Debate, except on the highest occasions, is only conversation in public. With him it was conversation always. He spoke as he conversed, with the same pith and humor, and with the same facility. But his facility did not tempt him. In this gilded amphitheatre,[10] where the speaker is sacrificed to the galleries, as of old the gladiator was offered up to make a Roman holiday, he declined all display, and simply conversed; and such was the desire to hear him, that we gathered near to catch his words. He was not a frequent speaker, and he never spoke except when he had something to say; nor did he speak for effect abroad, but only for effect in the debate. Of course, he was too honest and too considerate of the Senate to speak without the preparation of reflection and study. Though at times earnest, he was never bitter. He never dropped into the debate any poisoned ingredients. Sometimes he spoke with much effect, especially on law, or finance, or business. On the great question which for a generation overshadowed all others, and finally wrapped the country in the “living cloud of war,” he was sincerely antislavery, but with certain shortcomings which in this impartial tribute ought not to be concealed. His lenity toward our monster enemy showed itself unconsciously when he spoke of malignant Rebels as “those Southern gentlemen who had seceded,” and then again, when, at an earlier date, he spoke of “two civilizations”; but he bore kindly the reply, that civilization was only on one side. And yet on two occasions in this Chamber he strove for the Right very bravely, so that his position became historic. One of these was many years ago, shortly after he came into the Senate; the other was only last year. The historian and the biographer will describe these scenes. One of them is the fit subject of Art.