city and the whole Territory. Cannon, bells, whistles, welcomed the
train and the man, and fifteen thousand people hurrahed; the town was
gayly decorated; there was a long procession, speeches and music in the
Opera-house in the afternoon, and fireworks, illumination, and banquet
in the evening. The reason of the boundless enthusiasm of Helena was
in the fact that the day gave it a new competing line to the East, and
opened up the coal, iron, and wheat fields of north Montana.
VIII.—ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL TOPICS. MINNESOTA AND WISCONSIN.
A visitor at a club in Chicago was pointed out a table at which usually
lunched a hundred and fifty millions of dollars! This impressive
statement was as significant in its way as the list of the men, in the
days of Emerson, Agassiz, and Longfellow, who dined together as the
Saturday Club in Boston. We cannot, however, generalize from this that
the only thing considered in the North-west is money, and that the only
thing held in esteem in Boston is intellect.
The chief concerns in the North-west are material, and the making of
money, sometimes termed the “development of resources,” is of the
first importance. In Minneapolis and St. Paul, social position is more
determined by money than it is in most Eastern cities, and this makes
social life more democratic, so far as traditions and family are
concerned. I desire not to overstate this, for money is potent
everywhere; but I should say that a person not devoted to business,
or not succeeding in it, but interested rather in intellectual
pursuits—study, research, art (not decorative), education, and the
like—would find less sympathy there than in Eastern cities of the same
size and less consideration. Indeed, I was told, more than once, that
the spirit of plutocracy is so strong in these cities as to make a very
disagreeable atmosphere for people who value the higher things in life
more than money and what money only will procure, and display which is
always more or less vulgar. But it is necessary to get closer to the
facts than this statement.
The materialistic spirit is very strong in the West; of necessity it is,
in the struggle for existence and position going on there, and in the
unprecedented opportunities for making fortunes. And hence arises a
prevailing notion that any education is of little value that does not
bear directly upon material success. I should say that the professions,
including divinity and the work of the scholar and the man of letters,
do not have the weight there that they do in some other places. The
professional man, either in the college or the pulpit, is expected to
look alive and keep up with the procession. Tradition is weak; it is
no objection to a thing that it is new, and in the general strain
“sensations” are welcome. The general motto is, “Be alive; be
practical.” Naturally, also, wealth recently come by desires to assert
itself a little in display, in ostentatious houses, luxurious living,
dress, jewellery, even to the frank delight in the diamond shirt-stud.
But we are writing of Americans, and the Americans are the quickest
people in the world to adapt themselves to new situations. The Western
people travel much, at home and abroad, and they do not require a very
long experience to know what is in bad taste. They are as quick as
anybody—I believe they gave us the phrase—to “catch on” to quietness and
a low tone. Indeed, I don’t know but they would boast that if it is a
question of subdued style, they can beat the world. The revolution
which has gone all over the country since the Exposition of 1876 in
house-furnishing and decoration is quite as apparent in the West as
in the East. The West has not suffered more than the East from
eccentricities of architecture in the past twenty years. Violations of
good taste are pretty well distributed, but of new houses the proportion
of handsome, solid, good structures is as large in the West as in the
East, and in the cities I think the West has the advantage in variety.
It must be frankly said that if the Easterner is surprised at the size,
cost, and palatial character of many of their residences, he is not less
surprised by the refinement and good taste of their interiors. There are
cases where money is too evident, where the splendor has been ordered,
but there are plenty of other cases where individual taste is apparent,
and love of harmony and beauty. What I am trying to say is that the East
undervalues the real refinement of living going along with the admitted
cost and luxury in the West. The art of dining is said to be a test of
civilization—on a certain plane. Well, dining, in good houses (I believe
that is the phrase), is much the same East and West as to appointments,
service, cuisine, and talk, with a trifle more freedom and sense of
newness in the West. No doubt there is a difference in tone, appreciable
but not easy to define. It relates less to the things than the way the
things are considered. Where a family has had “things” for two or three
generations they are less an object than an unregarded matter of course;
where things and a manner of living are newly acquired, they have more
importance in themselves. An old community, if it is really civilized (I
mean a state in which intellectual concerns are paramount), values less
and less, as an end, merely material refinement. The tendency all over
the United States is for wealth to run into vulgarity.
In St. Paul and Minneapolis one thing notable is the cordial
hospitality, another is the public spirit, and another is the intense
devotion to business, the forecast and alertness in new enterprises.
