BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 FROM THE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 Hettrg W. Sage 
 
 1891 
 
 ^.:;L.£>/S!>quw. vaVNuAu 
 
 1357 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1631.A33F98 
 
 Records of a lifelong friendship, 1807-1 
 
 3 1924 021 999 754 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021999754 
 
RECORDS 
 
 OF 
 
 A LIFELONG FRIENDSHIP 
 
 1807 — 1883 
 
RECORDS OF A 
 LIFELONG FRIENDSHIP 
 
 1807 :: 1882 
 
 RALPH WALDO EMERSON 
 
 AND 
 
 WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS 
 
 EDITED BY H. H. F. 
 
 BOSTON ^ND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 MDCCCCX 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1910 
 
 BY HORACE HOWARD FURNESS 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 THE PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS IN 
 THIS VOLUME ARE FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 
 MADE BY F. GUTEKUNST, PHILADELPHIA 
 
 780 COPIES PRINTED 
 
 AT THE RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE 
 
 NO. 5-41 S" 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 In the invaluable Journals of Mr. Emerson, now is- 
 suing from the press under the excellent editing of his 
 son, there occur, now and again, regretful assertions iy 
 Mr. Emerson, when introspectively analyzing his own 
 mind, of the coldness of his temperament. At the early 
 age of twenty he taxes himself with this lack of gen- 
 iality, and asserts, that ' What is called a warm heart, 
 I have not.' ' — Again, « It seems I am cold, and when 
 shall I kindle f* I was horn cold. My bodily habit is cold. 
 I shiver in and out ; don't heat to the good purposes called 
 enthusiasm a quarter so quick and kindly as my neigh- 
 bours.'" — Again, 'I am cold and solitary.' ^ — Again, 
 ' Most of the persons whom I see in my own house I see 
 across a gulf I cannot go to them nor they come to me. 
 J^othing can exceed thef rigidity and labour of my speech 
 with such.' * 
 
 In all these reflections, we must bear in mind, how- 
 ever, that they are his own judgements on himself, con- 
 fided to a private Journal, and, therefore, likely to be too 
 severe. Indeed, his son asserts it to be certain that he 
 * greatly magnified his supposed lack of sympathetic quali- 
 
 ' Vol. i, p. 366. ' Vol. ii, p. 166. 
 
 • Vol. ii, p. 123. ♦ lb. i, p. 361. 
 
ties.' ' It is not for one instant to be supposed that this 
 coldness includedhis domestic relations. Within the sacred 
 cirde of home his love was unconfined. This cold reserve 
 existed only outside, in the world; the nearer the approach 
 to the warmth of home and hearth, the more this coldness 
 thawed. May, this is intimated by himself in a letter to 
 Margaret Fuller,writtenin 1843, whereof the following 
 extract may not unfitly introduce the present collection of 
 letters : — 
 
 ' In Philadelphia I had great pleasure in chatting with 
 Fumess,for we had ten or a dozen years to go over and 
 compare notes upon. . . . And he is the happiest com- 
 panion. Those are good companions to whom we have the 
 keys. . . . Furness is my dear gossip, almost a gossip 
 for the gods, there is such a repose and honour in the man. 
 He is a hero-worshipper, and so collects the finest anec- 
 dotes, and told very good stories of Mrs. Butler [Mrs. 
 Fanny Kemble'y, Dr. Channing, etc. I meant to add, a 
 few lines above, that the tie of schoolfellow and playmate 
 from the nursery onward is the true clanship and key that 
 cannot be given to another.' 
 
 It is Mr. Emerson's correspondence with this * Fur- 
 ness ' that is here printed. I cannot but believe that it 
 will serve to lighten the severity of the criticisms re- 
 corded by Mr. Emerson himself on the coldnessofhis own 
 temperament, and also to show that, in its final analysis, 
 ' Emerson in Concord, p. 212. 
 
this coldness was merely a shrinking sensitiveness that 
 only needed to he dissipated through the assurance af- 
 forded by a proved or lifelong friendship. 
 
 Dr. Holmes says that Mr. Emerson was 'constitu- 
 tionally fastidious.' ' This might account for his reserve, 
 hut possibly might not have been likely to escape the 
 'searchlight' which Mr. Emerson himself was wont to 
 turn so mercilessly upon all recesses in his own mind. 
 
 In speaking of Mr. Emerson's dignified deportment. 
 Dr. Holmes asks, ' What man was he who could lay his 
 handfamiliarly upon his shoulder and call him Waldo f ' ^ 
 I am very certain that my father would not have hesi- 
 tated on any fit occasion to lay his handfamiliarly on his 
 old friend's shoulder, but he would not, possibly, have 
 called him ' Waldo ' — it would have been, very probably, 
 « Ralph.' It was not until College days that ' Waldo ' 
 was adopted, and my father's admiration and love origi- 
 nated in boyhood, and in them ' Ralph ' was imbedded. 
 He tried to change to ' Waldo,' but never with complete 
 success. I have heard him when talking to Mr. Emerson, 
 use both names indifferently. 
 
