cambridge neighbors-第6节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


career　in　much　better　terms　than　it　can　be　given　again。　　He　had　been；　as
he　claimed；　〃a　cruel　uncle's　ward〃　in　his　early　orphan…hood；　and　while
yet　almost　a　child　he　had　run　away　from　home；　to　fulfil　his　heart's
desire　of　becoming　a　clog…dancer　in　a　troupe　of　negro　minstrels。　　But　it
was　first　his　fate　to　be　cabin…boy　and　bootblack　on　a　lake　steamboat；
and　meet　with　many　squalid　adventures；　scarcely　to　be　matched　outside　of
a　Spanish　picaresque　novel。　　When　he　did　become　a　dancer　（and　even　a
danseuse）　of　the　sort　he　aspired　to　be；　the　fruition　of　his　hopes　was　so
little　what　he　imagined　that　he　was　very　willing　to　leave　the　Floating
Palace　on　the　Mississippi　in　which　his　troupe　voyaged　and　exhibited；　and
enter　the　college　of　the　Jesuit　Fathers　at　Cape　Girardeau　in　Missouri。
They　were　very　good　to　him；　and　in　their　charge　he　picked　up　a　good　deal
more　Latin；　if　not　less　Greek　than　another　strolling　player　who　also　took
to　literature。　　From　college　Keeler　went　to　Europe；　and　then　to
California；　whence　he　wrote　me　that　he　was　coming　on　to　Boston　with　the
manuscript　of　a　novel　which　he　wished　me　to　read　for　the　magazine。　　I
reported　against　it　to　my　chief；　but　nothing　could　shake　Keeler's　faith
in　it；　until　he　had　printed　it　at　his　own　cost；　and　known　it　fail
instantly　and　decisively。　　He　had　come　to　Cambridge　to　see　it　through　the
press；　and　he　remained　there　four　or　five　years；　with　certain　brief
absences。　　Then；　during　the　Cuban　insurrection　of　the　early　seventies；　he
accepted　the　invitation　of　a　New　York　paper　to　go　to　Cuba　as　its
correspondent。

〃Don't　go；　Keeler；〃　I　entreated　him；　when　he　came　to　tell　me　of　his
intention。　　〃They'll　garrote　you　down　there。〃

〃Well；〃　he　said；　with　the　air　of　being　pleasantly　interested　by　the
coincidence；　as　he　stood　on　my　study　hearth　with　his　feet　wide　apart　in
a　fashion　he　had；　and　gayly　flirted　his　hand　in　the　air；　〃that's　what
Aldrich　says；　and　he's　agreed　to　write　my　biography；　on　condition　that
I　make　a　last　dying　speech　when　they　bring　me　out　on　the　plaza　to　do　it；
'If　I　had　taken　the　advice　of　my　friend　T。　B。　Aldrich；　author　of
'Marjorie　Daw　and　Other　People；'　I　should　not　now　be　in　this　place。'〃

He　went；　and　he　did　not　come　back。　　He　was　not　indeed　garroted　as　his
friends　had　promised；　but　he　was　probably　assassinated　on　the　steamer　by
which　he　sailed　from　Santiago；　for　he　never　arrived　in　Havana；　and　was
never　heard　of　again。

I　now　realize　that　I　loved　him；　though　I　did　as　little　to　show　it　as　men
commonly　do。　　If　I　am　to　meet　somewhere　else　the　friends　who　are　no
longer　here；　I　should　like　to　meet　Ralph　Keeler；　and　I　would　take　some
chances　of　meeting　in　a　happy　place　a　soul　which　had　by　no　means　kept
itself　unspotted；　but　which　in　all　its　consciousness　of　error；　cheerfully
trusted　that　〃the　Almighty　was　not　going　to　scoop　any　of　us。〃　　The　faith
worded　so　grotesquely　could　not　have　been　more　simply　or　humbly　affirmed；
and　no　man　I　think　could　have　been　more　helplessly　sincere。　　He　had
nothing　of　that　false　self…respect　which　forbids　a　man　to　own　himself
wrong　promptly　and　utterly　when　need　is；　and　in　fact　he　owned　to　some
things　in　his　checkered　past　which　would　hardly　allow　him　any　sort　of
self…respect。　　He　had　always　an　essential　gaiety　not　to　be　damped　by　any
discipline；　and　a　docility　which　expressed　itself　in　cheerful　compliance。
〃Why　do　you　use　bias　for　opinion？〃　I　demanded；　in　going　over　a　proof　with
him。　　〃Oh；　because　I'm　such　an　asssuch　a　bi…ass。〃

