OXFORD JOURNALS OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS Hawthorne and the Problem of New England Author(s):Robert Milder Source:American Literary History,Vol.21,No.3(Fall,2009).pp.464-491 Published by:Oxford University Press Stable URL:http://www.jstor.org/stable/20638603 Accessed:10-11-2017 17:39 UTC JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars.researchers,and students discover,use,and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive.We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship.For more information about JSTOR,please contact support@jstor.org. Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms Conditions of Use,available at http://about.jstor.org/terms Oxford University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize,preserve and extend access to American Literary History USTOR This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri,10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
Hawthorne and the Problem of New England Author(s): Robert Milder Source: American Literary History, Vol. 21, No. 3 (Fall, 2009), pp. 464-491 Published by: Oxford University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20638603 Accessed: 10-11-2017 17:39 UTC JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at http://about.jstor.org/terms Oxford University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to American Literary History This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri, 10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
Hawthorne and the Problem of New england Robert Milder Regions are not only concrete geographic domains but also con- ceptual places. Joseph A.Conforti,Imagining New England Responding in 1957 to a question about his fictional subject, William Faulkner insisted that he did not write about the South and southern civilization save as they constituted the particular “country'that he knew;his interest was“the human heart'”(IO). Hawthorne spoke similarly when he described himself as "burrow- ing...into the depths of our common nature,for the purposes of psychological romance"(XI:4).Faulkner and Hawthorne did write about their regions,past and present,explicitly and on levels available to conscious control,but they also wrote from their regions insofar as their notions of "the heart"were inflected by their personal and cultural relationship to a distinctively local world and by the sense of life they introjected,half-unconsciously, from its ethos. Some writers (Melville,for one)are imaginable apart from their birthplace and authorial homes;Hawthorne is not.Over the course of his career,Hawthorne had four major "habitations"that were the scene and literal or figurative subject of his writing: Salem,MA,his ancestral home and ingrained point of reference; Concord,MA,where he lived from 1842 to 1845 (and again in 1852-53 and after 1860)and came into contact with the Adamic Robert Milder,Professor of English at Washington University in St.Louis,is the author of Reimagining Thoreau(1995)and Exiled Royalties:Melville and the Life We Imagine (2006).Along with Randall Fuller,he recently co-edited The Business of Reflection:Hawthorne in His Notebooks (2009).He is currently writing a book on Hawthorne titled"Hawthorne's Habitations." doi:10.1093/alh/ajp020 Advance Access publication May 9,2009 The Author 2009.Published by Oxford University Press.All rights reserved. For permissions,please e-mail:journals.permissions@oxfordjournals.org This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri,10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
Hawthorne and the Problem of New England Robert Milder Regions are not only concrete geographic domains but also con ceptual places. Joseph A. Conforti, Imagining New England Responding in 1957 to a question about his fictional subject, William Faulkner insisted that he did not write about the South and southern civilization save as they constituted the particular "country" that he knew; his interest was "the human heart" (10). Hawthorne spoke similarly when he described himself as "burrow ing ... into the depths of our common nature, for the purposes of psychological romance" (XI: 4).1 Faulkner and Hawthorne did write about their regions, past and present, explicitly and on levels available to conscious control, but they also wrote from their regions insofar as their notions of "the heart" were inflected by their personal and cultural relationship to a distinctively local world and by the sense of life they introjected, half-unconsciously, from its ethos. Some writers (Melville, for one) are imaginable apart from their birthplace and authorial homes; Hawthorne is not. Over the course of his career, Hawthorne had four major "habitations" that were the scene and literal or figurative subject of his writing: Salem, MA, his ancestral home and ingrained point of reference; Concord, MA, where he lived from 1842 to 1845 (and again in 1852-53 and after 1860) and came into contact with the Adamic Robert Milder, Professor of English at Washington University in St. Louis, is the author of Reimagining Thoreau (1995) and Exiled Royalties: Melville and the Life We Imagine (2006). Along with Randall Fuller, he recently co-edited The Business of Reflection: Hawthorne in His Notebooks (2009). He is currently writing a book on Hawthorne titled "Hawthorne's Habitations." doi:10.1093/alh/ajp020 Advance Access publication May 9, 2009 ? The Author 2009. Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: joumals.permissions@oxfordjournals.org This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri, 10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
