Under the spell of the orator an audience becomes of one mind:  the dullest intellect is more alert than usual and the most discerning a little less so.  Cheap wit will then often pass for brilliancy, and platitude for wisdom.  We roar over the jokes we have known since childhood, and cry “Hear, hear!” when the great man with upraised hands and fire in his glance declares that twice two is four.

Oratory is hypnotism practised on a large scale.  Through oratory ideas are acquired by induction.

Webster was a lawyer; and he was not above resorting to any trick or device that could move the emotions or passions of judge and jury to a prejudice favorable to his side.  This was very clearly brought out when he undertook to break the will of Stephen Girard.

Girard was a freethinker, and in leaving money to found a college devised that no preacher or priest should have anything to do with its management.  The question at issue was, “Is a bequest for founding a college a charitable bequest?” If so, then the will must stand.  But if the bequest were merely a scheme to deprive the legal heirs of their rights—­diverting the funds from them for whimsical and personal reasons—­then the will should be broken.  Mr. Webster made the plea that there was only one kind of charity, namely, Christian charity.  Girard was not a Christian, for he had publicly affronted the Christian religion by providing that no minister should teach in his school.  Mr. Webster spoke for three hours with many fine bursts of tearful eloquence in support of the Christian faith, reviewing its triumphs and denouncing its foes.

The argument was carried outside of the realm of law into the domain of passion and prejudice.

The court took time for the tumult to subside, and then very quietly decided against Webster, sustaining the will.  The college building was erected and stands today, the finest specimen of purely Greek architecture in America; and the good that Girard College has done and is now doing is the priceless heritage of our entire country.

One of Webster’s first greatest speeches was before the United States Supreme Court in the Dartmouth College case.  Here he defended the cause of education with that grave and wonderful weight of argument of which he was master.  In the Girard College case, eighteen years after, he reversed his logic, and touched with rare skill on the dangers of a too-liberal education.

No man now is quite so daring as to claim that Webster was a Christian.  Neither was he a freethinker.  He inherited his religious views from his parents, and never considered them enough to change.  He simply viewed religion as a part of the fabric of government, giving sturdiness and safety to established order.  His own spiritual acreage was left absolutely untilled.  His services were for sale; and so plastic were his convictions that once having espoused a cause he was sure it was right.  Doubtless it is self-interest, as Herbert Spencer says, that makes the world go round.  And thus does sincerity of belief resolve itself into which side will pay most.  This question being settled, reasons are as plentiful as blackberries, and are supplied in quantities proportionate in size to the retainer.