Nathaniel Hawthorne |
Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in Salem, Massachusetts. A forebear, John Hathorne, was one of the judges who oversaw the Salem witch trials; Hawthorne might have added the ‘w’ to his surname to rid himself of this association. He was educated at Bowdoin College, and in 1837 went to work at the Boston Custom House. In 1842, he married Sophia Peabody, a painter, illustrator and member of the American Transcendentalist movement, whose members included Bronson Alcott, the father of Louisa May Alcott, the author of Little Women. After their marriage, the Hawthornes settled in Concord, Massachusetts, at the Old Manse, where they seem to have been very happy. In 1850, Hawthorne published his most famous novel, The Scarlet Letter, an immediate bestseller.
Four years after Nathaniel’s death, Sophia moved to England; the family had lived there for four years between 1853 and 1857, when Nathaniel had been appointed United States Consul in Liverpool. She died in 1871, and was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery in London. In 2006, her remains were removed to the Hawthorne family plot in Concord, where she now lies next to her husband.
The most striking feature of this letter to Sophia, aside from the vast affection it conveys, is its immediacy; the voice is like that of a friend recounting a recent dream.
Unspeakably Belovedest,
– Thy letter has just been handed to me. It was most comfortable to me, because it gives such a picture of thy life with the children. I could see the whole family of my heart before my eyes, and could hear you all talking together . . .
The other night, I dreamt that I was at Newton, in a room with thee and with several people; and thou tookst occasion to announce that thou hadst now ceased to be my wife, and hadst taken another husband. Thou madest this intelligence known with such perfect composure and sang froid, – not particularly addressing me, but the company generally, – that it benumbed my thoughts and feelings, so that I had nothing to say. But, hereupon, some woman who was there present, informed the company that, in this state of affairs, having ceased to be thy husband, I had become hers, and, turning to me, very coolly inquired whether she or I should write to inform my mother of the new arrangement! How the children were to be divided, I know not. I only know that my heart suddenly broke loose, and I began to expostulate with thee in an infinite agony, in the midst of which I awoke. But the sense of unspeakable injury and outrage hung about me for a long time, and even yet it has not quite departed. Thou shouldst not behave so when thou comest to me in dreams.
Oh, Phoebe, I want thee much. Thou art the only person in the world that ever was necessary to me. Other people have occasionally been more or less agreeable; but I think I was always more at ease alone than in anybody’s company, till I knew thee. And now I am only myself when thou art within my reach. Thou art an unspeakably beloved woman. How couldst thou inflict such frozen agony upon me in that dream?
If I write any more, it would only be to express more lovings and longings; and as they are impossible to express, I may as well close.
Thy Husband
