6 MR. WEBSTER'S ANDOVER ADDRESS AND HIS POLITICAL COURSE WHILE SECRETARY OF STATE. The Publishers have no authority to designate the authorship of the following pages; but from various circumstances, they infer the probability, that they were written by PROF. STUART, OF ANDOVER. ESSEX COUNTY: PUBLISHED FOR DISTRIBUTION. 1844. MR. WEBSTER AND THE ANDOVER ADDRESS. NUMBER I. THE writer of the remarks which follow was present at the mass meeting in Andover, and heard the address which is designated by the inscription above. He has seen various criticisms in the public journals on the performance in question. With some of these he agrees for substance in opinion, while from others he feels himself obliged widely to dissent. In respect to those criticisms, (if they may be so called), which exhibit merely the feelings of party violence and rancour, he has little or nothing to say; as they are not founded on any sober inquiry into the merits of Mr. Webster's performance, much less on any aesthetical principles of judgment and decision, they do not demand, for the present purposes of the writer of these remarks, any distinctive notice or recognition. In what way, indeed, will any thinking and judicious man undertake to refute mere railing accusations? Will he make use of argument? No argument, nor even demonstration, would have any weight with the authors of such accusations. Their decisions proceed merely from violence of feeling and party bitterness. How can this be controlled by argumentative criticism? The truth is, that the greater a man's merits are who is opposed to their views, and the more distinguished his performance is, the more do they rail, and the more severe is their sentence of condemnation. It would be a hopeless task to oppose candid reasoning and fair argument to criticisms of this cast. One could only "revile again" in return for reviling, an undertaking in which, on grounds of propriety, decency, self-respect, and peaceable demeanor, the writer of these remarks can never consent to engage. In some journals, however, conducted in general with decorum and regard to the proprieties of social intercourse and private feeling, there seems to be an inclination quite manifest to put Mr. Webster's Andover Address below his former efforts of a similar nature, "in the palmy days of Whig exertions and Whig triumphs which preceded the election of General Harrison." No controversy with the writers of these criticisms is designed on the present occasion. But as they have taken the liberty freely to express their opinion, it may be lawful, in a "land of liberty," to express another opinion somewhat different from theirs. The ultimate appeal must of course be to that part of the public, who have both the power of forming a critical judgment and the candor which is necessary to form it correctly. To them the writer of the following remarks will most cheerfully submit. At It may not be improper to state here, that the writer in the present case has no connection whatever, either with the public journals, or with any canvassing for political office. He never sought or held any office whatever, of a political nature, which it was in the power of the government or of the people to bestow. He never expects to seek or receive one. all events, then, his remarks are not prompted by the hopes of promotion, or of the emoluments which flow from it. And as to the journals which, when embarked in any particular course, are reluctant to swerve from it, the present writer has no other interest in them than what their value excites, and no particular favoritism toward the course which any one of them pursues. Some of them he regards as entitled to his sincere approbation. Having thus declared who he is not, he may, without farther preface, proceed to make some remarks, premising only that he shall, for convenience sake, and to avoid formality, employ the first person instead of the third, in the remainder of his communication. It was my lot, as I have already hinted, to be present at the great meeting in Andover. And a great one it truly was. Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, I mean the severe cold which sank the thermometer nearly to freezing point at mid-day, the yeomanry from the neighborhood poured in to listen to the Address. There were, moreover, nearly a thousand persons from Boston and Salem, of whom were many leading characters among the Whigs. But notwithstanding the coldness of the weather, there were some propitious circumstances attending the day. The sun shone brightly, and the air was serene; and this state of things continued until the exercises were nearly through. The procession that was formed, the splendid escort by the New England Guards, of Boston, the magnificent brass band led by Kendall, the throng of joyous and applauding spectators of both sexes-these and the like things have all been so fully detailed in the journals, that nothing more need now be said respecting them. The place of assembling has been partially, but not fully, described. It is difficult indeed to do it justice. One must imagine