IthinkthatIdidnottrytoseeCambridgethesamedaythatIsawLowell，butwiselycamebacktomyhotelinBoston，andtriedtorealizethefact。Iwentoutanotherday，withanacquaintancefromOhio；whomI
　　ranuponinthestreet。WewenttoMountAuburntogether，andIvieweditsmonumentswithareverencewhichIdaresaytheirartisticqualitydidnotmerit。ButIam，notsorryforthis，forperhapstheyarenotquitesobadassomepeoplepretend。TheGothicchapelofthecemetery，unsortedasitwas，gaveme，withitshalf—dozenstatuesstandingorsittingabout，anemotionsuchasIamafraidIcouldnotreceivenowfromtheAcropolis，WestminsterAbbey，andSantaCroceainone。Itriedhardforsomeaestheticsenseofit，andImadebelievethatIthoughtthisthingandthatthingintheplacemovedmewithitsfitnessorbeauty；butthetruthisthatIhadnotasteinanythingbutliterature，anddidnotfeeltheeffectIwouldsowillinglyhaveexperienced。
　　IdidgenuinelylovetheelmyquietofthedearoldCambridgestreets，though，andIhadarealandinstantpleasureintheyellowcolonialhouses，withtheirwhitecornersandcasementsandtheirgreenblinds，thatlurkedbehindtheshrubberyoftheavenueIpassedthroughtoMountAuburn。Themostbeautifulamongthemwasthemostinterestingforme，foritwasthehouseofLongfellow；mycompanion，whohadseenitbefore，pointeditouttomewithanairofcustom，andIwouldnotlethimseethatIvaluedthefirstsightofitasIdid。IhadhopedthatsomehowI
　　mightbesofavoredastoseeLongfellowhimself，butwhenIaskedabouthimofthosewhoknew，theysaid，"Oh，heisatNahant，"andIthoughtthatNahantmustbeagreatwayoff，andatanyrateIdidnotfeelauthorizedtogotohimthere。NeitherdidIgotoseetheauthorof’TheAmberGods’，wholivedatNewburyport，Iwastold，asifIshouldknowwhereNewburyportwas；Ididnotknow，andIhatedtoask。Besides，itdidnotseemsosimpleasithadseemedinOhio，togoandseeayoungladysimplybecauseIwasinfatuatedwithherliterature；evenastheenvoyofalltheinfatuatedyoungpeopleofColumbus，Icouldnotquitedothis；andwhenIgothome，IhadtoaccountformyfailureasbestI
　　could。AnotherfailureofminewasthesightofWhittier，whichIthenverymuchlongedtohave。Theysaid，"Oh，WhittierlivesatAmesbury，"
　　butthatputhimatanindefinitedistance，andwithouttheintroductionIneverwouldaskfor，Ifounditimpossibletosetoutinquestofhim。
　　Intheend，IsawnooneinNewEnglandwhomIwasnotpresentedtointheregularway，exceptLowell，whomIthoughtIhadarighttocalluponinmyqualityofcontributor，andfromtheacquaintanceIhadwithhimbyletter。Ineitherpraisenorblamemyselfforthis；itwasmyshynessthatwithheldmeratherthanmymerit。Thereisreallynoharminseekingthepresenceofafamousman，andIdoubtifthefamousmanresentsthewishofpeopletolookuponhimwithoutsomemeasure，greatorlittle，ofaffectation。Thereareboreseverywhere，butheislikeliertofindtheminthewontedfiguresofsocietythaninthoseyoungpeople，oroldpeople，whocometohimintheloveofwhathehasdone。IamwellawarehowfuriouslyTennysonsometimesmethisworshippers，andhowinsolentlyCarlyle，butIthinkthesefactsarelittlespecksintheirsincerity。Ourowngentlerandhonestercelebritiesdidnotforbidapproach，andIhaveknownsomeofthemcaressadorerswhoseemedhardlyworthyoftheirkindness；butthatwasbetterthantohavehurtanysensitivespiritwhohadventuredtoofar，bytherulesthatgovernuswithcommonmen。
　　IX。
　　Mybusinessrelationswerewiththehousethatsopromptlyhonoredmyletterofcredit。ThishousehadpublishedintheEastthecampaignlifeofLincolnwhichIhadlatelywritten，andIdaresaywouldhavepublishedthevolumeofpoemsIhadwrittenearlierwithmyfriendPiatt，iftherehadbeenanypublicforit；atleast，Isawlargenumbersofthebookonthecounters。ButallmyliteraryaffiliationswerewithTicknor&Fields，anditwastheOldCornerBook—StoreonWashingtonStreetthatdrewmyheartassoonasIhadreplenishedmypocketinCornhill。AfterverifyingtheeditoroftheAtlanticMonthlyIwisedtoverifyitspublishers，anditveryfitlyhappenedthatwhenIwasshownintoMr。
　　Fields’slittleroomatthebackofthestore，withitswindowlookinguponSchoolStreet，anditsscholarlykeepinginbooksandprints，hehadjustgotthemagazinesheetsofapoemofminefromtheCambridgeprinters。Hewasthenlatelyfromabroad，andhehadthezestforAmericanthingswhichaforeignsojournisapttorenewinus，thoughI
　　didnotknowthisthen，andcouldnotaccountforitinthekindnessheexpressedformypoem。HeintroducedmetoMr。Ticknor，whoIfanciedhadnotreadmypoem；butheseemedtoknowwhatitwasfromthejuniorpartner，andheaskedmewhetherIhadbeenpaidforit。IconfessedthatIhadnot，andthenhegotoutachamois—leatherbag，andtookfromitfivehalf—eaglesingoldandlaidthemonthegreenclothtopofthedesk，inmuchtheshapeandofmuchthesizeoftheGreatBear。Ihaveneversincefeltmyselfpaidsolavishlyforanyliterarywork，thoughI
　　havehadmoreforasinglepiecethanthetwenty—fivedollarsthatdazzledmeinthisconstellation。Thepublisherseemedawareofthepoeticcharacterofthetransaction；heletthepieceslieamoment，beforehegatheredthemupandputthemintomyhand，andsaid，"Ialwaysthinkitispleasanttohaveitingold。"
　　Butaterribleexperiencewiththepoemawaitedme，andquenchedforthemomentallmypleasureandpride。Itwas’ThePilot’sStory，’whichI
　　supposehashadasmuchacceptanceasanythingofmineinverse（Idonotboastofavastacceptanceforit），andIhadattemptedtotreatinitaphaseofthenationaltragedyofslavery，asIhadimagineditonaMississippisteamboat。Ayoungplanterhasgambledawaytheslave—girlwhoisthemotherofhischild，andwhenhetellsher，shebreaksoutuponhimwiththedemand：
　　"Whatwillyousaytoourboywhenhecriesforme，thereinSaintLouis？"
　　Ihadthoughtthisverywell，andnaturalandsimple，butafatalproof—readerhadnotthoughtitwellenough，orsimpleandnaturalenough，andhehadmadethelineread：
　　"Whatwillyousaytoourboywhenhecriesfor’Ma，’thereinSaintLouis？"
　　HehadevenhadtheinspirationtoquotethewordhepreferredtotheoneIhadwritten，sothattherewasnomercifulpossibilityofmistakingitforamisprint，andmybloodfrozeinmyveinsatsightofit。Mr。
　　Fieldshadgivenmethesheetstoreadwhilehelookedoversomeletters，andheeitherfeltthechillofmyhorror，orImadesomesignorsoundofdismaythatcaughthisnotice，forhelookedroundatme。Icouldonlyshowhimthepassagewithagasp。Idaresayhemighthavelikedtolaugh，foritwascruellyfunny，buthedidnot；hewasconcernedforthemagazineaswellasforme。HedeclaredthatwhenhefirstreadthelinehehadthoughtIcouldnothavewrittenitso，andheagreedwithmethatitwouldkillthepoemifitcameoutinthatshape。Heinstantlysetaboutrepairingthemischief，sofarascouldbe。Hefoundthatthewholeeditionofthatsheethadbeenprinted，andtheairblackenedroundmeagain，lighteduphereandtherewithbalefulflashesofthenewspaperwitatmycost，whichIprevisionedinmymisery；IknewwhatIshouldhavesaidofsuchathingmyself，ifithadbeenanother’s。Butthepublisheratoncedecidedthatthesheetmustbereprinted，andIwentawayweakasifintheescapefromsomedeadlyperil。Afterwardsitappearedthatthelinehadpassedthefirstproof—readerasIwroteit，butthatthefinalreaderhadenteredsosympatheticallyintotherealisticintentionofmypoemastocontributethemodificationwhichhadnearlybeenmyend。
