It would require a volume far larger than the present to speak in detail of Mr. Webster’s public life, to point out his public services, to enumerate the occasions on which he took a distinguished part in debate. But this does not come within my plan. Fortunately there are other works in which such as desire it can gain all the information they desire upon these points. They will find how closely Mr. Webster was identified with the history of the nation, and what a powerful influence he exerted upon all public measures. And all the while he was making an equally brilliant reputation at the bar. He was employed in numerous “great cases,” and in none was he found unequal to his opportunity.
The result of his multifarious and exhausting labors was a determination to make a tour of recreation, and not unnaturally he decided to visit England, a country which to every American of Anglo-Saxon race must possess a first attraction. His second wife, who died but a few weeks since, his daughter, and Mrs. Page, the wife of his brother-in-law, were of the party. His youngest son, Edward, then a Dartmouth student, joined them later.
Mr. Webster’s fame had preceded him, and he received unusual honors. One paper in announcing his arrival said, “We cordially welcome to our shores this great and good man, and accept him as a fit representative of all the great and good qualities of our transatlantic brethren.” So great was the curiosity to see him that the press of carriages about the door of his hotel was almost unprecedented. He was invited everywhere, and was cordially received by the most prominent men. In fact, he was a “lion,” and that in a marked sense.
Among others he met that eccentric and craggy genius, Thomas Carlyle, and I am sure my readers young and old will like to know what impression the great senator made upon the Scotch philosopher.
“American notabilities are daily becoming notable among us, the ties of the two parishes, mother and daughter, getting closer and closer knit. Indissoluble ties!
“I reckon that this huge smoky wen may for some centuries yet be the best Mycale for our Saxon Panionium, a yearly meeting-place of ‘all the Saxons’ from beyond the Atlantic, from the antipodes, or wherever the restless wanderers dwell and toil. After centuries, if Boston, if New York, have become the most convenient ‘All-Saxondom,’ we will right cheerfully go thither to hold such festival and leave the wen.