studies of lowell-第2节

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fraying　off　into　marshes　and　salt　meadows。　　He　liked　to　indulge　an　excess
of　admiration　for　the　local　landscape；　and　though　I　never　heard　him
profess　a　preference　for　the　Charles　River　flats　to　the　finest　Alpine
scenery；　I　could　well　believe　he　would　do　so　under　provocation　of　a　fit
listener's　surprise。　　He　had　always　so　much　of　the　boy　in　him　that　he
liked　to　tease　the　over…serious　or　over…sincere。　　He　liked　to　tease　and
he　liked　to　mock；　especially　his　juniors；　if　any　touch　of　affectation；　or
any　little　exuberance　of　manner　gave　him　the　chance；　when　he　once　came　to
fetch　me；　and　the　young　mistress　of　the　house　entered　with　a　certain
excessive　elasticity；　he　sprang　from　his　seat；　and　minced　towards　her；
with　a　burlesque　of　her　buoyant　carriage　which　made　her　laugh。　　When　he
had　given　us　his　heart　in　trust　of　ours；　he　used　us　like　a　younger
brother　and　sister；　or　like　his　own　children。　　He　included　our　children
in　his　affection；　and　he　enjoyed　our　fondness　for　them　as　if　it　were
something　that　had　come　back　to　him　from　his　own　youth。　　I　think　he　had
also　a　sort　of　artistic；　a　sort　of　ethical　pleasure　in　it；　as　being　of
the　good　tradition；　of　the　old　honest；　simple　material；　from　which
pleasing　effects　in　literature　and　civilization　were　wrought。　　He　liked
giving　the　children　books；　and　writing　tricksy　fancies　in　these；　where　he
masked　as　a　fairy　prince；　and　as　long　as　he　lived　he　remembered　his　early
kindness　for　them。




IV。

In　those　walks　of　ours　I　believe　he　did　most　of　the　talking；　and　from　his
talk　then　and　at　other　times　there　remains　to　me　an　impression　of　his
growing　conservatism。　　I　had　in　fact　come　into　his　life　when　it　had　spent
its　impulse　towards　positive　reform；　and　I　was　to　be　witness　of　its
increasing　tendency　towards　the　negative　sort。　　He　was　quite　past　the
storm　and　stress　of　his　anti…slavery　age；　with　the　close　of　the　war　which
had　broken　for　him　all　his　ideals　of　inviolable　peace；　he　had　reached　the
age　of　misgiving。　　I　do　not　mean　that　I　ever　heard　him　express　doubt　of
what　he　had　helped　to　do；　or　regret　for　what　he　had　done；　but　I　know　that
he　viewed　with　critical　anxiety　what　other　men　were　doing　with　the
accomplished　facts。　　His　anxiety　gave　a　cast　of　what　one　may　call
reluctance　from　the　political　situation；　and　turned　him　back　towards
those　civic　and　social　defences　which　he　had　once　seemed　willing　to
abandon。　　I　do　not　mean　that　he　lost　faith　in　democracy；　this　faith　he
constantly　then　and　signally　afterwards　affirmed；　but　he　certainly　had　no
longer　any　faith　in　insubordination　as　a　means　of　grace。　　He　preached　a
quite　Socratic　reverence　for　law；　as　law；　and　I　remember　that　once　when
I　had　got　back　from　Canada　in　the　usual　disgust　for　the　American　custom…
house；　and　spoke　lightly　of　smuggling　as　not　an　evil　in　itself；　and
perhaps　even　a　right　under　our　vexatious　tariff；　he　would　not　have　it；
but　held　that　the　illegality　of　the　act　made　it　a　moral　of　fence。　　This
was　not　the　logic　that　would　have　justified　the　attitude　of　the　anti…
slavery　men　towards　the　fugitive　slave　act；　but　it　was　in　accord　with
Lowell's　feeling　about　John　Brown；　whom　he　honored　while　always
condemning　his　violation　of　law；　and　it　was　in　the　line　of　all　his　later
thinking。　　In　this；　he　wished　you　to　agree　with　him；　or　at　least　he
wished　to　make　you；　but　he　did　not　wish　you　to　be　more　of　his　mind　than
he　was　himself。　　In　one　of　those　squalid　Irish　neighborhoods　I　confessed
a　grudge　（a　mean　and　cruel　grudge；　I　now　think　it）　for　the　increasing
presence　of　that　race　among　us；　but　this　did　not　please　him；　and　I　am
sure　that　whatever　misgiving　he　had　as　to　the　future　of　America；　he　would
not　have　had　it　less　than　it　had　been　the　refuge　and　opportunity　of　the
poor　of　any　race　or　color。　　Yet　he　would　not　have　had　it　this　alone。
There　was　a　line　in　his　poem　on　Agassiz　which　he　left　out　of　the　printed
version；　at　the　fervent　entreaty　of　his　friends；　as　saying　too　bitterly
his　disappointment　with　his　country。　　Writing　at　the　distance　of　Europe；
and　with　America　in　the　perspective　which　the　alien　environment　clouded；
he　spoke　of　her　as　〃The　Land　of　Broken　Promise。〃　　It　was　a　splendid
reproach；　but　perhaps　too　dramatic　to　bear　the　full　test　of　analysis；
and　yet　it　had　the　truth　in　it；　and　might；　I　think；　have　usefully　stood；
to　the　end　of　making　people　think。　　Undoubtedly　it　expressed　his　sense　of
the　case；　and　in　the　same　measure　it　would　now　express　that　of　many　who
love　their　country　most　among　us。　　It　is　well　to　hold　one's　country　to
her　promises；　and　if　there　are　any　who　think　she　is　forgetting　them　it　is
their　duty　to　say　so；　even　to　the　point　of　bitter　accusation。　　I　do　not
suppose　it　was　the　〃common　man〃　of　Lincoln's　dream　that　Lowell　thought
America　was　unfaithful　to；　though　as　I　have　suggested　he　could　be　tender
of　the　common　man's　hopes　in　her；　but　he　was　impeaching　in　that　blotted
line　her　sincerity　with　the　uncommon　man：　the　man　who　had　expected　of　her
a　constancy　to　the　ideals　of　her　youth　end　to　the　high　martyr…moods　of
the　war　which　had　given　an　unguarded　and　bewildering　freedom　to　a　race　of
slaves。　　He　was　thinking　of　the　shame　of　our　municipal　corruptions；　the
debased　quality　of　our　national　statesmanship；　the　decadence　of　our　whole
civic　tone；　rather　than　of　the　increasing　disabilities　of　the　hard…
working　poor；　though　his　heart　when　he　thought　of　them　was　with　them；
too；　as　it　was　in　〃the　time　when　the　slave　would　not　let　him　sleep。〃

