literary boston as i knew it-第6部分

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Lapham'；　in　a　somewhat　troubled　and　uncertain　strain；　and　interpreting
his　rise　as　the　achievement　of　social　recognition；　without　much　or　at　all
liking　it　or　me　for　it。　　I　did　not　think　it　my　part　to　point　out　that　I
had　supposed　the　rise　to　be　a　moral　one；　and　later　I　fell　under　his
condemnation　for　certain　high　crimes　and　misdemeanors　I　had　been　guilty
of　against　a　well…known　ideal　in　fiction。　　These　in　fact　constituted
lese…majesty　of　romanticism；　which　seemed　to　be　disproportionately　dear
to　a　man　who　was　in　his　own　way　trying　to　tell　the　truth　of　human　nature
as　I　was　in　mine。　　His　displeasures　passed；　however；　and　my　last　meeting
with　our　greatest　historian；　as　I　think　him；　was　of　unalloyed
friendliness。　　He　came　to　me　during　my　final　year　in　Boston　for　nothing
apparently　but　to　tell　me　of　his　liking　for　a　book　of　mine　describing
boy…life　in　Southern　Ohio　a　half…century　ago。　　He　wished　to　talk　about
many　points　of　this；　which　he　found　the　same　as　his　own　boylife　in　the
neighborhood　of　Boston；　and　we　could　agree　that　the　life　of　the　Anglo…
Saxon　boy　was　pretty　much　the　same　everywhere。　　He　had　helped　himself
into　my　apartment　with　a　crutch；　but　I　do　not　remember　how　he　had　fallen
lame。　　It　was　the　end　of　his　long　walks；　I　believe；　and　not　long
afterwards　I　had　the　grief　to　read　of　his　death。　　I　noticed　that　perhaps
through　his　enforced　quiet；　he　had　put　on　weight；　his　fine　face　was　full；
whereas　when　I　first　knew　him　he　was　almost　delicately　thin　of　figure　and
feature。　　He　was　always　of　a　distinguished　presence；　and　his　face　had　a
great　distinction。

It　had　not　the　appealing　charm　I　found　in　the　face　of　James　Parton；
another　historian　I　knew　earlier　in　my　Boston　days。　　I　cannot　say　how
much　his　books；　once　so　worthily　popular；　are　now　known　but　I　have　an
abiding　sense　of　their　excellence。　　I　have　not　read　the　'Life　of
Voltaire'；　which　was　the　last；　but　all　the　rest；　from　the　first；　I　have
read；　and　if　there　are　better　American　biographies　than　those　of　Franklin
or　of　Jefferson；　I　could　not　say　where　to　find　them。　The　Greeley　and　the
Burr　were　younger　books；　and　so　was　the　Jackson；　and　they　were　not　nearly
so　good；　but　to　all　the　author　had　imparted　the　valuable　humanity　in
which　he　abounded。　　He　was　never　of　the　fine　world　of　literature；　the
world　that　sniffs　and　sneers；　and　abashes　the　simpler…hearted　reader。
But　he　was　a　true　artist；　and　English　born　as　he　was；　he　divined　American
character　as　few　Americans　have　done。　　He　was　a　man　of　eminent　courage；
and　in　the　days　when　to　be　an　agnostic　was　to　be　almost　an　outcast；　he
had　the　heart　to　say　of　the　Mysteries；　that　he　did　not　know。　　He　outlived
the　condemnation　that　this　brought；　and　I　think　that　no　man　ever　came
near　him　without　in　some　measure　loving　him。　　To　me　he　was　of　a　most
winning　personality；　which　his　strong；　gentle　face　expressed；　and　a　cast
in　the　eye　which　he　could　not　bring　to　bear　directly　upon　his　vis…a…vis；
endeared。　　I　never　met　him　without　wishing　more　of　his　company；　for　he
seldom　failed　to　say　something　to　whatever　was　most　humane　and　most
modern　in　me。　　Our　last　meeting　was　at　Newburyport；　whither　he　had　long
before　removed　from　New　York；　and　where　in　the　serene　atmosphere　of　the
ancient　Puritan　town　he　found　leisure　and　inspiration　for　his　work。
He　was　not　then　engaged　upon　any　considerable　task；　and　he　had　aged　and
broken　somewhat。　　But　the　old　geniality；　the　old　warmth　glowed　in　him；
and　made　a　summer　amidst　the　storm　of　snow　that　blinded　the　wintry　air
without。　　A　new　light　had　then　lately　come　into　my　life；　by　which　I　saw
all　things　that　did　not　somehow　tell　for　human　brotherhood　dwarfish　and
ugly；　and　he　listened；　as　I　imagined；　to　what　I　had　to　say　with　the
tolerant　sympathy　of　a　man　who　has　been　a　long　time　thinking　those
things；　and　views　with　a　certain　amusement　the　zeal　of　the　fresh
discoverer。

