My Dear Sir,--I received your letter of the 3d of February on the
20th instant, and am sorry that hitherto we have not been able to
command a more mercantile promptitude in the transmission of
these light sheets. If desire of a letter before it arrived, or
gladness when it came, could speed its journey, I should have it
the day it was written. But, being come, it makes me sad and
glad by turns. I admire at the alleged state of your English
reading public without comprehending it, and with a hoping
scepticism touching the facts. I hear my Prophet deplore, as his
predecessors did, the deaf ear and the gross heart of his people,
and threaten to shut his lips; but, happily, this he cannot do,
any more than could they. The word of the Lord _will_ be spoken.
But I shall not much grieve that the English people and you are
not of the same mind if that apathy or antipathy can by any means
be the occasion of your visiting America. The hope of this is so
pleasant to me, that I have thought of little else for the week
past, and having conferred with some friends on the matter, I
shall try, in obedience to your request, to give you a statement
of our capabilities, without indulging my penchant for the
favorable side. Your picture of America is faithful enough: yet
Boston contains some genuine taste for literature, and a good
deal of traditional reverence for it. For a few years past, we
have had, every winter, several courses of lectures, scientific,
political, miscellaneous, and even some purely literary, which
were well attended. Some lectures on Shakespeare were crowded;
and even I found much indulgence in reading, last winter, some
Biographical Lectures, which were meant for theories or portraits
of Luther, Michelangelo, Milton, George Fox, Burke. These
courses are really given under the auspices of Societies, as
"Natural History Society," "Mechanics' Institutes," "Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge," &c., &c., and the fee to the lecturer is
inconsiderable, usually $20 for each lecture. But in a few
instances individuals have undertaken courses of lectures, and
have been well paid. Dr. Spurzheim* received probably $3,000 in
the few months that he lived here. Mr. Silliman, a Professor of
Yale College, has lately received something more than that for a
course of fifteen or sixteen lectures on Geology. Private
projects of this sort are, however, always attended with a degree
of uncertainty. The favor of my townsmen is often sudden and
spasmodic, and Mr. Silliman, who has had more success than ever
any before him, might not find a handful of hearers another
winter. But it is the opinion of many friends whose judgment I
value, that a person of so many claims upon the ear and
imagination of our fashionable populace as the "author of the
_Life of Schiller,_" "the reviewer of _Burns's Life,_" the live
"contributor to the _Edinburgh_ and _Foreign_ Reviews," nay, the
"worshipful Teufelsdrockh," the "personal friend of Goethe,"
would, for at least one season, batter down opposition, and
command all ears on whatever topic pleased him, and that, quite
independently of the merit of his lectures, merely for so many
names' sake.
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* The memory of Dr. Spurzheim has faded, but his name is still
known to men of science on both sides of the Atlantic as that of
the most ardent and accomplished advocate of the doctrine of
Phrenology. He came to the United States in 1832 to advance the
cause he had at heart, but he had been only a short time in the
country when he died at Boston of a fever.
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But the subject, you say, does not yet define itself. Whilst it
is "gathering to a god," we who wait will only say, that we know
enough here of Goethe and Schiller to have some interest in
German literature. A respectable German here, Dr. Follen, has
given lectures to a good class upon Schiller. I am quite sure
that Goethe's name would now stimulate the curiosity of scores of
persons. On English literature, a much larger class would have
some preparedness. But whatever topics you might choose, I need
not say you must leave under them scope for your narrative and
pictorial powers; yes, and space to let out all the length of
all the reins of your eloquence of moral sentiment. What "Lay
Sermons" might you not preach! or methinks "Lectures on Europe"
were a sea big enough for you to swim in. The only condition our
adolescent ear insists upon is, that the English as it is spoken
by the unlearned shall be the bridge between our teacher and
our tympanum.
