How we cite our quotes: Citations follow this format: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #1
The rank, wealth, and eminent character of the deceased must have insured the strictest scrutiny into every ambiguous circumstance. As none such is on record, it is safe to assume that none existed. Tradition, – which sometimes brings down truth that history has let slip, but is oftener the wild babble of the time, such as was formerly spoken at the fireside and now congeals in newspapers, – tradition is responsible for all contrary averments. [...] The pious clergyman surely would not have uttered words like these had he in the least suspected that the Colonel had been thrust into the other world with the clutch of violence upon his throat. (1.23)
There is some pretty heavy irony going on in this passage as Hawthorne describes the public records surrounding this incident. All the official documents say there was nothing strange about Colonel Pyncheon's death, so surely "it is safe to assume that none existed." A clergyman writes a really nice eulogy about Colonel Pyncheon. The narrator comments sarcastically that he wouldn't do this if he thought Colonel Pyncheon had been strangled to death. Yet there is still the niggling voice of "tradition" that "sometimes brings down the truth that history has let slip," which is that Colonel Pyncheon was found with fingerprints on his neck. There is no evidence that this possibility was ever investigated or even mentioned in the public record. Why would the religious and political authorities of the day try to smooth over the circumstances of this death? What would they have to lose if Colonel Pyncheon had been murdered?
Quote #2
"For what end," thought [Hepzibah], giving vent to that feeling of hostility which is the only real abasement of the poor in presence of the rich, – "for what good end, in the wisdom of Providence, does that woman live? Must the whole world toil, that the palms of her hands may be kept white and delicate?"
Then, ashamed and penitent, she hid her face.
"May God forgive me!" said she.
Doubtless, God did forgive her. But, taking the inward and outward history of the first half-day into consideration, Hepzibah began to fear that the shop would prove her ruin in a moral and religious point of view, without contributing very essentially towards even her temporal welfare. (3.49-52)
As Hepzibah starts working in her shop, she asks God why he put aristocrats on this earth to profit off the work of everyone else. Then she begs forgiveness for asking. But we want to know the answer! Also, we find it interesting that Hawthorne comments wryly, "Doubtless, God did forgive her." What is Hepzibah's sin in this scene? What does she want forgiveness for, exactly? What kind of "ruin in a moral and religious point of view" does Hepzibah fear from her shop?
Quote #3
Uncle Venner's eulogium, if it appear rather too high-strained for the person and occasion, had, nevertheless, a sense in which it was both subtile and true. There was a spiritual quality in Phoebe's activity. The life of the long and busy day—spent in occupations that might so easily have taken a squalid and ugly aspect—had been made pleasant, and even lovely, by the spontaneous grace with which these homely duties seemed to bloom out of her character; so that labor, while she dealt with it, had the easy and flexible charm of play. Angels do not toil, but let their good works grow out of them; and so did Phoebe. (5.50)
There is something a little hinky about Hawthorne's description of Phoebe's work. He wants her work to have "a spiritual quality," as her "good works grow out of" her. Phoebe sounds a little like Cinderella or Snow White, whistling while she works and enjoying every minute of it. But there's something a little creepy about her superhuman industriousness, and the idea that work should be a religion for her seems to us a little insulting. Shouldn't Phoebe ever be permitted to feel annoyed or tired or anything other than "spiritual" while sweating away in Hepzibah's dusty little store? Phoebe is Hawthorne's vision of what a perfect woman should be, so she doesn't always strike us as a relatable character. Hepzibah, for all of her faults and all of the condescension Hawthorne heaps on her, seems a little more believable as a character.
Quote #4
In old Colonel Pyncheon's funeral discourse the clergyman absolutely canonized his deceased parishioner, and opening, as it were, a vista through the roof of the church, and thence through the firmament above, showed him seated, harp in hand, among the crowned choristers of the spiritual world. On his tombstone, too, the record is highly eulogistic; nor does history, so far as he holds a place upon its page, assail the consistency and uprightness of his character. So also, as regards the Judge Pyncheon of to-day, neither clergyman, nor legal critic, nor inscriber of tombstones, nor historian of general or local politics, would venture a word against this eminent person's sincerity as a Christian, or respectability as a man, or integrity as a judge, or courage and faithfulness as the often-tried representative of his political party. But, besides these cold, formal, and empty words of the chisel that inscribes, the voice that speaks, and the pen that writes, for the public eye and for distant time, – and which inevitably lose much of their truth and freedom by the fatal consciousness of so doing, – there were traditions about the ancestor, and private diurnal gossip about the Judge, remarkably accordant in their testimony. (8.20)
Perhaps because of the Puritan context the Pyncheons live in, there is almost no distinction made between the religious and governmental roles these men occupy. Colonel and Judge Pyncheon are both widely respected as Christians and politicians, and their professional and religious lives seem equally formal, official, and cold. As a writer, Hawthorne emphasizes the importance of going beyond the official story (whether it's a clergyman's eulogy or local history) to get to the truth – something that seems a lot closer to the "private [...] gossip" of the women of the town than the public compliments of the men.
Quote #5
On Sundays, after Phoebe had been at church, – for the girl had a church-going conscience, and would hardly have been at ease had she missed either prayer, singing, sermon, or benediction, – after church-time, therefore, there was, ordinarily, a sober little festival in the garden. (10.15)
What is a "church-going conscience" and why might Phoebe have one? What seems to be the purpose of church as an institution in The House of the Seven Gables? Why might Hepzibah have stopped attending church? How do characters like Judge Pyncheon use church differently from Phoebe?
