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Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nathaniel Hawthorne: A Chronicle of Shadows and the Soul's Unsettling Depths

Born

Nathaniel Hathorne (1804-07-04)July 4, 1804 Salem, Massachusetts, U.S.

Died

May 19, 1864 (aged 59) Plymouth, New Hampshire, U.S.

Alma mater

Bowdoin College

Spouse

Sophia Peabody ​ (m. 1842) ​

Children

3, including Julian and Rose

Signature

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne signature.svg|120px|alt=Nathaniel Hawthorne's signature]]

Nathaniel Hawthorne (né Hathorne ; July 4, 1804 – May 19, 1864) was an American novelist and short story writer, a figure whose literary shadow stretched long and deep across the 19th century. His works, often steeped in a peculiar blend of historical inquiry, moral quandary, and religious introspection, reveal a mind acutely aware of the darker currents beneath the surface of human experience. One might say he saw the inherent rot, and, rather than despair, simply documented it with chilling precision.

Born in 1804 in Salem, Massachusetts—a town whose very name would become synonymous with his thematic obsessions—Hawthorne hailed from a lineage long and deeply entwined with the region's stern, unforgiving past. His formal education commenced at Bowdoin College in 1821, where he managed to be elected to the rather exclusive Phi Beta Kappa in 1824, [^1] before ultimately graduating in 1825. A promising, if perhaps reluctant, start for a man who would later dissect the very fabric of American Puritanism.

His literary debut, the novel Fanshawe, arrived in 1828. A rather clumsy first attempt, he later sought to actively suppress it, a perfectly understandable reaction for any artist confronted with their initial, unrefined efforts. [^2] Yet, even in this youthful misstep, the nascent stirrings of his unique voice were present. He continued to publish a scattering of short stories in various periodicals, eventually gathering them into the collection Twice-Told Tales in 1837. The following year, a significant personal development occurred: he became engaged to Sophia Peabody, a woman who would become his anchor in a world he often found both fascinating and repellent. Before their marriage in 1842, he endured stints at the Boston Custom House—a dreary, bureaucratic interlude that fueled his cynicism—and even briefly joined Brook Farm, a rather ill-fated transcendentalist communal experiment.

The couple's early married life saw them reside at The Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts, a period of relative domestic tranquility, before subsequent moves took them back to Salem, then to the Berkshires, and finally to The Wayside in Concord. It was in 1850 that the world received what many consider his masterpiece, The Scarlet Letter, a work that cemented his reputation and laid bare the moral hypocrisy of a nascent nation. This was swiftly followed by a succession of other critically acclaimed novels, each peeling back another layer of the human psyche. A political appointment as consul during the presidency of his college friend, Franklin Pierce, transported Hawthorne and his family to Europe, a chapter that offered new perspectives before their eventual return to Concord in 1860. Nathaniel Hawthorne's earthly journey concluded on May 19, 1864, leaving behind a legacy of probing, often uncomfortable, literary truths.

Much of Hawthorne's literary landscape is rooted firmly in New England, a region whose historical and moral complexities he mined with relentless intensity. Many of his works are imbued with profound moral metaphors and carry a distinctive anti-Puritan undercurrent, dissecting the rigid dogma and hidden sins of his ancestors. His fiction is unequivocally categorized within the broader Romantic movement, though more precisely, it resides in the shadowy, introspective subgenre of dark romanticism. His recurring themes invariably gravitate towards the inherent evil and pervasive sin within humanity, delivering narratives rich with moral messages and an unsettling psychological complexity that continues to resonate. Beyond his celebrated novels and short stories, his published works also include a biography of his college friend, Franklin Pierce, penned for Pierce's 1852 campaign for President of the United States—a campaign Pierce ultimately won, becoming the 14th president, largely thanks to Hawthorne's rather generous, if not entirely truthful, portrayal.

Biography

Early life

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne by Charles Osgood.jpg|thumb|Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne by Charles Osgood, 1841 (Peabody Essex Museum)]] Nathaniel Hathorne, as his name was originally, and perhaps more fittingly, spelled, was born on July 4, 1804, in Salem, Massachusetts. One might note the irony of a future chronicler of ancestral sin being born on the very day celebrating American independence. His birthplace has been meticulously preserved and is now open to the public, a testament to the enduring human fascination with origins, however humble or fraught. [^3]

His lineage was, to put it mildly, complicated. His great-great-great-grandfather, William Hathorne, was a staunch Puritan and the first of the family to undertake the rather arduous journey from England to the New World. He initially settled in Dorchester, Massachusetts, before relocating to Salem, where he quickly ascended to a position of considerable influence within the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He held numerous political appointments, including magistrate and judge, and gained a reputation for his particularly harsh sentencing. [^4] A man, one presumes, who understood the weight of judgment. William's son, Hawthorne's great-great-grandfather John Hathorne, continued this rather auspicious family tradition, serving as one of the judges who presided over the infamous Salem witch trials. It’s almost too perfect, isn’t it? A family so thoroughly steeped in the moral ambiguities and stark injustices of the Puritan era. Hawthorne, with a rather telling act of self-distancing, likely added the "w" to his surname in his early twenties, shortly after his college graduation, in what one can only interpret as a futile, yet understandable, effort to sever ties with his notoriously unforgiving forebears. [^5] As if a single letter could erase generations of inherited guilt.

