Читать книгу: «From Farm Boy to Senator», страница 5

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.

“Albany is no despicable place. To be sure it is irregular and without form. Its houses are generally old and poor-looking—its streets are rather dirty—but there are many exceptions. A part of the town is very high, overlooking the river in a very pleasant manner, and affording many fine seats. Some handsome buildings ornament the town. The Dutch Reformed Church and the new State Bank would not disgrace State Street (Boston). Here are all sorts of people, both Greek and Jew, Englishman and Dutchman, Negro and Indian. Almost everybody speaks English occasionally, though I have heard them speak among themselves in a lingo which I never learned even at the Indian Charity School. The river here is half a mile wide, that is, I should think so; and, if I think wrong, you: must look at Dr. Morse and correct me.”

The cosmopolitan character of Albany nearly eighty years since, when it probably contained not over five thousand inhabitants, is certainly rather amazing, and I can conceive the modern Albanian reading the description given above with considerable surprise. But Daniel was at an age and in a state of inexperience in which everything new is wonderful, and he certainly saw everything under very pleasant circumstances.

From a letter written by his sister it appears that the young law student was paid seven dollars a day for his company by his rich and eccentric companion, who, if he lived to know of Webster’s eminence, probably concluded that the price was by no means exorbitant.

In the letter of Sally Webster, already referred to, there is a passage which will amuse my young readers. “Before I have finished my nonsense I must tell you that our neighbors opposite the door fought a duel the other day, one with the gridiron, the other with the candlestick. The female, however, came off victorious, and he, with all speed, ran here with some lint and rum, to be applied immediately, for he was bleeding to death with a wound in his head caused by the gridiron.”

It is evident that if the women of New Hampshire were not strong-minded, there were some who were strong-armed, and calculated to strike terror in an average husband.

Meanwhile how were things going at the early home of the future statesman in New Hampshire? Judge Webster no doubt experienced satisfaction in knowing that the two sons for whom he had hoped so much, and sacrificed so much, were now possessors of a collegiate education, and in a fair way to make their own way in the world. But he was not without his anxieties. To obtain that education he had been obliged to mortgage his small estate for nearly all it was worth. He was sixty-five years of age, and a life of labor and exposure had made him old before his time. He could not look for many years more of life, and he might die before his two boys were able to support themselves by their professional labors, without speaking of taking his place at home. But he had been sustained by one hope, which finally seemed in a way of being realized. The clerk of the Court of Common Pleas, of which he was an associate judge, died. Chief Justice Farrar, knowing the family circumstances of his associate, immediately placed the office at his disposal for his son Daniel.

For that day it was a lucrative office, paying much more than a judgeship. The emoluments were fifteen hundred dollars a year, and that would be a competence to a young man brought up like Daniel. It would make life easy to him, and enable him to smooth the pathway of his father, and release the homestead from mortgage.

With glad heart Judge Webster wrote to Daniel of his good fortune, and Daniel on his side was elated. He felt that it would make him independent, that he would pay off the family debt, and assist his brother Ezekiel.

So, full of the good news, he went over to the office in the morning, and with a beaming face acquainted Mr. Gore with the offer he had received, and then waited to receive his congratulations.

“Well, my young friend,” said he, “the gentlemen have been very kind to you; I am glad of it. You must thank them for it. Certainly they are very good; you must write them a civil letter. You will write immediately, of course.”

“I feel their kindness and liberality very deeply,” answered Daniel. “I shall certainly thank them in the best manner I am able, but, as I shall go to Salisbury so soon, I hardly think it is necessary to write.”

“Why,” said Mr. Gore, seeming greatly surprised, “you surely don’t mean to accept it?”

Daniel was astounded. Not to accept such a magnificent proposal! As soon as he could speak he said that he had no thought of anything else but acceptance.

