Chapter 1
Boyhood and Youth, 1826â1854
In Langdellâs youth lie the origins of his interest in education and the specific reforms in professional education that he advanced as dean of HLS. His encounters with John Lockeâs Education at Phillips Exeter Academy, with taxonomy and specimens in the natural history classes of Asa Gray and Louis Agassiz, with âofficeâ education in a law firm, with the degree requirements at Harvard Divinity School, with other law students in table talk, and with eleemosynary aid for needy students contributed to principles and policies that he later instituted in professional education. Above all, his firm commitment to a formal system of academic merit originated in the experience of practicing self-discipline, following the established rules, and achieving academically. By this route, he gradually elevated himself from an impoverished and traumatic childhood to the threshold of the elite in the legal profession.
Boyhood, 1826â45
In the two decades after arriving in New Boston in 1792, John Langdell grew into a thrifty, industrious young man, and by 1814 had built a farm comprising three acres in pasture and tillage, two oxen, and twenty acres of unimproved land. Valued at $140 amid estates ranging in value from $25 to $975, the farm was modest, but certainly respectable for a twenty-three-year-old man without a father or an inheritance.1 Meanwhile, he met Lydia Beard, whose âScots-Irishâ forebears had emigrated from northern Ireland in the 1760s and found their way to New Boston, where she was born in 1793. In 1820 Lydia and John were married and had their first child, a son. The valuation of the farm had increased to $904, including three acres of tillage and pasture, six large livestock, and thirty-four acres of unimproved land.2 Over the next fifteen years, the familyâs labors steadily improved the farm. In 1824 a daughter, Hannah, was born, and the farm was taxed at a value of $1,088. In 1826 the oldest boy was doubtlessly helping with chores, while the farm had grown to $1,298 in valuation. On 22 May 1826, a second son was born and named Christopher Columbus Langdell.
Why Lydia and John selected this name is a mystery. It did not fit the four naming traditions of New England families up to 1850: the English tradition yielding such names as John, Robert, Richard, or Henry; the Puritan-biblical practice of drawing names from the Old Testament; the kinship pattern of naming after parents or grandparents; or the minor tradition of choosing classical names from antiquity. In fact, due to their âpapistâ associations, neither âChristopherâ nor âChristopher Columbusâ appear in any tabulations of New England naming patterns prior to 1850. Nor do the names appear elsewhere in the Langdell family tree. Given the strength of Yankee tradition in New Hampshire towns and the seriousness devoted to naming children, especially older boys, the name of âChristopher Columbus Langdellâ was remarkably unorthodox.3 His parentsâ nonconformity and the example of his namesake set Chris, as the boy was known to townspeople, on a course to challenge convention.
In breaking with tradition, John and Lydia were perhaps emboldened by the auspicious increase in their family, their estate, and their social status. In 1828 John assumed his first role in town government by serving on the committee that assigned families to school districts. His property value rose to $1,480, near the median valuation in the town. Also in that year Lydia gave birth to a third son. Then, in 1829 misfortune began to envelop the Langdells. The third son died due to âcancer of the eye,â perhaps foreshadowing the severe problem that Chris would have with his own vision. The value of Johnâs property plummeted to $440, one-quarter of its previous value, and included no land and only one horse and one cow. The precipitous decline cannot be explained by a personal tragedy or a natural disaster, because John did not petition the town meetings for an abatement from taxes or for compensationâas did other residents, who cited fire, sickness, or support of an indigent neighbor.4 He may have defaulted on a debt or mortgage, since tax records show that he had no cash savings to cover a bad agricultural year.
