Dear Emerson,--Your Letter, which had been very long expected,
has been in my hand above a month now; and still no answer sent
to it. I thought of answering straightway; but the day went
by, days went by;--and at length I decided to wait till my
insupportable Burden (the "Stupidity of Two Centuries" as I call
it, which is a heavy load for one man!) were rolled off my
shoulders, and I could resume the habit of writing Letters, which
has almost left me for many months. By the unspeakable blessing
of Heaven that consummation has now arrived, about four days ago
I wrote my last word on _Cromwell's Letters and Speeches;_ and
one of the earliest uses I make of my recovered freedom is to
salute you again. The Book is nearly printed: two big volumes;
about a half of it, I think, my own; the real utterances of the
man Oliver Cromwell once more legible to earnest men. Legible
really to an unexpected extent: for the Book took quite an
unexpected figure in my hands; and is now a kind of Life of
Oliver, the best that circumstances would permit me to do:--
whether either I or England shall be, in my time, fit for a
better, remains submitted to the Destinies at present. I have
tied up the whole Puritan Paper-Litter (considerable masses of it
still unburnt) with tight strings, and hidden it at the bottom of
my deepest repositories: there shall _it,_ if Heaven please, lie
dormant for a time and times. Such an element as I have been in,
no human tongue can give account of. The disgust of my Soul has
been great; a really _pious_ labor: worth very little when I
have done it; but the best I could do; and that is quite
enough. I feel the liveliest gratitude to the gods that I have
got out of it alive. The Book is very dull, but it is actually
legible: all the ingenious faculty I had, and ten times as much
would have been useful there, has been employed in elucidation;
in saying, and chiefly in forbearing to say,--in annihilating
continents of brutal wreck and dung: _Ach Gott!_--But in fact
you will see it by and by; and then form your own conclusions
about it. They are going to publish it in October, I find: I
tried hard to get you a complete copy of the sheets by this
Steamer; but it proves to be flatly impossible;--perhaps
luckily; for I think you would have been bothering yourself with
some new Bookseller negotiation about it; and that, as copyright
and other matters now stand, is a thing I cannot recommend.
--Enough of it now: only let all my silences and other
shortcomings be explained thereby. I am now off for the North
Country, for a snatch still at the small remnants of Summer, and
a little free air and sunshine. I am really far from well,
though I have been riding diligently for three months back, and
doing what I could to help myself.
Very glad shall I be, my Friend, to have some new utterances from
you either in verse or in prose! What you say about the vast
_imperfection_ of all modes of utterance is most true indeed.
Let a man speak and sing, and do, and sputter and gesticulate as
he may,--the meaning of him is most ineffectually shown forth,
poor fellow; rather _indicated_ as if by straggling symbols,
than _spoken_ or visually expressed! Poor fellow! So the great
rule is, That he _have_ a good manful meaning, and then that he
take what "mode of utterance" is honestly the readiest for him.--
I wish you would take an American Hero, one whom you really love;
and give us a History of him,--make an artistic bronze statue (in
good _words_) of his Life and him! I do indeed.--But speak of
what you will, you are welcome to me. Once more I say, No other
voice in this wide waste world seems to my sad ear to be
_speaking_ at all at present. The more is the pity for us.
I forbid you to plague yourself any farther with those
Philadelphia or other Booksellers. If you could hinder them to
promulgate any copy of that frightful picture by Lawrence, or
indeed any picture at all, I had rather stand as a shadow than as
a falsity in the minds of my American friends: but this too we
are prepared to encounter. And as for the money of these men,--
if they will pay it, good and welcome; if they will not pay it,
let them keep it with what blessing there may be in it! I have
your noble offices in that and in other such matters already
unforgetably sure to me; and, in real fact, that is almost
exactly the whole of valuable that could exist for me in the
affair. Adieu, dear Friend. Write to me again; I will write
again at more leisure.
Yours always,
T. Carlyle