There　was　yet　another　historian　in　Boston；　whose　acquaintance　I　made
later　than　either　Parkman's　or　Parton's；　and　whose　very　recent　death
leaves　me　with　the　grief　of　a　friend。　　No　ones　indeed；　could　meet　John
Codman　Ropes　without　wishing　to　be　his　friend；　or　without　finding　a
friend　in　him。　　He　had　his　likes　and　his　dislikes；　but　he　could　have　had
no　enmities　except　for　evil　and　meanness。　　I　never　knew　a　man　of　higher
soul；　of　sweeter　nature；　and　his　whole　life　was　a　monument　of　character。
It　cannot　wound　him　now　to　speak　of　the　cruel　deformity　which　came　upon
him　in　his　boyhood；　and　haunted　all　his　after　days　with　suffering。　　His
gentle　face　showed　the　pain　which　is　always　the　part　of　the　hunchback；
but　nothing　else　in　him　confessed　a　sense　of　his　affliction；　and　the
resolute　activity　of　his　mind　denied　it　in　every　way。　　He　was；　as　is　well
known；　a　very　able　lawyer；　in　full　practice；　while　he　was　making　his
studies　of　military　history；　and　winning　recognition　for　almost　unique
insight　and　thoroughness　in　that　direction；　though　I　believe　that　when　he
came　to　embody　the　results　in　those　extraordinary　volumes　recording　the
battles　of　our　civil　war；　he　retired　from　the　law　in　some　measure。　　He
knew　these　battles　more　accurately　than　the　generals　who　fought　them；　and
he　was　of　a　like　proficiency　in　the　European　wars　from　the　time　of
Napoleon　down　to　our　own　time。　　I　have　heard　a　story；　which　I　cannot
vouch　for；　that　when　foreknowledge　of　his　afliiction；　at　the　outbreak　of
our　civil　war；　forbade　him　to　be　a　soldier；　he　became　a　student　of
soldiership；　and　wreaked　in　that　sort　the　passion　of　his　most　gallant
spirit。　　But　whether　this　was　true　or　not；　it　is　certain　that　he　pursued
the　study　with　a　devotion　which　never　blinded　him　to　the　atrocity　of　war。
Some　wars　he　could　excuse　and　even　justify；　but　for　any　war　that　seemed
wanton　or　aggressive；　he　had　only　abhorrence。

The　last　summer　of　a　score　that　I　had　known　him；　we　sat　on　the　veranda　of
his　cottage　at　York　Harbor；　and　looked　out　over　the　moonlit　sea；　and　he
talked　of　the　high　and　true　things；　with　the　inextinguishable　zest　for
the　inquiry　which　I　always　found　in　him；　though　he　was　then　feeling　the
approaches　of　the　malady　which　was　so　soon　to　end　all　groping　in　these
shadows　for　him。　　He　must　have　faced　the　fact　with　the　same　courage　and
the　same　trust　with　which　he　faced　all　facts。　　From　the　first　I　found　him
a　deeply　religious　man；　not　only　in　the　ecclesiastical　sense；　but　in　the
more　mystical　meanings　of　the　word；　and　he　kept　his　faith　as　he　kept　his
youth　to　the　last。　　Every　one　who　knew　him；　knows　how　young　he　was　in
heart；　and　how　he　liked　to　have　those　that　were　young　in　years　about　him。
He　wished　to　have　his　house　in　Boston；　as　well　as　his　cottage　at　York；
full　of　young　men　and　young　girls；　whose　joy　of　life　he　made　his　own；　and
whose　society　he　preferred　to　his　contemporaries'。　　One　could　not　blame
him　for　that；　or　for　seeking　the　sun；　wherever　he　could；　but　it　would　be
a　false　notion　of　him　to　suppose　that　his　sympathies　were　solely　or
chiefly　with　the　happy。　　In　every　sort；　as　I　knew　him；　he　was　fine　and
good。　　The　word　is　not　worthy　of　him；　after　some　of　its　uses　and
associations；　but　if　it　were　unsmutched　by　these；　and　whitened　to　its
primitive　significance；　I　should　say　he　was　one　of　the　most　perfect
gentlemen　I　ever　knew。









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