrilling effort, in this country, on a similar occasion. Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory," said Webster, "nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored. Marble columns may, indeed, moulder into dust, time may erase all impress from the crumbling stone; but their fame remains,— for with American liberty only can it perish." The conception of the appellation of "the godlike Webster" was originated by the delivery of this inimitable eulogy. The editor of the National Philanthropist, the first temperance editor in the Union, in enlarging on its extreme beauty, in that journal, on the sixth day of August, remarks: "To say of this production that it was eloquent, would be too common an expression to apply to such a performance. It was profound,- it was sublime,—it was godlike." This remark was heralded over the land as of party origin, and was long the source of levity and sarcasm. It is our opinion that the first patriot who received this superlative appellation was Joseph Warren, as may be seen in a poetical tribute written shortly after his decease, and appended to the memoir in this volume. "It has, perhaps," remarks Edward Everett, in his biography of Webster, "never been the fortune of an orator to treat a subject in all respects so extraordinary as that which called forth the eulogy on Adams and Jefferson; a subject in which the characters commemorated, the field of action, the magnitude of the events, and the peculiar personal relations, were so important and unusual. Certainly, it is not extravagant to add, that no similar effort of oratory was ever more -- completely successful. The speech ascribed to John Adams, in the Continental Congress, on the subject of declaring the independence of the colonies, a speech, of which the topics, of course, present themselves on the most superficial consideration of the subject, but of which a few hints only of what was actually said are supplied by the letters and diaries of Mr. Adams,—is not excelled by anything of the kind in our language. Few things have taken so strong a hold of the public mind. It thrills and delights alike the student of history, who recognizes it at once as the creation of the orator, and the common reader, who takes it to be the composition, not of Mr. Webster, but of Mr. Adams. From the time the eulogy was delivered, to the present day, the inquiry has been often made and repeated,—sometimes even in letters addressed to Webster himself, whether this exquisite appeal is his or Mr. Adams'." Before introducing the passage from Webster's eulogy, we will quote, from the autobiography of John Adams, his own remarks in relation to his own speech on that august occasion. We find it under date of July 1, 1776: "It has been said, by some of our historians, that I began by an invocation to the god of eloquence. This is a misrepresentation. Nothing so puerile as this fell from me. I began by saying that this was the first time of my life that I had ever wished for the talents and eloquence of the ancient orators of Greece and Rome, for I was very sure that none of them ever had before him a question of more importance to his country and to the world. They would, probably, upon less occasions than this, have begun by solemn invocations to their divinities for assistance; but the question before me appeared so simple, that I had confidence enough in the plain understanding and common sense that had been given me, to believe that I could answer, to the satisfaction of the House, all the arguments which had been produced, notwithstanding the abilities which had been displayed, and the eloquence with which they had been enforced. Mr. Dickinson, some years afterwards, published his speech. I had made no preparation beforehand, and never committed any minutes of mine to writing. But, if I had a copy of Mr. Dickinson's before me, would now, after nine-and-twenty years have elapsed, endeavor to recollect mine." For masculine power, there is no rhetoric in the whole range of our national oratory excelling the imagined speech of our great Nestor, which is here introduced with the preceding supposed remarks of John Dickinson, of Delaware, an over-cautious member of the same patriotic assembly, who, though he never signed the Declaration of Independ ence, stated afterwards that he was the only member who marched to face the enemy. In allusion to the Continental Congress, which was about to decide a question involving the fate of the colonies, Mr. Webster says: "Let us open their doors, and look in upon their deliberations. Let us survey the anxious and care-worn countenances, let us hear the firm-toned voices, of this band of patriots. "Hancock presides over the solemn sitting; and one of those not yet prepared to pronounce for absolute independence is on the floor, and is urging his reasons for dissenting from the declaration : "Let us pause! This step, once taken, cannot be retraced. This resolution, once passed, will cut off all hope of reconciliation. If success attend the arms of England, we shall then be no longer colonies, with charters, and with privileges; these will all be forfeited by this act; and we shall be in the condition of other conquered people, at the mercy of the conquerors. For ourselves, we may be ready to run the hazard,—but are we ready to carry the country to that length? Is success so probable as to justify it? Where is the military, where the naval power, by which we are to resist the whole strength of the arm of England? for she will exert that strength to the utmost. Can we rely on the constancy and perseverance of the people? or will they not act as the people of other countries have acted, and, wearied with a long war, submit, in the end, to a worse oppression? While we stand on our old ground, and insist on redress of grievances, we know we are right, and are not answerable for consequences. Nothing, then, can be imputable to us. But if we now change our object, carry our pretensions further, and set up for absolute independence, we shall lose the sympathy of mankind. We shall no longer be defending what we possess, but struggling for something which we never did possess, and which we have solemnly and uniformly disclaimed all intention of pursuing, from the very outset of the troubles. Abandoning thus our old ground, of resistance only to arbitrary acts of oppression, the nations will believe the whole to have been mere pretence, and they will look on us, not as injured, but as ambitious, subjects. I shudder, before this responsibility. It will be on us, if, relinquishing the ground we have stood on so long, and stood on so safely, we now proclaim independence, and carry on the war for that It will object, while these cities burn, these pleasant fields whiten and bleach with the bones of their owners, and these streams run blood. be upon us, it will be upon us, if, failing to maintain this unseasoned and ill-judged declaration, a sterner despotism, maintained by military power, shall be established over our posterity,—when we ourselves, given up by an exhausted, a harassed, a misled people, shall have expiated our rashness and atoned for our presumption, on the scaffold!' "It was for Mr. Adams to reply to arguments like these. We know his opinions, and we know his character. He would commence with his accustomed directness and earnestness: "Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there's a divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and, blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obstinately persisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? Are not you, sir, who sit in that chair,is not he, our venerable colleague near you,- are you not both already the proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and of vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to give up, the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered into by men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives? I know there is not a man here who would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces, raised or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And if the war must go on, why put off longer the declaration of independence? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain that England, herself, will sooner treat for peace with us on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded, by submitting to that course of things which now predestinates our independence, than by yielding the points in controversy to her rebellious subjects. The former she would regard as the result of fortune; the latter she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why, then,—why, then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil to a national war? And, since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory? "If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. The cause will raise up armies; the cause will create navies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously, through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of these colonies; and I know that resistance to British aggression is deep and settled in their hearts, and cannot be eradicated. Every colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the breath of life. Read this declaration at the head of the army; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit; religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling round it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them hear it who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon; let them see it who saw their |