ACADEMIC LIFE IN CAMBRIDGE
There exists abundant evidence, to which the present writer can add
personal testimony, in regard to Longfellow's success as an organizer of
his immediate department of Harvard University and in dealing with his
especial classes. He was assigned, for some reason, a room in University
Hall which was also employed for faculty meetings, and was therefore a
little less dreary than the ordinary class-room of those days. It seemed
most appropriate that an instructor of Longfellow's well-bred aspect and
ever-courteous manners should simply sit at the head of the table with
his scholars, as if they were guests, instead of putting between him and
them the restrictive demarcation of a teacher's desk. We read with him,
I remember, first the little book he edited, "Proverbes Dramatiques,"
and afterwards something of Racine and Molière, in which his faculty of
finding equivalent phrases was an admirable example for us. When
afterwards, during an abortive rebellion in the college yard, the
students who had refused to listen to others yielded to the demand of
their ringleader, "Let us hear Professor Longfellow; he always treats us
like gentlemen," the youthful rebel unconsciously recognized a step
forward in academical discipline. Longfellow did not cultivate us much
personally, or ask us to his house, but he remembered us and
acknowledged our salutations. He was, I think, the first Harvard
instructor who addressed the individual student with the prefix "Mr." I
recall the clearness of his questions, the simplicity of his
explanations, the well-bred and skilful propriety with which he led us
past certain indiscreet phrases in our French authors, as for instance
in Balzac's "Peau de Chagrin." Most of all comes back to memory the
sense of triumph with which we saw the proof-sheets of "Voices of the
Night" brought in by the printer's devil and laid at his elbow. We felt
that we also had lived in literary society, little dreaming, in our
youthful innocence, how large a part of such society would prove far
below the standard of courtesy that prevailed in Professor Longfellow's
recitation room.
Yet the work of this room was, in those days of dawning changes, but a
small part of the function of a professor. Longfellow was, both by
inclination and circumstances, committed to the reform initiated by his
predecessor, George Ticknor. He had inherited from this predecessor a
sort of pioneership in position relative to the elective system just on
trial as an experiment in college. There exists an impression in some
quarters that this system came in for the first time under President
Walker about 1853; but it had been, as a matter of fact, tried much
earlier,--twenty years, at least,--in the Modern Language Department
under Ticknor, and had been extended much more widely in 1839 under
President Quincy. The facts are well known to me, as I was in college at
that period and enjoyed the beneficent effects of the change, since it
placed the whole college, in some degree, for a time at least, on a
university basis. The change took the form, first, of a discontinuance
of mathematics as a required study after the first year, and then the
wider application of the elective system in history, natural history,
and the classics, this greater liberty being enjoyed, though with some
reaction, under President Everett, and practically abolished about 1849
under President Sparks, when what may be called the High School system
was temporarily restored. An illustration of this reactionary tendency
may be found in a letter addressed by Longfellow to the President and
Fellows, placing him distinctly on the side of freedom of choice. The
circumstances are these: Students had for some time been permitted to
take more than one modern language among the electives, and I myself,
before receiving my degree of A. B. in 1841, had studied two such
languages simultaneously for three years of college course. It appears,
however, from the following letter, that this privilege had already been
reduced to one such language, and that Longfellow was at once found
remonstrating against it, though at first ineffectually.
CAMBRIDGE, June 24, 1845.
GENTLEMEN,--In arranging the studies for the next year, the Faculty
have voted, as will be seen from the enclosed Tabular view, that "no
student will be allowed to take more than one Modern Language at a
time, except for special reasons assigned, & by express vote of the
Faculty."
You will see that this is the only Department upon which any bar or
prohibition is laid. And when the decision was made, the Latin &
Greek Departments were allowed two votes each, & the Department of
Modern Languages but one vote.
