Dear Emerson,--....My time is nearly up today; but I write a
word to acknowledge your last Letter (30 April), and various
other things. For example, you must tell Mr. Thoreau (is that
the exact name? for I have lent away the printed pages) that his
Philadelphia Magazine with the _Lecture_* in two pieces was
faithfully delivered here, about a fortnight ago; and carefully
read, as beseemed, with due entertainment and recognition. A
vigorous Mr. Thoreau,--who has formed himself a good deal upon
one Emerson, but does not want abundant fire and stamina of his
own;--recognizes us, and various other things, in a most admiring
great-hearted manner; for which, as for _part_ of the confused
voice from the jury bog (not yet summed into a verdict, nor
likely to be summed till Doomsday, nor needful to sum), the poor
prisoner at the bar may justly express himself thankful! In
plain prose, I like Mr. Thoreau very well; and hope yet to hear
good and better news of him:--only let him not "turn to
foolishness"; which seems to me to be terribly easy, at present,
both in New England and Old! May the Lord deliver us all from
_Cant;_ may the Lord, whatever else he do or forbear, teach us
to look Facts honestly in the face, and to beware (with a kind of
shudder) of smearing _them_ over with our despicable and damnable
palaver, into irrecognizability, and so _falsifying_ the Lord's
own Gospels to his unhappy blockheads of children, all staggering
down to Gehenna and the everlasting Swine's-trough for _want_ of
Gospels.--O Heaven, it is the most accursed sin of man; and done
everywhere, at present, on the streets and high places, at
noonday! Very seriously I say, and pray as my chief orison, May
the Lord deliver us from it.--
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* On Carlyle, published in _Graham's Magazine_ in March and
April, 1847.
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About a week ago there came your neighbor Hoar; a solid,
sensible, effectual-looking man, of whom I hope to see much more.
So soon as possible I got him under way for Oxford, where I
suppose he was, last week;--_both_ Universities was too much for
the limits of his time; so he preferred Oxford;--and now, this
very day, I think, he was to set out for the Continent; not to
return till the beginning of July, when he promises to call here
again. There was something really pleasant to me in this Mr.
Hoar: and I had innumerable things to ask him about Concord,
concerning which topic we had hardly got a word said when our
first interview had to end. I sincerely hope he will not fail to
keep his time in returning.
You do very well, my Friend, to plant orchards; and fair fruit
shall they grow (if it please Heaven) for your grandchildren to
pluck;--a beautiful occupation for the son of man, in all
patriarchal and paternal times (which latter are patriarchal
too)! But you are to understand withal that your coming hither
to lecture is taken as a settled point by all your friends here;
and for my share I do not reckon upon the smallest doubt about
the _essential_ fact of it, simply on some calculation and
adjustment about the circumstantials. Of Ireland, who I surmise
is busy in the problem even now, you will hear by and by,
probably in more definite terms: I did not see him again after
my first notice of him to you; but there is no doubt concerning
his determinations (for all manner of reasons) to get you to
Lancashire, to England;--and in fact it is an adventure which I
think you ought to contemplate as _fixed,_--say for this year and
the beginning of next? Ireland will help you to fix the dates;
and there is nothing else, I think, which should need fixing.--
Unquestionably you would get an immense quantity of food for
ideas, though perhaps not at all in the way you anticipate, in
looking about among us: nay, if you even thought us _stupid,_
there is something in the godlike indifference with which London
will accept and sanction even that verdict,--something highly
instructive at least! And in short, for the truth must be told,
London is properly your Mother City too,--verily you have about
as much to do with it, in spite of Polk and Q. Victory, as I had!
And you ought to come and look at it, beyond doubt; and say to
this land, "Old Mother, how are you getting on at all?" To which
the Mother will answer, "Thankee, young son, and you?"--in a way
useful to both parties! That is truth.
Adieu, dear Emerson; good be with you always. Hoar gave me your
_American_ Poems: thanks. _Vale et me ama._
--T. Carlyle