 My father was never careful in the preservation of let- 
 ters. There is many a gap in the present collection due to 
 loss and to the importunities of autograph hunters. In 
 several cases the dates are conjectural ; some have been 
 
 ' Ralph Waldo Emerson, p. 366: ' lb. p. 368. 
 
I viii 2 
 
 supplied by the kindness of Dr. Edward PF. Emerson, 
 without whose gracious permission I should not have ven- 
 tured on this publication of his father's private letters. 
 
 In the ensuing pages neither correspondent seems 
 weary of referring to the prowess achieved, in childhood, 
 by the one as a poet and by the other as an artist. A con- 
 summation in both realms survives in a 'Poem,' called 
 Fortus, by Ralph Emerson, aged ten, and illustrated by 
 William Fwness, aged eleven. 
 
 Mr. Cabot discovered^ that this 'Poem ' is still in ex- 
 istence; and with a clue supplied through him, I was en- 
 abled to communicate with the fortunate possessors of the 
 time-worn and faded MS, now almost in the hundredth 
 year of its existence. 
 
 The present representative of the original owner, Mr. 
 Edward Parish JVoyes, to whom my thanks are greatly 
 due and gladly given, at once, with courteous liberality, 
 sent the MS for use in the present publication. There 
 are but two illustrations, one on the front page, the other 
 on the last ; neither, I think, can be regarded without 
 a smile, tolerant yet broad. Be it not supposed that great 
 value is to be attached to these infantile triumphs of 
 either poet or artist; as the solitary records of those early 
 
 ' ' " Fortus," with Dr. Fumess's illustrations, still survives, in the 
 possession of the Rev. Daniel Noyes at Byfield.' — Memoir, p. 43. 
 Footnote. 
 
years they may be regarded, however, as are straws to 
 a drowning man, not because, as has been said, there is 
 any value in the straws, but because they are the only 
 things there. And yet I do not shame to say that the 
 childish handwriting and stilted language of the little 
 poet, and the anatomical monstrosity of horse and rider 
 by the little artist are, to me, an admirer and the son, 
 replete with a tender charms 
 
 Associated with Mr. Emerson and my father in very 
 early childhood there was a third little boy, Sam Brad- 
 ford by name. Long years afterward it happened that 
 two of the comrades in this triple friendship, simultane- 
 ously begged the third, Mr. Emerson, to pay them a visit ; 
 whereupon Mr. Emerson wrote to Sam Bradford' that 
 William Furness and himself < were first acquainted at 
 Mrs. Whitwell's School, — aged 4^5, — &you & I 
 never until 3 or 6 ; so he plainly has the oldest claim,' 
 and then he added * I believe all three of us have agreed 
 not to grow old, — certainly not to each other.' 
 
 In some MS Reminiscences of my father, there is the 
 following : — ' fVith R. PF. E. is associated my good 
 life-long friend, Sam Bradford (now for many years 
 past Treasurer of The Reading Railroad). I remember 
 having those two boys to spend the afternoon with me. 
 
 ' The Poem, with its Illustrations, is given in the Appendix. 
 ' SttpostfTp. 164. 
 
C X 3 
 
 JFe played on the floor in my mother's chamber. At tea 
 — my mother & we boys were the only company — I do 
 not recollect where the rest of the family were, — we had 
 cake on the table, and Sam cried : " Oh Ralph, you have 
 had two pieces ! " The circumstance is imprinted on my 
 memory by the fact that, after my guests were gone, my 
 mother reverted to it, & told me that " It was not proper 
 to remark on another's eating" — I have often thought 
 that ever since R. JV. E. has always had two pieces — 
 double — not indeed of cake or bread, tho' I believe he 
 has always had abundance of those, but of that richer 
 food which has strengthened him to feed us all.' 
 
 * Sam ' was the son of Sheriff Bradford, of Boston, 
 whose official cocked hat and profusion of gold lace cre- 
 ated awe and fear in my father's young breast. Under 
 the gold lace there beat, however, a gentle and generous 
 heart. For several years after the death of Mr. Emerson's 
 father, when the widow and her children were strug- 
 gling with dire poverty, there came every three months, 
 from an unknown hand, the gift often dollars ; equiva- 
 lent at present to five times as much, I suppose, in pur- 
 chasing power. In a letter ' to his brother fVilliam, after 
 Sheriff Bradford' s death, when Ralph was sixteen years 
 old, the latter says : — * The quarterly ten-dollar present 
 from the "unknown friend" has been discontinued two 
 quarters, which confirms mother's suspicion of Sheriff 
 ' See Cabot, Memoir, Vol. i, p. 51. 
 
Bradford's being the source.' It is pleasant to know that 
 there was this unseen and unknown bond linking in 
 friendship little Sam and little Ralph. 
 