American Literary History 465 spirit of the American Renaissance;England,where he served as consul in Liverpool from 1853 to 1857,and where he felt himself more "surrounded by materialisms,and hemmed in with the gross- ness of this earthly life,than anywhere else"in his experience (XXII:433);and Italy,where he resided through most of 1858- 59,drafted The Marble Faun (1860),and was challenged,like James's Americans abroad,by the obliquities of an older,denser civilization morally as well as culturally at variance with his own. Beyond geographical localities,"habitations"thus imply mental residences,or regions of thought and sensibility associated with place but not narrowly co-extensive with it and having their own distinctive attitudes,colorations,and constellation of themes.Of these habitations,New England,or "Salem,"has priority not simply because it was the first but because,like Faulkner's South, it was the lens through which he processed all the others.In this respect,Hawthorne never left "Salem"or divested himself of his identity-shaping ambivalence toward New England. Toward the end of "The Custom-House"Hawthorne wrote with wishful finality of Salem,"Henceforth,it ceases to be a reality of my life.I am a citizen of somewhere else"(I:4).He had previously tried to sever his roots in Salem,settling in Concord's Old Manse in July 1842 and reinventing himself as writer and man in the three years that followed.In the fall of 1845 life returned him to Salem like a "bad half-penny,"as he put it (II: 12),and it was in Salem,after his mother's death nearly four years later,that he wrote The Scarlet Letter (1850).The ending of "The Custom-House"was intended as a farewell to Salem not only as a residence but as a mental "habitation"associated with an identity (the lonely recluse of the Twice-Told Tales period)and a literary practice.But the bad penny returned,inwardly at least,once more. Even in self-exile in the distant Berkshires,Salem remained for Hawthorne both a weight and a gravitational pull."Mr.Hawthorne thinks it is Salem which he is dragging at his ankles still,"his wife reported of his gloomy spirits on 1 August 1850,more than two months after the move to Lenox (qtd in Wineapple 220).By early September Hawthorne had begun The House of the Seven Gables (1851),his Salem book,which also ends with a decisive break from the town.Salem had imprinted itself on Hawthorne in ways that physical separation alone could not erase.His first exorcism in "The Custom-House"had been incomplete;the ritual had to be performed again. I use "Salem"as synecdochical for "New England"because in Hawthorne's imagination it largely was,despite his broad acquaintance with the region.As a boy,Hawthorne had lived for a time in Maine,where his maternal relatives,the Mannings,had This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri,10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
American Literary History 465 spirit of the American Renaissance; England, where he served as consul in Liverpool from 1853 to 1857, and where he felt himself more "surrounded by materialisms, and hemmed in with the gross ness of this earthly life, than anywhere else" in his experience (XXII: 433); and Italy, where he resided through most of 1858 59, drafted The Marble Faun (1860), and was challenged, like James's Americans abroad, by the obliquities of an older, denser civilization morally as well as culturally at variance with his own. Beyond geographical localities, "habitations" thus imply mental residences, or regions of thought and sensibility associated with place but not narrowly co-extensive with it and having their own distinctive attitudes, colorations, and constellation of themes. Of these habitations, New England, or "Salem," has priority not simply because it was the first but because, like Faulkner's South, it was the lens through which he processed all the others. In this respect, Hawthorne never left "Salem" or divested himself of his identity-shaping ambivalence toward New England. Toward the end of "The Custom-House" Hawthorne wrote with wishful finality of Salem, "Henceforth, it ceases to be a reality of my life. I am a citizen of somewhere else" (I: 4). He had previously tried to sever his roots in Salem, settling in Concord's Old Manse in July 1842 and reinventing himself as writer and man in the three years that followed. In the fall of 1845 life returned him to Salem like a "bad half-penny," as he put it (II: 12), and it was in Salem, after his mother's death nearly four years later, that he wrote The Scarlet Letter (1850). The ending of "The Custom-House" was intended as a farewell to Salem not only as a residence but as a mental "habitation" associated with an identity (the lonely recluse of the Twice-Told Tales period) and a literary practice. But the bad penny returned, inwardly at least, once more. Even in self-exile in the distant Berkshires, Salem remained for Hawthorne both a weight and a gravitational pull. "Mr. Hawthorne thinks it is Salem which he is dragging at his ankles still," his wife reported of his gloomy spirits on 1 August 1850, more than two months after the move to Lenox (qtd in Wineapple 220). By early September Hawthorne had begun The House of the Seven Gables (1851), his Salem book, which also ends with a decisive break from the town. Salem had imprinted itself on Hawthorne in ways that physical separation alone could not erase. His first exorcism in "The Custom-House" had been incomplete; the ritual had to be performed again. I use "Salem" as synecdochical for "New England" because in Hawthorne's imagination it largely was, despite his broad acquaintance with the region. As a boy, Hawthorne had lived for a time in Maine, where his maternal relatives, the Mannings, had This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri, 10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