He　spoke　very　rarely　of　those　times；　perhaps　because　their　political　and
social　associations　were　so　knit　up　with　the　saddest　and　tenderest
personal　memories；　which　it　was　still　anguish　to　touch。　　Not　only　was　he

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃not　of　the　race
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　That　hawk；　their　sorrows　in　the　market　place；〃

but　so　far　as　my　witness　went　he　shrank　from　mention　of　them。　　I　do　not
remember　hearing　him　speak　of　the　young　wife　who　influenced　him　so
potently　at　the　most　vital　moment；　and　turned　him　from　his　whole
scholarly　and　aristocratic　tradition　to　an　impassioned　championship　of
the　oppressed；　and　he　never　spoke　of　the　children　he　had　lost。　　I　recall
but　one　allusion　to　the　days　when　he　was　fighting　the　anti…slavery　battle
along　the　whole　line；　and　this　was　with　a　humorous　relish　of　his　Irish
servant's　disgust　in　having　to　wait　upon　a　negro　whom　he　had　asked　to　his
table。

He　was　rather　severe　in　his　notions　of　the　subordination　his　domestics
owed　him。　　They　were　〃to　do　as　they　were　bid；〃　and　yet　he　had　a
tenderness　for　such　as　had　been　any　time　with　him；　which　was　wounded　when
once　a　hired　man　long　in　his　employ　greedily　overreached　him　in　a　certain
transaction。　　He　complained　of　that　with　a　simple　grief　for　the　man's
indelicacy　after　so　many　favors　from　him；　rather　than　with　any
resentment。　　His　hauteur　towards　his　dependents　was　theoretic；　his　actual
behavior　was　of　the　gentle　consideration　common　among　Americans　of　good
breeding；　and　that　recreant　hired　man　had　no　doubt　never　been　suffered　to
exceed　him　in　shows　of　mutual　politeness。　　Often　when　the　maid　was　about
weightier　matters；　he　came　and　opened　his　door　to　me　himself；　welcoming
me　with　the　smile　that　was　like　no　other。　　Sometimes　he　said；　〃Siete　il
benvenuto；〃　or　used　some　other　Italian　phrase；　which　put　me　at　ease　with
him　in　the　region　where　we　were　most　at　home　together。

Looking　back　I　must　confess　that　I　do　not　see　what　it　was　he　found　to
make　him　wish　for　my　company；　which　he　presently　insisted　upon　having
once　a　week　at　dinner。　　After　the　meal　we　turned　into　his　study　where　we
sat　before　a　wood　fire　in　winter；　and　he　smoked　and　talked。　　He　smoked　a
pipe　which　was　always　needing　tobacco；　or　going　out；　so　that　I　have　the
figure　of　him　before　my　eyes　constantly　getting　out　of　his　deep　chair　to
rekindle　it　from　the　fire　with　a　paper　lighter。　　He　was　often　out　of　his
chair　to　get　a　book　from　the　shelves　that　lined　the　walls；　either　for　a
passage　which　he　wished　to　read；　or　for　some　disputed　point　which　he
wished　to　settle。　　If　I　had　caused　the　dispute；　he　enjoyed　putting　me　in
the　wrong；　if　he　could　not；　he　sometimes　whimsically　persisted　in　his
error；　in　defiance　of　all　authority；　but　mostly　he　had　such　reverence　for
the　truth　that　he　would　not　question　it　even　in　jest。

If　I　dropped　in　upon　him　in　the　afternoon　I　was　apt　to　find　him　reading
the　old　French　poets；　or　the　plays　of　Calderon；　or　the　'Divina　Commedia'；
which　he　magnanimously　supposed　me　much　better　acquainted　with　than　I　was
because　I　knew　some　passages　of　it　by　heart。　　One　day　I　came　in　quoting

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃Io　son；　cantava；　io　son　dolce　Sirena；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Che　i　marinai　in　mezzo　al　mar　dismago。〃

He　stared　at　me　in　a　rapture　with　the　matchless　music；　and　then　uttered
all　his　adoration　and　despair　in　one　word。　　〃Damn！〃　he　said；　and　no　more。
I　believe　he　instantly　proposed　a　walk　that　day；　as　if　his　study　walls
with　all　their　vistas　into　the　great　literatures　cramped　his　soul
liberated　to　a　sense　of　ineffable　beauty　of　the　verse　of　the　'somma
poeta'。　　But　commonly　be　preferred　to　have　me　sit　down　with　him　there
among　the　mute　witnesses　of　the　larger　part　of　his　life。　　As　I　have
suggested　in　my　own　case；　it　did