　　X。
　　Asitfellout，IlivedwithoutfartherdifficultytothedayandhourofthedinnerLowellmadeforme；andIreallythink，lookingatmyselfimpersonally，andrememberingthesortofyoungfellowIwas，thatitwouldhavebeenagreatpityifIhadnot。Thedinnerwasattheold—fashionedBostonhouroftwo，andthetablewaslaidforfourpeopleinsomelittleupperroomatParker’s，whichIwasneverafterwardsabletomakesureof。Lowellwasalready，therewhenIcame，andhepresentedme，tomyinexpressibledelightandsurprise，toDr。Holmes，whowastherewithhim。
　　Holmeswasinthemostbrillianthourofthatwonderfulsecondyouthwhichhisfamefloweredintolongaftertheworldthoughthehadcompletedthecycleofhisliterarylife。Hehadalreadyreceivedfullrecognitionasapoetofdelicatewit，nimblehumor，airyimagination，andexquisitegrace，whentheAutocratpapersadvancedhisnameindefinitelybeyondtheboundswhichmostimmortalswouldhavefoundrangeenough。Themarvelofhisinventionwasstillfreshinthemindsofmen，andtimehadnotdulledinanymeasurethesenseofitsnovelty。
　　Hisreadersallfondlyidentifiedhimwithhiswork；andIfullyexpectedtofindmyselfintheAutocrat’spresencewhenImetDr。Holmes。Butthefascinationwasnonethelessforthatreason；andthewinningsmile，thewiseandhumorousglance，thewholegenialmannerwasasimportanttomeasifIhadforebodedsomethingaltogetherdifferent。IfoundhimphysicallyoftheNapoleonicheightwhichspirituallyovertopstheAlps，andIcouldlookintohisfacewithoutthatunpleasanteffortwhichgiantsofinferiormindsooftencostthemanoffivefeetfour。
　　Alittlewhileafter，Fieldscamein，andthenournumberandmypleasurewerecomplete。
　　Nothingelsesorichlysatisfactory，indeed，asthewholeaffaircouldhavehappenedtoalikeyouthatsuchapointinhiscareer；andwhenI
　　satdownwithDoctorHolmesandMr。Fields，onLowell’sright，Ifeltthroughandthroughthedramaticperfectionoftheevent。ThekindlyAutocratrecognizedsomesuchqualityofitintermswhichwerenotthelesspreciousandgraciousfortheirhumorousexcess。Ihavenoreasontothinkthathehadyetreadanyofmypoorverses，orhadmeotherwisethanwhollyontrustfromLowell；butheleanedovertowardshishost，andsaid，withalaughinglookatme，"Well，James，thisissomethingliketheapostolicsuccession；thisisthelayingonofhands。"Itookhissweetandcaressingironyashemeantit；butthecharmofitwenttomyheadlongbeforeanydropofwine，togetherwiththecharmofhearinghimandLowellcallingeachotherJamesandWendell，andoffindingthemstillcordiallyboystogether。
　　Iwouldgladlyhaveglimmeredbeforethosegreatlightsinthetalkthatfollowed，ifIcouldhavethoughtofanythingbrillianttosay，butI
　　couldnot，andsoIletthemshinewithoutarayofreflectedsplendorfromme。ItwassuchtalkasIhad，ofcourse，neverheardbefore，anditisnotsayingenoughtosaythatIhaveneverheardsuchtalksinceexceptfromthesetwomen。Itwasaslightandkindasitwasdeepandtrue，anditrangedoverahundredthings，withaperpetualsparkleofDoctorHolmes’swit，andtheconstantglowofLowell’sincandescentsense。FromtimetotimeFieldscameinwithoneofhisdelightfulstories（sketchesofcharactertheywere，whichhesometimesdidnotmindcaricaturing），orwithsomecriticismoftheliterarysituationfromhisstand—pointofbothloverandpublisherofbooks。IheardfamesthatI
　　hadacceptedasproofsofpowertreatedasfactitious，andwitnessedafranknessconcerningauthorship，farandnear，thatIhadnotdreamedofauthorsusing。WhenDoctorHolmesunderstoodthatIwroteforthe’SaturdayPress’，whichwasrunningamuckamongsomeBostonianimmortalitiesoftheday，heseemedwillingthatIshouldknowtheywerenotthoughtsoveryundyinginBoston，andthatIshouldnottakethenotionofaMutualAdmirationSocietytooseriously，oraccepttheNewYorkBohemianviewofBostonastrue。Forthemostpartthetalkdidnotaddressitselftome，butbecameanexchangeofthoughtsandfanciesbetweenhimselfandLowell。Theytouched，Iremember，oncertainmattersoftechnique，andthedoctorconfessedthathehadaprejudiceagainstsomewordsthathecouldnotovercome；forinstance，hesaid，nothingcouldinducehimtouse’neathforbeneath，noexigencyofversificationorstressofrhyme。Lowellcontendedthathewoulduseanywordthatcarriedhismeaning；andIthinkhedidthistothehurtofsomeofhisearlierthings。Hewasthenprobablyintherevoltagainsttoomuchliteratureinliterature，whicheveryoneisdestinedsoonerorlatertoshare；therewasacertainroughness，verylikecrudeness，whichheindulgedbeforehisthoughtandphrasemellowedtoonemusicinhislaterwork。Itacitlyagreedratherwiththedoctor，thoughIdidnotswervefrommyallegiancetoLowell，andifIhadspokenIshouldhavesidedwithhim：Iwouldhavegiventhatoranyotherproofofmydevotion。
　　Fieldscasuallymentionedthathethought"TheDandelion"wasthemostpopularlylikedofLowell’sbrieferpoems，andImadehastetosaythatI
　　thoughtsotoo，thoughIdidnotreallythinkanythingaboutit；andthenIwassorry，forIcouldseethatthepoetdidnotlikeit，quite；andI
　　feltthatIwasdulypunishedformydishonesty。
　　Hawthornewasnamedamongotherauthors，probablybyFields，whosehousehadjustpublishedhis"MarbleFaun，"andwhohadrecentlycomehomeonthesamesteamerwithhim。DoctorHolmesaskedifIhadmetHawthorneyet，andwhenIconfessedthatIhadhardlyyetevenhopedforsuchathing，hesmiledhiswinningsmile，andsaid："Ah，well!Idon’tknowthatyouwilleverfeelyouhavereallymethim。Heislikeadimroomwithalittletaperofpersonalityburningonthecornerofthemantel。"
　　TheyallspokeofHawthorne，andwiththesameaffection，butthesamesenseofsomethingmysticalandremoteinhim；andeverywordwaspricelesstome。ButthesemastersofthecraftIwas’prenticetoprobablycouldnothavesaidanythingthatIshouldnothavefoundwiseandwell，andIamsurenowIshouldhavebeentheloserifthetalkhadshunnedanyofthephasesofhumannaturewhichittouched。Itisbesttofindthatallmenareofthesamemake，andthattherearecertainuniversalthingswhichinterestthemasmuchasthesupernalthings，andamusethemevenmore。TherewasasayingofLowell’swhichhewasfondofrepeatingatthemenaceofanyformofthetranscendental，andhelikedtowarnhimselfandotherswithhishomely，"Rememberthedinner—bell。"WhatIrecallofthewholeeffectofatimesohappyformeisthatinallthatwassaid，howeverhigh，howeverfine，wewereneveroutofhearingofthedinner—bell；andperhapsthisisthebesteffectIcanleavewiththereader。ItwasthefirstdinnerservedincoursesthatIhadsatdownto，andIfeltthatthisservicegaveitaromanticimportancewhichtheolderfashionoftheWeststillwanted。
　　EvenatGovernorChase’stableinColumbustheGovernorcarved；Iknewofthedinner’alaRusse’，asitwasthencalled，onlyfrombooks；anditwasasortofliteraryflavorthatItastedinthesuccessivedishes。
　　Whenitcametotheblackcoffee，andthentothe’petitsverres’ofcognac，withlumpsofsugarsetfiretoatop，itwassomethingthatsofartranscendedmyhome—keptexperiencethatitbegantoseemaltogethervisionary。
