He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Saviour; His trial before Pilate; His ascent up Calvary; His crucifixion, and His death. I knew the whole history; but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so coloured! It was all new: and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in my life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on every syllable; and every heart in the assembly trembled in unison. His peculiar phrases had that force of description that the original scene appeared to be, at that moment, acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews: the staring, frightful distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet; my soul kindled with a flame of indignation; and my hands were involuntarily and convulsively clinched.

But when he came to touch on the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Saviour; when he drew, to the life, his blessed eyes streaming in tears to heaven; his voice breathing to God, a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do"-the voice of the preacher, which had all along faltered, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect is inconceivable. The whole house resounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation.

It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fallacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive, how he would be able to let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. But-no; the descent was as beautiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid and enthusiastic.

The first sentence, with which he broke the awful silence was a quotation from Rousseau, "Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a God!"

I despair of giving you any idea of the effect produced by this short sentence, unless you could perfectly conceive the

whole manner of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never before, did I completely understand what Demosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the preacher; his blindness, constantly recalling to your recollection old Homer, Ossian and Milton, and associating with his performance, the melancholy grandeur of their geniuses; you are to imagine that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling melody; you are to remember the pitch of passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were raised; and then, the few minutes of portentous, death-like silence which reigned throughout the house; the preacher removing his white handkerchief from his aged face, (even yet wet from the recent torrent of his tears,) and slowly stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence, "Socrates died like a philosopher"-then pausing, raising his other hand, pressing them both clasped together, with warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice-"but Jesus Christ-like a God!" If he had been indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine.

Whatever I had been able to conceive of the sublimity of Massillon, or the force of Bourdaloue, had fallen far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this simple sentence. The blood, which just before had rushed in a hurricane upon my brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feelings, had held my whole system in suspense, now ran back into my heart, with a sensation which I cannot describe-a kind of shuddering delicious horror! The paroxysm of blended pity and indignation, to which I had been transported, subsided into the deepest self-abasement, humility and adoration. I had just been lacerated and dissolved by sympathy, for our Saviour as a fellow creature; but now, with fear and trembling, I adored Him as-"a God!"

If this description give you the impression that this incomparable minister had any thing of shallow, theatrical trick in his manner, it does him great injustice. I have never seen, in any other orator, such a union of simplicity and majesty. He has not a gesture, an attitude or an accent, to which he

does not seem forced, by the sentiment which he is expressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too solicitous, and, at the same time, too dignified, to stoop to artifice. Although as far removed from ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear from the train, the style and substance of his thoughts, that he is, not only a very polite scholar, but a man of extensive and profound erudition. I was forcibly struck with a short, yet beautiful character which he drew of our learned and amiable countryman, Sir Robert Boyle: he spoke of him, as if "his noble mind had, even before death, divested herself of all influence from his frail tabernacle of flesh;" and called him, in his peculiarly emphatic and impressive manner, “a pure intelligence: the link between men and angels."

This man has been before my imagination almost ever since. A thousand times, as I rode along, I dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my hand, and tried to imitate his quotation from Rousseau; a thousand times I abandoned the attempt in despair, and felt persuaded that his peculiar manner and power arose from an energy of soul which nature could give, but which no human being could justly copy. In short, he seems to be altogether a being of a former age, or of a totally different nature from the rest of men. As I recall,

at this moment, several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling tide, with which my blood begins to pour along my arteries, reminds me of the emotions produced by the first sight of Gray's introductory picture of his bard:

On a rock, whose haughty brow,

Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,

Robed in the sable garb of wo,

With haggard eyes the poet stood:

(Loose his beard and hoary hair

Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air:)
And with a poet's hand and prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

HENRY A. WISE

[1806-1876]

