Carey had lived. So as this is no longer a Three Blind Callenders" business of Arabian Nights, I shall rest secure. I have doubted whether the bad name which Philadelphia has gotten in these times would not have disquieted you in this long delay.
If you have ever heard directly from Carey and Hart, you will inform me.
I am to read to a society in Boston presently some lectures, --on Plato, or the Philosopher; Swedenborg, or the Mystic; Montaigne, or the Sceptic; Shakespeare, or the Poet; Napoleon, or the Man of the World;--if I dare, and much lecturing makes us incorrigibly rash. Perhaps, before I end it, my list will be longer, and the measure of presumption overflowed. I may take names less reverend than some of these,--but six lectures I have promised. I find this obligation usually a good spur to the sides of that dull horse I have charge of. But many of its advantages must be regarded at a long distance.
I have heard nothing from you for a long time,--so may your writing prosper the more. I wish to hear, however, concerning you, and your house, and your studies, when there is little to tell. The steamers come so fast--to exchange cards would not be nothing. My wife and children and my mother are well. Peace and love to your household.
--R.W. Emerson
CIII. Emerson to Carlyle
Concord, 30 September, 1845
My Dear Friend,--I had hardly sent away my letter by the last steamer, when yours full of good news arrived. I greet you heartily on the achievement of your task, and the new days of freedom obtained and deserved. Happiest, first, that you can work, which seems the privilege of the great, and then, also, that thereby you can come at the sweetness of victory and rest.
Yes, flee to the country, ride, run, leap, sit, spread yourself at large; and in all ways celebrate the immense benevolence of the Universe towards you; and never complain again of dyspepsia, crosses, or the folly of men; for in giving you this potent concentration, what has been withholden? I am glad with all men that a new book is made, that the gentle creation as well as the grosser goes ever on. Another month will bring it to me, and I shall know the secrets of these late silent years. Welcome the child of my friend! Why should I regret that I see you not, when you are forced thus intimately to discover yourself beyond the intimacy of conversation?
But you should have sent me out the sheets by the last steamer, or a ma.n.u.script copy of the book. I do not know but Munroe would have printed it at once, and defied the penny press. And slow Time might have brought in his hands a most modest reward.
I wrote you the other day the little I had to say on affairs.
Clark, the financial Conscience, has never yet made any report, though often he promised. Half the year he lives out of Boston, and unless I go to his Bank I never see his face. I think he will not die till he have disburdened himself of this piece of arithmetic. I pray you to send me my copy of this book at the earliest hour, and to offer my glad congratulations to Jane Carlyle, on an occasion, I am sure, of great peace and relief to her spirit. And so farewell.
--R.W. Emerson
CIV. Carlyle to Emerson
Chelsea, 11 November, 1846
My Dear Emerson,--I have had two Letters from you since I wrote any; the latest of them was lying here for me when I returned, about three weeks ago; the other I had received in Scotland: it was only the last that demanded a special answer;--which, alas, I meant faithfully to give it, but did not succeed! With meet despatch I made the Bookseller get ready for you a Copy of the unpublished _Cromwell_ Book; hardly complete as yet, it was nevertheless put together, and even some kind of odious rudiments of a _Portrait_ were bound up with it; and the Packet inscribed with your address was put into Wiley and Putnam"s hands in time for the Mail Steamer;--and I hope has duly arrived? If it have not, pray set the Booksellers a-hunting. Wiley and Putnam was the Carrier"s name; this is all the indication I can give, but this, I hope, if indeed any prove needful, will be enough. One may hope you have the Book already in your hands, a fortnight before this reaches you, a month before any other Copy can reach America. In which case the Parcel, _without_ any Letter, must have seemed a little enigmatic to you! The reason was this: I miscounted the day of the month, unlucky that I was. Sitting down one morning with full purpose to write at large, and all my tools round me, I discover that it is no longer the third of November; that it is already the _fourth,_ and the American Mail-Packet has already lifted anchor!
Irrevocable, irremediable! Nothing remained but to wait for the 18th;--and now, as you see, to take Time by the forelock,-- _queue,_ as we all know, he has none.
My visit to Scotland was wholesome for me, tho" full of sadness, as the like always is. Thirty years mow away a Generation of Men. The old Hills, the old Brooks and Houses, are still there; but the Population has marched away, almost all; it is not there any more. I cannot enter into light talk with the survivors and successors; I withdraw into silence, and converse with the old dumb crags rather, in a melancholy and abstruse manner.--Thank G.o.d, my good old Mother is still there; old and frail, but still young of heart; as young and strong _there,_ I think, as ever.
