BOSTON IS THE HUB OF AMERICA—MR. TICKNOR—PROFESSOR ROGERS AND THE
TECHNOLOGICAL—MR. NORTON—PROFESSOR AGASSIZ—MR. APPLETON AND MR.
LONGFELLOW—MR. PHILBRICK—A GRAMMAR SCHOOL COMMEMORATION—HUMILITY OF
THE BETTER LITERARY MEN OF BOSTON—REGRET AT LEAVING BOSTON.
[Sidenote: _Boston the Hub of America._]
Boston is the hub of the world. So say those who, not being
Massachusetts men themselves, are disposed to impute extravagant
pretensions to the good old Puritan city. The hub, in the language of
America, is the nave, or centre-piece of the wheel, from which the
spokes radiate, and on which the wheel turns. As the Americans make
with their hickory wood the best wheels in the world, they have some
right to give to one of the pieces a name of their own. But, however,
Boston need not quarrel with the saying. Nations, like individuals,
are generally governed by ideas, and no people to such a degree as
the Americans: and the ideas which have governed them hitherto, have
been supplied from New England. But Massachusetts has been the wheel
within New England, and Boston the wheel within Massachusetts. It has
therefore been the first source and fountain of the ideas that have
moved and made America, and is, in a high and honourable sense, the hub
of the New World.
Among the celebrities of Boston with whom I was so fortunate as
to become acquainted, and to see in their own houses, I will name
first Mr. Ticknor, the author of the well-known ‘History of Spanish
Literature,’ himself now the father of American literature. His
reminiscences of the history and society of his own country, and
largely too of English literary society, for the last fifty years,
contribute very much to enrich his conversation. I have a grateful
sense of his hospitality, and of the other ways in which he assisted in
making my visit to Boston most agreeable.
My next acquaintance was Professor Rogers, the head of the
Technological Institute of Boston. A great deal has been spent by
the city on the building in which this Institute is housed, and in
providing it with an able staff of professors; and it has proved
thoroughly well adapted to the teaching of all the different branches
upon which it undertakes to give instruction. These are Physics,
Chemistry, Mathematics, Mechanics, and Drawing, particularly as
required by machinists, engineers, builders, and architects. Its
objects are entirely practical; but it would be a gross mistake to
depreciate them on that account. The knowledge imparted here is
necessary for certain trades and professions; and it is better that
this knowledge should be communicated well and correctly, than that
it should be picked up imperfectly. It is better that those who
carry on any business that is based on scientific principles should
be familiar with its principles, than that they should go through
life working merely by the rule of thumb. In the programme of the
Institute Professor Rogers’s department is Physics; but in fact the
Technological Institute is Professor Rogers, and Professor Rogers (for
he is so devoted to it that it has become a part of himself) is the
Technological Institute, plus a great deal that is good, and refined,
and generous.
[Sidenote: _Literary Society at Boston._]
I spent an evening with Mr. Norton, the editor of the ‘North American
Review.’ I was much pleased with all that I saw of Boston society, but
this evening at Mr. Norton’s recurs to my recollection with especial
distinctness. He, as the editor of the leading Review of the New
World must for many years have had his finger on the literary pulse
of America, and must know better than any other person what American
writers can do, and what the American public appreciates. I was glad
to hear that Mr. Norton contemplated spending twelve months in England
with his family, though I regretted that he should find that a year
of rest and of change of climate was necessary for him. It seemed to
me, that both he and Professor Rogers were much overworked, and were
also suffering from the withering aridity of the climate. A great part
of the population of New England appears to be affected by the same
cause—their vital organs are going through a process of desiccation. I
trust that both these good and true workers in the literary society of
Boston will before long be indebted for their restoration to health and
strength to the moister and more merciful climate of the old country.
I was sorry that the shortness of my stay prevented my accepting an
invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Agassiz. They are persons of whom it is
impossible to know a little without wishing to know a great deal more.
They had lately returned from their explorations in Brazil, but more
especially in the Valley of the Amazon. The popular narrative of the
expedition (for it was composed of several persons) was written by Mrs.
Agassiz, and has just been published. The more detailed and scientific
account, by Mr. Agassiz, is eagerly expected. His character appears to
be a most singularly transparent one. He has strong social instincts.
In society he is evidently in his true element. But all the while, by
the side of this keen enjoyment of society, you see that his soul has
been constructed for making those discoveries in physical science, and
acquiring those new ideas, he has so much happiness in presenting to
the minds of others. His rich genial conversation and ready sympathies
are worthy of the high position he holds in the scientific world.
