Memories of Hawthorne

over these magic little pictures of old days, and each time have felt less inclined to let them remain silently in the family. The letters are full of sunshine, w

ident and expression that comes in contact with him. The tone of the life depicted is usually glad; but even wher

ters which I opened some years ago. What Hawthorne cared for is somewhat clearly shown by side-lights; a

t,-by gentle degrees, well-adjusted baits, and affectionate compliments. Trout-fishing comes to mind,-and the trout were very skillful in keeping aloof. Nevertheless, Hawthorne liked all he heard an

gave her the will to teach school for many years, while her own children were growing up. She was ve

ter, the wife of General Palmer, wrote to her in Revolutionary days the

, February

ose you are all anxious about publick affairs as well as other folks. 'T is a dreadful dull time for writing; this suspense that

and we have never heard a word from him. The folks

religious as well as Political correspondencies? I believe much good might be done by such means, as those who are sincerely good would be able to strengthen each other-

onate sister

entary gleaning has been made, blossom daily with name after name of callers. Elizabeth was profoundly interesting, Mary was brilliant, and Sophia was lovely in her studio, to which everybody eagerly mounted. At about th

e by the admiring enemy. Elizabeth had already a high intercourse upon high themes with the best minds among manly American thought. Her perfect simplicity of motive and abandonment of selfish, vain effeminateness made her the delight of the great men she met. She was a connoisseur in this f

han that, I wanted in some slight degree to express my respect for it. How happy you must be in reading these tales! For if the genius which produced them is independent of all source but the divine bounty, the holiness and virtue which breathe on every page ma

eatest resp

TH P. P

nd the shy eldest daughter. It must have been worth many experiments to gently succeed in p

and Louisa's headaches are. I should have gone myself to-day to ask, had not the wind been east. Won't you come to walk to-morrow afternoon with my mother, dear Elizabeth, and then I shall

urs and

. PE

ut she saw so many people that there was scarcely a whole day of isolation. At the Hawthornes', on the contrary, quiet prevailed: caused partly by bereavement, partly by proud poverty, and no doubt not a little by the wit

rom the effects of over-exertion in athletic sports. He was of large frame and of noble appea

He was pretty cheery, and told a comical anecdote of Dean Swift. He stood up on Friday much more firmly than formerly. Elizabeth Hawthorne sent him Miss Martineau's book, after tea, which was certainly very kind and attentive in her. I am determined to go and see her th

in all her letters, as we imagine a Greek maiden paying cheerful homage to beautiful statues of t

not help it sometimes; and even that is a dangerous attitude of mind. It is better to sorrow over than to despise.

hows how intimate Herbert and

. Still, I feel it is necessary to take exercise when I can. We do not tell all our fears to Sophia, whom we wish to keep cheerfully employed as long as we can. Will you ask your brother t

T. PE

f journals bring to view what Hawthorne saw,

ctober 2

ar together and the ceiling nearly upon my head. But there stood my beloved mother, all in white, her face radiant with welcome and love, and in her arms there was no want of room. In Septem

pearing into the barn for several minutes, he came forth transformed into a dirty workman, though still somewhat distinguished by his figure and air. He expressed himself in very courtly phrase, also, and was quite sentimental about the shrubbery round the tombs. [A graveyard wa

delight seemed to fulfill their desires; and now I want to know if it is not worth fifteen years of bodily pain and discomfort to be the cause of such divine sentiment in the souls of so many children as I am? I feel perfectly consecrated by it, and bound over to be worthy of such pure emotions. Oh, not mysterious Providence! How even are thy golden scales-sweetest compensations poising exactly the ills! It is not suffering which I think beautiful or desirable, but what suffering brings along with it, and causes. My door was open, and who should unex

y much impressed with what I heard said in tones of reverence. "Look at that hammock! Oh, that picture! And there are the flowers! Oh, I gave her those! Miss Peabody, is th

here. He created a glowing bank in broad sunshine. Mr. Russell called, and came up into my studio. He thought such a studio and such an occupation must cure the headache. Then I prepared to make several calls, but on my way was arrested by Mr. George Hillard, who was altogether too agreeable to leave. He is amazingly entertaining, to be sure. He remarked what a torment of his life Mr. Reed, the postmaster in Cambridge, was. He is an old man, about a hundred and forty years old, who always

ffectio

PH

idely admired; and to illustrate the happy fact I quo

June 1

e. In short, he was quite in an ecstasy with you and your notions. [Probably drawings illustrating auxiliary verbs.] He inquired very particularly for you, and showed me all the new books he had just received from England, which he thought a great imposition, they being big books. Edward [his brother] came in, and they greeted affectionately. After a long survey of the Professor, he exclaimed, "Why, Edward, you look gross-take care of the intellect!" Then he handed him one of the great books, just arrive

