The Birth-MarkHawthorne, Nathaniel

Published: 1843Categorie(s): Fiction, Short StoriesSource: http://gutenberg.org

1

About Hawthorne:Nathaniel Hawthorne was born on July 4, 1804, in Salem,

Massachusetts, where his birthplace is now a museum. WilliamHathorne, who emigrated from England in 1630, was the firstof Hawthorne's ancestors to arrive in the colonies. After arriv-ing, William persecuted Quakers. William's son John Hathornewas one of the judges who oversaw the Salem Witch Trials.(One theory is that having learned about this, the author addedthe "w" to his surname in his early twenties, shortly aftergraduating from college.) Hawthorne's father, NathanielHathorne, Sr., was a sea captain who died in 1808 of yellowfever, when Hawthorne was only four years old, in Raymond,Maine. Hawthorne attended Bowdoin College at the expense ofan uncle from 1821 to 1824, befriending classmates HenryWadsworth Longfellow and future president Franklin Pierce.While there he joined the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity. Untilthe publication of his Twice-Told Tales in 1837, Hawthornewrote in the comparative obscurity of what he called his "owl'snest" in the family home. As he looked back on this period ofhis life, he wrote: "I have not lived, but only dreamed about liv-ing." And yet it was this period of brooding and writing thathad formed, as Malcolm Cowley was to describe it, "the centralfact in Hawthorne's career," his "term of apprenticeship" thatwould eventually result in the "richly meditated fiction."Hawthorne was hired in 1839 as a weigher and gauger at theBoston Custom House. He had become engaged in the previousyear to the illustrator and transcendentalist Sophia Peabody.Seeking a possible home for himself and Sophia, he joined thetranscendentalist utopian community at Brook Farm in 1841;later that year, however, he left when he became dissatisfiedwith farming and the experiment. (His Brook Farm adventurewould prove an inspiration for his novel The Blithedale Ro-mance.) He married Sophia in 1842; they moved to The OldManse in Concord, Massachusetts, where they lived for threeyears. There he wrote most of the tales collected in Mossesfrom an Old Manse. Hawthorne and his wife then moved toSalem and later to the Berkshires, returning in 1852 to Con-cord and a new home The Wayside, previously owned by theAlcotts. Their neighbors in Concord included Ralph WaldoEmerson and Henry David Thoreau. Like Hawthorne, Sophia

2

was a reclusive person. She was bedridden with headaches un-til her sister introduced her to Hawthorne, after which herheadaches seem to have abated. The Hawthornes enjoyed along marriage, often taking walks in the park. Sophia greatlyadmired her husband's work. In one of her journals, she writes:"I am always so dazzled and bewildered with the richness, thedepth, the… jewels of beauty in his productions that I am al-ways looking forward to a second reading where I can ponderand muse and fully take in the miraculous wealth of thoughts."In 1846, Hawthorne was appointed surveyor (determining thequantity and value of imported goods) at the Salem CustomHouse. Like his earlier appointment to the custom house in Bo-ston, this employment was vulnerable to the politics of thespoils system. A Democrat, Hawthorne lost this job due to thechange of administration in Washington after the presidentialelection of 1848. Hawthorne's career as a novelist was boostedby The Scarlet Letter in 1850, in which the preface refers tohis three-year tenure in the Custom House at Salem. TheHouse of the Seven Gables (1851) and The Blithedale Romance(1852) followed in quick succession. In 1852, he wrote thecampaign biography of his old friend Franklin Pierce. WithPierce's election as president, Hawthorne was rewarded in1853 with the position of United States consul in Liverpool. In1857, his appointment ended and the Hawthorne family touredFrance and Italy. They returned to The Wayside in 1860, andthat year saw the publication of The Marble Faun. Failinghealth (which biographer Edward Miller speculates was stom-ach cancer) prevented him from completing several more ro-mances. Hawthorne died in his sleep on May 19, 1864, in Ply-mouth, New Hampshire while on a tour of the White Mountainswith Pierce. He was buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Con-cord, Massachusetts. Wife Sophia and daughter Una were ori-ginally buried in England. However, in June 2006, they werere-interred in plots adjacent to Nathaniel. Nathaniel andSophia Hawthorne had three children: Una, Julian, and Rose.Una was a victim of mental illness and died young. Julianmoved out west, served a jail term for embezzlement and wrotea book about his father. Rose married George Parsons Lathropand they became Roman Catholics. After George's death, Rosebecame a Dominican nun. She founded the Dominican Sisters

3

of Hawthorne to care for victims of incurable cancer. Source:Wikipedia

Also available on Feedbooks for Hawthorne:• The Scarlet Letter (1850)• The House of the Seven Gables (1851)• The Minister's Black Veil (1837)• Rappaccini's Daughter (1844)• Young Goodman Brown (1835)• Biographical Stories (1842)• The Blithedale Romance (1852)• The Marble Faun (1860)• Fire Worship (1843)• Dr. Heidegger's Experiment (1837)

Note: This book is brought to you by Feedbookshttp://www.feedbooks.comStrictly for personal use, do not use this file for commercialpurposes.