 In May, 1875, Mr. Emerson was in Philadelphia, 
 and the happy thought was started of having him, and 
 Mr. Sam Bradford, and my father, ' The Three Boys,' 
 . photographed in a group. It was taken in more than one 
 pose; one of these has been published, I believe. But the 
 first pose, which was discarded, is to me, in one regard, 
 far and away the best, in that it is eminently character- 
 istic both of Mr. Emerson, and of my father, who was, 
 at the photographic instant, so lost in gazing with admir- 
 ation at his friend, that he utterly forgot himself and, in 
 resting his face in his hand, quite hid his own features. 
 This gaze Mr. Emerson returned and unconsciously re- 
 sponded to it ; his 'face is as a book wherein one may 
 read ' his lifelong love for my father from childhood on- 
 wards. In no other portrait of Mr. Emerson that I have 
 ever seen has his benignant and exquisitely sweet and 
 characteristic smile been so happily caught. My father had 
 a photographic enlargement made of the head alone of 
 Mr. Emerson. It hung until his death in his study, and he 
 never varied the assertion that it is the best ever taken ; in 
 it he could distinctly and vividly trace the features and the 
 expression of the little boy in petticoats, with whom he 
 played with wooden blocks on thefloorofhis mother's room. 
 
c xii :i 
 
 Twice the position of the three sitters was changed hy 
 the photographer. But with what disastrous results ! 
 Three respectable, elderly gentlemen more self-conscious 
 it would he hard to match ! One of these changes is also 
 here reproduced. 
 
 There is one topic which, during several years, forms 
 the subject of some of the following letters, and needs, 
 perhaps, a few words of explanation. 
 
 In 1843 there was published by Carey & Hart of this 
 city, an Annual, called The Gift. Annuals such as 
 Heath's Book of Beauty, The Souvenir, The Keep- 
 sake, etc. abounded at that time, at home and abroad, hut 
 The Gift assumed a position loftier and more patriotic 
 than that of all others published in this country. ' The 
 present volume of The Gift is,' say the publishers in their 
 preliminary Advertisement, * in every respect an Ameri- 
 can work. The contributions are by American authors, 
 — the illustrations by American artists.' 
 
 Among the names of the contributors appear Mrs. C. 
 M. Kirkland, Charles West Thompson, Mrs. Sigoumey, 
 W. G. Simms, and Edgar A. Toe, who contributed 
 * The Pit and the Pendulum.' Paintings by D. Hunt- 
 ington, Inman, Malbone, Sully and others, were finely 
 engraved by John Cheney and J. I. Pease. Among * An- 
 nuals,' fashionable at that time in America, it was easily 
 the first. To this day, the engravings cannot be over- 
 
[ xiii ] 
 
 looked in any history of the art in America, and Foe's 
 story is of enduring interest. 
 
 The leading spirit and the forming hand in its pub- 
 lication was Mr. Edward L. Carey, a young man of 
 culture and refinement, whose frail health confined him 
 to his home, where he surrounded himself with choice 
 works of art by native and British artists in painting and 
 sculpture. He gave timely and generous encouragement 
 to all young artists in whom he discerned capabilities of 
 eminent promise. It was, I believe, from him that such 
 artists as Huntington, Mount, and Leutze received their 
 early recognition. It was through his irfluence and 
 greatly through his means that Leutze was sent to study 
 art in Dusseldorf. 
 
 My father was a warm personal friend of Mr. Carey, 
 by whom he was consulted on sundry matters of detail in 
 the literary 'make up' of this edition of The Gift. In the 
 preparation of the edition for 1844, however, my father 
 took a more active interest, and, in the subsequent issues, 
 and when The Gift was merged in The Diadem, he be- 
 came, wholly as a labour of love, the chief editor. Then 
 it was that he turned at once to his old friend, Mr. Emer- 
 son, as their correspondence shows, and with what suc- 
 cess is evinced by ' The Poet's Apology,' 'Loss and Gain,' 
 'A Fable,' ' The World Soul,' and others, which ap- 
 peared in these Annuals ; I believe for the first time. 
 
 Mr. Carey died in 1 845, after the material had been 
 
[ xiv ] 
 
 gathered and arranged for The Diadem for 1 846. 
 There was one other issue of it in 1847. But, deprived 
 of Mr. Carey's fostering and liberal hand, this issue was, 
 I believe, the last. 
 
 A list of Mr. Emerson's contributions, in prose and 
 verse, to The Gift and The Diadem, will be found in 
 the Appendix. 
 
 In my father's copy of Mr. Cabot's Memoir, I find, 
 in my sister's handwriting, the following words by my 
 father. They were evidently uttered in compliance with 
 a request from her. I cannot but believe that they will be 
 here as reverently read as they were lovingly and rever- 
 ently spoken : — 
 
 ' I have little to say of our sainted friend that has not 
 been said better by Mr. Cabot & others — / cannot re- 
 ■ member when he was not given to letters, any more than 
 I can recollect when I first knew him. We learned our 
 A. B.C. together. I have only one reminiscence of his en- 
 joying a boy' splay, &that was on thefoorqfmy mother's 
 chamber in our old house in Federal Street, where I was 
 born. 
 
