Mr. Webster's scrupulous care of his dress is well known. On each of the
occasions I saw him, his dress—which, as is well known, was the blue
coat with the buff or white vest and brass buttons, and, at least on
one occasion in the summer, white trousers—seemed to have been nearly
new. I was told by a lady who heard the eulogy on Adams and Jefferson
in 1826, in Faneuil Hall that on that occasion he wore a gown.
* * * * *
There are in literature a few biographies in which the hand of a master
has, in a brief compass, given a portraiture of an illustrious subject,
which, like the faces portrayed by the great painters of the Middle Ages,
leaves nothing wanting and which no fulness of detail could improve. Of
these, Tacitus's "Life of Agricola" is probably the most perfect example.
Kirkland's "Fisher Ames" is of the same class. So, also, unless I am
greatly deceived, is the "Life of Daniel Webster," by Edward Everett,
published with Webster's Works in 1852. This admirable biography,
partly, perhaps, by reason of its place in a voluminous publication, has
attracted far less attention than its own excellence and the fame of its
author would lead us to expect. It will be worth all the pains taken in
preparing these articles if it shall lead the youth of the country to
study carefully this masterly portrait by one great statesman and orator
of another who was his teacher, leader, and friend. I extract from it
one passage which gives the key to Webster's great success and to the
success of every great orator who has stirred the feeling or convinced
the understanding of the people by the power of eloquent speech:
"The orator who would do justice to a great theme or a great occasion
must thoroughly study and understand the subject; he must accurately
and, if possible, minutely digest in writing beforehand the substance,
and even the form, of his address; otherwise, though he may speak
ably, he will be apt not to make in all respects an able speech. He
must entirely possess himself beforehand of the main things which
he wishes to say, and then throw himself upon the excitement of the
moment and the sympathy of the audience. In those portions of his
discourse which are didactic or narrative, he will not be likely to
wander, in any direction, far from his notes; although even in those
portions new facts, illustrations, and suggestions will be apt to spring
up before him as he proceeds. But when the topic rises, when the mind
kindles from within, and the strain becomes loftier, or bolder, or more
pathetic, when the sacred fountain of tears is ready to overflow, and
audience and speaker are moved by one kindred sympathetic passion, then
the thick-coming fancies cannot be kept down, the storehouse of the
memory is unlocked, images start up from the slumber of years, and all
that the orator has seen, read, heard, or felt returns in distinct shape
and vivid colors. The cold and premeditated text will no longer suffice
for the glowing thought. The stately, balanced phrase gives place to
some abrupt, graphic expression, that rushes unbidden to his lips. The
unforeseen incident or locality furnishes an apt and speaking image;
and the discourse instinctively transposes itself into a higher key."
[Illustration]