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manner。 Keeler was too really modest to be of any rebellious mind
towards the society which ignored him； and of too sweet a cheerfulness to
be greatly vexed by it。 He lived on in the house of a suave old actor；
who oddly made his home in Cambridge； and he continued of a harmless
Bohemianism in his daily walk； which included lunches at Boston
restaurants as often as he could get you to let him give them you； if you
were of his acquaintance。 On a Sunday he would appear coming out of the
post…office usually at the hour when all cultivated Cambridge was coming
for its letters； and wave a glad hand in air； and shout a blithe
salutation to the friend he had marked for his companion in a morning
stroll。 The stroll was commonly over the flats towards Brighton （I do
not know why； except perhaps that it was out of the beat of the better
element） and the talk was mainly of literature； in which he was doing
less than he meant to do； and which he seemed never able quite to feel
was not a branch of the Show Business； and might not be legitimately
worked by like advertising； though he truly loved and honored it。
I suppose it was not altogether a happy life； and Keeler had his moments
of amusing depression； which showed their shadows in his smiling face。
He was of a slight figure and low stature； with hands and feet of almost
womanish littleness。 He was very blonde； and his restless eyes were
blue； he wore his yellow beard in whiskers only； which he pulled
nervously but perhaps did not get to droop so much as he wished。
VIII。
Keeler was a native of Ohio； and there lived at Cambridge when I first
came there an Indianian； more accepted by literary society； who was of
real quality as a poet。 Forceythe Willson； whose poem of 〃The Old
Sergeant〃 Doctor Holmes used to read publicly in the closing year of the
civil war； was of a Western altitude of figure； and of an extraordinary
beauty of face in an oriental sort。 He had large； dark eyes with clouded
whites； his full； silken beard was of a flashing Persian blackness。
He was excessively nervous； to such an extreme that when I first met him
at Longfellow's； he could not hold himself still in his chair。 I think
this was an effect of shyness in him； as well as physical； for afterwards
when I went to find him in his own house he was much more at ease。
He preferred to receive me in the dim； large hall after opening his door
to me himself； and we sat down there and talked； I remember； of
supernatural things。 He was much interested in spiritualism； and he had
several stories to tell of his own experience in such matters。 But none
was so good as one which I had at second hand from Lowell； who thought it
almost the best ghost story he had ever heard。 The spirit of Willson's
father appeared to him； and stood before him。 Willson was accustomed to
apparitions； and so he said simply； 〃Won't you sit down； father？〃 The
phantom put out his hand to lay hold of a chair…back as some people do in
taking a seat； and his shadowy arm passed through the frame…work。
〃Ah！〃 he said； 〃I forgot that I was not substance。〃
I do not know whether 〃The Old Sergeant〃 is ever read now； it has
probably passed with other great memories of the great war； and I am
afraid none of Willson's other verse is remembered。 But he was then a
distinct literary figure； and not to be left out of the count of our
poets。 I did not see him again。 Shortly afterwards I heard that he had
left Cambridge with signs of consumption； which must have run a rapid
course； for a very little later came the news of his death。
IX。
The most devoted Cantabrigian； after Lowell； whom I knew； would perhaps
have contended that if he had stayed with us Willson might have lived；
for John Holmes affirmed a faith in the virtues of the place which
ascribed almost an aseptic character to its air； and when he once
listened to my own complaints of an obstinate cold； he cheered himself；
if not me； with the declaration； 〃Well； one thing； Mr。 Howells； Cambridge
never let a man keep a cold yet！〃
If he had said it was better to live in Cambridge with a cold than
elsewhere without one I should have believed him； as it was； Cambridge
bore him out in his assertion； though she took her own time to do it。
Lowell had talked to me of him before I met him； celebrating his peculiar
humor with that affection which was not always so discriminating； and
Holmes was one of the first Cambridge men I knew。 I knew him first in
the charming old Colonial house in which his famous brother and he were
born。 It was demolished long before I left Cambridge； but in memory it
still stands on the ground since occupied by the Hemenway Gymnasium； and
shows for me through that bulk a phantom frame of Continental buff in the
shadow of elms that are shadows themselves。 The 'genius loci' was
limping about the pleasant mansion with the rheumatism which then
expressed itself to his friends in a resolute smile； but which now
insists upon being an essential trait of the full…length presence to my
mind： a short stout figure； helped out with a cane； and a grizzled head
with features formed to win the heart rather than the eye of the
beholder。
In one of his own eyes there was a cast of such winning humor and
geniality that it took the liking more than any beauty could have done；
and the sweetest； shy laugh in the world went with this cast。
I long wished to get him to write something for the Magazine； and at last
I prevailed with him to review a history of Cambridge which had come out。
He did it charmingly of course； for he loved more to speak of Cambridge
than anything else。 He held his native town in an idolatry which was not
blind； but which was none the less devoted because he was aware of her
droll points and her weak points。 He always celebrated these as so many
virtues； and I think it was my own passion for her that first commended
me to him。 I was not her son； but he felt that this was my misfortune
more than my fault； and he seemed more and more to forgive it。 After we
had got upon the terms of editor and contributor； we met oftener than
before； though I do not now remember that I ever persuaded him to write
again for me。 Once he gave me something； and then took it back； with a
self…distrust of it which I could not overcome。
When the Holmes house was taken down； he went to live with an old
domestic in a small house on the street amusingly called Appian Way。 He
had certain rooms of her； and his own table； but he would not allow that
he was ever anything but a lodger in the place； where he continued till
he died。 In the process of time he came so far to trust his experience
of me； that he formed the habit of giving me an annual supper。 Some days
before this event； he would appear in my study； and with divers delicate
and tentative approaches； nearly always of the same tenor； he would say
that he should like to ask my family to an oyster supper with him。 〃But
you know；〃 he would explain； 〃I haven't a house of my own to ask you to；
and I should like to give you the supper here。〃 When I had agreed to
this suggestion with due gravity； he would inquire our engag