 - We went to the Public Latin School together. The 
 morning session of the school closed at XI. o'clock. He & 
 I went together for an hour to a private school kept from 
 XL to XII. by Master Webb in one of the other schools. 
 We went solely to learn to write and to cypher — The 
 
[ XV ] 
 
 schoolhouse was large, the private pupils few. We two 
 hoys were allowed to sit apart from the other hoys, where 
 we pleased; we always sat together, Ralph and I — he 
 was hetween 9 and lo years of age — / was eleven. He 
 used to write verses ahout our naval hattles, such as the 
 fight hetween " The Constitution " and " The Guerrier" 
 — to my great admiration, which he repaid hy admiring 
 my drawings — / was somewhat famous as an artist in 
 those days. The Boston Huzzars, who at that time 
 adopted a magnificent uniform, furnished superh subjects 
 for my slate-pencil. fVhen, much later in life, we were 
 separated and I received his first letter, I recollect I was 
 struck with the flowing ease of his handwriting, remem^ 
 hering how at Mr. fFehh's school he labored over his copy- 
 hook, with his tongue out of his mouth, and working up 
 and down with the strokes of his pen — I remember too, 
 how he sneered at me, because I gave one of my drawings 
 to another hoy in exchange for one hy him, which repre- 
 sented merely a building; he was given to architectural 
 art, and depicted edifices with most imposing colonnades. 
 Ralph had genius in abundance, but no talent. I never 
 knew him attempt to draw anything, not even the con- 
 ventional cat with the triangular face, which almost any 
 boy or girl could do and does do. 
 
 * Miss Ellen Emerson said to me on the day of her 
 father's funeral, that her mother had not been terrified, 
 as she herself had been, at the prospect, had his life been 
 
prolonged. The failure of his memory was so great, that, 
 had he lingered longer, he might, as is not seldom the 
 case, have failed to recognise his own children. Had he 
 lived and been reduced to this condition, I believe that 
 Sam Bradford and I, associated as we were with his 
 earliest years, would have been the last he would have 
 failed to remember. 
 
 « / cannot analyse his character, and tell you what 
 manner of person he was. One trait was very conspicu- 
 ous, the perfect serenity of his temper to all who had any 
 acquaintance with him. He had the closest ccffinity with 
 all that is good and true. I asked him once, as we were 
 walking together here, in Philadelphia, if he did not see 
 something good in the physiognomy of the people he met 
 in the streets, ' O yes,' he exclaimed, 'the angel Gabriel 
 is ever coming round the corner.' It was this disposition 
 that led him to magnify everyone who said anything that 
 struck him and into which he himself probably put a sig- 
 nificance that the speaker had no thought of. Many of his 
 geese were swans. 
 
 ' But, I repeat, I have neither the wish nor the ability 
 to dissect my friend, and show how exquisite was his or- 
 ganization. As Wordsworth says, in his Essay on Epi- 
 taphs, we do not willingly analyse the characters of those 
 we love and revere, the light of love in our hearts is suf- 
 ficient evidence of a body of worth in our friends, from 
 which that love and reverence have proceeded. 
 
[ xvii ] 
 
 ' My own obligations to my life-long friend are beyond 
 telling. Ton know how deeply and how long I have been 
 trying to ascertain the simple historical truth concerning 
 Him, whom I have learned to consider the greatest by far 
 of all our teachers. Emerson has said things here and 
 there, that have flashed light as from Heaven upon the 
 pages of the JVew Testament as I have read them. 
 
 'W. H. F. 
 
 'March^i 888- 
 
 In reprinting the ensuing letters, the only liberty 
 which has been taken, is to supply in brackets a word ac- 
 cidentally omitted in the MS, and this is done not as a 
 proof of the Editor^ s superior intelligence, but by way 
 of assurance to the reader that the MS has been faith- 
 fully followed. Lack of punctuation or of quotation 
 marks, abbreviations, or even mis-spellings, it is, I think, 
 no part of an editor to correct. They are evidences of haste 
 or of character, or of familiarity, and, as such, should be 
 preserved. Certainly any intelligent reader is quite as 
 competent as an editor to correct or supply them. 
 
 H. H. F. 
 September, 1910. 
 
LETTERS 
 
Concord, 24 October, 1837. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I heartily thank you for your kindest letter & 
 affectionate overestimate after your wont, of an old 
 friend; I plead guilty to ingratitude so irresistibly 
 brought home to me by your malicious recollection 
 of sacred truth whose triumph ceased awhile. Our 
 being is still unique — Childhood & manhood are 
 not two things but one so long as we know that 
 somewhere lives a good friend who is witness to the 
 whole thing. So neither you nor Sam Bradford nor 
 I are like to deny ourselves. And for you, I almost 
 grudge now tp break the silence we have kept which 
 had its own charm inasmuch as the good understand- 
 ing was perfect. 
 
