ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP —>
MRS. GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP —>
ROSE HAWTHORNE
“NARRATIVE HISTORY” AMOUNTS TO FABULATION, THE REAL STUFF BEING MERE CHRONOLOGY
“Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project Rose Hawthorne HDT WHAT? INDEX
ROSE HAWTHORNE MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA
1851
May 20, Tuesday: At the “little Red House” in Lenox, Massachusetts, Rose Hawthorne was born to Nathaniel Hawthorne and Sophia Peabody Hawthorne.
At least subsequent to this period, it seems likely that Nathaniel and Sophia no longer had sexual intercourse, as Nathaniel has been characterized by one of his contemporaries as deficient “in the power or the will to show his love. He is the most undemonstrative person I ever knew, without any exception. It is quite impossible for me to imagine his bestowing the slightest caress upon Mrs. Hawthorne.” Sophia once commented about her husband that he “hates to be touched more than anyone I ever knew.” Presumably the Hawthornes gave up sexual intercourse for purposes of contraception, or perhaps because they found solitary or mutual masturbation to be more congenial, or perhaps, in Nathaniel’s case, because he preferred to have sex with prostitutes, a social practice of the times which Hawthorne referred to as “his illegitimate embraces,” rather than go to the trouble of arranging “blissful interviews” with his wife.1 Hawthorne was bothered by the presence of children, and after the birth of Rose would speak bitterly of the parent’s “duty to sacrifice all the green margin of our lives to these children” towards which he never felt the slightest “natural partiality”: [T]hey have to prove their claim to all the affection they get; and I believe I could love other people’s children better than mine, if I felt they deserved it more.
May 20, Tuesday: There is no doubt a perfect analogy between the life of the human being and that of the vegetable –both of the body & the mind. The botanist, Gray, says– “The organs of plants are of two sorts: –1. those of Vegetation, which are concerned in growth, –by which the plant takes in the aerial and earthy matters on which it lives, and elaborates them into the materials of its own organized substance; 2. those of Fructification or Reproduction, which are concerned in the propagation of the species.” So is it with the human being– I am concerned first to come to my Growth intellectually & morally; (and physically, of course, as a means to this, for the body is the symbol of the soul) and, then to bear my Fruit –do my Work –Propagate my kind, not only physically but morally –not only in body but in mind. “The organs of vegetation are the Root, Stem, & Leaves. The Stem is the axis and original basis of the plant.” “The first point of the stem preëxists in the embryo (i.e. in the rudimentary plantlet contained within the seed): it is here called the radicle.” Such is the rudiment of mind –already partially developed –more than a bud but pale –having never been exposed to the light –& slumbering coiled up –packed away in the seed –unfolded (consider the still pale –rudimentary infantine radicle-like thoughts of some students, which who knows what they might expand to if they should ever come to the light & air. –if they do not become rancid & perish in the seed. It is not every seed that will survive a thousand years.– Other thoughts further developed –but yet pale & languid –like shoots grown in a cellar.) “The plant – – develops from the first in two opposite directions, viz. upwards [to expand in the light & air] to produce & continue the stem (or ascending axis), and downwards [avoiding the light] to form the root, (or descending axis. The former is ordinarily or in great part aerial, the latter subterranean.” So the mind develops from the first in two opposite directions –upwards to expand in the light & air; & downwards avoiding the light to form the root. One half is aerial the other subterranean. The mind is not well balanced & firmly planted like the oak which has not as much root as branch –whose roots like those of the white pine are slight and near the surface. One half of the minds development must still be root –in the embryonic state –in the womb of nature –more unborn than at first. For each successive new idea or bud –a new rootlet in the earth. The growing man penetrates yet deeper by his roots into the womb of things. The infant is 1. I doubt that we will ever know which of our male literary subjects of this period followed the exceedingly prevalent custom, of paying regular visits to houses of prostitution for what was commonly considered to be a needed and healthy “physical relief.” It would be a great error to suppose that these males of the pre-Victorian era were sexually “repressed” simply because they lived in a world which was divided into totally separate cultural, high-class, and carnal, low-class realms, a world in which the range of recorded discourse was entirely confined within the realm of culture and in which the range of “earthy” or “street” dialog was entirely excluded from that recorded realm. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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comparatively near the surface. just covered from the light– But the man sends down a tap root to the centre of things. The mere logician the mere reasoner who weaves his arguments as a tree its branches in the sky –not being equally developed in the roots, is overthrown by the first wind. As with the roots of the Plant so with the roots of the Mind– The branches & branchlets of the root “are mere repetitions for the purpose of multiplying the absorbing points, which are chiefly the growing or newly formed extremities, sometimes termed spongelets. It bears no other organs.” So this organ of the minds development the Root, bears no organs but spongelets or absorbing points Annuals which perish root & all the first season –especially have slender & thread-like fibrous roots. But biennials are particularly characterised by distended fleshy roots containing starch –a stock for future growth – to be consumed during their second or flowering season –as carrots radishes –turnips. Perennials frequently have many thickened roots clustered together –tuberous or palmate roots –fasciculated or clustered as in the Dahlia, Paeony &c Roots may spring from any part of the stem under favorable circumstances “that is to say in darkness & moisture, as when covered by the soil or resting on its surface.” I.E. the most clear & etherial ideas (Antaeus like) readily ally themselves to the earth –to the primal womb of things– They put forth roots as soon as branches they are eager to be soiled No thought soars so high that it sunders these apron strings of its mother. The thought that comes to light –that pierces the Empyrean on the other side is wombed & rooted in darkness –a moist & fertile darkness –its roots in Hades like the tree of life. No idea is so soaring but it will readily put forth roots –wherever there is an air & light seeking bud about to expand it may become in the earth a darkness seeking root. even swallows & birds of paradise can walk on the ground. To quote the sentence from Gray –entire “Roots not only spring from the root-end of the primary stem in germination, but also from any subsequent part of the stem under favorable circumstances, that is to say, in darkness & moisture, as when covered by the soil or resting on its surface.” No thought but is connected as strictly as a flower, with the earth– The mind flashes not so far on one side – but its rootlets its spongelets find their way instantly on the other side into a moist darkness. uterine –a low bottom in the heavens even miasma-exhaling to such immigrants as are not acclimated. A cloud is uplifted to sustain its roots. Imbossomed in clouds as in a chariot the mind drives through the boundless fields of space.– Even there is the dwelling of Indra. I might have quote the following with the last –of roots “They may even strike in the open air and light, as is seen in the copious aerial rootlets by which the Ivy, the Poison Ivy, and the Trumpet Creeper climb and adhere to the trunks of trees or other bodies; and also in Epiphytes or Air-plants, of most warm regions, which have no connection whatever with the soil, but germinate & grow high in air on the trunks or branches of trees, &.; as well as in some terrestrial plants, such as the Banian and Mangrove, that send off aerial roots from their trunks or branches, which finally reach the ground” So if our light & air seeking tendences extend too widely for our original root or stem we must send downward new roots to ally us to the earth. Also there are parasitic plants which have their roots in the branches or roots of other trees as the mistletoe –the Beech drops &c There are minds which so have their roots in other minds as in the womb of nature– If indeed most are not such?!
NOBODY COULD GUESS WHAT WOULD HAPPEN NEXT
Rose Hawthorne “Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project HDT WHAT? INDEX
ROSE HAWTHORNE MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA
August 25, Monday: George Parsons Lathrop was born in Honolulu.
