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Ambleside (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 7
great apartment houses, and everlasting chatter. When that time comes, a few belated spirits will look back regretfully to the Cambridge which called itself a young city, but in its traditions was after all an overgrown village, and figures which are as yet but slightly historic will rise to the imagination as bringing the glory of true literature to overshine the town and make it one of those bright spots on the airy globe of the human spirit which is so charted as to make Concord and Ambleside more conspicuous than, let us say, Jersey City and Leeds. That fine, poetic nature who brought his sensitive English conscience to the New England, where the conscience had been more sturdily cultivated, Arthur Hugh Clough, left a tremulous track of light behind him as he tarried awhile in Cambridge, translating Plutarch, laboring and making friends with men with whom he should have continued to live, only he could not well bear transplanting. We are potted plants here in Cambridge, said
New England (United States) (search for this): chapter 7
alled itself a young city, but in its traditions was after all an overgrown village, and figures which are as yet but slightly historic will rise to the imagination as bringing the glory of true literature to overshine the town and make it one of those bright spots on the airy globe of the human spirit which is so charted as to make Concord and Ambleside more conspicuous than, let us say, Jersey City and Leeds. That fine, poetic nature who brought his sensitive English conscience to the New England, where the conscience had been more sturdily cultivated, Arthur Hugh Clough, left a tremulous track of light behind him as he tarried awhile in Cambridge, translating Plutarch, laboring and making friends with men with whom he should have continued to live, only he could not well bear transplanting. We are potted plants here in Cambridge, said the witty Francis Wharton, explaining to an English visitor that the men of whom he inquired were not natives of Cambridge, but were drawn to it b
Hudson (New Jersey, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
r. When that time comes, a few belated spirits will look back regretfully to the Cambridge which called itself a young city, but in its traditions was after all an overgrown village, and figures which are as yet but slightly historic will rise to the imagination as bringing the glory of true literature to overshine the town and make it one of those bright spots on the airy globe of the human spirit which is so charted as to make Concord and Ambleside more conspicuous than, let us say, Jersey City and Leeds. That fine, poetic nature who brought his sensitive English conscience to the New England, where the conscience had been more sturdily cultivated, Arthur Hugh Clough, left a tremulous track of light behind him as he tarried awhile in Cambridge, translating Plutarch, laboring and making friends with men with whom he should have continued to live, only he could not well bear transplanting. We are potted plants here in Cambridge, said the witty Francis Wharton, explaining to an E
Exeter, N. H. (New Hampshire, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
tation built upon The Nation, that masterly interpretation of our great federal life, hammered out with toil in the silence of his Pennsylvania home after the war for the Union was over; and here he wrought upon that great conception of The Republic of God, making in these books two pillars for sustaining the great arch of social philosophy, an arch which he surely would have reared had he lived. He came, as so many others have come, to educate his children, debating long between New Haven, Exeter, and Cambridge, but taking root in the soil here when his choice was made. Others there have been who found their home here naturally by reason of the convenience of historic printing-houses, and who might easily have worn paths to and from their houses, as they carried forward their scholarly pursuits. For a long time the great lexicographer, Joseph E. Worcester, lived his retired life where now live the family of the late Chauncy Smith. Many still youthful will recall the figure, aler
Simond's Hill (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
ch, laboring and making friends with men with whom he should have continued to live, only he could not well bear transplanting. We are potted plants here in Cambridge, said the witty Francis Wharton, explaining to an English visitor that the men of whom he inquired were not natives of Cambridge, but were drawn to it by its university and schools and kindred spirits. Hither came that poet, Forceythe Willson, who flashed forth a few striking war lyrics, but lived almost in obscurity near Simond's Hill; a silent figure, scarcely known even to those neighbors who could best appreciate him. To Cambridge at a later date came another stranger, Elisha Mulford, who brought with him the reputation built upon The Nation, that masterly interpretation of our great federal life, hammered out with toil in the silence of his Pennsylvania home after the war for the Union was over; and here he wrought upon that great conception of The Republic of God, making in these books two pillars for sustaining
