THELIFE AND GENIUSOFNATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

BYFRANK PRESTON STEARNS

AUTHOR OF "THE REAL AND IDEAL IN LITERATURE, " "LIFE OFTINTORETTO, " "LIFE OF BISMARCK, " "TRUE REPUBLICANISM, " "CAMBRIDGESKETCHES, " ETC. 

[Illustration: Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Frances Osborne Portrait: bypermission of the Essex Institute. ]

INSCRIBED

TOEMILIA MACIEL STEARNS

 "In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, -- For the gods see everywhere. " --_Longfellow_

 "Oh, happy dreams of such a soul have I, And softly to myself of him I sing, Whose seraph pride all pride doth overwing; Who stoops to greatness, matches low with high, And as in grand equalities of sky, Stands level with the beggar and the king. " --_Wasson_

Preface

The simple events of Nathaniel Hawthorne's life have long been beforethe public. From 1835 onward they may easily be traced in the variousNote-books, which have been edited from his diary, and previous to thattime we are indebted for them chiefly to the recollections of his twofaithful friends, Horatio Bridge and Elizabeth Peabody. These werefirst systematised and published by George P. Lathrop in 1872, but amore complete and authoritative biography was issued by JulianHawthorne twelve years later, in which, however, the writer hasmodestly refrained from expressing an opinion as to the quality of hisfather's genius, or from attempting any critical examination of hisfather's literary work. It is in order to supply in some measure thisdeficiency, that the present volume has been written. At the same time, I trust to have given credit where it was due to my predecessors, inthe good work of making known the true character of so rare a geniusand so exceptional a personality. 

The publication of Horatio Bridge's memoirs and of Elizabeth Manning'saccount of the boyhood of Hawthorne have placed before the world muchthat is new and valuable concerning the earlier portion of Hawthorne'slife, of which previous biographers could not very well reap theadvantage. I have made thorough researches in regard to Hawthorne'sAmerican ancestry, but have been able to find no ground for thestatements of Conway and Lathrop, that William Hathorne, their firstancestor on this side of the ocean, was directly connected with theQuaker persecution. Some other mistakes, like Hawthorne's supposedconnection with the duel between Cilley and Graves, have also beencorrected. 

 F. P. S. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. SALEM AND THE HATHORNES: 1630-1800 II. BOYHOOD OF HAWTHORNE: 1804-1821 III. BOWDOIN COLLEGE: 1821-1825 IV. LITTLE MISERY: 1825-1835 V. EOS AND EROS: 1835-1839 VI. PEGASUS AT THE CART: 1839-1841 VII. HAWTHORNE AS A SOCIALIST: 1841-1842 VIII. CONCORD AND THE OLD MANSE: 1842-1845 IX. "MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE": 1845 X. FROM CONCORD TO LENOX: 1845-1849 XI. PEGASUS IS FREE: 1850-1852 XII. THE LIVERPOOL CONSULATE: 1852-1854 XIII. HAWTHORNE IN ENGLAND: 1854-1858 XIV. ITALY XV. HAWTHORNE AS ART CRITIC: 1858 XVI. "THE MARBLE FAUN": 1859-1860 XVII. HOMEWARD BOUND: 1860-1862XVIII. IMMORTALITY

 PORTRAITS OF HAWTHORNE EDITIONS OF HAWTHORNE'S BOOKS PUBLISHED UNDER HIS OWN DIRECTION. MRS. EMERSON AND MRS. HAWTHORNE APPENDICES

List of Illustrations

PORTRAIT OF HAWTHORNE, BY FRANCES OSBORNE IN 1893HAWTHORNE'S BIRTHPLACEHORATIO BRIDGE, FROM THE PORTRAIT BY EASTMAN JOHNSONHAWTHORNE, FROM THE PORTRAIT BY CHARLES OSGOOD IN 1840THE OLD MANSE, RESIDENCE OF DR. RIPLEYTHE CUSTOM HOUSE, SALEM, MASSTHE WAYSIDEGUIDO RENI'S PORTRAIT OF BEATRICE CENCISTATUE OF PRAXITELES' RESTING FAUNTORRE MEDIAVALLE DELLA SCIMMIA (HILDA'S TOWER) IN ROME

THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER I

SALEM AND THE HATHORNES: 1630-1800

The three earliest settlements on the New England coast were Plymouth, Boston, and Salem; but Boston soon proved its superior advantages tothe two others, not only from its more capacious harbor, but also fromthe convenient waterway which the Charles River afforded to theinterior of the Colony. We find that a number of English families, andamong them the ancestors of Gen. Joseph Warren and Wendell Phillips, who crossed the ocean in 1640 in the "good ship Arbella, " soonafterward migrated to Watertown on Charles River for the sake of theexcellent farming lands which they found there. Salem, however, maintained its ascendency over Plymouth and other neighboring harborson the coast, and soon grew to be the second city of importance in theColony during the eighteenth century, when the only sources of wealthwere fishing, shipbuilding, and commerce. Salem nourished remarkably. Its leading citizens became wealthy and developed a social aristocracyas cultivated, as well educated, and, it may also be added, asfastidious as that of Boston itself. In this respect it differed widelyfrom the other small cities of New England, and the exclusiveness ofits first families was more strongly marked on account of the limitedsize of the place. Thus it continued down to the middle of the lastcentury, when railroads and the tendency to centralization began todraw away its financial prosperity, and left the city to smallmanufactures and its traditional respectability. 

The finest examples of American eighteenth century architecture aresupposed to exist in and about the city of Salem, and they have theadvantage, which American architecture lacks so painfully at thepresent time, of possessing a definite style and character--edificeswhich are not of a single type, like most of the houses in FifthAvenue, but which, while differing in many respects, have a certaingeneral resemblance, that places them all in the same category. Thesmall old country churches of Essex County are not distinguished forfine carving or other ornamentation, and still less by the costlinessof their material, for they are mostly built of white pine, but theyhave an indefinable air of pleasantness about them, as if they gracedthe ground they stand on, and their steeples seem to float in the airabove us. If we enter them on a Sunday forenoon--for on week-days theyare like a sheepfold without its occupants--we meet with much the samekind of pleasantness in the assemblage there. We do not find the deepreligious twilight of past ages, or the noonday glare of a fashionablesynagogue, but a neatly attired congregation of weather-beaten farmersand mariners, and their sensible looking wives, with something of theoriginal Puritan hardness in their faces, much ameliorated by theliberalism and free thinking of the past fifty years. Among them tooyou will see some remarkably pretty young women; and young men likethose who dug the trenches on Breed's Hill in the afternoon of June 16, 1775. There may be veterans in the audience who helped Grant to go toRichmond. Withal there is much of the spirit of the early Christiansamong them, and virtue enough to save their country in any emergency. 

These old churches have mostly disappeared from Salem city and havebeen replaced by more aristocratic edifices, whose square or octagonaltowers are typical of their leading parishioners, --a dignified class, if somewhat haughty and reserved; but they too will soon belong to thepast, drawn off to the great social centres in and about Boston. In themidst of Salem there is a triangular common, "with its never-failingelms, " where the boys large and small formerly played cricket--marriedmen too--as they do still on the village greens of good old England, and around this enclosure the successful merchants and navigators ofthe city built their mansion houses; not half houses like those in thelarger cities, but with spacious halls and rooms on either side goingup three stories. It is in the gracefully ornamented doorways and thedelicate interior wood-work, the carving of wainscots, mantels andcornices, the skilful adaptations of classic forms to a soft anddelicate material that the charm of this architecture chieflyconsists, --especially in the staircases, with their carved spiral postsand slender railings, rising upward in the centre of the front hall, and turning right and left on the story above. It is said that afterthe year eighteen hundred the quality of this decoration sensiblydeclined; it was soon replaced by more prosaic forms, and now the toolsno longer exist that can make it. Sir Christopher Wren and Inigo Joneswould have admired it. America, excepting in New York City, escaped thefalse rococo taste of the eighteenth century. 

The Salem sea-captains of old times were among the boldest of our earlynavigators; sailing among the pirates of the Persian Gulf and tradingwith the cannibals of Polynesia, and the trophies which they broughthome from those strange regions, savage implements of war and domesticuse, clubs, spears, boomerangs, various cooking utensils, all carvedwith infinite pains from stone, ebony and iron-wood, cloth from thebark of the tapa tree, are now deposited in the Peabody Academy, wherethey form one of the largest collections of the kind extant. Even moreinteresting is the sword of a sword-fish, pierced through the oakplanking of a Salem vessel for six inches or more. No human force coulddo that even with a spear of the sharpest steel. Was the sword-fishroused to anger when the ship came upon him sleeping in the water; ordid he mistake it for a strange species of whale?

There is a court-house on Federal Street, built in Webster's time, ofhard cold granite in the Grecian fashion of the day, not of the whitetranslucent marble with which the Greeks would have built it. Is it thecourt-house where Webster made his celebrated argument in the Whitemurder case, or was that court-house torn down and a plough run throughthe ground where it stood, as Webster affirmed that it ought to be?Salem people were curiously reticent in regard to that trial, andfashionable society there did not like Webster the better for havingthe two Knapps convicted. 

Much more valuable than such associations is William Hunt's full-lengthportrait of Chief Justice Shaw, which hangs over the judge's bench inthe front court-room. "When I look at your honor I see that you arehomely, but when I think of you I know that you are great. " it is thiscombination of an unprepossessing physique with rare dignity ofcharacter which Hunt has represented in what many consider the best ofAmerican portraits. It is perhaps too much in the sketchy style ofVelasquez, but admirable for all that. 

Time has dealt kindly with Salem, in effacing all memorials of thewitchcraft persecution, except a picturesque old house at the corner ofNorth and Essex Streets, where there are said to have been preliminaryexaminations for witchcraft, --a matter which concerns us now butslightly. The youthful associations of a genius are valuable to us onaccount of the influence which they may be supposed to have had on hisearly life, but associations which have no determining consequences mayas well be neglected. The hill where those poor martyrs to superstitionwere executed may be easily seen on the left of the city, as you rollin on the train from Boston. It is part of a ridge which rises betweenthe Concord and Charles Rivers and extends to Cape Ann, where it divesinto the ocean, to reappear again like a school of krakens, or othermarine monsters, in the Isles of Shoals. 

New England has not the fertile soil of many sections of the UnitedStates, and its racking climate is proverbial, but it is blessed withthe two decided advantages of pure water and fine scenery. There is nomore beautiful section of its coast than that between Salem Harbor andSalisbury Beach, long stretches of smooth sand alternating with boldrocky promontories. A summer drive from Swampscott to Marbleheadreminds one even of the Bay of Naples (without Vesuvius), and thewilder coast of Cape Ann, with its dark pines, red-roofed cottages, andsparkling surf, is quite as delightful. William Hunt went there in thelast sad years of his life to paint "sunshine, " as he said; andWhittier has given us poetic touches of the inland scenery in elevatedverse:

 "Fleecy clouds casting their shadows Over uplands and meadows; And country roads winding as roads will, Here to a ferry, there to a mill. "

Poets arise where there is poetic nourishment, internal and external, for them to feed on; and it is not surprising that a Whittier and aHawthorne should have been evolved from the environment in which theygrew to manhood. 

It is a common saying with old Boston families that their ancestorscame to America in the "Arbella" with Governor Winthrop, but as amatter of fact there were at least fifteen vessels that broughtcolonists to Massachusetts in 1630, and I cannot discover that anylists of their passengers have been preserved. The statement thatcertain persons came over at the same time with Governor Winthrop mightsoon become a tradition that they came in the same ship with him; butall that we know certainly is that Governor Winthrop landed about themiddle of June, 1630, and that his son arrived two weeks later in the"Talbot, " and was drowned July 2, while attempting to cross one of thetide rivers at Salem. Who arrived in the thirteen other vessels thatyear we know not. Ten years later Sir Richard Saltonstall emigrated toBoston with the Phillips and Warren families in the "Arbella" (or"Arabella"), and there is no telling how much longer she sailed theocean. 

Hawthorne himself states that his ancestors came from Wig Castle inWigton in Warwickshire, [Footnote: Diary, August 22, 1837. ] but no suchcastle has been discovered, and the only Wigton in England appears tobe located in Cumberland. [Footnote: Lathrop's "Study of Hawthorne, "46. ] He does not tell us where he obtained this information, and itcertainly could not have been from authentic documents, --more likelyfrom conversation with an English traveller. Hawthorne never troubledhimself much concerning his ancestry, English or American; while he wasconsul at Liverpool, he had exceptional advantages for investigatingthe subject, but whatever attempt he made there resulted in nothing. Itis only recently that Mr. Henry F. Waters, who spent fifteen years inEngland searching out the records of old New England families, succeeded in discovering the connecting link between the first AmericanHawthornes and their relatives in the old country. It was a bill ofexchange for one hundred pounds drawn by William Hathorne, of Salem, payable to Robert Hathorne in London, and dated October 19, 1651, whichfirst gave Mr. Waters the clue to his discovery. Robert not onlyaccepted his brother's draft, but wrote him this simple and business-like but truly affectionate epistle in return:

"GOOD BROTHER: Remember my love to my sister, my brother John andsister, my brother Davenport and sister and the rest of our friends. 

 "In haste I rest "Your loving brother, "From Bray this 1 April, 1653. ROBERT HATHORNE. "

From this it appears that Major William Hathorne not only had a brotherJohn, who established himself in Lynn, but a sister Elizabeth, whomarried Richard Davenport, of Salem. Concerning Robert Hathorne we onlyknow further that he died in 1689; but in the probate records ofBerkshire, England, there is a will proved May 2, 1651, of WilliamHathorne, of Binfield, who left all his lands, buildings and tenementsin that county to his son Robert, on condition that Robert should payto his father's eldest son, William, one hundred pounds, and to his sonJohn twenty pounds sterling. He also left to another son, Edmund, thirty acres of land in Bray, and there are other legacies; but itcannot be doubted that the hundred pounds mentioned in this will is thesame that Major William Hathorne drew for five months later, and thatwe have identified here the last English ancestor of NathanielHawthorne. His wife's given name was Sarah, but her maiden name stillremains unknown. The family resided chiefly at Binfield, on the bordersof Windsor Park, and evidently were in comfortable circumstances atthat time. From William Hathorne, senior, their genealogy has beentraced back to John Hathorne (spelled at that time Hothorne), who diedin 1520, but little is known of their affairs, or how they sustainedthemselves during the strenuous vicissitudes of the Reformation. [Footnote: "Hawthorne Centenary at Salem, " 81. ]

Emmerton and Waters [Footnote: "English Records about New EnglandFamilies. "] state that William Hathorne came to Massachusetts Bay in1630, and this is probable enough, though by no means certain, for theygive no authority for it. We first hear of him definitely as afreeholder in the settlement of Dorchester in 1634, but his name is noton the list of the first twenty-four Dorchester citizens, dated October19, 1630. All accounts agree that he moved to Salem in 1636, or theyear following, and Nathaniel Hawthorne believed that he came toAmerica at that time. Upham, the historian of Salem witchcraft, who hasmade the most thorough researches in the archives of old Salemfamilies, says of William Hathorne:

"William Hathorne appears on the church records as early as 1636. Hedied in June, 1681, seventy-four years of age. No one in our annalsfills a larger space. As soldier, commanding important and difficultexpeditions, as counsel in cases before the courts, as judge on thebench, and innumerable other positions requiring talent andintelligence, he was constantly called to serve the public. He wasdistinguished as a public speaker, and is the only person, I believe, of that period, whose reputation as an orator has come down to us. Hewas an Assistant, that is, in the upper branch of the Legislature, seventeen years. He was a deputy twenty years. When the deputies, whobefore sat with the assistants, were separated into a distinct body, and the House of Representatives thus came into existence, in 1644, Hathorne was their first Speaker. He occupied the chair, withintermediate services on the floor from time to time, until raised tothe other House. He was an inhabitant of Salem Village, having his farmthere, and a dwelling-house, in which he resided when his legislative, military, and other official duties permitted. His son John, whosucceeded him in all his public honors, also lived on his own farm inthe village a great part of the time. " [Footnote: "Salem Witchcraft, "i. 99. ]

Evidently he was the most important person in the colony, next toGovernor Winthrop, and unequalled by any of his descendants, exceptNathaniel Hawthorne, and by him in a wholly different manner; for it isin vain that we seek for traits similar to those of the great romancewriter among his ancestors. We can only say that they both possessedexceptional mental ability, and there the comparison ends. 

The attempt has been made to connect William Hathorne with thepersecution of the Quakers, [Footnote: Conway's "Life of Hawthorne, "15. ] and it is true that he was a member of the Colonial Assemblyduring the period of the persecution; it is likely that his votesupported the measures in favor of it, but this is not absolutelycertain. We do not learn that he acted at any time in the capacity ofsheriff; the most diligent researches in the archives of the StateHouse at Boston have failed to discover any direct connection on thepart of William Hathorne with that movement; and the best authoritiesin regard to the events of that time make no mention of him. [Footnote:Sewel, Hallowell, Ellis. ] It was the clergy who aroused public opinionand instigated the prosecutions against both the Quakers and thesupposed witches of Salem, and the civil authorities were little morethan passive instruments in their hands. Hathorne's work wasessentially a legislative one, --a highly important work in that wild, unsettled country, --to adapt English statutes and legal procedures tonew and strange conditions. He was twice Speaker of the House between1660 and 1671, and as presiding officer he could exert less influenceon measures of expediency than any other person present, as he couldnot argue either for or against them. And yet, after Charles II. Hadinterfered in behalf of the Quakers, William Hathorne wrote anelaborate and rather circuitous letter to the British Ministry, arguingfor non-intervention in the affairs of the colony, which might havepossessed greater efficacy if he had not signed it with an assumedname. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne's "Nathaniel Hawthorne, " i. 24. ] Howeverstrong a Puritan he may have been, William Hathorne evidently had nointention of becoming a martyr to the cause of colonial independence. Yet it may be stated in his favor, and in that of the colonistsgenerally, that the fault was not wholly on one side, for the Quakersevidently sought persecution, and would have it, cost what it might. [Footnote: Hallowell's "Quaker Invasion of New England. "] Much the samemay be affirmed of his son John, who had the singular misfortune to bejudge in Salem at the time of the witchcraft epidemic. The belief inwitchcraft has always had its stronghold among the fogs and gloomyfiords of the North. James I. Brought it with him from Scotland toEngland, and in due course it was transplanted to America. JudgeHathorne appears to have been at the top of affairs at Salem in histime, and it is more than probable that another in his place would havefound himself obliged to act as he did. Law is, after all, inexceptional cases little more than a reflex of public opinion. "Thecommon law, " said Webster, "is common-sense, " which simply means thecommon opinion of the most influential people. Much more to blame thanJohn Hathorne were those infatuated persons who deceived themselvesinto thinking that the pains of rheumatism, neuralgia, or some similarmalady were caused by the malevolent influence of a neighbor againstwhom they had perhaps long harbored a grudge. _They_ were the truewitches and goblins of that epoch, and the only ones, if any, who oughtto have been hanged for it. 

What never has been reasoned up cannot be reasoned down. It seemsincredible in this enlightened era, as the newspapers call it, that anywoman should be at once so inhuman and so frivolous as to swear awaythe life of a fellow-creature upon an idle fancy; and yet, even inregard to this, there were slightly mitigating conditions. Consideronly the position of that handful of Europeans in this vast wilderness, as it then was. The forests came down to the sea-shore, and broughtwith them all the weird fancies, terrors and awful forebodings whichthe human mind could conjure up. They feared the Indians, the wildbeasts, and most of all one another, for society was not yetsufficiently organized to afford that repose and contentment of spiritwhich they had left behind in the Old World. They had come to Americato escape despotism, but they had brought despotism in their ownhearts. They could escape from the Stuarts, but there was no escapefrom human nature. 

It is likely that their immediate progenitors would not have carriedthe witchcraft craze to such an extreme. The emigrating Puritans were afairly well-educated class of men and women, but their children did notenjoy equal opportunities. The new continent had to be subduedphysically and reorganized before any mental growth could be raisedthere. Levelling the forest was a small matter beside clearing the landof stumps and stones. All hands were obliged to work hard, and therewas little opportunity for intellectual development or social culture. As a logical consequence, an era ensued not unlike the dark ages ofEurope. But this was essential to the evolution of a new type of man, and for the foundation of American nationality; and it was thus thatthe various nationalities of Europe arose out of the ruins of the RomanEmpire. 

The scenes that took place in Judge Hathorne's court-room have neverbeen equalled since in American jurisprudence. Powerful forces cameinto play there, and the reports that have been preserved read likescenes from Shakespeare. In the case of Rebecca Nurse, the Judge saidto the defendant:

"'You do know whether you are guilty, and have familiarity with theDevil; and now when you are here present to see such a thing as thesetestify, --and a black man whispering in your ear, and devils aboutyou, --what do you say to it?'"

To which she replied:

"'It is all false. I am clear. ' Whereupon Mrs. Pope, one of thewitnesses, fell into a grievous fit. " [Footnote: Upham's "SalemWitchcraft, " ii. 64. ]

Alas, poor beleaguered soul! And one may well say, "What imaginationsthose women had!" Tituba, the West Indian Aztec who appears in thissocial-religious explosion as the chief and original incendiary, --verily the root of all evil, --gave the following testimony:

"Q. 'Did you not pinch Elizabeth Hubbard this morning?'

"A. 'The man brought her to me, and made me pinch her. '

"Q. 'Why did you go to Thomas Putnam's last night and hurt his child?'

"A. 'They pull and haul me, and make me go. '

"Q. 'And what would they have you do?'

"A. 'Kill her with a knife. '

"(Lieutenant Fuller and others said at this time, when the child sawthese persons, and was tormented by them, that she did complain of aknife, --that they would have her cut her head off with a knife. )

"Q. 'How did you go?'

"A. 'We ride upon sticks, and are there presently. '

"Q. 'Do you go through the trees or over them?'

"A. 'We see nothing, but are there presently. '

"Q. 'Why did you not tell your master?'

"A. 'I was afraid. They said they would cut off my head if I told. '

"Q. 'Would you not have hurt others, if you could?'

"A. 'They said they would hurt others, but they could not. '

"Q. 'What attendants hath Sarah Good?'

"A. 'A yellow-bird, and she would have given me one. '

"Q. 'What meat did she give it?'

"A. 'It did suck her between her fingers. '". 

This might serve as an epilogue to "Macbeth, " and the wonder is that anunlettered Indian should have had the wit to make such apt and subtlereplies. It is also noteworthy that these strange proceedings tookplace after the expulsion of the royal governor, and previous to theprovincial government of William III. If Sir Edmund Andros hadremained, the tragedy might have been changed into a farce. 

After all, it appears that John Hathorne was not a lawyer, for hedescribes himself in his last will, dated June 27, 1717, as a merchant, and it is quite possible that his legal education was no better thanthat of the average English squire in Fielding's time. It is evident, however, from the testimony given above, that he was a strong believerin the supernatural, and here if anywhere we find a relationshipbetween him and his more celebrated descendant. Nathaniel Hawthorne wastoo clear-sighted to place confidence in the pretended revelations oftrance mediums, and he was not in the least superstitious; but he wasremarkably fond of reading ghost stories, and would have liked tobelieve them, if he could have done so in all sincerity. He sometimesfelt as if he were a ghost himself, gliding noiselessly in the walks ofmen, and wondered that the sun should cast a shadow from him. However, we cannot imagine him as seated in jurisdiction at a criminal tribunal. His gentle nature would have recoiled from that, as it might from aserpent. 

In the Charter Street burial-ground there is a slate gravestone, artistically carved about its edges, with the name, "Col. John HathorneEsq. , " upon it. It is somewhat sunken into the earth, and leans forwardas if wishing to hide the inscription upon it from the gaze of mankind. The grass about it and the moss upon the stone assist in doing this, although repeatedly cut and cleaned away. It seems as if Nature wishedto draw a kind of veil over the memory of the witch's judge, himselfthe sorrowful victim of a theocratic oligarchy. The lesson we learnfrom his errors is, to trust our own hearts and not to believe toofixedly in the doctrines of Church and State. It must be a dullsensibility that can look on this old slate-stone without a feeling ofpathos and a larger charity for the errors of human nature. 

It is said that one of the convicted witches cursed Judge Hathorne, --himself and his descendants forever; but it is more than likely thatthey all cursed him bitterly enough, and this curse took effect in avery natural and direct manner. Every extravagant political or socialmovement is followed by a corresponding reaction, even if the movementbe on the whole a salutary one, and retribution is sure to fall in oneshape or another on the leaders of it. After this time the Hathornesceased to be conspicuous in Salem affairs. The family was not in favor, and the avenues of prosperity were closed to them, as commonly happensin such cases. Neither does the family appear to have multiplied andextended itself like most of the old New England families, who can nowcount from a dozen to twenty branches in various places. Of JohnHathorne's three sons only one appears to have left children. The namehas wholly disappeared from among Salem families, and thus in a mannerhas the witch's curse been fulfilled. 

Joseph Hathorne, the son of the Judge, was mostly a farmer, and that isall that we now know of him. His son Daniel, however, showed a moreadventurous spirit, becoming a shipmaster quite early in life. It hasalso been intimated that he was something of a smuggler, which was nogreat discredit to him in a time when the unfair and even prohibitorymeasures of the British Parliament in regard to American commerce madesmuggling a practical necessity. Even as the captain of a tradingvessel, however, Daniel Hathorne was not likely to advance the socialinterests of his family. It is significant that he should have left thecentral portion of Salem, where his ancestors had lived, and have builta house for himself close to the city wharves, --a house well built andcommodious enough, but not in a fashionable location. 

But Daniel Hathorne had the advantage over fashionable society inSalem, in being a thorough patriot. Boston and Salem were the twostrongholds of Toryism during the war for Independence, which wasnatural enough, as their wealthy citizens were in close mercantilerelations with English houses, and sent their children to England to beeducated. Daniel Hathorne, however, as soon as hostilities had begun, fitted out his bark as a privateer, and spent the following six yearsin preying upon British merchantmen. How successful he was in this lineof business we have not been informed, but he certainly did not growrich by it; although he is credited with one engagement with the enemy, in which his ship came off with honor, though perhaps not with adecisive victory. This exploit was celebrated in a rude ballad of thetime, which has been preserved in "Griswold's Curiosities of AmericanLiterature, " and has at least the merit of plain unvarnished language. [Footnote: Also in Lathrop's "Hawthorne. "]

There is a miniature portrait of Daniel Hathorne, such as was common inCopley's time, still in the possession of the Hawthorne family, and itrepresents him as rather a bullet-headed man, with a bright, open, cheery face, a broad English chin and strongly marked brows, --anexcellent physiognomy for a sea-captain. He appears besides to have hadlight brown or sandy hair, a ruddy complexion and bright blue eyes; butwe cannot determine how truthful the miniature may be in respect tocoloring. At all events, he was of a very different appearance fromNathaniel Hawthorne, and if he resembled his grandson in any externalrespect, it was in his large eyes and their overshadowing brows. He hasnot the look of a dare-devil. One might suppose that he was a person ofrather an obstinate disposition, but it is always difficult to draw theline between obstinacy and determination. 

A similar miniature of his son Nathaniel, born in 1775, and who died atSurinam in his thirty-fourth year, gives us the impression of a personsomewhat like his father, and also somewhat like his son Nathaniel. Hehas a long face instead of a round one, and his features are moredelicate and refined than those of the bold Daniel. The expression isgentle, dreamy and pensive, and unless the portrait belies him, hecould not have been the stern, domineering captain that he has beenrepresented. He had rather a slender figure, and was probably much morelike his mother, who was a Miss Phelps, than the race of JudgeHathorne. He may have been a reticent man, but never a bold one, and wefind in him a new departure. His face is more amiable and attractivethan his father's, but not so strong. In 1799 he was married to MissElizabeth Clarke Manning, the daughter of Richard Manning, and thenonly nineteen years of age. She appears to have been an exceptionallysensitive and rather shy young woman--such as would be likely toattract the attention of a chivalrous young mariner--but with finetraits of intellect and character. 

The maternal ancestry of a distinguished man is quite as important asthe paternal, but in the present instance it is much more difficult toobtain information concerning it. The increasing fame of Hawthorne hasbeen like a calcium-light, illuminating for the past fifty yearseverything to which that name attaches, and leaving the Manning familyin a shadow so much the deeper. All we can learn of them now is, thatthey were descended from Richard Manning, of Dartmouth in Devonshire, England, whose son Thomas emigrated to Salem with his widowed mother in1679, but afterwards removed to Ipswich, ten miles to the north, whencethe family has since extended itself far and wide, --the Reverend JacobM. Manning, of the Old South Church, the fearless champion of practicalanti-slaveryism, having been among them. It appears that Thomas'sgrandson Richard started in life as a blacksmith, which was no strangething in those primitive times; but, being a thrifty and enterprisingman, he lived to establish a line of stage-coaches between Salem andBoston, and this continued in the possession of his family until it wassuperseded by the Eastern Railway. After this catastrophe, RobertManning, the son of Richard and brother of Mrs. Nathaniel Hathorne, became noted as a fruit-grower (a business in which Essex County peoplehave always taken an active interest), and was one of the founders ofthe Massachusetts Horticultural Society. The Mannings were alwaysrespected in Salem, although they never came to affluent circumstances, nor did they own a house about the city common. Robert Manning, Jr. , was Secretary of the Horticultural Society in Boston for a long term ofyears, a pleasant, kindly man, with an aspect of general culture. Hawthorne's maternal grandmother was Miriam Lord, of Ipswich, and hispaternal grandmother was Rachel Phelps, of Salem. His father was onlythirty-three when he died at Surinam. 

In regard to the family name, there are at present Hawthornes andHathornes in England, and although the two names may have beenidentical originally, they have long since become as distinct as Smithand Smythe. I have discovered only two instances in which the firstWilliam Hathorne wrote his own name, and in the various documents atthe State House in which it appears written by others, it is variouslyspelled Hathorn, Hathorne, Hawthorn, Haythorne, and Harthorne, --fromwhich we can only conclude that the a was pronounced broadly. It wasnot until the reign of Queen Anne, when books first became cheap andpopular, that there was any decided spelling of either proper or commonnames. Then the printers took the matter into their own hands and madewitch-work enough of it. The word "sovereign, " for instance, which isderived from the old French _souvrain_, and which Milton spelled"sovran, " they tortured into its present form, --much as the clerks ofMassachusetts Colony tortured the name of William Hathorne. This, however, was spelled Hathorne oftener than in other ways, and it was sospelled in the two signatures above referred to, one of which wasattached as witness to a deed for the settlement of the boundarybetween Lynn and Salem, [Footnote: Also in Lathrop's "Hawthorne. "] andthe other to a report of the commissioners for the investigation of theFrench vessels coming to Salem and Boston in 1651, the two othercommissioners being Samuel Bradstreet and David Denison. [Footnote:Massachusetts Archives, x. 171. ]The name was undoubtedly Hathorne, andso it continued with one or two slight variations during the eighteenthcentury down to the time of Nathaniel Hathorne, Jr. , who entered andgraduated at Bowdoin College under that name, but who soon afterwardchanged it to Hawthorne, for reasons that have never been explained. 

All cognomens would seem to have been derived originally from somepersonal peculiarity, although it is no longer possible to trace thisback to its source, which probably lies far away in the Dark Ages, --theformative period of languages and of families. Sometimes, however, wemeet with individuals whose peculiarities suggest the origin of theirnames: a tall, slender, long-necked man named Crane; or a timid, retiring student named Leverett; or an over-confident, superciliousperson called Godkin In the name of Hawthorne also we may imagine acurious significance: "When the may is on the thorn, " says Tennyson. The English country people call the flowering of the hawthorn "themay. " It is a beautiful tree when in full bloom. How sweet-scented anddelicately colored are its blossoms! But it seems to say to us, "Do notcome too close to me. "

CHAPTER II

BOYHOOD OF HAWTHORNE: 1804-1821

Salem treasures the memory of Hawthorne, and preserves everythingtangible relating to him. The house in which he was born, No. 27 UnionStreet, is in much the same style and probably of the same age as theOld Manse at Concord, but somewhat smaller, with only a single windowon either side of the doorway--five windows in all on the front, onelarge chimney in the centre, and the roof not exactly a gambrel, forthe true gambrel has a curve first inward and then outward, butsomething like it. A modest, cosy and rather picturesque dwelling, which if placed on a green knoll with a few trees about it might becomea subject for a sketching class. It did not belong to Hawthorne'sfather, after all, but to the widow of the bold Daniel, It was thecradle of genius, and is now a shrine for many pilgrims. Long may itsurvive, so that our grandchildren may gaze upon it. 

Here Nathaniel Hawthorne first saw daylight one hundred years ago[Footnote: 1804. ] on the Fourth of July, as if to make a protestagainst Chauvinistic patriotism; here his mother sat at the window tosee her husband's bark sail out of the harbor on his last voyage; andhere she watched day after day for its return, only to bring a life-long sorrow with it. The life of a sea-captain's wife is always a half-widowhood, but Mrs. Hathorne was left at twenty-eight with three smallchildren, including a daughter, Elizabeth, older than Nathaniel, andanother, Louisa, the youngest. The shadow of a heavy misfortune hadcome upon them, and from this shadow they never wholly escaped. 

Lowell criticised a letter which John Brown wrote concerning hisboyhood to Henry L. Stearns, as the finest bit of autobiography of thenineteenth century. [Footnote: _North American Review_, April1860. ] It is in fact almost the only literature of the kind that wepossess. A frequent difficulty that parents find in dealing with theirchildren is, that they have wholly forgotten the sensations andimpressions of their own childhood. The instructor cannot place himselfin the position of the pupil. A naturalist will spend years with amicroscope studying the development of a plant from the seed, but noone has ever applied a similar process to the budding of genius or evenof ordinary intellect. We have the autobiography of one of the greatestgeniuses, written in the calm and stillness of old age, when youthfulmemories come back to us involuntarily; yet he barely lifts the veilfrom his own childhood, and has much more to say of external events andolder people than of himself and his young companions. How valuable isthe story of George Washington and his hatchet, hackneyed as it hasbecome! What do we know of the boyhood of Franklin, Webster, Seward andLongfellow? Nothing, or next to nothing. 

[Illustration: WINDOW OF THIS CHAMBER]

Goethe says that the admirable woman is she who, when her husband dies, becomes a father to his children; but in the case of Hawthorne'smother, this did not happen to be necessary. Her brother, RobertManning, a thrifty and fairly prosperous young man, immediately tookMrs. Hathorne and her three children into his house on Herbert Street, and made it essentially a home for them afterward. To the fatherlessboy he was more than his own father, away from home ten months of theyear, ever could have been; and though young Nathaniel must have missedthat tenderness of feeling which a man can only entertain toward hisown child, there was no lack of kindness or consideration on RobertManning's part, to either the boy or his sisters. 

It was Mrs. Hathorne who chiefly suffered from this change of domicile. She would seem to have been always on good terms with her brother'swife, and on the whole they formed a remarkably harmonious family, --atleast we hear nothing to the contrary, --but she was no longer mistressof her own household. She had her daughters to instruct, and to trainup in domestic ways, and she could be helpful in various matters, largeand small; but the mental occupation which comes from the oversight anddirection of household affairs, and which might have served to diverther mind from sorrowful memories, was now gone from her. Her widowhoodseparated her from the outside world and from all society, excepting afew devoted friends, [Footnote: _Wide Awake_, xxxiii. 502. ] sothat under these conditions it is not surprising that her life becamecontinually more secluded and reserved. It is probable that hertemperament was very similar to her son's; but the impression which hasgone forth, that she indulged her melancholy to an excess, is by nomeans a just one. The circumstances of her case should be taken intoconsideration. 

Rebecca Manning says:

"I remember aunt Hawthorne as busy about the house, attending tovarious matters. Her cooking was excellent, and she was noted for acertain kind of sauce, which nobody else knew how to make. We alwaysenjoyed going to see her when we were children, for she took greatpains to please us and to give us nice things to eat. Her daughterElizabeth resembled her in that respect. In old letters and in thejournal of another aunt, which has come into our possession, we read ofher going about making visits, taking drives, and sometimes going on ajourney. In later years she was not well, and I do not remember thatshe ever came here, but her friends always received a cordial welcomewhen they visited her. "

This refers to a late period of Madam Hathorne's life, and if sheabsented herself from the table, as Elizabeth Peabody states, [Footnote: Lathrop's "Study of Hawthorne. "] there was good reason forit. 

Hawthorne himself has left no word concerning his mother, of favorableor unfavorable import, but it seems probable that he owed his genius toher, if he can be said to have owed it to any of his ancestors. Inafter life he affirmed that his sister Elizabeth, who appears to havebeen her mother over again, could have written as well as he did, andalthough we have no palpable evidence of this--and the letter which shewrote Elizabeth Peabody does not indicate it, --we are willing to takehis word for it. With the shyness and proud reserve which he inheritedfrom his mother, there also came that exquisite refinement and femininegrace of style which forms the chief charm of his writing. The samerefinement of feeling is noticeable in the letters of other members ofthe Manning family. Where his imagination came from, it would beuseless to speculate; but there is no good art without delicacy. 

Doctor Nathaniel Peabody lived near the house on Herbert Street, andhis daughter Elizabeth (who afterward became a woman of prodigiouslearning) soon made acquaintance with the Hathorne children. Sheremembers the boy Nathaniel jumping about his uncle's yard, and this isthe first picture that we have of him. When we consider what abeautiful boy he must have been, with his wavy brown hair, largewistful eyes and vigorous figure, without doubt he was a pleasure tolook upon. We do not hear of him again until November 10, 1813, when heinjured his foot in some unknown manner while at play, and was madelame by it more or less for the three years succeeding. After beinglaid up for a month, he wrote this pathetic little letter to his uncle, Robert Manning, then in Maine, which I have punctuated properly so thatthe excellence of its composition may appeal more plainly to thereader. 

 "SALEM, Thursday, December, 1813. 

 "DEAR UNCLE:

"I hope you are well, and I hope Richard is too. My foot is no better. Louisa has got so well that she has begun to go to school, but she didnot go this forenoon because it snowed. Mama is going to send forDoctor Kitridge to-day, when William Cross comes home at 12 o'clock, and maybe he will do some good, for Doctor Barstow has not, and I don'tknow as Doctor Kitridge will. It is about 4 weeks yesterday since Ihave been to school, and I don't know but it will be 4 weeks longerbefore I go again. I have been out of the office two or three times andhave set down on the step of the door, and once I hopped out into thestreet. Yesterday I went out in the office and had 4 cakes. Hannahcarried me out once, but not then. Elizabeth and Louisa send their loveto you. I hope you will write to me soon, but I have nothing more towrite; so good-bye, dear Uncle. 

 "Your affectionate Nephew, "NATHANIEL HATHORNE. "[Footnote: Elizabeth Manning in _Wide Awake_, Nov. 1891. ]

This is not so precocious as Mozart's musical compositions at the sameage, but how could the boy Hawthorne have given a clearer account ofhimself and his situation at the time, without one word of complaint?It is worth noting also that his prediction in regard to DoctorKitridge proved to be correct and even more. 

It is evident that neither of his doctors treated him in a physio-logical manner. Kitridge was a water-cure physician, and his method oftreatment deserves to be recorded for its novelty. He directedNathaniel to project his naked foot out of a sitting-room window, whilehe poured cold water on it from the story above. This, however, doesnot appear to have helped the case, and the infirmity continued so longthat it was generally feared that his lameness would be permanent. 

Horatio Bridge considered this a fortunate accident for Nathaniel, since it prevented him from being spoiled by his female relatives, asthere is always danger that an only son with two or more sisters willbe spoiled. But it was an advantage to the boy in a different mannerfrom this. He learned from it the lesson of suffering and endurance, which we all have to learn sooner or later; and it compelled him, perhaps too young, to seek the comfort of life from internal sources. There were excellent books in the house, --Shakespeare and Milton, ofcourse, but also Pope's "Iliad, " Thomson's "Seasons, " the "Spectator, ""Pilgrim's Progress, " and the "Faerie Queene, " and the time had nowcome when these would be serviceable to him. He was not the only boythat has enjoyed Shakespeare at the age of ten, but that he should havefound interest in Spenser's "Faerie Queene" is somewhat exceptional. Even among professed _littérateurs_ there are few that read thatlong allegory, and still fewer who enjoy it; and yet Miss Manningassures us that Hawthorne would muse over it for hours. Its influencemay be perceptible in some of his shorter stories, but "Pilgrim'sProgress" evidently had an effect upon him; and so had Scott's novels, as we may judge from the first romance that he published. 

At the age of twelve years and seven months he composed a short poem, so perfect in form and mature in judgment that it is difficult tobelieve that so young a person could have written it. Not so poetic asit is philosophical, it is valuable as indicating that the boy hadalready formed a moral axis for himself, --a life principle from whichhe never afterward deviated; and it is given herewith: [Footnote: Afacsimile of the original can be found in _Wide Awake_, November, 1891. ]

 "MODERATE VIEWS. 

 "With passions unruffled, untainted by pride, By reason my life let me square; The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied, And the rest are but folly and care. How vainly through infinite trouble and strife, The many their labours employ, Since all, that is truly delightful in life, Is what all if they please may enjoy. 

 "NATHANIEL HATHORNE. "SALEM, February 13, 1817. "

He wrote this with the greatest nicety, framing it in broad blacklines, and ornamenting the capitals in a manner that recalls thedecoration of John Hathorne's gravestone. He composed a number of poemsbetween his thirteenth and seventeenth years, quite as good as those ofLongfellow at the same age; but after he entered Bowdoin College hedropped the practice altogether and never resumed it, although onewould suppose that Longfellow's example would have stimulated him tobetter efforts. Neither does he appear to have tried his hand inwriting tales, as boys who have no thought of literary distinctionfrequently do. During the years of his lameness he sometimes inventedextemporaneous stories, which invariably commenced with a voyage tosome foreign country, from which his hero never returned. This showshow continually his father's fate was in his mind, although he saidnothing of it. 

Robert Manning's interest in the stage-company afforded the boy fineopportunities for free rides, and he probably also frequented thestables; although neither as youth nor as man did he take much interestin driving or riding. He was more fond of playing upon the wharves, agood healthy place, --and watching the great ships sailing forth to far-off lands, and returning with their strange cargoes, --enough tostimulate any boy's imagination, if he has it in him. It is likely thatif Nathaniel's father had lived, he would also have followed aseafaring life, and would never have become useful to the world in theway that he did. 

Somewhere about the close of the eighteenth century, Richard Manning, the father of Mrs. Hathorne, purchased a large tract of land inCumberland County, Maine, between Lake Sebago and the town of Casco;and in 1813 Robert Manning built a house near the lake, in the townshipof Raymond, and his brother Richard, who had become much of an invalid, went to live there, partly for his health and partly to keep anoversight on the property. In 1817 Mrs. Hathorne also went there, taking her children with her, and remaining, with some intermissions, until 1822. Meanwhile the Mannings sold some thousands of acres ofland, although not, as we may suppose, at very good prices, and thename of Elizabeth Hathorne was repeatedly attached to the deeds ofconveyance. The house that Robert built was the plainest sort ofstructure, of only two stories, and with no appearance of having beenpainted; but the farmers in the vicinity criticised it as "Manning'sfolly, "--exactly why, does not appear clearly, unless they foresaw whatactually happened, that the house could be neither sold nor rentedafter the Mannings had left it. For many years, it served as a meeting-house, --one could not call it a church, --and now it has become aHawthorne museum, the town of Raymond very laudably keeping it inrepair. 

Although none of the events in the early life of Hawthorne ought to beconsidered positive misfortunes, as they all contributed to make himwhat he was, yet upon general principles it is much to be regrettedthat he should have passed the best years of his boyhood in this out-of-the-way place. His good uncle supplied him with a boat and a gun, and he enjoyed the small shooting, fishing, sailing and skating thatthe place afforded; but in later years he wrote to Bridge, "It was atSebago that I learned my cursed habit of solitude, " and this pursuedhim through life like an evil genius, placing him continually at adisadvantage with his fellow-men. It has been supposed that this modeof life assisted in developing his individuality, but quite as strongindividualities have been developed in the midst of large cities. "Speech is more refreshing than light. "

When will parents learn wisdom in regard to their children? Aconscientious, tender-hearted boy will be sent to a rough countryschool, to be scoffed at and maltreated there, before he is twelveyears old; while another of a coarser and harder nature will be kept athome, to be petted and pampered until all the vigor and manliness aresapped out of him. Parents who prefer to live in a modest, humblemanner, in order that their children may have better advantages, deserve the highest commendation, but in this respect good instructionis less important than favorable associations. From fourteen to twenty-one is the formative period of character, and the influences which maybe brought to bear on the growing mind are of the highest importance. Lake Sebago served as an excellent gymnasium for young Hawthorne, andmay have helped to develop his sense of the beautiful, but he found fewcompanions there, and those not of the most suitable kind. He wasexceedingly fond of skating--so much so that when the ice was smooth hesometimes remained on the lake far into the night. This we can envyhim, for skating is the poetry of motion. 

The captain of the "Hawthorne, " which plies back and forth across thelake in summer, regularly points out to his passengers the house wherethe Hathornes lived. It is easily seen from the steamer, --a severelyplain, unpainted building, in appearance much like the Manning house onHerbert Street. Nearly in line with it a great cliff-like rock juts outfrom the centre of the lake, on which the Indians centuries ago etchedand painted great warlike figures, whose significance is now known tono one. It is said that Hawthorne frequently sailed or rowed to IndianRock, and to a sort of grotto there which was large enough for his boatto enter. Both the rock and the Manning house are now difficult ofaccess. Longfellow wrote a pretty descriptive poem of a voyage onSebago, and it is remarkable how he has made use of every feature ofthe landscape, every incident of the excursion, to fill his verses. Thelake has much the shape of an hour-glass, the northern and southernportions being connected by a winding strait, so crooked that itrequires the constant effort of the pilot to prevent the little steamerfrom running aground. There used to be fine fishing in it, --largeperch, bass, and a species of fresh-water salmon often weighing fromsix to eight pounds. 

Strangely enough, one of Hawthorne's acquaintances on the shores ofSebago was a mulatto boy named William Symmes, the son of a Virginiaslave, foisted by his father upon a Maine sea-captain named Britton, who lived in the half-wilderness around Raymond. Symmes afterwardsbecame a sailor, and continued in that vocation until the Civil War, when he went to live in Alexandria, Va. In 1870 he published in thePortland _Transcript_ what pretended to be a series of extractsfrom a diary which young Hawthorne had kept while at Raymond, and whichwas found there, after the departure of the Manning family, by a mannamed Small, while moving a load of furniture which had been sold toanother party. Small preserved it until 1864, and then made a presentof it to Symmes. 

Doubts have been cast on the genuineness of this diary, as was naturalenough under the circumstances; for the original manuscript was neverproduced by Symmes, who died the following year, and no one knows whathas become of it. It may also be asked, why should Small have disposedso readily of this manuscript to Symmes after preserving it sedulouslyfor more than forty years? Why did he not return it to its rightfulowner; or, if he felt ashamed of his original abstraction, why did notSymmes restore it to the Hawthorne family after Hawthorne's death, whenevery newspaper in the country was celebrating Hawthorne's genius? Italso might have occurred to one of them that such property would have amarketable value, and could be disposed of at a high price to somecollector of literary curiosities; but Symmes did not even ask to beremunerated for the portion that he contributed to the PortlandTranscript. Neither did he harbor the slightest ill feeling towardHawthorne, whom he claimed to have met several times in the course ofhis wanderings, --once at Salem, and again at Liverpool, --and was alwaystreated by him with exceptional kindness and civility. 

The only answer that can be made to these queries is, that men inSymmes's position in life do not act according to any method that canbe previously calculated. In a case like the present, there could be nopredicting it; and it is possible that this mulatto valued the diaryabove all price, as a souvenir of the one white man who had ever beenkind and good to him. Who knows what a heart there may have been inWilliam Symmes?

The internal evidence of this diary is so strongly in its favor as tobe almost conclusive. Lathrop, who made a special study of it, says:

"The fabrication of the journal by a person possessed of some literaryskill and familiar with the localities mentioned, at dates so long agoas 1816 to 1819, might not be an impossible feat, but it is anextremely improbable one. "

To which it might be added, that it could be only a Hawthorne thatcould accomplish such a fabrication. Few things in literature are moredifficult than to make a boy talk _like_ a boy, and the tone ofthis Sebago journal is not only boyish, but sweet and pleasant to theear, such as we might imagine the talk of the youthful Hawthorne. Notonly this, but there is a gradated improvement of intelligence in thecourse of it, --rather too much so for entire credibility. It is quitepossible that there is more of it than Hawthorne ever wrote, but thatdoes not prevent us from having faith in the larger portion of it. Thepurity of its diction, the nice adaptation of each word to its purpose, and the accuracy of detail are much in its favor; besides which, thepersonal reflections in it are exactly like Hawthorne. The publishedportion of the diary in Mr. Pickard's book makes about fifty rathersmall pages, but no dates are given except at the close, and that isAugust, 1818; and as Hawthorne went to Sebago for the first time thepreceding year, we may presume that this note-book represents a winterand summer vacation, during which he would seem to have enjoyed himselfin a healthy boyish fashion. We have only space for a few extracts fromthis publication, which serve both to exemplify Hawthorne's mode oflife at Raymond and to illustrate the preceding statement concerningthe book. 

The first observation in the diary is quoted by Lathrop, and has adecidedly youthful tone. 

"Two kingbirds have built their nest between our house and the mill-pond. The male is more courageous than any creature that I know about. He seems to have taken possession of the territory from the great pondto the small one, and goes out to war with every fish-hawk that fliesfrom one to the other over his dominion. The fish-hawks must bemiserable cowards to be driven by such a speck of a bird. I have notyet seen one turn to defend himself. "

Kingbirds are the knights-errant of the feathered tribes. They neverattack another bird unless it is three times their own size; but when afew years older, the boy Hawthorne would probably have noticed that thekingbirds' powers of flight are so superior that all other birds arepractically at their mercy. This fixes the date of the entry in theearly summer of 1817, for kingbirds are not belligerent except duringthe nesting season. Somewhat later in the year he writes:

"Went yesterday in a sail-boat on the Great Pond with Mr. Peter White, of Windham. He sailed up here from White's Bridge to see CaptainDingley, and invited Joseph Dingley and Mr. Ring to take a boat-rideout to the Dingley Islands and to the Images. He was also kind enoughto say that I might go, with my mother's consent, which she gave aftermuch coaxing. Since the loss of my father, she dreads to have any onebelonging to her go upon the water. It is strange that this beautifulbody of water is called a 'pond. ' The geography tells of many inScotland and Ireland, not near so large, that are called 'Lakes. '"

Notice his objection to bad nomenclature, and his school-boy argumentagainst it. In his account of this excursion he says further:

"After we got ashore, Mr. White allowed me to fire his long gun at amark. I did not hit the mark, and am not sure that I saw it at the timethe gun went off, but believe rather that I was watching for the noisethat I was about to make. 

"Mr. Ring said that with practice I could be a gunner, and that now, with a very heavy charge, he thought I could kill a horse at eightpaces!"

Here or nowhere do we recognize the budding of Hawthorne's genius. Thisclear introspective analysis is the foundation of all true mentalpower, and Hawthorne might have become a Platonic philosopher, if hehad not preferred to be a story-teller. 

These sports came to an end in the autumn when he was sent to studywith the Reverend Caleb Bradley, a somewhat eccentric graduate ofHarvard, who resided at Stroudwater, Maine, and with whom he remainedduring the winter. [Footnote: S. T. Pickard's "Hawthorne's FirstDiary. "]He refers to this period of tuition in the short story of "TheVision of the Fountain, " and whether or no any such vision appeared tohim, we can fairly believe that the tale was suggested by some prettyschool-girl who made an impression on him, only to disappear in atantalizing manner. It is to be presumed that he returned to his motherat Raymond, for Christmas; and at that time he heard a story of how anOtisfield man named Henry Turner had killed three hibernating bearswhich he discovered in a cave near Moose Pond, not a difficult featwhen one comes upon them in that torpid condition. This would place thekilling of the bears at about the first of December, which would beprobable enough, and the fact itself has been substantiated by SamuelPickard. The next succeeding entry relates to the drowning of a boywhile swimming, which could only have happened the following June. Mrs. Hathorne was greatly alarmed, and objected to Nathaniel's going inbathing with the other boys. He did not like the restriction, butwrites that he shall obey his mother. 

There is a ghost story in the diary, quite original, and told with anair of excellent credibility; and also a short anthropomorphic romanceconcerning a badly treated horse, full of genuine pathos and kindlysympathy, --more sympathetic, in fact, than Hawthorne's later stories, in which he is sometimes almost too reserved and unemotional:

"'Good morning, Mr. Horse, how are you to-day?' 'Good morning, youngster, ' said he, just as plain as a horse can speak, and then said, 'I am almost dead, and I wish I was quite. I am hungry, have had nobreakfast and stand here tied by the head while they are grinding thecorn, and until master drinks two or three glasses of rum at the store, and then drag him and the meal up the Ben Ham hill, and home, and amnow so weak that I can hardly stand. Oh, dear, I am in a bad way, ' andthe old creature cried, --I almost cried myself. "

The only difficulty in believing this diary to be genuine is thequestion: If Hawthorne could write with such perspicuity at fourteen, why are there no evidences of it during his college years? But itsometimes happens so. 

We cannot refrain from quoting one more extract from the last entry inthe Sebago diary, so beautifully tender and considerate as it is of hismother's position toward her only son. He had been invited by a partyof their neighbors to go on an all-day excursion, and though his mothergrants his request to be allowed to join them, he feels the reluctancewith which she does so and he writes:

"She said 'Yes, ' but I was almost sorry, knowing that my day's pleasurewould cost _her_ one of anxiety. However, I gathered up my hooksand lines, with some white salted pork for bait, and with a fabulousnumber of biscuit, split in the middle, the insides well buttered, thenskilfully put together again, and all stowed in sister's large work-bag, and slung over my shoulder, I started, making a wager with EnochWhite, as we walked down to the boat, as to which could catch thelargest number of fish. " [Footnote: Appendix A. ]

This is the only entry that is dated (August, 1818), and as it was onthis same occasion that the black ducks were shot, it must have been onone of the last days of August. We may presume that Nathaniel returnedto his studies at Stroudwater the following month, for we do not hearof him again at Raymond--or in Salem, either--until March 24, when hewrites to his uncle, Robert Manning, who has evidently just returnedfrom Raymond to Salem, and speaks of expecting to go to Portland with aMr. Linch for the day. On May 16, 1819, he writes to his uncle Robertagain:

"The grass and trees are green, the fences finished and the gardenplanted. Two of the goats are on the island and the other kept for themilk. I have shot a partridge and a hen-hawk and caught eighteen largetrout [probably Sebago salmon]. I am sorry that my uncle intendssending me to school again, for my mother can hardly spare me. "

From which it is easy to infer that he had not attended school veryregularly of late, and Uncle Robert would seem to have concluded thatit would be better to have his fine nephew where he could personallysupervise his goings and comings. Accordingly, on July 26 we findNathaniel attending school in Salem, --a most unusual season for it, --and although his mother remained at Raymond two years longer, he wasnot permitted to return there again, except possibly for short periods. 

Emerson once pointed out to me on Sudbury Street, Boston, an extremelyold man with long white locks and the face of a devoted scholar, advancing toward us with slow and cautious steps. "That, " said he, "isDoctor Worcester, the lexicographer. " Hawthorne's early educationremains much of a mystery. In 1819 he complains in a letter to hismother that he has to go to a cheap school, --a good indication that hedid not intend to trust to fortune for his future welfare; soon afterthis we hear that dictionary Worcester is his chief instructor. Hecould not have found a more amiable or painstaking pedagogue; nor is itlikely that the fine qualities of his teacher were ever betterappreciated. Hawthorne himself says nothing of this, for it was not hisway to express admiration for man or woman, but we can believe that hefelt the same affection for the doctor that well-behaved boys commonlydo for their old masters. It was from Worcester that he derived hisexcellent knowledge of Latin, the single study of which he was fond;and it is his preference for words derived from the Latin which givesgrace and flexibility to Hawthorne's style, as the force and severityof Emerson's style come from his partiality for Saxon words. During hislast year at school, Hawthorne took private lessons of a Salem lawyer, Benjamin Oliver, and perhaps studied with him altogether at the finish. 

Hawthorne's life had been so irregular for years that it is creditableto him that he should have succeeded in entering college at all. Wehear of him at Sebago in winter and at Salem in July. He writes to hisUncle Robert to look out for the shot-gun which he left in a closet atSebago, and which has a rather heavy charge of powder in it. He appearsto have found as little companionship in Salem as he did in thatwilderness, --the natural effect of such a life. He may have beenacquainted with half the boys in Salem, but he did not make any warmfriends among them. His sister Louisa, who was a more vivacious personthan Elizabeth, was his chief companion and comfort. Seated at thewindow with her on summer evenings, he elaborated the plan of animaginary society, a club of two, called the "Pin Society, " to whichall fees, assessments and fines were paid in pins, --then made by handand much more expensive than now. He constituted himself its secretary, and wrote imaginary reports of its proceedings, in which Louisa isfrequently fined for absence from meetings. We do not hear of theirgoing to parties or dances with other children. 

In August, 1820, he started an imaginary newspaper called the_Spectator_, which he wrote himself with some help from Louisa, and of which there was only one copy of each number. He continued thisthrough five successive issues, and we trace in its pages thecommencement of Hawthorne's peculiar humor, --too quiet and gentle tomake us laugh, but with a penetrating tinge of pathos. Take forinstance the following:

"There is no situation in life more irksome than that of an editor whois obliged to find amusement for his Readers, from a head which is toooften (as is the present predicament with our own) filled withemptiness. Since commencing this paper, we have received nocommunication of any kind, so that the whole weight of the businessdevolves upon our own shoulders, a load far too great for them to bear. We hope the Public will reflect on these grievances. "

This is true fiction, and Nathaniel was not the first or the lasteditor to whom the statement has applied. His difficulties areimaginary, but he realizes what they might be in reality. 

In another number he says:

"We know of no news, either domestic or foreign, and we hope ourreaders will excuse our not inserting any. The law which prohibitspaying debts when a person has no money will apply in this case. "

Then he makes this quiet hit against the people of Maine for havingseparated themselves and their territory from Massachusetts:

"By a gentleman in the state of Maine, we learn that a famine isseriously apprehended owing to the want of rain. Potatoes could not beprocured in some places. When children break their leading strings, andrun away from their Parent, (as Maine has done) they may expectsometimes to suffer hunger. " [Footnote: _Wide Awake_, xxxiii. 512. ]

Of his religious instruction we hear nothing; but church-going in NewEngland during the first forty years of the nineteenth century waswellnigh universal, and it makes little difference now to which of thevarious forms of Calvinistic worship the Manning family subscribed. That young Hawthorne was seriously impressed in this way is evidentfrom the following ode, which he may have composed as early as hisfifteenth year:

 "Oh, I have roamed in rapture wild Where the majestic rocks are piled In lonely, stern, magnificence around The troubled ocean's steadfast bound; And I have seen the storms arise And darkness veil from mortal eyes The Heavens that shine so fair and bright, And all was solemn, silent night. Then I have seen the storm disperse, And Mercy hush the whirlwind fierce, And all my soul in transport owned There is a God, in Heaven enthroned. "

There is more of a rhetorical flourish than of serious religiousfeeling in this; but genuine piety is hardly to be expected, and notgreatly to be desired, in a boy of that age. It represents the desireto be religious, and to express something, he knows not what. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne had already decided on his vocation in life beforehe entered Bowdoin College, --a decision which he afterwards adhered towith inflexible determination, in spite of the most discouragingobstacles. In a memorable letter to his mother, written March 13, 1821, he says:

"I am quite reconciled to going to college, since I am to spend myvacations with you. Yet four years of the best part of my life is agreat deal to throw away. I have not yet concluded what profession Ishall have. The being a minister is of course out of the question. Ishall not think that even you could desire me to choose so dull a wayof life. Oh, no, mother, I was not born to vegetate forever in oneplace, and to live and die as tranquil as--a puddle of water. As tolawyers, there are so many of them already that one-half of them (upona moderate calculation) are in a state of actual starvation. Aphysician, then, seems to be 'Hobson's choice'; but yet I should notlike to live by the diseases and infirmities of my fellow-creatures. And it would weigh very hardly on my conscience, in the course of mypractice, if I should chance to send any unlucky patient '_adinfernum_, ' which, being interpreted, is 'to the realms below. ' Ohthat I was rich enough to live without profession! What do you think ofmy becoming an author, and relying for support upon my pen? Indeed, Ithink the illegibility of my hand is very author-like. " [Footnote:Conway, 24. ]

Such were the Ides of March for Hawthorne. It was no boyish ambitionfor public distinction, nor a vain grasping at the laurel wreath, but acalmly considered and clear-sighted judgment. 

CHAPTER III

BOWDOIN COLLEGE: 1821-1825. 

The life of man is not like a game of chess, in which the two playersstart upon equal terms and can deliberate sufficiently over every move;but more like whist, in which the cards we hold represent our fortunesat the beginning, but the result of the game depends also on the skillwith which we play it. Life also resembles whist in this, that we areobliged to follow suit in a general way to those who happen to have thelead. 

Why Hawthorne should have entered Bowdoin College instead of Harvardhas not been explained, nor is it easily explained. The standard ofscholarship maintained at Harvard and Yale has always been higher thanthat at what Doctor Holmes designated as the "freshwater colleges, " andthis may have proved an unfavorable difference to the mind of a youngman who was not greatly inclined to his studies; but Harvard College isonly eighteen miles from Salem, and he could have returned to his homeonce a week if he had chosen to do so, and this is a decided moral andsocial advantage to a young man in those risky years. If Hawthorne hadentered Harvard in the next class to Emerson, he could not well haveescaped the latter's attention, and would have come in contact withother vigorous and stimulating minds; but it is of little use tospeculate on what might have been. 

Boys are encouraged to study for college by accounts of the rareenjoyment of university life, but they commonly find the first term ofFreshman year both dismal and discouraging. Their class is a medley ofstrangers, their studies are a dry routine, and if they are not hazedby the Sophomores, they are at least treated by them with haughtinessand contempt. It is still summer when they arrive, but the leaves soonfall from the trees, and their spirits fall with them. 

Hawthorne may have felt this more acutely than any other member of hisclass, and in addition to the prevailing sense of discomfort he wasseized early in November with that disgusting malady, the measles, which boys usually go through with before they are old enough torealize how disagreeable it is. It appears to have been a light attack, however, and in three weeks he was able to attend recitations again. Hemade no complaint of it, only writing to his uncle for ten dollars withwhich to pay the doctor. He likes his chum, Mason, of Portsmouth, anddoes not find his studies so arduous as at Salem before entering. Neither are the college laws so strict as he anticipated. 

In the following May he received the present of his first watch, presumably from Uncle Robert, and he writes to his mother, who is stillat Sebago, that he is mightily pleased with it, and that it enables him"to cut a great dash" at college. His letters to his relatives are notbrilliant, but they indicate a healthful and contented mind. 

We will now consider some of the distinguished personages who wereHawthorne's friends and associates during these four years of hisapprenticeship to actual life; and there were rare characters amongthem. 

In the same coach in which Hawthorne left Portland for Brunswick, inthe summer of 1821, were Franklin Pierce and Jonathan Cilley. [Footnote: Bridge's Memoir of Hawthorne, 3. ] Two men seated together ina modern railway-carriage will often become better acquainted in threehours than they might as next-door neighbors in three years; and thiswas still more likely to happen in the old days of coach journeys, whenthe very tedium of the occasion served as an inducement to frank andfriendly conversation. Pierce was the right man to bring Hawthorne outof his hard shell of Sebago seclusion. He had already been one year atBowdoin, and at that time there was not the same caste feeling betweenSophomores and Freshmen--or at least very little of it--that has sincearisen in American colleges. He was amiable and kindly, and possessedthe rare gift of personal magnetism. Nature sometimes endows men andwomen with this quality in lieu of all other advantages, and such wouldseem to have been the case with Franklin Pierce. He was not much abovethe average in intellect, and, as Hawthorne afterward confessed, notparticularly attractive in appearance; with a stiff military neck, features strong but small, and opaque gray eyes, --a rather unimpressiveface, and one hardly capable of a decided expression. Yet with suchabilities as he had, aided by personal magnetism and the lack ofconspicuous faults, he became United States Senator at the age ofthirty-five, and President fifteen years later. The best we can say ofhim is, that he was always Hawthorne's friend. From the first day thatthey met he became Hawthorne's patron and protector--so far as he mayhave required the latter. There must have been some fine quality in theman which is not easily discernible from his outward acts; a narrow-minded man, but of a refined nature. 

Jonathan Cilley was an abler man than Pierce, and a bold party-leader, but not so attractive personally. He always remained Hawthorne'sfriend, but the latter saw little of him and rarely heard from himafter they had graduated. The one letter of his which has beenpublished gives the impression of an impulsive, rough-and-tumble sortof person, always ready to take a hand in whatever might turn up. 

