human nature. Civilization itself is at stake; and the warm blood of
the noblest youth is everywhere flowing in as sacred a cause as
history records--flowing not merely to maintain a certain form of
government, but to vindicate the rights of human nature. Shall there
not be sorrow and pain, if a friend is merely impatient or confounded
by it--if he sees in it only danger or doubt, and not hope for the
right--or if he seem to insinuate that it would have been better if
the war had been avoided, even at that countless cost to human welfare
by which alone the avoidance was possible?

Yet, if the view of Hawthorne's mental constitution which has been
suggested be correct, this attitude of his, however deeply it may be
regretted, can hardly deserve moral condemnation. He knew perfectly
well that if a man has no ear for music he had better not try to sing.
But the danger with such men is that they are apt to doubt if music
itself be not a vain delusion. This danger Hawthorne escaped. There is
none of the shallow persiflage of the sceptic in his tone, nor any
affectation of cosmopolitan superiority. Mr. Edward Dicey, in his
interesting reminiscences of Hawthorne, published in _Macmillan's
Magazine_, illustrates this very happily.

"To make his position intelligible, let me repeat an anecdote which
was told me by a very near friend of his and mine, who had heard it
from President Pierce himself. Frank Pierce had been, and was to the
day of Hawthorne's death, one of the oldest of his friends. At the
time of the Presidential election of 1856, Hawthorne, for once, took
part in politics, wrote a pamphlet in favor of his friend, and took
a most unusual interest in his success. When the result of the
nomination was known, and Pierce was President-elect, Hawthorne was
among the first to come and wish him joy. He sat down in the room