A TIME OF TERRIBLE DISASTER. SCIENTIFIC CURIOSITY MAY PROVE A CURSE IN BOSTON.
WHERE IS IT ALL ENDING?
“Scientific curiosity a curse?” Agassiz laughed derisively at the newspaper heading.
Hale continued, “Chief Kurtz has assigned Sergeant Carlton to assist you with your inquiries.”
“At your service,” said Carlton.
Agassiz, not trying to hide his anger, exploded from his chair and circled the lecture room.
“Professor,” Hale said with a mollifying smile, “I understand you are enough occupied already following your fossil footprints and such. We all were occupied in other matters. Why, I must contend with another attempt from the blasted trade unions to pass a ten-hours bill. But we have entered the midst of a true crisis, the scale of which I cannot recall.”
“Me! Why come to me?”
“Is there a single man in Boston with the same mastery of all branches and departments of science?” Hale asked.
Agassiz paused very briefly before continuing to pace, showing no sign of disagreeing with the sentiment. The stalemate went on.
“The alcohol you use to preserve your specimens. We passed that measure so that your museum would not have to pay the usual duties on alcohol. Remember that?” Hale’s tone was less friendly now. “We handed you a check of ten thousand dollars even when our budget was severely strained during the war. Your latest proposals for expansion are expensive ones—seventy-five thousand dollars, at least.”
“So that is true. I am afraid I must rely on the generosity of the state and my benefactors, Hale. I haven’t had the time in my life to stop and make money! This museum shall be the pride of Boston and of the country when it is finished. The revelations that are dawning upon mankind from the study of nature cannot fail to bring His intelligent children nearer to their Creator. Someone must counter such places as the Institute of Technology, with its unbridled quest to expand the profits of industry using science!”
“You speak of money, Professor Agassiz,” said Chief Kurtz, suddenly impassioned. “Boston is no longer the town it once was. It is a true city. Investors and foreign interests already are being driven away from State Street because the banks and the brokers cannot explain to them what happened yesterday. Between that and the merchants that already left the harbor, the whole city may spiral into a state of debt, leaving none of us unaffected.”
“Right now your city and your country need your help with this,” added Cryus Hale. “Immediately, in fact. Stand by me, Professor, and we will continue to stand by your pursuits.”
“What is it all about, anyway?” Agassiz demanded, picking up the newspaper cuttings, then tossing them back on the table. “Why is it you presume these are some kind of deadly tricks?”
“Some believe it could be an unfriendly foreign concern trying to weaken us for invasion. Others are talking of sabotage by rival commercial centers, or temperance organizations attempting to shake industry against relaxing restrictions on liquor sales, while the spiritualists claim it must be the work of the dead who communicate with them. The truth is, no rational motivation can be discerned, Professor. As you can see in the papers, it is thought science itself has gone wild and unleashed itself into the very air we breathe. The only course we have to obtain the clues we need is a study of the scientific arts behind these events, for which we stand ill equipped.” Kurtz added, as casually as possible, “Sergeant Carlton had mentioned at one point the idea of consulting the Institute of Technology for advice.”
Agassiz stopped pacing. He returned to his chair and glared at the two policemen gravely.
“Of course,” Kurtz continued, still nonchalant, “I explained the Institute has been seen as a questionable … institution.”
“Questionable, to say the least, Chief! I accept no student to study under me here who cannot show evidence of good moral and Christian character. Over there they will teach atheist machinists and the sons of farmers alike. The knowledge of science in such individuals cannot fail to lead to quackery and dangerous social tendencies. Do you know why that institute is so uniquely dangerous, Chief—Kurtz, is it?”
Kurtz said he did not.
“Because William Rogers and his satellites are handing the lowest classes of society the most powerful weapon, with which they could set fire to the earth if they wished. Science. They hand over the keys for rebellion. If you wish to see how science begins to be unhinged, go there! Here, in my dominion, we shall never separate science from responsibility, or from its ultimate Creator. I’m afraid,” Agassiz said by way of confession, “that it is because of me that William Rogers founded the Institute of Technology in the first instance. I will accept the blame entirely and all of its consequences.”
A surprised silence filled up the room. “How is it your doing, Professor?” asked Carlton.
“Rogers applied for a position at Harvard when he arrived in Boston, but as he would not relinquish his personal beliefs in that scourge of science—I mean Darwin’s monstrous ideas—I refused to consider him. We are all in danger from someone so wedded to his own fancies that he would twist all knowledge to make it suit some pet theory. I understand that Rogers even hired a dusky janitor who calls himself Darwin; I’m certain only because he liked the correlation! I also understand there is now a young woman in their building, as well, which will not fail to introduce feelings and interests foreign to the proper classroom.”
“The world owes you a debt of gratitude for your combat against the despicable teaching that we are descended from monkeys,” Hale proclaimed.
“At the moment, we wish only to understand the scientific mischief that has been happening around us,” said Chief Kurtz impatiently.
“Wrong, Chief Kurtz,” Hale said. “We need to understand it through the correct and moral means. Not since Professor Webster of the Medical College was found to be a murderer has the public trust in science found itself in such peril.”
