first visit to new england-第1章

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First　Visit　to　New　England

by　William　Dean　Howells







CONTENTS：
　　　　　Bibliographical
　　　　　My　First　Visit　to　New　England
　　　　　First　Impressions　of　Literary　New　York





BIBLIOGRAPHICAL




Long　before　I　began　the　papers　which　make　up　this　volume；　I　had　meant　to
write　of　literary　history　in　New　England　as　I　had　known　it　in　the　lives
of　its　great　exemplars　during　the　twenty…five　years　I　lived　near　them。
In　fact；　I　had　meant　to　do　this　from　the　time　I　came　among　them；　but　I
let　the　days　in　which　I　almost　constantly　saw　them　go　by　without　record
save　such　as　I　carried　in　a　memory　retentive；　indeed；　beyond　the　common；
but　not　so　full　as　I　could　have　wished　when　I　began　to　invoke　it　for　my
work。　　Still；　upon　insistent　appeal；　it　responded　in　sufficient
abundance；　and；　though　I　now　wish　I　could　have　remembered　more　instances；
I　think　my　impressions　were　accurate　enough。　　I　am　sure　of　having　tried
honestly　to　impart　them　in　the　ten　years　or　more　when　I　was　desultorily
endeavoring　to　share　them　with　the　reader。

The　papers　were　written　pretty　much　in　the　order　they　have　here；
beginning　with　My　First　Visit　to　New　England；　which　dates　from　the
earliest　eighteen…nineties；　if　I　may　trust　my　recollection　of　reading　it
from　the　manuscript　to　the　editor　of　Harper's　Magazine；　where　we　lay
under　the　willows　of　Magnolia　one　pleasant　summer　morning　in　the　first
years　of　that　decade。　　It　was　printed　no　great　while　after　in　that
periodical；　but　I　was　so　long　in　finishing　the　study　of　Lowell　that　it
had　been　anticipated　in　Harper's　by　other　reminiscences　of　him；　and　it
was　therefore　first　printed　in　Scribner's　Magazine。　　It　was　the　paper
with　which　I　took　the　most　pains；　and　when　it　was　completed　I　still　felt
it　so　incomplete　that　I　referred　it　to　his　closest　and　my　best　friend；
the　late　Charles　Eliot　Norton；　for　his　criticism。　　He　thought　it　wanting
in　unity；　it　was　a　group　of　studies　instead　of　one　study；　he　said；　I　must
do　something　to　draw　the　different　sketches　together　in　a　single　effect
of　portraiture；　and　this　I　did　my　best　to　do。

It　was　the　latest　written　of　the　three　articles　which　give　the　volume
substance；　and　it　represents　mare　finally　and　fully　than　the　others　my
sense　of　the　literary　importance　of　the　men　whose　like　we　shall　not　look
upon　again。　　Longfellow　was　easily　the　greatest　poet　of　the　three；　Holmes
often　the　most　brilliant　and　felicitous；　but　Lowell；　in　spite　of　his
forays　in　politics；　was　the　finest　scholar　and　the　most　profoundly
literary；　as　he　was　above　the　others　most　deeply　and　thoroughly　New
England　in　quality。

While　I　was　doing　these　sketches；　sometimes　slighter　and　sometimes　less
slight；　of　all　those　poets　and　essayists　and　novelists　I　had　known　in
Cambridge　and　Boston　and　Concord　and　New　York；　I　was　doing　many　other
things：　half　a　dozen　novels；　as　many　more　novelettes　and　shorter　stories；
with　essays　and　criticisms　and　verses；　so　that　in　January；　1900；　I　had
not　yet　done　the　paper　on　Lowell；　which；　with　another；　was　to　complete　my
reminiscences　of　American　literary　life　as　I　had　witnessed　it。　　When　they
were　all　done　at　last　they　were　republished　in　a　volume　which　found
instant　favor　beyond　my　deserts　if　not　its　own。

There　was　a　good　deal　of　trouble　with　the　name；　but　Literary　Friends　and
Acquaintance　was　an　endeavor　for　modest　accuracy　with　which　I　remained
satisfied　until　I　thought；　long　too　late；　of　Literary　Friends　and
Neighbors。　　Then　I　perceived　that　this　would　have　been　still　more
accurate　and　quite　as　modest；　and　I　gladly　give　any　reader　leave　to　call
the　book　by　that　name　who　likes。

