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SENATOR HAYNE AND THE DEBATE WITH WEBSTER.
[From the Same.)
SE had the great debate with Mr. Webster-a contest of many days,
sustained to the last without losing its interest—(which bespoke fertility of resource, as well as ability in both speakers), and in which his adversary had the advantage of a more ripened intellect, an established national reputation, ample preparation, the choice of attack, and the goodness of the cause. Mr. Webster came into that field upon choice and deliberation, well feeling the grandeur of the occasion; and profoundly studying his part. He had observed, during the summer, the signs in South Carolina, and marked the proceedings of some public meetings unfriendly to the Union; and which he ran back to the incubation of Mr. Calhoun. He became the champion of the constitution and the Union, choosing his time and occasion, hanging his speech upon a disputed motion with which it had nothing to do, and which was immediately lost sight of in the blaze and expansion of a great national discussion: himself armed and equipped for the contest, glittering in the panoply of every species of parliamentary and forensic weapon-solid-argument, playful wit, biting sarcasm, classic allusion.
The speech was at Mr. Calhoun, then presiding in the Senate, and without right to reply. Hayne became his sword and buckler, and had much use for the latter to cover his friend-hit by incessant blows-cut by many thrusts: but he understood too well the science of defence in wordy as well as military digladiation to confine himself to fending off. He returned, as well as received blows; but all conducted courteously; and stings when inflicted gently extracted on either side by delicate compliments. Each morning he returned reinvigorated to the contest, like Antæus refreshed, not from a fabulous contact with mother earth, but from a real communion with Mr. Calhoun ! the actual subject of Mr. Webster's attack: and from the well-stored arsenal of his powerful and subtle mind, he nightly drew auxiliary supplies. Friends relieved the combatants occasionally; but it was only to relieve; and the two principal figures remained prominent to the last. To speak of the issue would be superfluous; but there was much in the arduous struggle to console the younger senator. To cope with Webster, was a distinction: not to be crushed by him, was almost a victory: to rival him in copious and graceful elocution, was to establish an equality at a point which strikes the masses: and Hayne often had the crowded galleries with him. But, equal argument! that was impossible. The cause forbade it, far more than disparity of force; and reversed positions would have reversed the issue.
Charles Jared Ingersoll.
BORN in Philadelphia, Penn., 1782. DIED there, 1862.
A SKETCH OF JEFFERSON.
[Inchiquin, the Jesuits Letters. 1810.]
R. JEFFERSON was a man of an original cast of mind a free
thinker on all subjects. With abundant experience in diplomacy and politics, he was a master in intrigue. Though commonly too much governed by events, his system was nevertheless well settled ; his mind penetrating, his judgment clear, and he looked into events deeply and dispassionately. His enemies will not allow him to be anything but a philosopher: his friends extol him as a sage. The tempestuous sea of liberty was his proper element, on which he ventured to a dangerous latitude, but without at least any personal misfortune. His manners were easy, though not elegant, his address unassuming and agreeable. His colloquial talents were considerable, and he understood perfectly the art of managing an unwieldy majority of the representatives—an art, without which a President of the United States will always be a cipher. He lived in one corner of a half-finished, half-furnished palace, plain even to peculiarity in his appearance and establishment, accessible to every body at all times, affecting the utmost republican simplicity, and as carefully subversive of common forms, as most men in his situation would have been carefully observant of them. His conversation was free, his entertainments sociable; and though all ostentation was avoided, it is said few men understood the elegant arts of society better than he did. He was well read in books, but better in mankind. Geography and natural philosophy were his favorite studies: and being industrious, temperate, and methodical, he never wanted leisure for these pursuits, notwithstanding numerous official avocations, a most extensive correspondence, and the distractions of a perpetual liability to unceremonious visits. But though geography and natural history are beholden to his researches and patronage,.politics at last swallowed up all his ideas. As respected emolument and power he was moderate and disinterested. His conduct towards individuals, however, was too often marked by vindictiveness and duplicity, and the statesman frequently sunk in the politician. As sagacity was his strongest talent, insincerity was his most prominent defect. When he might have been re-elected President, he retired to his farm; and, whatever were his motives to this resignation, it certainly was in conformity with the principles he had always professed.
His policy was extremely republican and imperturbably pacific. Whatever may
be the permanent effect of his measures on the welfare of America, and whatever may have been their immediate effect on the spirit and character of the American people, they were at any rate systematic and original. If they were experiments, they were tried on a great scale, and peace was their end. It seemed to be his ambition, and the invariable aim of his policy, to prove to the world that wars are not necessary to the preservation of peace, that a republican polity is susceptible of the utmost freedom without anarchy, and of combining with excessive liberty the utmost executive vigor, without incurring a despotism. For seven years of his administration, all his efforts appeared to aim at the diminution of his own authority, and the reduction of government, which he effected to such a degree, as to leave the people at last almost without any sensation of it. He had no talents for war, no pretensions to military fame. For the trophies of peace he contended, and withdrew before they could fade on his brow. His administration was original, pacific, and mostly prosperous. It remains for a few years to come to pass judgment on its wisdom. Probably it will be least approved where he seemed anxious it should be most, in its rudest democratic features; inasmuch as all extremes endanger the system they are intended to improve. The reign of Numa, the administration of Cardinal Fleury, and most other eras of extraordinary peace have been succeeded by destructive wars. Time will show whether this first of national blessings was purchased by Mr. Jefferson at too dear a price.