Where society is fluid and on the move, it seems comparatively easy
to interest the citizens in any scheme for the public good. The public
spirit of those cities is admirable. One notices also an uncommon power
of organization, of devices for saving time. An illustration of this is
the immense railway transfer ground here. Midway between the cities is a
mile square of land where all the great railway lines meet, and by
means of communicating tracks easily and cheaply exchange freight
cars, immensely increasing the facility and lessening the cost of
transportation. Another illustration of system is the State office of
Public Examiner, an office peculiar to Minnesota, an office supervising
banks, public institutions, and county treasuries, by means of which
a uniform system of accounting is enforced for all public funds, and
safety is insured.
There is a large furniture and furnishing store in Minneapolis, well
sustained by the public, which gives one a new idea of the taste of the
North-west. A community that buys furniture so elegant and chaste in
design, and stuffs and decorations so aesthetically good, as this shop
offers it, is certainly not deficient either in material refinement or
the means to gratify the love of it.
What is there besides this tremendous energy, very material prosperity,
and undeniable refinement in living? I do not know that the excellently
managed public-school system offers anything peculiar for comment. But
the High-school in St. Paul is worth a visit. So far as I could judge,
the method of teaching is admirable, and produces good results. It has
no rules, nor any espionage. Scholars are put upon their honor. One
object of education being character, it is well to have good behavior
consist, not in conformity to artificial laws existing only in school,
but to principles of good conduct that should prevail everywhere. There
is system here, but the conduct expected is that of well-bred boys and
girls anywhere. The plan works well, and there are very few cases of
discipline. A manual training school is attached—a notion growing in
favor in the West, and practised in a scientific and truly educational
spirit. Attendance is not compulsory, but a considerable proportion of
the pupils, boys and girls, spend a certain number of hours each week in
the workshops, learning the use of tools, and making simple objects to
an accurate scale from drawings on the blackboard. The design is not at
all to teach a trade. The object is strictly educational, not simply
to give manual facility and knowledge in the use of tools, but to teach
accuracy, the mental training that there is in working out a definite,
specific purpose.
The State University is still in a formative condition, and has attached
to it a preparatory school. Its first class graduated only in 1872. It
sends out on an average about twenty graduates a year in the various
departments, science, literature, mechanic arts, and agriculture. The
bane of a State university is politics, and in the West the hand of the
Granger is on the college, endeavoring to make it “practical.” Probably
this modern idea of education will have to run its course, and so long
as it is running its course the Eastern colleges which adhere to the
idea of intellectual discipline will attract the young men who value
a liberal rather than a material education. The State University of
Minnesota is thriving in the enlargement of its facilities. About
one-third of its scholars are women, but I notice that in the last
catalogue, in the Senior Class of twenty-six there is only one woman.
There are two independent institutions also that should be mentioned,
both within the limits of St. Paul, the Hamline University, under
Methodist auspices, and the McAllister College, under Presbyterian.
I did not visit the former, but the latter, at least, though just
beginning, has the idea of a classical education foremost, and does
not adopt co-education. Its library is well begun by the gift of a
miscellaneous collection, containing many rare and old books, by the
Rev. E. D. Neill, the well-known antiquarian, who has done so much to
illuminate the colonial history of Virginia and Maryland. In the State
Historical Society, which has rooms in the Capitol in St. Paul, a
vigorous and well-managed society, is a valuable collection of books
illustrating the history of the North-west. The visitor will notice in
St. Paul quite as much taste for reading among business men as exists
elsewhere, a growing fancy for rare books, and find some private
collections of interest. Though music and art cannot be said to be
generally cultivated, there are in private circles musical enthusiasm
and musical ability, and many of the best examples of modern painting
are to be found in private houses. Indeed, there is one gallery in which
is a collection of pictures by foreign artists that would be notable in
any city. These things are mentioned as indications of a liberalizing
use of wealth.
Wisconsin is not only one of the most progressive, but one of the most
enlightened, States in the Union. Physically it is an agreeable and
beautiful State, agriculturally it is rich, in the southern and
central portions at least, and it is overlaid with a perfect network
of railways. All this is well known. I wish to speak of certain other
things which give it distinction. I mean the prevailing spirit in
education and in social-economic problems. In some respects it leads all
the other States.
There seem to be two elements in the State contending for the mastery,
one the New England, but emancipated from tradition, the other the
foreign, with ideas of liberty not of New England origin. Neither is
afraid of new ideas nor of trying social experiments. Co-education
seems to be everywhere accepted without question, as if it were already
demonstrated that the mingling of the sexes in the higher education
will produce the sort of men and women most desirable in the highest
civilization. The success of women in the higher schools, the capacity
shown by women in the management of public institutions and in reforms
and charities, have perhaps something to do with the favor to woman
suffrage. It may be that, if women vote there in general elections as
well as school matters, on the ground that every public office “relates
to education,” Prohibition will be agitated as it is in most other
States, but at present the lager-bier interest is too strong to give
Prohibition much chance. The capital invested in the manufacture of beer
makes this interest a political element of great importance.
