observed, but common enough to entitle it to a brief notice. _He_ was,
generally, short, square, and thick--the latitude bearing a better
proportion to the longitude than in his lank brother--but never
approaching anything like roundness. With this attractive figure, he had
a complexion of decidedly bilious darkness, and what is commonly called
a "dish-face." His nose was depressed between the eyes, an arrangement
which dragged the point upward in the most cruel manner, but gave it an
expression equally ludicrous and impertinent. A pair of small, round,
black eyes, encompassed--like two little feudal fortresses, each by its
moat--with a circle of yellowish white, peered out from under brows like
battlements. Coarse, black hair, always cut short, and standing erect,
so as to present something the appearance of a _chevaux de frise_,
protected a hard, round head--a shape most appropriate to his
lineage--while, with equal propriety, ears of corresponding magnitude
stood boldly forth to assert their claim to notice.
Both these types were distinguished for large feet, which no boot could
enclose, and hands broad beyond the compass of any glove. Neither was
ever known to get drunk, to grow fat, to engage in a game of chance, or
to lose his appetite: it became the teacher of "ingenuous youth" to
preserve an exemplary bearing before those whom he was endeavoring to
benefit; while respectable "appearances," and proper appreciation of the
good things of life, were the _alpha_ and _omega_ of his system of
morality.
But the schoolmaster--and we now include both sub-divisions of the
class--was not deficient as an example in many other things, to all who
wished to learn the true principles of living. Among other things, he
was distinguished for a rigid, iron-bound economy: a characteristic
which it might have been well to impart to many of his pupils. But that
which the discreet master denominated _prudence_, the extravagant and
wrong-headed scholar was inclined to term _meanness_: and historical
truth compels us to admit, that the rigor of grim economy sometimes wore
an aspect of questionable austerity. Notwithstanding this, however, when
we reflect upon the scanty compensation afforded the benefactor of the
rising generation, we can not severely blame his penurious tenacity any
more than we can censure an empty wine-cask for not giving forth the
nectar which we have never poured into it. If, accordingly, he was out
at the elbows, we are bound to conclude that it was because he had not
the money to buy a new coat; and if he never indulged himself in any of
the luxuries of life, it was, probably, because the purchase of its
necessaries had already brought him too near the bottom of his purse.
He was always, moreover, "a close calculator," and, with a wisdom worthy
of all imitation, never mortgaged the future for the convenience of the
present. Indeed, this power of "calculation" was not only a talent but a
passion: you would have thought that his progenitors had been
arithmeticians since the time of Noah! He could "figure up" any
proposition whatsoever: but he was especially great upon the question,
how much he could save from his scanty salary, and yet live to the end
of the year.
In fact, it was only _living_ that he cared for. The useful, with him,
was always superior to the ornamental; and whatever was not absolutely
necessary, he considered wasteful and extravagant. Even the profusion of
western hospitality was, in his eyes, a crime against the law of
prudence, and he would as soon have forgiven a breach of good morals as
a violation of this, his favorite rule.
As might have been expected, he carried this principle with him into the
school-room, and was very averse to teaching anything beyond what would
certainly "pay." He rigidly eschewed embellishment, and adorned his
pupils with no graceful accomplishments. It might be that he never
taught anything above the useful branches of education, because he had
never learned more himself; but it is certain that he would not have
imparted merely polite learning, had his own training enabled him to do
so: for he had, constitutionally, a high contempt for all "flimsy"
things, and, moreover, he was not employed or paid to teach rhetoric or
_belles-lettres_, and, "on principle," he never gave more in return
than the value of the money he received.
