Free Melville in Love by Michael Shelden Page A

conventionally religious verses of the other “Lady,” Sarah’s lines were pure pantheism, mentioning neither God nor heaven, but locating all beauty and spiritual power in Nature. Such was her devotion to the natural world that she praised its “holy influences” as the one sure source of grace and comfort. Nature was immortality, and whether as a woman or leaf or stream, all things were united in the eternal cycle of the seasons, and of life and death. Every path was circular, every living thing a marvel inhabiting a world of ceaseless change. 4
    The stream whose waters glide along,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Till lost amid the rolling sea,
    Shall tell us of the eager throng
    Fast hurrying to eternity.
    But spring unfolds a sweeter tale,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  From which the heart may comfort learn,
    When flower-gems strown o’er hill and vale
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Proclaim the op’ning year’s return.
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    Then “Woodlawn!” hallowed be thy ground,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  We consecrate thee to the dead;
    Rest they, where Nature all around
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Her holy influences hath shed. 5
    Though both her talent and her theme followed predictable patterns, her fascination with the natural world, her great curiosity, and her openness to new experiences meant that she was far more in tune with Melville’s ambitions and interests than any other woman he knew. He was as reluctant to let her go as she was to leave. Their first summer together was no casual fling. If Melville had been a typical womanizer of the time—like Alexander Gardiner—he would have welcomed Rowland’s planned trip overseas as a timely escape from any entanglement. But Melville wanted to be entangled. When Sarah returned in the spring, he planned to be not only in the Berkshires, but as close to her house as possible without actually moving in.
    His plan only made sense in light of his fervent attraction to Sarah. Otherwise, to most people, it would have seemed merely foolish and irresponsible. He shared his idea with Lizzie’s father the day after the choir had performed Sarah’s verses at the cemetery dedication. Judge Shaw happened to be in the area on court business, and his son-in-law couldn’t wait to ask him for help. What Melville proposed was that he and the rest of his New York household should abandon the city immediately and buy a place in the Berkshires. The property in question was a humble old farmhouse on 160 acres bordering Broadhall. To buy it, he needed $6,500, but his finances were in such disarray thathe couldn’t afford to pay any of that amount. Would Judge Shaw loan him the money for it? he asked.
    It was an audacious and impulsive request, especially considering that the judge had his legal duties to attend to. Strictly as a land deal, it wasn’t a good idea. The asking price was exactly the same amount as Rowland had paid for Broadhall. For $6,500 Rowland had bought a mansion, and a much better farm that was two-thirds larger than the one Herman wanted. His deal had been a bargain, but the author was being asked to pay the full market value for a mediocre property. To afford it, he would have to go deeply into debt. But without a steady income, he would find it almost impossible to pay off his loans.
    To explain this reckless deal, Melville’s modern biographers have universally agreed that he was indeed desperate—so much so, in fact, that he was willing to do anything to remain near his new friend and “neighbor,” Nathaniel Hawthorne. Buying a place six miles away from Lenox,