His father, Nathaniel Hathorne Sr., was a sea captain, a profession that offered both adventure and considerable peril. He met his end in 1808, succumbing to yellow fever in Dutch Suriname, [^6] having been a member of the venerable East India Marine Society. [^7] His untimely death left his widow, the young Nathaniel, his older sister Elizabeth, and their younger sister Louisa to move in with their Manning relatives in Salem, [^8] where they remained for a decade. This early experience of loss and dependence undoubtedly shaped the impressionable young Hawthorne. A peculiar incident occurred on November 10, 1813, when young Hawthorne was struck on the leg during a game of "bat and ball." [^9] This seemingly minor injury inexplicably rendered him lame and confined to bed for an entire year, despite multiple physicians being unable to diagnose any specific ailment. [^10] One might speculate whether this period of enforced solitude and introspection further cultivated his already burgeoning inner world.

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne's childhood home, Raymond Maine.jpg|thumb|Nathaniel Hawthorne's childhood home in Raymond, Maine, built in 1804 [^11]]] In the summer of 1816, the family briefly experienced a different kind of existence, living as boarders with local farmers, [^12] before relocating to a home specifically constructed for them by Hawthorne's uncles, Richard and Robert Manning, in Raymond, Maine, nestled near the tranquil expanse of Sebago Lake. [^13] Years later, Hawthorne would recall his time in Maine with a rare hint of genuine affection, describing it as "delightful days, for that part of the country was wild then, with only scattered clearings, and nine tenths of it primeval woods." [^14] A transient idyll, perhaps, before the complexities of human society fully asserted themselves. By 1819, he was sent back to Salem for schooling, a move he quickly resented, lamenting his homesickness and the distance from his mother and sisters. [^15] In August and September of 1820, he indulged in a youthful creative endeavor, distributing seven issues of a homemade newspaper titled The Spectator to his family. This hand-written periodical offered essays, poems, and news, all infused with the young author's nascent, adolescent humor. [^16]

Despite Hawthorne's own protests, his uncle Robert Manning adamantly insisted that the boy pursue a college education. [^17] With his uncle's financial backing, Hawthorne enrolled in Bowdoin College in 1821. This choice was influenced partly by existing family connections in the area and, quite practically, by the institution's relatively affordable tuition rates. [^18] It was on the journey to Bowdoin, at a stage stop in Portland, that Hawthorne first encountered his future close friend and eventual president, Franklin Pierce. Their connection was immediate and enduring. [^17] While at Bowdoin, he also forged acquaintances with other individuals destined for prominence: the future poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, future congressman Jonathan Cilley, and future naval reformer Horatio Bridge. [^19] He successfully graduated with the class of 1825, later offering a rather candid, and typically unimpressed, summary of his college experience to Richard Henry Stoddard:

I was educated (as the phrase is) at Bowdoin College. I was an idle student, negligent of college rules and the Procrustean details of academic life, rather choosing to nurse my own fancies than to dig into Greek roots and be numbered among the learned Thebans. [^20]

One can almost hear the sigh of cosmic weariness in that description, a clear indication that even then, the mundane strictures of formal education held little sway over his burgeoning imagination.

Early career

[[File:Boston Custom House, Custom House Street, where Hawthorne worked c. 1839–40.jpg|thumb|The Boston Custom House, Custom House Street, where Hawthorne worked c. 1839–40 [^21]]] Hawthorne's initial foray into the published world was Fanshawe: A Tale, a novel drawing from his experiences at Bowdoin College. It appeared anonymously in October 1828, a venture financed entirely by the author himself to the tune of $100. [^22] While it did garner generally positive reviews, its sales figures were, predictably, less than stellar. Following this, he contributed several minor pieces to the local Salem Gazette. [^23]

