第1章
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  byNathanielHawthorne

  ONAPLEASANTAFTERNOONofJune,itwasmygoodfortunetobethe

  companionoftwoyoungladiesinawalk。Thedirectionofourcourse

  beinglefttome,IledthemneithertoLegge’sHill,nortothe

  ColdSpring,nortotherudeshoresandoldbatteriesoftheNeck,nor

  yettoParadise;thoughifthelatterplacewererightlynamed,my

  fairfriendswouldhavebeenathomethere。Wereachedtheoutskirts

  ofthetown,andturningasidefromastreetoftannersand

  curriers,begantoascendahill,whichatadistance,byitsdark

  slopeandtheevenlineofitssummit,resembledagreenrampartalong

  theroad。Itwaslesssteepthanitsaspectthreatened。Theeminence

  formedpartofanextensivetractofpastureland,andwastraversed

  bycowpathsinvariousdirections;but,strangetotell,thoughthe

  wholeslopeandsummitwereofapeculiarlydeepgreen,scarceablade

  ofgrasswasvisiblefromthebaseupward。Thisdeceitfulverdure

  wasoccasionedbyaplentifulcropof“woodwax。”whichwearsthe

  samedarkandglossygreenthroughoutthesummer,exceptatone

  shortperiod,whenitputsforthaprofusionofyellowblossoms。At

  thatseason,toadistantspectator,thehillappearsabsolutely

  overlaidwithgold,orcoveredwithagloryofsunshine,even

  beneathacloudedsky。Butthecuriouswandereronthehillwill

  perceivethatallthegrass,andeverythingthatshouldnourishmanor

  beast,hasbeendestroyedbythisvileandineradicableweed:its

  tuftedrootsmakethesoiltheirown,andpermitnothingelseto

  vegetateamongthem;sothataphysicalcursemaybesaidtohave

  blastedthespot,whereguiltandfrenzyconsummatedthemost

  execrablescenethatourhistoryblushestorecord。Forthiswasthe

  fieldwheresuperstitionwonherdarkesttriumph;thehighplacewhere

  ourfatherssetuptheirshame,tothemournfulgazeofgenerations

  farremote。Thedustofmartyrswasbeneathourfeet。Westoodon

  GallowsHill。

  Formyownpart,Ihaveoftencourtedthehistoricinfluenceofthe

  spot。Butitissingularhowfewcomeonpilgrimagetothisfamous

  hill;howmanyspendtheirlivesalmostatitsbase,andneveronce

  obeythesummonsoftheshadowypast,asitbeckonsthemtothe

  summit。Tillayearortwosince,thisportionofourhistoryhadbeen

  veryimperfectlywritten,and,aswearenotapeopleoflegendor

  tradition,itwasnoteverycitizenofourancienttownthatcould

  tell,withinhalfacentury,somuchasthedateofthewitchcraft

  delusion。Recently,indeed,anhistorianhastreatedthesubjectin

  amannerthatwillkeephisnamealive,intheonlydesirable

  connectionwiththeerrorsofourancestry,byconvertingthehill

  oftheirdisgraceintoanhonorablemonumentofhisownantiquarian

  lore,andofthatbetterwisdom,whichdrawsthemoralwhileit

  tellsthetale。Butweareapeopleofthepresent,andhaveno

  heartfeltinterestintheoldentime。EveryfifthofNovember,in

  commemorationoftheyknownotwhat,orratherwithoutanidea