On the same day, Horatio Bridge, who lived at Augusta, was coming downthe Kennebec River to Brunswick. Hawthorne did not make hisacquaintance until some weeks later, but he proved to be the bestfriend of them all, and Hawthorne's most constant companion during thefour years they remained together. Pierce, Cilley and Bridge were allborn politicians, and it was this class of men with whom it would seemthat Hawthorne naturally assimilated. 

On the same day, or the one previous, another boy set out from Portlandfor Brunswick, only fourteen years old, named Henry W. Longfellow, --aname that is now known to thousands who never heard of Franklin Pierce. Would it have made a difference in the warp and woof of Hawthorne'slife, if he had happened to ride that day in the same coach withLongfellow? Who can tell? Was there any one in the breadth of the landwith whom he might have felt an equal sympathy, with whom he could havematured a more enduring fellowship? It might have been a friendshiplike that of Beaumont and Fletcher, or, better still, like that ofGoethe and Schiller, --but it was not written in the book of Fate. Longfellow also had tried his hand on the Sebago region, and was fondof the woods and of a gun; but he was too precocious to adapt himselfeasily to persons of his own age, or even somewhat older. He had nosooner arrived at Bowdoin than he became the associate and favorite ofthe professors. In this way he missed altogether the storm-and-stressperiod of youthful life, which is a useful experience of its kind; andif we notice in his poetry a certain lack, the absence of a closecontact with reality, --as if he looked at his subject through a glasscasement, --this may be assigned as the reason for it. 

[Illustration: HORATIO BRIDGE. FROM THE PORTRAIT BY EASTMAN JOHNSON]

During the four years they went back and forth to their instructiontogether, Hawthorne and Longfellow never became cordially acquainted. They also belonged to rival societies. There were only two principalsocieties at Bowdoin, which continued through the college course--thePeucinian and the Athenæan, and the difference between them might bedescribed by the words "citified" and "countrified, " without takingeither of those terms in an objectionable sense. Pierce was already aleading character in the Athenæan, and was soon followed by Cilley, Bridge and Hawthorne. The Peucinian suffered from the disadvantage ofhaving members of the college faculty on its active list, and this musthave given a rather constrained and academic character to its meetings. There was much more of the true college spirit and classmate feeling inthe Athenæan. 

Horatio Bridge is our single authority in regard to Bowdoin College atthis time, and his off-hand sketches of Hawthorne, Pierce andLongfellow are invaluable. Never has such a group of distinguishedyoung men been gathered together at an American college. He says ofHawthorne:

"Hawthorne was a slender lad, having a massive head, with dark, brilliant, and most expressive eyes, heavy eyebrows, and a profusion ofdark hair. For his appearance at that time the inquirers must relywholly upon the testimony of friends; for, I think, no portrait of himas a lad is extant. On one occasion, in our senior years, the classwished to have their profiles cut in silhouette by a wandering artistof the scissors, and interchanged by all the thirty-eight. Hawthornedisapproved the proposed plan, and steadily refused to go into theClass Golgotha, as he styled the dismal collection. I joined him inthis freak, and so our places were left vacant. I now regret the whim, since even a moderately correct outline of his features as a youthwould, at this day, be interesting. 

"Hawthorne's figure was somewhat singular, owing to his carrying hishead a little on one side; but his walk was square and firm, and hismanner self-respecting and reserved. A fashionable boy of the presentday might have seen something to amuse him in the new student'sappearance; but had he indicated this he would have rued it, forHawthorne's clear appreciation of the social proprieties and his greatphysical courage would have made it as unsafe to treat him withdiscourtesy then as at any later time. 

"Though quiet and most amiable, he had great pluck and determination. Iremember that in one of our convivial meetings we had the laugh uponhim for some cause, an occurrence so rare that the bantering wascarried too far. After bearing it awhile, Hawthorne singled out the oneamong us who had the reputation of being the best pugilist, and in afew words quietly told him that he would not permit the rallying to gofarther. His bearing was so resolute, and there was so much of dangerin his eye, that no one afterward alluded to the offensive subject inhis presence. " [Footnote: Horatio Bridge, 5. ]

Horatio Bridge is a veracious witness, but we have to consider that hewas nearly ninety years of age at the time his memoirs were given tothe public. It is difficult to imagine Hawthorne as a slender youth, for his whole figure was in keeping with the structure of his head. Itis more likely that he had a spare figure. Persons of a livelyimagination have always been apt to hold their heads on one side, butnot commonly while they are walking. It is for this reason thatphrenologists have supposed that the organ of ideality is located onthe side of the head, --if there really is any such organ. 

Bridge says of Longfellow precisely what one might expect:

"He had decided personal beauty and most attractive manners. He wasfrank, courteous, and affable, while morally he was proof against thetemptations that beset lads on first leaving the salutary restraints ofhome. He was diligent, conscientious, and most attentive to all hiscollege duties, whether in the recitation-room, the lecture-hall, orthe chapel. The word 'student' best expresses his literary habit, andin his intercourse with all he was conspicuously the gentleman. "

In addition to those already mentioned, James W. Bradbury of Portland, afterwards United States Senator, and the Reverend Dr. George B. Cheever, the vigorous anti-slavery preacher, were members of thisclass. Three others, Cilley, Benson and Sawtelle, were afterwardmembers of the United States House of Representatives. Surely theremust have been quite a fermentation of youthful intellect at Bowdoinbetween 1821 and 1825. 

Franklin Pierce was so deeply interested in military affairs that itwas a pity he should not have had a West Point cadetship. He wascaptain of the college militia company, in which Hawthorne and Bridgedrilled and marched; a healthy and profitable exercise, and better thana gymnasium, if rather monotonous. Pierce was the popular hero and_magnus Apollo_ of his class, as distinguished foot-ball playersare now; but just at this time he was neglecting his studies so badlythat at the close of his second year he found himself at the very footof the rank list. The fact became known through the college, and Piercewas so chagrined that he concluded to withdraw from Bowdoin altogether, and it was only by the urgent persuasion of his friends that he wasinduced to continue his course. "If I remain, however, " he said, "youwill witness a change in me. " For months together he burned midnightoil in order to recover lost ground. During his last two years atcollege, he only missed two recitations, both for sufficient reasons. His conduct was unexceptionable, he incurred no deductions, and finallygraduated third in his class. It is an uncommon character that can playfast-and-loose with itself in this manner. The boy Franklin haddeparted, and Pierce the man had taken his place. [Footnote: ProfessorPackard's "History of Bowdoin College. "] Horatio Bridge gives a rathermore idealized portrait of him than he does of Hawthorne. He says:

"In person Pierce was slender, of medium height, with fair complexionand light hair, erect, with a military bearing, active, and alwaysbright and cheerful. In character he was impulsive, not rash; generous, not lavish; chivalric, courteous, manly, and warm-hearted, --and he wasone of the most popular students in the whole college. "

The instruction in American colleges during the first half of thenineteenth century was excellent for Greek, Latin and mathematics, --always the groundwork of a good education, --but the modern languageswere indifferently taught by French and German exiles, and othersubjects were treated still more indifferently. The two noble studiesof history and philosophy were presented to the young aspiring soul innarrow, prejudiced text-books, which have long since been consigned tothat bourn from which no literary work ever returns. As already stated, Hawthorne's best study was Latin, and in that he acquired goodproficiency; but he was slow in mathematics, as artistic minds usuallyare, and in his other studies he only exerted himself sufficiently topass his examinations in a creditable manner. We may presume that hetook the juice and left the rind; which was the sensible thing to do. As might be expected, his themes and forensics were beautifullywritten, although the arguments in them were not always logical; but itis significant that he never could be prevailed upon to make adeclamation. There have been sensitive men, like Sumner and George W. Curtis, who were not at all afraid of the platform, but they were not, like Hawthorne, bashful men. The college faculty would seem to haverealized the true difficulty in his case, and treated him in a kindlyand lenient manner. No doubt he suffered enough in his own mind onaccount of this deficiency, and it may have occurred to him whatdifficulties he might have to encounter in after-life by reason of it. If a student at college cannot bring himself to make a declamation, howcan the mature man face an audience in a lecture-room, command a ship, or administer any important office? Such thoughts must have causedHawthorne no slight anxiety, at that sensitive age. 

The out-door sports of the students did not attract Hawthorne greatly. He was a fast runner and a good leaper, but seemed to dislike violentexercise. He much preferred walking in the woods with a singlecompanion, or by the banks of the great river on which Brunswick issituated. There were fine trout-brooks in the neighborhood, andformerly the woods of Maine were traversed by vast flocks of passengerpigeons, which with the large gray squirrels afforded excellentshooting. How skilful Hawthorne became with his fowling-piece we havenot been informed, but it is evident from passages in "Fanshawe" thathe learned something of trout-fishing; and on the whole he enjoyedadvantages at Bowdoin which the present student at Harvard or Oxfordmight well envy, him. The fish we catch in the streams and lakes ofMaine only represent a portion of our enjoyment there. Horatio Bridgesays:

"There was one favorite spot in a little ravine, where a copious springof clear, cold water gushed out from the sandy bank, and joined thelarger stream. This was the Paradise Spring, which deserves much morethan its present celebrity for the absolute purity of its waters. Oflate years the brook has been better known as a favorite haunt of thegreat romance writer, and it is now often called the Hawthorne Brook. 

"Another locality, above the bridge, afforded an occasional strollthrough the fields and by the river. There, in spring, we used tolinger for hours to watch the giant pine-logs (for there were giants inthose days) from the far-off forests, floating by hundreds in thestream until they came to the falls; then, balancing for a moment onthe brink, they plunged into the foamy pool below. "

At the lower end of the town there was an old weather-beaten cot, wherethe railroad track now runs, inhabited by a lone woman nearly as oldand time-worn as the dwelling itself. She pretended to be a fortune-teller, and to her Hawthorne and Bridge sometimes had recourse, to liftthe veil of their future prospects; which she always succeeded in doingto their good entertainment. The old crone knew her business well, especially the art of giving sufficient variety of detail to the sameold story. For a nine-pence she would predict a beautiful blond wifefor Hawthorne, and an equally handsome dark-complexioned one forBridge. Riches were of course thrown in by the handful; and Bridgeremarks that although these never came to pass they both happened to beblessed with excellent wives. It is not surprising that the handsomeHawthorne and his tall, elegant-looking companion should havestimulated the old woman's imagination in a favorable manner. The smallcoin they gave her may have been the least happiness that their visitsbrought into her life. 

Close by the college grounds there was a miserable little inn, whichwent by the name of Ward's Tavern, and thither the more uproariousclass of students consorted at intervals for the purpose of keepingcare at a distance, and singing, "Landlord, fill your flowing bowls. "Strange to say, the reserved, thoughtful Hawthorne was often to befound among them. It does not seem quite consistent with the gravity ofhis customary demeanor, but youth has its period of recklessebullition. Punch-bowl societies exist in all our colleges, and manywho disapprove of them join them for the sake of popularity. Hawthornemay have been as grave and well-behaved on these occasions as he wascustomarily. We have Bridge's word for this; and the matter wouldhardly be worth mentioning if it had not led to more seriousproceedings. May 29, 1822, President Allen wrote to Mrs. Hathorne atSalem that her son had been fined fifty cents for gaming at cards. [Footnote: In 1864 a Harvard student was fined three dollars forwriting on the woodwork with a lead-pencil--erased with a sponge. ]Certainly this was not very severe treatment; and if the Bowdoinfaculty, being on the spot, concluded that young Hawthorne had onlyinjured his moral nature fifty cents' worth, I think we shall do wellto agree with their decision. At the same time Nathaniel wrote hismother the following manly letter:

 "BRUNSWICK, May 30th, 1822. 

"MY DEAR MOTHER:--I hope you have safely arrived in Salem. I havenothing particular to inform you of, except that all the card-playersin college have been found out, and my unfortunate self among thenumber. One has been dismissed from college, two suspended, and therest, with myself, have been fined fifty cents each. I believe thePresident intends to write to the friends of all the delinquents. Should that be the case, you must show the letter to nobody. If I amagain detected, I shall have the honor of being suspended. When thePresident asked what we played for, I thought it proper to inform himit was fifty cents, although it happened to be a quart of wine; but ifI had told him of that, he would probably have fined me for having ablow. There was no untruth in the case, as the wine cost fifty cents. Ihave not played at all this term. I have not drank any kind of spiritsor wine this term, and shall not till the last week. " [Footnote:Horatio Bridge, 118. ]

The clemency with which the college authorities treated Bridge andHawthorne is a plain indication of the confidence which they felt inthem, and speaks more highly for their respective characters than ifthey had been patterns of good behavior. Some of the others were not sofortunate. One young man, whose name is properly withheld from us, wasexpelled from the institution. He was supposed to have been theringleader in this dubious business, but Hawthorne manfully resentedthe supposition that any one could have influenced him, or didinfluence him, in this matter. It is more likely that he was influencedby the spirit of investigation, and wished to know what the sensationwas like from personal experience. 

"Letters home" from college are not commonly interesting to the generalpublic, and those which Hawthorne wrote to his mother and sisters donot differ essentially from such as other young men write under similarconditions. At the age when it is so difficult to decide whether wehave become men or are still boys, all our actions partake of a similaruncertainty, and the result of what we do and say is likely to be arather confused impression. Though college students appear differentenough to one another, they all seem alike to the outside world. 

University towns always contain more or less cultivated society, andyoung Hawthorne might have been welcome to the best of it if he hadfelt so inclined; but he was as shy of the fair sex as Goldsmith'sbashful lover. M. D. Conway, who knew him, doubts if he ever becamewell acquainted with a young lady until his engagement to Miss Peabody. Considering this, it seems as if Jonathan Cilley made rather ahazardous wager with Hawthorne, before leaving Bowdoin, --a wager of acask of Madeira, that Hawthorne would become a married man within thenext twelve years. Papers to that effect were duly signed by therespective parties, sealed, and delivered for safe-keeping to HoratioBridge, who preserved them faithfully until the appointed time arrived. Under ordinary conditions the chances of this bet were in Cilley'sfavor, for in those primitive days it was much easier for educatedyoung men to obtain a start in life than it is at present, and earlymarriages were in consequence much more common. [Footnote: HoratioBridge, 47. The contract was dated November 14, 1824. ]

The year 1824 was a serious one in American politics. The Republican-Democratic party, having become omnipotent, broke to pieces of its ownweight. The eastern interest nominated John Quincy Adams for thePresidency; the western interest nominated Henry Clay; and the frontierinterest nominated Andrew Jackson. Unfortunately the frontier interestincluded all the unsettled and continually shifting elements in thecountry, so that Jackson had nearly as strong a support in the East asin the West. Bridge says, "We were all enthusiastic supporters of oldHickory. " It was evidently Pierce who led them into this, and althoughit proved in a material sense for Hawthorne's benefit, it separated himpermanently from the class to which he properly belonged--theenlightened men of culture of his time; and Cilley's tragical fate canbe directly traced to it. The Jackson movement was in its essence arevolt against _civility_, --and it seems as if Hawthorne andBridge might have recognized this. 

Hawthorne was well liked in his class in spite of his reserved manners, but he held no class offices that we hear of, except a place on acommittee of the Athenæan Society with Franklin Pierce. Class days andclass suppers, so prolific of small honors, were not introduced atBowdoin until some years later. He graduated eighteenth in a class ofthirty-eight, but this was not sufficient to give him a part in thecommencement exercises. [Footnote: The President informed him that hisrank in the class would have entitled him to a part if it had not beenfor his neglect of declamations; and Hawthorne wrote to his mother thathe was perfectly satisfied with this, for it saved him themortification of appearing in public. ] Accordingly Hawthorne, Bridge, and others who were in a like predicament, organized a mockCommencement celebration at Ward's Tavern, where they elected officersof a comical sort, such as boatswain and sea-cook, and concluded theircelebration in a manner suitable to the occasion. 

Hawthorne was commonly known among his classmates, as "Hath, " and hisfriends addressed him in this manner long after he had graduated. Hisdegree was made out in the name of Nathaniel Hathorne, above which hesubsequently wrote "Hawthorne, " in bold letters. 

The question may well be raised here, how it happened that Americaproduced so many men of remarkable intellect with such slightopportunities for education in former times, while our greatly improveduniversities have not graduated an orator like Webster, a poet likeLongfellow, or a prose-writer equal to Hawthorne during the past fortyyears. There have been few enough who have risen above mediocrity. 

It is the same, more or less, all over the civilized world. We haveentered into a mechanical age, which is natural enough considering therapid advances of science and the numerous mechanical inventions, butwhich is decidedly unfavorable to the development of art andliterature. Everything now goes by machinery, from Harvard Universityto Ohio politics and the gigantic United States Steel Company; andevery man has to find his place in some machine or other, or he isthrown out of line. Individual effort, as well as independence ofthought and action, is everywhere frowned upon; but without freedom ofthought and action there can be no great individualities, which is thesame as saying that there can be no poets like Longfellow, or writerslike Hawthorne and Emerson. Spontaneity is the life of the true artist, and in a mechanical civilization there can be neither spontaneity northe poetic material which is essential to artistic work of a highorder. There can be no great orators, for masses of men are no longerinfluenced by oratory, but by newspapers. Genius is like a plant ofslow growth, which requires sunshine and Mother Earth to nourish it, not chemicals and electric lights. 

CHAPTER IV

LITTLE MISERY: 1825-1835

During the War of the American Revolution, the officers of the Frenchfleet, which was stationed at Newport, invented a game of cards, called"Boston, " of which one peculiarity was, that under certain conditions, whoever held the lowest hand would win the count. This was called"Little Misery, " and this was the kind of hand which NathanielHawthorne had to play for fifteen years after leaving Bowdoin College. Only his indomitable will could have carried him through it. 

A college graduate who lacks the means to study a profession, and whohas no influential relative to make a place for him in the world, findshimself in a most discouraging position. The only thing that hiseducation has fitted him to do is, to teach school, and he may not beadapted to this, on account of some personal peculiarity. There was, and I suppose is still, a prejudice among mercantile men againstcollege graduates, as a class of proud, indolent, neglectful persons, very difficult to instruct. Undoubtedly there are many such, but theinnocent have to suffer with the guilty. It is natural that a man whohas not had a liberal education should object to employing asubordinate who knows Latin and Greek. Whether Hawthorne's UncleRobert, who had thus far proved to be his guardian genius, would haveeducated him for a profession, we have no means of knowing. This wouldmean of course a partial support for years afterward, and it is quitepossible that Mr. Manning considered his duties to his own childrenparamount to it. What he did for Nathaniel may have been the best hecould, to give him the position of book-keeper for the stage-company. This was of course Pegasus in harness (or rather at the hitching-post), but it is excellent experience for every young man; although thecompensation in Hawthorne's case was small and there could be noexpectation of future advancement. 

In this dilemma he decided to do the one thing for which Natureintended him, --to become a writer of fiction, --and he held fast to thisdetermination in the face of most discouraging obstacles. He composed aseries of short stories, --echoes of his academic years, --which heproposed to publish under the title of Wordsworth's popular poem, "WeAre Seven. " One of these is said to have been based on the witchcraftdelusion, and it is a pity that it should not have been preserved, buttheir feminine titles afford no indication of their character. He carriedthem to a publisher, who received him politely and promised to examinethem, but one month passed after another without Hawthorne's hearing fromhim, so that he concluded at length to make inquiries. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 124. ] The publisher confessed that he had not even undertakento read them, and Nathaniel carried them back, with a sinking heart, tohis little chamber in the house on Herbert Street, --where he may havehad melancholy thoughts enough for the next few weeks. 

Youth, however, soon outgrows its chagrins. In less than two yearsHawthorne was prepared to enter the literary lists, equipped with anovelette, called "Fanshawe"; but here again he was destined to meetwith a rebuff. After tendering it to a number of publishers withoutencouragement, he concluded to take the risk of publishing it himself. This only cost him a few hundred dollars, but the result wasunsatisfactory, and he afterward destroyed all the copies that he couldregain possession of. 

Hawthorne's genius was of slow development. He was only twenty-fourwhen he published this rather immature work, and it might have beenbetter if he had waited longer. It was to him what the "Sorrows ofWerther" was to Goethe, but while the "Sorrows of Werther" made Goethefamous in many countries, "Fanshawe" fell still-born. The latter wasnot more imitative of Scott than the "Sorrows of Werther" is ofRousseau, and now that we consider it in the cool critical light of thetwentieth century, we cannot but wonder that the "Sorrows of Werther"ever produced such enthusiasm. It is quite as difficult to see why"Fanshawe" should not have proved a success. It lacks the grace anddignity of Hawthorne's mature style, but it has an ingenious plot, alively action, and is written in sufficiently good English. One wouldsuppose that its faults would have helped to make it popular, forportions of it are so exciting as to border closely on the sensational. It may be affirmed that when a novel becomes so exciting that we wishto turn over the pages and anticipate the conclusion, either the actionof the story is too heated or its incidents are too highly colored. Theintroduction of pirates in a work of fiction is decidely sensational, from Walter Scott downward, and, though Hawthorne never fell into thiserror, he approaches closely to it in "Fanshawe. " There is some darksecret between the two villains of the piece, which he leaves to thereader as an exercise for the imagination. This is a characteristic ofall his longer stories. There is an unknown quantity, an insolublepoint, in them, which tantalizes the reader. 

What we especially feel in "Fanshawe" is the author's lack of socialexperience. His heroine at times behaves in a truly feminine manner, and at others her performances make us shiver. Her leaving herguardian's house at midnight to go off with an unknown man, whom hermaidenly instinct should have taught her to distrust, even if Fanshawehad not warned her against him, might have been characteristic of theMiddle Ages, but is certainly not of modern life. Bowdoin Collegeevidently served Hawthorne as a background to his plot, althoughremoved some distance into the country, and it is likely that theportrait of the kindly professor might have been recognized there. Ward's Tavern serves for the public-house where the various characterscongregate, and there is a high rocky ledge in the woods, or what usedto be woods at Brunswick, where the students often tried their skill inclimbing, and which Hawthorne has idealized into the cliff where thewould-be abductor met his timely fate. The trout-brook where Bridge andHawthorne used to fish is also introduced. 

Fanshawe himself seems like a house of which only two sides have beenbuilt. There are such persons, and it is no wonder if they prove to beshort-lived. Yet the scene in which he makes his noble renunciation ofthe woman who is devoted to him, purely from a sense of gratitude, isfinely and tenderly drawn, and worthy of Hawthorne in his best years. The story was republished after its author's death, and fully deservesits position in his works. 

It was about this time (1827) that Nathaniel Hathorne changed his nameto Hawthorne. No reason has ever been assigned for his doing so, and hehad no legal right to do it without an act of the Legislature, but hetook a revolutionary right, and as his family and fellow-citizensacquiesced in this, it became an established fact. His living relativesin the Manning family are unable to explain his reason for it. It mayhave been for the sake of euphony, or he may have had a fancifulnotion, that such a change would break the spell which seemed to bedragging his family down with him. Conway's theory that it was intendedto serve him as an incognito is quite untenable. His name first appearswith a _w_ in the Bowdoin Triennial Catalogue of 1828. 

There are very few data existing as to Hawthorne's life during hisfirst ten years of manhood, but it must have been a hard, dreary periodfor him. The Manning children, Robert, Elizabeth and Rebecca, were nowgrowing up, and must have been a source of entertainment in their way, and his sister Louisa was always a comfort; but Horatio Bridge, whomade a number of flying visits to him, states that he never saw theelder sister, even at table, --a fact from which we may draw our ownconclusions. Hawthorne had no friends at this time, except his collegeassociates, and they were all at a distance, --Pierce and Cilley bothflourishing young lawyers, one at Concord, New Hampshire, and the otherat Thomaston, Maine, --while Longfellow was teaching modern languages atBowdoin. He had no lady friends to brighten his evenings for him, andif he went into society, it was only to be stared at for his personalbeauty, like a jaguar in a menagerie. He had no fund of the smallconversation which serves like oil to make the social machinery runsmoothly. Like all deep natures, he found it difficult to adapt himselfto minds of a different calibre. Salem people noticed this, and hisapparent lack of an object in life, --for he maintained a profoundsecrecy in regard to his literary efforts, --and concluded that he wasan indolent young man without any faculty for business, and would nevercome to good in this world. No doubt elderly females admonished him forneglecting his opportunities, and small wits buzzed about him as theyhave about many another under similar conditions. It was HansAndersen's story of the ugly duck that proved to be a swan. 

No wonder that Hawthorne betook himself to the solitude of his ownchamber, and consoled himself like the philosopher who said, "When I amalone, then I am least alone. " He had an internal life with which onlyhis most intimate friends were acquainted, and he could people his roomwith forms from his own fancy, much more real to him than the palpable_ignota_ whom he passed in the street. Beautiful visions came tohim, instead of sermonizing ladies, patronizing money-changers, aggressive upstarts, grimacing wiseacres, and that large class ofamiable, well-meaning persons that makes up the bulk of society. Weshould not be surprised if angels sometimes came to hover round him, for to the pure in heart heaven descends upon earth. 

There is a passage in Hawthorne's diary under date of October 4, 1840, which has often been quoted; but it will have to be quoted again, forit cannot be read too often, and no biography of him would be adequatewithout it. He says:

"Here I sit in my old accustomed chamber where I used to sit in daysgone by. . . . This claims to be called a haunted chamber, for thousandsupon thousands of visions have appeared to me in it; and some few ofthem have become visible to the world. If ever I should have abiographer, he ought to make great mention of this chamber in mymemoirs, because so much of my lonely youth was wasted here, and heremy mind and character were formed; and here I have been glad andhopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here I sat a long, longtime, waiting patiently for the world to know me, and sometimeswondering why it did not know me sooner, or whether it would ever knowme at all, --at least, till I were in my grave. And sometimes it seemedas if I were already in the grave, with only life enough to be chilledand benumbed. But oftener I was happy, --at least as happy as I thenknew how to be, or was aware of the possibility of being. By and by, the world found me out in my lonely chamber, and called me forth, --notindeed, with a loud roar of acclamation, but rather with a still, smallvoice, --and forth I went, but found nothing in the world that I thoughtpreferable to my solitude till now . . . And now I begin to understandwhy I was imprisoned so many years in this lonely chamber, and why Icould never break through the viewless bolts and bars; for if I hadsooner made my escape into the world, I should have grown hard andrough, and been covered with earthly dust, and my heart might havebecome callous by rude encounters with the multitude. . . . But living insolitude till the fulness of time was come, I still kept the dew of myyouth, and the freshness of my heart. "

During these dismal years Horatio Bridge was Hawthorne's good genius. The letters that Hawthorne wrote to him have not been preserved, but wemay judge of their character by Bridge's replies to him--always frank, manly, sympathetic and encouraging. Hawthorne evidently confided histroubles and difficulties to Bridge, as he would to an elder brother. Bridge finally destroyed Hawthorne's letters, not so much on account oftheir complaining tone as for the personalities they contained;[Footnote: Horatio Bridge, 69. ] and this suggests to us that there wasstill another side to Hawthorne's life at this epoch concerning whichwe shall never be enlightened. A man could not have had a better friendthan Horatio Bridge. He was to Hawthorne what Edward Irving was toCarlyle; and the world is more indebted to them both than it oftenrealizes. 

There is in fact a decided similarity between the lives of Carlyle andHawthorne, in spite of radical differences in their work andcharacters. Both started at the foot of the ladder, and met with ahard, long struggle for recognition; both found it equally difficult toearn their living by their pens; both were assisted by most devotedfriends, and both finally achieved a reputation among the highest intheir own time. If there is sometimes a melancholy tinge in theirwritings, may we wonder at it? Pericles said, "We need the theatre tochase away the sadness of life, " and it might have benefited the wholeHawthorne family to have gone to the theatre once a fortnight; butthere were few entertainments in Salem, except of the stiffconventional sort, or in the shape of public dances open to firemen andshop-girls. Long afterward, Elizabeth Hawthorne wrote of her brother:

"His habits were as regular as possible. In the evening after tea hewent out for about an hour, whatever the weather was; and in winter, after his return, he ate a pint bowl of thick chocolate--(not cocoa, but the old-fashioned chocolate) crumbed full of bread: eating neverhurt him then, and he liked good things. In summer he ate somethingequivalent, finishing with fruit in the season of it. In the evening wediscussed political affairs, upon which we differed in opinion; hebeing a Democrat, and I of the opposite party. In reality, his interestin such things was so slight that I think nothing would have kept italive but my contentious spirit. Sometimes, when he had a book that heparticularly liked, he would not talk. He read a great many novels. "[Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 125. ]

If Elizabeth possessed the genius which her brother supposed, shecertainly does not indicate it in this letter; but genius in the ore isvery different from genius smelted and refined by effort andexperience. The one important fact in her statement is that Hawthornewas in the habit of taking solitary rambles after dark, --an owlishpractice, but very attractive to romantic minds. Human nature appearsin a more pictorial guise by lamplight, after the day's work is over. The groups at the street corners, the glittering display in thewatchmaker's windows, the carriages flashing by and disappearing in thedarkness, the mysterious errands of foot-passengers, all served asobject-lessons for this student of his own kind. 

Jonathan Cilley once said:

"I love Hawthorne; I admire him; but I do not know him. He lives in amysterious world of thought and imagination which he never permits meto enter. " [Footnote: Packard's "Bowdoin College, " 306. ]

Long-continued thinking is sure to take effect at last, either in wordsor in action, and Hawthorne's mind had to disburden itself in somemanner. So, after the failure of "Fanshawe, " he returned to hisoriginal plan of writing short stories, and this time with success. InJanuary, 1830, the well-known tale of "The Gentle Boy" was accepted byS. G. Goodrich, the editor of a Boston publication called the_Token_, who was himself better known in those days under the_nom de plume_ of "Peter Parley. " "The Wives of the Dead, " "RogerMalvin's Burial, " and "Major Molineaux" soon followed. In 1833 hepublished the "Seven Vagabonds, " and some others. The New York_Knickerbocker_ published the "Fountain of Youth" and "EdwardFayne's Rosebud. " After 1833 the _Token_ and the _New EnglandMagazine_ [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 175. ] stood ready to acceptall the short pieces that Hawthorne could give them, but they did notencourage him to write serial stories. However, it was not the customthen for writers to sign their names to magazine articles, so thatHawthorne gained nothing in reputation by this. Some of his earliestpieces were printed over the signature of "Oberon. "

An autumn expedition to the White Mountains, Lake Champlain and LakeOntario, and Niagara Falls, in 1832, raised Hawthorne's spirits andstimulated his ambition. He wrote to his mother from Burlington, Vermont, September 16:

"I have arrived in safety, having passed through the White Hills, stopping at Ethan Crawford's house, and climbing Mt. Washington. I havenot decided as to my future course. I have no intention of going intoCanada. I have heard that cholera is prevalent in Boston. "

It was something to have stood on the highest summit east of the RockyMountains, and to have seen all New England lying at his feet. A hardwind in the Crawford Notch, which he describes in his story of "TheAmbitious Guest, " must have been in his own experience, and as hepassed the monument of the ill-fated Willey family he may have thoughtthat he too might become celebrated after his death, even as they werefrom their poetic catastrophe. This expedition provided him with thematerials for a number of small plots. 

The ice was now broken; but a new class of difficulties arose beforehim. American literature was then in the bud and promised a beautifulblossoming, but the public was not prepared for it. Monthly magazineshad a precarious existence, and their uncertainty of remunerationreacted on the contributors. Hawthorne was poorly paid, often obligedto wait a long time for his pay, and occasionally lost it altogether. For his story of "The Gentle Boy, " one of the gems of literature, whichought to be read aloud every year in the public schools, he receivedthe paltry sum of thirty-five dollars. Evidently he could not earn evena modest maintenance on such terms, and his letters to Bridge becamemore despondent than ever. 

Goodrich, who was a writer of the Andrews Norton class, soon perceivedthat Hawthorne could make better sentences than his own, and engagedhim to write historical abstracts for his pitiful Peter Parley books, paying him a hundred dollars for the whole work, and securing forhimself all the credit that appertained to it. Everybody knew who PeterParley was, but it has only recently been discovered that much of theliterature which passed under his name was the work of NathanielHawthorne. 

The editor of a New York magazine to which Hawthorne contributed anumber of sketches repeatedly deferred the payment for them, andfinally confessed his inability to make it, --which he probably knew orintended beforehand. Then, with true metropolitan assurance, he beggedof Hawthorne the use of certain unpublished manuscripts, which he stillhad in his possession. Hawthorne with unlimited contempt told thefellow that he might keep them, and then wrote to Bridge:

"Thus has this man, who would be considered a Mæcenas, taken from apenniless writer material incomparably better than any his own braincan supply. " [Footnote: Horatio Bridge, 68, 69. ]

Whether this New York periodical was the _Knickerbocker_ or someother, we are not informed; neither do we know what Bridge replied toHawthorne, who had closed his letter with a malediction, on theaforesaid editor, but elsewhere in his memoirs he remarks:

"Hawthorne received but small compensation for any of this literarywork, for he lacked the knowledge of business and the self-assertionnecessary to obtain even the moderate remuneration vouchsafed towriters fifty years ago. " [Footnote: Horatio Bridge, 77. ]

If Horatio Bridge had been an author himself, he would not have writtenthis statement concerning his friend. Magazine editors are like men inother professions: some of them are honorable and others are less so;but an author who offers a manuscript to the editor of a magazine iswholly at his mercy, so far as that small piece of property isconcerned. The author cannot make a bargain with the editor as he canwith the publisher of his book, and is obliged to accept whatever thelatter chooses to give him. Instances have been known where an editorhas destroyed a valuable manuscript, without compensation orexplanation of any kind. Hawthorne was doing the best that a humanbeing could under the conditions that were given him. Above all things, he was true to himself; no man could be more so. 

Yet Bridge wrote to him on Christmas Day, 1836:

"The bane of your life has been self-distrust. This has kept you backfor many years; which, if you had improved by publishing, would longago have given you what you must now wait a long time for. It may befor the best, but I doubt it. "

Nothing is more trying in misfortune than the ill-judged advice ofwell-meaning friends. There is no nettle that stings like it. To expectHawthorne to become a literary genius, and at the same time to developthe peculiar faculties of a commercial traveller or a curb-stonebroker, was unreasonable. In the phraseology of Sir William Hamilton, the two vocations are "non-compossible. " Bridge himself was undertakinga grandly unpractical project about this time: nothing less than anattempt to dam the Androscoggin, a river liable to devastating floods;and in this enterprise he was obliged to trust to a class of men whowere much more uncertain in their ways and methods than those with whomHawthorne dealt. Horatio Bridge had not studied civil engineering, andthe result was that before two years had elapsed the floods on theAndroscoggin swept the dam away, and his fortune with it. 

In the same letter we also notice this paragraph concerning anotherBowdoin friend:

"And so Frank Pierce is elected Senator. There is an instance of what aman can do by trying. With no very remarkable talents, he at the age ofthirty-four fills one of the highest stations in the nation. He is agood fellow, and I rejoice at his success. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 148. ]

Pierce certainly possessed the cap of Fortunatus, and it seems as ifthere must have been some magic faculty in the man, which enabled himto win high positions so easily; and he continued to do this, althoughhe had not distinguished himself particularly as a member of Congress, and he appeared to still less advantage among the great party leadersin the United States Senate. He illustrated the faculty for "gettingelected. "

In October, 1836, the time arrived for settling the matrimonial wagerbetween Hawthorne and Jonathan Cilley, which they had made at collegetwelve years before. Bridge accordingly examined the documents whichthey had deposited with him, and notified Cilley that he was underobligation to provide Hawthorne with an octavo of Madeira. 

Cilley's letter to Hawthorne on this occasion does not impress onefavorably. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 144. ] It is familiar and jocose, without being either witty or friendly, and he gives no intimation init of an intention to fulfil his promise. Hawthorne appears to havesent the letter to Bridge, who replied:

"I doubt whether you ever get your wine from Cilley. His inquiring ofyou whether he had really lost the bet is suspicious; and he haswritten me in a manner inconsistent with an intention of payingpromptly; and if a bet grows old it grows cold. He wished me to proposeto you to have it paid at Brunswick next Commencement, and to have asmany of our classmates as could be mustered to drink it. It may beCilley's idea to pay over the balance after taking a strong pull at it;if so, it is well enough. But still it should be tendered within themonth. "

In short, Cilley behaved in this matter much in the style of a trickyVan Buren politician, making a great bluster of words, and privatelyintending to do nothing. He was running for Congress at the time on theVan Buren ticket, and it is quite likely that the expenses of thecampaign had exhausted his funds. That he should never have paid thebet was less to Hawthorne's disadvantage than his own. 

It was now that Horatio Bridge proved himself a true friend, andequally a man. In the spring of 1836 Goodrich had obtained forHawthorne the editorship of the _American Magazine of Useful andEntertaining Knowledge_, with a salary of five hundred dollars;[Footnote: Conway, 45. ]but he soon discovered that he had embarked on aship with a rotten hulk. He started off heroically, writing the wholeof the first number with the help of his sister Elizabeth; but bymidsummer the concern was bankrupt, and he retired to his lonely cell, more gloomy and despondent than before. There are few sadder spectaclesthen that of a man seeking work without being able to obtain it; andthis applies to the man of genius as well as to the day laborer. 

Horatio Bridge now realized that the time had come for him tointerfere. He recognized that Hawthorne was gradually lapsing into ahypochondria that might terminate fatally; that he was Goethe's oakplanted in a flowerpot, and that unless the flower-pot could be broken, the oak would die. He also saw that Hawthorne would never receive thepublic recognition that was due to his ability, so long as he publishedmagazine articles under an assumed name. He accordingly wrote toGoodrich--fortunately before his mill-dam gave way--suggesting thepublication of a volume of Hawthorne's stories, and offered toguarantee the publisher against loss. This proposition was readilyaccepted, but Bridge might have made a much better bargain. What itamounted to was, the half-profit system without the half-profit. Thenecessary papers were exchanged and Hawthorne gladly acceded toGoodrich's terms. Bridge, however, had cautioned Goodrich not to informHawthorne of his share in the enterprise, and the consequence of thiswas that he shortly received a letter from Hawthorne, informing him ofthe good news--which he knew already--and praising Goodrich, to whom heproposed to dedicate his new volume. Bridge's generosity had come backto him, dried and salted, --as it has to many another. 

What could Bridge do, in the premises? Goodrich had written toHawthorne that the publisher, Mr. Howes, was confident of making afavorable arrangement _with a man of capital who would edit thebook_; but Bridge did not know this, and he suspected Goodrich ofsailing into Hawthorne's favor under a false flag. He therefore wroteto Hawthorne, November 17, 1836:

"I fear you will hurt yourself by puffing Goodrich_undeservedly_, --for there is no doubt in my mind of hisselfishness in regard to your work and yourself. I am perfectly awarethat he has taken a good deal of interest in you, but when did he everdo anything for you without a _quid pro quo_? The magazine wasgiven to you for $100 less than it should have been. The _Token_was saved by your writing. Unless you are already committed, do not marthe prospects of your _first_ book by hoisting Goodrich intofavor. "

This prevented the dedication, for which Hawthorne was afterwardthankful enough. The book, which was the first volume of "Twice ToldTales" came from the press the following spring, and proved animmediate success, although not a highly lucrative one for its author. With the help of Longfellow's cordial review of it in the NorthAmerican it established Hawthorne's reputation on a firm andirrefragable basis. All honor to Horatio. 

As if Hawthorne had not seen a sufficiently long "winter of discontent"already, his friends now proposed to obtain the position of secretaryand chronicler for him on Commodore Jones's exploring expedition to theSouth Pole! Franklin Pierce was the first to think of this, but Bridgeinterceded with Cilley to give it his support, and there can be nodoubt that they would have succeeded in obtaining the position forHawthorne, but the expedition itself failed, for lack of aCongressional appropriation. The following year, 1838, the project wasagain brought forward by the administration, and Congress being in amore amiable frame of mind granted the requisite funds; but Hawthornehad now contracted new ties in his native city, bound, as it were, byan inseparable cord stronger than a Manila hawser, and Doctor NathanielPeabody's hospitable parlors were more attractive to him than anythingthe Antarctic regions could offer. 

We have now entered upon the period where Hawthorne's own diarycommences, the autobiography of a pure-minded, closely observing man;an invaluable record, which began apparently in 1835, and was continuednearly until the close of his life; now published in a succession ofAmerican, English and Italian note-books. In it we find records of whathe saw and thought; descriptive passages, afterward made serviceable inhis works of fiction, and perhaps written with that object in view;fanciful notions, jotted down on the impulse of the moment; records ofhis social life; but little critical writing or personal confessions, --although the latter may have been reserved; from publication by hisdifferent editors. It is known that much of his diary has not yet beengiven to the public, and perhaps never will be. 

In July, 1837, Hawthorne went to Augusta, to spend a month with hisfriend Horatio Bridge; went fishing with him, for what they calledwhite perch, probably the saibling; [Footnote: The American saibling, or golden trout, is only indigenous to Lake Sunapee, New Hampshire, andto a small lake near Augusta. ] and was greatly entertained with thepeculiarities of an idiomatic Frenchman, an itinerant teacher of thatlanguage, whom Bridge, in the kindness of his heart, had taken into hisown house. The last of July, Cilley also made his appearance, but didnot bring the Madeira with him, and Hawthorne has left this rathercritical portrait of him in his diary:

"Friday, July 28th. --Saw my classmate and formerly intimate friend, ----, for the first time since we graduated. He has met with good successin life, in spite of circumstances, having struggled upward againstbitter opposition, by the force of his abilities, to be a member ofCongress, after having been for some time the leader of his party inthe State Legislature. We met like old friends, and conversed almost asfreely as we used to do in college days, twelve years ago and more. Heis a singular person, shrewd, crafty, insinuating, with wonderful tact, seizing on each man by his manageable point, and using him for his ownpurpose, often without the man's suspecting that he is made a tool of;and yet, artificial as his character would seem to be, hisconversation, at least to myself, was full of natural feeling, theexpression of which can hardly be mistaken, and his revelations withregard to himself had really a great deal of frankness. A man of themost open nature might well have been more reserved to a friend, aftertwelve years separation, than ---- was to me. Nevertheless, he isreally a crafty man, concealing, like a murder-secret, anything that itis not good for him to have known. He by no means feigns the goodfeeling that he professes, nor is there anything affected in thefrankness of his conversation; and it is this that makes him sofascinating. There is such a quantity of truth and kindliness and warmaffections, that a man's heart opens to him, in spite of himself. Hedeceives by truth. And not only is he crafty, but, when occasiondemands, bold and fierce like a tiger, determined, and evenstraightforward and undisguised in his measures, --a daring fellow aswell as a sly one. "

This can be no other than Jonathan Cilley; like many of his class, aman of great good humor but not over-scrupulous, so far as the means hemight make use of were concerned. He did not, however, prove to be asskilful a diplomat as Hawthorne seems to have supposed him. The duelbetween Cilley and Graves, of Kentucky, has been so variouslymisrepresented that the present occasion would seem a fittingopportunity to tell the plain truth concerning it. 

President Jackson was an honest man, in the customary sense of theterm, and he would have scorned to take a dollar that was not his own;but he suffered greatly from parasites, who pilfered the nation'smoney, --the natural consequence of the spoils-of-office system. Theexposure of these peculations gave the Whigs a decided advantage, andCilley, who had quickly proved his ability in debate, attempted to seta back-fire by accusing Watson Webb, the editor of the _Courier andEnquirer_, of having been bribed to change the politics of hispaper. The true facts of the case were, that the paper had beenpurchased by the Whigs, and Webb, of course, had a right to change hispolitics if he chose to; and the net result of Cilley's attack was achallenge to mortal combat, carried by Representative Graves, ofKentucky. Cilley, although a man of courage, declined this, on theground that members of Congress ought not to be called to accountoutside of the Capitol, for words spoken in debate. "Then, " saidGraves, "you will at least admit that my friend is a gentleman. "

This was a fair offer toward conciliation, and if Cilley had beenpeaceably inclined he would certainly have accepted it; but heobstinately refused to acknowledge that General Webb was a gentleman, and in consequence of this he received a second challenge the next dayfrom Graves, brought by Henry A. Wise, afterward Governor of Virginia. Cilley still objected to fighting, but members of his party urged himinto it: the duel took place, and Cilley was killed. 

It may be said in favor of the "code of honor" that it discouragesblackguardism and instructs a man to keep a civil tongue; but it is notalways possible to prevent outbursts of temper, especially in hotclimates, and a man's wife and children should also be considered. Andrew Jackson said at the close of his life, that there was nothing heregretted so much as having killed a human being in a duel. Man risesby humility, and angels fall from pride. 

Hawthorne wrote a kindly and regretful notice of the death of his oldacquaintance, which was published in the _Democratic Review_, andwhich closed with this significant passage:

"Alas, that over the grave of a dear friend, my sorrow for thebereavement must be mingled with another grief--that he threw away sucha life in so miserable a cause! Why, as he was true to the Northerncharacter in all things else, did he swerve from his Northernprinciples in this final scene?" [Footnote: Conway, 63. ]

It will be well to bear this in mind in connection with a somewhatsimilar incident, which we have now to consider. 

An anecdote has been repeated in all the books about Hawthornepublished since 1880, which would do him little credit if it could beproved, --a story that he challenged one of his friends to a duel, atthe instigation of a vulgar and unprincipled young woman. HoratioBridge says in reference to it:

"This characteristic was notably displayed several years later, when alady incited him to quarrel with one of his best friends on account ofa groundless pique of hers. He went to Washington for the purpose ofchallenging the gentleman, and it was only after ample explanation hadbeen made, showing that his friend had behaved with entire honor, thatPierce and Cilley, who were his advisers, could persuade him to besatisfied without a fight. " [Footnote: Bridge, 5. ]

How the good Horatio could have fallen into this pit is unimaginable, for a double contradiction is contained in his statement. "Some timeafter this, " that is after leaving college, would give the impressionthat the affair took place about 1830, whereas Pierce and Cilley werenot in Washington together till five or six years later--probably sevenyears later. Moreover, Hawthorne states in a letter to Pierce's friendO'Sullivan, on April 1, 1853, that he had never been in Washington upto that time. The Manning family and Mrs. Hawthorne's relatives neverheard of the story previous to its publication. 

The internal evidence is equally strong against it. What New Englandgirl would behave in the manner that Hawthorne's son represents thisone to have done? What young gentleman would have listened to such acommunication as he supposes, and especially the reserved and modestHawthorne? One can even imagine the aspect of horror on his face atsuch an unlady-like proceeding. The story would be an ignominious onefor Hawthorne, if it were credible, but there is no occasion for ourbelieving it until some tangible evidence is adduced in its support. There was no element of Quixotism in his composition, and it is quiteas impossible to locate the identity of the person whom Hawthorne issupposed to have challenged. 

CHAPTER V

EOS AND EROS: 1835-1839

It was fortunate for Hawthorne that there was at this time a periodicalin the United States, the _North American Review_, which wasgenerally looked upon as an authority in literature, and which in mostinstances deserved the confidence that was placed in it, for itsreviews were written by men of distinguished ability. It was the_North American Review_ which made the reputation of L. MariaChild, and which enrolled Hawthorne in the order of geniuses. 

There is not much literary criticism in Longfellow's review, and hedoes not "rise to the level of the accomplished essayist" of our owntime, [Footnote: Who writes so correctly and says so little to thepurpose. ] but he goes to the main point with the single-mindness of thetrue poet. "A new star, " he says, "has appeared in the skies"--averitable prediction. "Others will gaze at it with telescopes, anddecide whether it is in the constellation of Orion or the Great Bear. It is enough for us to gaze at it, to admire it, and welcome it. "

"Although Hawthorne writes in prose, he belongs among the poets. Toevery subject he touches he gives a poetic personality which emanatesfrom the man himself. His sympathies extend to all things living, andeven to the inanimates. Another characteristic is the exceeding beautyof his style. It is as clear as running waters are. Indeed he useswords as mere stepping-stones, upon which, with a free and youthfulbound, his spirit crosses and re-crosses the bright and rushing streamof thought. "

Again he says:

"A calm, thoughtful face seems to be looking at you from every page;with now a pleasant smile, and now a shade of sadness stealing over itsfeatures. Sometimes, though not often, it glares wildly at you, with astrange and painful expression, as, in the German romance, the bronzeknocker of the Archivarius Lindhorst makes up faces at the StudentAnselmus. "

Here we have a portrait of Hawthorne, by one who knew him, in a fewsimple words; and behind a calm thoughtful face there is thatmysterious unknown quantity which puzzles Longfellow here, and alwaysperplexed Hawthorne's friends. It may have been the nucleus or tap-rootof his genius. 

Longfellow seems to have felt it as a dividing line between them. Heprobably felt so at college; and this brings us back to an old subject. Hawthorne's superiority to Longfellow as an artist consistedessentially in this, that he was never an optimist. Puritanism lookedupon human nature with a hostile eye, and was inclined to see evil init where none existed; and Doctor Channing, who inaugurated the greatmoral movement which swept Puritanism away in this country, tended, asall reformers do, to the opposite extreme, --to that scepticism of evilwhich, as George Brandes says, is greatly to the advantage ofhypocrites and sharpers. This was justifiable in Doctor Channing, butamong his followers it has often degenerated into an inverted orhomoeopathic kind of Puritanism, --a habit of excusing the faults ofothers, or of themselves, on the score of good intentions--a habit ofself-justification, and even to the perverse belief that, as everythingis for the best, whatever we do in this world must be for good. To thisclass of sentimentalists the most serious evil is truth-seeing andtruth-speaking. It is an excellent plan to look upon the bright side ofthings, but one should not do this to the extent of blinding oneself tofacts. Doctor Johnson once said to Boswell, "Beware, my friend, ofmixing up virtue and vice;" but there is something worse than that, andit is, to stigmatize a writer as a pessimist or a hypochondriac forrefusing to take rainbow-colored views. This, however, would neverapply to Longfellow. 

Hawthorne, with his eye ever on the mark, pursued a middle course. Heseparated himself from the Puritans without joining their opponents, and thus attained the most independent stand-point of any Americanwriter of his time; and if this alienated him from the varioushumanitarian movements that were going forward, it was nevertheless adecided advantage for the work he was intended to do. In this respecthe resembled Scott, Thackeray and George Eliot. 

What we call evil or sin is merely the negative of civilization, --atendency to return to the original savage condition. In the light ofhistory, there is always progress or improvement, but in individualcases there is often the reverse, and so far as the individual isconcerned evil is no imaginary metaphor, but as real and absolute aswhat we call good. The Bulgarian massacres of 1877 were a historicalnecessity, and we console ourselves in thinking of them by the factthat they may have assisted the Bulgarians in obtaining theirindependence; but this was no consolation to the twenty or thirtythousand human beings who were ground to powder there. To them therewas no comfort, no hope, --only the terrible reality. Neither can wecast the responsibility of such events on the mysterious ways ofProvidence. The ways of Providence are not so mysterious to those whohave eyes to read with. Take for instance one of the most notable casesof depravity, that of Nero. If we consider the conditions under whichhe was born and brought up, the necessity of that form of government tohold a vast empire together, and the course of history for a hundredyears previous, it is not difficult to trace the genesis of Nero'scrimes to the greed of the Roman people (especially of its merchants)for conquest and plunder; and Nero was the price which they werefinally called on to pay for this. Marcus Aurelius, a noble naturereared under favorable conditions for its development, became theWashington of his time. 

It is the same in private life. In many families there are eviltendencies, which if they are permitted to increase will take permanenthold, like a bad demon, of some weak individual, and make of him aterror and a torment to his relatives--fortunate if he is not in aposition of authority. He may serve as a warning to the general public, but in the domestic circle he is an unmitigated evil, --he or she, though it is not so likely to be a woman. When a crime is committedwithin the precincts of good society, we are greatly shocked; but we donot often notice the debasement of character which leads down to it, and still more rarely notice the instances in which fear or some othermotive arrests demoralization before the final step, and leaves thedelinquent as it were in a condition of moral suspense. 

It was in such tragic situations that Hawthorne found the materialwhich was best suited to the bent of his genius. 

In the two volumes, however, of "Twice Told Tales, "--the secondpublished two years later, --the tragical element only appears as anundercurrent of pathos in such stories as "The Gentle Boy, ""Wakefield, " "The Maypole of Merry-mount, " and "The Haunted Mind, " butreaches a climax in "The Ambitious Guest" and "Lady Eleanor's Mantle. "There are others, like "Lights from a Steeple, " and "Little Annie'sRamble, " that are of a more cheerful cast, but are also much lessserious in their composition. "The Minister's Black Veil, " "The GreatCarbuncle, " and "The Ambitious Guest, " are Dantean allegories. Wenotice that each volume begins with a highly patriotic tale, the "GrayChampion, " and "Howe's Masquerade, " but the patriotism is genuine andalmost fervid. 

When I first looked upon the house in which Hawthorne lived at Sebago, I was immediately reminded of these earlier studies in human nature, which are of so simple and quiet a diction, so wholly devoid ofrhetoric, that Elizabeth Peabody thought they must be the work of hissister, and others supposed them to have been written by a Quaker. Theyresemble Dürer's wood-cuts, --gentle and tender in line, but unswervingin their fidelity. We sometimes wish that they were not so quiet andevenly composed, and then repent of our wish that anything so perfectshould be different from what it is. His "Twice Told Tales" are apicture-gallery that may be owned in any house-hold. They stand alonein English, and there is not their like in any other language. 

Yet Hawthorne is not a word-painter like Browning and Carlyle, butobtains his pictorial effect by simple accuracy of description, a moredifficult process than the other, but also more satisfactory. His eyespenetrate the masks and wrappings which cover human nature, as theRöntgen rays penetrate the human body. He sees a man's heart throughthe flesh and bones, and knows what is concealed in it. He ascends achurch-steeple, and looking down from the belfry the whole life of thetown is spread out before him. Men and women come and go--Hawthorneknows the errands they are on. He sees a militia company paradingbelow, and they remind him from that elevation of the toy soldiers in ashop-window, --which they turned out to be, pretty much, at Bull Run. Afashionable young man comes along the street escorting two youngladies, and suddenly at a crossing encounters their father, who takesthem away from him; but one of them gives him a sweet parting look, which amply compensates him in its presage of future opportunities. Howplainly that consolatory look appears between our eyes and the printedpage! Then Hawthorne describes the grand march of a thunder-storm, --asin Rembrandt's "Three Trees, "--with its rolling masses of dark vapor, preceded by a skirmish-line of white feathery clouds. The militiacompany is defeated at the first onset of this, its meteoric enemy, anddriven under cover. The artillery of the skies booms and flashes aboutHawthorne himself, until finally: "A little speck of azure has widenedin the western heavens; the sunbeams find a passage and go rejoicingthrough the tempest, and on yonder darkest cloud, born like hallowedhopes of the glory of another world and the trouble and tears of this, brightens forth the rainbow. " All this may have happened just as it isset down. 

"Lady Eleanor's Mantle" exemplifies the old proverb, "Pride goethbefore destruction, " in almost too severe a manner, but the tale issaid to have a legendary foundation; and "The Minister's Black Veil" isan equally awful symbolism for that barrier between man and man, whichwe construct through suspicion and our lack of frankness in ourdealings with one another. We all hide ourselves behind veils, and, asEmerson says, "Man crouches and blushes, absconds and conceals. "

"The Ambitious Guest" allegorizes a vain imagination, and is the mostimportant of these three. A young man suffers from a craving fordistinction, which he believes will only come to him after this life isended. He is walking through the White Mountains, and stops overnightat the house of the ill-fated Willey family. He talks freely on thesubject of his vain expectations, when Destiny, in the shape of anavalanche, suddenly overtakes him, and buries him so deeply thatneither his body nor his name has ever been recovered. Hawthorne mighthave drawn another allegory from the same source, for if the Willeyfamily had trusted to Providence, and remained in their house, insteadof rushing out into the dark, they would not have lost their lives. 

In the _Democratic Review_ for 1834, Hawthorne published theaccount of a visit to Niagara Falls, one of the fruits of hisexpedition thither in September, 1832, by way of the White Mountainsand Burlington, the journey from Salem to Niagara in those days beingfully equal to going from New York to the cataracts of the Nile in ourown time. "The Ambitious Guest" was published in the same volume withit, and "The Ontario Steamboat" first appeared in the _AmericanMagazine of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge_, in 1836. Hawthornemay have made other expeditions to the White Mountains, but we do nothear of them. 

In addition to the three studies already mentioned, Hawthorne drew fromthis source the two finest of his allegories, "The Great Carbuncle" and"The Great Stone Face. "

"The Great Carbuncle" is not only one of the most beautiful ofHawthorne's tales, but the most far-reaching in its significance. Theidea of it must have originated in the Alpine glow, an effect of therising or setting sun on the icy peaks of a mountain, which looks at adistance like a burning coal; an appearance only visible in the WhiteMountains during the winter, and there is no reason why Hawthorneshould not have seen it at that season from Lake Sebago. At a distanceof twenty miles or more it blazes wonderfully, but on a nearer approachit entirely disappears. Hawthorne could not have found a morefascinating subject, and he imagines it for us as a great carbunclelocated in the upper recesses of the mountains. 

A number of explorers for this wonderful gem meet together at the footof the mountain beyond the confines of civilization, and build a hut inwhich to pass the night. They are recognizable, from Hawthorne'sdescription, as the man of one idea, who has spent his whole lifeseeking the gem; a scientific experimenter who wishes to grind it upfor the benefit of his crucible; a cynical sceptic who has come todisprove the existence of the great gem; a greedy speculator who seeksthe carbuncle as he would prospect for a silver-mine; an English lordwho wishes to add it to his hereditary possessions; and finally a youngmarried couple who want to obtain it for an ornament to their newcottage. The interest of the reader immediately centres on these lasttwo, and we care much more concerning their fortunes and adventuresthan we do about the carbuncle. 

The conversation that evening between these ill-assorted companions isin Hawthorne's most subtle vein of irony, and would have delighted oldSocrates himself. Meanwhile the young bride weaves a screen of twigsand leaves, to protect herself and her husband from the gaze of thecurious. 

The following morning they all set out by different paths in search ofthe carbuncle; but our thoughts accompany the steps of the young bride, as she makes one toilsome ascent after another until she feels ready tosink to the ground with fatigue and discouragement. They have alreadydecided to return, when the rosy light of the carbuncle bursts uponthem from beneath the lifting clouds; but they now feel instinctivelythat it is too great a prize for their possession. The man of one ideaalso sees it, and his life goes out in the exultation over his finalsuccess. The skeptic appears, but cannot discover it, although his faceis illumined by its light, until he takes off his large spectacles;whereupon, he instantly becomes blind. The English nobleman and theAmerican speculator fail to discover it; the former returns to hisancestral halls, as wise as he was before; and the latter is capturedby a party of Indians and obliged to pay a heavy ransom to regainfreedom. The scientific pedant finds a rare specimen of primevalgranite, which serves his purpose quite as well as the carbuncle; andthe two young doves return to their cot, having learned the lesson ofcontentment. 

How fortunate was Hawthorne at the age of thirty thus to anatomize thechief illusions of life, which so many others follow until old age!

It is an erroneous notion that Hawthorne found the chief material forhis work in old New England traditions. There are some half-dozensketches of this sort, but they are more formally written than theothers, and remind one of those portraits by Titian which were paintedfrom other portraits, --better than the originals, but not equal tothose which he painted from Nature. 

In the "Sights from a Steeple" Hawthorne exposes his methods of studyand betrays the active principle of his existence. He says:

"The most desirable mode of existence might be that of a spiritualizedPaul Pry hovering invisible round man and woman, witnessing theirdeeds, searching into their hearths, borrowing brightness from theirfelicity and shade from their sorrow, and retaining no emotion peculiarto himself. "

There are those who would dislike this busybody occupation, and others, such as Emerson perhaps, might not consider it justifiable; butHawthorne is not to be censured for it, for his motive was an elevatedone, and without this close scrutiny of human nature we should have hadneither a Hawthorne nor a Shakespeare. There is no quality moreconspicuous in "Twice Told Tales" than the calm, evenly balanced mentalcondition of the author, who seems to look down on human life not somuch from a church steeple as from the blue firmament itself. 

Such was the _Eos_ or dawn of Hawthorne's literary art. 

Hawthorne returned thanks to Longfellow in a gracefully humorousletter, to which Longfellow replied with a cordial wish to seeHawthorne in Cambridge, and by advising him to dive into deeper waterand write a history of the Acadians before and after their expulsionfrom Nova Scotia; but this was not practicable for minds likeHawthorne's, surcharged with poetic images, and the attempt might haveproved a disturbing influence for him. He had already contributed thesubstance to Longfellow of "Evangeline, " and he now wrote a eulogium onthe poem for a Salem newspaper, which it must be confessed did notdiffer essentially from other reviews of the same order. He does notgive us any clear idea of how the poem actually impressed him, which isafter all the best that one can do in such cases. Poetry is not like aproblem in mathematics, which can be marked right or wrong according toits solution. 

When a young man obtains a substantial footing in his profession orbusiness, he looks about him for a wife--unless he happens to bealready pledged in that particular; and Hawthorne was not an exceptionto this rule. He was not obliged to look very far, and yet the chancecame to him in such an exceptional manner that it seems as if somespecial providence were connected with it. His position in this respectwas a peculiar one. He does not appear to have been much acquainted inSalem even now; and the only son of a widow with two unmarried sistersmay be said to have rather a slim chance for escaping from those strongties which have grown up between them from childhood. Many a mother hasprevented her son from getting married until it has become too late forhim to change his bachelor habits. His mother and his sisters realizethat he ought to be married, and that he has a right to a home of hisown; but in their heart of hearts they combat the idea, and theiropposition takes the form of an unsparing criticism of any young ladywhom he follows with his eyes. This frequently happens also in a familyof girls: they all remain unmarried because, if one of them shows aninclination in that direction, the others unite in a conspiracy againsther. On the other hand, a family of four or five boys will marry early, if they can obtain the means of doing so, simply from the need offeminine cheer and sympathy. A devoted female friend will sometimesprevent a young woman from being married. Love affairs are soft earthfor an intriguing and unprincipled woman to work in, but, fortunately, Mrs. Hawthorne did not belong in that category. 

It was stout, large-hearted Elizabeth Peabody who broke the spell ofthe enchanted castle in which Hawthorne was confined. The Peabodys werea cultivated family in Salem, who lived pretty much by themselves, asthe Hawthornes and Mannings did. Doctor Nathaniel Peabody was arespectable practitioner, but he had not succeeded in curing theheadaches of his daughter Sophia, which came upon her at the close ofher girlhood and still continued intermittently until this time. TheGraces had not been bountiful the Peabody family, so, to compensate forthis, they all cultivated the Muses, in whose society they ascended nolittle distance on the way to Parnassus. Elizabeth Peabody was quite afeminine pundit. She learned French and German, and studied history andarchaeology; she taught history on a large scale at Sanborn's ConcordSchool and at many others; she had a method of painting dates onsquares, which fixed them indelibly in the minds of her pupils; shetalked at Margaret Fuller's transcendental club, and was an activemember of the Radical or Chestnut Street Club, thirty years later; buther chief distinction was the introduction of Froebel's Kindergartenteaching, by which she well-nigh revolutionized primary instruction inAmerica. She was a most self-forgetful person, and her scholars becamedevotedly attached to her. 

Her sister Mary was as much like Elizabeth mentally as she differedfrom her in figure and general appearance, but soon after this she wasmarried to Horace Mann and her public activity became merged in that ofher husband, who was the first educator of his time. Sophia Peabodyread poetry and other fine writings, and acquired a fair proficiency indrawing and painting. They lived what was then called the "higherlife, " and it certainly led them to excellent results. 

Shortly before the publication of "Twice Told Tales, " Elizabeth Peabodylearned that the author of "The Gentle Boy, " and other stories whichshe had enjoyed in the _Token_, lived in Salem, and that the namewas Hawthorne. She immediately jumped to the conclusion that they werethe work of Miss Elizabeth Hawthorne, whom she had known somewhat inearlier days, and she concluded to call upon her and offer hercongratulations. When informed by Louisa Hawthorne, who came to her inthe parlor, instead of the elder sister, that "The Gentle Boy" waswritten by Nathaniel, Miss Peabody made the significant remark, "Ifyour brother can do work like that, he has no right to be idle"[Footnote: Lathrop, 168. Miss Peabody would seem to have narrated thisto him. ]--to which Miss Louisa retorted, it is to be hoped with someindignation, that her brother never was idle. 

It is only too evident from this that public opinion in Salem hadalready decided that Hawthorne was an idle fellow, who was living onhis female relatives. That is the way the world judges--from externalfacts without any consideration of internal causes or conditions. Itgratifies the vanity of those who are fortunate and prosperous, tobelieve that all men have an equal chance in the race of life. Emersononce blamed two young men for idleness, who were struggling againstobstacles such as he could have had no conception of. Those who havebeen fortunate from the cradle never learn what life is really like. 

