University of Virginia Library

42. CHAPTER XLII.

Our fourth year introduces an epoch, the Augustan age
of the New Purchase—the opening of the State College!

And now comes on the stage, as one principal actor, my
friend, the Reverend Charles Clarence, A.M., Principal

and Professor of Ancient Languages. This gentleman had
accepted our appointment, not for the paltry stipend paid as
his salary, but wholly because he longed to be in the romantic
West, and among its earliest literary pioneers; and
hence, early this spring, he was with us, and not merely
ready, but even enthusiastically impatient to commence his
labours.

His wife was with him—the woman of his seven years'
love! They had tasted, however, the wormwood of affliction's
cup, and even now wore the badges of recent bereavements.
Mr. Clarence, leaving his wife and two little
children, went to the South again on business; and after
an absence of four months, on returning to his boardinghouse
in Philadelphia, he was surprised at hearing and
seeing no signs of his babes. His wife, instead of answering
in words his eager questions, suddenly threw her arms
about his neck, and bursting into an agony of tears, exclaimed,—“Both
are dead!—come into our room—I'll tell
you all!”

Here was a sad waking from day-dreaming! and Clarence
was with us, having altered views of life, and seeing
that we have something to do in it, besides to amuse or be
amused. Happy chastisement our friend afterwards deemed
it, when encountering sore disappointments and many,
in his professional career: ay! he was destined to endure
the utter crushing of all his high hopes and purposes. For,
if ever man was influenced by disinterested motives, and
fired with enthusiasm for advancing solid learning,—if ever
one desirous of seeing Western institutions rival if not excel
others,—if ever a person came willing to live and die
with us, and to sacrifice eastern tastes and prejudices, and
become, in every proper way, a Western Man, my friend
Clarence was he.

His labours and actions proved this. Look for instance
at his daily teaching—his five and six hours usually spent

in the recitation room; at his preaching, always twice on
the Sabbath, and commonly several times during the week;
at his visits to the sick and the dying, and his attendance on
funerals! And these things extended beyond his own denomination—when
requested, and that was often; for rarely,
even in his own sicknesses and melancholy hours, did
he refuse what seemed his duty to others. When too feeble
to leave his house, he heard the recitations in his bed;
and when unable to stand, he sat in his congregation and
preached, his person emaciated and his face death-like.
Nor did he confine his teaching to the routine himself had
followed, but he introduced other branches, and also a
course of Greek, unknown then in western colleges, and
not common in eastern ones; and this, although it added
to the severity of his private studies, and for many months
kept his lamp[1] burning even till two o'clock! His only
inquiry was, how can I best promote the interests of the
institution? In short, therefore, all his learning, his talents,
his experience, his accomplishments, were freely
and heartily employed and given, in season and out of season;—and
a knowledge of all the music he possessed, vocal
and instrumental, was imparted, gratuitously, to the
students—and also grammar, moral philosophy, and the
like, gratuitously, and at extra hours, to certain teachers
of ordinary schools, and some of these his former opponents!

Much more could we say, if the modesty of my friend
permitted; but he affirms positively that he will not edit
the book if I do not stop here. And yet this man was no
match for veteran cunning; we must not, however, antici

pate—and so we shall begin regularly at the beginning,
and go on till we end with the end; refreshing, during the
story, our spirits with the occasional pleasant matters belonging
to our rather tangled road.

Be it remembered, as was intimated in the early part of
volume first, that Uncle Sam is an undoubted friend of
public education, and that, although so sadly deficient in his
own; and hence, in the liberal distribution of other folk's
land, he bestowed on us several entire townships for a college
or university. It was, therefore, democratically believed,
and loudly insisted on, that as the State had freely
received, it should freely give; and that “larnin, even the
most powerfullest highest larnin,” should at once be bestowed
on every body! and without a farthing's expense!
Indeed, some gravely said and argued that teachers and
professors in the “people's college ought to sarve for the
honour!” or at least be content with “a dollar a day,
which was more nor double what a feller got for mauling
rails!” The popular wrath therefore was at once excited
almost to fury when necessity compelled us to fix our tuition
fee at ten dollars a year; and the greatest indignation
was felt and expressed towards Clarence “as the feller
what tuk hire for teaching and preaching, and was gettin
to be a big-bug on the poor people's edicashin money.”