Milwaukee and Madison may be taken to represent fairly the civilization
of Wisconsin. Milwaukee, having a population of about 175,000, is a
beautiful city, with some characteristics peculiar to itself, having the
settled air of being much older than it is, a place accustomed to money
and considerable elegance of living. The situation on the lake is fine,
the high curving bluffs offering most attractive sites for residences,
and the rolling country about having a quiet beauty. Grand avenue, an
extension of the main business thoroughfare of the city, runs out into
the country some two miles, broad, with a solid road, a stately avenue,
lined with fine dwellings, many of them palaces in size and elegant in
design. Fashion seems to hesitate between the east side and the
west side, but the east or lake side seems to have the advantage in
situation, certainly in views, and contains a greater proportion of the
American population than the other. Indeed, it is not easy to recall
a quarter of any busy city which combines more comfort, evidences of
wealth and taste and refinement, and a certain domestic character, than
this portion of the town on the bluffs, Prospect avenue and the adjacent
streets. With the many costly and elegant houses there is here and
there one rather fantastic, but the whole effect is pleasing, and
the traveller feels no hesitation in deciding that this would be
an agreeable place to live. From the avenue the lake prospect is
wonderfully attractive—the beauty of Lake Michigan in changing color and
variety of lights in sun and storm cannot be too much insisted on—and
this is especially true of the noble Esplanade, where stands the bronze
statue (a gift of two citizens) of Solomon Juneau, the first settler of
Milwaukee in 1818. It is a very satisfactory figure, and placed where it
is, it gives a sort of foreign distinction to the open place which the
city has wisely left for public use. In this part of the town is the
house of the Milwaukee Club, a good building, one of the most
tasteful internally, and one of the best appointed, best arranged, and
comfortable club-houses In the country. Near this is the new Art Museum
(also the gift of a private citizen), a building greatly to be commended
for its excellent proportions, simplicity, and chasteness of style, and
adaptability to its purpose. It is a style that will last, to please
the eye, and be more and more appreciated as the taste of the community
becomes more and more refined.
In this quarter are many of the churches, of the average sort, but
none calling for special mention except St. Paul’s, which is noble in
proportions and rich in color, and contains several notable windows of
stained glass, one of them occupying the entire end of one transept, the
largest, I believe, in the country. It is a copy of Doré’. painting of
Christ on the way to the Crucifixion, an illuminated street scene, with
superb architecture of marble and porphyry, and crowded with hundreds
of figures in colors of Oriental splendor. The colors are rich and
harmonious, but it is very brilliant, flashing in the sunlight with
magnificent effect, and I am not sure but it would attract the humble
sinners of Milwaukee from a contemplation of their little faults which
they go to church to confess.
The city does not neglect education, as the many thriving public
schools testify. It has a public circulating library of 42,000 volumes,
sustained at an expense of $22,000 a year by a tax; is free, and well
patronized. There are good private collections of books also, one that
I saw large and worthy to be called a library, especially strong in
classic English literature.
Perhaps the greatest industry of the city, certainly the most
conspicuous, is brewing. I do not say that the city is in the hands of
the brewers, but with their vast establishments they wield great power.
One of them, about the largest in the country, and said to equal in its
capacity any in Europe, has in one group seven enormous buildings, and
is impressive by its extent and orderly management, as well as by the
rivers of amber fluid which it pours out for this thirsty country.
Milwaukee, with its large German element—two-thirds of the population,
most of whom are freethinkers—has no Sunday except in a holiday
sense; the theatres are all open, and the pleasure-gardens, which are
extensive, are crowded with merrymakers in the season. It is, in short,
the Continental fashion, and while the churches and church-goers are
like churches and church-goers everywhere, there is an air of general
Continental freedom.
The general impression of Milwaukee is that it is a city of much
wealth and a great deal of comfort, with a settled, almost conservative
feeling, like an Eastern city, and charming, cultivated social life,
with the grace and beauty that are common in American society anywhere.
I think the men generally would be called well-looking, robust, of the
quiet, assured manner of an old community. The women seen on the street
and In the shops are of good physique and good color and average good
looks, without anything startling in the way of beauty or elegance. I
speak of the general aspect of the town, and I mention the well-to-do
physical condition because it contradicts the English prophecy of a
physical decadence in the West, owing to the stimulating climate and
the restless pursuit of wealth. On the train to Madison (the line runs
through a beautiful country) one might have fancied that he was on a
local New England train: the same plain, good sort of people, and in
abundance the well-looking, domestic sort of young women.
