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Lathrop, Rose Hawthorne, 1851-1926

"Memories of Hawthorne"

He impressed me as permeated by an atmosphere of
perception. A magnetic current of sympathy with the city rendered him
contemplative and absorbent as a cloud. He was everywhere, but only
looked in silence, so far as I was aware. "The Marble Faun" shows what
he thought in sentences that reveal, like mineral specimens, strata of
ideas stretching far beyond the confines of the novel. While he
observed Rome, as he frequently mentions, he felt the sadness of the
problems of the race which there were brought to a focus. Yet it is a
singular fact that, notwithstanding this regret for her human pathos,
perhaps the best book he ever wrote was created among the suggestive
qualities of this haven of faith,--the book which inculcates the most
sterling hope of any of his works. I saw in my walks with him how much
he enjoyed the salable treasures and humble diversions of the
thoroughfare, as his readers have always perceived. Ingenuous
simplicity, freedom from self-consciousness and whitewash, frank
selfishness on a plane so humble that it can do little harm,--all this
is amusing and restful after long hours with transcendental folk. In
regard to the tenets of these, my mother writes to her sister:--
"I am just on the point of declaring that I hate transcendentalism,
because it is full of immoderate dicta which would disorganize
society, and should never be uttered, in my opinion, except behind the
veil, among priests. As to displaying before the great, innocent eyes
of a girl like Una all the horror of a slave-auction--a convent is
better than such untimely revelations.


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