  beyondthemomentaryblaze,theyoungmenscarethetownwithbonfires

  onthishauntedheight,butneverdreamofpayingfuneralhonorsto

  thosewhodiedsowrongfully,and,withoutacoffinoraprayer,

  wereburiedhere。

  Thoughwithfemininesusceptibility,mycompanionscaughtallthe

  melancholyassociationsofthescene,yetthesecouldbut

  imperfectlyovercomethegayetyofgirlishspirits。Theiremotions

  cameandwentwithquickvicissitude,andsometimescombinedtoforma

  peculiaranddeliciousexcitement,themirthbrighteningthegloom

  intoasunnyshoweroffeeling,andarainbowinthemind。Myownmore

  sombremoodwastingedbytheirs。Withnowamerrywordandnextasad

  one,wetrodamongthetangledweeds,andalmosthopedthatourfeet

  wouldsinkintothehollowofawitch’sgrave。Suchvestigeswereto

  befoundwithinthememoryofman,buthavevanishednow,andwith

  them,Ibelieve,alltracesoftheprecisespotoftheexecutions。

  Onthelongandbroadridgeoftheeminence,thereisnovery

  decidedelevationofanyonepoint,norotherprominentmarks,

  exceptthedecayedstumpsoftwotrees,standingneareachother,

  andhereandtheretherockysubstanceofthehill,peepingjustabove

  thewoodwax。

  Therearefewsuchprospectsoftownandvillage,woodlandand

  cultivatedfield,steeplesandcountryseats,aswebeheldfromthis

  unhappyspot。NoblighthadfallenonoldEssex;allwasprosperity

  andriches,healthfullydistributed。Beforeuslayournativetown,

  extendingfromthefootofthehilltotheharbor,levelasachess

  boardembracedbytwoarmsofthesea,andfillingthewholepeninsula

  withacloseassemblageofwoodenroofs,overtoppedbymanyaspire,

  andintermixedwithfrequentheapsofverdure,wheretreesthrewup

  theirshadefromunseentrunks。Beyondwasthebayanditsislands,

  almosttheonlyobjects,inacountryunmarkedbystrongnatural

  features,onwhichtimeandhumantoilhadproducednochange。

  Retainingtheseportionsofthescene,andalsothepeacefulgloryand

  tendergloomofthedecliningsun,wethrew,inimagination,aveilof

  deepforestovertheland,andpicturedafewscatteredvillages,

  andthisoldtownitselfavillage,aswhentheprinceofhellbore

  swaythere。Theideathusgainedofitsformeraspect,itsquaint

  edificesstandingfarapart,withpeakedroofsandprojectingstories,

  anditssinglemeeting-housepointingupatallspireinthemidst;

  thevision,inshort,ofthetownin1692,servedtointroducea

  wondroustaleofthoseoldtimes。

  Ihadbroughtthemanuscriptinmypocket。Itwasoneofaseries

  writtenyearsago,whenmypen,nowsluggishandperhapsfeeble,

  becauseIhavenotmuchtohopeorfear,wasdrivenbystronger

  externalmotives,andamorepassionateimpulsewithin,thanIam

  fatedtofeelagain。Threeorfourofthesetaleshadappearedin

  the“Token。”afteralongtimeandvariousadventures,buthad

  encumberedmewithnotroublesomenotoriety,eveninmybirthplace。

  Onegreatheaphadmetabrighterdestiny:theyhadfedtheflames;