466 Hawthorne and the Problem of New England property and where he later went to college and returned to visit his friend Horatio Bridge.In the 1830s he traveled widely in northern New England during summer or fall vacations.He jour- neyed through the White Mountains,still primitive at the time, spent several weeks in the Berkshires,and was deeply appreciative of the "strong,unlettered sense,imbued with humor,"that was part of "everybody's talk"in rustic New England (VIII:94).He also knew Boston intimately,both the city of his own day and the seventeenth-century town he discovered in his antiquarian readings and depicted in The Scarlet Letter.But it was Salem that was "the inevitable centre of the universe"for him (I:12),loathe it as he professed to do from his post-college years to his return from Europe in 1860,when he dreaded the thought of"spending any time in Salem,or even passing through the wretched old town" (XV:311). "Salem history haunted him,"Margaret B.Moore remarked (2),but beyond his fascination with Salem witchcraft-a colorful but scarcely a live issue in the second quarter of the nineteenth century-what was the nature of his engagement with the New England past,specifically the Salem past?"The historical sense," T.S.Eliot remarked,"involves a perception,not only of the past- ness of the past"-its difference from ourselves;its over-and- doneness-"but of its presence"(49).Hawthorne shared this twofold historical sense.With something like Eliot's "pastness of the past"in mind,Michael J.Colacurcio describes the "intention...in the best of [Hawthorne's]early tales"as "the wish to recover the affective quality of human lives lived under con- ditions or assumptions different from those which prevailed in his own later and more liberal age.Or,alternatively,"he adds, echoing Eliot's notion of "presence,"it is "the desire to re-enact the subtle process by which a solid but often unlovely past had thrown its long and often darkening shadow upon an equally solid and apparently sunnier present"(19).These are two quite different impulses.Both may express themselves in a Hawthorne fiction (as they do in The Scarlet Letter),but they make for different focal points and belong to complementary thematic enterprises.One is concerned with the past as past (Hawthorne as regional historian, with New England as seedbed for America),the other with the past's intellectual and affective legacy for its descendants (Hawthorne as cultural anthropologist). Millicent Bell sees Hawthorne's"inquiry into the nature of a past still active in the American present"as "participat[ing]in America's mounting need,in the antebellum period,to understand its early beginnings in order to determine what its unity in diver- sity was coming to mean"(12).My own interest in Hawthorne the This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri,10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
466 Hawthorne and the Problem of New England property and where he later went to college and returned to visit his friend Horatio Bridge. In the 1830s he traveled widely in northern New England during summer or fall vacations. He jour neyed through the White Mountains, still primitive at the time, spent several weeks in the Berkshires, and was deeply appreciative of the "strong, unlettered sense, imbued with humor," that was part of "everybody's talk" in rustic New England (VIII: 94). He also knew Boston intimately, both the city of his own day and the seventeenth-century town he discovered in his antiquarian readings and depicted in The Scarlet Letter. But it was Salem that was "the inevitable centre of the universe" for him (I: 12), loathe it as he professed to do from his post-college years to his return from Europe in 1860, when he dreaded the thought of "spending any time in Salem, or even passing through the wretched old town" (XVIII: 311). "Salem history haunted him," Margaret B. Moore remarked (2), but beyond his fascination with Salem witchcraft?a colorful but scarcely a live issue in the second quarter of the nineteenth century?what was the nature of his engagement with the New England past, specifically the Salem past? "The historical sense," T. S. Eliot remarked, "involves a perception, not only of the past ness of the past"?its difference from ourselves; its over-and doneness?"but of its presence" (49). Hawthorne shared this twofold historical sense. With something like Eliot's "pastness of the past" in mind, Michael J. Colacurcio describes the "intention ... in the best of [Hawthorne's] early tales" as "the wish to recover the affective quality of human lives lived under con ditions or assumptions different from those which prevailed in his own later and more liberal age. Or, alternatively," he adds, echoing Eliot's notion of "presence," it is "the desire to re-enact the subtle process by which a solid but often unlovely past had thrown its long and often darkening shadow upon an equally solid and apparently sunnier present" (19). These are two quite different impulses. Both may express themselves in a Hawthorne fiction (as they do in The Scarlet Letter), but they make for different focal points and belong to complementary thematic enterprises. One is concerned with the past as past (Hawthorne as regional historian, with New England as seedbed for America), the other with the past's intellectual and affective legacy for its descendants (Hawthorne as cultural anthropologist). Millicent Bell sees Hawthorne's "inquiry into the nature of a past still active in the American present" as "particip?t [ing] in America's mounting need, in the antebellum period, to understand its early beginnings in order to determine what its unity in diver sity was coming to mean" (12). My own interest in Hawthorne the This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri, 10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