He　had　a　philosophy　which　he　liked　to　impress　with　a　vivid　touch　on　his
listener's　shoulder：　〃Put　your　finger　on　the　present　moment　and　enjoy　it。
It's　the　only　one　you've　got；　or　ever　will　have。〃　　This　light　and　joyous
creature　could　not　but　be　a　Pariah　among　our　Brahmins；　and　I　need　not　say
that　I　never　met　him　in　any　of　the　great　Cambridge　houses。　　I　am　not　sure
that　he　was　a　persona　grata　to　every　one　in　my　own；　for　Keeler　was　framed
rather　for　men's　liking；　and　Mr。　Aldrich　and　I　had　our　subtleties　as　to
whether　his　mind　about　women　was　not　so　Chinese　as　somewhat　to　infect　his
manner。　　Keeler　was　too　really　modest　to　be　of　any　rebellious　mind
towards　the　society　which　ignored　him；　and　of　too　sweet　a　cheerfulness　to
be　greatly　vexed　by　it。　　He　lived　on　in　the　house　of　a　suave　old　actor；
who　oddly　made　his　home　in　Cambridge；　and　he　continued　of　a　harmless
Bohemianism　in　his　daily　walk；　which　included　lunches　at　Boston
restaurants　as　often　as　he　could　get　you　to　let　him　give　them　you；　if　you
were　of　his　acquaintance。　　On　a　Sunday　he　would　appear　coming　out　of　the
post…office　usually　at　the　hour　when　all　cultivated　Cambridge　was　coming
for　its　letters；　and　wave　a　glad　hand　in　air；　and　shout　a　blithe
salutation　to　the　friend　he　had　marked　for　his　companion　in　a　morning
stroll。　　The　stroll　was　commonly　over　the　flats　towards　Brighton　（I　do
not　know　why；　except　perhaps　that　it　was　out　of　the　beat　of　the　better
element）　and　the　talk　was　mainly　of　literature；　in　which　he　was　doing
less　than　he　meant　to　do；　and　which　he　seemed　never　able　quite　to　feel
was　not　a　branch　of　the　Show　Business；　and　might　not　be　legitimately
worked　by　like　advertising；　though　he　truly　loved　and　honored　it。

I　suppose　it　was　not　altogether　a　happy　life；　and　Keeler　had　his　moments
of　amusing　depression；　which　showed　their　shadows　in　his　smiling　face。
He　was　of　a　slight　figure　and　low　stature；　with　hands　and　feet　of　almost
womanish　littleness。　　He　was　very　blonde；　and　his　restless　eyes　were
blue；　he　wore　his　yellow　beard　in　whiskers　only；　which　he　pulled
nervously　but　perhaps　did　not　get　to　droop　so　much　as　he　wished。




VIII。

Keeler　was　a　native　of　Ohio；　and　there　lived　at　Cambridge　when　I　first
came　there　an　Indianian；　more　accepted　by　literary　society；　who　was　of
real　quality　as　a　poet。　　Forceythe　Willson；　whose　poem　of　〃The　Old
Sergeant〃　Doctor　Holmes　used　to　read　publicly　in　the　closing　year　of　the
civil　war；　was　of　a　Western　altitude　of　figure；　and　of　an　extraordinary
beauty　of　face　in　an　oriental　sort。　　He　had　large；　dark　eyes　with　clouded
whites；　his　full；　silken　beard　was　of　a　flashing　Persian　blackness。
He　was　excessively　nervous；　to　such　an　extreme　that　when　I　first　met　him
at　Longfellow's；　he　could　not　hold　himself　still　in　his　chair。　　I　think
this　was　an　effect　of　shyness　in　him；　as　well　as　physical；　for　afterwards
when　I　went　to　find　him　in　his　own　house　he　was　much　more　at　ease。

