From Canal Boy to President; Or, the Boyhood and Manhood of James A. Garfield by - (whitelam books txt) 📕

you hear what he said about keepin' order?"

"Yes, he kinder looked at you an' me when he was talkin'."

"I guess he heard about our turnin' out the last teacher."

"Of course. I tell you, it took some cheek to come here and order 'round us boys that has known him all his life."

"That's so. Do you think he's goin' to maintain order, as he calls it?"

"You just wait till afternoon. He'll know better then."

James did not go out to recess the first day. He had some things to do affecting the organization of the school, and so he remained at his desk. Several of the pupils came up to consult him on one point or another, and he received them all with that pleasant manner which throughout his life was characteristic of him. To one and another he gave a hint or a suggestion, based upon his knowledge of their character and abilities. One of the boys said: "Do you think I'd better study grammar, Jimmy—I mean Mr. Garfield?"

James smiled. He knew the slip was unintentional. Of course it would not do for him to allow himself to be addressed in school by a pupil as Jimmy.

"Yes," he answered, "unless you think you know all about it already."

"I don't know the first thing about it."

"Then, of course, you ought to study it. Why shouldn't you?"

"But I can't make nothin' out of it. I can't understand it nohow."

"Then you need somebody to explain it to you."

"It's awful stupid."

"I don't think you will find it so when you come to know more about it. I shall be ready to explain it. I think I can make you understand it."

Another had a sum he could not do. So James found the recess pass quickly away, and again the horde of scholars poured into the school-room.

It was not till afternoon that the conflict came.

Tom Bassett belonged to the first class in geography.

James called out the class.

All came out except Tom, who lounged carelessly in his seat.

"Thomas, don't you belong to this class?" asked the young teacher.

"I reckon I do."

"Then why don't you come out to recite?"

"Oh, I feel lazy," answered Tom, with a significant smile, as if to inquire, "What are you goin' to do about it?"

James thought to himself with a thrill of unpleasant excitement, "It's coming. In ten minutes I shall know whether Tom Bassett or I is to rule this school."

His manner was calm, however, as he said, "That is no excuse. I can't accept it. As your teacher I order you to join your class."

"Can't you wait till to-morrow?" asked Tom, with a grin, which was reflected on the faces of several other pupils.

"I think I understand you," said James, with outward calmness. "You defy my authority."

"You're only a boy like me," said Tom; "I don't see why I should obey you."

"If you were teacher, and I pupil, I should obey you," said James, "and I expect the same of you."

"Oh, go on with the recitation!" said Tom, lazily. "Never mind me!"

James felt that he could afford to wait no longer

Turning to the class, he said, "I shall have to delay you for a minute."

He walked deliberately up to the seat where Tom Bassett was sitting.

Tom squared off in the expectation of an assault; but, with the speed of lightning, the young teacher grasped him by the collar, and, with a strength that surprised himself, dragged him from his seat, in spite of his struggles, till he reached the place where the class was standing.

By this time Bill Stackpole felt called upon to help his partner in rebellion.

"You let him alone!" he said, menacingly, stepping forward.

"One at a time!" said James, coolly. "I will be ready for you in a minute."

He saw that there was only one thing to do.

He dragged Tom to the door, and forcibly ejected him, saying, "When you get ready to obey me you can come back."

He had scarcely turned when Bill Stackpole was upon him.

With a quick motion of the foot James tripped him up, and, still retaining his grasp on his collar, said, "Will you go or stay?"

Bill was less resolute than Tom.

"I guess I'll stay," he said; then picked himself up and resumed his place in the class.

Apparently calm, James returned to his desk, and commenced hearing the class recite.

The next morning, on his way to school, James overtook Tom Bassett, who eyed him with evident embarrassment. Tom's father had sent him back to school, and Tom did not dare disobey.

"Good morning, Tom," said James, pleasantly.

"Mornin'!" muttered Tom.

"I hope you are going to school?"

"Father says I must."

"I am glad of that, too. By the way, Tom, I think I shall have to get some of the scholars to help me with some of the smaller pupils. I should like to get you to hear the lowest class in arithmetic to-day."

"You want me to help you teach?" exclaimed Tom, in amazement.

"Yes; it will give me more time for the higher classes."

"And you don't bear no malice on account of yesterday?"

"Oh, no; we are too good friends to mind such a trifle."

"Then," said Tom, impulsively, "you won't have no more trouble with me. I'll help you all I can."

There was general surprise felt when the young teacher and his rebellious scholar were seen approaching the school-house, evidently on the most friendly terms. There was still greater surprise when, during the forenoon, James requested Tom to hear the class already mentioned. At recess Tom proclaimed his intention to lick any boy that was impudent to the teacher, and the new Garfield administration seemed to be established on a firm basis.

This incident, which is based upon an actual resort to war measures on the part of the young teacher, is given to illustrate the strength as well as the amiability of Garfield's character. It was absolutely necessary that he should show his ability to govern.

Chapter XIII—Ames Leaves Geauga Seminary

While teaching his first school James "boarded round" among the families who sent pupils to his school. It was not so pleasant as having a permanent home, but it afforded him opportunities of reaching and influencing his scholars which otherwise he could not have enjoyed. With his cheerful temperament and genial manners, he could hardly fail to be an acquisition to any family with whom he found a home. He was ready enough to join in making the evenings pass pleasantly, and doubtless he had ways of giving instruction indirectly, and inspiring a love of learning similar to that which he himself possessed.

