Typee | Page 8

devoted wife, who was a constant assistant and
adviser in his literary work, chiefly done at this period for his own
amusement. To her he addressed his last little poem, the touching
'Return of the Sire de Nesle.' Various efforts were made by the New
York literary colony to draw him from his retirement, but without
success. It has been suggested that he might have accepted a magazine
editorship, but this is doubtful, as he could not bear business details or
routine work of any sort. His brother Allan was a New York lawyer,
and until his death, in 1872, managed Melville's affairs with ability,
particularly the literary accounts.
During these later years he took great pleasure in a friendly
correspondence with Mr. W. Clark Russell. Mr. Russell had taken
many occasions to mention Melville's sea-tales, his interest in them,
and his indebtedness to them. The latter felt impelled to write Mr.
Russell in regard to one of his newly published novels, and received in
answer the following letter: July 21, 1886.
MY DEAR Mr. MELVILLE, Your letter has given me a very great and
singular pleasure. Your delightful books carry the imagination into a
maritime period so remote that, often as you have been in my mind, I
could never satisfy myself that you were still amongst the living. I am
glad, indeed, to learn from Mr. Toft that you are still hale and hearty,
and I do most heartily wish you many years yet of health and vigour.
Your books I have in the American edition. I have 'Typee, 'Omoo,'
'Redburn,' and that noble piece 'Moby Dick.' These are all I have been
able to obtain. There have been many editions of your works in this
country, particularly the lovely South Sea sketches; but the editions are
not equal to those of the American publishers. Your reputation here is
very great. It is hard to meet a man whose opinion as a reader is worth
leaving who does not speak of your works in such terms as he might
hesitate to employ, with all his patriotism, toward many renowned
English writers.
Dana is, indeed, great. There is nothing in literature more remarkable
than the impression produced by Dana's portraiture of the homely inner

life of a little brig's forecastle.
I beg that you will accept my thanks for the kindly spirit in which you
have read my books. I wish it were in my power to cross the Atlantic,
for you assuredly would be the first whom it would be my happiness to
visit.
The condition of my right hand obliges me to dictate this to my son; but
painful as it is to me to hold a pen, I cannot suffer this letter to reach
the hands of a man of so admirable genitis as Herman Melville without
begging him to believe me to be, with my own hand, his most
respectful and hearty admirer, W. Clark Russell.
It should be noted here that Melville's increased reputation in England
at the period of this letter was chiefly owing to a series of articles on
his work written by Mr. Russell. I am sorry to say that few English
papers made more than a passing reference to Melville's death. The
American press discussed his life and work in numerous and lengthy
reviews. At the same time, there always has been a steady sale of his
books in England, and some of them never have been out of print in
that country since the publication of 'Typee.' One result of this
friendship between the two authors was the dedication of new volumes
to each other in highly complimentary terms--Mr. Melville's 'John Marr
and Other Sailors,' of which twenty-five copies only were printed, on
the one hand, and Mr. Russell's 'An Ocean Tragedy,' on the other, of
which many thousand have been printed, not to mention unnumbered
pirated copies.
Beside Hawthorne, Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, of American writers,
specially knew and appreciated Herman Melville. Mr. Stoddard was
connected with the New York dock department at the time of Mr.
Melville's appointment to a custom-house position, and they at once
became acquainted. For a good many years, during the period in which
our author remained in seclusion, much that appeared in print in
America concerning Melville came from the pen of Mr. Stoddard.
Nevertheless, the sailor author's presence in New York was well known
to the literary guild. He was invited to join in all new movements, but
as often felt obliged to excuse himself from doing so. The present

writer lived for some time within a short distance of his house, but
found no opportunity to meet him until it became necessary to obtain
his portrait for an anthology in course of publication. The interview
was brief, and the interviewer could not