Since　the　collection　was　first　made；　I　have　written　little　else　quite　of
the　kind；　except　the　paper　on　Bret　Harte；　which　was　first　printed　shortly
after　his　death；　and　the　study　of　Mark　Twain；　which　I　had　been　preparing
to　make　for　forty　years　and　more；　and　wrote　in　two　weeks　of　the　spring　of
1910。　　Others　of　my　time　and　place　have　now　passed　whither　there　is
neither　time　nor　place；　and　there　are　moments　when　I　feel　that　I　must　try
to　call　them　back　and　pay　them　such　honor　as　my　sense　of　their　worth　may
give；　but　the　impulse　has　as　yet　failed　to　effect　itself；　and　I　do　not
know　how　long　I　shall　spare　myself　the　supreme　pleasure…pain；　the　〃hochst
angenehmer　Schmerz；〃　of　seeking　to　live　here　with　those　who　live　here　no
more。

W。　D。　H。






LITERARY　FRIENDS　AND　ACQUAINTANCEMy　First　Visit　to　New　England



MY　FIRST　VISIT　TO　NEW　ENGLAND


If　there　was　any　one　in　the　world　who　had　his　being　more　wholly　in
literature　than　I　had　in　1860；　I　am　sure　I　should　not　have　known　where　to
find　him；　and　I　doubt　if　he　could　have　been　found　nearer　the　centres　of
literary　activity　than　I　then　was；　or　among　those　more　purely　devoted　to
literature　than　myself。　　I　had　been　for　three　years　a　writer　of　news
paragraphs；　book　notices；　and　political　leaders　on　a　daily　paper　in　an
inland　city；　and　I　do　not　know　that　my　life　differed　outwardly　from　that
of　any　other　young　journalist；　who　had　begun　as　I　had　in　a　country
printing…office；　and　might　be　supposed　to　be　looking　forward　to
advancement　in　his　profession　or　in　public　affairs。　　But　inwardly　it　was
altogether　different　with　me。　　Inwardly　I　was　a　poet；　with　no　wish　to　be
anything　else；　unless　in　a　moment　of　careless　affluence　I　might　so　far
forget　myself　as　to　be　a　novelist。　　I　was；　with　my　friend　J。　J。　Piatt；
the　half…author　of　a　little　volume　of　very　unknown　verse；　and　Mr。　Lowell
had　lately　accepted　and　had　begun　to　print　in　the　Atlantic　Monthly　five
or　six　poems　of　mine。　　Besides　this　I　had　written　poems；　and　sketches；
and　criticisms　for　the　Saturday　Press　of　New　York；　a　long…forgotten　but
once　very　lively　expression　of　literary　intention　in　an　extinct　bohemia
of　that　city；　and　I　was　always　writing　poems；　and　sketches；　and
criticisms　in　our　own　paper。　　These；　as　well　as　my　feats　in　the　renowned
periodicals　of　the　East；　met　with　kindness；　if　not　honor；　in　my　own　city
which　ought　to　have　given　me　grave　doubts　whether　I　was　any　real　prophet。
But　it　only　intensified　my　literary　ambition；　already　so　strong　that　my
veins　might　well　have　run　ink　rather　than　blood；　and　gave　me　a　higher
opinion　of　my　fellow…citizens；　if　such　a　thing　could　be。　　They　were
indeed　very　charming　people；　and　such　of　them　as　I　mostly　saw　were
readers　and　lovers　of　books。　　Society　in　Columbus　at　that　day　had　a
pleasant　refinement　which　I　think　I　do　not　exaggerate　in　the　fond
retrospect。　　It　had　the　finality　which　it　seems　to　have　had　nowhere　since
the　war；　it　had　certain　fixed　ideals；　which　were　none　the　less　graceful
and　becoming　because　they　were　the　simple　old　American　ideals；　now
vanished；　or　fast　vanishing；　before　the　knowledge　of　good　and　evil　as
they　have　it　in　Europe；　and　as　it　has　imparted　itself　to　American　travel
and　sojourn。　　There　was　a　mixture　of　many　strains　in　the　capital　of　Ohio；
as　there　was　throughout　the　State。　　Virginia；　Kentucky；　Pennsylvania；　New
York；　and　New　England　all　joined　to　characterize　the　manners　and　customs。
I　suppose　it　was　the　South　which　gave　the　social　tone；　the　intellectual
taste　among　the　elders　was　the　Southern　taste　for　the　classic　and　the
standard　in　literature；　but　we　who　were　younger　preferred　the　modern
authors：　we　read　Thackeray；　and　George　Eliot；　and　Hawthorne；　and　Charles
Reade；　and　De　Quincey；　and　Tennyson；　and　Browning；　and　Emerson；　and
Longfellow；　and　II　read　Heine；　and　evermore　Heine；　when　there　was　not
some　new　thing　from　the　others。　　Now　and　then　an　immediate　French　book
penetrated　to　us：　we　read　Michelet　and　About；　I　remember。　　We　looked　to
England　and　the　East　largely　for　our　literary　opinions；　we　accepted　the
Saturday　Review　as　law　if　we　could　not　quite　receive　it　as　gospel。　　One
of　us　took　the　Cornhill　Magazine；　because　Thackeray　was　the　editor；　the
Atlantic　Monthly　counted　many　readers　among　us；　and　a　visiting　young　lady
from　New　England；　who　screamed　at　sight　of　the　periodical　in　one　of　our
houses；　〃Why；　have　you　got　the　Atlantic　Monthly　out　here？〃　could　be
answered；　with　cold　superiority；　〃There　are　several　contributors　to　the
Atlantic　in　Columbus。〃　　There　were　in　fact　two：　my　room…mate；　who　wrote
Browning　for　it；　while　I　wrote　Heine　and　Longfellow。　　But　I　suppose　two
are　as　rightfully　several　as　twenty　are。




