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seance； where the souls of the departed outdid themselves in the
athletics and acrobatics they seem so fond of over there； throwing large
stones across the room； moving pianos； and lifting dinner…tables and
setting them a…twirl under the chandelier。 〃And now；〃 he demanded； 〃what
do you say to that？〃 〃Well； Mr。 Appleton；〃 Agassiz answered； to
Appleton's infinite delight； 〃I say that it did not happen。〃
One night they began to speak at the Dante supper of the unhappy man
whose crime is a red stain in the Cambridge annals； and one and another
recalled their impressions of Professor Webster。 It was possibly with a
retroactive sense that they had all felt something uncanny in him； but；
apropos of the deep salad…bowl in the centre of the table； Longfellow
remembered a supper Webster was at； where he lighted some chemical in
such a dish and held his head over it； with a handkerchief noosed about
his throat and lifted above it with one hand； while his face； in the pale
light； took on the livid ghastliness of that of a man hanged by the neck。
Another night the talk wandered to the visit which an English author （now
with God） paid America at the height of a popularity long since toppled
to the ground； with many another。 He was in very good humor with our
whole continent； and at Longfellow's table he found the champagne even
surprisingly fine。 〃But；〃 he said to his host； who now told the story；
〃it cawn't be genuine； you know！〃
Many years afterwards this author revisited our shores； and I dined with
him at Longfellow's； where he was anxious to constitute himself a guest
during his sojourn in our neighborhood。 Longfellow was equally anxious
that he should not do so； and he took a harmless pleasure in out…
manoeuvring him。 He seized a chance to speak with me alone； and plotted
to deliver him over to me without apparent unkindness； when the latest
horse…car should be going in to Boston； and begged me to walk him to
Harvard Square and put him aboard。 〃Put him aboard； and don't leave him
till the car starts； and then watch that he doesn't get off。〃
These instructions he accompanied with a lifting of the eyebrows； and a
pursing of the mouth； in an anxiety not altogether burlesque。 He knew
himself the prey of any one who chose to batten on him； and his
hospitality was subject to frightful abuse。 Perhaps Mr。 Norton has
somewhere told how； when he asked if a certain person who had been
outstaying his time was not a dreadful bore； Longfellow answered； with
angelic patience； 〃Yes； but then you know I have been bored so often！〃
There was one fatal Englishman whom I shared with him during the great
part of a season： a poor soul； not without gifts； but always ready for
more； especially if they took the form of meat and drink。 He had brought
letters from one of the best English men alive； who withdrew them too
late to save his American friends from the sad consequences of welcoming
him。 So he established himself impregnably in a Boston club； and came
out every day to dine with Longfellow in Cambridge； beginning with his
return from Nahant in October and continuing far into December。 That was
the year of the great horse…distemper； when the plague disabled the
transportation in Boston； and cut off all intercourse between the suburb
and the city on the street railways。 〃I did think；〃 Longfellow
pathetically lamented； 〃that when the horse…cars stopped running； I
should have a little respite from L。； but he walks out。〃
In the midst of his own suffering he was willing to advise with me
concerning some poems L。 had offered to the Atlantic Monthly； and after
we had desperately read them together he said； with inspiration； 〃I think
these things are more adapted to music than the magazine；〃 and this
seemed so good a notion that when L。 came to know their fate from me；
I answered； confidently； 〃I think they are rather more adapted to music。〃
He calmly asked； 〃Why？〃 and as this was an exigency which Longfellow had
not forecast for me； I was caught in it without hope of escape。 I really
do not know what I said； but I know that I did not take the poems； such
was my literary conscience in those days； I am afraid I should be weaker
now。
IV。
The suppers of the Dante Club were a relaxation from the severity of
their toils on criticism； and I will not pretend that their table…talk
was of that seriousness which duller wits might have given themselves up
to。 The passing stranger； especially if a light or jovial person； was
always welcome； and I never knew of the enforcement of the rule I heard
of； that if you came in without question on the Club nights； you were a
guest； but if you rang or knocked； you could not get in。
Any sort of diversion was hailed； and once Appleton proposed that
Longfellow should show us his wine…cellar。 He took up the candle burning
on the table for the cigars； and led the way into the basement of the
beautiful old Colonial mansion； doubly memorable as Washington's
headquarters while he was in Cambridge； and as the home of Longfellow for
so many years。 The taper cast just the right gleams on the darkness；
bringing into relief the massive piers of brick； and the solid walls of
stone； which gave the cellar the effect of a casemate in some fortress；
and leaving the corners and distances to a romantic gloom。 This basement
was a work of the days when men built more heavily if not more
substantially than now； but I forget； if I ever knew； what date the wine…
cellar was of。 It was well stored with precious vintages； aptly
cobwebbed and dusty； but I could not find that it had any more charm than
the shelves of a library： it is the inside of bottles and of books that
makes its appeal。 The whole place witnessed a bygone state and luxury；
which otherwise lingered in a dim legend or two。 Longfellow once spoke
of certain old love…letters which dropped down on the basement stairs
from some place overhead； and there was the fable or the fact of a
subterranean passage under the street from Craigie House to the old
Batchelder House； which I relate to these letters with no authority I can
allege。 But in Craigie House dwelt the proud fair lady who was buried in
the Cambridge church…yard with a slave at her head and a slave at her
feet。
〃Dust is in her beautiful eyes；〃
and whether it was they that smiled or wept in their time over those
love…letters； I will leave the reader to say。 The fortunes of her Tory
family fell with those of their party； and the last Vassal ended his days
a prisoner from his creditors in his own house； with a weekly enlargement
on Sundays； when the law could not reach him。 It is known how the place
took Longfellow's fancy when he first came to be professor in Harvard；
and how he was a lodger of the last Mistress Craigie there； long before
he became its owner。 The house is square； with Longfellow's study where
he read and wrote on the right of the door； and a statelier library
behind it； on the left is the drawing…room； with the dining…room in its
rear； from its square hall climbs a beautiful stairway with twisted
banisters； and a tall clock in their angle。
The study where the