literary boston as i knew it-第1章

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Literary　Boston　As　I　Knew　It

by　William　Dean　Howells






Among　my　fellow…passengers　on　the　train　from　New　York　to　Boston；　when　I
went　to　begin　my　work　there　in　1866；　as　the　assistant　editor　of　the
Atlantic　Monthly；　was　the　late　Samuel　Bowles；　of　the　Springfield
Republican；　who　created　in　a　subordinate　city　a　journal　of　metropolitan
importance。　　I　had　met　him　in　Venice　several　years　earlier；　when　he　was
suffering　from　the　cruel　insomnia　which　had　followed　his　overwork　on　that
newspaper；　and　when　he　told　me　that　he　was　sleeping　scarcely　more　than
one　hour　out　of　the　twenty…four。　　His　worn　face　attested　the　misery　which
this　must　have　been；　and　which　lasted　in　some　measure　while　he　lived；
though　I　believe　that　rest　and　travel　relieved　him　in　his　later　years。
He　was　always　a　man　of　cordial　friendliness；　and　he　now　expressed　a　most
gratifying　interest　when　I　told　him　what　I　was　going　to　do　in　Boston。
He　gave　himself　the　pleasure　of　descanting　upon　the　dramatic　quality　of
the　fact　that　a　young　newspaper　man　from　Ohio　was　about　to　share　in　the
destinies　of　the　great　literary　periodical　of　New　England。




I。

I　do　not　think　that　such　a　fact　would　now　move　the　fancy　of　the　liveliest
newspaper　man；　so　much　has　the　West　since　returned　upon　the　East　in　a
refluent　wave　of　authorship。　　But　then　the　West　was　almost　an　unknown
quality　in　our　literary　problem；　and　in　fact　there　was　scarcely　any
literature　outside　of　New　England。　　Even　this　was　of　New　England　origin；
for　it　was　almost　wholly　the　work　of　New　England　men　and　women　in　the
〃splendid　exile〃　of　New　York。　　The　Atlantic　Monthly；　which　was
distinctively　literary；　was　distinctively　a　New　England　magazine；　though
from　the　first　it　had　been　characterized　by　what　was　more　national；　what
was　more　universal；　in　the　New　England　temperament。　　Its　chief
contributors　for　nearly　twenty　years　were　Longfellow；　Lowell；　Holmes；
Whittier；　Emerson；　Doctor　Hale；　Colonel　Higginson；　Mrs。　Stowe；　Whipple；
Rose　Terry　Cooke；　Mrs。　Julia　Ward　Howe；　Mrs。　Prescott　Spofford；　Mrs。
Phelps　Ward；　and　other　New　England　writers　who　still　lived　in　New
England；　and　largely　in　the　region　of　Boston。　　Occasionally　there　came　a
poem　from　Bryant；　at　New　York；　from　Mr。　Stedman；　from　Mr。　Stoddard　and
Mrs。　Stoddard；　from　Mr。　Aldrich；　and　from　Bayard　Taylor。　　But　all　these；
except　the　last；　were　not　only　of　New　England　race；　but　of　New　England
birth。　　I　think　there　was　no　contributor　from　the　South　but　Mr。　M。　D。
Conway；　and　as　yet　the　West　scarcely　counted；　though　four　young　poets
from　Ohio；　who　were　not　immediately　or　remotely　of　Puritan　origin；　had
appeared　in　early　numbers；　Alice　Cary；　living　with　her　sister　in　New
York；　had　written　now　and　then　from　the　beginning。　　Mr。　John　Hay　solely
represented　Illinois　by　a　single　paper；　and　he　was　of　Rhode　Island　stock。
It　was　after　my　settlement　at　Boston　that　Mark　Twain；　of　Missouri；　became
a　figure　of　world…wide　fame　at　Hartford；　and　longer　after；　that　Mr。　Bret
Harte　made　that　progress　Eastward　from　California　which　was　telegraphed
almost　from　hour　to　hour；　as　if　it　were　the　progress　of　a　prince。
Miss　Constance　F。　　Woolson　had　not　yet　begun　to　write。　　Mr。　James
Whitcomb　Riley；　Mr。　Maurice　Thompson；　Miss　Edith　Thomas；　Octave　Thanet；
Mr。　Charles　Warren　Stoddard；　Mr。　H。　B。　Fuller；　Mrs。　Catherwood；
Mr。　Hamlin　Garland；　all　whom　I　name　at　random　among　other　Western
writers；　were　then　as　unknown　as　Mr。　Cable；　Miss　Murfree；　Mrs。　Rives
Chanler；　Miss　Grace　King；　Mr。　Joel　Chandler　Harris；　Mr。　Thomas　Nelson
Page；　in　the　South；　which　they　by　no　means　fully　represent。

