CHAPTER XXXIII.
HONORS RECEIVED IN ENGLAND
It would require a volume far larger than the present to speak in detail of Mr. Webster’s public life, to point out his public services, to enumerate the occasions on which he took a distinguished part in debate. But this does not come within my plan. Fortunately there are other works in which such as desire it can gain all the information they desire upon these points. They will find how closely Mr. Webster was identified with the history of the nation, and what a powerful influence he exerted upon all public measures. And all the while he was making an equally brilliant reputation at the bar. He was employed in numerous “great cases,” and in none was he found unequal to his opportunity.
The result of his multifarious and exhausting labors was a determination to make a tour of recreation, and not unnaturally he decided to visit England, a country which to every American of Anglo-Saxon race must possess a first attraction. His second wife, who died but a few weeks since, his daughter, and Mrs. Page, the wife of his brother-in-law, were of the party. His youngest son, Edward, then a Dartmouth student, joined them later.
Mr. Webster’s fame had preceded him, and he received unusual honors. One paper in announcing his arrival said, “We cordially welcome to our shores this great and good man, and accept him as a fit representative of all the great and good qualities of our transatlantic brethren.” So great was the curiosity to see him that the press of carriages about the door of his hotel was almost unprecedented. He was invited everywhere, and was cordially received by the most prominent men. In fact, he was a “lion,” and that in a marked sense.
Among others he met that eccentric and craggy genius, Thomas Carlyle, and I am sure my readers young and old will like to know what impression the great senator made upon the Scotch philosopher.
This is what Carlyle writes:
“American notabilities are daily becoming notable among us, the ties of the two parishes, mother and daughter, getting closer and closer knit. Indissoluble ties!
“I reckon that this huge smoky wen may for some centuries yet be the best Mycale for our Saxon Panionium, a yearly meeting-place of ‘all the Saxons’ from beyond the Atlantic, from the antipodes, or wherever the restless wanderers dwell and toil. After centuries, if Boston, if New York, have become the most convenient ‘All-Saxondom,’ we will right cheerfully go thither to hold such festival and leave the wen.
“Not many days ago I saw at breakfast the notablest of all your notabilities, Daniel Webster. He is a magnificent specimen. You might say to all the world, ‘This is our Yankee Englishman; such limbs we make in Yankee-land!’ As a logic-fencer, advocate or parliamentary Hercules, one would incline to back him at first sight against the extant world. The tanned complexion, that amorphous crag-like face, the dull black eyes under the precipice of brows [I am sure no one ever called Mr. Webster’s eyes dull before or since], like dull anthracite furnaces only waiting to be blown, the mastiff mouth accurately closed—I have not traced so much of silent Berseker’s rage that I remember of in any other man. ‘I guess I should not like to be your nigger.’ Webster is not loquacious, but he is pertinent, conclusive, a dignified, perfectly-bred man, though not English in breeding, a man worthy of the best reception among us, and meeting such, I understand.”
In a letter to Mr. Ticknor, John Kenyon indulges in some reminiscences of Mr. Webster, whom he met intimately, having traveled with him and his family party during four days.
“Coleridge used to say that he had seldom known or heard of any great man who had not ‘much of the woman in him.’ Even so, that large intellect of Daniel Webster seemed to be coupled with all softer feelings, and his countenance and bearing at the very first impressed me with this.
“All men, without having studied either science, are, we all know, more or less phrenologists and physiognomists. Right or wrong, I had found as I thought much sensibility in Webster’s countenance. A few weeks afterwards I had an opportunity of learning that it was not there only. We were in a hackney coach, driving along the New Road to Baring’s in the City. It was a longish drive, and we had time to get into a train of talk, also we were by that time what I may presume to call ‘intimate.’ I said, ‘Mr. Webster, you once, I believe, had a brother?’ ’Yes,’ he kindly said, ‘when I see you and your brother together I often think of him,’ and—I speak the fact as it was—I saw, after a little more talk on the subject of his brother, the tears begin to trickle down his cheek till he said to me, ‘I’ll give you an account of my early life,’ and he began with his father, and the farm in New Hampshire, and his own early education, and that of his brother, the details of his courtship and first marriage, and his no property at the time, but of his hopes in his profession and of his success, as he spoke showing much emotion. How could one help loving a man at once so powerful and so tender?”
