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PUTNAM'S MONTHLY.

A Magazine of Literature, Science, and Art.

VOL. IX.--MARCH, 1857.-NO. LI.

WEBSTER'S PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.*

WE E hardly know of two volumes of the same size as these, and creating the same expectations, which we have read with so little profit. As a matter of professional duty, we have conscientiously gone through them both, and we regret at least one-half the time spent upon them as so much time lost. Other readers, of different tastes and sympathies, will, probably, have other feelings in regard to them. In the earlier parts of the first volume, those which relate to Mr. Webster's ancestors and his youth, we found ourselves much interested, but with each succeeding leaf after that, the interest gradually flagged, and it was with something of an effort that the attention was kept to the page. Now and then, a letter from some woman, gushing with sweetness and affection, as the letters of true women always do, or a letter with a distinguished name at the head of it, like that of Lafayette, or Chancellor Kent, or one of Mr. Webster's own letters to the managers of his farms, remarkable for their practical good sense, arrests the mind for a longer time, but, on the whole, the collection is not a very attractive one.

In one sense only is it attractive; everybody wishes to see what a man, who has figured conspicuously in public affairs, has to say to his intimate friends and to his family. It is a natural and

laudable curiosity which prompts us to compare his domestic character and deportinent with his general reputation. There is even more than curiosity in the impulse; there is a genuine love of what is noble and great in it-we admire a person's abilities or his actions, and we think that all his life must be of a pieco with these; and we seek to know him more familiarly, that our appreciation of excellence may be gratified and raised. The disposition to penetrate into the interior life and relations of distinguished men is a part of that heroworship, in fact, which Mr. Carlyle has justly celebrated as one of the finest and best of human characteristics. It may degenerate, it is true, into flunkeyism. and often does, and nowhere more extensively than in the political circles of the United States; but in itself it is commendable, and a sign of the profound sympathy which men have for man everywhere.

We find no fault, therefore, in the attempt to gather the private memorials of Mr. Webster into some enduring form. He was not only a man of sufficient eminence, both as to talent and position, to justify such a proceeding, but he had been so long and so largely connected with our political history as to render such a proceeding imperative. His executors or his friends were bound to indulge public curiosity so far as to

* The Private Correspondence of Daniel Webster. Edited by FLETCHER WEESTER. 2 vols. Little, Brown & Co., Boston, 1857.

VOL. IX.-15

lift the veil frem his seclusion. For nearly half a century Mr. Webster had been a conspicuous man; like Erskine and Brougham, he attained a first rank at the bar almost as soon as he had appeared there; during the first term of his service in Congress, he was singled out by the sagacity of Marshall and others, as giving promise of future statesmanship; he took part in our most important constitutional discussions and political controversies; his name is indelibly connected with our diplomatic affairs; the six volumes of his collected works are among the monuments of our literature: while, whatever he was, ho had made himself-for his carly means were scanty-and the only patronage that he ever enjoyed he won by his own exertions. It is inevitable that such a man and such a career should kindle the most cager desire to know all that it is proper to make known of his private condition and experience.

We are glad, consequently, to possess these volumes, and yet, now that wo do possess them, we are obliged to confess to a considerable disappointment in them. They are by no means equal to the prestige of the name they bear. From one who had occupied so high and continued an elevation, who had mingled in so many important events, who had seen so many remarkable persons, whose intellectual powers were so unquestionable, we expected more edifying and more entertaining letters than most of these. We had supposed that out of the fifty years' observation of things, and the fifty years' intercourse with men, of the leading statesman, the leading lawyer, the leading orator, and almost the leading citizen of his country, many rare, beautiful, and instructive remarks or incidents would be extracted. We called to mind what we had recently read in the correspondence of a simple and comparatively unknown German bookseller, named Perthes; we called to mind what we read a year or two ago, in the correspondence of an English school-teacher, Dr. Arnold, and, though we did not anticipate the same kind of pleasure in the correspondence of Mr. Webster, who was so different a man from either, we did anticipate, from the superiority of his position and of his opportunities, something far more valuable than we have received. It cannot be doubted that many of Mr. Webster's letters have

been lost; and yet his editor does not complain of any want of materials; for, after speaking of the great labor which he and several of his friends had undergone in arranging them, he adds that "the chief difficulty has arisen from the necessity of exercising a severe judgment in making selections." It must also be acknowledged that his professional and public labors exacted a great deal of his time; but, as he found time to hunt a good deal, and to fish a good deal, we have a right to imagine that the comparative sterility of his correspondence did not arise from any exhaustion of his powers in other ways.

