THE PRECEPTOR OF FRYEBURG ACADEMY.
It may be supposed that between his school in the daytime and his
duties as copyist in the evening, Daniel found his time pretty well
occupied. As we know, he was not drawn to the teacher’s office by any
special love of that honorable vocation, but simply by the pecuniary
emolument. But, though this was the case, he discharged his duties with
conscientious fidelity, and made himself a favorite both among his
pupils and in the village, where the new preceptor was, as is usual, a
person of importance.
He was accustomed to open and close the school with extemporaneous
prayer, and those who remember the deep solemnity of manner which he
could command at will will readily believe that this exercise was made
impressive by the young teacher.
No stories have been handed down of insubordination among his pupils.
If there had been any, it would speedily have been quelled by the
preceptor, whose demeanor was naturally dignified.
It is remarkable how many of our great men have spent a portion
of their early lives at the teacher’s desk. Gen. Garfield had an
unusually extensive and varied experience as teacher, and would have
passed through life very happily if he had never withdrawn from the
school-room. Daniel Webster had not his special aptitude for it, but
was nevertheless very fairly successful. One qualification, as we
learn from the testimony of a pupil, was his “remarkable equanimity
of temper.” The vexations of the school-room are neither few nor far
between, but none of them were able to bring a frown to young Webster’s
brow. Calmly he met and conquered all difficulties that came in his
way, and secured the confidence and respect of his scholars.
The young man also impressed his pupils and friends as a man of
competent scholarship. Hon. Samuel Fessenden, of Portland, writes:
“The first I ever knew of Daniel Webster was immediately after he left
college, and was employed by my father, the secretary of the Trustees
of Fryeburg Academy, to become the principal instructor in that
institution. He was not, when he commenced, twenty years old. I heard
no one complain that his scholarship was not adequate to the duty he
had assumed. On the contrary, I heard the Rev. Dr. Nathaniel Porter, of
Conway, and my father, the Rev. William Fessenden, of Fryeburg, both of
whom were good scholars, and the former, Rev. Dr. Porter, a very great
man, say that Daniel Webster was a very good scholar for his years.
He did, while at Fryeburg, exhibit traits of talent and genius which
drew from these two divines, and from other professional gentlemen,
unqualified praise of his powers of mind. I remember very distinctly
hearing my father remark that if Mr. Webster should live, and have
health, and pursue a straightforward course of industry and virtue, he
would become one of the greatest men this country had produced.”
When it is remembered that the young man of whom this prediction
was made was at the time an obscure teacher, in an obscure town, in
what was then a frontier settlement, we must infer that he exhibited
remarkable ability, and gave hints of a reserved power not yet called
into action.
In spite of his engrossing employments, the young man found time to
enlarge his general culture by various reading. Nor did he neglect
his professional studies, but continued the reading of Blackstone’s
Commentaries. It is remarkable that with all this hard work he found
time for society. Dr. Osgood, the registrar’s son, says: “He was
usually serious, but often facetious and pleasant. He was an agreeable
companion, and eminently social with all who shared his friendship.
He was greatly beloved by all who knew him. His habits were strictly
abstemious, and he neither took wine nor strong drink. He was punctual
in his attendance upon public worship, and ever opened his school with
prayer. I never heard him use a profane word, and never saw him lose
his temper.”
From all that has been said my young readers will see that Daniel was
beginning life in the right way. It seems to me that at this period he
was a model who may be safely copied in all respects. The reverence
which he so plainly evinced as a young man for religion he never lost,
but to the latest day of his life he yielded to none in his regard for
the spirit of Christianity.
Under date of May 18, 1802, Daniel writes to his favorite friend Harvey
Bingham, giving some account of matters at Fryeburg. He had just
returned from spending a short vacation with his brother at Hanover.
