THE SOCIAL LIFE OF CAMBRIDGE 363 



The Cambridge of the seventies was a very different place fromj 

 the cosmopolitan Cambridge of the twentieth century. Socially, it 

 was a compact and solid little community, skeptical of strangers 

 and inclined to impose a period of probation more or less pro- 

 longed upon possible candidates for its favors. So far as the 

 newcomer was concerned, if he happened to be accustomed to 

 a certain military and social esprit de corps, there was little be- 

 sides a sense of duty, a contract to be fulfilled, to bind him to 

 the College. Outwardly, there were no close friendships among 

 the younger men, no friendly "College teas" for the women. 

 Notwithstanding much kindliness, nobody apparently felt him- 

 self in any way responsible for anybody else. Under these cir- 

 cumstances it was difficult to believe that precious friendships 

 were to crown the coming years. It may be that this sense of 

 social sterility whether well founded or not, for one not to 

 the manner born is not always a sure judge prompted Mr. 

 Shaler when, thanks to his natural gifts, he had made a place 

 for himself, to endeavor to render Harvard more hospitable to 

 the stranger within her gates; for to the stranger, as he well 

 knew, warmth of welcome is the sum of all social virtues. 



He himself did not lack opportunities for meeting interesting 

 men. In those early days at one dinner in particular at Agassiz's, 

 among the guests, it is possible to recall the names of Emerson, 

 Lowell, Longfellow, Holmes, Howells, and Bret Harte, besides 

 dimmer lights. While the meal was in progress the professor 

 descended to his wine cellar and brought up and uncorked a 

 cobweb-shrouded bottle which proved to be a precious, mirth- 

 provoking bottle of sunshine. On this occasion the number of 

 wine glasses at each plate was to some of the guests a source of 

 embarrassment. When the maid came round with the wine my 

 neighbor confidentially asked which glass he should present. I 

 avowed a certain traditional knowledge of port wine, native 

 catawba, and Bourbon whiskey, but ignorance of Swiss vintages* 

 "Then," said he, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, "you watch 

 Mr. Longfellow and I'll watch Mr. Lowell and we'll see what 