4

In the latter part of the last century there lived a man of sci-ence, an eminent proficient in every branch of natural philo-sophy, who not long before our story opens had made experi-ence of a spiritual affinity more attractive than any chemicalone. He had left his laboratory to the care of an assistant,cleared his fine countenance from the furnace smoke, washedthe stain of acids from his fingers, and persuaded a beautifulwoman to become his wife. In those days when the comparat-ively recent discovery of electricity and other kindred myster-ies of Nature seemed to open paths into the region of miracle,it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love ofwoman in its depth and absorbing energy. The higher intellect,the imagination, the spirit, and even the heart might all findtheir congenial aliment in pursuits which, as some of their ar-dent votaries believed, would ascend from one step of powerfulintelligence to another, until the philosopher should lay hishand on the secret of creative force and perhaps make newworlds for himself. We know not whether Aylmer possessedthis degree of faith in man's ultimate control over Nature. Hehad devoted himself, however, too unreservedly to scientificstudies ever to be weaned from them by any second passion.His love for his young wife might prove the stronger of the two;but it could only be by intertwining itself with his love of sci-ence, and uniting the strength of the latter to his own.

Such a union accordingly took place, and was attended withtruly remarkable consequences and a deeply impressive moral.One day, very soon after their marriage, Aylmer sat gazing athis wife with a trouble in his countenance that grew strongeruntil he spoke.

"Georgiana," said he, "has it never occurred to you that themark upon your cheek might be removed?"

"No, indeed," said she, smiling; but perceiving the serious-ness of his manner, she blushed deeply. "To tell you the truth ithas been so often called a charm that I was simple enough toimagine it might be so."

"Ah, upon another face perhaps it might," replied her hus-band; "but never on yours. No, dearest Georgiana, you came sonearly perfect from the hand of Nature that this slightest pos-sible defect, which we hesitate whether to term a defect or a

5

beauty, shocks me, as being the visible mark of earthlyimperfection."

"Shocks you, my husband!" cried Georgiana, deeply hurt; atfirst reddening with momentary anger, but then bursting intotears. "Then why did you take me from my mother's side? Youcannot love what shocks you!"

To explain this conversation it must be mentioned that in thecentre of Georgiana's left cheek there was a singular mark,deeply interwoven, as it were, with the texture and substanceof her face. In the usual state of her complexion—a healthythough delicate bloom—the mark wore a tint of deeper crim-son, which imperfectly defined its shape amid the surroundingrosiness. When she blushed it gradually became more indis-tinct, and finally vanished amid the triumphant rush of bloodthat bathed the whole cheek with its brilliant glow. But if anyshifting motion caused her to turn pale there was the markagain, a crimson stain upon the snow, in what Aylmer some-times deemed an almost fearful distinctness. Its shape bore nota little similarity to the human hand, though of the smallestpygmy size. Georgiana's lovers were wont to say that somefairy at her birth hour had laid her tiny hand upon the infant'scheek, and left this impress there in token of the magic endow-ments that were to give her such sway over all hearts. Many adesperate swain would have risked life for the privilege ofpressing his lips to the mysterious hand. It must not be con-cealed, however, that the impression wrought by this fairy signmanual varied exceedingly, according to the difference of tem-perament in the beholders. Some fastidious persons—but theywere exclusively of her own sex—affirmed that the bloodyhand, as they chose to call it, quite destroyed the effect ofGeorgiana's beauty, and rendered her countenance evenhideous. But it would be as reasonable to say that one of thosesmall blue stains which sometimes occur in the purest statuarymarble would convert the Eve of Powers to a monster. Mascu-line observers, if the birthmark did not heighten their admira-tion, contented themselves with wishing it away, that the worldmight possess one living specimen of ideal loveliness withoutthe semblance of a flaw. After his marriage,—for he thoughtlittle or nothing of the matter before,—Aylmer discovered thatthis was the case with himself.