_Income and Expenses._--All our lectures are usually delivered in
the same hall, built for the purpose. It will hold 1,200
persons; 900 are thought a large assembly. The expenses of
rent, lights, doorkeeper, &c. for this hall, would be $12 each
lecture. The price of $3 is the least that might be demanded for
a single ticket of admission to the course,--perhaps $4; $5 for
a ticket admitting a gentleman and lady. So let us suppose we
have 900 persons paying $3 each, or $2,700. If it should happen,
as did in Prof. Silliman's case, that many more than 900 tickets
were sold, it would be easy to give the course in the day and in
the evening, an expedient sometimes practised to divide an
audience, and because it is a great convenience to many to choose
their time. If the lectures succeed in Boston, their success is
insured at Salem, a town thirteen miles off, with a population of
15,000. They might, perhaps, be repeated at Cambridge, three
miles from Boston, and probably at Philadelphia, thirty-six
hours distant.
At New York anything literary has hitherto had no favor. The
lectures might be fifteen or sixteen in number, of about an hour
each. They might be delivered, one or two in each week. And if
they met with sudden success, it would be easy to carry on the
course simultaneously at Salem, and Cambridge, and in the city.
They must be delivered in the winter.
Another plan suggested in addition to this. A gentleman here is
giving a course of lectures on English literature to a private
class of ladies, at $10 to each subscriber. There is no doubt,
were you so disposed, you might turn to account any writings in
the bottom of your portfolio, by reading lectures to such a
class, or, still better, by speaking.
_Expense of Living._--You may travel in this country for $4 to
$4.50 a day. You may board in Boston in a "gigmanic" style for
$8 per week, including all domestic expenses. Eight dollars per
week is the board paid by the permanent residents at the Tremont
House,--probably the best hotel in North America. There, and at
the best hotels in New York, the lodger for a few days pays at
the rate of $1.50 per day. Twice eight dollars would provide a
gentleman and lady with board, chamber, and private parlor, at a
fashionable boardinghouse. In the country, of course, the
expenses are two thirds less. These are rates of expense where
economy is not studied. I think the Liverpool and New York
packets demand $150 of the passenger, and their accommodations
are perfect. (N.B.--I set down all sums in dollars. You may
commonly reckon a pound sterling worth $4.80.) "The man is
certain of success," say those I talk with, "for one winter, but
not afterwards." That supposes no extraordinary merit in the
lectures, and only regards you in your leonine aspect. However,
it was suggested that, if Mr. C. would undertake a Journal of
which we have talked much, but which we have never yet produced,
he would do us great service, and we feel some confidence that it
could be made to secure him a support. It is that project which
I mentioned to you in a letter by Mr. Barnard,--a book to be
called _The Transcendentalist,_ or _The Spiritual Inquirer,_ or
the like, and of which F.H. Hedge* was to be editor. Those
who are most interested in it designed to make gratuitous
contributions to its pages, until its success could be assured.
Hedge is just leaving our neighborhood to be settled as a
minister two hundred and fifty miles off, in Maine, and entreats
that you will edit the journal. He will write, and I please
myself with thinking I shall be able to write under such
auspices. Then you might (though I know not the laws respecting
literary property) collect some of your own writings and reprint
them here. I think the _Sartor_ would now be sure of a sale.
Your _Life of Schiller,_ and _Wilhelm Meister,_ have been long
reprinted here. At worst, if you wholly disliked us, and
preferred Old England to New, you can judge of the suggestion of
a knowing man, that you might see Niagara, get a new stock of
health, and pay all your expenses by printing in England a book
of travels in America.
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*Now the Rev. Dr. Hedge, late Professor of German and of
Ecclesiastical History in Harvard College.
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I wish you to know that we do not depend for your _eclat_ on your
being already known to rich men here. You are not. Nothing has
ever been published here designating you by name. But Dr.