The Redick McKee expedition progressed through northwestern California, as recorded by interpreter George Gibbs, a Harvard graduate of the Class of 1838: We crossed the east fork of the [Russian] river, and thence, by a high and steep ascent, gained the divide between that and the west fork; keeping, however, along the left side of the range, and looking down upon the valley of the latter. This is apparently narrow and broken, but is said to contain some good land and is well wooded. Water, however, is scarce during the summer. From these hills we could look back to a great distance, the peak at the entrance of the canon below Feliz’s standing up distinctly, with a back-ground of mountains, part of the Coast range, the continuation of which bounded on the other side the valley to our left. Near us, one point formed a very noticeable landmark, resembling, as it did in many respects, the basaltic formations on the upper Columbia. We found on our route the hills well clothed with bunch grass and wild oats, as also water in springs, but not in quantities sufficient for any considerable number of animals. The culminating point on the divide between Russian and Eel rivers, may be considered as marked by an isolated rock, about thirty feet high, standing in a level plat of grass. From here our course ran northerly down a succession of hills, till about twelve miles from our last camp we descended into a valley running north-west and south-east. At the foot of the hills we found running water, in a branch under an alder thicket; but the grass had been burnt off by Indians, for the purpose of collecting aniseed with greater ease, and we were obliged to proceed some four miles further down, and finally to encamp without water in our immediate vicinity, sending the animals back to it. This valley, which the Indians called Betunki, or big plain, is eight or ten miles long and four or five wide. Two streams come into it, which form the heads of the middle fork of Eel river, here called the Ba-ka-wha, These are not, at this season continuous, but lose themselves in the plain. At the foot of the valley, a lagoon of a mile or two long forms in the winter, and thence the river passes out though a canon. The valley is level, fertile in soil and sufficiently wooded, particularly in the upper or southern end. Although its elevation is very considerable, the hills around are well clothed with grass and timber. As being more distant, from any probable settlement of the whites, this and the next valley might have been considered as more advantageous points of reserve than the Clear Lake country. It, however, is destitute of water sufficient for a numerous population; is too inclement in the winter season for a southern population to exist in it, and would not furnish enough of the natural productions on which they live. In leaving Russian river, it may be proper briefly to state its general extent, and that of the country upon it. Taking its general course without reference to windings, it is less than a HDT WHAT? INDEX
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hundred miles in length, and the aggregate amount of tillable land upon it is not great. The largest single body of prairie country is that lying between Santa Rosa and Fitch’s ranch; which, though not altogether upon the river, may yet be considered as a portion of the valley, and which embraces a tract of some fifteen miles in length, by as much in extreme width. Above Fitch’s, the bottom consists of detached valleys, of at most a few square miles in extent, separated by wooded hills. Small basins are also scattered among the mountains, which, however, do not greatly add to the quantity. This country, like that around the bays of San Francisco and San Pablo , generally required irrigation for the production of green crops, but is admirably adapted to the small grains. Beyond this its great value is for pasturage, the ranges on either side being very extensive and rich. Large herds of cattle were formerly kept there, but the improvidence of the owners has allowed them to be almost entirely destroyed. The precaution had been taken of sending Indians on from Parker’s to bring in those of this valley; and, with some trouble, they succeeded in collecting part of the men. The families abandoned their rancherias, and fled to the mountains on our approach. There are here five small bands, corresponding in appearance with those on Russian river, with whom, as well as those on Clear Lake, they are connected. They are much wilder than the others, having generally but little communication with the whites, though a few are said to have been employed as vaqueros. We found that they could make themselves understood by the Russian river Indians, and generally understood them; but their dialect is still different. A portion of their vocabulary was collected, and will be found in the Appendix. [IX. Language.] We remained in this camp two days. A considerable number of men were brought in, but all attempts to assemble their families served only to excite their suspicions. In fact, the object of the agent, in the process of double translation through which it passed, was never fairly brought before them. The speeches were first translated into Spanish by one, and then into the Indian by another; and this, not to speak of the very dim ideas of the last interpreter, was sufficient to prevent much enlightenment under any circumstances. But the truth was, that the gentlemen for whose benefit they were meant by no means comprehended any possible motive on our part but mischief. That figurative personage, the great father in Washington , they had never heard of. They had seen a few white men from time to time, and the encounter had impressed them with a strong desire to see no more, except with the advantage of manifest superiority on their own part. Their earnest wish was clearly to be left alone. To the last arguments brought forward, red flannel shirts and beef, their minds were more open, and they willingly performed many offices about camp, running for water, making fires, and waiting on soldiers, who are sure to get work enough out of them always. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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These men, like the other mountain tribes we afterwards met, though small, were well formed, with prominent chests, and the muscles of the legs and body well developed. Their arms, on the contrary, were diminutive. Some of them had shaved the hair from the person, and they almost all wore bits of stick, four or five inches long, through the ears. A few carried bows and arrows, and one had a spear, headed with obsidian, which is found scattered over these hills. The names of the bands in this valley were the Naboh, Chow-e-shak, Chau-te-uh, Ba-kow-a, and Sa-mun-da. One or two others were said to be absent. The numbers given by those who came in amounted in all to 127 men, 147 women, and 100 children. The total, including those absent, probably does not exceed 450 to 475. From a high point to the west of our camp I obtained a fine view over the valley and surrounding hills. These are well timbered with oak and fir; which latter timber as now prevalent, and interspersed with fields of bunch grass and little valleys affording good pasturage. Water, however, is scarce.
August 25, Monday: What the little regular rounded light blue flower in Heywood Brook which I make Class V–ord 1 Also the small purplish flower growing on the mud in Hubbard’s meadow perchance C. XIV with one pistil. What the bean vine in the garden Class 8 ord 1 I do not find the name of the large white polygonum of the river Was it the filiform ranunculus which I found on Hubbards shore? Hypericum Virginicum mixed yellow & purple The black rough fruit of the skunk-Cabbage–though green within–barely rising above the level of the ground– You see where it has been cut in two by the mowers in the meadows. Polygonum Amphibium red–in river– Lysimachia Hybrida still. Checquer berry in bloom –blue-eyed grass still. BIGELOW Rhus Copallinum Mt or Dwarf sumach I now know all of the Rhus genus in Bigelow–we have all but the Staghorn in Concord. What a miserable name has the Gratiola aurea hedge hyssop? Whose hedge does it grow by pray in this part of the world.
NO-ONE’S LIFE IS EVER NOT DRIVEN PRIMARILY BY HAPPENSTANCE
“Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project Rose Hawthorne HDT WHAT? INDEX
MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA ROSE HAWTHORNE
1860
The widowed Mrs. Mary Peabody Mann and her four sons moved out of “The Wayside” so it could be reoccupied by Nathaniel Hawthorne and his family as they returned from their extended stay in Europe. They would be living again in this Concord home until the widowed Mrs. Hawthorne would take her two daughters and son abroad again in October 1868. The Hawthornes’ neighbors were the Alcotts, since they had purchased the Orchard House (previously referred to as the Moore house) next door.
During this year Henry Thoreau surveyed the property:
Rose Hawthorne would allegedly inform her husband George Parsons Lathrop that in about this year, while she was age 9, Henry Thoreau “used to flit in and out of the house with long, ungainly, Indian-like stride, and his piercing large orbs, staring, as it were in vacancy” (we are not aware that Thoreau visited “The Wayside” HDT WHAT? INDEX
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during this period other than for purposes of this survey of the plot of ground).
View Henry Thoreau’s personal working drafts of his surveys courtesy of AT&T and the Concord Free Public Library: http://www.concordlibrary.org/scollect/Thoreau_Surveys/Thoreau_Surveys.htm
(The official copy of this survey of course had become the property of the person or persons who had hired this Concord town surveyor to do their surveying work during the 19th Century. Such materials have yet to be recovered.)
View this particular personal working draft of a survey in fine detail: http://www.concordlibrary.org/scollect/Thoreau_surveys/51a.htm
LIFE IS LIVED FORWARD BUT UNDERSTOOD BACKWARD? — NO, THAT’S GIVING TOO MUCH TO THE HISTORIAN’S STORIES. LIFE ISN’T TO BE UNDERSTOOD EITHER FORWARD OR BACKWARD.
“Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project Rose Hawthorne HDT WHAT? INDEX
MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA ROSE HAWTHORNE
1862
Here are Una Hawthorne, Julian Hawthorne, and Rose Hawthorne as of this year:
Despairing of selling his Egyptian statue “Cleopatra,” already famous due to the advance publicity given to it by Nathaniel Hawthorne in THE MARBLE FAUN, or his Libyan statue “Sibyl,” which was being said (presumably factitiously) by some to have been inspired by Harriet Beecher Stowe’s recountings of Sojourner Truth, the sculptor William Wetmore Story allowed them to be transported by the government of Rome into the Roman Pavilion arranged by Pope Pius IX at the London universal exhibition. He would receive, much to his surprise, a letter offering £3,000 for them:
“This gave me confidence; I continued to work.”
To distinguish more finely between truth and story, during these Civil War years Sojourner Truth would be continuing her work in the solicitation of supplies for the black troop formations of the Union Army.
THE FUTURE IS MOST READILY PREDICTED IN RETROSPECT
“Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project Rose Hawthorne HDT WHAT? INDEX
ROSE HAWTHORNE MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA
1863
Winter: In old age and illness Nathaniel Hawthorne was having his usual fantasies about being consigned to the “Castle Dismal” of Concord, its almshouse,2 and having to die there alone, when he scheduled a final trip with his buddy Franklin Peirce. His 12-year-old daughter, Rose Hawthorne, spoke of her father’s “military self- command” as her mother walked with him, sobbing, to the carriage upon his departure from the home. Hawthorne simply preferred that his last days be spent apart from his wife and children: “My father certainly knew, what she [Sophia Peabody Hawthorne] vaguely felt, that he would never return.”
WHAT I’M WRITING IS TRUE BUT NEVER MIND YOU CAN ALWAYS LIE TO YOURSELF
2.“the alms-house — which, here in Concord, is a most gloomy old mansion.” HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1864
May 24, Tuesday: People were continuing to kill each other at North Anna / Jericho Mill / Hanover Junction. In addition, on this day, people were killing each other at Wilson’s Wharf / Fort Pocahontas.