  thoughtsmeanttodelighttheworldandendureforageshadperished

  inamoment,andstirrednotasingleheartbutmine。Thestorynowto

  beintroduced,andanother,chancedtobeinkindercustodyatthe

  time,andthus,bynoconspicuousmeritsoftheirown,escaped

  destruction。

  Theladies,inconsiderationthatIhadneverbeforeintrudedmy

  performancesonthem,byanybutthelegitimatemedium,throughthe

  press,consentedtohearmeread。Imadethemsitdownonamoss-grown

  rock,closebythespotwherewechosetobelievethatthedeath

  treehadstood。Afteralittlehesitationonmypart,causedbya

  dreadofrenewingmyacquaintancewithfantasiesthathadlosttheir

  charmintheceaselessfluxofmind,Ibeganthetale,whichopened

  darklywiththediscoveryofamurder。

  Ahundredyears,andnearlyhalfthattime,haveelapsedsince

  thebodyofamurderedmanwasfound,ataboutthedistanceofthree

  miles,ontheoldroadtoBoston。Helayinasolitaryspot,onthe

  bankofasmalllake,whichtheseverefrostofDecemberhadcovered

  withasheetofice。Beneaththis,itseemedtohavebeenthe

  intentionofthemurderertoconcealhisvictiminachilland

  waterygrave,theicebeingdeeplyhacked,perhapswiththeweapon

  thathadslainhim,thoughitssoliditywastoostubbornforthe

  patienceofamanwithblooduponhishand。Thecorpsetherefore

  reclinedontheearth,butwasseparatedfromtheroadbyathick

  growthofdwarfpines。Therehadbeenaslightfallofsnowduringthe

  night,andasifnaturewereshockedatthedeed,andstrovetohide

  itwithherfrozentears,alittledriftedheaphadpartlyburied

  thebody,andlaydeepestoverthepaledeadface。Anearlytraveller,

  whosedoghadledhimtothespot,venturedtouncoverthefeatures,

  butwasaffrightedbytheirexpression。Alookofevilandscornful

  triumphhadhardenedonthem,andmadedeathsolife-likeandso

  terrible,thatthebeholderatoncetookflight,asswiftlyasif

  thestiffenedcorpsewouldriseupandfollow。

  Ireadon,andidentifiedthebodyasthatofayoungman,a

  strangerinthecountry,butresidentduringseveralpreceding

  monthsinthetownwhichlayatourfeet。Thestorydescribed,atsome

  length,theexcitementcausedbythemurder,theunavailingquest

  aftertheperpetrator,thefuneralceremonies,andothercommonplace

  matters,inthecourseofwhich,Ibroughtforwardthepersonages

  whoweretomoveamongthesucceedingevents。Theywerebutthree。A

  youngmanandhissister;theformercharacterizedbyadiseased

  imaginationandmorbidfeelings;thelatter,beautifulandvirtuous,

  andinstillingsomethingofherownexcellenceintothewildheart

  ofherbrother,butnotenoughtocurethedeeptaintofhisnature。

  Thethirdpersonwasawizard;asmall,gray,witheredman,with

  fiendishingenuityindevisingevil,andsuperhumanpowertoexecute

  it,butsenselessasanidiotandfeeblerthanachildtoallbetter

  purposes。Thecentralsceneofthestorywasaninterviewbetweenthis

  wretchandLeonardDoane,inthewizard’shut,situatedbeneatha

  rangeofrocksatsomedistancefromthetown。Theysatbesidea

  smoulderingfire,whileatempestofwintryrainwasbeatingonthe

  roof。Theyoungmanspokeoftheclosenessofthetiewhichunitedhim

  andAlice,theconsecratedfervoroftheiraffectionfromchildhood

  upwards,theirsenseoflonelysufficiencytoeachother,becausethey

  onlyoftheirracehadescapeddeath,inanightattackbythe

  Indians。Herelatedhisdiscoveryorsuspicionofasecretsympathy

  betweenhissisterandWalterBrome,andtoldhowadistempered

  jealousyhadmaddenedhim。Inthefollowingpassage,Ithrewa

  glimmeringlightonthemysteryofthetale。

  “Searching。”continuedLeonard,“intothebreastofWalterBrome,I

  atlengthfoundacausewhyAlicemustinevitablylovehim。Forhewas

  myverycounterpart!Icomparedhismindbyeachindividualportion,

  andasawhole,withmine。TherewasaresemblancefromwhichIshrunk

  withsickness,andloathing,andhorror,asifmyownfeatureshad

  comeandstareduponmeinasolitaryplace,orhadmetmein

