Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864 -- Friends and associates; Novelists, American -- 19th century -- Biography
Henry Stevens--"the man of libraries," as my father calls him--was a
New-Englander, born in Vermont; he took betimes to books, came abroad,
and was employed by the British Museum in getting together Americana,
and by various collectors as an agent to procure books, and in these
innocent pursuits his amiable life was passed. He had a pleasing gift of
drollery, which made his companionship acceptable at stag-parties and
in the smoking-room of the clubs, and he had also a fund of special
information on literary subjects which was often of value. I met him
in after-life--twenty-five years after--and age had not altered him,
though, perhaps, custom had somewhat staled his variety. He was of
medium stature, dark haired and bearded. With him was often seen the
egregious Mr. Pecksniff (as Samuel Carter Hall was commonly known to
his acquaintances since the publication of Martin Chuzzlewit ten
years before). Hall was a genuine comedy figure. Such oily and voluble
sanctimoniousness needed no modification to be fitted to appear before
the footlights in satirical drama. He might be called an ingenuous
hypocrite, an artless humbug, a veracious liar, so obviously were
the traits indicated innate and organic in him rather than acquired.
Dickens, after all, missed some of the finer shades of the character;
there can be little doubt that Hall was in his own private contemplation
as shining an object of moral perfection as he portrayed himself before
others. His perversity was of the spirit, not of the letter, and thus
escaped his own recognition. His indecency and falsehood were in his
soul, but not in his consciousness; so that he paraded them at the very
moment that he was claiming for himself all that was their opposite.
No one who knew him took him seriously, but admired the ability of his
performance, and so well was he understood that he did little or no
harm beyond the venting of a spite here and there and the boring of his
auditors after the absurdity of him became tedious. Self-worshippers
of the _os-rotundus_ sort are seldom otherwise mischievous. He may be
sufficiently illustrated by two anecdotes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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