 Who can help loving Lamb of whom you speak so 
 warmly, and who that loves felicity of speech but must 
 account him the master of it in this age. And yet I do 
 not read him again. Hedge calls me too utilitarian. I 
 crave bread and beauty of all my books, and Lamb 
 who is the Benvenuto Cellini of writers adds nothing 
 to my stock with all his erichasing. Yet I certainly 
 
 si 
 
C 2 3 
 
 read that letter in Moxon's Recollections of Cole- 
 ridge about pig with unmixed glee. 
 
 Carlyle sent me out sometime since a copy of his 
 History. I dully plotted how to get some twenty 
 copies over, that he might be benefitted, but two 
 days ago somebody [^saidj you might have made 
 $500 for the man out of Sartor. So today I went 
 to Boston to see the booksellers & have told them 
 maugre James Munroe's Proposals that I am going 
 to pubhsh this book for the Author's benefit & they 
 may offer me the best terms they will. Tomorrow 
 Hilliard & Gray will give me an estimate. We think 
 of a cheap book, two vols, about the size of Sartor to 
 contain the three. It is itself an admirable work — 
 very interesting narrative, every character sharply 
 drawn, though sometimes you may doubt whether a 
 character is historically true, but the story is as true 
 as sagacity research & sifting could make it. So you 
 must bid all good men & libraries buy the book as 
 Teufelsdroek is to have every dollar we can make. 
 
 Did you ever meet a young man who keeps school 
 in Philadelphia Benjamin P. Hunt. When a boy at 
 school to me in Chelmsford here he was a philosopher 
 whose conversation made all the social comfort I had. 
 He went to Cambridge but quitted College in some 
 disgust & has been at P. ever since. He was here 
 last summer & I thought the people he lived with 
 
C s 2 
 
 had done him no good, but meeting Alcott at my 
 house he seemed suddenly to reverence the dreams 
 of his youth. If you should meet him, do salute the 
 Good Angel in him. 
 
 I shall always love you for loving Alcott. He is 
 a great man : the god with the herdmen of Admetus. 
 I cannot think you know him now, when I remem- 
 ber how long he has been here ; for he grows every 
 month. His conversation is sublime. Yet when I see 
 how he is underestimated by cultivated people I 
 fancy none but I has heard him talk. 
 
 Will you not come hither next summer? If so, do 
 come & spend a day with me. My wife reads you & 
 venerates you — then I brag that I went to school 
 with him to Miss Nancy Dicksofi and spelt out the 
 House that Jack built, on his red handkerchief. 
 
 With my regards to Mrs. Furness & my love, 
 when you see him, to Sam Bradford, I am 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
II 
 
 Concord, 29 December, 1837. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Messrs. Little & Brown ask me what they shall 
 do with the copies of Carlyle for the subscribers you 
 have so kindly procured at Philadelphia; and they 
 inform me in reply to their own question that the best 
 way to save expense in their distribution is to address 
 them in a package to you & beg you to engage one 
 of those persons who run for booksellers to carry them 
 round to the subscribers & receive the price. This 
 they tell me is a regular business, is paid by a small 
 fee & that your bookseller can designate for you a 
 person without giving you any inconvenience. On this 
 representation I ventured to direct them to send the 
 books to you. If they are wrong & this course in- 
 volves trouble to you, you will of course commit them 
 directly to a bookseller & I will pay his commissions 
 for distributing them. You perceive that what makes 
 us bold to put the Ways & Means on you is to keep 
 for Teufelsdroek as much as we can of the half dollar 
 which he saves of booksellers commission by the sub- 
 scription. — Have I told you the bargain we drive ? 
 
The cost of a copy $1.12 or near it, the booksellers 
 commission 20 per cent on retail price 2.50 = 50 
 cents the copy. Therefore if all sell, Carlyle shall 
 have 1.37 on every subscribed copy & 87 cents on 
 every one sold otherwise. 
 
 My unskilfulness has made a long story of a simple 
 fact & I throw myself on your kind construction in 
 regard to the whole matter. I am wading — some- 
 times overhead — in the most ambitious Course of 
 Lectures — a little precipitately undertaken — once 
 a week a new subject, & each subject the Universe 
 seen from one side ; so that the Lecturers task seems 
 to me nothing less than Puck's " I will put a girdle 
 round about the world in forty minutes" — say sixty 
 rather. And my health being slender I can scarce 
 remember out of the creative hubbub in the brain 
 whether ever I thanked you for your subscription 
 list & the love it manifested. I hope the Scottish man 
 [^Carlyle]] will come & heartily thank you himself 
 one day. Meantime I am quite sure you will like 
 the book & owe it happy hours. Affectionately 
 Your old friend 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson 
 
