From Farm Boy to Senator

No stories have been handed down of insubordination among his pupils. If there had been any, it would speedily have been quelled by the preceptor, whose demeanor was naturally dignified.

It is remarkable how many of our great men have spent a portion of their early lives at the teacher’s desk. Gen. Garfield had an unusually extensive and varied experience as teacher, and would have passed through life very happily if he had never withdrawn from the school-room. Daniel Webster had not his special aptitude for it, but was nevertheless very fairly successful. One qualification, as we learn from the testimony of a pupil, was his “remarkable equanimity of temper.” The vexations of the school-room are neither few nor far between, but none of them were able to bring a frown to young Webster’s brow. Calmly he met and conquered all difficulties that came in his way, and secured the confidence and respect of his scholars.

The young man also impressed his pupils and friends as a man of competent scholarship. Hon. Samuel Fessenden, of Portland, writes: “The first I ever knew of Daniel Webster was immediately after he left college, and was employed by my father, the secretary of the Trustees of Fryeburg Academy, to become the principal instructor in that institution. He was not, when he commenced, twenty years old. I heard no one complain that his scholarship was not adequate to the duty he had assumed. On the contrary, I heard the Rev. Dr. Nathaniel Porter, of Conway, and my father, the Rev. William Fessenden, of Fryeburg, both of whom were good scholars, and the former, Rev. Dr. Porter, a very great man, say that Daniel Webster was a very good scholar for his years. He did, while at Fryeburg, exhibit traits of talent and genius which drew from these two divines, and from other professional gentlemen, unqualified praise of his powers of mind. I remember very distinctly hearing my father remark that if Mr. Webster should live, and have health, and pursue a straightforward course of industry and virtue, he would become one of the greatest men this country had produced.”

When it is remembered that the young man of whom this prediction was made was at the time an obscure teacher, in an obscure town, in what was then a frontier settlement, we must infer that he exhibited remarkable ability, and gave hints of a reserved power not yet called into action.

In spite of his engrossing employments, the young man found time to enlarge his general culture by various reading. Nor did he neglect his professional studies, but continued the reading of Blackstone’s Commentaries. It is remarkable that with all this hard work he found time for society. Dr. Osgood, the registrar’s son, says: “He was usually serious, but often facetious and pleasant. He was an agreeable companion, and eminently social with all who shared his friendship. He was greatly beloved by all who knew him. His habits were strictly abstemious, and he neither took wine nor strong drink. He was punctual in his attendance upon public worship, and ever opened his school with prayer. I never heard him use a profane word, and never saw him lose his temper.”

From all that has been said my young readers will see that Daniel was beginning life in the right way. It seems to me that at this period he was a model who may be safely copied in all respects. The reverence which he so plainly evinced as a young man for religion he never lost, but to the latest day of his life he yielded to none in his regard for the spirit of Christianity.

Under date of May 18, 1802, Daniel writes to his favorite friend Harvey Bingham, giving some account of matters at Fryeburg. He had just returned from spending a short vacation with his brother at Hanover.

“I arrived here last night,” he says; “but must fill this page by relating a little anecdote that happened yesterday. I accidentally fell in with one of my scholars on his return to the academy. He was mounted on the ugliest horse I ever saw or heard of except Sancho Panzas’s pacer. As I had two horses with me, I proposed to him to ride one of them, and tie his bay fast to his Bucephalus; he did accordingly, and turned her forward, where her odd appearance, indescribable gait, and frequent stumblings afforded us constant amusement. At length we approached Saco River, a very wide, deep and rapid stream, when this satire on the animal creation, as if to revenge herself on us for our sarcasms, plunged into the river, then very high by the freshet, and was wafted down the current like a bag of oats. I could scarcely sit on my horse for laughter. I am apt to laugh at the vexations of my friends. The fellow, who was of my own age, and my roommate half checked the current by oaths as big as lobsters, and the old Rosinante, who was all the while much at her ease, floated up among the willows far below on the opposite shore.”

