the white mr. longfellow-第1节

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The　White　Mr。　Longfellow

by　William　Dean　Howells






We　had　expected　to　stay　in　Boston　only　until　we　could　find　a　house　in　Old
Cambridge。　　This　was　not　so　simple　a　matter　as　it　might　seem；　for　the
ancient　town　had　not　yet　quickened　its　scholarly　pace　to　the　modern　step。
Indeed；　in　the　spring　of　1866　the　impulse　of　expansion　was　not　yet
visibly　felt　anywhere；　the　enormous　material　growth　that　followed　the
civil　war　had　not　yet　begun。　　In　Cambridge　the　houses　to　be　let　were　few；
and　such　as　there　were　fell　either　below　our　pride　or　rose　above　our
purse。　　I　wish　I　might　tell　how　at　last　we　bought　a　house；　we　had　no
money；　but　we　were　rich　in　friends；　who　are　still　alive　to　shrink　from
the　story　of　their　constant　faith　in　a　financial　future　which　we
sometimes　doubted；　and　who　backed　their　credulity　with　their　credit。
It　is　sufficient　for　the　present　record；　which　professes　to　be　strictly
literary；　to　notify　the　fact　that　on　the　first　day　of　May；　1866；　we　went
out　to　Cambridge　and　began　to　live　in　a　house　which　we　owned　in　fee　if
not　in　deed；　and　which　was　none　the　less　valuable　for　being　covered　with
mortgages。　　Physically；　it　was　a　carpenter's　box；　of　a　sort　which　is
readily　imagined　by　the　Anglo…American　genius　for　ugliness；　but　which　it
is　not　so　easy　to　impart　a　just　conception　of。　　A　trim　hedge　of　arbor…
vita；　tried　to　hide　it　from　the　world　in　front；　and　a　tall　board　fence
behind；　the　little　lot　was　well　planted　（perhaps　too　well　planted）　with
pears；　grapes；　and　currants；　and　there　was　a　small　open　space　which　I
lost　no　time　in　digging　up　for　a　kitchen…garden。　　On　one　side　of　us　were
the　open　fields；　on　the　other　a　brief　line　of　neighbor…houses；　across　the
street　before　us　was　a　grove　of　stately　oaks；　which　I　never　could
persuade　Aldrich　had　painted　leaves　on　them　in　the　fall。　　We　were　really
in　a　poor　suburb　of　a　suburb；　but　such　is　the　fascination　of　ownership；
even　the　ownership　of　a　fully　mortgaged　property；　that　we　calculated　the
latitude　and　longitude　of　the　whole　earth　from　the　spot　we　called　ours。
In　our　walks　about　Cambridge　we　saw　other　places　where　we　might　have　been
willing　to　live；　only；　we　said；　they　were　too　far　off：　We　even　prized　the
architecture　of　our　little　box；　though　we　had　but　so　lately　lived　in　a
Gothic　palace　on　the　Grand　Canal　in　Venice；　and　were　not　uncritical　of
beauty　in　the　possessions　of　others。　　Positive　beauty　we　could　not　have
honestly　said　we　thought　our　cottage　had　as　a　whole；　though　we　might　have
held　out　for　something　of　the　kind　in　the　brackets　of　turned　wood　under
its　eaves。　　But　we　were　richly　content　with　it；　and　with　life　in
Cambridge；　as　it　began　to　open　itself　to　us；　we　were　infinitely　more　than
content。　　This　life；　so　refined；　so　intelligent；　so　gracefully　simple；　I
do　not　suppose　has　anywhere　else　had　its　parallel。




I。

It　was　the　moment　before　the　old　American　customs　had　been　changed　by
European　influences　among　people　of　easier　circumstances；　and　in
Cambridge　society　kept　what　was　best　of　its　village　traditions；　and　chose
to　keep　them　in　the　full　knowledge　of　different　things。　　Nearly　every　one
had　been　abroad；　and　nearly　every　one　had　acquired　the　taste　for　olives
without　losing　a　relish　for　native　sauces；　through　the　intellectual　life
there　was　an　entire　democracy；　and　I　do　not　believe　that　since　the
capitalistic　era　began　there　was　ever　a　community　in　which　money　counted
for　less。　　There　was　little　show　of　what　money　could　buy；　I　remember　but
one　private　carriage　（naturally；　a　publisher's）；　and　there　was　not　one
livery；　except　a　livery　in　the　larger　sense　kept　by　the　stableman　Pike；
who　made　us　pay　now　a　quarter　and　now　a　half　dollar　for　a　seat　in　his
carriages；　according　as　he　lost　or　gathered　courage　for　the　charge。　　We
thought　him　extortionate；　and　we　mostly　walked　through　snow　and　mud　of
amazing　depth　and　thickness。

The　reader　will　imagine　how　acceptable　this　circumstance　was　to　a　young
literary　man　beginning　life　with　a　fully　mortgaged　house　and　a　salary　of
untried　elasticity。　　If　there　were　distinctions　made　in　Cambridge　they
were　not　against　literature；　and　we　found　ourselves　in　the　midst　of　a
charming　society；　indifferent；　apparently；　to　all　questions　but　those　of
the　higher　education　which　comes　so　largely　by　nature。　　That　is　to　say；
in　the　Cambridge　of　that　day　（and；　I　dare　say；　of　this）　a　mind　cultivated
in　some　sort　was　essential；　and　after　that　came　civil　manners；　and　the
willingness　and　ability　to　be　agreeable　and　interesting；　but　the　question
of　riches　or　poverty　did　not　enter。　　Even　the　question　of　family；　which
is　of　so　great　concern　in　New　England；　was　in　abeyance。　　Perhaps　it　was
taken　for　granted　that　every　one　in　Old　Cambridge　society　must　be　of　good
family；　or　he　could　not　be　there；　perhaps　his　mere　residence　tacitly
ennobled　him；　certainly　his　acceptance　was　an　informal　patent　of
gentility。　　To　my　mind；　the　structure　of　society　was　almost　ideal；　and
until　we　have　a　perfectly　socialized　condition　of　things　I　do　not　believe
we　shall　ever　have　a　more　perfect　society。　　The　instincts　which　governed
it　were　not　such　as　can　arise　from　the　sordid　competition　of　interests；
they　flowed　from　a　devotion　to　letters；　and　from　a　self…sacrifice　in
material　things　which　I　can　give　no　better　notion　of　than　by　saying　that
the　outlay　of　the　richest　college　magnate　seemed　to　be　graduated　to　the
income　of　the　poorest。

