habit to reckon beforehand with the foe, and here he knew the strength of the stronghold he was about to carry.

Having exemplified his habitual candor and clearness in stating the claims of the opposing side he next gives us an illustration of another oratorical phase in his masterly argumentation concerning "The origin of this government and the source of its power." Is it of the state or of the people? He employs the most convincing of methods. He assumes two hypotheses, only one of which can be true; he reduces to the absurd; he distinguishes between a pleasant theory and an unwelcome fact; shows the difference between an impatient, regretful wish and a retained right, between making and breaking a contract; and states the origin of all power in words that have been perpetuated in Lincoln's paraphrase, "It is, sir, the people's constitution, the people's government, made for the people, made by the people, and answerable to the people." Other forms of deliberative reasoning succeed to these, by example from history at home and abroad, by testing syllogisms in their major or minor premises and in conclusions unwarrantably drawn. It is safe to say that there are few forms of applied logic that may not be found in this speech. Yet it may be said of him as he himself said of Samuel Dexter, but with a profounder meaning, that "aloof from technicality and unfettered by artificial rule a question of constitutional law gave opportunity for that deep and clear analysis, that mighty grasp of principle, which so much distinguished his higher efforts. His very statement was argument, his inference seemed demonstration. The

earnestness of his own conviction wrought conviction in others. One was convinced, and believed and assented, because it was gratifying, delightful, to think and feel and believe in unison with an intellect of such evident superiority." This was all the truer of the author of this tribute because he was the greater man. The directness of his purpose, the irresistible sweep of his argument, his perspicuity and energy, his dignity and simplicity, his unimpassioned statements and his forceful appeal, his vigor of reasoning and felicity of diction, his luxuriant but chastened imagery, his masterly power of condensation, and under all and over all the unvarying fitness to the subject and the occasion—the very essence of oratory, an adaptation to persons, times, places, and the theme under consideration—all these, and added to these the ethical element which pervaded all like an atmosphere of purity and truth, made him a living example of Cato the Elder's definition of the orator, Orator est vir bonus dicendi peritus.

The difficulty in writing of such a man is to omit much that is closely related to his speech. Personality, character, presence, and the element that has lain back of every great orator and refused to be transmitted with his words, the subtle magnetism of a great man over all persons within the sight of his eye and the sound of his voice, all this must be hurried over. So, also, must the history of a life full of action and thought and devising and purpose, now crowned with success and rewarded with approval, again saddened with failure and darkened by disappointment and ingratitude and desertion. Many words of explanation, which become possible and

obligatory as time clears the air of the dust and smoke of battle, must be left unsaid by reason of the limits set by the point of view when oratory alone is to be considered. Even this must be contemplated in a fragmentary manner and from afar. But enough can be discerned in the outlines of the heroic forms which are projected on the shadowy past, like the majestic spectres of the Brocken, to distinguish them from the multitudes among which they mingled in their daily life. Generally they have been in most respects exalted characters. This one was such a character with one great purpose and one great ambition. The ambition was doomed to failure; the purpose succeeded, but in the way that Webster feared and not in the way that he hoped. Yet the thoughts that he wrought out into clear, forcible, fitting, and effective speech place him in the foremost rank of eloquent men and crown him as the chief of American orators. If impartial judgment could be secured, as it may be in the far future, it is possible that, estimated by absolute standards, he will be considered, all in all, to be the perfected fruit of twenty-four centuries of oratorical culture.

XXVII.

OCCASIONAL ORATORY.

HE impulse that was communicated to American

THE

oratory by the great triumvirate whose deliberative eloquence has been described did not cease its movement on the death of the latest survivor. The direction which it took, however, was one in which Webster was particularly distinguished. Mention of it has been omitted in order to incorporate this phase of his public speech with its proper topic of occasional or demonstrative oratory.

This has been defined as the kind of speaking in which "no defined end is directly proposed, but rather a general impulsion toward noble, patriotic, and honorable sentiments and toward a large and worthy life." Taking an anniversary, a great historical event or character, a celebration, or occasion of any sort as a starting point, it permits either a close adherence to the original subject or the widest latitude of treatment. "The field is a broad and inviting one, promising easy success. But the facility of saying something is counterbalanced by the difficulty of saying anything worth hearing." Many an oration which had great fitness to the occasion when delivered has been so occasional in its character that it could have no permanent value. Webster, however,

was accustomed to link the immediate lesson of the hour with truths so large and enduring that his utterances acquired an abiding worth and interest. In his Plymouth oration, after touching upon the event to be commemorated and the men who made it historic, he discourses at large upon liberty, education, humanity, and the Constitution. A succession of great themes was treated in a grand and inspiring manner, suggesting the majestic march of a classic procession around the frieze of an Ionic temple. His delivery reminded his hearers of the music of a full-toned organ. Readers of the printed speech found it a literary production of the first grade; some at this day regarding the Plymouth oration as the finest of all his efforts in this field. Five years more, however, added enough to his experience and power to enable him to produce a finer finish if not a profounder thought in the Bunker Hill oration.

The directness of his plain, strong words; the massiveness of his short, clear sentences; the due proportion of simplicity, force, and beauty; the wonderful adaptation to the occasion, the subject, and to his own personality make it altogether the masterpiece of commemorative eloquence. Familiar as household words to our educated youth it has done much to inspire them with reverence for ancestral devotion and to inculcate the first principles of citizenship consecrated to freedom and an undivided nationality. How much these examples of patriotic eloquence have done to perpetuate noble speech in later orators it is impossible to say. There are a few of them who, like nine out of the Attic Ten, would have been seemingly greater if there had not been a