Madison is a great contrast to Milwaukee. Although it is the political
and educational centre, has the Capitol and the State University, and a
population of about 15,000, it is like a large village, with the village
habits and friendliness. On elevated, hilly ground, between two charming
lakes, it has an almost unrivalled situation, and is likely to
possess, in the progress of years and the accumulation of wealth, the
picturesqueness and beauty that travellers ascribe to Stockholm. With
the hills of the town, the gracefully curving shores of the lakes and
their pointed bays, the gentle elevations beyond the lakes, and the
capacity of these two bodies of water as pleasure resorts, with elegant
music pavilions and fleets of boats for the sail and the oar—why do we
not take a hint from the painted Venetian sail?—there is no limit to
what may be expected in the way of refined beauty of Madison in the
summer, if it remains a city of education and of laws, and does not get
up a “boom,” and set up factories, and blacken all the landscape with
coal smoke!
The centre of the town is a big square, pleasantly tree-planted, so
large that the facing rows of shops and houses have a remote and dwarfed
appearance, and in the middle of it is the great pillared State-house,
American style. The town itself is one of unpretentious, comfortable
houses, some of them with elegant interiors, having plenty of books
and the spoils of foreign travel. In one of them, the old-fashioned but
entirely charming mansion of Governor Fairchild, I cannot refrain
from saying, is a collection which, so far as I know, is unique in the
world—a collection to which the helmet of Don Quixote gives a certain
flavor; it is of barbers’ basins, of all ages and countries.
Wisconsin is working out its educational ideas on an intelligent system,
and one that may be expected to demonstrate the full value of the
popular method—I mean a more intimate connection of the university with
the life of the people than exists elsewhere. What effect this will have
upon the higher education in the ultimate civilization of the State is
a question of serious and curious interest. Unless the experience of the
ages is misleading, the tendency of the “practical” in all education is
a downward and material one, and the highest civilization must continue
to depend upon a pure scholarship, and upon what are called abstract
ideas. Even so practical a man as Socrates found the natural sciences
inadequate to the inner needs of the soul. “I thought,” he says, “as
I have failed in the contemplation of true existence (by means of the
sciences), I ought to be careful that I did not lose the eye of the
soul, as people may injure their bodily eye by gazing on the sun during
an eclipse.... That occurred to me, and I was afraid that my soul might
be blinded altogether if I looked at things with my eyes, or tried by
the help of the senses to apprehend them. And I thought I had better
have recourse to ideas, and seek in them the truth of existence.” The
intimate union of the university with the life of the people is a most
desirable object, if the university does not descend and lose its high
character in the process.
The graded school system of the State is vigorous, all working up to the
University. This is a State institution, and the State is fairly liberal
to it, so far as practical education is concerned. It has a magnificent
new Science building, and will have excellent shops and machinery for
the sciences (especially the applied) and the mechanic arts. The system
is elective. A small per cent, of the students take Greek, a larger
number Latin, French, and German, but the University is largely devoted
to science. In all the departments, including law, there are about six
hundred students, of whom above one hundred are girls. There seems to be
no doubt about co-education as a practical matter in the conduct of
the college, and as a desirable thing for women. The girls are good
students, and usually take more than half the highest honors on the
marking scale. Notwithstanding the testimony of the marks, however, the
boys say that the girls don’t “know” as much as they do about things
generally, and they (the boys) have no doubt of their ability to pass
the girls either in scholarship or practical affairs in the struggle of
life. The idea seems to be that the girls are serious in education
only up to a certain point, and that marriage will practically end the
rivalry.
The distinguishing thing, however, about the State University is its
vital connection with the farmers and the agricultural interests. I do
not refer to the agricultural department, which it has in common with
many colleges, nor to the special short agricultural course of three
months in the winter, intended to give farmers’ boys, who enter it
without examination or other connection with the University, the most
available agricultural information in the briefest time, the intention
being not to educate boys away from a taste for farming but to make them
better farmers. The students must be not less than sixteen years old,
and have a common-school education. During the term of twelve weeks
they have lectures by the professors and recitations on practical and
theoretical agriculture, on elementary and agricultural chemistry, on
elemental botany, with laboratory practice, and on the anatomy of our
domestic animals and the treatment of their common diseases. But what
I wish to call special attention to is the connection of the University
with the farmers’ institutes.