first visit to new england-第9章

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through　the　bird…haunted　gloom　of　woodland　roads；　in　the　freshness　of　the
summer　morning？　　By　a　blessed　chance　I　found　that　there　was　such　a　stage
in　1860；　and　I　took　it　from　my　hotel；　instead　of　going　back　to　Boston　and
up　to　Concord　as　I　must　have　had　to　do　by　train。　　The　journey　gave　me　the
intimacy　of　the　New　England　country　as　I　could　have　had　it　in　no　other
fashion；　and　for　the　first　time　I　saw　it　in　all　the　summer　sweetness
which　I　have　often　steeped　my　soul　in　since。　　The　meadows　were　newly
mown；　and　the　air　was　fragrant　with　the　grass；　stretching　in　long　winrows
among　the　brown　bowlders；　or　capped　with　canvas　in　the　little　haycocks　it
had　been　gathered　into　the　day　before。　　I　was　fresh　from　the　affluent
farms　of　the　Western　Reserve；　and　this　care　of　the　grass　touched　me　with
a　rude　pity；　which　I　also　bestowed　on　the　meagre　fields　of　corn　and
wheat；　but　still　the　land　was　lovelier　than　any　I　had　ever　seen；　with　its
old　farmhouses；　and　brambled　gray　stone　walls；　its　stony　hillsides；　its
staggering　orchards；　its　wooded　tops；　and　its　thick…brackened　valleys。
From　West　to　East　the　difference　was　as　great　as　I　afterwards　found　it
from　America　to　Europe；　and　my　impression　of　something　quaint　and　strange
was　no　keener　when　I　saw　Old　England　the　next　year　than　when　I　saw　New
England　now。　　I　had　imagined　the　landscape　bare　of　trees；　and　I　was
astonished　to　find　it　almost　as　full　of　them　as　at　home；　though　they　all
looked　very　little；　as　they　well　might　to　eyes　used　to　the　primeval
forests　of　Ohio。　　The　road　ran　through　them　from　time　to　time；　and　took
their　coolness　on　its　smooth　hard　reaches；　and　then　issued　again　in　the
glisten　of　the　open　fields。

I　made　phrases　to　myself　about　the　scenery　as　we　drove　along；　and　yes；　I
suppose　I　made　phrases　about　the　young　girl　who　was　one　of　the　inside
passengers；　and　who；　when　the　common　strangeness　had　somewhat　worn　off；
began　to　sing；　and　sang　most　of　the　way　to　Concord。　　Perhaps　she　was　not
very　sage；　and　I　am　sure　she　was　not　of　the　caste　of　Vere　de　Vere；　but
she　was　pretty　enough；　and　she　had　a　voice　of　a　bird…like　tunableness；
so　that　I　would　not　have　her　out　of　the　memory　of　that　pleasant　journey
if　I　could。　　She　was　long　ago　an　elderly　woman；　if　she　lives；　and　I
suppose　she　would　not　now　point　out　her　fellow…passenger　if　he　strolled
in　the　evening　by　the　house　where　she　had　dismounted；　upon　her　arrival　in
Concord；　and　laugh　and　pull　another　girl　away　from　the　window；　in　the
high　excitement　of　the　prodigious　adventure。




XV。

Her　fellow…passenger　was　in　far　other　excitement；　he　was　to　see
Hawthorne；　and　in　a　manner　to　meet　Priscilla　and　Zenobia；　and　Hester
Prynne　and　little　Pearl；　and　Miriam　and　Hilda；　and　Hollingsworth　and
Coverdale；　and　Chillingworth　and　Dimmesdale；　and　Donatello　and　Kenyon；
and　he　had　no　heart　for　any　such　poor　little　reality　as　that；　who　could
not　have　been　got　into　any　story　that　one　could　respect；　and　must　have
been　difficult　even　in　a　Heinesque　poem。