6

Had she been less beautiful,—if Envy's self could have foundaught else to sneer at,—he might have felt his affectionheightened by the prettiness of this mimic hand, now vaguelyportrayed, now lost, now stealing forth again and glimmeringto and fro with every pulse of emotion that throbbed within herheart; but seeing her otherwise so perfect, he found this onedefect grow more and more intolerable with every moment oftheir united lives. It was the fatal flaw of humanity whichNature, in one shape or another, stamps ineffaceably on all herproductions, either to imply that they are temporary and finite,or that their perfection must be wrought by toil and pain. Thecrimson hand expressed the ineludible gripe in which mortalityclutches the highest and purest of earthly mould, degradingthem into kindred with the lowest, and even with the verybrutes, like whom their visible frames return to dust. In thismanner, selecting it as the symbol of his wife's liability to sin,sorrow, decay, and death, Aylmer's sombre imagination wasnot long in rendering the birthmark a frightful object, causinghim more trouble and horror than ever Georgiana's beauty,whether of soul or sense, had given him delight.

At all the seasons which should have been their happiest, heinvariably and without intending it, nay, in spite of a purposeto the contrary, reverted to this one disastrous topic. Triflingas it at first appeared, it so connected itself with innumerabletrains of thought and modes of feeling that it became the cent-ral point of all. With the morning twilight Aylmer opened hiseyes upon his wife's face and recognized the symbol of imper-fection; and when they sat together at the evening hearth hiseyes wandered stealthily to her cheek, and beheld, flickeringwith the blaze of the wood fire, the spectral hand that wrotemortality where he would fain have worshipped. Georgianasoon learned to shudder at his gaze. It needed but a glancewith the peculiar expression that his face often wore to changethe roses of her cheek into a deathlike paleness, amid whichthe crimson hand was brought strongly out, like a bass-relief ofruby on the whitest marble.

Late one night when the lights were growing dim, so ashardly to betray the stain on the poor wife's cheek, she herself,for the first time, voluntarily took up the subject.

7

"Do you remember, my dear Aylmer," said she, with a feebleattempt at a smile, "have you any recollection of a dream lastnight about this odious hand?"

"None! none whatever!" replied Aylmer, starting; but then headded, in a dry, cold tone, affected for the sake of concealingthe real depth of his emotion, "I might well dream of it; for be-fore I fell asleep it had taken a pretty firm hold of my fancy."

"And you did dream of it?" continued Georgiana, hastily; forshe dreaded lest a gush of tears should interrupt what she hadto say. "A terrible dream! I wonder that you can forget it. Is itpossible to forget this one expression?—'It is in her heart now;we must have it out!' Reflect, my husband; for by all means Iwould have you recall that dream."

The mind is in a sad state when Sleep, the all-involving, can-not confine her spectres within the dim region of her sway, butsuffers them to break forth, affrighting this actual life withsecrets that perchance belong to a deeper one. Aylmer now re-membered his dream. He had fancied himself with his servantAminadab, attempting an operation for the removal of thebirthmark; but the deeper went the knife, the deeper sank thehand, until at length its tiny grasp appeared to have caughthold of Georgiana's heart; whence, however, her husband wasinexorably resolved to cut or wrench it away.

When the dream had shaped itself perfectly in his memory,Aylmer sat in his wife's presence with a guilty feeling. Truth of-ten finds its way to the mind close muffled in robes of sleep,and then speaks with uncompromising directness of matters inregard to which we practise an unconscious self-deception dur-ing our waking moments. Until now he had not been aware ofthe tyrannizing influence acquired by one idea over his mind,and of the lengths which he might find in his heart to go for thesake of giving himself peace.

"Aylmer," resumed Georgiana, solemnly, "I know not whatmay be the cost to both of us to rid me of this fatal birthmark.Perhaps its removal may cause cureless deformity; or it may bethe stain goes as deep as life itself. Again: do we know thatthere is a possibility, on any terms, of unclasping the firm gripeof this little hand which was laid upon me before I came intothe world?"

8

"Dearest Georgiana, I have spent much thought upon thesubject," hastily interrupted Aylmer. "I am convinced of theperfect practicability of its removal."

"If there be the remotest possibility of it," continued Georgi-ana, "let the attempt be made at whatever risk. Danger is noth-ing to me; for life, while this hateful mark makes me the objectof your horror and disgust,—life is a burden which I would flingdown with joy. Either remove this dreadful hand, or take mywretched life! You have deep science. All the world bears wit-ness of it. You have achieved great wonders. Cannot you re-move this little, little mark, which I cover with the tips of twosmall fingers? Is this beyond your power, for the sake of yourown peace, and to save your poor wife from madness?"

"Noblest, dearest, tenderest wife," cried Aylmer, rapturously,"doubt not my power. I have already given this matter thedeepest thought—thought which might almost have en-lightened me to create a being less perfect than yourself. Geor-giana, you have led me deeper than ever into the heart of sci-ence. I feel myself fully competent to render this dear cheek asfaultless as its fellow; and then, most beloved, what will be mytriumph when I shall have corrected what Nature left imper-fect in her fairest work! Even Pygmalion, when his sculpturedwoman assumed life, felt not greater ecstasy than mine willbe."

