Stephen A. Douglas | Page 3

children. Stephen went to the district school on
the Brandon turnpike, and had no reason to bemoan the fate which left
him largely dependent upon his uncle's generosity. An old school-mate
recalls young Douglass through the haze of years, as a robust, healthy
boy, with generous instincts though tenacious of his rights.[5] After
school hours work and play alternated. The regular farm chores were
not the least part in the youngster's education; he learned to be
industrious and not to despise honest labor.[6]
This bare outline of a commonplace boyhood must be filled in with
many details drawn from environment. Stephen fell heir to a wealth of
inspiring local traditions. The fresh mountain breezes had also once
blown full upon the anxious faces of heroes and patriots; the quiet
valleys had once echoed with the noise of battle; this land of the Green
Mountains was the Wilderness of colonial days, the frontier for restless
New Englanders, where with good axe and stout heart they had carved
their home plots out of the virgin forest. Many a legend of adventure,
of border warfare, and of personal heroism, was still current among the
Green Mountain folk. Where was the Vermont lad who did not fight
over again the battles of Bennington, Ticonderoga, and Plattsburg?
Other influences were scarcely less formative in the life of the growing
boy. Vermont was also the land of the town meeting. Whatever may be
said of the efficiency of town government, it was and is a school of
democracy. In Vermont it was the natural political expression of social
forces. How else, indeed, could the general will find fit expression,
except through the attrition of many minds? And who could know
better the needs of the community than the commonalty? Not that men
reasoned about the philosophy of their political institutions: they
simply accepted them. And young Douglass grew up in an atmosphere
friendly to local self-government of an extreme type.
Stephen was nearing his fourteenth birthday, when an event occurred

which interrupted the even current of his life. His uncle, who was
commonly regarded as a confirmed old bachelor, confounded the
village gossips by bringing home a young bride. The birth of a son and
heir was the nephew's undoing. While the uncle regarded Stephen with
undiminished affection, he was now much more emphatically in loco
parentis. An indefinable something had come between them. The
subtle change in relationship was brought home to both when Stephen
proposed that he should go to the academy in Brandon, to prepare for
college. That he was to go to college, he seems to have taken for
granted. There was a moment of embarrassment, and then the uncle
told the lad, frankly but kindly, that he could not provide for his further
education. With considerable show of affection, he advised him to give
up the notion of going to college and to remain on the farm, where he
would have an assured competence. In after years the grown man
related this incident with a tinge of bitterness, averring that there had
been an understanding in the family that he was to attend college.[7]
Momentary disappointment he may have felt, to be sure, but he could
hardly have been led to believe that he could draw indefinitely upon his
uncle's bounty.
Piqued and somewhat resentful, Stephen made up his mind to live no
longer under his uncle's roof. He would show his spirit by proving that
he was abundantly able to take care of himself. Much against the
wishes of his mother, who knew him to be mastered by a boyish whim,
he apprenticed himself to Nahum Parker, a cabinet-maker in
Middlebury.[8] He put on his apron, went to work sawing table legs
from two-inch planks, and, delighted with the novelty of the occupation
and exhilarated by his newly found sense of freedom, believed himself
on the highway to happiness and prosperity. He found plenty of
companions with whom he spent his idle hours, young fellows who had
a taste for politics and who rapidly kindled in the newcomer a
consuming admiration for Andrew Jackson. He now began to read with
avidity such political works as came to hand. Discussion with his new
friends and with his employer, who was an ardent supporter of Adams
and Clay, whetted his appetite for more reading and study. In after
years he was wont to say that these were the happiest days of his
life.[9]

Toward the end of the year, he became dissatisfied with his employer
because he was forced to perform "some menial services in the
house."[10] He wished his employer to know that he was not a
household servant, but an apprentice. Further difficulties arose, which
terminated his apprenticeship in Middlebury. Returning to Brandon, he
entered the shop of Deacon Caleb Knowlton, also