a belated guest-第1章
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A Belated Guest
by William Dean Howells
It is doubtful whether the survivor of any order of things finds
compensation in the privilege； however undisputed by his contemporaries；
of recording his memories of it。 This is； in the first two or three
instances； a pleasure。 It is sweet to sit down； in the shade or by the
fire； and recall names； looks； and tones from the past； and if the
Absences thus entreated to become Presences are those of famous people；
they lend to the fond historian a little of their lustre； in which he
basks for the time with an agreeable sense of celebrity。 But another
time comes； and comes very soon； when the pensive pleasure changes to the
pain of duty； and the precious privilege converts itself into a grievous
obligation。 You are unable to choose your company among those immortal
shades； if one； why not another； where all seem to have a right to such
gleams of this 'dolce lome' as your reminiscences can shed upon them？
Then they gather so rapidly； as the years pass； in these pale realms；
that one； if one continues to survive； is in danger of wearing out such
welcome； great or small； as met ones recollections in the first two or
three instances； if one does one's duty by each。 People begin to say；
and not without reason； in a world so hurried and wearied as this： 〃Ah；
here he is again with his recollections！〃 Well； but if the recollections
by some magical good…fortune chance to concern such a contemporary of his
as； say； Bret Harte； shall not he be partially justified； or at least
excused？
I。
My recollections of Bret Harte begin with the arrest； on the Atlantic
shore； of that progress of his from the Pacific Slope； which； in the
simple days of 1871； was like the progress of a prince； in the universal
attention and interest which met and followed it。 He was indeed a
prince； a fairy prince in whom every lover of his novel and enchanting
art felt a patriotic property； for his promise and performance in those
earliest tales of 'The Luck of Roaring Camp'； and 'Tennessee's Partner'；
and 'Maggles'； and 'The Outcasts of Poker Flat'； were the earnests of an
American literature to come。 If it is still to come； in great measure；
that is not Harte's fault； for he kept on writing those stories； in one
form or another； as long as he lived。 He wrote them first and last in
the spirit of Dickens； which no man of his time could quite help doing；
but he wrote them from the life of Bret Harte； on the soil and in the air
of the newest kind of new world； and their freshness took the soul of his
fellow…countrymen not only with joy； but with pride such as the
Europeans； who adored him much longer； could never know in him。
When the adventurous young editor who had proposed being his host for
Cambridge and the Boston neighborhood； while Harte was still in San
Francisco； and had not yet begun his princely progress eastward； read of
the honors that attended his coming from point to point； his courage
fell； as if he had perhaps； committed himself in too great an enterprise。
Who was he； indeed； that he should think of making this
〃Dear son of memory； great heir of fame；〃
his guest； especially when he heard that in Chicago Harte failed of
attending a banquet of honor because the givers of it had not sent a
carriage to fetch him to it； as the alleged use was in San Francisco？
Whether true or not； and it was probably not true in just that form；
it must have been this rumor which determined his host to drive into
Boston for him with the handsomest hack which the livery of Cambridge
afforded； and not trust to the horse…car and the local expressman to get
him and his baggage out； as he would have done with a less portentous
guest。 However it was； he instantly lost all fear when they met at the
station； and Harte pressed forward with his cordial hand…clasp； as if he
were not even a fairy prince； and with that voice and laugh which were
surely the most winning in the world。 He was then； as always； a child of
extreme fashion as to his clothes and the cut of his beard； which he wore
in a mustache and the drooping side…whiskers of the day； and his jovial
physiognomy was as winning as his voice； with its straight nose and
fascinating thrust of the under lip； its fine eyes； and good forehead；
then thickly crowned with the black hair which grew early white； while
his mustache remained dark the most enviable and consoling effect
possible in the universal mortal necessity of either aging or dying。
He was； as one could not help seeing； thickly pitted； but after the first
glance one forgot this； so that a lady who met him for the first time
could say to him； 〃Mr。 Harte； aren't you afraid to go about in the cars
so recklessly when there is this scare about smallpox？〃 〃No； madam；〃 he
could answer in that rich note of his； with an irony touched by pseudo…
pathos； 〃I bear a charmed life。〃
The drive out from Boston was not too long for getting on terms of
personal friendship with the family which just filled the hack； the two
boys intensely interested in the novelties of a New England city and
suburb； and the father and mother continually exchanging admiration of
such aspects of nature as presented themselves in the leafless sidewalk
trees； and patches of park and lawn。 They found everything so fine； so
refined； after the gigantic coarseness of California； where the natural
forms were so vast that one could not get on companionable terms with
them。 Their host heard them without misgiving for the world of romance
which Harte had built up among those huge forms； and with a subtle
perception that this was no excursion of theirs to the East； but a
lifelong exodus from the exile which he presently understood they must
always have felt California to be。 It is different now； when people are
every day being born in California； and must begin to feel it home from
the first breath； but it is notable that none of the Californians of that
great early day have gone back to live amid the scenes which inspired and
prospered them。
Before they came in sight of the editor's humble roof he had mocked
himself to his guest for his trepidations； and Harte with burlesque
magnanimity had consented to be for that occasion only something less
formidable than he had loomed afar。 He accepted with joy the theory of
passing a week in the home of virtuous poverty； and the week began as
delightfully as it went on。 From first to last Cambridge amused him as
much as it charmed him by that air of academic distinction which was
stranger to him even than the refined trees and grass。 It has already
been told how； after a list of the local celebrities had been recited to
him； he said； 〃why； you couldn't stand on your front porch and fire off
your revolver without bringing down a two volumer；〃 and no doubt the
pleasure he had in it was the effect of its contrast with the wild
California he had known； and perhaps； when he had not altogether known
it； had invented。
II。
Cambridge began very promptly to show him those hospitalities which he
could value； and continued the fable of his fairy princeliness in the
curiosity of those humbler admirers who could not hope to be his hosts or
his fellow…guests at dinner or luncheon。 Pretty presences in the tie…
backs of the period were seen to flit before the home of virtuous
poverty； hungering for any chance sight of him which his outgoings or
incomings might give。 The chances were better with the outgoings than
with the incomings； for these were apt to be so hurried； in the final
result of his constitutional delays； as to have the rapidity of the
homing pigeon's flight； and to afford hardly a glimpse to the quickest
eye。 It cannot harm him； or any one now； to own that Harte was nearly
always late for those luncheons and dinners which he was always going out
to； and it needed the anxieties and energies of both families to get him
into his clothes； and then into the carriage where a good deal of final
buttoning must have been done； in order that he might not arrive so very
late。 He was the only one concerned who was quite unconcerned； his
patience with his delay
