roundabout to boston-第3章

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and　came　back　with　certain　bottles　under　his　arms。　　I　had　not　a　very
learned　palate　in　those　days　（or　in　these；　for　that　matter）；　but　I　knew
enough　of　wine　to　understand　that　these　bottles　had　been　chosen　upon　that
principle　which　Longfellow　put　in　verse；　and　used　to　repeat　with　a
humorous　lifting　of　the　eyebrows　and　hollowing　of　the　voice：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃If　you　have　a　friend　to　dine；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Give　him　your　best　wine；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　If　you　have　two；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　second…best　will　do。〃

As　we　sat　in　their　mellow　afterglow；　Lowell　spoke　to　me　of　my　own　life
and　prospects；　wisely　and　truly；　as　he　always　spoke。　　He　said　that　it　was
enough　for　a　man　who　had　stuff　in　him　to　be　known　to　two　or　three　people；
for　they　would　not　suffer　him　to　be　forgotten；　and　it　would　rest　with
himself　to　get　on。　　I　told　him　that　though　I　had　not　given　up　my　place　at
Venice；　I　was　not　going　back；　if　I　could　find　anything　to　do　at　home；
and　I　was　now　on　my　way　to　Ohio；　where　I　should　try　my　best　to　find
something；　at　the　worst；　I　could　turn　to　my　trade　of　printer。　　He　did　not
think　it　need　ever　come　to　that；　and　he　said　that　he　believed　I　should
have　an　advantage　with　readers；　if　not　with　editors；　in　hailing　from　the
West；　I　should　be　more　of　a　novelty。　　I　knew　very　well　that　even　in　my
own　West　I　should　not　have　this　advantage　unless　I　appeared　there　with　an
Eastern　imprint；　but　I　could　not　wish　to　urge　my　misgiving　against　his
faith。　　Was　I　not　already　richly　successful？　　What　better　thing
personally　could　befall　me；　if　I　lived　forever　after　on　milk　and　honey；
than　to　be　sitting　there　with　my　hero；　my　master；　and　having　him　talk　to
me　as　if　we　were　equal　in　deed　and　in　fame？

The　cat…bird　called　in　the　syringa　thicket　at　his　door；　before　we　said
the　good…night　which　was　good　morning；　using　the　sweet　Italian　words；　and
bidding　each　other　the　'Dorma　bene'　which　has　the　quality　of　a
benediction。　　He　held　my　hand；　and　looked　into　my　eyes　with　the　sunny
kindness　which　never　failed　me；　worthy　or　unworthy；　and　I　went　away　to
bed。　　But　not　to　sleep；　only　to　dream　such　dreams　as　fill　the　heart　of
youth　when　the　recognition　of　its　endeavor　has　come　from　the　achievement
it　holds　highest　and　best。




IV。

I　found　nothing　to　do　in　Ohio；　some　places　that　I　heard　of　proved
impossible　one　way　or　another；　in　Columbus　and　Cleveland；　and　Cincinnati；
there　was　always　the　fatal　partner；　and　after　three　weeks　I　was　again　in
the　East。　　I　came　to　New　York；　resolved　to　fight　my　way　in；　somewhere；
and　I　did　not　rest　a　moment　before　I　began　the　fight。

My　notion　was　that　which　afterwards　became　Bartley　Hubbard's。　　〃Get　a
basis；〃　said　the　softening　cynic　of　the　Saturday　Press；　when　I　advised
with　him；　among　other　acquaintances。　　〃Get　a　salaried　place；　something
regular　on　some　paper；　and　then　you　can　easily　make　up　the　rest。〃　　But　it
was　a　month　before　I　achieved　this　vantage；　and　then　I　got　it　in　a
quarter　where　I　had　not　looked　for　it。　　I　wrote　editorials　on　European
and　literary　topics　for　different　papers；　but　mostly　for　the　Times；　and
they　paid　me　well　and　more　than　well；　but　I　was　nowhere　offered　a　basis；
though　once　I　got　so　far　towards　it　as　to　secure　a　personal　interview
with　the　editor…in…chief；　who　made　me　feel　that　I　had　seldom　met　so　busy
a　man。　　He　praised　some　work　of　mine　that　he　had　read　in　his　paper；　but　I
was　never　recalled　to　his　presence；　and　now　I　think　he　judged　rightly
that　I　should　not　be　a　lastingly　good　journalist。　　My　point　of　view　was
artistic；　I　wanted　time　to　prepare　my　effects。