　　NeitherFieldsnorDoctorHolmessmoked，andIhadtoconfessthatIdidnot；butLowellsmokedenoughforallthree，andthesparkofhiscigarbegantoshowinthewaninglightbeforewerosefromthetable。Thetimethatneverhad，norcaneverhave，itsfellowforme，hadtocometoanend，asalltimesmust，andwhenIshookhandswithLowellinparting，heoverwhelmedmebysayingthatifIthoughtofgoingtoConcordhewouldsendmealettertoHawthorne。IwasnottoseeLowellagainduringmystayinBoston；butDoctorHolmesaskedmetoteaforthenextevening，andFieldssaidImustcometobreakfastwithhiminthemorning。
　　XI。
　　Irecallwiththeaffectionduetohisfriendlynature，andtothekindnessafterwardstopassbetweenusformanyyears，thewholeaspectofthepublisherwhenIfirstsawhim。Hisabundanthair，andhisfull"beardasbroadasonyspade，"thatflowedfromhisthroatinHomericcurls，weretouchedwiththefirstfrost。Hehadafinecolor，andhiseyes，askeenastheywerekind，twinkledrestlesslyabovethewholesomerusset—redofhischeeks。HisportlyframewascladinthoseScotchtweedswhichhadnotyetdisplacedthetraditionalbroadclothwithusintheWest，thoughIhadsenttoNewYorkforaroughsuit，andsofeltmyselfnotquiteunworthytomeetamanfreshfromthehandsoftheLondontailor。
　　OtherwiseIstoodasmuchinaweofhimashisjovialsoulwouldletme；
　　andifImightIshouldliketosuggesttotheliteraryyouthofthisdaysomenotionoftheimportanceofhisnametotheliteraryyouthofmyday。HegaveaestheticcharactertothehouseofTicknor&Fields，buthewasbynomeansasilentpartnerontheeconomicside。Noonecanforecastthefortuneofanewbook，butheknewaswellasanypublishercanknownotonlywhetherabookwasgood，butwhetherthereaderwouldthinkso；andIsupposethathishousemadeasfewbadguesses，alongwiththeirgoodones，asanyhousethatevertriedtheuncertaintemperofthepublicwithitsventures。Inthemindsofallwholovedtheplainbrownclothandtastefulprintofitsissueshewasmoreorlessintimatelyassociatedwiththeirliterature；andthosewhowerenotmistakeninthinkingDeQuinceyoneofthedelightfulestauthorsintheworld，wereespeciallygratefultothemanwhofirsteditedhiswritingsinbookform，andproudthatthiseditionwastheeffectofAmericansympathywiththem。Atthatday，Ibelievedauthorshipthenoblestcallingintheworld，andIshouldstillbeatalosstonameanynobler。
　　ThegreatauthorsIhadmetweretomethesumofgreatness，andifI
　　couldnotranktheirpublisherwiththembyvirtueofequalachievement，Ihandsomelybrevettedhimworthyoftheirfriendship，andhonoredhiminthevisiblemeasureofit。
　　InhishousebesidetheCharles，andinthecloseneighborhoodofDoctorHolmes，IfoundanodorandanairofbookssuchasIfanciedmightbelongtothefamousliteraryhousesofLondon。Itisstillthere，thatfriendlyhomeofletteredrefinement，andthegraciousspiritwhichknewhowtowelcomeme，andmaketheleastofmyshynessandstrangeness，andthemostofthelittleelsetherewasinme，illuminesitstill，thoughmyhostofthatrapturousmomenthasmanyyearsbeenofthosewhoareonlywithusunseenandunheard。IrememberhisburlesquepretencethatmorningofaninextinguishablegriefwhenIownedthatIhadnevereatenblueberrycakebefore，andhowhekeptreturningtothepathosofthefactthatthereshouldbearegionoftheearthwhereblueberrycakewasunknown。Webreakfastedintheprettyroomwhosewindowslookoutthroughleavesandflowersupontheriver’scomingandgoingtides，andwhosewallswerecoveredwiththefacesandtheautographsofallthecontemporarypoetsandnovelists。TheFieldseshadspentsomedayswithTennysonintheirrecentEnglishsojourn，andMrs。Fieldshadmuchtotellofhim，howhelooked，howhesmoked，howhereadaloud，andhowhesaid，whenheaskedhertogowithhimtothetowerofhishouse，"ComeupandseethesadEnglishsunset!"whichhadaninstantvaluetomesuchassomerichverseofhismighthavehad。Iwasverynewtoitall，hownewIcouldnotverywellsay，butIflatteredmyselfthatIbreathedinthatatmosphereasifinthereturnfromlife—longexile。StillI
　　patrioticallybraggedoftheWestalittle，andItoldthemproudlythatinColumbusnobooksinceUncleTom’sCabinhadsoldsowellas’TheMarbleFaun’。ThismadetheeffectthatIwished，butwhetheritwastrueornot，Heavenknows；IonlyknowthatIhearditfromourleadingbookseller，andImadenoquestionofitmyself。
　　Afterbreakfast，Fieldswentawaytotheoffice，andIlingered，whileMrs。Fieldsshowedmefromshelftoshelfinthelibrary，anddazzledmewiththesightofauthors’copies，andvolumesinvaluablewiththeautographsandthepencillednotesofthemenwhosenamesweredeartomefrommyloveoftheirwork。Everywherewassomesouvenirofthelivingcelebritiesmyhostshadmet；andwhomhadtheynotmetinthatEnglishsojournindaysbeforeEnglandembitteredherselftousduringourcivilwar？NotTennysononly，butThackeray，butDickens，butCharlesReade，butCarlyle，butmanyaminorfamewasinmyearsfromconversesorecentwiththemthatitwasasifIheardtheirvoicesintheirechoedwords。
　　IdonotrememberhowlongIstayed；IrememberIwasafraidofstayingtoolong，andsoIamsureIdidnotstayaslongasIshouldhaveliked。
　　ButIhavenottheleastnotionhowIgotaway，andIamnotcertainwhereIspenttherestofadaythatbeganintheclouds，buthadtobeendedonthecommonearth。IsupposeIgaveitmostlytowanderingaboutthecity，andpartlytorecordingmyimpressionsofitforthatnewspaperwhichneverpublishedthem。ThesummerweatherinBoston，withitssunnyheatstruckthroughandthroughwiththecoolnessofthesea，anditsclearairuntaintedwithabreathofsmoke，Ihavealwaysloved，butithadthenazestunknownbefore；andIshouldhavethoughtitenoughsimplytobealiveinit。ButeverywhereIcameuponsomethingthatfedmyfaminefortheold，thequaint，thepicturesque，andhoweverthedaypasseditwasabanquet，afestival。IcanonlyrecallmybreathlessfirstsightofthePublicLibraryandoftheAthenaeumGallery：greatsightsthen，whichtheVaticanandthePittihardlyafterwardseclipsedformereemotion。InfactIdidnotseetheseeldertreasuriesofliteratureandartbetweenbreakfastingwiththeAutocrat’spublisherinthemorning，andtakingteawiththeAutocrathimselfintheevening，andthatmadeawholeworld’sdifference。
　　XII。
　　Theteaofthatsimplertimeiswhollyinconceivabletothisgeneration，whichknowsthethingonlyasamildformofafternoonreception；butI
　　supposethatin1860veryfewdinedlateinourwholepastoralrepublic。
　　Teawasthemealpeopleaskedpeopletowhentheywishedtositatlongleisureandlargeease；itcameattheendoftheday，atsixo’clock，orseven；andonewenttoitinmorningdress。Ithadanunceremonieddomesticityintheabundanceofitslightdishes，andIfancythesedidnotvarymuchfromEasttoWest，exceptthatwehadaSoutherntouchinourfriedchickenandcornbread；butattheAutocrat’steatablethecheeringcuphadaflavorunknowntomebeforethatday。HeaskedmeifIknewit，andIsaiditwasEnglishbreakfasttea；forIhaddrunkitatthepublisher’sinthemorning，andwaswillingnottoseemstrangetoit。"Ah，yes，"hesaid；"butthisistheflowerofthesouchong；itistheblossom，thepoetryoftea，"andthenhetoldmehowithadbeengivenhimbyafriend，amerchantintheChinatrade，whichusedtoflourishinBoston，andwasthepoetryofcommerce，asthisdelicatebeveragewasoftea。Thatcommerceislongpast，andIfancythattheplantceasedtobloomwhenthetrafficfellintodecay。