Concord (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
figures which are as yet but slightly historic will rise to the imagination as bringing the glory of true literature to overshine the town and make it one of those bright spots on the airy globe of the human spirit which is so charted as to make Concord and Ambleside more conspicuous than, let us say, Jersey City and Leeds. That fine, poetic nature who brought his sensitive English conscience to the New England, where the conscience had been more sturdily cultivated, Arthur Hugh Clough, left aame of a man who was catholic in his taste, and so universal in his poetic sympathy as to miss appreciation chiefly from those who wish better bread than can be made of fine wheat. During his lifetime, Longfellow made Cambridge as Emerson made Concord, the port to which all craft put in that sailed over the seas of literature. His name is identified with the place, and the pages of his diary are set thick with the names of men and women who lifted the knocker on his door. And now that he ha
Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
versity and schools and kindred spirits. Hither came that poet, Forceythe Willson, who flashed forth a few striking war lyrics, but lived almost in obscurity near Simond's Hill; a silent figure, scarcely known even to those neighbors who could best appreciate him. To Cambridge at a later date came another stranger, Elisha Mulford, who brought with him the reputation built upon The Nation, that masterly interpretation of our great federal life, hammered out with toil in the silence of his Pennsylvania home after the war for the Union was over; and here he wrought upon that great conception of The Republic of God, making in these books two pillars for sustaining the great arch of social philosophy, an arch which he surely would have reared had he lived. He came, as so many others have come, to educate his children, debating long between New Haven, Exeter, and Cambridge, but taking root in the soil here when his choice was made. Others there have been who found their home here natura
J. R. Lowell (search for this): chapter 7
efatigable temper in exorcising the black art was George Nichols, for whose aid Lowell stipulated when he undertook to edit The Atlantic Monthly. It would be hard toread as interestingly as 1836, when Longfellow came to Cambridge, or 1855, when Lowell took service in the college. No town or city can ever be barren in the world oms continue their visit to the shrine. Scarcely less fit is the homestead of Lowell, set in an aviary grove, withdrawn from too close contact with the world, yet with paths which led Lowell into those nooks of life from which he drew sure knowledge of men and nature. Do you not wish to go to Egypt? a fellow-townsman asked theplied: I would much rather see Ramsay's in Harvard Square. The attachment that Lowell bore to the town of his birth and best life finds expression in his verse and ins when she found that she was about to cut down one of the willows under which Lowell had sung. The spreading chestnut of Longfellow's song fared worse at the hands
Henry W. Longfellow (search for this): chapter 7
rather with the old college than with the new university. Still, the present is never in true perspective, and 1896 may yet read as interestingly as 1836, when Longfellow came to Cambridge, or 1855, when Lowell took service in the college. No town or city can ever be barren in the world of literature which has two such names as and so universal in his poetic sympathy as to miss appreciation chiefly from those who wish better bread than can be made of fine wheat. During his lifetime, Longfellow made Cambridge as Emerson made Concord, the port to which all craft put in that sailed over the seas of literature. His name is identified with the place, and ighborhood of Elmwood changed her plans when she found that she was about to cut down one of the willows under which Lowell had sung. The spreading chestnut of Longfellow's song fared worse at the hands of official road-straighteners. I have hinted at a few of the names among the dead that give distinction to Cambridge as a ho
Leeds (search for this): chapter 7
at time comes, a few belated spirits will look back regretfully to the Cambridge which called itself a young city, but in its traditions was after all an overgrown village, and figures which are as yet but slightly historic will rise to the imagination as bringing the glory of true literature to overshine the town and make it one of those bright spots on the airy globe of the human spirit which is so charted as to make Concord and Ambleside more conspicuous than, let us say, Jersey City and Leeds. That fine, poetic nature who brought his sensitive English conscience to the New England, where the conscience had been more sturdily cultivated, Arthur Hugh Clough, left a tremulous track of light behind him as he tarried awhile in Cambridge, translating Plutarch, laboring and making friends with men with whom he should have continued to live, only he could not well bear transplanting. We are potted plants here in Cambridge, said the witty Francis Wharton, explaining to an English visito
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