The spell, however, was broken and the friendliness of ElizabethPeabody found a deeply sympathetic response in the Hawthorne household. Nathaniel at last found a person who expressed a genuine and heartfeltappreciation of his work, and it was like the return of the sun to theArctic explorer after his long winter night. Rather to Miss Peabody'ssurprise he and his sisters soon returned her call, and visits betweenthe two families thereafter became frequent. 

Sophia Peabody belonged to the class of young women for whomShakespeare's Ophelia serves as a typical example. She was gentle, affectionate, refined, and amiable to a fault, --much too tender-heartedfor this rough world, if her sister Elizabeth had not always stood likea barrier between her and it. 

How Hawthorne might have acted in Hamlet's place it is useless tosurmise, but in his true nature he was quite the opposite of Hamlet, --slow and cautious, but driven onward by an inexorable will. If Hamlethad possessed half of Hawthorne's determination, he might have brokenthrough the network of evil conditions which surrounded him, and livedto make Ophelia a happy woman. It was only necessary to come intoHawthorne's presence in order to recognize the force that was in him. 

Sophia Amelia Peabody was born September 21, 1811, so that at the timeof which we are now writing she was twenty-five years of age. Hawthornewas then thirty-two, when a man is more attractive to the fair sex thanat any other time of life, for then he unites the freshness and vigorof youth with sufficient maturity of judgment to inspire confidence andtrust. Yet her sister Elizabeth found it difficult to persuade her tocome into the parlor and meet the handsomest man in Salem. When she didcome she evidently attracted Nathaniel Hawthorne's attention, for, although she said little, he looked at her repeatedly while conversingwith her sister. It may not have been an instance of love at firstsight, --which may happen to any young man at a dancing party, and beforgotten two days later, --but it was something more than a casualinterest. On his second or third call she showed him a sketch she hadmade of "the gentle boy, " according to her idea of him, and the subduedtone with which he received it plainly indicated that he was alreadysomewhat under her influence. Julian Hawthorne writes of this:[Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 179. ]

"It may be remarked here, that Mrs. Hawthorne in telling her children, many years afterwards, of these first meetings with their father, usedto say that his presence, from the very beginning, exercised so stronga magnetic attraction upon her, that instinctively, and in self-defenceas it were, she drew back and repelled him. The power which she felt inhim alarmed her; she did not understand what it meant, and was onlyable to feel that she must resist. "

Every true woman feels this reluctance at first toward a suitor for herhand, but a sensitive young lady might well have a sense of awe onfinding that she had attracted to herself such a mundane force asHawthorne, and it is no wonder that this first impression wasrecollected throughout her life. There are many who would have refusedHawthorne's suit, because they felt that he was too great and strongfor them, and it is to the honor of Sophia Peabody that she was notonly attracted by the magnetism of Hawthorne, but finally had thecourage to unite herself to such an enigmatical person. 

We also obtain a glimpse of Hawthorne's side of this courtship from aletter which he wrote to Longfellow in June, 1837, and in which hesays, "I have now, or shall soon have a sharper spur to exertion, whichI lacked at an earlier period;" [Footnote: Conway, 75. ] and this is allthe information he has vouchsafed us on the subject. If there isanything more in his diary, it has not been given to the public, andprobably never will be. A number of letters which he wrote to MissSophia from Boston, or Brook Farm, have been published by his son, butit would be neither right nor judicious to introduce them here. 

It is, however, evident from the above that Hawthorne was alreadyengaged in June, 1837, but his engagement long remained a secret, forthree excellent reasons; viz. , his slender means of support, thedelicate health of his betrothed, and the disturbance which it mightcreate in the Hawthorne family. The last did not prove so serious adifficulty as he seems to have imagined; but his apprehensiveness onthat point many another could justify from personal experience. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 196. ]

From this time also the health of Sophia Peabody steadily improved, noris it necessary to account for it by any magical influence on the partof her lover. Her trouble was plainly some recondite difficulty of thecirculation. The heart is supposed to be the seat of the affectionsbecause mental emotion stimulates the nervous system and acts upon theheart as the centre of all organic functions. A healthy naturalexcitement will cause the heart to vibrate more firmly and evenly; butan unhealthy excitement, like fear or anger, will cause it to beat in arapid and uneven manner. Contrarily, despondency, or a lethargic stateof mind, causes the movement of the blood to slacken. The happiness oflove is thus the best of all stimulants and correctives for a torpidcirculation, and it expands the whole being of a woman like theblossoming of a flower in the sunshine. From the time of her betrothal, Sophia Peabody's headaches became less and less frequent, until theyceased altogether. The true seat of the affections is in the mind. Thefirst consideration proved to be a more serious matter. If Hawthornehad not succeeded in earning his own livelihood by literature so far, what prospect was there of supporting a wife and family in that manner?What should he do; whither should he turn? He continually turned thesubject over in his mind, without, however, reaching any definiteconclusion. Nor is this to be wondered at. If the ordinary avenues ofhuman industry were not available to him as a college graduate, theywere now permanently closed. A man in his predicament at the presenttime might obtain the position of librarian in one of our inlandcities; but such places are few and the applications are many. BronsonAlcott once offered his services as teacher of a primary school, aposition he might have filled better than most, for its one requisiteis kindliness, but the Concord school committee would not hear of it. If Hawthorne had attempted to turn pedagogue he might have met with asimilar experience. 

Conway remarks very justly that an American author could not beexpected to earn his own living in a country where foreign books couldbe pirated as they were in the United States until 1890, and this wasespecially true during the popularity of Dickens and George Eliot. Dickens was the great humanitarian writer of the nineteenth century, but he was also a caricaturist and a bohemian. He did not representlife as it is, but with a certain comical oddity. As an author he is toHawthorne what a peony is to a rose, or a garnet is to a ruby; but ten, persons would purchase a novel of Dickens when one would select the"Twice Told Tales. " Scott and Tennyson are exceptional instances of ahigh order of literary work which also proved fairly remunerative; butthey do not equal Hawthorne in grace of diction and in the rare qualityof his thought, --whatever advantages they may possess in otherrespects. Thackeray earned his living by his pen, but it was only inEngland that he could have done this. 

CHAPTER VI

PEGASUS AT THE CART: 1839-1841

Horatio Bridge's dam was washed away in the spring of 1837, by a suddenand unprecedented rising of the Androscoggin River. Bridge wasfinancially ruined, but like a brave and generous young man he did notpermit this stroke of evil fortune, severe as it was, to oppress himheavily, and Hawthorne seems to have felt no shadow of it during hisvisit to Augusta the following summer. He returned to Salem in Augustwith pleasanter anticipations than ever before, --to enjoy the societyof his _fiancée_, and to prepare the second volume of "Twice ToldTales. "

The course of Hawthorne's life during the next twenty months is mostlya blank to us. He would seem to have exerted himself to escape from themonotone in which he had been living so long, but of his efforts, disappointments, and struggles against the giant coils of Fate, thereis no report. He wrote the four Province House tales as a send-off tohis second volume, as well as "The Toll-Gatherer's Day, " "Footprints onthe Seashore, " "Snow-Flakes, " and "Chippings with a Chisel, " which areto be found in it. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, 176. ] There is a long blankin Hawthorne's diary during the winter of 1837-38 which may be owing tohis indifference to the outer world at that time, but more likelybecause its contents have not yet been revealed to us. It was theperiod of Cilley's duel, and what Hawthorne's reflections were on thatsubject, aside from the account which he wrote for the _DemocraticReview_, would be highly interesting now, but the absence of anyreference to it is significant, and there is no published entry in hisdiary between December 6, 1837, and May 11, 1838. 

Horatio Bridge obtained the position of paymaster on the United Stateswarship "Cyane, " which arrived at Boston early in June, and on the 16thof the month Hawthorne went to call on his friend in his new quarters, which he found to be pleasant enough in their narrow and limited way. Bridge returned with him to Boston, and they dined together at theTremont House, drinking iced champagne and claret in pitchers, --whichlatter would seem to have been a fashion of the place. Hawthorne'sdescription of the day is purely external, and he tells us nothing ofhis friend, --concerning whom we were anxious to hear, --or of the newlife on which he had entered. 

On July 4, his thirty-fifth birthday, he wrote a microscopic account ofthe proceedings on Salem Common, which is interesting now, but willbecome more valuable as time goes on and the customs of the Americanpeople change with it. The object of these detailed pictorial studies, which not only remind one of Dürer's drawings but of Carlyle's localdescriptions (when he uses simple English and does not fly off intorecondite comparisons), is not clearly apparent; but the artist hasinstincts of his own, like a vine which swings in the wind and seizesupon the first tree that its tendrils come into contact with. Wesometimes wish that, as in the case of Bridge and his warship, theywere not so objective and external, and that, like Carlyle, he wouldthrow more of himself into them. 

On July 27, Hawthorne started on an expedition to the Berkshire Hills, by way of Worcester, remaining there nearly till the first ofSeptember, and describing the scenery, the people he met by the way, and the commencement at Williams College, which then took place in themiddle of August, in his customary accurate manner. He has given a fulland connected account of his travels; so full that we wonder how hefound time to write to Miss Sophia Peabody. He would seem to have beenentirely alone, and to have travelled mainly by stage. On the routefrom Pittsfield to North Adams he notices the sunset, and describes itin these simple terms: [Footnote: American Note-book, 130. ]

"After or about sunset there was a heavy shower, the thunder rumblinground and round the mountain wall, and the clouds stretching fromrampart to rampart. When it abated the clouds in all parts of thevisible heavens were tinged with glory from the west; some that hunglow being purple and gold, while the higher ones were gray. The slendercurve of the new moon was also visible, brightening amidst the fadingbrightness of the sunny part of the sky. "

At North Adams he takes notice of one of the Select-men, and gives thisaccount of him: [Footnote: American Note-book, 153. ]

"One of the most sensible men in this village is a plain, tall, elderlyperson, who is overseeing the mending of a road, --humorous, intelligent, with much thought about matters and things; and while atwork he had a sort of dignity in handling the hoe or crow-bar, whichshows him to be the chief. In the evening he sits under the stoop, silent and observant from under the brim of his hat; but, occasionsuiting, he holds an argument about the benefit or otherwise ofmanufactories or other things. A simplicity characterizes him more thanappertains to most Yankees. "

He did not return to Salem until September 24. A month later he was atthe Tremont House in Boston, looking out of the windows toward BeaconStreet, which may have served him for an idea in "The BlithedaleRomance. " After this there are no entries published from his diary tillthe following spring, so that the manner in which he occupied himselfduring the winter of 1838-39 will have to be left to the imagination. On April 27, 1839, he wrote a letter to Miss Sophia Peabody fromBoston, in which he says:

"I feel pretty secure against intruders, for the bad weather willdefend me from foreign invasion; and as to Cousin Haley, he and I had abitter political dispute last evening, at the close of which he went tobed in high dudgeon, and probably will not speak to me these threedays. Thus you perceive that strife and wrangling, as well as eastwinds and rain, are the methods of a kind Providence to promote mycomfort, --which would not have been so well secured in any other way. Six or seven hours of cheerful solitude! But I will not be alone. Iinvite your spirit to be with me, --at any hour and as many hours as youplease, but especially at the twilight hour before I light my lamp. Ibid you at that particular time, because I can see visions more vividlyin the dusky glow of firelight than either by daylight or lamplight. Come, and let me renew my spell against headache and other direfuleffects of the east wind. How I wish I could give you a portion of myinsensibility! and yet I should be almost afraid of some radicaltransformation, were I to produce a change in that respect. If youcannot grow plump and rosy and tough and vigorous without being changedinto another nature, then I do think, for this short life, you hadbetter remain just what you are. Yes; but you will be the same to me, because we have met in eternity, and there our intimacy was formed. Soget well as soon as you possibly can. "

This statement deserves consideration under two headings; and the lastshall be first, and the first shall be last. 

It will be noticed that the accounts in Hawthorne's diary are for themost part of a dispassionate objective character, as if he had comedown from the moon to take an observation of mundane affairs. Hisletters to Miss Peabody were also dispassionate, but stronglysubjective, and, like the one just quoted, mainly evolved from hisimagination, like orchids living in the air. It was also about thistime that Carlyle wrote to Emerson concerning the _Dial_ that itseemed "like an unborn human soul. " The orchid imagination was aninfluence of the time, penetrating everywhere like an ether. 

In the opening sentences in this letter, Hawthorne comes within an inchof disclosing his political opinions, and yet provokingly fails to doso. There is nothing about the man concerning which we are so much inthe dark, and which we should so much like to know, as this; and it iscertain from this letter that he held very decided opinions onpolitical subjects and could defend them with a good deal of energy. Onone occasion when Hawthorne was asked why he was a Democrat, hereplied, "Because I live in a democratic country, " which was, ofcourse, simply an evasion; and such were the answers which he commonlygave to all interrogatories. His proclivities were certainly notdemocratic; but the greater the tenacity with which a man holds hisopinions, the less inclined he feels to discuss them with others. TheBoston aristocracy now vote the Democratic ticket out of opposition tothe dominant party in Massachusetts, and Hawthorne may have done so fora similar reason. 

Hawthorne was now a weigher and gauger in the Boston Custom House, oneof the most laborious positions in the government service. Thedefalcation of Swartwout with over a million dollars from the New Yorkcustoms' receipts had forced upon President Van Buren the importance offilling such posts with honorable men, instead of political shysters, and Bancroft, though a rather narrow historian, was a gentleman and ascholar. He was the right man to appreciate Hawthorne, but whether hebestowed this place upon him of his own accord, or through the ulterioragency of Franklin Pierce, we are not informed. It is quite possiblethat Elizabeth Peabody had a hand in the case, for she was always anindefatigable petitioner for the benefit of the needy, and hadopportunities for meeting Bancroft in Boston society. His kindness toHawthorne was at least some compensation for having originated the mostill-favored looking public building in the city. [Footnote: The presentBoston Custom House. George S. Hillard called it an architecturalmonstrosity. ]

Hawthorne's salary was twelve hundred dollars a year, --fully equal toeighteen hundred at the present time, --and his position appears to havebeen what is now called a store-keeper. He fully earned his salary. Hehad charge and oversight of all the dutiable imports that came toLong Wharf, the most important in the city, and was obliged to keep anaccount of all dutiable articles which were received there. He had tosuperintend personally the unloading of vessels, and although in someinstances this was not unpleasant, he was constantly receivingshiploads of soft coal, --Sidney or Pictou coal, --which is the dirtieststuff in the world; it cannot be touched without raising a dusty vaporwhich settles in the eyes, nose, and mouth, and inside the shirt-collar. He counted every basketful that was brought ashore, and hisposition on such occasions was to be envied only by the sooty laborerswho handled that commodity. We wonder what the frequenters of LongWharf thought of this handsome, poetic-looking man occupied in such abusiness. 

Yet he appreciated the value of this Spartan discipline, --theinestimable value of being for once in his life brought down to hard-pan and the plain necessities of life. The juice of wormwood is bitter, but it is also strengthening. On July 3, 1839, he wrote: [Footnote:American Note-book. ]

"I do not mean to imply that I am unhappy or discontented, for this isnot the case. My life only is a burden in the same way that it is toevery toilsome man, and mine is a healthy weariness, such as needs onlya night's sleep to remove it. But from henceforth forever I shall beentitled to call the sons of toil my brethren, and shall know how tosympathize with them, seeing that I likewise have risen at the dawn, and borne the fervor of the midday sun, nor turned my heavy footstepshomeward till eventide. Years hence, perhaps, the experience that myheart is acquiring now will flow out in truth and wisdom. "

This is one of the noblest passages in his writings. 

On August 27 he notices the intense heat in the centre of the city, although it is somewhat cooler on the wharves. At this time Emerson mayhave been composing his "Wood Notes" or "Threnody" in the cool pinegroves of Concord. Such is the difference between inheriting twentythousand dollars and two thousand. Hawthorne lived in Boston at such aboarding-place as Doctor Holmes describes in the "Autocrat of theBreakfast Table, " and for all we know it may have been the same one. Helived economically, reading and writing to Miss Peabody in the evening, and rarely going to the theatre or other entertainments, --a life likethat of a store clerk whose salary only suffices for his board andclothing. George Bancroft was kindly disposed toward him, and wouldhave introduced Hawthorne into any society that he could have wished toenter; but Hawthorne, then and always, declined to be lionized. Hawthorne made but one friend in Boston during this time, and that one, George S. Hillard, a most faithful and serviceable friend, --not onlyto Hawthorne during his life, but afterwards as a trustee for hisfamily, and equally kind and helpful to them in their bereavement, which is more than could be said of all his friends, --especially ofPierce. Hillard belonged to the brilliant coterie of Cambridge literarymen, which included Longfellow, Sumner and Felton. He was a lawyer, politician, editor, orator and author; at this time, or shortlyafterward, Sumner's law partner; one of the most kindly sympatheticmen, with a keen appreciation of all that is finest in art andliterature, but somewhat lacking in firmness and independence ofcharacter. His "Six Months in Italy, " written in the purest English, long served as a standard work for American travellers in that idealland, and his rather unsymmetrical figure only made the graces of hisoratory more conspicuous. 

Hawthorne kept at his work through summer's heat and winter's cold. OnFebruary 11, 1840, he wrote to his fiancée:

"I have been measuring coal all day, on board of a black little Britishschooner, in a dismal dock at the north end of the city. Most of thetime I paced the deck to keep myself warm. . . . 

". . . Sometimes I descended into the dirty little cabin of the schooner, and warmed myself by a red-hot stove among biscuit barrels, pots andkettles, sea chests, and innumerable lumber of all sorts, --myolfactories, meanwhile, being greatly refreshed by the odor of a pipe, which the captain or some of his crew was smoking. "

[Illustration: HAWTHORNE. FROM THE PORTRAIT BY CHARLES OSGOOD IN 1840. IN THE POSSESSION OF MRS. RICHARD C. MANNING, SALEM, MASS. FROMNEGATIVE IN POSSESSION OF AND OWNED BY FRANK COUSIN, SALEM]

One would have to go to Dante's "Inferno" to realize a situation morethoroughly disagreeable; yet the very pathos of Hawthorne's employmentserved to inspire him with elevated thoughts and beautiful reflections. His letters are full of aërial fancies. He notices what a beautiful dayit was on April 18, 1840, and regrets that he cannot "fling himself ona gentle breeze and be blown away into the country. " April 30 isanother beautiful day, --"a real happiness to live; if he had been amere vegetable, a hawthorn bush, he would have felt its influence. " Hegoes to a picture gallery in the Athenaeum, but only mentions seeingtwo paintings by Sarah Clarke. He returns to Salem in October, andwrites in his own chamber the passage already quoted, in which hemourns the lonely years of his youth, and the long, long waiting forappreciation, "while he felt the life chilling in his veins andsometimes it seemed as if he were already in the grave;" but an earlyreturn to his post gives him brighter thoughts. He takes notice of themagnificent black and yellow butterflies that have strangely come toLong Wharf, as if seeking to sail to other climes since the last flowerhad faded. Mr. Bancroft has appointed him to suppress an insurrectionamong the government laborers, and he writes to Miss Sophia Peabody:

"I was not at the end of Long Wharf to-day, but in a distant region, --my authority having been put in requisition to quell a rebellion of thecaptain and 'gang' of shovellers aboard a coal-vessel. I would youcould have beheld the awful sternness of my visage and demeanor in theexecution of this momentous duty. Well, --I have conquered the rebels, and proclaimed an amnesty; so to-morrow I shall return to that paradiseof measurers, the end of Long Wharf, --not to my former salt-ship, shebeing now discharged, but to another, which will probably employ mewell-nigh a fortnight longer. "

A month later we meet with this ominous remark in his diary:

"I was invited to dine at Mr. Bancroft's yesterday with Miss MargaretFuller; but Providence had given me some business to do, for which Iwas very thankful. "

Had Hawthorne already encountered this remarkable woman with thefeminine heart and masculine mind, and had he already conceived thataversion for her which is almost painfully apparent in his Italiandiary? Certainly in many respects they were antipodes. 

The Whig party came into power on March 4, 1841, with "Tippecanoe" fora figure-head and Daniel Webster as its conductor of the "grandorchestra. " A month later Bancroft was removed, and Hawthorne went withhim, not at all regretful to depart. In fact, he had come to feel thathe could not endure the Custom House, or at least his particular shareof it, any longer. One object he had in view in accepting the positionwas, to obtain practical experience, and this he certainly did in arough and unpleasant manner. The experience of a routine office, however, is not like that of a broker who has goods to sell and whomust dispose of them to the best advantage, in order to keep hisreputation at high-water mark; nor is it like the experience of a youngdoctor or a lawyer struggling to obtain a practice. Those are the menwho know what life actually is; and it is this thoroughness ofexperience which makes the chief difference between a Dante and aTennyson. 

These reflections lead directly to Hawthorne's casual and oft-repeatedcommentary on American politicians. He wrote March 15:

"I do detest all offices--all, at least, that are held on a politicaltenure. And I want nothing to do with politicians. Their hearts witheraway, and die out of their bodies. Their consciences are turned toindia-rubber, or to some substance as black as that, and which willstretch as much. One thing, if no more, I have gained by my custom-house experience, --to know a politician. " [Footnote: AmericanNotebook, i. 220. ]

This seems rather severe, but at the time when Hawthorne wrote it, American politics were on the lowest plane of demagogism. It was theinevitable result of the spoils-of-office system, and the meanestspecies of the class were the ward politicians who received smallgovernment offices in return for services in canvassing ignorantforeign voters. They were naturally coarse, hardened adventurers, andit was such that Hawthorne chiefly came in contact with in his officialbusiness. Cleon, the brawling tanner of Athens, has reappeared in everyrepresentative government since his time, and plays his clownish partwith multifarious variations; but it is to little purpose that wederide the men who govern us, for they are what we and our institutionshave made them. If we want better representatives, we must mend our ownways and especially purge ourselves of political cant and nationalvanity, --which is the food that ward politicians grow fat on. Theprofession of a politician is based on instability, and he cannotacquire, as matters now stand, the solidity of character that we lookfor in other professions. 

So far, however, was Hawthorne at this juncture from considering menand things critically, that he closes the account of his firstgovernment experience in this rather optimistic manner:

"Old Father Time has gone onward somewhat less heavily than is his wontwhen I am imprisoned within the walls of the Custom-house. My breathhad never belonged to anybody but me. It came fresh from the ocean. . . . 

". . . It was exhilarating to see the vessels, how they bounded over thewaves, while a sheet of foam broke out around them. I found a good dealof enjoyment, too, in the busy scene around me. It pleased me to thinkthat I also had a part to act in the material and tangible business ofthis life, and that a portion of all this industry could not have goneon without my presence. " [Footnote: American Note-book, i. 230. ]

When Hawthorne philosophizes it is not in old threadbare proverbs orOrphic generalities, but always specifically and to the point. 

CHAPTER VII

HAWTHORNE AS A SOCIALIST: 1841-1842

Who can compute the amount of mischief that Fourier has done, and thosewell-meaning but inexperienced dreamers who have followed after him? AFourth-of-July firecracker once consumed the half of a large city. Theboy who exploded it had no evil intentions; neither did Fourier andother speculators in philanthropy contemplate what might be the effectof their doctrines on minds actuated by the lowest and most inevitablewants. Wendell Phillips, in the most brilliant of his orations, said:"The track of God's lightning is a straight line from justice toiniquity, " and one might have said to Phillips, in his later years, that there is in the affairs of men a straight line from infatuation todestruction. In what degree Fourier was responsible for the effusion ofblood in Paris in the spring of 1871 it is not possible to determine;but the relation of Rousseau to the first French revolution is not morecertain. _Fate_ is the spoken word which cannot be recalled, andwho can tell the good and evil consequences that lie hidden in it? Theproper cure for socialism, in educated minds, would be a study of thelaw. There we discover what a wonderful mechanism is the presentorganization of society, and how difficult it would be to reconstructthis, if it once were overturned. 

As society is constituted at present, the honest and industrious arealways more or less at the mercy of the vicious and indolent, and theonly protection against this lies in the right of individual ownership. In a general community of goods, there might be some means ofpreventing or punishing flagrant misdemeanors, but what protectioncould there be against indolence? Those who were ready and willing towork would have to bear all the burdens of society. 

In order that an idea should take external or concrete form it has tobe married, as it were, to some desire or tendency in the individual. Reverend George Ripley had become imbued with Fourierism through hisstudies of French philosophy, but he had also been brought up on afarm, and preferred the fresh air and vigorous exercise of that mode oflife to city preaching. He was endowed with a strong constitution andpossessed of an independent fortune, and his aristocratic wife, moredevoted than women of that class are usually, sympathized with hisplans, and was prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth. He notonly felt great enthusiasm for the project but was capable of inspiringothers with it. There were many socialistic experiments undertakenabout that time, but George Ripley's was the only one that has acquireda historical value. It is much to his credit that he gave the scheme athorough trial, and by carrying it out to a logical conclusion provedits radical impracticability. 

Such a failure is more valuable than the successes of a hundred men whomerely make their own fortunes and leave no legacy of experience thatcan benefit the human race. 

It must have been Elizabeth Peabody who persuaded Hawthorne to enlistin the Brook Farm enterprise. She wrote a paper for the _Dial_[Footnote: _Dial_, ii. 361. ] on the subject, explaining the objectof the West Roxbury community and holding forth the prospect of the"higher life" which could be enjoyed there. Hawthorne was in himselfthe very antipodes of socialism, and it was part of the irony of hislife that he should have embarked in such an experiment; but heinvested a thousand dollars in it, which he had saved from his CustomHouse salary, and was one of the first on the ground. What he reallyhoped for from it--as we learn by his letters to Miss Sophia Peabody--was a means of gaining his daily bread, with leisure to accomplish afair amount of writing, and at the same time to enter into such societyas might be congenial to his future consort. It seemed reasonable topresume this, and yet the result did not correspond to it. He went toWest Roxbury on April 12, 1841, and as it happened in a drivingnortheast snowstorm, --an unpropitious beginning, of which he has givena graphic account in "The Blithedale Romance. "

At first he liked his work at the Farm. The novelty of it provedattractive to him. On May 3 he wrote a letter to his sister Louisa, which reflects the practical nature of his new surroundings; and itmust be confessed that this is a refreshing change from the sublunaryconsiderations at his Boston boarding-house. He has already "learned toplant potatoes, to milk cows, and to cut straw and hay for the cattle, and does various other mighty works. " He has gained strengthwonderfully, and can do a day's work without the slightestinconvenience; wears a tremendous pair of cowhide boots. He goes to bedat nine, and gets up at half-past four to sound the rising-horn, --muchtoo early for a socialistic paradise, where human nature is supposed tofind a pleasant as well as a salutary existence. George Ripley wouldseem to be driving the wedge in by the larger end. Hawthorne isdelighted with the topographical aspect, and writes:

"This is one of the most beautiful places I ever saw in my life, and assecluded as if it were a hundred miles from any city or village. Thereare woods, in which we can ramble all day without meeting anybody orscarcely seeing a house. Our house stands apart from the main road, sothat we are not troubled even with passengers looking at us. Once in awhile we have a transcendental visitor, such as Mr. Alcott; butgenerally we pass whole days without seeing a single face save those ofthe brethren. The whole fraternity eat together; and such a delectableway of life has never been seen on earth since the days of the earlyChristians. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 228. ]

From Louisa Hawthorne's reply, it may be surmised that his family didnot altogether approve of the Brook Farm venture, perhaps because itwithdrew him from his own home at a time when they had looked with fondexpectation for his return; and here we have a glimpse into thebeautiful soul of this younger sister, otherwise so little known to us. Elizabeth is skeptical of its ultimate success, but Louisa is fearfulthat he may work too hard and wants him to take good care of himself. She is delighted with the miniature of him, which they have latelyreceived: "It has one advantage over the original, --I can make it gowith me where I choose!"

Louisa wrote another warm and beautiful letter on June 11, recallingthe days when they used to go fishing together on Lake Sebago, andadds:

"Elizabeth Cleveland says she saw Mr. George Bradford in Lowell lastwinter, and he told her he was going to be associated with you; butthey say his mind misgave him terribly when the time came for him to goto Roxbury, and whether to make such a desperate step or not he couldnot tell. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 232. ]

George P. Bradford was the masculine complement to Elizabeth Peabody--flitting across the paths of Emerson and Hawthorne throughout theirlives. His name appears continually in the biographies of that time, but future generations would never know the sort of man he was, but forLouisa's amiable commentary. He appeared at Brook Farm a few dayslater, and became one of George Ripley's strongest and most faithfuladherents. He is the historian of the West Roxbury community, and latein life the editor of the _Century_ asked him to write a specialaccount of it for that periodical. Bradford did so, and received onehundred dollars in return for his manuscript; but it never waspublished, presumably because it was too original for the editor'spurpose. 

Is it possible that Hawthorne put on a good face for this letter to hissister, in order to keep up appearances; or was it like the commonexperience of music and drawing teachers that the first lessons are thebest performed; or did he really have some disagreement with Ripley, like that which he represents in "The Blithedale Romance"? The last isthe more probable, although we do not hear of it otherwise. Spring isthe least agreeable season for farming, with its muddy soil, itsdressing the ground, its weeds to be kept down and its insects to bekept off. After the first week of June, the work becomes muchpleasanter; and the harvesting is delightful, --stacking the grain, picking the fruit, --with the cheery wood fires, so restful to mind andbody. Yet we find on August 12 that Hawthorne had become thoroughlydisenchanted with his Arcadian life, although he admits that the laborsof the farm were not so pressing as they had been. Ten days later, herefers to having spent the better part of a night with one of his co-workers, "who was quite out of his wits" and left the community nextday. He then continues in his diary: [Footnote: American Notebook, ii. 15. ]

"It is extremely doubtful whether Mr. Ripley will succeed in locatinghis community on the farm. He can bring Mr. E---- to no terms, and themore they talk about the matter, the further they appear to be from asettlement. We must form other plans for ourselves; for I can see fewor no signs that Providence purposes to give us a home here. I amweary, weary, thrice weary, of waiting so many ages. Whatever may be mygifts, I have not hitherto shown a single one that may avail to gathergold. "

Here are already three disaffected personages, desirous of escapingfrom an earthly paradise. Mr. Ripley has by no means an easy row tohoe. Yet he keeps on ploughing steadily through his difficulties, as hedid through the soil of his meadows. In September we find Hawthorne atSalem, and on the third he writes: [Footnote: American Notebook, ii. 16. ]

"But really I should judge it to be twenty years since I left BrookFarm; and I take this to be one proof that my life there was unnaturaland unsuitable, and therefore an unreal one. It already looks like adream behind me. The real Me was never an associate of the community:there has been a spectral appearance there, sounding the horn atdaybreak, and milking the cows, and hoeing potatoes, and raking hay, toiling in the sun, and doing me the honor to assume my name. But thisspectre was not myself. "

This idea of himself as a spectre seems to have accompanied him much inthe way that the daemon did Socrates, and to have served in a similarmanner as a warning to him. He left Brook Farm almost exactly as hedescribes himself doing, in "The Blithedale Romance, " and he returnedagain on the twenty-second, but the brilliant woodland carnival whichhe describes, both in his "Note-book" and in "The Blithedale Romance, "did not take place there until September 28. It was a masquerade inwhich Margaret Fuller and Emerson appeared as invited guests, and helda meeting of the Transcendental club "_sub tegmine fagi_. " AsHawthorne remarks, "Much conversation followed, "--in which he evidentlyfound little to interest him. Margaret Fuller also made a present of aheifer to the live-stock of the Farm, of whose unruly gambols Hawthorneseems to have taken more particular notice. He would seem in fact tohave attributed the same characteristics to the animal and its owner. 

Having more time at his own disposal, he now attempted to write anothervolume of history for Peter Parley's library, but, although this wasrather a childish affair, he found himself unequal to it. "I have not, "he said, "the sense of perfect seclusion here, which has always beenessential to my power of producing anything. It is true, nobodyintrudes into my room; but still I cannot be quiet. Nothing here issettled; and my mind will not be abstracted. " During the whole ofOctober he went on long woodland walks, sometimes alone and at otherswith a single companion. He tried, like Emerson, courting Nature in hersolitudes, and made the acquaintance of her denizens as if he were theoriginal Adam taking an account of his animal kingdom. He picks up aterrapin, the _Emys picta_, which attempts to hide itself fromhim in a stone wall, and carries it considerately to a pond of water;but there is not much to be found in the woods, and one can travel awhole day in the forest primeval without coming across anything betterthan a few squirrels and small birds. In fact, two young sportsmen oncerode on horseback with their guns from the Missouri River to thePacific Ocean without meeting any larger game than prairie-chickens. 

It was all in vain. Hawthorne's nature was not like Emerson's, and whatstimulated the latter mentally made comparatively little impression onthe former. Hawthorne found, then as always, that in order to practicehis art, he must devote himself to it, wholly and completely, leavingside issues to go astern. In order to create an ideal world of his own, he was obliged to separate himself from all existing conditions, asBeethoven did when composing his symphonies. Composition for Hawthornemeant a severe mental strain. Those sentences, pellucid as a mountainspring, were not clarified without an effort. The faculty on whichHawthorne depended for this, as every artist does, was his imagination, and imagination is as easily disturbed as the electric needle. There isno fine art without sensitiveness. We see it in the portrait ofLeonardo da Vinci, a man who could bend horseshoes in his hands; andBismarck, who was also an artist in his way, confessed to the samemental disturbance from noise and general conversation, which Hawthornefelt at Brook Farm. It was the mental sensitiveness of Carlyle andBismarck which caused their insomnia, and much other suffering besides. 

George Ripley published an essay in the _Dial_, in which heheralded Fourier as the great man who was destined to regeneratesociety; but Fourier has passed away, and society continues in its oldcourse. What he left out of his calculations, or perhaps did notunderstand, was the principle of population. If food and raiment wereas common as air and water, mankind would double its numbers everytwelve or fifteen years, and the tendency to do so produces a pressureon poor human nature, which is almost like the scourge of a whip, driving it into all kinds of ways and means in order to obtainsufficient sustenance. Most notable among the methods thus employed is, and always has been, the division of labor, and it will be readily seenthat a community like Brook Farm, where skilled labor, properlyspeaking, was unknown, and all men were all things by turns, couldnever sustain so large a population relatively as a community where astrict division of industries existed. If a nation like France, forinstance, where the population is nearly stationary, were to adoptFourier's plan of social organization, it would prove a more severerestriction on human life than the wars of Napoleon. This is the reasonwhy the attempt to plant a colony of Englishmen in Tennessee failed sobadly. There was a kind of division of labor among them, but it waspurely a local and a foreign division and not adapted to the regionabout them. Ripley's method of allowing work to be counted by the hourinstead of by the day or half-day, was of itself sufficient to preventthe enterprise from being a financial success. Farming everywhereexcept on the Western prairies requires the closest thrift and economy, and all hands have to work hard. 

Neither could such an experiment prove a success from a moral point ofview. Emerson said of it: "The women did not object so much to a commontable as they did to a common nursery. " In truth one might expect thata common nursery would finally result in a free fight. The tendency ofall such institutions would be to destroy the sanctity of family life;and it would also include a tendency to the deterioration of manliness. One of the professed objects of the Brook Farm association was, toescape from the evils of the great world, --from the trickery of trade, the pedantry of colleges, the flunkyism of office, and the arrogantpretensions of wealth. Every honest man must feel a sympathy with this;there are times when we all feel that the struggle of life is anunequal conflict, from which it would be a permanent blessing toescape; yet he who turns his back upon it, is like a soldier who runsaway from the battle-field. It is the conflict with evil in the greatworld, and in ourselves, that constitutes virtue and developscharacter. It is _good_ to learn the trickery of knaves and toexpose it, to contend against pedantry and set a better example, toadminister offices with a modest impartiality, and to treat the gildedfool with a dignified contempt. But if the wings of the archangel aretorn and soiled in his conflict with sin, does it not add to the honorof the victory? The man who left his wife and children, because hefound that he could not live with them without occasionally losing histemper, committed a grievous wrong; and it is equally true thathypocrisy, the meanest of vices, may sometimes become a virtue. 

George P. Bradford, and a few others, enjoyed the life at Brook Farm, and would have liked to remain there longer. John S. Dwight, thetranslator of Goethe's and Schiller's ballads, [Footnote: One of themost musical translations in any language. ] said in his old age that ifhe were a young man, he would be only too glad to return there; and itis undeniable that such a place is suited to a certain class ofpersons, both men and women. It cannot be repeated too often, however, that the true object of life is not happiness, but development. It isour special business on this planet, to improve the human race as ourprogenitors improved it, and developed it out of we know not what. Bydoing this, we also improve ourselves and happiness comes to usincidentally; but if we pursue happiness directly, we soon becomepleasure-seekers, and, like Faust, join company with Mephistopheles. Happiness comes to a philosopher, perhaps while he is picking berries;to a judge, watching the approach of a thunder-storm; to a merchant, teaching his boy to skate. It came to Napoleon listening to a prayer-bell, and to Hawthorne playing games with his children. [Footnote:Perhaps also in his kindliness to the terrapin. ] Happiness flies whenwe seek it, and steals upon us unawares. 

George P. Bradford's account of Brook Farm in the "Memorial History ofBoston" [Footnote: Vol. Iv. 330. ] is not so satisfactory as it mighthave been if he had given more specific details in regard to itsmanagement. The general supposition has been that there was an annualdeficit in the accounts of the association, which could only be met byMr. Ripley himself, who ultimately lost the larger portion of hisinvestment. It is difficult to imagine how such an experiment could endotherwise, and the final conflagration of the principal building, or"The Hive, " as it was called, served as a fitting consummation of thewhole enterprise, --a truly dramatic climax. George Ripley went to NewYork to become literary editor of the _Tribune_, and was asdistinguished there for the excellence of his reviews, and the eleganceof his turnout in Central Park as he had been for the use of the spadeand pitchfork at West Roxbury. 

Mr. Bradford returned to the instruction of young ladies in French andLatin; and John S. Dwight became one of the civilizing forces of histime, by editing the Boston _Journal of Music_. None of them werethe worse for their agrarian experiment. 

Even if the West Roxbury _commune_ had proved a success for two orthree generations, it would not have sufficed for a test of Fourier'stheory for it would have been a republic within a republic, protectedby the laws and government of the United States, without beingsubjected to the inconvenience of its own political machinery. The onlyfair trial for such a system would be to introduce it in some tract ofcountry especially set apart and made independent for the purpose; butthe chances are ten to one that a community organized in this mannerwould soon be driven into the same process of formation that othercolonies have passed through under similar conditions. The truesocialism is the present organization of society, and although it mightbe improved in detail, to revolutionize it would be dangerous. Yet theinterest that has been aroused at various times by discussions of theBrook Farm project, shows how strong the undercurrent is settingagainst the present order of things; and this is my chief excuse formaking such a long digression on the subject. 

During these last months of his bachelorhood, Hawthorne appears to ussomewhat in the light of a hibernating bear; for we hear nothing of himat that season at all. Between the last of October, 1841, and July, 1842, there are a large number of odd fancies, themes for romances, andthe like, published from his diary, but no entries of a personalcharacter. We hear incidentally that he was at Brook Farm during aportion of the spring, which is not surprising in view of the fact thatDoctor Nathaniel Peabody had removed from Salem to Boston in the meantime. One conclusion Hawthorne had evidently arrived at during thewinter months, and it was that his engagement to Miss Sophia Peabodyought to be terminated in the way all such affairs should be; viz. , bymatrimony. Their prospects in life were not brilliant, but it wasdifficult to foresee any advantage in waiting longer, and there weredecided disadvantages in doing so. It was accordingly agreed that theyshould be married at, or near, the summer solstice, the most suitableof all times for weddings--or engagements. On June 20, he wrote to his_fiancée_ from Salem, reminding her that within ten days they wereto become man and wife, and added this significant reflection: "Nothingcan part us now; for God himself hath ordained that we shall be one. Sonothing remains but to reconcile yourself to your destiny. Year by yearwe shall grow closer to each other; and a thousand years hence, weshall be only in the honeymoon of our marriage. "

Yet we find him writing again the tenderest and most graceful of love-letters on June 30. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 241. ] The wedding hasevidently been postponed; but two days later he is in Boston, and findsa pleasant recreation watching the boys sail their toy boats on theFrog Pond. The ceremony finally was performed on July 9, and it wasonly the day previous that Hawthorne wrote the following letter, whichis dated from 54 Pinckney Street:

"MY DEAR SIR:

"Though personally a stranger to you, I am about to request of you thegreatest favor which I can receive from any man. I am to be married toMiss Sophia Peabody to-morrow, and it is our mutual desire that youshould perform the ceremony. Unless it should be decidedly a rainy day, a carriage will call for you at half-past eleven o'clock in theforenoon. 

 "Very respectfully yours, "NATH. HAWTHORNE. 

"REV. JAMES F. CLARKE, "Chestnut St. "

George S. Hillard lived on Pinckney Street, and Hawthorne may have beenvisiting him at the moment. The Peabodys attended service at Mr. Clarke's church in Indiana Place, where Hawthorne may also have gonewith them. He could not have made a more judicious choice; but, singularly enough, although Mr. Clarke became Elizabeth Peabody's life-long friend, and even went to Concord to lecture, he and Hawthornenever met again after this occasion. 

The ceremony was performed at the house of Sophia Peabody's father, No. 13 West Street, a building of which not one stone now rests uponanother. It was a quiet family wedding (such as oftenest leads tofuture happiness), and most deeply impressive to those concerned in it. What must it have been to Hawthorne, who had known so much loneliness, and had waited so long for the comfort and sympathy which only adevoted wife can give?

Time has drawn a veil over Hawthorne's honeymoon, but exactly fourweeks after the wedding, we find him and his wife installed in thehouse at Concord, owned by the descendants of Reverend Dr. Ripley. Itwill be remembered that Hawthorne had invested his only thousanddollars in the West Roxbury Utopia, whence it was no longer possible torecover it. He had, however, an unsubstantial Utopian sort of claim forit, against the Association, which he placed in the hands of George S. Hillard, and subsequent negotiation would seem to have resulted ingiving Hawthorne a lease of the Ripley house, or "Old Manse, " in returnfor it. It was already classic ground, for Emerson had occupied thehouse for a time and had written his first book there; and thitherHawthorne went to locate himself, determined to try once more if hecould earn his living by his pen. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MANSE, RESIDENCE OF DR. RIPLEY]

CHAPTER VIII

CONCORD AND THE OLD MANSE: 1842-1845

The Ripley house dates back to the times of Captain Daniel Hathorne, oreven before him, and at Concord Fight the British left wing must haveextended close to it. Old and unpainted as it is, it gives a distinctimpression of refinement and good taste. Alone, I believe, among theConcord houses of former times, it is set back far enough from thecountry-road to have an avenue leading to it, lined with balm of Gileadtrees, and guarded at the entrance by two tall granite posts somewhatlike obelisks. On the further side of the house, Dr. Ripley had plantedan apple orchard, which included some rare varieties, especially theblue pearmain, a dark-red autumn apple with a purple bloom upon it likethe bloom upon the rye. A high rounded hill on the northeast partiallyshelters the house from the storms in that direction; and on theopposite side the river sweeps by in a magnificent curve, with broadmeadows and rugged hills, leading up to the pale-blue outline of MountWachusett on the western horizon. The Musketequid or Concord River hasnot been praised too highly. Its clear, gently flowing current, margined by bulrushes and grassy banks, produces an effect of mentalpeacefulness, very different from the rushing turbulent waters androcky banks of Maine and New Hampshire rivers. From whatever point youapproach the Old Manse, it becomes the central object in a charmingcountry scene, and it does not require the peculiar effect ofmouldering walls to make it picturesque. It has stood there long, andmay it long remain. 

There was formerly an Indian encampment on the same ground, --a well-chosen position both strategically and for its southern exposure. OldMrs. Ripley had a large collection of stone arrow-heads, corn-mortars, and other relics of the aborigines, which she used to show to the youngpeople who came to call on her grandchildren; and there were among thempieces of a dark-bluish porphyry which she said was not to be found inMassachusetts, but must have been brought from northern New England. There was no reason why they should not have been. The Indians could gofrom Concord in their canoes to the White Mountains or the Maine lakes, and shoot the deer that came down to drink from the banks of the river;but the deer disappeared before the advance of the American farmer, andthe Indians went with them. Now a grandson of Madam Ripley, in thebronze likeness of a minuteman of 1775, stands sentinel at "The OldNorth Bridge. "

Hawthorne ascended the hill opposite his house and wrote of the viewfrom it:

"The scenery of Concord, as I beheld it from the summit of the hill, has no very marked characteristics, but has a great deal of quietbeauty, in keeping with the river. There are broad and peacefulmeadows, which, I think, are among the most satisfying objects innatural scenery. The heart reposes on them with a feeling that fewthings else can give, because almost all other objects are abrupt andclearly defined; but a meadow stretches out like a small infinity, yetwith a secure homeliness which we do not find either in an expanse ofwater or air. "

The great cranberry meadows below the north bridge are sometimes awonderful place in winter, when the river overflows its banks and theybecome a broad sheet of ice extending for miles. There one can have alittle skating, an exercise of which Hawthorne was always fond. 

It was now, and not at Brook Farm, that he found his true Arcadia, andwe have his wife's testimony that for the first eighteen months or moreat the Old Manse, they were supremely happy. Every morning afterbreakfast he donned the blue frock, which he had worn at West Roxbury, and went to the woodshed to saw and split wood for the dailyconsumption. After that he ascended to his study in the second story, where he wrote and pondered until dinner-time. It appears also that hesometimes assisted in washing the dishes--like a helpful mate. Afterdinner he usually walked to the post-office and to a reading-room inthe centre of the town, where he looked over the Boston _Post_ forhalf an hour. Later in the afternoon, he went rowing or fishing on theriver, but his wife does not seem to have accompanied him in theseexcursions, for Judge Keyes, who often met him in his boat, does notmention seeing her with him. In the evenings he read Shakespeare withMrs. Hawthorne, commencing with the first volume, and going straightthrough to the end, "Titus Andronicus" and all, --and this must haveoccupied them a large portion of the winter. How can a man fail to behappy in such a mode of life!

Hawthorne also went swimming in the river when the weather suited--rather exceptional in Concord for a middle-aged gentleman; but therewere two very attractive bathing places near the Old Manse, one, alittle above on the opposite side of the river, and the other, afterwards known as Simmons's Landing, where there was a row of tallelms a short distance below the bridge. It is probable that Hawthornefrequented the latter place, as being more remote from humanhabitations. He did not take to his gun again, although he could seethe wild ducks in autumn, flying past his house. There were grouse andquail in the woods, and woodcock were to be found along the brook whichran through Emerson's pasture; but perhaps Hawthorne had become tootenderhearted for field-sports. 

If Boston is the hub of the universe, Concord might be considered asthe linchpin which holds it on. Its population was originally derivedfrom Boston, and it must be admitted that it retains more Bostonianpeculiarities than most other New England towns. It does not assimilatereadily to the outside world. Nor is it surprising that few localvisitors called upon the Hawthornes at the Old Manse. Emerson, alwayshospitable and public-spirited, went to call on them at once; and JohnKeyes, also a liberal-minded man, introduced Hawthorne at the reading-club. Margaret Fuller came and left a book for Hawthorne to read, whichmay have annoyed him more than anything she could have said. ElizabethHoar, a woman of exalted character, to whose judgment Emerson sometimesapplied for a criticism of his verses, also came sometimes; but the OldManse was nearly a mile away from Emerson's house, and also from whatmight be called the "court end" of the town. Hawthorne's nearestneighbor was a milk-farmer named George L. Prescott, afterward Colonelof the Thirty-second Massachusetts Volunteers. He not only brought themmilk, but also occasionally a bouquet culled out of his own finenature, as a tribute to genius. A slightly educated man, he wasnevertheless one of Nature's gentlemen, and his death in Grant'sadvance on Richmond was a universal cause of mourning at a time when somany brave lives were lost. 

Hawthorne, as usual, was on the lookout for ghosts, and there could nothave been a more suitable abode for those airy nothings, than the OldManse. Mysterious sounds were heard in it repeatedly, especially in thenighttime, when the change of temperature produces a kind of settlementin the affairs of old woodwork. Under date of August 8 he writes in hisdiary:

"We have seen no apparitions as yet, --but we hear strange noises, especially in the kitchen, and last night, while sitting in the parlor, we heard a thumping and pounding as of somebody at work in my study. Nay, if I mistake not (for I was half asleep), there was a sound as ofsome person crumpling paper in his hand in our very bedchamber. Thismust have been old Dr. Ripley with one of his sermons. "

Evidently he would have preferred seeing a ghost to receiving anhonorary degree from Bowdoin College, and if the shade of Doctor Ripleyhad appeared to him in a dissolving light, like the Röntgen rays, Hawthorne would certainly have welcomed him as a kindred spirit andhave expressed his pleasure at the manifestation. 

Another idiosyncrasy of his, which seems like the idiom in a language, was his total indifference to distinguished persons, simply as such. Itwas not that he considered all men on a level, for no one recognizedmore clearly the profound inequalities of human nature; but he wasquite as likely to take an interest in a store clerk as in a famouswriter. It is not necessary to suppose that a man is a parasite of famebecause he goes to a President's reception, or wishes to meet acelebrated English lecturer. It is natural that we should desire toknow how such people appear--their expression, their tone of voice, their general behavior; but Hawthorne did not care for this. At thetime of which we write, Doctor Samuel G. Howe, the hero of Greekindependence and the mental liberator of Laura Bridgman, was a morefamous man than Emerson or Longfellow. He came to Concord with hisbrilliant wife, and they called at the Old Manse, where Mrs. Hawthornereceived them very cordially, but they saw nothing of her husband, except a dark figure gliding through the entry with his hat over hiseyes. One can only explain this by one of those fits of exceedingbashfulness that sometimes overtake supersensitive natures. School-girls just budding into womanhood often behave in a similar manner; andthey are no more to be censured for it than Hawthorne, --to whom it mayhave caused moments of poignant self-reproach in his daily reflections. But Doctor Howe was the man of all men whom Hawthorne ought to haveknown, and half an hour's conversation might have made them friends forlife. 

George William Curtis was a remarkably brilliant young man, and gaveeven better promise for the future than he afterwards fulfilled, --asthe editor of a weekly newspaper. He was at Brook Farm with Hawthorne, and afterward followed him to Concord, but is only referred to byHawthorne once, and then in the briefest manner. Neither has Hawthornemuch to say of Emerson; but Thoreau and Ellery Channing evidentlyattracted his attention, for he refers to them repeatedly in his diary, and he has left the one life-like portrait of Thoreau--better than aphotograph--that now exists. He surveys them both in rather a criticalmanner, and takes note that Thoreau is the more substantial andoriginal of the two; and he is also rather sceptical as to Channing'spoetry, which Emerson valued at a high rate; yet he narrowly missedmaking a friend of Channing, with whom he afterward corresponded in adesultory way. 

We should not have known of Hawthorne's skating at Concord, but forMrs. Hawthorne's "Memoirs, " from which we learn that he frequentlyskated on the overflowed meadows, where the Lowell railway station nowstands. She writes: "Wrapped in his cloak, he moved like a self-impelled Greek statue, stately and grave. " This is the manner in whichwe should imagine Hawthorne to have skated; but all others were a foilto her husband in the eyes of his wife. [Footnote: "Memories ofHawthorne, " 52. ] He was evidently a fine skater, gliding over the icein long sweeping curves. Emerson was also a dignified skater, but witha shorter stroke, and stopping occasionally to take breath, or lookabout him, as he did in his lectures. Thoreau came sometimes andperformed rare glacial exploits, interesting to watch, but rather inthe line of the professional acrobat. What a transfiguration ofHawthorne, to think of him skating alone amid the reflections of abrilliant winter sunset!

When winter came Emerson arranged a course of evening receptions at hishouse for the intellectual people of Concord, with apples andgingerbread for refreshments. Curtis attended these, and has told ushow Hawthorne always sat apart with an expression on his face like adistant thunder-cloud, saying little, and not only listening to butwatching the others. Curtis noticed a certain external and internalresemblance in him to Webster, who was at times a thunderous-lookingperson--denoting, I suppose, the electric concentration in hiscranium. Emerson also watched Hawthorne, and the whole company felt hissilent presence, and missed him greatly once or twice when he failed tocome. Miss Elizabeth Hoar said:

"The people about Emerson, Channing, Thoreau and the rest, echo hismanner so much that it is a relief to him to meet a man like Hawthorne, on whom his own personality makes no impression. " Neither did Mrs. Emerson echo her husband. 

The greater a man is, intellectually, the more distinct his differencefrom a general type and also from other men of genius. No twopersonalities could be more unlike than Hawthorne and Emerson. 

It would seem to be part of the irony of Fate that they should havelived on the same street, and, have been obliged to meet and speak witheach other. One was like sunshine, the other shadow. Emerson wastransparent, and wished to be so; he had nothing to conceal from friendor enemy. Hawthorne was simply impenetrable. Emerson was cordial andmoderately sympathetic. Hawthorne was reserved, but his sympathies wereas profound as the human soul itself. To study human nature asHawthorne and Shakespeare did, and to make models of theiracquaintances for works of fiction, Emerson would have considered asin; while the evolution of sin and its effect on character was theprincipal study of Hawthorne's life. One was an optimist, and the otherwhat is sometimes unjustly called a pessimist; that is, one who looksfacts in the face and sees people as they are. 

[Footnote: "Sketches from Concord and Appledore. "]

While Emerson's mind was essentially analytic, Hawthorne's wassynthetic, and, as Conway says, he did not receive the world into hisintellect, but into his heart, or soul, where it was mirrored in amagical completeness. The notion that the artist requires merely anobserving eye is a superficial delusion. Observation is worth littlewithout reflection, and everything depends on the manner in which theobserver deals with his facts. Emerson looked at life in order topenetrate it; Hawthorne, in order to comprehend it, and assimilate itto his own nature. The one talked heroism and the other lived it. Notbut that Emerson's life was a stoical one, but Hawthorne's was stillmore so, and only his wife and children knew what a heart there was inhim. 

The world will never know what these two great men thought of oneanother. Hawthorne has left some fragmentary sentences concerningEmerson, such as, "that everlasting rejecter of all that is, and seekerfor he knows not what, " and "Emerson the mystic, stretching his handout of cloud-land in vain search for something real;" but he likesEmerson's ingenuous way of interrogating people, "as if every man hadsomething to give him. " However, he makes no attempt at a generalestimate; although this expression should also be remembered:"Clergymen, whose creed had become like an iron band about their brows, came to Emerson to obtain relief, "--a sincere recognition of hisspiritual influence. 

Several witnesses have testified that Emerson had no high opinion ofHawthorne's writing, --that he preferred Reade's "Christie Johnstone" to"The Scarlet Letter, " but Emerson never manifested much interest inart, simply for its own sake. Like Bismarck, whom he also resembled inhis enormous self-confidence, he cared little for anything that had nota practical value. He read Shakespeare and Goethe, not so much for thepoetry as for the "fine thoughts" he found in them. George Bradfordstated more than once that Emerson showed little interest in thepictorial art; and after walking through the sculpture-gallery of theVatican, he remarked that the statues seemed to him like toys. Hisessay on Michel Angelo is little more than a catalogue of greatachievements; he recognizes the moral impressiveness of the man, butnot the value of his sublime conceptions. Music, neither he norHawthorne cared for, for it belongs to emotional natures. 

In his "Society and Solitude" Emerson has drawn a picture of Hawthorneas the lover of a hermitical life; a picture only representing thatside of his character, and developed after Emerson's fashion to anartistic extreme. "Whilst he suffered at being seen where he was, heconsoled himself with the delicious thought of the inconceivable numberof places where he was not, " and "He had a remorse running to despair, of his social _gaucheries_, and walked miles and miles to get thetwitching out of his face, the starts and shrugs out of his shoulders. "

[Footnote: "Society and Solitude, " 4, 5. ]

There is a touch of arrogance in this, and it merely marks thedifference between the modest author of the "Essays, " and the proud, censorious Emerson of 1870; but his love of absolute statementsofttimes led him into strange contradictions, and the injustice whichresults from judging our fellow-mortals by an inflexible standard wasthe final outcome of his optimism. Hawthorne was more charitable whenhe remarked that without Byron's faults we should not have had hisvirtues; but the truth lies between the two. 

There have been many instances of genius as sensitive as Hawthorne's invarious branches of art: Shelley and Southey, Schubert and Chopin, Correggio and Corot. Southey not only blushed red but blushed blue--asif the life were going out of him; and in Chopin and Correggio at leastwe feel that they could not have been what they were without it. Napoleon, whose nerves were like steel wires, suffered neverthelessfrom a peculiar kind of physical sensitiveness. He could not takemedicines like other men, --a small dose had a terrible effect on him, --and it was much the same with respect to changes of food, climate, andthe like. 

What Hawthorne required was sympathetic company. Do not we all requireit? The hypercritical morality of the Emersonians, especially inConcord, could not have been favorable to his mental ease and comfort. How could a man in a happily married condition feel anything butrepugnance to Thoreau's idea of marriage as a necessary evil; orAlcott's theory that eating animal food tended directly to thecommission of crime?

On the first anniversary of Hawthorne's wedding, a tragical drama wasenacted in Concord, in which he was called upon to perform asubordinate part. One Miss Hunt, a school-teacher and the daughter of aConcord farmer, drowned herself in the river nearly opposite the placewhere Hawthorne was accustomed to bathe. The cause of her suicide hasnever been adequately explained, but as she was a transcendentalist, orconsidered herself so, there were those who believed that in someoccult way that was the occasion of it. However, as one of her sistersafterward followed her example, it would seem more likely to have comefrom the development of some family trait. She was seen walking uponthe bank for a long time, before she took the final plunge; but thecatastrophe was not discovered until near evening. 

Ellery Channing came with a man named Buttrick to borrow Hawthorne'sboat for the search, and Hawthorne went with them. As it happened, theywere the ones who found the corpse, and Hawthorne's account in hisdiary of its recovery is a terribly accurate description, --softeneddown and poetized in the rewritten statement of "The BlithedaleRomance. " There is in fact no description of a death in Homer orShakespeare so appalling as this literal transcript of the veritablefact. 

[Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 300. ]

What concerns us here, however, are the comments he set down on thedolorous event. Concerning her appearance, he says:

"If she could have foreseen while she stood, at five o'clock thatmorning on the bank of the river, how her maiden corpse would havelooked eighteen hours afterwards, and how coarse men would strive withhand and foot to reduce it to a decent aspect, and all in vain, --itwould surely have saved her from the deed. "

And again:

"I suppose one friend would have saved her; but she died for want ofsympathy--a severe penalty for having cultivated and refined herselfout of the sphere of her natural connections. "

The first remark has often been misunderstood. It is not the vanity ofwomen, which is after all only a reflection (or the reflectiveconsequence) of the admiration of man, which Hawthorne intends, butthat delicacy of feeling which Nature requires of woman for her ownprotection; and he may not have been far wrong in supposing that ifMiss Hunt had foreseen the exact consequences of her fatal act shewould not have committed it. Hawthorne's remark that her death was aconsequence of having refined and cultivated herself beyond the reachof her relatives, seems a rather hard judgment. The latter oftenhappens in American life, and although it commonly results in more orless family discord, are we to condemn it for that reason? If she diedas Hawthorne imagines, from the lack of intellectual sympathy, we maywell inquire if there was no one in Concord who might have given aidand encouragement to this young aspiring soul. 

 "Take her up tenderly; Lift her with care, Fashioned so slenderly, Young and so fair. "

And one is also tempted to add:

 "Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity. "

Hawthorne's earthly paradise only endured until the autumn of 1843. When cool weather arrived, want and care came also. On November 26 hewrote to George S. Hillard:

"I wish at some leisure moment you would give yourself the trouble tocall into Munroe's book-store and inquire about the state of my 'Twice-told Tales. ' At the last accounts (now about a year since) the saleshad not been enough to pay expenses; but it may be otherwise now--elseI shall be forced to consider myself a writer for posterity; or at allevents not for the present generation. Surely the book was puffedenough to meet with a sale. "

[Footnote: London Athenæum, August 10, 1889. ]

The interpretation of this is that Longfellow, Hillard and Bridge couldappreciate Hawthorne's art, but the solid men of Boston (with some rareexceptions) could not. Even Webster preferred the grotesque art ofDickens to Hawthorne's "wells of English undefiled. " Recently, one ofthe few surviving original copies of "Fanshawe" was sold at auction forsix hundred dollars. Such is the difference between genius andcelebrity. 

The trouble then and now is that wealthy Americans as a class feel nogenuine interest in art or literature. They do not form a truearistocracy, but a plutocracy, and are for the most part very poorlyeducated. It was formerly the brag of the Winthrops and Otises thatthey could go through college and learn their lessons in therecitation-room. Now they go to row, and play foot-ball, and after theygraduate, they leave the best portion of their lives behind them. Thenif they have a talent for business they become absorbed in commercialaffairs; or if not, they travel from one country to another, picking upa smattering of everything, but not resting long enough in any oneplace for their impressions to develop and bear good fruit. They arenot like the aristocratic classes of England, France and Germany, whobecome cultivated men and women, and serve to maintain a high standardof art and literature in those countries. 

The captain of a Cunard steamship, who owned quite a library, said in1869: "I have bought some very interesting books in New York, especially by a writer named Hawthorne, but the type and paper are sopoor that they are not worth binding. " The reason why Americanpublishers do not bring out books in such good form as foreignpublishers--is that there is no demand for a first-rate article. Thusdo the fine arts languish. When rich young Americans take as muchinterest in painting and sculpture as they do in foot-ball andyachting, we shall have our Vandycks and Murillos, --if nothing better. 

Discouraged with the ill success of "Fanshawe, " Hawthorne had limitedhimself since then to the writing of short sketches, such as would beacceptable to the magazine editors, and now that he had formed thishabit, he found it difficult to escape from it. He informs us in thepreface to "Mosses from an Old Manse" that he had hoped a more seriousand extended plot would come to him on the banks of Concord River, buthis imagination did not prove equal to the occasion. Most of thestories in "Mosses" must have been composed at Concord, but "Mrs. Bull-Frog'" and "Monsieur du Miroir" must have been written previously, forhe refers to them in a letter at Brook Farm. A few were published inthe _Democratic Review_, and others may have been elsewhere; butthe proceeds he derived from them would not have supported a day-laborer, and toward the close of his second year at the Manse, Hawthorne found himself running in debt for the necessaries of life. Heendured this with his usual stoical reticence, although there isnothing like debt to sicken a man's heart, --unless he be a decidedlylight-minded man. Better fortune, however, was on its way to him in theshape of a political revolution. 

On March 3, 1844, a daughter was born to the Hawthornes, whom theynamed Una, in spite of Hillard's objection that the name was too poeticor too fanciful for the prosaic practicalities of real life. The namewas an excellent one for a poet's daughter, and did not seem out ofplace in Arcadian Concord. Miss Una grew up into a graceful, fair andpoetic young lady, --in all respects worthy of her name. She had anuncommonly fine figure, and, as often happens with first-born children, resembled her father much more than her mother. Her name also suggeststhe early influence of Spenser in her father's style and mode ofthought. 

Soon after this fortunate event Hawthorne wrote a letter to Hillard, inwhich he said:

"I find it a very sober and serious kind of happiness that springs fromthe birth of a child. It ought not come too early in a man's life--nottill he has fully enjoyed his youth--for methinks the spirit can neverbe thoroughly gay and careless again, after this great event. We gaininfinitely by the exchange; but we do give up something nevertheless. As for myself who have been a trifler preposterously long, I find itnecessary to come out of my cloud-region, and allow myself to be woveninto the sombre texture of humanity. "

It seems then that his conscience sometimes reproached him, but thisonly proves that his moral nature was in a healthy normal condition. There was a certain kind of indolence in him, a love of the _dolcefar niente_, and an inclination to general inactivity which he mayhave inherited from his seafaring ancestors. Much better so, than tosuffer from the nervous restlessness, which is the rule rather than theexception in New England life. 

In the same letter he mentions having forwarded a story to _Graham'sMagazine_, which was accepted but not yet published after manymonths. He also anticipates an amelioration of his affairs from aDemocratic victory in the fall elections. 

Meanwhile, Horatio Bridge had been traversing the high seas in the"Cyane, " which was finally detailed to watch for slavers and to protectAmerican commerce on the African coast. He had kept a journal of hisvarious experiences and observations, which he sent to Hawthorne with arather diffident interrogation as to whether it might be worthpublishing. Hawthorne was decidedly of the opinion that it ought to bepublished, --in which we cordially agree with him, --and was well pleasedto edit it for his friend; and, although it has now shared the fate ofmost of the books of its class, it is excellent reading for those whochance to find a copy of it. Bridge was a good observer, and a candidwriter. 

