Ready for College.--His Uncle lends him Five Hundred
Dollars.--Why he Decides to go to Williams.--College Life.
After spending three years at Hiram in faithful, persistent study, James
felt he was prepared to enter the junior class at almost any college.
But how was he to procure the means to carry on his studies? Thus far he
had defrayed all his expenses by his own exertions as janitor,
carpenter, and teacher; but, to enter college, he would need a little
money in advance. His proud, independent spirit shrank from borrowing
even from his friends. At last, he went to his uncle, Thomas Garfield,
and asked for the use of five hundred dollars until he could earn enough
money by teaching to pay it back.
His uncle Thomas had always shown a kindly interest in his efforts to
obtain an education, and now gladly advanced him the sum he desired. In
order to make sure the payment in case of his death, James procured a
policy upon his life to the value of five hundred dollars, and presented
it to his uncle.
He had now, as he thought, the necessary means to enter college, but
which of the many inviting doors should he enter? Every one seemed to
take it for granted that he would go to Bethany College; which was under
the patronage of his own denomination, but, in a letter to a friend, he
gave his final decision as follows:--
"After thinking it all over, I have made up my mind to go to
Williamstown, Mass.... There are three reasons why I have decided not to
go to Bethany:--1st. The course of study is not so extensive or thorough
as in eastern colleges. 2d. Bethany leans too heavily toward slavery.
3d. I am the son of Disciple parents, am one myself, and have had but
little acquaintance with people of other views; and having always lived
in the West, I think it will make me more liberal both in my religious
and general views and sentiments, to go into a new circle, where I shall
be under new influence. Therefore, I wrote to the presidents of Brown
University, Yale and Williams, setting forth the amount of study I had
done, and asking how long it would take me to finish their course.
"Their answers are now before me. All tell me I can graduate in two
years. They are all brief, business notes, but President Hopkins
concludes with this sentence: 'If you come here we shall be glad to do
what we can for you.' Other things being so nearly equal, this sentence,
which seems to be a kind of friendly grasp of the hand, has settled
that question for me. I shall start for Williams next week."
It was at the close of the summer term in 1854 that James presented
himself before President Hopkins for examination. He is described at
this time "as a tall, awkward youth, with a great shock of light hair,
rising nearly erect from a broad, high forehead, and an open, kindly,
and thoughtful face, which showed no traces of his long struggle with
poverty and privation."
He passed the examination without difficulty, and soon became a great
favorite with his class in spite of his shabby clothes and Western
provincialisms. "Old Gar" and the "Ohio giant" were the names by which
he was best known in college, and a classmate says of him that "he
immediately took a stand above all his companions for accurate
scholarship, and won high honors as a writer, reasoner, and debater."
The beautiful, mountainous scenery about Williamstown was a constant
delight to the young Westerner. He would frequently climb to the top of
Greylock and feast his eyes upon the magnificent panorama below. He was
no longer obliged to work at the carpenter's bench, or perform the
duties of janitor, and these long walks gave him needful exercise as
well as pleasant recreation.
President Hopkins became greatly interested in the earnest,
enthusiastic student. The "friendly hand-grasp" was extended to him in
many ways, and, when the summer vacation came, he offered him the free
use of the college library.
James gladly availed himself of this privilege, and browsed among the
books to his heart's content. It was the first time in his life that he
had ever found leisure to read the works of Shakespeare, consecutively.
During the summer vacation he not only read and thoroughly studied the
plays, but committed large portions of them to memory. He also varied
his heavier reading with works of fiction, allowing himself one novel a
month. Dickens and Thackeray were favorite authors, and Tennyson's poems
were read with ever-increasing pleasure.
He completed his classical studies the first year he was at
Williamstown, as he had entered far in advance of the other pupils. He
then took up German as an elective study, and, in the space of a few
months, had made such rapid progress that he could read Goethe and
Schiller, and converse with fluency.
In the "Williams Quarterly," a magazine published by the students, James
took great interest, and was a frequent contributor both in prose and
poetry.
The following poem, entitled "Memory," he wrote the last year he was at
Williams College:--
"'Tis beauteous night, the stars look brightly down
Upon the earth, decked in her robe of snow,
No light gleams at the window save my own,
Which gives its cheer to midnight and to me
And now with noiseless step sweet Memory comes,
And leads me gently through her twilight realms
What poet's tuneful lyre has ever sung,
Or delicatest pencil e'er portrayed
The enchanted shadowy land where Memory dwells?