In 1836, Hawthorne briefly assumed the role of editor for the American Magazine of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge. During this period, he lodged with the poet Thomas Green Fessenden on Hancock Street in Beacon Hill, Boston. [^24] A more stable, if soul-crushing, opportunity arose on January 17, 1839, when he accepted an appointment as weigher and gauger at the Boston Custom House, a position that offered a salary of $1,500 a year. [^25] While employed there, he rented a room from George Stillman Hillard, a business partner of Charles Sumner. [^26] Despite the demands of his bureaucratic duties, Hawthorne continued to write, albeit in the relative obscurity of what he rather aptly termed his "owl's nest" within the family home. Reflecting on this period of his life, he penned a line that speaks volumes about the artist's struggle against the mundane: "I have not lived, but only dreamed about living." [^27] He meticulously contributed short stories to various magazines and annuals, including now-classic pieces such as "Young Goodman Brown" and "The Minister's Black Veil." Yet, despite their eventual renown, none of these early works garnered him significant widespread attention at the time. It was his friend Horatio Bridge who, in the spring of 1837, generously offered to underwrite the financial risk of collecting these disparate stories into a single volume. This collection, titled Twice-Told Tales, finally succeeded in making Hawthorne a recognized, if still somewhat localized, literary figure. [^28] A small step, perhaps, but a crucial one on the path to enduring, if often unsettling, fame.

Marriage and family

[[File:Sophia Peabody Hawthorne by Chester Harding.jpg|thumb|Portrait of Sophia Peabody Hawthorne by Chester Harding, 1830 (Peabody Essex Museum)]] During his time at Bowdoin, Hawthorne, with a flash of youthful bravado, made a wager with his friend Jonathan Cilley over a bottle of Madeira wine, betting that Cilley would marry before he did. [^29] By 1836, he had, in fact, won that particular bet, but his bachelor days were not destined to last indefinitely. He engaged in public flirtations, notably with Mary Silsbee and Elizabeth Peabody, [^30] before his attentions settled on Elizabeth's sister, Sophia Peabody—an accomplished illustrator and a fellow adherent of transcendentalism.

In a rather pragmatic, and thoroughly unromantic, move, Hawthorne joined the transcendentalist Utopian community at Brook Farm in 1841. This wasn't due to any deep philosophical alignment with the experiment, but rather a calculated effort to save money, a necessary prerequisite for his impending marriage to Sophia. [^31] He paid a $1,000 deposit and was, with a touch of grim irony, assigned the rather unenviable task of shoveling the formidable hill of manure, affectionately known as "the Gold Mine." [^32] He departed later that same year, having gained not only some savings but also invaluable, if somewhat pungent, material that would later serve as inspiration for his novel The Blithedale Romance. [^33]

Nathaniel Hawthorne and Sophia Peabody were married on July 9, 1842, in a modest ceremony held in the Peabody parlor on West Street in Boston. [^34] Following their nuptials, the couple relocated to The Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts, [^35] where they would reside for three years. Their neighbor, the eminent Ralph Waldo Emerson, extended an invitation for Hawthorne to join his esteemed social circle. However, Hawthorne, known for his almost pathological shyness, largely remained silent during these gatherings, a silent observer in the midst of intellectual effervescence. [^36] It was during his tenure at the Old Manse that Hawthorne penned the majority of the tales later collected in Mosses from an Old Manse. [^37]

[[File:Una, Julian, and Rose Hawthorne, 1862.jpg|thumb|Una, Julian, and Rose c. 1862]] Sophia, much like her husband, was a person of a somewhat reclusive disposition. Throughout her earlier life, she suffered from frequent and debilitating migraines and underwent various experimental medical treatments in an attempt to alleviate her condition. [^38] She spent much of her youth confined to her bed, a state that, rather conveniently for the romantic narrative, seemed to abate significantly after her sister introduced her to Hawthorne. The Hawthornes, against all odds of their individual temperaments, enjoyed a remarkably long and happy marriage. He affectionately referred to her as his "Dove" and expressed his profound contentment, writing that she "is, in the strictest sense, my sole companion; and I need no other—there is no vacancy in my mind, any more than in my heart ... Thank God that I suffice for her boundless heart!" [^39] Sophia, in turn, was an ardent admirer of her husband's literary genius. She eloquently articulated her appreciation in one of her journals:

I am always so dazzled and bewildered with the richness, the depth, the... jewels of beauty in his productions that I am always looking forward to a second reading where I can ponder and muse and fully take in the miraculous wealth of thoughts. [^40]

A testament to a partnership built on mutual respect and profound intellectual connection, even for a man as inwardly complex as Hawthorne.

A rather macabre incident unfolded on the first anniversary of the Hawthornes' marriage when the poet Ellery Channing arrived at the Old Manse seeking assistance. A local teenager named Martha Hunt had tragically drowned herself in the river, and Hawthorne's boat, the Pond Lily, was required to locate her body. Hawthorne, with a grim determination, aided in the recovery of the corpse, a sight he described with chilling detail as "a spectacle of such perfect horror... She was the very image of death-agony." [^41] This harrowing experience, predictably, later found its way into his fiction, inspiring a pivotal scene in his novel The Blithedale Romance.