I　wasted　that　whole　evening　and　the　next　morning　in　fond　delaying；　and　it
was　not　until　after　the　indifferent　dinner　I　got　at　the　tavern　where　I
stopped；　that　I　found　courage　to　go　and　present　Lowell's　letter　to
Hawthorne。　　I　would　almost　have　foregone　meeting　the　weird　genius　only　to
have　kept　that　letter；　for　it　said　certain　infinitely　precious　things　of
me　with　such　a　sweetness；　such　a　grace；　as　Lowell　alone　could　give　his
praise。　　Years　afterwards；　when　Hawthorne　was　dead；　I　met　Mrs。　Hawthorne；
and　told　her　of　the　pang　I　had　in　parting　with　it；　and　she　sent　it　me；
doubly　enriched　by　Hawthorne's　keeping。　　But　now　if　I　were　to　see　him　at
all　I　must　give　up　my　letter；　and　I　carried　it　in　my　hand　to　the　door　of
the　cottage　he　called　The　Wayside。　　It　was　never　otherwise　than　a　very
modest　place；　but　the　modesty　was　greater　then　than　to…day；　and　there　was
already　some　preliminary　carpentry　at　one　end　of　the　cottage；　which　I　saw
was　to　result　in　an　addition　to　it。　　I　recall　pleasant　fields　across　the
road　before　it；　behind　rose　a　hill　wooded　with　low　pines；　such　as　is　made
in　Septimius　Felton　the　scene　of　the　involuntary　duel　between　Septimius
and　the　young　British　officer。　　I　have　a　sense　of　the　woods　coming　quite
down　to　the　house；　but　if　this　was　so　I　do　not　know　what　to　do　with　a
grassy　slope　which　seems　to　have　stretched　part　way　up　the　hill。　　As　I
approached；　I　looked　for　the　tower　which　the　author　was　fabled　to　climb
into　at　sight　of　the　coming　guest；　and　pull　the　ladder　up　after　him；　and
I　wondered　whether　he　would　fly　before　me　in　that　sort；　or　imagine　some
easier　means　of　escaping　me。

The　door　was　opened　to　my　ring　by　a　tall　handsome　boy　whom　I　suppose　to
have　been　Mr。　Julian　Hawthorne；　and　the　next　moment　I　found　myself　in　the
presence　of　the　romancer；　who　entered　from　some　room　beyond。　　He　advanced
carrying　his　head　with　a　heavy　forward　droop；　and　with　a　pace　for　which　I
decided　that　the　word　would　be　pondering。　　It　was　the　pace　of　a　bulky　man
of　fifty；　and　his　head　was　that　beautiful　head　we　all　know　from　the　many
pictures　of　it。　　But　Hawthorne's　look　was　different　from　that　of　any
picture　of　him　that　I　have　seen。　　It　was　sombre　and　brooding；　as　the　look
of　such　a　poet　should　have　been；　it　was　the　look　of　a　man　who　had　dealt
faithfully　and　therefore　sorrowfully　with　that　problem　of　evil　which
forever　attracted；　forever　evaded　Hawthorne。　　It　was　by　no　means
troubled；　it　was　full　of　a　dark　repose。　　Others　who　knew　him　better　and
saw　him　oftener　were　familiar　with　other　aspects；　and　I　remember　that　one
night　at　Longfellow's　table；　when　one　of　the　guests　happened　to　speak　of
the　photograph　of　Hawthorne　which　hung　in　a　corner　of　the　room；　Lowell
said；　after　a　glance　at　it；　〃Yes；　it's　good；　but　it　hasn't　his　fine
'accipitral'　＇pertaining　to　the　look　of　a　bird　of　prey；　hawklike。　　D。W。＇
look。〃

In　the　face　that　confronted　me；　however；　there　was　nothing　of　keen
alertness；　but　only　a　sort　of　quiet；　patient　intelligence；　for　which　I
seek　the　right　word　in　vain。　　It　was　a　very　regular　face；　with　beautiful
eyes；　the　mustache；　still　entirely　dark；　was　dense　over　the　fine　mouth。
Hawthorne　was　dressed　in　black；　and　he　had　a　certain　effect　which　I
remember；　of　seeming　to　have　on　a　black　cravat　with　no　visible　collar。
He　was　such　a　man　that　if　I　had　ignorantly　met　him　anywhere　I　should　have
instantly　felt　him　to　be　a　personage。