　　TheAutocrat’swindowshadthesameoutlookupontheCharlesasthepublisher’s，andafterteawewentupintoabackparlorofthesameorientation，andsawthesunsetdieoverthewater，andthewesteringflatsandhills。Nowhereelseintheworldhasthedayalovelierclose，andourtalktooksomethingofthemysticcoloringthattheheavensgavethosemantlingexpanses。Itwaschieflyhistalk，butIhavealwaysfoundthebesttalkersarewillingthatyoushouldtalkifyoulike，andaquicksympathyandasubtlesensemetallthatIhadtosayfromhimandfromtheunbrokencircleofkindredintelligencesabouthim。Isawhimtheninthemidstofhisfamily，andperhapsneverafterwardstobetteradvantage，orinafinermood。Wespokeofthethingsthatpeopleperhapsoncelikedtodealwithmorethantheydonow；oftheintimationsofimmortality，oftheexperiencesofmorbidyouth，andofallthosemessagesfromthetremulousnerveswhichwetakeforprophecies。Iwasnotashamed，beforehistolerantwisdom，toacknowledgetheeffectsthathadlingeredsolongwithmeinfancyandeveninconduct，fromatimeofbrokenhealthandtroubledspirit；andIremembertheexquisitetactinhimwhichrecognizedthemasthingscommontoall，howeverpeculiarineach，whichleftthemmineforwhateverobscurevanityImighthaveinthem，andyetgavemethecompanionshipofthewholeraceintheirexperience。Wespokeofforebodingsandpresentiments；weapproachedthemysticconfinesoftheworldfromwhichnotravellerhasyetreturnedwithapassport’enregle’andproperly’vise’；andheheldhislightcoursethroughthesefilmyimpalpabilitieswithacharmingsincerity，withthescientificconsciencethatrefuseseithertodenythesubstanceofthingsunseen，ortoaffirmit。Inthegatheringdusk，soweirddidmyfortuneofbeingthereandlisteningtohimseem，thatImightwellhavebeenablessedghost，foralltherealityIfeltinmyself。
　　ItriedtotellhimhowmuchIhadreadhimfrommyboyhood，andwithwhatjoyandgain；andhewaspatientofthesefutilities，andIhavenodoubtimaginedthelovethatinspiredthem，andacceptedthatinsteadofthepoorpraise。Whenthesunsetpassed，andthelampswerelighted，andweallcamebacktoourdearlittlefirm—setearth，hebegantoquestionmeaboutmynativeregionofit。FrommanyforgotteninquiriesIrecallhisaskingmewhatwasthefashionablereligioninColumbus，ortheChurchthatsociallycorrespondedtotheUnitarianChurchinBoston。
　　Hehadfirsttoclarifymyintelligenceasto—whatUnitarianismwas；wehadUniversalistsbutnotUnitarians；butwhenIunderstood，IansweredfromsuchvantageasmyownwhollyoutsideSwedenborgianismgaveme，thatIthoughtmostofthemostrespectablepeoplewithuswereofthePresbyterianChurch；somewerecertainlyEpiscopalians，butuponthewholethelargestnumberwerePresbyterians。Hefoundthatverystrangeindeed；andsaidthathedidnotbelievetherewasaPresbyterianChurchinBoston；thattheNewEnglandCalvinistswerealloftheOrthodoxChurch。HehadtoexplainOxthodoxytome，andthenIcouldconfesstooneCongregationalChurchinColumbus。
　　ProbablyIfailedtogivetheAutocratanyveryclearimageofoursocialframeintheWest，butthefaultwasaltogethermine，ifIdid。Suchlecturingtoursashehadmadehadnottakenhimamongus，asthoseofEmersonandotherNew—Englandershad，andmyreportwaspositiveratherthancomparative。Iwasfullofprideinjournalismatthatday，andI
　　daresaythatIvauntedthebrilliancyandpowerofournewspapersmorethantheymerited；Ishouldnothavebeenlikelytowrongthemotherwise。
　　ItisstrangethatinallthetalkIhadwithhimandLowell，orratherheardfromthem，Icanrecallnothingsaidofpoliticalaffairs，thoughLincolnhadthenbeennominatedbytheRepublicans，andtheCivilWarhadpracticallybegun。ButwedidnotimaginesuchathingintheNorth；werestedsecureinthebeliefthatifLincolnwereelectedtheSouthwouldeatallitsfierywords，perhapsfromthemereloveandinveteratehabitoffireeating。
　　IrentmyselfawayfromtheAutocrat’spresenceasearlyasIcould，andasmyeveninghadbeentoofullofhappinesstosleepuponatonce，IspenttherestofthenighttilltwointhemorningwanderingaboutthestreetsandintheCommonwithaHarvardSeniorwhomIhadmet。Hewasayouthoflikeliterarypassionswithmyself，butofsuchdifferenttraditionsineverypossiblewaythathisdeeplyschooledanddefinitelyregulatedlifeseemedasanomaloustomeasmyowndesultoryandself—foundwaymusthaveseemedtohim。Wepassedthetimeinthedelightoftryingtomakeourselvesknowntoeachother，andinapromisetocontinuebylettertheeffort，whichdulylapsedintosilentpatiencewiththenecessarilyinsolubleproblem。
　　XIII。
　　ImusthavelingeredinBostonfortheintroductiontoHawthornewhichLowellhadofferedme，forwhenitcame，withalittlenoteofkindnessandcounselformyselfsuchasonlyLowellhadthegiftofwriting，itwasalreadysonearSundaythatIstayedovertillMondaybeforeI
　　started。IdonotrecallwhatIdidwiththetime，exceptkeepmyselffrommakingitaburdentothepeopleIknew，andwanderingaboutthecityalone。NothingofitremainstomeexceptthefortunethatfavoredmethatSundaynightwithaviewoftheoldGranaryBurying—groundonTremontStreet。Ifoundthegatesopen，andIexploredeverypathintheplace，wreakingmyselfinsuchmeagreemotionasIcouldgetfromthetomboftheFranklinfamily，andrejoicingwiththewholesoulofmyWesternmodernityintheevidenceofaremoteantiquitywhichsomanyofthediminscriptionsafforded。IdonotthinkthatIhaveeverknownanythingpracticallyolderthanthesemonuments，thoughIhavesincesuppedsofullofclassicandmediaevalruin。IamsurethatIwasmoredeeplytouchedbytheepitaphofapoorlittlePuritanmaidenwhodiedatsixteenintheearlysixteen—thirtiesthanafterwardsbythetombofCaeciliaMetella，andthattheheartachewhichItriedtoputintoversewhenIgotbacktomyroominthehotelwasnonethelessgenuinebecauseitwouldnotlenditselftomyliterarypurpose，andremainsnothingbutpathostothisday。
　　IamnotabletosayhowIreachedthetownofLowell，whereIwentbeforegoingtoConcord，thatImighteasetheunhappyconscienceIhadaboutthosefactorieswhichIhatedsomuchtosee，andhaveitcleanforthepleasureofmeetingthefabricatorofvisionswhomIwasauthorizedtomolestinanyair—castlewhereImightfindhim。IonlyknowthatI
　　wenttoLowell，andvisitedoneofthegreatmills，whichwiththeirwhirringspools，theceaselessflightoftheirshuttles，andthebewilderingsightandsoundofalltheirmechanismhavesinceseemedtomethedeathofthejoythatoughttocomefromwork，ifnotthecaptivityofthosewhotendedthem。ButthenIthoughtitrightandwellformetobestandingby，"Withsickandscornfullooksaverse，"
　　whiletheseotherstoiled；Ididnotseethetragedyinit，andIgotmypitifulliteraryantipathyawayassoonasIcould，nowiserforthesightoftheingeniouscontrivancesIinspected，andIamsorrytosaynosadder。InthecooloftheeveningIsatatthedoorofmyhotel，andwatchedthelongfilesofthework—wornfactory—girlsstreamby，withnoconcernforthembuttoseewhichwasprettyandwhichwasplain，andwithnodreamofatruerorderthanthatwhichgavethemtenhours’workadayinthosehideousmillsandlodgedtheminthebarrackswheretheyrestedfromtheirtoil。