It is beautiful to see affection survive where all else is submitting to decay; the altar with its sacred fire still burning when the outer walls are all slowly crumbling; material Fate saying, "_They_ are mine!"--I read some insignificant Books; smoked a great deal of tobacco; and went moping about among the hills and hollow water-courses, somewhat like a shade in Hades.
The Gospel which this World of Fact does preach to one differs considerably from the sugary twaddle one gets the offer of in Exeter-Hall and other Spouting-places! Of which, in fact, I am getting more and more weary; sometimes really impatient. It seems to me the reign of Cant and Spoonyism has about lasted long enough. Alas, in many respects, in this England I too often feel myself sorrowfully in a "minority of one";--if in the whole world, it amount to a minority of two, that is something! These words of Goethe often come into my mind, _"Verachtung ja Nicht- achtung."_ Lancashire, with its t.i.tanic Industries, with its smoke and dirt, and brutal stupor to all but money and the five mechanical Powers, did not excite much admiration in me; considerably less, I think, than ever! Patience, and shuffle the cards!
The Book on Cromwell is not to come out till the 22d of this month. For many weeks it has been a real weariness to me; my hope, always disappointed, that now is the last time I shall have any trade with it. Even since I began writing, there has been an Engraver here, requiring new indoctrination,--poor fellow! Nay, in about ten days it _must_ be over: let us not complain. I feel it well to be worth _nothing,_ except for the little fractions or intermittent fits of pious industry there really were in it; and my one wish is that the human species would be pleased to take it off my hands, and honestly let me hear no more about it! If it please Heaven, I will rest awhile still, and then try something better.
In three days hence, my Wife and I are off to the Hampshire coast for a winter visit to kind friends there, if in such a place it will prosper long with us. The climate there is greatly better than ours; they are excellent people, well affected to us; and can be lived with, though of high temper and ways! They are the Lord Ashburtons, in fact; more properly the younger stratum of that house; partly a kind of American people,--who know Waldo Emerson, among other fine things, very well! I think we are to stay some three weeks: the bustle of moving is already begun.
You promise us a new Book soon? Let it be soon, then. There are many persons here that will welcome it now. To one man here it is ever as an _articulate voice_ amid the infinite cackling and cawing. That remains my best definition of the effect it has on me. Adieu, my friend. Good be with you and your Household always. _Vale._
--T.C.
CV. Carlyle to Emerson
Chelsea, 3 January, 1846
Dear Emerson,--I received your Letter* by the last Packet three or four days ago: this is the last day of answering, the monthly Packet sails towards you again from Liverpool tomorrow morning; and I am in great pressure with many writings, elsewhither and thither: therefore I must be very brief. I have just written to Mr. Hart of Philadelphia; his Draft (as I judge clearly by the Banker"s speech and silence) is accepted, all right; and in fact, means _money_ at this time: for which I have written to thank him heartily. Do you very heartily thank Mr. Furness for me;--Furness and various friends, as Transatlantic matters now are, must accept a _silent_ grat.i.tude from me. The speech of men and American hero-worshipers is grown such a babblement: in very truth, _silence_ is the thing that chiefly has meaning,--there or here....
--------- * Missing ---------
To my very great astonishment, the Book _Cromwell_ proves popular here; and there is to be another edition very soon. Edition with improvements--for some fifty or so of new (not _all_ insignificant) Letters have turned up, and I must try to do something rational with them;--with which painful operation I am again busy. It will make the two volumes about _equal_ perhaps, --which will be one benefit! If any American possibility lie in this, I will take better care of it.--Alas, I have not got one word with you yet! Tell me of your Lectures;--of all things.
Ever yours, T. Carlyle
We returned from Hampshire exactly a week ago; never pa.s.sed six so totally idle weeks in our lives.--Better in health a little? Perhaps.
CVI. Carlyle to Emerson
Chelsea, 3 February, 1848
Dear Emerson,--One word to you before the Packet sail;--on business of my own, once more; in such a state of _haste_ as could hardly be greater. The Printers are upon me, and I have not a moment.
Contrary to all human expectation, this Book on Cromwell proves salable to mankind here, and a second Edition is now going forward with all speed. The publication of the First has brought out from their recesses a _new_ heap of Cromwell Letters;--which have been a huge embarra.s.sment to me; for they are highly unimportant for most part, and do not tend to alter or materially modify anything. Some Fifty or Sixty new Letters in all (many of them from Printed Books that had escaped me) the great majority, with others yet that may come in future time, I determine to print simply as an Appendix; but several too, I think about twenty in all, are to be fitted into the Text, chiefly in the early part of the First Volume, as tending to bring some matters into greater clearness there. I am busy with that even now; sunk deep into the Dust-abysses again!--Of course I have made what provision I could for printing a Supplement, &c. to the possessors of the First Edition: but I find this Second will be the _Final_ standing Edition of the Book; decidedly preferable to the First; not to be touched by me _again,_ except on very good cause indeed. New letters, except they expressly contradict me, shall go at once into the back apartment, or Appendix, in future.
