There is a certain
tragic phase of humanity, which, in our opinion, was never more
powerfully embodied than by Hawthorne: we mean the tragicalness of human
thought in its own unbiased, native, and profound workings. We think
that into no recorded mind has the intense feeling of the whole truth
ever entered more deeply than into this man's. By whole truth, we mean
the apprehension of the absolute condition of present things as they
strike the eye of the man who fears them not, though they do their worst
to him."
This really profound analysis, Mr. Mellville professes to extract from
the "Pittsfield Secret Review," of which I wish further numbers could be
found.
But chief among the prizes of this season were letters from his friends
Lowell and Holmes. The latter's I insert, because it admirably
illustrates the cordial relation which has always distinguished the
famous writers of New England,--no pleasant illusion of distance, but a
notable and praiseworthy reality.
BOSTON, April 9, 1851.
MY DEAR SIR:--I have been confined to my chamber and almost to my bed,
for some days since I received your note; and in the mean time I have
received what was even more welcome, the new Romance "from the Author."
While I was too ill to read, my wife read it to me, so that you have
been playing physician to my heartaches and headaches at once, with the
magnetism of your imagination.
I think we have no romancer but yourself, nor have had any for this long
time.
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