Journal of Richard Austin Rice, 1878 - 1887

1882

January 3. Marion and Dickie went to New York this morning. I came to Boston to visit Ned Rawson, who is now stationed at the Charlestown Navy Yard on Sundays but has rooms on Beacon Hill in Boston for the secular week. The weather is of the sort that makes a seat by his open fire compellingly attractive.

January 6. Europe has been the main topic of our talks for four days as the journey of last summer was Sallie's first experience of its charms, and Jim's visit was made so long ago that it served only to heighten the pleasure of this one.

January 11. I left New York and came to North Adams with President Carter. Here an open buggy had been sent to meet us, in which we had a freezing ride to Williamstown. His family will not come until the Spring as his house is still undergoing alteration and repair. He was disappointed that we did not set up housekeeping in the one available house belonging to Dr. Bascom, as he is eager to have the faculty entertain visitors. Notwithstanding the death of President Garfield last September and the consequent loss of that influence he had hoped for to aid in securing funds for the college, he has obtained the sum sufficient to build a dormitory on Main Street. The buildings now on the site are to be moved away and used as professors' houses. The only one that would be suitable for us he has promised to Smith, who is his favorite among us newcomers.

January 13. The winter term began today. I have my classes in an annex to Griffin Hall formerly used as a laboratory, and called by the students the "Kitchen". The floor is very cold, as there is no cellar under it. A large stove at one end of the room is not effective in heating the other end where I sit, and my legs get rather numb in the ungenial temperature, 23 deg. In my rooms are only small wood stoves and the fires are generally out by bedtime. Last night I was awakened by a sensation as if the top of my head were actually frozen. I was frightened for a moment, and getting up I went to the window. The temperature outside registered 23 deg. below zero. I shut the window. This forenoon I went to a shop and bought a coal burning stove that would keep a fire all night. It is now in place and radiating a genial warmth. I still shudder to think what would have been the effect of that cold on M. and D., had they been here.

February 10. A mild explosion has taken place. I was quite unaware of any real ferment in my class, the elective in German composed entirely of seniors, until President Carter entered the room and took a seat near me on the platform. I handed him a textbook and proceeded with the lesson as usual. I attributed his visit to his interest in the subject, as he had taught it at Yale, but as I was about to dismiss the students he rose to his feet and asked them to stop a moment. With the words, "Gentlemen, all I have to say to you is that this work will go on," he let them file out. Then he told me that the class had sent a deputation to him to complain of the amount of work required in preparation for the exercise, and declared that if it were not lessened they would bolt. Accordingly he had come unannounced to judge whether there was any justification for the complaint. He did not suppose he had helped matters much by what he had said to the class, but he was satisfied that too much was not required either in the length of the lesson assigned or in the character of the questions asked. I would have to fight it out, which I propose to do.

February 28. The back of the winter seems to be broken, and as our rooms are now quite warm enough Marion and Dickie are with me again.

March 20. Some time ago Dr. Mark Hopkins' eldest daughter Louise asked me to help her arrange a weekly or bi-weekly reception of an entirely informal sort for her father's entertainment, as he was unable to go out in the evening himself, and he would like much to become acquainted with the new members of the faculty and their wives. This was done, ad these evenings, varied with readings, discussions and music have proved most agreeable. Dr. Hopkins, now about eighty years old, is a striking personality. He stoops a little as most tall men do. He has a shrewd expression with a genial smile and arrests attention at once. On one occasion he said to me, "Mr. Rice, I am told by some of your students that you get them to work."