“I arrived here last night,” he says; “but must fill this page by
relating a little anecdote that happened yesterday. I accidentally
fell in with one of my scholars on his return to the academy. He
was mounted on the ugliest horse I ever saw or heard of except
Sancho Panzas’s pacer. As I had two horses with me, I proposed to
him to ride one of them, and tie his bay fast to his Bucephalus; he
did accordingly, and turned her forward, where her odd appearance,
indescribable gait, and frequent stumblings afforded us constant
amusement. At length we approached Saco River, a very wide, deep and
rapid stream, when this satire on the animal creation, as if to revenge
herself on us for our sarcasms, plunged into the river, then very high
by the freshet, and was wafted down the current like a bag of oats. I
could scarcely sit on my horse for laughter. I am apt to laugh at the
vexations of my friends. The fellow, who was of my own age, and my
roommate half checked the current by oaths as big as lobsters, and the
old Rosinante, who was all the while much at her ease, floated up among
the willows far below on the opposite shore.”
While Daniel was laboring as teacher and copyist at Fryeburg, his
older brother, Ezekiel, was pursuing his studies at Dartmouth College,
sustained there mainly by the remittances which Daniel was able to send
him. The chief pleasure which the younger brother derived from his
experience as teacher was, that it gave him the means of securing for
his favorite brother the same advantages which he had himself enjoyed.
He cheerfully postponed his plan of professional study in order to
discharge this pious duty. Certainly the affection which united these
two brothers was very beautiful, and creditable to both. Too often
brothers are estranged without good reason, and follow selfishly
their own plans, without the desire to help each other. To the end
of Ezekiel’s life this mutual affection continued, and when he was
suddenly removed by death Daniel was deeply affected, and staggered
under the blow.
How long was this occupation to continue? How long was the future
statesman to devote himself to the comparatively humble duty of
inducting country boys into the paths of knowledge?
He had only engaged for two terms, but such was his success that the
trustees were not willing to have him go. As an inducement to him to
remain they offered to increase his small salary of three hundred and
fifty dollars to five or six hundred, with a house to live in, a piece
of land to cultivate, and possibly a clerkship of the Common Pleas.
All this may sound very small to us, but to a youth who had been
reared in such straitened circumstances as Daniel it seemed like a
liberal competence. It required some decision and boldness to reject
this certainly for the uncertain prospects of a young lawyer, before
whom lay at the first a period of poverty and struggle. Then it must
be added that Daniel was modest, and was far from believing that he
was endowed with extraordinary talent. It is very probable that more
than half the young men who graduate from our law schools to-day have
a higher opinion of their abilities than Daniel Webster at the age of
twenty. To illustrate his struggles I quote from a letter written at
this time.
“What shall I do? Shall I say, ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ and sit down here to
spend my days in a kind of comfortable privacy, or shall I relinquish
these prospects, and enter into a profession where my feelings will
be constantly harrowed by objects either of dishonesty or misfortune;
where my living must be squeezed from penury (for rich folks seldom
go to law), and my moral principle be continually at hazard? I agree
with you that the law is well calculated to draw forth the powers of
the mind, but what are its effects on the heart? are they equally
propitious? Does it inspire benevolence and awake tenderness; or does
it, by a frequent repetition of wretched objects, blunt sensibility and
stifle the still, small voice of mercy?
“The talent with which Heaven has intrusted me is small, very small;
yet I feel responsible for the use of it, and am not willing to pervert
it to purposes reproachful or unjust, or to hide it, like the slothful
servant, in a napkin.
“On the whole, I imagine I shall make one more trial (of the law)
in the ensuing autumn. If I prosecute the profession, I pray God to
fortify me against its temptations. To the winds I dismiss those
light hopes of eminence which ambition inspired and vanity fostered.
To be ‘honest, to be capable, to be faithful’ to my client and my
conscience. I believe you, my worthy boy, when you tell me what are
your intentions. I have long known and long loved the honesty of your
heart. But let us not rely too much on ourselves; let us look to some
less fallible guide to direct us among the temptations that surround
us.”
In a letter written June 4, 1802, Mr. Webster refers to his indecision
as to a career.
“Now Hope leans forward on Life’s slender line,
Shows me a lawyer, doctor or divine;
Ardent springs forward to the distant goal,
But indecision clogs the eager soul.
Heaven bless my friend, and when he marks his way,
And takes his bearings o’er life’s troubled sea,
In that important moment may he find
Choice and his friends and duty all combined.”