Thomas Day was born in London on June 22, 1748, and educated
at the Charterhouse and at Corpus Christi College, Oxford.
Entering the Middle Temple in 1765, he was called to the Bar
ten years later, but never practised. A contemporary and
disciple of Rousseau, he convinced himself that human
suffering was, in the main, the result of the artificial
arrangements of society, and inheriting a fortune at an early
age he spent large sums in philanthropy. A poem written by him
in 1773, entitled "The Dying Negro," has been described as
supplying the keynote of the anti-slavery movement. His
"History of Sandford and Merton," published in three volumes
between the years 1783 and 1789, provided a channel through
which many generations of English people have imbibed a kind
of refined Rousseauism. It retains its interest for the
philosophic mind, despite the burlesque of _Punch_ and its
waning popularity as a book for children. Thomas Day died
through a fall from his horse on September 28, 1789.
_I.--Mr. Barlow and his Pupils_
In the western part of England lived a gentleman of a large fortune,
whose name was Merton. He had a great estate in Jamaica, but had
determined to stay some years in England for the education of his only
son. When Tommy Merton came from Jamaica he was six years old. Naturally
very good-natured, he had been spoiled by indulgence. His mother was so
fond of him that she gave him everything he cried for, and would not let
him learn to read because he complained that it made his head ache. The
consequence was that, though Master Merton had everything he wanted, he
was fretful and unhappy, made himself disagreeable to everybody, and
often met with very dangerous accidents. He was also so delicately
brought up that he was perpetually ill.
Very near to Mr. Merton's seat lived a plain, honest farmer named
Sandford, whose only son, Harry, was not much older than Master Merton,
but who, as he had always been accustomed to run about in the fields, to
follow the labourers when they were ploughing, and to drive the sheep to
their pasture, was active, strong, hardy, and fresh-coloured. Harry had
an honest, good-natured countenance, was never out of humour, and took
the greatest pleasure in obliging others, in helping those less
fortunate than himself, and in being kind to every living thing. Harry
was a great favourite, particularly with Mr. Barlow, the clergyman of
the parish, who taught him to read and write, and had him almost always
with him.
One summer morning, while Master Merton and a maid were walking in the
fields, a large snake suddenly started up and curled itself round
Tommy's leg. The maid ran away, shrieking for help, whilst the child, in
his terror, dared not move. Harry, who happened to be near, ran up, and
seizing the snake by the neck, tore it from Tommy's leg, and threw it to
a great distance. Mrs. Merton wished to adopt the boy who had so bravely
saved her son, and Harry's intelligence so appealed to Mr. Merton that
he thought it would be an excellent thing if Tommy could also benefit by
Mr. Barlow's instruction. With this view he decided to propose to the
farmer to pay for the board and education of Harry that he might be a
constant companion to Tommy. Mr. Barlow, on being consulted, agreed to
take Tommy for some months under his care; but refused any monetary
recompense.
The day after Tommy went to Mr. Barlow's the clergyman took his two
pupils into the garden, and, taking a spade in his own hand, and giving
Harry a hoe, they both began to work. "Everybody that eats," he said,
"ought to assist in procuring food. This is my bed, and that is Harry's.
If, Tommy, you choose to join us, I will mark you out a piece of ground,
all the produce of which shall be your own."
"No, indeed," said Tommy; "I am a gentleman, and don't choose to slave
like a ploughboy."
"Just as you please, Mr. Gentleman," said Mr. Barlow. And Tommy, not
being asked to share the plate of ripe cherries with which Mr. Barlow
and Harry refreshed themselves after their labour, wandered
disconsolately about the garden, surprised and vexed to find himself in
a place where nobody felt any concern whether he was pleased or not.
Meanwhile, Harry, after a few words of advice from Mr. Barlow, read
aloud the story of "The Ants and the Flies," in which it is related how
the flies perished for lack of laying up provisions for the winter,
whereas the industrious ants, by working during the summer, provided for
their maintenance when the bad weather came.
Mr. Barlow and Harry then rambled into the fields, where Mr. Barlow
pointed out the several kinds of plants to be seen, and told his little
companion the name and nature of each. When they returned to dinner
Tommy, who had been skulking about all day, came in, and being very
hungry, was going to sit down to the table, when Mr. Barlow said, "No,
sir; though you are too much of a gentleman to work, we, who are not so
proud, do not choose to work for the idle!"