Ill 
 
 Concord, 20 September 1838 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have already delayed too long to answer your 
 kindest letter thinking I would wait for my promised 
 book ' (which, no doubt, is in Boston for me, where I 
 have not been for a fortnight) but I will wait no longer. 
 It is the pleasure of your affection & nobleness to ex- 
 aggerate always the merits of your friends — I know 
 the trait of old from Mr. Webb's school onward, and 
 so I delight now as much as then in the smiles & com- 
 mendations of my Maecenas. But how can you keep 
 so good a nature from boy to man. Nobody but you 
 & my brother Edward would praise the verses to the 
 immortal Hull ! nor could be induced, though I read 
 them never so often. And now the case is scarcely 
 altered ; everybody thinks my things shocking, but 
 you and a few generous hearts who must be to me 
 for Edward. I love to know you are there. Every 
 word that comes or ever came to me from you or of 
 you is good (excepting for the last year tidings of ill 
 
 ^ Jesus and his Biographers. By W. H. Fumess, Philadelphia, 
 1838. 
 
i: 7 3 
 
 health) and every year is adding the riches of high 
 accomplishments to your image. It would please me 
 better if once in a year I could shake hands with you, 
 & by and by, — for old friends are becoming rare with 
 me, — I think we may both be willing to go some 
 miles to meet. Now we can both work for some time 
 longer, in the good faith that we work to the same 
 end, & each with the allowance & love of his friend. 
 
 I am very glad the book is out, & on its way to me. 
 I should have soon seen it for the satisfaction of my 
 own curiosity. Its elder brother ' I liked very much. 
 It has the philosophical point of view to which all men 
 must come, & it reverences man on every page. I 
 thought it the very bridge which men want to carry 
 them with whole feet from the popular theology to 
 the philosopher's closet. And I doubt not a benefit ac- 
 crues to society from so good a book more than you 
 can know. That it gives some offence is a good sign. 
 
 If you do not come here, how shall I show you 
 Carlyle's letters ? If I knew any trustiest hand of man 
 going straight to your door, I think I should send you 
 a bundle to read. How do you like John Sterling's 
 poem 'The Sexton's Daughter' in Blackwood for 
 July ? Do you read Tennyson ? a beautiful half of a 
 poet. There is a young man at Cambridge, a Tutor, 
 
 ^ Remarks on The Four Gospels, By W, H, Fumess, Philadel- 
 phia, 1836. 
 
c: 8 3 
 
 Jones Very, who 'has written a noble paper (MS) on 
 Shakspeare, which I have just been reading. Yet I am 
 distressed to hear that he is feared to be insane. His 
 critique certainly is not. What new books or new old 
 ones ? I have just read two with great satisfaction, 
 Heeren's Egypt, & the Historical part of Goethe's 
 Farbenlehre. 
 
 When you see Samuel Bradford, give my love to 
 him. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 S. X. after whom you inquire, is said to be Theo- 
 philus Parsons. 
 
IV 
 
 Concord, 13 April, 1840. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Your kind letter with Samuel Bradford's ap- 
 pendix was forwarded to me by my brother from 
 New York last week and should have had an earlier 
 acknowledgment. I was very happy to receive it, 
 though it came to me too late to profit by, as I was 
 already for some days quietly at home again. But 
 your handwriting has always to me the friendliest 
 Parnassian look — how much more grateful when it 
 conveys your old affection & the added good will of 
 your friend, Mrs. Morrison. But I fancy myself now 
 to be seated in good earnest to set in some order my 
 accumulating manuscripts to burn some to blot revise 
 enlarge redact others & see if I cannot get by such 
 exhaustive process the value of the mass. I tried the 
 same work last summer for a time, but did not get 
 far. Perhaps, by resolution, & the favor of the Muse, 
 & refusing all invitations to Philadelphia, I may get, 
 by the autumn to the extent of a volume of Essays, 
 perhaps two. 
 
 There seem to me so few ready to speak what 
 
multitudes are plainly waiting to hear, & wondering 
 that they do not hear, that I feel at times a certain 
 urgency to write some deliberate words on the great 
 questions which we all silently revolve. Wherever I 
 go I meet many persons who if you will address them 
 as human beings and not as camp-followers or appen- 
 dages to this Grand Caravan of Society will eagerly 
 own the salute as an honor & a great obligation. Then 
 I think I will never speak another syllable supposing 
 this wearisome mountainous folly of the Church & 
 the State, but will abohsh them from my thought 
 & begin the world anew with every word and speak 
 as a rational man to a rational man. But such resolu- 
 tions are hard to keep. Yet I do not quite despair. — I 
 would gladly have gone to Phila. on some accounts. 
 It is high time that you & I should meet & compare 
 notes' & bring up our accounts of thought & experi- 
 ence now of long standing to the present time. I was 
 greatly disappointed at not seeing you in Boston 
 when you were last there, & never knew what pre- 
 vented the meeting on which I so much depended. 
 Do not baulk me again when you come northward. 
 
