In the following year I accepted the invitation of Mr. Ticknor to stay a few days with him before leaving America, and I was fortunate in meeting at his house, Mr. Longfellow, who, at the time of my previous visit to Boston, was away from home, travelling in England, chiefly, as he afterwards told me, amongst the English lakes and in Devonshire. He proposed that I should go and see him at Cambridge, and this was arranged, and I went down there upon the first available day. I found him in his study, a small room looking out upon the lawn, and commanding a view of the country towards the bridge.
Before dinner, he showed me a bill of fare which had been given to him at a public banquet in London, which was framed and placed on the mantel piece of the dining-room. It was a coloured drawing of a scene described in his poem of “Hiawatha.” The sun was shining on the still waters of a lake, or inland sea, and a group of Indians were gazing at it. I think it was meant to represent the final departure of Hiawatha, westwards towards the sunset.
Mr. Longfellow said that he was much pleased with this mark of attention, not only on account of the merit of the picture, but because he appreciated the feeling that prompted the gift, as “Hiawatha” was the poem by which he most cared to be remembered.
He expressed strong sympathies with the poetical legends and traditions of the Iroquois and Dakota Indians. His conversation was, however, chiefly directed to the question of the future social and political condition of the negroes in the Southern States.
Later in the day, I witnessed a most important triumph of mechanics, as applied to the removal of a heavy building. The house that was being moved was large and strongly constructed of stone. It stood at the corner of a street which was about to be widened, and therefore it was necessary, either to pull it down or place it in another position, and it had been decided to execute the latter operation. The building had a frontage of seventy feet and a depth of one hundred feet. It was composed of a basement, five principal stories and a Mansard roof. The engineer in charge of the works told me that his calculations were based upon having to move a weight of fifty thousand tons. At the time I saw the house, it was full of residents, many of whom were looking out of the windows and watching the proceedings. The contractor permitted me to go underneath and observe the process of moving. The weight was taken by a vast number of screw jacks, and the building was lifted off the foundations. It was progressing towards its new site at the rate of fourteen inches in one hour.
On Commencement Day I went down to Cambridge early in the afternoon, and after being received by the President, fell into my place in the ranks of the procession formed in the college grounds. We then marched into dinner and I took my seat at the table. My immediate neighbours were Mr. Lowell, Mr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Judge Hoar and Judge Grey. About six hundred were present in the hall and three hundred dined in another room. The gradations of age corresponded with the positions of the tables. The seats towards the left were occupied by comparatively young men, but on the right, were successive rows of heads, showing advancing years, until upon the extreme right were the white haired seniors.
At the conclusion of the dinner, in accordance with an ancient custom, all stood up and sang a Psalm to the tune known by the name of St. Martin. The President then gave his annual address and the usual speeches followed. Mr. Adams made a good speech and referred to his late absence as the United States Minister to Great Britain. The President then rose and told the Alumni that a “representative of Great Britain” was present and called upon me to respond. This I did as briefly as possible, and upon resuming my seat I was astonished at the enthusiastic manner with which the said representative was received. After much cheering, the band played “God save the Queen,” which was again the occasion for a strong outburst of cordial good feeling towards England. As I looked down the hall I saw the slight, tall form of Mr. Emerson bending forward as he joined in our National Anthem. Mr. Holmes then recited a poem and Mr. Lowell gave a speech in which he alluded to the question of the Alabama which was causing such bitter feeling in America, and after speaking of the volcanic ground into which he had wandered, said
“O matre pulchra filia pulchrior,
Pout if you will, but sulk not into war.
Had Adams stayed, this danger had not been,
This less than kindness of two more than kin.”
The singing of “Auld Lang Syne” was the fitting conclusion to an interesting day.