The Printers have sent me some five or six sheets, they send me hitherto a sheet daily; but perhaps there are not above three or two in a perfect state: so I trouble you with none of them by this Packet. But by next Packet (3d of March), unless I hear to the contrary, I will send you all the Sheets that are ready; and so by the following Packets, till we are out of it;--that you, on the scene there, may do with them once for all whatsoever you like. If _nothing_ can be done with them, believe me I shall be very glad of that result. But if you can so much as oblige any honest Bookseller of your or my acquaintance by the gift of them, let it be done; let Pirates and ravenous Bipeds of Prey be excluded from partic.i.p.ating: that of itself will be a comfortable and a proper thing!--You are hereby authorized to promulgate in any way you please, That the Second Edition will be augmented, corrected, as aforesaid; and that Mr. (Any Son of Adam you please to name) is, so far as I have any voice in the matter, appointed by me, to the exclusion of all and sundry others on what pretext soever, to print and vend the same to my American Friends. And so it stands; and the Sheets (probably near thirty in number) will be out with the March Packet:-- and if nothing can come of it, I for one shall be very glad!
The Book is to be in Three Volumes now; the first ends at p. 403, Vol. I.; the third begins at p. 155, Vol. II., of the present edition.
What are you doing? Write to me: how the Lectures went, how all things went and go! We are over head and ears in Anti-Corn-Law here; the Aristocracy struck almost with a kind of horror at sight of that terrible Millocracy, rising like a huge hideous Frankenstein up in Lancashire,--seemingly with boundless ready- money in its pocket, and a very fierce humor in its stomach! To me it is as yet almost uglier than the Aristocracy; and I will not fire guns when this small victory is gained; I will recommend a day of Fasting rather, that such a victory required such gaining.
Adieu, my Friend. Is it likely we shall meet in "Oregon," think you? That would be a beautiful affair, on the part of the most enlightened Nation!
Yours ever, T. Carlyle
CVII. Carlyle to Emerson
Chelsea, 3 March, 1846
Dear Emerson,--I must write you a word before this Packet go, tho" my haste is very great. I received your two Newspapers (price only twopence); by the same Ship there came, and reached me some days later, a Letter from Mr. Everett enclosing the _Cromwell_ portions of the same printed-matter, clipt out by scissors; written, it appeared, by Mr. Everett"s nephew; some of whose remarks, especially his wish that I might once be in New England, and see people "praying," amused me much! The Cotton Letter, &c., I have now got to the bottom of; Birch"s copy is in the Museum here,--a better edition than I had. Of "Levered" and the other small American Doc.u.ments--alas, I get cartloads of the like or better tumbled down at my door, and my chief duty is to front them resolutely with a _shovel._ "Ten thousand tons" is but a small estimate for the quant.i.ty of loose and indurated lumber I have had to send sounding, on each hand of me, down, down to the eternal deeps, never to trouble _me_ more! The jingle of it, as it did at last get under way, and go down, was almost my one consolation in those unutterable operations.--I am again over head and ears; but shall be out soon: never to return more.
By this Packet, according to volunteer contract, there goes out by the favor of your Chapman a number of sheets, how many I do not exactly know, of the New Edition: Chapman First and Chapman Second (yours and mine) have undertaken to manage the affair for this month and for the following months;--many thanks to them both for taking it out of my hands. What you are to do with the Article you already know. If no other customer present himself, can you signify to Mr. Hart of Philadelphia that the sheets are much at his service,--his conduct on another occasion having given him right to such an acknowledgment from me? Or at any rate, _you_ will want a new Copy of this Book; and can retain the sheets for that object.--Enough of them.
From Mr. Everett I learn that your Boston Lectures have been attended with renown enough: when are the Lectures themselves to get to print? I read, last night, an Essay on you, by a kind of "Young Scotland," as we might call it, in an Edinburgh Magazine; very fond of you, but shocked that you were Antichristian:-- really not so bad. The stupidities of men go crossing one another; and miles down, at the bottom of all, there is a little veinlet of sense found running at last!
If you see Mr. Everett, will you thank him for his kind remembrance of me, till I find leisure (as I have vainly hoped today to do) to thank him more in form. A dignified, compact kind of man; whom I remember with real pleasure.
Jargon abounds in our Newspapers and Parliament Houses at present;--with which "the present Editor," and indeed I think the Public at large, takes little concern, beyond the regret of being _bored_ by it. The Corn-Laws are going very quietly the way of all deliriums; and then there will at least be one delirium less, and we shall start upon new ones.