　　IwonderifthereisastagethatstillrunsbetweenLowellandConcord，pastmeadowwalls，andunderthecaressingboughsofway—sideelms，andthroughthebird—hauntedgloomofwoodlandroads，inthefreshnessofthesummermorning？ByablessedchanceIfoundthattherewassuchastagein1860，andItookitfrommyhotel，insteadofgoingbacktoBostonanduptoConcordasImusthavehadtodobytrain。ThejourneygavemetheintimacyoftheNewEnglandcountryasIcouldhavehaditinnootherfashion，andforthefirsttimeIsawitinallthesummersweetnesswhichIhaveoftensteepedmysoulinsince。Themeadowswerenewlymown，andtheairwasfragrantwiththegrass，stretchinginlongwinrowsamongthebrownbowlders，orcappedwithcanvasinthelittlehaycocksithadbeengatheredintothedaybefore。IwasfreshfromtheaffluentfarmsoftheWesternReserve，andthiscareofthegrasstouchedmewitharudepity，whichIalsobestowedonthemeagrefieldsofcornandwheat；butstillthelandwaslovelierthananyIhadeverseen，withitsoldfarmhouses，andbrambledgraystonewalls，itsstonyhillsides，itsstaggeringorchards，itswoodedtops，anditsthick—brackenedvalleys。
　　FromWesttoEastthedifferencewasasgreatasIafterwardsfounditfromAmericatoEurope，andmyimpressionofsomethingquaintandstrangewasnokeenerwhenIsawOldEnglandthenextyearthanwhenIsawNewEnglandnow。Ihadimaginedthelandscapebareoftrees，andIwasastonishedtofinditalmostasfullofthemasathome，thoughtheyalllookedverylittle，astheywellmighttoeyesusedtotheprimevalforestsofOhio。Theroadranthroughthemfromtimetotime，andtooktheircoolnessonitssmoothhardreaches，andthenissuedagainintheglistenoftheopenfields。
　　Imadephrasestomyselfaboutthesceneryaswedrovealong；andyes，I
　　supposeImadephrasesabouttheyounggirlwhowasoneoftheinsidepassengers，andwho，whenthecommonstrangenesshadsomewhatwornoff，begantosing，andsangmostofthewaytoConcord。Perhapsshewasnotverysage，andIamsureshewasnotofthecasteofVeredeVere，butshewasprettyenough，andshehadavoiceofabird—liketunableness，sothatIwouldnothaveheroutofthememoryofthatpleasantjourneyifIcould。Shewaslongagoanelderlywoman，ifshelives，andI
　　supposeshewouldnotnowpointoutherfellow—passengerifhestrolledintheeveningbythehousewhereshehaddismounted，uponherarrivalinConcord，andlaughandpullanothergirlawayfromthewindow，inthehighexcitementoftheprodigiousadventure。
　　XV。
　　Herfellow—passengerwasinfarotherexcitement；hewastoseeHawthorne，andinamannertomeetPriscillaandZenobia，andHesterPrynneandlittlePearl，andMiriamandHilda，andHollingsworthandCoverdale，andChillingworthandDimmesdale，andDonatelloandKenyon；
　　andhehadnoheartforanysuchpoorlittlerealityasthat，whocouldnothavebeengotintoanystorythatonecouldrespect，andmusthavebeendifficulteveninaHeinesquepoem。
　　Iwastedthatwholeeveningandthenextmorninginfonddelaying，anditwasnotuntilaftertheindifferentdinnerIgotatthetavernwhereI
　　stopped，thatIfoundcouragetogoandpresentLowell’slettertoHawthorne。Iwouldalmosthaveforegonemeetingtheweirdgeniusonlytohavekeptthatletter，foritsaidcertaininfinitelypreciousthingsofmewithsuchasweetness，suchagrace，asLowellalonecouldgivehispraise。Yearsafterwards，whenHawthornewasdead，ImetMrs。Hawthorne，andtoldherofthepangIhadinpartingwithit，andshesentitme，doublyenrichedbyHawthorne’skeeping。ButnowifIweretoseehimatallImustgiveupmyletter，andIcarrieditinmyhandtothedoorofthecottagehecalledTheWayside。Itwasneverotherwisethanaverymodestplace，butthemodestywasgreaterthenthanto—day，andtherewasalreadysomepreliminarycarpentryatoneendofthecottage，whichIsawwastoresultinanadditiontoit。Irecallpleasantfieldsacrosstheroadbeforeit；behindroseahillwoodedwithlowpines，suchasismadeinSeptimiusFeltonthesceneoftheinvoluntaryduelbetweenSeptimiusandtheyoungBritishofficer。Ihaveasenseofthewoodscomingquitedowntothehouse，butifthiswassoIdonotknowwhattodowithagrassyslopewhichseemstohavestretchedpartwayupthehill。AsI
　　approached，Ilookedforthetowerwhichtheauthorwasfabledtoclimbintoatsightofthecomingguest，andpulltheladderupafterhim；andIwonderedwhetherhewouldflybeforemeinthatsort，orimaginesomeeasiermeansofescapingme。
　　ThedoorwasopenedtomyringbyatallhandsomeboywhomIsupposetohavebeenMr。JulianHawthorne；andthenextmomentIfoundmyselfinthepresenceoftheromancer，whoenteredfromsomeroombeyond。Headvancedcarryinghisheadwithaheavyforwarddroop，andwithapaceforwhichI
　　decidedthatthewordwouldbepondering。Itwasthepaceofabulkymanoffifty，andhisheadwasthatbeautifulheadweallknowfromthemanypicturesofit。ButHawthorne’slookwasdifferentfromthatofanypictureofhimthatIhaveseen。Itwassombreandbrooding，asthelookofsuchapoetshouldhavebeen；itwasthelookofamanwhohaddealtfaithfullyandthereforesorrowfullywiththatproblemofevilwhichforeverattracted，foreverevadedHawthorne。Itwasbynomeanstroubled；itwasfullofadarkrepose。Otherswhoknewhimbetterandsawhimoftenerwerefamiliarwithotheraspects，andIrememberthatonenightatLongfellow’stable，whenoneoftheguestshappenedtospeakofthephotographofHawthornewhichhunginacorneroftheroom，Lowellsaid，afteraglanceatit，"Yes，it’sgood；butithasn’thisfine’accipitral’[pertainingtothelookofabirdofprey；hawklike。D。W。]
　　look。"
　　Inthefacethatconfrontedme，however，therewasnothingofkeenalertness；butonlyasortofquiet，patientintelligence，forwhichI
　　seektherightwordinvain。Itwasaveryregularface，withbeautifuleyes；themustache，stillentirelydark，wasdenseoverthefinemouth。
　　Hawthornewasdressedinblack，andhehadacertaineffectwhichI
　　remember，ofseemingtohaveonablackcravatwithnovisiblecollar。
　　HewassuchamanthatifIhadignorantlymethimanywhereIshouldhaveinstantlyfelthimtobeapersonage。
　　Imusthavegivenhimthelettermyself，forIhavenorecollectionofpartingwithitbefore，butIonlyrememberhisofferingmehishand，andmakingmeshylyandtentativelywelcome。Afterafewmomentsofthedemoralizationwhichfollowedhishospitableattemptsinme，heaskedifIwouldnotliketogouponhishillwithhimandsitthere，wherehesmokedintheafternoon。Heofferedmeacigar，andwhenIsaidthatI
　　didnotsmoke，helighteditforhimself，andweclimbedthehilltogether。Atthetop，wheretherewasanoutlookinthepinesovertheConcordmeadows，wefoundalog，andheinvitedmetoaplaceonitbesidehim，andatintervalsofaminuteorsohetalkedwhilehesmoked。
　　Heavenpreservedmefromthefollyoftryingtotellhimhowmuchhisbookshadbeentome，andthoughwegotonrapidlyatnotime，Ithinkwegotonbetterforthisinterposition。HeaskedmeaboutLowell，Idaresay，forItoldhimofmyjoyinmeetinghimandDoctorHolmes，andthisseemedgreatlytointeresthim。PerhapsbecausehewassolatelyfromEurope，whereourgreatmenarealwaysseenthroughthewrongendofthetelescope，heappearedsurprisedatmydevotion，andaskedmewhetherI