The　editors　of　the　Atlantic　had　been　eager　from　the　beginning　to　discover
any　outlying　literature；　but；　as　I　have　said；　there　was　in　those　days
very　little　good　writing　done　beyond　the　borders　of　New　England。　　If　the
case　is　now　different；　and　the　best　known　among　living　American　writers
are　no　longer　New…Englanders；　still　I　do　not　think　the　South　and　West
have　yet　trimmed　the　balance；　and　though　perhaps　the　news　writers　now
more　commonly　appear　in　those　quarters；　I　should　not　be　so　very　sure　that
they　are　not　still　characterized　by　New　England　ideals　and　examples。
On　the　other　hand；　I　am　very　sure　that　in　my　early　day　we　were
characterized　by　them；　and　wished　to　be　so；　we　even　felt　that　we　failed
in　so　far　as　we　expressed　something　native　quite　in　our　own　way。
The　literary　theories　we　accepted　were　New　England　theories；
the　criticism　we　valued　was　New　England　criticism；　or；　more　strictly
speaking；　Boston　theories；　Boston　criticism。

Of　those　more　constant　contributors　to　the　Atlantic　whom　I　have
mentioned；　it　is　of　course　known　that　Longfellow　and　Lowell　lived　in
Cambridge；　Emerson　at　Concord；　and　Whittier　at　Amesbury。　　Colonel
Higginson　was　still　and　for　many　years　afterwards　at　Newport；　Mrs。　Stowe
was　then　at　Andover；　Miss　Prescott　of　Newburyport　had　become　Mrs。
Spofford；　and　was　presently　in　Boston；　where　her　husband　was　a　member　of
the　General　Court；　Mrs。　Phelps　Ward；　as　Miss　Elizabeth　Stuart　Phelps；
dwelt　in　her　father's　house　at　Andover。　　The　chief　of　the　Bostonians　were
Mrs。　Julia　Ward　Howe；　Doctor　Holmes；　and　Doctor　Hale。　　Yet　Boston　stood
for　the　whole　Massachusetts　group；　and　Massachusetts；　in　the　literary
impulse；　meant　New　England。　　I　suppose　we　must　all　allow；　whether　we　like
to　do　so　or　not；　that　the　impulse　seems　now　to　have　pretty　well　spent
itself。　　Certainly　the　city　of　Boston　has　distinctly　waned　in　literature；
though　it　has　waxed　in　wealth　and　population。　　I　do　not　think　there　are
in　Boston　to…day　even　so　many　talents　with　a　literary　coloring　in　law；
science；　theology；　and　journalism　as　there　were　formerly；　though　I　have
no　belief　that　the　Boston　talents　are　fewer　or　feebler　than　before。
I　arrived　in　Boston；　however；　when　all　talents　had　more　or　less　a
literary　coloring；　and　when　the　greatest　talents　were　literary。　　These
expressed　with　ripened　fulness　a　civilization　conceived　in　faith　and
brought　forth　in　good　works；　but　that　moment　of　maturity　was　the
beginning　of　a　decadence　which　could　only　show　itself　much　later。　　New
England　has　ceased　to　be　a　nation　in　itself；　and　it　will　perhaps　never
again　have　anything　like　a　national　literature；　but　that　was　something
like　a　national　literature；　and　it　will　probably　be　centuries　yet　before
the　life　of　the　whole　country；　the　American　life　as　distinguished　from
the　New　England　life；　shall　have　anything　so　like　a　national　literature。
It　will　be　long　before　our　larger　life　interprets　itself　in　such
imagination　as　Hawthorne's；　such　wisdom　as　Emerson's；　such　poetry　as
Longfellow's；　such　prophecy　as　Whittier's；　such　wit　and　grace　as
Holmes's；　such　humor　and　humanity　as　Lowell's。