  strugglingthroughacrowd。Nay!theverysamethoughtswouldoften

  expressthemselvesinthesamewordsfromourlips,provinga

  hatefulsympathyinoursecretsouls。Hiseducation,indeed,inthe

  citiesoftheoldworld,andmineinthisrudewilderness,hadwrought

  asuperficialdifference。Theevilofhischaracter,also,hadbeen

  strengthenedandrenderedprominentbyarecklessandungovernedlife,

  whileminehadbeensoftenedandpurifiedbythegentleandholy

  natureofAlice。Butmysoulhadbeenconsciousofthegermofallthe

  fierceanddeeppassions,andofallthemanyvarietiesofwickedness,

  whichaccidenthadbroughttotheirfullmaturityinhim。NorwillI

  denythat,intheaccursedone,Icouldseethewitheredblossomof

  everyvirtue,which,byahappierculture,hadbeenmadetobring

  forthfruitinme。Now,herewasamanwhomAlicemightlovewith

  allthestrengthofsisterlyaffection,addedtothatimpurepassion

  whichaloneengrossesalltheheart。Thestrangerwouldhavemorethan

  thelovewhichhadbeengatheredtomefromthemanygravesofour

  household-andIbedesolate!”

  LeonardDoanewentontodescribetheinsanehatredthathad

  kindledhisheartintoavolumeofhellishflame。Itappeared,indeed,

  thathisjealousyhadgrounds,sofarasthatWalterBromehad

  actuallysoughttheloveofAlice,whoalsohadbetrayedan

  undefinable,butpowerfulinterestintheunknownyouth。Thelatter,

  inspiteofhispassionforAlice,seemedtoreturntheloathful

  antipathyofherbrother;thesimilarityoftheirdispositionsmade

  themlikejointpossessorsofanindividualnature,whichcouldnot

  becomewhollythepropertyofone,unlessbytheextinctionofthe

  other。Atlast,withthesamedevilineachbosom,theychancedto

  meet,theytwoonalonelyroad。WhileLeonardspoke,thewizardhad

  satlisteningtowhathealreadyknew,yetwithtokensof

  pleasurableinterest,manifestedbyflashesofexpressionacrosshis

  vacantfeatures,bygrislysmilesandbyawordhereandthere,

  mysteriouslyfillingupsomevoidinthenarrative。Butwhentheyoung

  mantoldhowWalterBromehadtauntedhimwithindubitableproofsof

  theshameofAlice,and,beforethetriumphantsneercouldvanishfrom

  hisface,haddiedbyherbrother’shand,thewizardlaughedaloud。

  Leonardstarted,butjustthenagustofwindcamedownthechimney,

  formingitselfintoacloseresemblanceoftheslow,unvaried

  laughter,bywhichhehadbeeninterrupted。“Iwasdeceived。”

  thoughthe;andthuspursuedhisfearfulstory。

  “Itrodouthisaccursedsoul,andknewthathewasdead;formy

  spiritboundedasifachainhadfallenfromitandleftmefree。

  Buttheburstofexultingcertaintysoonfled,andwassucceededby

  atorporovermybrainandadimnessbeforemyeyes,withthe

  sensationofonewhostrugglesthroughadream。SoIbentdownover

  thebodyofWalterBrome,gazingintohisface,andstrivingtomake

  mysoulgladwiththethought,thathe,inverytruth,laydeadbefore

  me。IknownotwhatspaceoftimeIhadthusstood,norhowthevision

  came。Butitseemedtomethattheirrevocableyearssincechildhood

  hadrolledback,andascene,thathadlongbeenconfusedandbroken

  inmymemory,arrayeditselfwithallitsfirstdistinctness。

  MethoughtIstoodaweepinginfantbymyfather’shearth;bythe

  coldandblood-stainedhearthwherehelaydead。Iheardthe

  childishwailofAlice,andmyowncryarosewithhers,aswebeheld

  thefeaturesofourparent,fiercewiththestrifeanddistorted

  withthepain,inwhichhisspirithadpassedaway。AsIgazed,acold

  windwhistledby,andwavedmyfather’shair。ImmediatelyIstood

  againinthelonesome91road,nomoreasinlesschild,butamanof

  blood,whosetearswerefallingfastoverthefaceofhisdead

  enemy。Butthedelusionwasnotwhollygone;thatfacestillworea

  likenessofmyfather;andbecausemysoulshrankfromthefixedglare

  oftheeyes,Iborethebodytothelake,andwouldhaveburiedit

  there。Butbeforehisicysepulchrewashewn,Iheardthevoiceoftwo

  travellersandfled。”

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