There　was　another　and　clearer　prospect　opened　to　me　on　a　literary　paper；
then　newly　come　to　the　light；　but　long　since　gone　out　in　the　dark。　　Here
again　my　work　was　taken；　and　liked　so　much　that　I　was　offered　the　basis
（at　twenty　dollars　a　week）　that　I　desired；　I　was　even　assigned　to　a　desk
where　I　should　write　in　the　office；　and　the　next　morning　I　came　joyfully
down　to　Spruce　Street　to　occupy　it。　　But　I　was　met　at　the　door　by　one　of
the　editors；　who　said　lightly；　as　if　it　were　a　trifling　affair；　〃Well；
we've　concluded　to　waive　the　idea　of　an　engagement；〃　and　once　more　my
bright　hopes　of　a　basis　dispersed　themselves。　　I　said；　with　what　calm
I　could；　that　they　must　do　what　they　thought　best；　and　I　went　on
skirmishing　baselessly　about　for　this　and　the　other　papers　which　had　been
buying　my　material。

I　had　begun　printing　in　the　'Nation'　those　letters　about　my　Italian
journeys　left　over　from　the　Boston　Advertiser；　they　had　been　liked　in　the
office；　and　one　day　the　editor　astonished　and　delighted　me　by　asking　how
I　would　fancy　giving　up　outside　work　to　come　there　and　write　only　for　the
'Nation'。　　We　averaged　my　gains　from　all　sources　at　forty　dollars　a　week；
and　I　had　my　basis　as　unexpectedly　as　if　I　had　dropped　upon　it　from　the
skies。

This　must　have　been　some　time　in　November；　and　the　next　three　or　four
months　were　as　happy　a　time　for　me　as　I　have　ever　known。　　I　kept　on
printing　my　Italian　material　in　the　Nation；　I　wrote　criticisms　for　it
（not　very　good　criticisms；　I　think　now）；　and　I　amused　myself　very　much
with　the　treatment　of　social　phases　and　events　in　a　department　which　grew
up　under　my　hand。　　My　associations　personally　were　of　the　most　agreeable
kind。　　I　worked　with　joy；　with　ardor；　and　I　liked　so　much　to　be　there；　in
that　place　and　in　that　company；　that　I　hated　to　have　each　day　come　to　an
end。

I　believed　that　my　lines　were　cast　in　New　York　for　good　and　all；　and　I
renewed　my　relations　with　the　literary　friends　I　had　made　before　going
abroad。　　I　often　stopped；　on　my　way　up　town；　at　an　apartment　the
Stoddards　had　in　Lafayette　Place；　or　near　it；　I　saw　Stedman；　and　reasoned
high；　to　my　heart's　content；　of　literary　things　with　them　and　him。

With　the　winter　Bayard　Taylor　came　on　from　his　home　in　Kennett　and　took
an　apartment　in　East　Twelfth　Street；　and　once　a　week　Mrs。　Taylor　and　he
received　all　their　friends　there；　with　a　simple　and　charming　hospitality。
There　was　another　house　which　we　much　resorted　tothe　house　of　James
Lorrimer　Graham；　afterwards　Consul…General　at　Florence；　where　he　died。
I　had　made　his　acquaintance　at　Venice　three　years　before；　and　I　came　in
for　my　share　of　that　love　for　literary　men　which　all　their　perversities
could　not　extinguish　in　him。　　It　was　a　veritable　passion；　which　I　used　to
think　he　could　not　have　felt　so　deeply　if　he　had　been　a　literary　man
himself。　　There　were　delightful　dinners　at　his　house；　where　the　wit　of
the　Stoddards　shone；　and　Taylor　beamed　with　joyous　good…fellowship　and
overflowed　with　invention；　and　Huntington；　long　Paris　correspondent　of
the　Tribune；　humorously　tried　to　talk　himself　into　the　resolution　of
spending　the　rest　of　his　life　in　his　own　country。　　There　was　one　evening
when　C。　P。　Cranch；　always　of　a　most　pensive　presence　and　aspect；　sang　the
most　killingly　comic　songs；　and　there　was　another　evening　when；　after　we
all　went　into　the　library；　something　tragical　happened。　　Edwin　Booth　was
of　our　number；　a　gentle；　rather　silent　person　in　company；　or　with　at
least　little　social　initiative；　who；　as　his　fate　would；　went　up　to　the
cast　of　a　huge　hand　that　lay　upon　one　of　the　shelves。　　〃Whose　hand　is
this；　Lorry？〃　he　asked　our　host；　as　he　took　it　up　and　turned　it　over　in
both　his　own　hands。　　Graham　feigned　not　to　hear；　and　Booth　asked　again；
〃whose　hand　is　this？〃　　Then　there　was　nothing　for　Graham　but　to　say；
〃It's　Lincoln's　hand；〃　and　the　man　for　whom　it　meant　such　unspeakable
things　put　it　softly　down　without　a　word。