In　those　days；　the　men　whose　names　have　given　splendor　to　Cambridge　were
still　living　there。　　I　shall　forget　some　of　them　in　the　alphabetical
enumeration　of　Louis　Agassiz；　Francis　J。　Child；　Richard　Henry　Dana；　Jun。；
John　Fiske；　Dr。　Asa　Gray；　the　family　of　the　Jameses；　father　and　sons；
Lowell；　Longfellow；　Charles　Eliot　Norton；　Dr。　John　G。　Palfrey；　James
Pierce；　Dr。　Peabody；　Professor　Parsons；　Professor　Sophocles。　　The　variety
of　talents　and　of　achievements　was　indeed　so　great　that　Mr。　Bret　Harte；
when　fresh　from　his　Pacific　slope；　justly　said；　after　listening　to　a
partial　rehearsal　of　them；　〃Why；　you　couldn't　fire　a　revolver　from　your
front　porch　anywhere　without　bringing　down　a　two…volumer！〃　　Everybody　had
written　a　book；　or　an　article；　or　a　poem；　or　was　in　the　process　or
expectation　of　doing　it；　and　doubtless　those　whose　names　escape　me　will
have　greater　difficulty　in　eluding　fame。　　These　kindly；　these　gifted　folk
each　came　to　see　us　and　to　make　us　at　home　among　them；　and　my　home　is
still　among　them；　on　this　side　and　on　that　side　of　the　line　between　the
living　and　the　dead　which　invisibly　passes　through　all　the　streets　of　the
cities　of　men。




II。

We　had　the　whole　summer　for　the　exploration　of　Cambridge　before　society
returned　from　the　mountains　and　the　sea…shore；　and　it　was　not　till
October　that　I　saw　Longfellow。　　I　heard　again；　as　I　heard　when　I　first
came　to　Boston；　that　he　was　at　Nahant；　and　though　Nahant　was　no　longer　so
far　away；　now；　as　it　was　then；　I　did　not　think　of　seeking　him　out　even
when　we　went　for　a　day　to　explore　that　coast　during　the　summer。　　It　seems
strange　that　I　cannot　recall　just　when　and　where　I　saw　him；　but　early
after　his　return　to　Cambridge　I　had　a　message　from　him　asking　me　to　come
to　a　meeting　of　the　Dante　Club　at　Craigie　House。

Longfellow　was　that　winter　（1866…7）　revising　his　translation　of　the
'Paradiso'；　and　the　Dante　Club　was　the　circle　of　Italianate　friends　and
scholars　whom　he　invited　to　follow　him　and　criticise　his　work　from　the
original；　while　he　read　his　version　aloud。　　Those　who　were　most
constantly　present　were　Lowell　and　Professor　Norton；　but　from　time　to
time　others　came　in；　and　we　seldom　sat　down　at　the　nine…o'clock　supper
that　followed　the　reading　of　the　canto　in　less　number　than　ten　or　twelve。

The　criticism；　especially　from　the　accomplished　Danteists　I　have　named；
was　frank　and　frequent。　　I　believe　they　neither　of　them　quite　agreed　with
Longfellow　as　to　the　form　of　version　he　had　chosen；　but；　waiving　that；
the　question　was　how　perfectly　he　had　done　his　work　upon　the　given　lines：
I　myself；　with　whatever　right；　great　or　little；　I　may　have　to　an　opinion；
believe　thoroughly　in　Longfellow's　plan。　　When　I　read　his　version　my
sense　aches　for　the　rhyme　which　he　rejected；　but　my　admiration　for　his
fidelity　to　Dante　otherwise　is　immeasurable。　　I　remember　with　equal
admiration　the　subtle　and　sympathetic　scholarship　of　his　critics；　who
scrutinized　every　shade　of　meaning　in　a　word　or　phrase　that　gave　them
pause；　and　did　not　let　it　pass　till　all　the　reasons　and　facts　had　been
considered。　　Sometimes；　and　even　often；　Longfellow　yielded　to　their
censure；　but　for　the　most　part；　when　he　was　of　another　mind；　he　held　to
his　mind；　and　the　passage　had　to　go　as　he　said。　　I　make　a　little　haste　to
say　that　in　all　the　meetings　of　the　Club；　during　a　whole　winter　of
Wednesday　evenings；　I　myself；　though　I　faithfully　followed　in　an　Italian
Dante　with　the　rest；　ventured　upon　one　suggestion　only。　　This　was　kindly；
even　seriously；　considered　by　the　poet；　and　gently　rejected。　　He　could
not　do　anything　otherwise　than　gently；　and　I　was　not　suffered　to　feel
that　I　had　done　a　presumptuous　thing。　　I　can　see　him　now；　as　he　looked　up
from　the　proof…sheets　on　the　round　table　before　him；　and　over　a