 You ask of the Carlyle books. He has received thus 
 far in money only the profits of the French Revolution 
 from us, say $740.00 and is yet to receive on that 
 acct. a small balance say $40,00 more, for to this day 
 our accounts in this country for that book are not quite 
 
I 11 ] 
 
 settled. He has besides received from us 360 copies 
 of the Four Vols, of the Miscellanies costing us some- 
 thingmore than $ 1 000.00 but worth to him, we hope, 
 more than twice that sum as they sell the book in Lon- 
 don at more than double our price. This outfit went 
 as the profits of the Vols. 1 & 2 of the Miscellanies: 
 Our Vols. 3 & 4 is still in great part unsold & on that 
 score Carlyle Qs^ in debt to us for almost the whole 
 expense of the edition. Then we have published a sec- 
 ond edition of 500 copies of the Vols. 1 & 2, which 
 brings him in debt still more & lastly he sent out in 
 the winter 500 copies of his London Edit " Fr. Rev." 
 of which the duties at our Custom House were con- 
 siderable whilst our bookseller yet for two months 
 speaks no word of returns. In this way Carlyle is at 
 this moment on our debit side for a considerable sum, 
 but in a way of pa3dng us & reaping a good reward 
 himself. He is assured of a profit of $1000. from the 
 two first vols, of Miscellanies ; of about the same from 
 the Vols 3 & 4 if the whole shall be sold, & $500. 
 from his London Edit, of the History when that is gone 
 in Boston. I vdsh I could tell you a better story — and 
 this is only based on the bookseller's statement in Jan- 
 uary, & he is now preparing a new face for April. I 
 have just put " Chartism " to press, and do depend on 
 sending you a copy of the same in a week or two ; so 
 do not buy an English copy. 
 
C 12 1 
 
 I wrote Jine on the other page in order to leave 
 room on this to write a note to Saml Bradford but 
 there is none. So do you give him my loving thanks 
 for his kind invitation and say that it would give me 
 great satisfaction to see him in his home — so would it 
 to see him in mine. I acknowledge also Mrs Morri- 
 son's kindness. Tell her that Mr Alcott is here in 
 Concord renting a Cottage & acre of land on which 
 he stoutly intends to raise his own bread this summer 
 by the help of God & his own spade. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
Phila: April 27, '40. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I was sorry to give up the hope of seeing you, 
 but jnr very welcome letter is some compensation, & 
 I cannot find it hard to excuse you for denying us 
 your bodily presence when you are making prepara- 
 tion to come nigh to all men with your thoughts. Pray 
 let this summer be more successful than the last & 
 produce two good vols, of Essays. I long to tell you, 
 but I cannot, how much you move me, & how my 
 spirit is stirred within me at the frivolous criticisms I 
 hear & see passed upon your sayings. I ought not to 
 wonder as I do that they are not noticed by you or 
 some of us your friends. They do not deserve notice, 
 & yet the answer is so ready that one can hardly 
 resist the temptation to speak. Can it be that the 
 Apocrypha is so little read that the world is ignorant 
 whence your Storax, so offensive to some nostrils, 
 came? Yr refusal to administer the Lord's Supper 
 years ago, & your late omission of public prayer are 
 both spoken of with an irrecognition of the existence 
 of Quakers which is too ridiculous. — Every day I live 
 
C 14 2 
 
 I am more & more impressed with the philosophical 
 correctness of the phraseology of the New Test., 
 especially those expressions *it is given' *it is not 
 given.' People understand much or little as God wills, 
 & they need grace more than brains. You say things 
 which I do not take; but then I rest assured that they 
 have a meaning & that, when, through a kind provi- 
 dence, I come to understand it, I shall confess that it 
 is true & that it could not be better expressed. As I 
 am rambling on now under an impulse, I must say 
 one word more about that Storax. It is a mere matter 
 of taste at the worst (or best, which is it.?) and be- 
 tween our wise men & the author of Eccl. It brings 
 up a College reminiscence. Brazer, who, as you re- 
 member was our Latin tutor gave us once a passage 
 from Millot's Elements to turn into Latin. My class- 
 mate Person was the only one anlong us who recol- 
 lected that the very passage (Alexander at the tent 
 of Achilles) was to be found in one of Cicero's Ora- 
 tions, already done to hand. He forbore however to 
 transcribe Cicero & contented himself with stealing 
 only one word praeco if I remember aright. Now 
 it chanced that our tutor, while he commended Per- 
 son's translation, took exception to this one word as 
 improper. His pupil quietly appealed to the Roman 
 orator & the tutor got out of the scrape with the 
 remark, "Oh! it is a mere matter of taste." Just 
 
i: 15 3 
 
 think of it! A college tutor discussing such a point 
 with M. T. C. ! 
 