“Then I suppose you leave me with no choice but to restore it,” Agassiz said, nodding purposefully. “Sergeant—I suppose, Mr. Kurtz, you could have assigned me a captain instead, but very well, and, Carlton, was it?—Sergeant Carlton, I wish to see all of the police reports at once, and in the very order that they were composed. Methods, gentlemen, in any scientific examination, as this is, may well determine the result. One must first learn to walk in life—I shall never take to the American fashion of doing up science running. It will be that tendency that shall hasten the day of judgment to William Rogers’s little kingdom. Chief, how many men are at my disposal?”
“As many as you need to do as you see fit.”
Agassiz crossed his arms over his chest as a smile eased across his face.
X
Resolved
MONDAY AFTERNOON, while the other students savored their afternoon meals or played football in the fields, Marcus Mansfield stood inside the door to the faculty room, his arms draped with coats from professors and committee members as they burst into the long meeting room, some passing him a nod or salute along with their outer garments. Albert Hall, meanwhile, finished carefully positioning pencils and paper at the last places at the long table.
In the small snatches of conversation he heard, Marcus was convinced the topics prevalent among the faculty were the same as those that had consumed the students. Since the hour their classmates heard about their visit to the business district, he had been bombarded with questions from them about it. He simply shook his head, not knowing whether he had the words to describe what they had seen. Bob, usually so garrulous, paled at the questioning. Strangely enough, it was Edwin, who had not wanted to go at all, who seemed almost compelled to repeat the details over and over again to anyone who inquired. Marcus still saw the images of the frightened mob when he closed his eyes, and tried to banish them from joining the mobs already inhabiting his nightmares, the suffering multitude crammed into a basement.
The professors were chattering and gesticulating to one another with gra
ve excitement as they filled the room. Then there was silence as William Rogers entered. In addition to the monthly public demonstrations, Rogers still conducted most of the faculty meetings at the Institute, despite his weakened health. The rest of the sundry college business he conducted out of his home: students sent to him for admonishment; papers awaiting signatures that could be delivered to and picked up from his house; benefactors calling on him to receive his personal pleas for urgent donations to the Institute. Faculty representatives, usually Runkle, the professor of mathematics, would visit every few days and deliver the latest intelligence about the college.
As he entered, he supported himself on the arm of the janitor, Darwin, who lowered the frail man slowly into the chair at the head of the table. Only once the president was seated did the shuffling of papers and chatter resume.
“Let us call our meeting to order, gentlemen,” Rogers said after getting his breath back.
Marcus, hanging the last of the coats in the closet, withdrew to a hard, low stool. Albert’s stool was in the corner opposite. Every few minutes at meetings, a professor would hold up a worn-down pencil point, or an empty inkstand, or a drained glass of water or brandy, and the closer of the two charity scholars would jump.
“Everyone is surely aware of the startling events that are a source of unprecedented terror for the city,” the college president began. “Neither common sense nor ordinary experience has been able to suggest any answers to the general public. The question has naturally been raised by some present whether our Institute should not provide some service in the attempt to understand this mysterious chain of events.”
“Inquiries must be done, indeed!” exclaimed Watson, professor of civil engineering, slapping the table with his palm.
“Absolutely so,” said Professor Eliot, “but by the Boston Police, Professor Watson.”
“We are an institution devoted to science and technology, the only one of its kind so fitted up in the nation,” Watson retorted. “If these disasters are the results of a sort of scientific manipulation or perversion, Eliot, as they appear to be, we cannot fail to extend our services to aid in their analysis.”
“It does seem rather shameful to sit on our hands, if there is something we might be able to accomplish,” said Rogers.
“My dear Rogers, you know, more than any of us, that the Institute has from the very beginning been the subject of distrust and suspicion in the public,” Eliot said. “Look what is apt to happen. Whenever there is an accident with a new machine in a factory, we are inundated with letters calling on us to cease our innovations and instruction, whether or not the machine had anything to do with us. The Luddite trade unions accuse us of trying to use technology to eliminate the laborers and starve their wives and children. Simply put, our college is the most conspicuous symbol of the new sciences in Boston, and thus we become the scapegoat for any panic about science.”
“What course of action would you suggest, Professor Eliot?” asked Runkle with sincere curiosity.
“Simple. That we do nothing, Professor Runkle, in this or any circumstance, that could draw unwanted attention or criticism to our institution. In the meantime, let us have confidence that the police will resolve it.”
Edward Tobey, a member of the Institute’s finance committee, broke in. Tobey’s gentle gray eyes were worried. “President Rogers, I must state my agreement with Professor Eliot on one point. Each time there is something unsavory or dangerous associated with science, and, even worse, associated in any degree with the Institute, it becomes more difficult to find sympathetic men to give money to replenish our funds. Truly, the throwing overboard of all rusty, old, worn-out college machinery—that is what has kept me going despite all this! I have asked one of our most generous donors, Mr. Hammond of the locomotive works, to join us today to advise us on our challenges. Here he is now.”