The Hawthornes were blessed with three children. Their first, a daughter named Una, was born on March 3, 1844. Her name, a clear reference to Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene, was met with some disapproval from other family members, who perhaps preferred something less allegorical. [^42] Hawthorne, reflecting on this new chapter, wrote to a friend, "I find it a very sober and serious kind of happiness that springs from the birth of a child... There is no escaping it any longer. I have business on earth now, and must look about me for the means of doing it." [^43] A pragmatic, almost resigned, acceptance of the responsibilities of fatherhood. In October 1845, the Hawthornes relocated back to Salem. [^44] Their son, Julian, arrived in 1846. Hawthorne, with a characteristic touch of dry humor, announced his birth to his sister Louisa on June 22, 1846: "A small troglodyte made his appearance here at ten minutes to six o'clock this morning, who claimed to be your nephew." [^45] Their youngest, daughter Rose, was born in May 1851, whom Hawthorne affectionately, and perhaps tellingly, referred to as his "autumnal flower." [^46]

Middle years

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne, by John Adams Whipple and James Wallace Black, 1848 - Peabody Essex Museum - DSC07412.JPG|thumb|Daguerrotype of Hawthorne, Whipple & Black, 1848]] In April 1846, Hawthorne received a formal appointment as the Surveyor for the District of Salem and Beverly, concurrently serving as Inspector of the Revenue for the Port of Salem, a position that came with an annual salary of $1,200. [^47] While financially stable, this period proved challenging for his creative endeavors. He confessed to Longfellow, "I am trying to resume my pen... Whenever I sit alone, or walk alone, I find myself dreaming about stories, as of old; but these forenoons in the Custom House undo all that the afternoons and evenings have done. I should be happier if I could write." [^48] The soul-crushing bureaucracy, it seems, was actively hostile to the delicate art of creation.

This employment, much like his earlier stint at the custom house in Boston, was inherently vulnerable to the capricious whims of political patronage, a lamentable feature of the spoils system then prevalent. As a Democrat, Hawthorne found himself unceremoniously dismissed from his post following the change of administration in Washington after the presidential election of 1848. He responded with a letter of protest to the Boston Daily Advertiser, which, predictably, sparked a partisan firestorm: attacked by the Whigs and staunchly defended by the Democrats, making Hawthorne's dismissal a widely discussed event throughout New England. [^49] The indignity of political maneuvering was compounded by a profound personal loss: the death of his mother in late July, an event he characterized with stark honesty as "the darkest hour I ever lived." [^50] Amidst these trials, he was appointed the corresponding secretary of the Salem Lyceum in 1848, a role that brought him into contact with a distinguished roster of speakers that season, including Emerson, Thoreau, Louis Agassiz, and Theodore Parker. [^51]

Hawthorne, with a renewed, almost desperate, focus, returned to his writing. In mid-March 1850, he published The Scarlet Letter. [^52] The novel included a preface, a rather thinly veiled, and deeply unflattering, account of his three-year tenure in the Custom House, complete with several pointed allusions to local politicians who, quite understandably, did not appreciate their literary treatment. [^53] This seminal work became one of the first truly mass-produced books in America, selling an astonishing 2,500 volumes within a mere ten days and ultimately earning Hawthorne $1,500 over 14 years. [^54] The book swiftly ascended to best-seller status in the United States, [^55] inaugurating what would become his most creatively fertile and financially lucrative period as a writer. [^54] Not all critics were entirely enamored, however. Hawthorne's friend Edwin Percy Whipple expressed reservations about the novel's "morbid intensity" and its intricate psychological details, noting that the book "is therefore apt to become, like Hawthorne, too painfully anatomical in his exhibition of them." [^56] Yet, the 20th-century writer D. H. Lawrence, with far greater insight, declared that there could be no more perfect work of the American imagination than The Scarlet Letter. [^57] A sentiment that, for once, seems entirely accurate.

At the close of March 1850, Hawthorne and his family moved to a modest red farmhouse near Lenox, Massachusetts. [^58] It was here, on August 5, 1850, that he commenced a significant literary friendship with Herman Melville, when the two authors met at a picnic hosted by a mutual acquaintance. [^59] Melville, having recently devoured Hawthorne's short story collection Mosses from an Old Manse, penned an unsigned review of the collection, published in The Literary World on August 17 and 24, titled "Hawthorne and His Mosses." [^60] In this insightful critique, Melville observed a profound darkness within Hawthorne's writing, describing it as "shrouded in blackness, ten times black." [^61] At the time, Melville was immersed in the composition of his own monumental novel, Moby-Dick, [^61] a work he would famously dedicate in 1851 to Hawthorne: "In token of my admiration for his genius, this book is inscribed to Nathaniel Hawthorne." [^62] A fitting tribute from one literary titan of the shadows to another.

