Education

By 1870 The Athenaeum needed more room for its growing library, Harvard College had a large collection of engravings it had been given by Francis Gray, but they were hidden away in Gore Hall, MIT had a collection of architectural casts it wished to display, and the American Social Science Association was considering the acquisition of a large collection of plaster copies of classical sculpture for the use of students and the instruction of the public.

Charles Callahan Perkins was back from Italy, and his mission was clear - to use all his warm persuasive skills to bring these groups together. The time had come for Boston to have a public Museum of Fine Arts. The city agreed to grant land on Copley Square for the building, and C.C.’s cousin John Hubbard Sturgis was retained to design the new museum. The new museum building would be a copy of the Queen Anne style Pine Bank on a grand scale, using the same terra cotta design elements as on the Perkins home.

The leaders of the new museum started a large fundraising campaign, but C.C. couldn’t wait for the new building to get the museum off the ground. He was anxious that the new museum become active immediately, and, as the new museum’s first Honorary Director, organized its first exhibit in the picture galleries of the Athenaeum.

The Boston Art Club had suspended its activities when the Civil War broke out, but C.C. met with his old friend, amateur painter and music publisher, George Russell in 1871, to discuss reviving the club. With Perkins at the helm they called a general meeting, and the revived club opened its membership to upper-class men who professed an interest in art. C.C. was elected President and the Club engaged a bow-front townhouse on Boylston Street for its quarters. The Club added a spacious picture gallery behind the building and in 1873 opened its first annual exhibition. From an informal artists' supper club, Perkins created a refined gentlemen's club with dining and reading rooms, an extensive library, paintings collection and a picture gallery. It hosted two juried exhibitions each year and hosted informal gatherings for its members on the first Saturday of each month.

For the improvement of the general public, he edited an American edition of Eastlake's "Hints on Household Taste" in 1872, and Von Falke's "Art in the House," in 1879. Anyone could become a connoisseur, if they read the book.

Just as it was important to collect material in museums, and for gentlemen to share their love of art, art education needed to begin in the public schools; from the time a child could guide a pencil, his instruction in drawing should start. In 1871, C.C. was elected a member of the school committee of Boston, and he worked tirelessly to establish art education in the schools. The previous year Massachusetts lawmakers had mandated drawing as one of nine required subjects taught in all public schools of that state. With passage of "An Act Relating to Free Instruction in Drawing", Massachusetts became the first state to legislate compulsory public art education.

The intent of this act was two-fold – industrial drawing was a skill needed for the economic development of the country, particularly for machinery and textile patterns. The lack of good ornamental designers forced the importation from Europe for articles that could be produced cheaper at home. Secondly, there was a moral benefit: drawing cultivated the habits of neatness and accuracy; it tended to improve the intellect of the masses and purify the tone of their moral character. It was directly useful in academic subjects such as natural history, natural science, and geography and it introduced students to the beautiful, the good and the true.

For his own sons, Charles took his brother Ned’s advice and packed son Neddy up in 1872 when he turned fourteen, and sent him to Saint Paul's, the new school set just west of Concord, New Hampshire for which Ned served as a trustee. Neddy soon found himself living in a dormitory cubicle and shinnying hockey pucks on the Lower School Pond, a world away from the Villa Capponi overlooking the Arno. His brother Charlie would follow him two years later, while their beautiful older sister Eleanor would be introduced to society on the continent.

Young Ned was simple, friendly, unassuming, interested in his studies, in literature and art, but not much into athletics, although he did play tennis. He entered Harvard College as a Sophomore in 1876, and became a member of the Hasty Pudding Club, the O.K. Club, the Art Club, and was on the Crimson Editorial Board. He wrote a poem for the Class Supper and the Class Ode for Day. He roomed in the privately owned Beck Hall, favored by the society swells (including Teddy Roosevelt), and known for the “Beck Hall Spread”, the most exclusive society fest at Harvard each spring. Of course, with his family living on Jamaica Pond, Ned was often at Oakwood, enjoying its delightful hospitality. He must have missed something of the full swing of college life, but perhaps gained more from all the cultivated people he met at home.

He did have one notable social success. While still in college he became engaged to Miss Elizabeth Hoar Evarts, the daughter of the Secretary of State of the United States of America, William M. Evarts.

