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William Hunt (search for this): chapter 19
full of talk, boy-like in his laughter. The stranger who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion of freedom, Andrew, the great War Governor of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy of such company. We may complete the list and add the name of Holmes himself, to whose presence the club owed so much of its wit and wisdom. In such company the guests were tempted to linger long, and if Holmes has described the circle around the table, Lowell has celebrated the late walk at night across the bridge as he and Agassiz returned to Cambridge on foot together. To break the verse by quotation would mar the quiet scene and interrupt the
James D. Dana (search for this): chapter 19
mbers: At one end of the table sat Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced, a most agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look,—whose silence was better than many another man's conversation. At the other end sat Agassiz, robust, sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy-like in his laughter. The stranger who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion of freedom, Andrew, the great War Governor of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy of such company. We may complete the list and add the name of Holmes himself, to whose presence the club owed so much of its wit and wisdom. In
Charles Lyell (search for this): chapter 19
) a volume, thought I might, perhaps, dispose of five hundred. I brought out my prospectus, and I have to-day seventeen hundred subscribers. What do you say to that for a work which is to cost six hundred francs a copy, and of which nothing has as yet appeared? Nor is the list closed yet, for every day I receive new subscriptions,—this very morning one from California! Where will not the love of science find its niche! . . . In the same strain he says, at a little later date, to Sir Charles Lyell: You will, no doubt, be pleased to learn that the first volume of my new work, Contributions to the Natural History of the United States, which is to consist of ten volumes, quarto, is now printing, to come out this summer. I hope it will show that I have not been idle during ten years silence. I am somewhat anxious about the reception of my first chapter, headed, Classification, which contains anything but what zoologists would generally expect under that head. The subscription is
H. W. Longfellow (search for this): chapter 19
urope and America. letters from Humboldt and Owen concerning it. birthday. Longfellow's verses. laboratory at Nahant. invitation to the Museum of natural Historynts. For this occasion also were written the wellknown birthday verses by Longfellow, which were read the next day at a dinner given to Agassiz by the Saturday Club. In speaking of Longfellow's relation to this club, Holmes says: On one occasion he read a short poem at the table. It was in honor of Agassiz's birthday, and I which he read his charming verses. Although included in many collections of Longfellow's Poems, they are reproduced here, because the story seems incomplete withoutt is growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!” May 28, 1857. Longfellow had an exquisite touch for occasions of this kind, whether serious or mirthfumerson, who was one of its most constant members: At one end of the table sat Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced, a most agreeable rather than a brilli
H. J. Clark (search for this): chapter 19
3d. Discophorae. 4th. Hydroida. 5th. Homologies of the Radiates,—illustrated by forty-six plates. The plates are of rare accuracy and beauty, and were chiefly drawn by A. Sonrel, though many of the microscopic drawings were made by Professor H. J. Clark, who was at that time Agassiz's private assistant. For details respecting Professor Clark's share in this work, and also concerning the aid of various kinds furnished to the author during its preparation, the reader is referred to the PrProfessor Clark's share in this work, and also concerning the aid of various kinds furnished to the author during its preparation, the reader is referred to the Preface of the volumes themselves. For originality of material, clearness of presentation, and beauty of illustration, these volumes have had their full recognition as models of scientific work. Their philosophy was, perhaps, too much out of harmony with the current theories of the day to be acceptable. In the Essay on Classification especially, Agassiz brought out with renewed earnestness his conviction that the animal world rests upon certain abstract conceptions, persistent and indestruc
brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look,—whose silence was better than many another man's conversation. At the other end sat Agassiz, robust, sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy-like in his laughter. The stranger who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion of freedom, Andrew, the great War Governor of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy of such company. We may complete the list and add the name of Holmes himself, to whose presence the club owed so much of its wit and wisdom. In such company the guests were tempted to linger long, and if Holmes has described the circle around the table, Lowel
George Ticknor (search for this): chapter 19
oon after, and that from time to time he received friendly letters from the Minister of Public Instruction, who occasionally consulted him upon general questions of scientific moment. This invitation excited a good deal of interest among Agassiz's old friends in Europe. Some urged him to accept it, others applauded his resolve to remain out of the great arena of competition and ambition. Among the latter was Humboldt. The following extract is from a letter of his (May 9, 1858) to Mr. George Ticknor, of Boston, who had been one of Agassiz's kindest and best friends in America from the moment of his arrival. Agassiz's large and beautiful work (the first two volumes) reached me a few days since. It will produce a great effect both by the breadth of its general views and by the extreme sagacity of its special embryological observations. I have never believed that this illustrious man, who is also a man of warm heart, a noble soul, would accept the generous offers made to him from
nant, soft-voiced, a most agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look,—whose silence was better than many another man's conversation. At the other end sat Agassiz, robust, sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy-like in his laughter. The stranger who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion of freedom, Andrew, the great War Governor of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy of such company. We may complete the list and add the name of Holmes himself, to whose presence the club owed so much of its wit and wisdom. In such company the guests were tempted to linger long, and if Holmes
s growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!” May 28, 1857. Longfellow had an exquisite touch for occasions of this kind, whether serious or mirthful. Once, when some years after this Agassiz was keeping Christmas Eve with his children and grandchildren, there arrived a basket of wine containing six old bottles of rare vintage. They introduced themselves in a charming French Noel as pilgrims from beyond the sea who came to give Christmas greeting to the master of the house. Gay pilgrims were these six gaillards, and they were accompanied by the following note:— A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all the house of Agassiz! I send also six good wishes in the shape of bottles. Or is it wine? It is both; good wine and good wishes, and kind memories of you on this Christmas Eve. H. W. L. An additional word about the Saturday Club, the fame of which has spread beyond the city of its origin, may not be amiss here. Notwithstanding his close habits of wo
lthough included in many collections of Longfellow's Poems, they are reproduced here, because the story seems incomplete without them. The fiftieth birthday of Agassiz. It was fifty years ago, In the pleasant month of May, In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, A child in its cradle lay. And Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying: “Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee.” “Come wander with me,” she said, “Into regions yet untrod; And read what is still unread In And whenever the way seemed long, Or his heart began to fail, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvelous tale. So she keeps him still a child, And will not let him go, Though at times his heart beats wild For the beautiful Pays de Vaud; Though at times he hears in his dreams The Ranz des Vaches of old, And the rush of mountain streams From glaciers clear and cold; And the mother at home says, “Hark! For his voice I listen and yearn; It is growing late and dark, And my
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