EULOGY BY JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
One of the brief periods in which Nat worked at his trade, after he
commenced to study more systematically, was spent on the Mill Dam in
Boston. At a machine-shop there, he pursued his business a short time,
for the purpose of earning the means to defray his expenses while
studying.
"John Quincy Adams is to deliver a eulogy on Madison at the old Federal
Street Theatre to-morrow," said one of the hands.
"At what time?" inquired Nat.
"Ten o'clock is the time announced for the procession to form. It will
probably be twelve o'clock before they get ready for the eulogy."
"I would go," said Nat, "if I had my best clothes here. I could go
without losing much time at that hour."
"Did you ever hear John Quincy Adams?"
"No; and that is one reason why I wish to hear him. I have heard many
of the distinguished men, but I have never had the opportunity to hear
him. I think I shall go as I am."
"And have a representation of the machine-shop there," said his
companion. "The nabobs will think you are crazy to come there without
your broadcloth."
"Perhaps they would think my broadcloth was too coarse if I should wear
it. But if they go to see my suit instead of hearing the eulogy, they
are welcome to the sight."
"You will have to lose more time than you expect to; for there will be
such a crowd that you cannot get in unless you go early; and you will
have to go without your dinner too."
"Dinner is nothing," replied Nat. "It will not be the first time I have
gone without my dinner, and supper too. I can leave here at half past
eleven o'clock and be in season for the eulogy, and find a place to hear
into the bargain. A very small place will hold me at such a time."
"But I prefer a chance to breathe when I can have it as well as not. It
is no pleasure to me to go into such a crowd to hear the best speaker in
the world. But every one to his taste."
"Yes," responded Nat; "and my taste is right the reverse. I would suffer
a pretty good squeezing, and go dinnerless besides, to hear John Quincy
Adams speak. I shall try it anyhow."
Nat was usually quite particular in regard to his personal appearance on
public occasions. If his best suit had been at hand, he could not have
been persuaded to go to hear the eulogy in his working apparel. But he
was at work here only a short time, and was at home on the sabbath, so
that he provided himself with only his laboring suit. And now we see how
strong was his desire to hear the distinguished statesman; for it
overcame his regard for his personal appearance so far that he was
willing to appear in that assembly wearing his machine-shop apparel,
rather than forego the pleasure of an intellectual pastime.
At the appointed time, on the day of the eulogy, Nat dropped his tools,
and proceeded to wash himself, and make ready to go.
"Then you are determined to go?" said his companion.
"Yes; I never shall have a better chance to hear the sage of Quincy. I
would like to show him a little more respect by donning my best suit if
I could, but as it is, he must take the will for the deed."
"You'll cut a dash there among the gentry, I reckon, and perhaps receive
more attention than the orator himself. They'll think you are some
fellow who has got into the wrong pew."
"You had better conclude to go with me," said Nat, "and enjoy the sight.
You will never know how much of a sensation I do create unless you are
there to see."
"I'd rather be excused," replied his companion. "I can imagine enough
here; besides I like a good dinner too well to go."
Nat hastened to Federal Street, and found the people crowding in very
rapidly, and the exercises about commencing. He joined the throng, and
was soon borne along with the current into the spacious building. If he
had actually wanted to have skulked into some corner, it would have been
impossible; for the assembly was so dense that he had no alternative but
to remain stationary, or to be carried along by the mass. It so happened
that he joined the multitude just in season to be borne well along into
the area of the building, in front of the rostrum; and there he was in
his working apparel, in full view of hundreds of eyes. Yet he scarcely
thought of his clothing in his eagerness to hear the eulogy. It was upon
the character of one with whose political life he was quite familiar,
and this circumstance increased his interest. His old suit did not at
all impair his sense of hearing, nor obscure the language of the orator.
He never heard better in his life, and, in but few instances, never felt
himself better paid for his effort to hear an oration.
It was known in the shop, before work began in the afternoon, that Nat
had gone just as he was to hear the eulogy, and it created some
merriment.
"He is a real book-worm," said one; "he always carries a book in his
pocket to read when he is not at work."
"Well, I can hardly make out what he is, for he never says much," said
another. "He seems to be thinking about something all the time, and yet
he attends to his work. He is a queer genius, I guess."
"He is no ignoramus, you may depend on that," said a third. "A chap with
such an eye as his knows his P's and Q's. He says little, and thinks the
more."
"And then," added the first speaker, "a fellow who will go without his
dinner to hear a speech must have a pretty good appetite for knowledge,
unless he is obliged to diet."
"He'll have a good appetite for supper, I'm thinking," said another,
rather dryly.
Nat heard the eulogy, and was back again to his work within three hours.
There were some smiling faces as he entered the shop, and he could very
readily read the thoughts behind them.
"Was you in time?" inquired the fellow-workman with whom he had the
conversation about going.
"I could not have hit better," Nat replied, "if I had known the precise
minute the eulogy would commence. It was good, too; and a greater crowd
I never saw."
"There would not have been room for me if I had gone, then?"
"No; _I_ just made out the complement. I took the last place there was,
and it was a close fit for me."
"How did you like Mr. Adams?"
"Better than I expected. I had not formed a very exalted idea of his
eloquence, perhaps because I have heard Webster and Everett, but he was
really eloquent, and spoke evidently without any political or partisan
prejudices. He appears older than I expected."
"He is getting to be an old man, and he has been through enough to make
him gray long ago."
"I am glad to have heard him," added Nat. "Perhaps I might never have
had another opportunity."
This incident is another illustration of the sacrifices Nat would make
to hear public speakers, and to acquire knowledge, whenever he could. A
commendable enthusiasm is apparent here as elsewhere, in seeking the
object desired. All those leading traits of his character, that we have
seen were so serviceable to him in other places, appear in this brief
experience, while an unquenchable thirst for knowledge lay behind them
to goad them on to victory.