Hawthorne's time in the Berkshires proved to be remarkably productive, [^63] despite his personal sentiments. While residing there, he completed The House of the Seven Gables, published in 1851. This work was lauded by poet and critic James Russell Lowell as superior to The Scarlet Letter and hailed as "the most valuable contribution to New England history that has been made." [^64] He also penned The Blithedale Romance (1852), a novel notable for being his only work written entirely in the first person. [^33] Additionally, 1851 saw the publication of A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys, a collection of short stories that retold classical myths, a project he had contemplated since 1846. [^65] Yet, despite this outpouring of creativity, poet Ellery Channing reported that Hawthorne "has suffered much living in this place." [^66] The family did, however, appreciate the scenic beauty of the Berkshires, though Hawthorne himself harbored a distinct dislike for the harsh winters endured in their small dwelling. They ultimately departed on November 21, 1851. [^63] Hawthorne, ever the candid observer of his own discontent, noted, "I am sick to death of Berkshire... I have felt languid and dispirited, during almost my whole residence." [^67] The muse, it seems, can thrive even in the midst of personal ennui.

The Wayside and Europe

[[File:Hawthorne-Wayside.jpg|thumb|The Wayside, Hawthorne's home in Concord, Massachusetts]] In May 1852, the Hawthornes once again returned to Concord, residing there until July 1853. [^44] In February of that year, they acquired The Hillside, a home that had previously been inhabited by Amos Bronson Alcott and his family, and fittingly rechristened it The Wayside. [^68] Their new neighbors in Concord included such luminaries as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, a rather formidable intellectual milieu for the reclusive author. [^69] A fresh wave of tragedy struck in July 1852 when his younger sister, Maria Louisa, perished in the devastating disaster of the burning steamboat Henry Clay. [^70] [^71] The shadows, it seemed, continued to lengthen over his life.

During this period, Hawthorne completed The Life of Franklin Pierce, a campaign biography crafted for his friend, which, with a rather remarkable display of selective memory, depicted Pierce as "a man of peaceful pursuits." [^72] The contemporary reaction was, understandably, skeptical. Horace Mann famously quipped, "If he makes out Pierce to be a great man or a brave man, it will be the greatest work of fiction he ever wrote." [^72] In this biography, Hawthorne presented Pierce as a statesman and soldier who had, paradoxically, achieved no significant feats because of his innate need to make "little noise" and thus "withdrew into the background." [^73] Furthermore, with a blatant disregard for inconvenient truths, he conspicuously omitted any mention of Pierce's well-known drinking habits, despite pervasive rumors of his alcoholism. [^74] Instead, Hawthorne chose to emphasize Pierce's conviction that slavery could not "be remedied by human contrivances" but would, in its own good time, "vanish like a dream." [^75] A rather convenient, and ultimately naive, sentiment to attribute to a politician in the volatile years leading up to the Civil War. One might say Hawthorne, in this instance, blurred the lines between romance and outright fantasy, a regrettable detour from his usual unflinching gaze at human failings.

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne plaque, Blackheath.jpg|thumb|Commemorative plaque in Blackheath, London]] With Pierce's subsequent election as President, Hawthorne was, as expected, rewarded in 1853 with the coveted position of United States consul in Liverpool, an appointment made shortly after the publication of Tanglewood Tales. [^76] This role was widely regarded as the most financially lucrative foreign service position available at the time, described by Hawthorne's wife with a touch of justifiable pride as "second in dignity to the Embassy in London." [^77] During their time abroad, he and his family resided in the Rock Park estate in Rock Ferry, occupying one of the houses situated directly adjacent to Tranmere Beach on the Wirral shore of the River Mersey. [^78] [^79] As his detailed journal entries attest, Hawthorne was a regular commuter, frequently taking the steamboat operating between Rock Ferry and Liverpool, which departed from the Rock Ferry Slipway at the end of Bedford Road, to reach his place of employment at the United States consulate. [^80] His appointment concluded in 1857, coinciding with the end of the Pierce administration. The Hawthorne family then embarked on an extensive tour of France and Italy, a period of cultural immersion that lasted until 1860. It was during his sojourn in Italy that the previously clean-shaven Hawthorne cultivated a rather impressive, bushy mustache, [^81] perhaps a subtle visual transformation reflecting his European experiences.

The family eventually returned to The Wayside in 1860, [^82] and that same year witnessed the publication of The Marble Faun, his first new book in seven years. [^83] Hawthorne, ever the self-aware observer, acknowledged the toll that time and experience had taken, referring to himself with a touch of poignant realism as "wrinkled with time and trouble." [^84]

Later years and death

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne grave.JPG|thumb|Grave of Nathaniel Hawthorne]] At the very outset of the American Civil War, a conflict that would tear the nation asunder, Hawthorne embarked on a journey with William D. Ticknor to Washington, D.C. There, he had the opportunity to meet Abraham Lincoln and other significant figures of the era, an encounter that provided him with material for his essay "Chiefly About War Matters," published in 1862. It was a rare venture into direct political commentary, though filtered through his characteristic observational lens.