Upon this Tommy retired into a corner, crying as if his heart would
break; when Harry, who could not bear to see his friend so unhappy,
looked up, half-crying, into Mr. Barlow's face, and said, "Pray, sir,
may I do as I please with my dinner?"
"Yes, to be sure, my boy," was the reply.
"Why, then," said Harry, "I will give it to poor Tommy, who wants it
more than I do."
Tommy took it and thanked Harry; but without turning his eyes from the
ground.
"I see," said Mr. Barlow, "that though certain gentlemen are too proud
to be of any use to themselves, they are not above taking the bread that
other people have been working hard for."
At this Tommy cried more bitterly than before.
The next day, when they went into the garden, Tommy begged that he might
have a hoe, too, and, having been shown how to use it, soon worked with
the greatest pleasure, which was much increased when he was asked to
share the fruit provided after the work was done. It seemed to him the
most delicious fruit that he had ever tasted.
Harry read as before, the story this time being about the gentleman and
the basket-maker. It described how a rich man, jealous of the happiness
of a poor basket-maker, destroyed the latter's means of livelihood, and
was sent by a magistrate with his humble victim to an island, where the
two were made to serve the natives. On this island the rich man, because
he possessed neither talents to please nor strength to labour, was
condemned to be the basket-maker's servant. When they were recalled, the
rich man, having acquired wisdom by his misfortunes, not only treated
the basket-maker as a friend during the rest of his life, but employed
his riches in relieving the poor.
_II.--Gentleman Tommy Learns to Read_
From this time forward Mr. Barlow and his two pupils used to work in
their garden every morning; and when they were fatigued they retired to
the summer-house, where Harry, who improved every day in reading, used
to entertain them with some pleasant story. Then Harry went home for a
week, and the morning after, when Tommy expected that Mr. Barlow would
read to him as usual, he found to his great disappointment, that
gentleman was busy and could not. The same thing happening the next day
and the day after, Tommy said to himself, "Now, if I could but read like
Harry, I should not need to ask anybody to do it for me." So when Harry
returned, Tommy took an early opportunity of asking him how he came to
be able to read.
"Why," said Harry, "Mr. Barlow taught me my letters; and then, by
putting syllables together, I learnt to read."
"And could you not show me my letters?" asked Tommy.
"Very willingly," was Harry's reply. And the lessons proceeded so well
that Tommy, who learned the whole alphabet at the very first lesson, at
the end of two months was able to read aloud to Mr. Barlow "The History
of the Two Dogs," which shows how vain it is to expect courage in those
who lead a life of indolence and repose, and that constant exercise and
proper discipline are frequently able to change contemptible characters
into good ones.
Later, Harry read the story of Androcles and the Lion, and asked how it
was that one person should be the servant of another and bear so much
ill-treatment.
"As to that," said Tommy, "some folks are born gentlemen, and then they
must command others; and some are born servants, and they must do as
they are bid." And he recalled how the black men and women in Jamaica
had to wait upon him, and how he used to beat them when he was angry.
But when Mr. Barlow asked him how these people came to be slaves, he
could only say that his father had bought them, and that he was born a
gentleman.
"Then," said Mr. Barlow, "if you were no longer to have a fine house,
nor fine clothes, nor a great deal of money, somebody that had all these
things might make you a slave, and use you ill, and do whatever he liked
with you."
Seeing that he could not but admit this, Tommy became convinced that no
one should make a slave, of another, and decided that for the future he
would never use their black William ill.
Some days after this Tommy became interested in the growing of corn, and
Harry promising to get some seed from his father, Tommy got up early
and, having dug very perseveringly in a corner of his garden to prepare
the ground for the seed, asked Mr. Barlow if this was not very good of
him.
"That," said Mr. Barlow, "depends upon the use you intend to make of the
corn when you have raised it. Where," he asked, "will be the great
goodness in your sowing corn for your own eating? That is no more than
all the people round here continually do. And if they did not do it,
they would be obliged to fast."
"But then," said Tommy, "they are not gentlemen, as I am."
"What," answered Mr. Barlow, "must not gentlemen eat as well as others;
and therefore, is it not for their interest to know how to procure food
as well as other people?"
"Yes, sir," answered Tommy; "but they can have other people to raise it
for them."
"How does that happen?"
"Why they pay other people to work for them, or buy bread when it is
made."
"Then they pay for it with money?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then they must have money before they can buy corn?"
