hich were still inhabited were
still more difficult to get in touch with from the historic point of
view; the present dazzled the past out of sight. One was told who built
this facade, who added that wing, who was imprisoned in yonder tower;
where Queen Elizabeth slept, and the foot of what martyr imprinted the
Bloody Footstep on the threshold.

But you listened to these tales over a cup of tea in the drawing-room,
or between the soup and the roast beef at the dinner-table, and
they were not convincing. How were these ruddy-cheeked, full-bodied,
hospitable personages who sat about you to be held compatible with the
romantic periods and characters that they described? The duck and the
green pease, the plum-pudding and the port, the white neck-cloths and
the bare necks were too immediate and potent. In many cases, too,
the denizens of the ancient houses were not lineal descendants of the
original founders; they were interlopers, by purchase or otherwise. In
themselves they were kind and agreeable, their manners were excellent,
they helped one to comprehend the England of the passing moment; but
they only clipped the wings of imagination and retrospect. It was
only after an interval of some years that Hawthorne was able so far to
recover from the effect of their obtrusive existence as to be able to
see through them and beyond them to the splendid and gloomy vistas in
front of which they were grouped.

Yet England, past and present, rich and poor, real and ideal, did
somehow enter into him and become a part of his permanent consciousness,
and he liked it better than anything else he had known. Even the social
life, though he came to it under some compulsion, rewarded him in the
long run. One of the first personal invitations was to the country-seat
of the Brights, where he met the family and relatives of his friend
Henry Bright. Bright's father was a remarkable figure; he resembled an
East-Indian more than an Englishman. He was dark, slender, courteous,
and vivid; in long after-years I saw Brahmins like him in India. I would
liken him to a rajah, except that rajahs of his age are commonly become
gross and heavy from indulgence, whereas he had an almost ascetic
aspect. His manners were singularly soft and caressing; he courted his
wife, when he returned each day from business, as if they were still
in their honeymoon, and his conduct towards all who surrounded him was
similarly polished. He did not in the least resemble his