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 have made it yield its quota of dollars and cents, so that any aspirant may step into a basket and be swung to the pinnacle of a nation’s glory for ninepence, we are not in the habit of considering this its sole productive principle, unless gratitude and patriotism are omitted.”
Miss Larcom remained at Monticello Seminary until her graduation in June, 1852. Miss Fobes says: “When she left the institution, with her diploma, and the benediction of her Alma Mater, we felt sure that, with her noble equipment for service, the result should be success in whatever field she should find her work.” Her improvement had been so great that it was noticeable to the members of the family, who referred to her as “our learned sister.”
TO MRS. ABBY O. HASKELL.
Monticello Seminary, May 14th, 1850.
... But pray don’t call me your “learned sister” any more; for if I deserved the title, it would make me feel like a something on a pedestal, and not plain Lucy Larcom: the sister of some half-dozen worthy matrons.
I think it must be a mistake about my having improved so very much; though I should be sorry to have lived all these years and made no advancement. Folks tell me that I am dignified, sometimes, but I don’t know what it means. I have never tried to be, and I seem just as natural to myself as anything.
I don’t know how I could ever get along with all your cares. I should like tending the babies well enough, but when it came to washing, baking, brewing, and mending, my patience would take “French leave.” Still I don’t believe that any married woman’s trials are much worse than a “schoolma’am’s.”...
There was an event in her life in the West to be touched on. It relates to her one serious love affair. A deep attachment sprang up between Lucy and a young man who had accompanied her sister’s family to Illinois, and for a time lived with them during their log-cabin experiences, but afterwards went to California. When he left, though they could hardly be called engaged, there was an understanding between them that, when he returned during the last days of her school life, they were to decide the matter finally. After three years of separation, they were no nearer a conclusion. Some years after this, it became clear to Miss Larcom that their marriage would not be for the best interests of either.