While Daniel was laboring as teacher and copyist at Fryeburg, his older brother, Ezekiel, was pursuing his studies at Dartmouth College, sustained there mainly by the remittances which Daniel was able to send him. The chief pleasure which the younger brother derived from his experience as teacher was, that it gave him the means of securing for his favorite brother the same advantages which he had himself enjoyed. He cheerfully postponed his plan of professional study in order to discharge this pious duty. Certainly the affection which united these two brothers was very beautiful, and creditable to both. Too often brothers are estranged without good reason, and follow selfishly their own plans, without the desire to help each other. To the end of Ezekiel’s life this mutual affection continued, and when he was suddenly removed by death Daniel was deeply affected, and staggered under the blow.

How long was this occupation to continue? How long was the future statesman to devote himself to the comparatively humble duty of inducting country boys into the paths of knowledge?

He had only engaged for two terms, but such was his success that the trustees were not willing to have him go. As an inducement to him to remain they offered to increase his small salary of three hundred and fifty dollars to five or six hundred, with a house to live in, a piece of land to cultivate, and possibly a clerkship of the Common Pleas.

All this may sound very small to us, but to a youth who had been reared in such straitened circumstances as Daniel it seemed like a liberal competence. It required some decision and boldness to reject this certainly for the uncertain prospects of a young lawyer, before whom lay at the first a period of poverty and struggle. Then it must be added that Daniel was modest, and was far from believing that he was endowed with extraordinary talent. It is very probable that more than half the young men who graduate from our law schools to-day have a higher opinion of their abilities than Daniel Webster at the age of twenty. To illustrate his struggles I quote from a letter written at this time.

“What shall I do? Shall I say, ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ and sit down here to spend my days in a kind of comfortable privacy, or shall I relinquish these prospects, and enter into a profession where my feelings will be constantly harrowed by objects either of dishonesty or misfortune; where my living must be squeezed from penury (for rich folks seldom go to law), and my moral principle be continually at hazard? I agree with you that the law is well calculated to draw forth the powers of the mind, but what are its effects on the heart? are they equally propitious? Does it inspire benevolence and awake tenderness; or does it, by a frequent repetition of wretched objects, blunt sensibility and stifle the still, small voice of mercy?

“The talent with which Heaven has intrusted me is small, very small; yet I feel responsible for the use of it, and am not willing to pervert it to purposes reproachful or unjust, or to hide it, like the slothful servant, in a napkin.

“On the whole, I imagine I shall make one more trial (of the law) in the ensuing autumn. If I prosecute the profession, I pray God to fortify me against its temptations. To the winds I dismiss those light hopes of eminence which ambition inspired and vanity fostered. To be ‘honest, to be capable, to be faithful’ to my client and my conscience. I believe you, my worthy boy, when you tell me what are your intentions. I have long known and long loved the honesty of your heart. But let us not rely too much on ourselves; let us look to some less fallible guide to direct us among the temptations that surround us.”

In a letter written June 4, 1802, Mr. Webster refers to his indecision as to a career.

“Now Hope leans forward on Life’s slender line,
Shows me a lawyer, doctor or divine;
Ardent springs forward to the distant goal,
But indecision clogs the eager soul.
Heaven bless my friend, and when he marks his way,
And takes his bearings o’er life’s troubled sea,
In that important moment may he find
Choice and his friends and duty all combined.”

CHAPTER XV.

THE NEXT TWO YEARS

The die was cast! Daniel decided to forego the small but comfortable income insured to him as a teacher, and in accordance with his father’s wishes, as well as his own inclination, returned to the study of the law. He resumed his place (September, 1802) in the office of Mr. Thompson, at Salisbury, and there he remained till February or March, 1804. Before leaving Fryeburg, at the request of the citizens he delivered a Fourth of July oration (his second), for which he received from the trustees of the academy a gratuity of five dollars! It was not many years before five hundred dollars would not have been considered too much for such a service from the then obscure teacher.

My young readers would not feel particularly interested in the details of Daniel’s professional studies during the eighteen months he spent in the office of Mr. Thompson. From the larger biographies such information may be obtained by law students and those who take an interest therein. I shall content myself by extracting from Mr. Webster’s autobiography some account of the manner in which he employed his time.