Channing reads and respects you. That is a fact of importance to
our project. Several clergymen, Messrs. Frothingham, Ripley,
Francis, all of them scholars and Spiritualists, (some of them,
unluckily, called Unitarian,) love you dearly, and will work
heartily in your behalf. Mr. Frothing ham, a worthy and
accomplished man, more like Erasmus than Luther, said to me on
parting, the other day, "You cannot express in terms too
extravagant my desire that he should come." George Ripley,
having heard, through your letter to me, that nobody in England
had responded to the _Sartor,_ had secretly written you a most
reverential letter, which, by dint of coaxing, be read to me,
though he said there was but one step from the sublime to the
ridiculous. I prayed him, though I thought the letter did him no
justice, save to his heart, to send you it or another; and he
says he will. He is a very able young man, even if his letter
should not show it.* He said he could, and would, bring many
persons to hear you, and you should be sure of his utmost aid.
Dr. Bradford, a medical man, is of good courage. Mr. Loring,** a
lawyer, said,"--Invite Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle to spend a couple of
months at my house," (I assured him I was too selfish for that,)
"and if our people," he said, "cannot find out his worth, I will
subscribe, with, others, to make him whole of any expense he
shall incur in coming." Hedge promised more than he ought.
There are several persons beside, known to me, who feel a warm
interest in this thing. Mr. Furness, a popular and excellent
minister in Philadelphia, at whose house Harriet Martineau was
spending a few days, I learned the other day "was feeding Miss
Martineau with the _Sartor._" And here some of the best women I
know are warm friends of yours, and are much of Mrs. Carlyle's
opinion when she says, Your books shall prosper.
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* Emerson's estimate of Mr. Ripley was justified as the years
went on. His _Life,_ by Mr. Octavius Frothingham,--like his
father, "a worthy and accomplished, man," but more like Luther
than Erasmus,--forms one of the most attractive volumes of the
series of _Lives of American Men of Letters._
** The late Ellis Gray Loring, a man of high character, well
esteemed in his profession, and widely respected.
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On the other hand, I make no doubt you shall be sure of some
opposition. Andrews Norton, one of our best heads, once a
theological professor, and a destroying critic, lives upon a rich
estate at Cambridge, and frigidly excludes the Diderot paper from
a _Select Journal_ edited by him, with the remark, "Another paper
of the Teufelsdrockh School." The University perhaps, and much
that is conservative in literature and religion, I apprehend,
will give you its cordial opposition, and what eccentricity can
be collected from the Obituary Notice on Goethe, or from the
_Sartor,_ shall be mustered to demolish you. Nor yet do I feel
quite certain of this. If we get a good tide with us, we shall
sweep away the whole inertia, which is the whole force of these
gentlemen, except Norton. That you do not like the Unitarians
will never hurt you at all, if possibly you do like the
Calvinists. If you have any friendly relations to your native
Church, fail not to bring a letter from a Scottish Calvinist to a
Calvinist here, and your fortune is made. But that were too good
to happen.
Since things are so, can you not, my dear sir, finish your new
work and cross the great water in September or October, and try
the experiment of a winter in America? I cannot but think that
if we do not make out a case strong enough to make you build your
house, at least you should pitch your tent among us. The country
is, as you say, worth visiting, and to give much pleasure to a
few persons will be some inducement to you. I am afraid to
press this matter. To me, as you can divine, it would be an
unspeakable comfort; and the more, that I hope before that time
so far to settle my own affairs as to have a wife and a house to
receive you. Tell Mrs. Carlyle, with my affectionate regards,
that some friends whom she does not yet know do hope with me to
have her company for the next winter at our house, and shall not
cease to hope it until you come.
I have many things to say upon the topics of your letter, but my
letter is already so immeasurably long, it must stop. Long as it
is, I regret I have not more facts. Dr. Channing is in New York,
or I think, despite your negligence of him, I should have visited
him on account of his interest in you. Could you see him you
would like him. I shall write you immediately on learning
anything new bearing on this business. I intended to have
despatched this letter a day or two sooner, that it might go by
the packet of the 1st of May from New York. Now it will go by
that of the 8th, and ought to reach you in thirty days. Send me
your thoughts upon it as soon as you can. I _jalouse_ of that
new book. I fear its success may mar my project.
Yours affectionately,
R. Waldo Emerson