"Certainly, sir."
"But have all gentlemen money?"
Tommy hesitated some time, and at last said, "I believe not always,
sir."
"Why, then," said Mr. Barlow, "if they have not money, they will find it
difficult to procure corn, unless they raise it for themselves." And he
proceeded to recount the History of the Two Brothers, Pizarro and
Alonzo, the former of whom, setting out on a gold-hunting expedition,
prevailed upon the latter to accompany him, and became dependent upon
Alonzo, who, instead of taking gold-seeking implements, provided himself
with the necessaries for stocking a farm.
_III.--Town Life and Country Life_
This story was followed by others, describing life in different and
distant parts of the world; and in addition to the knowledge they
acquired in this way, Tommy and Harry, in their intercourse with their
neighbours and in the cultivation of their gardens, learned a great
deal. Tommy in particular, growing much kinder towards the poor and
towards dumb animals, as well as growing in physical well-being.
Mr. Barlow's young pupils were gradually taught many interesting and
useful facts about natural history. They learned to cultivate their
powers of observation also by studying the heavens. From a study of the
stars their tutor drew them on to an acquaintance with the compass, the
telescope, the magic lantern, the magnet, and the wonders of arithmetic.
The stories of foreign lands were interspersed with others illustrating
the habits of society; one for example, told how a certain rich man was
cured of the gout, showing how, while most of the diseases of the poor
originate in the want of food and necessaries, the rich are generally
the victims of their own sloth and intemperance.
"Dear me," said Tommy on one occasion, "what a number of accidents
people are subject to in this world."
"It is very true," said Mr. Barlow; "but as that is the case, it is
necessary to improve ourselves in every manner, that we may be able to
struggle against them."
TOMMY: Indeed, sir, I begin to believe it is; for when I was younger
than I am now, I remember I was always fretful and hurting myself,
though I had two or three people constantly to take care of me. At
present I seem quite another thing, I do not mind falling down and
hurting myself, or cold, or scarcely anything that happens.
MR. BARLOW: And which do you prefer--to be as you are now, or as you
were before?
TOMMY: As I am now, a great deal, sir; for then I always had something
or another the matter with me. At present I think I am ten times
stronger and healthier than ever I was in my life.
All the same, Tommy found it difficult at first to understand how people
who lived in countries where they had to undergo great hardships could
be so attached to their own land as to prefer it to any other country in
the world. "I have," he said, "seen a great many ladies and little
misses at our house, and whenever they were talking of the places where
they should like to live, I have always heard them say that they hated
the country of all things, though they were born and bred there."
MR. BARLOW: And yet there are thousands who bear to live in it all their
lives, and have no desire to change. Should you, Harry, like to go to
live in some town?
HARRY: Indeed, sir, I should not, for then I must leave everything I
love in the world.
TOMMY: And have you ever been in any large town?
HARRY: Once I was in Exeter, but I did not much like it. The houses
seemed to me to stand too thick and close, and then there are little,
narrow alleys where the poor live, and the houses are so high that
neither light nor air can ever get to them. And they most of them
appeared so dirty and unhealthy that it made my heart ache to look at
them. I went home the next day, and never was better pleased in my life.
When I came to the top of the great hill, from which you have a prospect
of our house, I really thought I should have cried with joy. The fields
looked all so pleasant, and the very cattle, when I went about to see
them, all seemed glad that I was come home again.
MR. BARLOW: You see by this that it is very possible for people to like
the country, and to be happy in it. But as to the fine young ladies you
talk of, the truth is that they neither love nor would be contented in
any place. It is no wonder they dislike the country, where they find
neither employment nor amusement. They wish to go to London, because
they there meet with numbers of people as idle and as frivolous as
themselves; and these people assist each other to talk about trifles and
to waste their time.
TOMMY: That is true, sir, really; for when we have a great deal of
company, I have often observed that they never talk about anything but
eating or dressing, or men and women that are paid to make faces at the
playhouse or a great room called Ranelagh, where everybody goes to meet
their friends.
Which discourse led on to a story of the ancient Spartans, and their
superiority to the luxury-loving Persians.
