The new place was named 'Arrow
Head,' from the numerous Indian antiquities found in the
neighbourhood. The house was so situated as to command an
uninterrupted view of Greylock Mountain and the adjacent hills.
Here Melville remained for thirteen years, occupied with his
writing, and managing his farm. An article in Putnam's Monthly
entitled 'I and My Chimney,' another called 'October Mountain,' and
the introduction to the 'Piazza Tales,' present faithful pictures
of Arrow Head and its surroundings. In a letter to Nathaniel
Hawthorne, given in 'Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife,' his daily
life is set forth. The letter is dated June 1, 1851.
'Since you have been here I have been building some shanties of
houses (connected with the old one), and likewise some shanties of
chapters and essays. I have been ploughing and sowing and raising
and printing and praying, and now begin to come out upon a less
bristling time, and to enjoy the calm prospect of things from a
fair piazza at the north of the old farmhouse here. Not entirely
yet, though, am I without something to be urgent with. The 'Whale'
is only half through the press; for, wearied with the long delays
of the printers, and disgusted with the heat and dust of the
Babylonish brick-kiln of New York, I came back to the country to
feel the grass, and end the book reclining on it, if I may.'
Mr. Hawthorne, who was then living in the red cottage at Lenox,
had a week at Arrow Head with his daughter Una the previous spring.
It is recorded that the friends 'spent most of the time in the
barn, bathing in the early spring sunshine, which streamed through
the open doors, and talking philosophy.' According to Mr. J. E. A.
Smith's volume on the Berkshire Hills, these gentlemen, both
reserved in nature, though near neighbours and often in the same
company, were inclined to be shy of each other, partly, perhaps,
through the knowledge that Melville had written a very appreciative
review of 'Mosses from an Old Manse' for the New York Literary
World, edited by their mutual friends, the Duyckincks. 'But one
day,' writes Mr. Smith, 'it chanced that when they were out on a
picnic excursion, the two were compelled by a thundershower to take
shelter in a narrow recess of the rocks of Monument Mountain. Two
hours of this enforced intercourse settled the matter. They learned
so much of each other's character,… that the most intimate
friendship for the future was inevitable.' A passage in Hawthorne's
'Wonder Book' is noteworthy as describing the number of literary
neighbours in Berkshire:—
'For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here at this moment,' said
the student. 'I would mount him forthwith, and gallop about the
country within a circumference of a few miles, making literary
calls on my brother authors. Dr. Dewey would be within ray reach,
at the foot of the Taconic. In Stockbridge, yonder, is Mr. James
[G. P. R. James], conspicuous to all the world on his mountain-pile
of history and romance. Longfellow, I believe, is not yet at the
Oxbow, else the winged horse would neigh at him. But here in Lenox
I should find our most truthful novelist [Miss Sedgwick], who has
made the scenery and life of Berkshire all her own. On the hither
side of Pittsfield sits Herman Melville, shaping out the gigantic
conception of his 'White Whale,' while the gigantic shadow of
Greylock looms upon him from his study window. Another bound of my
flying steed would bring me to the door of Holmes, whom I mention
last, because Pegasus would certainly unseat me the next minute,
and claim the poet as his rider.'
While at Pittsfield, Mr. Melville was induced to enter the
lecture field. From 1857 to 1860 he filled many engagements in the
lyceums, chiefly speaking of his adventures in the South Seas.
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