A

in Boston, in 1838, of he

ught. . . . After dinner, Mary went out 'to take the fresh,' intending to finish the afternoon by a walk with Miss Hawthorne, a

cuses were which I had given to her brother. Mary told her that I sent t

sure way of keeping you in mind, and it must be excessively tame for him after his experien

ower in the Chinese book of which there is a mighty tree in Cuba. And then I turned over the pict

for me to come if he had not supposed the east wind would prevent me. I said that it would. He wanted to know if I would come the next da

thorne came for Mary

hich met every week].

se him. I came down to

pression which I do n

he midst of my battle with headache, and to my question of 'How dost?' he replied, for the first time, 'Pretty fair,' i

, 1

on [an aunt of the Hawthornes] was stooping over a flower-bed, planting seeds. She lifted her smiling face, which must have been very pretty in her youth, and sa

hine w

HIE

14,

ival, but was to be here directly after dinner. When he came I happened to be the only one ready to go down. His first question was, "Where is Elizabeth?" He was not at all inclined to bear the disappointment of your not being here, after all. He thought it "too bad," "insufferable," "not fair," and wondered what could be the reason. I told him your e

enjoyed everything we showed him so much. He talked so divinely to Raphael's Madonna del Pesce. I vainly imagined I was very quiet all the while, preserving a very demure exterior, and supposed I was sharing his oceanic calm. But the next day I was aware that I had been in a very intense state. I told Mary, that night after he had gone, that I felt like a gem; that was the only way I could express it. I don't know what Mary hoped to get from

PH

1,

pring, and they did not return till just at dark, loaded with airy anemones and blue violets and a few columbines. They had found Mr. John King and his daughter at the spring, looking for wild-flowers, and mother introduced Miss Hawthorne; but she hung her head a

y." I was surprised to have the story so appropriated, and I do long to see it. [Probably Edward Randolph's Portrait.] He proposed to Mary to go to the beach the same day, and she consented. He said

reet to join Miss Hawthorne for the walk, but did not see her. Her mother said Elizabeth did not want to go because it was windy, and the sun was too hot, and clouds were in the south! (It was the loveliest day

most accidental, upon

much, and

and get some engravings of heads to show me, Wordswo

not miss you exceedingly. I should like to have stayed for two or three hours. She came downstairs wit

and varied in quality of emotion, being equally urgent over p

STREET, BO

Mr. Hawthorne would come in. I have not seen him yet. Last night I took tea with Sally Gardiner and Miss Jackson, who are still enjoying your Flaxman drawings. Why do not you Salem folks have a hencoop and keep hens! five or six hens

y and ever

a wri

23,

nal utterance must have done. I told Mary I thought Mr. Emerson was the Word again. She exclaimed, "You blasphemer!" "Do you really think it blasphemy?" said I. "Oh no," she replied. "It is the gospel according to you." Was not that a happy saying? While the maid

ards gaining a still more affectionate advantage over the solitaries in Herbert Stree

November

use,-and would thank you to buy the materials for me, and I will pay you what they cost, when I know what it is. I suppose t

to him. He said he was going to write to-day, and therefore I should prefer that he should not be interrupted on purpose to read it. We

ever

. PE

y active member of the trio, wonderfully deft in finest sewing and embroidery, generously willing to labor for all the relatives when illness required, may not have felt faint or fierce. But Mrs. Hawthorne, even in the covert of her chamber, where she c

letter of a much earl

RAYMOND, MAINE, CARE O

March 3

to have him with us, and would have done everything in our power to make him happy. We are so near that he can at any time command our services and our company. Nathaniel goes in to see him, and I am there a great part of the time. Mother has ke

HATH

ery genial folk was bravely overcome (t

not? I should be extremely happy to see Mary, though I despair of it; and though I cannot venture to ask Sophia, perhaps you can f

haste,

opose that we set off instanter. I think a sea-breeze

T

t to ask yo

sh you would come here in the afternoon. The graveyard is an open place to see it from, and I should be very glad of your company. Yesterday I hear

P

y returns to Boston, and S

ee dear Miss Burley, who sent for me to go to her room. She insisted upon accompanying me all the way downstairs, limping painfully, and would open the outer door for me, and bow me out with as much deference as if I

to Miss Hurley's, but you must not go. It is too cold. You certainly must not go." I assured him I should go, and was sorry I was not wanted. He laughed, and said I was not. But I persisted. He knew I should be made sick; that it was too cold. Meanwhile I put on an incalculable quantity of clothes. Father kept remonstrating, but not violently, and I gently imploring. When I was ready, Mr. Hawthorne said he was glad I was going. Mary was packed up safely, also. I was very animated, and felt much better than on either of the previous club nights. Mr. Hawthorne declared it must be the spirit of contradiction that made me so; and I told him it was nothing but fact. We walked quite fast, for I seemed stepping on air. It was partly because I had not got tired during the day. It was splendid moonlight.

got home very comfortably. Mr. H. said he thought of coming for me to walk on Friday, but was afraid the walking was not good enough. I told him how we were all disappointed at his vanishing that night, a

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