a plat of ground, shaped like an immense bowl, the bottom of which is a large flat, and the sides of which rise very gradually and with a gentle slope to the height of some 50 or 60 feet. This area would contain within itself at least fourteen or fifteen thousand persons, all of whom could be brought perfectly within the sound of a well toned voice. On one side of this peculiar amphitheatre, if we may so call it, a stage was erected capable of holding some seventy or eighty persons, furnished with two long tables for reporters, which were entirely occupied. This latter class of gentlemen, as I was told, were from Boston, New York, Albany, Lowell, and some other parts of Massachusetts not named. The position of the stage was peculiar. It was placed about one third of the way up the ascent of the amphitheatre, on the northwest side of it; and back of it was a thick forest of evergreens on the ascending ground, which contributed greatly to the quiet of the place, and formed a rampart against the north wind and the cold. There was, moreover, to a sensitive mind, something of awe in this dense overshadowing forest. It extended itself, however, only from the northwest to the northeast side of the area in question. Never was a place better adapted to public speaking. I cannot doubt, in the least, that any man, who is able to use his voice with skill and power, might make at least 15,000 persons in this place hear every word which he would utter. So much for the procession and the place. A few words, now, as to the distinguished speaker, who was to address the great assembly convened on this occasion. He came to Andover on the day preceding the Address. The friends who visited him in the evening found him laboring under a most violent catarrhal complaint, which arose from a preceding snow storm, followed by a very damp and cold atmosphere. Mr. W. himself, and his friends also, nearly despaired of his being able to address the meeting on the following day. A peaceful night, however, in a good degree restored his usual tone of health, and the next morning he found himself, as he said, "not unwilling to say a few commonplace and dull things to his friends, if they wished him to make the effort." The procession was long in forming, on account of the distance from which great numbers had to come. It was mid-day before they reached the ground where the Address was to be made. Mr. W., on account of the somewhat delicate state of his health, at this time, waited at the house of a friend until the procession had begun their march. He met them at a moderate distance from the station. A friend, who was near him at the time when his eye first caught a glance of the long and deep array of freemen in the procession, said to him: "You thought that you were to address only a small gathering of people from this and the neighboring towns; look back and see how many guests are come to the feast to-day." He cast back his eye; but the end of the procession could not be seen, it being hidden by a rising ground, at the distance of nearly one-third of a mile. On the way to the speaking station, when Mr. W. had mounted the rising ground which surrounds the amphitheatre, he could now look back and see, at last, the whole of the procession. It was some eight or ten deep, and extended to almost half a mile. Besides these were a large number of persons already assembled on the ground, and these were afterward joined by many new comers. The whole number has been variously estimated in the journals; much, I should think, at least by many of them, according to the tenor of their wishes, rather than of their judgment. I have seen many large assemblies in the course of my life, and I venture, after some pains-taking, to form a judgment, and after conferring with others accustomed to form one on such occasions, to say that there could not be less than between five and six thousand people. I have heard and read of their being 1,500, 1,800, 2,000, 2,500, 3,000, etc..; all the result of inexperience in judging, or of displeasure at the occasion. When Mr. W. first cast a glance at this immense train, this solid phalanx of the freemen of Old Essex and her friends, his eye kindled, and his face glowed with an emotion that was indicative of good to come for those who were to hear him. A friend who was near him thought he saw the tear of emotion start in his eye; he was sure it did in his own. When Mr. W. had reached the position spoken of above, namely, the elevated side of the amphitheatre, and could by looking back see the whole of the procession, moving along with a gravity, a stillness, and a sobriety of demeanor which could scarcely be surpassed by a great assembly convening for public worship, that friend said to Mr. Webster: Look back now, and see how it will fare with the "common-place and dull things that you threatened us with saying." The look evidently brought up his whole soul into his countenance. On noticing this, that friend added, "Now then I am certain that something will be done today. I am sure this will bring out some of the very recesses of your