True to the instincts of her motherly heart, Mrs. Anderson was determined to remain upon the spot purchased and consecrated by the blood of her lamented husband. She could not divorce herself from the approximate idea and object of her husband's life and death. He had turned from the comforts of a happy home; had chosen hardships rather than ease that he might realize the dream of his youth, and the object of his manly endeavors—the right of suffrage to all. Her children could not build their play-house of Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, or Southey. All the instruction Duke William obtained came from his mother. She was very large and healthy. Her complexion was of perfect black. She was possessed of excellent judgment, patience, and industry. She stored the young mind of her boy with useful agricultural knowledge, of which she possessed a large amount.
An education does not consist in acquiring lessons, obtaining a simple, abstract, objective knowledge of certain sciences. It is more than this. It consists, also, in being able to apply and use rightly a given amount of knowledge. And though D. W. Anderson was never permitted to enter college, yet, what he got he got thoroughly, and used at the proper time to the best advantage.
Nature was his best teacher. While yet a very young boy he was awed by her splendors, and attracted by the complicated workings of her manifold laws. He began to study the innumerable mysteries which met him in every direction. He heard God in the rippling water, in the angry tempest, in the sighing wind, and in the troops of stars which God marshals upon the plains of heaven. In the study of nature he exulted. He sat in her velvet lap, sported by her limpid waters, acquainted himself perfectly with her seasons, and knew the coming and going of every star.
God was training this man for the great mission which he afterward so faithfully performed. No soul that was ever filled with such grand and humane ideas as was that of Duke William Anderson can be crushed. He knew no boundaries for his soul,—except God on one side and the whole universe on the other. He was as free in thought and feeling as the air he inhaled, or the birds in the bright sky over his head. His soul had for many years communed with the God of nature; had been taught by the mighty workings of truth, feeling, and genius within, and by the world without, that he was not to be confined to earth forever, but that beyond the deep blue sky, into which he so much longed to peer, there dwelt the Creator of all things, and there the home of the good! Like the "wise men of the East,"—knowing no other God but the God of nature,—his primitive ideas of religion were naturally based upon nature. In that wild and barren territory nature was impressive, desolate, and awful. The earth, air, and sky incited him to thought and stimulated his imagination. Every appearance, every phenomenon—the storm, the thunder,—speak the prophecies of God. He was filled with great thoughts and driven by grand ideas.
It is difficult to compute the value of the mother to the child. It is the mother who loves, because she has suffered. And this seems to be the great law of love. Not a triumph in art, literature, or jurisprudence—from the story of Homer to the odes of Horace, from the times of Bacon and Leibnitz to the days of Tyndall and Morse—that has not been obtained by toil and suffering! The mother of Anderson, having suffered so much in her loneliness and want, knew how to train her boy,—the joy of her life. And he in return knew how to appreciate a mother's love. He remembered that to her he owed every thing,—his life, his health, and his early training. He remembered that in childhood she had often, around their little camp-fire, enchanted his youthful mind by the romance of the sufferings and trials of herself and husband. And now finding himself a young man he was determined to change the course of their life.
No work so thoroughly develops the body and mind, and is so conducive to health, as farming; and, perhaps, none so independent. Anderson was naturally healthy and strong, so that farming agreed with him. By this he made a comfortable living, and soon demonstrated to his aged mother that she had not labored in vain, nor spent her strength for naught.
For a number of years he farmed. His motto was "excelsior" in whatever he engaged, and in farming he realized success.
As the father of Duke William Anderson had fallen under the U. S. flag, it became the duty of the Government to care for his widow and orphans. Accordingly, Duke William was sent to an Illinois school where he received the rudiments of a Western education. A Western education did not consist in reading poetry, or in examining Hebrew roots, but in reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic, geography, and history. There were no soft seats, no beautifully frescoed walls, dotted with costly maps, or studded with beautiful pictures; not a school with a dozen beautiful rooms, heated by hot air. In those days a Western school-house was erected by the side of some public highway, remote from the town. It was constructed of logs,—not of the logs that have lost their roughness by going through the saw-mill, but logs cut by the axe of the hardy frontiersman. The axe was the only tool needed to fit the timber for the building. The building was about twelve feet in height, and about sixteen by twenty. The cracks were often left open, and sometimes closed by chips and mud. The floor was made of split logs with the flat side up. At one end of the building was a fireplace and chimney occupying the whole end of the house. At each end of the fireplace were laid two large stones upon which to rest the ends of the logs of wood, under all of which were laid closely large pieces of flat stones covered with an inch or two of mud. At the other end of the building was a door. It was constructed of thinly split pieces of logs held together by pieces of hickory withes which crossed each end of the door. This door was hung upon wooden hinges, one part of which, instead of being fastened to the door by screws, was fastened by little wooden pegs. The step at the door was a short piece of log flattened a little on the top and braced on the under side by small stones and pieces of chips. The roof was made of long pieces of split timber, the flat side out and the edges smoothed by the axe in order to make them lie snugly.
Such was the school-house in which D. W. Anderson was educated. And it may be that the plain school in which he was educated loaned him that modesty, plainness, and unostentatious air, which were among the many remarkable traits in his character. The circumstances and society by which boys are surrounded help to mould their character and determine their future. To a healthy and vigorous body was coupled a clear and active mind. He loved knowledge, and was willing to buy it at any price—willing to make any sacrifice. He was an industrious student, and possessed great power of penetration and acquisition. And every thing he read he remembered. The greatest difficulty with students is that they fail to apply themselves. A man may have the ability to accomplish a given amount of work and yet that work can never be accomplished except by the severest effort. It is one thing to possess a negative power, but it is quite another thing to possess a positive power. In this world we are set over against all external laws and forces. We are to assume the offensive. We are to climb up to the stars by microscopes. We are to measure this earth by our mathematics. We are to penetrate its depths and lift to the sun its costly treasures. We are to acquaint ourselves with the workings of the manifold laws which lie about us. If we would know ourselves, understand our relation to God, we must see after the requisite knowledge. Suppose that Duke William Anderson had despaired of ever receiving an education; sat down by the way in life and said: "There is no use of troubling myself, I cannot get what I desire. I am destined to be ignorant and weak all the days of my life; and if there is any good thing for me it will come to me. I will sit here and wait." Would the world ever have known of Anderson? His life would have shed no perfume; his name would have been unknown and his grave would have been forgotten.
But it was that courage which never knows defeat, it was that devotion that never wavers, it was that assiduity, and it was that patience that is certain to triumph, which bore him on to a glorious end, as a summer wind bears up a silver cloud. At the age of seventeen he began to teach school. What Colored man would have essayed to teach school on the frontiers fifty years ago? But D. W. Anderson was born to rule. He was of commanding presence, full of confidence and earnestness. He entered upon his new duties full of hope and joy. This was something new. There was a great deal of difference between handling the hoe and the pen. He found that there was a great difference between the farm and the school-house. But he was one of those boys who do every thing with all their might, and he was at once at home, and soon became master of his new situation.