Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 101.djvu/245

Rh A substratum of truth underlies these fantastic lines—indeed we have seen (and possibly written) whole pages of critical prose, investigatory of Mr. Hawthorne's genius, which have said much less amid all their censorial perambulations and circumlocutions than these few fanciful verses.

Alcott and Brownson enjoy a reputation in their own land quite disproportionate to the meagre recognition accorded them in the Old World. With the notice they obtain in the "Fable for Critics," we must conclude our own notice of the vivacious fabulist. Alcott—of whom some interesting things are said by Miss Bremer in her book on America—is here set down as a great talker and no writer at all, in spite of his cacistoëthes scribendi: it seemsHe must be a veritable study, this dreamy neotero-platonist, his face glistening with the joy of transcendental musings, who, as he stalks along, "calm as a cloud," fancies himself in the groves of the Academy,But we can scarcely say, happy the people that are in such a case—judging by the specimens we have met with of Mr. Alcott's matter and manner, spoilt it may be in translation to paper and print. Brownson has attracted some attention among those of us who indulge in transcendentalism or Romanism, or both—semper in extremis, and loving to have it so, and what will he do (one marvels) in the end thereof? He is here commended for his transparent and forcible prose, but flouted for his infatuated attachment to paradox, and for the topsy-turvy, wrong-side-out character of his dialectics:

The most important, we believe, of Mr. Lowell's performances in prose, is the "Biglow Papers"—a work not quite appreciable on this side the ocean, the humour being so closely interwoven with the oddities of dialect and patois, which require a glossary for those not to the manner born or bred.