II。

That　was　the　heyday　of　lecturing；　and　now　and　then　a　literary　light　from
the　East　swam　into　our　skies。　　I　heard　and　saw　Emerson；　and　I　once　met
Bayard　Taylor　socially；　at　the　hospitable　house　where　he　was　a　guest
after　his　lecture。　　Heaven　knows　how　I　got　through　the　evening。　　I　do　not
think　I　opened　my　mouth　to　address　him　a　word；　it　was　as　much　as　I　could
do　to　sit　and　look　at　him；　while　he　tranquilly　smoked；　and　chatted　with
our　host；　and　quaffed　the　beer　which　we　had　very　good　in　the　Nest。　　All
the　while　I　did　him　homage　as　the　first　author　by　calling　whom　I　had　met。
I　longed　to　tell　him　how　much　I　liked　his　poems；　which　we　used　to　get　by
heart　in　those　days；　and　I　longed　（how　much　more　I　longed！）　to　have　him
know　that：

　　　　　　　　　　〃Auch　ich　war　in　Arkadien　geboren；〃

that　I　had　printed　poems　in　the　Atlantic　Monthly　and　the　Saturday　Press；
and　was　the　potential　author　of　things　destined　to　eclipse　all　literature
hitherto　attempted。　　But　I　could　not　tell　him；　and　there　was　no　one　else
who　thought　to　tell　him。　　Perhaps　it　was　as　well　so；　I　might　have
perished　of　his　recognition；　for　my　modesty　was　equal　to　my　merit。

In　fact　I　think　we　were　all　rather　modest　young　fellows；　we　who　formed
the　group　wont　to　spend　some　part　of　every　evening　at　that　house；　where
there　was　always　music；　or　whist；　or　gay　talk；　or　all　three。　　We　had　our
opinions　of　literary　matters；　but　（perhaps　because　we　had　mostly　accepted
them　from　England　or　New　England；　as　I　have　said）　we　were　not　vain　of
them；　and　we　would　by　no　means　have　urged　them　before　a　living　literary
man　like　that。　　I　believe　none　of　us　ventured　to　speak；　except　the　poet；
my　roommate；　who　said；　He　believed　so　and　so　was　the　original　of　so　and
so；　and　was　promptly　told；　He　had　no　right　to　say　such　a　thing。
Naturally；　we　came　away　rather　critical　of　our　host's　guest；　whom　I
afterwards　knew　as　the　kindliest　heart　in　the　world。　　But　we　had　not
shone　in　his　presence；　and　that　galled　us；　and　we　chose　to　think　that　he
had　not　shone　in　ours。




III

At　that　time　he　was　filling　a　large　space　in　the　thoughts　of　the　young
people　who　had　any　thoughts　about　literature。　　He　had　come　to　his　full
repute　as　an　agreeable　and　intelligent　traveller；　and　he　still　wore　the
halo　of　his　early　adventures　afoot　in　foreign　lands　when　they　were　yet
really　foreign。　　He　had　not　written　his　novels　of　American　life；　once　so
welcomed；　and　now　so　forgotten；　it　was　very　long　before　he　had　achieved
that　incomparable　translation　of　Faust　which　must　always　remain　the
finest　and　best；　and　which　would　keep　his　name　alive　with　Goethe's；　if　he
had　done　nothing　else　worthy　of　remembrance。　　But　what　then　most
commended　him　to　the　regard　of　us　star…eyed　youth　（now　blinking　sadly
toward　our　seventies）　was　the　poetry　which　he　printed　in　the　magazines
from　time　to　time：　in　the　first　Putnam's　（where　there　was　a　dashing
picture　of　him　in　an　Arab　burnoose　and；