“Well,” said Mr. Gore, “you must decide for yourself; but come, sit down, and let us talk it over. The office is worth fifteen hundred a year, you say; well, it never will be worth any more. Ten to one if they find out it is so much the fees will be reduced. You are appointed now by friends; others may fill their places who are of different opinions, and who have friends of their own to provide for. You will lose your place; or, supposing you to retain it, what are you but a clerk for life? And your prospects as a lawyer are good enough to encourage you to go on. Go on, and finish your studies; you are poor enough, but there are greater evils than poverty; live on no man’s favor; what bread you do eat let it be the bread of independence; pursue your profession, make yourself useful to your friends, and a little formidable to your enemies, and you have nothing to fear.”

Daniel hardly knew what to think or to say. It was presenting the subject from a very different point of view. He had looked forward to this office as a thing greatly to be desired. It had been the height of his ambition, and now his legal instructor, a man whose opinion he greatly valued, told him he must give it up. He was indeed flattered and encouraged by the eminent lawyer’s estimate of his talents and prospects, an estimate far beyond any he had formed for himself, for Daniel, as I have already had occasion to say, was modest, and wholly ignorant of the extent of his powers.

It was not that he expected to enjoy a clerkship. He knew he should not, but he had been struggling so long with poverty that the prospect of a competency was most alluring. Besides he was a good son and a good brother. He knew how much his father’s mind would be relieved, how he could help his favorite brother, and it seemed very hard to resign such a piece of fortune.

“Go home and think it over,” said Mr. Gore, “and come back in the morning, and we will have another talk.”

Daniel followed his advice, but passed a sleepless night.

CHAPTER XVII.
DANIEL REFUSES A CLERKSHIP

Those of my readers who have read “The Canal Boy” will remember that before Gen. Garfield graduated from college he too was met by a similar temptation, in the shape of an offer which, if accepted, would have materially changed his course of life, and given him a comfortable obscurity in place of national renown. He was offered a school in Troy, N. Y., with a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, while up to that time he had never earned but eighteen dollars per month and board. He declined after a hard struggle, for he too had been reared in poverty and still suffered from it.

And now a similar temptation had come to Daniel Webster.

He went home and thought the matter over. He felt that Mr. Gore’s advice was good, but how could he accept it? His father was old and in poor health. He had set his heart on Daniel’s accepting this place. A contrary decision would strike him like a thunderbolt. Moreover it would bring him home, and give his father the comfort of his society, as well as pecuniary prosperity.

It seemed a selfish thing to refuse, to show a lack of consideration for his father, and Daniel was a good son. I mention all these things to show that in this turning-point of his career Daniel had a hard decision to make. There was another circumstance to consider—his father was in present need of money.

Finally Daniel made up his mind. If he could borrow a sum of money sufficient to help his father, he would venture to refuse the clerkship.

He went to Mr. Joseph Taylor, a Boston acquaintance, and said to him abruptly, “Mr. Taylor, I want to borrow some money. I will pay you some time or other, but I can’t tell exactly when.”

“You can have as much as you want,” answered Mr. Taylor kindly.

“But,” said Daniel, “I want a good deal of money.”

“How much?” asked his friend, not seeming alarmed at his rash promise.

“Three or four hundred dollars,” was the reply, and this in the eyes of the young law student was a very large sum, though his ideas changed when money came in by thousands from wealthy clients, not many years afterwards.

“You shall have it,” said Mr. Taylor, and he counted out the money into the young man’s hands.

Daniel was elated with his success. He would not go home empty-handed, and this sum would soften the blow which his determination would bring to his father.

Now to get home and have it over as soon as possible! He hired a seat in a country sleigh which had come down to market, and was on the point of returning, for there was neither railroad nor stage to convey him to his home. It was a crisp winter day, and they glided over the snowy roads for many hours till they were beyond the New Hampshire line. Still mile after mile was traversed till the old home was reached.

Just at sunset Daniel reached his home. Through the window, even before he entered, he saw his father in his little room sitting in his arm-chair. The old man, worn out by a long life of hard labor, seemed very old and thin, but his eyes were as black and bright as ever. Daniel’s heart was touched, and he felt that the trial had come. It was no light thing to disappoint such a father.

As he entered the presence of his father Judge Webster looked up with a smile of gladness.

“Well, Daniel, we have got that office for you,” he said.

