From Canal Boy to President; Or, the Boyhood and Manhood of James A. Garfield

"He once told me how he prepared his speeches," said Representative Williams, of Wisconsin, since his death. "First he filled himself with the subject, massing all the facts and principles involved, so far as he could; then he took pen and paper and wrote down the salient points in what he regarded their logical order. Then he scanned these critically, and fixed them in his memory. 'And then,' said he, 'I leave the paper in my room and trust to the emergency.'"

When the vacation came James began to look about for work. He could not afford to be idle. Moreover, he hoped to be able to earn enough that he might not go back empty-handed in the fall.

Generally work comes to him who earnestly seeks it, and James heard of a man who wanted some wood cut.

He waited upon this man and questioned him about it.

"Yes," he answered, "I want the wood cut. What will you charge to do it?"

"How much is there?"

"About a hundred cords."

James thought of the time when he cut twenty-five cords for seven dollars, and he named a price to correspond.

"I'll give you twenty-five dollars," said the proprietor of the wood.

It was a low price for the labor involved, but, on the other hand, it would be of essential service to the struggling student.

"I will undertake it," he said.

"When will you go to work?"

"Now!" answered James promptly.

How long it took him to do the work we have no record, but he doubtless worked steadfastly till it was accomplished. We can imagine the satisfaction he felt when the money was put into his hands, and he felt that he would not need to be quite so economical in the coming term.

Accordingly, when the vacation was over and James went back to the seminary, he did not re-engage the room which he and his two friends had rented the term before. He realized that to be in a condition to study well he must feed his body well, and he was in favor of a more generous system of diet. Besides, the labor required for cooking was so much time taken from his study hours.

He heard that a widow—Mrs. Stiles—mother of the present sheriff of Ashtabula County, was prepared to receive boarders, and, accordingly, he called upon her to ascertain if she would receive him.

She knew something of him already, for she learned that he had obtained the reputation of a steady and orderly student, and was disposed to favor his application.

The next question was an important one to young Garfield.

"How much do you expect me to pay?"

He waited with some anxiety for the answer, for though he had twenty-five dollars in his pocket, the term was a long one, and tuition was to be paid also.

"A dollar and six cents will be about right," said Mrs. Stiles, "for board, washing, and lodging."

"That will be satisfactory," said James, with a sigh of relief, for he saw his way clear to pay this sum for a time, at least, and for the whole term if he could again procure employment at his old trade.

A dollar and six cents! It was rather an odd sum, and we should consider it nowadays as very low for any sort of board in any village, however obscure or humble. But in those days it was not so exceptional, and provisions were so much lower that the widow probably lost nothing by her boarder, though she certainly could not have made much.

James had no money to spare for another purpose, though there was need enough of it. He needed some new clothes badly. He had neither underclothing nor overcoat, and but one outside suit, of cheap Kentucky jean. No doubt he was subjected to mortification on account of his slender supply of clothing. At any rate he was once placed in embarrassing circumstances.

Toward the close of the term, as Mrs. Stiles says, his trowsers became exceedingly thin at the knees, and one unlucky day, when he was incautiously bending forward, they tore half-way round the leg, exposing his bare knee.

James was very much mortified, and repaired damages as well as he could with a pin.

"I need a new suit of clothes badly," he said in the evening, "but I can't afford to buy one. See how I have torn my trowsers."

"Oh, that is easy enough to mend," said Mrs. Stiles, cheerfully.

"But I have no other pair to wear while they are being mended," said James, with a blush.

"Then you must go to bed early, and send them down by one of the boys. I will darn the hole so that you will never know it. You won't mind such trifles when you become President."

It was a jocose remark, and the good lady little dreamed that, in after years, the young man with but one pair of pantaloons, and those more than half worn, would occupy the proud position she referred to.

Chapter X—A Cousin's Reminiscences

During his school-life at Geauga Seminary James enjoyed the companionship of a cousin, Henry B. Boynton, who still lives on the farm adjoining the one on which our hero was born. The relationship between the two boys was much closer than is common between cousins; for while their mothers were sisters, their fathers were half-brothers. Henry was two years older than James, and they were more like brothers than cousins. I am sure my young readers will be glad to read what Henry has to say of their joint school-life. I quote from the account of an interview held with a correspondent of the Boston Herald, bearing the date of September 23, 1881:

When General Garfield was nominated to the Presidency his old neighbors in Orange erected a flag-staff where the house stood which Garfield and his brother erected for their mother and sisters with their own hands, after the log hut, a little farther out in the field nearer the wood, had become unfit for habitation. Thomas Garfield, the uncle of the President, who not long since was killed by a railroad accident, directed the manual labor of rearing the shaft, and was proud of his work.