　　caredasmuchformeetingthemasIshouldcareformeetingthefamousEnglishauthors。IprofessedthatIcaredmuchmore，thoughwhetherthiswastrue，Inowhavemydoubts，andIthinkHawthornedoubteditatthetime。Buthesaidnothingincomment，andwentontospeakgenerallyofEuropeandAmerica。HewascuriousabouttheWest，whichbeseemedtofancymuchmorepurelyAmerican，andsaidhewouldliketoseesomepartofthecountryonwhichtheshadow（or，ifImustbeprecise，thedamnedshadow）ofEuropehadnotfallen。ItoldhimIthoughttheWestmustfinallybecharacterizedbytheGermans，whomwehadingreatnumbers，and，purelyfrommyzealforGermanpoetry，Itriedtoallegesomeproofsoftheirpresentinfluence，thoughIcouldthinkofnoneoutsideofpolitics，whichIthoughttheyaffectedwholesomely。IknewHawthornewasaDemocrat，andIfeltitwelltotouchpoliticslightly，buthehadnomoretosayaboutthefatefulelectionthenpendingthanHolmesorLowellhad。
　　Withtheabrupttransitionofhistalkthroughout，hebegansomehowtospeakofwomen，andsaidhehadneverseenawomanwhomhethoughtquitebeautiful。InthesamewayhespokeoftheNewEnglandtemperament，andsuggestedthattheapparentcoldnessinitwasalsoreal，andthatthesuppressionofemotionforgenerationswouldextinguishitatlast。ThenhequestionedmeastomyknowledgeofConcord，andwhetherIhadseenanyofthenotablepeople。IansweredthatIhadmetnoonebuthimself，asyet，butIverymuchwishedtoseeEmersonandThoreau。IdidnotthinkitneedfultosaythatIwishedtoseeThoreauquiteasmuchbecausehehadsufferedinthecauseofJohnBrownasbecausehehadwrittenthebookswhichhadtakenme；andwhenhesaidthatThoreaupridedhimselfoncomingnearertheheartofapine—treethananyotherhumanbeing，IcouldsayhonestlyenoughthatIwouldrathercomeneartheheartofaman。Thisvisiblypleasedhim，andIsawthatitdidnotdispleasehim，whenheaskedwhetherIwasnotgoingtoseehisnextneighbor，Mr。Alcott，andIconfessedthatIhadneverheardofhim。
　　Thatsurprisedaswellaspleasedhim；beremarked，withwhateverintention，thattherewasnothinglikerecognitiontomakeamanmodest；
　　andheenteredintosomeaccountofthephilosopher，whomIsupposeI
　　neednotbemuchashamedofnotknowingthen，sincehisinfluencewasoftheimmediatesortthatmakesamanimportanttohistownsmenwhileheisstillstrangetohiscountrymen。
　　Hawthornedescantedalittleuponthelandscape，andsaidcertainofthepleasantfieldsbelowusbelongedtohim；buthepreferredhishill—top，andifhecouldhavehiswaythosearablefieldsshouldbegrownuptopinestoo。Hesmokedfitfully，andslowly，andinthehourthatwespenttogether，hiswhiffswereofthedesultoryandunfinalcharacterofhiswords。Whenwewentdown，heaskedmeintohishouseagain，andwouldhavemestaytotea，forwhichwefoundthetablelaid。Buttherewasagreatdealofsilenceinitall，andattimes，inspiteofhisshadowykindness，Ifeltmyspiritssink。Aftertea，heshowedmeabookcase，wheretherewereafewbookstopplingaboutonthehalf—filledshelves，andsaid，coldly，"Thisismylibrary。"Iknewthatmenwerehisbooks，andthoughImyselfcaredforbookssomuch，Ifounditfitandfinethatheshouldcaresolittle，orseemtocaresolittle。Someofhisownromanceswereamongthevolumesontheseshelves，andwhenIputmyfingeronthe’BlithedaleRomance’andsaidthatIpreferredthattotheothers，hisfacelightedup，andhesaidthathebelievedtheGermanslikedthatbesttoo。
　　UponthewholewepartedsuchgoodfriendsthatwhenIofferedtotakeleaveheaskedmehowlongIwastobeinConcord，andnotonlybademecometoseehimagain，butsaidhewouldgivemeacardtoEmerson，ifI
　　liked。Ianswered，ofcourse，thatIshouldlikeitbeyondallthings；
　　andhewroteonthebackofhiscardsomethingwhichIfound，whenIgotaway，tobe，"Ifindthisyoungmanworthy。"Thequaintness，thelittlestiffnessofit，ifonepleasestocallitso，wasamusingtoonewhowasnotwithouthissenseofhumor，butthekindnessfilledmetothethroatwithjoy。Infact，IentirelylikedHawthorne。Hehadbeenascordialassoshyamancouldshowhimself；andIperceived，withthereposethatnothingelsecangive，theentiresincerityofhissoul。
　　Nothingcouldhavebeenfurtherfromthebehaviorofthisverygreatmanthananysortofposing，apparently，orawishtoaffectmewithasenseofhisgreatness。IsawthathewasasmuchabashedbyourencounterasIwas；hewasvisiblyshytothepointofdiscomfort，butinnoignoblesensewasheconscious，andasnearlyashecouldwithonesomuchhisyoungerhemadeanabsoluteequalitybetweenus。Mymemoryofhimiswithoutalloyoneofthefinestpleasuresofmylife：InmyheartIpaidhimthesamegladhomagethatIpaidLowellandHolmes，andhedidnothingtomakemethinkthatIhadoverpaidhim。Thisseemsperhapsverylittletosayinhispraise，buttomyminditissayingeverything，forIhaveknownbutfewgreatmen，especiallyofthoseImetinearlylife，whenIwishedtolavishmyadmirationuponthem，whomIhavenottheimpressionofhavingleftinmydebt。Then，adefectofthePuritanquality，whichIhavefoundinmanyNew—Englanders，isthat，wittinglyorunwittingly，theyproposethemselvestoyouasanexample，orifnotquitethis，thattheysurroundthemselveswithasubtleetherofpotentialdisapprobation，inwhich，atthefirstsignofunworthinessinyou，theyhelplesslysufferyoutogaspandperish；theyhavegoodhearts，andtheywouldprobablycometoyoursuccoroutofhumanity，iftheyknewhow，buttheydonotknowhow。Hawthornehadnothingofthisabouthim；hewasnomoretacitlythanhewasexplicitlydidactic。
　　IthoughthimasthoroughlyinkeepingwithhisromancesasDoctorHolmeshadseemedwithhisessaysandpoems，andImethimasIhadmettheAutocratinthesupremehourofhisfame。Hehadjustgiventheworldthelastofthoseincomparableworkswhichitwastohavefinishedfromhishand；the’MarbleFaun’hadworthilyfollowed，atasomewhatlongerintervalthanusual，the’BlithedaleRomance’，andthe’HouseofSevenGables’，andthe’ScarletLetter’，andhad，perhapscarriedhisnamehigherthanalltherest，andcertainlyfarther。Everybodywasreadingit，andmoreorlessbewailingitsindefiniteclose，butyieldinghimthatfullhonorandpraisewhichawritercanhopeforbutonceinhislife。Nobodydreamedthatthereafteronlypreciousfragments，sketchesmoreorlessfaltering，thoughallwiththedivinetouchinthem，werefurthertoenrichalegacywhichinitskindisthefinesttheracehasreceivedfromanymind。AsIhavesaid，wearealwaysfindingnewHawthornes，buttheillusionsoonwearsaway，andthenweperceivethattheywerenotHawthornesatall；thathehadsomepeculiardifferencefromthem，which，byand—by，weshallnodoubtconsentmustbehisdifferencefromallmenevermore。
　　IampainfullyawarethatIhavenotsummonedbeforethereadertheimageofthemanasithasalwaysstoodinmymemory，andIfeelasortofshameformyfailure。Hewassoaltogethersimplethatitseemsasifitwouldbeeasytodoso；butperhapsaspiritfromtheotherworldwouldbesimpletoo，andyetwouldnomorestandatparle，orconsenttobesketched，thanHawthorne。Infact，hewasalwaysmoreorlessmergingintotheshadow，whichwasinafewyearswhollytocloseoverhim；therewasnothinguncannyinhispresence，therewasnothingevenunwilling，buthehadthatapparitionalqualityofsomegreatmindswhichkeptShakespearelargelyunknowntothosewhothoughtthemselveshisintimates，andhasatlastlefthimasortofdoubt。TherewasnothingteasingorwilfullyelusiveinHawthorne’simpalpability，suchasI