I　must　have　given　him　the　letter　myself；　for　I　have　no　recollection　of
parting　with　it　before；　but　I　only　remember　his　offering　me　his　hand；　and
making　me　shyly　and　tentatively　welcome。　　After　a　few　moments　of　the
demoralization　which　followed　his　hospitable　attempts　in　me；　he　asked　if
I　would　not　like　to　go　up　on　his　hill　with　him　and　sit　there；　where　he
smoked　in　the　afternoon。　　He　offered　me　a　cigar；　and　when　I　said　that　I
did　not　smoke；　he　lighted　it　for　himself；　and　we　climbed　the　hill
together。　　At　the　top；　where　there　was　an　outlook　in　the　pines　over　the
Concord　meadows；　we　found　a　log；　and　he　invited　me　to　a　place　on　it
beside　him；　and　at　intervals　of　a　minute　or　so　he　talked　while　he　smoked。
Heaven　preserved　me　from　the　folly　of　trying　to　tell　him　how　much　his
books　had　been　to　me；　and　though　we　got　on　rapidly　at　no　time；　I　think　we
got　on　better　for　this　interposition。　　He　asked　me　about　Lowell；　I　dare
say；　for　I　told　him　of　my　joy　in　meeting　him　and　Doctor　Holmes；　and　this
seemed　greatly　to　interest　him。　　Perhaps　because　he　was　so　lately　from
Europe；　where　our　great　men　are　always　seen　through　the　wrong　end　of　the
telescope；　he　appeared　surprised　at　my　devotion；　and　asked　me　whether　I
cared　as　much　for　meeting　them　as　I　should　care　for　meeting　the　famous
English　authors。　　I　professed　that　I　cared　much　more；　though　whether　this
was　true；　I　now　have　my　doubts；　and　I　think　Hawthorne　doubted　it　at　the
time。　　But　he　said　nothing　in　comment；　and　went　on　to　speak　generally　of
Europe　and　America。　　He　was　curious　about　the　West；　which　be　seemed　to
fancy　much　more　purely　American；　and　said　he　would　like　to　see　some　part
of　the　country　on　which　the　shadow　（or；　if　I　must　be　precise；　the　damned
shadow）　of　Europe　had　not　fallen。　　I　told　him　I　thought　the　West　must
finally　be　characterized　by　the　Germans；　whom　we　had　in　great　numbers；
and；　purely　from　my　zeal　for　German　poetry；　I　tried　to　allege　some　proofs
of　their　present　influence；　though　I　could　think　of　none　outside　of
politics；　which　I　thought　they　affected　wholesomely。　　I　knew　Hawthorne
was　a　Democrat；　and　I　felt　it　well　to　touch　politics　lightly；　but　he　had
no　more　to　say　about　the　fateful　election　then　pending　than　Holmes　or
Lowell　had。

With　the　abrupt　transition　of　his　talk　throughout；　he　began　somehow　to
speak　of　women；　and　said　he　had　never　seen　a　woman　whom　he　thought　quite
beautiful。　　In　the　same　way　he　spoke　of　the　New　England　temperament；　and
suggested　that　the　apparent　coldness　in　it　was　also　real；　and　that　the
suppression　of　emotion　for　generations　would　extinguish　it　at　last。　　Then
he　questioned　me　as　to　my　knowledge　of　Concord；　and　whether　I　had　seen
any　of　the　notable　people。　　I　answered　that　I　had　met　no　one　but　himself；
as　yet；　but　I　very　much　wished　to　see　Emerson　and　Thoreau。　　I　did　not
think　it　needful　to　say　that　I　wished　to　see　Thoreau　quite　as　much
because　he　had　suffered　in　the　cause　of　John　Brown　as　because　he　had
written　the　books　which　had　taken　me；　and　when　he　said　that　Thoreau
prided　himself　on　coming　nearer　the　heart　of　a　pine…tree　than　any　other
human　being；　I　could　say　honestly　enough　that　I　would　rather　come　near
the　heart　of　a　man。　　This　visibly　pleased　him；　and　I　saw　that　it　did　not
displease　him；　when　he　asked　whether　I　was　not　going　to　see　his　next
neighbor；　Mr。　Alcott；　and　I　confessed　that　I　had　never　heard　of　him。
That　surprised　as　well　as　pleased　him；　be　remarked；　with　whatever
intention；　that　there　was　nothing　like　recognition　to　make　a　man　modest；
and　he　entered　into　some　account　of　the　philosopher；　whom　I　suppose　I
need　not　be　much　ashamed　of　not　knowing　then；　since　his　influence　was　of
the　immediate　sort　that　makes　a　man　important　to　his　townsmen　while　he　is
still　strange　to　his　countrymen。

Hawthorne　descanted　a　little　upon　the　landscape；　and　said　certain　of　the
pleasant　fields　below　us　be　longed　to　him；　but　he　preferred　his　hill…top；
and　if　he　could　have　his　way　those　arable　fields　should　be　grown　up　to
pines　too。　　He　smoked　fitfully；　and　slowly；　and　in　the　hour　that　we　spent
together；　his　whiffs　were　of　the　desultory　and　unfinal　character　of　his
words。　　When　we　went　down；　he　asked　me　into　his　house　again；　and　would
have　me　stay　to　tea；　for　which　we　found　the　table　laid。　　But　there　was　a
great　deal　of　silence　in　it　all；　and　at　times；　in　spite　of　his　shadowy
kindness；　I　felt　my　spirits　sink。　　After　tea；　he　showed　me　a　book　case；
where　there　were　a　few　books　toppling　about　on　the　half…filled　shelves；
and　said；　coldly；　〃This　is　my　library。〃　　I　knew　that　men　were　his　books；
and　though　I　myself　cared　for　books　so　much；　I　found　it　fit　and　fine　that
he　should　care　so　little；　or　seem　to　care　so　little。　　Some　of　his　own
romances　were　among　the　volumes　on　these　shelves；　and　when　I　put　my
finger　on　the　'Blithedale　Romance'　and　said　that　I　preferred　that