"It is resolved, then," said Georgiana, faintly smiling. "And,Aylmer, spare me not, though you should find the birthmarktake refuge in my heart at last."

Her husband tenderly kissed her cheek—her rightcheek—not that which bore the impress of the crimson hand.

The next day Aylmer apprised his wife of a plan that he hadformed whereby he might have opportunity for the intensethought and constant watchfulness which the proposed opera-tion would require; while Georgiana, likewise, would enjoy theperfect repose essential to its success. They were to secludethemselves in the extensive apartments occupied by Aylmer asa laboratory, and where, during his toilsome youth, he hadmade discoveries in the elemental powers of Nature that hadroused the admiration of all the learned societies in Europe.Seated calmly in this laboratory, the pale philosopher had in-vestigated the secrets of the highest cloud region and of the

9

profoundest mines; he had satisfied himself of the causes thatkindled and kept alive the fires of the volcano; and had ex-plained the mystery of fountains, and how it is that they gushforth, some so bright and pure, and others with such rich medi-cinal virtues, from the dark bosom of the earth. Here, too, atan earlier period, he had studied the wonders of the humanframe, and attempted to fathom the very process by whichNature assimilates all her precious influences from earth andair, and from the spiritual world, to create and foster man, hermasterpiece. The latter pursuit, however, Aylmer had long laidaside in unwilling recognition of the truth—against which allseekers sooner or later stumble—that our great creative Moth-er, while she amuses us with apparently working in the broad-est sunshine, is yet severely careful to keep her own secrets,and, in spite of her pretended openness, shows us nothing butresults. She permits us, indeed, to mar, but seldom to mend,and, like a jealous patentee, on no account to make. Now,however, Aylmer resumed these half-forgotten investigations;not, of course, with such hopes or wishes as first suggestedthem; but because they involved much physiological truth andlay in the path of his proposed scheme for the treatment ofGeorgiana.

As he led her over the threshold of the laboratory, Georgianawas cold and tremulous. Aylmer looked cheerfully into herface, with intent to reassure her, but was so startled with theintense glow of the birthmark upon the whiteness of her cheekthat he could not restrain a strong convulsive shudder. Hiswife fainted.

"Aminadab! Aminadab!" shouted Aylmer, stamping violentlyon the floor.

Forthwith there issued from an inner apartment a man of lowstature, but bulky frame, with shaggy hair hanging about hisvisage, which was grimed with the vapors of the furnace. Thispersonage had been Aylmer's underworker during his wholescientific career, and was admirably fitted for that office by hisgreat mechanical readiness, and the skill with which, while in-capable of comprehending a single principle, he executed allthe details of his master's experiments. With his vast strength,his shaggy hair, his smoky aspect, and the indescribable earthi-ness that incrusted him, he seemed to represent man's physical

10

nature; while Aylmer's slender figure, and pale, intellectualface, were no less apt a type of the spiritual element.

"Throw open the door of the boudoir, Aminadab," saidAylmer, "and burn a pastil."

"Yes, master," answered Aminadab, looking intently at thelifeless form of Georgiana; and then he muttered to himself, "Ifshe were my wife, I'd never part with that birthmark."

When Georgiana recovered consciousness she found herselfbreathing an atmosphere of penetrating fragrance, the gentlepotency of which had recalled her from her deathlike faintness.The scene around her looked like enchantment. Aylmer hadconverted those smoky, dingy, sombre rooms, where he hadspent his brightest years in recondite pursuits, into a series ofbeautiful apartments not unfit to be the secluded abode of alovely woman. The walls were hung with gorgeous curtains,which imparted the combination of grandeur and grace that noother species of adornment can achieve; and as they fell fromthe ceiling to the floor, their rich and ponderous folds, conceal-ing all angles and straight lines, appeared to shut in the scenefrom infinite space. For aught Georgiana knew, it might be apavilion among the clouds. And Aylmer, excluding the sun-shine, which would have interfered with his chemical pro-cesses, had supplied its place with perfumed lamps, emittingflames of various hue, but all uniting in a soft, impurpled radi-ance. He now knelt by his wife's side, watching her earnestly,but without alarm; for he was confident in his science, and feltthat he could draw a magic circle round her within which noevil might intrude.

"Where am I? Ah, I remember," said Georgiana, faintly; andshe placed her hand over her cheek to hide the terrible markfrom her husband's eyes.

"Fear not, dearest!" exclaimed he. "Do not shrink from me!Believe me, Georgiana, I even rejoice in this single imperfec-tion, since it will be such a rapture to remove it."

"Oh, spare me!" sadly replied his wife. "Pray do not look at itagain. I never can forget that convulsive shudder."