It has its valleys, cheerless lone and drear,
Dark shaded by the mournful cypress tree,
And yet its sunlit mountain tops are bathed
In heaven's own blue. Upon its craggy cliffs,
Robed in the dreamy light of distant years,
Are clustered joys serene of other days,
Upon its gently sloping hillsides bend
The weeping willows o'er the sacred dust
Of dear departed ones, and yet in that land,
Whene'er our footsteps fall upon the shore,
They that were sleeping rise from out the dust
Of death's long silent years, and round us stand,
As erst they did before the prison tomb
Received their clay within its voiceless halls
The heavens that bend above that land are hung
With clouds of various hues some dark and chill
Surcharged with sorrow, cast then sombre shade
Upon the sunny, joyous land below,
Others are floating through the dreamy air,
White as the falling snow their margins tinged
With gold and crimson hues, then shadows fall
Upon the flowery meads and sunny slopes,
Soft as the shadows of angel's wing
When the rough battle of the day is done.
And evening's peace falls gently on the heart,
I bound away across the noisy years,
Unto the utmost verge of Memory's land,
Where earth and sky in dreamy distance meet,
And Memory dim with dark oblivion joins;
Where woke the first-remembered sounds that fell
Upon the ear in childhood's early morn;
And wandering thence, along the rolling years,
I see the shadow of my former self
Gliding from childhood up to man's estate.
The path of youth winds down through many a vale
And on the brink of many a dread abyss,
From out whose darkness comes no ray of light,
Save that a phantom dances o'er the gulf,
And beckons toward the verge. Again the path
Leads o'er a summit where the sunbeams fall;
And thus in light and shade, sunshine and gloom,
Sorrow and joy, this life-path leads along."
He was also a prominent member of the Philologian Society, of which he
was afterwards elected president.
While James was at Williamstown, the anti-slavery contest was at a white
heat. Charles Sumner had aroused the whole nation by his stirring,
eloquent speeches in Congress; and when the tidings came of the attack
made upon him by Preston Brooks of South Carolina, indignation meetings
were held everywhere throughout the North. At the gathering in
Williamstown, Garfield made a most powerful speech, denouncing slavery
in the strongest terms.
"Hurrah for 'Old Gar!'" exclaimed his classmates; "the country will hear
from him yet!"
When the fall term closed, James looked about for some position as
teacher, and finally opened a writing-school in Pownal, Vermont. This
brought him in quite a sum of money, and enlarged his circle of
acquaintance. His sunny disposition, his energy, his warm-hearted,
sympathetic nature, made him a great favorite wherever he went, and
President Hopkins, writing of him at this time, says,--
"He was prompt, frank, manly, social, in his tendencies; combining
active exercise with habits of study, and thus did for himself what it
is the object of a college to enable every young man to do,--he made
himself a MAN."
Professor, now President, Chadbourne adds his testimony as follows:--
"The college life of James Garfield was so perfect, so
rounded, so pure, so in accordance with what it ought to be
in all respects, that I can add nothing to it by eulogizing
him. It was a noble college life; everything about him was
high and noble and manly. He was one whom his teachers would
never suspect as guilty of a dishonest or mean act, and one
whom a dishonest or mean man would not approach. His moral
and religious character, and marked intellectual ability,
gave great promise of success in the world."
At the end of his first collegiate year, James visited his mother, who
was then living with her married daughter in Solon, Ohio. What a tall,
manly fellow he had grown to be! What a power he would be in the church,
in the world! Her heart was full of grateful joy as she realized how
abundantly God had answered her earnest prayers.
The next winter vacation James taught a school in Poestenkill, a little
village some six miles from Troy, N.Y. There was a Church of the
Disciples in the place, and James was a frequent attendant at the
conference meetings. His able remarks and earnest exhortations excited
so much comment that the pastor, Mr. Streeter, invited him to occupy his
pulpit. After hearing him preach once, the people declared that they
must hear him again, and so it came about that almost every Sunday found
the young student in the desk.
"He will become the most noted preacher in the Disciples' Church," said
his friends and classmates.
One day a certain Mr. Brooks, belonging to the school committee at Troy,
called upon him and said,--
"Our high school needs a new teacher, Mr. Garfield, and we
want you to supply the vacancy. You will not find it a
difficult position, and we will pay you a salary of twelve
hundred dollars."
It was a tempting offer, and would relieve James at once of the
pecuniary difficulties that hung like weights about his feet. After
taking some days to consider the matter, he finally said to Mr.
Brooks,--
"Much as I need the money, I feel it would not be right for me to accept
the position. It would prevent me from finishing my college course, and
so cramp me, intellectually, for life. Then, again, I feel under some
obligation to Hiram Institute, where the trustees expect me to return.
My roots seem to be fixed in Ohio, and the transplanting might not
succeed; it is best for me to complete my studies here, and then return
to my homework, even for smaller pay."
Abiding by this decision, James applied himself to his books with
renewed energy. President Hopkins had established the metaphysical
oration as the highest honor of the class, and James' essay upon "The
Seen and the Unseen" bore off the palm.
He graduated in August, 1856, and among the forty-two members that
composed his class, are a number of names that have since won an
enviable distinction.