_IV.--The Bull-Baiting_
The time had now arrived when Tommy was by appointment to go home and
spend some time with his parents. Mr. Barlow had been long afraid of
this visit, as he knew his pupil would meet a great deal of company
there who would give him impressions of a nature very different from
those he had, with so much assiduity, been labouring to excite. However,
the visit was unavoidable, and Mrs. Merton sent so pressing an
invitation for Harry to accompany his friend, after having obtained the
consent of his father, that Mr. Barlow, with much regret, took leave of
his pupils.
When the boys arrived at Mr. Merton's they were introduced into a
crowded drawing-room full of the most elegant company which that part of
the country afforded, among whom were several young gentlemen and ladies
of different ages who had been purposely invited to spend their holidays
with Master Merton.
As soon as Master Merton entered, every tongue was let loose in his
praise. As to Harry, he had the good fortune to be taken notice of by
nobody except Mr. Merton, who received him with great cordiality, and a
Miss Simmons, who had been brought up by an uncle who endeavoured, by a
hardy and robust education, to prevent in his niece that sickly delicacy
which is considered so great an ornament in fashionable life. Harry and
this young lady became great friends, though to a considerable extent
they were the butt of the others.
A lady who sat by Mrs. Merton, asked her, in a whisper loud enough to be
heard all over the room, whether (indicating Harry) that was the little
ploughboy whom she had heard Mr. Barlow was attempting to bring up like
a gentleman? Mrs. Merton answered "Yes." "Indeed," said the lady, "I
should have thought so by his plebeian look and vulgar air. But I
wonder, my dear madam, that you will suffer your son, who, without
flattery, is one of the most accomplished children I ever saw, with
quite the air of fashion, to keep such company."
Whilst Tommy was being estranged from his friend by a constant
succession of flattery from his elders and the example of others of his
own age, Harry, who never said any of those brilliant things that render
a boy the darling of the ladies, and who had not that vivacity, or
rather impertinence, which frequently passes for wit with superficial
people, paid the greatest attention to what was said to him, and made
the most judicious observations upon subjects he understood. For this
reason, Miss Simmons, although much older and better informed, received
great satisfaction from conversing with him, and thought him infinitely
more agreeable and sensible than any of the smart young gentlemen she
had hitherto seen.
One morning the young gentlemen agreed to take a walk in the country.
Harry went with them. As they walked across a common they saw a great
number of people moving forward towards a bull-baiting. Instantly they
were seized with a desire to see the diversion. One obstacle alone
presented itself. Their parents, particularly Mrs. Merton, had made them
promise to avoid every kind of danger. However, all except Harry, agreed
to go, insisting among themselves that there was no danger.
"Master Harry," said one, "has not said a word. Surely he will not tell
of us."
Harry said he did not wish to tell; but if, he added, he were asked, he
would have to tell the truth.
A quarrel followed, in which Tommy struck his friend in the face with
his fist. This, added to Tommy's recent conduct towards him, caused the
tears to start to Harry's eyes, whereupon the others assailed him with
cries of "Coward!" "Blackguard!" and so on. Master Mash went further and
slapped him in the face. Harry, though Master Mash's inferior in size
and strength, returned this by a punch, and a fight ensued, from which,
though severely punished himself, Harry emerged the victor, to be
assailed with a chorus of congratulation from those who before were
loading him with taunts and outrages.
The young gentlemen persisting in their intention to see the
bull-baiting, Harry followed at some distance, deciding not to quit his
friend till he had once more seen him in a place of safety. As it
happened, the bull, after disposing of his early tormentors, broke loose
when three fierce dogs were set upon it at once. In the stampede little
Tommy fell right in the path of the infuriated animal, and would have
lost his life had not Harry, with a courage and presence of mind above
his years, suddenly seized a prong which one of the fugitives had
dropped, and, at the very moment when the bull was stopping to gore his
defenceless friend, advanced and wounded it in the flank. The bull
turned, and with redoubled rage made at his new assailant, and it is
probable that, notwithstanding his intrepidity, Harry would have paid
with his own life the price of his assistance to his friend had not a
poor negro, whom he had helped earlier in the day, come opportunely to
his aid, and by his promptitude and address secured the animal.
The gratitude of Mr. Merton for his son's escape was unbounded, and even
Mrs. Merton was ashamed of her disparaging remarks about Harry. As for
Tommy, he went to his friend's home to seek reconciliation, reflecting
with shame and contempt upon the ridiculous prejudices he had once
entertained.
He had now learned to consider all men as his brethren, not forgetting
the poor negro; and that, as he said, it is much better to be useful
than rich or fine.
* * * * *