Genius of Place: The Life of Frederick Law Olmsted

by Justin Martin

In Nashville, the brothers boarded a steamboat that traveled along the Cumberland River on route to the mighty Mississippi. Lying in his darkened cabin, Olmsted could hear his fellow passengers laughing and playing cards deep into the night. As the steamer pitched to and fro, he wrestled with his recent encounter with the Nashville plantation owner. He got up and tried to compose his thoughts in a letter to Brace. What was it about Allison that provoked him so? Maybe, Olmsted confessed, he was just insecure in the face of the planter’s easy convictions. One had to admit that his wealth and luxury were enticing. It would be great to feel that comfort was one’s natural station, the fruits of aristocracy. Then again, Allison was so very uncurious. The man seemed to see everything through the narrow prism of his mercantile interests. Sure, he had the financial means to keep more than one candle burning at a time, unlike so many so-called Southern gentlemen. But Olmsted couldn’t help noticing that Allison was still in the grip of a kind of poverty, a cultural poverty. What was Allison’s higher calling—to be a gentleman? What kind of calling was that? If heaven exists, Olmsted posited to Brace, Southerners will be delighted. They will thrive on the leisure. But Northerners will be disappointed. They will just want to get to work. He concluded his letter to Brace with this: “Well, the moral of this damnedly drawn out letter is, I believe, go ahead with the Children’s Aid and get ...