There is nothing except this hole left to mark his birth-place, and the old well, not two rods off, which he and his brother dug to furnish water for the family. In the little maple grove to the left, children played about the school-house where the dead President first gathered the rudiments upon which he built to such purpose. The old orchard in its sere and yellow leaf, the dying grass, and the turning maple leaves seemed to join in the great mourning.

Adjoining the field where the flag floats is an unpretentious home, almost as much identified with Gen. Garfield's early history as the one he helped to clear of the forest timber while he was yet but a child. It is the home of Henry B. Boynton, cousin of the dead President, and a brother of Dr. Boynton, whose name has become so well known from recent events.

"While rambling over this place the correspondent came upon this near relative of Garfield, smaller in stature than he was, but in features bearing a striking resemblance to him.

"General Garfield and I were like brothers," he said, as he turned from giving some directions to his farm hands, now sowing the fall grain upon ground which his cousin had first helped to break. "His father died yonder, within a stone's throw of us, when the son was but a year and a half old. He knew no other father than mine, who watched over the family as if it had been his own. This very house in which I live was as much his home as it was mine.

"Over there," said he, pointing to the brick school-house in the grove of maples, around which the happy children were playing, "is where he and I both started for school. I have read a statement that he could not read or write until he was nineteen. He could do both before he was nine, and before he was twelve, so familiar was he with the Indian history of the country, that he had named every tree in the orchard, which his father planted as he was born, with the name of some Indian chief, and even debated in societies, religion, and other topics with men. One favorite tree of his he named Tecumseh, and the branches of many of these old trees have been cut since his promotion to the Presidency by relic-hunters, and carried away.

"Gen. Garfield was a remarkable boy as well as man. It is not possible to tell you the fight he made amid poverty for a place in life, and how gradually he obtained it. When he was a boy he would rather read than work. But he became a great student. He had to work after he was twelve years of age. In those days we were all poor, and it took hard knocks to get on. He worked clearing the fields yonder with his brother, and then cut cord-wood, and did other farm labor to get the necessities of life for his mother and sisters.

"I remember when he was fourteen years of age, he went away to work at Daniel Morse's, not four miles down the road from here, and after the labors of the day he sat down to listen to the conversation of a teacher in one of the schools of Cleveland, when it was yet a village, who had called. The talk of the educated man pleased the boy, and, while intent upon his story, a daughter of the man for whom he was working informed the future President with great dignity that it was time that servants were in bed, and that she preferred his absence to his presence.

"Nothing that ever happened to him so severely stung him as this affront. In his youth he could never refer to it without indignation, and almost immediately he left Mr. Morse's employ and went on the canal. He said to me then that those people should live to see the day when they would not care to insult him.

"His experience on the canal was a severe one, but perhaps useful. I can remember the winter when he came home after the summer's service there. He had the chills all that fall and winter, yet he would shake and get his lessons at home; go over to the school and recite, and thus keep up with his class. The next spring found him weak from constant ague. Yet he intended to return to the canal.

"Here came the turning-point in his life. Mr. Bates, who taught the school, pleaded with him not to do so, and said that if he would continue in school till the next fall he could get a certificate. I received a certificate about the same time The next year we went to the seminary at Chester, only twelve miles distant. Here our books were furnished us, and we cooked our own victuals. We lived upon a dollar a week each. Our diet was strong, but very plain; mush and molasses, pork and potatoes. Saturdays we took our axes, and went into the woods and cut cord-wood. During vacations we labored in the harvest-field, or taught a district school, as we could.

"Yonder," said he, pointing to a beautiful valley, about two miles distant, "stands the school-house where Garfield first taught school. He got twelve dollars a month, and boarded round. I also taught school in a neighboring town. We both went back to Chester to college, and would probably have finished our education there, but it was a Baptist school, and they were constantly making flings at the children of the Disciples, and teaching sectarianism. As the Disciples grew stronger they determined their children should not be subjected to such influence; the college of our own Church was established at Hiram, and there Garfield and I went."

Though the remainder of the reminiscences somewhat anticipate the course of our story, it is perhaps as well to insert it here.

"We lodged in the basement most of the time, and boarded at the present Mrs. Garfield's father's house. During our school-days here I nursed the late President through an attack of the measles which nearly ended his life. He has often said, that, were it not for my attention, he could not have lived. So you see that the General and myself were very close to one another from the time either of us could lisp until he became President. Here is a picture we had taken together," showing an old daguerreotype. "It does not resemble either of us much now. And yet they do say that we bore in our childhood, and still bear, a striking resemblance. I am still a farmer, while he grew great and powerful. He never permitted a suggestion, however, to be made in, my presence as to the difference in our paths of life. He visited me here before election, and looked with gratification upon that pole yonder, and its flag, erected by his neighbors and kinsmen. He wandered over the fields he had himself helped clear and pointed out to me trees from the limbs of which he had shot squirrel after squirrel, and beneath the branches of which he had played and worked in the years of his infancy and boyhood.

