first visit to new england-第15部分

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me　against　the　undertow。　　In　this　rite　I　had　the　company　of　a　young　New…
Yorker；　whom　I　had　met　on　the　boat　coming　down；　and　who　was　of　the　light；
hopeful；　adventurous　business　type　which　seems　peculiar　to　the　city；　and
which　has　always　attracted　me。　　He　told　me　much　about　his　life；　and　how
he　lived；　and　what　it　cost　him　to　live。　　He　had　a　large　room　at　a
fashionable　boardinghouse；　and　he　paid　fourteen　dollars　a　week。
In　Columbus　I　had　such　a　room　at　such　a　house；　and　paid　three　and　a　half；
and　I　thought　it　a　good　deal。　　But　those　were　the　days　before　the　war；
when　America　was　the　cheapest　country　in　the　world；　and　the　West　was
incredibly　inexpensive。

After　a　day　of　lonely　splendor　at　this　scene　of　fashion　and　gaiety；
I　went　back　to　New　York；　and　took　the　boat　for　Albany　on　my　way　home。
I　noted　that　I　had　no　longer　the　vivid　interest　in　nature　and　human
nature　which　I　had　felt　in　setting　out　upon　my　travels；　and　I　said　to
myself　that　this　was　from　having　a　mind　so　crowded　with　experiences　and
impressions　that　it　could　receive　no　more；　and　I　really　suppose　that　if
the　happiest　phrase　had　offered　itself　to　me　at　some　moments；　I　should
scarcely　have　looked　about　me　for　a　landscape　or　a　figure　to　fit　it　to。
I　was　very　glad　to　get　back　to　my　dear　little　city　in　the　West　（I　found
it　seething　in　an　August　sun　that　was　hot　enough　to　have　calcined　the
limestone　State　House）；　and　to　all　the　friends　I　was　so　fond　of。




