Twice-Told Tales (Illustrated) and over one million other books are available for Amazon Kindle. Learn more
Qty:1
  • List Price: $14.00
  • Save: $3.10 (22%)
FREE Shipping on orders over $35.
Only 9 left in stock (more on the way).
Ships from and sold by Amazon.com.
Gift-wrap available.
Add to Cart
FREE Shipping on orders over $35.
Used: Acceptable | Details
Sold by giggil
Condition: Used: Acceptable
Comment: Heavy wear, and name on inside cover.
Add to Cart
Have one to sell? Sell on Amazon
Flip to back Flip to front
Listen Playing... Paused   You're listening to a sample of the Audible audio edition.
Learn more
See this image

Twice-Told Tales (Modern Library Classics) Paperback – October 9, 2001


See all 12 formats and editions Hide other formats and editions
Amazon Price New from Used from
Kindle
"Please retry"
Paperback, October 9, 2001
$10.90
$2.27 $0.01

There is a newer edition of this item:

Twice-Told Tales
$12.04
(8)
In Stock.

--This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.


Frequently Bought Together

Twice-Told Tales (Modern Library Classics) + Mosses from an Old Manse (Modern Library Classics) + The Portable Edgar Allan Poe (Penguin Classics)
Price for all three: $40.38

Buy the selected items together

NO_CONTENT_IN_FEATURE

Hero Quick Promo
Browse in Books with Buzz and explore more details on selected titles, including the current pick, "The Good Girl" by Mary Kubica.

Product Details

  • Series: Modern Library Classics
  • Paperback: 432 pages
  • Publisher: Modern Library; Modern Library edition (October 9, 2001)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0375757880
  • ISBN-13: 978-0375757884
  • Product Dimensions: 7.9 x 5.1 x 0.8 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 12.3 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
  • Average Customer Review: 4.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (6 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #238,647 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Gray Champion

There was once a time, when New-England groaned under the actual pressure of heavier wrongs, than those threatened ones which brought on the Revolution. James II., the bigoted successor of Charles the Voluptuous, had annulled the charters of all the colonies, and sent a harsh and unprincipled soldier to take away our liberties and endanger our religion. The administration of Sir Edmund Andros lacked scarcely a single characteristic of tyranny: a Governor and Council, holding office from the King, and wholly independent of the coun- try; laws made and taxes levied without concurrence of the people, immediate or by their representatives; the rights of private citizens violated, and the titles of all landed property declared void; the voice of complaint stifled by restrictions on the press; and, finally, disaffection overawed by the first band of mercenary troops that ever marched on our free soil. For two years, our ancestors were kept in sullen submission, by that filial love which had invariably secured their allegiance to the mother country, whether its head chanced to be a Parliament, Protector, or popish Monarch. Till these evil times, however, such allegiance had been merely nominal, and the colonists had ruled themselves, enjoying far more freedom, than is even yet the privilege of the native subjects of Great Britain.

At length, a rumor reached our shores, that the Prince of Orange had ventured on an enterprise, the success of which would be the triumph of civil and religious rights and the salvation of New-England. It was but a doubtful whisper; it might be false, or the attempt might fail; and, in either case, the man, that stirred against King James, would lose his head. Still the intelligence produced a marked effect. The people smiled mysteriously in the streets, and threw bold glances at their oppressors; while, far and wide, there was a subdued and silent agitation, as if the slightest signal would rouse the whole land from its sluggish despondency. Aware of their danger, the rulers resolved to avert it by an imposing display of strength, and perhaps to confirm their despotism by yet harsher measures. One afternoon in April, 1689, Sir Edmund Andros and his favorite councillors, being warm with wine, assembled the red-coats of the Governor’s Guard, and made their appearance in the streets of Boston. The sun was near setting when the march commenced.