intellectual interior." Mr. W. made no answer; but it was easy to believe that the prediction of that friend, would be verified. Mr. W. however, after a few moments, merely expressed his gratification, in delicate terms, at the stillness, the perfect order, the deep earnestness, of those who were to be his auditors. The station was reached in a few minutes, and the exercises commenced after a short delay. I shall spend no time in repeating details already given in the public journals. I aim more at the interior history of the occasion, than its exterior. There was, from the moment the attention of this great meeting was formally invited, the most solemn and profound stillness, through the whole of the exercises, with the exception of occasional applauses. It was an affecting sight, when it was announced that the blessing of Heaven was to be invoked, to see such a vast assemblage uncover their heads, without an exception, and stand in a posture of reverence that could not be exceeded in any church, on the most solemn occasion. There was not a whisper or a movement. With the arch of heaven for the dome of their temple, with the glorious noonday sun in all his radiance looking down upon them, and surrounded by the dark ever-green forest, and the high rampart of hills thrown up by the hand of Omnipotence, this mighty mass of the yeomanry of Essex, unsurpassed in true dignity and worth of character by any other like assembly on the face of the earth, bowed and worshipped with an awe that cannot be adequately described, before the God of the whole earth, in whose hands are the destinies of rulers and people, and before whom all nations are as nothing and vanity, and are counted as the dust of the balance. The various exercises which followed have already been described in the papers. Justice, however, has not, as it seems to me, been done to the Hon. Mr. Phillips, of Salem, for his preamble and resolutions. They were the fruit of much research, and told some important truths in respect to the structure and design of our State Government, which the community seem of late to have lost sight of. But I hasten to the chief speaker. He began in a moderate tone, as he always does in his great speeches. He gradually warmed and rose as the occasion, the matter of his discourse, and the feelings of the assembly before him demanded. In this he showed his usual tact. Nothing can be more incongruous than a highly animated and glowing address from a speaker, to an assembly which is perfectly cool and grave; specially when they have come together, not to pour out their pent-up or indignant feelings on any moving occasion, but to be instructed, and thus to be persuaded to perform their duty. It is altogether incongruous when a speaker rises, in presence of a great assembly, and is all on fire and bursting with zeal, while his audience do not yet know what there is to set him on fire, and see no reason why they should burn with him. Mr. W. makes no such mistakes. Such a listening concourse I have never seen, on a merely civil or social occasion. In particular, from the moment when Mr. W. began, until he closed, there was nothing but the most fixed and eager attention among his audience. Indeed, it made one's heart beat high, to look on that vast and solemn assembly, as they stood before the speaker. There was a sea of upturned faces; a sea unruffled except by the mighty impetus of the speaker in occasional passages. But when this ocean of human aspects was agitated, (and this was on no light occasion,) it resounded like the mighty deep that lifts its voice on high, amid the buffetings of the storm. It was the shout of freemen, firmly resolved to defend their precious rights and their invaluable privileges to the latest breath; a shout which made the hills to echo and re-echo its lofty note, and which mounted to the arch of heaven above. It was the response of thousands, to whom the principles of civil and religious liberty and of eternal right and justice are very dear, and who could not but exult, when they heard them lucidly explained and nobly defended. There was one circumstance, in particular, which imparted peculiar interest to the scene. Every person present knew that the approbation, whenever and however expressed, was the unbought and unsolicited approbation of men who judged for themselves. There were no clap-traps provided for the occasion; no hirelings stationed here and there to give the watch word to a mob, to throw up their caps into the air, and strain their lungs to the highest pitch in hallooing. Whenever hurraing or clapping of hands took place, it proceeded from no one particular quarter first, and then merely spread itself gradually out, but it was simultaneous, and thus showed that it resulted from the homogeneous and universal feeling of the audience. It is true that the tokens of applause in question were less frequent than usually take place in most city meetings. But there was good reason for this. The simple yeomanry of the country are not trained, and are not accustomed, to noise and adulation, and they were the |