first visit to new england-第2节

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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；　a　turban）；　and　in　Harper's；　and
in　the　Atlantic。　　It　was　often　very　lovely　poetry；　I　thought；　and　I　still
think　so；　and　it　was　rightfully　his；　though　it　paid　the　inevitable
allegiance　to　the　manner　of　the　great　masters　of　the　day。　　It　was　graced
for　us　by　the　pathetic　romance　of　his　early　love；　which　some　of　its
sweetest　and　saddest　numbers　confessed；　for　the　young　girl　he　married
almost　in　her　death　hour；　and　we　who　were　hoping　to　have　our　hearts
broken；　or　already　had　them　so；　would　have　been　glad　of　something　more　of
the　obvious　poet　in　the　popular　lecturer　we　had　seen　refreshing　himself
after　his　hour　on　the　platform。

He　remained　for　nearly　a　year　the　only　author　I　had　seen；　and　I　met　him
once　again　before　I　saw　any　other。　　Our　second　meeting　was　far　from
Columbus；　as　far　as　remote　Quebec；　when　I　was　on　my　way　to　New　England　by
way　of　Niagara　and　the　Canadian　rivers　and　cities。　　I　stopped　in　Toronto；
and　realized　myself　abroad　without　any　signal　adventures；　but　at　Montreal
something　very　pretty　happened　to　me。　　I　came　into　the　hotel　office；　the
evening　of　a　first　day's　lonely　sight…seeing；　and　vainly　explored　the
register　for　the　name　of　some　acquaintance；　as　I　turned　from　it　two
smartly　dressed　young　fellows　embraced　it；　and　I　heard　one　of　them　say；
to　my　great　amaze　and　happiness；　〃Hello；　here's　Howells！〃

〃Oh；〃　I　broke　out　upon　him；　〃I　was　just　looking　for　some　one　I　knew。　　I
hope　you　are　some　one　who　knows　me！〃

〃Only　through　your　contributions　to　the　Saturday　Press；〃　said　the　young
fellow；　and　with　these　golden　words；　the　precious　first　personal
recognition　of　my　authorship　I　had　ever　received　from　a　stranger；　and　the
rich　reward　of　all　my　literary　endeavor；　he　introduced　himself　and　his
friend。　　I　do　not　know　what　be　came　of　this　friend；　or　where　or　how　he
eliminated　himself；　but　we　two　others　were　inseparable　from　that　moment。
He　was　a　young　lawyer　from　New　York；　and　when　I　came　back　from　Italy；
four　or　five　years　later；　I　used　to　see　his　sign　in　Wall　Street；　with　a
never…fulfilled　intention　of　going　in　to　see　him。　　In　whatever　world　he
happens　now　to　be；　I　should　like　to　send　him　my　greetings；　and　confess　to
him　that　my　art　has　never　since　brought　me　so　sweet　a　recompense；　and
nothing　a　thousandth　part　so　much　like　Fame；　as　that　outcry　of　his　over
the　hotel　register　in　Montreal。　We　were　comrades　for　four　or　five　rich
days；　and　shared　our　pleasures　and　expenses　in　viewing　the　monuments　of
those　ancient　Canadian　capitals；　which　I　think　we　valued　at　all　their
picturesque　worth。　　We　made　jokes　to　mask　our　emotions；　we　giggled　and
made　giggle；　in　the　right　way；　we　fell　in　and　out　of　love　with　all　the
pretty　faces　and　dresses　we　saw；　and　we　talked　evermore　about　literature
and　literary　people。　　He　had　more　acquaintance　with　the　one；　and　more
passion　for　the　other；　but　he　could　tell　me　of　Pfaff's　lager…beer　cellar
on　Broadway；　where　the　Saturday　Press　fellows　and　the　other　Bohemians
met；　and　this；　for　the　time；　was　enough：　I　resolved　to　visit　it　as　soon
as　I　reached　New　York；　in　spite　of　the　tobacco　and　beer　（which　I　was
given　to　understand　were　de　rigueur）；　though　they　both；　so　far　as　I　had
known　them；　were　apt　to　make　me　sick。

