l the slaves would run away. In
1849 there were more than five hundred fugitives from Southern
Democracy in Boston--and their masters could not catch them. What a
misfortune! Boston retained $200,000 of human Property of the
Christian and chivalric South! Surely the Union was "in danger."

[Footnote 174: 16 Peters, 616.]

In 1850 came the fugitive slave bill. When first concocted, its
author,--a restless politician, a man of small mind and mean
character, with "Plantation manners,"--thought it was "too bad to
pass." He designed it not for an actual law, but an insult to the
North so aggravating that she must resist the outrage, and then there
would be an opportunity for some excitement and agitation at the
South--and perhaps some "nullification" in South Carolina and
Virginia; and in that general fermentation who knows what scum would
be thrown up! Even Mr. Clay "never expected the law would be
enforced." "No Northern _gentleman_," said he, "will ever help return
a fugitive slave." It seemed impossible for the bill to pass.

But at that time Massachusetts had in the Senate of the nation a
disappointed politician, a man of great understanding, of most mighty
powers of speech,--

"Created hugest that swim the ocean stream,"--

and what more than all else contributed to his success in life, the
most magnificent and commanding personal appearance. At that time--his
ambition nothing abated by the many years which make men
venerable,--he was a bankrupt in money, a bankrupt in reputation, and
a bankrupt in morals--I speak only of his public morals, not his
private,--a bankrupt in political character, pensioned by the Money
Power of the North. Thrice disappointed, he was at that time gaming
for the Presidency. When the South laid down the fugitive slave bill,
on the national Faro-table, Mr. Webster bet his all upon that card. He
staked his mind--and it was one of vast compass; his eloquence, which
could shake the continent; his position, the senatorial influence of
Massachusetts; his wide reputation, which rung with many a noble word
for justice and the Rights of man; he staked his conscience and his
life. Gentlemen, you know the rest,--the card won, the South took the
_trick_, and Webster lost all he could lose,--his conscience, his
position, his reputation; not his wide-compassing mind, not his
earth-shaking eloquence. Finally he lost his--life. Peace to his
mighty shade. God be merciful to him that showed no mercy