However, his health began to fail, a decline that regrettably prevented him from completing several more of the romance novels he had conceived. Hawthorne grappled with persistent stomach pain and, seeking a measure of recuperation, insisted on a restorative trip with his old friend Franklin Pierce. Despite the concerns of his neighbor, Bronson Alcott, who believed Hawthorne was too ill for such an excursion, the journey proceeded. [^85] While on a tour of the picturesque White Mountains, Nathaniel Hawthorne quietly passed away in his sleep on May 19, 1864, in Plymouth, New Hampshire. Pierce, with a heavy heart, dispatched a telegram to Elizabeth Peabody, tasking her with the somber duty of informing Mrs. Hawthorne in person. Sophia, overwhelmed by grief, found herself unable to manage the funeral arrangements. [^86] Hawthorne's son, Julian, then a freshman at Harvard College, received news of his father's death the very next day. In a darkly ironic coincidence that Hawthorne himself might have appreciated, Julian was initiated into the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity on that same day by being blindfolded and placed in a coffin. [^87] The poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a long-time acquaintance, penned a tribute poem to Hawthorne, titled "The Bells of Lynn," which was published in 1866. [^88]

Nathaniel Hawthorne was laid to rest on what is now known as "Authors' Ridge" in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Concord, Massachusetts, a fitting final resting place among his literary peers. [^89] His pallbearers included an illustrious gathering of contemporary intellects: Longfellow, Emerson, Alcott, Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., James T. Fields, and Edwin Percy Whipple. [^90] Emerson, ever the keen observer, offered a profound reflection on the funeral, writing: "I thought there was a tragic element in the event, that might be more fully rendered—in the painful solitude of the man, which, I suppose, could no longer be endured, & he died of it." [^91] A poignant, and perhaps accurate, summation of a life spent in the deep, often isolated, contemplation of humanity's darker truths.

His wife, Sophia, and daughter Una were initially interred in England, a testament to their time spent abroad. However, in June 2006, their remains were reinterred in plots adjacent to Hawthorne's, [^92] a final, posthumous reunion for the family.

Writings

[[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne (Pratt).jpg|thumb|Statue of Hawthorne in Salem, Massachusetts, by Bela Lyon Pratt and dedicated in 1925]] [[File:Nathaniel Hawthorne by William H. Getchell, 1861.jpg|thumb|William H. Getchell's 1861 photograph of Hawthorne which inspired the sculpture [^93]]] Hawthorne cultivated a particularly close and, one might say, mutually beneficial relationship with his publishers, William Ticknor and James T. Fields. [^94] He once confided in Fields, stating, "I care more for your good opinion than for that of a host of critics." [^95] Indeed, it was Fields who, with a keen eye for commercial viability and artistic potential, successfully persuaded Hawthorne to expand The Scarlet Letter from what was initially conceived as a mere short story into the full-length novel we know today. [^96] Ticknor, in particular, transcended the typical role of a publisher, handling numerous personal matters for Hawthorne, including the procurement of cigars, the meticulous oversight of financial accounts, and even the selection and purchase of his clothing. [^97] This close professional and personal bond was tragically underscored when Ticknor died with Hawthorne at his side in Philadelphia in 1864; according to an observer, Hawthorne was left "apparently dazed" by the sudden loss of his trusted confidant. [^98]

Literary style and themes

Further information: Romance (literary fiction)

Hawthorne's works are firmly situated within the broader literary current of romanticism or, more precisely, the decidedly more unsettling realm of dark romanticism. [^99] His narratives serve as cautionary tales, meticulously illustrating his conviction that guilt, sin, and the pervasive presence of evil are not merely external forces, but rather the most inherent and inescapable natural qualities of humanity. [^100] A rather bleak, but undeniably consistent, worldview. Many of his narratives draw profound inspiration from the historical and cultural landscape of Puritan New England, [^101] skillfully blending historical romance with rich symbolism and themes of deep psychological complexity, often venturing into territory that borders on the surreal. [^102] His portrayals of the past are not simply exercises in historical fiction; rather, history serves as a deliberate vehicle, a carefully constructed backdrop against which he explores the enduring and universal themes of ancestral sin, the burden of guilt, and the inexorable march of retribution. [^103] Furthermore, his later writings frequently reflect a growing disillusionment and a distinctly negative view of the Transcendentalism movement, a philosophical current he once briefly, and reluctantly, engaged with. [^104]

