Article #512-2 | Gutenberg Articles

Excerpt

Excerpt from Mosses from an old manse, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Author makes the Reader acquainted with his Abode.

Between two tall gate-posts of rough-hewn stone (the gate itself having
fallen from its hinges at some unknown epoch) we beheld the gray front
of the old parsonage, terminating the vista of an avenue of black-ash
trees. It was now a twelvemonth since the funeral procession of the
venerable clergyman, its last inhabitant, had turned from that gateway
towards the village burying-ground. The wheel-track leading to the
door, as well as the whole breadth of the avenue, was almost overgrown
with grass, affording dainty mouthfuls to two or three vagrant cows and
an old white horse who had his own living to pick up along the
roadside. The glimmering shadows that lay half asleep between the door
of the house and the public highway were a kind of spiritual medium,
seen through which the edifice had not quite the aspect of belonging to
the material world. Certainly it had little in common with those
ordinary abodes which stand so imminent upon the road that every
passer-by can thrust his head, as it were, into the domestic circle.
From these quiet windows the figures of passing travellers looked too
remote and dim to disturb the sense of privacy. In its near retirement
and accessible seclusion, it was the very spot for the residence of a
clergyman,—a man not estranged from human life, yet enveloped, in the
midst of it, with a veil woven of intermingled gloom and brightness. It
was worthy to have been one of the time-honored parsonages of England,
in which, through many generations, a succession of holy occupants pass
from youth to age, and bequeath each an inheritance of sanctity to
pervade the house and hover over it as with an atmosphere.

Nor, in truth, had the Old Manse ever been profaned by a lay occupant
until that memorable summer afternoon when I entered it as my home. A
priest had built it; a priest had succeeded to it; other priestly men
from time to time had dwelt in it; and children born in its chambers
had grown up to assume the priestly character. It was awful to reflect
how many sermons must have been written there. The latest inhabitant
alone—he by whose translation to paradise the dwelling was left
vacant—had penned nearly three thousand discourses, besides the better,
if not the greater, number that gushed living from his lips. How often,
no doubt, had he paced to and fro along the avenue, attuning his
meditations to the sighs and gentle murmurs and deep and solemn peals
of the wind among the lofty tops of the trees! In that variety of
natural utterances he could find something accordant with every passage
of his sermon, were it of tenderness or reverential fear. The boughs
over my head seemed shadowy with solemn thoughts, as well as with
rustling leaves. I took shame to myself for having been so long a
writer of idle stories, and ventured to hope that wisdom would descend
upon me with the falling leaves of the avenue, and that I should light
upon an intellectual treasure in the Old Manse well worth those hoards
of long-hidden gold which people seek for in moss-grown houses.
Profound treatises of morality; a layman’s unprofessional, and
therefore unprejudiced, views of religion; histories (such as Bancroft
might have written had he taken up his abode here, as he once purposed)
bright with picture, gleaming over a depth of philosophic
thought,—these were the works that might fitly have flowed from such a
retirement. In the humblest event, I resolved at least to achieve a
novel that should evolve some deep lesson, and should possess physical
substance enough to stand alone.

Explanation

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s excerpt from Mosses from an Old Manse (1846) is a richly atmospheric prose piece that introduces the reader to the Old Manse, a historic parsonage in Concord, Massachusetts, where Hawthorne lived from 1842 to 1845. The passage blends physical description, historical reverence, personal reflection, and literary ambition, serving as both a meditation on place and a manifesto for Hawthorne’s artistic aspirations. Below is a detailed breakdown of the text, focusing on its imagery, themes, literary devices, and significance, while grounding the analysis in the excerpt itself.

1. Context of the Source

Mosses from an Old Manse is a collection of short stories and sketches Hawthorne published after his time living in the Old Manse, a house with deep ties to New England’s Puritan past. Built in 1770, the Manse had been home to generations of clergymen, including Hawthorne’s ancestor and the recently deceased Reverend Ezra Ripley. Hawthorne’s residency there marked a rare secular occupation of the space, and the excerpt reflects his awareness of this transition—from sacred to literary, from sermon to story.

The passage also echoes Transcendentalist ideals (Hawthorne was neighbors with Emerson and Thoreau in Concord), particularly the belief in the spiritual resonance of nature and the artist’s role as a seer. Yet Hawthorne’s tone is more ambivalent and ironic than his Transcendentalist peers’, blending reverence with self-deprecation.

2. Themes in the Excerpt

A. The Sacred and the Profane

The Old Manse is liminal—a threshold between the material and spiritual worlds. Hawthorne emphasizes its sanctity:

The house is described as "enveloped in the midst of [human life] with a veil woven of intermingled gloom and brightness," suggesting a mystical aura clinging to it.
The "spiritual medium" of shadows between the house and the road reinforces its otherworldliness, as if it exists in a realm slightly removed from the ordinary.
The repetition of "priest" (five times in two paragraphs) underscores its unbroken clerical lineage, making Hawthorne’s lay occupancy feel like a transgression ("profaned").

Yet Hawthorne playfully undercuts this solemnity:

The "vagrant cows" and "old white horse" grazing on the overgrown path introduce a comic, earthy contrast to the house’s lofty associations.
His admission of writing "idle stories" (a nod to his earlier works like Twice-Told Tales) frames his artistic pursuits as less serious than sermon-writing, though he hopes to elevate them.

B. Time and Legacy

The Manse is a palimpsest of history, layered with the lives of its former inhabitants:

The "wheel-track... almost overgrown with grass" and the fallen gate suggest decay and the passage of time, yet the house endures as a vessel of memory.
The "three thousand discourses" penned by the last clergyman (Reverend Ripley) loom over Hawthorne, creating a burden of legacy. He feels both intimidated ("awful to reflect") and inspired ("wisdom would descend upon me").
The "falling leaves of the avenue" symbolize inherited wisdom, but also impermanence—Hawthorne must claim his own voice amid this weight.

C. Artistic Ambition and Self-Doubt

Hawthorne’s prose oscillates between grandiosity and humility:

He envisions writing "profound treatises of morality" or a novel with "physical substance enough to stand alone"—lofty goals that reflect his desire to transcend his reputation as a mere storyteller.
Yet he acknowledges his past "idle stories" with mock shame, revealing anxiety about his artistic worth. The Manse becomes a metaphor for his aspirations: just as the house is a repository of sacred history, he hopes it will inspire lasting literature.
The reference to historian George Bancroft (who considered living there) hints at Hawthorne’s competitive streak—he wants to produce work as significant as Bancroft’s histories.

D. Nature as a Creative Muse

The black-ash trees and wind’s "sighs and murmurs" are not just scenery but active participants in the creative process:

The clergyman’s sermons were "attuned" to the wind’s sounds, suggesting nature as a divine collaborator.
Hawthorne adopts this idea, imagining the boughs "shadowy with solemn thoughts" and hoping wisdom will descend with the leaves. This animism (attributing spirit to nature) aligns with Transcendentalism but is tempered by Hawthorne’s skepticism—he doesn’t fully embrace the idea, only flirts with it.

3. Literary Devices

A. Imagery and Symbolism

The Overgrown Path: Symbolizes neglect and the encroachment of nature on human order, but also the potential for renewal (Hawthorne’s arrival).
The Fallen Gate: Represents the transition from sacred to secular, the past giving way to the present.
Glimmering Shadows: Create a ghostly, dreamlike quality, reinforcing the Manse’s spiritual residue.
The Wind in the Trees: Acts as a metaphor for divine inspiration, linking the clergyman’s sermons to Hawthorne’s literary ambitions.

B. Tone and Diction

Reverential yet Ironic: Hawthorne’s language is elevated ("time-honored parsonages," "inheritance of sanctity") but punctured by wry humor ("vagrant cows," "idle stories").
Melancholic Nostalgia: The passage mourns the loss of the clerical era while celebrating the possibility of artistic rebirth.
Self-Deprecating Ambition: Phrases like "I took shame to myself" and "humblest event" reveal his anxiety about measuring up to the Manse’s legacy.

C. Syntax and Structure

Long, Flowing Sentences: Mimic the meandering path to the Manse and the contemplative rhythm of Hawthorne’s thoughts.
Parallelism: "A priest had built it; a priest had succeeded to it" creates a liturgical cadence, echoing the sermons written there.
Juxtaposition: The sublime (spiritual medium, solemn thoughts) vs. the mundane (cows, fallen gate) reflects Hawthorne’s dual perspective—both awed and amused by history.

D. Allusion and Intertextuality

English Parsonages: The comparison to "time-honored parsonages of England" invokes literary tradition (e.g., Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield) and cultural prestige, elevating the Manse to a symbol of inherited wisdom.
Bancroft Reference: By naming the historian, Hawthorne positions himself in a lineage of great thinkers, staking his claim to intellectual seriousness.

4. Significance of the Passage

A. Hawthorne’s Literary Persona

This excerpt is meta-literary—it’s not just about the Manse but about Hawthorne’s identity as a writer. He frames himself as:

A secular inheritor of sacred space, bridging the gap between Puritanism and Romanticism.
A humble aspirant to greatness, aware of his "idle" past but hopeful for a more substantial future.
A mediator between worlds (material/spiritual, past/present, clergy/artist).

B. The Old Manse as a Microcosm

The house becomes a symbol of New England’s cultural transition:

From theological dominance (Puritan sermons) to literary creativity (Hawthorne’s stories).
From communal piety to individual artistic expression.
From rigid doctrine to imaginative freedom (though Hawthorne still feels the weight of tradition).

C. Foreshadowing Hawthorne’s Later Works

The passage prefigures themes in The Scarlet Letter (1850) and The House of the Seven Gables (1851):

The burden of the past (like the Manse’s history, the Puritan legacy haunts Hester Prynne and the Pyncheon family).
The interplay of light and shadow ("intermingled gloom and brightness") recurs in his symbolism (e.g., Pearl’s wildness vs. Hester’s penance).
The artist’s role in interpreting history (Hawthorne’s novels "evolve deep lessons" from America’s past).

D. American Romanticism

Hawthorne’s focus on nature, history, and individual introspection aligns with American Romanticism, but his irony and skepticism set him apart from Emerson’s optimism. The Manse is both a sanctuary and a challenge—a place where the past inspires but also constrains.

5. Close Reading of Key Lines

"The glimmering shadows that lay half asleep between the door of the house and the public highway were a kind of spiritual medium..."
- The shadows are personified as drowsy spirits, blurring the line between the living and the dead, the real and the imagined.
- "Spiritual medium" suggests the house is a conduit for the past, but also that Hawthorne sees himself as a medium—channeling history into art.
"It was awful to reflect how many sermons must have been written there."
- "Awful" here means awe-inspiring, not terrible. The weight of thousands of sermons is both intimidating and sacred.
- Hawthorne’s writerly anxiety is palpable—can his stories measure up to such moral gravity?
"I took shame to myself for having been so long a writer of idle stories..."
- This mock confession reveals his ambivalence about fiction. He both dismisses his early work and hopes to transcend it.
- The phrase "idle stories" is ironic—his sketches were already acclaimed, but he craves greater depth.
"Profound treatises of morality; a layman’s unprofessional, and therefore unprejudiced, views of religion..."
- Hawthorne envisions a new kind of writing—one that blends moral seriousness with secular freedom.
- "Unprejudiced" suggests he sees clerical dogma as limiting, while his lay status offers fresh perspective.
"I resolved at least to achieve a novel that should evolve some deep lesson, and should possess physical substance enough to stand alone."
- This is a manifesto for The Scarlet Letter, which he would write years later. The novel must be both morally significant and artistically solid.
- "Stand alone" implies a rejection of ephemeral tales in favor of enduring literature.

6. Conclusion: The Old Manse as a Mirror

Hawthorne’s description of the Manse is ultimately a reflection of his own mind—a place where history, nature, and artistry converge. The passage captures:

The tension between reverence and irreverence.
The desire to inherit tradition while forging something new.
The loneliness and ambition of the artist.

By transforming the Manse from a clerical relic into a literary crucible, Hawthorne stakes his claim as a custodian of American memory—not through sermons, but through stories that, like the house itself, linger in the shadows between the sacred and the profane.

Final Thought: This excerpt is less about the Manse itself than about what the Manse represents—a threshold where Hawthorne, and by extension the American writer, must confront the past to create the future. His prose, rich with ambiguity and longing, invites readers to see the house as he does: not just a building, but a living palimpsest of time, faith, and imagination.

Questions

Question 1

The passage’s depiction of the Old Manse as a space "enveloped, in the midst of [human life], with a veil woven of intermingled gloom and brightness" primarily serves to:

A. illustrate the paradoxical nature of sacred spaces, which simultaneously invite communion and resist full accessibility to the secular world.
B. emphasize the physical decay of the parsonage as a metaphor for the decline of religious influence in 19th-century New England.
C. contrast the clergyman’s austere lifestyle with the vibrant, chaotic energy of the surrounding natural landscape.
D. suggest that the house’s isolation is a deliberate architectural choice to shield its occupants from worldly distractions.
E. foreshadow the narrator’s eventual spiritual awakening, which will mirror the cyclical renewal of the seasons.

Question 2

The narrator’s admission that he "took shame to myself for having been so long a writer of idle stories" is most accurately interpreted as:

A. a genuine repudiation of his earlier work, reflecting a newfound commitment to didactic, morally instructive literature.
B. an ironic self-deprecation that underscores his anxiety about measuring up to the Manse’s clerical legacy.
C. a rhetorical device to align himself with the Puritan tradition of viewing fiction as frivolous or sinful.
D. a strategic appeal to the reader’s sympathy, positioning himself as an underdog in the literary world.
E. a performative gesture that simultaneously acknowledges and subverts the expectation of gravity associated with the Manse.

Question 3

The "glimmering shadows" between the house and the highway function in the passage as:

A. a literal description of the time of day, reinforcing the twilight ambiance of the narrator’s arrival.
B. a symbol of the narrator’s psychological state, torn between reverence for the past and ambition for the future.
C. an indictment of the community’s neglect, as the overgrown path suggests a collective failure to honor the clerical tradition.
D. a liminal space that mediates between the material and the spiritual, embodying the Manse’s threshold status.
E. a foreshadowing of the supernatural events that will later unfold in the narrator’s tenure at the parsonage.

Question 4

The reference to the "three thousand discourses" penned by the last clergyman is primarily intended to:

A. establish the quantitative productivity of the Manse’s former occupants as a benchmark for the narrator’s own output.
B. highlight the futility of sermons in an increasingly secular age, where written words fail to match oral eloquence.
C. suggest that the clergyman’s prolificacy was a compensatory response to his awareness of waning religious authority.
D. create a sense of daunting legacy, where the weight of the past both inspires and intimidates the narrator’s artistic ambitions.
E. imply that the narrator’s literary aspirations are misguided, as no secular work can rival the spiritual impact of sermons.

Question 5

The passage’s closing resolution—to "achieve a novel that should evolve some deep lesson, and should possess physical substance enough to stand alone"—is most strongly undermined by which of the following textual details?

A. The description of the vagrant cows and old white horse grazing on the overgrown path.
B. The narrator’s earlier characterization of his work as "idle stories," which betrays a lingering self-doubt.
C. The comparison of the Manse to English parsonages, which implies an unattainable standard of cultural prestige.
D. The assertion that the wind’s sounds could accord with "every passage" of the clergyman’s sermons, suggesting nature’s alignment with religion over art.
E. The mention of Bancroft’s unrealized ambition to live in the Manse, hinting at the narrator’s own potential for unfulfilled plans.

Solutions and Explanations

1) Correct answer: A

Why A is most correct: The "veil woven of intermingled gloom and brightness" is a paradoxical image that captures the Manse’s dual nature: it is part of the human world ("in the midst of [human life]") yet separated from it by its spiritual aura. This aligns with the broader theme of sacred spaces as simultaneously inviting and resistant—accessible to the clergyman (and now the narrator) but not to the "ordinary abodes" thrust upon the road. The veil metaphor emphasizes the tension between communion and exclusion, which is central to the passage’s portrayal of the Manse as a liminal space.