In Concord on this day, however, people were burying each other. Waldo Emerson recorded in his journal that:
Yesterday, May 23, we buried Hawthorne in Sleepy Hollow, in a pomp of HAWTHORNE sunshine and verdure, and gentle winds. James Freeman Clarke read the service in the church and at the grave. Longfellow, Lowell, Holmes, Agassiz, Hoar, Dwight, Whipple, Norton, Alcott, Hillard, Fields, Judge LONGFELLOW Thomas, and I attended the hearse as pallbearers. Franklin Pierce was J.R. LOWELL with the family. The church was copiously decorated with white flowers delicately arranged. The corpse was unwillingly shown, — only a few PROF. AGASSIZ moments to this company of his friends. But it was noble and serene in its aspect, — nothing amiss, — a calm and powerful head. A large company JUDGE E.R. HOAR filled the church and the grounds of the cemetery. All was so bright and J.S. DWIGHT quiet that pain or mourning was hardly suggested, and Holmes said to me C.K. WHIPPLE that it looked like a happy meeting. C.E. NORTON Clarke in the church said that Hawthorne had done more justice than any other to the shades of life, shown a sympathy with the crime in our BRONSON ALCOTT nature, and, like Jesus, was the friend of sinners. HILLARD I thought there was a tragic element in the event, that might be more JAMES T. FIELDS fully rendered, — in the painful solitude of the man, which, I suppose, JUDGE THOMAS could not longer be endured, and he died of it. I have found in his death a surprise and a disappointment. I thought him a greater man than any of his works betray, that there was still a great deal of work in him, and that he might one day show a purer power. Moreover, I have felt sure of him in his neighbourhood, and in his necessities of sympathy and intelligence, — that I could well wait his time, — his unwillingness and caprice, — and might one day conquer a friendship. It would have been a happiness, doubtless to both of us, to have come into habits of unreserved intercourse. It was easy to talk with him, — there were no barriers, — only, he said so little, that I talked too much, and stopped only because, as he gave no indications, I feared to exceed. He showed no egotism or self-assertion, rather a humility, and, at one time, a fear that he had written himself out. One day, when I found him on top of his hill, in the woods, he paced back the path to his house, and said, “This path is the only remembrance of me that will remain.” Now it appears that I waited too long. Lately he had removed himself the more by the indignation his perverse politics and unfortunate friendship for that paltry Franklin Pierce awakened, though it rather moved pity for Hawthorne, and the assured belief that he would outlive FRANKLIN PIERCE it, and come right at last. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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“The Wayside” would be occupied by the widowed Mrs. Sophia Peabody Hawthorne, with her two daughters Una Hawthorne and Rose Hawthorne and her son Julian Hawthorne, until, while again living in Europe, in October 1868 they would vend the place to George and Abby Gray. OLD HOUSES
HAWTHORNE MAY 23, 1864 How beautiful it was, that one bright day In the long week of rain! Though all its splendor could not chase away HDT WHAT? INDEX
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The omnipresent pain. The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, And the great elms o’erhead Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms Shot through with golden thread. Across the meadows, by the gray old manse, The historic river flowed: I was as one who wanders in a trance, Unconscious of his road. The faces of familiar friends seemed strange; Their voices I could hear, And yet the words they uttered seemed to change Their meaning to my ear. For the one face I looked for was not there, The one low voice was mute; Only an unseen presence filled the air, And baffled my pursuit. Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream Dimly my thought defines; I only see — a dream within a dream — The hill-top hearsed with pines. I only hear above his place of rest Their tender undertone, The infinite longings of a troubled breast, The voice so like his own. There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, And left the tale half told. Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain? The unfinished window in Aladdin’s tower Unfinished must remain!
CHANGE IS ETERNITY, STASIS A FIGMENT
Rose Hawthorne “Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project HDT WHAT? INDEX
ROSE HAWTHORNE MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA
1871
February 26, Sunday: Sophia Peabody Hawthorne died. (Rose Hawthorne was at this time taking art classes at the Kennsington Art School. Julian Hawthorne would begin to attempt to make it across the ocean to be with his sisters Rose Hawthorne and Una Hawthorne in this period of grief at the loss of their parent. George Parsons Lathrop, who wanted to become a writer, would spring to the aid of the famous sisters. When George and Rose would announce an intention to marry, Julian and Aunt Elizabeth Peabody would object on the ground that at the age of 20, George was still immature, and that such a decision should not be made while Una was grieving her loss.)
A preliminary peace agreement was signed at Versailles by representatives of France and Germany.
At the home of Sir Julius Benedict, Charles Gounod met the violinist Mrs. Georgina Weldon for the 1st time.
September 11, Monday: Rose Hawthorne got married with George Parsons Lathrop in the Anglican Church of St Luke in Chelsea, England, becoming Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop. The unhappy marriage would produce a son but, after the death of the son, the wife would terminate the relationship.
Many regard the Ariel, which James Starley and William Hillman introduced through Haynes & Jeffries of Coventry, England, as the 1st true highwheeler bicycle. It had lever-tension ribbon spokes and the 1st solid rubber cushion tires. It also had a head tube that replaced the socket type of front wheel joint invented for use on boneshakers.
THE FUTURE CAN BE EASILY PREDICTED IN RETROSPECT
“Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project Rose Hawthorne HDT WHAT? INDEX
MOTHER MARY ALPHONSA ROSE HAWTHORNE
1876
Publication of THE DOLLIVER ROMANCE AND OTHER PIECES, in 3 parts, in Boston by James R. Osgood, in green blind-stamped cloth with elaborately decorated gilt-stamped spine.
James Thomas Fields’s HAWTHORNE.
Also, George Parsons Lathrop’s A STUDY OF HAWTHORNE. Under pressure of an attack by her brother Julian Hawthorne, who was accusing her of having shared “peculiarly private and delicate” family papers with “an outsider” (to wit her wannabee-author husband, George Parsons Lathrop), Rose Hawthorne went, at least for a time, “raving mad.” A STUDY OF HAWTHORNE HDT WHAT? INDEX
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An article on Thomas Green Fessenden was included in FANSHAWE, AND OTHER PIECES (Boston).
THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN was the eldest of nine children of the Rev. Thomas Fessenden. He was born on the 22d of April, 1771, at Walpole, in New Hampshire, where his father, a man of learning and talent, was long settled in the ministry. On the maternal side, likewise, he was of clerical extraction; his mother, whose piety and amiable qualities are remembered by her descendants, being the daughter of the Rev. Samuel Kendal, of New Salem. The early education of Thomas Green was chiefly at the common school of his native place, under the tuition of students from the college at Hanover; and such was his progress, that he became himself the instructor of a school in New Salem at the age of sixteen. He spent most of his youthful days, however, in bodily labor upon the farm, thus contributing to the support of a numerous family; and the practical knowledge of agriculture which he then obtained was long afterwards applied to the service of the public. Opportunities for cultivating his mind were afforded him, not only in his father’s library, but by the more miscellaneous contents of a large bookstore. He had passed the age of twenty-one when his inclination for mental pursuits determined him to become a student at Dartmouth College. His HDT WHAT? INDEX
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father being able to give but little assistance, his chief resources at college consisted in his wages as teacher of a village school during the vacations. At times, also, he gave instruction to an evening class in psalmody. From his childhood upward, Mr. Fessenden had shown symptoms of that humorous turn which afterwards so strongly marked his writings; but his first effort in verse, as he himself told me, was made during his residence at college. The themes, or exercises, of his fellow-students in English composition, whether prose or rhyme, were well characterized by the lack of native thought and feeling, the cold pedantry, the mimicry of classic models, common to all such productions. Mr. Fessenden had the good taste to disapprove of these vapid and spiritless performances, and resolved to strike out a new course for himself. On one occasion, when his classmates had gone through with their customary round of verbiage and threadbare sentiment, he electrified them and their instructor, President Wheelock, by reading “Jonathan’s Courtship.” There has never, to this day, been produced by any of our countrymen a more original and truly Yankee effusion. He had caught the rare art of sketching familiar manners, and of throwing into verse the very spirit of society as it existed around him; and he had imbued each line with a peculiar yet perfectly natural and homely humor. This excellent ballad compels me to regret, that, instead of becoming a satirist in politics and science, and wasting his strength on temporary and evanescent topics, he had not continued to be a rural poet. A volume of such sketches as “Jonathan’s Courtship,” describing various aspects of life among the yeomanry of New England, could not have failed to gain a permanent place in American literature. The effort in question met with unexampled success: it ran through the newspapers of the day, reappeared on the other side of the Atlantic, and was warmly applauded by the English critics, nor has it yet lost its popularity. New editions may be found every year at the ballad-stalls; and I saw last summer, on the veteran author’s table, a broadside copy of his maiden poem, which he had himself bought in the street. Mr. Fessenden passed through college with a fair reputation for scholarship, and took his degree in 1796. It had been his father’s wish that he should imitate the example of some of his ancestors on both sides, by devoting himself to the ministry. He, however, preferred the law, and commenced the study of that profession at Rutland, in Vermont, with Nathaniel Chipman, then the most eminent practitioner in the State. After his admission to the bar, Mr. Chipman received him into partnership. But Mr. Fessenden was ill qualified to succeed in the profession of law, by his simplicity of character, and his utter inability to acquire an ordinary share of shrewdness and worldly wisdom. Moreover, the success of “Jonathan’s Courtship,” and other poetical effusions, had turned his thoughts from law to literature, and had procured him the acquaintance of several literary luminaries of those days; none of whose names, probably, have survived to our own generation, save that of HDT WHAT? INDEX
