Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864 -- Family; Novelists, American -- 19th century -- Biography
MY DEAREST MOTHER,--I was more troubled at the hindrance Mr. Hawthorne
suffered by our being without help a fortnight than by anything else,
because he would not let me bear any weight of care or labor, but
insisted upon doing everything himself. Yet he says that he cannot
write deeply during midsummer, at any rate. He can only seize the
skirts of ideas and pin them down for further investigation. Besides,
he has not recovered his pristine vigor. The year ending in June was
the trying year of his life, as well as of mine [on account of
political calumny]. I have not yet found again all my wings; neither
is his tread yet again elastic. But the ministrations of nature will
have their effect in due time. Mr. Hawthorne thinks it is Salem which
he is dragging at his ankles still. . . . Yes, we find kindest friends
on every side. The truest friendliness is the great characteristic of
the Sedgwick family in all its branches. They seem to delight to make
happy, and they are as happy as summer days themselves. They really
take the responsibility of my being comfortable, as if they were
mother, father, brother, sister. We have fallen into the arms of
loving-kindness, and cannot suffer for any aid or support in
emergencies. This I know will give you a reposeful content concerning
us. Mr. Tappan is a horn of benefits. He seems to have the sweetest
disposition; and his shy, dark eyes are always gleaming with
hospitable smiles for us. We could not be in more agreeable
circumstances, very well,--only I feel rather too far from you all. I
want you to come, to avoid those terrible prostrations from heat.
Here, we will give you a fresh egg every morning, beaten up to a foam
with new milk; and you shall have honey in the comb, and sweetest
vegetables out of our garden, and currants to refresh your parched
mouth. And you shall have peace, and rest, and quiet walks in stately
woods; and you shall sit in the barn upon clover hay, and see the dear
children play about and rejoice in your presence. You shall see us
feed the hennipennies, and hear that most quiet sound of their
clucking and murmuring.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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