REMINISCENCES
Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain
A student coming to Bowdoin College in 1848 found the fame of Elijah Kellogg already among historic traditions, shading somewhat into the atmosphere of legend and the heroic. Wild stories of his youthful exuberance, and the surprising ways he had of manifesting it, involved so much that was extreme in prowess and peril, that they led more to wonder than to imitation. An unusual quality and combination of intellectual gifts, and a quaint style both of utterance and action, together with an openness of heart, and ease of manner quite peculiar to himself, gave him the reputation both of a genius, and of a queer genius.
His writings, too, had a peculiar effect that set him apart from others. So much of his stirring power had been poured into his classic descriptions that they were something like storage-batteries of manly emotion. Whoever of the prize declaimers took “Spartacus” for his performance was pretty sure to take the prize also, whoever were the judges; and it came to be deemed not quite fair for a contestant for the prize to make this his selection.
These stories and associations connected with his name gave a certain glamour to the idea of him before his personal presence showed how real he was. But surely to those who were disposed to enjoy all the advantages of college life, Elijah Kellogg was far from being a mythical personage. Although a well-employed minister of a church in the congenial neighboring town of Harpswell, he found frequent occasion to visit the college; and preferably, it seemed, at unappointed times. He did indeed, occasionally upon notice, address the religious societies, greatly to their enjoyment and spiritual edification. But he did not come into classrooms with formal introduction by the dignified professor. More likely his visit would be at a private room, and his announcement by a simple knock, known by its frankness and assurance, at any time and at any student’s room he thought he wanted to see. This was the signal, not for a general clearance, as would be the case in certain other instances, but for the summoning of a little group of special friends and those ambitious to become such. This was the beginning of free and wide discussion along the unmeasured circle of the nihil humani alienum. It need not be said that these communications were held in a noble range, and a thoroughly manly and wholesome tone. Sometimes, such was his confidence in us, or distinct intention of putting us each on his own responsibility, as to taking easy occasion to make fools of ourselves, that he would get upon the recital of old sea stories, and perhaps touch lightly on his boyish pranks in college. The element of personal courage, strength, self-reliance, the despising of physical danger whether of accident or consequence, lifted these examples out of the suggestion of meanness and trickery, which were far from him as he would have them far from any friend of his. Moreover, without the robust qualities of mind and nerve which characterized the original, no boy would be foolish enough to be led to imitation which would surely end in failure and ridicule. All that was said or intimated in these recitals was always with loyalty to the college and to the ideals of manliness.
If these symposiums were prolonged so far into the night as to render inexpedient his questionable return to his Harpswell domicile, it was easy to find a bed in a college room for such time as there was remaining before morning prayers. As to that matter, at the house in town of more than one hard-headed old sea-captain there was always ready just at the head of the stairs, with doors unlocked, a room set apart for Elijah Kellogg.
In the opinion of all he was the good genius of the college. The fellowship he held there was of a higher order than that pertaining to the arts and sciences; it was in the department of sound living and straightforwardness. Not only was he the friend of every student, but he was especially so of those who needed some guidance or correction inspired by sympathetic understanding and directed by practical good sense. For the faculty he served an office in the disciplinary line not easily described,—call it adviser, mediator, mitigator, or demonstrator of applied common sense. He had an idea that parents sent their boys to college to be made to stay there and perform their duties and work out their best, rather than to be sent away when any little thing went wrong with them. Still he admitted exceptions.
One of the recognized degrees of punishment in those days was that of “rustication,”—country residence being supposed to be a balance or compensation for some of the tendencies of the pursuit of the fine or liberal arts within a college town. This was applied to cases not quite deserving of technical “suspension”; but still was in fact removal from actual attendance on college exercises, whether required or prohibited,—a forced residence at the home of some scholarly and judicious gentleman, where the attractions would be wholesome influences rather than dangerous temptations, and where the pupil might receive instruction in the three branches of learning pertaining to a classical course, and thus be enabled to do what seemed less likely within college walls,—to keep up with his class.
Such were the peculiar qualities of Mr. Kellogg that these temporary sojourns with him were much in fashion at that time, and, it is truth to say, rather sought for by those a little backward or wayward. Borne on the college books as a grade of punishment, it certainly was not of the vindictive, but of the reformatory, or rather, the sanitary character. In either aspect, to the delinquent “student” this punishment was by no means clothed with terrors. To take up such familiar relations with a man of stalwart manhood, who never lost his sympathy and love for youth, and had the faculty of putting every one at his ease and at his best, to say nothing of the provision for needful exercise by going out often with an able seaman in a stout Hampton boat, braving the terrors of the seas, and the beauties of the islands of Casco Bay,—this should bring a boy whose forces were not yet knit together in just balance, to his best of body and heart and mind, and to some clearness of purpose and steadfast resolution.
When after three years the writer of these lines returned to the college as professor, Mr. Kellogg appeared in a new phase. The young wife had known him under this higher aspect during her girlhood association with mature and cultivated people. So we met now with a broader intellectual horizon. His opinions on theological, public, and political questions were rather conservative, but they were illuminated by his warm heart. His presence was cheering in the home as in the college room. He was a good adviser on practical questions of life—for other people!