In order to soothe Georgiana, and, as it were, to release hermind from the burden of actual things, Aylmer now put in prac-tice some of the light and playful secrets which science hadtaught him among its profounder lore. Airy figures, absolutely

11

bodiless ideas, and forms of unsubstantial beauty came anddanced before her, imprinting their momentary footsteps onbeams of light. Though she had some indistinct idea of themethod of these optical phenomena, still the illusion was al-most perfect enough to warrant the belief that her husbandpossessed sway over the spiritual world. Then again, when shefelt a wish to look forth from her seclusion, immediately, as ifher thoughts were answered, the procession of external exist-ence flitted across a screen. The scenery and the figures of ac-tual life were perfectly represented, but with that bewitching,yet indescribable difference which always makes a picture, animage, or a shadow so much more attractive than the original.When wearied of this, Aylmer bade her cast her eyes upon avessel containing a quantity of earth. She did so, with little in-terest at first; but was soon startled to perceive the germ of aplant shooting upward from the soil. Then came the slenderstalk; the leaves gradually unfolded themselves; and amid themwas a perfect and lovely flower.

"It is magical!" cried Georgiana. "I dare not touch it.""Nay, pluck it," answered Aylmer,—"pluck it, and inhale its

brief perfume while you may. The flower will wither in a fewmoments and leave nothing save its brown seed vessels; butthence may be perpetuated a race as ephemeral as itself."

But Georgiana had no sooner touched the flower than thewhole plant suffered a blight, its leaves turning coal-black as ifby the agency of fire.

"There was too powerful a stimulus," said Aylmer,thoughtfully.

To make up for this abortive experiment, he proposed to takeher portrait by a scientific process of his own invention. It wasto be effected by rays of light striking upon a polished plate ofmetal. Georgiana assented; but, on looking at the result, wasaffrighted to find the features of the portrait blurred and in-definable; while the minute figure of a hand appeared wherethe cheek should have been. Aylmer snatched the metallicplate and threw it into a jar of corrosive acid.

Soon, however, he forgot these mortifying failures. In the in-tervals of study and chemical experiment he came to herflushed and exhausted, but seemed invigorated by her pres-ence, and spoke in glowing language of the resources of his

12

art. He gave a history of the long dynasty of the alchemists,who spent so many ages in quest of the universal solvent bywhich the golden principle might be elicited from all things vileand base. Aylmer appeared to believe that, by the plainest sci-entific logic, it was altogether within the limits of possibility todiscover this long-sought medium; "but," he added, "a philo-sopher who should go deep enough to acquire the power wouldattain too lofty a wisdom to stoop to the exercise of it." Not lesssingular were his opinions in regard to the elixir vitae. Hemore than intimated that it was at his option to concoct a li-quid that should prolong life for years, perhaps interminably;but that it would produce a discord in Nature which all theworld, and chiefly the quaffer of the immortal nostrum, wouldfind cause to curse.

"Aylmer, are you in earnest?" asked Georgiana, looking athim with amazement and fear. "It is terrible to possess suchpower, or even to dream of possessing it."

"Oh, do not tremble, my love," said her husband. "I would notwrong either you or myself by working such inharmonious ef-fects upon our lives; but I would have you consider how tri-fling, in comparison, is the skill requisite to remove this littlehand."

At the mention of the birthmark, Georgiana, as usual, shrankas if a redhot iron had touched her cheek.

Again Aylmer applied himself to his labors. She could hearhis voice in the distant furnace room giving directions to Amin-adab, whose harsh, uncouth, misshapen tones were audible inresponse, more like the grunt or growl of a brute than humanspeech. After hours of absence, Aylmer reappeared and pro-posed that she should now examine his cabinet of chemicalproducts and natural treasures of the earth. Among the formerhe showed her a small vial, in which, he remarked, was con-tained a gentle yet most powerful fragrance, capable of im-pregnating all the breezes that blow across a kingdom. Theywere of inestimable value, the contents of that little vial; and,as he said so, he threw some of the perfume into the air andfilled the room with piercing and invigorating delight.

"And what is this?" asked Georgiana, pointing to a small crys-tal globe containing a gold-colored liquid. "It is so beautiful tothe eye that I could imagine it the elixir of life."

13

"In one sense it is," replied Aylmer; "or, rather, the elixir ofimmortality. It is the most precious poison that ever was con-cocted in this world. By its aid I could apportion the lifetime ofany mortal at whom you might point your finger. The strengthof the dose would determine whether he were to linger outyears, or drop dead in the midst of a breath. No king on hisguarded throne could keep his life if I, in my private station,should deem that the welfare of millions justified me in de-priving him of it."

"Why do you keep such a terrific drug?" inquired Georgianain horror.