V。

It　was　one　of　the　disappointments　of　a　time　which　was　nearly　all　joy　that
I　did　not　then　meet　a　man　who　meant　hardly　less　than　Lowell　himself　for
me。　　George　William　Curtis　was　during　my　first　winter　in　New　York　away　on
one　of　the　long　lecturing　rounds　to　which　he　gave　so　many　of　his　winters；
and　I　did　not　see　him　till　seven　years　afterwards；　at　Mr。　Norton's　in
Cambridge。　　He　then　characteristically　spent　most　of　the　evening　in
discussing　an　obscure　point　in　Browning's　poem　of　'My　Last　Duchess'。
I　have　long　forgotten　what　the　point　was；　but　not　the　charm　of　Curtis's
personality；　his　fine　presence；　his　benign　politeness；　his　almost
deferential　tolerance　of　difference　in　opinion。　　Afterwards　I　saw　him
again　and　again　in　Boston　and　New　York；　but　always　with　a　sense　of
something　elusive　in　his　graciousness；　for　which　something　in　me　must
have　been　to　blame。　　Cold；　he　was　not；　even　to　the　youth　that　in　those
days　was　apt　to　shiver　in　any　but　the　higher　temperatures；　and　yet　I　felt
that　I　made　no　advance　in　his　kindness　towards　anything　like　the
friendship　I　knew　in　the　Cambridge　men。　　Perhaps　I　was　so　thoroughly
attuned　to　their　mood　that　I　could　not　be　put　in　unison　with　another；　and
perhaps　in　Curtis　there　was　really　not　the　material　of　much　intimacy。

He　had　the　potentiality　of　publicity　in　the　sort　of　welcome　he　gave
equally　to　all　men；　and　if　I　asked　more　I　was　not　reasonable。　　Yet　he　was
never　far　from　any　man　of　good…will；　and　he　was　the　intimate　of
multitudes　whose　several　existence　he　never　dreamt　of。　　In　this　sort　he
had　become　my　friend　when　he　made　his　first　great　speech　on　the　Kansas
question　in　1855；　which　will　seen　as　remote　to　the　young　men　of　this　day
as　the　Thermopylae　question　to　which　he　likened　it。　　I　was　his　admirer；
his　lover；　his　worshipper　before　that　for　the　things　he　had　done　in
literature；　for　the　'Howadji'　books；　and　for　the　lovely　fantasies　of
'Prue　and　I'；　and　for　the　sound…hearted　satire　of　the　'Potiphar　Papers'；
and　now　suddenly　I　learnt　that　this　brilliant　and　graceful　talent；　this
travelled　and　accomplished　gentleman；　this　star　of　society　who　had
dazzled　me　with　his　splendor　far　off　in　my　Western　village　obscurity；　was
a　man　with　the　heart　to　feel　the　wrongs　of　men　so　little　friended　then　as
to　be　denied　all　the　rights　of　men。　　I　do　not　remember　any　passage　of　the
speech；　or　any　word　of　it；　but　I　remember　the　joy；　the　pride　with　which
the　soul　of　youth　recognizes　in　the　greatness　it　has　honored　the　goodness
it　may　love。　　Mere　politicians　might　be　pro…slavery　or　anti…slavery
without　touching　me　very　much；　but　here　was　the　citizen　of　a　world　far
greater　than　theirs；　a　light　of　the　universal　republic　of　letters；　who
was　willing　and　eager　to　stand　or　fall　with　the　just　cause；　and　that　was
all　in　all　to　me。　　His　country　was　my　country；　and　his　kindred　my
kindred；　and　nothing　could　have　kept　me　from　following　after　him。

His　whole　life　taught　the　lesson　that　the　world　is　well　lost　whenever　the
world　is　wrong；　but　never；　I　think；　did　any　life　teach　this　so　sweetly；
so　winningly。　　The　wrong　world　itself　might　have　been　entreated　by　him　to
be　right；　for　he　was　one　of　the　few　reformers　who　have　not　in　some
measure　mixed　their　love　of　man　with　hate　of　men；　his　quarrel　was　with
error；　and　not　with　the　persons　who　were　in　it。　　He　was　so　gently
steadfast　in　his　opinions　that　no　one　ever　thought　of　him　as　a　fanatic；
though　many　who　held　his　opinions　were　assailed　as　fanatics；　and　suffered
the　shame　if　they　did　not　win　the　palm　of　martyrdom。　　In　early　life　he
was　a　communist；　and　then　when　he　came　out　of　Brook　Farm　into　the　world
which　he　was　so　well　fitted　to　adorn；　and　which　would　so　gladly　have　kept
him　all　its　own；