“Yes, father,” said Daniel a little nervously. “The gentlemen were very kind. I must go and thank them.”

“They gave it to you without my saying a word about it,” said Judge Webster complacently.

“I must go and see Judge Farrar, and tell him I am much obliged to him, father.”

Still the father suspected nothing of Daniel’s intention, though his son treated it more carelessly than he had anticipated. He had thought so much about it and come to look upon it as so desirable that it did not seem to him possible that his son could regard it in any other way, as indeed he would not but for Mr. Gore’s advice.

But at last the true meaning of Daniel’s indifference flashed upon him, and he looked at him earnestly.

He straightened himself up in his chair, and he regarded him intently.

“Daniel, Daniel,” he said, “don’t you mean to take that office?”

“No, indeed, father,” answered Daniel lightly, though his lightness was assumed, and covered a feeling of anxiety; “I hope I can do much better than that. I mean to use my tongue in the courts, not my pen; to be an actor, not a register of other men’s acts. I hope yet, sir, to astonish your honor in your own court by my professional attainments.”

Youth is hopeful and ready to take risks; age is conservative and takes little for granted. Judge Webster must have thought his son’s decision exceedingly rash. Let me tell the rest of the story in Daniel’s words, as indeed I have closely adhered to his version thus far.

“For a moment I thought he was angry. He rocked his chair slightly; a flash went over an eye softened by age, but still as black as jet; but it was gone, and I thought I saw that parental partiality was, after all, a little gratified at this apparent devotion to an honorable profession, and this seeming confidence of success in it. He looked at me for as much as a minute, and then said slowly, ‘Well, my son, your mother has always said you would come to something or nothing, she was not sure which; I think you are now about settling that doubt for her.’ This he said, and never a word spoke more to me on the subject.”

Daniel explained to his father the reasons which had induced him to arrive at the decision he had just expressed, and as an earnest of the good fortune which he anticipated in the career he had chosen he produced the money he had borrowed, and placed it in his father’s hands. Probably this satisfied Judge Webster that there were others who had faith in his son’s promise, since he could offer no other security for borrowed money. At any rate it softened his disappointment, since it brought him help which he sorely needed.

Daniel stayed at home a week, contributing as such a son might to the happiness of his parents, who, now in the sunset of life, had little to hope for themselves, but lived wholly for their children.

Now he must go back to Boston, for the period of his preparatory studies was drawing to a close, and he was almost to seek immediately admission to the bar.

In March, 1805, he was admitted to practice in the Court of Common Pleas in Boston, the usual motion being made by his friend and teacher, Mr. Gore. This eminent lawyer, according to the custom of that time, accompanied his motion by a brief speech, which was of so complimentary a character that it must have been exceedingly gratifying to the legal neophyte, who stood waiting for the doors to open through which he was to enter into the precincts of a dignified and honorable profession. “It is a well-known tradition,” says Mr. George Ticknor Curtis, “that on this occasion Mr. Gore predicted the future eminence of his young friend. What he said has not been preserved; but that he said what Mr. Webster never forgot, that it was distinctly a prediction, and that it excited in him a resolve that it should not go unfulfilled, we have upon his own authority, though he appears to have been unwilling to repeat the words of Mr. Gore’s address.”

Young Webster, whose career we have thus far followed in detail through the successive stages of his struggle with penury, was now no longer a farmer’s boy, but a full-fledged lawyer, of whom eminent men expected much.

Another important question was to be decided, Where should Daniel put up his shingle, and commence the practice of his profession? In Boston the field was larger, and the chances of attaining professional eminence were greater. Many of his friends counseled his remaining in the city. But up in New Hampshire was an old man whose life was nearly over, to whose last days his company would bring solace and comfort. What prospects, however brilliant, could overbalance this consideration? With filial devotion Daniel decided to settle in New Hampshire, in Boscawan, but a few miles from Salisbury, where he could see his father almost daily. Boston could wait, professional opportunities could wait. His father’s happiness must not be disregarded. So in the spring of 1805 he became a country lawyer in the same town where he had prepared for college.

Thirteen months later, in April, 1807, his father died.