In each case the figure is cloaked. In
each, there is a quarrel- that is to say, angry words pass between the
parties. In each the beholder is enraged. In each the cloak and
sword fall upon the floor. The "villain, unmuffle yourself," of Mr. H.
is precisely paralleled by a passage of "William Wilson."
In the way of objection we have scarcely a word to say of these
tales. There is, perhaps, a somewhat too general or prevalent tone-
a tone of melancholy and mysticism. The subjects are insufficiently
varied. There is not so much of versatility evinced as we might well
be warranted in expecting from the high powers of Mr. Hawthorne. But
beyond these trivial exceptions we have really none to make. The style
is purity itself. Force abounds. High imagination gleams from every
page. Mr. Hawthorne is a man of the truest genius. We only regret that
the limits of our Magazine will not permit us to pay him that full
tribute of commendation, which, under other circumstances, we should
be so eager to pay.
THE AMERICAN DRAMA
A BIOGRAPHIST of Berryer calls him "l'homme qui, dans ses
description, demande le plus grande quantite possible d'
antithese,"- but that ever-recurring topic, the decline of the
drama, seems to have consumed of late more of the material in question
than would have sufficed for a dozen prime ministers- even admitting
them to be French.
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