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Joseph Dennie, once esteemed the finest writer in America. His intercourse with these people tempted Mr. Fessenden to spend much time in writing for newspapers and periodicals. A taste for scientific pursuits still further diverted him from his legal studies, and soon engaged him in an affair which influenced the complexion of all his after-life. A Mr. Langdon had brought forward a newly invented hydraulic machine, which was supposed to possess the power of raising water to a greater height than had hitherto been considered possible. A company of mechanics and others became interested in this machine, and appointed Mr. Fessenden their agent for the purpose of obtaining a patent in London. He was, likewise, a member of the company. Mr. Fessenden was urged to hasten his departure, in consequence of a report that certain persons had acquired the secret of the invention, and were determined to anticipate the proprietors in securing a patent. Scarcely time was allowed for testing the efficacy of the machine by a few hasty experiments, which, however, appeared satisfactory. Taking passage immediately, Mr. Fessenden arrived in London on the 4th of July, 1801, and waited on Mr. King, then our minister, by whom he was introduced to Mr. Nicholson, a gentleman of eminent scientific reputation. After thoroughly examining the invention, Mr. Nicholson gave an opinion unfavorable to its merits; and the question was soon settled by a letter from one of the Vermont proprietors to Mr. Fessenden, informing him that the apparent advantages of the machine had been found altogether deceptive. In short, Mr. Fessenden had been lured from his profession and country by as empty a bubble as that of the perpetual motion. Yet it is creditable both to his ability and energy, that, laying hold of what was really valuable in Langdon’s contrivance, he constructed the model of a machine for raising water from coal-mines, and other great depths, by means of what he termed the “renovated pressure of the atmosphere.” On communicating this invention to Mr. Nicholson and other eminent mechanicians, they acknowledged its originality and ingenuity, and thought that, in some situations, it might be useful. But the expenses of a patent in England, the difficulty of obtaining patronage for such a project, and the uncertainty of the result, were obstacles too weighty to be overcome. Mr. Fessenden threw aside the scheme, and, after a two months’ residence in London, was preparing to return home, when a new and characteristic adventure arrested him. He received a visit, at his lodging in the Strand, from a person whom he had never before seen, but who introduced himself to his good-will as being likewise an American. His business was of a nature well calculated to excite Mr. Fessenden’s interest. He produced the model of an ingenious contrivance for grinding corn. A patent had already been obtained; and a company, with the Lord Mayor of London at its head, was associated for the construction of mills upon this new principle. The inventor, according to his own story, had disposed of one fourth part of his patent for five hundred pounds, and was willing to HDT WHAT? INDEX
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accommodate his countryman with another fourth. After some inquiry into the stranger’s character and the accuracy of his statements, Mr. Fessenden became a purchaser of the share that was offered him; on what terms is not stated, but probably such as to involve his whole property in the adventure. The result was disastrous. The lord mayor soon withdrew his countenance from the project. It ultimately appeared that Mr. Fessenden was the only real purchaser of any part of the patent; and, as the original patentee shortly afterwards quitted the concern, the former was left to manage the business as he best could. With a perseverance not less characteristic than his credulity, he associated himself with four partners, and undertook to superintend the construction of one of these patent-mills upon the Thames. But his associates, who were men of no respectability, thwarted his plans; and after much toil of body, as well as distress of mind, he found himself utterly ruined, friendless and penniless, in the midst of London. No other event could have been anticipated, when a man so devoid of guile was thrown among a set of crafty adventurers. Being now in the situation in which many a literary man before him had been, he remembered the success of his fugitive poems, and betook himself to the pen as his most natural resource. A subject was offered him, in which no other poet would have found a theme for the Muse. It seemed to be his fatality to form connections with schemers of all sorts; and he had become acquainted with Benjamin Douglas Perkins, the patentee of the famous metallic tractors. These implements were then in great vogue for the cure of inflammatory diseases, by removing the superfluous electricity. Perkinism, as the doctrine of metallic tractors was styled, had some converts among scientific men, and many among the people, but was violently opposed by the regular corps of physicians and surgeons. Mr. Fessenden, as might be expected, was a believer in the efficacy of the tractors, and, at the request of Perkins, consented to make them the subject of a poem in Hudibrastic verse, the satire of which was to be levelled against their opponents. “Terrible Tractoration” was the result. It professes to be a poetical petition from Dr. Christopher Caustic, a medical gentleman who has been ruined by the metallic tractors and who applies to the Royal College of Physicians for relief and redress. The wits of the poor doctor have been somewhat shattered by his misfortunes; and, with crazy ingenuity, he contrives to heap ridicule on his medical brethren, under pretence of railing against Perkinism. The poem is in four cantos, the first of which is the best, and the most characteristic of the author. It is occupied with Dr. Caustic’s description of his mechanical and scientific contrivances, embracing all sorts of possible and impossible projects; every one of which, however, has a ridiculous plausibility. The inexhaustible variety in which they flow forth proves the author’s invention unrivalled in its way. It shows what had been the nature of Mr. Fessenden’s mental toil during his residence in London, continually brooding over the miracles of mechanism HDT WHAT? INDEX
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and science, his enthusiasm for which had cost him so dear. Long afterwards, speaking of the first conception of this poem, the author told me that he had shaped it out during a solitary day’s ramble in the outskirts of London; and the character of Dr. Caustic so strongly impressed itself on his mind, that, as he walked homeward through the crowded streets, he burst into frequent fits of laughter. The truth is, that, in the sketch of this wild projector, Mr. Fessenden had caricatured some of his own features; and, when he laughed so heartily, it was at the perception of the resemblance. “Terrible Tractoration” is a work of strange and grotesque ideas aptly expressed: its rhymes are of a most singular character, yet fitting each to each as accurately as echoes. As in all Mr. Fessenden’s productions, there is great exactness in the language; the author’s thoughts being thrown off as distinctly as impressions from a type. In regard to the pleasure to be derived from reading this poem, there is room for diversity of taste; but that it is an original and remarkable work, no person competent to pass judgment on a literary question will deny. It was first published early in the year 1803, in an octavo pamphlet of above fifty pages. Being highly applauded by the principal reviews, and eagerly purchased by the public, a new edition appeared at the end of two months, in a volume of nearly two hundred pages, illustrated with engravings. It received the praise of Gifford, the severest of English critics. Its continued success encouraged the author to publish a volume of “Original Poems,” consisting chiefly of his fugitive pieces from the American newspapers. This, also, was favorably received. He was now, what so few of his countrymen have ever been, a popular author in London; and, in the midst of his triumphs, he bethought himself of his native land. Mr. Fessenden returned to America in 1804. He came back poorer than he went, but with an honorable reputation, and with unstained integrity, although his evil fortune had connected him with men far unlike himself. His fame had preceded him across the Atlantic. Shortly before his arrival, an edition of “Terrible Tractoration” had been published at Philadelphia, with a prefatory memoir of the author, the tone of which proves that the American people felt themselves honored in the literary success of their countryman. Another edition appeared in New York, in 1806, considerably enlarged, with a new satire on the topics of the day. It is symptomatic of the course which the author had now adopted, that much of this new satire was directed against Democratic principles and the prominent upholders of them. This was soon followed by “Democracy Unveiled,” a more elaborate attack on the same political party. In “Democracy Unveiled,” our friend Dr. Caustic appears as a citizen of the United States, and pours out six cantos of vituperative verse, with copious notes of the same tenor, on the heads of President Jefferson and his supporters. Much of the satire is unpardonably coarse. The literary merits of the work are inferior to those of “Terrible Tractoration;” but it is no HDT WHAT? INDEX