The election of 1844 was the most momentous that had yet taken place inAmerican history. It decided the annexation of Texas, and theacquisition of California, with a coast-line on the Pacific Oceannearly equal to that on the Atlantic; but it also brought with it anunjust war of greed and spoliation, and other evil consequences ofwhich we are only now begining to reach the end. The slaveholders andthe Democratic leaders desired Texas in order to perpetuate theircontrol of the government, and it was precisely through this measurethat they lost it, --as happens so often in human affairs. It was thegold discoveries in California that upset their calculations. California would _not_ come into the Union as a slave state. Enraged at this failure, the Southern politicians made a desperateattempt to recover lost ground, by seizing on the fertile prairies inthe Northwest; but there they came into conflict with the industrialclasses of the North, who fought them on their own ground and abolishedslavery. Never had public injustice been followed by so swift andterrible a retribution. 

In regard to the candidates of 1844, it was hardly possible to comparethem. Polk possessed the ability to preside over the House ofRepresentatives, but he did not rise above this; while Clay could befairly compared on some points with Washington himself, and united withthis a persuasive eloquence second only to Webster's. He waspractically defeated by fifteen or twenty thousand abolitionists whopreferred to throw away their votes rather than to cast them for aslave-holder. 

Hawthorne, in the quiet seclusion of his country home, did not realizethis danger to the Republic. He only knew that his friends werevictorious, and was happy in the expectation of escaping from hisdebts, and of providing more favorably for his little family. 

CHAPTER IX

"MOSSES PROM AN OLD MANSE": 1845

There is no evidence in the Hawthorne documents or publications to showexactly when the first edition of "Mosses from an Old Manse" made itsappearance, and copies of it are now exceedingly rare, but we find theHawthorne family in Salem reading the book in the autumn of 1845, sothat it was probably brought out at that time and helped to maintainits author during his last days at Concord. 

There must have been some magical influence in the Old Manse or in itssurrounding scenery, to have stimulated both Emerson's and Hawthorne'slove of Nature to such a degree. Emerson's eye dilates as he looks uponthe sunshine gilding the trunks of the balm of Gilead trees on hisavenue; and Hawthorne dwells with equal delight on the luxuriant squashvines which spread over his vegetable garden. Discoursing on this hesays:

"Speaking of summer squashes, I must say a word of their beautiful andvaried forms. They presented an endless diversity of urns and vases, shallow or deep, scalloped or plain, molded in patterns which asculptor would do well to copy, since art has never invented anythingmore graceful. "

And again:

"A cabbage, too--especially the early Dutch cabbage, which swells to amonstrous circumference, until its ambitious heart often burstsasunder--is a matter to be proud of when we can claim a share with theearth and sky in producing it. "

It would seem as if no one before Hawthorne had rightly observed thesecommon vegetables, whose external appearance is always before our eyes. He not only humanizes whatever attracts his attention, but he looksthrough a refining medium of his own personality. He has the gift ofMidas to bring back the Golden Age for us. Who besides Homer has beenable to describe a chariot-race, and who but Hawthorne could extractsuch poetry from a farmer's garden?

If we compare this introductory chapter with such earlier sketches as"The Vision at the Fountain" and "The Toll-Gatherer's Day, " werecognize the progress that Hawthorne has made since the first volumeof "Twice Told Tales. " We are no longer reminded of the plain unpaintedhouse on Lake Sebago. His style is not only more graceful, but hasacquired greater fulness of expression, and he is evidently working ina deeper and richer vein of thought. Purity of expression is still hispolar star, and his writing is nowhere overloaded, but it has a warmertone, a deeper perspective, and an atmospheric quality which painterscall _chi-aroscuro_. He charms with pleasing fancies, while hepenetrates to the soul. 

Hawthorne rarely repeats himself in details, and never in designs. Twoof Dickens's most interesting novels, "Oliver Twist" and "DavidCopperfield, " are constructed on the same theme, but each of thestudies in this collection has a distinct individuality which appealsto the reader after a fashion of its own. Each has its moral, or rathercentral, idea to which all its component parts are related, and teachesa lesson of its own, so unobtrusively that we become possessed of italmost unawares. Some are intensely, even tragically, serious; othersso light and airy that they seem as if woven out of gossamer. 

There are a few, however, that do not harmonize with the general toneand character of the rest, --especially "Mrs. Bull-Frog, " whichHawthorne himself confessed to having been an experiment, and whichstrangely enough is much more in the style of his son Julian. "Monsieurdu Miroir" and "Sketches from Memory" are relics of his earlierwritings; perhaps also "Feather-Top" and "The Procession of Life. " Itwould have been better perhaps if "Young Goodman Brown" had been usedto light a fire at the Old Manse. 

"Monsieur du Miroir" is chiefly interesting as an example ofHawthorne's faculty for elaborating the most simple subject until everypossible phase of it has been exhausted. It may also throw some lightscientifically on the origin of consciousness. We see ourselvesreflected not only in the mirror, but on the blade of a knife, or apuddle in the road; and, if we look sharply enough, in the eyes ofother men--even in the expression of their faces. In such manner doesNature force upon us a recognition of our various personalities--thenucleus of self-knowledge, and self-respect. 

Whittier once spoke of "Young Goodman Brown" as indicating a mentalpeculiarity in Hawthorne, which like the cuttle-fish rarely rises tothe surface. The plot is cynical, and largely enigmatical. The veryname of it (in the way Hawthorne develops the story) is a fearfulsatire on human nature. He may have intended this for an exposure ofthe inconsistency, and consequent hypocrisy, of Puritanism; but thename of Goodman Brown's wife is Faith, and this suggests that Brown mayhave been himself intended for an incarnation of _doubt_, or_disbelief_ carried to a logical extreme. Whatever may have beenHawthorne's design, the effect is decidedly unpleasant. 

Emerson talked in proverbs, and Hawthorne in parables. The finestsketches in this collection are parables. "The Birth Mark, ""Rappacini's Daughter, " "A Select Party, " "Egotism, " and "The Artist ofthe Beautiful. " "The Celestial Railroad" is an allegory, a variation on"Pilgrim's Progress. "

"The Birth Mark" and "Rappacini's Daughter" are like divergent lines, which originate at an single point; and that point is the radicalviciousness of trying experiments on human beings. It is bad enough, although excusable, to vivisect dogs and rabbits; but why should weattempt the same course of procedure with those that are nearest anddearest to us? Such parables were not required in the time of TiberiusCæsar and men and women grew up in a natural, vigorous manner; but nowwe have become so scientific that we continually attempt to improve onNature, --like the artist who left the rainbow out of his picture ofNiagara because its colors did not harmonize with the background. 

The line of divergence in "The Birth Mark" is indicated by its name. Weall have our birth-marks, --traits of character, which may betemporarily suppressed, or relegated to the background, but whichcannot be eradicated and are certain to reappear at unguarded moments, or on exceptional occasions. Education and culture can do much tosoften and temper the disposition, but the original material remainsthe same. The father who attempts to force his son into a mode of lifefor which Nature did not intend him, or the mother who quarrels withher daughter's friends, commits an error similar to that of Hawthorne'salchemist, who endeavors to remove the birthmark from the otherwisebeautiful face of his wife, but only succeeds in effecting thistogether with her death. The tragical termination of the alchemist'sexperiments, the pathetic yielding up of life by his sweet "Clytie, " isdescribed with an impressive tenderness. She sinks to her last sleepwithout a murmur of reproach. 

"Rappacini's Daughter" might serve as a protest against bringing upchildren in an exceptional and abnormal manner. I once knew anexcellent lady, who, with the best possible intentions, brought up herdaughter to be different from all other girls. As a consequence, she_was_ different, --could not assimilate herself to others. She hadno admirers, or young friends of her own sex, for there were few pointsof contact between herself and general society. Her mother was her onlyfriend. She aged rapidly and died early. Similarly, a boy brought up ina secluded condition of purity and ignorance, finally developed intoone of the most vicious of men. 

Hawthorne has prefigured this by a bright colored flower which sparkleslike a gem, very attractive at a distance, but exhaling a deadlyperfume. He may not have been aware that the opium poppy has sobrilliant a flower that it can be seen at a distance from which allother flowers are invisible. The scene of his story is placed inItaly, --the land of beauty, but also the country of poisoners. Rappacini, an old botanist and necromancer, has trained up his daughterin the solitary companionship of this flower, from which she hasacquired its peculiar properties. A handsome young student is inducedto enter the garden, partly from curiosity and partly through thelegerdemain of Rappacini. The student soon falls under the daughter'sinfluence and finds himself being gradually poisoned. A watchfulapothecary, who has penetrated the necromancer's secret, provides theyoung man with an antidote which saves him, but deprives the maiden oflife. She crosses the barrier which separated her from a healthyexistence, and the poison reacts upon her system and kills her. The oldapothecary looks out from his window, and cries, "O Rappacini! Is thisthe consummation of your experiment?"

The underlying agreement between this story and "The Birth Mark"becomes apparent when we observe that the termination of one is simplya variation upon the last scene of the other. In one instance abeautiful daughter is sacrificed by her father, and in the other alovely wife is victimized by her husband. There have been thousands, ifnot millions, of such cases. 

There is no other writer but Shakespeare who has portrayed the absolutedevotion of a woman's love with such delicacy of feeling and depth ofsympathy as Hawthorne. In the two stories we have just considered, andalso in "The Bosom Serpent, " this element serves, like the refrain of aGreek chorus, to give a sweet, penetrating undertone which reconcilesus to much that would otherwise seem intolerable. The heroines in thesepieces have such a close spiritual relationship that one suspects themof having been studied from the same model, and who could this havebeen so likely as Hawthorne's own wife. [Footnote: Notice also thesimilar character of Sophia in J. Hawthorne's "Bressant. "]

The theme of "The Bosom Serpent" is a husband's jealousy; and it is theself-forgetful devotion of his wife that finally cures his malady andrelieves him of his unpleasant companion. The tale ends with one ofthose mystifying passages which Hawthorne weaves so skilfully, so thatit is difficult to determine from the text whether there was a realserpent secreted under the man's clothing, or only an imaginary one, --although we presume the latter. Francis of Verulam says, "the bestfortune for a husband is for his wife to consider him wise, which shewill never do if she find him jealous"; and with good reason, for if heis unreasonably jealous, it shows a lack of confidence in her; butmutal confidence is the well-spring from which love flows, and if thewell dries up, there is an end of it. 

"The Select Party" is quite a relief, after this tragical trilogy. Itis easy to believe that Hawthorne imagined this dream of a summerevening, while watching the great cumulus clouds, tinted with rose andlavender like aerial snow-mountains, floating toward the horizon. Herewere true castles in the air, which he could people with shapesaccording to his fancy; but he chose the most common abstractconceptions, such as, the Clerk of the Weather, the Beau Ideal, Mr. So-they-say, the Coming Man, and other ubiquitous personages, whom wecontinually hear of, but never see. The Man of Fancy invites these andmany others to a banquet in his cloud-castle, where they all converseand behave according to their special characters. A ripple of delicatehumor, like the ripple made by a light summer breeze upon the calmsurface of a lake, runs through the piece from the first sentence tothe last; and the scene is brought to a close by the approach of athunder-storm, which spreads consternation among these unsubstantialguests, much like that which takes place at a picnic under similarcircumstances; and Hawthorne, with his customary mystification, leavesus in doubt as to whether they ever reached _terra firma_ again. 

There is one proverbial character, however, whom Hawthorne has omittedfrom this account; namely, Mr. Everybody. "What Everybody says, must betrue;" but unfortunately Everybody's information is none of the best, and his judgment does not rise above his information. His self-confidence, however, is enormous. He understands law better than thelawyer, and medicine better than the physicians. He is never tired ofsettling the affairs of the country, and of proposing constitutionalamendments. Is it not perfectly natural that Everybody shouldunderstand Everybody's business as well as or better than his own? Heis continually predicting future events, and if they fail to take placehe predicts them again. He is omnipresent, but if you seek him he isnowhere to be found, --which we may presume to be the reason why he didnot appear at the entertainment given by the Man of Fancy. 

That which gives the elevated character to Raphael's faces--as in the"Sistine Madonna" and other paintings--is not their drawing, thoughthat is always refined, but the expression of the eyes, which are trulythe windows of the soul. It was the same in Hawthorne's face, and maybe observed in all good portraits of him. An immutable calmnessoverspread his features, but in and about his eyes there was a spring-like mirthfulness; while down in the shadowy depth of those luminousorbs was concealed the pathos that formed the undercurrent of his life. So it is that high comedy, as Plato long ago observed, lies very closeto tragedy. 

A well-known French writer compares English humor, in a general way, tobeer-drinking, and this is more particularly applicable to Dickens'scharacters. The very name of Mark Tapley suggests ale bottles. Thackeray's humor is of a more refined quality, but a trifle sharp andsatirical. It is, however, pure and healthful and might be compared toRhine-wine. Hawthorne's humor at its best is more refined thanThackeray's, as well as of a more amiable quality, and reminds one (onTaine's principle) of those delicate Italian wines which have verylittle body, but a delightful bouquet. As a humorist, however, Hawthorne varies in different times and places more than in any otherrespect. He adapts himself to his subject; is light and playful in "TheSelect Party"; takes on a more serious vein in "The CelestialRailroad"; in his resuscitation of Byron, in the letter from a lunaticcalled "P's Correspondence" he is simply sardonic; and "The Virtuoso'sCollection" has all the effect, although he does not anywhere descendto low comedy, of a roaring farce. In "Mrs. Bull-Frog, " as the titleintimates, he approaches closely to the grotesque. 

In "The Virtuoso's Collection" we have the humor of impossibility. Nothing is more common than this, but Hawthorne gives it a peculiarvalue of his own. A procession of mythological objects, strangehistorical relics, and the odd creations of fiction passes before oureyes. The abruptness of their juxtaposition excites continuous laughterin us. It would be an extremely phlegmatic person who could read itwith a serious face. Don Quixote's Rosinante, Doctor Johnson's cat, Shelley's skylark, a live phœnix, Prospero's magic wand, the hard-ridden Pegasus, the dove which brought the olive branch, and manyothers appear in such rapid succession that the reader has no time totake breath, or to consider what will turn up next. Like anaccomplished showman, Hawthorne enlivens the performance here and therewith original reflections on life, which are perfectly dignified, butbecome humorous from contrast with their surroundings. In spite of itscomical effect, the piece has a very genteel air, for its material istaken from that general stock of information that passes current incultivated families. The young man of fashion who had never heard ofElijah, or of Poe's "Raven, " would not have understood it. 

In "The Hall of Fantasy, " we catch some glimpses of Hawthorne'sfavorite authors:

"The grand old countenance of Homer, the shrunken and decrepit form, but vivid face, of Æsop, the dark presence of Dante, the wild Ariosto, Rabelais's smile of deep-wrought mirth, the profound, pathetic humor ofCervantes, the all glorious Shakespeare, Spenser, meet guest for anallegoric structure, the severe divinity of Milton and Bunyan, moldedof the homeliest clay, but instinct with celestial fire--were thosethat chiefly attracted my eye. Fielding, Richardson, and Scott occupiedconspicuous pedestals. "

He also adds Goethe and Swedenborg, and remarks of them:

"Were ever two men of transcendent imagination more unlike?"

It is evident that Byron was not a favorite with Hawthorne. In additionto his severe treatment of that poet, in "P's Correspondence, " he saysin "Earth's Holocaust, " where he imagines the works of various authorsto be consumed in a bonfire:

"Speaking of the properties of flame, me-thought Shelley's poetryemitted a purer light than almost any other productions of his day, contrasting beautifully with the fitful and lurid gleams and gushes ofblack vapor that flashed and eddied from the volumes of Lord Byron. "

This seems like rather puritanical treatment. If there are false linesin Byron, there are quite as many weak lines in Shelley. If sinceritywere to give out a pure flame, Byron would stand that test equal toany. His real fault is to be found in his somewhat glaring diction, like the _voix blanc_ in singing, and in an occasional stroke of_persiflage_. This increases his attractiveness to youthful minds, but to a nature like Hawthorne's anything of an exhibitory charactermust always be unpleasant. 

Emerson and Hawthorne only knew Goethe through the translations ofDwight, Carlyle and Margaret Fuller, and yet his poetry made a deeperimpression on them than on Lowell and Longfellow, who read it in theoriginal. Hawthorne appears to have taken lessons in German while atBrook Farm, for we find him studying a German book at the Old Manse, with a grammar and lexicon; but, as he confesses in his diary, withoutmaking satisfactory progress. 

"The Artist of the Beautiful" is a Dantean allegory, and a poetic gem. A young watchmaker, imbued with a spirit above his calling, neglectsthe profits of his business in order to construct an artificialbutterfly, --at once the type of useless beauty and the symbol ofimmortality, and he perseveres in spite of the difficulties of theundertaking and the contemptuous opposition of his acquaintances. Hefinally succeeds in making one which seems to be almost endowed withlife, but only to be informed that it is no better than a toy, and thathe has wasted his time on a thing which has no practical value. A child(who represents the thoughtlessness of the great world) crushes theexquisite piece of workmanship in his little hand; but the watch-makerdoes not repine at this, for he realizes that after having achieved thebeautiful, in his own spirit, the outward symbol of it hascomparatively little value. The Artist of the Beautiful is Hawthornehimself; and in this exquisite fable he has not only unfolded thesecret of all high art, but his own life-secret as well. 

HAWTHORNE AND TRANSCENDENTALISM

The French and English scepticism of the eighteenth century, produced areaction in the more contemplative German nature, which took the formof a strong assertion of spirit or mind as an entity in itself, anddistinct from matter. This movement was more like a national impulsethan the proselytism of a sect, but the individual in whom thisspiritual impulse of the German people manifested itself at that timewas Immanuel Kant. Without discrediting the revelations of Hebrewtradition, he taught the doctrine that instead of looking for evidenceof a Supreme Being in the external world, we should seek him in our ownhearts; that every man could find a revelation in his own conscience, --in the consciousness of good and evil, by which man improves hiscondition on earth; that the ideas of a Supreme Being, or ofimmortality and freedom of will, are inherent in the human mind, andare not to be acquired from experience; but that, as the finite mindcannot comprehend the infinite, we cannot know God in the same sensethat we know our own earthly fathers, or as Goethe afterwards expressedit, ---

 "Who can say I know Him; Who can say, I know Him not;"

and that it is in this aspiration for the unattainable, in thisreverence for absolute purity, wisdom and love, that the spirit of truereligion consists. 

The new philosophy was named "Transcendentalism" by Kant's followers, because it included ideas which were beyond the range of experience. Itbecame popular in Germany, as Platonism, to which it is closelyrelated, became popular in ancient Greece. It has never been acceptedin France, where scepticism still predominates, though we hear of it inTaine and a few other writers; but in Great Britain, although theEnglish universities repudiated it, Transcendentalism became soinfluential that Gladstone has spoken of it, in his Romanes lecture, asthe dominant philosophy of the nineteenth century. Every notableEnglish writer of that period, with the exception of Macaulay, Mill, and Spencer, became largely imbued with it. In America its influencedid not extend much beyond New England, but in that section at leastits proselytes were numbered by thousands, and it effected anintellectual revolution which has since influenced the whole country. 

The Concord group of transcendentalists did not accept the teaching ofKant in its original purity; but mixed with it a number of otherimported products, that in no way appertain to it. Thoreau was anAmerican _sansculotte_, a believer in the natural man; Ripley wasmainly a socialist; Margaret Fuller was one of the earliest leaders inwoman's rights; Alcott was a Neo-Platonist, a vegetarian, and a non-resistant; while Emerson sympathized largely with Thoreau, and from hispoetic exaltation of Nature was looked upon as a pantheist by those whowere not accustomed to nice discriminations. Thus it happened thatTranscendentalism came to be associated in the public mind with anyexceptional mode or theory of life. Its best representatives inAmerica, like Professor Hedge of Harvard, Reverend David A. Wasson andDoctor William T. Harris (so long Chief of the National Bureau ofEducation), were much abler men than Emerson's followers, but did notattract so much attention, simply because they lived according to thecustoms of good society. 

Sleepy Hollow, before it was converted into a cemetery, was one of themost attractive sylvan resorts in the environs of Concord. It was asort of natural amphitheatre, a small oval plane, more than halfsurrounded by a low wooded ridge; a sheltered and sequestered spot, cool in summer, but also warm and sunny in spring, where the wildflowers bloomed and the birds sang earlier than in other places. 

There, on August 22, 1842, a notable meeting took place, betweenHawthorne, Emerson, and Margaret Fuller, who came that afternoon toenjoy the inspiration of the place, without preconcerted agreement. Margaret Fuller was first on the ground, and Hawthorne found her seatedon the hill-side--his gravestone now overlooks the spot--reading a bookwith a peculiar name, which he "did not understand, and could notafterward recollect. " Such a description could only apply to Kant's"Critique of Pure Reason, " the original fountain-head and gospel ofTranscendentalism. 

It does not appear that Nathaniel Hawthorne ever studied "The Critiqueof Pure Reason. " His mind was wholly of the artistic order, --the mostperfect type of an artist, one might say, living at that time, --and ascientific analysis of the mental faculties would have been asdistasteful to him as the dissection of a human body. History, biography, fiction, did not appear to him as a logical chain of causeand effect, but as a succession of pictures illustrating an idealdetermination of the human race. He could not even look at a group ofturkeys without seeing a dramatic situation in them. In addition tothis, as a true artist, he was possessed of a strong dislike foreverything eccentric and abnormal; he wished for symmetry in allthings, and above all in human actions; and those restless, unbalancedspirits, who attached themselves to the transcendental movement and theanti-slavery cause, were particularly objectionable to him. It has beenrightly affirmed that no revolutionary movement could be carriedthrough without the support of that ill-regulated class of persons whoare always seeking they know not what, and they have their value in thecommunity, like the rest of us; but Hawthorne was not a revolutionarycharacter, and to his mind they appeared like so many obstacles to thepeaceable enjoyment of life. His motto was, "Live and let live. " Thereare passages in his Concord diary in which he refers to the itineranttranscendentalist in no very sympathetic manner. 

His experience at Brook Farm may have helped to deepen this feeling. There is no necessary connection between such an idyllic-socialisticexperiment and a belief in the direct perception of a great FirstClause; but Brook Farm was popularly supposed at that time to be anemanation of Transcendentalism, and is still largely so considered. Hewas wearied at Brook Farm by the philosophical discussions of GeorgeRipley and his friends, and took to walking in the country lanes, wherehe could contemplate and philosophize in his own fashion, --which afterall proved to be more fruitful than theirs. Having exchanged hisinterest in the West Roxbury Association for the Old Manse at Concord(truly a poetic bargain), he wrote the most keenly humorous of hisshorter sketches, his "The Celestial Railroad, " and in it representedthe dismal cavern where Bunyan located the two great enemies of truereligion, the Pope and the Pagan, as now occupied by a German giant, the Transcendentalist, who "makes it his business to seize upon honesttravellers and fat them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist, moonshine, raw potatoes, and sawdust. "

That Transcendentalism was largely associated in Hawthorne's mind withthe unnecessary discomforts and hardships of his West Roxbury life isevident from a remark which he lets fall in "The Virtuoso'sCollection. " The Virtuoso calls his attention to the seven-league bootsof childhood mythology, and Hawthorne replies, "I could show you quiteas curious a pair of cowhide boots at the transcendental community ofBrook Farm. " Yet there could have been no malice in his satire, forMrs. Hawthorne's two sisters, Mrs. Mann and Miss Peabody, were bothtranscendentalists; and so was Horace Mann himself, so far as we knowdefinitely in regard to his metaphysical creed. Do not we all feel attimes that the search for abstract truth is like a diet of sawdust orScotch mist, --a "chimera buzzing in a vacuum"?

James Russell Lowell similarly attacked Emerson in his Class Day poem, and afterward became converted to Emerson's views through the influenceof Maria White. It is possible that a similar change took place inHawthorne's consciousness; although his consciousness was so profoundand his nature so reticent that what happened in the depths of it wasnever indicated by more than a few bubbles at the surface. He wasemphatically an idealist, as every truly great artist must be, andTranscendentalism was the local costume which ideality wore inHawthorne's time. He was a philosopher after a way of his own, and hisreflections on life and manners often have the highest value. It wasinevitable that he should feel and assimilate something from the waveof German thought which was sweeping over England and America, and ifhe did this unconsciously it was so much the better for the quality ofhis art. 

There are evidences of this even among his earliest sketches. In hisaccount of "Sunday at Home" he says: "Time--where a man lives not--whatis it but Eternity?" Does he not recognize in this condensed statementKant's theorem that time is a mental condition, which only exists inman, and for man, and has no place in the external world? In fact, itonly exists by divisions of time, and it is _man_ who makes thedivisions. The rising of the sun does not constitute time; for the sunis always rising--somewhere. The positivists and Herbert Spencer denythis, and argue to prove that time is an external entity--independentof man--like electricity; but Hawthorne did not agree with them. Heevidently trusted the validity of his consciousness. In that exquisitepastoral, "The Vision at the Fountain, " he says:

"We were aware of each other's presence, not by sight or sound ortouch, but by an inward consciousness. Would it not be so among thedead?"

You have probably heard of the German who attempted to evolve a camelout of his inner consciousness. That and similar jibes are common amongthose persons of whom the Scriptures tell us that they are in the habitof straining at gnats; but Hawthorne believed consciousness to be atrustworthy guide. Why should he not? It was the consciousness of_self_ that raised man above the level of the brute. This was therock from which Moses struck forth the fountain of everlasting life. 

Again, in "Fancy's Show-Box" we meet with the following:

"Or, while none but crimes perpetrated are cognizable before an earthlytribunal, will guilty thoughts, --of which guilty deeds are no more thanshadows, --will these draw down the full weight of a condemning sentencein the supreme court of eternity?"

Is this not an induction from or corollary to the preceding? If it isnot Kantian philosophy, it is certainly Goethean. Margaret Fuller wasthe first American critic, if not the first of all critics, to pointout that Goethe in writing "Elective Affinities" designed to show thatan evil thought may have consequences as serious and irremediable as anevil action--in addition to the well-known homily that evil thoughtslead to evil actions. In his "Hall of Fantasy" Hawthorne mentionsGoethe and Swedenborg as two literary idols of the present time who maybe expected to endure through all time. Emerson makes the sameprediction in one of his poems. 

In "Rappacini's Daughter" Hawthorne says: "There is something truer andmore real than what we can see with the eyes and touch with thefinger. "

And in "The Select Party" he remarks: "To such beholders it was unrealbecause they lacked the imaginative faith. Had they been worthy to passwithin its portals, they would have recognized the truth that thedominions which the spirit conquers for itself among unrealities becomea thousand times more real than the earth whereon they stamp theirfeet, saying, 'This is solid and substantial! This may be called afact!'"

The essence of Transcendentalism is the assertion of theindestructibility of spirit, that mind is more real than matter, andthe unseen than the seen. "The visible has value only, " says Carlyle, "when it is based on the invisible. " No writer of the nineteenthcentury affirms this more persistently than Hawthorne, and in none ofhis romances is the principle so conspicuous as in "The House of theSeven Gables. " It is a sister's love which, like a cord stronger thansteel, binds together the various incidents of the story, while theavaricious Judge Pyncheon, "with his landed estate, public honors, offices of trust and other solid _un_realities, " has after allonly succeeded in building a card castle for himself, which may bedissipated by a single breath. Holgrave, the daguerreotypist, whoserves as a contrast to the factitious judge, is a genuine character, and may stand for a type of the young New England liberal of 1850: afreethinker, and so much of a transcendentalist that we suspectHawthorne's model for him to have been one of the younger associates ofthe Brook Farm experiment. He is evidently studied from life, andHawthorne says of him:

"Altogether, in his culture and want of culture, in his crude, wild, and misty philosophy, and the practical experience that counteractedsome of its tendencies; in his magnanimous zeal for man's welfare, andhis recklessness of whatever the ages had established in man's behalf;in his faith, and in his infidelity; in what he had, and in what helacked, the artist might fitly enough stand forth as the representativeof many compeers in his native land. "

This is a fairly sympathetic portrait, and it largely represents theclass of young men who went to hear Emerson and supported CharlesSumner. In the story, Holgrave achieves the reward of a veraciousnature by winning the heart of the purest and loveliest young woman inAmerican fiction. 

If Hawthorne were still living he might object to the foregoingargument as a misrepresentation; nor could he be blamed for this, forRipley, Thoreau, Alcott and other like visionary spirits have sovitiated the significance of Transcendentalism that it ought now to beclassed among words of doubtful and uncertain meaning. 

Students of German philosophy are now chiefly known as Kantists orHegelians, and outside of the universities they are commonly classed asEmersonians. 

CHAPTER X

FROM CONCORD TO LENOX: 1845-1849

In May, 1845, Paymaster Bridge found himself again on the Americancoast. Meeting with Franklin Pierce in Boston, they agreed to go toConcord together, and look into Hawthorne's affairs. Soon afterbreakfast, Mrs. Hawthorne espied them coming through the gateway. Shehad never met Pierce, but she recognized Bridge's tall, elegant figure, when he waved his hat to her in the distance. Hawthorne himself wassawing and splitting in the wood-shed, and thither she directed hisfriends--to his no slight astonishment when they appeared before him. Pierce had his arm across Hawthorne's broad shoulders when theyreappeared. There is one pleasure, indeed, which young people cannotknow, and that is, the meeting of old friends. Mrs. Hawthorne wasfavorably impressed with Franklin Pierce's personality; while HoratioBridge danced about and acted an impromptu pantomime, making up faceslike an owl. They assured Hawthorne that something should be done torelieve his financial embarrassment. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, 281. ]

All those whose attention Hawthorne attracted out of the rush and hurryof the world were sure to become interested in his welfare. O'Sullivan, the editor of the _Democratic Review_, had already exerted himselfin Hawthorne's behalf; but President Polk evidently did not know whoHawthorne was, so that O'Sullivan was obliged to have a puff insertedin his review for the President's better information. George Bancroftwas now in the Cabinet, and could easily have obtained a lucrative postfor Hawthorne, but it is plain that Bancroft was not over-friendly tohim and that Hawthorne was fully aware of this. Hawthorne had suggestedthe Salem postmastership, but when O'Sullivan mentioned this, Bancroftobjected on the ground that the present incumbent was too good a man tobe displaced, and proposed the consulates of Genoa and Marseilles, twodeplorable positions and quite out of the question for Hawthorne, inthe condition of his family at that time. Perhaps it would have beenbetter for him in a material sense, if he had accepted the invitationto dine with Margaret Fuller. 

The summer wore away, but nothing was acomplished; and late in theautumn Hawthorne left the Old Manse to return to his Uncle RobertManning's house in Salem, where he could always count on a warmwelcome. There he spent the winter with his wife and child, untilsuddenly, in March, 1846, he was appointed Surveyor of the Port, or, asit is now more properly called, Collector of Customs. 

This was, in truth, worth waiting for. The salary was not large, but itwas a dignified position and allowed Hawthorne sufficient leisure forother pursuits, --the leisure of the merchant or banker. Salem hadalready begun to lose its foreign trade, and for days together itsometimes happened that there was nothing to do. Hawthorne's chiefbusiness was to prevent the government from being cheated, either bythe importers or by his own subordinates; and it required a prettysharp eye to do this. All the appointments, even to his own clerks, were made by outside politicians, and when a reduction of employees wasnecessary, Hawthorne consulted with the local Democratic Committee, andfollowed their advice. Such a method was not to the advantage of thepublic service, but it saved Hawthorne from an annoying responsibility. His strictness and impartiality, however, soon brought him intoconflict with his more self-important subordinates, who were by nomeans accustomed to exactness in their dealings, and this finallyproduced a good deal of official unpleasantness; and the unfavorablereports which were afterward circulated concerning Hawthorne's lifeduring this period, probably originated in that quarter. 

[Illustration: THE CUSTOM HOUSE, SALEM, MASS. , WHERE HAWTHORNE WASEMPLOYED AS SURVEYOR OF THE FORT OF SALEM, AT THE TIME OF HIS WRITING"THE SCARLET LETTER"]

All the poetry that Hawthorne could extract from his occupation at theCustom House is to be found in his preface to "The Scarlet Letter, " buthe withholds from us the prosaic side of it, --as he well might. Attimes he comes close to caricature, especially in his descriptions of"those venerable incumbents who hibernated during the winter season, and then crawled out during the warm days of spring to draw their payand perform those pretended duties, for which they were engaged. " Therewere formerly large numbers of moss-grown loafers in the governmentservice, with whiskey-reddened noses and greasy old clothing, who wouldsun themselves on the door-steps, and tell anecdotes of GeneralJackson, Senator Benton, and other popular heroes, with whom they wouldintimate a good acquaintance at some remote period of their lives. Ifremoved from office, they were quite as likely to turn up in aneighboring jail as in any other location. This is no satire, butserious truth; and instances of it can be given. 

Hawthorne's life during the next three years was essentially domestic. In June, 1846, his son Julian was born--a remarkably vigorous baby--atDoctor Peabody's house in West Street, Boston; Mrs. Hawthorne wiselypreferring to be with her own mother during her confinement. [Footnote:At the age of thirty-five, Julian resembled his father so closely thatNathaniel Hawthorne's old friends were sometimes startled by him, as ifthey had seen an apparition. He was, however, of a stouter build, andhis eyes were different. ] With two small children on her hands, Mrs. Hawthorne had slight opportunity to enjoy general society, fashionableor otherwise. Rebecca Manning says, however:

"Neither Hawthorne nor his wife could be said to be 'in society' in thetechnical sense. When the Peabody family lived in Salem, they were, Ihave been told, somewhat straitened pecuniarily. After Hawthorne'smarriage, I think I remember hearing of his wife going to parties anddinners occasionally. Dr. Loring's wife was her cousin. Other friendswere the Misses Howes, one of whom is now Mrs. Cabot of Boston. Mrs. Foote, who was a daughter of Judge White, was a friend, and I remembersome Silsbees who were also her friends. Hawthorne's wife knew how tocultivate her friends and make the most of them far better than eitherHawthorne or his sisters did. I have been told that when Hawthorne wasa young man, before his marriage, if he had chosen to enter Salem's'first circle' he would have been welcome there. "

During this last sojourn in his native city Hawthorne was chosen on thecommittee for the lyceum lecture course, and proved instrumental inbringing Webster to Salem, --where he had not been popular since thetrial of the two Knapps, --to deliver an oration on the Constitution; ofwhich Mrs. Hawthorne has given a graphic description in a letter to hermother on November 19, 1848:

"The old Lion walked the stage with a sort of repressed rage, when hereferred to those persons who cried out, 'Down with the Constitution!''Madmen! Or most wicked if not mad!' said he with a glare of fire. "

A pure piece of acting. The national Constitution was not evenendangered by the Southern rebellion, --much less by the small band oforiginal abolitionists; and Webster was too sensible not to be aware ofthis. 

While Hawthorne was at the Salem Custom House, he made at least twovaluable friends: Doctor George B. Loring, who had married a cousin ofMrs. Hawthorne, and William B. Pike, who occupied a subordinateposition in the Custom House, but whom Hawthorne valued for moral andintellectual qualities of which he would seem to have been the firstdiscoverer. They were not friends who would be likely to affectHawthorne's political views, except to encourage him in the directionto which he had always tended. Four years earlier, Doctor Loring hadbeen on cordial terms with Longfellow and Sumner, being a refined andintellectual sort of man, but like Hillard, had withdrawn from them onaccount of political differences. He was an able public speaker, andbecame a Democratic politician, until 1862, when he went over to theRepublicans; but after that he was looked upon with a good deal ofsuspicion by both parties. The governorship was supposed to have beenthe object of his ambition, but he never could obtain the nomination. Late in life he was appointed Commissioner of Agriculture, a post forwhich he was eminently fitted, and finally went to Portugal as UnitedStates Minister. 

William B. Pike either lacked the opportunity or the necessaryconcentration to develop his genius in the larger world, but Hawthornecontinued to communicate with him irregularly until the close of hislife. He invited him to Lenox when he resided there, and Mrs. Lathroprecollects seeing him at the Wayside in Concord, after Hawthorne'sreturn from Europe. She discribes him as a "short, sturdy, phlegmaticand plebeian looking man, " but with a gentle step and a finelymodulated voice. It may have been as well for him that he never becamedistinguished. [Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, "Memories of Hawthorne, " 154. ]

The war with Mexico was now fairly afield, and Franklin Pierce, wholeft the United States Senate on account of his wife's health, wasorganizing a regiment of New Hampshire volunteers, as a "patrioticduty. " Salem people thought differently, and party feeling there soonrose to the boiling-point. There is no other community where politicalexcitement is so likely to become virulent as in a small city. In acountry town, like Concord, every man feels the necessity forconciliating his neighbor, but the moneyed class in Salem wassufficient for its own purposes, and was opposed to the war in a solidbody. The Whigs looked upon the invasion of Mexico as a piraticalattempt of the Democratic leaders to secure the permanent ascendency oftheir party, and this was probably the true reason for FranklinPierce's joining it. In their eyes, Hawthorne was the representative ofa corrupt administration, and they would have been more than human ifthey had not wished him to feel this. The Salem gentry could not drawhim into an argument very well, but they could look daggers at him onthe street and exhibit their coldness toward him when they went onbusiness to the Custom House. It is evident that he was made to sufferin some such manner, and to a tenderhearted man with a clearconscience, it must have seemed unkind and unjust. [Footnote: When theengagement between the "Chesapeake" and the "Shannon" took place offSalem harbor in August, 1813, and Captain Lawrence was killed in theaction, the anti-war sentiment ran so high that it was difficult tofind a respectable mansion where his funeral would be permitted. ] Inhis Custom House preface, Hawthorne compares the Whigs ratherunfavorably with the Democrats, and this is not to be wondered at; buthe should have remembered that it was his own party which firstintroduced the spoils-of-office system. 

The first use that Hawthorne made of his government salary was tocancel his obligations to the Concord tradespeople, and the next was toprovide a home for his wife and mother. They first moved to 18 ChestnutStreet, in June, 1846; and thence to a larger house, 14 Mall Street, inSeptember, 1847, in which "The Snow Image" was prepared forpublication, and "The Scarlet Letter" was written. Hawthorne's study orworkshop was the front room in the third story, an apartment of somewidth but with a ceiling in direct contradiction to the elevatedthoughts of the writer. There is an ominous silence in the AmericanNote-book between 1846 and 1850, which is rather increased thandiminished by the publication from his diary of a number of extractsconcerning the children. The babies of geniuses do not differessentially from those of other people, and it is not supposable thatHawthorne's reflections during this period were wholly confined to hisown family. It is to be hoped that fuller information will yet be givento the public concerning their affairs in Salem; for the truth deservesto be told. 

In January, 1846, Mrs. Hawthorne wrote to her mother:

"No one, I think, has a right to break the will of a child, but God;and if the child is taught to submit to Him through love, all othersubmission will follow with heavenly effect upon the character. Godnever drives even the most desperate sinner, but only invites orsuggests through the events of His providence. "

Nothing is more unfortunate than to break the will of a child, for allmanliness and womanliness is grounded in the will; but it is oftennecessary to control the desires and humors of children for their self-preservation. Hawthorne himself was not troubled with such fancies. Alcott, who was his nearest neighbor at the Wayside, once remarked thatthere was only one will in the Hawthorne family, and that wasNathaniel's. His will was law and no one thought of disputing it. Yetwhat he writes concerning children is always sweet, tender, andbeautiful, with the single exception of a criticism of his owndaughter, which was published long after his death and could not havebeen intended for the public eye. 

The war with Mexico was wonderfully successful from a military point ofview, but its political effects were equally confounding to thepoliticians who projected it. The American people resemble the French, quite as much perhaps as they do the English, and the admiration ofmilitary glory is one of their Gallic traits. It happened that the twohighest positions in the army were both held by Whig generals, and thevictory of Buena Vista carried Zachary Taylor into the White House, inspite of the opposition of Webster and Clay, as well as that of theDemocrats and the Free Soilers. Polk, Bancroft, and Pierce had allcontributed to the defeat of their own party. The war proved theirpolitical terminus to the two former; but, _mirabile dictu_, itbecame the cap of Fortunatus to Pierce and Hawthorne. 

This, however, could not have been foreseen at the time, and theelection of Taylor in November, 1848, had a sufficiently chillingeffect on the little family in Mall Street. Hawthorne entertained thehope that he might be spared in the general out-turning, as adistinguished writer and an inoffensive partisan, and this indicateshow loath he was to relinquish his comfortable position. Let us placeourselves in his situation and we shall not wonder at it. He was nowforty-five, with a wife and two children, and destitution was staringhim in the face. For ten years he had struggled bravely, and this wasthe net result of all his endeavors. Never had the future looked sogloomy to him. 

The railroad had superseded his Uncle Manning's business, as it hadthat of half the mercantile class in the city, and his father-in-lawwas in a somewhat similar predicament. At this time Elizabeth Peabodywas keeping a small foreign book-store in a room of her father's houseon West Street. One has to realize these conditions, in order toappreciate the mood in which Hawthorne's Custom House preface waswritten. 

There is one passage in it, however, that is always likely to bemisunderstood. It is where he says:

"I thought my own prospects of retaining office, to be better thanthose of my Democratic brethren; but who can see an inch into futurity, beyond his nose? My own head was the first that fell!"

It is clear that some kind of an effort was made to prevent hisremoval, presumably by George S. Hillard, who was a Whig in good favor;but the conclusion which one would naturally draw from the above, thatHawthorne was turned out of office in a summary and ungracious manner, is not justified by the evidence. He was not relieved from duty untilJune 14, 1849; that is, he was given a hundred days of grace, which ismuch more than officeholders commonly are favored with, in such cases. We may consider it morally certain that Hillard did what he could inHawthorne's behalf. He was well acquainted with Webster, butunfortunately Webster had opposed the nomination of General Taylor, andwas so imprudent as to characterize it as a nomination not fit to bemade. This was echoed all over the country, and left Webster withoutinfluence at Washington. For the time being Seward was everything, andWebster was nothing. 

In a letter to Horace Mann, shortly after his removal, Hawthorne refersto two distinct calumnies which had been circulated concerning him inSalem, and only too widely credited. The most important of these--forit has seriously compromised a number of Salem gentlemen--was neverexplained until the publication of Mrs. Lathrop's "Memories ofHawthorne" in 1897; where we find a letter from Mrs. Hawthorne to hermother, dated June 10, 1849, and containing the following passage:

"Here is a pretty business, discovered in an unexpected manner to Mr. Hawthorne by a friendly and honorable Whig. Perhaps you know that thePresident said before he took the chair that he should make no removalsexcept for dishonesty and unfaithfulness. It is very plain that neitherof these charges could be brought against Mr. Hawthorne. Therefore amost base and incredible falsehood has been told--written down andsigned and sent to the Cabinet in secret. This infamous paper certifiesamong other things (of which we have not heard)--that Mr. Hawthorne hasbeen in the habit of writing political articles in magazines andnewspapers!" So it appears that the gutta-percha formula [Footnote: Bywhich eighty-eight per cent, of the classified service were removed. ]of President Cleveland in regard to "offensive partisanship" was reallyinvented forty years before his time, and had as much value in one caseas in the other. It is possible that such a document as Mrs. Hawthornedescribes was circulated, signed, and sent to Washington, to make theway easy for President Taylor's advisers, and if so it was a highlycontemptible proceeding; but the statement rests wholly on theaffirmation of a single witness, whose name has always been withheld, and even if it were true that Hawthorne had written political articlesfor Democratic papers the fact would have in no wise been injurious tohis reputation. The result must have been the same in any case. GeneralTaylor was an honorable man, and no doubt intended to keep his word, asother Presidents have intended since; but what could even a bravegeneral effect against the army of hungry office-seekers who werebesieging the White House, --a more formidable army than the Mexicanswhom he had defeated at Buena Vista? In all probability he knew nothingof Hawthorne and never heard of his case. 

The second calumny which Hawthorne refers to was decidedly second-rate, and closely resembles a servant's intrigue. The Department atWashington, in a temporary fit of economy, had requested him todischarge two of his supervisors. He did not like to take the men'sbread away from them, and made a mild protest against the order. At thesame time he consulted his chief clerk as to what it might be best todo, and they agreed upon suspending two of the supervisors who mightsuffer less from it than some others. As it happened, the Departmentconsidered Hawthorne's report favorably, and no suspension took place;but his clerk betrayed the secret to the two men concerned, who hatedHawthorne in consequence, and afterward circulated a report that he hadthreatened to discharge them unless they contributed to the Democraticcampaign fund. This return of evil for good appears to have been a newexperience for Hawthorne, but those who are much concerned in theaffairs of the world soon become accustomed to it, and pay littleattention to either the malice or the mendacity of mankind. 

Twenty years later one of Hawthorne's clerks, who had prudently shiftedfrom the Democratic to the Republican ranks, held a small office in theBoston Navy Yard, and was much given to bragging of his intimacy with"Nat, " and of the sprees they went on together; but the style anddescription of the man were sufficient to discredit his statementswithout further evidence. There were, however, several old shipmastersin the Salem Custom House who had seen Calcutta, Canton, and even ahurricane or two; men who had lived close to reality, with a vein oftrue heroism in them, moreover; and if Hawthorne preferred theirconversation to that of the shipowners, who had spent their lives incalculating the profits of commercial adventures, there are many amongthe well educated who would agree with him. He refers particularly toone aged inspector of imports, whose remarkable adventures by flood andfield were an almost daily recreation to him; and if the narratives ofthis ancient mariner were somewhat mixed with romance, assuredlyHawthorne should have been the last person to complain of them on thataccount. 

At first he was wholly unnerved by his dismissal. He returned to MallStreet and said to his wife: "I have lost my place. What shall we nowdo for bread?" But Mrs. Hawthorne replied: "Never fear. You will nowhave leisure to finish your novel. Meanwhile, I will earn bread for uswith my pencil and paint-brush. " [Footnote: Mrs. George S. Hillard. ]Besides this, she brought forward two or three hundred dollars, whichshe had saved from his salary unbeknown to him; but who would not havebeen encouraged by such a brave wife? Fortunately her pencil and paint-brush were not put to the test; at least so far as we know. Already onJune 8, her husband had written a long letter to Hillard, explainingthe state of his affairs and containing this pathetic appeal:

"If you could do anything in the way of procuring me some statedliterary employment, in connection with a newspaper, or as corrector ofthe press to some printing establishment, etc. , it could not come at abetter time. Perhaps Epes Sargent, who is a friend of mine, would knowof something. I shall not stand upon my dignity; that must take care ofitself. Perhaps there may be some subordinate office connected with theBoston Athenæum (Literary). Do not think anything too humble to bementioned to me. " [Footnote: Conway, 113. ]

There have been many tragical episodes in the history of literature, but since "Paradise Lost" was sold for five pounds and a contingentinterest, there has been nothing more simply pathetic than this, --thatan immortal writer should feel obliged to apply for a subordinateposition in a counting-room, a description of work which nobody likestoo well, and which to Hawthorne would have been little less than adeath in life. "Do not think anything too humble to be mentioned tome"!

What Hillard attempted to do at this time is uncertain, but he was notthe man to allow the shrine of genius to be converted into a gas-burner, if he could possibly prevent it. We may presume that he went toSalem and encouraged Hawthorne in his amiable, half-eloquent manner. But we do not hear of him again until the new year. Meanwhile MadamHawthorne fell into her last illness and departed this life on July 31;a solemn event even to a hard-hearted son--how much more to such a manas she had brought into the world. Three days before her death, hewrites in his diary of "her heart beating its funeral march, " anddiverts his mind from the awful _finale_ by an accurate description ofhis two children playing a serio-comic game of doctor and patient, in theadjoining room. 

It was under such tragical conditions, well suited to the subject, thathe continued his work on "The Scarlet Letter, " and his painfullycontracted brow seemed to indicate that he suffered as much inimagination, as the characters in that romance are represented to havesuffered. In addition he wrote "The Great Stone Pace, " one of the mostimpressive of his shorter pieces (published, alas! in a Washingtonnewspaper), and the sketch called "Main Street, " both afterwardincluded in the volume of "The Snow Image. " On January 17, 1850, he wasgreatly surprised to receive a letter from George S. Hillard with alarge check in it, --more than half-way to a thousand dollars, --whichthe writer with all possible delicacy begged him to accept from a fewof his Boston admirers. It was only from such a good friend as Hillardthat Hawthorne would have accepted assistance in this form; but healways considered it in the character of a loan, and afterward insistedon repaying it to the original subscribers, --Professor Ticknor, JudgeCurtis, and others. Hillard also persuaded James T. Fields, the youngerpartner of Ticknor & Company, to take an interest in Hawthorne as anauthor who required to be encouraged, and perhaps coaxed a little, inorder to bring out the best that was in him. Fields accordingly went toSalem soon afterward, and has given an account of his first interviewwith Hawthorne in "Yesterdays with Authors, " which seems rathermelodramatic: "found him cowering over a stove, " and altogether in awoe-begone condition. The main point of discussion between them, however, was whether "The Scarlet Letter" should be publishedseparately or in conjunction with other subjects. Hawthorne feared thatsuch a serious plot, continued with so little diversity of motive, would not be likely to produce a favorable impression unless it wereleavened with material of a different kind. Fields, on the contrary, thought it better that the work should stand by itself, in solitarygrandeur, and feared that it would only be dwarfed by any additions ofa different kind. He predicted a good sale for the book, and succeededin disillusionizing Hawthorne from the notions he had acquired from thefailure of "Fanshawe. "

As it was late in the season, Fields would not even wait for theromance to be finished, but sent it to the press at once; and onFebruary 4, Hawthorne wrote to Horatio Bridge:

"I finished my book only yesterday; one end being in the press atBoston, while the other was in my head here at Salem; so that, as yousee, the story is at least fourteen miles long. "

The time of publication was a propitious one: the gold was flowing infrom California, and every man and woman had a dollar to spend. Thefirst edition of five thousand copies was taken up within a month, andafter this Hawthorne suffered no more financial embarrassments. Thesucceeding twelve years of his life were as prosperous and cheerful ashis friends and readers could desire for him; although the sombre paststill seemed to cast a ghostly shadow across his way, which even thesunshine of Italy could not entirely dissipate. 

"THE SCARLET LETTER"

The germ of this romance is to be found in the tale of "Endicott andthe Red Cross, " published in the _Token_ in 1838, so that it musthave been at least ten years sprouting and developing in Hawthorne'smind. In that story he gives a tragically comic description of thePuritan penitentiary, --in the public square, --where, among others, agood-looking young woman was exposed with a red letter A on her breast, which she had embroidered herself, so elegantly that it seemed as if itwas rather intended for a badge of distinction than as a mark ofinfamy. Hawthorne did not conjure this up wholly out of hisimagination, for in 1704 the General Court of Massachusetts Bay passedthe following law, which he was no doubt aware of:

"Convicted before the Justice of Assize, --both Man and Woman to be seton the Gallows an Hour with a Rope about their Necks and the other endcast over the Gallowses. And in the way from thence to the common Gaol, to he Scourged not exceeding Forty Stripes. And forever after to wear aCapital A of two inches long, of a contrary colour to their cloathes, sewed on their upper Garments, on the Back or Arm, in open view. And asoften as they appear without it, openly to be Scourged, not exceedingFifteen Stripes. " [Footnote: Boston, Timothy Green, 1704. ]

The most diligent investigation, however, has failed to discover aninstance in which punishment was inflicted under this law, so that wemust conclude that Hawthorne invented that portion of his statement. Infact, nothing that Hawthorne published himself is to be considered ofhistorical or biographical value. It is all fiction. He sported withhistorical facts and traditions, as poets and painters always havedone, and the manuscript which he pretends to have discovered in hisoffice at the Custom House, written by one of his predecessors there, is a piece of pure imagination, which serves to give additionalcredibility to his narrative. He knew well enough how large a portionof what is called history is fiction after all, and the extent to whichprofessed historians deal in romance. He felt that he was justified solong as he did not depart from the truth of human nature. We may thankhim that he did not dispel the illusion of his poetic imagery by theintroduction of well-known historical characters. This is permissiblein a certain class of novels, but its effect is always more or lessprosaic. 

Our Puritan ancestors evidently did not realize the evil effects oftheir law against faithless wives, --its glaring indelicacy, andbrutalizing influence on the minds of the young; but it was of a piecewith their exclusion of church-music and other amenities ofcivilization. Was it through a natural attraction for the primevalgranite that they landed on the New England coast? Their severe self-discipline was certainly well adapted to their situation, but, while itbuilt up their social edifice on an enduring foundation, its tendencywas to crush out the gentler and more sympathetic qualities in humannature. In no other community would the story of Hester Prynne acquirean equal cogency and significance. A German might, perhaps, understandit; but a Frenchman or an Italian not at all. 

The same subject has been treated in its most venial form byShakespeare in "Measure for Measure, " and in its most condemnable formin Goethe's "Faust. " "The Scarlet Letter" lies midway between thesetwo. Hester Prynne has married a man of morose, vindictive disposition, such as no woman could be happy with. He is, moreover, much older thanherself, and has gone off on a wild expedition in pursuit of objectswhich he evidently cares for, more than for his wife. She has not heardfrom him for over a year, and knows not whether he has deserted her, orif he is no longer living. She is alone in a strange wild country, andit is natural that she should seek counsel and encouragement from theyoung clergyman, who is worthy of her love, but, unfortunately, not astrong character. Lightning is not swifter than the transition in ourminds from good to evil, and in an unguarded moment he brings ruin uponhimself, and a life-long penance on Hester Prynne. Hawthorne tells thisstory with such purity and delicacy of feeling that a maiden of sixteencan read it without offence. 

"The Scarlet Letter" is at once the most poetic and the most powerfulof Hawthorne's larger works, much more powerful than "The Vicar ofWakefield, " which has been accepted as the type of a romance in alllanguages. Goldsmith's tale will always be more popular than "TheScarlet Letter, " owing to its blithesome spirit, its amusing incidentsand bright effects of light and shade; but "The Scarlet Letter" strikesa more penetrating chord in the human breast, and adheres more closelyto the truth of life. There are certain highly improbable circumstanceswoven in the tissue of "The Vicar of Wakefield, " which a prudent, reflective reader finds it difficult to surmount. It is rathersurprising that the Vicar should not have discovered the true socialposition of his friend Mr. Burchell, which must have been known toevery farmer in the vicinity; and still more so that Mr. Burchellshould have permitted the father of a young woman in whom he was deeplyinterested, to be carried to prison for debt without making an inquiryinto his case. "The Scarlet Letter" is, as Hawthorne noticed, acontinual variation on a single theme, and that a decidedly solemn one;but its different incidents form a dynamic sequence, leading onward tothe final catastrophe, and if its progress is slow--the narrativeextends over a period of seven years--this is as inevitable as themarch of Fate. From the first scene in the drama, we are lifted aboveourselves, and sustained so by Hawthorne's genius, until the close. 

This sense of power arises from dealing with a subject which demandedthe whole force and intensity of Hawthorne's nature. Hester Prynneherself is a strong character, and her errors are those of strength andindependence rather than of weakness. She says to Mr. Dimmesdale thatwhat they did "had a consecration of its own, " and it is this beliefwhich supports her under a weight of obloquy that would have crushed amore fragile spirit. She does not collapse into a pitiful nonentity, like Scott's Effie Deans, nor is she maddened to crime like GeorgeEliot's "Hetty Sorrel"; [Footnote: A name apparently compounded fromHester Prynne and Schiller's Agnes Sorrel. ] but from the outset sheforms definite resolutions, --first to rehabilitate her own character, and next to protect the partner of her shame. This last may seem to bea mistaken devotion, and contrary to his true interest, for the firststep in the regeneration from sin is to acknowledge manfully theresponsibility of it; but to give the repentance even the appearance ofsincerity, the confession must be a voluntary one, and not be forcedupon the delinquent person by external pressure. We cannot withhold ouradmiration for Hester's unswerving fidelity to this twofold purpose. Wemay condemn her in our minds, but we cannot refuse her a measure ofsympathy in our hearts. 

I believe this to be the explanation of her apparent inconsistency atthe close of the book. Many of Hawthorne's commentators have beenpuzzled by the fact that Hester, after so many years of contrition, should advise Dimmesdale to fly to England, and even offered toaccompany him. Women have not the same idea of law that men have. Intheir ideas of right and wrong they depend chiefly on their sense ofpurity; and it is very difficult to persuade a woman that she could bewrong in obeying the dictates of her heart. Hester perceives that herformer lover is being tortured to death by the silent tyranny ofChillingworth; the tide of affection so long restrained flows back intoher soul; and her own reputation is as nothing compared with the lifeof the man she hopes to save. There is no other passage in Americanfiction so pathetic as that woodland meeting, at which their mutualhopes of happiness blaze up like the momentary brightness of a dyingflame. Hester's innocent child, however, representing the spirit oftruthfulness, is suddenly seized with an aversion to her father andrefuses to join their company, --an unfavorable omen and dark presage ofthe minister's doom. 

Pearl's behavior, on this occasion, may be supposed to represent theauthor's own judgment. How far shall we agree with him? The pastgeneration witnessed one of the noblest of women uniting herself, forlife and death, to a man whom she could not marry on account of purelylegal objections. Whether Hester's position in the last act of thisdrama is comparable with that of Marian Evans every one must decideaccording to his or her conscience. 

Hawthorne certainly proves himself a good Puritan when he says, "And bethe stern and sad truth spoken that the breach which guilt has oncemade into the human soul, is never in this mortal state repaired. " Themagnitude of the evil of course makes a difference; but do we not alllive in a continual state of sinning, and self-correction? That is theroad to self-improvement, and those who adhere most closely toinflexible rules of conduct discover at length that the rulesthemselves have become an evil. Mankind has not yet fully decided as towhat things are evil, and what are good; and neither Hawthorne nor thePuritan lawmakers would seem to have remembered Christ's admonition ona similar occasion: "Let him who is without sin among you, cast thefirst stone. "

A writer in the _Andover Review_, some twenty years ago, criticised the impersonation of Pearl as a fable--"a golden wreck. " Hequoted Emerson to the effect that in all the ages that man has beenupon the earth, no communication has been established between him andthe lower animals, and he affirmed that we know quite as little of thethoughts and motives of our own children. Both conclusions are wide ofthe mark. There is much more communication between man and the domesticanimals than between animals of the same species. The understandingbetween an Arab and his horse is almost perfect, and so is that betweena sportsman and his setters. Even the sluggish ox knows the word ofcommand. Then what shall we say of the sympathetic relation between amother and her child? Who can describe it--that clairvoyantsensibility, intangible, too swift for words? Who has depicted it, except Hawthorne and Raphael? Pearl is like a pure spirit in "TheScarlet Letter, " reconciling us to its gloomy scenes. She is like thesunshine in a dark forest, breaking through the tree-tops and dancingin our pathway. It is true that Hawthorne has carried her clairvoyantinsight to its furthest limits, but this is in accordance with theideal character of his work. She has no rival except Goethe's Mignon. 

Hawthorne's method of developing his stories resembled closely that ofthe historical painter; and it was only in this way that he couldproduce such vivid effects. He selected models for his principalcharacters and studied them as his work progressed. The original ofReverend Mr. Dimmesdale was quickly recognized in Salem as an amiableinoffensive person, of whom no one suspected any evil, --and that was, no doubt, the reason why Hawthorne selected him for his purpose. It wasno discredit to the man himself, although tongues were not wanting toblame Hawthorne for it. Who Hester may have been still remains amystery; but it was evidently some one with whom the author was wellacquainted, --perhaps his younger sister. So Rubens painted his own wifeat one time an angel, and at another in the likeness of Herodias. It isstill more probable that Pearl is a picture of Hawthorne's owndaughter, who was of the right age for such a study, and whosesprightly, fitful, and impulsive actions correspond to those ofHester's child. This would also explain why her father gave Una so muchspace in his Note-book. He may have noticed the antagonism between herand the Whig children of the neighborhood and have applied it toPearl's case. It was also his custom, as appears from his lastunfinished work, to leave blank spaces in his manuscript while in theheat of composition, which, like a painter's background, wereafterwards filled in with descriptions of scenery or some subsidiarynarrative. 

The models of the novelist cannot be hired for the purpose, like thoseused by the painter or sculptor, but have to be studied when and wherethey can be found, for the least self-consciousness spoils the effect. Hawthorne in this only followed the example of the best authors anddramatists; and those who think that good fiction or dramatic poetrycan be written wholly out of a man's or a woman's imagination, would dowell to make the experiment themselves. 

CHAPTER XI

PEGASUS IS FREE: 1850-1852

Frederick W. Loring, that bright young poet who was so soon lost to us, once remarked: "Appreciation is to the artist what sunshine is toflowers. He cannot expand without it. " The success of "The ScarletLetter" proved that all Hawthorne's genius required was a littlemoderate encouragement, --not industry but opportunity. His pen, nolonger slow and hesitating, moved freer and easier; the long pent-upflood of thoughts, emotions, and experiences had at length found anoutlet; and the next three years were the most productive of his life. 

His first impulse, however, was to escape from Salem. Although hisremoval from office had been a foregone conclusion, Hawthorne felt acertain degree of chagrin connected with it, and also imagined acertain amount of animosity toward himself which made the placeuncomfortable to him. He was informed that the old Sparhawk mansion, close to the Portsmouth Navy Yard, was for sale or to rent, and thefirst of May, Hawthorne went thither to consider whether it would servehim for a home. [Footnote: Lathrop, 225. ] One would suppose that sedateold Portsmouth, with its courteous society and its dash of militarylife, would have suited Hawthorne even better than Concord; but hedecided differently, and he returned to meet his family in Boston, where he made the acquaintance of Professor Ticknor, who introduced himat the Athenaeum Library. He saw Hildreth at the Athenæum working onhis history of the United States; sat for his portrait to C. E. Thompson; went to the theatre; studied human nature in the smoking-roomat Parker's; and relaxed himself generally. He must have stayed withhis family at Doctor Peabody's on West Street, for he speaks of theincessant noise from Washington Street, and of looking out from theback windows on Temple Place. This locates the house very nearly. 

Two months later, July 5, 1850, he was at Lenox, in the BerkshireMountains. Mrs. Caroline Sturgis Tappan, a brilliant Boston lady, equally poetic and sensible, owned a small red cottage there, which shewas ready to lease to Hawthorne for a nominal rent. Lowell was goingthere on account of his wife, a delicate flower-like nature alreadybeginning to droop. Doctor Holmes was going on account of Lowell, andperhaps with the expectation of seeing a rattlesnake; Fields was goingon account of Lowell and Holmes. Mrs. Frances Kemble, already the mostdistinguished of Shakespearian readers, had a summer cottage there; andit was hoped that in such company Hawthorne would at last find theelement to which he properly belonged. 

Unfortunately Hawthorne took to raising chickens, and that seems tohave interested him more than anything else at Lenox. He fell incordially with the plans of his friends; ascended Monument Mountain, and went on other excursions with them; but it may be more thansuspected that Lowell and Holmes did most of the talking. Heassimilated himself more to Holmes perhaps than to any of the others. His meeting with Mrs. Kemble must have been like a collision of thecentrifugal and centripetal forces; and for once, Hawthorne may be saidto have met his antipodes. They could sincerely admire one another aswe all do, in their respective spheres; but such a chasm as yawnedbetween them in difference of temperament, character, and mode ofliving, could not have been bridged over by Captain Eads. 

Fannie Kemble, as she was universally called, had by long andsympathetic reading of Shakespeare transformed herself into a woman ofthe Elizabethan era, and could barely be said to belong to thenineteenth century. Among other Elizabethan traits she had acquired anunconsciousness of self, together with an enormous self-confidence, andno idea of what people thought of her in polite society ever seems tohave occurred to her. She had the heart of a woman, but mentally shewas like a composite picture of Shakespeare's _dramatis personae_, and that Emerson should have spoken of her as "a great exaggeratedcreature" is not to be wondered at. In her own department she wasmarvellous. 

The severity of a mountain winter and the disagreeableness of itsthawing out in spring, is atoned for by its summer, --that fineexhilarating ether, which seems to bring elevated thoughts, by virtueof its own nature. Hawthorne enjoyed this with his children and hischickens; and his wife enjoyed it with him. It is evident from herletters that she had not been so happy since their first year at theOld Manse. She had now an opportunity to indulge her love of artisticdecoration, in adorning the walls of their little red cottage, whichhas since unfortunately been destroyed by fire. She even began to giveher daughter, who was only six years old, some instruction in drawing. The following extract concerning her husband, from a letter written toher mother, is charmingly significant of her state of mind at thistime. 

"Beauty and the love of it, in him, are the true culmination of thegood and true, and there is no beauty to him without these bases. Hehas perfect dominion over himself in every respect, so that to do thehighest, wisest, loveliest thing is not the least effort to him, anymore than it is to a baby to be innocent. It is his spontaneous act, and a baby is not more unconscious in its innocence. I never knew suchloftiness, so simply borne. I have never known him to stoop from it inthe most trivial household matter, any more than in a larger or morepublic one. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 373. ]

Truly this gives us a beautiful insight into their home-life, andHawthorne himself could not have written a more accurate eulogium. Asintimated in the last chapter, we all make our way through life bycorrecting our daily trespasses, and Hawthorne was no exception to it;but as a mental analysis of this man at his best Mrs. Hawthorne'sstatement deserves a lasting recognition. 

"THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES"

It was not until early frosts and shortening days drove Hawthornewithin doors that he again took up his writing, but who can tell howlong he had been dreaming over his subject? Within five months, or bythe last week of January, "The House of the Seven Gables" was ready forthe press. There is no such house in Salem, exactly as he describes it;but an odd, antiquated-looking structure at No. 54 Turner Street issupposed to have served him for the suggestion of it. The name ispicturesque and well suited to introduce the reader to a homelysuburban romance. 

The subject of the story goes back to the witchcraft period, and itsactive principle is a wizard's curse, which descends from onegeneration to another, until it is finally removed by the marriage of adescendant of the injured party to a descendant of the guilty one. Woven together with this, there is an exposition of mesmerism, or, asit is now called, Christian Science, with its good and evil features. 

Each of Hawthorne's larger romances has a distinct style and quality ofits own, apart from the fine individualized style of the author. Lathrop makes an excellent remark in regard to "The House of the SevenGables, " that the perfection of its art seems to stand between thereader and his subject. It resembles in this respect those Dutchpaintings whose enamelled surface seems like a barrier to prevent thespectator from entering the scenes which they represent. It would be amistake to consider this a fault, but one cannot help noticing theaccuracy with which the subordinate details of the plot are elaborated. Is it possible that this is connected in a way with the rarefiedatmosphere of Lenox, in which distant objects appear so sharplydefined?

"The House of the Seven Gables" might be symbolized by two paintings, in the first of which Hepzibah Pyncheon stands as the central figure, her face turned upward in a silent prayer for justice, her brotherClifford, with his head bowed helplessly, at one side, and the judge, with his chronic smile of satisfaction, behind Clifford; on the otherside the keen-eyed Holgrave would appear, sympathetically watching theprogress of events, with Phoebe Pyncheon at his left hand. Old UncleBanner and little Ned Higgins might fill in the background. In thesecond picture the stricken judge would be found in a large old-fashioned arm-chair, with Clifford and Hepzibah flying through adoorway to the right, while Phoebe and Holgrave, the one happy and theother startled, enter on the left. 

Hepzibah, not Phoebe, is the true heroine of the romance, --or at leastits central figure. Nowhere do we look more deeply into Hawthorne'snature than through this sympathetic portrait of the cross-looking oldmaid, whose only inheritance is the House of the Seven Gables, in whichshe has lived many years, poor, solitary, friendless, with a disgraceupon her family, only sustained by the hope that she may yet be a helpand comfort to her unfortunate brother. The jury before whom Cliffordwas tried believed him to be guilty, but his sister never would believeit. She lives for him and suffers with him. Hawthorne does not mitigatethe unpleasantness of her appearance, but he instructs us that there isa divine spark glowing within. Very pitiful is her attempt to supportthe enfeebled brother by keeping a candy store; but noble and heroic isher resistance to the designs of her tyrannical cousin. It is herintrepidity that effects the crisis of the drama. 

Both Hepzibah and Clifford Pyncheon are examples of what fineportraiture Hawthorne could accomplish in exceptional or abnormalpersonalities, without ever descending to caricature. Judge Pyncheonhas been criticised as being too much of a stage villain, but the samemight be alleged of Shakespeare's (or Fletcher's) Richard III. What ishe, in effect, but a Richard III. Reduced to private life? Moreover, his habit of smiling is an individual trait which gives him a certaindistinction of his own. Usually, Faces ever blandly smiling Are victims of their own beguiling. 

But Judge Pyncheon is a candidate for the governorship, and among themore mercenary class of politicians smiling often becomes a habit forthe sake of popularity. Hawthorne might have added something to thejudge's _personale_ by representing him with a droll wit, likeJames Fiske, Jr. , or some others that we have known, and he might haveexposed more of his internal reflections; but he serves as a fairexample of the hard, grasping, hypocritical type of Yankee. We see onlyone side of him, but there are men, and women too, who only have oneside to their characters. 

It has been affirmed that Hawthorne made use of the Honorable Mr. Upham, the excellent historian of Salem witchcraft, as a model forJudge Pyncheon, and that this was done in revenge for Mr. Upham'sinimical influence in regard to the Salem surveyorship. It isimpossible, at this date, to disentangle the snarl of Hawthorne'spolitical relations in regard to that office, but Upham had been amember of Congress and was perhaps as influential a Whig as any in thecity. If Hawthorne was removed through his instrumentality, heperformed our author a service, which neither of them could haverealized at the time. Hawthorne, however, had a strong precedent in hisfavor in this instance; namely, Shakespeare's caricature of Sir ThomasLuce, as Justice Shallow in "The Merry Wives of Windsor"; but there isno reason why we should think better or worse of Mr. Upham on thisaccount. 

Phoebe Pyncheon is an ideal character, the type of youthful New Englandwomanhood, and the most charming of all Hawthorne's feminine creations. Protected by the shield of her own innocence, she leaves her countryhome from the same undefined impulse by which birds fly north inspring, and accomplishes her destiny where she might have leastexpected to meet with it. She fills the whole book with her sunnybrightness, and like many a young woman at her age she seems more likea spirit than a character. Her maidenly dignity repels analysis, andHawthorne himself extends a wise deference to his own creation. 

The future of a great nation depends more on its young women than uponits laws or its statesmen. 

In regard to Holgrave, we have already said somewhat; but he is solifelike that it seems as if he must have been studied from one of theyounger members of the Brook Farm association; perhaps the one of whomEmerson tells us, [Footnote: Lecture on Brook Farm. ] that he spent hisleisure hours in playing with the children, but had "so subtle a mind"that he was always consulted whenever important business was on foot. He is visible to our mental perspective as a rather slender man, abovemedium height, with keen hazel eyes, a long nose, and long legs, andquick and lively in his movements. Phoebe has a more symmetricalfigure, bluish-gray eyes, a complexion slightly browned from goingwithout her hat, luxuriant chestnut-brown hair, always quiet andgraceful. We have no doubt that Holgrave made a worthy husband for her, and that he occasionally took a hand in public affairs. 

Judge Pyncheon's duplicity is revealed to Holgrave by the medium of adaguerreotype. Men or women who are actors in real life should avoidbeing photographed, for the camera is pretty sure to penetrate theirhypocrisy, and expose them to the world as they actually are. Everyphotograph album is to a certain extent a rogues' gallery, in which ourfaults, peculiarities, and perhaps vices are ruthlessly portrayed forthe student of human nature. If a merchant were to have all hiscustomers photographed, he would soon learn to distinguish those whowere not much to be trusted. 

Notice also Hawthorne's eye for color. When Clifford, Hepzibah, andPhoebe are about to leave the seven-gabled house for the last time, "Aplain, but handsome dark-green barouche" is drawn to the door. This isevidently his idea of a fine equipage; and it happens that thebackground of Raphael's "Pope Julius" is of this same half-invisiblegreen, and harmonizes so well with the Pope's figure that few realizeits coloring. 

The plot of this picturesque story is the most ingenious of Hawthorne'slife, but sufficiently probable throughout to answer the purpose of aromance, and it is the only one of Hawthorne's larger works which endshappily. It was brought out by Ticknor & Company at Easter 1850, --lessthan ten weeks after it was finished; but we think of the House of theSeven Gables as standing empty, deserted and forlorn. 

In December Emerson had written to Hawthorne concerning a new magazinein which he and Lowell were interested, and if Hawthorne would onlygive it his support its success could not be questioned. What Hawthornereplied to this invitation has never been discovered, but he had seentoo many such periodicals go to wreck to feel much confidence in thisenterprise. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 381. ] It is of more importancenow that Emerson should have addressed him as "My dear Hawthorne, " forsuch cordial friendliness was rare in "the poet of the pines. " Mrs. Alcott once remarked that Emerson never spoke to her husband otherwisethan as "Mr. Alcott, " and it is far from likely that he ever spoke toHawthorne differently from this. The conventionalities of letter-writing run back to a period when gentlemen addressed one another--andperhaps felt so too--in a more friendly manner than they do at present. 

Works of fiction and sentimental poetry stir up a class of readerswhich no other literature seems to reach, and Hawthorne was sooninundated with letters from unknown, and perhaps unknowable, admirers;but the most remarkable came from a man named Pyncheon, who assertedthat his grandfather had been a judge in Salem, and who was highlyindignant at the use which Hawthorne had made of his name. [Footnote:Conway, 135. ] This shows how difficult it is for a writer of fiction ora biographer to escape giving offence. The lightning is sure to strikesomewhere. 

"THE SNOW IMAGE"

The question now was, what next? As it happened, the next importantevent in the Hawthorne family was the advent of their younger daughter, born like Agassiz, "in the lovely month of May, " and amid scenery asbeautiful as the Pays de Vaud. Her father named her Rose, in defianceof Hillard's objection to idyllic nomenclature; and as a child sheseemed much like the spirit of that almost fabulous flower, the wildorange-rose. Ten years later, she was the most graceful girl in theConcord dancing-school, and resembled her elder sister so closely thatthey could not have been mistaken for anything but sisters. As she grewolder she came more and more to resemble her mother. 

It was said that Hawthorne's "Wonder Book" originated in his tellingfree versions of the Greek myths to his children on winter evenings;and also that Horace Mann's boys, who were almost exactly of the sameage as Una and Julian, participated in the entertainment. This may havehappened the following winter at Newton, but could hardly have takenplace at Lenox; and otherwise it is quite impossible to identify allthe children with botanical names in Hawthorne's introduction. Julianonce remarked, at school, that he believed that he was the original ofSquash-blossom, and that is as near as we can get to it. Some of themmay have been as imaginary as the ingenious Mr. Eustace Bright, andmight serve as well to represent one group of children as another. 

The book was written very rapidly, at an average of ten pages a day, and it has Hawthorne's grace and purity of style, but it does notbelong to the legitimate series of his works. It is an excellent bookfor the young, for they learn from it much that every one ought toknow; but to mature minds the original fables, even in a translation, are more satisfactory than these Anglo-Saxon versions in the "WonderBook. "

The collection of tales which passes by the name of "The Snow Image" isa much more serious work. "The Great Stone Face" and one or two othersin the collection were prepared at Salem for the same volume as "TheScarlet Letter, " but judiciously excluded by Mr. Fields. "The SnowImage" itself, however, is plainly derived from Hawthorne's ownexperience during the winter at Lenox. The common-sensible farmer andhis poetic wife could not be mistaken for Mr. And Mrs. Hawthorne, butthe two sportive children are easily identified as Una and Julian. Theyare not only of the same age, but the "slight graceful girl" and"chubby red-cheeked boy" describes them exactly. The idea has beenderived from the fable of the Greek sculptor Pygmalion whose statuecame to life. That seems far enough off to be pleasantly credible, butto have such a transubstantiation take place in the front yard of awhite-fenced American residence, is rather startling. Yet Hawthorne, with the help of the twilight, carries us through on the broad wings ofhis imagination, even to the melting of the little snow-sister beforean airtight stove in a close New England parlor. The moral thatHawthorne draws from this fable might be summed up in the old adage, "What is one man's meat is another man's poison"; but it has a deepersignificance, which the author does not seem to have perceived. Thekey-note of the fable is the same as that in Goethe's celebratedballad, "The Erl King"; namely, that those things which childrenimagine, are as real to them as the facts of the external world. Nor dowe altogether escape from this so long as we live. 

The origin of "The Great Stone Face" is readily traced to the profileface in the Franconia Mountains, --which has not only a strangely humanappearance, but a grave dignified expression, and, as a naturalphenomenon, ranks next to Niagara Falls. The value of the fable, however, has perhaps been over-estimated. It is an old story in amodern garb, the saying so often repeated in the Book of Isaiah: "Thelast shall be first, and the first shall be last. " The man Ernest, whois much in his ways like Hawthorne himself, spends his leisure incontemplating the Great Stone Face, and thus acquires a similarexpression in his own. The wealthy merchant, the famous general, thegreat party leader, and the popular poet, all come upon the scene; butnot one of them appears to advantage before the tranquil countenance ofthe Great Stone Face. Finally, Ernest in his old age carries off thelaurel; and in this Hawthorne hits the mark, for it is only throughearnestness that man becomes immortal. Yet, one would suppose thatconstantly gazing at a face of stone, would give one a rather stonyexpression; as sculptors are liable to become statuesque from theiroccupation. 

Another Dantean allegory, and fully equal in power to any Canto inDante's "Inferno, " is the story of "Ethan Brandt, " or "The UnpardonableSin. " We have a clew to its origin in the statement that it was part ofan unfinished romance; presumably commenced at Concord, but afterwarddiscarded, owing to the author's dissatisfaction with his work--anillustration of Hawthorne's severe criticism of his own writing. Thescene is laid at a limekiln in a dark and gloomy wood, where a lime-burner, far from human habitations, is watching his fires at night. Tohim Ethan Brandt appears, a strange personage, long known for his questafter the unpardonable sin, and the solitude echoes back the gloominessof their conversation. Finally, the lime-burner fixes his fires for thenight, rolls himself up in his blanket, and goes to sleep. When heawakes in the morning, the stranger is gone, but, on ascending the kilnto look at his caldron, he finds there the skeleton of a man, andbetween its ribs a heart of white marble. This is the unpardonable sin, for which there is neither dispensation nor repentance. Ethan Brandthas committed suicide because life had become intolerable on suchconditions. 

The summer of 1851 in Lenox was by no means brilliant. It had not yetbecome the tip end of fashion, and Hawthorne's chief entertainmentseems to have been the congratulatory letters he received fromdistinguished people. Mrs. Frances Kemble wrote to him from England, announcing the success of his book there, and offering him the use ofher cottage, a more palatial affair than Mrs. Tappan's, for the ensuingwinter. Mrs. Hawthorne, however, felt the distance between herself andher relatives, and perhaps they both felt it. Mrs. Hawthorne's sisterMary, now Mrs. Horace Mann, was living in West Newton, and the last ofJune Mrs. Hawthorne went to her for a long summer visit, taking her twodaughters with her and leaving Julian in charge of his father, withwhom it may be affirmed he was sufficiently safe. It rarely happensthat a father and son are so much together as these two were, and theymust have become very strongly attached. 

For older company he had Hermann Melville, and G. P. R. James, whosesociety he may have found as interesting as that of more distinguishedwriters, and also Mr. Tappan, whom Hawthorne had learned to respect forhis good sense and conciliatory disposition--a true peace-maker amongmen and women. Burill Curtis, the amateur brother of George W. Curtis, came to sketch the lake from Hawthorne's porch, and Doctor Holmesturned up once or twice. On July 24 Hawthorne wrote to his friend Pikeat Salem: [Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 151. ]

"By the way, if I continue to prosper as heretofore in the literaryline, I shall soon be in a condition to buy a place; and if you shouldhear of one, say worth from $1500 to $2000, I wish you would keep youreye on it for me. I should wish it to be on the seacoast, or at allevents with easy access to the sea. "

The evident meaning of this is that the Hawthornes had no desire tospend a second winter in the Berkshire hills. The world was large, buthe knew not where to rest his head. Mrs. Hawthorne solved the problemon her return to Lenox, and it was decided to remove to West Newtonwhen cold weather came. Thither they went November 21 in a drivingstorm of snow and sleet, --a parting salute from old Berkshire, --andreached Horace Mann's house the same evening. 

Nobody knows where the Hawthornes lived in Newton. The oldest survivorsof both families were only five years of age at that time. Mrs. Hawthorne's father also resided in Newton that winter, and it is morethan likely that they made their residence with him. Julian Hawthornehas a distinct recollection of the long freight-trains with theirclouds of black smoke blowing across his father's ground during thewinter; so they could not have lived very far from the Worcesterrailroad. Horace Mann's house is still standing, opposite a school-house on the road from the station, where a by-way meets it at an acuteangle. The freight-trains and their anthracite smoke must have had adisturbing influence on Hawthorne's sensibility. 

The long-extended town of Newton, which is now a populous city, hasmuch the best situation of any of the Boston suburbs--on a moderatelyhigh range of hills, skirted by the Charles River, both healthful andpicturesque. It is not as hot in summer nor so chilly at other seasonsas Concord, and enjoys the advantage of a closer proximity to the city. Its society is, and always has been, more liberal and progressive thanSalem society in Hawthorne's time. Its citizens, mainly professionaland mercantile men, are active, intelligent, and sensible, withoutbeing too fastidious. It was a healthful change for Hawthorne, and weare not surprised to find that his literary work was affected by it. Mrs. L. Maria Child lived there at the time, and so did Celia Thaxter, although not yet known to fame. The sound, penetrating intelligence ofHorace Mann may have also had its salutary effect. 

"THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE"

Hawthorne's "Wonder Book" and "The Snow Image" were expressed toTicknor & Company before leaving Lenox, and "The Blithedale Romance"may also have been commenced before that change of base. We only know, from his diary, that it was finished on the last day of April, 1852, and that he received the first proof-sheets of it two weeks later--which shows what expedition publishers can make, when they feelinclined. 

The name itself is somewhat satirical, for Hawthorne did not find thelife at Brook Farm very blithesome, and in the story, with theexception of the sylvan masquerade, there is much more rue thanheart's-ease, as commonly happens in his stories. The tale endstragically, and without the gleam of distant happiness which lights upthe last scenes of "The Scarlet Letter. " It commences with a severeApril snowstorm, an unfavorable omen; the same in which Hawthorne setout to join the West Roxbury community. 

And yet the name is not without a serious meaning--a stern, sad moralsignificance. The earth is not naturally beautiful, for rank Natureever runs to an excess. It is only beautiful when man controls andremodels it; but what man makes physically, he can unmake spiritually. We pass by a handsome estate, a grand arcade of elms over its avenue, spacious lawns, an elegant mansion, a luxurious flower-garden; but weare informed that happiness does not dwell there, that its owner is amisanthropic person, whose nature has been perverted by the selfishnessof luxury; that there are no pleasant parties on the lawn, no happywooing in that garden, no marriage festivals in those halls; and thosepossessions, which might have proved a blessing to generations yetunborn, are no better than a curse and a whited sepulchre. How manysuch instances could be named. 

It may have occurred to Hawthorne, that, if George Ripley, instead offollowing after a will-o'-the-wisp notion, which could only lead himinto a bog, had used the means at his disposal to cultivate Brook Farmin a rational manner, and had made it a hospitable rendezvous forintellectual and progressive people, --an oasis of culture amid the widewaste of commercialism, --the place might well have been calledBlithedale, and Mr. Ripley would have inaugurated a movement as rare asit was beneficial. It was only at a city like Boston, whose suburbswere pleasant and easily accessible, that such a plan could be carriedout; and it was only a man of Mr. Ripley's scholarship and intellectualacumen who could have drawn together the requisite elements for it. Itlooks as if he missed an opportunity. 

We should avoid, however, confounding George Ripley with Hawthorne'sHollingsworth. It is quite possible that Hawthorne made use of certaintraits in Ripley's character for this purpose, and also that he mayhave had some slight collision with him, such as he represents in "TheBlithedale Romance;" but Ripley was an essentially veracious nature, who, as already remarked, carried out his experiment to its logicalconclusion. Hollingsworth, on the contrary, proposes to pervert thetrust confided to him, in order to establish at Blithedale aninstitution for the reformation of criminals, by which proceeding hewould, after a fashion, become a criminal himself. At the same time, heplays fast and loose with the affections of Zenobia and Priscilla, whoare both in love with him, designing to marry the one who would makethe most favorable match for his purpose. It is through the junction ofthese two streams of evil that the catastrophe is brought about. 

Priscilla is evidently taken from the little seamstress whom Hawthornementions in his diary for October 9, 1841, and if she ever discoveredthis, she could hardly have been displeased, for she is one of his mostlovable creations; not so much of an ideal as Phoebe Pyncheon, for sheis older and has already seen hard fortune. Her quiet, almostsubmissive ways at first excite pity rather than admiration, but atlength we discover that there is a spirit within her, which shinesthrough its earthly envelope, like the twinkling of a star. 

Zenobia has a larger nature and a more gifted mind than Priscilla, butalso a more mixed character. Her name suggests a queenly presence andshe is fully conscious of this. She does not acquire an equal influenceover the other sex, for she is evidently in love with herself. She isdescribed as handsome and attractive, but no sooner had "Blithedale"been published than people said, "Margaret Fuller" [Footnote: the nameof Zenobia is not very remotely significant of Margaret Fuller. Palmyrawas the centre of Greek philosophy in Zenobia's time, and she alsoresembled Margaret in her tragical fate. ]--although Margaret Fullerwas rather plain looking, and never joined the Brook Farm association. 

If this surmise be correct, it leads to a curious consideration. Afterpainting a portrait of Zenobia in Chapter VI of "Blithedale, " quiteworthy of Rubens or Titian, he remarks, through the incognito of MilesCoverdale, in the first part of Chapter VII, that Priscilla reminds himof Margaret Fuller, and says this to Priscilla herself. Now it provesin the sequel that Priscilla and Zenobia are half-sisters, but it wouldbe as difficult to imagine this from anything that is said in the storyabout them, as it is to understand how the shy, undemonstrativePriscilla could have reminded Coverdale of the brilliant and aggressiveleader of the Transcendentalists. 

The introduction of Margaret Fuller's name in that place comes abruptlyon the reader, and momentarily dispels the illusion of the tale. WasHawthorne conscious of the undercurrent of relationship, which he hadalready formulated in his mind, between Priscilla and Zenobia; or whatis more likely, did he make the comparison in order to lead his readersaway from any conceptions they might have formed in regard to theoriginal of his heroine? If the latter supposition be true, hecertainly was not very successful, for in either case it is evidentthat Margaret Fuller was prominent in his thoughts at the time he wrotethose two chapters. 

Hawthorne's idea of her, however, should not be accepted as a finality. What Emerson and other friends have said concerning her should also beconsidered in order to obtain a just impression of a woman who combinedmore varied qualities than perhaps any other person of that time. Hawthorne says of Zenobia, that she was naturally a stump oratoress, --rather an awkward expression for him--and that "her mind was full ofweeds. " Margaret Fuller was a natural orator, and her mind was full ofmany subjects in which Hawthorne could take little interest. She was arevolutionary character, a sort of female Garibaldi, who attacked oldPuritan traditions with a two-edged sword; she won victories forliberalism, but left confusion behind her. Like all such characters, she made friends and enemies wherever she went. She sometimes gaveoffence by hasty impulsive utterances, but more frequently by keenlypenetrating arguments for the various causes which she espoused. Only awoman could deliver such telling shots. 

Lowell, who was fond of an argument himself, did not like her betterthan Hawthorne did. There may be some truth in what he says in "TheFable for Critics, " that the expression of her face seemed to suggest alife-long familiarity with the "infinite soul"; but Margaret Fuller wassound at heart, and when she talked on those subjects which interestedher, no one could be more self-forgetful or thoroughly in earnest. Attimes, she seemed like an inspired prophetess, and if she had lived twothousand years earlier, she might have been remembered as a sibyl. [Footnote: See Appendix B. ]

"The Blithedale Romance" is written with a freer pen and less carefullythan "The House of the Seven Gables, " and is so much the better; forthe author's state of mind in which he is writing will always affectthe reader more or less, and if the former feels under a slightconstraint the latter will also. A writer cannot be too exact inascertaining the truth, --Macaulay to the contrary, --but he can troublehimself too much as to the expression of it. At the same time, "TheBlithedale Romance" is the least poetic of Hawthorne's more seriousworks (which is the same as saying that it is more like a novel), forthe reason that Hawthorne in this instance was closer to his subject. It is also more of a personal reminiscence, and less an effort of theimagination. He has included in it a number of descriptive passagestaken from his Brook Farm diary; most notably the account of thatsylvan masquerade, in which Coverdale finds his former associatesengaged on his return to Blithedale in the autumn. Perhaps this is thereason why the book has so pleasant a flavor--a mellow after-thought ofold associations. 

An air of mystery adds an enchantment to a work of art, whether inpoetry, painting, or sculpture, --perhaps also in music; but there is adifference in kind between mystery and uncertainty. We do not like tobe left half in the dark, in regard to things which we think we oughtto know. There is a break in Hawthorne's chain of evidence againstHollingsworth and Zenobia, which might possibly have been filled toadvantage. He would certainly have been non-suited, if his case hadbeen carried into court. We are permitted to suppose that Zenobia, inorder to clear her path of a successful rival, assists the mountebank, Westervelt, to entrap Priscilla, over whom he possesses a kind hypnoticpower, and to carry her off for the benefit of his mountebankexhibitions; but it remains a supposition and nothing more. We cannotbut feel rejoiced, when Hollingsworth steps onto the platform andreleases Priscilla from the psychological net-work in which she isinvolved, and from which she has not sufficient will-power to freeherself. He certainly deserves her hand and fortune; but, as to hiscondemnatory charges against Zenobia, which led directly to hersuicide, --what could they have been? Was there nothing more than thetrick she had attempted upon Priscilla? And if he accused her of thatonly, why should he suffer perpetual remorse on account of her death?Surely there was need of further explanation here, for the catastropheand its consequences are out of all proportion to the apparent cause. 

His account of the recovery of Zenobia's body is a close transcript ofthe search for that unfortunate school-mistress, who drowned herself inConcord River; and it is possible that, if Hawthorne had not beenpresent on that occasion, the plot might have terminated in some othermanner. 

The story closes without a ray of hope for Hollingsworth; but thereader can perceive one in the generous devotion of his single-mindedwife, even if Hawthorne did not. 

CHAPTER XII

THE LIVERPOOL CONSULATE: 1852-1854

Why Hawthorne returned to Concord in 1852 is more of a mystery than thesuicide of Zenobia. Horace Mann also left Newton, to be President ofAntioch College (and to die there in the cause of feminine education), in the autumn of that year; but this could hardly have been expectedsix months earlier. Hawthorne was not very favorably situated atNewton, being rather too near the railroad; but there was plenty ofland on the top of the hill, where he might have built himself a house, and in the course of twelve years his property would have quadrupled invalue. A poet will not be less of a poet, but more so, forunderstanding the practical affairs of life. Or he might have removedto Cambridge, where Longfellow, always foremost in kind offices, wouldhave been like a guardian angel to him, and where he could have madefriends like Felton and Agassiz, who would have been much more inharmony with his political views. Ellery Channing was the only friendhe appears to have retained in Concord, and it was not altogether afavorable place to bring up his children; but the natural topography ofConcord is unusually attractive, and it may be suspected that he wasdrawn thither more from the love of its pine solitudes and shimmeringwaters, than from any other motive. 

The house he purchased was nearly a mile from the centre of the town, and has ever since been known by the name of the Wayside. AfterHawthorne's return from Europe in 1860, he remodelled it somewhat, sothat it has a more dignified aspect than when he first took possessionof it. Alcott, who occupied it for some years previously, had adornedit with that species of rustic architecture in which he was so skilful. The house was half surrounded by a group of locust trees, much infashion seventy years ago, and had been set so close against the hill-side, that a thicket of stunted pines and other wild growth rose abovethe roof like a crest. Bronson Alcott was his next-door neighbor, --almost too strong a contrast to him, --and Emerson's house was half amile away; so that these three families formed a group by themselves inthat portion of Concord. 

Hawthorne wrote a letter to his sister Elizabeth, describing his newacquisition, and expressing satisfaction in it. It was the first housethat he had ever owned; and it is no small comfort to a man to liveunder his own roof, even though it be a humble one. At this time, however, he did not remain at the Wayside but a single year. Afterthat, the house stood empty until the untimely death of Horace Mann, August 2, 1859, when Mrs. Mann came to Concord with her three boys, andoccupied it until Hawthorne's return from Europe. 

[Illustration: THE WAYSIDE]

It may as well be noticed here, that, during the eight years whichHawthorne spent altogether in Concord, he accomplished little literarywork, and none of any real importance. It is impossible to account forthis, except upon those psychological conditions which sometimes affectdelicately balanced minds. Whether the trouble was in the socialatmosphere of the place, or in its climatic conditions, perhapsHawthorne himself could not have decided; but there must have been areason for it of some description. Julian Hawthorne states that hisfather had a plan at this time of writing another romance, of a morecheerful tone than "The Blithedale Romance, " but the full current ofhis poetic activity was suddenly brought to a standstill by an eventthat nobody would have dreamed of. 

Hawthorne had hardly established himself in his new abode, whenFranklin Pierce was nominated for the presidency by the Democraticparty. The whole country was astonished, for no such nomination hadever been made before, and it is probable that Pierce himself sharedlargely in this. The New Hampshire delegation had presented his name tothe convention, in order to procure him distinction in his own State, but without expectation that he would become a serious candidate. Likethe nomination of Hayes in 1876, it resulted from the jealousy of thegreat party leaders, --always an unfortunate position for a public manto be placed in. Theodore Parker said, "Any one is now in danger ofbecoming President. "

Hawthorne evidently felt this, for he wrote to Bridge, "I do notconsider Pierce the brightest man in the country, for there are twentymore so. " It would have been a mild statement if he had said twohundred. Pierce wanted him, of course, to write a campaign biography, and communicated with him to that effect; but Hawthorne dislikedmeddling in such matters, and at first declined to do it, although itwas expected to be highly remunerative. Pierce, however, insisted, forHawthorne's reputation was now much beyond his own, and he felt that abiography by so distinguished a writer would confer upon him greatdignity in the eyes of the world; and as Hawthorne felt already muchindebted to Pierce, he finally consented, --although a cheap spread-eagle affair would have served the purpose of his party quite as well. The book had to be written in haste, and just at the time whenHawthorne wished to take a little leisure. There were so few salientpoints in Pierce's life, that it was almost like making a biography outof nothing, and as for describing him as a hero, that was quiteimpossible. It was fortunate that he knew so much of Pierce's earlylife, and also that Pierce had kept a diary during the Mexican War, which formed a considerable portion of the biography. 

The book is worth reading, although written in this prosaic manner. Hawthorne states in the preface, frankly and manfully, that he objectedto writing it, and this ought to be an excuse sufficient for his doingso--if excuse be needed. He does not attempt to represent his friend asa great statesman, but rather as a patriotic country gentleman, who isinterested in public affairs, and who rises from one honorable positionto another through a well-deserved popularity. This would seem to havebeen the truth; and yet there was a decided inconsistency in FranklinPierce's life, which Hawthorne represents plainly enough, although hemakes no comment thereon. 

Franklin Pierce's father was captain of a militia company in 1798, whenwar was declared against the French Directory, for seizing andconfiscating American merchant ships, contrary to the law of nations. There could not have been a more just occasion for war, but CaptainPierce resigned his commission, because he considered it wrong to fightagainst a republic; and Hawthorne approves of him for this. FranklinPierce, however, resigned his seat in the Senate in 1842, on account ofthe interests of his family, alleging that "he would never enter publiclife again, unless the needs of his country imperatively demanded it, "yet four years later he organized a regiment for the invasion ofMexico, --not only for making war upon a republic, but an unjust andindefensible war. General Grant's opinion ought to be conclusive onthis latter point, for he belonged to the same political party asPierce and Hawthorne. Certainly, Pierce's services were not requiredfor the defence of his native land. 

To do Hawthorne justice, there can be no doubt that in his heart hedisapproved of this; for in one of his sketches written at the OldManse, he speaks censoriously of "those adventurous spirits who leavetheir homes to emigrate to Texas. " He evidently foresaw that troublewould arise in that direction, and perhaps Ellery Channing assisted himin penetrating the true inwardness of the movement. 

It will be remembered that in Franklin Pierce's youth, he wasexceptionally interested in military manœuvres, and this may have beenone of the inducements which led him into the Mexican War; but youngmen who are fond of holiday epaulets do not, for obvious reasons, makethe best fighters. Pierce's military career was not a distinguishedone; for, whether he was thrown from his horse in his first engagement, or, as the Whigs alleged, fell from it as soon as he came under fire, it is certain that he did not cover himself with glory, as the phrasewas at that time. But we can believe Hawthorne, when he tells us thatPierce took good charge of the troops under his command, and that hewas kind and considerate to sick and wounded soldiers. That was inaccordance with his natural character. 

It was impossible at that time to avoid the slavery question in dealingwith political subjects, and what Hawthorne said on this point, in thelife of General Pierce, attracted more attention than the book itself. Like Webster he considered slavery an evil, but he believed it to beone of those evils which the human race outgrows, by progress incivilization, --like the human sacrifices of the Gauls perhaps, --and hegreatly deprecated the anti-slavery agitation, which only served toinflame men's minds and make them unreasonable. 

There were many sensible persons in the Northern States at that time, like Hawthorne and Hillard, who sincerely believed in this doctrine, but they do not seem to have been aware that there was a pro-slaveryagitation at the South which antedated Garrison's _Liberator_ andwhich was much more aggressive and vehement than the anti-slaverymovement, because there were large pecuniary interests connected withit. The desperate grasping of the slave-holders for new territory, first in the Northwest and then in the Southwest, was not because theywere in any need of land, but because new slave States increased theirpolitical power. Horatio Bridge says, relatively to this subject:

"No Northern man had better means for knowing the dangers impending, previous to the outbreak of the war, than had General Pierce. Intimately associated--as he was--with the strong men of the South, inhis Cabinet and in Congress, he saw that the Southerners weredetermined, at all hazards, to defend their peculiar institution ofslavery, which was imperilled by the abolitionists. "

If Franklin Pierce was desirous of preserving the Union, why did hegive Jefferson Davis a place in his Cabinet, and take him for his chiefadviser? Davis was already a pronounced secessionist, and had beendefeated in his own State on that issue. In subserviency to Southerninterests, no other Northern man ever went so far as Franklin Pierce, nor did Garrison himself accomplish so much toward the dissolution ofthe Union. He was an instance in real life of Goldsmith's "good-naturedman, " and the same qualities which assisted him to the position ofPresident prevented his administration from being a success. Presidentsought to be made of firmer and sterner material. 

Hawthorne had barely finished with the proofs of this volume, when hereceived the saddest, most harrowing news that ever came to him. Afterher mother's death, in 1849, Louisa Hawthorne had gone to live with heraunt, Mrs. John Dike; and in July, 1852, Mr. Dike went with her on anexcursion to Saratoga and New York City. On the morning of July 27, they left Albany on the steamboat "Henry Clay, " which, as is wellknown, never reached its destination. When nearing Yonkers, a firebroke out near the engines, where the wood-work was saturated with oil, and instantly the centre of the vessel was in a bright blaze. Mr. Dikehappened to be on the forward deck at the moment, but Louisa Hawthornewas in the ladies' cabin, and it was impossible to reach her. Thecaptain of the Henry Clay immediately ran the vessel on shore, so thatMr. Dike and those who were with him escaped to land, but Louisa andmore than seventy others, who threw themselves into the water, weredrowned. It would seem to have been impossible to save her. 

The death of Hawthorne's mother may be said to have come in the courseof Nature, and his mind was prepared for it; but Louisa had been theplaymate of his childhood, and her death seemed as unnecessary as itwas sharp and sudden. It happened almost on the third anniversary ofhis mother's death, and these were the only two occasions inHawthorne's life, when the Dark Angel hovered about his door. 

Rebecca Manning says: "Louisa Hawthorne was a most delightful, lovable, interesting woman--not at all 'commonplace, ' as has been stated. Herdeath was a great sorrow to all her friends. Her name was Maria Louisa, and she was often called Maria by her mother and sister and aunts. "

Depressed and unnerved, in the most trying season of the year, Hawthorne went in the latter part of August to visit Franklin Pierce atConcord, New Hampshire; but there a severe torrid wave came on, so thatPierce advised him to go at once to the Isles of Shoals, promising tofollow in a few days, if his numerous engagements would permit him. 

The Isles of Shoals have the finest summer climate on the AtlanticOcean; an atmosphere at once quieting and strengthening, and always atits best when it is hottest on the main-land. Hawthorne found a pair offriends ready-made there, and prepared to receive him, --Levi Thaxter, afterwards widely known as the apostle of Browning in America, and hiswife, Celia, a poetess in the bud, only sixteen, but very bright, original, and pleasant. They admired Hawthorne above all living men, and his sudden advent on their barren island seemed, as Thaxterafterward expressed it, like a supernatural presence. They became goodcompanions in the next two weeks; climbing the rocks, rowing from oneisland to another, --bald pieces of rock, like the summits of mountainsrising above the surface of the sea, --visiting the light-house, themonument to Captain John Smith, Betty Moody's Cave, the graves of theSpanish sailors, the trap dikes of ancient lava, and much else. Everyday Hawthorne wrote a minute account in his diary of his variousproceedings there, including the observation of a live shark, whichcame into the cove by the hotel, a rare spectacle on that coast. General Pierce did not make his appearance, however, and on September15, Hawthorne returned to his own home. 

The election of Pierce to the presidency was as remarkable as hisnomination. In 1848, General Taylor, the victor of a single battle, buta man of little education, was nominated for the presidency over theheads of the finest orators and ablest statesmen in America, and wasenthusiastically elected. General Scott, Franklin Pierce's opponent, defeated the Mexicans in four decisive battles, captured the capital ofthe country, and conducted one of the most skilful military expeditionsof the past century. He was a man of rare administrative ability, andthere is no substantial argument against his character. We have Grant'stestimony that it was pleasant to serve under him. Yet he wasoverwhelmingly defeated at the polls by a militia general withoutdistinction, military or civil. 

Hawthorne was naturally delighted at the result of the election;unfortunate as it afterwards proved for his country. He derived athreefold satisfaction from it, in the success of his friend, in thedefeat of the Whigs, and in the happy prospects which it opened forhimself. He could now return to the Salem Custom House in triumph, --asthe wisest man might be tempted to do, --but he looked forward tosomething that would be more advantageous to his family. He had alreadywritten on October 18 to Horatio Bridge:

"Before undertaking it [the biography] I made an inward resolution, that I should accept no office from him; but, to say the truth, I doubtwhether it would not be rather folly than heroism to adhere to thispurpose, in case he should offer me anything particularly good. Weshall see. A foreign mission I could not afford to take. The consulshipat Liverpool, I might. " [Footnote: Bridge 130]

We may conclude from this, that Pierce had already intimated theLiverpool consulate, which at that time was supposed to be worthtwenty-five thousand dollars a year in fees. It was an excellent planfor the President of the United States to have such a gift at hisdisposal, to reward some individual like Hawthorne, to whom the wholenation was indebted to an extent that could never be repaid; but it isa question whether it would not have been as well, in this particularcase, for Hawthorne to have remained in his own country. If he couldhave written five or six romances more, this would have secured him agood competency, and would have assured a sufficient income for hisfamily after his death. As it happened, the Liverpool consulate did notprove so profitable as was anticipated. 

With such "great expectations" before him, Hawthorne could do noserious work that winter, so he occupied himself leisurely enough, withwriting a sequel to his "Wonder Book, " which he called "TanglewoodTales, " apparently after the thicket which surmounted the hill abovehis residence. This was finished early in March, and given to Ticknor &Company to publish when they saw fit. As it is a book intended forchildren, the consideration of it need not detain us. 

Early in April, 1853, Hawthorne was appointed and confirmed to theLiverpool consulate, and on the 14th he went to Washington, as he tellsus, for the first time, to thank the President in person. Otherwise hehas divulged nothing concerning this journey, except that he wasintroduced to a larger number of persons than he could remember thenames or faces of, and received ten times as many invitations as hecould accept. If Charles V. Honored himself with posterity by pickingup the paint-brush which Titian had dropped on the floor, PresidentPierce might have done himself equal credit by making Hawthorne hisguest at the White House; but if he did not go so far as this, itcannot be doubted that he treated Hawthorne handsomely. There weregiants at Washington in those days. Webster and Clay were gone, butSeward was the Charles Fox and Sumner the Edmund Burke of America;Chase and Marcy were not much less in intellectual stature. Hawthornemust have met them, but we hear nothing of them from him. 

Hawthorne delayed his departure for England, until the most favorableseason arrived, for his fragile wife and infant children to cross the"rolling forties. " At length, on July 6, two days after his forty-ninthbirthday, he sailed from Boston in the "Niagara, " and with _placidaonda prospero il vento_, in about twelve days they all arrivedsafely at their destination. 

The great stone docks of Liverpool, extending along its whole water-front, give one a strong impression of the power and solidity ofEngland. Otherwise the city is almost devoid of interest, andtravellers customarily pass through it, to take the next train forOxford or London, without further observation, unless it be to give alook at the conventional statue of Prince Albert on an Arab horse. Liverpool is not so foggy a place as London, but it has a damper andless pleasant climate, without those varied attractions and substantialenjoyments which make London one of the most pleasant residences andmost interesting of cities. 

London fog is composed of soft-coal smoke, which, ascending frominnumerable chimneys, is filtered in the upper skies, and then, mixedwith vapor, is cast back upon the city by every change of wind. It isnot unpleasant to the taste, and seems to be rather healthful thanotherwise; but all the vapors which sail down the Gulf Stream, andwhich are not condensed on the Irish coast in the form of rain, collectabout the mouth of the Mersey, so that the adjacent country is the bestwatered portion of all England, Cornwall possibly excepted. There isplenty of wealth in Liverpool, and all kinds of private entertainments, but in no other city of its size are there so few publicentertainments, and the only interesting occupation that a strangermight find there, would be to watch the strange and curious charactersin the lower classes, faces and figures that cannot be caricatured, emerging from cellar-ways or disappearing through side-doors. Go intoan alehouse in the evening and, beside the pretty barmaid, who deservesconsideration as much for her good behavior as for her looks, you willsee plainly enough where Dickens obtained his _dramatis personae_for "Barnaby Rudge" and "The Old Curiosity Shop. " Either in Liverpoolor in London you can see more grotesque comedy characters in a day, than you could meet with in a year in America. These poor creatures arepressed down, and squeezed out into what they are, under thesuperincumbent weight of an enormous leisure class. 

Such was the environment in which Hawthorne was obliged to spend theensuing four years. He soon, however, discovered a means to escape fromthe monotonous and labyrinthine streets of the city, by renting animitation castle at Rock Ferry, --a very pretty place, much like DobbsFerry, on the Hudson, although the river is not so fine, --where hiswife and children enjoyed fresh air, green grass, and all the sunshineattainable, and whence he could reach the consulate every morning bythe Mersey boat. We find them located there before September 1. 

Of the consulate itself, Hawthorne has given a minute pictorialdescription in "Our Old Home, " from which the following extract isespecially pertinent to our present inquiry:

"The Consulate of the United States in my day, was located inWashington Buildings (a shabby and smoke-stained edifice of fourstories high, thus illustriously named in honor of our nationalestablishment), at the lower corner of Brunswick Street, contiguous tothe Goree Arcade, and in the neighborhood of some of the oldest docks. This was by no means a polite or elegant portion of England's greatcommercial city, nor were the apartments of the American official sosplendid as to indicate the assumption of much consular pomp on hispart. A narrow and ill-lighted staircase gave access to an equallynarrow and ill-lighted passage-way on the first floor, at the extremityof which, surmounting a door frame, appeared an exceedingly stiffpictorial representation of the Goose and Gridiron, according to theEnglish idea of those ever-to-be-honored symbols. The staircase andpassage-way were often thronged of a morning, with a set of beggarlyand piratical-looking scoundrels (I do no wrong to our countrymen instyling them so, for not one in twenty was a genuine American), purporting to belong to our mercantile marine, and chiefly composed ofLiverpool Blackballers, and the scum of every maritime nation on earth;such being the seamen by whose assistance we then disputed thenavigation of the world with England. These specimens of a mostunfortunate class of people were shipwrecked crews in quest of bed, board, and clothing, invalids asking permits for the hospital, bruisedand bloody wretches complaining of ill-treatment by their officers, drunkards, desperadoes, vagabonds, and cheats, perplexinglyintermingled with an uncertain proportion of reasonably honest men. Allof them (save here and there a poor devil of a kidnapped landsman inhis shore-going rags) wore red flannel shirts, in which they hadsweltered or shivered throughout the voyage, and all required consularassistance in one form or another. "

The position of an American consul in a large foreign seaport, especially at Liverpool, is anything but a sinecure, and in factrequires a continual exercise of judgment much beyond the averageduties of a foreign minister. The difficulty also of being continuallyobliged to distinguish between true and false applications for charity, especially when the false are greatly in excess of the true, and amonga class of persons notably given to mendacious tricks, is one of themost unpleasant conditions in which a tender-hearted man can findhimself. As curious studies in low life, the rascality of thesenautical mendicants may often have been interesting, and even amusing, to Hawthorne, but as a steady pull they must have worn hard on hisnerves, even though his experienced clerk served as a breakwater to aconsiderable portion. It has already been noticed that Hawthorne was aconscientious office-holder, and he never trusted to others any dutieswhich he was able to attend to in person. Moreover, although he was aman of reserved manners, there was an exceptionally tender, sympatheticheart behind this impenetrable exterior, and it may be suspected thathe relieved many instances of actual distress, which could not bebrought within the government regulations. He may have suffered likethe ghost in Dickens's "Haunted Man, " on account of those whom he couldnot assist. It is certain that he aged more, in appearance at least, during these four years, than at any similar period of his life. 

It is no wonder, therefore, that, after a visit to the English lakes, the following summer, Hawthorne wrote to his friend, Henry Bright, fromLiverpool:

"I have come back only for a day or two to this black and miserablehole. I do not mean to apply these two adjectives to my consulate, butto the whole of Liverpool. "

Yet it should be recollected that there were nearly a million ofpersons in Liverpool, who were obliged to spend their lives there, forgood and evil fortune; and, as Emerson says, we can never think toolightly of our own difficulties. 

Neither did Hawthorne find the news from America particularlyinteresting. On March 30, 1854, he wrote to Bridge:

"I like my office well enough, but my official duties and obligationsare irksome to me beyond expression. Nevertheless, the emoluments willbe a sufficient inducement to keep me here, though they are not above aquarter part what some people suppose them. 

"It sickens me to look back to America. I am sick to death of thecontinual fuss and tumult and excitement and bad blood which we keep upabout political topics. If it were not for my children, I shouldprobably never return, but--after quitting office--should go to Italy, and live and die there. If Mrs. Bridge and you would go too, we mightform a little colony amongst ourselves, and see our children grow uptogether. But it will never do to deprive them of their native land, which I hope will be a more comfortable and happy residence in theirday than it has been in ours. "

[Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 65. ]

The last sentence in this ought to be printed in italics, for it is theessence of patriotism. The "fuss and tumult" in America were due, forthe time being, to the apple of discord which Douglas had cast into theSenate, by his Kansas-Nebraska bill. Hawthorne was too far away todistinguish the full force and insidious character of that measure, butif he had been in Concord, we believe he would have recognized (as somany did who never had before) the imminent danger to the Union, fromthe repeated concessions to the slave power. After he had becomedisenthralled from his allegiance to party, we find him in his lettersto Bridge, taking broad views on political subjects. 

An event was soon to happen, well calculated to disenthrall him. TheCongress of 1854, after passing the Kansas-Nebraska bill, resolved, inorder to prove its democratic spirit, to economize in therepresentation of our government to foreign powers. On April 14, thegood-hearted, theoretical O'Sullivan arrived in Liverpool, on his wayto be minister to Portugal, and warned Hawthorne that there was a billbefore Congress to reduce the consulate there to a salaried position. This was a terrible damper on Hawthorne's great expectations, and onApril 17 he wrote again to Bridge, protesting against the change:[Footnote: Bridge, 135, 136. ]

"I trust, in Heaven's mercy, that no change will be made as regards theemoluments of the Liverpool consulate--unless indeed a salary is to begiven in addition to the fees, in which case I should receive it verythankfully. This, however, is not to be expected; and if Liverpool istouched at all, it will be to limit its emoluments by a fixed salary--which will render the office not worth any man's holding. It isimpossible (especially for a man with a family and keeping any kind ofan establishment) not to spend a vast deal of money here. The office, unfortunately, is regarded as one of great dignity, and puts the holderon a level with the highest society, and compels him to associate onequal terms with men who spend more than my whole income on the mereentertainments and other trimmings and embroidery of their lives. ThenI feel bound to exercise some hospitality towards my own countrymen. Ikeep out of society as much as I decently can, and really practice asstern an economy as I ever did in my life; but, nevertheless, I havespent many thousands of dollars in the few months of my residence here, and cannot reasonably hope to spend less than six thousand per annum, even after all the expenditure of setting up an establishment isdefrayed. "

In addition to this, he states that his predecessor in office, John J. Crittenden, never received above fifteen thousand dollars in fees, ofwhich he saved less than half. 

We can trust this to be the plain truth in regard to the Liverpoolconsulate, and if twenty-five thousand a year was ever obtained fromit, there must have been some kind of deviltry in the business. Congress proved inexorable, --as it might not have been, had Hawthornepossessed the influence of a prominent politician like Crittenden. Itwas a direct affront to the President from his own party, and Piercedid not dare to veto the bill. 

What O'Sullivan said to Hawthorne on other subjects may be readilyinferred from Hawthorne's next letter to Bridge, in which he begs himto remain in Washington for Pierce's sake, and says:

"I feel a sorrowful sympathy for the poor fellow (for God's sake don'tshow him this), and hate to have him left without one true friend, orone man, who will speak a single honest word to him. "

It is not very clear how Horatio Bridge could counteract the influenceof Jefferson Davis and Caleb Cushing, but this shows that FranklinPierce's weakness as an administrator was already painfully apparent tohis friends, and that even Hawthorne could no longer disguise it tohimself. 

CHAPTER XIII

HAWTHORNE IN ENGLAND: 1854-1858

Hawthorne's life in England was too generally monotonous to afford manysalient points to his biographer. It was monotonous in his officialduties, in his pleasure-trips, and in his social experiences. He foundone good friend in Liverpool, Mr. Henry Bright, to whom he had alreadybeen introduced in America, and he soon made another in Mr. FrancisBennoch, who lived near the same city. They were both excellent men, and belonged to that fine class of Englishmen who possess a comfortableincome, but live moderately, and prefer cultivating their minds and thesociety of their friends, to clubs, yachting, horse-racing, and otherforms of external show. They were not distinguished, and were toosensible to desire distinction. Henry Bright may have been the morehighly favored in Hawthorne's esteem, but they both possessed that tactand delicacy of feeling which is rare among Englishmen, and byaccepting Hawthorne simply as a man like themselves, instead of as acelebrity, they won that place in his confidence from which so many hadbeen excluded. 

Otherwise, Hawthorne contracted no friendships among distinguishedEnglishmen of letters, like that between Emerson and Carlyle; and fromfirst to last he saw little of them. He had no sooner landed than hewas greeted with a number of epistles from sentimental ladies, orauthors of a single publication, who claimed a spiritual kinship withhim, because of their admiration for his writings. One of them evenaddressed him as "My dear brother. " These he filed away with a mentalreservation to give the writers as wide a circuit as he possibly could. He attended a respectable number of dinner parties in both Liverpooland London, at which he remained for the most part a silent andunobtrusive guest. He was not favored with an invitation to HollandHouse, although he met Lady Holland on one occasion, and has left adescription of her, not more flattering than others that have beenpreserved for us. He also met Macaulay and the Brownings at LordHoughton's; but for once Macaulay would not talk. Mrs. Browningevidently pleased Hawthorne very much. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 129. ]

The great lights of English literature besides these, --Tennyson, Carlyle, Ruskin, Thackeray, Dickens, --he was never introduced to, although he saw Tennyson in a picture-gallery at Manchester, and hasleft a description of him, such as might endure to the end of time. Neither did he make the acquaintance of those three luminaries, Froude, Marian Evans, and Max Muller, who rose above the horizon, previous tohis return to America. That he was not presented at Court was a matterof course. There was nothing which he could have cared for less. 

After his return he published a volume of English sketches, which heentitled "Our Old Home, " but he seems to have felt actually less athome in England than in any other country that he visited. In thatbook, and also in his diary, the even tenor of his discourse isinterrupted here and there by fits of irritability which disclosethemselves in the use of epithets such as one would hardly expect fromthe pen of Hawthorne. If we apply to him the well-known proverb withrespect to the Russians, we can imagine that under similar conditionsan inherited sailor-like tendency in him came to the surface. We onlyremember one such instance in his American Note-book, that in which hespeaks of Thoreau's having a face "as homely as sin. "

[Footnote: The general effect of Thoreau's face was by no meansunpleasant. ]

Hawthorne did not carry with him to Europe that narrow provincialism, which asserts itself in either condemning or ridiculing everything thatdiffers essentially from American ways and methods. On the contrary, when he compares the old country with the new, --for instance, theEnglish scenery with that of New England, --Hawthorne is usually asfair, discriminating, and dispassionate as any one could wish, andperhaps more so than some would desire. His judgment cannot bequestioned in preferring the American elm, with its wine-glass shape, to the rotund European species; but he admires the English lake countryabove anything that he has seen like it in his own land. "Centuries ofcultivation have given the English oak a domestic character, " whileAmerican trees are still to be classed with the wild flowers whichbloom beneath their outstretched arms. 

Matthew Arnold spoke of his commentaries on England as the writing of aman chagrined; but what could have chagrined Hawthorne there? Thesocially ambitious man may become chagrined, if he finds that doors areclosed to him, and so may an unappreciated would-be genius. ButHawthorne's position as an author was already more firmly establishedthan Matthew Arnold's ever could be; and as for social ambition, nowriter since Shakespeare has been so free from it. It seems moreprobable that the difficulty with Hawthorne in this respect was due tohis old position on the slavery question, which now began to bearbitter fruit for him. All Englishmen at that time, with the exceptionof Carlyle, Froude, and the nobility, were very strongly anti-slavery, --the more so, as it cost them nothing to have other men's slavesliberated, --and the English are particularly blunt, not to say_gauche_, in introducing topics of conversation which are liableto become a matter of controversy. At the first dinner-party I attendedin London some thirty-odd years ago, I had scarcely tasted the soup, before a gentleman opposite asked me: "What progress are you making inthe United States toward free trade? Can you tell me, sir?" He might aswell have asked me what progress we were making in the direction ofmonarchy. Fortunately for Hawthorne, his good taste prevented him fromintroducing the slavery question in his publications, excepting in thelife of Pierce, but for this same reason his English acquaintances invarious places were obliged to discover his opinions at first hand, noris it very likely that they were slow to do this. Phillips and Garrisonhad been to England and through England, and their dignified speecheshad made an excellent impression. Longfellow, Emerson, Lowell andWhittier had spoken with no uncertain sound, protesting against whatthey considered a great national evil. How did it happen that Hawthornewas an exception?

Through his kind friend Mr. Bennoch, he fell in with a worthy whom itwould have been just as well to have avoided--the proverbial-philosophypoet, Martin Farquhar Tupper; not a genuine poet, nor considered assuch by trustworthy critics, but such a good imitation, that hepersuaded himself and a large portion of the British public, includingQueen Victoria, that he was one. Hawthorne has given an account of hisvisit to this man, [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 114. ] second only invalue to his description of Tennyson; for it is quite as important forus to recognize the deficiencies of the one, as it is to know the trueappearance of the other. It is an unsparing study of human nature, butif a man places himself on a pedestal for all people to gaze at, it isjust this and nothing more that he has to expect. Hawthorne representshim as a kindly, domestic, affectionate, bustling little man, who kepton bustling with his hands and tongue, even while he was seated--a manof no dignity of character or perception of his deficiency of it. Thisall does well enough, but when Hawthorne says, "I liked him, andlaughed in my sleeve at him, and was utterly weary of him; forcertainly he is the ass of asses, " we feel that he has gone too far, and suspect that there was some unpleasantness connected with theoccasion, of which we are not informed. The word "ass, " as applied to ahuman being, is not current in good literature, unless low comedy beentitled to that position, and coming from Hawthorne, of all writers, it seems like an oath from the mouth of a woman. Tupper, who was quiteproud of his philanthropy, was also much of an abolitionist, and he mayhave trodden on Hawthorne's metaphysical toes half a dozen times, without being aware of what he was doing. Altogether, it seems likerather an ill return for Tupper's hospitality; but Hawthorne himselfdid not intend it for publication, and on the whole one does not regretthat it has been given to the public. We have been, however, anticipating the order of events. 

During the summer of 1854, the Hawthorne family made a number ofunimportant expeditions, visiting mediaeval abbeys and ruinouscastles, --especially one to Chester and Eton Hall, which was not quiteworth the fees they paid to the janitors. An ancient walled city ismuch of a novelty to an American for the first time, but, having seenone, you have seen them all, and Chester Cathedral does not stand highin English architecture. On September 14, O'Sullivan appeared again, and they all went into the Welsh mountains, where they examined the oldfortresses of Rhyl and Conway, which were built by Edward Longshanks tohold the Welshmen in check. Those relics of the feudal system are veryimpressive, not only on account of their solidity and the great humanforces which they represent, but from a peculiar beauty of their own, which modern fortifications do not possess at all. They seem to belongto the ground they stand on, and the people who live about them lookupon them as cherished landmarks. They are the monuments of an heroicage, and Hawthorne's interest in them was characteristic of his nature. 

O'Sullivan returned to Lisbon early in October, and on the 5th of thatmonth, Hawthorne found himself obliged to make a speech at anentertainment on board a merchant vessel called the "James Barnes, "which had been built in Boston for a Liverpool firm of ship-owners. Heconsidered this the most serious portion of his official duty, --thenecessity of making after-dinner speeches at the Mayor's or otherpublic tables. He writes several pages on the subject in a humorouslycomplainant tone, congratulating himself that on the present occasionhe has succeeded admirably, for he has really said nothing, and that isprecisely what he intended to do. After-dinner speeches are like soap-bubbles: they are made of nothing, signify nothing, float for a momentin the air, attract a momentary attention, and then disappear. But thedifficulty is, to make an apparent something out of nothing, to saynothing that will offend anybody, and to say something that will bedifferent from what others say. It is truly a hard situation in whichto place even a very talented man, and, as Longfellow once remarked, those were most fortunate who made their speeches first, and could thenenjoy their dinner, while their successors were writhing in agony. However, there are those who like it, and having practised it toperfection, can do it better than anything else. Hawthorne analyzes hissensations, after finishing his speech, with rare self-perception. "After sitting down, I was conscious of an enjoyment in speaking to apublic assembly, and felt as if I should like to rise again. It issomething like being under fire, --a sort of excitement, not exactlypleasure, but more piquant than most pleasures. " Was it PresidentJackson, or Senator Benton, who said that fighting a duel was very muchlike making one's maiden speech?

Mrs. Hawthorne thus describes the residence of the President of theChamber of Commerce at Liverpool: [Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 238. ] "Wewere ushered into the drawing-room, which looked more like a brilliantapartment in Versailles than what I had expected to see. The panelswere richly gilt, with mirrors in the centre, and hangings of gildedpaper; and the broad windows were hung with golden-colored damask; thefurniture was all of the same hue; with a carpet of superb flowers; andvases of living flowers standing everywhere; and a chandelier ofdiamonds (as to indefatigable and vivid shining), and candlesticks ofthe same, --not the long prisms like those on Mary's astral, but anetwork of crystals diamond-cut. "

This was the coarse commercial taste of the time, previous to thereforms of Ruskin and Eastlake. The same might be said of Versailles. There is no true elegance in gilding and glass-work, including mirrors, unless they be sparingly used. 

The Hawthornes were equally overpowered by a dinner-party given by amillionaire and country squire of Liscard Vale; "two enormous silverdish-covers, with the gleam of Damascus blades, putting out all therest of the light;" and after the fish, these were replaced by twoother enormous dishes of equal brilliancy. The table was shortlycovered with an array of silver dishes, reflecting the lights above indazzling splendor. At one end of the table was a roast goose and at theother a boiled turkey; while "cutlets, fricassees, ragouts, tongue, chicken-pies, " and much else, filled the intermediate spaces, and thesideboard groaned under a round of beef "like the dome of St. Peter's. "It was fortunate that the American consul came to this Herculean repastwith an excellent appetite. 

Henry Bright was their chief refuge from this flummery, as Hawthornecalled it; "an extremely interesting, sincere, earnest, independent, warm and generous hearted man; not at all dogmatic; full of questions, and with ready answers. He is highly cultivated, and writes for the_Westminster_, "--a man who respected formalities and couldpreserve decorum in his own household, but liked a simple, unostentatious mode of living--in brief, he was a true Englishgentleman. Mrs. Hawthorne has drawn his portrait with only less skillthan her husband:

"His eyes are large, bright, and prominent, rather indicating greatfacility of language, which he has. He is an Oxford scholar, and hasdecided literary tastes. He is delicately strung, and is astransparent-minded and pure-hearted as a child, with great enthusiasmand earnestness of character; and, though a Liberal, very loyal to hisQueen and very admiring of the aristocracy. "

He appears to have been engaged in the Australian carrying trade, andowned the largest sailing vessel afloat. 

Hawthorne went to an exhibition of English landscape paintings, and heremarked that Turner's seemed too ethereal to have been painted bymortal hands, --the finest compliment that Turner could have received, for in delicate effects of light and shade, --in painting the atmosphereitself, --he has no rival. 

In January, James Buchanan, who was then minister to England, came tovisit Hawthorne, and talked with him about the presidency, --for whichhe considered himself altogether too old; but at the same time he didnot suggest the renomination of Franklin Pierce. This, of course, disclosed his own ambition, and as Hawthorne's impartial pen-and-inksketch of him may not be recognized by many readers, on account of theform in which it appears in the note-books, we append it here, with theregret that Hawthorne could not have treated his friend Pierce in anequally candid manner. 

"I like Mr. --. He cannot exactly be called gentlemanly in his manners, there being a sort of rusticity about him; moreover, he has a habit ofsquinting one eye, and an awkward carriage of his head; but, withal, adignity in his large person, and a consciousness of high position andimportance, which give him ease and freedom. Very simple and frank inhis address, he may be as crafty as other diplomatists are said to be;but I see only good sense and plainness of speech, --appreciative, too, and genial enough to make himself conversable. He talked very freely ofhimself and of other public people, and of American and Englishaffairs. He returns to America, he says, next October, and then retiresforever from public life. "

A certain amount of rusticity would seem to have been essential to apresidential candidate during the middle of the past century. 

During this dismal winter Hawthorne was beset more than ever, bynautical mendicants of all countries, --Hungarians, Poles, Cubans, Spanish Americans, and French Republicans, who, unhappily for him, haddiscovered that the American consul was a tender-hearted man. He had, beside, to deal with a number of difficult cases of maltreated Americansailors, --the more difficult, because both parties to the suits weregreatly given to lying, even on occasions when it would have been moreexpedient for them to tell the truth. He has recorded one such in hisdiary, that deserves more than a superficial consideration. 

An American bark was on the point of sailing, when the captain castashore a bruised and battered-looking man, who made his way painfullyto the consulate, and begged Hawthorne for a permit to be placed in thehospital. He called himself the son of a South Carolina farmer, andstated that he had gone on board this vessel with a load of farmproducts, but had been impressed by the captain for the voyage, and hadbeen so maltreated, that he thought he would die, --and so he did, notlong afterward, at the hospital. Letters were found upon him, substantiating the statement concerning his father, but it wasdiscovered, from the same source, that he was a jail-bird, and thetattooed figures upon his arms showed that he had been a sailor of manyyears' standing, although he had denied this to the consul. Hawthornespeaks of him as an innocent man, the victim of criminal brutalitylittle less than murder; it is certainly difficult to account for suchsevere ill-treatment, but the man was clearly a bad character, and itis also true that sea-captains do not interfere with their deck-handswithout some kind of provocation. The man clung desperately to life upto the last moment, and the letters he carried with him indicated thathe was more intelligent than the average of the nautical fraternity. 

In June, Hawthorne went with his family to Leamington, of which heafterward published an account in the _Atlantic Monthly_, criticised at the time for the manner in which he referred to Englishladies, as "covering a large area of Nature's foot-stool"; but thiselement in Hawthorne's English writing has already been considered. From Leamington he went, early in July, to the English lakes, especially Windermere, and fortunately found time to thoroughly enjoythem. He enjoyed them not only for their scenery, which he preferred tothat of New England, but also as illustrations to many descriptivepassages in Wordsworth's poetry, which serves the same purpose in theguidebook of that region, as "Childe Harold" serves in the guidebooksfor Italy and Greece. Hawthorne also was interested in such places forthe sake of their associations. He describes Wordsworth's house, thegrounds about it, and the cemetery where he lies, with the accuracy ofa scientific report. He finds the grass growing too high about thehead-stone of Wordsworth's grave, and plucks it away with his ownhands, reflecting that it may have drawn its nourishment from hismortal remains. We may suppose that he preserved this grass, and it isonly from such incidental circumstances that we discover who wereHawthorne's favorites among poets and other distinguished writers. Hetwice visited Wordsworth's grave. 

