TAKING SIDES.
"I have been reading the Federalist," said Charlie one evening, as he
entered Nat's study, "and I am a pretty good Federalist." He looked very
pleasant as he spoke, and Nat replied in a similar tone and spirit,
without the least hesitation,
"I have been reading the life and writings of Jefferson, and I am a
thorough Democrat."
"A Democrat!" exclaimed Charlie, with a hearty laugh at the same time.
"Do you know what a Democrat is?"
"Perhaps I don't; but if anybody is not satisfied with such principles
as Jefferson advocated, he is not easily suited."
"But Jefferson was not a Democrat. The Federalist calls him a
Republican."
"I know that," replied Nat. "The Jefferson party were called Republicans
in their day; but they are called Democrats now. I don't like the name
so well, but still the name is nothing in reality,--the principles are
what we should look at."
"You don't like company very well, I should judge," said Charlie; "I
should want to belong to a party that could say _we_."
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Nat.
"Father said there wasn't but four democratic votes cast in town at the
last election; that is what I mean. I should think you would be lonesome
in such a party."
"If _I_ had been old enough," continued Nat, "there would have been
_five_ votes cast. I don't care whether the party is great or small, if
it is only right."
"I glory in your independence," replied Charlie, "but I am sorry you
have so poor a cause to advocate."
"I guess you don't know what the cause is, after all. Have you read the
life of Jefferson?"
"About as much as _you_ have read the Federalist," replied Charlie. "We
are probably about even on that score."
This interview occurred some time after Nat and Charlie entered the
factory, perhaps a year and a half or two years. Charlie really thought
he was in advance of his fellow-student on this subject. He did not know
that Nat had been reading at all upon political topics. Being himself
the greatest reader of the two, he knew that he read upon some subjects
to which Nat had given no attention. He was very much surprised to hear
him announce himself a Democrat, and particularly for the reason named.
It was about thirty years ago, when the followers of Jefferson were
first called Democrats. Many of them were unwilling to be called thus,
and for this reason they were slow to adopt the title. It was a fact
that only four persons cast votes in Nat's native town, at the aforesaid
election as avowed _Democrats_. But the incident shows that the hero of
our tale was an independent thinker, voluntarily investigating some
subjects really beyond his years, with sufficient discrimination to
weigh important principles. In other words, he was a student, though a
bobbin boy, loving knowledge more than play, and determined to make the
most of his very limited opportunities. It is an additional proof of
what we have said before, that he studied just as he skated or swam
under water,--with all his soul,--the only way to be eminently
successful in the smallest or greatest work.
"Let us see," said Nat, taking up the life of Jefferson, "perhaps _you_
will be a Democrat too, when you know what Jefferson taught. _He_ wrote
the Declaration of Independence."
"He did!" exclaimed Charlie, with some surprise. "That is good writing
certainly. It was read at the last Fourth of July celebration."
"And we will read some of it again," said Nat, opening the volume, "and
then you may bring your objections."
"'We hold these truths to be self-evident,--that all men are created
equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable
rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among
men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that
whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is
the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new
government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its
powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their
safety and happiness.'"
"Have you any objections to that?" inquired Nat, after it was read.
"No," answered Charlie, "and I have never heard of any one who has. It
is pretty good doctrine for such poor fellows as we are certainly."
"You are a Democrat so far, then," said Nat; "you want to have as good a
chance as anybody, and so do I. I am for equal rights, and Jefferson
would have the poor man have the same rights as a governor or
president."
"So would the Federalists," replied Charlie. "John Adams wanted this as
much as Jefferson."
"You mean that he said he did," answered Nat. "Jefferson thought that
Mr. Adams's principles would lead to a limited monarchy, instead of a
republic, where each man would enjoy his rights."
"I should like to know how that could be?" inquired Charlie. "What I
have read in the Federalist shows that he was as much in favor of the
Declaration of Independence as any one."
"But he wanted the president and his cabinet to have very great power,
somewhat like monarchs, and Jefferson wanted the _people_ to have the
power. That was the reason that Jefferson's party called themselves
Republicans."
"Yes; but do the Democrats now carry out the Declaration of
Independence? Don't they uphold slavery at the present day?"
"Jefferson did not uphold it in the least, and a good many of his
friends did not. If his life and writings tell the truth, some of the
Federalists _did_ uphold it, and some of them had slaves. So you can't
make much out of that."
"All I want to make out of it," replied Charlie, "is just this--that the
Democrats now _do_ sustain slavery, and how is this believing the
Declaration of Independence, that '_all_ men are created equal?'"
"I don't care for the Democrats now," responded Nat. "I know what
Jefferson believed, and I want to believe as he did. I am such a
Democrat as he was, and if he was a Republican, then I am."