I　was　very　desolate　after　I　parted　from　this　good　fellow；　who　returned　to
Montreal　on　his　way　to　New　York；　while　I　remained　in　Quebec　to　continue
later　on　mine　to　New　England。　　When　I　came　in　from　seeing　him　off　in　a
calash　for　the　boat；　I　discovered　Bayard　Taylor　in　the　readingroom；　where
he　sat　sunken　in　what　seemed　a　somewhat　weary　muse。　　He　did　not　know
me；　or　even　notice　me；　though　I　made　several　errands　in　and　out　of　the
reading…room　in　the　vain　hope　that　be　might　do　so：　doubly　vain；　for　I　am
aware　now　that　I　was　still　flown　with　the　pride　of　that　pretty　experience
in　Montreal；　and　trusted　in　a　repetition　of　something　like　it。　　At　last；
as　no　chance　volunteered　to　help　me；　I　mustered　courage　to　go　up　to　him
and　name　myself；　and　say　I　had　once　had　the　pleasure　of　meeting　him　at
Doctor　…'s　in　Columbus。　　The　poet　gave　no　sign　of　consciousness　at
the　sound　of　a　name　which　I　had　fondly　begun　to　think　might　not　be　so　all
unknown。　　He　looked　up　with　an　unkindling　eye；　and　asked；　Ah；　how　was　the
Doctor？　　and　when　I　had　reported　favorably　of　the　Doctor；　our
conversation　ended。

He　was　probably　as　tired　as　he　looked；　and　he　must　have　classed　me　with
that　multitude　all　over　the　country　who　had　shared　the　pleasure　I
professed　in　meeting　him　before；　it　was　surely　my　fault　that　I　did　not
speak　my　name　loud　enough　to　be　recognized；　if　I　spoke　it　at　all；　but　the
courage　I　had　mustered　did　not　quite　suffice　for　that。　　In　after　years　he
assured　me；　first　by　letter　and　then　by　word；　of　his　grief　for　an
incident　which　I　can　only　recall　now　as　the　untoward　beginning　of　a
cordial　friendship。　　It　was　often　my　privilege；　in　those　days；　as
reviewer　and　editor；　to　testify　my　sense　of　the　beautiful　things　he　did
in　so　many　kinds　of　literature；　but　I　never　liked　any　of　them　better　than
I　liked　him。　　He　had　a　fervent　devotion　to　his　art；　and　he　was　always
going　to　do　the　greatest　things　in　it；　with　an　expectation　of　effect　that
never　failed　him。　　The　things　he　actually　did　were　none　of　them　mean；
or　wanting　in　quality；　and　some　of　them　are　of　a　lasting　charm　that　any
one　may　feel　who　will　turn　to　his　poems；　but　no　doubt　many　of　them　fell
short　of　his　hopes　of　them　with　the　reader。　　It　was　fine　to　meet　him　when
he　was　full　of　a　new　scheme；　he　talked　of　it　with　a　single…hearted　joy；
and　tried　to　make　you　see　it　of　the　same　colors　and　proportions　it　wore
to　his　eyes。　　He　spared　no　toil　to　make　it　the　perfect　thing　he　dreamed
it；　and　he　was　not　discouraged　by　any　disappointment　he　suffered　with　the
critic　or　the　public。

He　was　a　tireless　worker；　and　at　last　his　health　failed　under　his　labors
at　the　newspaper　desk；　beneath　the　midnight　gas；　when　he　should　long　have
rested　from　such　labors。　　I　believe　he　was　obliged　to　do　them　through　one
of　those　business　fortuities　which　deform　and　embitter　all　our　lives；
but　he　was　not　the　man　to　spare　himself　in　any　case。　　He　was　always
attempting　new　things；　and　he　never　ceased　endeavoring　to　make　his
scholarship　reparation　for　the　want　of　earlier　opportunity　and　training。
I　remember　that　I　met　him　once　in　a　Cambridge　street　with　a　book　in　his
hand　which　he　let　me　take　in　mine。　　It　was　a　Greek　author；　and　he　said　he
was　just　beginning　to　read　the　language　at　fifty：　a　patriarchal　age　to　me
of　the　early　thirties！

I　suppose　I　intimated　the　surprise　I　felt　at　his　taking　it　up　so　late　in
the　day；　for　he　said；　with　charming　seriousness；　〃Oh；　but　you　know；
I　expect　to　use　it　in　the　other　world。〃　　Yea；　that　made　it　worth　while；
I　consented；　but　was　he　sure　of　the　other　world？　　〃As　sure　as　I　am　of
this；〃　he　said；　and　I　have　always　kept　the　impression　of　the　young　faith
which　spoke　in　his　voice　and　was　more　than　his　words。

I　saw　him　last　in　the　hour　of　those　tremendous　adieux　which　were　paid　him
in　New　York　before　he　sailed　to　be　minister　in　Germany。　　It　was　one　of
the　most　graceful　things　done　by　President　Hayes；　who；　most　of　all　our
Presidents　aft