“Gentlemen,” Hammond said, entering and greeting everyone with a single nod in the brisk manner of a Boston businessman. Marcus sat up straight but the newcomer did not notice his former machine man in the corner. He took his seat and began. “My Junior was one of the first students here, but others without such strong ties might not be as immune to unpleasant criticism. I’ll donate to the Institute as long as I have a penny in my pocketbook, President Rogers, you know that, but I shan’t be able to fund the entire place by myself. I am not a member of the college government, but I should think you must find some way to bolster your treasury to prepare during this difficult time. Sell some of these clever inventions brewed up here. Why, I’d purchase one of your confounded engines right now—say the word.”
“We might also consider naming our building after a benefactor who gives, well, a certain specified amount of money,” Professor Storer added. “Or we can name the various classrooms in the same way. Harvard does it.”
“The financial status of the Institute is a deep and troubling matter,” Eliot added. “Indeed, it may be in the best interests of everyone to strictly limit the number of young men from charitable institutions and machine shops who are welcomed in next year. We depend on the student fees for our equipment, for our very livelihoods, and the charity scholars take away from that.”
Marcus and Albert traded quick glances. Neither showed any outward emotion. After all, they were present only to offer assistance, not to listen to what was said, and certainly not to have opinions.
The faculty and committeemen talked and argued over one another.
“But pray remember, we are doing them no favors!” Eliot was responding to some statement of disagreement from across the table. “Conferring degrees on factory hands will not erase who they are—they will find out soon enough when they go out into the world to present themselves as gentlemen.”
“If you are on the topic, Charles,” someone said in a half whisper to Eliot, “we might well talk about the young woman, too. What place will a lady scientist find for herself in life?”
“Come, come,” Rogers said, taking up his gavel for silence. He passed an apologetic glance over at Marcus and Albert, then looked over the rest of the group. “Please. Gentlemen. I thank you for the suggestions. First, this is the students’ building—they come to learn, we come to teach, and that shall never be a thing to profit from by renaming it, or selling the work done here. As for the charity scholars, wealth, position, and birth must no longer monopolize college education. Certainly not at my institute. This first group of boys may be something of a picked-up lot. Each a Robinson Crusoe on his own island. But they will do credit to the degrees to which they aspire—you will see. As for Miss Swallow, she may appear too frail to take such difficult courses, but not once you look into her eyes. They are steadfast and they reveal a courageous woman. She will not fail.
“Boston is in the midst of a crisis, a time under assault. Pray let us concentrate right now on the matter directly before us. There must be some way the Institute can contribute.”
“Mr. Hammond has announced he will pay the medical expenses of those injured in the disasters,” Tobey said. “Because of his close association with the Institute we may also, I hope, be viewed with approval by the public.”
“I also hope that is so,” added Hammond.
“That strikes me as ideal,” commented Eliot, with a grateful nod at Hammond. “We demonstrate concern—but indirectly and staying a safe distance away from the heart of the matter.”
Watson laughed dismissively. “A rather small thing! No offense, my dear Mr. Hammond—I applaud your charity. But at least we should be offering the police department the use of our equipment and resources in conducting an investigation. If what has happened in Boston represents some experimental deployment of technology, why, the mastery, the command, of the darkest reaches of scientific and mechanical arts shown may exceed even the collective knowledge of this room.”
“You exaggerate the matter, surely,” Eliot insisted.
“Is there a man here who can say before God he sits here today unafraid of what has happene
d, and what may happen next?” Storer asked.
His words cast a pall over the meeting. Even Eliot could not volunteer.
Rogers had a far-off gleam in his eye. “I can recall when I had first proposed the formation of a school of technology, my presence was requested at a meeting of the state legislature,” he said. “The New York Times had printed a column entitled ‘American Science: Is There Such a Thing?’ I knew then I could never stop until such a column would not be suitable to print. Even our name proved a rather bold and controversial choice. The word technology was then found in even fewer dictionaries than it is today. The Speaker, a Mr. Hale, suggested the indefinite descriptions of this institute were likely thin disguise for a house of ill repute, or some other sort of sordid operation that would turn Boston into another Paris. If it were a brothel, would not more than fifteen boys be in our first graduating class?”
Laughter swept the room, washing away some of the tension that had built up. All except Eliot, who studied his colleagues with disapproval.
Rogers continued, in complete control of the audience even with his occasional interrupting cough. “The lawmakers finally agreed to pass our charter, but only if we consented to a gratuitous insert they called the ‘public peace and harmony’ clause, stating that at no time would any individual affiliated with the Institute use expertise in science to harm a fellow citizen. If we were to take part in discovering the scientific causes of these incidents, we might finally show that the kind of science we teach here helps society. That our institution, that the new men under our care, filled with the fire of modern thought, however different they might appear from those at other colleges, and the technologies we promote and teach here, will protect, not threaten, the public good. I believe in my heart we shall be safe while we pursue this policy, and in danger as soon as we abandon it. Is it not our duty to give the victims solace, by at least providing an explanation? If I could but live to see it, I hope that we might make a small but important accomplishment: that our institution be understood rather than feared so that our students can step forward into the world outside and proudly call out a promise, ‘We Are Technology.’ ”
The Technologists: A Novel Page 7