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.]
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.”