Later, when Miss Mitchell was in Paris, alone, on her way to Rome, she sent to the Hawthornes, who were also in Paris, asking for the privilege of joining them, as they too were journeying in the same direction.  She says in her diary: 

“Mrs. Hawthorne was feeble, and she told me that she objected, but that Mr. Hawthorne assured her that I was a person who would give no trouble; therefore she consented.  We were about ten days on the journey to Rome, and three months in Rome; living, however, some streets asunder.  I saw them nearly every day.  Like everybody else, I found Mr. Hawthorne very taciturn.  His few words were, however, very telling.  When I talked French, he told me it was capital:  ‘It came down like a sledge-hammer.’  His little satirical remarks were such as these:  It was March and I took a bunch of violets to Rosa; notched white paper was wound around them, and Mr. Hawthorne said, ’They have on a cambric ruffle.”

“Generally he sat by an open fire, with his feet thrust into the coals, and an open volume of Thackeray upon his knees.  He said that Thackeray was the greatest living novelist.  I sometimes suspected that the volume of Thackeray was kept as a foil, that he might not be talked to.  He shrank from society, but rode and walked.”

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.

    ROME, Feb. 16, 1858.

...  The Hawthornes are invaluable to me, because the little ones come to my room every day and I go there when I like.  Mrs. Hawthorne sometimes walks with us, Mr. H. never.  He has a horror of sight-seeing and of emotions in general, but I like him very much, and when I say I like him it only means that I like her a little more.  Julian, the boy, is in love with me.  When I was last there Mr. H. came home with me; as he put on his coat he turned to Julian and said, “Julian, I should think with your tender interest in Miss Mitchell you wouldn’t let me escort her home.”

“We arrived in Rome in the evening.  Mrs. H. was somewhat of an invalid, and Mr. Hawthorne tried in vain to make the servant understand that she must have a fire in her room.  He spoke no word of French, German, or Italian, but he said emphatically, ’Make a fire in Mrs. Hawthorne’s room.’  Worn out with his efforts, he turned to me and said, ’Do, Miss Mitchell, tell the servant what I want; your French is excellent!  Englishmen and Frenchmen understand it equally well.’  So I said in execrable French, ‘Make a fire,’ and pointed to the grate; of course the gesture was understood.

“Mr. Hawthorne was minutely and scrupulously honest; I should say that he was a rigid temperance man.  Once I heard Mrs. Hawthorne say to the clerk, ‘Send some brandy to Mr. Hawthorne at once.’  We were six in the party.  When I paid my bill I heard Mr. Hawthorne say to Miss S., the teacher, who took all the business cares, ’Don’t let Miss Mitchell pay for one-sixth of my brandy.’