the prominence and life of the primitive. There is a constant appeal, in his arguments, to generous sentiment, - an implied assumption that men will always act honestly and without prejudice, - that a jury will as heartily pronounce in favor of his client, as the reader of a romance in favor of persecuted virtue. And, for the time, the orator himself is earnest and sincere. By force of sympathy, he has identified himself with his client, and realized everything to his own mind. He pleads as if his own character or life was at stake. Ideas, suppositions, possibilities, drawn into his own imagination, are vitalized into realities, and he sees them as living things, - sees them as Dante saw Farinata rise from his glowing tomb, - as Shakspeare saw Cordelia bending over Lear. And while thus giving breathing life to characters and events, he does not overlook a single particle of evidence, or neglect to urge a single point of law, which bears upon the case. Indeed, a legal argument, as conceived and delivered by Mr. Choate, has the merit of combining an influence upon the will and understanding, with an artistical effect upon the imagination. He makes no parade of logic; the skeleton is not always forcing itself through the flesh, as in the arguments of men of dryer brains and less skill; yet he ranges his case with consummate art around its great leading points, to which he binds, in the strictest sequence, and with a masterly power of concentration, every fact and every argument. His fancy leads him into no illogical discursions, but plays like heat-lightning along the lines of his argument, while his imagination, interpenetrating and working with his logic, at once condenses and

creates.

It is needless to say that his arguments cannot be reported. In a newspaper, they have the effect of "champagne in decanters, or Herodotus in Beloe's version."

It would be impossible to convey an idea of this power of Mr. Choate by single passages, as it is something which animates, unites, and vivifies the whole argument. It is imagination, not a series of imaginations, which produces the result. Sentences cut apart from the main body of one of his productions can only suggest his manner through the process of caricature. Thus, we recollect that an honest master-mason, in one of his arguments, rose to the dignity of "a builder and beautifier of cities." In another, he represented the skipper of a merchant vessel, who had been prosecuted by his crew for not giving them enough to eat, as being busily studying some law-book, while passing the island of St. Helena, to find out his duty in case the vessel was short of provisions. "Such," said Mr. Choate, "were his meditations, as the invisible currents of the ocean bore him by the grave of Napoleon." A witness once testified, in reference to one of his clients, that he had called upon him on Friday evening, found him crying, and, on asking him what was the matter, received in answer, "I'm afraid I've run against a snag." This was rendered by Mr. Choate somewhat in this way: - "Such were his feelings, and such his actions, down to that fatal Friday night, when at ten o'clock, in that flood of tears, his hope went out like a candle."

These instances convey an idea of the process by which Mr. Choate makes "strange combinations out of common things," but a little more accurate than an intentional parody of his manner.

The style of Mr. Choate is the style of an orator, not of an author. It will hardly bear a minute criticism, founded on general principles of taste, but must be judged with reference to the character of the speaker and the object of his speech. The tone of his diction is pitched on too high a key for written composition. The same splendid oration which thrilled a popular assembly, or influenced the verdict of a jury, would lose a very important portion of its charm when subjected to the calm, cold judgment of the reader. Besides, it must be admitted that Mr. Choate's immense wealth of language, and opulence of fancy, urge him into redundance of expression, and sometimes overload his style with shining words. This is principally seen in his use of adjectives. He will pour out in one breath five or six of them, sometimes because he has not time to choose the most expressive one, sometimes from the desire to point out all the qualities of the thing defined. It has been said of him, that he "drives a substantive and six." He is often exceedingly felicitous in this accumulation of epithets, and really condenses where he seems to expand. Thus he once spoke of the Greek mind, as "subtle, mysterious, plastic, apprehensive, comprehensive, available" — a page of disquisition in one short sentence. But commonly, we think, it tends to weaken his diction, especially when it is disconnected from his peculiar manner of speaking. It is the vice of a fertile intellect, always in haste, and rusting to its own wealth to supply at the moment the words which are wanted. Perhaps this peculiarity has been unconsciously caught from a study of the later writings of Burke, especially those on the French Revolution. Burke often "drives a substantive and six," but he has his reins upon them all, and each performs a service to which all the others would be in

adequate. His epithets do not clog his style, however they may modify the rapidity of its movement. They are selected by his mind; Mr. Choate's seem to occur to his mind.

We cannot conclude these hurried observations on some of the characteristics of Mr. Choate, without expressing the hope that his large, fertile, and available intellect, so rich in experience and scholarship, may be directed, at some period, to the production of a work, in which his genius and acquirements may be fairly expressed. Everything which he has performed, heretofore, has been done on the spur of the occasion, and to serve some particular object connected with his party or his profession. He is capable of producing a work which will give his name that literary prominence to which his great powers seem to point. In the prime of life, and in the vigor of his genius, having achieved early the highest political and professional objects of a manly ambition, we trust that his splendid intellect will not pass away, without leaving behind something which shall embody its energies, and reflect honor upon the literature of his country.

PRESCOTT'S HISTORIES.*

THE publication of Mr. Prescott's "Peru" affords us an opportunity for which we have long waited, to attempt an estimate of his powers as a historian, and to give some account of his works. To him belongs the rare distinction of uniting solid merit with extensive popularity. He has been exalted to the first class of historians, both by the popular voice and the suffrages of the learned. By avoiding all tricks of flippancy or profundity to court any class of readers, he has pleased all. His last history is devoured with as much avidity as the last novel; while, at the same time, it occupies the first place in the pages of the reviews. His fame, also, is not merely local, or even national. It is as great at London, Paris, and Berlin, as at Boston or New York. His works have been translated into Spanish, German, French, and Italian; and into whatever region they have penetrated, they have met a cordial welcome, and done much to raise the character of American letters and scholarship. In England his success has probably been beyond that of any other American author. The tone of the English press towards our publications has too often been either patronizing or insolent. But Mr. Prescott's histories have been spared both the impertinence of condescension and the impertinence of abuse, and judged according to their intrinsic merits. The best evidence, perhaps, of