The　literature　of　those　great　men　was；　if　I　may　suffer　myself　the　figure；
the　Socinian　graft　of　a　Calvinist　stock。　　Their　faith；　in　its　varied
shades；　was　Unitarian；　but　their　art　was　Puritan。　　So　far　as　it　was
imperfectand　great　and　beautiful　as　it　was；　I　think　it　had　its
imperfectionsit　was　marred　by　the　intense　ethicism　that　pervaded　the
New　England　mind　for　two　hundred　years；　and　that　still　characterizes　it。
They　or　their　fathers　had　broken　away　from　orthodoxy　in　the　great　schism
at　the　beginning　of　the　century；　but；　as　if　their　heterodoxy　were
conscience…stricken；　they　still　helplessly　pointed　the　moral　in　all　they
did；　some　pointed　it　more　directly；　some　less　directly；　but　they　all
pointed　it。　　I　should　be　far　from　blaming　them　for　their　ethical
intention；　though　I　think　they　felt　their　vocation　as　prophets　too　much
for　their　good　as　poets。　　Sometimes　they　sacrificed　the　song　to　the
sermon；　though　not　always；　nor　nearly　always。　　It　was　in　poetry　and　in
romance　that　they　excelled；　in　the　novel；　so　far　as　they　attempted　it；
they　failed。　　I　say　this　with　the　names　of　all　the　Bostonian　group；　and
those　they　influenced；　in　mind；　and　with　a　full　sense　of　their　greatness。
It　may　be　ungracious　to　say　that　they　have　left　no　heirs　to　their
peculiar　greatness；　but　it　would　be　foolish　to　say　that　they　left　an
estate　where　they　had　none　to　bequeath。　　One　cannot　take　account　of　such
a　fantasy　as　Judd's　Margaret。　　The　only　New…Englander　who　has　attempted
the　novel　on　a　scale　proportioned　to　the　work　of　the　New…Englanders　in
philosophy；　in　poetry；　in　romance；　is　Mr。　De　Forest；　who　is　of　New　Haven；
and　not　of　Boston。　　I　do　not　forget　the　fictions　of　Doctor　Holmes；　or　the
vivid　inventions　of　Doctor　Hale；　but　I　do　not　call　them　novels；　and　I　do
not　forget　the　exquisitely　realistic　art　of　Miss　Jewett　or　Miss　Wilkins；
which　is　free　from　the　ethicism　of　the　great　New　England　group；　but　which
has　hardly　the　novelists's　scope。　　New　England；　in　Hawthorne's　work；
achieved　supremacy　in　romance；　but　the　romance　is　always　an　allegory；
and　the　novel　is　a　picture　in　which　the　truth　to　life　is　suffered　to　do
its　unsermonized　office　for　conduct；　and　New　England　yet　lacks　her
novelist；　because　it　was　her　instinct　and　her　conscience　in　fiction　to　be
true　to　an　ideal　of　life　rather　than　to　life　itself。

Even　when　we　come　to　the　exception　that　proves　the　rule；　even　to　such　a
signal　exception　as　'Uncle　Tom's　Cabin'；　I　think　that　what　I　say　holds
true。　　That　is　almost　the　greatest　work　of　imagination　that　we　have
produced　in　prose；　and　it　is　the　work　of　a　New　England　woman；　writing
from　all　the　inspirations　and　traditions　of　New　England。　　It　is　like
begging　the　question　to　say　that　I　do　not　call　it　a　novel；　however；　but
really；　is　it　a　novel；　in　the　sense　that　'War　and　Peace'　is　a　novel；　or
'Madame　Flaubert'；　or　'L'Assommoir'；　or　'Phineas　Finn'；　or　'Dona
Perfecta'；　or　'Esther　Waters'；　or　'Marta　y　Maria'；　or　'The　Return　of　the
Native'；　or　'Virgin　Soil'；　or　'David　Grieve'？　　In　a　certain　way　it　is
greater　than　any　of　these　except　the　first；　but　its　chief　virtue；　or　its
prime　virtue；　is　in　its　address　to　the　conscience；　and　not　its　address　to
the　taste；　to　the　ethical　sense；　not　the　aesthetical　sense。

This　does　not　quite　say　the　thing；　but　it　suggests　it；　and　I　should　be
sorry　if　it　conveyed　to　any　reader　a　sense　of　slight；　for　I　believe　no
one　has　felt　more　deeply　than　myself　the　value　of　New　England　in
literature。　　The　comparison　of　the　literary　situation　at　Boston　to　the
literary　situation　at　Edinburgh　in　the　times　of　the　reviewers　has　never
seemed　to　me　accurate　or　adequate；　and　it　holds　chiefly　in　the　fact　that
both　seem　to　be　of　the　past。　　Certainly　New　York　is　yet　no　London　in
literature；　and　I　think　Boston　was　once　vastly　more　than　Edinburgh　ever
was；　at　least　in　quality。　　The　Scotch　literature　of　the　palmy　days　was
not　wholly　Scotch；　and　even　when　it　was　rooted　in　Scotch　soil　it　flowered
in　the　air　of　an　alien　speech。　　But　the　New　England　literature　of　the
great　day　was　the　blossom　of　a　New　England　root；　and　the　language　which
the　Bostonians　wrote　was　the　native　English　of　scholars　fitly　the　heirs
of　those　who　had　brought　the　learning　of　the　universities　to
Massachusetts　Bay　two　hundred　years　before；　and　was　of　as　pure　a　lineage
as　the　English　of　the　mother…country。




III。

The　literary　situation　which　confronted　me　when　I　came　to　Boston　was；
then；　as　native　as　could　well　be；　and　whatever　value　I　may　be　able　to
give　a　personal　study　of　it　will　be　from