[T]he delicate springs of his character,
never morally or intellectually strong, had given way, and he was
now imbecile . . . the fragrance of an earthly rosebud . . . had summoned
up reminiscences or visions of all the living and breathing beauty,
amid which he should have had his home.
See Important Quotations Explained
Summary — Chapter 9: Clifford and Phoebe
Hepzibah comes to realize that she cannot be a comforting
presence to Clifford. Her voice croaks when she reads to him; he
finds the books she chooses uninteresting; and he cannot even bear
to look at her withered, scowling face. So Phoebe becomes the sole
source of happiness for the two miserable elders. Miraculously,
Phoebe is not brought down by the pathos and misery that envelop
the house, and she even begins to brighten it up. Phoebe’s is not
a mindless happiness, however, and she begins to acquire a womanly
wisdom. She sings as she works, and the sound always makes Clifford
happy, or at least less unhappy. He becomes “youthful” when he is
near her. His fascination is not lecherous, however, as it has more
to do with his enjoyment of watching her youth and vigor develop
than it does with Phoebe’s appearance. She, in turn, is not one
of those people who is fascinated by misery. In fact, she finds
the mystery surrounding Clifford frustrating, and the time she spends
with him is motivated by pity rather than morbid fascination. In
the shop, too, Phoebe continues to be an asset, and most customers
prefer her to Hepzibah.
Summary — Chapter 10: The Pyncheon-Garden
One of the few sources of amusement for Clifford is the
garden, which, under Phoebe and Holgrave’s tender care, has slowly
been coming back to life. Phoebe often takes Clifford out into the
garden, where she reads aloud to him. These little excursions with
Phoebe always please Clifford, particularly when she reads poetry.
In a magnanimous gesture, he decrees that the old chickens be allowed to
roam free throughout the garden. They often can be found clustered
close to Maule’s Well. Earlier in the summer, Holgrave discovered
some bean-vine seeds hidden away in a chest of drawers in a garret
over one of the seven gables, stored away by a long-deceased Pyncheon
ancestor. To see how long such seeds last, Clifford planted them,
and now they have shot up as healthy bean vines laden with bright
red blossoms, always swarmed by hummingbirds, to Clifford’s great
delight. The sight of Clifford admiring the hummingbirds and puttering
about his garden with an innocence that is almost childlike warms
Hepzibah’s heart. At the same time, however, the sight of such happiness,
and the thought that both she and Clifford have seen so many years
wasted, give Hepzibah a slight twinge of sadness.
Hepzibah has begun arranging Sunday-afternoon lunches
with Phoebe, Clifford, Holgrave, and Uncle Venner. Clifford, whose social
interactions are typically muted, is surprisingly animated at these
lunches. He enjoys speaking with Uncle Venner, whose greatly advanced
age makes Clifford feel almost young. Holgrave also makes friendly
overtures toward Clifford, but the narrator notes the “questionable”
expression that occasionally appears in the artist’s eye. On one
such occasion, Uncle Venner mentions that he dreams of eventually
retiring to the workhouse, which he refers to as the “farm,” and
Clifford insinuates that he has bigger, more ambitious plans for
Uncle Venner. Uncle Venner, however, politely refuses to be party
to any such strategies, saying that he feels no burning desire to heap
up property, since it seems to take away from what God has provided
him with. As the sun begins to set, Clifford’s high spirits decline.
He mutters to himself, “I want my happiness! . . . Many, many years
have I waited for it! It is late!” The narrator expresses pity for
Clifford, for his past troubles and his half-imbecility, and says
that Fate holds no happiness for Clifford unless he can find it
in his time with Phoebe and luncheons like the one he has just consumed.
The narrator advises Clifford to accept this as happiness: “Murmur
not—question not—but make the most of it!”
Analysis — Chapters 9–10
The tableau of relative domestic tranquility that is painted
in these chapters is given weight by the fact that we see Phoebe
not only surviving but actually growing in her new environment.
Until now, the house has been depicted as unfriendly territory at
best, but it now takes on an air of fertility and nourishment. Phoebe,
we are told, is noticeably developing into a woman, a strange claim
when one considers that she has been at the house for only a matter
of weeks, but one that is stressed nonetheless. Her emotional maturity
is remarkable: she sings sad songs, but without any tragedy or self-pity,
and she is more annoyed than fascinated with the pathos that surrounds Clifford.
Granted, Phoebe arrived at the Pyncheon house with an air of natural
vigor and determination, but in Chapter 9 these
assets blossom into something more grounded and serious. While this makes
Phoebe all the more admirable, it also casts a shadow of doubt on
the melancholy that dyes the novel’s every page. Phoebe’s annoyance
with Clifford’s martyrdom may indicate that not everything in The
House of the Seven Gables is as predestined as its owners have come
to believe.
Clifford is also allowed to grow, and as he emerges from
his half-imbecilic state, he blossoms in a manner that is clearly
linked to the garden he so adores. The bean vines are an obvious
indicator of this growth, and they also come to stand for the more
general revitalization of the house of the seven gables. Planted
from seeds discovered buried in the musty belongings of an old Pyncheon
ancestor, they indicate that something good can come out of the
corruption of the past; the fact that they grow in the face of all
expectations that they would fail—Holgrave plants them more as an
experiment than as a serious attempt at agriculture—inserts some
hope into what has so far been a predominantly bleak narrative.
While the bean vines thrive, Clifford’s own rejuvenation and spiritual
rebirth are far from complete. It should be noted that as he extracts
himself from his insanity, he also begins to exhibit some less likable
Pyncheon traits. His disdain for his sister’s face is cruel but
may be justifiable given his penchant for all things beautiful,
yet his plans for Uncle Venner’s future seem strangely greedy, as
do his grumblings that he now wants his happiness. Because Clifford
has suffered through much, a somewhat vengeful spirit seems understandable,
but some of his comments bear an eerie similarity to avaricious
remarks we might have expected to hear from Colonel Pyncheon.