Quote #6
[Hepzibah] looked into Clifford's face, and beheld there a soft natural effusion; for his heart gushed out, as it were, and ran over at his eyes, in delightful reverence for God, and kindly affection for his human brethren. The emotion communicated itself to Hepzibah. She yearned to take him by the hand, and go and kneel down, they two together, – both so long separate from the world, and, as she now recognized, scarcely friends with Him above, – to kneel down among the people, and be reconciled to God and man at once.
"Dear brother," said she earnestly, "let us go! We belong nowhere. We have not a foot of space in any church to kneel upon; but let us go to some place of worship, even if we stand in the broad aisle. Poor and forsaken as we are, some pew-door will be opened to us!" (11.22-3)
For Hepzibah and Clifford, as they listen to the bells and watch their neighbors going off to church, church means social participation. When you sit in a church, no matter how poor or tattered you are, you are surrounded by your fellow man. What's more, you're all there for the common purpose of praying to God. It's this kind of unity of experience and purpose that Clifford longs for that Sunday morning. How do you think The House of the Seven Gables would have been different if Hepzibah and Clifford had gotten out of the house? What prevents them from going to church? What does their decision tell us about these characters?
Quote #7
In her grief and wounded pride, Hepzibah had spent her life in divesting herself of friends; she had wilfully cast off the support which God has ordained his creatures to need from one another; and it was now her punishment, that Clifford and herself would fall the easier victims to their kindred enemy. (16.6)
The God who appears from time to time in Hawthorne's pages does not seem to become directly involved in the lives of individual people. Instead, this God creates the conditions for ordinary people to live their lives as they choose. Hepzibah chooses to shut herself off from society and has left Clifford and herself vulnerable to Judge Jaffrey Pyncheon as a result. How does this hands-off conception of God work with the novel's other theme of fate through family inheritance? Why is it that Hepzibah is free to choose whether or not she will be sociable, but Judge Jaffrey Pyncheon cannot choose whether he will be stern and tyrannical? What can these characters control about their lives and what can't they?
Quote #8
Her faith was too weak; the prayer too heavy to be thus uplifted. It fell back, a lump of lead, upon her heart. It smote her with the wretched conviction that Providence intermeddled not in these petty wrongs of one individual to his fellow, nor had any balm for these little agonies of a solitary soul; but shed its justice, and its mercy, in a broad, sunlike sweep, over half the universe at once. Its vastness made it nothing. But Hepzibah did not see that, just as there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a lovebeam of God's care and pity for every separate need. (16.7)
Just because Hawthorne is highly critical of the New England church doesn't mean he doesn't have faith. And Hepzibah's crisis of faith doesn't necessarily reflect the narrator's. Hepzibah has fallen into despair because the social forces that are stacked against her seem so strong. But the narrator takes care to remind us that, just because creation is huge doesn't mean that "a lovebeam of God's care and pity" doesn't fall on "every separate need." (Wow, was Hawthorne a closet hippie?) Why might the author decide to stop and talk about faith in this scene? What kinds of conflicts does The House of the Seven Gables set up between official religious practice and individual faith in God? Where do we see examples of public religion and private faith in the novel?
Quote #9
There is a certain house within my familiar recollection, – one of those peaked-gable (there are seven of them), projecting-storied edifices, such as you occasionally see in our older towns, – a rusty, crazy, creaky, dry-rotted, dingy, dark, and miserable old dungeon, with an arched window over the porch, and a little shop-door on one side, and a great, melancholy elm before it! Now, sir, whenever my thoughts recur to this seven-gabled mansion (the fact is so very curious that I must needs mention it), immediately I have a vision or image of an elderly man, of remarkably stern countenance, sitting in an oaken elbow-chair, dead, stone-dead, with an ugly flow of blood upon his shirt-bosom! Dead, but with open eyes! He taints the whole house, as I remember it. I could never flourish there, nor be happy, nor do nor enjoy what God meant me to do and enjoy. (17.25)
Clifford claims that the presence of a dead man has tainted the House of the Seven Gables for him for as long as he can remember. He could never flourish with the stern example of Colonel Pyncheon (and by extension Judge Pyncheon) casting a pall over everything. But it's interesting that this fatal influence from the Colonel is working against God's will. He has proved an obstacle to what God "meant [Clifford] to do and enjoy." What do you think Clifford imagines was meant for him? How can Clifford have faith in God and yet believe that God's plans have been frustrated by another, greater force – the curse of Colonel Pyncheon?
Quote #10
"You must take the lead now, Hepzibah!" murmured he, with a torpid and reluctant utterance. "Do with me as you will!" She knelt down upon the platform where they were standing and lifted her clasped hands to the sky. The dull, gray weight of clouds made it invisible; but it was no hour for disbelief, – no juncture this to question that there was a sky above, and an Almighty Father looking from it!
"O God!"—ejaculated poor, gaunt Hepzibah, – then paused a moment, to consider what her prayer should be, – "O God, – our Father, – are we not thy children? Have mercy on us!" (17.50-1)
When Hepzibah has no one else to turn to, she turns to God, an indication of the incredible power religion has in Hepzibah's world. Even though Hepzibah is not an actively practicing Christian, Puritan Massachusetts is so saturated with religion that her roots and habits bear the mark of the Christian faith. What's more, Hepzibah's sudden plea to the sky for help works as a dramatic tool for Hawthorne to emphasize the extreme desperation of Clifford and Hepzibah's situation.