With this reservation, his duties were always thoroughly performed, for
neither by nature, education, nor lineage, was he likely to slight any
recognised obligation. He devoted his time and talents to his school, as
completely as if he had derived from it the income of a bishop; and the
iron constitution, of both body and mind, peculiar to his race, enabled
him to endure a greater amount of continuous application than any other
man. Indeed, his powers of endurance were quite surprising, and the
fibre of his mind was as tough as that of his body. Even upon a quality
so valuable as this, however, he never prided himself; for, excepting
the boast of race, which was historical and not unjustifiable, he _had_
no pride. He might be a little vain; and, in what he said and did, more
especially in its manner, there might occasionally be a shade of
self-conceit: for he certainly entertained no mean opinion of himself.
This might be a little obtrusive, too, at times; for he had but slight
veneration for men, or their feelings, or opinions; and he would
sometimes pronounce a judgment in a tone of superiority justly
offensive. But he possessed the uncommon virtue of sincerity: he
thoroughly believed in the infallibility of his own conclusions; and
for this the loftiness of his tone might be forgiven.
The most important of the opinions thus expressed, were upon religious
subjects, for Jews, puritans, and Spaniards, have always been very
decided controversialists. His theology was grim, solemn, and angular,
and he was as combative as one of Cromwell's disputatious troopers. In
his capacious pocket, he always carried a copy of the New Testament--as,
of old, the carnal controvertists bore a sword buckled to the side. Thus
armed, he was a genuine polemical "swash-buckler," and would whip out
his Testament, as the bravo did his weapon, to cut you in two without
ceremony. He could carve you into numerous pieces, and season you with
scriptural salt and pepper; and he would do it with a gusto so serious,
that it would have been no unreasonable apprehension that he intended to
eat you afterward. And the value of his triumph was enhanced, too, by
the consideration that it was won by no meretricious graces or
rhetorical flourishes; for the ease of his gesticulation was such as you
see in the arms of a windmill, and his enunciation was as nasal and
monotonous as that of the Reverend Eleazar Poundtext, under whose
ministrations he had been brought up in all godliness.
But he possessed other accomplishments beside those of the polemic. He
was not, it is true, overloaded with the learning of "the schools"--was,
in fact, quite ignorant of some of the branches of knowledge which he
imparted to his pupils: yet this was never allowed to become apparent,
for as we have intimated, he would frequently himself acquire, at night,
the lessons which he was to teach on the morrow. But time was seldom
wasted among the people from whom he sprang, and this want of
preparation denoted that his leisure hours had been occupied in
possessing himself of other acquirements. Among these, the most elegant,
if not the most useful, was music, and his favorite instrument was the
flute.
In "David Copperfield," Dickens describes a certain flute-playing tutor,
by the name of Mell, concerning whom, and the rest of mankind, he
expresses the rash opinion, "after many years of reflection," that
"nobody ever could have played worse." But Dickens never saw Strongfaith
Lippincott, the schoolmaster, nor heard his lugubrious flute, and he
therefore knows nothing of the superlative degree of detestable playing.
There _are_ instruments upon which even an unskilful performer may make
tolerable music, but the flute is not one of them--the man who murders
_that_, is a malefactor entitled to no "benefit of clergy:" and our
schoolmaster _did_ murder it in the most inhuman manner! But, let it be
said in mitigation of his offence, he had never received the benefit of
any scientific teaching--he had not been "under the tuition of the
celebrated Signor Wheeziana," nor had he profited by "the invaluable
instructions of the unrivalled Bellowsblauer"--and it is very doubtful
whether he would have gained much advantage from them, had he met the
opportunity.
He knew that, in order to make a noise on the flute, or, indeed,
anywhere else, it was necessary to _blow_, and blow he did, like Boreas!
He always carried the instrument in his pocket, and on being asked to
play--a piece of politeness for which he always looked--he drew it out
with the solemnity of visage with which a tender-hearted sheriff
produces a death-warrant, and while he screwed the joints together,
sighed blasts like a furnace. He usually deposited himself upon the
door-sill--a favorite seat for him--and collecting the younger members
of the family about him, thence poured forth his strains of concentrated
mournfulness.
