In Chapter 3, Coverdale uses a lofty simile to express his wish to write great poetry:
I hope, on the contrary, now, to produce something that shall really deserve to be called poetry—true, strong, natural, and sweet, as is the life which we are going to lead—something that shall have the notes of wild-birds twittering through it, or a strain like the wind-anthems in the woods, as the case may be!
Here, the simile "a strain like the wind-anthems in the woods" evokes the natural world. It also subtly evokes an image of Pan, the Greek god of the wild who played a wind flute. Most essentially, it reveals Coverdale's lofty aspirations to write poetry that verges on music. He frowns upon mediocrity and adopts a strictly idealistic mindset about his own writing that mirrors his hopes for Blithedale's success. He also remains humble; despite Zenobia's effusive praise, he does not claim to have written something that "really deserve[s]" to be called poetry. However, he harbors the hope that his work will be "true, strong, natural and sweet," which shows his initial optimism and positivity. It also evokes the natural state after which the Blithedale builders strive; they want to return to their pure individual selves.
This simile is significant not only because it reveals Coverdale's initial optimism, but also because it goes against Hollingsworth's view of poetry. Hollingsworth believes that farmwork prevents most men from engaging in the "nonsense" of poetry. In Chapter 8, he claims that Coverdale has "given up making verses" since becoming a farmer "takes the nonsense and fancy-work out of a man." In other words, hard physical labor discourages men from living a life of the mind. Coverdale disagrees with Hollingsworth's view at first, but he later gives up on poetry. He never achieves the evocative, natural verse of which he dreams in the first chapters of the novel. The lofty similes encourage the reader to align their hopes with Coverdale's, and perhaps to share his disillusionment when he never quite matches his initial goal.
In Chapter 4, the narrator describes Hollingsworth's looming figure via simile in order to establish his towering masculinity:
There, sure enough, stood Hollingsworth, his shaggy great-coat all covered with snow; so that he looked quite as much like a polar bear as a modern philanthropist.
“Sluggish hospitality, this!” said he, in those deep tones of his, which seemed to come out of a chest as capacious as a barrel. “It would have served you right if I had lain down and spent the night on the door-step, just for the sake of putting you to shame. But here is a guest, who will need a warmer and softer bed.”
There are two similes in this passage. The first is that Hollingsworth "looked quite as much like a polar bear as a modern philanthropist." This humorous simile works in a few ways. It reveals his huge stature while evoking wildness and masculinity. It also suggests that he will have difficulties being "tamed" in his role as a philanthropist—and yet it makes him seem harmless, fluffy, and potentially lovable at the same time. The second is "a chest as capacious as a barrel." This comparison also makes Hollingsworth seem very big and manly and gives the reader a better idea of the "deep tones" of his voice.
These similes seem humorous, but they lay the foundations for dark discoveries later in the novel. At first, this big man seems like a loyal and lovable polar bear; however, his towering form becomes a source of danger and deception later in the story. The same similes that evoked images of a big fuzzy animal and a jovial barrel-chested man take on a new significance when the characters discover his plan to use the group's labor to turn Blithedale into a criminal reform facility. Hollingsworth has the physical and mental strength to accomplish his goals, no matter their moral value. However, after Zenobia's suicide, he becomes a shell of his former self and begins to rely on Priscilla for care and comfort. The dynamic arc of his character begins with descriptions that establish his strength and towering figure via simile.
When Mr. Moodie visits Blithedale in Chapter 10, Coverdale compares him to an "idol" with a simile that evokes the enigmatic nature of his character:
The visitor made a grateful little murmur of acquiescence[...] I could see his gray pantaloons and dusty shoes, while his upper part was mostly hidden behind the shrubbery. Nor did he come forth from this retirement during the whole of the interview that followed. We handed him such food as we had, together with a brown jug of molasses-and-water, (would that it had been brandy, or something better, for the sake of his chill old heart!) like priests offering dainty sacrifice to an enshrined and invisible idol. I have no idea that he really lacked sustenance; but it was quite touching, nevertheless, to hear him nibbling away at our crusts.
The simile has two parts. The first is "like priests offering dainty sacrifice," and the second is "an enshrined and invisible idol." More specifically, Coverdale compares the members of Blithedale to priests, and Mr. Moodie to an idol. The act of offering food and drink resembles a sacrifice because the Blithedale inhabitants must work hard to produce their own sustenance. The most important part of this scene is the physical dynamic between Moodie and the other characters. He remains "hidden behind the shrubbery" and refuses to look anyone directly in the eyes. Thus he seems like an "invisible" idol.
Furthermore, the image of people making "priestly" offerings to Moodie suggests his power without letting the reader know exactly who he is. Coverdale even seems to enjoy offering food to Mr. Moodie despite having "no idea that he really lacked sustenance." In reality, Moodie has a job as a peddler and was once quite wealthy. Nonetheless, the characters give him their resources without question. Religious and mythological imagery takes precedence at this moment because Moodie is the father of Zenobia and Priscilla, both of whom have quasi-magical qualities (Zenobia is attractive and magnetic; Priscilla has an ethereal fairylike quality and is later revealed to be the Veiled Lady). The simile that compares Moodie and the other characters to an idol and priests establishes his ethereal, enigmatic character and suggests his power without revealing it completely.
A few months into the Blithedale project, the narrator finds himself losing his individuality, and in Chapter 11 he compares his befuddled mind to "a tuft of moss":
My thoughts became of little worth, and my sensibilities grew as arid as a tuft of moss, (a thing whose life is in the shade, the rain, or the noontide dew,) crumbling in the sunshine, after long expectance of a shower.
Here Coverdale uses a humorous simile to express serious frustration. Moss grows in wet environments, but he describes his sensibilities as "arid" (dry). In other words, his brain feels dried up after a few months at Blithedale. The idea of Blithedale once provided a certain sort of "sunshine," but he discovers that it is not the ideal environment for his intellect to thrive. This passage highlights an interesting tension between individuality and communal living, which becomes more prevalent throughout the novel. Communities like Blithedale believed that urban life crushed individuality. However, Coverdale finds that his new environment is just as suffocating as his old one, if not more so. He often uses similes to express emotions because he is a poet, and he uses natural similes to express the discrepancy between what his mind craves and what Blithedale can provide.
