From the Easy Chair, vol 1 | Page 3

and perfectly articulated. "It is
often said that the day for speaking has passed, and that of action has
arrived." It was a direct, plain introduction; not a florid exordium. The
voice was clear and cold and distinct; not especially musical, not at all
magnetic. The orator was incessantly moving; not rushing vehemently
forward or stepping defiantly backward, with that quaint planting of the
foot, like Beecher; but restlessly changing his place, with smooth and
rounded but monotonous movement. The arms and hands moved
harmonious with the body, not with especial reference to what was said,
but apparently because there must be action. The first part of the
discourse was strictly a lucid narrative of events and causes: a compact
and calm chapter of our political history by a man as well versed in it

as any man in the country; and it culminated in a description of the fall
of Sumter. This was an elaborate picture in words of a perfectly neutral
tint. There was not a single one which was peculiarly picturesque or
vivid; no electric phrase that sent the whole striking scene shuddering
home to every hearer; no sudden light of burning epithet, no sad elegiac
music. The passage was purely academic. Each word was choice; each
detail was finished; it was properly cumulative to its climax; and when
that was reached, loud applause followed. It was general, but not
enthusiastic. No one could fail to admire the skill with which the
sentence was constructed; and so elaborate a piece of workmanship
justly challenged high praise. But still--still, do you get any thrill from
the most perfect mosaic?
Then followed a caustic and brilliant sketch of the attitude of Virginia
in this war. In this part of his discourse the orator was himself an
historic personage; for it was to him, when editor of the North
American Review, that James Madison wrote his letter explanatory of
the Virginia resolutions of '98. The wit that sparkled then in the pages
of the Review glittered now along the speech. Here was Junius turned
gentleman and transfixing a State with satire. The action of the orator
was unchanged. But, in one passage, after describing the wrongs
wrought by rebels upon the country, he turned, with upraised hand, to
the rows of white-cravated clergymen who sat behind him, and
apostrophized them: "Tell me, ministers of the living God, may we not
without a breach of Christian charity exclaim,
"'Is there not some hidden curse, Some chosen thunder in the stores of
heaven, Red with uncommon wrath to blast the man That seeks his
greatness in his country's ruin?'"
This passage was uttered with more force than any in the oration. The
orator's hands were clasped and raised; he moved more rapidly across
the stage; the words were spoken with artistic energy, and loudly
applauded.
Thus far the admirable clearness of statement and perfect propriety of
speech, added to the personal prestige which surrounds any man so
distinguished as the orator, had secured a well-bred attention. But there
was not yet that eager, fixed intentness, sensitive to every tone and
shifting humor of the speaker, which shows that he thoroughly
possesses and controls the audience. There was none of that charmed

silence in which the very heart and soul seem to be listening; and at any
moment it would have been easy to go out.
But when leaving the purely historical current the orator struck into
some considerations upon the views of our affairs taken by foreign
nations, the vivacious skill of his treatment excited a more vital
attention. There was a truer interest and a heartier applause. And when
still pressing on, but with unchanged action, he glanced at the
consequences of a successful rebellion, the audience was, for the first
time, really aroused.
Let us suppose, said the orator, that secession is successful, what has
been gained? How are the causes of discontent removed? Will the
malcontents have seceded because of the non-rendition of fugitive
slaves? But how has secession helped it? When, in the happy words of
another, Canada has been brought down to the Potomac, do they think
their fugitives will be restored? No: not if they came to its banks with
the hosts of Pharaoh, and the river ran dry in its bed.
Loud applause here rang through the building.
Or, continued the orator, more vehemently, do they think, in that case,
to carry their slaves into territories now free? No, not if the
Chief-justice of the United States--and here a volley of applause rattled
in, and the orator wiped his forehead--not if the venerable Chief-justice
Taney should live yet a century, and issue a Dred Scott decision every
day of his life.
Here followed the sincerest applause of the whole evening; and the
Easy Chair pinched his neighbor