He invariably selected the most melancholy tunes, playing, with a more
profound solemnity, the gloomiest psalms and lamentations. When he
ventured upon secular music, he never performed anything more lively
than "The Mistletoe Bough," or "Barbara Allen," and into each he threw a
spirit so much more dismal than the original, as almost to induce his
hearers to imitate the example of the disconsolate "Barbara," and "turn
their faces to the wall" in despair of being ever again able to muster a
smile!
He was not a scientific musician, then--fortunately for his
usefulness--because thorough musicians are generally "good-for-nothing"
else. But music was not a science among the pioneers, though the
undertone of melancholy feeling, to which all sweet sounds appeal, was
as easily reached in them as in any other people. Their wants in this,
as in other things, were very easily satisfied--they were susceptible of
pleasure from anything which was in the least commendable: and not
feeling obliged, by any captious canon, to condemn nine true notes,
because of the tenth false one, they allowed themselves to enjoy the
best music they could get, without thinking of the damage done their
musical and critical reputation.
But his flute was not the only means of pleasing within the
schoolmaster's reach: for he could flatter as well as if the souls of
ten courtiers had transmigrated into his single body. He might not do it
quite so gracefully as one of these, nor with phrases so well-chosen, or
so correctly pronounced, but what he said was always cunningly adapted
to the character of the person whom he desired to move. He had "a deal
of candied courtesy," especially for the women; and though his sturdy
manhood and the excellent opinion of himself--both of which came to him
from his ancestry--usually preserved him from the charge of servility,
he was sometimes a "cozener" whose conscience annoyed him with very few
scruples. Occasionally he might be seen fawning upon the rich; but it
was not with him--as it usually is with the parasites of wealthy
men--because he thought Dives more respectable, but more _useful_, on
account of his money: the opulent possessed what the indigent wanted,
and the shortest road to the goal of Cupidity, lay through the region of
Vanity. There was none of that servility which Mr. Carlyle has attempted
to dignify with the name of "hero-worship," for the rich man was rather
a bird to be plucked, than a "hero" to be worshipped. And though it may
seem that I do the schoolmaster little honor by the distinction, I can
not but think cupidity a more manly trait than servility: the beast of
prey a more respectable animal than the hound.
But the schoolmaster's obsequiousness was more in manner than in
inclination, and found its excuse in the dependence of his
circumstances. It has been immemorially the custom of the world,
practically to undervalue his services, and in all time teaching and
poverty have been inseparable companions. Nobody ever cared how poorly
he was clad, how laborious his life, or how few his comforts; and if he
failed to attend to his own interests by all the arts in his power, no
one, certainly, would perform the office for him. He was expected to
make himself generally useful without being particular about his
compensation: he was willing to do the one, but was, very naturally,
rather averse to the other: that which justice would not give him, he
managed to procure by stratagem.
His manners thus acquired the characteristics we have enumerated, with
also others. He was, for example, very officious; a peculiarity which
might, perhaps, be derived from his parentage, but which was never
repressed by his occupation. The desire to make himself agreeable, and
his high opinion of his ability to do so, rendered his tone and bearing
very familiar; but this was, also, a trait which he shared with his
race, and one which has contributed, as much as any other, to bring the
people called "Yankees" into contempt in the west. The men of that
section are not themselves reserved, and hate nothing more than
ceremonious politeness: but they like to be the first to make advances,
and their demonstrations are all hearty, blunt, and open. They therefore
disliked anything which has an insinuating tone, and the man who
attempts to ingratiate himself with them, whether it be by elaborate
arts or sidelong familiarity, at once arms them against them.