In the nascent stages of his career, Hawthorne was primarily recognized as a short story writer. Upon the publication of Twice-Told Tales, however, he famously remarked, "I do not think much of them," indicating a certain self-deprecating humility or perhaps simply an accurate assessment of the public's likely indifference. [^105] Yet, it was between 1850 and 1860 that he produced his four enduring major romances: The Scarlet Letter (1850), The House of the Seven Gables (1851), The Blithedale Romance (1852), and The Marble Faun (1860). An earlier novel-length romance, Fanshawe, had been published anonymously in 1828, a youthful experiment he later tried to erase from his bibliography. Hawthorne himself offered a crucial distinction between a romance and a novel, defining the former as being radically different precisely because it is not concerned with the possible or probable course of ordinary human experience. [^106] In the preface to The House of the Seven Gables, Hawthorne further elaborates on his method of romance-writing, describing it as employing "atmospherical medium as to bring out or mellow the lights and deepen and enrich the shadows of the picture." [^107] This "picture," as Daniel Hoffman astutely observed, was ultimately one of "the primitive energies of fecundity and creation." [^108]

Critics have extensively applied both feminist perspectives and historicist approaches to Hawthorne's intricate depictions of women, finding in them a rich tapestry for analysis. Feminist scholars, in particular, have gravitated towards the iconic figure of Hester Prynne, recognizing that while she herself might not have been the "destined prophetess" of the future, the "angel and apostle of the coming revelation" must, by necessity, "be a woman." [^109] Camille Paglia, with her characteristic incisiveness, viewed Hester as a mystical entity, describing her as "a wandering goddess still bearing the mark of her Asiatic origins... moving serenely in the magic circle of her sexual nature." [^110] Lauren Berlant, in her analysis, termed Hester "the citizen as woman [personifying] love as a quality of the body that contains the purest light of nature," arguing that her resulting "traitorous political theory" constituted a "Female Symbolic" that literalized futile Puritan metaphors. [^111] Historicists tend to interpret Hester as a protofeminist figure, an avatar of the self-reliance and personal responsibility that laid the groundwork for future movements like women's suffrage and, eventually, reproductive emancipation. Anthony Splendora meticulously traced her literary genealogy among other archetypally fallen yet ultimately redeemed women, drawing parallels between both historical and mythic figures. As compelling examples, he offers Psyche from ancient legend; Heloise from the tragic twelfth-century French narrative involving the world-renowned philosopher Peter Abelard; Anne Hutchinson (America's first declared heretic, circa 1636); and the Hawthorne family friend, Margaret Fuller. [^112]

In Hester's initial, striking appearance in The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne himself draws a deliberate parallel, likening her, with "infant at her bosom," to Mary, Mother of Jesus, specifically evoking "the image of Divine Maternity." This comparison is not accidental. In her seminal study of Victorian literature, which prominently features such "galvanic outcasts" as Hester, Nina Auerbach went so far as to declare Hester's fall and subsequent redemption as "the novel's one unequivocally religious activity." [^113] Further elevating Hester to a deity-like status, Meredith A. Powers identified in Hester's characterization "the earliest in American fiction that the archetypal Goddess appears quite graphically," emphasizing her portrayal as a Goddess who is "not the wife of traditional marriage, permanently subject to a male overlord." Powers particularly highlighted "her syncretism, her flexibility, her inherent ability to alter and so avoid the defeat of secondary status in a goal-oriented civilization." [^114] It seems even a Puritan setting couldn't entirely repress the divine feminine, though it certainly tried its best to punish it.

Beyond the monumental figure of Hester Prynne, the exemplary female characters populating Hawthorne's other novels—from Ellen Langton in Fanshawe to Zenobia and Priscilla in The Blithedale Romance, Hilda and Miriam in The Marble Faun, and Phoebe and Hepzibah in The House of the Seven Gables—are consistently depicted as more fully realized, more complex, and ultimately more central than their male counterparts, who often appear to merely orbit them. [^115] This observation holds equally true for his extensive collection of short stories, where central female figures frequently serve as powerful allegorical devices: consider Rappaccini's beautiful yet life-altering, garden-bound daughter; the almost-perfect Georgiana of "The Birth-Mark"; the wronged and abandoned Ester of "Ethan Brand"; and the steadfast goodwife Faith Brown, who serves as the pivotal linchpin of Young Goodman Brown's very belief in God. "My Faith is gone!" Brown famously exclaims in despair upon the horrifying sight of his wife at the Witches' Sabbath, a line that perfectly encapsulates the fragility of belief when confronted with perceived corruption. [^citation_needed] Perhaps the most sweeping and insightful statement regarding Hawthorne's underlying creative impetus comes from Mark Van Doren: "Somewhere, if not in the New England of his time, Hawthorne unearthed the image of a goddess supreme in beauty and power." [^116] A truly profound observation, suggesting that beneath the Puritanical veneer, Hawthorne was consistently drawn to an almost primordial, undeniable feminine force.

Hawthorne's literary output was not exclusively confined to fiction; he also delved into nonfiction. In a rather fitting recognition of his darker inclinations, in 2008, the prestigious Library of America selected Hawthorne's essay "A show of wax-figures" for inclusion in its two-century retrospective of American True Crime. [^117] It seems his fascination with the grim realities of human nature extended beyond the purely imaginative.