Their first two winters in Liverpool had not proved favorable to Mrs. Hawthorne's health She had contracted a disorder in her throat from theprevailing dampness, which threatened to become chronic, and herhusband felt that it would not be prudent for her to remain thereanother winter. He thought of resigning and returning to America. Thenhe thought of exchanging his consulship for one in southern Europe, although the salaries of the more southern consulates were hardlysufficient to support a married man. Then he thought of exchangingplaces with O'Sullivan, but he hardly knew languages well enough for anambassador. The doctors, however, had advised Mrs. Hawthorne to spend awinter at Madeira, and she courageously solved the problem by proposingto go there alone with her daughters, for which Lisbon and O'Sullivanwould serve as a stepping-stone by the way. There are wives who wouldprefer such an expedition to spending a winter in England with theirhusbands, but Mrs. Hawthorne was not of that mould, and in her case itwas a brave thing to do. 

Accordingly, on the second Monday in October, Mrs. Hawthorne and hertwo daughters sailed for Lisbon. She was presented at court there;concerning which occasion she wrote a lengthy and very interestingaccount to her husband, published in her son's biography. The King ofPortugal held a long conversation with her and Minister O'Sullivan, andshe describes him as dressed in a flamboyant manner, --a scarletuniform, lavishly ornamented with diamonds. With how much better tastedid the Empress of Austria receive the President of the FrenchRepublic, --in a simple robe of black velvet, fastened at her throatwith a diamond brooch. One can envy Mrs. Hawthorne a winter at Madeira, for there is no place in Europe pleasanter for that purpose, unless itbe Rome. Meanwhile, her husband spent the winter with his son (who wasnow old enough to be trusted safely about the streets), at a sea-captains' boarding-house in Liverpool. There, as in Salem, he felthimself most companionable in such company, as he had been accustomedto it from boyhood; and it appears that at this time he was in thehabit of composing fables for the entertainment of Julian, not unlikethe yarns which sailors often spin to beguile landsmen. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 75. ]

Hawthorne found his third winter in Liverpool dismal enough without hiswife and the two little girls, and this feeling was considerablyincreased by his dislike for the sea-captains' boarding-house keeper, [Footnote: English Note-book, November 28, 1855. ]with whom he wasliving, and concerning whom he remarks, that a woman in England "iseither decidedly a lady or decidedly not. " She would not have annoyedhim so much, had it not been for "her bustle, affectation, intensity, and pretension of literary taste. " The race of landladies containscurious specimens, although we have met with some who were real ladiesnevertheless. Thackeray's description of a French boarding-house keeperin "The Adventures of Philip" goes to every heart. Hawthorne writesmuch in his diary, at this juncture, of his friend Francis Bennoch, whoclearly did the best he could, as a man and a brother, to make lifecheerful for his American friend; a true, sturdy, warm-heartedEnglishman. 

Christmas was celebrated at Mrs. Blodgett's, after the fashion of asecond-rate English house of entertainment. The servants hung mistletoeabout in various places, and woe to the unlucky wight that was caughtunder it. Hawthorne presents an amusing picture of his boy Julian, nineyears old, struggling against the endearments of a chamber-maid, andbelieves that he himself was the only male person in the house thatescaped. [Footnote: English Note-book, December, 1855. ]If any man wouldbe sure to escape that benediction, he would have been the one; for noone could be more averse to public demonstrations of affection. 

Hawthorne was witness to a curious strategic manœuvre between PresidentPierce and Minister Buchanan, which, however, he was not sufficientlyfamiliar with practical politics to perceive the full meaning of. Onthe way to Southampton with his wife in October, they called onBuchanan in London, and were not only civilly but kindly received. Mrs. Hawthorne wished to view the Houses of Parliament while they were insession, and the ambassador made a knot in his handkerchief, so as tobe sure to remember his promise to her. He informed Hawthorne at thattime of his desire to return to America, but stated that the Presidenthad just written to him, requesting him to remain until April, althoughhe was determined not to do so. He excused himself on the plea of oldage, and Hawthorne seems to have had a suspicion of the insincerity ofthis, but concluded on reflection not to harbor it. Pierce knew alreadythat Buchanan was his most dangerous rival for renomination, anddesired that he should remain as far off as possible; while Buchananwas aware that, if he intended to be on the ground, he must not returnso late as to attract public attention. There were so many presidentialaspirants that Pierce may have found it difficult to supply Buchanan'splace, for the time being. 

Buchanan delayed a respectful length of time, and then handed in hisresignation. His successor, George M. Dallas, arrived at Liverpoolduring the second week of March, and Hawthorne who does not mention himby name, called upon him at once, and gives us this valuable portraitof him. 

"The ambassador is a venerable old gentleman, with a full head ofperfectly white hair, looking not unlike an old-fashioned wig; andthis, together with his collarless white neckcloth and his brown coat, gave him precisely such an aspect as one would expect in a respectableperson of pre-revolutionary days. There was a formal simplicity, too, in his manners, that might have belonged to the same era. He must havebeen a very handsome man in his youthful days, and is now comely, veryerect, moderately tall, not overburdened with flesh; of benign andagreeable address, with a pleasant smile; but his eyes, which are notvery large, impressed me as sharp and cold. He did not at all stamphimself upon me as a man of much intellectual or characteristic vigor. I found no such matter in his conversation, nor did I feel it in theindefinable way by which strength always makes itself acknowledged. Buchanan, though somehow plain and uncouth, yet vindicates himself as alarge man of the world, able, experienced, fit to handle difficultcircumstances of life, dignified, too, and able to hold his own in anysociety. " [Footnote: English Note-book, March, 1856. ]

Morton McMichael, whose statue now stands in Fairmount Park, oncerelated this incident concerning Dallas, at a meeting of thePhiladelphia Hock Club. Somewhere about 1850 Dallas was invited todeliver a 4th of July oration at Harrisburg, where McMichael was alsorequested to read the Declaration of Independence. McMichael performedhis part of the ceremony, and sat down; then Dallas arose and thankedthe assembly for honoring him with such an invitation, but confessed tosome difficulty in considering what he should say, for an occasionwhich had been celebrated by so many famous orators; but that a fewnights since, while he was lying awake, it occurred to him what heshould say to them. After this he proceeded to read his address from anewspaper printed in 1841, which the audience could not see, but whichMcMichael, from his position on the platform, could see perfectly well. 

Hawthorne's description suggests a man somewhat like this; but theopinion of the Hock Club was that Dallas was not greatly to blame; forhow could any man make two distinct and original 4th of July orations?

The 1st of April 1856, Hawthorne and Bennoch set off on a bachelorexpedition of their own, first to visit Tupper at Albany, as has beenalready related, and then going to view a muster of British troops atAldershot; thence to Battle Abbey, which Hawthorne greatly admired, andthe field of Hastings, where England's greatness began in defeat. Hedoes not mention the battle, however, in his diary, and it may beremarked that, generally, Hawthorne felt little interest in historicalsubjects. After this, they went to London, where Bennoch introducedHawthorne at the Milton Club and the Reform Club. At the former, heagain encountered Martin F. Tupper, and became acquainted with TomTaylor, the editor of _Punch_, as well as other writers andeditors, of whom he had not previously heard. The Club was by no meansMiltonic, and one would suppose not exactly the place where Hawthornewould find himself much at home. Neither were the proceedingsaltogether in good taste. Bennoch opened the ball with a highlyeulogistic speech about Hawthorne, and was followed by some fiftyothers in a similar strain, so that the unfortunate incumbent must havewished that the earth would open and let him down to the shades ofnight below. On such an occasion, even a feather weight becomes aburden. Oh, for a boy, with a tin horn!

Neither did Hawthorne apparently find his peers at the Reform Club. Douglas Jerrold, who reminded him somewhat of Ellery Channing, was themost notable writer he met there. There was, however, very littlespeech-making, and plenty of good conversation. Unfortunately, heoffended Jerrold, by using the word "acrid" as applied to his writing, instead of some other word, which he could not think of at the moment. The difficulty, however, was made up over a fresh bottle of Burgundy, and with the help of Hawthorne's unlimited good-will, so that theyparted excellent friends, and much the better for having known eachother. Either Jerrold or some other present told Hawthorne that theEnglish aristocracy, for the most part hated, despised, and feared menof literary genius. Is it not much the same in America?

After these two celebrations, and attending the Lord Mayor's banquet, where he admired the beautiful Jewess whom he has described as Miriamin "The Marble Faun, " Hawthorne returned to Liverpool; and early in Maytook another recess, with a Mr. Bowman, to York, Edinburgh, theTrossachs, Abbotsford, and all the haunts of Scott and Burns; with hisaccount of which a large portion of the second volume of English Note-books is filled; so that, if Scotland should sink into the sea, as aportion is already supposed to have done in antediluvian times, allthose places could be reconstructed through Hawthorne's description ofthem. 

This expedition lasted nearly three weeks, and on June 12 Hawthornereceived word that his wife, with Una and Rose, had already landed atSouthampton. He hastened at once to meet them, greatly rejoiced to findMrs. Hawthorne entirely restored to health. They had been separated formore than seven months. 

They first proceeded to Salisbury, to see the cathedral andStonehenge, --the former, very impressive externally, but not sosatisfactory within; and the latter, a work of man emerging out ofNature. Then they went to London, to enjoy the June season, and see theregular course of sights in that huge metropolis. They visited St. Paul's, the Tower, Guildhall, the National Gallery, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, and the Houses of Parliament, apparently finding asmuch satisfaction in this conventional occupation as they did in thesocial entertainments of London. At the house of Mr. S. C. Hall, anoted entertainer of those days, Hawthorne became acquainted with themost celebrated singer of her time, or perhaps of all time; namely, Jenny Lind. No modern orator has held such a sway over the hearts ofmen and women, as that Swedish nightingale, --for the purity of hervoice seemed no more than the emanation of her lofty nature. Hawthornedescribes her as a frank, sincere person, rather tall, --certainly nobeauty, but with sense and self-reliance in her aspect and manners. Sheimmediately gave Hawthorne an illustration of her frankness bycomplaining of the unhealthy manner in which Americans, and especiallyAmerican women, lived. This seems like a prosaic subject for such aperson, but it was natural enough; for a concert singer has to livelike a race-horse, and this would be what would constantly strike herattention in a foreign country. Hawthorne rallied to the support of hiscountrywomen, and believed that they were, on the whole, as healthy andlong-lived as Europeans. This may be so now, but there has been greatimprovement in the American mode of living, during the past fiftyyears, and we can imagine that Jenny Lind often found it difficult toobtain such food as she required. 

That she should have requested an introduction to Hawthorne issignificant of her interest in American literature, and suggests ataste as refined and elevated as her music. 

It was on Hawthorne's wedding-day this happened, and a few days laterhe was invited to a select company at Monckton Milnes's, which includedMacaulay, the Brownings, and Professor Ticknor. He found both theBrownings exceedingly pleasant and accessible, but was somewhatstartled to find that Mrs. Browning was a believer in spiritism--notsuch a sound and healthy intelligence as the author of "Middle-march, "and he might have been still more so, if he had known that she and herhusband were ardent admirers of Louis Napoleon. That was somethingwhich an American in those days could not quite understand. However, hefound her an exceedingly pleasant companion. After dinner they lookedover several volumes of autographs, in which Oliver Cromwell's was theonly one that would to-day be more valuable than Hawthorne's own. 

A breakfast at Monckton Milnes's usually included the reading of a copyof verses of his own composition, but perhaps he had not yet reachedthat stage on the present occasion. 

Hawthorne heard such varied and conflicting accounts of Charles Dickensthat he hardly knew whether he would like to meet him or not. He wantedto see Tennyson when he was at the Isle of Wight, but feared that hisvisit might be looked on as an intrusion, by a person who lived soretired a life, --judging perhaps from his own experience. While atWindermere he paused for a moment in front of Harriet Martineau'scottage, but on second thought he concluded to leave the good deaf ladyin peace. 

Conway speaks of Hawthorne's social life in England as a failure; butfailure suggests an effort in some direction or other, and Hawthornemade no social efforts. Being lionized was not his business. He hadseen enough of it during the London season of 1856, and after that heretired into his domestic shell, cultivating the acquaintance of hiswife and children more assiduously than ever, so that even his twofaithful allies, Bright and Bennoch, found it difficult to withdraw himfrom it. Watching the development of a fine child is much moresatisfactory than any course of fashionable entertainments--even thanLowell's twenty-nine dinner-parties in the month of June. Nothingbecomes more tedious than long-continued pleasure-seeking, with post-prandial speeches and a constant effort to be agreeable. 

Hawthorne remained in England fully seventeen months after this, andmade a number of excursions; especially one to Oxford, where he and hisfamily were dined by a former mayor of the city, and where he greatlyadmired the broad verdant grounds and Gothic architecture of thecolleges; and also a second journey to Edinburgh and the Trossachs, undertaken for the benefit of Mrs. Hawthorne and Una. But we hear nomore of him in London society, and it only remains for us to chroniclehis exceptional kindness to an unfortunate American woman. 

It seems strange that the first doubt in regard to the authorship ofShakespeare should have originated on this side of the Atlantic. IfDante was a self-educated poet, there seems no good reason whyShakespeare should not have been; and if the greatest of French writersearned his living as an actor, why should not the greatest of Englishwriters have done the same? That would seem to be much more in harmonywith the central idea of American life--the principle of self-helpfulness; but this is a skeptical epoch, and the tendency of ourpolitical institutions is toward skepticism of character and distrustof tradition. Hence we have Delia Bacon, Holmes, and Donnelly. 

Hawthorne has given future generations an account of Delia Bacon, whichwill endure as the portrait of a gifted and interesting woman, divertedfrom the normal channels of feminine activity by the force of a singleidea; but he makes no mention of his efforts in her behalf. He foundher in the lodgings of a London tradesman, and although she receivedhim in a pleasant and lady-like manner, he quickly perceived that hermind was in an abnormal condition, and that it was positively dangerousto discuss her favorite topic in a rational manner. He had a feelingthat the least opposition on his part to the Baconian theory wouldresult in his expulsion from the room, yet he found her conversationinteresting, and recognized that if her conclusions were erroneous shehad nevertheless unearthed valuable historic material, which ought tobe given to the world. He loaned her money, which he did not expect tobe repaid, and exerted himself to find a publisher for her, recollecting perhaps the vows he had made to the gods in the days ofhis own obscurity. He mentions in his diary calling on the Rutledgesfor this purpose--where he saw Charles Reade, a tall, strong-lookingman, just leaving the office. He also wrote to Ticknor & Fields, andfinally did get Miss Bacon's volume brought out in London. The criticstreated it in a contemptuous manner, as a desecration of Shakespeare'smemory; and Hawthorne was prepared for this, but it opened a new era inEnglish bibliography. Shortly after the publication of her book MissBacon became insane. 

To many this appeared like a Quixotic adventure, but now we can seethat it was not, and that it was necessary in its way to prove thegenerosity of Hawthorne. We can readily infer from it what he mighthave done with ampler means, and what he must often have wished to do. To be sure, the truest kindness to Delia Bacon would have been to havepurchased a ticket on a Cunard steamer for her, after her own funds hadgiven out, and to have persuaded her to return to her own country; butthose who have dealt with persons whose whole vitality is absorbed in asingle idea, can testify how difficult, if not impossible, this wouldhave been. It redounds the more to Hawthorne's credit that althoughElizabeth Peabody was converted to Delia Bacon's theory, Hawthornehimself never entertained misgivings as to the reality of Shakespeareas a poet and a dramatist. 

He had doubts, however, and I felt the same in regard to theauthenticity of the verses on Shakespeare's marble slab. It isfortunate that Miss Bacon's purpose of opening the tomb at Stratfordwas not carried out, but that is no reason why it should not be openedin a properly conducted manner, for scientific purposes--in order todiscover all that is possible concerning so remarkable and mysterious apersonality. Raphael's tomb has been opened, and why should notShakespeare's be also?

At the Democratic convention in 1856 the Southern delegates wished torenominate Franklin Pierce, but the Northern delegates refused theiragreement to this, because they knew that in such a case they would beliable to defeat in their own districts. James Buchanan was accordinglynominated, and Pierce's fears in regard to him were fully realized. Hewas elected in November, and the following June appointed BeverlyTucker to succeed Hawthorne as consul at Liverpool. Hawthorne resignedhis office on July 1, 1857, and went with his family on a long tour inScotland. Two weeks earlier he had written a memorial to the Secretaryof State concerning the maltreatment of a special class of seamen, which deserved more consideration than it received from the governmentat Washington. 

The gold discoveries in California had induced a large immigration toAmerica from the British Isles, and many who went thither in hopes ofbettering their fortunes became destitute from lack of employment, andattempted to work their passage back to Liverpool in American sailingvessels. It is likely that they often represented themselves as moreexperienced mariners than they actually were, and there were also agood many stowaways who might expect little mercy; but there was nocourt in England that could take cognizance of their wrongs, --in orderto obtain justice they would have to return to America, --and it cannotbe doubted that the more brutal sort of officers took advantage of thisfact. The evil became so notorious that the British minister atWashington requested Pierce's administration to have legislationenacted that would cover this class of cases, but the Presidentdeclined to interfere. This may have been prudent policy, but Hawthornefelt for the sufferers, and the memorial that he submitted to ourgovernment on their account has a dignity, a clearness and cogency ofstatement, worthy of Blackstone or Marshall. It is in marked contrastto the evasive reply of Secretary Cass, both for its fine English andfor the directness of its logic. It is published at length in JulianHawthorne's biography of his father, and is unique for the insightwhich it affords as to Hawthorne's mental ability in this direction. Wemay infer from it that if he had made a study of jurisprudence, hemight have risen to the highest position as a writer on law. 

Hawthorne's English Note-books are the least interesting of thatseries, on account of the literal descriptions of castles, abbeys, scenery and palaces, with which they abound. The perfectly cultivatedcondition of England and Scotland, so far as he went in the lattercountry, is not stimulating to the imagination; for, as he sayssomewhere, even the trees seemed to be thoroughly domesticated. Theyare excellent reading for Americans who have never been to England, orfor those who wish to renew their memories in regard to certain placesthere--perhaps better for the latter than for the former; and there arefine passages in them, especially his descriptions of the old abbeysand Gothic cathedrals, which seem to have delighted him more than thegardens at Blenheim and Eton, and to have brought to the surface a rarequality in his nature, or otherwise hidden in its depths, --hisenthusiasm. Never before did words fail him until he attempted todescribe the effect of a Gothic cathedral, --the time-honored mystery ofits arches, the sober radiance of its stained windows, and the solemnaspiration of its lofty vault. As Schiller says, they are the monumentsof a mighty civilization of which we know only too little. 

Hawthorne's object in writing these detailed accounts of his variousexpeditions becomes apparent from a passage in his Note-book, of thedate of August 21, 1856, in which he says: "In my English romance, anAmerican might bring a certain tradition from over the sea, and sodiscover the cross which had been long since forgotten. " It may havebeen his intention from the first to write a romance based on Englishsoil, but that soil was no longer productive of such intellectualfruit, except in the form in which Dickens dug it up, like peat, out ofthe lower classes. We find Francis Bennoch writing to Hawthorne afterhis return to America, [Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 310. ] hoping toencourage him in this direction, but without apparent effect. Insteadof a romance, he made a collection of essays from those portions of hisdiary which were most closely connected together, enlarging them androunding them out, which he published after his return to America, inthe volume we have often referred to as "Our Old Home. " But as truthfulstudies of English life and manners Mrs. Hawthorne's letters, thoughnot always sensible, are much more interesting than her husband'sdiary. 

When Doctor Johnson was inquired of by a lady why he defined "pastern"in his Dictionary as the knee of a horse, he replied, "Ignorance, madam, pure ignorance;" and if Hawthorne had been asked a yearafterwards why he went to Scotland in the summer of 1857, instead of tothe Rhine and Switzerland, he might have given a similar excuse. Inthis way he missed the grandest and some of the most beautiful sceneryin Europe. He could not, however, have been ignorant of the attractionsof Paris, and yet he lingered in England until the following January, and then went over to that metropolis of fashion at a most unseasonabletime. He had, indeed, planned to leave England in October, [Footnote:English Note-book, December, 1857. ] and does not explain why heremained longer. He made a last visit to London in November, where hebecame reconciled to his fellow-townsmen of Salem, in the person ofEdward Silsbee, of whom he writes as "a man of great intelligence andtrue feeling, absolutely brimming over with ideas. " Mr. Silsbee was anamateur art critic and connoisseur, who often made himself serviceableto American travellers in the way of a gentleman-cicerone. He went withthe Hawthorne family to the Crystal Palace, where there were casts ofall famous statues, models of architecture, and the like, and gaveHawthorne his first lesson in art criticism. Hawthorne indicated apreference for Michel Angelo's statue of Giuliano dé Medici, called "IlPensero;" also for the "Perseus" of Cellini, and the Gates of theFlorentine Baptistery by Lorenzo Ghiberti. If we except the otherstatues of Michel Angelo, these are the most distinguished works insculpture of the modern world. 

CHAPTER XIV

ITALY

Hawthorne went to Italy as naturally as the salmon ascends the riversin spring. His artistic instinct drew him thither as the original homeof modern art and literature, and perhaps also his interest in theLatin language, the single study which he cared for in boyhood. Doesnot romance come originally from Roma, --as well as Romulus? He wishedto stand where Cæsar stood, to behold the snowy Soracte of Horace, andto read Virgil's description of an Italian night on Italian ground. Itis noticeable that he cared little or nothing for the splendors ofParis, the glittering peaks of Switzerland, medical-musical Vienna, orthe grand scholarship and homely sweetness of old Germany. 

Of all the Anglo-Saxon writers who have celebrated Italy, Byron, Shelley, Rogers, Ruskin and the two Brownings, none were more admirablyequipped for it than Hawthorne. We cannot read "The Romance of MonteBeni" without recognizing a decidedly Italian element in hiscomposition, --not the light-hearted, subtle, elastic, fiery Italian, such as we are accustomed to think them, but the tenderly feeling, terribly earnest Tuscan, like Dante and Savonarola. The myrtle and thecypress are both emblematic of Italian character, and there was more ofthe latter than the former, though something of either, in Hawthorne'sown make-up. 

The Hawthornes left London on January 6, and, reaching Paris thefollowing day, they made themselves comfortable at the Hotel du Louvre. However, they only remained there one week, during which it was so coldthat they saw little and enjoyed little. They went to Notre Dame, theLouvre, the Madeleine, and the Champs Elysees, but without beinggreatly impressed by what they beheld. Hawthorne does not mention asingle painting or statue among the art treasures of the Louvre, whichif rivalled elsewhere are certainly unsurpassed; but Hawthorne beganhis studies in this line by an examination of the drawings of the oldmasters, and confesses that he was afterward too much fatigued toappreciate their finished paintings. 

On January 19 they reached Marseilles, and two days later they embarkedon that dreary winter voyage, so pleasant at an earlier season, forCivita Vecchia; and on the 20th they rolled into the Eternal City, withsuch sensations as one may imagine. On the 24th they located themselvesfor the season in the Palazzo Larazani, Via Porta Pinciana. [Footnote. Italian Note-book. ]

_Nemo similis Homeri_. --There is nothing like the charm of a firstvisit to Rome. The first sight of the Forum, with its single patheticcolumn, brings us back to our school-days, to the study of Cæsar andthe reading of Plutarch; and the intervening period drops out of ourlives, taking all our care and anxiety with it. In England, France, Germany, we feel the weight of the present, but in Rome the present islike a glass window through which we view the grand procession of pastevents. What _is_, becomes of less importance than what was, andfor the first time we feel the true sense of our indebtedness to theages that have gone before. We bathe deep in the spirit of classicalantiquity, and we come out refreshed, enlarged and purified. We returnto the actualities of to-day with a clearer understanding, and betterprepared to act our part in them. 

Hawthorne did not feel this at first. He arrived in inclement weather, and it was some weeks before he became accustomed to the climaticconditions--so different from any northern atmosphere. He hated thefilth of the much-neglected city, the squalor of its lower classes, thenarrowness of its streets, and the peculiar pavement, which, as he saysmakes walking in Rome a penitential pilgrimage. He goes to thecarnival, and his penetrating glance proves it to be a shamentertainment. 

But in due course he emerges from this mood; he rejoices in theatmospheric immensity of St. Peter's; he looks out from the Pincianhill, and sees _Nivea Soracte_ as Horace beheld it; and he isoverawed (if Hawthorne could be) by the Forum of Trajan and the Columnof Antoninus. He makes a great discovery, or rediscovery, thatPhidias's colossal statues of Castor and Pollux on the Monte Cavalloare the finest figures in Rome. They are late Roman copies, butprobably from Phidias, --not by Lysippus or Praxiteles; and he felt thepresence of Michel Angelo in the Baths of Diocletian. It is not longbefore he goes to the Pincian in the afternoon to play at jack-stoneswith his youngest daughter. 

William W. Story, the American sculptor, would seem to have been aformer acquaintance. His father, the famous law lecturer, lived inSalem during Hawthorne's youth, but afterward removed to Cambridge, where the younger Story was educated, and there married an intimatefriend of Mrs. James Russell Lowell. This brought him into closerelations with Lowell, Longfellow, and their most intimate friends. Hewas something of a poet, and more of a sculptor, but, inheriting anindependent fortune and living in the Barberini Palace, he soon becamemore of an Englishman than an American, a tendency which was visiblyincreased by a patent of nobility bestowed on him by the King ofNaples. 

Hawthorne soon renewed William Story's acquaintance, and found himmodelling the statue of Cleopatra, of which Hawthorne has given asomewhat idealized description in "The Marble Faun. " This may haveinterested him the more from the fact that he witnessed its developmentunder the sculptor's hands, and saw that distinguished historicalperson emerge as it were out of the clay, like a second Eve; but hemakes a mental reservation that it would be better if English andAmerican sculptors would make a freer use of their chisels--of whichmore hereafter. Story was a light-hearted, discursive person, with alarge amount of bric-à-brac information, who could appreciate Hawthorneeither as a genius or as a celebrity. He soon became Hawthorne's chiefcompanion and social mainstay in Rome, literally a _vade mecum_, and we may believe that he exercised more or less influence overHawthorne's judgment in matters of art. 

Hawthorne listened to Story, and read Mrs. Jameson, although EdwardSilsbee had warned him against her as an uncertain authority; butHawthorne depended chiefly on his own investigations. He and his wifedeclined an invitation to Mrs. Story's masquerade, and lived veryquietly during this first winter in Rome, making few acquaintances, butseeing a good deal of the city. They went together to all the principalchurches and the princely galleries; and beside this Hawthornetraversed Rome from one end to the other, and across in everydirection, sometimes alone, or in company with Julian, investigatingeverything from the Mamartine prison, in which Jugurtha was starved, tothe catacombs of St. Calixtus and the buffaloes on the Campagna. Theimpression which Conway gives, that he went about sight-seeing anddrinking sour wine with Story and Lothrop Motley, is not quite correct, for Motley did not come to Rome until the following December, and thenonly met Hawthorne a few times, according to his own confession. [Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 406. ] We must not forget, however, thatexcellent lady and skilful astronomer, Miss Maria Mitchell, who joinedthe Hawthorne party in Paris, and became an indispensable accompanimentto them the rest of the winter. 

Hawthorne also became acquainted with Buchanan Read, who afterwardpainted that stirring picture of General Sheridan galloping to thebattle of Cedar Run; and on March 12 Mr. Read gave a party, at hisRoman dwelling, of painters and sculptors, which Hawthorne attended, and has entered in full, with the moonlight excursion afterward, in"The Marble Faun. " There Hawthorne met Gibson, to whom he refers as themost distinguished sculptor of the time. So he was, in England, butthere were much better sculptors in France and in Germany. Gibson'spersonality interested Hawthorne, as it well might, but he saw clearlythat Gibson was merely a skilful imitator of the antique, or, as hecalls him, a pagan idealist. He also made acquaintance with twoAmerican sculptors, a Yankee and a girlish young woman, whose names areprudently withheld; for he afterward visited their studios, and readilydiscovered that they had no real talent for their profession. 

If we feel inclined to quarrel with Hawthorne anywhere, it is in hisdisparagement of Crawford. There might be two opinions in regard to theslavery question, but there never has been but one as to the greatestof American artists. It was a pity that his friend Hillard could nothave been with Hawthorne at this time to counteract the jealousinfluences to which he was exposed. He writes no word of regret at theuntimely death of Crawford, but goes into his studio after that sadevent and condemns his work. Only the _genre_ figure of a boyplaying marbles, gives him any satisfaction there; although a plea ofextenuation might be entered in Hawthorne's favor, for statues ofheroic size could not be seen to greater disadvantage than when packedtogether in a studio. The immense buttons on the waistcoats of ourrevolutionary heroes seem to have startled him on his first entrance, and this may be accepted as an indication of the rest. Yet the tone ofhis criticism, both in the "Note-book" and in "The Marble Faun, " is farfrom friendly to Crawford. He does not refer to the statue ofBeethoven, which was Crawford's masterpiece, nor to the statue ofLiberty, which now poses on the lantern of the Capitol at Washington, --much too beautiful, as Hartmann says, for its elevated position, andsuperior in every respect to the French statue of Liberty in New Yorkharbor. 

Hawthorne had already come to the conclusion that there was a certaindegree of poison in the Roman atmosphere, and in April he found theclimate decidedly languid, but he had fallen in love with this pagancapital and he hated to leave it. Mrs. Anna Jameson arrived late inApril; a sturdy, warm-hearted Englishwoman greatly devoted to art, forwhich her books served as elementary treatises and pioneers to theEnglish and Americans of those days. She was so anxious to meetHawthorne that she persuaded William Story to bring him and his wife toher lodgings when she was too ill to go forth. They had read eachother's writings and could compliment each other in all sincerity, forMrs. Jameson had also an excellent narrative style; but Hawthorne foundher rather didactic, and although she professed to be able "to read apicture like a book, " her conversation was by no means brilliant. Shehad contracted an unhappy marriage early in life, and found an escapefrom her sorrows and regrets in this elevated interest. 

It was just before leaving Rome that Hawthorne conceived the idea of aromance in which the "Faun" of Praxiteles should come to life, and playa characteristic part in the modern world; the catastrophe naturallyresulting from his coming into conflict with a social organization forwhich he was unfitted. This portion of Hawthorne's diary is intenselyinteresting to those who have walked on classic ground. 

On May 24 Hawthorne commenced his journey to Florence with a_vetturino_ by easy stages, and one can cordially envy him thisportion of his Italian sojourn; with his devoted wife and three happychildren; travelling through some of the most beautiful scenery in theworld, --nearly if not quite equal to the Rhineland--without even thesmallest cloud of care and anxiety upon his sky, his mind stored withmighty memories, and looking forward with equal expectations to theprospect before him, --_bella Firenze_, the treasure-house ofItalian cities; through sunny valleys, with their streams and hill-sides winding seaward; up the precipitous spurs of the Apennines, withtheir old baronial castles perched like vultures' nests on inaccessiblecrags; passing through gloomy, tortuous defiles, guarded by Romanstrongholds; and then drawn up by white bullocks over Monte Somma, andto the mountain cities of Assisi and Perugia, older than Rome itself;by Lake Trasimenus, still ominous of the name of Hannibal; over hill-sides silver-gray with olive orchards; always a fresh view and a newpanorama, bounded by the purple peaks on the horizon; and over all, thetender blue of the Italian sky. Hawthorne may have felt that his wholeprevious life, all he had struggled, lived and suffered for, was but apreparation for this one week of perfectly harmonious existence. Suchvacations from earthly troubles come but rarely in the most fortunatelives, and are never of long duration. 

When they reached Florence, they found it, as Rose Hawthorne says, veryhot--much too hot to enjoy the city as it should be enjoyed. Herreminiscences of their life at Florence, and especially of the VillaManteüto, have a charming freshness and virginal simplicity, althoughwritten in a somewhat high-flown manner. She succeeds, in spite of herpeculiar style, in giving a distinct impression of the old chateau, itssurroundings, the life her family led there, and of the wonderful viewfrom Bellosguardo. One feels that beneath the disguise of a fashionabledress there is an innocent, sympathetic, and pure-spirited nature. 

The Hawthornes arrived in Florence on the afternoon of June 3, andspent the first night at the Albergo della Fontano, and the next dayobtained apartments in the Casa del Bello, opposite Hiram Powers'studio, and just outside of the Porta Romana. Hawthorne made Mr. Powers' acquaintance even before he entered the city, and Powers soonbecame to him what Story had been in Rome. The Brownings were alreadyat Casa Guidi, --still noted in the annals of English poesy, --and calledupon the Hawthornes at the first notice of their arrival. Alacrity orreadiness would seem to have been one of Robert Browning's prominentcharacteristics. Elizabeth Browning's mind was as much occupied withspiritism as when Hawthorne met her two years previously at MoncktonMilnes's breakfast; an unfortunate proclivity for a person of frailphysique and delicate nerves. Neither did she live very long afterthis. Her husband and Hawthorne both cordially disapproved of thesemesmeric practices; but Mrs. Browning could not be prevented fromtalking on the subject, and this evidently produced an ecstatic andfebrile condition of mind in her, very wearing to a poetic temperament. Hawthorne heartily liked Browning himself, and always speaks well ofhim; but there must also have been an undercurrent of disagreementbetween him and so ardent an admirer of Louis Napoleon, and he recallslittle or nothing of what Browning said to him. This continued till thelast of June, when Robert and Elizabeth left Florence for coolerregions. 

Meanwhile Hawthorne occupied himself seriously with seeing Florence andstudying art, like a man who intends to get at the root of the matter. Florence afforded better advantages than Rome for the study of art, notonly from the superiority of its collections, but because there thedevelopment of mediaeval art can be traced to its fountain-source. Hehad no textbooks to guide him, --at least he does not refer to any, --andhis investigations were consequently of rather an irregular kind, butit was evidently the subject which interested him most deeply at thistime. His Note-book is full of it, and also of discussions on sculpturewith Hiram Powers, in which Hawthorne has frequently the best of theargument. 

In fact Powers looked upon his art from much too literal a stand-point. He agreed with Hawthorne as to the fine expression of the face ofMichel Angelo's "Giuliano dé Medici, " [Footnote: As Hawthorne did notprepare his diary for publication, it would not be fair to hold himresponsible for the many instances of bad Italian in the Note-book, which ought to have been edited by some one who knew the language. ] butaffirmed that it was owing to a trick of overshadowing the face by theprojecting visor of Giuliano's helmet. Hawthorne did not see why such adevice did not come within the range of legitimate art, the truth ofthe matter being that Michel Angelo left the face unfinished; but theexpression of the statue is not in its face, but in the inclination ofthe head, the position of the arms, the heavy droop of the armor, andin fact in the whole figure. Powers' "Greek Slave, " on the contrary, though finely modelled and sufficiently modern in type, has no definiteexpression whatever. 

Hawthorne found an exceptional interest in the "Venus dé Medici, " nowsupposed to have been the work of one of the sons of Praxiteles, andits wonderful symmetry gives it a radiance like that of the sun behinda summer cloud; but Powers cooled down his enthusiasm by objecting tothe position of the ears, the vacancy of the face, the misrepresentationof the inner surface of the lips, and by condemning particularly thestructure of the eyes, which he declared were such as no human beingcould see with. [Footnote: Italian Note-book, June 13, 1858. ] Hawthornewas somewhat puzzled by these subtleties of criticism, which he did notknow very well how to answer, but he still held fast to the opinion thathe was fundamentally right, and retaliated by criticising Powers' ownstatues in his diary. 

The Greeks, in the best period of their favorite art, never attempted aliteral reproduction of the human figure. Certain features, like thenostrils, were merely indicated; others, like the eyelashes, often soexpressive in woman, were omitted altogether; hair and drapery weretreated in a schematic manner. In order to give an expression to theeyes, various devices were resorted to. The eyelids of the bust ofPericles on the Acropolis had bevelled edges, and the eyeballs of the"Apollo Belvedere" are exceptionally convex, to produce the effect oflooking to a distance, although the human eye when gazing afar offbecomes slightly contracted. The head of the "Venus dé Medici" isfinely shaped, but small, and her features are pretty, rather thanbeautiful; but her eyes are exceptional among all feminine statues fortheir tenderness of expression--swimming, as it were, with love; and itis the manner in which this effect is produced that Powers mistook forbad sculpture. Hiram Powers' most exceptional proposition was to theeffect that the busts of the Roman emperors were not characteristicportraits. Hawthorne strongly dissented from this; and he was in theright, for if the character of a man can be read from marble, it isfrom those old blocks. Hawthorne has some admirable remarks on thispoint. 

Such was Hawthorne's internal life during his first month at Florence. He was full of admiration for the cathedral, the equestrian statue ofCosmo dé Medici, the "David" of Michel Angelo, the Loggia dé Lanzi, Raphael's portrait of Julius II. , the "Fates" of Michel Angelo, andmany others; yet he confesses that the Dutch, French, and Englishpaintings gave him a more simple, natural pleasure, --probably becausetheir subjects came closer to his own experience. 

A strange figure of an old man, with "a Palmer-like beard, " continuallycrossed Hawthorne's path, both in Rome and in Florence, where he dineswith him at the Brownings'. His name is withheld, but Hawthorne informsus that he is an American editor, a poet; that he voted for Buchanan, and was rejoicing in the defeat of the Free-soilers, --"a man to whomthe world lacks substance because he has not sufficiently cultivatedhis emotional nature;" and "his personal intercourse, though kindly, does not stir one's blood in the least. " Yet Hawthorne finds him to begood-hearted, intelligent, and sensible. This can be no other thanWilliam Cullen Bryant. [Footnote: Italian Note-book, ii. 15. ]

In the evening of June 27 the Hawthornes went to call on a MissBlagden, who occupied a villa on Bellosguardo, and where they met theBrownings, and a Mr. Trollope, a brother of the novelist. It could nothave been the Villa Manteüto, which Miss Blagden rented, for we hear ofher at Bellosguardo again in August, when Hawthorne was living therehimself; and after this we do not hear of the Brownings again. 

Hawthorne's remark on Browning's poetry is one of the rare instances inwhich he criticises a contemporary author:

"I am rather surprised that Browning's conversation should be so clear, and so much to the purpose at the moment, since his poetry can seldomproceed far, without running into the high grass of latent meanings andobscure allusions. "

It is precisely this which has prevented Browning from achieving thereputation that his genius deserves. We wish that Hawthorne could havefavored us with as much literary criticism as he has given us of artcriticism, and we almost lose patience with him for his repeatedcanonization of General Jackson--St. Hickory--united with adisparagement of Washington and Sumner; but although Hawthorne'sinsight into human nature was wonderful in its way, it would seem tohave been confined within narrow boundaries. At least he seems to havepossessed little insight into grand characters and magnanimous natures. He wishes now that Raphael could have painted Jackson's portrait. So, conversely, Shakespeare belittles Cæsar in order to suit the purpose ofhis play. Which of Shakespeare's male characters can be measured besideGeorge Washington? There is not one of them, unless Kent in "KingLear. " Strong, resolute natures, like Washington, Hamilton, Sumner, arenot adapted to dramatic fiction, either in prose or in verse. 

A Florentine summer is about equal to one in South Carolina, and now, when Switzerland can be reached by rail in twenty-four hours, noAmerican or Englishman thinks of spending July and August there; but inHawthorne's time it was a long and expensive journey over the PennineAlps; Hawthorne's physique was as well attempered to heat as to cold;and he continued to frequent the picture-galleries and museums afterall others had ceased to do so; although he complains in his diary thathe had never known it so hot before, and that the flagstones in thestreet reflect the sun's rays upon him like the open doors of afurnace. 

At length, in an entry of July 27, he says:

"I seldom go out nowadays, having already seen Florence tolerably well, and the streets being very hot, and myself having been engaged insketching out a romance, [Footnote: "The Marble Faun. "] which whetherit will ever come to anything is a point yet to be decided. At anyrate, it leaves me little heart for journalizing, and describing newthings; and six months of uninterrupted monotony would be more valuableto me just now, than the most brilliant succession of novelties. "

This is the second instance in which we hear of a romance based on the"Faun" of Praxiteles, and now at last he appears to be in earnest. 

It may be suspected that his entertaining friend, Hiram Powers, was thechief obstacle to the progress of his new plot, and it is ratheramusing to believe that it was through the agency of Mr. Powers, whocared for nothing so much as Hawthorne's welfare, that this impedimentwas removed. Five days later, Hawthorne and his household gods, whichwere chiefly his wife and children, left the Casa del Bello for theVilla Manteüto where they remained in peaceful retirement until thefirst of October. 

On the tower of the Villa he could enjoy whatever enlivening breezescame across to Florence from the mountains to the north and east. Whenthe _tramontana_ blew, he was comfortable enough. Thunder-stormsalso came frequently, with the roar of heaven's artillery reverberatingfrom peak to peak, and enveloping Bellosguardo in a dense vapor, likethe smoke from Napoleon's cannon; after which they would career downthe valley of the Arno to Pisa, flashing and cannonading like avictorious army in pursuit of the enemy. 

The beauty of the summer nights at Florence amply compensates for thesultriness of the days, --especially if they be moonlight nights, --andthe bright starlight of the Mediterranean is little less beautiful. Travellers who only see Italy in winter, know not what they miss. Hawthorne noticed that the Italian sky had a softer blue than that ofEngland and America, and that there was a peculiar luminous quality inthe atmosphere, as well as a more decided difference between sunshineand shadow, than in countries north of the Alps. The atmosphere ofItaly, Spain, and Greece is not like any American air that I amacquainted with. During the summer season, all Italians whoseoccupation will permit them, sleep at noon, --the laborers in theshadows of the walls, --and sit up late at night, enjoying the fine airand the pleasant conversation which it inspires. Hawthorne found theatmosphere of Tuscany favorable for literary work, even in August. 

On the 4th of that month he looked out from his castle wall late atnight and noticed the brilliancy of the stars, --also that the GreatDipper exactly overhung the valley of the Arno. At that same hour theastronomer Donati was sweeping the heavens with his telescope at theFlorentine observatory, and it may have been ten days later that hediscovered in the handle of the Dipper the great comet which willalways bear his name, --the most magnificent comet of modern times, onlyexcepting that of 1680, which could be seen at noonday. It first becamevisible to the naked eye during the last week of August, as a smallstar with a smaller tail, near the second star from the end of thehandle of the Dipper; after which it grew apace until it extendednearly from the horizon to the zenith, with a tail millions of miles inlength. This, however, did not take place until near the time ofHawthorne's departure from Florence. In his case it proved sorrowfullyenough a harbinger of calamity. 

Hawthorne blocked out his sketch of "The Romance of Monte Beni" in asingle month, and then returned to the churches and picture-galleries. He could not expect to revisit Italy in this life, and prudentlyconcluded to make the most of it while the opportunity lasted. Henotices the peculiar fatigue which sight-seeing causes in deep natures, and becomes unspeakably weary of it, yet returns to it again next daywith an interest as fresh as before. 

Neither did he lack for society. William Story came over to see himfrom Siena, where he was spending the summer, exactly as Hawthornedescribes the visit of Kenyon to Donatello in his romance. Mr. And Mrs. Powers came frequently up the hill in the cool of the evening, and MissBlagden also proved an excellent neighbor. Early in September the"spirits" appeared again in great force. Mrs. Hawthorne discovered amedium in her English governess; table-rappings and table-tippings werethe order of the evening; and some rather surprising results wereobtained through Miss Shepard's fingers. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 31. ] Powers related a still more surprising performance [Footnote:Italian Note-book. ] that he had witnessed, which was conducted by D. D. Home, an American mountebank, who hoaxed more crowned heads, princes, princesses, and especially English duchesses than Cagliostro himself. Hawthorne felt the repugnance of the true artist to this uncannybusiness, and his thorough detestation of the subject commends itselfto every sensible reader. He came to the conclusion that the supposedrevelations of spirits were nothing more than the mental vagaries ofpersons in the same room, conveyed in some occult manner to the brainof the medium. The governess, Miss Shepard, agreed with him in this, but she could give no explanation as to the manner in which theresponse came to her. Twenty years of scientific investigations haveadded little or nothing to this diagnosis of Hawthorne's, nor are weany nearer to an explanation of the simple fact; which is wonderfulenough in its way. Hawthorne compares the revelations of mediums todreams, but they are not exactly like them, for they are at the sametime more rational and less original or spontaneous than dreams. In mydreams my old friends often come back to me and speak in theircharacteristic manner, --more characteristic perhaps than I couldrepresent them when awake, --but the responses of mediums are eitherevasive or too highly generalized to be of any particular value. Thestory of Mary Runnel, or Rondel, which Julian Hawthorne narrates, is anexcellent case in point. Hawthorne had probably heard of thatflirtation of his grandfather some time in his youth, and the fact wasunconsciously latent in his mind; but nothing that Mary divulged atBellosguardo was of real interest to him or to the others concerned. The practice of spiritism, hypnotism, or Christian Science opens a widedoor for superstition and imposture to walk in and seat themselves byour firesides. 

About a year before this, Congress had given Hiram Powers a commissionto model a colossal statue of _America_ for the Capitol atWashington. This he had done, and the committee in charge accepted hisdesign, --Hawthorne also writes admiringly of it, --but it was alsonecessary to receive the approval of the President, and this Buchananwith his peculiar obstinacy refused to give. Powers was left withoutcompensation for a whole year of arduous labor, and Hawthorne for oncewas thoroughly indignant. He wrote in his diary:

"I wish our great Republic had the spirit to do as much, according toits vast means, as Florence did for sculpture and architecture when itwas a republic. . . . And yet the less we attempt to do for art thebetter, if our future attempts are to have no better result than suchbrazen troopers as the equestrian statue of General Jackson, or evensuch naked respectabilities as Greeneough's Washington. "

Perhaps Powers' "America" was a fortunate escape, and yet it does notseem right that any enlightened government should set such a pitfallfor honest men to stumble into. There certainly ought to be somecompensation in such cases. The experience of history hitherto has beenthat, whereas painting and literature have nourished under all forms ofgovernment, sculpture has only attained its highest excellence inrepublics like Athens, Rhodes, Florence, and Nuremberg; so that uponthis line of argument there is good hope for America in the future. 

CHAPTER XV

HAWTHORNE AS ART CRITIC: 1858

Nearly one-third of the Italian Note-book is devoted to the criticismsor descriptions of paintings, statues, and architecture, for which wecan be only too thankful as coming from such a bright, penetrating, andingenious intelligence. It is much in their favor that Hawthorne hadnot previously undertaken a course of instruction in art; that he wrotefor his own benefit, and not for publication; and that he was notbiased by preconceived opinions. It cannot be doubted that he wassometimes influenced by the opinions of Story, Powers, and otherartists with whom he came in contact; but this could have happened onlyin particular cases, and more especially in respect to modern works ofart. When Hawthorne visited the galleries he usually went alone, oronly accompanied by his wife. 

The only opportunities for the study of aesthetics or art criticism, fifty years ago, were to be found in German universities. Kugler'shandbook of painting was the chief authority in use, rather academic, but correct enough in a general way. Ruskin, a more eloquent anddiscriminating writer, had devoted himself chiefly to celebrating themerits of Turner and Tintoretto, but was never quite just to Florentineart. Mrs. Jameson followed closely after Kugler, and was the only oneof these that Hawthorne appears to have consulted. Winckelmann'shistory of Greek sculpture, which was not a history in the proper senseof the word, had been translated by Lodge, but Hawthorne does notmention it, and it would not have been much assistance to him if he hadread it. Like Winckelmann and Lessing, however, he admired the"Laocoön, "--an admiration now somewhat out of fashion. 

There can be no final authority in art, for the most experiencedcritics still continue to differ in their estimates of the samepainting or statue. More than this, it is safe to affirm that any onewriter who makes a statement concerning a certain work of art at agiven time, would have made a somewhat different statement at anothertime. In fact, this not unfrequently happens in actual practice; forall that any of us can do is, to reproduce the impression made on us atthe moment, and this depends as much on our own state of mind, and onour peculiarities, as on the peculiarities of the picture or statuethat we criticise. It is the same in art itself. If Raphael had notpainted the "Sistine Madonna" at the time he did, he would haveproduced a different work. It was the concentration of that particularoccasion, and if any accident had happened to prevent it, that piousand beautiful vision would have been lost to the world. 

It requires years of study and observation of the best masters tobecome a trustworthy art critic, and then everything depends of courseupon the genius of the individual. It has happened more than once thata wealthy American, with a certain kind of enthusiasm for art, hasprepared himself at a German university, has studied the science ofconnoisseurship, and has become associate member of a number of foreignsocieties, only to discover at length that he had no talent for theprofession. Hawthorne enjoyed no such advantages, nor did he even thinkof becoming a connoisseur. His whole experience in the art of designmight be included within twelve months, and his original basis wasnothing better than his wife's water-color painting and the mediocrepictures in the Boston Athenaeum; but he brought to his subject an eyethat was trained to the closest observation of Nature and a mindexperienced beyond all others [Footnote: At least at that time. ] in themysteries of human life. He begins tentatively, and as might beexpected makes a number of errors, but quite as often he hits the nail, where others have missed it. He learns by his mistakes, and steadilyimproves in critical faculty. Hawthorne's Italian Note-book is a uniquerecord, in which the development of a highly organized mind hasadvanced from small beginnings to exceptional skill in a freshdepartment of activity. 

Hawthorne brought with him to Italy the Yankee preference for newnessand nicety, which our forefathers themselves derived from theirresidence in Holland, and there is no city in Europe where thissentiment could have troubled him so much as in Rome. He disliked thedingy picture-frames, the uncleanly canvases, the earth-stains andbroken noses of the antique statues, the smoked-up walls of the SistineChapel, and the cracks in Raphael's frescos. He condemns everything asrubbish which has not an external perfection; forgetting that, as inhuman nature, the most precious treasures are sometimes allied with anungainly exterior. Yet in this he only echoes the impressions ofthousands of others who have gone to the Vatican and returneddisconsolate, because amid a perplexing multitude of objects they knewnot where to look for consummate art. One can imagine if an experiencedfriend had accompanied Hawthorne to the Raphael stanza, and had pointedout the figures of the Pope, the cardinal, and the angelic boys in the"Mass at Bolsena, " he would have admired them without limitation. Hequickly discovered Raphael's "Transfiguration, " and considered it thegreatest painting that the world contains. 

The paintings in the princely collections in Rome are, with theexception of those in the Borghese gallery, far removed from princely. A large proportion of their best paintings had long since been sold tothe royal collections of northern Europe, and had been replaced eitherby copies or by works of inferior masters. In the Barberini palacethere are not more than three or four paintings such as mightreasonably detain a traveller, and it is about the same in the Ludovisigallery. There was not a grain of affectation in Hawthorne; he neverpretended to admire what he did not like, nor did he strain himselfinto liking anything that his inner nature rebelled against. 

Hawthorne's taste in art was much in advance of his time. His quickappreciation of the colossal statues of Castor and Pollux on theQuirinal is the best proof of this. Ten years later it was the fashionin Rome to deride those statues, as a late work of the empire andgreatly lacking in artistic style. Brunn, in his history of ancientsculpture, attributes them to the school of Lysippus, a contemporary ofAlexander, which Brunn certainly would not have done if he hadpossessed a good eye for form. Vasari, on the contrary, a surer critic, considered them worthy to be placed beside Michel Angelo's "David"; butit remained for Furtwängler to restore them to their true position as awork of the Periclean age, although copied by Italian sculptors. Theymust have been the product of a single mind, [Footnote: On the base ofone is _Opus Phidiae_, and on that of the other, _Opus Praxitelis. _]either Phidias, Alcameres, or the elder Praxiteles--if there ever wassuch a person; and they have the finest figures of any statues in Rome(much finer than the dandified "Apollo Belvedere") and also the mostspirited action. 

Hawthorne went to the Villa Ludovisi to see the much-vaunted bas-reliefof Antinous, which fifty years ago was considered one of the arttreasures of the city; but a more refined taste has since discoveredthat in spite of the rare technical skill, its hard glassy finish givesit a cold and conventional effect. Hawthorne returned from itdisappointed, and wrote in his diary:

"This Antinous is said to be the finest relic of antiquity next to theApollo and the Laocoön; but I could not feel it to be so, partly, Isuppose, because the features of Antinous do not seem to me beautifulin themselves; and that heavy, downward look is repeated till I am moreweary of it than of anything else in sculpture. "

The Greek artist of Adrian's time attempted to give the face a pensiveexpression, but only succeeded in this heavy downward look. 

Hawthorne felt the same disappointment after his first visit to thesculpture-gallery of the Vatican. "I must confess, " he wrote, "takingsuch transient glimpses as I did, I was more impressed with the extentof the Vatican, and the beautiful order in which it is kept and itsgreat sunny, open courts, with fountains, grass, and shrubs . . . Thanwith the statuary. " The Vatican collection has great archaeologicalvalue, but, with the exception of the "Laocoön, " the "Meleager, " the"Apollo, " and a few others, little or no artistic value. The vastmajority of the statues there are either late Roman works or cheapRoman copies of second-rate Hellenic statues. Some of them arepositively bad and others are archaic, and Hawthorne was fullyjustified in his disatisfaction with them. He noticed, however, adecided difference between the original "Apollo" and the casts of itwith which he was familiar. On a subsequent visit he fails to observethe numerous faults in Canova's "Perseus, " and afterwards writes thisoriginal statement concerning the "Laocoön":

"I felt the Laocoön very powerfully, though very quietly; an immortalagony with a strange calmness diffused through it, so that it resemblesthe vast age of the sea, calm on account of its immensity; as thetumult of Niagara, which does not seem to be tumult, because it keepspouring on forever and ever. "

Professor E. A. Gardner and the more fastidious school of critics haverecently decided that the action of the "Laocoön" is too violent to becontained within the proper boundaries of sculpture; but Hawthornecontroverts this view in a single sentence. The action is violent, itis true, but the _impression_ which the statue makes on him is nota violent one; for the greatness of the art sublimates the motive. Itis a tragedy in marble, and Pliny, who had seen the works of Phidiasand Praxiteles, placed Agesander's "Laocoön" above them all. This, however, is a Roman view. What Hawthorne wrote in his diary should notalways be taken literally. When he declares that he would like to haveevery artist that perpetrates an allegory put to death, he merelyexpresses the puzzling effects which such compositions frequentlyexercise on the weary-minded traveller; and when he wishes that all thefrescos on Italian walls could be obliterated, he only repeats asentiment of similar strain. Perhaps we should class in the samecategory Hawthorne's remark concerning the Elgin marbles in the BritishMuseum, that "it would be well if they were converted into paving-stones. " There are no grander monuments of ancient art than thosebattered and headless statues from the pediment of the Parthenon (thefigures of the so-called "Three Fates" surpass the "Venus of Melos"), and archaeologists are still in dispute as to what they may haverepresented; but the significance of the subject before him was alwaysthe point in which Hawthorne was interested. Julian Hawthorne says ofhis father, in regard to a similar instance:

"Of technicalities, --difficulties overcome, harmony of lines, and soforth, --he had no explicit knowledge; they produced their effect uponhim of course, but without his recognizing the manner of it. All thatconcerned him was the sentiment which the artist had meant to express;the means and method were comparatively unimportant. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 193. ]

The technicalities of art differ with every clime and every generation. They belong chiefly to the connoisseur, and have their value, but theless a critic thinks of them in making a general estimate of a paintingor statue, the more likely he is to render an impartial judgment. Hawthorne's analysis of Praxiteles's "Faun, " in his "Romance of MonteBeni, " being a subject in which he was particularly interested, isalmost without a rival in the literature of its kind; and this is themore remarkable since the copy of the "Faun" in the museum of theCapitol is not one of the best, at least it is inferior to the one inthe Glyptothek at Munich. It seems as if Hawthorne had penetrated tothe first conception of it in the mind of Praxiteles. 

The Sistine Chapel, like the Italian scenery, only unfolds its beautieson a bright day, and Hawthorne happened to go there when the sky wasfull of drifting clouds, a time when it is difficult to see any objectas it really is. It may have been on this account that he entirelymistook the action of the Saviour in Michel Angelo's "Last Judgment. "Christ has raised his arm above his head in order to display the markwhere he was nailed to the cross, and Hawthorne presumed this, as manyothers have done, to be an angry threatening gesture of condemnation, which would not accord with his merciful spirit. He appreciated thesymmetrical figure of Adam, and the majestic forms of the prophets andsibyls encircling the ceiling, and if he had seen the face of theSaviour in a fair light, he might have recognized that such divinecalmness of expression could not coexist with a vindictive motive. This, however, can be seen to better advantage in a Braun photographthan in the painting itself. 

Hawthorne goes to the Church of San Pietro in Vincolo to see MichelAngelo's "Moses, " but he does not moralize before it, like a certainConcord artist, on "the weakness of exaggeration;" nor does heconsider, like Ruskin, that its conventional horns are a seriousdetriment. On the contrary he finds it "grand and sublime, with a beardflowing down like a cataract; a truly majestic figure, but not sobenign as it were desirable that such strength should hold. " AnEnglishman present remarked that the "Moses" had very fine features, --"a compliment, " says Hawthorne, "for which the colossal Hebrew ought tohave made the Englishman a bow. "

[Footnote: Italian Note-book, p. 164. ]

Perhaps the Englishman really meant that the face had a nobleexpression. The somewhat satyr-like features of the "Moses" would seemto have been unconsciously adopted, together with the horns, from astatue of the god Pan, which thus serves as an intermediate linkbetween the "Moses" and the "Faun" of Praxiteles; but he who cannotappreciate Michel Angelo's "Moses" in spite of this, knows nothing ofthe Alpine heights of human nature. 

Of all the paintings that Hawthorne saw in Rome none impressed him sodeeply as Guido's portrait of Beatrice Cenci, and none more justly. Ifthe "Laocoön" is the type of an old Greek tragedy, a strong manstrangled in the coils of Fate, the portrait of Beatrice represents thetragedy of mediaeval Italy, a beautiful woman crushed by the downfallof a splendid civilization. The fate of Joan of Arc or of Madame Rolandwas merciful compared to that of poor Beatrice. Religion is noconsolation to her, for it is the Pope himself who signs her death-warrant. She is massacred to gratify the avarice of the Holy See. Yetin this last evening of her tragical life, she does find strength andconsolation in her dignity as a woman. Never was art consecrated to ahigher purpose; Guido rose above himself; and, as Hawthorne says, itseems as if mortal man could not have wrought such an effect. It hasalways been the most popular painting in Rome, but Hawthorne was thefirst to celebrate its unique superiority in writing, and his discourseupon it in various places leaves little for those that follow. 

It may have been long since discovered that Hawthorne's single weaknesswas a weakness for his friends; certainly an amiable weakness, butnevertheless that is the proper name for it. When Phocion was Archon ofAthens, he said that a chief magistrate should know no friends; and thesame should be true of an authoritative writer. Hawthorne has not goneso far in this direction as many others have who had less reason tospeak with authority than he; but he has indicated his partiality forFranklin Pierce plainly enough, and his over-praise of Hiram Powers andWilliam Story, as well as his under-praise of Crawford, will go down tofuture generations as something of an injustice to those three artists. 

[Illustration: GUIDO RENI'S PORTRAIT OF BEATRICE CENCI, PAINTED WHILESHE WAS IN PRISON, WHICH SUGGESTED TO HAWTHORNE THE PLOT OF "THE MARBLEFAUN"]

It is not necessary to repeat here what Hawthorne wrote concerningPowers' Webster. The statue stands in front of the State House atBoston, and serves as a good likeness of the famous orator, but morethan that one cannot say for it. The face has no definable expression, and those who have looked for a central motive in the figure will bepleased to learn what it is by reading Hawthorne's description of it, as he saw it in Powers' studio at Florence. A sculptor of the presentday can find no better study for his art than the attitudes and changesof countenance in an eloquent speaker; but which of them can be said tohave taken advantage of this? Story made an attempt in his statue ofEverett, but even his most indulgent friends did not consider it asuccess. His "George Peabody, " opposite the Bank of England, could notperhaps have been altogether different from what it is. 

What chiefly interested Story in his profession seems to have been themodelling of unhappy women in various attitudes of reflection. He madea number of these, of which his "Cleopatra" is the only one known tofame, and in the expression of her face he has certainly achieved ahigh degree of excellence. Neither has Hawthorne valued it too highly, --the expression of worldly splendor incarnated in a beautiful woman onthe tragical verge of an abyss. If she only were beautiful! Here thelimitations of the statue commence. Hawthorne says, "The sculptor hadnot shunned to give the full, Nubian lips and other characteristics ofthe Egyptian physiognomy. "

Here he follows the sculptor himself, and it is remarkable that acollege graduate like William Story should have made so transparent amistake. Cleopatra was not an Egyptian at all. The Ptolemies wereGreeks, and it is simply impossible to believe that they would haveallied themselves with a subject and alien race. This kind of smallpedantry has often led artists astray, and was peculiarly virulentduring the middle of the past century. The whole figure of Story's"Cleopatra" suffers from it. Hawthorne says again, "She was draped fromhead to foot in a costume minutely and scrupulously studied from thatof ancient Egypt. " In fact, the body and limbs of the statue are soclosely shrouded as to deprive the work of that sense of freedom ofaction and royal abandon which greets us in Shakespeare's andPlutarch's "Cleopatra. " Story might have taken a lesson from Titian'smatchless "Cleopatra" in the Cassel gallery, or from Marc Antonio'ssmall woodcut of Raphael's "Cleopatra. "

Perhaps it is not too much to say of Crawford that he was the finestplastic genius of the Anglo-Saxon race. His technique may not have beenequal to Flaxman's or St. Gaudens', but his designs have more ofgrandeur than the former, and he is more original than the latter. There are faults of modelling in his "Orpheus, " and its attituderesembles that of the eldest son of Niobe in the Florentine gallery, --although the Niobe youth looks upward and Orpheus is peering intodarkness, --its features are rather too pretty; but the statue hasexactly what Powers' "Greek Slave" lacks, a definite motive, --that ofan earnest seeker, --which pervades it from head to foot; and it is noimaginary pathos that we feel in its presence. There is, at least, noimitation of the antique in Crawford's "Beethoven, " for its conception, the listening to internal harmonies, would never have occurred to aGreek or a Roman. Even Hawthorne admits Crawford's skill in thetreatment of drapery; and this is very important, for it is in hisdrapery quite as much as in the nude that we recognize the superiorityof Michel Angelo to Raphael; and the folds of Beethoven's mantle are asrhythmical as his own harmonies. The features lack something offirmness, but it is altogether a statue in the grand manner. 

Hawthorne is rather too exacting in his requirements of modernsculptors. Warrington Wood, who commenced life as a marble-worker, always employed Italian workmen to carve his statues, although he wasperfectly able to do it himself, and always put on the finishingtouches, --as I presume they all do. Bronze statues are finished with afile, and of course do not require any knowledge of the chisel. 

In regard to the imitation of antique attitudes, there has certainlybeen too much of it, as Hawthorne supposes; but the Greeks themselveswere given to this form of plagiarism, and even Praxiteles sometimesadopted the motives of his predecessors; but Hawthorne praises Powers, Story, and Harriet Hosmer above their merits. 

The whole brotherhood of artists and their critical friends might riseup against me, if I were to support Hawthorne's condemnation of modernVenuses, and "the guilty glimpses stolen at hired models. " They are notnecessarily guilty glimpses. To an experienced artist the customarystudy from a naked figure, male or female, is little more than what alow-necked dress at a party would be to many others. Yet the instinctof the age shrinks from this exposure. We can make pretty good Venuses, but we cannot look at them through the same mental and moral atmosphereas the contemporaries of Scopas, or even with the same eyes that MichelAngelo saw them. We feel the difference between a modern Venus and anancient one. There is a statue in the Vatican of a Roman emperor, ofwhich every one says that it ought to wear clothes; and the reason isbecause the face has such a modern look. A raving Bacchante may be agood acquisition to an art museum, but it is out of place in a publiclibrary. A female statue requires more or less drapery to set off theoutlines of the figure and to give it dignity. We feel this even in thefinest Greek work--like the "Venus of Cnidos. "

In this matter Hawthorne certainly exposes his Puritanic education, andhe also places too high a value on the carving of button-holes andshoestrings by Italian workmen. Such things are the fag-ends ofstatuary. 

His judgment, however, is clear and convincing in regard to the tintedEves and Venuses of Gibson. Whatever may have been the ancient practicein this respect, Gibson's experiment proved a failure. Nobody likesthose statues; and no other sculptor has since followed Gibson'sexample. The tinting of statues by the Greeks did not commence untilthe time of Aristotle, and does not seem to have been very general. Their object evidently was, not so much to imitate flesh as to tonedown the crystalline glare of the new marble. Pausanias speaks of astatue in Arcadia, the drapery of which was painted with vermilion, "soas to look very gay. " This was of course the consequence of a late anddegraded taste. That traces of paint should have been discovered onGreek temples is no evidence that the marble was painted when they werefirst built. 

It may be suspected that Hawthorne was one of the very few who haveseen the "Venus dé Medici" and recognized the true significance of thestatue. The vast majority of visitors to the Uffizi only see in it thetype of a perfectly symmetrical woman bashfully posing for her likenessin marble, but Hawthorne's perception in it went much beyond that, andthe fact that he attempts no explanation of its motive is in accordancewith the present theory. He also noticed that statues had sometimesexercised a potent spell over him, and at others a very slightinfluence. 