"Do not mistrust me, dearest," said her husband, smiling; "itsvirtuous potency is yet greater than its harmful one. But see!here is a powerful cosmetic. With a few drops of this in a vaseof water, freckles may be washed away as easily as the handsare cleansed. A stronger infusion would take the blood out ofthe cheek, and leave the rosiest beauty a pale ghost."

"Is it with this lotion that you intend to bathe my cheek?"asked Georgiana, anxiously.

"Oh, no," hastily replied her husband; "this is merely superfi-cial. Your case demands a remedy that shall go deeper."

In his interviews with Georgiana, Aylmer generally mademinute inquiries as to her sensations and whether the confine-ment of the rooms and the temperature of the atmosphereagreed with her. These questions had such a particular driftthat Georgiana began to conjecture that she was already sub-jected to certain physical influences, either breathed in withthe fragrant air or taken with her food. She fancied likewise,but it might be altogether fancy, that there was a stirring up ofher system—a strange, indefinite sensation creeping throughher veins, and tingling, half painfully, half pleasurably, at herheart. Still, whenever she dared to look into the mirror, thereshe beheld herself pale as a white rose and with the crimsonbirthmark stamped upon her cheek. Not even Aylmer nowhated it so much as she.

To dispel the tedium of the hours which her husband found itnecessary to devote to the processes of combination and ana-lysis, Georgiana turned over the volumes of his scientific lib-rary. In many dark old tomes she met with chapters full of ro-mance and poetry. They were the works of philosophers of the

14

middle ages, such as Albertus Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa,Paracelsus, and the famous friar who created the propheticBrazen Head. All these antique naturalists stood in advance oftheir centuries, yet were imbued with some of their credulity,and therefore were believed, and perhaps imagined themselvesto have acquired from the investigation of Nature a powerabove Nature, and from physics a sway over the spiritualworld. Hardly less curious and imaginative were the earlyvolumes of the Transactions of the Royal Society, in which themembers, knowing little of the limits of natural possibility,were continually recording wonders or proposing methodswhereby wonders might be wrought.

But to Georgiana the most engrossing volume was a large fo-lio from her husband's own hand, in which he had recordedevery experiment of his scientific career, its original aim, themethods adopted for its development, and its final success orfailure, with the circumstances to which either event was at-tributable. The book, in truth, was both the history and emblemof his ardent, ambitious, imaginative, yet practical and labori-ous life. He handled physical details as if there were nothingbeyond them; yet spiritualized them all, and redeemed himselffrom materialism by his strong and eager aspiration towardsthe infinite. In his grasp the veriest clod of earth assumed asoul. Georgiana, as she read, reverenced Aylmer and loved himmore profoundly than ever, but with a less entire dependenceon his judgment than heretofore. Much as he had accom-plished, she could not but observe that his most splendid suc-cesses were almost invariably failures, if compared with theideal at which he aimed. His brightest diamonds were themerest pebbles, and felt to be so by himself, in comparisonwith the inestimable gems which lay hidden beyond his reach.The volume, rich with achievements that had won renown forits author, was yet as melancholy a record as ever mortal handhad penned. It was the sad confession and continual exempli-fication of the shortcomings of the composite man, the spiritburdened with clay and working in matter, and of the despairthat assails the higher nature at finding itself so miserablythwarted by the earthly part. Perhaps every man of genius inwhatever sphere might recognize the image of his own experi-ence in Aylmer's journal.

15

So deeply did these reflections affect Georgiana that she laidher face upon the open volume and burst into tears. In thissituation she was found by her husband.

"It is dangerous to read in a sorcerer's books," said he with asmile, though his countenance was uneasy and displeased. "Ge-orgiana, there are pages in that volume which I can scarcelyglance over and keep my senses. Take heed lest it prove as det-rimental to you."

"It has made me worship you more than ever," said she."Ah, wait for this one success," rejoined he, "then worship

me if you will. I shall deem myself hardly unworthy of it. Butcome, I have sought you for the luxury of your voice. Sing tome, dearest."

So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench thethirst of his spirit. He then took his leave with a boyish exuber-ance of gayety, assuring her that her seclusion would endurebut a little longer, and that the result was already certain.Scarcely had he departed when Georgiana felt irresistibly im-pelled to follow him. She had forgotten to inform Aylmer of asymptom which for two or three hours past had begun to exciteher attention. It was a sensation in the fatal birthmark, notpainful, but which induced a restlessness throughout her sys-tem. Hastening after her husband, she intruded for the firsttime into the laboratory.