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less original and peculiar. Even where the matter is a mere versification of newspaper slander, Dr. Caustic’s manner gives it an individuality not to be mistaken. The book passed through three editions in the course of a few months. Its most pungent portions were copied into all the opposition prints; its strange, jog-trot stanzas were familiar to every ear; and Mr. Fessenden may fairly be allowed the credit of having given expression to the feelings of the great Federal party. On the 30th of August, 1806, Mr. Fessenden commenced the publication, at New York, of “The Weekly Inspector,” a paper at first of eight, and afterwards of sixteen, octavo pages. It appeared every Saturday. The character of this journal was mainly political; but there are also a few flowers and sweet- scented twigs of literature intermixed among the nettles and burrs, which alone flourish in the arena of party strife. Its columns are profusely enriched with scraps of satirical verse, in which Dr. Caustic, in his capacity of ballad-maker to the Federal faction, spared not to celebrate every man or measure of government that was anywise susceptible of ridicule. Many of his prose articles are carefully and ably written, attacking not men so much as principles and measures; and his deeply felt anxiety for the welfare of his country sometimes gives an impressive dignity to his thoughts and style. The dread of French domination seems to have haunted him like a nightmare. But, in spite of the editor’s satirical reputation, “The Weekly Inspector” was too conscientious a paper, too sparingly spiced with the red pepper of personal abuse, to succeed in those outrageous times. The publication continued but for a single year, at the end of which we find Mr. Fessenden’s valedictory to his readers. Its tone is despondent both as to the prospects of the country and his own private fortunes. The next token of his labors that has come under my notice is a small volume of verse, published at Philadelphia in 1809, and alliteratively entitled “Pills, Poetical, Political, and Philosophical; prescribed for the Purpose of purging the Public of Piddling Philosophers, Penny Poetasters, of Paltry Politicians, and Petty Partisans. By Peter Pepper-Box, Poet and Physician.” This satire had been written during the embargo, but, not making its appearance till after the repeal of that measure, met with less success than “Democracy Unveiled.” Everybody who has known Mr. Fessenden must have wondered how the kindest hearted man in all the world could have likewise been the most noted satirist of his day. For my part, I have tried in vain to form a conception of my venerable and peaceful friend as a champion in the stormy strife of party, flinging mud full in the faces of his foes, and shouting forth the bitter laughter that rang from border to border of the land; and I can hardly believe, though well assured of it, that his antagonists should ever have meditated personal violence against the gentlest of human creatures. I am sure, at least, that Nature never meant him for a satirist. On careful examination of his works, I do not find in any of them the ferocity of the true blood-hound of HDT WHAT? INDEX
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literature, such as Swift, or Churchill, or Cobbett, — which fastens upon the throat of its victim, and would fain drink his life-blood. In my opinion, Mr. Fessenden never felt the slightest personal ill-will against the objects of his satire, except, indeed, they had endeavored to detract from his literary reputation, — an offence which he resented with a poet’s sensibility, and seldom failed to punish. With such exceptions, his works are not properly satirical, but the offspring of a mind inexhaustibly fertile in ludicrous ideas, which it appended to any topic in hand. At times, doubtless, the all-pervading frenzy of the times inspired him with a bitterness not his own. But, in the least defensible of his writings, he was influenced by an honest zeal for the public good. There was nothing mercenary in his connection with politics. To an antagonist, who had taunted him with being poor, he calmly replied, that he “need not have been accused of the crime of poverty, could he have prostituted his principles to party purposes, and become the hireling assassin of the dominant faction.” Nor can there be a doubt that the administration would gladly have purchased the pen of so popular a writer. I have gained hardly any information of Mr. Fessenden’s life between the years 1807 and 1812; at which latter period, and probably some time previous, he was settled at the village of Bellows Falls, on Connecticut River, in the practice of the law. In May of that year, he had the good fortune to become acquainted with Miss Lydia Tuttle, daughter of Mr. John Tuttle, an independent and intelligent farmer at Littleton, Mass. She was then on a visit in Vermont. After her return home, a correspondence ensued between this lady and Mr. Fessenden, and was continued till their marriage, in September, 1813. She was considerably younger than himself, but endowed with the qualities most desirable in the wife of such a man; and it would not be easy to overestimate how much his prosperity and happiness were increased by this union. Mrs. Fessenden could appreciate what was excellent in her husband, and supply what was deficient. In her affectionate good sense he found a substitute for the worldly sagacity which he did not possess, and could not learn. To her he intrusted the pecuniary cares, always so burdensome to a literary man. Her influence restrained him from such imprudent enterprises as had caused the misfortunes of his earlier years. She smoothed his path of life, and made it pleasant to him, and lengthened it; for, as he once told me (I believe it was while advising me to take, betimes, a similar treasure to myself), he would have been in his grave long ago, but for her care. Mr. Fessenden continued to practise law at Bellows Falls till 1815, when he removed to Brattleborough, and assumed the editorship of “The Brattleborough Reporter,” a political newspaper. The following year, in compliance with a pressing invitation from the inhabitants, he returned to Bellows Falls, and edited, with much success, a literary and political paper, called “The Intelligencer.” He held this employment till the HDT WHAT? INDEX
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year 1822, at the same time practising law, and composing a volume of poetry, “The Ladies’ Monitor,” besides compiling several works in law, the arts, and agriculture. During this part of his life, he usually spent sixteen hours of the twenty- four in study. In 1822 he came to Boston as editor of “The New England Farmer,” a weekly journal, the first established, and devoted principally to the diffusion of agricultural knowledge. His management of the “Farmer” met unreserved approbation. Having been bred upon a farm, and passed much of his later life in the country, and being thoroughly conversant with the writers on rural economy, he was admirably qualified to conduct such a journal. It was extensively circulated throughout New England, and may be said to have fertilized the soil like rain from heaven. Numerous papers on the same plan sprung up in various parts of the country but none attained the standard of their prototype. Besides his editorial labors, Mr. Fessenden published, from time to time, various compilations on agricultural subjects, or adaptations of English treatises to the use of the American husbandman. Verse he no longer wrote, except, now and then, an ode or song for some agricultural festivity. His poems, being connected with topics of temporary interest, ceased to be read, now that the metallic tractors were thrown aside, and that the blending and merging of parties had created an entire change of political aspects, since the days of “Democracy Unveiled.” The poetic laurel withered among his gray hairs, and dropped away, leaf by leaf. His name, once the most familiar, was forgotten in the list of American bards. I know not that this oblivion was to be regretted. Mr. Fessenden, if my observation of his temperament be correct, was peculiarly sensitive and nervous in regard to the trials of authorship — a little censure did him more harm than much praise could do him good; and methinks the repose of total neglect was better for him than a feverish notoriety. Were it worth while to imagine any other course for the latter part of his life, which he made so useful and so honorable, it might be wished that he could have devoted himself entirely to scientific research. He had a strong taste for studies of that kind, and sometimes used to lament that his daily drudgery afforded him no leisure to compose a work on calorie, which subject he had thoroughly investigated. In January, 1836, I became, and continued for a few months, an inmate of Mr. Fessenden’s family. It was my first acquaintance with him. His image is before my mind’s eye at this moment; slowly approaching me with a lamp in his hand, his hair gray, his face solemn and pale, his tall and portly figure bent with heavier infirmity than befitted his years. His dress, though he had improved in this particular since middle life, was marked by a truly scholastic negligence. He greeted me kindly, and with plain, old-fashioned courtesy; though I fancied that he somewhat regretted the interruption of his evening studies. After a few moments’ talk, he invited me to accompany him to his study, and give my opinion on some passages of satirical verse, which were HDT WHAT? INDEX
