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Studies of Lowell

by William Dean Howells






I have already spoken of my earliest meetings with Lowell at Cambridge
when I came to New England on a literary pilgrimage from the West in
1860。  I saw him more and more after I went to live in Cambridge in 1866;
and I now wish to record what I knew of him during the years that passed
between this date and that of his death。  If the portrait I shall try to
paint does not seem a faithful likeness to others who knew him; I shall
only claim that so he looked to me; at this moment and at that。  If I do
not keep myself quite out of the picture; what painter ever did?




I。

It was in the summer of 1865 that I came home from my consular post at
Venice; and two weeks after I landed in Boston; I went out to see Lowell
at Elmwood; and give him an inkstand that I had brought him from Italy。
The bronze lobster whose back opened and disclosed an inkpot and a sand…
box was quite ugly; but I thought it beautiful then; and if Lowell
thought otherwise he never did anything to let me know it。  He put the
thing in the middle of his writing…table (he nearly always wrote on a
pasteboard pad resting upon his knees); and there it remained as long as
I knew the placea matter of twenty…five years; but in all that time I
suppose the inkpot continued as dry as the sand…box。

My visit was in the heat of August; which is as fervid in Cambridge as it
can well be anywhere; and I still have a sense of his study windows
lifted to the summer night; and the crickets and grasshoppers crying in
at them from the lawns and the gardens outside。  Other people went away
from Cambridge in the summer to the sea and to the mountains; but Lowell
always stayed at Elmwood; in an impassioned love for his home and for his
town。  I must have found him there in the afternoon; and he must have
made me sup with him (dinner was at two o'clock) and then go with him for
a long night of talk in his study。  He liked to have some one help him
idle the time away; and keep him as long as possible from his work; and
no doubt I was impersonally serving his turn in this way; aside from any
pleasure he might have had in my company as some one he had always been
kind to; and as a fresh arrival from the Italy dear to us both。

He lighted his pipe; and from the depths of his easychair; invited my shy
youth to all the ease it was capable of in his presence。  It was not
much; I loved him; and he gave me reason to think that he was fond of me;
but in Lowell I was always conscious of an older and closer and stricter
civilization than my own; an unbroken tradition; a more authoritative
status。  His democracy was more of the head and mine more of the heart;
and his denied the equality which mine affirmed。  But his nature was so
noble and his reason so tolerant that whenever in our long acquaintance
I found it well to come to open rebellion; as I more than once did;
he admitted my right of insurrection; and never resented the outbreak。
I disliked to differ with him; and perhaps he subtly felt this so much
that he would not dislike me for doing it。  He even suffered being taxed
with inconsistency; and where he saw that he had not been quite just; he
would take punishment for his error; with a contrition that was sometimes
humorous and always touching。

Just then it was the dark hour before the dawn with Italy; and he was
interested but not much encouraged by what I could tell him of the
feeling in Venice against the Austrians。  He seemed to reserve a like
scepticism concerning the fine things I was hoping for the Italians in
literature; and he confessed an interest in the facts treated which in
the retrospect; I am aware; was more tolerant than participant of my
enthusiasm。  That was always Lowell's attitude towards the opinions of
people he liked; when he could not go their lengths with them; and
nothing was more characteristic of his affectionate nature and his just
intelligence。  He was a man of the most strenuous convictions; but he
loved many sorts of people whose convictions he disagreed with; and he
suffered even prejudices counter to his own if they were not ignoble。
In the whimsicalities of others he delighted as much as in his own。




II。

Our associations with Italy held over until the next day; when after
breakfast he went with me towards Boston as far as 〃the village〃: for so
he liked to speak of Cambridge in the custom of his younger days when
wide tracts of meadow separated Harvard Square from his life…long home at
Elmwood。  We stood on the platform of the horsecar together; and when I
objected to his paying my fare in the American fashion; he allowed that
the Italian usage of each paying for himself was the politer way。
He would not commit himself about my returning to Venice (for I had not
given up my place; yet; and was away on leave); but he intimated his
distrust of the flattering conditions of life abroad。  He said it was
charming to be treated 'da signore'; but he seemed to doubt whether it
was well; and in this as in all other things he showed his final fealty
to the American ideal。

It was that serious and great moment after the successful close of the
civil war when the republican consciousness was more robust in us than
ever before or since; but I cannot recall any reference to the historical
interest of the time in Lowell's talk。  It had been all about literature
and about travel; and now with the suggestion of the word village it
began to be a little about his youth。  I have said before how reluctant
he was to let his youth go from him; and perhaps the touch with my
juniority had made him realize how near he was to fifty; and set him
thinking of the past which had sorrows in it to age him beyond his years。
He would never speak of these; though he often spoke of the past。  He
told once of having been on a brief journey when he was six years old;
with his father; and of driving up to the gate of Elmwood in the evening;
and his father saying; 〃 Ah; this is a pleasant place!  I wonder who
lives herewhat little boy?〃  At another time he pointed out a certain
window in his study; and said he could see himself standing by it when he
could only get his chin on the window…sill。  His memories of the house;
and of everything belonging to it; were very tender; but he could laugh
over an escapade of his youth when he helped his fellow…students pull
down his father's fences; in the pure zeal of good…comradeship。




III。

My fortunes took me to New York; and I spent most of the winter of 1865…6
writing in the office of 'The Nation'。  I contributed several sketches of
Italian travel to that paper; and one of these brought me a precious
letter from Lowell。  He praised my sketch; which he said he had read
without the least notion who had written it; and he wanted me to feel the
full value of such an impersonal pleasure in it。  At the same time he did
not fail to tell me that he disliked some pseudo…cynical verses of mine
which he had read in another place; and I believe it was then that he
bade me 〃sweat the Heine out of〃 me; 〃as men sweat the mercury out of
their bones。〃

When I was asked to be assistant editor of the Atlantic Monthly; and came
on to Boston to talk the matter over with the publishers; I went out to
Cambridge and consulted Lowell。  He strongly urged me to take the
position (I thought myself hopefully placed in New York on The Nation);
and at the same time he seemed to have it on his heart to say that he had
recommended some one else for it; never; he owned; having thought of me。

He was most cordial; but after I came to live in Cambridge (where the
magazine was printed; and I could more conveniently look over the
proofs); he did not call on me for more than a month; and seemed quite to
have forgotten me。  We met one night at Mr。 Norton's; for one of the
Dante readings; and he took no special notice of me till I happened to
say something that offered him a chance to give me a little humorous
snub。  I was speaking of a paper in the Magazine on the 〃Claudian
Emissary;〃 and I demanded (no doubt a little too airily) something like
〃Who in the world ever heard of the Claudian Emissar

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