"I suppose, then," added Charlie, with a sly look, "that you would like
the Declaration of Independence a little better if it read, 'all men are
created equal,' _except niggers_?"
"No, no; Jefferson believed it just as it was, and so do I. Whether men
are white or black, rich or poor, high or low, they are equal; and that
is what I like. He never defended slavery, I would have you know."
"I thought he did," added Charlie.
"I can show you that he did not," said Nat, taking up a volume from the
table. "Now hear this;" and he proceeded to read the following, in which
Jefferson is speaking of holding slaves:
"'What an incomprehensible machine is man! who can endure toil, famine,
stripes, imprisonment, and death itself, in vindication of his own
liberty, and the next moment be deaf to all those motives whose power
supported him through the trial, and inflict on his fellow men a
bondage, one hour of which is fraught with more misery than ages of that
which he rose in rebellion to oppose. But we must wait with patience the
workings of an overruling Providence, and hope that that is preparing
the deliverance of these our suffering brethren. When the measure of
their tears shall be full--when their tears shall have involved heaven
itself in darkness--doubtless a God of justice will awaken to their
distress, and by diffusing a light and liberality among their
oppressors, or, at length by his exterminating thunder, manifest his
attention to things of this world, and that they are not left to the
guidance of blind fatality.'"
"That is strong against slavery, I declare," said Charlie. "I had always
supposed that Jefferson was a defender of slavery."
"How plainly he says that there is more misery in 'one hour' of slavery,
than there is in 'ages' of that which our fathers opposed in the
Revolution," added Nat.
"And then he calls the slaves '_our suffering brethren_,' and not
'_niggers_,'" said Charlie, with a genuine look of fun in his eye.
"I want to read you another passage still, you are beginning to be so
good a Democrat," said Nat.
"Don't call _me_ a Democrat," answered Charlie, "for I don't believe the
Democrats generally carry out the principles of Jefferson."
"Republican, then," answered Nat quickly, "just what Jefferson called
himself. You won't object to that, will you?"
"Read on," said Charlie, without answering the last inquiry.
Nat read as follows:
"'With what execration should the statesman be loaded, who, permitting
one half the citizens thus to trample on the rights of the other,
transforms those into despots, and these into enemies, destroys the
morals of the one part, and the _amor patriæ_ of the other. For if a
slave can have a country in this world, it must be any other in
preference to that in which he is born to live and labor for another, in
which he must lock up the faculties of his nature, contribute as far as
depends on his individual endeavors to the banishment of the human race,
or entail his own miserable condition on the endless generations
proceeding from him. With the morals of a people their industry also is
destroyed. For in a warm climate no man will labor for himself who can
make another labor for him. This is so true, that of the proprietors of
slaves, a very small proportion indeed are ever seen to labor. And can
the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we have removed their
only firm basis, a conviction in the minds of the people that these
liberties are the gift of God? That they are not to be violated but with
his wrath? Indeed, _I tremble for my country when I remember that God is
just_; that his justice cannot sleep forever; that considering numbers,
nature, and natural means only, a revolution of the wheel of fortune, an
exchange of situation is among possible events; that it may become
probable by supernatural interference. The Almighty has no attribute
that can take side with us in such a contest. But it is impossible to be
temperate and pursue this subject.'"
"That is stronger yet!" exclaimed Charlie. "I tell you, Nat, there are
no such Democrats now."
"Yes, there are; you see one sitting in this chair," replied Nat, "and I
believe there are many such. A person must believe so if he believes the
Declaration of Independence. Come, Charlie, you are as good a Democrat
as I am, only you won't own it."
"I certainly think well of Jefferson's principles, so far as you have
read them to me, but I am not quite ready to call myself a Democrat."
We can readily see that Nat's sympathies would lead him at once to
embrace the views of Jefferson on reading his life and writings. We have
seen enough of him in earlier scenes to know in what direction they
would run. His pity for the poor and needy, the unfortunate and injured,
even extending to abused dumb animals; his views and feelings respecting
the different orders of society; and his naturally kind and generous
heart, would prepare the way for his thus early taking sides in
politics. The traits of character discoverable in the court scene, when
he plead the case of the accused boys; his grief with Frank when he wept
over dead Trip; his condemnation of Sam Drake in defence of Spot, and
one or two other incidents, are also traceable in his interest in the
character and principles of Jefferson. There seemed to him more
_equality_ in those doctrines, more regard for the rights of the
people, more justice and humanity, than in any thing he had read.
Indeed, he had read nothing strictly political before, except what came
under his eye in the papers, and he was fully prepared to welcome such
views.
Jefferson's life and writings certainly made a lasting impression upon
Nat's mind. It was one of the works that contributed to his success.