As I foresaw at the time, this arrangement has proved very
disadvantageous to the Department, & has reduced the number of
pupils, at once, more than one half. During this year the whole
number of students in the Department has been 224. The applications
for the next term do not amount to 100; nor, when all have been
received, can it reach 110. I therefore, Gentlemen, appeal to you,
for your interference in this matter, requesting that the
restriction may be removed, & this Department put upon the footing
of the others in this particular. Otherwise, I fear that as at
present organized, it cannot exist another year.
I have the honor to be,
Gentlemen, your ob'd't. servant
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.{71}
[Addressed externally to the President and Fellows of Harvard
College.]
[REPORT OF COMMITTEE.]
CORPORATION OF HARVARD COLLEGE, July 26, 1845.
The Committee to whom was referred the Memorial of Professor Longfellow
on the subject of the arrangement of the studies of the undergraduates
by the faculty of the College, & desiring that the restriction as to the
number of modern languages that may be studied at once should be
removed, have attended to the subject, & ask leave to report, that they
have, in common with the other members of the Corporation already
considered the general subject of the arrangement of the studies of the
undergraduates, with especial reference to the recommendations of the
board of overseers; & that they were convinced by the examination of the
details they made at that time that the business of ordering the times &
the amount of study & recitation for the young men at Cambridge is not
only a very complicated & difficult affair, but one which is in the
hands of those best qualified, & considering all their relations, most
truly interested to lead the students to give as much labor as is safe
for them to the studies suitable to College years, & to distribute it in
such manner as shall be most just & effective. The committee would not
feel themselves authorized to change one part of a system, all the parts
of which are intricately dependent upon each other, without they felt a
confidence they do not possess that they could recommend one which
should work better as a whole. They therefore must decline, so far as
depends upon them, adopting a measure the ulterior effects of which they
may not foresee with accuracy, & they express the belief that it will be
well to allow the present arrangement to continue for a time, even at
the risk, apprehended by Prof'r. Longfellow, of its producing an
injurious effect upon his department. They cannot but hope, however,
that the evils he fears may be avoided, or if not, that they may be
compensated by equivalent advantages.
SAM'L. A. ELIOT \
} _Committee_{72}
J. A. LOWELL /
A year later than the above correspondence, the subject was evidently
revived on the part of the governing powers of the College, and we find
the following letter from Professor Longfellow:--
CAMBRIDGE, Sept. 25, 1846.
DEAR SIR,--In answer to your favor of the 18th inst. requesting my
opinion on certain points connected with the Studies of the
University, I beg leave to state;
I. In regard to the "advantages and disadvantages of the Elective
System." In my own department I have always been strongly in favor
of this system. I have always thought that the modern languages
should be among the voluntary or elective studies and form no part
of the required Academic course. As to the Latin and Greek I have
many doubts; but incline rather to the old system, particularly if
the fifth class can be added to the present course; for we could
then secure the advantages of both systems.
II. The class examinations in my department are very slight and
unsatisfactory. They serve however as a kind of Annual Report of
what has been done in the department; and as there is nothing
depending upon them, it does not seem to me a matter of very urgent
necessity to have them rendered more thorough.
III. "The Fifth class or New Department in the University" seems to
me of the greatest importance, as it would enable us to carry
forward the studies of each department much farther than at present,
by means of Lectures, for which there is now hardly sufficient
opportunity. Last year there were fifteen Resident Graduates. Why
should not these have formed the Fifth Class?
IV. In regard to the "practical working of any other of the changes
made in our system during the last twenty years," I can hardly claim
any distinct views. Many, perhaps most of them were made before I
came to the University; so that I hardly know what is old and what
is new.
I have made but a brief statement in answer to your enquiries,
partly because writing is a painful process with me, and partly
because many things here touched upon can be more clearly explained
_vive voce_ than with the pen.
I remain, with great regard
Faithfully Yours
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.{73}
It is a curious fact that more than half a century later, at a meeting
of the American Modern Language Association, held at the very
institution where this correspondence took place, it was President
Charles William Eliot, son of the author of the letter just quoted, who
recognized the immense advance made in this particular department as one
of the most important steps in the progress of the University. His
remarks were thus reported in the Boston "Herald" of December 27,
1901:--
"When the meeting opened yesterday afternoon President Eliot was present
and graciously said a few words of welcome. He said that he knew of no
body of modern learned men whom he would be so glad to welcome as the
professors of language.