Pine Bank

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow fondly remembered Ned Perkins' wedding to Mary Spring. In the evening of June 10th, 1846, all the society of Boston drove out to the Perkins family country house Pine Bank on Jamaica Pond, where the Perkins gave a superb Fête Champêtre:

The evening, the blue lake, the boat with its white sail; the music, the dance on the greensward; the broad spreading tent, like a morning glory inverted, the well dressed crowd, the gleam of lamps through the gathering twilight, the young bride led by the white haired Mr. Otis, and then the fireworks, and as they drove away, the broad moon rose over the trees. . .

Ned inherited his mother’s loveliness and amiable manner. He was both attractive and gracious, and won friends among all sorts of men. Enthusiastic, even ardent, but perfectly simple, eager to enjoy, and as eager that others should enjoy what he did, he was a delightful companion.

He was the grandson of one of the richest men in America and had no reason or need to take up an “occupation”. Ned, a lover of books like his grandfather James, was a benefactor of the Athenaeum, for which he helped purchase part of George Washington's personal library. Longfellow shared his bibliophilia and invited Ned to join the Saturday Club. Without children of his own, he became a faithful, active trustee of St. Paul's School in 1862, where he was remembered for his constant punning and devising the school’s emblem of a pelican piercing its breast to feed its young with its own blood. He was a trustee of the Perkins Institute for the Blind, and built an exquisite chapel in Northeast Harbor on his half-brother Bishop Doane’s property.

Those who knew him best thought the most of him. They appreciated his sweetness of disposition, his sense of honor, his purity, his desire to live uprightly and generously. Not blind to his defects, or dreaming that his nature had reached or closely approached maturity, his kindred and intimate friends thought him, and had every reason to think him, one of the most promising of young men.

After his marriage to Mary in 1848, Ned tore the original country house at Pine Bank down and built a year-round house. Pine Bank II was a substantial three-storied affair with mansard roof by a French architect, Jean Lemoulnier, which faced the Pond with a small terrace and balconied front entrance with fancy grillwork along the roofline.

Twenty years later, on the 10th of February, 1868 a housemaid kindled the fire in Mary's bedroom to be ready for her return from Boston. A chimney caught fire and burned furiously in the afternoon, but burned itself out.

When Mary and Edward returned early in the evening, they heard from the servants what had occurred, and carefully examined the rooms where the chimney passed and all seemed perfectly right, no smell or smoke or undue heat to be anywhere. The poor darlings being tired after a town day, took a little repose on the sofa, and Edward fell asleep. He was woken by a muffled explosion, and rushing to the window as he rushed upstairs, the glare of a large glow shone out from the burning roof and was reflected on the white lawn of snow.

The brick-work of the chimney must have cracked and opened during its burning, and burning embers must have dropped into the woodwork. Within 10 minutes all hope of saving the house had vanished. It was 7: 30 P. M. and the neighbors were all at their various homes and came so promptly, rich and poor, that all the furniture of second and lower stories, and all the books, pictures, the portraits of James and Sarah, bas-reliefs, even the chandeliers and several marble fire places were saved by their energy and kindness.

The night was very cold and very slippery. Later some rowdy men came and stole some things and many clothes, and as Pine Bank smoldered firemen emptied the superb wine cellar and consumed some excellent claret while tending the smoking ruins.

Ned started all over again on the still useable foundation. He had his cousin John Hubbard Sturgis design Pine Bank III, instructing him, "I want a house of moderate costs and dimensions". What he built was Gothic in red brick and imported English tan terracotta - a theme he had Sturgis repeat for the new Museum of Fine Arts built the following year at Copley Square (where the Copley Plaza Hotel now stands).

Frederick Law Olmstead had started work on Boston’s Emerald Necklace park system in 1878. Mary died at Pine Bank in 1882 at age 58. By then, commercial ice houses were taking over the pond, and a movement arose to protect the open space. In 1892, the City of Boston created Jamaica Park and tore down the houses on the pond. The only house left was Pine Bank, when it was decided to use it as a refectory for those visiting the park.

Ned removed the fireplace mantels and stained-glass windows, and went to live out his last years down the street with his niece Mrs. Cleveland in her house Nutwood, where, after three years of mental depression, he died in 1899.

“His wealth gave him the liberty to do as he pleased, but his nature drew him irresistibly to beauty and to service.”