The schoolmaster was inquisitive, also, and to that western men most
decidedly object. They have little curiosity themselves, and seldom ask
impertinent questions. When they do so, it is almost always for the
purpose of insulting the man to whom they are put, and _never_ to make
themselves agreeable. The habit of asking numerous questions was,
therefore, apt to prejudice them against men whose characteristics might
be, in other respects, very estimable; and it must be acknowledged, that
vulgar and obtrusive impertinence is an unfortunate accompaniment to an
introduction. But the schoolmaster never meant to be impertinent, for
he was far from being quarrelsome (except with his scholars), and the
idea that any one could be otherwise than pleased with his notice,
however given, never entered his mind. Though his questions were, for
the most part, asked to gratify a constitutional curiosity, he was
actuated in some degree, also, by the notion that his condescension
would be acceptably interpreted by those whom he thus favored. But, like
many other benevolent men, who put force upon their inclinations for the
benefit of their neighbors, he was mistaken in his "calculation;" and
where he considered himself a benefactor, he was by others pronounced a
"bore." The fact is, he had some versatility, and, like most men of
various powers, he was prone to think himself a much greater man than he
really was.
He was not peculiarly fitted to shine as a gallant "in hall or bower,"
but had he been the climax of knightly qualities, the very impersonation
of beauty, grace, and accomplishment, he could not have been better
adapted than, in his own estimation, he already was, to please the fancy
of a lady. He was blissfully unconscious of every imperfection; and
displayed himself before what he thought the admiring gaze of all
_dames_ and _demoiselles_, as proudly as if he had been the
all-accomplished victor in some passage of arms. Yet he carried
himself, in outward appearance, as meekly as the humblest Christian, and
took credit to himself accordingly. He seldom pressed his advantages to
the utter subjugation of the sighing dames, but deported himself with
commendable forbearance toward the weak and defenceless whom his
perfections had disarmed. He was as merciful as he was irresistible: as
considerate as he was beautiful.
"What a saint of a knight is the knight of Saint John!"
The personal advantages which he believed made him so dangerous to the
peace of woman, were counteracted, thus, by his saintly piety. For--as
it became him to be, both in the character of a man, and in that of a
descendant of the puritans--he was always habited in "the livery of
heaven." Some ill-natured and suspicious people, it is true, were
inclined to call his exemplary "walk" hypocritical, and to stigmatise
his pious "conversation" as _cant_. But the ungodly world has always
persecuted the righteous, and the schoolmaster was correct in
attributing their sneers to the rebuke which his example gave to their
wickedness, and to make "capital" out of the "persecution." And who
shall blame him--when in the weary intervals of a laborious and
thankless profession, fatigue repressed enthusiasm--if he sometimes eked
out the want of inspiration by a godly snuffle? True piety reduces even
the weapons of the scorner to the service of religion, and the citadel
of the Gloomy Kingdom is bombarded with the artillery of Satan! Thus,
the nose, which is so serviceable in the production of the devilish and
unchristian sneer, is elevated by a saintlike zeal, to the expression of
a devout whine: and this I believe to be the only satisfactory
explanation which has ever been given, of the connection, in so many
good men, between the _nasal_ and the _religious_!
But the schoolmaster usually possessed genuine religious feeling, as
well as a pious manner; and, excepting an occasional display of
hereditary, and almost unconscious, cunning, he lived "a righteous and
upright life."
The process of becoming a respectable and respected citizen was a very
short and simple one--and whether the schoolmaster designed to remain
only a lord of the ferrule, or casting the insignia of his office behind
him, to seek higher things, he was never slow in adopting it. Among his
scholars, there were generally half-a-dozen or more young
women--marriageable daughters of substantial men; and from this number
he selected, courted, and espoused, some healthy, buxom girl, the
heiress of a considerable plantation or a quantity of "wild land." He
always sought these two requisites combined--for he was equally fond of
a fine person and handsome estate. Upon the land, he generally managed
to find an eligible town-site; and, being a perfect master of the art of
building cities on paper, and puffing them into celebrity, his sales of
town-lots usually brought him a competent fortune. As years rolled on,
his substance increased with the improvement of the country--the rougher
points of his character were gradually rubbed down--age and gray hairs
thickened upon his brow--honors, troops of friends, and numerous
children, gathered round him--and the close of his career found him
respected in life and lamented in death. His memory is a monument of
what honesty and industry, even without worldly advantages, may always
accomplish.
