[Illustration: Two boys in a general store]
FROM
FARM BOY TO SENATOR;
BEING THE HISTORY OF THE
BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD
OF
DANIEL WEBSTER.
BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.,
_Author of “From Canal Boy to President,” “Ragged Dick
Series,” “Tattered Tom Series,” etc., etc._
NEW YORK:
J. S. OGILVIE & COMPANY,
NO. 31 ROSE STREET.
COPYRIGHT, 1882,
BY STREET & SMITH.
TO
MY FRIEND AND COLLEGE CLASSMATE,
JUDGE ADDISON BROWN,
OF NEW YORK,
THIS VOLUME IS CORDIALLY INSCRIBED.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Cotton Handkerchief 9
II. Daniel and his Father 17
III. A Memorable Battle 25
IV. An Important Step 33
V. Daniel at Exeter Academy 41
VI. Preparing for College 49
VII. Daniel’s College Life 59
VIII. Daniel Receives some Valuable Advice 67
IX. Brotherly Love 71
X. The Two Brothers 76
XI. Daniel as an Orator 84
XII. Studying Law 92
XIII. How Daniel went to Fryeburg 97
XIV. The Preceptor of Fryeburg Academy 101
XV. The Next Two Years 109
XVI. A Great Temptation 117
XVII. Daniel Refuses a Clerkship 125
XVIII. D. Webster, Attorney 133
XIX. Daniel Overcomes a Bramble 141
XX. “The Little Black Stable-Boy.” 150
XXI. Why Daniel was sent to Congress 158
XXII. Mr. Webster as a Member of Congress 166
XXIII. John Randolph and William Pinkney 174
XXIV. Mr. Webster in Boston 184
XXV. The Oration at Plymouth 190
XXVI. The Bunker Hill Oration 199
XXVII. Adams and Jefferson 207
XXVIII. Home Life and Domestic Sorrows 218
XXIX. Called to the Senate 225
XXX. The Beginning of a Great Battle 232
XXXI. The Reply to Hayne 240
XXXII. The Secret of Webster’s Power 256
XXXIII. Honors Received in England 267
XXXIV. Called to the Cabinet 275
XXXV. Life at Marshfield 283
XXXVI. The Seventh of March Speech 289
XXXVII. Closing Scenes 296
XXXVIII. Centennial Tributes 301
PREFACE.
But thirty years have elapsed since the death of Daniel Webster, and
there is already danger that, so far as young people are concerned,
he will become an historic reminiscence. Schoolboys, who declaim
the eloquent extracts from his speeches which are included in all
the school speakers, are indeed able to form some idea of his great
oratorical powers and the themes which called them forth; but I have
found that young classical students, as a rule, know more of Cicero’s
life than of his. It seems to me eminently fitting that the leading
incidents in the life of our great countryman, his struggles for an
education, the steps by which he rose to professional and political
distinction, should be made familiar to American boys. I have therefore
essayed a “story biography,” which I have tried to write in such a
manner as to make it attractive to young people, who are apt to turn
away from ordinary biographies, in the fear that they may prove dull.
I have not found my task an easy one. Webster’s life is so crowded
with great services and events, it is so interwoven with the history
of the nation, that to give a fair idea of him in a volume of ordinary
size is almost impossible. I have found it necessary to leave out some
things, and to refer briefly to others, lest my book should expand to
undue proportions. Let me acknowledge then, with the utmost frankness,
that my work is incomplete, and necessarily so. This causes me less
regret, because those whom I may be fortunate enough to interest in my
subject will readily find all that they wish to know in the noble Life
of Webster, by George Ticknor Curtis, the captivating Reminiscences, by
Peter Harvey, the Private Correspondence, edited by Fletcher Webster,
and the collection of Mr. Webster’s speeches, edited by Mr. Everett.
They will also find interesting views of Mr. Webster’s senatorial
career in the Reminiscences of Congress, by Charles W. March.
If this unpretending volume shall contribute in any way to extend the
study of Mr. Webster’s life and works, I shall feel that my labor has
been well bestowed.
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
March 28, 1882.
[Illustration: DANIEL WEBSTER AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN.]
FROM FARM BOY TO SENATOR.
A BOYS’ LIFE OF
DANIEL WEBSTER.
CHAPTER I.
THE COTTON HANDKERCHIEF.
“Where are you going, Daniel?”
“To Mr. Hoyt’s store.”
“I’ll go in with you. Where is ’Zekiel this morning?”
“I left him at work on the farm.”
“I suppose you will both be farmers when you grow up?”
“I don’t know,” answered Daniel, thoughtfully. “I don’t think I shall
like it, but there isn’t anything else to do in Salisbury.”
“You might keep a store, and teach school like Master Hoyt.”
“Perhaps so. I should like it better than farming.”
Daniel was but eight years old, a boy of striking appearance, with
black hair and eyes, and a swarthy complexion. He was of slender frame,
and his large dark eyes, deep set beneath an overhanging brow, gave a
singular appearance to the thin face of the delicate looking boy.
He was a farmer’s son, and lived in a plain, old-fashioned house,
shaded by fine elms, and separated from the broad, quiet street by a
fence. It was situated in a valley, at the bend of the Merrimac, on
both sides of which rose high hills, which the boy climbed many a time
for the more extended view they commanded. From a high sheep-pasture on
his father’s farm, through a wide opening in the hills, he could see on
a clear day Brentney Mountain in Vermont, and in a different direction
the snowy top of Mount Washington, far away to the northeast.
He entered the humble store with his companion.