He returned to school with a small sum of money in his pocket, which was of essential service to him in his economical way of living. But he brought also an experience in imparting knowledge to others which was still greater value.

An eminent teacher has said that we never fully know anything till we have tried to impart it to others.

James remained at the Geauga Seminary for three years. Every winter he taught school, and with success. In one of these winter sessions, we are told by Rev. William M. Thayer, in his biography of Garfield, that he was applied to by an ambitious student to instruct him in geometry. There was one difficulty in the way, and that a formidable one. He was entirely unacquainted with geometry himself. But, he reflected, here is an excellent opportunity for me to acquire a new branch of knowledge. Accordingly he procured a text-book, studied it faithfully at night, keeping sufficiently far ahead of his pupil to qualify him to be his guide and instructor, and the pupil never dreamed that his teacher, like himself, was traversing unfamiliar ground.

It was early in his course at Geauga that he made the acquaintance of one who was to prove his closest and dearest friend—the young lady who in after years was to become his wife. Lucretia Rudolph was the daughter of a farmer in the neighborhood—"a quiet, thoughtful girl, of singularly sweet and refined disposition, fond of study and reading, and possessing a warm heart, and a mind capable of steady growth." Probably James was first attracted to her by intellectual sympathy and a community of tastes; but as time passed he discerned in her something higher and better than mere intellectual aspiration; and who shall say in the light that has been thrown by recent events on the character of Lucretia Garfield, that he was not wholly right?

Though we are anticipating the record, it may be in place to say here that the acquaintance formed here was renewed and ripened at Hiram College, to which in time both transferred themselves. There as pupil-teacher James Garfield became in one branch the instructor of his future wife, and it was while there that the two became engaged. It was a long engagement. James had to wait the traditional "seven years" for his wife, but the world knows how well he was repaid for his long waiting.

"Did you know Mrs. Garfield?" asked a reporter of the Chicago Inter-Ocean of Mr. Philo Chamberlain, of Cleveland.

"Yes, indeed," was the reply. "My wife knows her intimately. They used to teach school together in Cleveland. Mrs. Garfield is a splendid lady. She wasn't what you would call a brilliant teacher, but she was an unusually good one, very industrious, and the children made rapid progress in their studies under her. And then she was studious, too. Why, she acquired three languages while she was in school, both as a student and a teacher, and she spoke them well, I am told. They were married shortly after he came back from Williams, and I forgot to tell you a nice little thing about the time when he paid Dr. Robinson back the money he had spent on him. When Dr. Robinson refused to take the interest, which amounted to a snug little sum, Garfield said: 'Well, Doctor, that is one big point in my favor, as now I can get married.' It seems that they had been engaged for a long time, but had to wait till he could get something to marry on. And I tell you it isn't every young man that will let the payment of a self-imposed debt stand between him and getting married to the girl he loves."

Without anticipating too far events we have not yet reached, it may be said that Lucretia Garfield's education and culture made her not the wife only, but the sympathetic friend and intellectual helper of her husband. Her early studies were of service to her in enabling her partially to prepare for college her two oldest boys. She assisted her husband also in his literary plans, without losing the domestic character of a good wife, and the refining graces of a true woman.

But let us not forget that James is still a boy in his teens. He had many hardships to encounter, and many experiences to go through before he could set up a home of his own. He had studied three years, but his education had only begun. The Geauga Seminary was only an academy, and hardly the equal of the best academies to be found at the East.

He began to feel that he had about exhausted its facilities, and to look higher. He had not far to look.

During the year 1851 the Disciples, the religious body to which young Garfield had attached himself, opened a collegiate school at Hiram, in Portage County, which they called an eclectic school. Now it ranks as a college, but at the time James entered it, it had not assumed so ambitious a title.

It was not far away, and James' attention was naturally drawn to it. There was an advantage also in its location. Hiram was a small country village, where the expenses of living were small, and, as we know, our young student's purse was but scantily filled. Nevertheless, so limited were his means that it was a perplexing problem how he would be able to pay his way.

He consulted his mother, and, as was always the case, found that she sympathized fully in his purpose of obtaining a higher education. Pecuniary help, however, she could not give, nor had he at this time any rich friends upon whom he could call for the pittance he required.

But James was not easily daunted. He had gone to Geauga Seminary with but seventeen dollars in his pocket; he had remained there three years, maintaining himself by work at his old trade of carpenter and teaching, and had graduated owing nothing. He had become self-reliant, and felt that what he had done at Chester he could do at Hiram.

So one fine morning he set out, with a light heart and a pocket equally light, for the infant institution from which he hoped so much.

The Board of Trustees were in session, as we learn from the account given by one of their number, when James arrived and sought an audience.

After a little delay, the doorkeeper was instructed to bring him in.

James was nineteen at this time. He was no longer as homespun in appearance as when he sat upon a log with Dr. Robinson, in the seclusion of the woods, and asked his advice about a career. Nevertheless, he was still awkward. He had grown rapidly, was of slender build, and had no advantages of dress to recommend him. One who saw him in after-life, with