Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary. Daniel Dulany Addison
like an umbrella—that’s Mr. Merritt’s. And here, right before you, make a little whitewashed log-cabin, with a Virginia fence all round it ever so far, and a bank on one side sloping down to a little brook, where honey-locust trees a-plenty grow. Make it green in a great circle all round, just as if you were out at sea, where it’s all blue; then put on a great round blue sky for a cover, throw in a very few clouds, and have a “picter,” or part of one, of our prairie. There now, don’t you think I should have been an artist, if circumstances had only developed my natural genius? All send love. Your everlasting sister,
Lucy.
The pioneer family found it necessary to move their main headquarters, for Mr. Spaulding, the husband of Emeline, decided to give up farming, and become a minister. Ministers were scarce in that region, and seeing the need, he carried out a cherished plan of his youth by being ordained as a preacher of the gospel. Consequently they deserted their home, and went to Woodburn, with all their newly acquired furniture on three wagons, each drawn by three yoke of oxen that splashed through the mud, until they came to a cottage possessing more rooms than the house they had left, though the doors were made of rough boards. These rooms were papered by Lucy, with Boston “Journals.” She grew to love this cottage, for it represented home to her on the prairie.
In spite of cares and unpoetical methods of living, her pen was not idle. She wrote of the little prairie rose:—
“Flowers around are thick and bright,
The purple phlox and orchis white,
The orange lily, iris blue,
And painted cups of flaming hue.
Not one among them grows,
So lovely as the little prairie rose.”
The spirit of a jolly ride over the snow she caught in some lines called “A Prairie Sleigh-Ride:”—
“Away o’er the prairies, the wide and the free,
Away o’er the glistening prairies with me;
The last glance of day lights a blush on the snow,
While away through the twilight our merry steeds go.”
She also felt the awe inspired by the silence and immensity of the land, with the blue heavens arching over.
“But in its solemn silence,
Father, we feel thou art
Filling alike this boundless sea,
And every humble heart.”
When Lucy had been teaching district school for two years, she was conscious of her deficiencies, and longed for a chance to acquire a more thorough education. She wished to fit herself for promotion in her calling, and ambitions to become a writer were not absent from her thoughts. An opportunity for study presented itself in Monticello Female Seminary, Alton, Illinois, which was about twenty miles away from her home. This institution, founded by Captain B. Godfrey, was one of the first established in the country for the higher education of women. The prospectus of 1845, adorned with a stiff engraving of the grounds and large stone building, offered in its antiquated language, attractions which seemed to suit her needs: “The design of the Institution, is to furnish Young Ladies with an education, substantial, extensive and practical—that shall at the same time develop harmoniously their physical, intellectual, and moral powers, and prepare them for the sober realities and duties of life.” All this was to be had for a sum less than one hundred dollars, in a situation so healthful that there “had never been a death in the institution.”
TO MRS. I. W. BAKER.
Woodburn, November 23, 1848.
… I have a new notion in my head, and I suppose I may as well broach it at once. There is a certain Seminary in the neighborhood at which I am very anxious to pass a year or so. It is one of the best of its kind. I want a better education than I have. Now I am only a tolerable sort of a “schoolma’am” for children; but if I could teach higher branches, I could make it more profitable, with less labor. I suppose I must call teaching my trade; and though I don’t like it the “very best kind,” I want to understand it as well as possible. And then if I don’t always keep school I may be able to depend on my pen for a living. …
As Lucy was not able to pay the full tuition, the principal, Miss Fobes, arranged that she should be both student and teacher, thus helping to defray her expenses. She entered the school in September, 1849, and studied, in earnest, history, metaphysics, English literature, and higher mathematics, and laid the foundation for a thorough education.
Her schoolmates remember with pleasure the beauty of her lite at Monticello. They speak of the gentleness and peculiar sweetness of her character. Nothing coarse or mean could be associated with her. Being older than the other girls she was looked up to with reverence by them. Her singular purity of mind was illustrated by a remark to one of her companions, when they were talking about the Christian life—“I never knew there was any other way to live.” One of her schoolmates writes: “I felt homesick, until one day I was introduced to a large, fair-faced woman, and looked up to meet a pair of happy blue eyes smiling down upon me, so full of sweet human kindness that the clouds fell straight away. And from that day the kindness never failed me—I think it never failed anyone. ‘The sunshine of her face’ were words that went out in many of my letters in those days.”
She studied industriously each subject of the course. Her note-books contain full extracts from the authors she was reading, with long comments by herself. Those on philosophy indicate a mind naturally delighting in speculative questions; and when her reasoning touches upon theology, she seems especially in earnest. History appealed to her imagination, and she seized upon the more dramatic incidents for comment. English literature opened a new world of thought to her, and she studied enthusiastically the origin and growth of poetry. In these studies of English it was first suggested to her that there was an art of versification, which could be cultivated. From this time her lines conform more to poetic rules, her ear for music being supplemented by a knowledge of metre.
There was one subject she could not master—mathematics: “I am working on spherical trigonometry, just now. I don’t fancy it much; it needs a clearer head than mine to take in such abstract matters as the sides and angles of the triangle that can be imagined, but not seen.” She would exclaim, when studying Conic Sections, that she could see all the beauty, and feel all the poetry, but could not take the steps. When, however, after great work, she did understand a proposition, she accepted it as an eternal fact which God used for infinite purposes.
The girls at Monticello had a debating society. They gained confidence in speaking on such questions as—“The blind man has more enjoyment in life, than the dumb man,” or, “Does the development of science depend more upon genius than industry?” Youthful wits were sharpened as a result of affirming and denying these momentous propositions, in arguments as strong as could be had. Does not the following extract from one of Lucy’s speeches present a typical picture of the fortunes of war in debate, when members are sometimes overcome by the weight of their own wisdom? “The member from Otter Creek arose and said that immigrants to this country were not the lowest classes, that they were quite a decent sort of people—but upon uttering these words, she was shaken by a qualm of conscience, or some sudden indisposition, and compelled to take her seat.”
There were also compositions to be written. The subjects assigned for these monthly tests of literary ability were as artificial as those for debate. The object of the teacher in our early schools seems to have been the selection of topics for essays as far removed from anything usual or commonplace as possible. One can very easily imagine what would be the style of an essay on the topic, “It is the high prerogative of the heroic soul to propagate its own likeness.” Lucy managed to get a little humor into the discussion of the question—“Was the building of Bunker Hill Monument a wise expenditure of funds?” She argued: “Is there a use in monuments? Perhaps not, literally. We have heard of no process by which Bunker Hill Monument might be converted into a lodging-house, and though we are aware that our thrifty brethren of Yankee-land