HEN

EDWARD S. JOYNES

ENRY ALEXANDER WISE was born in Accomack County, Virginia, December 3, 1806, of mixed English and Scotch ancestry distinguished for talents and patriotism. At twelve years of age, he was sent to Margaret Academy, in Accomack, and in 1822 he entered Washington College, Pennsylvania, where he was graduated with honors, and especially with oratorical distinction, in 1825. In both of these schools he was trained in the rigid classical curriculum of that day, for which he always retained the deepest reverence (see his tribute to "The Humanities" in his 'Seven Decades of the Union'). He then went to the celebrated law school of Judge Henry St. George Tucker, at Winchester, Virginia. At Washington College he met the lady who became his first wife, Miss Ann Jennings, daughter of the Rev. Obadiah Jennings. At Washington College, also, he first saw General Andrew Jackson, and felt the first enthusiasm of hero worship.

Returning from the law school he began the practice of law in Accomack. But soon the "lure of love" called him, and in 1828 he removed to Nashville, where Dr. Jennings was then living, and was there married. The honeymoon was spent at "The Hermitage," of which, as well as of the journey in a buggy from Accomack to Nashville, a charming description is preserved in 'The Seven Decades.' But the love of home proved too strong, and in 1830 he returned to Accomack. In 1833 he was elected to Congress as a Jackson Democrat, opposed to nullification. The leading men of the district, almost without exception, were "Nullifiers," and the success of this young candidate was, under the circumstances, a remarkable personal triumph.

From this time the life of Mr. Wise belongs to the public history of the country. His career in Congress, from 1833 to 1844, was brilliant and influential. He was especially distinguished as the chief antagonist of the "Old Man Eloquent," John Quincy Adams, in defence of Southern rights. Alienated from the policy of Jackson, he became a leader in the opposition during Van Buren's administration. In the great campaign of 1840 his services were sought in all parts of the country, and along with his illustrious

He was

friend, Sargent S. Prentiss, he made a memorable canvass. the author of the sentiment "The Union of the Whigs for the sake of the Union," which became the rallying cry of the party. After the death of President Harrison he was President Tyler's closest friend and adviser, and was the leader of the famous "Corporal's Guard" in Congress, which, though not numerous, was so distinguished in the political struggles of that excited time.

Mr. Wise's first wife died in 1837. In November, 1840, he was married to Miss Sarah Sergeant, of Philadelphia, daughter of the distinguished John Sergeant. In 1844 he was appointed Minister to Brazil. In this service he distinguished himself by strenuous opposition to the slave trade. His parting letter to his constituents, on resigning his seat in Congress, was an earnest appeal in behalf of free schools. On this subject Mr. Wise was far in advance of the public sentiment of that day in Virginia.

Returning from Brazil in 1847, Mr. Wise resumed the practice of law in Accomack, but was soon called again into public life as a candidate for the Virginia Convention of 1850. Here he won a signal triumph. Though differing with his constituents on the question of the basis of taxation and suffrage, he was elected over the strongest opposition. In this Convention, which included the foremost men of Virginia, he was the most prominent figure, and succeeded in securing most of the great objects for which he contended. One result of this work was his nomination as Democratic candidate for Governor in 1855.

Here we come to the most brilliant portion of Mr. Wise's brilliant career. His canvass against "Know-Nothingism" is one of the most memorable in the history of Virginia politics. With a courage and endurance unsurpassed-with an eloquence indescribable in power and effect-he traversed the State from the ocean to the Ohio, and stayed the rising tide of a political movement which had seemed destined to sweep the country. The result was a most memorable triumph of personality, of conviction, and of eloquence in public affairs, and it gave to Mr. Wise the highest national fame.

We have no space to recount the administration of Mr. Wise as governor. It was a critical time. Governor Wise was found equal to every occasion. In the affair of the John Brown raid his conduct won not only the approval of Virginia but the admiration of the country. He saw the coming shadow of war. He strove for peace and union, yet earnestly urged preparation for the worst.

The second Mrs. Wise had died in 1850. In 1853 Mr. Wise married Miss Mary Lyons of Richmond. His life was richly blessed and deeply influenced by the love of three noble women.

On the expiration of his term as Governor, Mr. Wise removed to