Dear Carlyle,--In my old age I am coming to see you. I have
written this day, in answer to sundry letters brought me by the
last steamer, from Mr. Ireland and Mr. Hudson of Leeds, that I
mean in good earnest to sail for Liverpool or for London about
the first of October; and I am disposing my astonished
household--astonished at such a Somerset of the sedentary master
--with that view.
My brother William was here this week from New York, and will
come again to carry my mother home with him for the winter; my
wife and children three are combining for and against me; at all
events, I am to have my visit. I pray you to cherish your good
nature, your mercy. Let your wife cherish it,--that I may see, I
indolent, this incredible worker, whose toil has been long since
my pride and wonder,--that I may see him benign and unexacting,--
he shall not be at the crisis of some over-labor. I shall not
stay but an hour. What do I care for his fame? Ah! how gladly I
hoped once to see Sterling as mediator and amalgam, when my turn
should come to see the Saxon gods at home: Sterling, who had
certain American qualities in his genius;--and now you send me
his shade. I found at Munroe's shop the effigy, which, he said,
Cunningham, whom I have not seen or heard from, had left there
for me; a front face, and a profile, both--especially the first
--a very welcome satisfaction to my sad curiosity, the face very
national, certainly, but how thoughtful and how friendly! What
more belongs to this print--whether you are editing his books, or
yourself drawing his lineaments--I know not.
I find my friends have laid out much work for me in Yorkshire and
Lancashire. What part of it I shall do, I cannot yet tell. As
soon as I know how to arrange my journey best, I shall write
you again.
Yours affectionately,
R.W. Emerson