The first thing that struck her eye was the furnace, that hotand feverish worker, with the intense glow of its fire, which bythe quantities of soot clustered above it seemed to have beenburning for ages. There was a distilling apparatus in full opera-tion. Around the room were retorts, tubes, cylinders, crucibles,and other apparatus of chemical research. An electrical ma-chine stood ready for immediate use. The atmosphere felt op-pressively close, and was tainted with gaseous odors which hadbeen tormented forth by the processes of science. The severeand homely simplicity of the apartment, with its naked wallsand brick pavement, looked strange, accustomed as Georgianahad become to the fantastic elegance of her boudoir. But whatchiefly, indeed almost solely, drew her attention, was the as-pect of Aylmer himself.

He was pale as death, anxious and absorbed, and hung overthe furnace as if it depended upon his utmost watchfulness

16

whether the liquid which it was distilling should be the draughtof immortal happiness or misery. How different from the san-guine and joyous mien that he had assumed for Georgiana'sencouragement!

"Carefully now, Aminadab; carefully, thou human machine;carefully, thou man of clay!" muttered Aylmer, more to himselfthan his assistant. "Now, if there be a thought too much or toolittle, it is all over."

"Ho! ho!" mumbled Aminadab. "Look, master! look!"Aylmer raised his eyes hastily, and at first reddened, then

grew paler than ever, on beholding Georgiana. He rushed to-wards her and seized her arm with a gripe that left the print ofhis fingers upon it.

"Why do you come hither? Have you no trust in your hus-band?" cried he, impetuously. "Would you throw the blight ofthat fatal birthmark over my labors? It is not well done. Go,prying woman, go!"

"Nay, Aylmer," said Georgiana with the firmness of whichshe possessed no stinted endowment, "it is not you that have aright to complain. You mistrust your wife; you have concealedthe anxiety with which you watch the development of this ex-periment. Think not so unworthily of me, my husband. Tell meall the risk we run, and fear not that I shall shrink; for myshare in it is far less than your own."

"No, no, Georgiana!" said Aylmer, impatiently; "it must notbe."

"I submit," replied she calmly. "And, Aylmer, I shall quaffwhatever draught you bring me; but it will be on the sameprinciple that would induce me to take a dose of poison ifoffered by your hand."

"My noble wife," said Aylmer, deeply moved, "I knew not theheight and depth of your nature until now. Nothing shall beconcealed. Know, then, that this crimson hand, superficial as itseems, has clutched its grasp into your being with a strength ofwhich I had no previous conception. I have already admin-istered agents powerful enough to do aught except to changeyour entire physical system. Only one thing remains to betried. If that fail us we are ruined."

"Why did you hesitate to tell me this?" asked she.

17

"Because, Georgiana," said Aylmer, in a low voice, "there isdanger."

"Danger? There is but one danger—that this horrible stigmashall be left upon my cheek!" cried Georgiana. "Remove it, re-move it, whatever be the cost, or we shall both go mad!"

"Heaven knows your words are too true," said Aylmer, sadly."And now, dearest, return to your boudoir. In a little while allwill be tested."

He conducted her back and took leave of her with a solemntenderness which spoke far more than his words how muchwas now at stake. After his departure Georgiana became raptin musings. She considered the character of Aylmer, and did itcompleter justice than at any previous moment. Her heart exul-ted, while it trembled, at his honorable love—so pure and loftythat it would accept nothing less than perfection nor miserablymake itself contented with an earthlier nature than he haddreamed of. She felt how much more precious was such a sen-timent than that meaner kind which would have borne with theimperfection for her sake, and have been guilty of treason toholy love by degrading its perfect idea to the level of the actu-al; and with her whole spirit she prayed that, for a single mo-ment, she might satisfy his highest and deepest conception.Longer than one moment she well knew it could not be; for hisspirit was ever on the march, ever ascending, and each instantrequired something that was beyond the scope of the instantbefore.

The sound of her husband's footsteps aroused her. He bore acrystal goblet containing a liquor colorless as water, but brightenough to be the draught of immortality. Aylmer was pale; butit seemed rather the consequence of a highly-wrought state ofmind and tension of spirit than of fear or doubt.

"The concoction of the draught has been perfect," said he, inanswer to Georgiana's look. "Unless all my science have de-ceived me, it cannot fail."

"Save on your account, my dearest Aylmer," observed hiswife, "I might wish to put off this birthmark of mortality by re-linquishing mortality itself in preference to any other mode.Life is but a sad possession to those who have attained pre-cisely the degree of moral advancement at which I stand. WereI weaker and blinder it might be happiness. Were I stronger, it

18

might be endured hopefully. But, being what I find myself, me-thinks I am of all mortals the most fit to die."

"You are fit for heaven without tasting death!" replied herhusband "But why do we speak of dying? The draught cannotfail. Behold its effect upon this plant."