John Sanderson. .
BORN near Carlisle, Penn., 1783. Died in Philadelphia, Penn., 1844.
LOUIS PHILIPPE AND HIS FAMILY.
[The American in Paris. 1838.]
ago upon I
Yankees went to con.
. gratulate his majesty for not being killed on the 28th. We were overwhelmed with sympathy-and the staircase which leads up to the royal apartments, is very beautiful, and has two Ionic columns just on the summit. You first enter through a room of white and plain ground, then through a second hung round with awful field-marshals, and then you go through a room very large, and splendid with lustres, and other elegant furniture, which conducts into a fourth with a throne and velvet
canopy. The king was very grateful, at least he made a great many bows, and we too were very grateful to Providence for more than a couple of hours.—There was the queen, and the two little princesses but I will write this so that by embroidering it a little you may put it in the newspapers.
The chamber of Peers and Deputies and other functionaries of the State were pouring in, to place, at the foot of the throne, the expression of their loyalty. This killing of the king has turned out very much to his advantage. There was nothing anywhere but laudatory speeches, and protestations of affection—foreigners from all the countries of Europe uniting in sympathy with the natives. So we got ashamed of ourselves, we Americans, and held a meeting in the Rue Rivoli, where we got up a procession, too, and waited upon his majesty for the purpose above stated, and were received into the presence—the royal family being ranged around the room to get a sight of us. Modesty forbids me to speak of the very eloquent manner in which we pronounced our address; to which the king made a very appropriate reply. “Gentlemen, you can better guess,” said he, “than I can express to you the gratification,” etc.—I missed all the rest by looking at the Princess Caroline's most beautiful of all faces, except the conclusion, which was as follows: “And I am happy to embrace this occasion of expressing to you all, and through you, to your countrymen, the deep gratitude I have ever felt for the kindness and hospitality I experienced in America during my misfortunes.” The king spoke in English, and with an affectionate and animated expression, and we were pleased all to pieces. So was Louis Philippe, and so was Marie-Amelie, princess of the two Sicilies, his wife; and so were Marie-Christine-Caroline-Adelaide-Françoise-Leopoldine, and Marie-Clementine Caroline-Leopoldine-Clotilde, her two daughters, and the rest of the family.
A note from the king's aid-de-camp required the presence of our consul at the head of the deputation, which our consul refused. He did not choose, he said, to see the Republic make a fool of herself, running about town, and tossing up her cap because the king was not killed, and he would not go. “Then," said the king (a demur being made by his officers), “I will receive the Americans, as they received me, without fuss or ceremony.” So we got in without any head, but not without a long attendance in the ante-chamber, very inconvenient to our legs. How we strolled about during this time, looking over the knick knacks, and how some of us took out our handkerchiefs, and knocked the dust off off our boots in the salle des marechaux, and how we reclined upon the royal cushions, and set one leg to ride impatiently on the other, I leave to be described by Major Downing, who was one of our party. I will bring up the rear of this paragraph with an anecdote, which will make
you laugh. One of our deputation had brought along a chubby little son of his, about sixteen. He returned (for he had gone ahead to explore), and said in a soft voice, “Tommy, you can go in to the throne, but don't go too near.” And then Tommy set off with velvet steps, and approached, as you have seen timid old ladies to a blunderbuss ;—he feared it might go off.
The king is a bluff old man with more firmness of character, sense and activity, than is indicated by his plump and rubicund features. The queen has a very unexceptionable face: her features are prominent, and have a sensible, benevolent expression-a face not of the French cut, but such as you often meet amongst the best New England faces. Any gentleman would like to have such a woman for his mother. The eldest daughter is married to the King of Belgium; the second and third are grown up to “manhood," but not yet married. They would be thought pretty girls even by your village beaux, and with you ladies, except two or three (how many are you?), they would be stuck up things, no prettier than their neighbors." The Duke of Orleans is a handsome young man, and so spare and delicate as almost to call into question his mother's reputation. He assumes more dignity of manner than is natural to a Frenchman at his age; he is not awkward, but a little stiff; his smile seems compulsory and more akin to the lips than to the heart. Anybody else would have laughed out on this occasion. He has been with the army in Africa, and has returned moderately covered with laurels. The Duke of Némours is just struggling into manhood, and is shaving to get a beard as assiduously as his father to get rid of it. He also has fought valiantly somewhere—I believe in Holland. Among the ladies there is one who pleases me exceedingly; it is Madame Adelaide, the king's sister. She has little beauty, but a most affable and happy expression of countenance. She was a pupil of Madame Genlis, who used to call her "cette belle et bonne Princesse." She was married secretly to General Athelin, her brother's secretary, during their residence in England. She revealed this marriage, with great fear of his displeasure, to her brother, after his accession to the throne, throwing herself on her knees.—After some pause he said, embracing her tenderly: “ Domestic happiness is the main thing after all; and now that he is a king's brother-in-law we must make him a duke." Madame Adelaide is in the Indian summer of her charms.