The cause of this deficiency we may have occasion to advert to byand-by; but, at present, let us proceed to give a more detailed account of the contents of this book. Four years ago, just after the demise of Mr. Webster, his literary executors made application, by public notice and private address, to his correspondents in this country and in Europe, for copies of his letters, which application was generally responded to, and the collection before us is the result of that proceeding. His son, Mr. Fletcher Webster, has taken the part of editor in the work, but he appears to havo been assiduously helped by Mr. Georgo Ticknor, Mr. Edward Everett, Professor Sanborn, Mr. William T. Harris, Mrs. Buckminster Lee, and others. The first contribution to the volumes is an autobiography of Mr. Webster, of about twenty-six pages, prepared some years since for the private use of Mrs. Lee, and relating principally to his childhood and youth. It is a pleasant bit of reminiscence, written with modesty and taste, and in a style of remarkable simplicity. In our estimation, it is the most agreeable part of the whole work, partly on account of the charm which always attaches to the younger years of famous men, and partly bocause of the excellent English of the words. We extract from it what Mr. Webster says of the foundations of his education:

"I do not remember when or by whom I was taught to read; because I cannot and never could recollect a time when I could not read the Bible. I suppose I was taught by iny inother, or by my elder sisters. My father seemed to have no higher object in the world, than to educate his children, to the full extent of his very limited ability. No means were within his reach, generally speaking, but the small

town-schools. These were kept by teachers, sufficiently indifferent, in the several neigh borhoods of the township, each a small part of the year. To these I was sent, with the other children.

"When the school was in our neighborhood, it was easy to attend; when it removed to a more distant district, I followed it, still living at home. While yet quite young, and in winter, I was sent daily two and a half or three miles to the school. When it removed still further, my father sometimes boarded me out, in a neighboring family, so that I could still be in the school. A good deal of this was an extra care, more than had been bestowed on my elder brothers, and originating in a conviction of the slenderness and frailty of my constitution, which was thought not likely ever to allow me to pursue robust occupation.

"In these schools nothing was taught but reading and writing; and, as to these, the first I generally could perform better than the teacher, and the last a good master could hardly instruct me in; writing was so labori. ous, irksome, and repulsive an occupation to me always. My masters used to tell me, that they feared, after all, my fingers were destined for the plough-tail.

"I must do myself the justice to say that, in those boyish days, there were two things I did dearly love, viz.: reading and playing; passions which did not cease to struggle when boyhood was over (have they yet altogether?), and in regard to which neither the cita mors nor the victoria læta could be said of either.

"At a very early day, owing, I believe, mainly to the exertions of Mr. Thompson, the lawyer, the clergyman, and my father, a very small circulating library had been bought. These institutions, I believe, about that time received an impulse, among other causes, from the efforts of Dr. Belknap, our New Hampshire historian. I obtained some of these books, and read them. I remember the Spectator among them; and I remember, too, that I turned over the leaves of Addison's criticism on Chevy Chase, for the sake of reading connectedly the song, the verses of which he quotes, from time to time, as subjects of remark. It was, as Dr. Johnson said in another case, the poet that was read and the critic was neglected. I could not understand why it was necessary that the author of the Spectator should take such great pains to prove that Chevy Chase was a good story; that was the last thing I doubted.

"I was fond of poetry. By far the greater part of Dr. Watts's Psalms and Hymns I could repeat memoriter, at ten or twelve years of age. I am sure that no other sacred poetry will ever appear to me so affecting and devout."

This is followed by a sketch of an elder brother of Mr. Webster, Ezekiel, to whom he was strongly attached, and who, if he had lived, would have reached an eminence scarcely inferior to that of Daniel. Professor Sanborn, who furnishes the sketch, says that there existed between these brothers a remarkable unity of opinion, sentiment, and reflection. They were never known to disagree, upon any matter of import

ance, in youth or manhood. He quotes, in respect to them, what the Roman poet said of himself and his friend : "Fraternis animis quidquid negat alter et alter,

Animis pariter vetuli notique columbi."