IV。

I　did　what　I　could　to　prove　myself　unworthy　of　them　by　refusing　their
invitations；　and　giving　myself　wholly　to　literature；　during　the　early
part　of　the　winter　that　followed；　and　I　did　not　realize　my　error　till　the
invitations　ceased　to　come；　and　I　found　myself　in　an　unbroken
intellectual　solitude。　　The　worst　of　it　was　that　an　ungrateful　Muse　did
little　in　return　for　the　sacrifices　I　made　her；　and　the　things　I　now
wrote　were　not　liked　by　the　editors　I　sent　them　to。　　The　editorial　taste
is　not　always　the　test　of　merit；　but　it　is　the　only　one　we　have；　and　I　am
not　saying　the　editors　were　wrong　in　my　case。　　There　were　then　such　a
very　few　places　where　you　could　market　your　work：　the　Atlantic　in　Boston
and　Harper's　in　New　York　were　the　magazines　that　paid；　though　the
Independent　newspaper　bought　literary　material；　the　Saturday　Press
printed　it　without　buying；　and　so　did　the　old　Knickerbocker　Magazine；
though　there　was　pecuniary　good…will　in　both　these　cases。　　I　toiled　much
that　winter　over　a　story　I　had　long　been　writing；　and　at　last　sent　it　to
the　Atlantic；　which　had　published　five　poems　for　me　the　year　before。
After　some　weeks；　or　it　may　have　been　months；　I　got　it　back　with　a　note
saying　that　the　editors　had　the　less　regret　in　returning　it　because　they
saw　that　in　the　May　number　of　the　Knickerbocker　the　first　chapter　of　the
story　had　appeared。　　Then　I　remembered　that；　years　before；　I　had　sent
this　chapter　to　that　magazine；　as　a　sketch　to　be　printed　by　itself；　and
afterwards　had　continued　the　story　from　it。　　I　had　never　heard　of　its
acceptance；　and　supposed　of　course　that　it　was　rejected；　but　on　my　second
visit　to　New　York　I　called　at　the　Knickerbocker　office；　and　a　new　editor；
of　those　that　the　magazine　was　always　having　in　the　days　of　its　failing
fortunes；　told　me　that　he　had　found　my　sketch　in　rummaging　about　in　a
barrel　of　his　predecessors　　manuscripts；　and　had　liked　it；　and　printed
it。　　He　said　that　there　were　fifteen　dollars　coming　to　me　for　that
sketch；　and　might　he　send　the　money　to　me？　　I　said　that　he　might；　though
I　do　not　see；　to　this　day；　why　he　did　not　give　it　me　on　the　spot；　and　he
made　a　very　small　minute　in　a　very　large　sheet　of　paper　（really　like　Dick
Swiveller）；　and　promised　I　should　have　it　that　night；　but　I　sailed　the
next　day　for　Liverpool　without　it。　　I　sailed　without　the　money　for　some
verses　that　Vanity　Fair　bought　of　me；　but　I　hardly　expected　that；　for　the
editor；　who　was　then　Artemus　Ward；　had　frankly　told　me　in　taking　my
address　that　ducats　were　few　at　that　moment　with　Vanity　Fair。
I　was　then　on　my　way　to　be　consul　at　Venice；　where　I　spent　the　next　four
years　in　a　vigilance　for　Confederate　privateers　which　none　of　them　ever
surprised。　　I　had　asked　for　the　consulate　at　Munich；　where　I　hoped　to
steep　myself　yet　longer　in　German　poetry；　but　when　my　appointment　came；
I　found　it　was　for　Rome。　　I　was　very　glad　to　get　Rome　even；　but　the
income　of　the　office　was　in　fees；　and　I　thought　I　had　better　go　on　to
Washington　and　find　out　how　much　the　fees　amounted　to。　　People　in
Columbus　who　had　been　abroad　said　that　on　five　hundred　dollars　you　could
live　in　Rome　like　a　prince；　but　I　doubted　this；　and　when　I　learned　at　the
State　Department　that　the　fees　of　the　Roman　consulate　came　to　only　three
hundred；　I　perceived　that　I　could　not　live　better　than　a　baron；　probably；
and　I　despaired。　　The　kindly　chief　of　the　consular　bureau　said　that　the
President's　secretaries；　Mr。　John　Nicolay　and　Mr。　John　Hay；　were
interested　in　my　appointment；　and　he　advised　my　going　over　to　the　White
House　and　seeing　them。　　I　lost　no　time　in　doing　that；　and　I　learned　that
as　young　Western　men　they　were　interested　in　me　because　I　was　a　young
Western　man　who　had　done　something　in　literature；　and　they　were　willing
to　help　me　for　that　reason；　and　for　no　other　that　I　ever　knew。　　They
proposed　my　going　to　Venice；　the　salary　was　then　seven　hundred　and　fifty；
but　they　thought　they　could　get　it　put　up　to　a　thousand。　　In　the　end　they
got　it　put　up　to　fifteen　hundred；　and　so　I　went　to　Venice；　where　if　I　did
not　live　like　a　prince　on　that　income；　I　lived　a　good　deal　more　like　a
prince　than　I　could　have　done　at　Rome　on　a　fifth　of　it。

If　the　appointment　was　not　present　fortune；　it　was　the　beginning　of　the
best　luck　I　have　had　in　the　world；　and　I　am　glad　to　owe　it　all　to　those
friends　of　my　verse；　who　could　have　been　no　otherwise　friends　of　me。
They　were　then　beginning　very　early　careers　of　distinction　which　have　not
been　wholly　divided。　　Mr。　Nicolay　could　have　been　about　twenty…five；　and
Mr。　Hay　nineteen　or　twenty。　　No　one　dreamed　as　yet　of　the　opportunity
opening　to　them　in　being　so　constantly　near　the　man　whose　life　they　have
written；　and　with　whose　fame　they　have　imperishably　interwrought　their
names。　　I　remember　the　sobered　dignity　of　the　one；　and　the　humorous
gaiety　of　the　other；　and　how　we　had　some　young　men's　joking　and　laughing
together；　in　the　anteroom　where　they　received　me；　with　the　great　soul
entering　upon　its　travail　beyond　the　closed　door。　　They　asked　me　if　I　had
ever　seen　the　President；　and　I　said　that　I　had　seen　him　at　Columbus；　the
year　before；　but　I　could　not　say　how　much　I　should　like　to　see　him　again；
and　thank　him　for　the　favor　which　I　had　no　claim　to　at　his　hands；　except
such　as　the　slight　campaign　biography　I　had　written　could　be　thought　to
have　given　me。　　That　day　or　another；　as　I　left　my　friends；　I　met　him　in
the　corridor　without；　and　he　looked　at　the　space　I　was　part　of　with　his
ineffably　melancholy　eyes；　without　knowing　that　I　was　the
indistinguishable　person　in　whose　〃integrity　and　abilities　he　had　reposed
such　special　confidence〃　as　to　have　appointed　him　consul　for　Venice　and
the　ports　of　the　Lombardo…Venetian　Kingdom；　though　he　might　have
recognized　the　terms　of　my　commission　if　I　had　reminded　him　of　them。
I　faltered　a　moment　in　my　longing　to　address　him；　and　then　I　decided　that
every　one　who　forebore　to　speak　needlessly　to　him；　or　to　shake　his　hand；
did　him　a　kindness；　and　I　wish　I　could　be　as　sure　of　the　wisdom　of　all　my
past　behavior　as　I　am　of　that　piece　of　it。　　He　walked　up　to　the
watercooler　that　stood　in　the　corner；　and　drew　himself　a　full　goblet　from
it；　which　he　poured　down　his　throat　with　a　backward　tilt　of　his　head；　and
then　went　wearily　within　doors。　　The　whole　affair；　so　simple；　has　always
remained　one　of　a　certain　pathos　in　my　memory；　and　I　would　rather　have
seen　Lincoln　in　that　unconscious　moment　than　on　some　statelier　occasion。