"I forgot to say that one of Gen. Garfield's striking characteristics while he was growing up, was, that when he saw a boy in the class excel him in anything, he never gave up till he reached the same standard, and even went beyond it. It got to be known that no scholar could be ahead of him. Our association as men has been almost as close as that of our boyhood, though not as constant. The General never forgot his neighbors or less fortunate kinsmen, and often visited us as we did him."

More vivid than any picture I could draw is this description, by the most intimate friend of his boyhood, of James Garfield's way of life, his struggles for an education, his constant desire to excel, and his devotion to duty. We have already pictured the rustic boy in his humble room, cooking his own food, and living, as his cousin testifies, on a dollar a week. Is there any other country where such humble beginnings could lead to such influence and power? Is there any other land where such a lad could make such rapid strides toward the goal which crowns the highest ambition? It is the career of such men that most commends our Government and institutions, proving as it does that by the humblest and poorest the highest dignities may be attained. James was content to live on mush and molasses, pork and potatoes, since they came within his narrow means, and gave him sufficient strength to pursue his cherished studies. Nor is his an exceptional case. I have myself known college and professional students who have lived on sixty cents a week (how, it is difficult to tell), while their minds were busy with the loftiest problems that have ever engaged the human intellect. Such boys and young men are the promise of the republic. They toil upwards while others sleep, and many such have written their names high on the tablets in the Temple of Fame.

Chapter XI—Ledge Hill School

Ever since he began to study at Geauga Seminary James had looked forward to earning a little money by keeping school himself; not an advanced school, of course, but an ordinary school, such as was kept in the country districts in the winter. He felt no hesitation as to his competence. The qualifications required by the school committees were by no means large, and so far there was no difficulty.

There was one obstacle, however: James was still a boy himself—a large boy, to be sure, but he had a youthful face, and the chances were that he would have a number of pupils older than himself. Could he keep order? Would the rough country boys submit to the authority of one like themselves, whatever might be his reputation as a scholar? This was a point to consider anxiously. However, James had pluck, and he was ready to try the experiment.

He would have been glad to secure a school so far away that he could go there as a stranger, and be received as a young man. But no such opportunity offered. There was another opening nearer home.

A teacher was wanted for the Ledge Hill district in Orange, and the committee-man bethought himself of James Garfield.

So one day he knocked at Mrs. Garfield's door.

"Is James at home?" he asked.

James heard the question, and came forward to meet his visitor.

"Good-morning," he said, pleasantly; "did you want to see me?"

"Are you calculating to keep school this winter" asked his visitor.

"If I can get a school to keep," was the reply.

"That's the business I came about. We want a schoolmaster for the Ledge Hill School. How would you like to try it?"

"The Ledge Hill School!" repeated James, in some dismay. "Why, all the boys know me there."

"Of course they do. Then they won't need to be introduced."

"Will they obey me? That's what I was thinking of. There are some pretty hard cases in that school."

"That's where you are right."

"I wouldn't like to try it and fail," said James, doubtfully.

"You won't if you'll follow my advice," said the committee-man.

"What's that?"

"Thrash the first boy that gives you any trouble. Don't half do it; but give him a sound flogging, so that he will understand who's master. You're strong enough; you can do it."

James extended his muscular arm with a smile. He knew he was strong. He was a large boy, and his training had been such as to develop his muscles.

"You know the boys that will go to school. Is there any one that can master you?" asked his visitor.

"No, I don't think there is," answered James, with a smile.

"Then you'll do. Let 'em know you are not afraid of them the first day. That's the best advice I can give you."

"I shouldn't like to get into a fight with a pupil," said James, slowly.

"You'll have to run the risk of it unless you teach a girls' school. I guess you wouldn't have any trouble there."

"Not of that kind, probably. What wages do you pay?"

"Twelve dollars a month and board. Of course, you'll board round."

Twelve dollars a month would not be considered very high wages now, but to James it was a consideration. He had earned as much in other ways, but he was quite anxious to try his luck as a teacher. That might be his future vocation, not teaching a district school, of course, but this would be the first round of the ladder that might lead to a college professorship. The first step is the most difficult, but it must be taken, and the Ledge Hill School, difficult as it probably would be, was to be the first step for the future President of Hiram College.

All these considerations James rapidly revolved in his mind, and then he came to a decision.

"When does the school commence?" he asked.

"Next Monday."

"I accept your offer. I'll be on hand in time."

The news quickly reached the Ledge Hill district that "Jim Garfield," as he was popularly called, was to be their next teacher.

"Have you heard about the new master?" asked Tom Bassett, one of the hard cases, of a friend.

"No. Who is it?"

"Jim Garfield."

The other whistled.

"You don't mean it?"