Almost every page of their long and frequent correspondence presents them as mutual helpers and advisers, in all the relations of life, both public and private. The younger brother, because his slender frame could not bear the fatigues of a farmer's life, was consecrated to study, but the other was no less eager of collegiate opportunities. One day, during a vacation of the former, they had talked over the possibility of both being educated, on the slender means of their parents, and proposed the subject in a family council. The mother's reply came fresh from a true mother's heart: "I have lived long in the world and been happy in my children. If Daniel and Ezekiel will promise to take care of me, in

my old age, I will consent to the sale of all our property at once, and they may enjoy the benefit of what remains after our debts are paid." By hook and by crook, however, they both managed to get through college without this extreme resort, but not without experiencing a good many severe drains on the locker. Even while they were studying law, and alternately teaching school to get the wherewithal, the financial deficit appears to have continued. "Dan" writes to "Zeke" from Salisbury, in a letter of November 4th, 1802: "Now, Zeke, you will not read half a sentence, no, not one syllable, before you have thoroughly searched this sheet for scrip; but, my word for it, you will find no scrip here. We held a sanhedrim this morning on the subject of cash; could not hit upon any way to get you any; just before we went away to hang ourselves through disappointment, it came into our heads that next week might do. The truth is, father had an execution against Hubbard of N. Chester, for about one hundred dollars; the money was collecting and just ready to drop into the hands of the creditors, when Hubbard suddenly died." *** "I have • now by me two cents in lawful federal currency; next week I will send them, if they be all; they will buy a pipe; with a pipe you can smoke; smoking inspires wisdom; wisdom is allied to fortitude; from fortitude it is but one step to

stoicism; and stoicism never pants for this world's goods; so, perhaps, my two cents, by this process, may put you quite at ease about cash." This aerial philosophy, however, did not seem to relieve Ezekiel's necessities; for, ten days after, we find him writing: "Money, Daniel, money! As I was walking down to the office after a letter, I happened to find one cent, which is the only money I have had since the second day I came on. It is a fact, Dan, that I was called on for a dollar where I owed it, and borrowed it, and have borrowed four times since, to pay those I borrowed of."

Next to the sketch of Ezekiel Webster, we have personal reminiscences of Daniel's college life, by several of his quondam companions. They show that he stood well as a scholar; that his conduct was exemplary; that he was a capital declaimer; and that he was rather popular with his mates than otherwise. Brown Emerson says, that "as a classical and belles lettres scholar, and as a speaker and debater, he stood far above all the other members of the college." But the standard of excellence could not have been very high, in the belles-lettres line, at that time, if we may judge from some of the specimens which are handed down to us in these volumes. Here is an extract from a letter to Mr. Bingham, written in 1800, when Mr. Webster was in his eighteenth year. It begins: The political events of Europe, my friend Harvey, are so novel and unexpected, revolution succeeds revolution in such rapid succession, that it is sufficient to overpower the understanding and confound the calculations of the most sage politician. These events are attended with such important circumstances, involve so many and so various interests, that schemes, either of aggrandizement or defense, are agitated and devised in every cabinet of Europe"-and so on for a page or more, when the letterwriter solaces himself with this view of American affairs:

"But, when baffled in attempting to scan the horizon of European politics, could I turn my eyes home and be presented with such a prospect as was afforded five years ago, I should lift my heart to Heaven in a transport of devotion, and exclaim, 'Let France or England be arbiter of Europe, but be mine the privileges of an American citizen.' But, Harvey, our prospect darkens; clouds hang around us. Not that I fear the menaces of France; not that I should fear all the powers

of Europe leagued together for our destruction. No, Bingham, intestine feuds alone I fear. The French faction, though quelled, is not eradicated. The southern states in commotion; a democrat the head of the executive in Virginia; a whole country in arms against the government of McKean, in Pennsylvania; Washington, the great political cement, dead, and Adams almost worn down with years and the weight of cares. These considerations, operating on a mind naturally timorous, excite unpleasant emotions. In my melancholy moments, I presage the most dire calamities. I already see, in my imagination, the time when the banner of civil war shall be unfurled; when discord's hydra form shall set up her hideous yell, and from her hundred mouths shall howl destruction through our empire; and when American blood shall be made to flow in rivers, by American swords! But propitious Heaven prevent such dreadful calamities! Internally secure, we have nothing to fear. Let Europe pour her embattled millions around us, let her thronged cohorts cover our shores, from St. Lawrence to St. Marie's, yet, United Columbia sball stand unmoved; the inanes of her deccased Washington shall guard the liberties of his country, and direct the sword of freedom in the day of battle."

