The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-10-01
A. j. Rnn,bn on silence.

ling our American love of finding European
prototype for every fellow-countryman who
rises above mediocrity, says:-
"I myself know
a whole flock Of Lambs any number Of Tennysons-
r. short II man has The luck TO have t any sons
Win be some very great person over again."
We confess that we share this national
weakness, if weakness it be, and we own to
having spent good deal of time lately in try
ing to fix upon the great European whom Mr..
Johnson most resembles. Nature seldom
makes only one thing of a kind, and just as
she repeats King Solomon in Mr.. Upper, and
Peeping Tom in Mr.. Stewards friend
McCracken, so we have all along felt that
Andy Johnson must be copy of somebody
who has already lived and died. And although
a person of such variety of powers, of such
deep sagacity, and such wide experience, must
be like great many illustrious people in diff
ferent walks, we think that in his greatest
moments there is no man he is so much like as
he is like Jack Bunsby. As the character
and career of othat immortal
parsonage have been portrayed in
a lively manner by the pen of Mr..
Charles Dickens, we do not need to dilate
upon them at this time, nor is it necessary to
do more than remind the reader that Bunsby's
great forte was in the handling of logic, and
that for nothing is he more famous than for
the clearness with which he could state a pro-
position. But Mr.. Johnson, in a recent great
speech, proved himself more than a match for
Bunsby, not only in the clearness with which
he stated the wonderfully original propositions
on which his majestic effort was built up, but
in the beautiful simplicity with which the
whole complicated argument is evolved. We
have seldom seen the parts of English speech
thrown about with such charming negh-
gence as they are in this performance. The
opening sentence is rare example of syn
tax in undress, and shows how a great
master of rhetoric may throw parsng to
the dogs, and not only have none of it
himself, but refuse to let any one else
have any of it. In the second sentence he
shows as great an antipathy for that very use
full and respectable member of grammatical
society, the auxiliary "shall,' as if it were
one OF the laws OF Congress, and betrays as
much partiality for 'will," as if it were q
hopelessly unreconstructed Rebel. This pleas
ing exhibition of ignorance is, however, well
enough supported further along by very
pretty combination of the present and past
lenses used in speaking of the same event,
and by that favorite idiom of the unlettered
classes, the use of clay" for ''lie." When
we compare the noble license of this incom-
parable effort with the servile adherence to the
idioms of the language of Mr.. Lincoln's
speech at Gettysburg, speech which
might have been written by Shake
speare, or Milton, or by the translator of
Judah's speech to his brother Joseph or by
any one of the few great masters of mere
English, we see how worthy A. ]. is to be
compared to Jack Bunsby. Jack was never
that we know of, so put to it for IDEAS but
he could hardly have given more muddled
account of those he had. 1t is, however, in
the eulogium he passes on silence that A. j.
most reminds us of the manner of j. B. The
three first sentences of his speech are taken up
with the declaration of his determination to
hold his tongue. In the first, he SAYS
that he has not come to make lengthy
remarks. At least, this seems to be the
gist of the sentence, which, though it has no
logical beginning nor end has yet good deal
of middle. In the second, he says as plainly
as his muddled wits will permit, that he will
say nothing whatever. In the third, finding to
his great disappointment that nobody objects
to his holding his tongue, he declares again
that he will not attempt to give utterance,
ETC., etc. Apparently put into very bad
state OF mind by the unlooked-for imper-
turbable acquiescence of his victims in his
determination to stay shut up, he snaps out
fourth sentence-'I shall attempt no such
thing" Observing smiles of satisfaction
beaming on the countenances of the immense
auditory, who had been all along in misery
lest he should attempt it, he determines in
the very spiIit Of Quilp to blight their
fondest hopes, and observes with demoniac
chuckle in the fourth sentence that.
though he only came to shut his
mouth and open his eyes, since he sees
they wish him to be silent, he must
be permitted to speak," He then burst out
into that magnificent eulogy on silence which
would be sufficient in itself to make all his
other speeches forgotten, if anybody had ever
wasted time in remembering them. "When
we look on your battlefield, +" not his, mark,
but ours (True for you, A. J.) 'and think of
the brave men on both Sides" (Don't YOU
wish, A. j., you had dared to say what YOU
thought-''the brave men ON one side, the
Southern'') who fell in the fierce struggle of
battle, and who sleep silent in the grave-you
who steep in silence and peace after the earnest
conflict had ceased--would to God we of the
living could initiate their example as they Ian
sleeping in peace in their tombS, and live
together in friendship and peace I"
Well, A. J., never mind us, old boy Just
at present we are keeping as quiet as need be-
'Tis you that need to be advised to silence
and we commend the ingredients of your
poisoned chalice to your own lips. The very
best thing you can do is to hold your tongue
and not speak another word in public till Won
get back to Tennessee, which we heartily wish
could be tomorrow. AS for us, we have not
the slightest intention of making dead men of
ourselves because you are one but we hope to
show you before long that we are very much
alive indeed. Silence is an admirable thing
when, as in your case, a man has only plati-
tudes to express, and no grammar to express
them in, and you have yet one ohaneeto win
a little favor at the hands of your disgusted
eountrymen Of all parties and all Glasses.
viz.,e by letting us write the record of the
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