the case with Randolph. His sensitive nature soon began to lose its equipoise and to yield to the varied impulses that agitated his breast. His finer qualities not being allowed full sway in the contests with cooler and more unimpassioned antagonists, he often sought rather to overwhelm an adversary with a storm of mingled ridicule and irony than by sober argument. In the rude clash of the legislative tournament, his rhetoric took on a keen edge towards which it was dangerous to approach too

near.

Webster, Clay and Calhoun fought with different weapons, arms better suited to the jostling tourney of debate. Their defensive as well as offensive armor also was more suitable than his. They bore the attack with greater equanimity. But Mr. Randolph's sword, if not so strong, had a keener edge. He often carried his point, not by turning, but by preventing, an attack.

In the discussion of the tariff (1824), he thus alluded to the then new authorities on that subject:

"In the course of this discussion I have heard, I will not say with surprise, because nil admirari is my motto (no doctrine that can be broached on this floor can ever hereafter excite surprise in my mind),—I have heard the names of Say, Ganilh, Adam Smith and Ricardo pronounced not only in terms, but in a tone, of sneering contempt, visionary theorists, destitute of practical wisdom, and the whole clan of Scotch and quarterly reviewers lugged in to boot.

"This, sir, is a sweeping clause of proscription; with

the names of Say, Smith and Ganilh I profess to be acquainted, for I, too, am versed in title-pages; but I did not expect to hear in this house a name with which I am a little further acquainted, with so little ceremony; and by whom? I leave Adam Smith to the simplicity, to the majesty and strength of his own native genius, which has canonized his name a name which will be pronounced with veneration when not one in this house will be remembered. But one word as to Ricardo, the last mentioned of these writers-a new authority, though the grave has already closed upon him and set its seal upon his reputation. I shall speak of him in the language of a man of as great genius as this, or perhaps any age has ever produced; a man remarkable for the depth of his reflections and the acumen of his penetration. 'I had been led,' says this man, 'to look into loads of books-my understanding had for too many years been intimate with severe thinkers, with logic, and the great masters of knowledge, not to be aware of the utter feebleness of the herd of modern economists. I sometimes read chapters from more recent works, or parliamentary debates. I saw that these (ominous words!) were generally the very dregs and rinsings of the human intellect.' (I am very glad, sir, he did not read our debates; what would he have said of yours?) 'At length a friend sent me Mr. Ricardo's book, and, recurring to my own prophetic anticipation of the advent of some legislator on this science, I said, Thou art the man. Wonder and

curiosity had long been dead in me, yet I wondered once more. Had this profound book been really written in England during the nineteenth century? Could it be that an Englishman, and he not in academic bowers, but

oppressed by mercantile and senatorial cares, had accomplished what all the universities and a century of thought had failed to advance by one hair's breadth? All other writers had been crushed and overlaid by the enormous weight of facts and documents. Mr. Ricardo had deduced a priori from the understanding itself laws which first gave a ray of light into the unwieldy chaos of materials and had constructed what had been but a collection of tentative discussions, into a science of regular proportions now first standing on an eternal basis.'

The student will not fail to notice several felicitous expressions in this passage, as well as his caustic reference to his co-legislators when he declares that not one of them will be remembered by posterity, while the names of Smith and Ricardo will be mentioned with veneration. The reader will also note the happy use of the word" clan" in speaking of the distinguished Scotchman and Scotch writings.

Closely allied to the custom of referring to historical personages to ornament a speech, is that of alluding to fictitious characters, the creatures of romance and poetry.

References of this kind serve the purpose, not only of illustrating the subject in hand, but also of presenting the speaker himself as a person well versed in literature, which we have seen is one of the requirements of good oratory. To make the allusion correct, however, great care and skill must be exhibited in the selection, whatever it may be. It is too often the case that the speaker is content

The

with a fancied general resemblance, whereas a minute and critical examination will reveal points not of the similarity the orator would prefer. To make the reference proper and suitable, all the bearings and relations of the character in the work quoted should receive careful attention, else a wary opponent will turn the allusion against its author. An excellent illustration of this kind is to be found in the Hayne-Webster debate, already noticed. reference to the coalition is this: When General Jackson was first a candidate for the presidency, the election was by the House of Representatives. Mr. Clay and John Quincy Adams were candidates at the same time. These two united their forces against General Jackson and defeated him, and elected Mr. Adams. Mr. Clay, then, in an unguarded moment, took the office of Secretary of State under Mr. Adams, and General Jackson's friend raised the cry of a corrupt bargain and sale; that is, that Mr. Clay "sold out," to use a current expression, to Mr. Adams. Of course there was no such sale, but the cry served an important party purpose, and clung to Mr. Clay during his life.

At the next election Jackson was elected, and thus the coalition ended. Mr. Webster and his friends were opposed to General Jackson, and were partisans of Mr. Clay. Hence the allusion to the matter by Mr. Hayne. On this point Mr. Webster said:

"But, sir, the coalition! the coalition! the murdered coalition! The gentleman asks if I were led or fright

ened into this debate by the specter of the coalition. 'Was it the ghost of the murdered coalition,' he exclaims, 'which haunted the gentleman from Massachusetts, and which, like the ghost of Banquo, would never down?' The murdered coalition! Sir, this charge of a coalition with reference to the late administration is not original with the honorable member. It did not spring up in the Senate. Whether as a fact, an argument or an embellishment, it is all borrowed. He adopts it, indeed, from a very low origin, and a still lower present condition. It is one of the thousand calumnies with which the press teemed during an excited political canvas. It was a charge of which there was not only no proof or probability but which was in itself wholly impossible to be true. No man of common information ever believed a syllable of it, yet it was of that class of falsehoods which, by continued repetition through all the organs of detraction and abuse, are capable of misleading those who are already far misled and of further fanning passions already kindling into flame. Doubtless, it served its day, and in a greater or less degree the end designed by it. Having done that, it has sunk into the general mass of state and loathsome calumnies. It is the very cast-off slough of a polluted and shameless press. Incapable of further mischief, it lies in the sewer, lifeless and despised.

"It is not, sir, in the power of the honorable member to give it dignity and decency by attempting to elevate it and introduce it into the Senate. He cannot change it from what it is—an object of general disgust and scorn. On the contrary, the contact, if he choose to touch it, is merely to drag him down to the place where it lies itself.