Froude says that a man's modesty is the best part of him. Notice that, ye strugglers for preferment, and how beautifully modest Hawthorne is, when he writes in his Florentine diary:

"In a year's time, with the advantage of access to this magnificentgallery, I think I might come to have some little knowledge ofpictures. At present I still know nothing; but am glad to find myselfcapable, at least, of loving one picture better than another. I amsensible, however, that a process is going on, and has been ever sinceI came to Italy, that puts me in a state to see pictures with lesstoil, and more pleasure, and makes me more fastidious, yet moresensible of beauty where I saw none before. "

Hawthorne belongs to the same class of amateur critics as Shelley andGoethe, who, even if their opinions cannot always be accepted as final, illuminate the subject with the radiance of genius and have an equalvalue with the most experienced connoisseurs. 

 * * * * *

The return of the Hawthornes to Rome through Tuscany was even moreinteresting than their journey to Florence in the spring, and theyenjoyed the inestimable advantage of a _vetturino_ who would seemto have been the Sir Philip Sidney of his profession, a compendium ofhuman excellences. There are such men, though rarely met with, and wemay trust Hawthorne's word that Constantino Bacci was one of them; notonly a skilful driver, but a generous provider, honest, courteous, kindly, and agreeable. They went first to Siena, where they wereentertained for a week or more by the versatile Mr. Story, and whereHawthorne wrote an eloquent description of the cathedral; then over themountain pass where Radicofani nestles among the iron-browed cragsabove the clouds; past the malarious Lake of Bolsena, scene of themiracle which Raphael has commemorated in the Vatican; through Viterboand _Sette Vene_; and finally, on October 16, into Rome, throughthe Porta' del Popolo, designed by Michel Angelo in his massive style, --Donati's comet flaming before them every night. Thompson, the portraitpainter, had already secured a furnished house, No. 68 Piazza Poli, forthe Hawthornes, to which they went immediately. 

Since the death of Julius Cæsar, comets have always been looked upon asthe forerunners of pestilence and war, but wars are sometimesblessings, and Donati's discovery proved a harbinger of good to Italy, --but to the Hawthornes, a prediction of evil. Continually inHawthorne's Italian journal we meet with references to the Romanmalaria, as if it were a subject that occupied his thoughts, andnowhere is this more common than during the return-journey fromFlorence. Did it occur to him that the lightning might strike in hisown house? No sensible American now would take his children to Romeunless for a very brief visit; and yet William Story brought up hisfamily there with excellent success, so far as health was concerned. 

We can believe that Hawthorne took every possible precaution, so far ashe knew, but in spite of that on November 1 his eldest daughter wasseized with Roman fever, and for six weeks thereafter lay tremblingbetween life and death, so that it seemed as if a feather might turnthe balance. 

She does not appear to have been imprudent. Her father believed thatthe "old hag" breathed upon her while she was with her mother, who wassketching in the Palace of the Cæsars; but the Palatine Hill is on highground, with a foundation of solid masonry, and was guarded by Frenchsoldiers, and it would have been difficult to find a more cleanly spotin the city. A German count, who lived in a villa on the Cælian Hill, close by, considered his residence one of the most healthful in Rome. Miss Una had a passionate attachment for the capital of the ancientworld; and it seems as if the evil spirit of the place had seized uponher, as the Ice Maiden is supposed to entrap chamois hunters in theAlps. 

One of the evils attendant on sickness in a foreign country is, theuncertainty in regard to a doctor, and this naturally leads to adistrust and suspicion of the one that is employed. Even so shrewd aman as Bismarck fell into the hands of a charlatan at St. Petersburgand suffered severely in consequence. Hawthorne either had a similarexperience, or, what came to the same thing, believed that he did. Heconsidered himself obliged to change doctors for his daughter, and thisadded to his care and anxiety. During the next four months he wrote nota word in his journal (or elsewhere, so far as we know), and he visiblyaged before his wife's eyes. He went to walk on occasion with Story orThompson, but it was merely for the preservation of his own health. Histhoughts were always in his daughter's chamber, and this was sostrongly marked upon his face that any one could read it. Toward theIdes of March, Miss Una was sufficiently improved to take a short lookat the carnival, but it was two months later before she was in acondition to travel, and neither she nor her father ever whollyrecovered from the effects of this sad experience. 

CHAPTER XVI

"THE MARBLE FAUN": 1859-1860

What the Roman carnival was a hundred and fifty years ago, when theItalian princes poured out their wealth upon it, and when it served asa medium for the communication of lovers as well as for social andpolitical intrigue, which sometimes resulted in conflicts like those ofthe Montagues and Capulets, can only be imagined. Goethe witnessed itfrom a balcony in the Corso, and his carnival in the second part of"Faust" was worked up from notes taken on that occasion; but it is sohighly poetized that little can be determined from it, except as aportion of the drama. By Hawthorne's time the aristocratic Italians hadlong since given up their favorite holiday to English and Americantravellers, --crowded out, as it were, by the superiority of money; andsince the advent of Victor Emmanuel, the carnival has become sodemocratic that you are more likely to encounter your landlady'sdaughter there than any more distinguished person. Hawthorne'sdescription of it in "The Marble Faun" is not overdrawn, and is one ofthe happiest passages in the book. 

The carnival of 1859 was an exceptionally brilliant one. The Prince ofWales attended it with a suite of young English nobles, who, alwaysdecorous and polite on public occasions, nevertheless infused greatspirit into the proceedings. Sumner and Motley were there, and Motleyrented a balcony in a palace, to which the Hawthornes received generaland repeated invitations. On March 7, Miss Una was driven through theCorso in a barouche, and the Prince of Wales threw her a bouquet, probably recognizing her father, who was with her; and to prove hisgood intentions he threw her another, when her carriage returned fromthe Piazza, del Popolo. The present English sovereign has always beennoted for a sort of journalistic interest in prominent men of letters, science, and public affairs, and it is likely that he was betterinformed in regard to the Hawthornes than they imagined. Hawthornehimself was too much subdued by his recent trial to enter into thespirit of the carnival, even with a heart much relieved from anxiety, but he sometimes appeared in the Motleys' balcony, and sometimes wentalong the narrow sidewalk of the Corso, "for an hour or so among thepeople, just on the edges of the fun. " Sumner invited Mrs. Hawthorne totake a stroll and see pictures with him, from which she returneddelighted with his criticisms and erudition. 

A few days later Franklin Pierce suddenly appeared at No. 68 PiazzaPoli, with that shadow on his face which was never wholly to leave it. The man who fears God and keeps his commandments will never feel quitealone in the world; but for the man who lives on popularity, what willthere be left when that forsakes him? Hawthorne was almost shocked atthe change in his friend's appearance; not only at his gray hair andwrinkled brow, but at the change in his voice, and at a certain lack ofsubstance in him, as if the personal magnetism had gone out of him. Hawthorne went to walk with him, and tried to encourage him bysuggesting another term of the presidency, but this did not help much, for even Pierce's own State had deserted him, --a fact of whichHawthorne may not have been aware. The companionship of his old friend, however, and the manifold novelty of Rome itself, somewhat revived theex-President, as may be imagined; and a month later he left for Venice, in better spirits than he came. 

They celebrated the Ides of March by going to see Harriet Hosmer'sstatue of Zenobia, which was afterward exhibited in America. Hawthorneimmediately detected its resemblance to the antique, --the figure was infact a pure plagiarism from the smaller statue of Ceres in theVatican, --but Miss Hosmer succeeded in giving the face an expression ofinjured and sorrowing majesty, which Hawthorne was equally ready toappreciate. 

On this second visit to Rome he became acquainted with a sculptor, whose name is not given, but who criticised Hiram Powers with a rathersuspicious severity. He would not allow Powers "to be an artist at all, or to know anything of the laws of art, " although acknowledging him tobe a great bust-maker, and to have put together the "Greek Slave" andthe "Fisher-Boy" very ingeniously. "The latter, however (he says), iscopied from the Spinario in the _Tribune_ of the Uffizi; and theformer made up of beauties that had no reference to one another; and heaffirms that Powers is ready to sell, and has actually sold, the 'GreekSlave, ' limb by limb, dismembering it by reversing the process ofputting it together. Powers knows nothing scientifically of the humanframe, and only succeeds in representing it, as a natural bone-doctorsucceeds in setting a dislocated limb, by a happy accident or specialprovidence. " [Footnote: Italian Note-book, 483. ]

We may judge, from "the style, the matter, and the drift" of thisdiscourse, that it emanated from the same sculptor who is mentioned, in"Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife, " as having traduced Margaret Fullerand her husband Count Ossoli. As Tennyson says, "A lie that is half atruth is ever the blackest of lies, " and this fellow would seem to havebeen an adept in unveracious exaggeration. It is remarkable thatHawthorne should have given serious attention to such a man; but anEnglish critic said in regard to this same incident that if Hawthornehad been a more communicative person, if he had talked freely to alarger number of people, he would not have been so easily prejudiced bythose few with whom he was chiefly intimate. To which it could beadded, that he might also have taken broader views in regard to publicaffairs. 

Hawthorne was fortunate to have been present at the discovery of theSt. Petersburg "Venus, " the twin sister of the "Venus dé Medici, " whichwas dug up in a vineyard outside the Porta Portese. The proprietor ofthe vineyard, who made his fortune at a stroke by the discovery, happened to select the site for a new building over the buried ruins ofan ancient villa, and the "Venus" was discovered in what appeared toHawthorne as an old Roman bath-room. The statue was in more perfectpreservation than the "Venus dé Medici, " both of whose arms have beenrestored, and Hawthorne noticed that the head was larger and the facemore characteristic, with wide-open eyes and a more confidentexpression. He was one of the very few who saw it before it wastransported to St. Petersburg, and a thorough artistic analysis of itis still one of the _desiderata_. The difference in expression, however, would seem to be in favor of the "Venus dé Medici, " as more inaccordance with the ruling motive of the figure. 

Miss Una Hawthorne had not sufficiently recovered to travel until thelast of May, when they all set forth northward by way of Genoa andMarseilles, in which latter place we find them on the 28th, enjoyingthe comfort and elegance of a good French hotel. Thence they proceededto Avignon, but did not find much to admire there except the Rhone; sothey continued to Geneva, the most pleasant, homelike resting place inEurope, but quite deficient in other attractions. 

It seems as if Hawthorne's Roman friends were somewhat remiss in notgiving him better advice in regard to European travelling. At Geneva hewas within a stone's throw of Chamounix, and hardly more than that ofStrasburg Cathedral, and yet he visited neither. Why did he go out ofhis way to see so little and to miss so much? He went across the laketo visit Lausanne and the Castle of Chillon, and he was more thanastonished at the view of the Pennine Alps from the deck of thesteamer. He had never imagined anything like it; and he might have saidthe same if he had visited Cologne Cathedral. Instead of that, however, he hurried through France again, with the intention of sailing forAmerica the middle of July; but after reaching London he concluded toremain another year in England, to write his "Romance of Monte Beni, "and obtain an English copyright for it. 

He left Geneva on June 15, and as he turned his face northward, he feltthat Henry Bright and Francis Bennoch were his only real friends inGreat Britain. There could hardly have been a stronger contrast thanthese two. Bright was tall, slender, rather pale for an Englishman, grave and philosophical. Bennoch was short, plump, lively and jovial, with a ready fund of humor much in the style of Dickens, with whom hewas personally acquainted. Yet Hawthorne recognized that Bright andBennoch liked him for what he was, in and of himself, and not for hiscelebrity alone. 

Bright was in London when Hawthorne reached there, and proposed thatthey should go together to call on Sumner, [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 223. ] who had been cured from the effects of Brooks's assault by anequally heroic treatment; but Hawthorne objected that as neither ofthem was Lord Chancellor, Sumner would not be likely to pay them muchattention; to which Bright replied, that Sumner had been very kind tohim in America, and they accordingly went. Sumner was kind tothousands, --the kindest as well as the most upright man of his time, --and no one in America, except Longfellow, appreciated Hawthorne sowell; but he was the champion of the anti-slavery movement and theinveterate opponent of President Pierce. I suppose a man's mind cannothelp being colored somewhat by such conditions and influences. 

Hawthorne wished for a quiet, healthful place, where he could write hisromance without the disturbances that are incident to celebrity, andhis friends recommended Redcar, on the eastern coast of Yorkshire, atown that otherwise Americans would not have heard of. He went thereabout the middle of July, remaining until the 5th of October, but ofhis life there we know nothing except that he must have workedassiduously, for in that space of time he nearly finished a bookcontaining almost twice as many pages as "The Scarlet Letter. "Meanwhile Mrs. Hawthorne entertained the children and kept them frominterfering with their father (in his small cottage), by making acollection of sea-mosses, which Una and Julian gathered at low tides, and which their mother afterward dried and preserved on paper. OnOctober 4th Una Hawthorne wrote to her aunt, Elizabeth Peabody:

"Our last day in Redcar, and a most lovely one it is. The sea seems toreproach us for leaving it. But I am glad we are going, for I feel sohomesick that I want constant change to divert my thoughts. Howtroublesome feelings and affections are. "

[Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 35 a. ]

One can see that it was a pleasant place even after the days had begunto shorten, which they do very rapidly in northern England. FromRedcar, Hawthorne went to Leamington, where he finished his romanceabout the first of December, and remained until some time in March, living quietly and making occasional pedestrian tours to neighboringtowns. He was particularly fond of the walk to Warwick Castle, and ofstanding on the bridge which crosses the Avon, and gazing at the wallsof the Castle, as they rise above the trees--"as fine a piece ofEnglish scenery as exists anywhere; the gray towers and long line ofwindows of the lordly castle, with a picturesquely varied outline;ancient strength, a little softened by decay. " It is a view that hasoften been sketched, painted and engraved. 

The romance was written, but had to be revised, the least pleasantportion of an author's duties, --unless he chooses to make the indexhimself. This required five or six weeks longer, after which Hawthornewent to London and arranged for its publication with Smith & Elder, whoagreed to bring it out in three volumes--although two would have beenquite sufficient; but according to English ideas, the length of a workof fiction adds to its importance. Unfortunately, Smith & Elder alsodesired to cater to the more prosaic class of readers by changing thename of the romance from "The Marble Faun" to "Transformation, " andthey appear to have done this without consulting Hawthorne's wishes inthe matter. It was simply squeezing the title dry of all poeticsuggestions; and it would have been quite as appropriate to change thename of "The Scarlet Letter" to "The Clergyman's Penance, " or to call"The Blithedale Romance" "The Suicide of a Jilt. " If Smith & Elderconsidered "The Marble Faun" too recondite a title for the Englishpublic, what better name could they have hit upon than "The Romance ofMonte Beni"? Would not the Count of Monte Beni be a cousin Italian, asit were, to the Count of Monte Cristo? We are thankful to observe thatwhen Hawthorne published the book in America, he had his own way inregard to this point. 

It was now that a new star was rising in the literary firmament, not ofthe "shooting" or transitory species, and the genius of Marian Evans(George Eliot) was casting its genial penetrating radiance over GreatBritain and the United States. She was as difficult a person to meetwith as Hawthorne himself, and they never saw one another; but a friendof Mr. Bennoch, who lived at Coventry, invited the Hawthornes there inthe first week of February to meet Bennoch and others, and Marian Evanswould seem to have been the chief subject of conversation at the tablethat evening. What Hawthorne gathered concerning her on that occasionhe has preserved in this compact and discriminating statement:

"Miss Evans (who wrote 'Adam Bede') was the daughter of a steward, andgained her exact knowledge of English rural life by the connection withwhich this origin brought her with the farmers. She was entirely self-educated, and has made herself an admirable scholar in classical aswell as in modern languages. Those who knew her had always recognizedher wonderful endowments, and only watched to see in what way theywould develop themselves. She is a person of the simplest manners andcharacter, amiable and unpretending, and Mrs. B---- spoke of her withgreat affection and respect. "

There is actually more of the real George Eliot in this summary than inthe three volumes of her biography by Mr. Cross. 

Thorwaldsen's well-known simile in regard to the three stages ofsculpture, the life, the death and the resurrection, also has itsapplication to literature. The manuscript is the birth of an author'swork, and its revision always seems like taking the life out of it; butwhen the proof comes, it is like a new birth, and he sees his designfor the first time in its true proportions. Then he goes over it as thesculptor does his newly-cast bronze, smoothing the rough places andgiving it those final touches which serve to make its expressionclearer. Hawthorne was never more to be envied than while correctingthe proof of "The Marble Faun" at Leamington. The book was given to thepublic at Easter-time; and there seems to have been only one person inEngland that appreciated it, even as a work of art--John LothropMotley. The most distinguished reviewers wholly failed to catch thesignificance of it; and even Henry Bright, while warmly admiring thestory, expressed a dissatisfaction at the conclusion of it, --althoughhe could have found a notable precedent for that in Goethe's "WilhelmMeister. " The _Saturday Review_, a publication similar in tone tothe New York _Nation_, said of "Transformation:"

[Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 250. ]

"A mystery is set before us to unriddle; at the end the author turnsround and asks us what is the good of solving it. That the impressionof emptiness and un-meaningness thus produced is in itself a blemish tothe work no one can deny. Mr. Hawthorne really trades upon the honestyof other writers. We feel a sort of interest in the story, slightly andsketchily as it is told, because our experience of other novels leadsus to assume that, when an author pretends to have a plot, he has one. "

The _Art Journal_ said of it: [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 249. ]

"We are not to accept this book as a story; in that respect it isgrievously deficient. The characters are utterly untrue to nature andto fact; they speak, all and always, the sentiments of the author;their words also are his; there is no one of them for which the worldhas furnished a model. "

And the London _Athenaeum_ said: [Footnote: Ibid. , ii. 244. ]

"To Mr. Hawthorne truth always seems to arrive through the medium ofthe imagination. . . . His hero, the Count of Monte Beni, would never havelived had not the Faun of Praxiteles stirred the author'sadmiration. . . . The other characters, Mr. Hawthorne must bear to betold, are not new to a tale of his. Miriam, the mysterious, with herhideous tormentor, was indicated in the Zenobia of 'The BlithedaleRomance. ' Hilda, the pure and innocent, is own cousin to Phoebe in 'TheHouse of the Seven Gables'. "

If the reviewer is to be reviewed, it is not too much to designatethese criticisms as miserable failures. They are not even well written. Henry Bright seemed to be thankful that they were no worse, for hewrote to Hawthorne: "I am glad that sulky _Athenaeum_ was socivil; for they are equally powerful and unprincipled. " The writer inthe _Athenaeum_ evidently belonged to that class of domineeringcritics who have no literary standing, but who, like bankers' clerks, arrogate to themselves all the importance of the establishment withwhich they are connected. Fortunately, there are few such in America. No keen-witted reader would ever confound the active, rosy, domesticPhoebe Pyncheon with the dreamy, sensitive, and strongly subjectiveHilda of "The Marble Faun;" and Hawthorne might have sent acommunication to the _Athenaeum_ to refresh the reviewer's memory, for it was not Zenobia in "The Blithedale Romance" who was dogged by amysterious persecutor, but her half-sister--Priscilla. Shakespeare'sBeatrice and his Rosalind are more alike (for Brandes supposes them tohave been taken from the same model) than Zenobia and Miriam; and thedifference between the persecutors of Priscilla and Miriam, as well astheir respective methods, is world-wide; but there are none so blind asthose who are enveloped in the turbid medium of their self-conceit. 

The pure-hearted, chivalrous Motley read these reviews, and wrote toHawthorne a vindication of his work, which must have seemed to him likea broad belt of New England sunshine in the midst of the London fog. Inreference to its disparagement by so-called authorities, Motley said:[Footnote: Mrs. Lathrop, 408. ]

"I have said a dozen times that nobody can write English but you. Withregard to the story which has been slightingly criticised, I can onlysay that to me it is quite satisfactory. I like those shadowy, weird, fantastic, Hawthornesque shapes flitting through the golden gloom whichis the atmosphere of the book. I like the misty way in which the storyis indicated rather than revealed. The outlines are quite definiteenough, from the beginning to the end, to those who have imaginationenough to follow you in your airy flights; and to those who complain---

"I beg your pardon for such profanation, but it really moves my spleenthat people should wish to bring down the volatile figures of yourromance to the level of an everyday novel. It is exactly the romanticatmosphere of the book in which I revel. "

The calm face of Motley, with his classic features, rises before us aswe read this, illumined as it were by "the mild radiance of a hiddensun. " He also had known what it was to be disparaged by Englishperiodicals; and if it had not been for Froude's spirited assertion inhis behalf, his history of the Dutch Republic might not have met withthe celebrity it deserved. He was aware of the difference between aHawthorne and a Reade or a Trollope, and knew how unfair it would be tojudge Hawthorne even by the same standard as Thackeray. He does nottouch in this letter on the philosophical character of the work, although that must have been evident to him, for he had said enoughwithout it; but one could wish that he had printed the above statementover his own name, in some English journal. 

American reviewers were equally puzzled by "The Marble Faun, " and, although it was generally praised here, the literary critics treated itin rather a cautious manner, as if it contained material of a dangerousnature. The _North American_, which should have devoted five orsix pages to it, gave it less than one; praising it in a conventionaland rather unsympathetic tone. Longfellow read it, and wrote in hisdiary, "A wonderful book; but with the old, dull pain in it that runsthrough all Hawthorne's writings. " There was always something of thisdull pain in the expression of Hawthorne's face. 

ANALYSIS OF "THE MARBLE FAUN"

It is like a picture, or a succession of pictures, painted in what theItalians call the _sfumato_, or "smoky" manner. The book ispervaded with the spirit of a dreamy pathos, such as constitutes themental atmosphere of modern Rome; not unlike the haze of an Indiansummer day, which we only half enjoy from a foreboding of the approachof winter. All outlines are softened and partially blurred in it, astime and decay have softened the outlines of the old Roman ruins. Werecognize the same style with which we are familiar in "The ScarletLetter, " but influenced by a change in Hawthorne's externalimpressions. 

It is a rare opportunity when the work of a great writer can be tracedback to its first nebulous conception, as we trace the design of apictorial artist to the first drawing that he made for his subject. Although we cannot witness the development of the plot of this romancein Hawthorne's mind, it is much to see in what manner the differentelements of which it is composed, first presented themselves to him, and how he adapted them to his purpose. 

The first of these in order of time was the beautiful Jewess, whom hemet at the Lord Mayor's banquet in London; who attracted him by her_tout ensemble_, but at the same time repelled him by an indefinableimpression, a mysterious something, that he could not analyze. There wouldseem, however, to have been another Jewess connected with the characterof Miriam; for I once heard Mrs. Hawthorne narrating a story in which shestated that she and her husband were driving through London in a cab, and passing close to the sidewalk in a crowded street they saw a beautifulwoman, with black hair and a ruddy complexion, walking with the most ill-favored and disagreeable looking Jew that could be imagined; and on thewoman's face there was an expression of such deep-seated unhappiness thatHawthorne and his wife turned to each other, and he said, "I think thatwoman's face will always haunt me. " I did not hear the beginning of Mrs. Hawthorne's tale, but I always supposed that it related to "The MarbleFaun, " and it would seem as if the character of Miriam was a compositeof these two daughters of Israel, uniting the enigmatical quality of onewith the unfortunate companionship of the other, and the beauty of both. 

As previously noticed, the portrait of Beatrice Cenci excited a deeplypenetrating interest in Hawthorne, and his reflections on it day afterday would naturally lead him to a similar design in regard to theromance which he was contemplating. The attribution of a catastrophelike Beatrice's to either of the two Jewesses, would of course beadventitious, and should be considered in the light of an artisticprivilege. 

The "Faun" of Praxiteles in the museum of the Capitol next attractedhis attention. This is but a poor copy of the original; but hepenetrated the motive of the sculptor with those deep-seeing eyes ofhis, and there is no analysis of an ancient statue by Brunn orFurtwängler that equals Hawthorne's description of this one. It seemsas if he must have looked backward across the centuries into the verymind of Praxiteles, and he was, in fact, the first critic to appreciateits high value. The perfect ease and simple beauty of the figure belongto a higher grade of art than the Apollo Belvedere, and Hawthornediscovered what Winckelmann had overlooked. He immediately conceivedthe idea of bringing the faun to life, and seeing how he would behaveand comport himself in the modern world--in brief, to use the design ofPraxiteles as the mainspring of a romance. In the evening of April 22, 1858, he wrote in his journal:

[Illustration: STATUE OF PRAXITELES' RESTING FAUN, WHICH HAWTHORNE HASDESCRIBED AND BROUGHT TO LIFE IN THE CHARACTER OF DONATELLO]

"I looked at the Faun of Praxiteles, and was sensible of a peculiarcharm in it; a sylvan beauty and homeliness, friendly and wild at once. It seems to me that a story, with all sorts of fun and pathos in it, might be contrived on the idea of their species having becomeintermingled with the human race; a family with the faun blood in them, having prolonged itself from the classic era till our own days. Thetail might have disappeared, by dint of constant intermarriages withordinary mortals; but the pretty hairy ears should occasionallyreappear in members of the family; and the moral instincts andintellectual characteristics of the faun might be most picturesquelybrought out, without detriment to the human interest of the story. "

This statue served to concentrate the various speculative objects whichhad been hovering before Hawthorne's imagination during the pastwinter, and when he reached Florence six weeks later, the chief detailsof the plot were already developed in his mind. 

Hilda and Kenyon are, of course, subordinate characters, like the firstwalking lady and the first walking gentleman on the stage. They are thesympathetic friends who watch the progress of the drama, continuallyhoping to be of service, but still finding themselves powerless toprevent the catastrophe. It was perhaps their unselfish interest intheir mutual friends that at length taught them to know each other'sworth, so that they finally became more than friends to one another. True love, to be firmly based, requires such a mutual interest orcommon ground on which the parties can meet, --something in addition tothe usual attraction of the sexes. Mrs. Hawthorne has been supposed bysome to have been the original of Hilda; and by others her daughterUna. 

Conway holds an exceptional opinion, that Hilda was the femininecounterpart of Hawthorne himself; but Hilda is only too transparent acharacter, while Hawthorne always was, and still remains, impenetrable;and there was enough of her father in Miss Una, to render the sameobjection applicable in her case. Hilda seems to me very much like Mrs. Hawthorne, as one may imagine her in her younger days; like her in hermental purity, her conscientiousness, her devotion to her art, --whichwe trust afterwards was transformed into a devotion to her husband, --her tendency to self-seclusion, her sensitiveness and her lack ofdecisive resolution. She is essentially what they call on the stage an_ingenue_ character; that is, one that remains inexperienced inthe midst of experience; and it is in this character that shecontributes to the catastrophe of the drama. 

If Hawthorne appears anywhere in his own fiction, it is not in "TheBlithedale Romance, " but in the rôle of Kenyon. Although Kenyon'sprofession is that of a sculptor, he is not to be confounded with thegay and versatile Story. Neither is he statuesque, as the Englishreviewer criticised him. He is rather a shadowy character, as Hawthornehimself was shadowy, and as an author always must be shadowy to hisreaders; but Kenyon is to Hawthorne what Prospero is to Shakespeare, and if he does not make use of magic arts, it is because they no longerserve their purpose in human affairs. He is a wise, all-seeing, sympathetic mind, and his active influence in the play is lessconspicuous because it is always so quiet, and so correct. 

It will be noticed that the first chapter and the last chapter of thisromance have the same title: "Miriam, Hilda, Kenyon, Donatello. " Thisis according to their respective ages and sexes; but it is also theterms of a proportion, --as Miriam is to Hilda, so is Kenyon toDonatello. As the experienced woman is to the inexperienced woman, sois the experienced man to the inexperienced man. This seems simpleenough, but it has momentous consequences in the story. Donatello, whois a type of natural but untried virtue, falls in love with Miriam, notonly for her beauty, but because she has acquired that worldlyexperience which he lacks. Hilda, suddenly aroused to a sense of herdanger in the isolated life she is leading, accepts Kenyon as aprotector. The means in this proportion come together and unite, because they are the mean terms, and pursue a medium course. Theextremes fly apart and are separated, simply because they are extremes. But there is a spiritual bond between them, invisible, but strongerthan steel, which will bring them together again--at the Day ofJudgment, if not sooner. 

All tragedy is an investigation or exemplification of that form ofhuman error which we call sin; a catastrophe of nature or a simpleerror of judgment may be tragical, but will not constitute a tragedywithout the moral or poetic element. 

In "The Scarlet Letter, " we have the sin of concealment and itsconsequences. The first step toward reformation is confession, andwithout that, repentance is little more than a good intention. 

In "The House of the Seven Gables, " Hawthorne has treated the sin ofhypocrisy--a smiling politician who courts popularity and pretends tobe everybody's friend, and agrees with everybody, --only with a slightreservation. There may be occasions on which hypocrisy is a virtue; butthe habit of hypocrisy for personal ends is like a dry rot in the heartof man. 

In "The Blithedale Romance, " we find the sin of moral affectation. Neither Hollingsworth nor Zenobia is really what they pretendthemselves to be. Their morality is a hollow shell, and gives way tothe first effective temptation. Zenobia betrays Priscilla; and isbetrayed in turn by Hollingsworth, --as well as the interests of theassociation which had been committed to his charge. 

The kernel of "The Marble Faun" is _original sin_. It is a storyof the fall of man, told again in the light of modern science. It is awonderful coincidence that almost in the same months that Hawthorne waswriting this romance, Charles Darwin was also finishing his work on the"Origin of Species;" for one is the moral counterpart of the other. Hawthorne did not read scientific and philosophical books, but he mayhave heard something of Darwin's undertaking in England, as well asNapoleon's prophetic statement at St. Helena, that all the animals forman ascending series, leading up to man. [Footnote: Dr. O'Meara's "AVoice from St. Helena. "] The skeleton of a prehistoric man discoveredin the Neanderthal cave, which was supposed to have proved theDarwinian theory, does not suggest a figure similar to the "Faun" ofPraxiteles, but the followers of Darwin have frequently adverted to theHellenic traditions of fauns and satyrs in support of their theory. Hawthorne, however, has made a long stride beyond Darwin, for he hasendeavored to reconcile this view of creation with the Mosaiccosmogony; and it must be admitted that he has been fairly successful. The lesson that Hawthorne teaches is, that evil does not reside inerror, but in neglecting to be instructed by our errors. It is thiswhich makes the difference between a St. Paul and a Nero. The fall ofman was only apparent; it was really a rise in life. The Garden of Edenprefigures the childhood of the human race. Do we not all go throughthis idyllic moral condition in childhood, learning through our errorsthat the only true happiness consists in self-control? Do not alljudicious parents protect their children from a knowledge of theworld's wickedness, so long as it is possible to prevent it, --and yetnot too long, for then they would become unfitted for their strugglewith the world, and in order to avoid the pitfalls of mature life theymust know where the pitfalls are. It is no longer essential for theindividual to pass through the Cain and Abel experience--that has beenaccomplished by the race as a whole; but it is quite possible toimagine an incipient condition of society in which the distinction ofjustifiable homicide in self-defence (which is really the justificationof war between nations) has not yet obtained. 

Hawthorne's Donatello is supposed to belong, in theory at least, tothat primitive era; but it is not necessary to go back further than thefeudal period to look for a man who never has known a will above hisown. Donatello seizes Miriam's tormentor and casts him down theTarpeian Rock, --from the same instinct, or clairvoyant perception, thata hound springs at the throat of his master's enemy. When the deed isdone he recognizes that the punishment is out of all proportion to theoffence, --which is in itself the primary recognition of a penal code, --and more especially that the judgment of man is against him. Herealizes for the first time the fearful possibilities of his nature, and begins to reflect. He is a changed person; and if not changed forthe better yet with a possibility of great improvement in the future. His act was at least an unselfish one, and it might serve as theargument for a debate, whether Donatello did not do society a servicein ridding the earth of such a human monstrosity. Hawthorne hasadjusted the moral balance of his case so nicely, that a single scruplewould turn the scales. 

The tradition among the Greeks and Romans, of a Golden Age, correspondsin a manner to the Garden of Eden of Semitic belief. There may be sometruth in it. Captain Speke, while exploring the sources of the Nile, discovered in central Africa a negro tribe uncontaminated by Europeantraders, and as innocent of guile as the antelopes upon their ownplains; and this suggests to us that all families and races of men mayhave passed through the Donatello stage of existence. 

Hawthorne's master-stroke in the romance is his description or analysisof the effect produced by this homicide on the different members of thegroup to which he has introduced us. The experienced and worldly-wiseKenyon is not informed of the deed until his engagement to Hilda, buthe has sufficient reason to suspect something of the kind from thesimultaneous disappearance of Donatello and the model, as well as fromthe sudden change in Miriam's behavior. Yet he does not treat Donatellowith any lack of confidence. He visits him at his castle of Monte Beni, which is simply the Villa Manteuto somewhat idealized and removed intothe recesses of the Apennines; he consoles him in his melancholy humor;tries to divert him from gloomy thoughts; and meanwhile watches with akeen eye and friendly solicitude for the _denouement_ of thismysterious drama. If he had seen what Hilda saw, he would probably haveleft Rome as quickly as possible, never to return; and Donatello's fatemight have been different. 

The effect on the sensitive and inexperienced Hilda was like a horriblenightmare. She cannot believe her senses, and yet she has to believethem. It seems to her as if the fiery pit has yawned between her andthe rest of the human race. Her position is much like that of Hamlet, and the effect on her is somewhat similar. She thrusts Miriam from herwith bitterness; yet forms no definite resolutions, and does she knowsnot what; until, overburdened by the consciousness of her fatal secret, she discloses the affair to an unknown priest in the church of St. Peter. Neither does she seem to be aware at any time of the seriousconsequences of this action. 

Miriam, more experienced even than Kenyon, is not affected by the deathof her tormentor so much directly as she is by its influence onDonatello. Hitherto she had been indifferently pleased by hisadmiration for her; now the tables are turned and she conceives thevery strongest attachment for him. She follows him to his castle indisguise, dogs his footsteps on the excursion which he and Kenyon maketogether, shadows his presence again in Rome, and is with him at themoment of his arrest. This is all that we know of her from the time ofher last unhappy interview with Hilda. Her crime consisted merely in alook, --the expression of her eyes, --and the whole world is free to her;but her heart is imprisoned in the same cell with Donatello. There isnot a more powerful ethical effect in Dante or Sophocles. 

A certain French writer [Footnote: Name forgotten, but the fact isindelible. ] blames Hilda severely for her betrayal of Miriam (who wasat least her best friend in Rome), and furthermore designates her as animmoral character. This, we may suppose, is intended for a hit at NewEngland Puritanism; and from the French stand-point, it is not unfair. Hilda represents Puritanism in its weakness and in its strength. It istrue, what Hamlet says, that "conscience makes cowards of us all, " butonly true under conditions like those of Hamlet, --desperateemergencies, which require exceptional expedients. On the contrary, incarrying out a great reform like the abolition of slavery, theeducation of the blind, or the foundation of national unity, a man'sconscience becomes a tower of strength to him. As already intimated, what Hilda ought to have done was, to leave Rome at once, and forever;but she is no more capable of forming such a resolution, than Hamletwas of organizing a conspiracy against his usurping uncle. When, however, the priest steps out from the confessional-box and attempts tomake a convert of Hilda, --for which indeed she has given him a fairopening, --she asserts herself and her New England training, with truefeminine dignity, and in fact has decidedly the best of the argument. It is a trying situation, in which she develops unexpected resources. Hawthorne's genius never shone forth more brilliantly than in thisscene at St. Peter's. It is Shakespearian. 

Much dissatisfaction was expressed when "The Marble Faun" was firstpublished, at the general vagueness of its conclusion. Hawthorne'sadmirers wished especially for some clearer explanation of Miriam'searlier life, and of her relation to the strange apparition of thecatacombs. He answered these interrogatories in a supplementary chapterwhich practically left the subject where it was before--an additionalpiece of mystification. In a letter to Henry Bright he admitted that hehad no very definite scheme in his mind in regard to Miriam's previoushistory, and this is probably the reason why his readers feel thisvague sense of dissatisfaction with the plot. I have myself often triedto think out a prelude to the story, but without any definite result. Miriam's persecuting model was evidently a husband who had been forcedupon her by her parents, and would not that be sufficient to accountfor her moods of gloom and despondency? Yet Hawthorne repeatedlyintimates that there was something more than this. Let us not think ofit. If the tale was not framed in mystery, Donatello would not seem soreal to us. Do not the characters in "Don Quixote" and "WilhelmMeister" spring up as it were out of the ground? They come we know notwhence, and they go we know not whither. It is with these that "TheMarble Faun" should be classed and compared, and not with "Middle-march, " "Henry Esmond, " or "The Heart of Midlothian. "

[Illustration: TORRE MEDIAVALLE DELLA SCIMMIA (HILDA'S TOWER), OF THEVIA PORTOGHESE AT ROME, WHERE HAWTHORNE REPRESENTS HILDA TO HAVE LIVEDAND TENDED THE LAMP AT THE VIRGIN'S SHRINE ON THE TOP OF THE TOWER]

Goethe said, while looking at the group of the "Laocoön, " "I think thatyoung fellow on the right will escape the serpents. " This was notaccording to the story Virgil tells, but it is true to natural history. Similarly, it is pleasant to think that the Pope's mercy may ultimatelyhave been extended to Donatello. We can imagine an aged couple living aserious, retired life in the castle of Monte Beni, childless, and to acertain extent joyless, but taking comfort in their mutual affection, and in acts of kindness to their fellow-mortals. 

In order to see Hilda's tower in Rome, go straight down from theSpanish Steps to the Corso, turn to the right, and you will soon cometo the Via Portoghese (on the opposite side), where you will easilyrecognize the tower on the right hand. The tower is five stories inheight, set in the front of the palace, and would seem to be older thanthe building about it; the relic, perhaps, of some distinguishedmediaeval structure. The odd little shrine to the Virgin, a toy-likeaffair, still surmounts it; but its lamp is no longer burning. It wasfine imagination to place Hilda in this lofty abode. 

CHAPTER XVII

HOMEWARD BOUND: 1860-1862

There is no portion of Hawthorne's life concerning which we know lessthan the four years after his return from England to his native land. He was so celebrated that every eye was upon him; boys stopped theirgames to see him pass by, and farmers stood still in the road to stareat him. He was Hawthorne the famous, and every movement he made wasremembered, every word spoken by him was recorded or related, and yetaltogether it amounts to little enough. Letters have been preserved innumber, --many of his own and others from his English friends, and thosefrom his wife to her relatives; but they do not add much to the picturewe have already formed in our minds of the man. As he said somewhere, fame had come too late to be a satisfaction to him, but on the contrarymore of an annoyance. Hawthorne left Leamington the last of March, andtransferred his family to Bath, which he soon discovered to be thepleasantest English city he had lived in yet, --symmetrically laid out, like a Continental city, and built for the most part of a yellowishsandstone; not unlike in appearance the travertine of which St. Peter'sat Rome is built. The older portion of the city lies in a hollow amongthe hills, like an amphitheatre, and the more recent additions riseupon the hill-sides above it to a considerable height. This is the lastnote of enthusiasm in his writings; and in the next entry in his diary, which was written at Lothrop Motley's house, Hertford Street, London, May 16, he makes this ominous confession: "I would gladly journalizesome of my proceedings, and describe things and people, but I find thesame coldness and stiffness in my pen as always since our return toEngland. " It is only too evident that from this time literarycomposition, which had been the chief recreation of his youth, and inwhich he had always found satisfaction until now, was no longer apleasure to him. It is the last entry in his journal, at least for morethan two years, and whatever writing he accomplished in the mean timewas done for the sake of his wife and children. Dickens had a similarexperience the last year of his life. Clearly, Hawthorne's nervousforce was waning. 

On May 15, Hawthorne and Motley were invited to dine by Earl Dufferin, that admirable diplomat and one of the pleasantest of men. In fact, ifthere was a person living who could make Hawthorne feel perfectly athis ease, it was Dufferin. Motley provided some entertainment or otherfor his guest every day, and Hawthorne confessed that the stir andactivity of London life were doing him "a wonderful deal of good. " Whathe seems to have needed at this time was a vigorous, objectiveemployment that would give his circulation a start in the rightdirection; but how was he to obtain that?

He enjoyed one last stroll with Henry Bright through Hyde Park andalong the Strand, and found time to say a long farewell to FrancisBennoch: the last time he was to meet either of them on this side ofeternity. 

He returned to Bath the 1st of June, and ten days later they allembarked for Boston, --as it happened, by a pleasant coincidence, withthe same captain with whom they had left America seven years before. Mrs. Hawthorne's sister, Mrs. Horace Mann, prepared their house atConcord for their reception, and there they arrived at the summersolstice. 

The good people of Concord had been mightily stirred up that spring, byan attempt to arrest Frank B. Sanborn and carry him forcibly toWashington, --contrary to law, as the Supreme Court of the State decidedthe following day. The marshal who arrested him certainly proceededmore after the manner of a burglar than of a civil officer, hidinghimself with his _posse comitatus_ in a barn close to Sanborn'sschool-house, watching his proceedings through the cracks in theboards, and finally arresting him at night, just as he was going tobed; but the alarm was quickly sounded, and the whole male populationof the place, including Emerson, turned out like a swarm of angryhornets, and the marshal and his posse were soon thankful to escapewith their bones in a normal condition. A few nights later, the barn, which was owned by a prominent official in the Boston Custom House, wasburned to the ground (the fire-company assisting), as a sacrifice onthe altar of personal liberty. 

The excitement of this event had not yet subsided when the arrival ofthe Hawthorne family produced a milder and more amiable, but no lessprofound, sensation in the old settlement; and this was considerablyincreased by the fact that for the first month nothing was seen ofthem, except a sturdy-looking boy fishing from a rock in Concord River, opposite the spot where his father and Channing had discovered theunfortunate school-mistress. Old friends made their calls and werecordially received, but Hawthorne himself did not appear in publicplaces; and it was soon noticed that he did not take the long walkswhich formerly carried him to the outer limits of the town. He wassometimes met on the way to Walden Pond, either alone or in companywith his son; but Bronson Alcott more frequently noticed him glidingalong in a ghost-like manner by the rustic fence which separated theirtwo estates, or on the way to Sleepy Hollow. When the weather becamecooler he formed a habit of walking back and forth on the hill-sideabove his house, where the bank descends sharply like a railroad-cut, with dwarf pines and shrub oaks on the further side of it. He wore apath there, which is described in "Septimius Felton, " and it is quitepossible that the first inception of that story entered his mind whilelooking down upon the Lexington road beneath him, and imagining how itappeared while filled with marching British soldiers. 

About July 10, 1860, the scholars of Mr. Sanborn's school, male andfemale, gave an entertainment in the Town Hall, not unlike HarvardClass Day. Mrs. Hawthorne and her eldest daughter appeared among theguests, and attracted much attention from the quiet grace and dignityof their manners; but there was an expression of weariness on MissUna's face, which contrasted strangely with the happy, blithesome looksof the school-girls. Some idea of the occasion may be derived from apassing remark of Mrs. Hawthorne to a Harvard student present: "Mydaughter will be happy to dance with you, sir, if I can only find her. "

In September Hawthorne wrote to James T. Fields: [Footnote: Mrs. J. T. Fields, 118. ]

"We are in great trouble on account of our poor Una, in whom the bitterdregs of that Roman fever are still rankling, and have now developedthemselves in a way which the physicians foreboded. I do not like towrite about it, but will tell you when we meet. Say nothing. "

Miss Una was evidently far from well, and her father's anxiety for hersensibly affected his mental tone. 

He was invited at once to join the Saturday Club, popularly known atthat time as the Atlantic Club, because its most conspicuous memberswere contributors to that periodical. Hawthorne did not return inseason to take part in the Club's expedition to the AdirondackMountains, concerning which Doctor Holmes remarked that, consideringthe number of rifles they carried, it was fortunate that they allreturned alive. The meetings of the Club came but once a month, and asthe last train to Concord was not a very late one, Judge Hoar had hiscarryall taken down to Waltham on such occasions, and thence he, withHawthorne and Emerson, drove back to Concord through the woods in thedarkness or moonlight; and Hawthorne may have enjoyed this as much asany portion of the entertainment. 

A club whose membership is based upon celebrity reminds one rather of acongregation of stags, all with antlers of seven tines. There was everyshade of opinion, political, philosophical and religious, representedin the Saturday Club, and if they never fought over such subjects itwas certainly much to their credit. Very little has been divulged ofwhat took place at their meetings; but it is generally known that inthe winter of 1861 Longfellow was obliged to warn his associates thatif they persisted in abusing Sumner he should be obliged to leave theircompany; Sumner being looked upon by the Democrats and more timidRepublicans as the chief obstacle to pacification; as if any one mancould prop a house up when it was about to fall. After the War began, this naturally came to an end, and Sumner was afterwards invited tojoin the Club, with what satisfaction to Hoar, Lowell, and Holmes itmight be considering rather curiously to inquire. We can at least feelconfident that Hawthorne had no share in this. He did not believe infighting shadows, and he at least respected Sumner for his franknessand disinterestedness. 

Such differences of opinion, however, are not conducive to freedom ofdiscussion. Henry James, Sr. , lifts the veil for a moment in a letterto Emerson, written about this time, [Footnote: Memoir of BronsonAlcott; also the "Hawthorne Centenary. "] and affords us a picture ofHawthorne at the Saturday Club, which might bear the designation of ahighly-flavored caricature. According to Mr. James, John M. Forbes, theCanton millionaire, preserved the balance at one end of the table, while Hawthorne, an oasis in a desert, served as the nearest approachto a human being, at the other. "How he buried his eyes in his plateand ate with such a voracity! that no one should dare to ask him aquestion. "

We do not realize the caricaturist in Henry James, Jr. , so readily, onaccount of his elastic power of expression; but the relationship isplain and apparent. Both father and son ought to have been baptized inthe Castalian Fount. There are those who have been at table with bothHawthorne and the elder James, and without the slightest reflection onMr. James, have confessed their preference for the quiet composure andsimple dignity of Hawthorne. In truth Hawthorne's manners were abovethose of the polished courtier or the accomplished man of fashion: theywere poetic manners, and in this respect Longfellow most nearlyresembled him of all members of the Club; although Emerson also hadadmirable manners and they were largely the cause of his success. Itwould have done no harm if Emerson had burned this letter after itsfirst perusal, but since it is out of the bag we must even consider itas it deserves. 

Hawthorne must have enjoyed the meetings of the Club or he would nothave attended them so regularly. He wrote an account of the firstoccasion on which he was present, giving an accurate description of thedinner itself and enclosing a diagram of the manner in which the guestswere seated, but without any commentary on the proceedings of the day. It was, after all, one of the nerve-centres of the great world, and anagreeable change from the domestic monotony of the Wayside. Thackeraywould have descried rich material for his pen in it, but Hawthorne'sstudies lay in another direction. Great men were not his line inliterature. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Hawthorne and her daughter were transforming theirConcord home into a small repository of the fine arts. Without muchthat would pass by the title of elegance, they succeeded in giving itan unpretentious air of refinement, and one could not enter it withoutrealizing that the materials of a world-wide culture had been broughttogether there. Hawthorne soon found the dimensions of the house toonarrow for the enlarged views which he had brought with him fromabroad, and he designed a tower to be constructed at one corner of it, similar to, if not so lofty as that of the Villa Manteuto. Thisoccupied him and the dilatory Concord carpenter for nearly half a year;and meanwhile chaos and confusion reigned supreme. There was no onewhose ears could be more severely offended by the music of thecarpenter's box and the mason's trowel than Hawthorne, and he knew notwhether to fly his home or remain in it. Not until all this was overcould he think seriously of a new romance. 

He made his study in the upper room of the tower; a room exactly twentyfeet square, with a square vaulted ceiling and five windows, --toomany, one would suppose, to produce a pleasant effect of light, --andwalls papered light yellow. There he could be as quiet and retired asin the attic of his Uncle Robert Manning's house in Salem. Conwaystates that he wrote at a high desk, like Longfellow, and walked backand forth in the room while thinking out what he was going to say. Theview from his windows extended across the meadows to Walden woods andthe Fitchburg railroad track, and it also commanded the Alcott houseand the road to Concord village. It was in this work-shop that heprepared "Our Old Home" for the press and wrote the greater part of"Septimius Felton" and "The Dolliver Romance. "

The War was a new source of distraction. It broke out before the towerwas finished, stimulating Hawthorne's nerves, but disturbing thatdelicate mental equilibrium upon which satisfactory procedure of hiswriting depended. On May 26, 1861, he wrote to Horatio Bridge:

"The war, strange to say, has had a beneficial effect upon my spirits, which were flagging wofully before it broke out. But it was delightfulto share in the heroic sentiment of the time, and to feel that I had acountry, --a consciousness which seemed to make me young again. Onething as regards this matter I regret, and one thing I am glad of. Theregrettable thing is that I am too old to shoulder a musket myself, andthe joyful thing is that Julian is too young. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 276. ]

Hawthorne's patriotism was genuine and deep-seated. He was not the onlyAmerican whom the bombardment of Fort Sumter had awakened to the factthat he had a country. What we have always enjoyed, we do not think ofuntil there is danger of losing it. In the same letter, he confessesthat he does not quite understand "what we are fighting for, or whatdefinite result can be expected. If we pummel the South ever so hard, they will love us none the better for it; and even if we subjugatethem, our next step should be to cut them adrift. "

There were many in those times who thought and felt as Hawthorne did. Douglas said in the Senate, "Even if you coerce the Southern States andbring them back by force, it will not be the same Union. " A_people_ does not necessarily mean a _nation_; for the ideaof nationality is of slow growth, and is in a manner opposed to theidea of democracy; for if the right of government depends on theconsent of the governed, the primary right of the governed must be toabrogate that government whenever they choose to do so. Hawthorne wassimply a consistent democrat; but time has proved the fallacy ofDouglas's statement, and that a forcible restoration of the Union wasentirely compatible with friendliness and mutal good-will between thedifferent sections of the country, --after slavery, which was the realobstacle to this, had been eliminated. If the States east of theAlleghanies should attempt to separate from the rest of the nation, itwould inevitably produce a war similar to that of 1861. 

Hawthorne even went to the length at this time of proposing to arm thenegroes, and preparing them "for future citizenship by allowing them tofight for their own liberties, and educating them through heroicinfluences. " [Footnote: The "Hawthorne Centenary, " 197. ] When George L. Stearns was organizing the colored regiments in Tennessee in 1863 hewrote concerning his work, in almost exactly these terms; and theinference is plain that Hawthorne might have been more of ahumanitarian if his early associations had been different. 

Such an original character as Bronson Alcott for a next-door neighborcould not long escape Hawthorne's penetrating glance. Alcott was aninteresting personality, perfectly genuine, frank, kindly andimperturbably good-humored. He had a benevolent aspect, and in generalappearance so much resembled the portraits of Benjamin Franklin thathis ingenious daughters made use of him in charades and theatricals forthat purpose. Hawthorne had known him many years earlier, and hadspoken very pleasantly of him in his first publication of "The Hall ofFantasy. " He even said, "So calm and gentle was he, so quiet in theutterance of what his soul brooded upon, that one might readilyconceive his Orphic Sayings to well up from a fountain in his breast, which communicated with the infinite abyss of thought, "--rather anoptimistic view for Hawthorne. Alcott's philosophy had the decidedmerit, which Herbert Spencer's has not, of a strong affirmation of aGreat First Cause, and our direct responsibility thereto: but it waschiefly the philosophy of Plotinus; and his constant reiteration of a"lapse" in human nature from divine perfection (which was simply theDonatello phase expressed in logic), with the various corollariesdeduced from it, finally became as wearisome as the harp with a singlestring. Whether he troubled Hawthorne in that way, is rather doubtful, for even as a hobby-rider, Alcott was a man of Yankee shrewdness andconsiderable tact. Rose Hawthorne says that "he once brought aparticularly long poem to read, aloud to my mother and father; aseemingly harmless thing from which they never recovered. " What poemthis could have been I have no idea, but in his later years Alcottwrote some excellent poetry, and those who ought to know do not thinkthat he bored Hawthorne very severely. They frequently went to walktogether, taking Julian for a make-weight, and Hawthorne could easilyhave avoided this if he had chosen. There are times for all of us whenour next-door neighbors prove a burden; and it cannot be doubted thatin most instances this is reciprocal. [Footnote: Rose Hawthorne, however, writes charmingly of the Alcotts. Take this swift sketch, among others: "I imagine his slightly stooping, yet tall and well-grownfigure, clothed in black, and with a picturesque straw hat, twiningitself in and out of forest aisles, or craftily returning home withgargoyle-like stems over his shoulders. "]

Alcott was a romance character of exceptional value, and Hawthornerecognized this, but did not succeed in inventing a plot that wouldsuit the subject. The only one of Hawthorne's preparatory sketchesgiven to the public--in which we see his genius in the "midmost heat ofcomposition"--supposes a household in which an old man keeps a crab-spider for a pet, a deadly poisonous creature; and in the same familythere is a boy whose fortunes will be mysteriously affected in somemanner by this dangerous insect. He did not proceed sufficiently toindicate for us how this would turn out, but he closes the sketch withthe significant remark, "In person and figure Mr. Alcott"; from whichit may be inferred that the crab-spider was intended to symbolizeAlcott's philosophy, and the catastrophe of the romance would naturallyresult from the unhealthy mental atmosphere in which the boy grew up, --a catastrophe which in Alcott's family was averted by the practicalsagacity of his daughters. The idea, however, became modified in itsapplication. 

It is with regret that we do not allot a larger space to this importantsketch, for it is clearly an original study (like an artist's drawing)of the unfinished romance which was published in 1883 under the titleof "Doctor Grimshawe's Secret. " Long lost sight of in the mass ofHawthorne's manuscripts, this last of his posthumous works was reviewedby the critics with some incredulity, and Lathrop had the hardihood topublicly assert that no such romance by Hawthorne's pen existed, thereby casting a gratuitous slander on his own brother-in-law. We mayhave our doubts in regard to the authorship of Shakespeare's plays, forwe have no absolute standard by which to judge of Shakespeare's style, but the "style, the matter, and the drift" of "Doctor Grimshawe'sSecret" are so essentially Hawthornish that a person experienced injudging of such matters should not hesitate long in deciding that itbelongs in the same category with "Fanshawe" and "The DolliverRomance. " It is even possible to determine, from certain peculiaritiesin its style, the exact period at which it was written; which must havebeen shortly after Hawthorne's return from Europe. In addition to this, if further evidence were required, its close relationship to theaforementioned sketch is a fact which no sophistry can reason away. [Footnote: This sketch was published in the _Century_, January, 1883. ]

The bloody footstep suggested to Hawthorne by the antediluvian print inthe stone step at Smithell's Hall, in Lancashire, serves as the key-note of this romance; but the eccentric recluse, the big crab-spider, the orphaned grandchild, and even Bronson Alcott also appear in it. Alcott, however, --and his identity cannot be mistaken, --does not playthe leading part in the piece, but comes in at the fifth chapter, onlyto disappear mysteriously in the eighth; the orphan boy is companionedby a girl of equal age, and these two bright spirits, mutuallysustaining each other, cast a radiance over the old Doctor in hisdusty, frowsy, cobwebby study, which brings out the external appearanceand internal peculiarities of the man, in the most vivid manner. Thedispositions and appearances of the two children are also contrasted, as Raphael might have drawn and contrasted them, if he had painted apicture on a similar subject. 

The crab-spider is one of the most horrible of Nature's creations. Hawthorne saw one in the British Museum and it seems to have hauntedhis imagination ever afterward. Why the creature should have beenintroduced into this romance is not very clear, for it plays no part inthe development of the plot. The spider hangs suspended over the oldDoctor's head like the sword of Damocles, and one would expect it todescend at the proper moment in the narrative, and make an end of himwith its nippers; but Doctor Grimshawe dies a comparatively naturaldeath, and the desiccated body of the spider is found still clinging tothe web above him. The man and the insect were too closely akin in themodes and purposes of their lives for either to outlast the other. There is nothing abnormal in the fact of Doctor Grimshawe's possessingthis dangerous pet; for all kinds of poisonous creatures have a well-known fascination for the medical profession. Doctor Holmes amusedhimself with a rattlesnake. 

In spite of its unpleasant associations with spiders and blood-stains, "Doctor Grimshawe's Secret" is one of the most interesting ofHawthorne's works, containing much of his finest thought and mostcharacteristic description. The portrait of the grouty old Doctorhimself has a solidity of impast like Shakespeare's Falstaff, and thegrave-digger, who has survived from colonial times, carries us backinvoluntarily to the burial scene in "Hamlet. " Alcott, whose name ischanged to Colcord, is not treated realistically, but rather idealizedin such kindly sympathetic manner as might prevent all possibility ofoffence at the artistic theft of his personality. The plot, too, is amost ingenious one, turning and winding like a hare, and even divingout of sight for a time; but only to reappear again, as the school-master Colcord does, with a full and satisfactory explanation of itsmysterious course. To judge from the appearance of the manuscript, thisromance was written very rapidly, and there are places in the textwhich intimate this; but it vies in power with "The Scarlet Letter, "and why Hawthorne should have become dissatisfied with it, --why heshould have failed to complete, revise, and publish it--can only beaccounted for by the mental or nervous depression which was nowfastening itself upon him. 

It is noticeable, however, that where the plot is transferred toEnglish ground Hawthorne's writing has much the same tone and qualitythat we find in "Our Old Home. " External appearances seem to impede hisinsight there; but this is additional proof of the authenticity of thework. [Footnote: There are many other evidences; such as, "after-dinnerspeeches on the necessity of friendly relations between England and theUnited States, " and "the whistling of the railway train, _two_ or_three_ times a day. "]

Shortly after the battle of Bull Run Hawthorne went with his boy torecuperate at Beverly Farms, leaving his wife and daughters at theWayside, and the letters which passed between these two divisions ofthe family, during his absence, give some very pretty glimpses of theiridyllic summer life. Mrs. Hawthorne "cultivated her garden, " and gavedrawing lessons to the neighbors' children, while her husband, fortymiles away, was fishing and bathing. The Beverly shore has not astimulating climate, but is very attractive in summer to those who donot mind a few sultry nights from land breezes. It was near enough toSalem for Hawthorne to revive the reminiscences of his youth (whichbecome more and more precious after the age of fifty), withoutobtruding himself on the gaze of his former townsmen or of the younglady "who wished she could poison him. " [Footnote: W. D. Howells'Memoirs. ] It is to be hoped that he saw something of his sisterElizabeth again, the last remnant of his mother's household, who forsome inscrutable reason had never visited him at Concord. 

We note here a curious circumstance; namely, that Hawthorne appears tohave lost the art of writing short sketches. It will be recollectedthat twenty years earlier he did not feel equal to anything beyondthis, and that it cost him a strenuous effort to escape from the habit. Now when he would have liked to return to that class of composition hecould not do so. Fields would have welcomed anything from his pen (sosevere a critic he was of himself), but his name does not appear in the_Atlantic Monthly_ from July, 1861, to June, 1862, and it cannotbe doubted that with the education of his son before him, theremuneration would have been welcome. It was not until nearly a yearlater that he conceived the idea of cutting his English Note-book intosections, and publishing them as magazine articles. 

From this time forth, one discouragement followed another. In theautumn of 1861 the illness of his daughter, which he had expected andpredicted, came to pass in a violent form. The old Roman virus, keptunder in her blood, for a time, by continual changes of air andclimate, at last gained the mastery, and brought her once more indanger of her life. She had to be removed to the house of her aunt, Mrs. Mann, who lived in the centre of the town, on account of herfather's nerves, so that the Concord doctor could attend her at nightwhen necessary. It was the severest and most protracted case of feverthat the physician had ever known to be followed by a recovery. MissUna did recover, but the mental strain upon her father was even moreexhausting than that which her previous illness had caused, and he wasnot in an equal condition to bear it. 

"Septimius Felton" may have been written about this time (perhapsduring his daughter's convalescence), but his family knew nothing ofit, until they discovered the manuscript after his death. When it waspublished ten years later, the poet Whittier spoke of it as a failure, and Hawthorne would seem to have considered it so; for he left it in anunfinished condition, and immediately began a different story on thesame theme, --the elixir of life. It has no connection with the sketchalready mentioned, in which Alcott's personality becomes themainspring, but with another abortive romance, called "The AncestralFootstep, " which Hawthorne commenced while he was in England. It isinvaluable for the light it throws on his method of working. Descriptive passages are mentioned in it "to be inserted" at a latertime, meanwhile concentrating his energy on more important portions ofthe narrative. Half way through the story he changed his original plan, transforming the young woman who previously had been Septimius'ssweetheart to Septimius's sister; and it may have been the difficultyof adjusting this change to the portion previously written, thatdiscouraged Hawthorne from completing the romance. But the work suffersalso from a tendency to exaggeration. The name of Hagburn isunpleasantly realistic, and Doctor Portsoaken, with his canopy ofspider-webs hanging in noisome festoons above his head, is closely akinto the repulsive. The amateur critic who averred that he could not readHawthorne without feeling a sensation as if cobwebs were drawn acrosshis face, must have had "Septimius Felton" in mind. Yet there arerefreshing passages in it, and the youthful English officer who kissesSeptimius's sweetheart before his eyes, and afterward fights animpromptu duel with him, dying as cheerfully as he had lived, is anoriginal and charming character. The scene of the story has a peculiarinterest, from the fact that it is laid at Hawthorne's own door; theFeltons are supposed to have lived at the Wayside and the Hagburns inthe Alcott house. 

The firm of Ticknor & Fields now began to feel anxious on Hawthorne'saccount, and the last of the winter the senior partner proposed ajourney to Washington, which was accordingly accomplished in the secondweek of March. Horatio Bridge was now chief of a bureau in the NavyDepartment, and was well qualified to obtain for his veteran friend aninside position for whatever happened to be going on. In the midst ofthe turmoil and excitement of war, Hawthorne attracted as muchattention as the arrival of a new ambassador from Great Britain. Secretary Stanton appointed him on a civil commission to reportconcerning the condition of the Army of the Potomac. He was introducedto President Lincoln, and made excursions to Harper's Ferry andFortress Monroe. Concerning General McClellan, he wrote to his daughteron March 16:

"The outcry opened against Gen. McClellan, since the enemy's retreatfrom Manassas, is really terrible, and almost universal; because it isfound that we might have taken their fortifications with perfect easesix months ago, they being defended chiefly by wooden guns. Unless heachieves something wonderful within a week, he will be removed fromcommand, at least I hope so; I never did more than half believe in him. By a message from the State Department, I have reason to think thatthere is money enough due me from the government to pay the expenses ofmy journey. I think the public buildings are as fine, if not finer, than anything we saw in Europe. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 309. ]

General McClellan was not a great man, and Hawthorne's opinion of himis more significant from the fact that at that time McClellan wasexpected to be the Joshua who would lead the Democratic party out ofits wilderness. On his return to Concord, Hawthorne prepared acommentary on what he had seen and heard at the seat of war, and sentit to the _Atlantic Monthly_; but, although patriotic enough, hismelancholy humor was prominent in it, and Fields particularly protestedagainst his referring to President Lincoln as "Old Abe, " although thePresident was almost universally called so in Washington; and theconsequence of this was that Hawthorne eliminated everything that hehad written about Lincoln in his account, --which might be called"dehamletizing" the subject. In addition to this he wrote a number offoot-notes purporting to come from the editor, but really intended tocounteract the unpopularity of certain statements in the text. This wasnot done with any intention to deceive, but, with the exception ofEmerson and a few others who could always recognize Hawthorne's style, the readers of the _Atlantic_ supposed that these foot-notes werewritten by either James T. Fields or James Russell Lowell, who had beenuntil recently the editor of the Magazine, --a practical joke whichHawthorne enjoyed immensely when it was discovered to him. 

This contribution, essay, or whatever it may be called, had only atemporary value, but it contained a prediction, which has been oftenrecollected in Hawthorne's favor; namely, that after the war was over"one bullet-headed general after another would succeed to thepresidential chair. " In fact, five generals, whether bullet-headed ornot, followed after Lincoln and Johnson; and then the sequence came toan end apparently because the supply of politician generals wasexhausted. Certainly the Anglo-Saxon race yields to no other inadmiration for military glory. 

Fields afterward published Hawthorne's monograph on President Lincoln, and, although it is rather an unsympathetic statement of the man, itremains the only authentic pen-and-ink sketch that we have of him. Mostimportant is his recognition of Lincoln as "essentially a Yankee" inappearance and character; for it has only recently been discovered thatLincoln was descended from an old New England family, and that hisancestors first emigrated to Virginia and afterward to Kentucky. [Footnote: Essay on Lincoln in "True Republicanism. "] Hawthorne says ofhim:

"If put to guess his calling and livelihood, I should have taken himfor a country schoolmaster as soon as anything else. [Footnote: Thecountry school-master of that time. --Ed. ] He was dressed in a rustyblack frock-coat and pantaloons, unbrushed, and worn so faithfully thatthe suit had adapted itself to the curves and angularities of hisfigure, and had grown to be the outer skin of the man. He had shabbyslippers on his feet. His hair was black, still unmixed with gray, stiff, somewhat bushy, and had apparently been acquainted with neitherbrush nor comb that morning, after the disarrangement of the pillow;and as to a nightcap, Uncle Abe probably knows nothing of sucheffeminacies. His complexion is dark and sallow, betokening, I fear, aninsalubrious atmosphere around the White House; he has thick blackeyebrows and impending brow; his nose is large, and the lines about hismouth are very strongly denned. 

