Goethe says that the admirable woman is she who, when her husband dies, becomes a father to his children; but in the case of Hawthorne’s mother, this did not happen to be necessary. Her brother, Robert Manning, a thrifty and fairly prosperous young man, immediately took Mrs. Hathorne and her three children into his house on Herbert Street, and made it essentially a home for them afterward. To the fatherless boy he was more than his own father, away from home ten months of the year, ever could have been; and though young Nathaniel must have missed that tenderness of feeling which a man can only entertain toward his own child, there was no lack of kindness or consideration on Robert Manning’s part, to either the boy or his sisters. It was Mrs. Hathorne who chiefly suffered from this change of domicile. She would seem to have been always on good terms with her brother’s wife, and on the whole they formed a remarkably harmonious family,--at least we hear nothing to the contrary,--but she was no longer mistress of her own household. She had her daughters to instruct, and to train up in domestic ways, and she could be helpful in various matters, large and small; but the mental occupation which comes from the oversight and direction of household affairs, and which might have served to divert her mind from sorrowful memories, was now gone from her. Her widowhood separated her from the outside world and from all society, excepting a few devoted friends, [Footnote: _Wide Awake_, xxxiii. 502.] so that under these conditions it is not surprising that her life became continually more secluded and reserved. It is probable that her temperament was very similar to her son’s; but the impression which has gone forth, that she indulged her melancholy to an excess, is by no means a just one. The circumstances of her case should be taken into consideration. Rebecca Manning says: “I remember aunt Hawthorne as busy about the house, attending to various matters. Her cooking was excellent, and she was noted for a certain kind of sauce, which nobody else knew how to make. We always enjoyed going to see her when we were children, for she took great pains to please us and to give us nice things to eat. Her daughter Elizabeth resembled her in that respect. In old letters and in the journal of another aunt, which has come into our possession, we read of her going about making visits, taking drives, and sometimes going on a journey. In later years she was not well, and I do not remember that she ever came here, but her friends always received a cordial welcome when they visited her.” This refers to a late period of Madam Hathorne’s life, and if she absented herself from the table, as Elizabeth Peabody states, [Footnote: Lathrop’s “Study of Hawthorne.”] there was good reason for it.