Republic of Words: The Atlantic Monthly and Its Writers, 1857–1925

19. A Magazine in Decline and Ascension

A Magazine in Decline and Ascension the atlantic’s publication of Edward Bellamy’s short stories “The Blindman’s World” (November 1886) and “At Pinney’s Ranch” (December 1887) pointed toward the next century, though Bellamy did not become a household name until the publication of his socialistinspired , utopian romance Looking Backward, 2000–1887. At that time surpassed in sales only by Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Ben Hur, Looking Backward inspired a populist movement called “Nationalism,” which sought “to reconcile peacefully an unreasonable capitalist class to an embittered laboring class.”1 Bellamy himself participated in the Nationalist Club of Boston, where members met to discuss the implementation of his ideas, among them the nationalization of industry and the economic equality of all citizens, including African Americans and women. Though socialistic in principle, Bellamy wanted to avoid any suggestion of the red flag, free love, or atheism, which may have prompted Thomas Wentworth Higginson to joke that a Bellamy “Nationalist” could be identified by the cigar between his lips and the wine glass in his right hand.2 One year after the publication of Looking Backward, the World’s Fair opened in Paris, commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the storming of the Bastille. Inspired perhaps by the Bastille, which figures so largely in French history, the Atlantic’s anonymous repre19 I first saw the light in the city of Boston in the year 1857. edward bellamy, Looking Backward, 1888 A Magazine in Decline & Ascension [ 161 ] sentative focused on the fair’s replicas of troglodyte caves, central African huts shaped like beehives, a Hindi palace, and the hostel of Henri II as if they mapped civilization’s march toward the Eiffel Tower now proudly standing at the entrance to the fair. Exhibitions like the one in Paris— where the Gallerie des Machines marked the beginning of a new epoch in human history—provided an opportunity for assessment of everything from the relative achievements of the sexes to that of nations. Twenty-eight million people attended the exposition in Paris, which showcased Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, and—winner of the Grand Prix— Heineken beer. Nearly the same number of people, over 27 million, or half the populace of the United States, spent their fifty cents to attend the Columbian Exposition in 1893. Chicago hosted the fair, which transformed more than a thousand acres along Lake Michigan into instant parks and boulevards, canals, and colonnaded Beaux Arts buildings. Visitors could travel on a moving sidewalk or survey the city from a seat on the very first Ferris wheel. Exhibits included a map of the United States made entirely of pickles. Mary Cassatt’s mural A Modern Woman greeted visitors at the entrance to the Women’s Pavilion. For all practical purposes, the Chicago Fair comprised two separate fairs. One took place on the midway, the mile-long alleyway of wonders, which included Little Egypt, “the Bewitching Bellyrina,” and the corpse of a Comanche warrior, said to be the last survivor of Little Big Horn. The other took place in the White City, a central conclave of white stucco buildings that glowed like benevolent ghosts in the electrified dark. Touted as a model of efficiency and cleanliness, the White City promised a future in which art and industry worked hand in hand to turn the masses into the classes. As if to dispel such overweening pride, or as fate would have it, the United States entered a depression that lasted four years and put 2.5 million people out of work. Frederick Douglass went to the same exposition as the architect Henry Van Brunt and came away with a more discouraging view of the future. Like other African American leaders, he objected to the symbolism of a “white” city sending forth its civilizing rays when he saw that African Americans entered the fairgrounds as second-class citizens. On “Colored People’s Day,” a day dedicated to recognizing the contributions of African Americans, the organizers offered every black visitor a free watermelon. Once through the gate, African Americans expected to see exhibits ex- r e p u b l i c o f w o r d s [ 162 ] plaining the enormous strides they had made since emancipation. Instead they were channeled past African villages, inspired perhaps by the enormously popular village nègre at the Paris exhibition, where crowds had gawked at hundreds of indigenous people. Douglass accused the organizers , all white...