We have no doubt that friend Harvey, and friend Daniel, too, thought this very fine; but both of them must have learned otherwise in a few years. Nor was the poetry, which Mr. Webster indited about that period, a whit better. As a specimen, we take a few lines from a longer poem, from "Mr. Webster to Mr. Fuller."

"Since, friend Habijah, you are thus distrest, Since love s fierce tortures thus influme your breast,

Since **'s charms forever haunt your dreams,

And her fair form before you always seems,
A little poetry, perhaps, might roll
Love's boiling torrent from your troubled

soul.

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dallied with the muse, and only on a
single occasion was tempted into rhyme.
But I must disclose the cause," he
says, in a playful letter to a friend,
"of such a daring effort. On the after-
noon preceding the evening of a ball, a
lady of my acquaintance trod upon some
sharp tool, and cut her foot. On this,
iny muse, who had slept some years,
broke out like an Irish rebellion,' when
nobody expected it, and produced the
following, which, in point of sentiment
and language, I know you will think
equal to anything in Homer."
"Rust seize the axe, the hoc, or spade,
Which in your foot this gash has made,
Which cut thro' kid, and silk, and skin,
To spill the blood that was within:
By which you're forced to creep and crawl,
Nor frisk and frolic at the ball!

"But Clara, Clara! were thy heart
As tender as thy pedal part,
From thy sweet lips did love but flow
Swift as the blood gushed from thy toe,
So many beaux would not complain,
That all their bows and vows are vain."

he

Yet, though he deserted poetry for the law, what strikes us as somewhat singular in one who afterwards attained so high a reputation as a lawyer, Mr. Webster did not like the pursuit-at least, he did not like the study of it in carly life. In more than one place, he speaks in great disparagement of law, both as a study and as a practice. Writing to a young friend (Mr. Cook), in 1803, when he was twenty-two years of age, says: "I am not informed what profession you are determined to study; but if it be law, permit me to tell you a little what you must expect. My experience in the study is, indeed, short; but I have learnt a little about it. First, then, you must bid adieu to all hopes of meeting with a single author who pretends to elegance of style or sweetness of observation (sic). The language of the law is dry, hard, and stubborn as an old maid. Murdered Latin bleeds through every page; and if Tully and Virgil could rise from their graves, they would soon be at fisticuffs with Coke, Hale, and Blackstone for massacrcing their language. As to the practice, I believe it is a settled matter that the business of an office is conducted with the very refuse and remnant of mankind." Mr. Webster, doubtless, acquired juster notions of his profession as he became more acquainted with it: but such language, which is not put forth as banter, but in downright carn

estness, in the mouth of a young man, in the very heyday of enthusiasm, seems to us to display a remarkable want of sensibility or perception. The experience, we believe, of a majority of the young men who seriously engage in the study of the law, is, that Blackstone is one of the most charming of books, out of the range of poetry or fiction. E contra, however, Dugald Stewart says, "that those who have risen to the greatest eminence in the profession of the law, have been, in general, such as had at first an aversion to the study." But we do not believe that Stewart's theory could be maintained by the actual history of great lawyers. If our memory serves, the greatest of them have shown an early and persistent avidity for the law, not only as a science but as a practice. Blackstone himself made some doggerel verses against it, as Canning did afterwards-but that was rather in jest than earnest; while Mansfield, Hale, Thurlow and others have paid the most magnificent compliments to their profession. Indeed, some of the greatest lawyers have been so enamored of it from the beginning, as to be almost unwilling to yield a moment to any other pursuit. Believing-though erroneously, as we think-in the old proverb, which says, that "Lady Law must lie alone," they have scarcely allowed of any concurrent attachments in her votaries.

Not only in the law, but in politics and in his general views of life, Mr. Webster began with less generous sentiments than one ordinarily expects from a young man. Writing to his friend Bingham, in 1803, he says: "It is very strange, Bingham, and very true, that men do, as often as otherwise, choose the most ignorant of mankind to instruct, and the most wicked to govern. Can you help, can I help, can anybody of sense help despising mankind, and despising himself for belonging to mankind, if, in every instance, vice and folly laugh virtue and wisdom out of countenance?" There are other passages to the same effect, showing that, while young Webster may have been possessed of great intellectual vigor, his affections were not correspondingly warm. He expresses great attachment to his friends and relatives, and loved some of them, particularly his father and brother, with ardor; but, though living in an age of the profoundest excitement and significance, we discover

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