Like the lives of Patrick Henry and of Dr. Franklin, and the address
upon the character of Count Rumford, it contained much that appealed
directly to his early aspirations. It is said that when Guido stood
gazing upon the inimitable works of Michael Angelo, he was first roused
to behold the field of effort for which he was evidently made, and he
exclaimed, "I, too, am a painter." So, it would seem, that direction was
given to the natural powers of Nat, and his thirst for knowledge
developed into invincible resolution and high purpose by this and
kindred volumes. It is often the case, that the reading of a single
volume determines the character for life, and starts off the young
aspirant upon a career of undying fame. Thus Franklin tells us that when
he was a boy, a volume fell into his hands, to which he was greatly
indebted for his position in manhood. It was "Cotton Mather's Essays to
do Good," an old copy that was much worn and torn. Some of the leaves
were gone, "but the remainder," he said, "gave me such a turn of
thinking as to have an influence on my conduct through life; for I have
always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good than any
other kind of reputation; and if I have been a useful citizen, the
public owes all the advantage of it to the little book." Jeremy Bentham
said that the current of his thoughts and studies was decided for life
by a single sentence that he read near the close of a pamphlet in which
he was interested. The sentence was, "The greatest good of the greatest
number." There was a great charm in it to one of his "turn of mind," and
it decided his life-purpose. The passion of Alfieri for knowledge was
begotten by the reading of "Plutarch's Lives." Loyola, the founder of
the sect of Jesuits, was wounded in the battle of Pampeluna, and while
he was laid up with the wound, he read the "Lives of the Saints," which
impressed him so deeply that he determined from that moment to found a
new sect.
There is no end to such examples from the page of history. It may seem
an unimportant matter for a boy to read the life of Jefferson, or
Franklin, or any other person; but these facts show us that it may be no
trivial thing, though its importance will be determined by the decision,
discrimination, and purpose with which the book is read. Very small
causes are sometimes followed by the greatest results. Less than a book
often settles a person's destiny. A picture created that life of purity
and usefulness which we find in Dr. Guthrie, the renowned English
champion of the Ragged School enterprise. His case is so interesting,
that we close this chapter by letting him speak for himself. He says,
"The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an example of
how, in Providence, a man's destiny,--his course of life, like that of a
river, may be determined and affected by very trivial circumstances. It
is rather curious,--at least it is interesting to me to remember,--that
it was by a _picture_ I was first led to take an interest in ragged
schools,--by a picture in an old, obscure, decaying burgh that stands on
the shores of the Firth of Forth, the birth-place of Thomas Chalmers. I
went to see this place many years ago, and, going into an inn for
refreshment, I found the room covered with pictures of shepherdesses
with their crooks, and sailors in holiday attire, not particularly
interesting. But above the chimney-piece there stood a large print, more
respectable than its neighbors, which represented a cobbler's room. The
cobbler was there himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his
knees,--the massive forehead and firm mouth, indicating great
determination of character, and, beneath his bushy eyebrows, benevolence
gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and girls, who stood at
their lessons round the busy cobbler. My curiosity was awakened; and in
the inscription I read how this man, John Pounds, a cobbler in
Portsmouth, taking pity on the multitude of poor ragged children left by
ministers and magistrates, and ladies and gentlemen, to go to ruin on
the streets,--how, like a good shepherd, he gathered in these wretched
outcasts,--how he had trained them to God and to the world,--and how,
while earning his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, he had rescued
from misery and saved to society not less than five hundred of these
children. I felt ashamed of myself. I felt reproved for the little I had
done. My feelings were touched. I was astonished at this man's
achievement; and I well remember, in the enthusiasm of the moment,
saying to my companion (and I have seen in my cooler and calmer moments
no reason for unsaying the saying),--'That man is an honor to humanity,
and deserves the tallest monument ever raised within the shores of
Britain.' I took up that man's history, and I found it animated by the
spirit of Him who had 'compassion on the multitude.' John Pounds was a
clever man besides; and, like Paul, if he could not win a poor boy any
other way, he won him by art. He would be seen chasing a ragged boy
along the quays, and compelling him to come to school, not by the power
of a policeman, but by the power of a hot potato. He knew the love an
Irishman had for a potato; and John Pounds might be seen running
holding under the boy's nose a potato, like an Irishman, very hot, and
with a coat as ragged as himself. When the day comes when honor will be
done to whom honor is due, I can fancy the crowd of those whose fame
poets have sung, and to whose memory monuments have been raised,
dividing like the wave, and passing the great, and the noble, and the
mighty of the land, this poor, obscure old man stepping forward and
receiving the especial notice of Him who said, 'Inasmuch as ye did it to
one of the least of these, ye did it also to me.'"