The opinions of those who are themselves eminent are of interest. Let us see, therefore, what Hallam, the historian, says of our subject.
“I have had more than one opportunity,” he writes to Mr. Ticknor, “of hearing of you, especially from your very distinguished countryman, Mr. Webster, with whom I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted last summer. It is but an echo of the common voice here to say that I was extremely struck by his appearance, deportment and conversation. Mr. Webster approaches as nearly to the beau ideal of a republican senator as any man that I have ever seen in the course of my life, worthy of Rome, or Venice, rather than of our noisy and wrangling generation. I wish that some of our public men here would take example from his grave and prudent manner of speaking on political subjects, which seemed to me neither too incautious nor too strikingly reserved.”
It is seldom that a man’s personal appearance is so impressive as that of Daniel Webster, seldom that his greatness is so visibly stamped upon his face and figure. An admirer of Mr. Webster was once shocked by hearing him called “a hum-bug.” “What do you mean?” he demanded angrily. “I mean this,” was the reply, “that no man can possibly be as great as he looks.”
I have said that Mr. Webster was the recipient of attentions from all classes, I may add, from the highest in the land. Mr. and Mrs. Webster dined privately with Queen Victoria by special invitation, and it is recorded that the young Queen, for she was then young, was much impressed by the majestic demeanor of the great American. Even the Eton boys, who are wont to chaff all visitors, forgot their propensity in the presence of Mr. Webster. As Mr. Kenyon, already quoted, writes: “Not one look of unseemly curiosity, much less of the quizzing which I had rather anticipated, had we to undergo. Webster was not merely gratified, he was visibly touched by the sight. You remember that Charles Lamb said at Eton—I do not pretend to quote his exact words—‘What a pity that these fine youths should grow up into paltry members of Parliament!’ For myself, when I saw them so cheerful and yet so civilized and well-conditioned, I remember thinking to myself at the moment, ’Well, if I had a boy I should send him to Eton.’”
While at the Castle Inn, in Windsor, Mr. Webster wrote the following autograph, by request, for Mr. Kenyon:
“When you and I are dead and gone
This busy world will still jog on,
And laugh and sing and be as hearty
As if we still were of the party.”
There is no doubt that Mr. Webster enjoyed heartily his well-earned recreation. He had good cause. Never certainly up to that time had an American been received in England with such distinguished honors. I will close by his own account of the way in which he was received.
“I must say that the good people have treated me with great kindness. Their hospitality is unbounded, and I find nothing cold or stiff in their manners, at least not more than is observed among ourselves. There may be exceptions, but I think I may say this as a general truth. The thing in England most prejudiced against the United States is the press. Its ignorance of us is shocking, and it is increased by such absurdities as the travelers publish, to which stock of absurdities I am sorry to say Captain Marryatt is making an abundant addition. In general the Whigs know more and think better of America than the Tories. This is undeniable. Yet my intercourse I think is as much with the Conservatives as the Whigs. I have several invitations to pass time in the country after Parliament is prorogued. Two or three of them I have agreed to accept. Lord Lansdowne and the Earl of Radnor have invited us, who live in the south, the Duke of Rutland, Sir Henry Halford, Earl Fitzwilliam, Lord Lonsdale, etc., who live in the north.”
Of one thing my young reader may be assured, that no attentions, however elevated the source, had any effect upon the simple dignity of a typical American citizen, or influenced him when a few years later, as Secretary of State, it became his duty to deal with our relations with England.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CALLED TO THE CABINET
In the Presidential campaign of 1840, General Harrison, the nominee of the Whig party, swept the country, and was elected amid demonstrations of popular enthusiasm till then unprecedented. As we look back upon this time, uninfluenced by passion, we can only wonder how a man so moderately fitted for the position should have aroused such a furor. That he should have been nominated, while such born leaders and accomplished statesmen as Mr. Webster were passed over, need excite no surprise. In an ideal republic the best man and the wisest statesman would be selected, but there are no ideal statesmen, and are not likely to be. General Harrison was available, and therefore was put forward as the standard-bearer.