In 1830 the last childâa daughter named Mary Annâwas born, and the financial situation on the farm did not improve. In the following year, likely with the help of the oldest son and seven-year-old Hannah, the family tilled half an acre and added a few sheep. In 1832 and 1833 their small estate continued to grow, and the valuation climbed to $980. But this financial recovery was no less precarious than the original prosperity had been, and the sudden death of Lydia in 1833 brought the recovery to a halt. John managed to work the farm for a few more years as the valuation declined to about $600.5
Then, the oldest son, who was perhaps thirteen years old and likely felt the brunt of his motherâs absence as his father became embittered, fled from home and drowned soon after. Unable to cope with the farm and three young children, John broke up the home in 1836 and sent nine-year-old Hannah to live with relatives in Massachusetts, and seven-year-old Chris and three-year-old Mary Ann to different families in New Hampshire. By 1839 John had lost all his property, livestock, and taxable possessions and became âmore and more a recluse.â6 No records remain for assessing the effect of these events on the two sisters, but there are indications of the harmful impact on the seven-year-old boy.
Throughout the remainder of his life, Chris avoided addressing the death of any longtime friend or colleagueâeven if the deceased had been one of his closest friends (William Gibbons in 1855 or Theodore Tebbets in 1863), or when he was invited to provide a memorial statement for his college roommate and a published excuse had to be conjured in order to explain his refusal (Chauncey Wright in 1875),7 or when it seemed incumbent on his position as dean of HLS to eulogize a colleague (Charles F. Dunbar in 1900 or James B. Thayer in 1902). Langdell apparently wrote only one such eulogy,8 and his reluctance to memorialize friends or colleagues whom he had known for years suggests that the deaths of his mother and brothers had severely wounded him.
In addition, several observers describe his mature relations with his wife and closest adult friends as of a âtender, almost feminine nature.â9 Such terms were highly unusual to apply publicly to a distinguished man in the Victorian era, particularly a law professor from Harvard University, which cultivated an ethic of manhood.10 Hence, Langdell may still have been searching for the intimacy lost through the death of his mother and the disintegration of his family.
Finally, these losses may have contributed to his lifelong reclusiveness, for he rarely entertained guests or visited others. Friendships brought the prospect of separation and of reliving the searing 1830s. His relationship to his hometown demonstrates the tension between insularity and loneliness in his life. Beginning in 1895, the townspeople of New Boston published a pamphlet describing their annual reunion, an event when former residents returned each summer to renew acquaintances. Both his sister, Hannah, and his wife, Margaret, observed that, to the end of his life, Langdell eagerly requested that each pamphlet be read to him âfrom the first to the last page.â But he never agreed to attend the reunion, sending his regrets each year, even when the townspeople asked him to come and address them.11 He enjoyed the reunion vicariously in print, but would not witness the reuniting and the separating in the place where he had lost his family.
Though wounded by the loss of his mother and siblings, Chris received little comfort from his father, who âgave his boys nothing but took all he could from them.â Chris nevertheless exhibited an extraordinary sense of filial obligation and personal generosity, supporting his father throughout his life and loaning and giving money to friends, relatives, and acquaintances in need.12 In 1840 fourteen-year-old Chris returned home to help his father, and over the next four years the farm expanded to twenty acres plus livestock, while the valuation rose to $450.13 Meanwhile, Chris nurtured the ambition to continue his education.
Both he and Hannah displayed the interest in education that characterized his motherâs family. His uncle, Jesse Beard, was a prominent educator who had taught school and served on the school committee for over twenty years.14 During the 1830s Chris and Hannah attended the district schools in New Boston and, perhaps, an academy in Hancock, New Hampshire. According to Hannah, her brother âwas not precocious, but studious and ambitiousâ; and in about 1842 sixteen-year-old Chris âopened his heart to me for the first time, and it was also the first time he had made known his aspirations to any human being. He told me that he had a very strong desire for a college education, but he did not see how it could be accomplished.â Hannah resolved to help and left Massachusetts to join Chris in teaching school in New Boston and neighboring towns.15
As in most district schools, Chris and Hannah were plagued by uncooperative students and parents, unsuitable textbooks, and dilapidated facilities.16 But an unexpected benefit came when the teachers in New Boston were joined by David Cross, who had graduated from Dartmouth College in 1841 and from HLS in 1843. To support himself while establishing his law practice, Cross began teaching school in New Boston in 1843 and imparted to Chris the ideas to enter law and to approach it as a âlearned profession,â that is, by e...