Be it recollected too, that both big and little colleges were
erected by persons who, with reverence be it spoken, in
all matters pertaining to “high larnin,” had not sufficient
discrimination to know the second letter of an alphabet from
a buffalo's foot. Nothing, we incline to believe, can ever
make State schools and colleges very good ones; but nothing
can make them so bad, we repeat, as for Uncle Sam to
leave every point open to debate, especially among ignorant,
prejudiced, and selfish folks in a New Purchase. For
while trustees may be ninnies, nincompoops, or even ninnyhammers
as to proper plans and buildings, yet are such

when masons, bricklayers and carpenters, keen-sighted
enough to secure the building contracts for themselves and
their friends, and curiously exorbitant in their demands on
the sub-treasurers for their silly work. The mean-looking
and ridiculous arrangements at Woodville cost as much,
perhaps more, than suitable things would have cost; so
that when a college is to be commenced, it ought to be
done, not only by honest but by wise, learned, classical
men; but as such are not abundant in very new settlements,
let such men at Washington—(and such are at
Uncle Sam's bureau)—let them prescribe when, and how,
and where, our new western institutions are to be; and if
rebellious democrats refuse the gift so encumbered, let it
thus be given to more modest and quiet democrats.

Proceed we, however, to open the college. And my
narration may be depended on, as Clarence has reviewed
the whole and says it is substantially correct,—indeed, in
some respect I was a quorum-pars.

The institution was opened the first day of May, at 9½
o'clock, A.M., anno Domini 1800 and so forth. And, some
floors being unlaid, and the sashes all being without glass,
the opening was as complete as possible—nearly like that
of an Irish hedge school! When the Principal—(so named
in our minutes and papers, but by the vulgar called master,
and by the middle sort, teacher,)—appeared, a clever
sprinkle of boy[2] was in waiting; most of which firmly believed
that, by some magic art, our hero could, and being
paid by government, should, and without putting any body
to the expense of books and implements, touch and transmute
all, and in less than no time, into great scholars.

“Boys and young gentle men,” said Mr. C. compounding
the styles of a pedagogue and professor, “I am happy to

see you; and we are now about to commence our State
College, or, as some call it, the Seminary. I hope all feel
what an honour attends being the first students in an institution
so well endowed; and which, therefore, by proper
exertions on our parts, may eventually rise to the level of
eastern colleges, and become a blessing to our State and
country. You have all, I suppose procured the necessary
books, of which notice was given at meeting, and in several
other ways, for the last four weeks.”

“I've got 'em—”

“Me too—”

“I've brung most on 'em—”

“Master—Uncle Billy's to fetch mine out in his wagin
about Monday next—”

“Father says he couldn't mind the names and wants
them on a paper—”

“Books!—I never heern tell of any books—wont these
here ones do, Master?—this here's the Western Spellin
one—and this one's the Western Kalkelatur?”

“Mr. Clarinse—I fotch'd my copy-book and a bottle of
red-ink to sit down siferin in—and daddy wants me to larn
book-keepin and surveyin.”

“Order boys—order!”—(hem!)—“let all take seats in
front. There is a misunderstanding with some, both as to
the books and the whole design and plan of the school, I
perceive. This is a Classical and Mathematical School;
and that fact is stated and fully explained in the trustees,
public advertisements; and no person can be admitted un-less
one intending to enter upon and pursue the prescribed
course; and that includes even at the start Latin, Greek,
and Algebra. Now, first, let us see who are to study the
dead languages—”

“I do—I do—me too—me too,” &c., &c.

“Do you, then, sit there. Well—now let me have your
names for the roll—A. Berry—S. Smith—C. D. &c., &c.

—ten names—I will attend to you ten directly, so soon as
I have dismissed the others. I regret, my young friends,
that you are disappointed--but I am only doing my duty;
indeed, if I wished I have no power to admit you, unless to
the course of studies—nay, even the trustees have
power to do only what they have done. I hope, therefore,
you will now go home, and explain the matter to your
friends—”

By several—

“Daddy says he doesen't see no sort a use in the high
larn'd things—and he wants me to larn Inglish only, and
bookkeepin, and surveyin, so as to tend store and run a
line.”

“I allow, Mister, we've near on about as good a right
to be larn'd what we wants, as them tother fellers on that
bench;—it's a free school for all.”

“I am sorry, boys, for this misunderstanding; but we
cannot argue the subject here. And yet every one must see
one matter plainly; for instance, any man has a right to be
governor, or judge, or congressman; yet none of you can
be elected before the legal age, and before having some
other qualifications. It is so here, you all have a right to
what we have to bestow; but you must be qualified to
enter; and must be content to receive the gift of the State
in the way the law provides and orders. You will please
go home now.”

The disappointed youngsters accordingly withdrew; and
with no greater rudeness than was to be expected from undisciplined
chaps, full of false notions of rights, and possessed
by a wild spirit of independence. Hence, Mr. C.
heard some very flattering sentiments growled at him by
the retiring young democrats; but which, when they had
fairly reached the entry, were bawled and shouted out
frankly and fearlessly. And naturally after this he was
honoured with some high sounding epithets by certain

hypocritical demagogues in rabblerousing speeches—sneaking
gentlemen, who aimed to get office and power by endless
slanders on the college, and most pitiful and malicious
slang about “liberty and equality, and rights, and tyranny,
and big-bugs, and poor people, and popular education,”
et id omue genus!