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to be inserted in a new edition of “Terrible Tractoration.” Years before, I had lighted on an illustrated copy of this poem, bestrewn with venerable dust, in a corner of a college library and it seemed strange and whimsical that I should find it still in progress of composition, and be consulted about it by Dr. Caustic himself. While Mr. Fessenden read, I had leisure to glance around at his study, which was very characteristic of the man and his occupations. The table, and great part of the floor, were covered with books and pamphlets on agricultural subjects, newspapers from all quarters, manuscript articles for “The New England Farmer,” and manuscript stanzas for “Terrible Tractoration.” There was such a litter as always gathers around a literary man. It bespoke, at once, Mr. Fessenden’s amiable temper and his abstracted habits, that several members of the family, old and young, were sitting in the room, and engaged in conversation, apparently without giving him the least disturbance. A specimen of Dr. Caustic’s inventive genius was seen in the “Patent Steam and Hot-Water Stove,” which heated the apartment, and kept up a pleasant singing sound, like that of a tea-kettle, thereby making the fireside more cheerful. It appears to me, that, having no children of flesh and blood, Mr. Fessenden had contracted a fatherly fondness for this stove, as being his mental progeny; and it must be owned that the stove well deserved his affection, and repaid it with much warmth. The new edition of “Tractoration” came out not long afterwards. It was noticed with great kindness by the press, but was not warmly received by the public. Mr. Fessenden imputed the failure, in part, to the illiberality of the “trade,” and avenged himself by a little poem, in his best style, entitled “Wooden Book-sellers”; so that the last blow of hiS satirical scourge was given in the good old cause of authors against publishers. Notwithstanding a wide difference of age, and many more points of dissimilarity than of resemblance, Mr. Fessenden and myself soon became friends. His partiality seemed not to be the result of any nice discrimination of my good and evil qualities (for he had no acuteness in that way), but to be given instinctively, like the affection of a child. On my part, I loved the old man because his heart was as transparent as a fountain; and I could see nothing in it but integrity and purity, and simple faith in his fellow-men, and good-will towards all the world. His character was so open, that I did not need to correct my original conception of it. He never seemed to me like a new acquaintance, but as one with whom I had been familiar from my infancy. Yet he was a rare man, such as few meet with in the course of a lifetime. It is remarkable, that, with such kindly affections, Mr. Fessenden was so deeply absorbed in thought and study as scarcely to allow himself time for domestic and social enjoyment. During the winter when I first knew him, his mental drudgery was almost continual. Besides “The New England Farmer,” he had the editorial charge of two other journals, “The HDT WHAT? INDEX
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Horticultural Register,” and “The Silk Manual”; in addition to which employment, he was a member of the State Legislature, and took some share in the debates. The new matter of “Terrible Tractoration” likewise cost him intense thought. Sometimes I used to meet him in the street, making his way onward apparently by a sort of instinct; while his eyes took note of nothing, and would, perhaps, pass over my face without sign of recognition. He confessed to me that he was apt to go astray when intent on rhyme. With so much to abstract him from outward life, he could hardly be said to live in the world that was bustling around him. Almost the only relaxation that he allowed himself was an occasional performance on a bass-viol, which stood in the corner of his study, and from which he loved to elicit some old- fashioned tune of soothing potency. At meal-times, however, dragged down and harassed as his spirits were, he brightened up, and generally gladdened the whole table with a flash of Dr. Caustic’s humor. Had I anticipated being Mr. Fessenden’s biographer, I might have drawn from him many details that would have been well worth remembering. But he had not the tendency of most men in advanced life, to be copious in personal reminiscences; nor did he often speak of the noted writers and politicians with whom the chances of earlier years had associated him. Indeed, lacking a turn for observation of character, his former companions had passed before him like images in a mirror, giving him little knowledge of their inner nature. Moreover, till his latest day, he was more inclined to form prospects for the future than to dwell upon the past. I remember –the last time, save one, that we ever met– I found him on the bed, suffering with a dizziness of the brain. He roused himself, however, and grew very cheerful; talking, with a youthful glow of fancy, about emigrating to Illinois, where he possessed a farm, and picturing a new life for both of us in that Western region. It has since come to my memory, that, while he spoke, there was a purple flush across his brow, — the harbinger of death. I saw him but once more alive. On the thirteenth day of November last, while on my way to Boston, expecting shortly to take him by the hand, a letter met me with an invitation to his funeral. He had been struck with apoplexy on Friday evening, three days before, and had lain insensible till Saturday night, when he expired. The burial took place at Mount Auburn on the ensuing Tuesday. It was a gloomy day; for the first snow-storm of the season had been drifting through the air since morning; and the “Garden of Graves” looked the dreariest spot on earth. The snow came down so fast, that it covered the coffin in its passage from the hearse to the sepulchre. The few male friends who had followed to the cemetery descended into the tomb; and it was there that I took in my last glance at the features of a man who will hold a place in my remembrance apart from other men. He was like no other. In his long pathway through life, from his cradle to the place where we had now laid him, he had come, a man indeed in intellect and achievement, but, in guileless simplicity, a HDT WHAT? INDEX
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child. Dark would have been the hour, if, when we closed the door of the tomb upon his perishing mortality, we had believed that our friend was there. It is contemplated to erect a monument, by subscription, to Mr. Fessenden’s memory. It is right that he should be thus honored. Mount Auburn will long remain a desert, barren of consecrated marbles, if worth like his be yielded to oblivion. Let his grave be marked out, that the yeomen of New England may know where he sleeps; for he was their familiar friend, and has visited them at all their firesides. He has toiled for them at seed-time and harvest: he has scattered the good grain in every field; and they have garnered the increase. Mark out his grave as that of one worthy to be remembered both in the literary and political annals of our country, and let the laurel be carved on his memorial stone; for it will cover the ashes of a man of genius. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1876
November 21, Tuesday: Redheaded Francis “Francie” Hawthorne Lathrop was born to Mr. and Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1879
In Concord, “The Wayside” was owned by Mr. and Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop (Mrs. Lathrop was Rose Hawthorne), who would make it their home until their redheaded little son, Francis Hawthorne Lathrop, would die in 1881. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1881
February 6, Sunday: Francis “Francie” Hawthorne Lathrop died of diphtheria or pneumonia at the age of four and a half. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1883
Nathaniel Hawthorne’s SKETCHES AND STUDIES.
Julian Hawthorne prepared DR. GRIMSHAWE’S SECRET, published in Boston by James R. Osgood in gray cloth pictorially stamped in black and gilt with the monogram “J.R. Osgood” on the binding).
Mr. and Mrs. Daniel and Harriett Lothrop (he was a Boston publisher, she, under the pen name Margaret Sidney, the author of THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS) purchased “The Wayside” from Mr. and Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop (Rose Hawthorne). They acquired some pieces of Hawthorne furniture from Rose and George. They and their daughter, Miss Margaret Mulford Lothrop, would have control of the property until 1940. As can be seen in the photograph below with its windows boarded up, which was taken at about the turn of the century, during this period of its ownership the house would neither always have someone living in it, nor would it always be in an appropriate condition of maintenance.
DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION? GOOD.
Rose Hawthorne “Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project HDT WHAT? INDEX
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May 1, Tuesday: In Cambridge, Houghton Mifflin issued its Riverside Edition of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s WORKS in one dozen volumes, with introductory notes by George Parsons Lathrop.3
Organic Law was promulgated in Egypt, creating a Provincial Council, Legislative Council, General Assembly, and Council of State over which, of course, Britain retained final control.
3. George Parsons Lathrop had been born in Honolulu on August 25, 1851, had been educated in Dresden, New York and had studied for the law there, and had gotten married with Rose Hawthorne when they both were 20 years of age in London. He had been an assistant editor at The Atlantic Monthly from 1875 to 1877. He and his wife owned “The Wayside” in Concord and fought with Julian Hawthorne. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1888
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop’s ALONG THE SHORE (Boston: Ticknor & Company), chockablock with the “pessimistic spirit that permeates so much contemporary poetry,” was awarded mixed reviews in the Boston Pilot and the Chicago Times. ALONG THE SHORE Life’s Burying-Ground. My graveyard holds no once-loved human forms, Grown hideous and forgotten, left alone, But every agony my heart has known, — The new-born trusts that died, the drift of storms. I visit every day the shadowy grove; I bury there my outraged tender thought; I bring the insult for the love I sought, And my contempt, where I had tried to love. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1891
Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop and her husband embraced Roman Catholicism. She chose as a mission the work of helping penniless sufferers from incurable cancer and went to live in New-York slums to be near them. She founded St. Rose’s Free Home for Incurable Cancer there.
Julian Hawthorne’s and William Leonard Lemmon’s AMERICAN LITERATURE: A TEXT-BOOK FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES (Boston: D.C. Heath & Co.) contained unattributed personal observations about Henry Thoreau to the accuracy of which neither author would have been able to testify. By having had the HDT WHAT? INDEX
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ability to “fix his gaze upon an object for a long time at a stretch,” Thoreau had been “like a pointer-dog.”
