cambridge neighbors-第8部分

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their　belief　had　long　ceased　to　be　so。　　They　had　weights　and　measure；
stamped　in　an　earlier　time；　a　time　surer　of　itself　than　ours；　by　which
they　rated　the　merit　of　all　comers；　and　rejected　such　as　did　not　bear　the
test。　　These　standards　were　their　own；　and　they　were　satisfied　with　them；
most　Americans　have　no　standards　of　their　own；　but　these　are　not
satisfied　even　with　other　people's；　and　so　our　society　is　in　a　state　of
tolerant　and　tremulous　misgiving。

Family　counted　in　Cambridge；　without　doubt；　as　it　counts　in　New　England
everywhere；　but　family　alone　did　not　mean　position；　and　the　want　of
family　did　not　mean　the　want　of　it。　　Money　still　less　than　family
commanded；　one　could　be　openly　poor　in　Cambridge　without　open　shame；　or
shame　at　all；　for　no　one　was　very　rich　there；　and　no　one　was　proud　of　his
riches。

I　do　not　wonder　that　Turguenieff　thought　the　conditions　ideal；　as　Boyesen
portrayed　them　to　him；　and　I　look　back　at　my　own　life　there　with　wonder
at　my　good　fortune。　　I　was　sensible；　and　I　still　am　sensible　this　had　its
alloys。　　I　was　young　and　unknown　and　was　making　my　way；　and　I　had　to
suffer　some　of　the　penalties　of　these　disadvantages；　but　I　do　not　believe
that　anywhere　else　in　this　ill…contrived　economy；　where　it　is　vainly
imagined　that　the　material　struggle　forms　a　high　incentive　and
inspiration；　would　my　penalties　have　been　so　light。　　On　the　other　hand；
the　good　that　was　done　me　I　could　never　repay　if　I　lived　all　over　again
for　others　the　life　that　I　have　so　long　lived　for　myself。　　At　times；　when
I　had　experienced　from　those　elect　spirits　with　whom　I　was　associated；
some　act　of　friendship；　as　signal　as　it　was　delicate；　I　used　to　ask
myself；　how　I　could　ever　do　anything　unhandsome　or　ungenerous　towards　any
one　again；　and　I　had　a　bad　conscience　the　next　time　I　did　it。

The　air　of　the　Cambridge　that　I　knew　was　sufficiently　cool　to　be　bracing；
but　what　was　of　good　import　in　me　flourished　in　it。　　The　life　of　the
place　had　its　lateral　limitations；　sometimes　its　lights　failed　to　detect
excellent　things　that　lay　beyond　it；　but　upward　it　opened　illimitably。
I　speak　of　it　frankly　because　that　life　as　I　witnessed　it　is　now　almost
wholly　of　the　past。　　Cambridge　is　still　the　home　of　much　that　is　good　and
fine　in　our　literature：　one　realizes　this　if　one　names　Colonel　Thomas
Wentworth　Higginson；　Mr。　John　Fiske；　Mr。　William　James；　Mr。　Horace　E。
Scudder；　not　to　name　any　others；　but　the　first　had　not　yet　come　back　to
live　in　his　birthplace　at　the　time　I　have　been　writing　of；　and　the　rest
had　not　yet　their　actual　prominence。　　One；　in　deed　among　so　many　absent；
is　still　present　there；　whom　from　time　to　time　I　have　hitherto　named
without　offering　him　the　recognition　which　I　should　have　known　an
infringement　of　his　preferences。　　But　the　literary　Cambridge　of　thirty
years　ago　could　not　be　clearly　imagined　or　justly　estimated　without
taking　into　account　the　creative　sympathy　of　a　man　whose　contributions　to
our　literature　only　partially　represent　what　he　has　constantly　done　for
the　humanities。　　I　am　sure　that；　after　the　easy　heroes　of　the　day　are
long　forgot；　and　the　noisy　fames　of　the　strenuous　life　shall　dwindle　to
their　essential　insignificance　before　those　of　the　gentle　life；　we　shall
all　see　in　Charles　Eliot　Norton　the　eminent　scholar　who　left　the　quiet　of
his　books　to　become　our　chief　citizen　at　the　moment　when　he　warned　his
countrymen　of　the　ignominy　and　disaster　of　doing　wrong。








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