Dear Emerson,--The Steamer goes tomorrow; I must, though in a
very dim condition, have a little word for you conveyed by it.
In the miscellaneous maw of that strange Steamer shall lie, among
other things, a friendly _word!_
Your very kind Letter lay waiting me here, some ten days ago;
doubly welcome, after so long a silence. We had been in
Hampshire, with the Barings, where we were last year;--some four
weeks or more; totally idle: our winter had been, and indeed
still is, unusually severe; my Wife's health in consequence was
sadly deranged; but this idleness, these Isle-of-Wight sea-
breezes, have brought matters well round again; so we cannot
grudge the visit or the idleness, which otherwise too might have
its uses. Alas, at this time my normal state is to be altogether
_idle,_ to look out upon a very lonely universe, full of grim
sorrow, full of splendor too; and not to know at all, for the
moment, on what side I am to attack it again!--I read your Book
of Poems all faithfully, at Bay House (our Hampshire quarters);
where the obstinate people,--with whom you are otherwise, in
prose, a first favorite,--foolishly _refused_ to let me read
aloud; foolishly, for I would have made it mostly all plain by
commentary:--so I had to read for myself; and can say, in spite
of my hard-heartedness, I did gain, though under impediments, a
real satisfaction and some tone of the Eternal Melodies sounding,
afar off, ever and anon, in my ear! This is fact; a truth in
Natural History; from which you are welcome to draw inferences.
A grand View of the Universe, everywhere the sound (unhappily
_far of,_ as it were) of a valiant, genuine Human Soul: this,
even under rhyme, is a satisfaction worth some struggling for.
But indeed you are very perverse; and through this perplexed
undiaphanous element, you do not fall on me like radiant summer
rainbows, like floods of sunlight, but with thin piercing
radiances which affect me like the light of the _stars._ It is
so: I wish you would become _concrete,_ and write in prose the
straightest way; but under any form I must put up with you;
that is my lot.--Chapman's edition, as you probably know, is very
beautiful. I believe there are enough of ardent silent seekers
in England to buy up this edition from him, and resolutely study
the same: as for the review multitude, they dare not exactly
call it "unintelligible moonshine," and so will probably hold
their tongue. It is my fixed opinion that we are all at sea as
to what is called Poetry, Art, &c., in these times; laboring
under a dreadful incubus of _Tradition,_ and mere "Cant heaped
balefully on us up to the very Zenith," as men, in nearly all
other provinces of their Life, except perhaps the railway
province, do now labor and stagger;--in a word, that Goethe-and-
Schiller's _"Kunst"_ has far more brotherhood with Pusey-and-
Newman's _Shovelhattery,_ and other the like deplorable
phenomena, than it is in the least aware of! I beg you take
warning: I am more serious in this than you suppose. But no,
you will not; you whistle lightly over my prophecies, and go
your own stiff-necked road. Unfortunate man!--
I had read in the Newspapers, and even heard in speech from
Manchester people, that you were certainly coming this very
summer to lecture among us: but now it seems, in your Letter,
all postponed into the vague again. I do not personally know
your Manchester negotiators, but I know in general that they are
men of respectability, insight, and activity; much connected
with the lecturing department, which is a very growing one,
especially in Lancashire, at present;--men likely, for the rest,
to _fulfil_ whatsoever they may become engaged for to you. My
own ignorant though confident guess, moreover, is, that you
would, in all senses of the word, _succeed_ there; I think, also
rather confidently, we could promise you an audience of British
aristocracy in London here,--and of British commonalty all manner
of audiences that you liked to stoop to. I heard an ignorant
blockhead (or mainly so) called --- bow-wowing here, some months
ago, to an audience of several thousands, in the City, one
evening,--upon Universal Peace, or some other field of
balderdash; which the poor people seemed very patient of. In a
word, I do not see what is to hinder you to come whenever you can
resolve upon it. The adventure is perfectly promising: an
adventure familiar to you withal; for Lecturing is with us
fundamentally just what it is with you: Much prurient curiosity,
with some ingenuous love of wisdom, an element of real reverence
for the same: everywhere a perfect openness to any man speaking
in any measure things manful. Come, therefore; gird yourself
together, and come. With little or no peradventure, you will
realize what your modest hope is, and more;--and I, for my share
of it, shall see you once again under this Sun! O Heavens, there
_might_ be some good in that! Nay, if you will travel like a
private quiet person, who knows but I, the most unlocomotive of
mortals, might be able to escort you up and down a little; to
look at many a thing along with you, and even to open my long-
closed heart and speak about the same?--There is a spare-room
always in this House for you,--in this heart, in these two
hearts, the like: bid me hope in this enterprise, in all manner
of ways where I can; and on the whole, get it rightly put
together, and embark on it, and arrive!
The good Miss Fuller has painted us all _en beau,_ and your
smiling imagination has added new colors. We have not a
triumphant life here; very far indeed from that, _ach Gott!_--as
you shall see. But Margaret is an excellent soul: in real
regard with both of us here. Since she went, I have been reading
some of her Papers in a new Book we have got: greatly superior
to all I knew before; in fact the undeniable utterances (now
first undeniable to me) of a true heroic mind;--altogether
unique, so far as I know, among the Writing Women of this
generation; rare enough too, God knows, among the writing Men.
She is very narrow, sometimes; but she is truly high: honor to
Margaret, and more and more good-speed to her.--Adieu dear
Emerson. I am ever yours,
--T.C.