American Literary History 467 anthropologist is more with origins than with congruences,and it locates "the major ligature between culture and literary text"(as Leonard N.Neufeldt said of Thoreau)in "the problem of voca- tion"(24).The man who,as Henry James said,"must have pro- posed to himself to enjoy,simply because he proposed to be an artist,and because this enters inevitably into the artist's scheme," became an anthropologist perforce from the frustrations of living and writing in a society that made small "provision"for enjoying (Hawthorne 24).Describing his 1860 meeting with Hawthorne during his literary pilgrimage to New England,William Dean Howells recalled that Hawthorne "spoke of the New England tem- perament,and suggested that the apparent coldness in it was also real,and that the suppression of emotion for generations would extinguish it at last"(53).Hawthorne was not referring to New England's past so much as to its present and future,and his pro- longed silences and "shadowy kindness,"which made Howells's "spirits sink"(54),testify to the inhibition that afflicted Hawthorne himself,notwithstanding the exhortations to sympathy that run through his work. The enduring "problem of New England"for Hawthorne had little to do with the witch trials except symptomatically or with other remembered (or forgotten)episodes in regional history;as he said in“Alice Doane's Appeal,”“we are a people of the present and have no heartfelt interest in the olden time"(XI:267).2 Practically,as lived experience,the New England past asserted itself for Hawthorne in what history,religion,and climate com- bined to make of the mind and temperament of its inheritors, himself included.New England was the starvation of the senses, New England was the the imagination,the feelings,and the erotic nature consequent on starvation of the senses, living in a post-Puritan world.It was the "conceptual place"that the imagination,the Hawthorne inhabited and,no less important,the "place"that feelings,and the erotic nature consequent on inhabited him. living in a post-Puritan The House of the Seven Gables is my endpoint in this essay world.It was the because it is the culmination of Hawthorne's own engagement “conceptual place”that with Salem,which was both personal ("Salem"as a symbol for Hawthorne inhabited and his twelve years in the family house after college)and cultural ..the“place”that inhabited him. ("Salem"as a miniature of New England civilization).To the extent that the individual life is always lived in and through a culture,the strands are inseparable.Hawthorne himself was deeply aware of how his psychological and vocational conflicts were related to what,as analyst and victim,he understood as a collective regional neurosis.I refer to Seven Gables as an exorcism,but psy- chologically it might be more apt to regard it as a work of self- therapy-and one whose psychic cost,in the end,would arguably rival its benefits. This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri,10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
American Literary History 467 anthropologist is more with origins than with congruences, and it locates "the major ligature between culture and literary text" (as Leonard N. Neufeldt said of Thoreau) in "the problem of voca tion" (24). The man who, as Henry James said, "must have pro posed to himself to enjoy, simply because he proposed to be an artist, and because this enters inevitably into the artist's scheme," became an anthropologist perforce from the frustrations of living and writing in a society that made small "provision" for enjoying (Hawthorne 24). Describing his 1860 meeting with Hawthorne during his literary pilgrimage to New England, William Dean Howells recalled that Hawthorne "spoke of the New England tem perament, and suggested that the apparent coldness in it was also real, and that the suppression of emotion for generations would extinguish it at last" (53). Hawthorne was not referring to New England's past so much as to its present and future, and his pro longed silences and "shadowy kindness," which made Howells's "spirits sink" (54), testify to the inhibition that afflicted Hawthorne himself, notwithstanding the exhortations to sympathy that run through his work. The enduring "problem of New England" for Hawthorne had little to do with the witch trials except symptomatically or with other remembered (or forgotten) episodes in regional history; as he said in "Alice Doane's Appeal," "we are a people of the present and have no heartfelt interest in the olden time" (XI: 267).2 Practically, as lived experience, the New England past asserted itself for Hawthorne in what history, religion, and climate com bined to make of the mind and temperament of its inheritors, himself included. New England was the starvation of the senses, the imagination, the feelings, and the erotic nature consequent on living in a post-Puritan world. It was the "conceptual place" that Hawthorne inhabited and, no less important, the "place" that inhabited him. The House of the Seven Gables is my endpoint in this essay because it is the culmination of Hawthorne's own engagement with Salem, which was both personal ("Salem" as a symbol for his twelve years in the family house after college) and cultural ("Salem" as a miniature of New England civilization). To the extent that the individual life is always lived in and through a culture, the strands are inseparable. Hawthorne himself was deeply aware of how his psychological and vocational conflicts were related to what, as analyst and victim, he understood as a collective regional neurosis. I refer to Seven Gables as an exorcism, but psy chologically it might be more apt to regard it as a work of self therapy?and one whose psychic cost, in the end, would arguably rival its benefits. New England was the starvation of the senses, the imagination, the feelings, and the erotic nature consequent on living in a post-Puritan world. It was the "conceptual place" that Hawthorne inhabited and ...the "place" that inhabited him. This content downloaded from 202.120.14.172 on Fri, 10 Nov 2017 17:39:07 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms