Love Letters of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Volume 2 (of 2)

In Short

This volume collects the personal correspondence of a preeminent American writer to his wife, Sophia. Spanning years of courtship and marriage, the letters document a domestic life marked by financial instability, frequent travel, and long separations. Far from a public performance, these pages offer an unvarnished look at the mundane realities of a literary household—from failed attempts at communal farming to the struggles of raising children. It remains a poignant record of a deep, sustaining romantic bond that acted as a necessary anchor for an often reclusive and sensitive artist.

The Story

The narrative arc of these letters begins during the writer’s idealistic foray into Brook Farm, a short-lived experimental community. Here, the author describes a "polar Paradise" where he finds himself ill-suited for physical labor, famously noting his lack of agricultural skill. He writes to Sophia with a mix of humor and longing, his tone defined by a playful, almost childlike dependence on her emotional presence. He is a man who feels himself to be a "ghost" or a "shadow" in the absence of his "Dove," and he relies entirely on her to imbue his reality with color and truth.

As the letters progress, the focus shifts from the heady, early days of their union to the harder, more pragmatic struggles of family life. The author recounts the difficulties of poverty, describing a period in Salem where he lives on "smoked herrings and apples" while his wife is away. Despite these hardships, the letters are never bitter; instead, they reflect a deep, steady contentment found in their shared life. He writes of their daughter, Una, with a mixture of pride and dawning realization of her growth into womanhood. The arc of his life is one of transition: from a young man who felt disconnected from the world to a husband and father navigating professional obligations and the mounting anxieties of the era, including his time as a consul abroad and his worries over impending war.

The tone shifts gradually as he settles into middle age. His letters become less about the feverish, romantic protestations of a young suitor and more about the shared stewardship of a household. He discusses the mundane details of bills, the education of their children, and the small irritations of daily life with a warm, steady affection. He expresses concern over his wife's health and the "miserable headaches" that frequently plague her. The ending of the collection finds the author at home in "The Wayside," reflecting on the quiet harmony of his life. Even when they are separated, the letters serve as a bridge that keeps their connection intact. He remains the same man who once wrote that life without her would be a "dream and a mockery," but he has matured into a man who finds his greatest comfort in the stable, albeit modest, reality of their domestic sanctuary.

How It Unfolds

The transcendental experiment The author writes from Brook Farm, detailing his humorous failures as a farmer and his persistent yearning for his wife's presence. He uses this time to establish the central conceit of his life: that he is a man who only finds "reality" through his partner.

The struggle for stability The letters transition into the challenges of early marriage, where financial precarity dictates their movements. He candidly shares his frustrations with the lack of income and the burden of professional obligations, yet maintains a constant refrain of love that sustains him through the "destitute condition."

The growth of a family As the children, Una and Julian, become central characters in his accounts, the tone becomes more paternal and observational. He writes with wonder about their development, admitting his own lack of "faculty of command" while noting the children’s evolving personalities and his own quiet pride in their progress.

The international chapter The author’s duties eventually take him away from home, and the letters capture the loneliness of his time in England. He shares his observations on the political climate—noting the "black and awful" rumors of war—while always circling back to his desire to return to his wife.

The settled home The collection closes with the author at his residence, The Wayside. He reflects on the small, daily rhythms of life with his children and expresses a patient, enduring commitment that has survived the years of travel, illness, and external pressure.

The People

Nathaniel, the author, is a man of intense introspection who views his wife as the sole force capable of pulling him from his natural state of melancholy. He is humble about his own capabilities as a provider and a father, often deflecting praise and focusing on his wife's superior strength of character. Sophia, his wife, is the "Dove" and the "celestial being" to whom every thought is directed. Though her own words are not included, her presence is felt in Nathaniel's constant reports of his daily actions to her, revealing her to be his moral and emotional touchstone. Una and Julian, their children, grow from infants into young adults within the pages of the book. Nathaniel watches them with both amusement and a touch of melancholy, recognizing how quickly their childhood slips away, and he struggles to balance his permissive nature with the necessities of their discipline.

In Its Own Voice

"Thou art a mighty enchantress, my little Dove, and hast quite subdued a strong man, who deemed himself independent of all the world."

The author writes this during a period of separation, acknowledging how completely his wife has transformed his sense of self.

"My breast is full of thee; thou art throbbing throughout all my veins."

Writing from Salem during a busy season, the author explains why he chooses to write to his wife rather than attend to his work.

"I do not think I can come on Monday before 10 ½, arriving in Boston at about 11."

This serves as a reminder of the practical, day-to-day logistics that defined much of the couple's relationship during their years apart.

What It's Really About

These letters explore the tension between the artist’s need for solitude and the human necessity for connection. The author grapples with the question of whether a life of the mind can be fully realized without the grounding influence of a domestic partner. He implicitly argues that love is the "true magnetism" that gives structure to an otherwise aimless existence. The collection also touches upon the fragility of happiness in an unstable world, reflecting on how sickness, poverty, and war threaten the quiet sanctity of the home. Ultimately, it asks how two people can preserve the "bliss and the mystery" of their union while navigating the mundane, often grueling requirements of a family life in the mid-19th century.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the intimacy of private correspondence will find much to admire here. There is a rare, unhurried quality to the prose that rewards slow reading, capturing a rhythm of life that feels almost entirely vanished from our modern era. The book offers a fascinating, behind-the-scenes look at the man who would write classic American literature, showing him not as a distant genius but as a vulnerable, often anxious, and deeply devoted husband.

However, the reader should be prepared for the specific constraints of the era. The author’s language is often florid and formal, and his frequent use of period-specific pet names and 19th-century domestic concerns may strike the modern reader as archaic. He is also a product of his time, with attitudes toward gender roles and societal expectations that reflect the mid-1800s. There are no dramatic plot twists or high-stakes confrontations; the "drama" here is entirely internal and domestic. If you are looking for a fast-paced narrative, you will not find it. Instead, you will find a quiet, persistent, and deeply human portrait of a marriage that endured through the "doing and suffering" of a lifetime. It is a rewarding study in patience and the quiet, steady power of long-term love.