"'Here at Harvard,' he said, 'we have been pressing forward for many
years toward the same object you have in view. I congratulate you upon
the great progress made in the last thirty years. One of the most
striking features of American education has been the rapid development
of the study of languages. It has been more rapid at some of the other
colleges than at Harvard. They started at nothing a shorter time ago.
[Laughter.]
"'You are to be congratulated upon the cohesion which exists among
learned men in dealing with this important subject. The study of modern
languages is beginning to connect itself with the life of the nation. It
now bears a real connection to national life and interest. No great
subject in educational thought ever obtained a firm hold that had not
some modern connection with the day. I do not overlook the literary
element in the study of modern languages, but you will have a stronger
hold for the next twenty years than you have in the past, owing to this
use of modern languages in daily life, incident to the industrial and
commercial activity of the country.'"
It is always to be borne in mind that Longfellow's self-restrained and
well-ordered temperament habitually checked him in the career of
innovator. Both in public and private matters, it was his way to state
his point of view and then await results. It is clear that his mental
habit, his foreign experience, and the traditions of his immediate
department predisposed him to favor the elective system in university
training. This system, after temporary trial and abandonment, was now
being brought forward once more and was destined this time to prevail.
Towards this success, the prosperity of the Modern Language Department
formed a perpetual argument, because it was there that the reform was
first introduced. The records of the Faculty at that period give very
little information as to the attitude of individual professors, and
Longfellow may be viewed as having been for the most part a silent
reformer. One finds, however, constant evidence in his diaries of the
fact that his duties wore upon him. "I get very tired of the routine of
this life." "This college work is like a great hand laid on all the
strings of my lyre, stopping their vibrations." "How the days resemble
each other and how sad it is to me that I cannot give them all to my
poem." "I have fallen into a very unpoetic mood and cannot write." It
must be remembered that his eyes were at this time very weak, that he
suffered extremely from neuralgia, and that these entries were all made
during the great fugitive slave excitement which agitated New England,
and the political overturn in Massachusetts which culminated in the
election of the poet's most intimate friend, Sumner, to the United
States Senate. He records the occurrence of his forty-fourth birthday,
and soon after when he is stereotyping the "Golden Legend" he says: "I
still work a good deal upon it," but also writes, only two days after,
"Working hard with college classes to have them ready for their
examinations." A fortnight later he says: "Examination in my department;
always to me a day of anguish and exhaustion." His correspondence is
very large; visitors and dinner parties constantly increase. His mother
dies suddenly, and he sits all night alone by her dead body; a sense of
peace comes over him, as if there had been no shock or jar in nature,
but a "harmonious close to a long life." Later he gets tired of summer
rest at Nahant, which he calls "building up life with solid blocks of
idleness;" but when two days later he goes back to Cambridge to resume
his duties, he records: "I felt my neck bow and the pressure of the
yoke." Soon after he says: "I find no time to write. I find more and
more the little things of life shut out the great. Innumerable
interruptions--letters of application for this and for that; endless
importunities of foreigners for help here and help there--fret the day
and consume it." He often records having half a dozen men to dine with
him; he goes to the theatre, to lectures, concerts, and balls, has no
repose, and perhaps, as we have seen at Nahant, would not really enjoy
it. It was under these conditions, however, that the "Golden Legend"
came into the world in November, 1851; and it was not until September
12, 1854, that its author was finally separated from the University. He
was before that date happily at work on "Hiawatha."
{71 _Harvard College Papers_ [MS.], 2d ser. xiii. 363.}
{72 _Harvard College Papers_ [MS.], 2d ser. xiii. 13.}
{73 _Harvard College Papers_ [MSS.], 2d ser. xiv. 61.}