My Dear Friend,--Not until the 29th of November did the five
hundred copies of the _French Revolution_ arrive in Boston.
Fraser unhappily sent them to New York, whence they came not
without long delays. They came in perfectly good order, not in
the pretty red you told us of, but in a sober green;--not so
handsome and salable a back, our booksellers said, as their own;
but in every other respect a good book. The duties at the New
York Custom House on these and a quantity of other books sent by
Fraser amounted to $400.36, whereof, I understand, the _French
Revolution_ pays for its share $243. No bill has been brought us
for freight, so we conclude that you have paid it. I confided
the book very much to the conscience and discretion of Little and
Brown, and after some ciphering they settle to sell it at $3.75
per copy, wherefrom you are to get the cost of the book, and
(say) $1.10 per copy profit, and no more. The booksellers
eat the rest. The book is rather too dear for our market of
cheap manufactures, and therefore we are obliged to give the
booksellers a good percentage to get it off at all: for we stand
in daily danger of a cheap edition from some rival neighbor. I
hope to give you good news of its sale soon, although I have been
assured today that no book sells, the times are so bad. Brown
had disposed of fifty or sixty copies to the trade, and twelve at
retail. He doubted not to sell them all in six months....
Several persons have asked me to get some copies of the _German
Romance_ sent over here for sale. Last week a gentleman desired me
to say he wanted four copies, and today I have been charged to
procure another. I think, if you will send me by Little and Brown,
through Longman, six copies, we can find an immediate market.
It gives me great joy to write to my friend once more, slow as
you may think me to use the privilege. For a good while I dared
believe you were coming hither, and why should I write?--and now
for weeks I have been absorbed in my foolish lectures, of which
only two are yet delivered and ended. There should be eight
more; subject, "The Present Age." Out of these follies I
remember you with glad heart. Lately I had Sterling's letter,
which, since I have read his article on you, I am determined to
answer speedily. I delighted in the spirit of that paper, loving
you so well and accusing you so conscientiously. What does he at
Clifton? If you communicate with him, tell him I thank him for
his letter, and hold him dear. I am very happy lately in adding
one or two new friends to my little circle, and you may be sure
every friend of mine is a friend of yours. So when you come here
you shall not be lonely. A new person is always to me a great
event, and will not let me sleep.--I believe I was not wise to
volunteer myself to this fever fit of lecturing again. I ought
to have written instead in silence and serenity. Yet I work
better under this base necessity, and then I have a certain
delight (base also?) in speaking to a multitude. But my joy in
friends, those sacred people, is my consolation for the mishaps
of the adventure, and they for the most part come to me from this
_publication_ of myself.--After ten or twelve weeks I think I
shall address myself earnestly to writing, and give some form to
my formless scripture.
I beg you will write to me and tell me what you do, and give me
good news of your wife and your brother. Can they not see the
necessity of your coming to look after your American interests?
My wife and mother love both you and them. A young man of New
York told me the other day he was about getting you an invitation
from an Association in that city to give them a course of
lectures on such terms as would at least make you whole in the
expenses of coming thither. We could easily do that in Boston.
--R.W. Emerson
What manner of person is Heraud? Do you read Landor, or know
him, O seeing man? Farewell!