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Updated: June 24, 2025
There was a sharp exclamation, the shriek of a woman, and the crowd came surging back. The fight had begun. Lord Redcar, I believe, had jumped down from his car and felled Mitchell, and men were already running out to his assistance from the colliery gates.
Hawthorne having concluded to remain another year in England, chiefly to accomplish that romance. In Redcar, where he remained till September or October, he wrote no journal, but only the book. He then went to Leamington, where he finished "The Marble Faun" in March, and there is a little journalizing soon after leaving Redcar. Leamington, November 14th, 1859.
Anything will seem like a Paradise after a Roman winter." But he got away at last, late in the spring, carrying his novel with him, and the book was published, after, as I say, he had worked it over, mainly during some weeks that he passed at the little watering-place of Redcar, on the Yorkshire coast, in February of the following year.
And Lord Redcar, whose spirit revolted at democracy, and who cultivated a pert humiliating manner with his inferiors to show as much, earned my distinguished hatred for ever by causing his secretary to present his compliments to me, and his request that I would mind my own business and leave him to manage his.
Neither do I wish, if I can help it, to make the fantastic aspect of the book too prominent by putting the Faun into the title-page." Hawthorne wrote so intensely on his new story, that he was quite worn down before he finished it. To recruit his strength he went to Redcar, where the bracing air of the German Ocean soon counteracted the ill effect of overwork.
I believe I should have gone striding athwart the dark stage of that stagnant industrial drama without asking a question, if Lord Redcar had not chanced to come upon the scene about the same time as myself and incontinently end its stagnation.
From Redcar, with the romance more than half done, we went south to our old Leamington, which seemed half like home; and there the loveliness of an English spring at its best came to greet us, and there the book was finished, and sent to the printer.
At Morton, Captain Cook was born, on the 27th of October, 1728; and, agreeably to the custom of the vicar of the parish, whose practice it was to baptize infants soon after their birth, he was baptized on the 3rd of November following. He was one of nine children, all of whom are now dead, excepting a daughter, who married a fisherman at Redcar.
'Why ever in the world not, Jack? he said. 'I thought you were so keen on seeing Scarborough. 'Yes, Tom, I said, 'but I am still more keen on something else. 'What's that? he asked; 'do you mean Redcar? It's a stupid place, Jack: nothing in the world to see, I assure you. 'No, Tom, I don't mean that. I don't want to change our plan.
The lofty coast-line we have followed all the way from Sandsend terminates abruptly at Huntcliff Nab, the great promontory which is familiar to visitors to Saltburn. Low alluvial cliffs take the place of the rocky precipices, and the coast becomes flatter and flatter as you approach Redcar and the marshy country at the mouth of the Tees.
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