March 21. This is nominally the first day of Spring in this latitude but there are few signs yet, winter holds its sway, and it has been most truly a winter of discontent, increased by the innumerable faculty meetings that interfere with study and social enjoyment and seem so unnecessary. The chief consolations have been the evenings at Dr. Hopkins' house, the intercourse with the Griffins and Fernalds, one or two dinners at Mrs. Leakes, and my walks with Smith and Fritz. I have preached a few times in the college chapel. The preparation of these sermons has been most interesting work. A traditional feature of college activity has been continued this year. I never heard of it existing elsewhere, but it may be common in the Middle West for all that. It is a faculty prayer meeting. Few of the professors attend regularly. In the main it consists of a brief address by the leader of the meeting on a topic of his selection, followed by one or two prayers. Music is not conspicuous. The college library is about as inert as it was in Burlington, though a small appropriation is used to supply a few current periodicals and an occasional book. We new men ventured to petition the President for more adequate facilities, but we were defeated by one of the older men who represented our aim as the displacement of the librarian, which was not the fact. We had invited him to the meeting out of courtesy and he used it to forestall any action.

April 15. The mud in the streets of the village is of an appalling depth. Rubber shoes remain lost in it as one attempts a crossing. The buildings on the site chosen for the new dormitory, Morgan Hall, have been moved away and work on it will soon begin.

May 1. Smith has been offered a full professorship in Vanderbilt University at Nashville Tennessee. He has said nothing to Dr. Carter of it as he dreads his resentment if he should accept the offer.

May 10. Smith had decided to go, but still kept it a secret between us. I said to him that this meant his holding on to the College house which he does not expect to occupy, and in which the alterations might not suit us who have the next claim to it. This brought the matter to a head. He faced the music that no doubt had some discords, and Dr. Carter has now offered it to us. Smith's family are with him, Dr. Carter's family also, in the "White House", as the presidential mansion is called.

June 15. Our friends Dr. and Mrs. Kinnicut of New York City have taken a furnished house here for the summer.

July 1. The college year is ended and a vacation of two months is before us. We must remain in College Hall as a baby is expected by the beginning of August. I shall be busy overseeing the alterations in our new home. The important one thus far has been the two rooms on the first floor at the right hand of the hallway into one, forming a room thirty-two feet long. It has a large fire place on the north side and five windows. The ground is being terraced up from the orchard on the south side and we shall have a garden between the house and Morgan Hall. I shall plant a screen of trees at the north end to protect us from the dormitory windows. This first year has not proved an agreeable experience. Much of our discomfort has been due to the poor food furnished us in College Hall, much to the friction produced in getting the college machine into working order, much to the difficulty of living in a small country village in which the students monopolise all the energies of work people. We feel the contrast to Burlington in all that concerns the ease and comfort of life, and often look back to our delightful house there with regret. In our new house domestic life may assume a fairer aspect. Physical discomfort can be endured with equanimity when it is seen to be unavoidable or essential in the process of securing a desired object. It has been difficult to recognise either of these alternatives as applicable to the situation here in any marked degree. The discomfort experienced has been mainly due to the shiftlessness of the persons employed by the college to take care of its property and serve its requirements, as well as to a lack of intelligent and effective control. The causes of this are not far to seek. As few colleges are sufficiently endowed, it is necessary to attract students whose tuition fees will meet part of the expenses, though no student really pays the full cost of his education in any college. The means by which students are to be attracted are chiefly physical. Rooms are made ready for them, facilities for exercise and diversion furnished, a "dining hall" receives their appetites, and what the college authorities fail to supply the townspeople are eager to provide. Five new instructors come into the college and the village, some have families, but nothing is made ready for them. They shift for themselves. Yet they represent the permanent element in the college. The students pass on quickly. Permanence will of course be permanent even if unprovided with the means. This indifference to the physical welfare of its staff of instruction shown by almost every college reacts in a small village upon the work people. They see that it is the students who are to be cared for, first and foremost, and as they being young and rather irresponsible will not be very strict in their demands, the work people become lax and dislike to work for more exacting patrons. Not only they, but the shopmen, the farmers who bring produce, and the ladies with lodgings to rent make one feel that in all things the students have the "right of way". There are no doubt cogent reasons why trustees or a governing board are so indifferent as a body to the physical welfare of the men they call to carry on the permanent work of the college.