V。

I　went　home　to　Ohio；　and　sent　on　the　bond　I　was　to　file　in　the　Treasury
Department；　but　it　was　mislaid　there；　and　to　prevent　another　chance　of
that　kind　I　carried　on　the　duplicate　myself。　　It　was　on　my　second　visit
that　I　met　the　generous　young　Irishman　William　D。　O'Connor；　at　the　house
of　my　friend　Piatt；　and　heard　his　ardent　talk。　　He　was　one　of　the
promising　men　of　that　day；　and　he　had　written　an　anti…slavery　novel　in
the　heroic　mood　of　Victor　Hugo；　which　greatly　took　my　fancy；　and　I
believe　he　wrote　poems　too。　　He　had　not　yet　risen　to　be　the　chief　of　Walt
Whitman's　champions　outside　of　the　Saturday　Press；　but　he　had　already
espoused　the　theory　of　Bacon's　authorship　of　Shakespeare；　then　newly
exploited　by　the　poor　lady　of　Bacon's　name；　who　died　constant　to　it　in　an
insane　asylum。　　He　used　to　speak　of　the　reputed　dramatist　as　〃the　fat
peasant　of　Stratford；〃　and　he　was　otherwise　picturesque　of　speech　in　a
measure　that　consoled；　if　it　did　not　convince。　　The　great　war　was　then
full　upon　us；　and　when　in　the　silences　of　our　literary　talk　its　awful
breath　was　heard；　and　its　shadow　fell　upon　the　hearth　where　we　gathered
round　the　first　fires　of　autumn；　O'Connor　would　lift　his　beautiful　head
with　a　fine　effect　of　prophecy；　and　say；　〃Friends；　I　feel　a　sense　of
victory　in　the　air。〃　　He　was　not　wrong；　only　the　victory　was　for　the
other　aide。

Who　beside　O'Connor　shared　in　these　saddened　symposiums　I　cannot　tell
now；　but　probably　other　young　journalists　and　office…holders；　intending
litterateurs；　since　more　or　less　extinct。　　I　make　certain　only　of　the
young　Boston　publisher　who　issued　a　very　handsome　edition　of　'Leaves　of
Grass'；　and　then　failed　promptly　if　not　consequently。　　But　I　had　already
met；　in　my　first　sojourn　at　the　capital；　a　young　journalist　who　had　given
hostages　to　poetry；　and　whom　I　was　very　glad　to　see　and　proud　to　know。
Mr。　Stedman　and　I　were　talking　over　that　meeting　the　other　day；　and　I　can
be　surer　than　I　might　have　been　without　his　memory；　that　I　found　him　at　a
friend's　house；　where　he　was　nursing　himself　for　some　slight　sickness；
and　that　I　sat　by　his　bed　while　our　souls　launched　together　into　the
joyful　realms　of　hope　and　praise。　　In　him　I　found　the　quality　of　Boston；
the　honor　and　passion　of　literature；　and　not　a　mere　p