He　preferred　to　receive　me　in　the　dim；　large　hall　after　opening　his　door
to　me　himself；　and　we　sat　down　there　and　talked；　I　remember；　of
supernatural　things。　　He　was　much　interested　in　spiritualism；　and　he　had
several　stories　to　tell　of　his　own　experience　in　such　matters。　　But　none
was　so　good　as　one　which　I　had　at　second　hand　from　Lowell；　who　thought　it
almost　the　best　ghost　story　he　had　ever　heard。　　The　spirit　of　Willson's
father　appeared　to　him；　and　stood　before　him。　　Willson　was　accustomed　to
apparitions；　and　so　he　said　simply；　〃Won't　you　sit　down；　father？〃　　The
phantom　put　out　his　hand　to　lay　hold　of　a　chair…back　as　some　people　do　in
taking　a　seat；　and　his　shadowy　arm　passed　through　the　frame…work。
〃Ah！〃　he　said；　〃I　forgot　that　I　was　not　substance。〃

I　do　not　know　whether　〃The　Old　Sergeant〃　is　ever　read　now；　it　has
probably　passed　with　other　great　memories　of　the　great　war；　and　I　am
afraid　none　of　Willson's　other　verse　is　remembered。　　But　he　was　then　a
distinct　literary　figure；　and　not　to　be　left　out　of　the　count　of　our
poets。　　I　did　not　see　him　again。　　Shortly　afterwards　I　heard　that　he　had
left　Cambridge　with　signs　of　consumption；　which　must　have　run　a　rapid
course；　for　a　very　little　later　came　the　news　of　his　death。




IX。

The　most　devoted　Cantabrigian；　after　Lowell；　whom　I　knew；　would　perhaps
have　contended　that　if　he　had　stayed　with　us　Willson　might　have　lived；
for　John　Holmes　affirmed　a　faith　in　the　virtues　of　the　place　which
ascribed　almost　an　aseptic　character　to　its　air；　and　when　he　once
listened　to　my　own　complaints　of　an　obstinate　cold；　he　cheered　himself；
if　not　me；　with　the　declaration；　〃Well；　one　thing；　Mr。　Howells；　Cambridge
never　let　a　man　keep　a　cold　yet！〃

If　he　had　said　it　was　better　to　live　in　Cambridge　with　a　cold　than
elsewhere　without　one　I　should　have　believed　him；　as　it　was；　Cambridge
bore　him　out　in　his　assertion；　though　she　took　her　own　time　to　do　it。

Lowell　had　talked　to　me　of　him　before　I　met　him；　celebrating　his　peculiar
humor　with　that　affection　which　was　not　always　so　discriminating；　and
Holmes　was　one　of　the　first　Cambridge　men　I　knew。　　I　knew　him　first　in
the　charming　old　Colonial　house　in　which　his　famous　brother　and　he　were
born。　　It　was　demolished　long　before　I　left　Cambridge；　but　in　memory　it
still　stands　on　the　ground　since　occupied　by　the　Hemenway　Gymnasium；　and
shows　for　me　through　that　bulk　a　phantom　frame　of　Continental　buff　in　the
shadow　of　elms　that　are　shadows　themselves。　　The　'genius　loci'　was
limping　about　the　pleasant　mansion　with　the　rheumatism　which　then
expressed　itself　to　his　friends　in　a　resolute　smile；　but　which　now
insists　upon　being　an　essential　trait　of　the　full…length　presence　to　my
mind：　a　short　stout　figure；　helped　out　with　a　cane；　and　a　grizzled　head
with　fea