DANIEL REFUSES A CLERKSHIP.
Those of my readers who have read “The Canal Boy” will remember that
before Gen. Garfield graduated from college he too was met by a similar
temptation, in the shape of an offer which, if accepted, would have
materially changed his course of life, and given him a comfortable
obscurity in place of national renown. He was offered a school in Troy,
N. Y., with a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month,
while up to that time he had never earned but eighteen dollars per
month and board. He declined after a hard struggle, for he too had been
reared in poverty and still suffered from it.
And now a similar temptation had come to Daniel Webster.
He went home and thought the matter over. He felt that Mr. Gore’s
advice was good, but how could he accept it? His father was old and in
poor health. He had set his heart on Daniel’s accepting this place.
A contrary decision would strike him like a thunderbolt. Moreover it
would bring him home, and give his father the comfort of his society,
as well as pecuniary prosperity.
It seemed a selfish thing to refuse, to show a lack of consideration
for his father, and Daniel was a good son. I mention all these things
to show that in this turning-point of his career Daniel had a hard
decision to make. There was another circumstance to consider—his father
was in present need of money.
Finally Daniel made up his mind. If he could borrow a sum of money
sufficient to help his father, he would venture to refuse the clerkship.
He went to Mr. Joseph Taylor, a Boston acquaintance, and said to him
abruptly, “Mr. Taylor, I want to borrow some money. I will pay you some
time or other, but I can’t tell exactly when.”
“You can have as much as you want,” answered Mr. Taylor kindly.
“But,” said Daniel, “I want a good deal of money.”
“How much?” asked his friend, not seeming alarmed at his rash promise.
“Three or four hundred dollars,” was the reply, and this in the eyes of
the young law student was a very large sum, though his ideas changed
when money came in by thousands from wealthy clients, not many years
afterwards.
“You shall have it,” said Mr. Taylor, and he counted out the money into
the young man’s hands.
Daniel was elated with his success. He would not go home empty-handed,
and this sum would soften the blow which his determination would bring
to his father.
Now to get home and have it over as soon as possible! He hired a seat
in a country sleigh which had come down to market, and was on the point
of returning, for there was neither railroad nor stage to convey him
to his home. It was a crisp winter day, and they glided over the snowy
roads for many hours till they were beyond the New Hampshire line.
Still mile after mile was traversed till the old home was reached.
Just at sunset Daniel reached his home. Through the window, even
before he entered, he saw his father in his little room sitting in his
arm-chair. The old man, worn out by a long life of hard labor, seemed
very old and thin, but his eyes were as black and bright as ever.
Daniel’s heart was touched, and he felt that the trial had come. It was
no light thing to disappoint such a father.
As he entered the presence of his father Judge Webster looked up with a
smile of gladness.
“Well, Daniel, we have got that office for you,” he said.
“Yes, father,” said Daniel a little nervously. “The gentlemen were very
kind. I must go and thank them.”
“They gave it to you without my saying a word about it,” said Judge
Webster complacently.
“I must go and see Judge Farrar, and tell him I am much obliged to him,
father.”
Still the father suspected nothing of Daniel’s intention, though his
son treated it more carelessly than he had anticipated. He had thought
so much about it and come to look upon it as so desirable that it did
not seem to him possible that his son could regard it in any other way,
as indeed he would not but for Mr. Gore’s advice.
But at last the true meaning of Daniel’s indifference flashed upon him,
and he looked at him earnestly.
He straightened himself up in his chair, and he regarded him intently.
“Daniel, Daniel,” he said, “don’t you mean to take that office?”
“No, indeed, father,” answered Daniel lightly, though his lightness
was assumed, and covered a feeling of anxiety; “I hope I can do much
better than that. I mean to use my tongue in the courts, not my pen; to
be an actor, not a register of other men’s acts. I hope yet, sir, to
astonish your honor in your own court by my professional attainments.”
Youth is hopeful and ready to take risks; age is conservative and takes
little for granted. Judge Webster must have thought his son’s decision
exceedingly rash. Let me tell the rest of the story in Daniel’s words,
as indeed I have closely adhered to his version thus far.
“For a moment I thought he was angry. He rocked his chair slightly; a
flash went over an eye softened by age, but still as black as jet; but
it was gone, and I thought I saw that parental partiality was, after
all, a little gratified at this apparent devotion to an honorable
profession, and this seeming confidence of success in it. He looked at
me for as much as a minute, and then said slowly, ‘Well, my son, your
mother has always said you would come to something or nothing, she was
not sure which; I think you are now about settling that doubt for her.’
This he said, and never a word spoke more to me on the subject.”
Daniel explained to his father the reasons which had induced him to
arrive at the decision he had just expressed, and as an earnest of
the good fortune which he anticipated in the career he had chosen
he produced the money he had borrowed, and placed it in his father’s
hands. Probably this satisfied Judge Webster that there were others who
had faith in his son’s promise, since he could offer no other security
for borrowed money. At any rate it softened his disappointment, since
it brought him help which he sorely needed.
Daniel stayed at home a week, contributing as such a son might to the
happiness of his parents, who, now in the sunset of life, had little to
hope for themselves, but lived wholly for their children.
Now he must go back to Boston, for the period of his preparatory
studies was drawing to a close, and he was almost to seek immediately
admission to the bar.
In March, 1805, he was admitted to practice in the Court of Common
Pleas in Boston, the usual motion being made by his friend and teacher,
Mr. Gore. This eminent lawyer, according to the custom of that time,
accompanied his motion by a brief speech, which was of so complimentary
a character that it must have been exceedingly gratifying to the legal
neophyte, who stood waiting for the doors to open through which he was
to enter into the precincts of a dignified and honorable profession.
“It is a well-known tradition,” says Mr. George Ticknor Curtis, “that
on this occasion Mr. Gore predicted the future eminence of his young
friend. What he said has not been preserved; but that he said what Mr.
Webster never forgot, that it was distinctly a prediction, and that it
excited in him a resolve that it should not go unfulfilled, we have
upon his own authority, though he appears to have been unwilling to
repeat the words of Mr. Gore’s address.”
Young Webster, whose career we have thus far followed in detail through
the successive stages of his struggle with penury, was now no longer a
farmer’s boy, but a full-fledged lawyer, of whom eminent men expected
much.
Another important question was to be decided, Where should Daniel
put up his shingle, and commence the practice of his profession? In
Boston the field was larger, and the chances of attaining professional
eminence were greater. Many of his friends counseled his remaining
in the city. But up in New Hampshire was an old man whose life was
nearly over, to whose last days his company would bring solace and
comfort. What prospects, however brilliant, could overbalance this
consideration? With filial devotion Daniel decided to settle in New
Hampshire, in Boscawan, but a few miles from Salisbury, where he
could see his father almost daily. Boston could wait, professional
opportunities could wait. His father’s happiness must not be
disregarded. So in the spring of 1805 he became a country lawyer in the
same town where he had prepared for college.
Thirteen months later, in April, 1807, his father died.