Critical reception

Hawthorne's writings garnered considerable attention from the moment they began to appear, though the nature of their critical reception has evolved considerably over time. Contemporary responses often praised his sentimentality and perceived moral purity, a rather superficial reading that perhaps missed the deeper, more unsettling currents beneath the surface. More modern evaluations, however, rightly focus on the profound and often dark psychological complexity that permeates his work. [^118]

Herman Melville, a fellow literary giant of the shadows, penned a passionate and deeply insightful review of Mosses from an Old Manse, famously titled "Hawthorne and His Mosses." In it, Melville emphatically argued that Hawthorne "is one of the new, and far better generation of your writers." Melville articulated a profound sense of affinity for Hawthorne's genius, an admiration that would only deepen over time: "I feel that this Hawthorne has dropped germinous seeds into my soul. He expands and deepens down, the more I contemplate him; and further, and further, shoots his strong New-England roots into the hot soil of my Southern soul." [^119] A testament to the power of shared artistic vision, even when that vision is steeped in profound darkness.

Edgar Allan Poe, another master of the macabre, also contributed important reviews of both Twice-Told Tales and Mosses from an Old Manse. Poe's assessment was, perhaps predictably, colored by his well-known disdain for overt allegory and moralizing tales, and his chronic, often baseless, accusations of plagiarism. Yet, even Poe, with his inherent critical biases, was forced to concede:

The style of Mr. Hawthorne is purity itself. His tone is singularly effective—wild, plaintive, thoughtful, and in full accordance with his themes... We look upon him as one of the few men of indisputable genius to whom our country has as yet given birth. [^120]

A grudging, yet powerful, acknowledgment of Hawthorne's undeniable talent.

The very first substantial public commendation for Hawthorne's work appeared in John Neal's magazine, The Yankee, in 1828. This early review declared that the anonymous author of Fanshawe possessed a "fair prospect of future success," [^121] a remarkably prescient observation. Ralph Waldo Emerson, with a characteristic blend of praise and backhanded compliment, wrote, "Nathaniel Hawthorne's reputation as a writer is a very pleasing fact, because his writing is not good for anything, and this is a tribute to the man." [^122] One might interpret this as Emerson appreciating Hawthorne's integrity over any perceived utility, a rather transcendentalist take on literary merit. Henry James, a later master of psychological depth, lauded Hawthorne, stating, "The fine thing in Hawthorne is that he cared for the deeper psychology, and that, in his way, he tried to become familiar with it." [^123] Poet John Greenleaf Whittier expressed his admiration for the "weird and subtle beauty" he found within Hawthorne's tales. [^124] Evert Augustus Duyckinck, in a sweeping declaration, proclaimed Hawthorne, "Of the American writers destined to live, he is the most original, the one least indebted to foreign models or literary precedents of any kind." [^125]

Beginning in the 1950s, critical focus shifted, with scholars increasingly concentrating on the intricate symbolism and didactic elements embedded within Hawthorne's narratives. [^126] This deeper engagement reflected a growing appreciation for the layers of meaning and moral inquiry his works contained.

The influential critic Harold Bloom, never one for understatement, asserted that only Henry James and William Faulkner truly challenged Hawthorne's preeminent position as the greatest American novelist, though Bloom himself admitted a personal preference for James. [^127] [^128] Bloom identified Hawthorne's most significant contributions as principally The Scarlet Letter, followed closely by The Marble Faun and a selection of his most potent short stories, including "My Kinsman, Major Molineux," "Young Goodman Brown," "Wakefield," and "Feathertop." [^128] A rather comprehensive, if slightly predictable, list of enduring works from a man who dared to look into the darkness and articulate what he found.

Selected works

[[File:Midas (1893).jpg|thumb|The Midas myth, from A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys. Illustration by Walter Crane for the 1893 edition]] According to the esteemed Hawthorne scholar Rita K. Gollin, the "definitive edition" [^129] of Hawthorne's collected works is The Centenary Edition of the Works of Nathaniel Hawthorne. This monumental undertaking was edited by William Charvat and his associates, and published by The Ohio State University Press in an impressive twenty-three volumes between 1962 and 1997. [^130] For those seeking more concise, yet equally authoritative, compilations, Tales and Sketches (1982) was the second volume to be released in the prestigious Library of America series, while Collected Novels (1983) marked the tenth volume in that same esteemed collection. [^131]

Novels

Short story collections

Selected short stories

Nonfiction

  • Life of Franklin Pierce (1852)
  • Our Old Home: A Series of English Sketches (1863)
  • Passages from the English Note-Books (1870)
  • Passages from the French and Italian Note-Books (1871)
  • Passages from the American Note-Books (1879)
  • Twenty Days with Julian & Little Bunny, a Diary (written 1851, published 1904), an excerpt from Passages from the American Note-Books.

See also