Before his second Congressional term had expired, Mr. Webster carried out a plan which was first suggested by the destruction of his house and library. His talents demanded a wider arena. Moreover, his growing family necessitated a style of living for which his professional income was insufficient. Happily as his life had flowed on in the chief town in his native State, he felt that he must seek a new residence. For a time he hesitated between Albany and Boston, but happily for the latter he decided in its favor, and in August, 1816, he removed thither with his family, fixing his home in a house on Mt. Vernon Street, but a few rods from the State House.

It mattered not where Daniel Webster might choose to locate himself, he was sure to take at once a leading position both as a lawyer and a man. He was now thirty-four years old. He had outlived his early delicacy, and began to assume that dignity and majesty of mein which made him everywhere a marked man. Appearances are oftentimes deceptive, but in his case it was not so. That outward majesty which has been quaintly described in the statement that “when Daniel Webster walked the streets of Boston he made the buildings look small,” was but the sign and manifestation of a corresponding intellectual greatness. By his removal New Hampshire lost her greatest son, and Boston gained its foremost citizen.

His expectations of a largely increased professional income were fully realized. In Portsmouth his fees had never exceeded two thousand dollars per year. The third year after his removal his fee-book foots up over fifteen thousand dollars as the receipts of a single year, and this record is probably incomplete. His biographer, Mr. Curtis, says: “I am satisfied that his income, from 1818 until he again entered Congress in 1823, could not have been on an average less than $20,000 a year, though the customary fees of such counsel at that time were about one half of what they are now.” Now, for the first time, he was able to pay in full his father’s debts, which he had voluntarily assumed, declining to have his small estate thrown into bankruptcy.

I shall have occasion, hereafter, to point out with regret the fact that his expenses increased even more rapidly than his income, and that he voluntarily incurred debts and pecuniary obligations which all his life long harassed him, and held him in an entirely unnecessary thraldom. On the subject of national finance Mr. Webster, as we have seen, held the soundest views; but in the management of his own finances, for the larger portion of his active life he displayed an incapacity to control his expenditures and confine them within his income which caused his best friends to grieve. In this respect, at any rate, I cannot present the hero whom we so deservedly admire as a model.

The large increase in Mr. Webster’s income is sufficient to prove that he was employed in the most important cases. But fifteen years had elapsed since, as a raw graduate of a country college, he humbly sought an opportunity to study in the office of a well-known Boston lawyer. Now he took his place at the bar, and rapidly gained a much higher position than the man who had kindly extended to him a welcome. It is to the credit of Mr. Gore’s ability to read character and judge of ability that he foresaw and predicted all this when through his influence his student was led to decline the clerkship of a New Hampshire court, which then would have filled the measure of his ambition.

And how was all this gained? I can assure my young readers that no great lawyer, no great writer, no great member of any profession, lounges into greatness. Daniel Webster worked, and worked hard. He rose early, not only because it gave him an opportunity of doing considerable while he was fresh and elastic, but because he had a country boy’s love of nature. Whether in city or country, the early morning hours were dear to him. As Mr. Lee says, “He did a large amount of work before others were awake in the house, and in the evening he was ready for that sweet sleep which ‘God gives to his beloved.’”

During the period which elapsed between his arrival in Boston and his return to Congress as a Representative of his adopted city his life was crowded, and he appeared in many notable cases. But there was one which merits special mention, because he was enabled to do a great service to the college where he had been educated, and prove himself in a signal manner a grateful and loyal son.

Of the celebrated Dartmouth College case I do not consider it necessary for my present purpose to speak in detail. It is sufficient to say that it was menaced with a serious peril. The chartered rights of the college were threatened by legislative interference; nay, more, an act was passed, and pronounced valid by the courts of New Hampshire, which imperilled the usefulness and prosperity of the institution. The matter was carried before the Supreme Court of the United States, and Mr. Webster’s services were secured. The argument which he made on that occasion established his reputation as a great lawyer. The closing portion was listened to with absorbing interest. It was marked by deep feeling on the part of the speaker. It is as follows:

“This, sir, is my case. It is the case not merely of that humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land; it is more, it is the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout our country—of all those great charities founded by the piety of our ancestors, to alleviate human misery, and scatter blessings along the pathway of life. It is more! It is, in some sense, the case of every man among us who has property of which he may stripped, for the question is simply this: ‘Shall our State Legislatures be allowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it from its original use, and apply it to such ends or purposes as they in their discretion shall see fit?’

“Sir, you may destroy this little institution; it is weak; it is in your hands. I know it is one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you do so, you must carry through your work! You must extinguish, one after another, all those greater lights of science which, for more than a century, have thrown their light over our land!

“It is, sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet there are those who love it—”

Here the orator was overcome by emotion. His lips quivered, and his eyes filled with tears. The effect was extraordinary. All who heard him, from Chief Justice Marshall to the humblest attendant, were borne away on the tide of emotion as he gave expression in a few broken words to the tenderness which he felt for his Alma Mater.

When he recovered his composure, he continued in deep, thrilling tones, “Sir, I know not how others may feel, but for myself, when I see my Alma Mater surrounded, like CÆsar in the Senate-house, by those who are reiterating stab after stab, I would not, for this right hand, have her turn to me, and say, ’Et tu quoque mi fili! And thou too, my son!’”

This speech, which was masterly in point of logic as well as a powerful appeal to the feelings, was successful, and the opponents of the college were disastrously defeated.