　　afterwardsfeltinThoreau；ifhewasnottheretoyourtouch，itwasnofaultofhis；itwasbecauseyourtouchwasdull，andwantedtheuseofcontactwithsuchnatures。Thehandpassesthroughtheveridicalphantomwithoutasenseofitspresence，butthephantomisnonethelessveridicalforallthat。
　　XVI。
　　IkepttheeveningofthedayImetHawthornewhollyforthethoughtsofhim，orratherforthatreverberationwhichcontinuesintheyoungsensibilitiesaftersomeimportantencounter。ItmusthavebeenthenextmorningthatIwenttofindThoreau，andIamdimlyawareofmakingoneortwofailurestofindhim，ifIeverreallyfoundhimatall。
　　Heisanauthorwhohasfallenintothatabeyance，awaitingallauthors，greatorsmall，atsometimeoranother；butIthinkthatwithhim，atleastinregardtohismostimportantbook，itcanbeonlytransitory。
　　IhavenotreadthestoryofhishermitagebesideWaldenPondsincetheyear1858，butIhaveafancythatifIshouldtakeitupnow，IshouldthinkitawiserandtruerconceptionoftheworldthanIthoughtitthen。Itisnosolutionoftheproblem；menarenotgoingtoanswertheriddleofthepainfulearthbybuildingthemselvesshantiesandlivinguponbeansandwatchingant—fights；butIdonotbelieveTolstoyhimselfhasmoreclearlyshownthehollowness，thehopelessness，theunworthinessofthelifeoftheworldthanThoreaudidinthatbook。Ifitwerenewlywrittenitcouldnotfailofafarvasteracceptancethanithadthen，whentothosewhothoughtandfeltseriouslyitseemedthatifslaverycouldonlybecontrolled，allthingselsewouldcomerightofthemselveswithus。Slaveryhasnotonlybeencontrolled，butithasbeendestroyed，andyetthingshavenotbeguntocomerightwithus；butitwasintheorderofProvidencethatchattelslaveryshouldceasebeforeindustrialslavery，andtheinfinitelycruelerandstupidervanityandluxurybredofit，shouldbeattacked。Iftherewasthenanyprevisionofthestrugglenowathand，theseersavertedtheireyes，andstroveonlytocopewiththelessevil。Thoreauhimself，whohadsoclearavisionofthefalsityandfollyofsocietyaswestillhaveit，threwhimselfintothetidethatwasalready，inKansasandVirginia，reddenedwithwar；heaidedandabettedtheJohnBrownraid，Idonotrecallhowmuchorinwhatsort；andhehadsufferedinprisonforhisopinionsandactions。Itwasthisinevitableheroismofhisthat，morethanhisliteratureeven，mademewishtoseehimandreverehim；andIdonotbelievethatIshouldhavefoundthevenerationdifficult，whenatlastImethiminhisinsufficientperson，ifhehadotherwisebeenpresenttomyglowingexpectation。Hecameintotheroomaquaint，stumpfigureofaman，whoseeffectoflongtrunkandshortlimbswasheightenedbyhisfashionlesstrousersbeingletdowntoolow。Hehadanobleface，withtossedhair，adistraughteye，andafineaquilinityofprofile，whichmademethinkatonceofDonQuixoteandofCervantes；buthisnosefailedtoaddthatfoottohisstaturewhichLambsaysanoseofthatshapewillalwaysgiveaman。HetriedtoplacemegeographicallyafterhehadgivenmeachairnotquitesofaroffasOhio，thoughstillacrossthewholeroom，forhesatagainstonewall，andIagainsttheother；
　　butapparentlyhefailedtopullhimselfoutofhisreverybytheeffort，forheremainedinadreamymuse，whichallmyattemptstosaysomethingfitaboutJohnBrownandWaldenPondseemedonlytodeepenuponhim。
　　IhavenottheleastdoubtthatIwasneedlessandvaluelessaboutboth，andthatwhatIsaidcouldnotwellhavepromptedanimportantresponse；
　　butIdidmypoorbest，andIwasterriblydisappointedintheresult。
　　ThetruthisthatinthosedaysIwasahelplesslyconcreteyoungperson，andallformsoftheabstract，theair—drawn，afflictedmelikephysicaldiscomforts。IdonotrememberthatThoreauspokeofhisbooksorofhimselfatall，andwhenhebegantospeakofJohnBrown，itwasnotthewarm，palpable，loving，fearfuloldmanofmyconception，butasortofJohnBrowntype，aJohnBrownideal，aJohnBrownprinciple，whichweweresomehow（withlongpausesbetweenthevague，orphicphrases）tocherish，andtonourishourselvesupon。
　　Itwasnotmerelyadefeatofmyhopes，itwasarout，andIfeltmyselfsoscatteredoverthefieldofthoughtthatIcouldhardlybringmyforcestogetherforretreat。Imusthavemadesomeeffort，vainandfoolishenough，torematerializemyolddemigod，butwhenIcameawayitwaswiththefeelingthattherewasverylittlemoreleftofJohnBrownthantherewasofme。Hisbodywasnotmoulderinginthegrave，neitherwashissoulmarchingon；hisideal，histype，hisprinciplealoneexisted，andIdidnotknowwhattodowithit。IamnotblamingThoreau；hiswordswereaddressedtoafarotherunderstandingthanmine，anditwasmymisfortuneifIcouldnotprofitbythem。Ithink，orI
　　venturetohope，thatIcouldprofitbetterbythemnow；butinthisrecordIamtryinghonestlytoreporttheireffectwiththesortofyouthIwasthen。
　　XVII。
　　SuchasIwas，IratherwonderthatIhadthecourage，afterthisexperimentofThoreau，topresentthecardHawthornehadgivenmetoEmerson。Imusthavegonetohimatonce，however，forIcannotmakeoutanyintervaloftimebetweenmyvisittothediscipleandmyvisittothemaster。IthinkitwasEmersonhimselfwhoopenedhisdoortome，forI
　　haveavisionofthefineoldmanstandingtallonhisthreshold，withthecardinhishand，andlookingfromittomewithavagueserenity，whileIwaitedamomentonthedoor—stepbelowhim。Hemustthenhavebeenaboutsixty，butIremembernothingofageinhisaspect，thoughI
　　havecalledhimanoldman。Hishair，Iamsure，wasstillentirelydark，andhisfacehadakindofmarbleyouthfulness，chiselledtoadelicateintelligencebythehighestandnoblestthinkingthatanymanhasdone。TherewasastrangecharminEmerson’seyes，whichIfeltthenandalways，somethinglikethatIsawinLincoln’s，butshyer，butsweeterandlesssad。HissmilewastheverysweetestIhaveeverbeheld，andthecontourofthemaskandthelineoftheprofilewereinkeepingwiththisincomparablesweetnessofthemouth，atoncegraveandquaint，thoughquaintisnotquitethewordforiteither，butsubtly，notunkindlyarch，whichagainisnottheword。
　　Itwashisgreatfortunetohavebeenmostlymisunderstood，andtohavereachedthedenseintelligenceofhisfellow—menafterawholelifetimeofperfectlysimpleandlucidappeal，andhiscountenanceexpressedthepatienceandforbearanceofawisemancontenttobidehistime。ItwouldbehardtopersuadepeoplenowthatEmersononcerepresentedtothepopularmindallthatwasmosthopelesslyimpossible，andthatinacertainsorthewasanationaljoke，thetypeoftheincomprehensible，thebywordofthepoorparagrapher。Hehadperhapsdisabusedthecommunitysomewhatbypresentinghimselfhereandthereasalecturer，andtalkingfacetofacewithmenintermswhichtheycouldnotrefusetofindasclearastheywerewise；hewasmoreandmoreread，bycertainpersons，hereandthere；butwearestillsofarbehindhiminthereachofhisfar—thinkingthatitneednotbematterofwonderthattwentyyearsbeforehisdeathhewasthemostmisunderstoodmaninAmerica。
　　Yetinthattwilightwherehedweltheloomedlargeupontheimagination；