The roll of the drum, at that unquiet crisis, seemed to go through the streets, less as the martial music of the soldiers, than as a muster-call to the inhabitants themselves. A multitude, by various avenues, assembled in King-street, which was destined to be the scene, nearly a century afterwards, of another encounter between the troops of Britain, and a people struggling against her tyranny. Though more than sixty years had elapsed, since the Pilgrims came, this crowd of their descendants still showed the strong and sombre features of their character, perhaps more strikingly in such a stern emergency than on happier occasions. There was the sober garb, the general severity of mien, the gloomy but undismayed expression, the scriptural forms of speech, and the confidence in Heaven’s blessing on a righteous cause, which would have marked a band of the original Puritans, when threatened by some peril of the wilderness. Indeed, it was not yet time for the old spirit to be extinct; since there were men in the street, that day, who had worshipped there beneath the trees, before a house was reared to the God, for whom they had become exiles. Old soldiers of the Parliament were here too, smiling grimly at the thought, that their aged arms might strike another blow against the house of Stuart. Here also, were the veterans of King Philip’s war9 who had burnt villages and slaughtered young and old, with pious fierceness, while the godly souls throughout the land were helping them with prayer. Several ministers were scattered among the crowd, which, unlike all other mobs, regarded them with such reverence, as if there were sanctity in their very garments. These holy men exerted their influence to quiet the people, but not to disperse them. Meantime, the purpose of the Governor, in disturbing the peace of the town, at a period when the slightest commotion might throw the country into a ferment, was almost the universal subject of inquiry, and variously explained.

“Satan will strike his master-stroke presently,” cried some, “because he knoweth that his time is short. All our godly pastors are to be dragged to prison! We shall see them at a Smithfield fire in King-street!”

Hereupon, the people of each parish gathered closer round their minister, who looked calmly upwards and assumed a more apostolic dignity, as well befitted a candidate for the highest honor of his profession, the crown of martyrdom. It was actually fancied, at that period, that New-England might have a John Rogers of her own, to take the place of that worthy in the Primer.

“The Pope of Rome has given orders for a new St. Bartholomew!” cried others. “We are to be massacred, man and male child!”

Neither was this rumor wholly discredited, although the wiser class believed the Governor’s object somewhat less atrocious. His predecessor under the old charter, Bradstreet, a venerable companion of the first settlers, was known to be in town. There were grounds for conjecturing, that Sir Edmund Andros intended, at once, to strike terror, by a parade of military force, and to confound the opposite faction, by possessing himself of their chief.

“Stand firm for the old charter Governor!” shouted the crowd, seizing upon the idea. “The good old Governor Bradstreet!”

While this cry was at the loudest, the people were surprised by the well known figure of Governor Bradstreet himself, a patriarch of nearly ninety, who appeared on the elevated steps of a door, and, with characteristic mildness, besought them to submit to the constituted authorities.

“My children,” concluded this venerable person, “do nothing rashly. Cry not aloud, but pray for the welfare of New-England, and expect patiently what the Lord will do in this matter!”

The event was soon to be decided. All this time, the roll of the drum had been approaching through Cornhill, louder and deeper, till, with reverberations from house to house, and the regular tramp of martial footsteps, it burst into the street. A double rank of soldiers made their appearance, occupying the whole breadth of the passage, with shouldered matchlocks, and matches burning, so as to present a row of fires in the dusk. Their steady march was like the progress of a machine, that would roll irresistibly over every thing in its way. Next, moving slowly, with a confused clatter of hoofs on the pavement, rode a party of mounted gentlemen, the central figure being Sir Edmund Andros, elderly, but erect and soldier-like. Those around him were his favorite councillors, and the bitterest foes of New-England. At his right hand rode Edward Randolph, our arch enemy, that “blasted wretch,” as Cotton Mathee calls him, who achieved the downfall of our ancient government, and was followed with a sensible curse, through life and to his grave. On the other side was Bullivant, scattering jests and mockery as he rode along. Dudley came behind, with a downcast look, dreading, as well he might, to meet the indignant gaze of the people, who beheld him, their only countryman by birth, among the oppressors of his native land. The captain of a frigate in the harbor, and two or three civil officers under the Crown, were also there. But the figure which most attracted the public eye, and stirred up the deepest feeling, was the Episcopal clergyman of King’s Chapel, riding haughtily among the magistrates in his priestly vestments, the fitting representative of prelacy and persecution, the union of church and state, and all those abominations which had driven the Puritans to the wilderness. Another guard of soldiers, in double rank, brought up the rear.

