The New England Magazine Volume 1, No. 3, March, 1886: Bay State Monthly Volume 4, No. 3, March, 1886

In Short

This volume serves as a cultural snapshot of New England in March 1886. It functions as both a literary review and a historical chronicle, blending travel essays on the Kennebec River with serious inquiries into legal education, the "Chinese Problem," and the legacies of figures like Daniel Webster. By documenting the shift from local maritime and agricultural traditions to modern institutional life, the magazine preserves a moment where the past—in the form of Indian history and colonial architecture—was being actively reinterpreted for a burgeoning, urbanized society.

The Story

The narrative arc of the issue is one of observation and reflection, moving from the physical geography of the Maine coast to the intellectual and spiritual foundations of New England society. It begins on the Kennebec River, where the author describes the transition from a once-vibrant maritime culture—marked by the "Rip Van Winkle stillness" of abandoned shipyards—to a landscape redefined by the modern ice industry. This theme of change continues through the history of the Pocomtuck valley, tracing the settlement of Deerfield, the peaceful prosperity of its early farmers, and the eventual, violent disruption caused by the outbreak of conflict in 1675. The text does not shy away from the harsh realities of this history, painting the landscape as a repository for both the "noble vessel" and the "blood of the offender."

From these historical foundations, the focus shifts to the present day. Readers are taken inside the Boston University School of Law, where the professionalization of the legal field is documented through the biographies of its deans and instructors. The narrative underscores the intense, often grueling work ethic of these men, exemplified by the late Augustus H. Fiske, who reportedly worked until the "last nail" was driven into his coffin. This rigor is mirrored in the public sphere, as the magazine tackles contemporary political issues, such as the national debate over the "Chinese Problem," and memorializes the lives of prominent citizens like the banker Henry P. Kidder.

The volume concludes with a panoramic view of New England’s social landscape. Through a guided tour of the North Shore, the author moves past the homes of famous writers and actors, pausing to reflect on the importance of local history and the preservation of indigenous names. The final sections act as a mirror to the reader, summarizing the regional climate, cataloging current scientific advancements, and listing the major literary interests of the era. The magazine ends not with a resolution, but with a record of the ongoing, day-to-day evolution of the region, ensuring that even as the "bells on the hill" toll for a bygone day, the record of the present is firmly set in print.

How It Unfolds

The coastal wilderness The issue opens with a vivid description of the Kennebec River, contrasting the "barren and uninviting" nature of its rocky entrance with the bustling, profitable activity of its ice-harvesting trade.

The fading of the forge A reflective meditation on the region’s decline in shipbuilding describes once-prosperous villages that fell into a quiet, dreamlike state, waiting for a revival that never arrived.

The crucible of early settlement The text turns to the history of Deerfield, detailing the growth of a successful agricultural community that was ultimately reclaimed by the wilderness following the brutal realities of the seventeenth-century Indian wars.

The professionalization of law Attention shifts to the modern era, documenting the expansion of legal education in Boston and celebrating the legendary, if exhausting, dedication of the men who built the city's legal institutions.

The moral and political debate An editorial analysis confronts the complexities of the "Chinese Problem," urging a national perspective on an issue that creates a tension between local prejudice and broader American responsibility.

The topography of memory The final narrative movement is a leisurely tour through the North Shore, where the physical landscape—from singing sands to old stone houses—is used to map the history and identity of the people who dwell there.

The People

The people in these pages are presented as the architects of a shifting society. Henry S. Bicknell provides the initial lens through which we view the transition of the Kennebec, acting as a guide to both the natural beauty and the economic decay of the region. In the legal sphere, Augustus H. Fiske emerges as a cautionary figure of intense, single-minded devotion, his life a testament to the era’s demand for professional success at the cost of personal longevity. His contemporary, Judge Edmund H. Bennett, serves as a counterpoint: a man of vast legal scholarship and religious service who bridges the gap between the classroom and the church. The specter of Daniel Webster looms over the issue as a foundational figure whose religious and moral declarations are treated as a benchmark for the public character of the time. Meanwhile, local figures like the late Henry P. Kidder embody the domestic virtues and philanthropic spirit that the magazine holds up as an ideal for the successful, quiet life of a modern Bostonian.

In Its Own Voice

"The light of the forge has died away, The anvil's ringing voice is still, And the bell in the church upon the hill Mournfully tolls for a by-gone day."

The author laments the decline of the small, industrious fishing villages that once thrived along the lower Kennebec river.

"The facts were as cold as the stone on which the words were chiselled, and startling as well; so we turn to pleasanter scenes."

Reflecting on the grim warnings found in a local graveyard, the writer abruptly shifts the focus of the essay toward the landscape's more inviting features.

What It's Really About

This volume is fundamentally an exploration of continuity. It asks how a society maintains its identity while transitioning from a colonial, agrarian past to an industrial and professionalized future. It explores the tension between local, personal histories—like the naming of a hotel after an Indian chief—and the crushing weight of national problems that demand uniform solutions. Beneath the travelogues and biographies lies a persistent question about the "cost" of progress: whether it is the physical health of a lawyer, the loss of an ancestral industry, or the displacement of indigenous populations. Ultimately, it argues that New England’s strength lies in its ability to document these changes, using literature and local history to anchor a community that is otherwise in constant, rapid motion.

Why Read It Today

Reading this volume is like stepping into the parlor of a well-informed nineteenth-century intellectual. Readers who enjoy local history, the architectural details of old New England, or the earnest, slightly moralizing tone of Victorian prose will find much to admire. It captures the "halcyon days" of a specific American culture with a precision that feels both nostalgic and, at times, jarringly detached.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the period’s limitations. The writing reflects the attitudes of 1886, particularly regarding the "Chinese Problem," which is framed through the lens of nineteenth-century racial and social anxiety. The pacing can be uneven, shifting abruptly from dense, bureaucratic lists of committee members to poetic descriptions of maple-sugar boiling. It is not a book to be rushed; rather, it is a mosaic of life as it was understood at the time. What stays with the reader is the palpable sense of effort—the sense that these people were constantly building, categorizing, and memorializing their world, terrified that if they stopped, the "Rip Van Winkle stillness" might consume them, too. It is a rewarding look at the foundations of the American regional identity, written with a blend of warmth and analytical rigor.