On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased withyellow blotches, which had overspread all its leaves. Aylmerpoured a small quantity of the liquid upon the soil in which itgrew. In a little time, when the roots of the plant had taken upthe moisture, the unsightly blotches began to be extinguishedin a living verdure.

"There needed no proof," said Georgiana, quietly. "Give methe goblet I joyfully stake all upon your word."

"Drink, then, thou lofty creature!" exclaimed Aylmer, withfervid admiration. "There is no taint of imperfection on thyspirit. Thy sensible frame, too, shall soon be all perfect."

She quaffed the liquid and returned the goblet to his hand."It is grateful," said she with a placid smile. "Methinks it is

like water from a heavenly fountain; for it contains I know notwhat of unobtrusive fragrance and deliciousness. It allays a fe-verish thirst that had parched me for many days. Now, dearest,let me sleep. My earthly senses are closing over my spirit likethe leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset."

She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance, as if it re-quired almost more energy than she could command to pro-nounce the faint and lingering syllables. Scarcely had theyloitered through her lips ere she was lost in slumber. Aylmersat by her side, watching her aspect with the emotions properto a man the whole value of whose existence was involved inthe process now to be tested. Mingled with this mood,however, was the philosophic investigation characteristic ofthe man of science. Not the minutest symptom escaped him. Aheightened flush of the cheek, a slight irregularity of breath, aquiver of the eyelid, a hardly perceptible tremor through theframe,—such were the details which, as the moments passed,he wrote down in his folio volume. Intense thought had set itsstamp upon every previous page of that volume, but thethoughts of years were all concentrated upon the last.

While thus employed, he failed not to gaze often at the fatalhand, and not without a shudder. Yet once, by a strange and

19

unaccountable impulse he pressed it with his lips. His spirit re-coiled, however, in the very act, and Georgiana, out of themidst of her deep sleep, moved uneasily and murmured as if inremonstrance. Again Aylmer resumed his watch. Nor was itwithout avail. The crimson hand, which at first had beenstrongly visible upon the marble paleness of Georgiana'scheek, now grew more faintly outlined. She remained not lesspale than ever; but the birthmark with every breath that cameand went, lost somewhat of its former distinctness. Its pres-ence had been awful; its departure was more awful still. Watchthe stain of the rainbow fading out the sky, and you will knowhow that mysterious symbol passed away.

"By Heaven! it is well-nigh gone!" said Aylmer to himself, inalmost irrepressible ecstasy. "I can scarcely trace it now. Suc-cess! success! And now it is like the faintest rose color. Thelightest flush of blood across her cheek would overcome it. Butshe is so pale!"

He drew aside the window curtain and suffered the light ofnatural day to fall into the room and rest upon her cheek. Atthe same time he heard a gross, hoarse chuckle, which he hadlong known as his servant Aminadab's expression of delight.

"Ah, clod! ah, earthly mass!" cried Aylmer, laughing in a sortof frenzy, "you have served me well! Matter and spirit—earthand heaven —have both done their part in this! Laugh, thing ofthe senses! You have earned the right to laugh."

These exclamations broke Georgiana's sleep. She slowly un-closed her eyes and gazed into the mirror which her husbandhad arranged for that purpose. A faint smile flitted over herlips when she recognized how barely perceptible was now thatcrimson hand which had once blazed forth with such disastrousbrilliancy as to scare away all their happiness. But then hereyes sought Aylmer's face with a trouble and anxiety that hecould by no means account for.

"My poor Aylmer!" murmured she."Poor? Nay, richest, happiest, most favored!" exclaimed he.

"My peerless bride, it is successful! You are perfect!""My poor Aylmer," she repeated, with a more than human

tenderness, "you have aimed loftily; you have done nobly. Donot repent that with so high and pure a feeling, you have

20

rejected the best the earth could offer. Aylmer, dearest Aylmer,I am dying!"

Alas! it was too true! The fatal hand had grappled with themystery of life, and was the bond by which an angelic spiritkept itself in union with a mortal frame. As the last crimson tintof the birthmark—that sole token of human imperfec-tion—faded from her cheek, the parting breath of the now per-fect woman passed into the atmosphere, and her soul, linger-ing a moment near her husband, took its heavenward flight.Then a hoarse, chuckling laugh was heard again! Thus everdoes the gross fatality of earth exult in its invariable triumphover the immortal essence which, in this dim sphere of half de-velopment, demands the completeness of a higher state. Yet,had Alymer reached a profounder wisdom, he need not thushave flung away the happiness which would have woven hismortal life of the selfsame texture with the celestial. The mo-mentary circumstance was too strong for him; he failed to lookbeyond the shadowy scope of time, and, living once for all ineternity, to find the perfect future in the present.

21

www.feedbooks.comFood for the mind

22