Customer Reviews

4.0 out of 5 stars
Share your thoughts with other customers

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

26 of 27 people found the following review helpful By A Customer on May 12, 2003
Format: Paperback Verified Purchase
This Modern Library edition of Hawthorne's Twice Told Tales is one of the better I've seen in a long while. (A reveiewer below has mistakenly reviewed a Reader's Digest edition of the stories in this space. There are no illustrations in this book, and contrary to that reveiwer's estimation, the selection of stories here is very wise indeed.) Any good collection of Hawhtorne's stories should include the classics such as "Wakefield, "Dr. Heidegger's Experiment, "The Maypole of Merrymount," and "The Haunted Mind," as well as a few of the lesser known stories, of which there are many. This collection holds an excellent mix of both, with an amusing and insightful introduction by Rosemary Mahoney, and very informative notes by Gretchen Short. Hawthorne was, and remains, the American master of the dark, psychologically driven tale. I would challenge anyone to read, "Wakefield," "The Gentle Boy," or "The Hollow of the Three Hills" without feeling at least a little frightened and thrilled. These are among Hawthorne's best stories in a handsome new collection. I highly recommend the book.
1 Comment Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again
12 of 12 people found the following review helpful By Bill Slocum VINE VOICE on December 5, 2006
Format: Paperback Verified Purchase
A minister dons a black veil over his face he takes to his grave. A man abandons his wife and family for a home across the street, from which he watches her fill in the hole he left in her life. A scientist develops an elixir of youth he tries out on three worn oldsters who immediately resume the vanities of their youth.

Nathaniel Hawthorne was master of the allegory, and in "Twice-Told Tales," 39 pieces written during the 1830s and collected originally in two volumes, you get the glory of his earliest, simplest fiction. Not the best, necessarily; the later "Mosses From An Old Manse" has perhaps his best short stories, and later came classic novels like "The Scarlet Letter" and "The Blithedale Romance." But from his mock-humble preface to his transcendental yearnings to his obsession with New England's Puritan past, "Twice-Told Tales" offers a concentrated primer as to what made Natty tick.

The allegory is a limited model for fiction; where a central object is understood to represent a single idea. Sometimes here you get a very obvious point hammered home with all the subtlety of a very special episode of "Facts Of Life." "The Great Carbuncle" introduces us to a group of people who seek a valuable stone, and naturally all fall short of their desire except a couple who realize no stone can outshine their love. "The Gentle Boy" alerts us to the peril of intolerance, while "The Threefold Destiny" tells us there's no place like home. Sometimes Hawthorne concludes a story by repeating the title in capital letters, like Jonathan Edwards delivering a sermon.

Yet Hawthorne was evolving all the while.
Read more ›
Comment Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful By Scott A. Reighard on February 4, 2010
Format: Paperback
The Reunion Reaper

As an English teacher at the high school level I cannot understand why so many of my colleagues do not care for Mr. Hawthorne's work. I would think that when someone gives Mr. Hawthorne due opportunity they will see the beauty and preciseness of his work. If you have not had the opportunity to read short stories that symbolize so much more than what lay in the contents of each story, I encourage you to delve into Twice Told Tales. Here you will discover a variety of work that taps into so many cavities of your psyche, not to mention discovering the experiences of a man who was obviously driven by man's seemingly natural inclination toward guilt and sin. Yes, there is a darkness and sadness to much of his work, but it is not morose or macabre like Poe. With Hawthorne humanity is in many ways, stripped away and we see, like in the "Minister's Black Veil", that we all hide behind a veil.
Comment Was this review helpful to you? Yes No Sending feedback...
Thank you for your feedback. If this review is inappropriate, please let us know.
Sorry, we failed to record your vote. Please try again
Search

What Other Items Do Customers Buy After Viewing This Item?