I do not mean to say that our nominees have always been mediocre men. James A. Garfield was a trained and experienced statesman, so was James Buchanan (his faults were of a different order), so were the early Presidents, and so have been occasional nominees of both great parties; but, as a rule, public men of the first rank have been passed by for candidates more available.
General Harrison showed this evidence of fitness for his high station, that almost immediately after his election, he indicated a strong desire that Mr. Webster should enter his Cabinet. Modestly distrustful of his own abilities, he wished to strengthen his administration by calling to his councils Mr. Webster and Mr. Clay. He writes thus to Mr. Webster, Dec. 1, 1840:
“Since I was first a candidate for the Presidency, I had determined, if successful, to solicit your able assistance in conducting the administration, and I now ask you to accept the State or Treasury Department. I have myself no preference of either for you, but it may perhaps be more difficult to fill the latter than the former, if you should decline it. It was the first designed for you, in the supposition that you had given more attention to the subject of the finances than Mr. Clay, to whom I intended to have offered the State Department. This, as well as any other post in the Cabinet, I understood, before my arrival here, from an intimate friend of that gentleman, he would decline. This he has since done personally to me.”
Mr. Webster replied that “for the daily details of the Treasury, the matters of account, and the supervision of subordinate officers employed in the collection and disbursement of public moneys,” he did not think himself to be particularly well qualified. He indicated that he would accept the office of Secretary of State.
Mr. Webster no doubt accurately gauged his own abilities. No one could be better fitted for the premiership and the conduct of our foreign relations, as the event proved. At this time especially a strong, judicious statesman of the first rank was required, for the relations between the United States and Great Britain were very delicate and even critical, and a rash hand might easily have plunged the two countries into war. One vexed question related to the boundary between this country and the provinces of Nova Scotia and Canada. This question was complicated by others of a still more irritating character, which space will not allow me to particularize. There was another question also, the long-standing claim of England to impress her own seamen, and to take them out of American vessels sailing on the high seas in time of war, rendering necessary the odious “right of search.”
Mr. Webster was influenced to accept the post of Secretary of State, because he knew these questions ought to be settled, and he felt confident of his ability to settle them. With this view the people cordially agreed, and Gen. Harrison’s choice of the great statesman of New England to take charge of our foreign relations was a very popular one.
Mr. Webster’s retirement from the Senate, and the necessary choice of a successor, gave occasion for a display of magnanimity. His relations with Ex-President John Quincy Adams were not friendly—he felt that he had been very badly treated by Mr. Adams on one occasion—but Mr. Adams, from his prominent position, was likely to be thought of as his successor in the Senate. Upon this subject Mr. Webster writes to a friend: “Some years ago, as you well know, an incident occurred which interrupted intercourse between Mr. Adams and myself for several years, and wounded the feelings of many of my friends as well as my own. With me that occurrence is overlooked and forgotten. I bury all remembrance of it under my regard for Mr. Adams’s talents, character, and public services.... Mr. Adams’s great knowledge and ability, his experience, and especially his thorough acquaintance with the foreign relations of the country, will undoubtedly make him prominent as a candidate; and I wish it to be understood that his election would be altogether agreeable to me.”
Mr. Adams, however, remained in the House of Representatives, and Rufus Choate was selected to succeed Mr. Webster. Massachusetts was fortunate in having three citizens so eminently fitted to do her honor in the national councils.
When the letter announcing Mr. Webster’s resignation of his seat was read in the Senate, Mr. Clay took occasion to pay a glowing tribute to his great eloquence and ability, referring to him as “one of the noblest specimens of American eloquence; one of the brightest ornaments of these halls, of this country, and of our common nature.”
The lamented death of General Harrison, on the 5th of April, after but a single month in office, interrupted official business, and made Mr. Webster’s position still more difficult. John Tyler, Vice-President, succeeding, soon made himself obnoxious to the party that had elected him. All the members of the Cabinet, except Mr. Webster, resigned. Mr. Webster perceived that he could not do so without serious detriment to the national interests, and he remained steadfast, thereby incurring the censure of many, who did not appreciate the patriotism and self-sacrifice that actuated him. The Secretary of State was too astute a politician not to understand that he was periling his own political fortunes, that he was raising up for himself enemies in his own State, and that his adherence to the administration might cost him the promotion which he ardently desired, for he had already fixed his eyes upon the Presidency as an object to which he might legitimately aspire. Nevertheless he adhered and kept his post till his work was done, and he had accomplished for this country what no other hand could probably have done, the peaceful adjustment of her foreign differences.