July 2. Mother's birthday. 64 years old. Fritz has grown to be such a large and powerful dog that many persons in the village are afraid of him. He is very playful and entirely good natured, but his play is too vigorous for a strong man even, while for women and children it has occasioned uncomfortable troubles. or this reason I let a student have him who expected to take him to a farm near Ballston Spa where he would have space to run and work off his spirits. Fritz has, however, been stolen and carried off, we hear on a freight train. I went over to North Adams with the student to look for him there, but we could find no trace of him.

July 10. Since Commencement and the departure of alumni visitors the village has settled into a sleepy quiet. There are few summer guests at the hotel, the days are hot, even the nights stifling in our rooms, which is very trying for M. Little Dick and I get on fairly well.

July 28. Sallie has come to stay with us over the period of Marion's confinement. She is attended by a young doctor, Woodbridge by name, of whom Dr. Kinnicutt has a good opinion, but it is a comfort to me that he, Dr. K., will be in town and can be relied on for an emergency.

August 1. A boy was born at a quarter to seven this evening. He has dark hair and eyes, weighs 8 1/4 pounds. For three hours after he was born Sallie and I were in anxious suspense for Marion's life, but the crisis finally passed in safety. This is Ware's birthday and the boy will probably be named Max Ware.

August 15. Marion got on pretty well for a few days, though Dr. K. decided she would be better not to nurse the baby, which is a great disappointment. Then on the 7th she became desperately ill but Dr. Kinnicutt's eminent skill and cheerful encouraging presence helped to overcome the danger and she is already better. The weather is much cooler, a great boon for her.

August 20. As Marion is getting on well Dr. Kinnicutt insists I must have a change of air for a few days, and I am going to the Appledor's house on the Isle of Shoals. Mrs. Kinnicutt's mother is there, also my friend Mrs. reed of Montpelier.

September 1. I had a delightful week on the Island. Mrs. Thaxter took me right in, so to speak, and this welcome made me acquainted with the Eichbergs, William Mason, Bowditch, Professor and Mrs. Harris of Andover, Mrs. Ward, and Mrs. Thorn. I helped Mrs. Celia Baxter with her flower beds, read to Mrs. Ward for which relief Miss Thoron was duly grateful, had interesting discussions with Harris and Bowditch on the veranda, spent hours in a boat looking at the wonderful forms of plant and animal life in the waters. The most delightful experience was the morning hour in Mrs. Thaxter's cottage when Eichberg played to her and Mrs. Reed, William Mason accompanied the violin on the piano, and I was a privileged listener, a rare concession on Eichberg's part, Mrs. Thaxter says, as he will not play in public yet is regarded by musicians as one of the very finest violinists living. Mrs. Reed, Mrs. Thaxter and I often talked of our friend Ware, the charm of his mind and character. Mrs. Thaxter showed me a song written by her brother Oscar Laighton, composed as a duet by Boott, and I brought home a copy of it from a music shop in Boston. When the morning of my departure came Mrs. Thaxter was on the wharf at six o'clock to bid me goodbye and bring a flower from her little garden. This courtesy made the week seem more like a dream idyll than a reality, nor did I lose the sense of it when the island had faded in the distance. In Boston I gave the designs I had drawn for furniture to the firm of Leach Annable and Co. The mantle for the Long Room and my work table are the chief pieces. They had good designs for the bureaus and bedsteads. These are to be made of cherry (mine?) for the table and mantle of oak.

September 10. The college year beginning, the house is not yet ready for us but we shall be able to move our stuff into it as the rooms we now occupy must be vacated for new tenants, and we shall find temporary quarters at Miss Bardwell's.

October 1. A journey to North Adams to meet the two servants Sallie had procured in new York and was sending to us. Jonna the waitress and Mary Kate the cook. The latter was such a diminutive creature that when I saw her I felt like advising her to turn about and look for a toy bouse somewhere. They had arrived from Canada in New York City at an early hour that very morning and now had come halfway back toward their starting point.

October 10. We are now fairly settled in our new house which seems after the peculiarly wretched experience this summer in College Hall, like a veritable paradise. The lower floor is already exceedingly comfortable. The cook, Mary Kate, proves to be a most competent and energetic person. She and Joanna together take excellent care of the famliy. Marion, baby, and nurse (to be continued).

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