Ay! certain small-petato-patriots publicly on the stump
avowed “it was a right smart chance better to have no collidge
no how, if all folks hadn't equal right to larn what
they most liked best.” And two second-rate pettifoggers
electioneered on this principle; “that it was most consistent
with the republicanism taught by the immortal Jefferson,
and with the genius of our institutions, to use the college
funds to establish common schools for rich and poor
alike, and make the blessings of education like air, sunshine,
and water!”

Clarence, therefore, was now hated and villified, as the
supposed instrument of pride and aristocracy, in drawing a
line between rich and poor;[3] and for a while his person,
his family, his very house was abominated. On one occasion
he was in Woodville when a half drunken brute thus
halloed against him—“thare goes that darn'd high larn'd
bug what gits nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and
ninety-nine cents of the people's eddekashin money for
larnin ristekrats sons high flown words—gimme that 'are
stone and I'll do for him.” Whether this was fun or earnest,
Clarence did not care to ascertain; for hearing the
sneers and derision of the bystanders, and fearing it might
become earnest, he took shelter in my store.

At another time walking with Professor Harwood in
the outskirts of the village, they heard a cry in their rear—
“knock 'em down”—when suddenly turning, there stood a
stout chap flourishing a bludgeon over their heads, evidently,

indeed, in a sort of fun, which was, however, an
index of the popular ill-will and spite.

When persons rode by his dwelling, remarks like the
following would be shouted forth:—

“Well—thar's whar the grammur man lives that larns
'em Latin and grand-like things—allow we'll oust him yet
—he dosen't own little college any how; he's poor as Job's
turkey, if it want for that powerful sallury the trustees give
him.”

Clarence's salary was four hundred dollars per annum!

“Well,” bawled out one fellow—“dog my hide if that
ain't the furst time I ever seed that big man's door open!—
hem!—powerful fine carpet!—(a beautiful rag carpet made
by Mrs. C.)—allow, people's eddekashin money bought
that!”

Even Mr. C.'s gratuitous preaching could not secure him
from ill-natured remarks. “Well,” said an occasional hearer
to another once—“how do y'like that sort a preachin?”
“Foo!” was the reply. “I don't want no more sich! I
like a man that kin jist read, and then I know it comes from
the sperit! he tuk out his goold watch twice to show it, and
was so d—mnation proud he wouldn't kneel down to
pray!”

But the reader may wish to know how Mr. Clarence got
along with “the Few.” Well, as the warm weather approached,
the “boys and young gentlemen” came to recitation
without coats; and, as the thermometer arose, they
came without shoes —

“What! in the State college? Could your Mr. Clarence
not have things ordered with more decency?”

Softly, Mr. Dignity—in a world where our presiding
judge, a man of worth and great abilities, presided in court
without his coat and cravat, and with his feet modestly
reposed on the upper rostrum, thus showing his boot-soles
to by-standers and lawyers; where lawyers were stripped

and in shirt-sleeves; and where even Governor Sunbeam,
in a stump speech, gave blast to his nose pinched between
a thumb and finger, and wiped said pinchers afterwards on
the hinder regions of his inexpressibles; do you, sir,
think our Mr. C., or all eastern dignitaries combined, could
have compelled young bushwhackers to wear coats and
shoes in recitation rooms? He indeed ventured once as
follows:—

“Young gentlemen”—(hem!)—“why do you attend recitations
without coats and shoes?”

“'Tis cooler, sir!”—with surprise.

“Ay! so it is—perhaps it would be still cooler if you
came without your pantaloons.”

Haw! haw!—by the whole ten.

“And did they, Mr. Carlton, come without their indispensables?”

Oh! dear me! no; on the contrary, the young gentlemen
were so tickled at our professor's pleasant hint direct,
that next day they not only come in their breeches, but also
with shoes and coats on! But still, many proper regulations
of our friend were distasteful to scholars and parents equally
—for instance, the requirement of a written excuse for
certain absences. One parent, an upper class Thompsonian
doctor, did, indeed, once send a note—but that was an
insolent[4] and peremptory order to Clarence to believe in
future his son, without a written excuse! And another
person, a captain in the late war, not only refused to write
a note, but he sent a verbal message by his son to the master,
viz.—“Charley Clarence, you needn't think of introducing
your d—n Yankee tricks out here!”

“Yes! yes!—raise your hands, and elevate your eyebrows,
good folks. Mr. C. did all that sort of thing too, at
first; but he lived long enough with us to get used to mat

ters! The only evil was, that, like the Irish Greek's famous
horse that unluckily died, just when he had learned
to live without eating,[5] our professor, when he had outlived
his prejudices, and abandoned his Yankee ways, fell a victim
to veteran cunning and artifice; and was forced, like
Aristides, to obey the Ostracism!