　　themindsthatcouldnotconceivehimwerestillawareofhisgreatness。
　　Imyselfhadnotreadmuchofhim，butIknewtheessayshewasprintingintheAtlantic，andIknewcertainofhispoems，thoughbynomeansmany；yetIhadthissenseofhim，thathewassomehow，beyondandabovemyken，apresenceofforceandbeautyandwisdom，uncompanionedinourliterature。Hehadlatelystoopedfromhisetherealheightstotakepartinthebattleofhumanity，andIsupposethatifthetruthweretoldhewasmoretomyyoungfervorbecausehehadsaidthatJohnBrownhadmadethegallowsgloriouslikethecross，thanbecausehehadutteredallthosetruerandwiserthingswhichwillstillahundredyearshencebeleadingthethoughtoftheworld。
　　Idonotknowinjustwhatsorthemademewelcome，butIamawareofsittingwithhiminhisstudyorlibrary，andofhispresentlyspeakingofHawthorne，whomIprobablycelebratedasIbestcould，andwhomhepraisedforhispersonalexcellence，andforhisfinequalitiesasaneighbor。"Buthislastbook，"headded，reflectively，"isameremush，"
　　andIperceivedthatthisgreatmanwasnobetterequippedtojudgeanartisticfictionthanthegroundlingswhowerethencryingoutupontheindefinitecloseoftheMarbleFaun。Apparentlyhehadreadit，astheyhad，forthestory，butitseemstomenow，ifitdidnotseemtomethen，thatasfarastheproblemofevilwasinvolved，thebookmustleaveitwhereitfoundit。Thatisforeverinsoluble，anditwasratherwiththatthanwithhismoreorlessshadowypeoplethattheromancerwasconcerned。Emersonhad，infact，adefectivesenseastospecificpiecesofliterature；hepraisedextravagantly，andinthewrongplace，especiallyamongthenewthings，andhefailedtoseetheworthofmuchthatwasfineandpreciousbesidethelineofhisfancy。
　　HebegantoaskmeabouttheWest，andaboutsomeunknownmaninMichigan；whohadbeensendinghimpoems，andwhomheseemedtothinkverypromising，thoughhehasnotapparentlykepthiswordtodogreatthings。IdidnotfindwhatEmersonhadtosayofmysectionveryaccurateorimportant，thoughitwaskindlyenough，andjustenoughastowhattheWestoughttodoinliterature。HethoughtitapitythataliteraryperiodicalwhichhadlatelybeenstartedinCincinnatishouldbeappealingtotheEastforcontributions，insteadofrelyinguponthewritersnearerhome；andhelistenedwithwhatpatiencehecouldtomymodestopinionthatwehadnotthewritersnearerhome。IneverwasofthoseWesternerswhobelievedthattheWestwaskeptoutofliteraturebythejealousyoftheEast，andItriedtoexplainwhywehadnotthementowritethatmagazinefullinOhio。HeallegedthemaninMichiganasonewhoalonecoulddomuchtofillitworthily，andagainIhadtosaythatIhadneverheardofhim。
　　Ifeltratherguiltyinmyignorance，andIhadanotionthatitdidnotcommendme，buthappilyatthismomentMr。Emersonwascalledtodinner，andheaskedmetocomewithhim。Afterdinnerwewalkedaboutinhis"pleachedgarden"alittle，andthenwecameagainintohislibrary，whereImeanttolingeronlytillIcouldfitlygetaway。HequestionedmeaboutwhatIhadseenofConcord，andwhombesidesHawthorneIhadmet，andwhenItoldhimonlyThoreau，heaskedmeifIknewthepoemsofMr。WilliamElleryChanning。Ihaveknownthemsince，andfelttheirquality，whichIhavegladlyownedagenuineandoriginalpoetry；butI
　　answeredthentrulythatIknewthemonlyfromPoe’scriticisms：cruelandspitefulthingswhichIshouldbeashamedofenjoyingasIoncedid。
　　"Whosecriticisms？"askedEmerson。
　　"Poe’s，"Isaidagain。
　　"Oh，"hecriedout，afteramoment，asifhehadreturnedfromafarsearchformymeaning，"youmeanthejingle—man!"
　　Idonotknowwhythisshouldhaveputmetosuchconfusion，butifIhadwrittenthecriticismsmyselfIdonotthinkIcouldhavebeenmoreabashed。PerhapsIfeltanedgeofreproof，ofadmonition，inacharacterizationofPoewhichtheworldwillhardlyagreewith；thoughI
　　donotagreewiththeworldabouthim，myself，initsadmiration。Atanyrate，itmadeanendofmeforthetime，andIremainedasifalreadyabsent，whileEmersonquestionedmeastowhatIhadwrittenintheAtlanticMonthly。Hehadevidentlyreadnoneofmycontributions，forhelookedatthem，intheboundvolumeofthemagazinewhichhegotdown，withtheeffectofbeingwhollystrangetothem，andthengravelyaffixedmyinitialstoeach。Hefollowedmetothedoor，stillspeakingofpoetry，andashetookakindlyenoughleaveofme，hesaidonemightverywellgiveapleasanthourtoitnowandthen。
　　Apleasanthourtopoetry!Iwasmeaningtogivealltimeandalleternitytopoetry，andIshouldbynomeanshavewishedtofindpleasureinit；Ishouldhavethoughtthataproofofinferiorqualityinthework；Ishouldhavepreferredanxiety，anguisheven，topleasure。ButifEmersonthoughtfromtheglancehegavemyversesthatIhadbetternotlavishmyselfuponthatkindofthing，unlesstherewasagreatdealmoreofmethanIcouldhavemadeapparentinourmeeting，nodoubthewasright。Iwasonlytoopainfullyawareofmyshortcoming，butIfeltthatitwasshorter—comingthanitneedhavebeen。IhadsomehownotprosperedinmyvisittoEmersonasIhadwithHawthorne，andIcameawaywonderinginwhatsortIhadgonewrong。Iwasnotaforth—puttingyouth，andIcouldnotblamemyselfforanythinginmyapproachesthatmeritedwithholding；indeed，Imadenoapproaches；butasImustneedsblamemyselfforsomething，IfelluponthefactthatinmyconfusedretreatfromEmerson’spresenceIhadfailedinacertainslightpointofceremony，andImagnifiedthisintoanoffenceofcapitalimportance。
　　Iwenthometomyhotel，andpassedtheafternooninpuremisery。IhadmomentsofwildquestionwhenIdebatedwhetheritwouldbebettertogobackandownmyerror，orwhetheritwouldbebettertowritehimanote，andtrytosetmyselfrightinthatway。ButintheendIdidneither，andIhavesincesurvivedmymortalshamesomefortyyearsormore。ButatthetimeitdidnotseempossiblethatIshouldlivethroughthedaywithit，andIthoughtthatIoughtatleasttogoandconfessittoHawthorne，andlet，himdisownthewretchwhohadsopoorlyrepaidthekindnessofhisintroductionbysuchmisbehavior。IdidindeedwalkdownbytheWayside，inthecooloftheevening，andthereIsawHawthorneforthelasttime。Hewassittingononeofthetimbersbesidehiscottage，andsmokingwithanairoffriendlycalm。Ihadgotonverywellwithhim，andIlongedtogoin，andtellhimhowillIhadgotonwithEmerson；Ibelievedthatthoughhecastmeoff，hewouldunderstandme，andwouldperhapsseesomehopeformeinanotherworld，thoughtherecouldbenoneinthis。
　　ButIhadnotthecouragetospeakoftheaffairtoanyonebutFields，towhomIunpackedmyheartwhenIgotbacktoBoston，andheaskedmeaboutmyadventuresinConcord。BythistimeIcouldseeitinahumorouslight，andIdidnotmuchmindhislyingbackinhischairandlaughingandlaughing，tillIthoughthewouldrolloutofit。Heperfectlyconceivedthesituation，andgotanamusementfromitthatI
　　couldgetonlythroughsympathywithhim。ButIthoughtitafavorablemomenttoproposemyselfastheassistanteditoroftheAtlanticMonthly，whichIhadthebeliefIcouldverywellbecome，withadvantagetomyselfifnottothemagazine。Heseemedtothinksotoo；hesaidthatiftheplacehadnotjustbeenfilled，Ishouldcertainlyhavehadit；anditwastohisrecollectionofthispromptambitionofminethatIsupposeImayhaveowedmysuccessiontoalikevacancysomefouryearslater。