Behind the counter stood Master Hoyt, a tall man, of stern aspect,
which could strike terror into the hearts of delinquent scholars when
in the winter they came to receive instruction from him.
“Good morning, Daniel,” said Master Hoyt, who was waiting upon a
customer.
“Good morning, sir,” answered Daniel, respectfully.
“I hope you won’t forget what you learned at school last winter.”
“No, sir, I will try not to.”
“You mustn’t forget your reading and writing.”
“No, sir; I read whatever I can find, but I don’t like writing much.”
“You’ll never make much of a hand at writing, Daniel. Ezekiel writes
far better than you. But you won’t need writing much when you’re
following the plough.”
“I hope I shan’t have to do that, Master Hoyt.”
“Ay, you’re hardly strong enough, you may find something else to do in
time. You may keep school like me—who knows?—but you’ll have to get
some one else to set the copies,” and Master Hoyt laughed, as if he
thought it a good joke.
Daniel listened gravely to the master’s prediction, but it seemed
to him he should hardly care to be a teacher like Mr. Hoyt, for the
latter, though he was a good reader, wrote an excellent hand, and had
a slight knowledge of grammar, could carry his pupils no further. No
pupil was likely to wonder that “one small head could carry all he
knew.” Yet the boys respected him, and in his limited way he did them
good.
Master Hoyt had by this time finished waiting upon his customer, and
was at leisure to pay attention to his two young callers. He regarded
them rather as pupils than as customers, for it is quite the custom in
sparsely settled neighborhoods to “drop in” at the store for a chat.
Meanwhile Daniel’s roving eyes had been attracted by a cotton
pocket-handkerchief, which appeared to have something printed upon it.
Master Hoyt noticed the direction of the boy’s gaze.
“I see you are looking at the handkerchief,” he said. “Would you like
to see what is printed on it?”
“Yes, sir.”
The handkerchief was taken down and placed in the boy’s hands. It was
quite customary in those days, when books and papers were comparatively
rare and difficult to obtain, to combine literature with plain homely
utility, by printing reading matter of some kind on cheap cotton
handkerchiefs. Nowadays boys would probably object to such a custom,
but the boy, Daniel who was fond of reading, was attracted.
“Is it a story?” he asked.
“No, Daniel; it is the Constitution of the United States—the government
we live under.”
Daniel’s interest was excited. Of the government he knew something,
but not much, and up to that moment he had not known that there was a
constitution, and indeed he couldn’t tell what a constitution was, but
he thought he would like to know.
“What is the price?” he asked.
“Twenty-five cents.”
Daniel felt in his pocket, and drew out a quarter of a dollar. It
represented all his worldly wealth. It had not come to him all at once,
but was the accumulation of pennies saved. He may have had other plans
for spending it, but now when there was a chance of securing something
to read he could not resist the temptation, so he passed over his
precious coin, and the handkerchief became his.
“It’s a good purchase,” said Master Hoyt, approvingly. “Take it home,
Daniel, and read it, and you’ll know something of the government we’re
living under. I suppose you’ve heard your father talk of the days when
he was a soldier, and fought against the British?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When soldiers were called for, Captain Webster was one of the first to
answer the call. But of course you are too young to remember that time.”
“Yes, sir; but I have heard father talk about it.”
“Ay, ay; your father was selected to stand guard before General
Washington’s headquarters on the night after Arnold’s treason. The
general knew he could depend upon him.”
“Yes, sir; I am sure of that,” said the boy proudly, for he had a high
reverence and respect for his soldier father, who on his side was
devoted to the best interests of his sons, and was ready when the time
came to make sacrifices for them such as would have made most fathers
hesitate.
“Ah, those were dark days, Daniel. You are lucky to live in peaceful
times, under a free government, but you must never forget how your
father and other brave men fought to secure the blessings we now enjoy.
Now General Washington is President, and we are no longer a subject
colony, but we have a free and independent government.”
It is doubtful how far Daniel and his young companion understood the
remarks of Master Hoyt, but doubtless a time came further on when the
words recurred to him, and in the light of his father’s conversations,
which from time to time he held with his neighbors, gave him a more
adequate idea of the character of that government in which in after
years he was to take so prominent a part.
“Are you going, Daniel?” asked William Hoyt, as the boys turned to
leave his humble store.
“Yes, sir; father may want me at home.”
“Don’t forget your learning, my lad. You must be ready to take up your
studies next winter. Soon you will know as much as I do.”
It was meant for an encouraging remark, but the prospect it held out
was not one to dazzle the imagination even of a boy of eight, for as I
have already said the good man’s acquirements were of the most limited
character.
Daniel went home with his precious handkerchief snugly stowed away in
his pocket. He was saving it till evening when he promised himself the
pleasure of reading it.
After supper by the light of the open log fire he brought out his new
possession.
“What have you there, my son?” asked his father.
“It is a handkerchief, father, with the Constitution of the United
States printed on it.”
“Where did you get it?”
“At Master Hoyt’s store.”
“Dan spent all his money for it,” said Ezekiel.
“Well, well, he might have done worse. It will do him no harm to read
the Constitution of his country,” said the father, gravely.
Thus assured of his father’s approval, the boy devoted himself to
the reading of that famous document, of which in after years he was
to become the staunch supporter and defender. For this boy was in his
manhood to rank among the great men of the earth, and to leave a name
and a fame to which his countrymen for centuries to come will point
with just and patriotic pride.
This boy with slender form, swarthy face, and dark eyes, was Daniel
Webster.