In the midst of the dissatisfaction a great meeting was held at Faneuil Hall, and Mr. Webster determined to go there and face the anger of his former friends. Whatever might have been the feelings of the packed audience when Mr. Webster rose before them in his magnificent manhood, and his deep, calm eyes fell upon the audience, every head was instantly uncovered in involuntary homage.
In the course of his speech Mr. Webster said: “There are always delicacy and regret when one feels obliged to differ from his friends, but there is no embarrassment. There is no embarrassment, because, if I see the path of duty before me, I have that within me which will enable me to pursue it, and throw all embarrassment to the winds. A public man has no occasion to be embarrassed if he is honest. Himself and his feelings should be to him as nobody and as nothing; the interest of his country must be to him as everything; he must sink what is personal to himself, making exertions for his country, and it is his ability and readiness to do this which are to mark him as a great or as a little man in time to come.
“There were many persons in September, 1841, who found great fault with my remaining in the President’s Cabinet. You know, gentlemen, that twenty years of honest and not altogether undistinguished service in the Whig cause did not save me from an outpouring of wrath which seldom proceeds from Whig pens and Whig tongues against anybody. I am, gentlemen, a little hard to coax, but as to being driven, this is out of the question. I chose to trust my own judgment; and thinking I was at a post where I was in the service of the country, and could do it good, I stayed there, and I leave it to you to-day to say, I leave it to my countrymen to say, whether the country would have been better off if I had left also. I have no attachment to office. I have tasted of its sweets, but I have tasted of its bitterness. I am content with what I have achieved; I am ready to rest satisfied with what is gained rather than to run the risk of doubtful efforts for new acquisitions.”
This is the speech of a strong man—a man not to be turned by obloquy from any step which he has made up his mind to take. I think to-day few would question the good judgment which he displayed in retaining his seat in the Cabinet. He was enabled to negotiate a treaty with Great Britain—known as the Ashburton treaty—which, if not wholly satisfactory to the United States, at any rate harmonized differences to a large extent, and removed any immediate danger of hostilities.
When Mr. Webster felt that his work was fully accomplished, on the 8th of May, 1843, he resigned the premiership, and hastened to his seaside home at Marshfield, there to enjoy the rest which he needed and craved.
CHAPTER XXXV.
LIFE AT MARSHFIELD
The town of Marshfield is as intimately associated with the name of Daniel Webster as is Abbotsford with Sir Walter Scott. It is a sparsely settled town on the south-eastern shore of Massachusetts. Mr. Webster’s first acquaintance with it dates from 1824. Both Mr. and Mrs. Webster were charmed with the situation of the Thomas Farm, as it was then called, and the grand views which it afforded of the ocean. For several summers the Websters were boarders in the family of Captain Thomas, and finally, in 1831, he became the owner of the farm by purchase. Then he began to make improvements, and by the lavish expenditure of money converted it from a homely farm to a fitting residence for a famous lawyer.
Henceforth this was the home to which the thoughts of the great statesman turned when, weary and exhausted with his labors in the courts, the Cabinet or the Senate, he felt the need of rest. He delighted to array himself in a farmer’s rough garb, to stride over his own fields, and look after his cattle. He had not forgotten his early tastes, and reveled in the free and unconventional life of this seaside farm. He drank in health from the invigorating sea breezes, and always bore more easily the burden of public cares after a few days at Marshfield.
“I had rather be here than in the Senate,” he said on one occasion to his son, while amusing himself with feeding his cattle with ears of corn from an unhusked pile lying upon the barn floor.
Mr. Webster was a keen disciple of Isaac Walton, and spent many an hour with rod and line, when perhaps his thoughts were busy with some intricate political problem, or his mind was occupied with the composition of some speech now famous.