"The whole physiognomy is as coarse a one as you would meet anywhere inthe length and breadth of the States; but, withal, it is redeemed, illuminated, softened, and brightened by a kindly though serious lookout of his eyes, and an expression of homely sagacity, that seemsweighted with rich results of village experience. A great deal ofnative sense; no bookish cultivation, no refinement; honest at heart, and thoroughly so, and yet, in some sort, sly, --at least, endowed witha sort of tact and wisdom that are akin to craft. . . . But on the whole, I liked this sallow, queer, sagacious visage, with the homely humansympathies that warmed it; and, for my small share in the matter, wouldas lief have Uncle Abe for a ruler as any man whom it would have beenpracticable to put in his place. " [Footnote: "Yesterdays with Authors, "99. ]

This is not a flattered portrait, like those by Lincoln's politicalbiographers; neither is it an idealized likeness, such as we mayimagine him delivering his Gettysburg Address. It is rather an externaldescription of the man, but it is, after all, Lincoln as he appeared inthe White House to the innumerable visitors, who, as sovereign Americancitizens, believed they had a right to an interview with the people'sdistinguished servant. 

Hawthorne's European letter-bag in 1862 is chiefly interesting forHenry Bright's statement that the English people might have moresympathy with the Union cause in the War if they could understandclearly what the national government was fighting for; and that LordHoughton and Thomas Hughes were the only two men he had met whoheartily supported the Northern side. Perhaps Mr. Bright would havefound it equally as difficult to explain why the British Governmentshould have made war upon Napoleon for twelve consecutive years. 

Henry Bright, moreover, seemed to be quite as much interested in a newAmerican poet, named J. G. Holland, and his poem called "Bitter-Sweet. "Lord Houghton agreed with him that it was a very remarkable poem, andthey wished to know what Hawthorne could tell them about its author. AsHolland was not recognized as a poet by the Saturday Club, Hawthorne'sanswer on this point would be very valuable if we could only obtain asight of it. Holland was in certain respects the counterpart of MartinF. Tupper. 

In the summer of this year Hawthorne went to West Goldsboro', Maine, anunimportant place opposite Mount Desert Island, taking Julian with him;a place with a stimulating climate but a rather foggy atmosphere. Hemust have gone there for his health, and it is pathetic to see how thechange of climate braced him up at first, so that he even made thecommencement of a new diary, and then, as always happens in such cases, it let him down again to where he was before. He did not complain, buthe felt that something was wrong with him and he could not tell what itwas. 

Wherever he went in passing through the civilized portion of Maine, hefound the country astir with recruits who had volunteered for the war, so that it seemed as if that were the only subject which occupied men'sminds. He says of this in his journal:

"I doubt whether any people was ever actuated by a more genuine anddisinterested public spirit; though, of course, it is not unalloyedwith baser motives and tendencies. We met a train of cars with aregiment or two just starting for the South, and apparently in highspirits. Everywhere some insignia of soldiership were to be seen, --bright buttons, a red stripe down the trousers, a military cap, andsometimes a round-shouldered bumpkin in the entire uniform. Theyrequire a great deal to give them the aspect of soldiers; indeed, itseems as if they needed to have a good deal taken away and added, likethe rough clay of a sculptor as it grows to be a model. "

Such is the last entry in his journal. Hawthorne was not carried offhis feet by the excitement of the time, but looked calmly on whileothers expended their patriotism in hurrahing for the Union. What heremarks concerning the volunteers was perfectly true Men cannot changetheir profession in a day, and soldiers are not to be made out offarmers' boys and store clerks simply by clothing them in uniform, nomatter how much courage they may have. War is a profession like otherprofessions, and requires the severest training of them all. 

CHAPTER XVIII

IMMORTALITY

In the autumn of 1862 there was great excitement in Massachusetts. President Lincoln had issued his premonitory proclamation ofemancipation, and Harvard College was stirred to its academic depths. Professor Joel Parker, of the Law School, pronounced Lincoln's actionunconstitutional, subversive of the rights of property, and a mostdangerous precedent. With Charles Eliot Norton and other AmericanTories, Parker headed a movement for the organization of a People'sParty, which had for its immediate object the defeat of Andrew forGovernor and the relegation of Sumner to private life. The first theycould hardly expect to accomplish, but it was hoped that a sufficientnumber of conservative representatives would be elected to theLegislature to replace Sumner by a Republican, who would be more totheir own minds; and they would be willing to compromise on such acandidate as Honorable E. R. Hoar, --although Judge Hoar was innocent ofthis himself and was quite as strongly anti-slavery as Sumner. Themovement came to nothing, as commonly happens with political movementsthat originate in universities, but for the time being it caused agreat commotion and nowhere more so than in the town of Concord. Emerson was never more emphatic than in demanding the re-election ofAndrew and Sumner. 

How Hawthorne felt about this and how he voted in November, can only beconjectured by certain indications, slight, it is true, but allpointing in one direction. As long since explained, he entertained novery friendly feeling toward the Cotton Whigs; his letter to hisdaughter concerning Gen. McClellan, who set himself against theproclamation and was removed in consequence, should be taken intoconsideration; and still more significant is the letter to HoratioBridge, in which Hawthorne proposed the enlistment of negro soldiers. Doctor George B. Loring, of Salem, always a loyal friend to theHawthorne family, came to Concord in September to deliver an address atthe annual cattle-show, and visited at the Wayside. He had left theDemocratic party and become a member of the Bird Club, which was thenthe centre of political influence in the State. As a matter of coursehe explained his new position to Hawthorne. He had long felt attractedto the Republican party, and but for his influential position among hisfellow-Democrats, he would have joined it sooner. Parties were beingreconstructed. Half the Democrats had become Republicans; and aconsiderable portion of the Whigs had joined the Democratic party. Theinterests of the Republic were in the hands of the Republican party andit ought to be supported. We can believe that Hawthorne listened to himwith close attention. 

It was in the spring of 1862 that I first became well acquainted withthe Hawthorne family, which seemed to exist in an atmosphere of purityand refinement derived from the man's own genius. Julian visited me atour house in Medford during the early summer, where he made great havocamong the small fruits of the season. We boxed, fenced, skated, playedcricket and studied Cicero together. As my father was one of the mostrevolutionary of the Free-Soilers, this may have amused Hawthorne as aninstance of the Montagues and Capulets; but I found much sympathy withmy political notions in his household. When the first of January camethere was a grand celebration of the Emancipation in Boston Music Hall. Mrs. Hawthorne and Una were very desirous to attend it, and I believethey both did so--Miss Una at all events. If Mrs. Hawthorne's opinionscould be taken in any sense as a reflection of her husband's mind, hewas certainly drifting away from his old associations. 

In October, 1862, Hawthorne published the first of a series of studiesfrom English life and scenery, taken chiefly from his Note-book, and hecontinued this at intervals until the following summer, when Ticknor &Fields brought them out with some additions in book form as "Our OldHome;" a volume which has already been considered in these pages. Itwas not a favorable time for the publication of classic literature, forthe whole population of the United States was in a ferment; andmoreover the unfriendly attitude of the English educated classes towardthe cause of the Union, was beginning to have its effect with us. Intruth it seemed rather inconsistent that the philanthropic Gladstone, who had always professed himself the friend of freedom, should glorifyJefferson Davis as the founder of a new nation--a republic ofslaveholders. In addition to this, Hawthorne insisted on dedicating thevolume to President Pierce, and when his publishers protested that thiswould tend to make the book unpopular, he replied in a spirited manner, that if that was the case it was all the more reason why Pierce'sfriends should signify their continued confidence in him. This may havemade little difference, however, for comparatively few readers noticethe dedication of a book until after they have purchased it; and welike Hawthorne for his firmness in this instance. 

In England the book produced a sensation of the unfavorable sort. Hawthorne's attack on the rotundity of the English ladies, whatever mayhave been his reason for it, was, to speak reservedly, somewhat lackingin delicacy. It stirred up a swarm of newspaper enemies against him;and proved a severe strain to the attachment of his friends there. Henry Bright wrote to him:

"It really was too bad, some of the things you say. You talk like acannibal. Mrs. Heywood says to my mother, 'I really believe you and Iwere the only ladies he knew in Liverpool, and we are not likebeefsteaks. ' So all the ladies are furious. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 280. Good Mrs. Alcott also objected stoutly to the reflections onher sex. ]

But Hawthorne was no longer what he had been, and allowance should bemade for this. 

Hawthorne's chief interest at this time, however, lay in thepreparation of his son for Harvard College. Julian was sixteen inAugust and, considering the itinerant life he had lived, well advancedin his studies. He was the best-behaved boy in Concord, in school orout, and an industrious though not ambitious scholar. He was strong, vigorous and manly; and his parents had sufficient reason to be proudof him. To expect him, however, to enter Harvard College at the age ofseventeen was somewhat unreasonable. His father had entered Bowdoin atthat age, but the requirements at Harvard were much more severe than atBowdoin; enough to make a difference of at least one year in the age ofthe applicant. For a boy to enter college in a half-fitted condition issimply to make a false start in life, for he is only too likely tobecome discouraged, and either to drag along at the foot of the classor to lose his place in it altogether. Hawthorne may have felt that theend of earthly affairs was close upon him, and wished to see his sonstarted on the right road before that came; but Emerson also had aninterest in having Julian go to college at exactly this time; namely, to obtain him as a chum for his wife's nephew, with the advantage of atutor's room thrown in as an extra inducement. He advised Hawthorne toplace Julian in charge of a Harvard professor who was supposed to havea sleight-of-hand faculty for getting his pupils through theexaminations. Julian worked bravely, and succeeded in entering Harvardthe following July; but he was nine months (or a good school year), younger than the average of his class. 

Hawthorne did not leave home this summer (1863), and the only letter wehave of his was the one to James T. Fields concerning the dedication of"Our Old Home, " which was published in the autumn. Julian states thathis father spent much of his time standing or walking in his narrowgarden before the house, and looking wistfully across the meadows toWalden woods. His strength was evidently failing him, yet he could notexplain why--nor has it ever been explained. 

One bright day in November two of us walked up from Cambridge withJulian and lunched at his father's. Mr. Hawthorne received uscordially, but in a tremulous manner that betrayed the weakness of hisnerves. As soon as Julian had left the room, he said to us, "I supposeit would be of little use to ask you young gentlemen what sort of ascholar Julian is. " H---- replied to this, that we were neither of usin the division with him, but that he had heard nothing unfavorable inregard to his recitations; and I told him that Julian went to thegymnasium with me every evening, and appeared to live a very regularkind of life. This seemed to please Mr. Hawthorne very much, and hesoon produced a decanter of port, and, his son having entered the roomagain, he said, "I want to teach Julian the taste of good wine, so thathe will learn to avoid those horrible punches, which I am told you haveat Harvard. " We all laughed greatly at this, which was afterwardincreased by Julian's saying that the only punches he had yet seen werethose which the sophomores gave us in the foot-ball fight, --or somesuch statement. It was a bright occasion for all of us, and when Mrs. Hawthorne and her daughters entered the room, such a beautiful group asthey all formed together! And Hawthorne himself seemed ten yearsyounger than when he first greeted us. 

He was the most distinguished-looking man that I ever beheld, and nosensible person could meet him without instantly recognizing hissuperior mental endowment. His features were not only classic butgrandly classic; and his eyes large, dark, luminous, unfathomable--looking into them was like looking into a deep well. His face seemed togive a pictorial reflection of whatever was taking place about him; andagain became like a transparency through which one could see dim vistasof beautiful objects. The changes of expression on it were like thesunshine and clouds of a summer day--perhaps thunder clouds sometimes, with flashes of lightning, which his son may still remember; for wherethere is a great heart there will always be great heat. 

"THE DOLLIVER ROMANCE"

According to James T. Fields, the ground-plan of this work was laid thepreceding winter, but Hawthorne became dissatisfied with the way inwhich the subject developed itself and so set the manuscript asideuntil he could come to it again with fresh inspiration. With the morebracing weather of September he commenced on it again, and wrote duringthe next two months that portion which we now have. On December 1 heforwarded two chapters to Ticknor & Fields, requesting to have them setup so that he could see them in print and obtain a retrospective viewof his work before he proceeded further. Yet on December 15 he wroteagain, saying that he had not yet found courage to attack the proofs, and that all mental exertion had become hateful to him. [Footnote:"Yesterdays with Authors, " 115. ] He was evidently feeling badly, andfor the first time Mrs. Hawthorne was seriously anxious for him. Fourdays later she wrote to Una, who was visiting in Beverly:

"Papa is comfortable to-day, but very thin and pale and weak. I givehim oysters now. Hitherto he has had only toasted crackers and lamb andbeef tea. I am very impatient that he should see Dr. Vanderseude, buthe wants to go to him himself, and he cannot go till it be goodweather. . . . The splendor and pride of strength in him have succumbed;but they can be restored, I am sure. Meanwhile he is very nervous anddelicate; he cannot bear anything, and he must be handled like theairiest Venetian glass. " [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, ii. 333. ]

He divided his time between lying on a sofa and sitting in an arm-chair; and he did not seem very comfortable in either position. It waslong since he had attended meetings of the Saturday Club. 

It is clear from this that Hawthorne had not recently consulted adoctor concerning his condition, and perhaps not at all. He may havebeen right enough in supposing that no common practitioner could givehim help, but there was at that time one of the finest of physiologistsin Boston, Dr. Edward H. Clark, who cured hundreds of sick people everyyear, as quietly and unostentatiously as Dame Nature herself. He was agraduate of the University of Pennsylvania, and as such not generallylooked upon with favor by the Boston medical profession, but whenAgassiz's large brain gave way in 1868, Dr. Brown-Séquard telegraphedto him from Europe to consult Edward Clark, and Doctor Clark soimproved his health that Agassiz afterward enjoyed a number of years ofuseful work. Perhaps he might have accomplished as much for Hawthorne;but how was Hawthorne in his retired and uncommunicative life to knowof him? There are decided advantages in living in the great world, andin knowing what goes on there, --if one only can. 

It is doubtful if Hawthorne ever opened the proof of "The DolliverRomance. " In February he wrote to Fields that he could not possibly goon with it, and as it had already been advertised for the _AtlanticMonthly_, a notification had to be published concerning the matter, which startled Longfellow, Whittier and other old friends of Hawthorne, who were not in the way of knowing much about him. The fragment that wenow have of it was printed in the _Atlantic_ many years after hisdeath. 

It was the last expiring ember of Hawthorne's genius, blazing upfitfully and momentarily with the same brightness as of old, and thendisappearing like Hawthorne himself into the unknown and theunknowable. It is a fragment, and yet it seems complete, for it isimpossible to imagine how the story could have been continued beyondits present limits; and Hawthorne left no word from which we canconjecture his further intentions in regard to it. 

There was an old apothecary in Concord, named Reynolds, a similar manto, but not so aged as, Hawthorne's Doctor Dolliver; and he also had ason, a bright enterprising boy, --too bright and spirited to suit Bostoncommercialism, --who went westward in 1858 to seek his fortune, nor haveI ever heard of his return. The child Pansie, frisking with her kitten--a more simple, ingenuous, and self-centred, but also less sympatheticnature than the Pearl of Hester Prynne--may have been studied fromHawthorne's daughter Rose. There also lived at Concord in Hawthorne'stime a man with the title of Colonel, a pretentious, self-satisfiedperson, who corresponded fairly to his description of Colonel Dabney, in "The Dolliver Romance. " Neither is it singular that the apothecary'sgarden should have bordered on a grave-yard, for there are two oldcemeteries in Concord in the very centre of the town. 

I know of no such portrait of an old man as Doctor Dolliver in art orliterature, --except perhaps Tintoretto's portrait of his aged self, inthe Louvre. We not only see the customary marks of age upon him, but wefeel them so that it seems as if we grew old and stiff and infirm as weread of him; and the internal life of old age is revealed to us, not byconfessions of the man himself, but by every word he speaks and everyact he does as if the writer were a skilful tragedian upon the stage. It seems as if Hawthorne must have felt all this himself during thelast year of his life, to describe it so vividly; but he ascends bythese infirm steps to loftier heights than ever before, and the scenein which he represents Doctor Dolliver seated at night before the firein his chamber after Pansie had been put to bed, is the noblest passagein the whole cycle of Hawthorne's art; one of those rare passageswritten in moments of gifted insight, when it seems as if a higherpower guided the writer's hand. It is given here entire, for tosubtract a word from it would be an irreparable injury. 

"While that music lasted, the old man was alive and happy. And therewere seasons, it might be, happier than even these, when Pansie hadbeen kissed and put to bed, and Grandsir Dolliver sat by his firesidegazing in among the massive coals, and absorbing their glow into thosecavernous abysses with which all men communicate. Hence come angels orfiends into our twilight musings, according as we may have peopled themin by-gone years. Over our friend's face, in the rosy flicker of thefire-gleam, stole an expression of repose and perfect trust that madehim as beautiful to look at, in his high-backed chair, as the childPansie on her pillow; and sometimes the spirits that were watching himbeheld a calm surprise draw slowly over his features and brighten intojoy, yet not so vividly as to break his evening quietude. The gate ofheaven had been kindly left ajar, that this forlorn old creature mightcatch a glimpse within. All the night afterwards, he would be semi-conscious of an intangible bliss diffused through the fitful lapses ofan old man's slumber, and would awake, at early dawn, with a faintthrilling of the heart-strings, as if there had been music just nowwandering over them. "

So Jacob in the desert saw angels descending and ascending on a ladderfrom Heaven. Discouraged, depressed, the door closed upon his earthlyhopes, not only for himself, but for those whom he loves much betterthan himself, so far as he could ever be a help and a providence tothem, Hawthorne finds a purer joy and a higher hope in the depths ofhis own spirit. 

In the second chapter, or fragment, of this romance, Doctor Dolliver, followed by Pansie, goes out into the garden one frosty Octobermorning, and while the apothecary is digging at his herbs, theimitative child, with an instinctive repulsion for everything strangeand morbid, pulls up the fatal plant from which the elixir of life wasdistilled, and frightened at her grandfather's chiding, runs with itinto the cemetery where it is lost among the graves and never seenagain. This account stands by itself, having no direct connection withwhat precedes or follows; but the delineation is so vivid, the poeticelement in it so strong, that it may be said to stand withoutassistance, and does not require the name of Hawthorne to give itvalue. 

In the conclusion, the elixir of life proves to be an elixir of death;extremes meet and are reconciled. As he says in "The Marble Faun, " joychanges to sorrow and sorrow is laughed away; the experience of bothbeing that which is really valuable. Doctor Dolliver and Pansie arefigures for the end and the beginning of life; the Old Year and theNew. Such is the sum of Hawthorne's philosophy--the ultimate goal ofhis thought. There could have been no more fitting consummation of hiswork. The cycle of his art is complete, and death binds the laurelround his brow. 

A HERO'S END

After Hawthorne's letter of February 25, Fields felt that he ought tomake an effort in his behalf. Fields's partner, W. D. Ticknor, was alsoailing, and it was arranged that he and Hawthorne should go on ajourney southward as soon as the weather permitted. Doctor Holmes wasconsulted, and the last of March Hawthorne came to Boston and metHolmes at Fields's house. Holmes made an examination, which wasanything but satisfactory to his own mind; in fact, he was appalled atthe condition in which he found his former companion of the SaturdayClub. "He was very gentle, " Holmes says; "very willing to answerquestions, very docile to such counsel as I offered him, but evidentlyhad no hope of recovering his health. He spoke as if his work weredone, and he should write no more. " [Footnote: _Atlantic Monthly_, July, 1864. ] The doctor, however, must have been mistaken in supposingthat Hawthorne was suffering from the same malady that carried offGeneral Grant, for no human being could die in that manner withoutsuffering greater pain than Hawthorne gave any indication of; and thesedatives which Holmes prescribed for him could only have resulted in aweakening of the nerves. He even warned Hawthorne against the use ofalcoholic stimulants, to which for some time he had been more or lessaccustomed. 

Hawthorne and Ticknor went to New York, and two days later Ticknor wasable to write to Mrs. Hawthorne that her husband appeared to be muchimproved. How cruelly disappointing to meet him at their own door fourdays later, haggard, weary and more dispirited than when he had leftthe Wayside on March 26! He had proceeded to Philadelphia with Ticknor, and there at the Continental Hotel Ticknor was suddenly seized with amortal malady and died almost in Hawthorne's arms, before the lattercould notify his family in Boston that he was ill. What a severe ordealfor a man who was strong and well, but to a person in Hawthorne'scondition it was like a thunderbolt. Ticknor's son came to him at once, and together they performed the necessary duties of the occasion, andmade their melancholy way homeward. Nothing, perhaps, except a death inhis own family, could have had so unfavorable an effect uponHawthorne's condition. 

Some good angel now notified Franklin Pierce of the serious posture ofaffairs, and he came at once to Concord to offer his services inHawthorne's behalf. However, he could propose nothing more hopeful thana journey in the uplands of New Hampshire, and for this it would benecessary to wait for settled weather. So Hawthorne remained at homefor the next month without his condition becoming apparently eitherbetter or worse. At length, on May 13, the ex-President returned andthey went together the following day. 

We will not linger over that leave-taking on the porch of the Wayside;so pathetic, so full of tenderness, even of despair, and yet with aslender ray of hope beneath the leaden cloud of anxiety. To Hawthorneit must have seemed even more discouraging than to his wife andchildren, though none of them could have suspected that the end wouldbe so soon. 

 * * * * *

On the morning of May 20, I had just returned from my first recitationwhen Julian Hawthorne appeared at my room in the Massachusettsdormitory, and said, like a man gasping for breath, "My father is dead, and I want you to come with me. " Fields had sent him word throughProfessor Gurney, who knew how to deliver such a message in thekindliest manner. We went at once to Fields's house on Charles Street, where Mrs. Fields gave Julian the little information already known tothem through a dispatch from Franklin Pierce, --that his father diedduring his sleep in the night of May 18, at the Pemmigewasset House, Plymouth, New Hampshire. After this we wandered about Boston, silentand aimless, until the afternoon train carried him to Concord. Hegreatly dreaded meeting the gaze of his fellow-townsmen, and confessedthat he wanted to hide himself in the woods like a wounded deer. [Footnote: The passage in "A Fool of Nature, " in which he describesMurgatroyd's discovery of his father's death, must have been areminiscence of this time--a passage of the finest genius. ]

On Wednesday, May 18, Hawthorne and Pierce drove from Centre Harbor toPlymouth, a long and rather rough journey to be taken in a carriage. Hawthorne, however, did not make much complaint of this, nor did heseem to be unusually fatigued. He retired to his room soon after nineo'clock, and was sleeping comfortably an hour later. Pierce wasevidently nervous about him, for he went in to look at him at two inthe morning, and again at four; and the last time he discovered thatlife was extinct. Hawthorne had died in his sleep as quietly andpeacefully as he had lived. There is the same mystery in his death thatthere was in his life, and it is difficult to assign either animmediate or a proximate cause for it. With such a physique, and hissimple, regular habits of life, he ought to have reached the age ofninety. General Pierce believed that he died of paralysis, and that isthe most probable explanation; but it was not like the usual cases ofparalysis at Hawthorne's age; for, as we have seen, the process ofdisintegration and failure of his powers had been going on for years. Nor did this follow, as commonly happens, a protracted period ofadversity, but it came upon him during the most prosperous portion ofhis life. The first ten years following upon his marriage were years ofanxiety, self-denial and even hardship; but other men, Alcott, forexample, have suffered as much and yet lived to a good old age. It mayhave been "the old dull pain" which Longfellow associated with him, filing perpetually on the vital cord. It was part of the enigmatic sideof his nature. 

The last ceremonies of respect to the earthly remains of Hawthorne wereperformed at Concord on May 23, 1864, in the Unitarian Church, acommodious building, [Footnote: In 1899 this building was burned to theground, and a new church has been erected on the same spot. ] welladapted to the great concourse of mourners who gathered there on thisoccasion. Reverend James Freeman Clarke, who had united Hawthorne andSophia Peabody in marriage twenty-two years before, was now called uponto preside over the last act in their married life. The simpleeloquence of his address penetrated to the heart of every personpresent. "Hawthorne had achieved a twofold immortality, --and hisimmortality on earth would be a comforting presence to all who mournedhim. The noblest men of the age had gathered there, to testify to hisworth as a man as well as to his genius as a writer. " Faces were to beseen in that assembly that were never beheld in Concord before. Amongthese was the soldierly figure and flashing eye of the poet Whittier. Longfellow, Emerson, Lowell, Agassiz, Alcott and Hillard were present;and ex-President Pierce shook hands with Judge Hoar over Hawthorne'sbier. After the services the assembly of mourners proceeded to SleepyHollow cemetery, and there the mortal remains of Hawthorne were buriedunder the pine trees on the same hill-side where he and Emerson andMargaret Fuller conversed together on the summer afternoon twenty yearsbefore. He needs no monument, for he has found a place in the universalpantheon of art and literature. 

 * * * * *

It would seem advisable at this parting of the ways to say something ofHawthorne's religious convictions. He went as a boy with his mother andsisters to the East Church in Salem, a society of liberal tendenciesand then on the verge of Unitarianism. All the Manning family attendedservice there, but at a later time Robert Manning separated from it andjoined an orthodox society. Hawthorne's mother and his sister Louisabecame Unitarians, and at Madam Hawthorne's death in 1848 the funeralservices were conducted by Reverend Thomas T. Stone, of the First SalemChurch. It is presumable that Nathaniel Hawthorne also became aUnitarian, so far as he can be considered a sectarian at all; butcertain elements of the older faith still remained in his mentalcomposition. It cannot be questioned that the strong optimism inEmerson's philosophy was derived from Doctor Channing's instruction, and it is equally certain that Hawthorne could never agree to this. Whatever might be the origin of evil or its abstract value, he found ittoo potent an element in human affairs to be quietly reasoned out ofexistence. Whatever might be the ultimate purpose of Divine Providence, the witchcraft prosecutions were an awful calamity to those who wereconcerned in them. In this respect he resembled David A. Wasson, one ofthe most devout religious minds, who left the church of Calvin (as itwas in his time), without ever becoming a Unitarian or a radical. MissRebecca Manning says:

"I never knew of Hawthorne's going to church at all, after I rememberabout him, and do not think he was ever in the habit of going. I thinkhe may have gone sometimes when he was in England, but I do not knowabout it. Somewhere in Julian or Rose Hawthorne's reminiscences, thereis mention made of his reading family prayers, when he was in England. He, as also his mother and sisters were people of deeply religiousnatures, though not always showing it by outward observances. "

A Concord judge and an old Free-Soil politician once attended areligious convention, and after the business of the day was over theywent to walk together. The politician confessed to the judge that hehad no very definite religious belief, for which the judge thought hedid himself great injustice; but is not that the most advanced andintelligent condition of a man's religious faith? How can we possessclear and definite ideas of the grand mystery of Creation? Consideronly this simple metaphysical fact, that space has no limit, and thatwe can neither conceive a beginning of time nor imagine time without abeginning. What is there outside of the universe? The brain reels as wethink of it. The time has gone by when a man can say to himselfdefinitely, I believe this or I believe that; but we know at least thatwe, "the creature of a day, " cannot be the highest form of intelligencein this wonderful world. We thought that we lived in solid bodies, butelectric rays have been discovered by which the skeletons inside of usbecome visible. The correlation and conservation of forces brings usvery close to the origin of all force; and yet in another sense we areas far off as ever from the perception of it. 

This would seem to have been also Hawthorne's position in regard toreligious faith. What do we know of the religious belief of MichelAngelo, of Shakespeare, or of Beethoven? We cannot doubt that they weresincerely and purely religious men; but neither of them made anyconfession of their faith. Vittoria Colonna may have known something ofMichel Angelo's belief, but Vasari does not mention it; and Beethovenconfessed it was a subject that he did not like to talk about. Thedeeper a man's sense of the awe and mystery which underlies Nature, theless he feels inclined to expose it to the public gaze. Hawthorne's ownfamily did not know what his religious opinions were--only that he wasreligious. One may imagine that the reticent man would be more reticenton this subject than on any other; but we can feel confident that atleast he was not a sceptic, for the confirmed sceptic inevitablybecomes a chatterer. He walks to Walden Pond with Hillard and Emersonon Sunday, and confesses his doubts as to the utility of the Church (inits condition at that time), for spiritual enlightenment; but in regardto the great omnipresent fact of spirituality he has no doubt. In "TheSnow Image" he makes a statue come to life, and says in conclusion thatif a new miracle is ever wrought in this world it will be in some suchsimple manner as he has described. 

To the poetic mind, which is after all the highest form of intellect, the grand fact of existence is a sufficient miracle. The rising of thesun, the changes of the seasons, the blooming of flowers and theripening of the grain, were all miracles to Hawthorne, and none theless so because they are continually being repeated. The scientiststell us that all these happen according to natural laws: perfectlytrue, but WHO was it that made those laws? WHO is it that keeps theuniverse running? Laws made for the regulation of human affairs by thewisest of men often prove ineffective, and inadequate to the purposefor which they were intended; but the laws of Nature work withunfailing accuracy. The boy solves his problem in algebra, finding outthe unknown quantity by those values which are given him; and can wenot also infer something of the _unknown_ from the great panoramathat passes unceasingly before us? The one thing that Hawthorne couldnot have understood was, how gifted minds like Lucretius and AugusteComte could recognize only the evidence of their senses, anddeliberately blind themselves to the evidence of their intellects. Hewho denies the existence of mind as a reality resembles a personlooking for his spectacles when they are on his nose; but it is theimagination of the poet that leads civilization onward to its goal. 

College life is rather generally followed by a period of scepticism, partly owing in former times to the enforced attendance at morningprayers, and still more perhaps to the study of Greek and Latinauthors. During what might be called Hawthorne's period of despair, hecould not very well have obtained consolation from the traditionalforms of divine worship; at least, such has been the experience of allthose who have passed through the Wertherian stage, so far as we knowof them. It is a time when every man has to strike the fountain ofspiritual life out of the hard rock of his own existence; and those arefortunate who, like Moses and Hawthorne, strike forcibly enough toaccomplish this. It is the "new birth from above, " in the light ofwhich religious forms seem of least importance. 

One effect of matrimony is commonly a deepening of religious feeling, but it is not surprising that Hawthorne should not have attended churchafter his marriage. His wife had not been accustomed to church-going, on account of the uncertainty of her health; the Old Manse was a longdistance from the Concord tabernacle; Hawthorne's associates inConcord, with the exception of Judge Keyes, were not in the habit ofgoing to church; and the officiating minister, both at that time andduring his later sojourn, was not a person who could have beenintellectually attractive to him. Somewhat similar reasons may haveinterfered with his attendance after his return to Salem; and duringthe last fifteen years of his life, he was too much of a wanderer totake a serious interest in the local affairs of the various places heinhabited; but he was desirous that his children should go to churchand should be brought up in honest Christian ways. 

Little more need to be said concerning Hawthorne's character as a man. It was not so perfect as Longfellow's, to whom all other Americanauthors should bow the head in this respect--the Washington of poets;and yet it was a rare example of purity, refinement, and patientendurance. His faults were insignificant in comparison with hisvirtues, and the most conspicuous of them, his tendency to revengehimself for real or fancied injuries, is but a part of the naturalinstinct in us to return the blows we receive in self-defence. Wantonly, and of his own accord, he never injured human being. Hisdomestic life was as pure and innocent as that which appeared beforethe world; and Mrs. Hawthorne once said of him in my presence that shedid not believe he ever committed an act that could properly beconsidered wrong. It was like his writing, and his "wells of Englishundefiled" were but as a synonym for the clear current of his dailyexistence. 

The ideality in Hawthorne's face was so conspicuous that it isrecognizable in every portrait of him. It was not the cold visionaryexpression of the abstract thinker, but a human poetic intelligence, which resolved all things into a spiritual alembic of its own. It isthis which elevates him above all writers who only deal with the outerworld as they find it, and add nothing to it from their own natures. 

George Brandes, the Danish critic and essayist, speaks of Hawthornesomewhere as "the baby poet;" but we suspect that if he had ever metthe living Hawthorne, he would have stood very much in awe of him. Itwould not have been like meeting Ernest Rénan or John Stuart Mill. Although Hawthorne was not splenetic or rash, there was an occasionallook in his eye which a prudent person might beware of. He wasemphatically a man of courage. 

The wide and liberal interest which German scholars and writers have solong taken in the literature of other nations, has resulted in foundingan informal literary tribunal in Germany, to which the rest of theworld is accustomed to appeal. A. E. Schönbach, one of the most recentGerman writers on universal literature, gives his impression ofHawthorne in the following statement:

"I find the distinguishing excellence of Hawthorne's imaginativewritings in the union of profound, keen, psychological development ofcharacters and problems with the most lucid objectivity and a joyousmodern realism. Occasionally there appears a light and delicate humor, sometimes hidden in a mere adjective, or little phrase which lights upthe gloomiest situation with a gentle ray of hope. Far from unimportantdo I rate the charm of his language, its purity, its melody, itsgraceful flexibility, the wealth of vocabulary, the polish which rarelybetrays the touch of the file. After, or with George Eliot, Hawthorneis the first English prose writer of our century. At the same time hesacrifices nothing of his peculiar American quality. Not only does hepenetrate into the most secret inner movements of the old coloniallife, as no one else has done, and reproduces the spirit of hisforefathers with a power of intuition which no historical work couldequal; but in all his other works, from the biography of GeneralPierce, to the 'Marble Faun, ' Hawthorne shows the freshness andkeenness, the precision and lucidity, and other qualities not easy todescribe, which belong to American literature. He is its chiefrepresentative. " [Footnote: "Gesammelte Aufsatze zur neuerenLitteratur, " p. 346. ]

Hawthorne has always been accorded a high position in literature, andas time goes on I believe this will be increased rather thandiminished. In beauty of diction he is the first of American writers, and there are few that equal him in this respect in other languages. Itis a pleasure to read him, simply for his form of expression, and apartfrom the meaning which he conveys in his sentences. It is like thegrace of the Latin races, --like Dante and Chateaubriand; and theadaptation of his words is so perfect that we never have to think twicefor his meaning. In those editions called the Elzevirs, which are somuch prized by book collectors, the clearness and legibility of thetype result from such a fine proportion of space and line that no otherprinter has succeeded in imitating it; and there is something similarto this in the construction of Hawthorne's sentences. 

He is the romance writer of the English language; and there is no formof literature which the human race prizes more. How many translationsthere have been of "The Vicar of Wakefield, " and of "The Sorrows ofWerther"! The latter is not one of Goethe's best, and yet it made himfamous at the age of twenty-eight. The novel deals with what is new andsurprising; the romance with what is old and universal. In "The Vicarof Wakefield" we have the old story of virtue outwitted by evil, whichis in its turn outwitted by wisdom. There is nothing new in it exceptthe charming exposition which Goldsmith's genius has given to thesubject. Thackeray ridiculed "The Sorrows of Werther, " and in the lightof matured judgment the tale appears ridiculous; but it strikes home tothe heart, because we all learn wisdom through such experiences, ofwhich young Werther's is an extreme instance. It was only anotherexample of the close relation that subsists between comedy and tragedy. 

It cannot be questioned that "The Scarlet Letter" ranks above "TheSorrows of Werther;" nor is it less evident that "The Marble Faun"falls short of "Wilhelm Meister" and "Don Quixote. " [Footnote: See"Cervantes" in _North American Review_, May, 1905] Hawthorne'sposition, therefore, lies between these two--nearer perhaps to"Werther" than to "Wilhelm Meister. " In certain respects he issurpassed by the great English novelists: Fielding, Scott, Thackeray, Dickens and Marian Evans; but he in turn surpasses them all in theperfection and poetic quality of his art. There is much poetry in Scottand Dickens, a little also in Thackeray and Miss Evans, but Hawthorne'spoetic vein has a more penetrating tone, and appeals more deeply thanScott's verses. If power and versatility of characterization were to bethe test of imaginative writing, Dickens would push closely on toShakespeare; but we do not go to Shakespeare to read about Hamlet orFalstaff, or for the sake of the story, or even for his wisdom, but forthe _tout ensemble_--to read Shakespeare. Raphael painted a dozenor more pictures on the same subject, but they are all original, interesting and valuable, because Raphael painted them. If it were notfor the odd characters and variety of incident in Dickens's novels theywould hardly be worth reading. Hawthorne's _dramatis personæ_ isnot a long one, for his plots do not admit of it, but his charactersare finely drawn, and the fact that they have not become popular typesis rather in their favor. There are Dombeys and Shylocks in plenty, butwho has ever met a Hamlet or a Rosalind in real life?

A certain English writer promulgated a list of the hundred superiorauthors of all times and countries. There were no Americans in hiscatalogue, but he admitted that if the number was increased to onehundred and eighteen Hawthorne and Emerson might be included in it. Doubtless he had not heard of Webster or Alexander Hamilton, and manyof his countrymen would be inclined to place Longfellow before Emerson. 

I have myself frequently counted over the great writers of all timesand languages, weighing their respective values carefully in my mind, but I have never been able to discover more than thirty-five authorswho seem to me decidedly superior to Hawthorne, nor above forty otherswho might be placed on an equality with him. [Footnote: Appendix C. ]This, of course, is only an individual opinion, and should be acceptedfor what it is worth; but there are many ancient writers, like Hesiod, Xenophon, and Catullus, whose chief value resides in their antiquity, and a much larger number of modern authors, such as Balzac, VictorHugo, Freytag, and Ruskin, who have been over-estimated in their owntime. Petrarch, and the author of "Gil Bias, " might be placed on alevel with Hawthorne, but certainly not above him. Those whom he mostclosely resembles in style and subject matter are Goldsmith, Manzoni, and Auerbach. 

Yet Hawthorne is essentially a domestic writer, --a poetizer of thehearth-stone. Social life is always the proper subject for works offiction, and political life should never enter into them, except as asubordinate element; but there is a border-land between the two, inwhich politics and society act and react on each other, and it is fromthis field that the great subjects for epic and dramatic poetry havealways been reaped. Hawthorne only knew of this by hearsay. Of thestrenuous conflict that continually goes on in political centres likeLondon and New York, a struggle for wealth, for honor, and precedence;of plots and counterplots, of foiled ambition and ruined reputations, --with all this Hawthorne had but slight acquaintance. We miss in him themasculine vigor of Fielding, the humanity of Dickens, and the trenchantcriticism of Thackeray; but he knew that the true poetry of life (atthe present time) was to be found in quiet nooks and in places far offfrom the turbulent maelstrom of humanity, and in his own line heremains unrivalled. 

PORTRAITS OF HAWTHORNE

Hawthorne had no more vanity in his nature than is requisite topreserve a good appearance in public, but he always sat for hisportrait when asked to do so, and this was undoubtedly the mostsensible way. He was first painted by Charles Osgood in 1840, aportrait which has at least the merit of a fine poetic expression. Hewas afterward painted by Thompson, Healy, and Emanuel Leutze, and drawnin crayon by Rowse and Eastman Johnson. Frances Osborne also painted aportrait of him from photographs in 1893, an excellent likeness, andnotable especially for its far-off gaze. Of all these, Rowse's portraitis the finest work of art, for Rowse was a man of genius, but there isa slight tendency to exaggeration in it, and it does not afford soclear an idea of Hawthorne as he was, as the Osborne portrait. Healywas not very successful with Hawthorne, and Miss Lander's bust has nomerit whatever. The following list contains most of the portraits andphotographs of Hawthorne now known to exist, with their respectiveownerships and locations. 

Oil portrait painted by Charles Osgood, in 1840. Owned by Mrs. RichardC. Manning. 

Crayon portrait drawn by Eastman H. Johnson, in 1846. Owned by MissAlice M. Longfellow. 

Oil portrait painted by George P. A. Healy, in 1850. Now in thepossession of Kirk Pierce, Esq. 

Oil portrait by Miss H. Frances Osborne, after a photograph by Silsbee, Case & Co. , Boston. 

Crayon portrait drawn by Samuel W. Rowse, in 1866. Owned by Mrs. AnnieFields. 

Engraving after the portrait painted in 1850 by Cephas G. Thompson. Owned by Hon. Henry C. Leach. 

The Grolier Club bronze medallion, made in 1892, by Ringel d'Illzach. Owned by B. W. Pierson. 

Cabinet photograph, bust, by Elliott & Fry, London. Owned by Mrs. Richard C. Manning. 

Card photograph, full length, seated, with book in right hand, by Black& Case, Boston. 

Cabinet photograph, three-quarter length, standing beside a pillar, copy by Mackintire of the original photograph. 

Card photograph, three-quarter length, seated, from Warren'sPhotographic Studio, Boston. 

Card photograph, bust, by Brady, New York, with autographic signature. Owned by Hon. Henry C. Leach. 

Bust in the Concord (Massachusetts) Public Library, by Miss LouiseLander. 

Card photograph, bust, from Warren's Photographic Studio, Boston. Ownedby Mrs. Richard C. Manning. 

Oil portrait by Emanuel Leutze, painted in April, 1852. Owned by JulianHawthorne. 

Photograph by Mayall, London. The so-called "Motley photograph. "

Two photographs by Brady, full length; one seated, the other standing. 

Photograph showing Hawthorne, Ticknor and Fields standing together. 

Editions of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Books published under his ownDirection

Fanshawe: A Tale, Boston, 1828. Twice-Told Tales, Boston, 1837. Another edition, Boston, 1842. Peter Parley's Universal History, Boston, 1837. The Gentle Boy: A Thrice-Told Tale, Boston, 1839. Grandfather's Chair: A History for Youth, Boston, 1841. Famous Old People: or Grandfather's Chair II, Boston, 1841. Liberty Tree: The Last Words of Grandfather's Chair, Boston, 1841. Biographical Stories for Children, Boston, 1842. Historical Tales for Youth, Boston, 1842. The Celestial Railroad, Boston, 1843. Mosses from an Old Manse, New York, 1846, 1851. The Scarlet Letter, Boston, 1850. True Stories from History and Biography, Boston, 1851. The House of the Seven Gables, Boston, 1852. A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys, Boston, 1851. Another edition, Boston, 1857. The Snow-Image and Other Tales, Boston, 1852. Another edition, Boston, 1857. The Blithedale Romance, Boston, 1852. Life of Franklin Pierce, Boston, 1852. Tanglewood Tales for Girls and Boys, Boston, 1853. Transformation, or the Romance of Monte Beni, Smith & Elder, London, 1860. The Marble Faun, or the Romance of Monte Beni, Boston, 1860. Our Old Home, Boston, 1863. 

_A complete list of Hawthorne's contributions to American magazineswill be found in the appendix to Conway's "Life of Hawthorne. " _

Mrs. Emerson and Mrs. Hawthorne [Footnote: Read at the Emerson Club, atBoston, January 2, 1906]

In 1892, when I was constructing the volume known as "Sketches fromConcord and Appledore, " I said in comparing Emerson with Hawthorne thatone was like _day_, and the other like _night_. I was not aware that four yearsearlier M. D. Conway had made a similar statement in his Life of Hawthorne, which was published in London. Miss Rebecca Manning, Hawthorne's owncousin, still living at the age of eighty and an admirable old lady, distinctly confirms my statement, that "wherever Hawthorne went hecarried twilight with him. " Emerson, on the contrary, was of a sanguinetemperament and an essentially sunny nature. His writings are full ofgood cheer, and the opening of his Divinity School Address is as full ofsummer sunshine as the finest July day. It was only necessary to see himlook at the sunshine from his own porch to recognize how it penetratedinto the depths of his nature. 

It would seem consistent with the rational order of things, that_day_ should be supplemented by _night_, and _night_ again by _day_;and here we are almost startled by the completeness of our allegory. Wesometimes come across faces in the streets of a large city, which showby their expression that they are more accustomed to artificial lightthan to the light of the sun. Mrs. Emerson was one of these. She neverseemed to be fully herself, until the lamps were lighted. Her pale faceseemed to give forth moonlight, and its habitual expression was much likethat of a Sister of Charity. It was said of her that she was the lastin the house to retire at night, always reading or busying herself withhousehold affairs, until twelve or one o'clock; but this mode of lifewould appear to have been suited to her organization, for in spite ofher colorless look she lived to be over ninety. 

So far I can tread upon firm earth, without drawing upon myimagination, but in regard to Mrs. Hawthorne I cannot speak with thesame assurance, for I only became acquainted with her after herhusband's health had begun to fail, and the anxiety in her face wasstrongly marked; yet I have reason to believe that her temperament wasoriginally sanguine and optimistic, and that she alternated fromdreamy, pensive moods to bright vivacious ones. She certainly was verydifferent from her husband. Her sister, Elizabeth Peabody, was the mostsanguine person of her time, and her introduction of the kindergarteninto America was accomplished through her unbounded hopefulness. TheWayside, where Mrs. Hawthorne lived, has an extended southern exposure. The house was always full of light, which is not often the case withNew England country houses; and when she lived at Liverpool, wheresunshine is a rare commodity, she became unwell, so that Mr. Hawthornewas obliged to send her to Madeira in order to avert a dangerousillness. 

These two estimable ladies were alike in the excellence of theirhousekeeping, the purity of their manners, their universal kindliness, and their devotion to the welfare of their husbands and children. Itwas a pleasure to pass them on the road-side; the fare at their tableswas always of the nicest, even if it happened to be frugal; and peopleof all classes could have testified to their helpful liberality. Inthese respects they might almost have served as models, but otherwisethey were as different as possible. Mrs. Emerson was of a tall, slender, and somewhat angular figure (like her husband), but shepresided at table with a grace and dignity that quite justified hisfavorite epithet of "Queenie. " There was even more of the Puritan leftin her than there was in him, and although she encouraged the liberalmovements and tendencies of her time, one always felt in her mentalattitude the inflexibility of the moral law. To her mind there was noshady border-land between right and wrong, but the two were separatedby a sharply defined line, which was never to be crossed, and she livedup to this herself, and, in theory at least, she had but little mercyfor sinners. On one occasion I was telling Mr. Emerson of a fraudulentmanufacturing company, which had failed, as it deserved to, and whichwas found on investigation to have kept two sets of books, one forthemselves, and another for their creditors. Mrs. Emerson listened tothis narrative with evident impatience, and at the close of it sheexclaimed, "This world has become so wicked that if I were the maker ofit, I should blow it up at once. " Emerson himself did not like suchstories; and although he once said that "all deaf children ought to beput in the water with their faces downward, " he was not always willingto accept human nature for what it really is. 

Mrs. Emerson did not agree with her husband's religious views; neitherdid she adopt the transcendental faith, that the idea of God is innatein the human mind, so that we cannot be dispossessed of it. Shebelonged to the conservative branch of the Unitarian Church, which wasrepresented by Reverend James Freeman Clarke and Doctor Andrew P. Peabody. The subject was one which was permitted to remain in abeyancebetween them, but Mrs. Emerson was naturally suspicious of thosereverend gentlemen who called upon her husband, and this may have beenthe reason why he did not encourage the visits of clergymen like SamuelJohnson, Samuel Longfellow, and Professor Hedge, whom he greatlyrespected, and who should have been by good rights his chosencompanions. I suppose all husbands are obliged to make these domesticcompromises. 

Mrs. Emerson had also something of the spirit-militant in her. WhenDavid A. Wasson came to dine at Mr. Emerson's invitation, she said tohim, by way of grace before meat: "I see you have been carrying on acontroversy with Reverend Mr. Sears, of Wayland, and you will excuse mefor expressing my opinion that Mr. Sears had the best of it. " But aftersounding this little nourish of trumpets, she was as kindly andhospitable as any one could desire. She was one of the earliestrecruits to the anti-slavery cause, --not only a volunteer, but arecruiting officer as well, --and she made this decision entirely of herown mind, without any special encouragement from her husband orrelatives. At the time of John Brown's execution she wanted to have thebells tolled in Concord, and urged her husband energetically to seethat it was done. Mrs. Emerson was always thoroughly herself. Therenever was the shadow of an affectation upon her; nor more than a shadowof self-consciousness--very rare among conscientious persons. One ofher fine traits was her fondness for flowers, which she cultivated inthe little garden between her house and the mill-brook, with a lovingassiduity. She is supposed to have inspired Emerson's poem, beginning:

 "O fair and stately maid, whose eyes Were kindled in the upper skies At the same torch that lighted mine: For so I must interpret still Thy sweet dominion o'er my will, A sympathy divine. "

There are other references to her in his published writings, which onlythose who were personally acquainted with her would recognize. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Hawthorne belonged to the class of womankind which Shakespeare hastypified in Ophelia, a tender-hearted, affectionate nature, toosensitive for the rough strains of life, and too innocent to recognizethe guile in others. This was at once her strength and her weakness;but it was united, as often happens, with a fine artistic nature, andsuperior intelligence. Her face and manners both gave the impression ofa wide and elevated culture. One could see that although she lived bythe wayside, she had been accustomed to enter palaces. Her longresidence in England, her Italian experience, her visit to the Court ofPortugal, her enjoyment of fine pictures, poetry, and architecture, theacquaintance of distinguished men and women in different countries, hadall left their impress upon her, combined in a quiet and lady-likeharmony. Her conversation was cosmopolitan, and though she did notquite possess the narrative gift of her sister Elizabeth, it was oftenexceedingly interesting. 

Hawthorne has been looked upon as the necrologist of the Puritans, andyet a certain coloring of Puritanism adhered to him to the last. It washis wife who had entirely escaped from the old New England conventicle. Severity was at the opposite pole from her moral nature. Tolerant andcharitable to the faults of others, her only fault was the lack ofseverity. She believed in the law of love, and when kind words did notserve her purpose she let matters take what course they would, trustingthat good might fall, "At last far off at last to all. "

I suspect her pathway was by no means a flowery one. Mrs. Emerson'slife had to be as stoical as her husband's, and Mrs. Hawthorne's, previous to the Liverpool consulate, --the consulship of Hawthorne, --waseven more difficult. No one knew better than she the meaning of thatheroism which each day requires. A writer in the _AtlanticMonthly_, reviewing Julian Hawthorne's biography of his father, emphasizes, "the dual selfishness of Mr. And Mrs. Hawthorne. " Insensatewords! There was no room for selfishness in the lives they led. In acertain sense they lived almost wholly for one another and for theirchildren; but Hawthorne himself lived for all time and for all mankind, and his wife lived through him to the same purpose. The especial formof their material life was as essential to its spiritual outgrowth asthe rose-bush is to the rose; and it would be a cankered selfishness tocomplain of them for it. 

Appendices

APPENDIX A

There is at least one error in the Symmes diary, which is howeverexplainable, and need not vitiate the whole of it. It has beenascertained that the drowning of Henry Jackson in Songo River by beingkicked in the mouth by another boy while swimming, took place in 1828, so that the statement to that effect in the diary, must have beeninterpolated. As it happened, however, another Henry Jackson wasdrowned in the Songo River, so Mr. Pickard says, more than twenty yearsbefore that, and it is quite possible that young Hawthorne overheardsome talk about that catastrophe, and mistook it for a recent event;and that Symmes afterwards confounding the two Jacksons and thedifference in time, amended Hawthorne's statement as we now have it. Mr. Pickard says in a recent letter:

"This item alone led me to doubt. But I cannot doubt, the more Ireflect upon it, that H. Himself had a hand in most, if not all, theother items. Who but his uncle could have written that inscription? Thenegro Symmes could not have composed that--only a man of culture. ". . . "The sketch of the sail on Sebago Lake surely was written by some onewho was in that party. Symmes _might_ have been there, but he wasa genius deserving the fame of a Chatterton if he really did this. Three of that party I personally knew--one (Sawyer) was a cousin of mygrandfather. His sleight of hand, his skill with rifle, his being a'votary of chance, ' are traditions in my family. "

This does not differ essentially from the opinion I have alreadyexpressed in Chapter II. F. B. Sanborn, who is one of the best-informedof living men in regard to Hawthorne, takes a similar view. 

APPENDIX B

In February, 1883, a review of "Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife" waspublished in the _Atlantic Monthly_, evidently written by a personwith no good-will toward the family. Editors ought to beware of suchreviews, for their character is easily recognized, and the effect theyproduce often reacts upon the publication that contains them. In thepresent instance, the ill-humor of the writer had evidently beenbottled up for many years. 

To place typographical errors to the debit of an author's account--notvery numerous for a work of eight hundred pages--suggests either aninexperienced or a strongly prejudiced critic. This is what the_Atlantic_ writer begins with, and he (or she) next proceeds tocomplain that the book does not contain a complete bibliography ofHawthorne's works; although many excellent biographies have beenpublished without this, and it is quite possible that Hawthorne's sonpreferred not to insert it. No notice is taken of the many finepassages in the book, like the apostrophe upon Hawthorne's marriage, [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 242, ] and that excellent description of theperformances of a trance medium at Florence, but continues in anascending climax of fault-finding until he (or she) reaches the passagefrom Hawthorne's Roman diary concerning Margaret Fuller. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne, i. 30-35. ]

If public opinion has any value, this passage concerning MargaretFuller's marriage ought not to have been published; but what canMargaret Fuller's friends and admirers expect? Do they think that ayoung American woman can go to a foreign country, and live with aforeign gentleman, in defiance of the customs of modern society, without subjecting herself to the severest criticism? It is true thatshe married Count d'Ossoli before her child was born, and her friends, who were certainly an enlightened class, always believed that she actedthroughout from the most honorable motives (my own opinion is, that sheacted in imitation of Goethe), but how can they expect the great massof mankind to think so? Hawthorne had a right to his opinion, as wellas Emerson and Channing, and although it was certainly not a verycharitable opinion, we cannot doubt that it was an honest one. Inregard to the marriage tie, Hawthorne was always strict andconservative. 

This is the climax of the _Atlantic_ critique, and its anti-climaxis an excoriation of Hawthorne's son for neglecting to do equal andexact justice to James T. Fields. This truly is a grievous accusation. Fields was Hawthorne's publisher and would seem to have taken apersonal and friendly interest in him besides, but we cannot look on itas a wholly unselfish interest. It was not like Hillard's, Pierce's, and Bridge's interest in Hawthorne. If Fields had not been hispublisher, it is not probable that Hawthorne would have made hisacquaintance; and if his son has not enlarged on Fields's good officesin bringing "The Scarlet Letter" before the public, there is anexcellent reason for it, in the fact that Fields had already done sofor himself in his "Yesterdays with Authors. " That Fields's name shouldhave been omitted in the index to "Nathaniel Hawthorne and his Wife, "may have been an oversight; but, at all events, it is too microscopic amatter to deserve consideration in a first-class review. 

Are we become such babies, that it is no longer possible for a writerto tell the plain, ostensible truth concerning human nature, withouthaving a storm raised about his head for it? George P. Bradford andMartin F. Tupper are similar instances, and like Boswell have sufferedthe penalty which accrues to men of small stature for associating withgiants. 

APPENDIX C

The great poets and other writers of all nations whom I conceive to besuperior to Hawthorne, may be found in the following list: Homer, Æschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Pindar, Thucydides, Plato, Aristotle, Demosthenes, Theocritus, Plutarch; Horace, Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus;Dante, Tasso, Petrarch; Cervantes, Calderon, Camoens; Molière, Racine, Descartes, Voltaire; Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Kant; Swedenborg;Chaucer, Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, and perhaps Burns and Byron;Alexander Hamilton, Napoleon. 

These also may be placed more on an equality with Hawthorne, althoughthere will of course always be wide differences of opinion on thatpoint: Hesiod, Herodotus, Menander, Aristophases; Livy, Cæsar, Lucretius, Juvenal; Ariosto, Macchiavelli, Manzoni, Lope de Vega, Buthas Pato; Corneille, Pascal, Rousseau; Wieland, Klopstock, Heine, Auerbach; Spenser, Ben Jonson, Fletcher, Fielding, Pope, Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, Carlyle, Browning, Tennyson, Froude; Webster, Emerson, Wasson. Sappho, Bion, Moschus, and Cleanthes were certainlypoets of a high order, but only some fragments of their poetry havesurvived. Gottfried of Strassburg, the Minnesinger, might be included, and some of the finest English poetry was written by unknown geniusesof the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Ballads like "Chevy Chace"and the "Child of Elle" deserve a high place in the rank of poetry; andthe German "Reineke Fuchs" is in its way without a rival. There may beother French, German, and Spanish writers of exceptional excellencewith whom I am unacquainted, but I do not feel that any French orGerman novelists of the last century ought to be placed on a level withHawthorne--only excepting Auerbach. Victor Hugo is grandiloquent, andthe others all have some serious fault or limitation. I suppose thatnot one in ten of Emerson's readers has ever heard of Wasson, but hewas the better prose writer of the two, and little inferior as a poet. More elevated he could not be, but more profound, just, logical andhumane--that is, more like Hawthorne. Emerson could not have filled hisplace on the _Atlantic Monthly_ and the _North American Review_. 

Index

Index

Adams, John QuincyAfter-dinner speechesAlcott, A. Bronson"Ambitious Guest, The, ""Ancestral Footstep, The, "_Antinous_ of the villa Ludovisi"Arabella, " the shipArnold, Matthew"Artist of the Beautiful, The, "Athenæan SocietyAtlantic ClubAurelius, Marcus

Bacon's, Miss, volume publishedBalzacBancroft, GeorgeBeethovenBennoch, Francis"Blithedale Romance"Blodgett's boarding-house"Bloody Footstep""Birth Mark, The, ""Bosom Serpent, The, "Bradford, George PBrandes, Danish criticBridge, Horatio, Bright, Henry A. Brook FarmBrown, JohnBrowning and CarlyleBrowning, Mrs. Elizabeth BarrettBrowning, RobertBuchanan, President

Carlyle and HawthorneCastor and Pollux, statues of"Celestial Railroad, The"Cenci, Beatrice, portrait ofChanning, ElleryChanning, William H. Cilley and Graves duelCilley, Jonathan description ofClarke, Edward H. Clarke, Rev. Dr. James F. "Code of Honor, " theCollege skepticismColumbia, statue ofConcord RiverConway, Rev. M. D. Crab spider, theCrawford, sculptor"Critique of Pure Reason, The"Curtis, George William

Dallas, George M. Dante's _Inferno_Dickens"Doctor Grimshawe's Secret"Dolliver, Dr. "Dolliver Romance, The"Donatello's crimeDwight, John S. , musical critic

Elgin marblesEliot, GeorgeEmerson essaysEmerson, Mrs. R. W. Her figure religious viewsEnglish lakes"English Note-book"English sceneryEssex County peopleEvans, Marian

"Fancy's Show Box""Fanshawe""Faun of Praxiteles""Felton, Septimius, "FieldingFields, James TFlorentine artFourierFuller, Margaret as Zenobia her marriage

Gardner, E. A. , ProfGenius, its growth"Gentle Boy, The, "GhostsGibson, sculptor his tinted Eves and VenusesGladstone, William E. , on transcendentalismGodkin, E. L. GoetheGolden Age, AGoodrich, S. G. , editor"Great Carbuncle, The, ""Great Stone Face, The, "Guilty glimpses at hired modelsGurney, Prof. E. W. 

"Hall of Fantasy, The, "Harris, Dr. William T. Harvard Law SchoolHathorne, DanielHathorne, John witches' judge his last will his gravestoneHathorne, JosephHathorne, NathanielHathorne, William Letter to British MinistryHawthorne, ElizabethHawthorne, JulianHawthorne, Louisa her deathHawthorne, Mrs. Sophia Peabody becomes engaged to Hawthorne writes to her mother encourages her husband praises her husband is out of health goes to Madeira is presented at court the original of Hilda at Concord her opinions character and styleHawthorne, Nathaniel, his English ancestors family name birthplace his lameness early poetry life at Sebago his first diary the budding of his genius fits for college "Pin Society" religious instruction decides on his vocation has the measles his life at Bowdoin outdoor sports is fined for gambling graduates at Bowdoin decides his profession publishes "Fanshawe" changes his name despondency goes to Lake Champlain wins his bet with Cilley commences his diary his supposed challenge thanks Longfellow goes to Berkshire Hills character of his diary his engagement enters Custom House goes to Brook Farm his marriage his true Arcadia his skating opinion of Emerson birth of a daughter his indolence style as an author returns to Robert Manning's house is appointed Surveyor of the Port son Julian is born occupies house on Mall street is removed from office publishes "Scarlet Letter" method of development sits for his portrait; goes to Lenox publishes "House of Seven Gables" birth of his daughter Rose leaves Lenox for Newton returns to Concord writes the "Life of Pierce" the Liverpool consulate sails for England as an office-holder his life in England makes a speech kindness to Delia Bacon resigns the Consulate as a law writer goes to Paris arrives at Rome journeys to Florence goes to the Vatican on modern sculpture returns to Rome visits Geneva summer at Redcar publishes the "Marble Faun Hawthorne the famous begins to dislike writing returns to Concord method of writing patriotism proposes to arm negroes preparatory sketches sojourns at Beverly Farms last entry in his journal dedicates book to President Pierce at home personal appearance seriously ill Hawthorne's philosophy his death his funeral religious convictions his position in literatureHawthorne, Rose, her birth her memoirsHawthorne's mother her character her deathHawthorne, Una, her birth severe illness ofHilda, character of her towerHillard, George S. Hoar, Miss ElizabethHoliday epauletesHolmes, Oliver WendellHosmer, HarrietHoughton, Lord"House of the Seven Gables, The"Howe, Dr. Samuel G. Hunt, suicide of Miss

Italian Note-book

Jackson, AndrewJames, Henry, Jr. James, Henry, Sr. Jameson, Mrs. AnnaJerrold, Douglas

Kansas-Nebraska BillKant, ImmanuelKemble, FrancesKitridge, Doctor

"Lady Eleanor's Mantle"_Laocoön_Lathrop, George P. LeamingtonLincoln, PresidentLiverpool ConsulateLongfellow, Henry W. Reviews HawthorneLoring, Frederick W. Loring, Dr. George B. Lowell, James Russell

Mann, HoraceMann, Mrs. HoraceManning familyManning, RebeccaManning, RichardManning, Robert"Marble Faun, The, " English reviews of analysis of its originalMcClellan, General George B. McMichael, MortonMelville, HermannMexican WarMichel Angelo his _Last Judgment and Moses_"Miroir, Monsieur du""Mosses from an Old Manse"Motley's opinions"Mrs. Bullfrog"

Niagara Falls, visit to_North American Review_Nurse, Rebecca, a witch

Offensive partisanship"Old Manse, " the"Ontario Steamboat, The"O'Sullivan, an editor"Our Old Home"

Parker, TheodorePeabody, ElizabethPeabody, Sophia AmeliaPhiladelphia Hock ClubPickard, Samuel T. Pierce, Franklin elected Senator goes to the war nominated for President his father variousPike, William B. Poetic mind, thePoliticians, opinion ofPortraits of Hawthorne by Osgood, Healy, Rowse, and othersPositivistsPowers, Hiram his _America_Prescott, George LPrince of WalesPyncheon, Clifford

Quakers, persecution of

Raphael's _Transfiguration_"Rappacini's Daughter"Reform Club of LondonRipley, GeorgeRock FerryRoman CarnivalRunnel, Mary, sweetheart of Daniel HathorneRuskin

Sailors maltreatedSalem architectureSalem, situation ofSalem societySalem's sea-captainsSanborn, Frank B. , attempt to kidnap"Scarlet Letter, The, "Schönbach, A. E. , German critic"Select Party, The, "Shakespeare, authorship of EpitaphShaw, Chief JusticeShelleySheridan's Ride"Sights from a Steeple"Silsbee, EdwardSistine ChapelSkepticism of evilSlavery Question"Snow Image"Spartan disciplineStory, William W. St. Petersburg _Venus_Sumner and MotleySumner, CharlesSwartwout's defalcationSymms, William, a mulatto

"Tanglewood Tales"Taylor, PresidentThoreau of marriageTicknor, W. D. , death ofTituba, the AztecTragedy, character ofTrance medium, aTranscendentalism essence ofTupper, Martin FarquharTurner, J. M. W. "Twice Told Tales"

"Unpardonable Sin, The, "Upham, the historian

Vanity of WomenVasari_Venus dé Medici_"Vicar of Wakefield"Victor HugoVilla Manteüto"Virtuoso's Collection, The, ""Vision at the Fountain, The, "

Ward's TavernWarwick CastleWasson, David AWaters, Henry F. , researches ofWayside, TheWebster, DanielWest Roxbury communeWhittier, the poetWig Castle in WigtonWitchcraft persecutionWood, WarringtonWorcester, Doctor, the lexicographer

"Young Goodman Brown"