Mr. Brewster is a warm supporter of the political views of Gen. Cass, and is, perhaps, the most efficient, both with voice and pen, of the many friends of that distinguished statesman in Pennsylvania. Differing widely, as we do, from Mr. Brewster in political sentiment, we can yet bear testimony to the intrepid conduct of the man, his high-hearted courage in the cause of his friend, and his energetic endeavors to secure the ultimate triumph of General Cass in the next Baltimore Convention. And although we cannot vote for General Cass, we can almost wish him success for the sake of seeing Mr. Brewster’s earnest and manly efforts crowned with success. If General Cass has many such friends—and Mr. Brewster’s friendship is of personal intimacy—he must have qualities that most politicians deny opponents and rivals, for we are satisfied that no man can attach to himself heartily, any number of men of intellectual force such as Brewster has, without possessing qualities of head and heart far above the grade of many aspiring candidates for the presidency.
Since his retirement from connection with the administration of Mr. Polk, Mr. Brewster has been engaged so much in the active pursuits of his profession as to prevent his giving much of his time to active politics, though often since by his pen, he has shown his interest in the great questions that have been lately agitating the country; and whenever the interests of General Cass are in jeopardy, his voice is heard in council, and his pen, lightning-winged, flies to the rescue.
Having thus hastily glanced at Mr. Brewster’s position as a lawyer and a public man, and used, as we confess we have done, the opinions and sentiments of more than one member of the Philadelphia bar in high standing, and the unsolicited endorsement of men high in his party, let us take a closer view of the man—of his personal character, the proud arch and basis of the structure, and tell, with all the freedom of an intimate friend, what we feel we ought to say, both in justice to our readers, to give them a fair view of the man, and to Mr. Brewster, to show how great have been his achievements against formidable odds.
Mr. Brewster has inherited in an eminent degree the endurance and high courage of his ancestors. His path has been a rough one, with an accumulation of difficulties besetting him on all sides, at the very threshold of boyhood, which would have prostrated almost any other man. But he at that early age made a resolute front, and met and pressed struggling through all opposition.
He in early life met with an accident, the scars from which still linger upon his countenance. This, in the opinion of the timid and ill-advised, was sufficient for them to urge him into a more quiet and secluded profession than that of an advocate. But they little knew, these weak ones, the dauntless bravery of his soul—the fearless, determined purpose, the iron will of the man. His motto has been, from early boyhood, and his life has illustrated it nobly—“There is nothing unconquerable to him that dares.” His whole life has been one of struggles, of resolves and of victories. His manly self-possession under all disasters, his vehement purpose to overcome, in spite of fate and circumstances, have given an impetuosity and daring to his character which enable him to overleap the impossibilities of other men. Had he submitted to the dictation of the doubtful, regarded the counsel of the timid-wise, his lofty soul would have been dwarfed, his heroic will chafing for action in seclusion, would have made him a misanthrope—a pining and peevish companion, a cynic toward man and a snarler at Providence—the plague of a household, a weariness unto himself.
But with the true courage which faces disasters, the inborn greatness which judges of its own capacity to endure, with an eye fixed upon the successful future, which lifts its blazing front to the gaze of true genius, he spurned all control, and consulting the inward teachings of his own spirit, he resolved, he dared and he has triumphed. With a manly heart, lifted in its gigantic resolves above all mere considerations of self—obeying all of its generous and noble impulses, he has from early manhood devoted his energies to build a paradise around those he loves—to render his home the abode of all that refines, of Art, Music and Society—to gather around him those who appreciated his manhood, and to impart by all the delicate and tender relations and attentions of a son and a brother, the largest amount of happiness which domestic life can afford. With what a royalty of soul he has done all this, let those answer who have spent their most delightful hours in his drawing-rooms—where the stern lawyer, the energetic champion of political principles and rights has unbended, and let loose the bounding joyousness of the man—where his heart has let off its bubbles in very glee, and where the exhaustless stores of his memory are poured out in wantonness, and his imagination and wit flash and play in perfect abandonment. No man who has not enjoyed his intimacy, his confidence and his friendship, can make any just estimate of his ability or worth.
As a conversationalist, it has not been our fortune to meet with many who are his equals, either in the readiness or the variety of his topics, the fine play of his fancy, or the mellow flow of his words. There is not at this bar, a man of his years, who is his equal in scholarship—who has accumulated so vast a mass of curious learning. Upon all questions of History, Philosophy or Biography—he is the referee among his friends. His accuracy is singularly nice—no event of which he has read, seems ever to escape the tenacious grasp of his memory. No quotation from the Classics, apt at the moment, is ever wanting to illustrate or point an anecdote or a sentence. His knowledge of old English literature is thorough, and his acquaintance with the modern familiar and full. He is, in all respects a thorough student—stealing the hours which others devote to idle pleasure or indolent sleep, to enlarge his stores of knowledge and make broader and surer the foundations of intellectual power.
The defect of Mr. Brewster’s character has been the terrible impetuosity of his impulses, which would carry him to the gates of Hades in pursuit of a foe, and through a burning river in support of a friend—frequently, too, without stopping to ask whether either was worth the sacrifice. Hence, he has sometimes become the assailant and the champion, without the clearest notions as to which side victory justly belonged. These impulses, too, were as quick as they were strong. The lightning was not more sudden than his wrath—nor more certain in its destructiveness. No man made an enemy of him and escaped the well-timed blow. But his vengeance was rarely garnered, but blazed out in a fury which lent additional terror to the funeral pile of his victim. His generous sentiments are easily touched. His time, his talents, his whole soul are given to the cause of a friend. There is no halfway-house on the road to his heart—the door is fast shut, or the whole of the spacious apartments are thrown open, and the visitor is received amid a blaze of light from every genial corner.
Mr. Brewster has recently been abroad, and travel, which is so often a test of character, has improved him. He returns from Europe with his energy of soul held in check—his feelings are composed and chastened—his manner is subdued to a more Christian serenity—his voice has not its old, impetuous volume—the rushing heat of passion comes from his lips with less of its scorching severity. Life has broader aims in his eyes than formerly—the hour and to-day, are less important—the immediate success less looked to—the distant future is lived for more earnestly, with wiser hopes of a happy present hereafter. All this comes upon us—his old associate—with a force the greater, because we have been less with him, of late; and the gradual, familiar growing of these better purposes of soul have been less visible to us—they burst upon us like a strain of pure music when discord has suddenly been stilled. Mr. Brewster, himself, is a happier man—his old exuberant gayety is a well-tempered serenity and joyousness—the picture has been toned down, and the artist dwells upon it as a diviner effort of the Creator.
Mr. Brewster has nothing to do now but to wait!—high honors will come to him unsolicited. His position is assured. His ability, his integrity, his earnest energy of soul for the right and the true, open the pathway for all that the ambition of a Christian has a right to look for. This is Prophecy—the Inspiration which Truth impresses upon the soul.