HENRY, STILL POINTING
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) had the initial distinction of being born in Concord, though that village was then nothing but a pretty hamlet, lying between level meadows and low hills, on the banks of a loitering stream. Here, it is true, the first blood of the Revolution had been shed, more than forty years HDT WHAT? INDEX
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before; but that fact might have lapsed into oblivion had not Emerson’s “Hymn,” recited on the site of the conflict, in 1836, put a life into the event that is still vigorous. Thoreau was, remotely, of French extraction, and he had a swarthy, Norman cast of features: but his ancestors had become English before they became American, and the genuine New England farmer blood beat in his veins. Personally, he was odd, in all senses of the term. He was bilious in constitution and in temper, with a disposition somewhat prone to suspicion and jealousy, and defiant, rather than truly independent, in spirit. He had a searching, watchful, unconciliating eye, a long, stealthy tread and an alert but not graceful figure. His heart was neither warm nor large, and he certainly did not share that “enthusiasm for humanity” which was the fashionable profession in his day. His habits were solitary and unsocial; yet secretly he was highly sensitive to the opinion of his fellow-men, and would perhaps have mingled more freely with them, but for a perception that there was no vehement demand for his company. The art of pleasing was not innate in him, and he was too proud to cultivate it. Rather than have it appear that society could do without him, he resolved to make haste and banish society; for a couple of years he actually lived alone in a hut built by himself, on the shores of Walden Pond, near Concord: all his life he kept out of people’s way, — you were more apt to see his disappearing coat-tails than his face, and he was most at ease in his walks through the woods and fields surrounding Concord, and on his exploring tramps to Canada, to Maine, to Cape Cod and along the Merrimac [sic] River. Thus thrown back upon himself, his egotism and self-consciousness could not but become emphasized: and since he might not shine in society, he determined to be king in the wilderness. He asserted, and perhaps brought himself to believe, that all that was worthy in this world lay within the compass of a walk from his own doorstep; and we might add that he came to regard the owner of that doorstep as the centre of all this world’s worth. Existing in space, as it were, with nothing to measure himself by, he seemed to himself colossal. Had Thoreau been nothing more than has been indicated, the world would not have been likely to hear of him. But there was more in him than this, and more still was added by education and by the influence of certain of his contemporaries, and of their opinions. His father was able to send him to school and to Harvard College: after graduating he taught school, and finally learned surveying. This trade, and a little money that he had, sufficed to support one of habits so economical as his. He was endowed with some imagination, and it partly found expression in poetry- moralized descriptions of nature, a little rough in form, and anything but ardent in feeling, but individual and masculine. Several of these poems, written soon after Thoreau left college, were published in “The Dial,” and also some essays on the natural history of Massachusetts. Emerson was the medium of this early literary recognition, and his contact with the odd and whimsical young man who had so few intimates inevitably had HDT WHAT? INDEX
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an effect upon Thoreau’s development, both literary and philosophical. He did not want to imitate anybody, and he did his best to digest Emerson, so that his own work and cast of thought should not betray the contagion. Measurably, but not completely, he succeeded. His writings are thinly overspread with Thoreau, but here and there the coating has worn off, and the Emersonian basis shows through. It is quite open to question whether this has not done the writings more harm than good. The nectar and ambrosia of Emerson does not assimilate kindly with Thoreau’s harsh and rather acrid substance. Thoreau was a humorist, -in the old, not in the new sense,- and it is indispensable to the prosperity of the humorist that he be himself. He was no optimist, and he cared nothing for the welfare of mankind, or the progress of civilization. When, therefore, he ornaments his records of the facts of nature with interpretations of their moral and spiritual significance, we feel a sense of incongruity. The interpretations have not the air of developing spontaneously from the interior of the writer’s thought; they are deliberately fitted on from the outside, and the marks of juncture smoothed off. On the other hand, it did come naturally to Thoreau to fall into a vein of talking about natural objects -plants, animals and meteorology- as if they were human creatures, and to credit them with likes, dislikes, thoughts and personalities. When he does this, he is entertaining and attractive, and it is a pity he did not develop a vein so proper to him, rather than snatch with his earthly hands at the Empyrean. His poems of observation were good, and, like a pointer-dog, he could fix his gaze upon an object for a long time at a stretch. Nevertheless, he cannot be considered an especially objective writer. He reverts continually to himself, and examines his own attitude and impressions in regard to the thing even more solicitously than the thing itself. The poet in him helps the naturalist, but the philosopher sophisticates him. Now and then, in the midst of the pathless woods, we are aware of a queer bookish flavor in the air. The literary artist arranges his little scene, pleasing in its way, and well done; only it was not just the kind of pleasure we were looking for. Other and greater artists can do that better: what we want of Thoreau is his own peculiar service, and nothing else. In truth, he was not free from affectations; he was radically provincial; and often (as children complain of one another) he was “disagreeable.” But he had deep and true thoughts, he was of pure and upright life and he made a real and lasting impression. He deserves the reputation that he has with the average reader, though not the violent panegyrics of his thick- and-thin admirers. He assumed the stoicism and some of the habits of the Indian, and his physical senses were approximately as acute as theirs; but he was really a civilized man who never found a home in civilization. One leaves him with a feeling of unmixed kindliness; and in his “Walden,” his “Week on the Concord and Merrimac,” [sic] his “Cape Cod” and other books, HDT WHAT? INDEX
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will be found many passages worthy of preservation, which only he could have written. AMERICAN LITERATURE HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1894
A STORY OF COURAGE, an account, written by Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop with her husband, of the Visitation convent at Georgetown.
December 12, Wednesday: George Parsons Lathrop quoted his wife Mrs. George Parsons Lathrop, in a “Lecture” printed in the Brooklyn Citizen, as having alleged of Henry Thoreau that beginning when she was about 9 years of age in 1860 in “The Wayside” in Concord, “He used to flit in and out of the house with long, ungainly, Indian-like stride, and his piercing large orbs, staring, as it were in vacancy”: I was about 9 years old and coming sternly to realize that I had been transferred from English homelikeness to American sandbanks, when, a little above the garden path, I beheld two enormous eyes not far from each other. They moved toward me. I melted away. Thoreau had come to call at the house. The horrible effect of the great eyes, grey as autumn pools lit by a rift in the clouds, upon a mind pining for luxurious verdure and gem-like blue heavens, created a thirst in me for the dreadful thing. I hung about the garden (it was a grim failure of a garden) until the strange being, native to harsh America, should again emerge for the departure. Stationed in a more retired spot I watched for him, and by and by he came. I noticed with transfixed pulse that he strode, clothed in exaggerated dignity, with long steps, placing one foot exactly before the other according to the Indian fashion, which in Thoreau’s was a downright marvel, since his feet seemed interminable. I next became conscious of a vaguely large nose that finally curved to his chin, and then I realized that this being was looking at me — the huge eyes at a slight oblique angle; and he passed so close to me, in consequence of a roguish turn of the path, that I found his grey-brown irises were bordered by heavy dark lines, like a wild animal’s. For years this vision really distressed me in remembrance, and appeared to have a harmonious connection with my bitter lot in being an exile from British daisies and robins. And yet the time came when both Thoreau and America were revealed to me! The first thing which Thoreau did to soften my heart toward him was to fall desperately ill. My mother sent him our sweet old music box, which softly dreamed forth its tunes, and he enjoyed its gentle strains as he lay perishing. I had heard a great deal of his poetic nature and instructive genius, and when he died it seemed as if an anemone, more lovely than any other, had been carried from the borders of a wood, and dropped, fading, in its depths. I never crossed a hill or a field in Concord, or gathered a cardinal-flower or any other rare bloom without thinking of Thoreau as a companion of delicacy, though also a brother of the Indian. However, I never quite forgave him the steady stare of those unhuman eyes when I was a disheartened child. And I think HDT WHAT? INDEX
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I was right, for I do not doubt that his peculiar step, the stride adopted, was a sign of affectation; and that his intense gaze was the result of an abnormal self-consciousness.... He had an uncanny, subordinate resemblance to Emerson. There were deep fissures from the nostrils along the cheeks, which were similar to those marking Emerson’s smile. But his countenance had an April pensiveness about it, and the slight peculiar kinship of physiognomy between the two friends merely emphasized their essential difference. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1896
Rose Hawthorne opened a cancer clinic in New-York. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1897
An illustrated 2-volume set of WALDEN by Henry D. Thoreau was dated on its title page M DCCC XCVII.
This year’s English edition was being touted by Houghton Mifflin and Company, Boston and New York/The Cambridge Press, Cambridge as “a book for the individual soul against the world,” no less. Also, this year marked the 1st publication of WALDEN in a language other than English — a partial translation by Emmerich HDT WHAT? INDEX
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into German, which appeared in München. TIMELINE OF WALDEN HDT WHAT? INDEX
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Here is Sophia Elizabeth Thoreau’s famous drawing:
Here is Charles H, Overly’s version of Sister Sophia’s drawing:
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop had walked out on husband George Parsons Lathrop, moved to New-York, and HDT WHAT? INDEX
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trained as a nurse specializing in terminal care of cancer victims.