“I do not know whether I read much during this year and a half besides law books, with two exceptions. I read Hume through, not for the first time; but my principal occupation with books, when not law books, was with the Latin classics. I brought from college a very scanty inheritance of Latin. I now tried to add to it. I made myself familiar with most of Tully’s Orations, committed to memory large passages of some of them, read Sallust and Cæsar and Horace. Some of Horace’s odes I translated into poor English rhymes; they were printed. I have never seen them since. My brother was a far better English scholar than myself, and, in one of his vacations, we read Juvenal together. But I never mastered his style, so as to read him with ease and pleasure. At this period of my life I passed a great deal of time alone. My amusements were fishing and shooting and riding, and all these were without a companion. I loved this occasional solitude then, and have loved it ever since, and love it still. I like to contemplate nature, and to hold communion, unbroken by the presence of human beings, with ‘this universal frame—thus wondrous fair.’ I like solitude also, as favorable to thoughts less lofty. I like to let the thoughts go free and indulge excursions. And when thinking is to be done, one must, of course, be alone. No man knows himself who does not thus sometimes keep his own company. At a subsequent period of life I have found that my lonely journeys, when following the court on its circuits, have afforded many an edifying day.”

It will be seen that young Webster aimed to be something more than a lawyer. Instead of throwing aside his law books when his daily reading was over with a sigh of relief that he could now devote his time to mere enjoyment, he closed them only to open the English and Latin classics, with a view to broaden his culture and qualify himself for something better than a routine lawyer, to whom his profession presents itself only as a means of livelihood. Pressed as he had been, and still was, by the burden of poverty, he never appears to have set before himself as a principal object the emoluments to be gained by legal practice. During his busy years his receipts were indeed very large, but they came to him as a consequence of his large and varied ability, and not because he had specially labored to that end.

I have already mentioned the young man’s modesty. He did not apparently suspect the extent of his own powers, and did not look forward to fill any conspicuous place in his profession. He hoped indeed for “the acquirement of a decent, competent estate, enabling us to treat our friends as they deserve, and to live free from embarrassment.” This was the measure of his expectation.

Yet it did occur to him at times that an office in a small country town hardly afforded the facilities for acquiring professional knowledge which it would be desirable to enjoy. Sometimes he hoped that he might be able to finish his studies in Boston, where he would meet with men of large ability, and where the practice of law took a larger range. But if he found it hard work to maintain himself in Salisbury, how could he hope to pay his way in Boston?

But a way was unexpectedly opened to him. Before Ezekiel had completed his college course it was necessary for him to teach in order to fill his exhausted coffers, and by a lucky chance he obtained the charge of a small private school in what is now Kingston Street, Boston. He had eight scholars in Latin and Greek, but found himself unable to do justice to them on account of the long list of branches which he had to teach. He wrote to Daniel, offering him a sum sufficient to pay his board, if he would assume the charge of these pupils. This would require but an hour and a half daily, and would leave the law student ample time to prosecute his studies.

It may readily be supposed that Daniel did not decline this offer. It was an experiment, perhaps, but it was worth trying. So he packed up his clothes and repaired to Boston, where he joined his brother, whom he arranged to assist in his duties. Now the relations of the brothers were again reversed, and it was the elder who took his turn in helping along the younger. The most eminent of the pupils thus coming under the instruction of Daniel Webster was Edward Everett, worthy as an orator to be named with his master. Webster, Everett, Choate! Nine out of ten, if called upon to name the three most renowned orators of New England, would single out these names, and it will indeed be a fortunate age that can boast three who can equal them. Among the pupils of Ezekiel Webster was George Ticknor, another eminent man who will need no introduction to my readers.

Daniel had entered a new and auspicious period of study and opportunity. He had gained a foothold in Boston. How was he best to improve his residence? What great lawyer would open his office to the young New Hampshire student?

Among the most eminent citizens and lawyers of Boston at that time was Christopher Gore. He had served the American Government at home and abroad, as district attorney for Massachusetts, and as a commissioner to England under Jay’s Treaty, for the settlement of claims brought by citizens of the United States for spoliation by British cruisers during the war of the French Revolution. A higher honor was in store for him, since in 1809 he was elected Governor of Massachusetts by the Federal party. In 1804, when young Webster arrived in Boston, he was in practice as a lawyer, his specialty being commercial law.

Daniel learned that Mr. Gore had no clerk, and ambition led him to apply for the situation. He did not know any near friend of the distinguished lawyer, but a young man, whose acquaintance with him was nearly as slight as his, undertook to introduce him.