To Mr. Harvey’s “Reminiscences” I am indebted for the following anecdote of Mr. Webster, and indeed for most that I have said about his country life:
“Soon after Mr. Webster went to Marshfield he was one day out on the marshes shooting birds. It was in the month of August, when the farmers were securing their salt hay. He came, in the course of his rambles, to the Green Harbor River, which he wished to cross. He beckoned to one of the men on the opposite bank to take him over in his boat, which lay moored in sight. The man at once left his work, came over and paddled Mr. Webster across the stream. He declined the payment offered him, but lingered a moment, with Yankee curiosity, to question the stranger. He surmised who Mr. Webster was, and with some hesitation remarked:
“‘This is Daniel Webster, I believe?’
“‘That is my name,’ replied the sportsman.
“‘Well, now,’ said the farmer, ‘I am told that you can make from three to five dollars a day pleadin’ cases up in Boston.’
“Mr. Webster replied that he was sometimes so fortunate as to receive that amount for his services.
“‘Well, now,’ returned the rustic; ‘it seems to me, I declare, if I could get as much in the city pleadin’ law cases, I would not be a wadin’ over these marshes this hot weather shootin’ little birds.’”
Had the simple countryman been told that his companion, who was dressed but little better than himself, was making from thirty to forty thousand dollars annually by these same “law cases,” we can hardly imagine the extent of his amazement, or perhaps incredulity.
There is a tradition, and Mr. Webster has confirmed it, that he was one day out on the marsh when his attention was drawn to two young men, evidently from the city, who were standing on one side of a creek which it seemed necessary to cross. They were nicely dressed, and evidently dismayed by the apparent necessity of spoiling their fine clothes in the passage. Seeing a large rough-looking man, with his pants tucked in his boots, approaching them, their faces brightened as they saw a way out of their dilemma.
“My good man,” said one, in an eager but patronizing way, “we are in trouble. Can you help us?”
Mr. Webster looked at the young men and appreciated the situation.
He answered gravely, “What is your difficulty?”
“We want to get across this creek, but you see we might spoil our clothes if we undertook to wade.”
Mr. Webster nodded.
“You look like a good, strong fellow, and it won’t hurt your clothes. Will you carry us across on your back?”
Mr. Webster’s eyes twinkled, but he did not suffer the young men to see it. They were lightly made, and no great burden to one of his herculean frame.
“Yes,” he answered; “I will oblige you.”
So he took the two over in turn, and deposited them, greatly to their satisfaction, safe and sound on the opposite shore.
“I’m ever so much obliged,” said the first. “Here, my man, take this,” and he drew half a dollar from his pocket.
The second made the same tender.
“You are quite welcome, young gentlemen,” said Mr. Webster, “but I can’t think of accepting any recompense.”
“Really, though, it’s worth it; isn’t it, Jones?” said the first young man, addressing his companion.
“Of course it is. Better take the money, sir.”
“I must decline,” said Mr. Webster, smiling.
“Ever so much obliged. Really it’s very kind of you. By the way, doesn’t Daniel Webster live round here somewhere?”
“Yes; you are on his land now,” said the rough-looking countryman.
“You don’t say so. Is there any chance of seeing him, do you think?”
“A very good chance. You have only to take a good look at me.”
“Are—you—Mr.—Webster?” faltered the young men simultaneously.
“Men call me so,” answered the statesman, enjoying the confusion of the young men.
They attempted to apologize for the liberty they had taken, and the great mistake they had made, but without much success, and notwithstanding the good-natured manner in which their excuses were received by Mr. Webster, were glad when they were out of his presence.
I cannot resist the temptation to record another amusing incident in the summer life of Mr. Webster. One day he had gone to Chelsea Beach to shoot wild fowl. While lying among the tall grass he watched from his concealment the flocks of birds as they flew over the beach and adjacent waters. A flock appeared flying quite low, and he lowered the muzzle of his gun below the horizontal range to bring the birds before his eye. He fired, and instantly there was a loud cry proceeding from the beach below. In alarm Mr. Webster rushed down the bank, and descried a stranger rubbing his face and shoulder ruefully. The sportsman himself was not looking his best. His raiment was disordered and his face was begrimed with powder.
“My dear sir,” he inquired anxiously, “did I hit you?”
The man answered resentfully, “Yes, you did hit me; and, from your looks, I should think that I am not the first man you have shot, either.”