At this point Rose wrote MEMORIES OF HAWTHORNE, and she would use the net proceeds of this publication effort to open her refuge for cancer victims on New-York’s Lower East Side (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, pages 420-1): Another peculiar spirit now and then haunted us, usually sad as a pine-tree — Thoreau. His enormous eyes, tame with religious intellect and wild with the loose rein, making a steady flash in this strange unit son of forces, frightened me dreadfully at first. The unanswerable argument which he unwittingly made to soften my heart towards him was to fall desperately ill. During his long illness my mother lent him our sweet old music-box, to which she had danced as it warbled at the Old Manse, in the first year of her marriage, and which now softly dreamed forth its tunes in a time-mellowed tone. When he died, it seemed as if an anemone, more lovely than any other, had been carried from the borders of a wood into its silent depths, and dropped, in solitude and shadow, among the recluse ferns and mosses which are so seldom disturbed by passing feet. Son of freedom and opportunity that he was, he touched the heart by going to nature’s peacefulness like the saints, and girding upon his American sovereignty the hair-shirt of service to self-denial. He was happy in his intense discipline of the flesh, as all men are when they have once tasted power — if it is the power which awakens perception of the highest concerns. His countenance had an April pensiveness about it; you would never have guessed that he could write of owls so jocosely. His manner was such as to suggest that he could mope and weep with them. I never crossed an airy hill or broad field in Concord, without thinking of him who had been the companion of space as well as of delicacy; the lover of the wood-thrush, as well as of the Indian. Walden woods rustled the name of Thoreau whenever we walked in them. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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Here is Professor Lawrence Buell on pages 321-2 of THE ENVIRONMENTAL IMAGINATION: THOREAU, NATURE WRITING, AND THE FORMATION OF AMERICAN CULTURE: During Henry Thoreau’s life and for some time thereafter, Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne were the great literary figures one came to see or track. They and the lure of Concord’s Revolutionary fame kept the tourist’s or pilgrim’s interests focused more on the village than on the woods. Even as late as the turn of the century, some tourist guidebooks made no mention, or scant mention, of Walden Pond (“too far from the center of town for the average tourist to visit,” judged one in 1895), though they inevitably cited Thoreau as a local author. A typical promotion piece, issued on the occasion of the Emerson Centenary (1903), placed Emerson first (as probably “the best known of anyone who has ever lived here”) followed by Hawthorne. In 1904, the decade’s most famous literary pilgrim, Henry James, Jr., strayed as far from the village center as the Concord River but, while paying Thoreau tribute in a hasty parenthetical phrase, insisted on associating even the sylvan places of Concord with Emerson’s genius: “not a russet leaf fell for me, while I was there, but fell with an Emersonian drop.” But Thoreau’s disciples had already begun to predict in the 1890s that “Thoreau will continue to grow, while Emerson will become more and more of a back number.” Franklin Benjamin Sanborn –the last surviving member of the antebellum Concord transcendentalist group, and its most officious memorializer– had begun prudently to tip the scales of his praise so as to give Thoreau more play, Emerson less. In 1897, a villager in the literary souvenir business told a visitor that Thoreau items were selling better than Emerson and Hawthorne memorabilia. [Emphasis added] In 1898, Thomas Wentworth Higginson observed that Thoreau’s manuscript letters were fetching the same as Hawthorne’s ($17.50) and nearly four times Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s. In 1904, an enterprising Concordian advertised in a Boston paper that he owned some of the remaining timbers of Thoreau’s cabin, presumably displayable at a price. In 1906 Good Housekeeping noted that Thoreau hatpins, made from the nuts of a tree he supposedly once sowed, were being sold in Concord. More important, that same year Thoreau became the first American man of letters to have his private journal published in full — with a few judicious deletions, of course. Reappraising Concord culture in 1919, forty years after having been a student in the Concord School of Philosophy, Henry Beers of Yale University confessed that Thoreau was interesting him more and more, Emerson less, and registered little surprise at Franklin Benjamin Sanborn’s recently quoted statement that Thoreau was the Concordian most likely to endure. These signs of the times coincided with the more conventional mark of literary canonization: Thoreau’s promotion, by 1900, to major figure status in the majority of surveys of American literature.
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1898
After the death of her husband (from whom she had separated), Rose Hawthorne took religious orders and would henceforward be known as Mother Mary Alphonsa Lathrop. She founded a community of sisters to perpetuate her work (they are Dominican tertiaries). CATHOLICISM HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1899
Mother Mary Alphonsa Lathrop moved her project, in the terminal care of cancer patients, to a larger house, St. Rose’s Free Home for Incurable Cancer. CATHOLICISM HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1900
December 8, Saturday: For most years we don’t have any record, but early in 1901 someone at the Chicago Tribune made up a list of the lynchings which had occurred in America during the previous year. The list had 117 entries — a lynching, typically a white mob of some size hanging an adult black male, had been occurring every three days or so. Because of this list we know that on this day in Wythe County, Virginia, Daniel Long, accused of rape, was lynched.
Mother Mary Alphonsa Lathrop (Rose Hawthorne Lathrop) made her vows as a Dominican nun, taking the name Mother Mary Alphonsa. With her first companion, Sister M. Rose, she would found the Dominican Congregation of St. Rose of Lima, later called the Servants of Relief for Incurable Cancer. CATHOLICISM HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1901
Mother Mary Alphonsa (Rose Hawthorne Lathrop) opened the Rosary Hill Home in Hawthorne, New York (now this is the mother home of the order).
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1923
Mother Mary Alphonsa (Rose Hawthorne Lathrop)’s MEMORIES OF HAWTHORNE. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1926
July 9, day: Mother Mary Alphonsa (Rose Hawthorne Lathrop) died at her Rosary Hill Home in Hawthorne, New York. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1937
Katherine Burton’s SORROW BUILT A BRIDGE: THE LIFE OF MOTHER ALPHONSA, A DAUGHTER OF HAWTHORNE (Longmans, Green). SORROW BUILT A BRIDGE HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1959
Arthur Thomas Sheehan and Elizabeth Odell Sheehan’s ROSE HAWTHORNE; THE PILGRIMAGE OF NATHANIEL’S DAUGHTER (New York: Burns & Oates; London). ROSE HAWTHORNE HDT WHAT? INDEX
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1993
T. Walter Herbert’s DEAREST BELOVED: THE HAWTHORNES AND THE MAKING OF THE MIDDLE-CLASS FAMILY (Berkeley: U of California P).4 DEAREST BELOVED
“MAGISTERIAL HISTORY” IS FANTASIZING: HISTORY IS CHRONOLOGY
4. The relationship between Nathaniel Hawthorne and Sophia Peabody Hawthorne has been characterized as a model loving relationship. That’s not the way I reconstruct it. I see the two of them as inveterate game-players, dancing around in very tight and lifelong circles of one-uppance the obvious payoff for which was that everyone, literally everyone, in their lives had to wait on them hand and foot, while meanwhile they manipulatively struggled to protect themselves from becoming utterly subservient to each other’s manipulations. In the husband’s case, of course, the scam was that he being the family breadwinner, his writing came first, and also, it was ever so important to defer to him, to put his person always first, because his was such an artistic sensitive soul and such sensitivities might so readily be bruised by reality. He was so shy, he was so solitary, he was so perceptive — except when he was out drinking with his buddies and could let his shyness, his solitude, his perceptiveness, and his other self-serving poses slip away. In the wife’s case, on the other hand, she obviously needed to sit around in the parlor and have plural maidservants to run errands for her, because anytime anything disagreeable would come up, such as a household chore or some distressingly otiose idea, or a sudden noise, she could acquire the most splitting of headaches. Nathaniel was denying himself so totally for his lovey-lovey Sophia, and Sophia was denying herself so totally for her lovey-lovey Nathaniel, it must have been a total pain to hear them go at it! The chickens would come home to roost in the next generation after this self-legitimating and self-deceiving co-conspiracy, in the warped and spoiled self-indulgent lives of their offspring Una and Julian and in the exceedingly difficult life of Rose. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE: In addition to the property of others, such as extensive quotations and reproductions of images, this “read-only” computer file contains a great deal of special work product of Austin Meredith, copyright 2015. Access to these interim materials will eventually be offered for a fee in order to recoup some of the costs of preparation. My hypercontext button invention which, instead of creating a hypertext leap through hyperspace —resulting in navigation problems— allows for an utter alteration of the context within which one is experiencing a specific content already being viewed, is claimed as proprietary to Austin Meredith — and therefore freely available for use by all. Limited permission to copy such files, or any material from such files, must be obtained in advance in writing from the “Stack of the Artist of Kouroo” Project, 833 Berkeley St., Durham NC 27705. Please contact the project at
“It’s all now you see. Yesterday won’t be over until tomorrow and tomorrow began ten thousand years ago.” – Remark by character “Garin Stevens” in William Faulkner’s INTRUDER IN THE DUST
Prepared: February 2, 2015 HDT WHAT? INDEX
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ARRGH AUTOMATED RESEARCH REPORT
GENERATION HOTLINE
This stuff presumably looks to you as if it were generated by a human. Such is not the case. Instead, someone has requested that we pull it out of the hat of a pirate who has grown out of the shoulder of our pet parrot “Laura” (as above). What these chronological lists are: they are research reports compiled by ARRGH algorithms out of a database of modules which we term the Kouroo Contexture (this is data mining). To respond to such a request for information we merely push a button. HDT WHAT? INDEX
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Commonly, the first output of the algorithm has obvious deficiencies and we need to go back into the modules stored in the contexture and do a minor amount of tweaking, and then we need to punch that button again and recompile the chronology — but there is nothing here that remotely resembles the ordinary “writerly” process you know and love. As the contents of this originating contexture improve, and as the programming improves, and as funding becomes available (to date no funding whatever has been needed in the creation of this facility, the entire operation being run out of pocket change) we expect a diminished need to do such tweaking and recompiling, and we fully expect to achieve a simulation of a generous and untiring robotic research librarian. Onward and upward in this brave new world.
First come first serve. There is no charge. Place requests with