[NOTE.--A friend expresses a doubt whether I have not made the
foregoing portrait too hard-featured for historical accuracy; and,
by way of fortifying his opinion, points to illustrious examples of
men who have taught schools in their youth--senators and
statesmen--some of whom now hold prominent positions before the
people, even for the highest offices in their gift. But these men
never belonged to the class which I have attempted to portray.
Arriving in this country in youth, without the means of
subsistence--in many cases, long before they had acquired the
professions which afterward made them famous--they resorted to
school-teaching as a mere expedient for present support, without
any intention to make it the occupation of their lives, or the
means of their advancement. They were moved by an ambition which
looked beyond it, and they invariably abandoned it so soon as they
had prepared themselves for another pursuit.
But the genuine _character_ took it up as a permanent
employment--he looked to it not only as a means of temporary
subsistence, but as a source, by some of the direct or indirect
channels which we have indicated, of lasting income--and he never
threw it up until he had already secured that to which the other
class, when _they_ abandoned the occupation, were still looking
forward. In the warfare against Ignorance, therefore, these, whom
we have described, were the regular army, while the exceptions were
but volunteers for a limited period, and, in the muster-roll of
permanent strength, they are, therefore, not included.]
[Illustration: THE SCHOOLMISTRESS.]
IX.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS
"And yet I love thee not--thy brow
Is but the sculptor's mould:
It wants a shade, it wants a glow--
It is less fair than cold."
L. E. L.
But the family of the pioneer consisted of girls as well as boys; and
though the former were never so carefully educated as the latter, they
were seldom allowed to go wholly untaught.
The more modern system, which separates the sexes while infants, and
never suffers them to come together again until they are "marriageable,"
was not then introduced; and we think it would have been no great
misfortune to the country had it remained in Spain, whence it would seem
to have been imported. Children of both sexes were intended to grow up
together--to be educated in company--at least until they have reached
the points where their paths naturally diverge, for thus only can they
be most useful to each other, in the duties, trials, and struggles, of
after life. The artificial refinement which teaches a little girl that a
boy is something to be dreaded--a sort of beast of prey--before she
recognises any difference, save in dress, can never benefit her at best;
for by-and-by she will discover the falsehood: the very instincts of her
nature would unveil it, did she learn it in no other way: and as action
and reaction are equal, the rebound may cause her to entertain opinions
altogether too favorable to those whom she has so foolishly been taught
to fear.
Nor is the effect of such a system likely to be any better upon the
other sex: for it is association with females (as early as possible,
too, all the better), which softens, humanizes, graces, and adorns the
masculine character. The boy who has been denied such association--the
incidents to whose education have made him shy, as so many are, even of
little girls--is apt to grow up morose and selfish, ill-tempered, and
worse mannered. When the impulses of his developing nature finally force
him into female society, he goes unprepared, and comes away without
profit: his ease degenerates into familiarity, his conversation is, at
best, but washy sentimentalism, and the association, until the
accumulated rust of youth is worn away, is of very doubtful benefit to
both parties. Indeed, parents who thus govern and educate their
children, can find no justification for the practice, until they can
first so alter the course of Nature, as to establish the law, that each
family shall be composed altogether of girls, or shall consist
exclusively of boys!
But these modern refinements had not obtained currency, at the period of
which we are writing; nor was any such nonsense the motive to the
introduction of female teachers. But one of the lessons learned by
observation of the domestic circle, and particularly of the influence of
the mother over her children, was the principle, that a woman can teach
males of a certain age quite as well as a man, and _females much
better_; and that, since the school-teacher stands, for the time in the
place of the parent, a _mistress_ was far more desirable, especially for
the girls, than a _master_. Hence, the latter had exercised his vocation
in the west, but a few years, before he was followed by the former.