When the two young men entered the office, Daniel, according to his own account, was shockingly embarrassed. But Mr. Gore, with his old-fashioned courtesy, speedily put at him at ease. The rest of the interview we will let Mr. Webster tell for himself.

“I had the grace to begin with an unaffected apology; told him my position was very awkward, my appearance there very like an intrusion, and that, if I expected anything but a civil dismission, it was only founded in his known kindness and generosity of character. I was from the country, I said; had studied law for two years; had come to Boston to study a year more; had some respectable acquaintances in New Hampshire, not unknown to him, but had no introduction; that I had heard he had no clerk; thought it possible he would receive one; that I came to Boston to work, not to play; was most desirous, on all accounts, to be his pupil; and all I ventured to ask at present was, that he would keep a place for me in his office till I could write to New Hampshire for proper letters, showing me worthy of it.”

This speech Daniel delivered fluently, having carefully considered what he intended to say.

Mr. Gore heard him with encouraging good nature, and kindly invited the young visitor to sit down.

“I do not mean to fill my office with clerks,” he said, “but am willing to receive one or two, and will consider what you have said.”

He inquired what gentlemen of his acquaintance knew Daniel and his father, and in reply Daniel mentioned several, among others Mr. Peabody, who was Mr. Gore’s classmate.

A pleasant conversation continued for a few minutes, and Daniel rose to go.

“My young friend,” said Mr. Gore, “you look as if you might be trusted. You say you came to study and not to waste time. I will take you at your word. You may as well hang up your hat at once. Go into the other room, take your book and sit down to reading it, and write at your convenience to New Hampshire for your letters.”

Daniel could hardly credit his good fortune in this prompt assent to his wishes. He felt that he had made an auspicious beginning in Boston, and made “a good stride onward” in securing admission to such an office.

CHAPTER XVI.

A GREAT TEMPTATION

Our young student could not have been more favorably situated for study, and we may well believe that he made the best use of his advantages. I shall not describe his course at length, or in detail, but confine myself to such personal details as are likely to interest my reader.

In November a rare pleasure awaited him. A gentleman of means, Mr. Taylor Baldwin, who had some occasion for his services, engaged him to accompany him on a leisurely journey in parts of New England and New York, not only defraying his expenses, but recompensing him liberally. I can do no better than quote the young man’s description of it in a letter to his friend Bingham, dated Jan. 2d, 1805:

“Figure to yourself a large room in the third story of a brick building, in the center of Boston, a sea-coal fire, and a most enormous writing-table with half a cord of books on it. Then figure further to yourself your most obedient, with his back to the fire, and his face to the table, writing by candle-light, and you will precisely see a ‘happy fellow.’ There now is a famous dash at description! Now let me try my talent at narration.

“Well, then, on the fifth day of November, being election day, at just twenty-seven minutes and a half past twelve, I left Mrs. Whitwell’s, Court Street, Boston, and on the twenty-eighth day of the same month, at one o’clock P.M., arrived at time same Mrs. Whitwell’s, in the same Court Street. You can easily determine from the above account where I went!! If, however, you should be puzzled, I will tell you to Albany. Yes, James, I have even been to Albany. I cannot now tell you why, nor for what, but it was in a hackney coach, with a pair of nimble trotters, a smart coachman before, and a footman on horseback behind. There’s style for you! Moreover, I had my friend at my elbow.... My expenses were all amply paid, and on my return I put my hand in my pocket, and found one hundred and twenty dear delightfuls! Is not that good luck? And these dear delightfuls were, ’pon honor, all my own, yes, every dog of ’em. Now don’t you think I would jump to go to Albany again! But to be serious, I really went to Albany, in November, with a gentleman of this town, for which I received the above reward; and I’m so proud to have a dollar of my own I was determined to tell you of it. Of my journey and all that I saw and heard I cannot give you a particular account now.”

The journey above mentioned was through Springfield to Albany, thence down to Hudson, returning by way of Hartford and Providence to Boston. Taken by rail it would not be much of a journey, but traveling by easy stages across the country, it must have been full of enjoyment to a young man wholly new to journeys of any kind.

Daniel’s description of Albany in a letter to his brother is an amusing one.