To Mr. Thomas G. Appleton—the first American, I believe, who crossed
the Atlantic in his own yacht—I am indebted for several kindnesses;
among them for his taking me to his brother-in-law, Mr. Longfellow, who
resides at Cambridge, about three miles from Boston. Mr. Longfellow’s
house is the oldest in the place, and has a good deal of curious
antique carving and panelling. This is as it should be, for one can
hardly imagine a poet living in a new, square-built, brick house,
without a tradition or association.
[Sidenote: _Young Ladies’ Recitations._]
In mentioning those whose names are public property, from whom I
received kindnesses at Boston, I must not omit Mr. Philbrick, the
Superintendent of Schools for the city. He allowed me to spend a
morning in the Poplar Street Primary School, which was quite a model
of its kind. It contained 300 children, divided into six grades.
With few exceptions, they all come at the age of five, and leave at
eight. He also took me with him to the yearly commemoration of the
Adam Street Grammar School, in a distant suburb of the city. This is
a mixed school for boys and girls, or rather for young ladies, for
some of the latter were certainly not less than eighteen years of age.
There were present on the occasion the superintendent, some assistant
superintendents, or committee-men—I forget which was their title—and
many of the parents of the children. The work consisted in recitations,
singing, and reading extracts from a periodical written by the pupils
and published in the school. The reciting was fairly done. No timidity
was shown by any young lady who ascended the platform; but there was no
boldness, or anything in any way unpleasing. There was only a degree
of easy self-possession that would have been unusual in English ladies
of any age. I mention this because the impression left on Mr. Fraser’s
mind by exhibitions of this kind appears not to have been favourable.
As soon as the business of the day was over, Mr. Philbrick, being the
chief official in the city connected with education, was called upon by
the head-master to make a speech, or, as it is called in America, to
deliver an address. After speaking for about ten minutes, he concluded
by telling the company who I was, and with whom I was acquainted in
the city, adding that he hoped I would give those present the pleasure
of hearing me say something. I was a little taken by surprise at this
summons, the heat of the room having almost put me to sleep. Otherwise
one ought always to be prepared for such requests, because in America
you may be quite sure that they will always be made. It is one of
their institutions.
One hears a great deal about what is described as the arrogance and
conceit of Americans. I never met with anything of the kind, except
among classes which with us are generally too ignorant to know much,
and too apathetic to care much about their own country. The upper
classes are proud of their country, as they ought to be, and that is
all. At Boston, however, I was struck, not with the arrogance and
conceit, but with the humility of Americans. I am speaking now of the
literary class; and I think the phenomenon is to be accounted for in
the following way. These New Englanders are the most observant and the
most receptive of the human family, and it is the first thought of all
among them who have literary aspirations to travel in England and on
the European continent. These are to them the Holy Land of thought. It
is here that all the branches of literature, and all the departments of
science, originated and were matured. All the creations of fancy, all
the lessons and examples of history, all the familiar descriptions of
outward nature, and of human emotions, come from this side. Here, then,
are the shrines which the literary men of the New World must visit
with the staff and in the spirit of a pilgrim. They feel an influence
which their fellow-countrymen do not feel. But besides this, because
they are New Englanders, they note and weigh every idea and practice
they find in European society; and everything that approves itself to
their understanding, they adopt readily and without prejudice. This is
the reason why travelled New Englanders are generally so gentlemanly
and agreeable. They understood what they saw abroad, and they have
acknowledged to themselves that they have learnt much that they never
would have known anything of if they had stayed at home. This, which
is true of all, is doubly true of their literary men. One of the
leading writers of New England described to me the craving that he
felt for intercourse with minds cultivated as they are only in Europe.
There only, in his opinion, men had time to think; there only had the
critical faculties been trained; there only could you meet with broad
and profound views on questions of literature, history, or policy. The
whole of the literature of America was but a _rechauffé_ of that of
England, France, and Germany.
[Sidenote: _Humility of the Leading Literary Men._]
I regretted the necessity which obliged me to leave Boston before I had
seen as much as I wished of its society. I did not feel in this way
because it more nearly resembles European society than is the case in
any other city of the Union—for one does not go to America to see what
can be seen at home—but because I wished to know more of some with whom
I felt that it would be a happiness afterwards to be acquainted, and
because I was desirous of using every opportunity for arriving at some
distinct conclusions as to the tendency of opinion and thought, more
particularly religious thought, in the New World.