"Yes, I do."

"How did you hear?"

"Mr. –," naming the committee-man, "told me."

"Then it must be so. We'll have a high old time if that's so."

"So we will," chuckled the other. "I'm anxious for school to begin."

"He's only a boy like us."

"That's so."

"He knows enough for a teacher; but knowing isn't everything."

"You're right. We can't be expected to mind a boy like ourselves that we've known all our lives."

"Of course not."

"I like Jim well enough. He's a tip-top feller; but, all the same, he aint goin' to boss me round."

"Nor me, either."

This conversation between Tom Bassett and Bill Stackpole (for obvious reasons I use assumed names) augured ill for the success of the young teacher. They determined to make it hot for him, and have all the fun they wanted.

They thought they knew James Garfield, but they made a mistake. They knew that he was of a peaceable disposition and not fond of quarreling, and although they also knew that he was strong and athletic, they decided that he would not long be able to maintain his position. If they had been able to read the doubts and fears that agitated the mind of their future preceptor, they would have felt confirmed in their belief.

The fact was, James shrank from the ordeal that awaited him.

"If I were only going among strangers," he said to his mother, "I wouldn't mind it so much; but all these boys and girls have known me ever since I was a small boy and went barefoot."

"Does your heart fail you, my son?" asked his mother, who sympathized with him, yet saw that it was a trial which must come.

"I can't exactly say that, but I dread to begin."

"We must expect to encounter difficulties and perplexities, James. None of our lives run all smoothly. Shall we conquer them or let them conquer us?"

The boy's spirit was aroused.

"Say no more, mother," he replied. "I will undertake the school, and if success is any way possible, I will succeed. I have been shrinking from it, but I won't shrink any longer."

"That is the spirit that succeeds, James."

James laughed, and in answer quoted Campbell's stirring lines with proper emphasis:

"I will victor exult, or in death be laid low,With my face to the field and my feet to the foe."

So the time passed till the eventful day dawned on which James was to assume charge of his first school. He was examined, and adjudged to be qualified to teach; but that he anticipated in advance.

The building is still standing in which James taught his first school. It is used for quite another purpose now, being occupied as a carriage-house by the thrifty farmer who owns the ground upon which it stands. The place where the teacher's desk stood, behind which the boy stood as preceptor, is now occupied by two stalls for carriage-horses. The benches which once contained the children he taught have been removed to make room for the family carriage, and the play-ground is now a barnyard. The building sits upon a commanding eminence known as Ledge Hill, and overlooks a long valley winding between two lines of hills.

This description is furnished by the same correspondent of the Boston Herald to whom I am already indebted for Henry Boynton's reminiscences contained in the last chapter.

When James came in sight, and slowly ascended the hill in sight of the motley crew of boys and girls who were assembled in front of the school-house on the first morning of the term, it was one of the most trying moments of his life. He knew instinctively that the boys were anticipating the fun in store for them in the inevitable conflict which awaited him, and he felt constrained and nervous. He managed, however, to pass through the crowd, wearing a pleasant smile and greeting his scholars with a bow. There was trouble coming, he was convinced, but he did not choose to betray any apprehension.

Chapter XII—Who Shall Be Master?

With as much dignity as was possible under the circumstances, James stepped to the teacher's desk and rang the bell.

This was hardly necessary, for out of curiosity all the scholars had promptly followed the young teacher into the school-room and taken their seats.

After the introductory exercises, James made a brief address to the scholars:

"I don't need any introduction to you," he said, "for you all know me. I see before me many who have been my playfellows and associates, but to-day a new relation is established between us. I am here as your teacher, regularly appointed by the committee, and it is my duty to assist you as far as I can to increase your knowledge. I should hardly feel competent to do so if I had not lately attended Geauga Seminary, and thus improved my own education. I hope you will consider me a friend, not only as I have been, but as one who is interested in promoting your best interests. One thing more," he added, "it is not only my duty to teach you, but to maintain good order, and this I mean to do. In school I wish you to look upon me as your teacher, but outside I shall join you in your sports, and be as much a boy as any of you. We will now proceed to our daily lessons."

This speech was delivered with self-possession, and favorably impressed all who heard it, even the boys who meant to make trouble, but they could not give up their contemplated fun. Nevertheless, by tacit agreement, they preserved perfect propriety for the present. They were not ready for the explosion.

The boy teacher was encouraged by the unexpected quiet.

"After all," he thought, "everything is likely to go smoothly. I need not have troubled myself so much."

He knew the usual routine at the opening of a school term. The names of the children were to be taken, they were to be divided into classes, and lessons were to be assigned. Feeling more confidence in himself, James went about this work in business fashion, and when recess came, the comments made by the pupils in the playground were generally favorable.

"He's going to make a good teacher," said one of the girls, "as good as any we've had, and he's so young too."