 In your desire or rather your determination to 
 throw off this mighty mass of prescription, whose 
 crushing weight, like that of the atmosphere, is un- 
 felt only by those who are themselves full of common 
 air, who does not, more or less deeply, sympathise? 
 O for George Fox's suit of leather! And yet why 
 abolish from your mind, what the mind by its magic 
 may alter & reform ? It was wise advice which you 
 gave the Divinity School, not to overthrow but re- 
 vivify existing institutions. Pray did you reck your 
 own rede (I ask for information) when you ceased 
 from the Communion Service? The commemora- 
 tion of the great — of the greatest seems to my ap- 
 prehension founded immutably in nature. As a public 
 benefactor, as the Guide & Deliverer of the world 
 he is commemorated by numberless public institu- 
 tions inscribed with his name & testifying to his in- 
 fluence. But may he not be commemorated as a 
 personal friend? Are we not moved to commune 
 with his memory, as the memory of one for whom 
 we may cherish the deepest personal reverence? You 
 gratified me by the good opinion you expressed of 
 that humble labour of mine to elucidate the Gospels. 
 It was & still is a pet & hobby. But I do not know 
 whether you accord with me in my love of those won- 
 
c: 16 3 
 
 drous & enlightening facts of the life of Christ, To 
 nie they reveal much, much that is called speculation. 
 If nothing but speculation, still it is not without inter- 
 est. I learn, for instance, or think I do, something of 
 this sort from the resurrection of Christ, — that a 
 man who dies with a great idea or purpose at heart, 
 is, by that idea, raised again. That it is which wakens 
 him again, & by which he recollects himself & the 
 future is joined to the past. Men who die with no 
 living thought, come to life again, sooner or later 
 through a kind providence, but when they come to 
 themselves, seeing that they have no living self. 
 Heaven only knows. They have nothing to remem- 
 ber themselves by. Why should not the works of 
 Jesus be introduced within the circle of natural facts, 
 instead of being excluded as anomalies ? Do they not 
 help us as no other facts do to enlarge our view of 
 Nature ? Do they not bear witness to spiritual forces ? 
 — But I will interrupt you no longer. Take this as 
 a passing chat, and if you are moved to write me a 
 line now and then, quench not the spirit. Goodbye — 
 friendly remembrances to all. 
 
 Yr friend 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 How we sneered & cavilled at a theme proposed 
 to us once in college by S. Oilman " Greatness the 
 
c 17 n 
 
 wise man's fetter." Methinks you must know how to 
 treat it, seeing that you are called to bear a pretty 
 large burthen of that street talk & reviewing which 
 the world calls fame. 
 
VI 
 
 Concord, ll March, 1843. 
 
 My dear Furness, 
 
 I grieve to write on this sheet the number of 
 the day of the month, which, as I remember, was the 
 latest day allowed in the liberty of contribution to 
 Mr. Carey's « Gift," and yet not to send you the Con- 
 tribution. When I left you, I confided in being lodged 
 safely in my library some weeks earlier, and now I 
 am just arrived at home, and New York has given 
 me no space in which my little Parnassus could rear 
 its leisurely head. 
 
 Now I have come to my broad accumulations of 
 written paper, and will venture to promise to send you 
 a few pages of prose or verse as soon as the aoth in- 
 stant if Mr. Carey's volume is not complete. If it 
 should be, I shall yet get something detached & in 
 some sort finished, which, I will hope, shall answer 
 somebody's purpose and shall at least testify my good 
 will to a work which interests you, & my pleasant 
 remembrance of your friend's beautiful chambers. 
 
 I did not find in Channings' MS. at New York such 
 a copy of verses as I wished to send you ; but I have 
 
i 19 : 
 
 found the poet himself here at my house, & he says 
 he will send me some good verses, if he can, in a few 
 days. I go to Boston on Monday where I have not yet 
 been, & thence shall go to you the last of the Dials, 
 for the book draws nigh to its end, as I think. With 
 affectionate recollections and joyful respect, I am 
 
 Your old friend 
 
 Waldo Emerson 
 
VII 
 
 Concord, 19 March, 1843. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 After some rather violent endeavors to pro- 
 duce you a Poem, this modest piece of old prose has 
 been extorted from a pile of yellowing paper : and if it 
 is not adapted to Mr. Carey's purposes, he may bum 
 it without a second thought. But I send with it two or 
 three of Wm. EUery Channing's little poems, some 
 one of which I should be heartily glad to know suited 
 Mr. Carey's design. Unhappily they are not his best 
 pieces, but the best have either been printed already 
 in the Dial, or because of their place in a little volume 
 which we are going to print of his poetry, were not 
 available. But as Channing is poor, & especially poor 
 in what is called success, I shall be glad if he can have 
 the comfort of a place in your friend's fine book. He 
 is a man of real genius though with great inequalities. 
 If these pieces are accepted and any remuneration is 
 proposed, which, I understood you, was offered, will 
 you let the prose & the verse be considered as one 
 contribution, & the fee forwarded to Mr. Channing 
 without notice to him of any other. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
1 21 ] 
 
 I believe you must let me know, in case you do 
 not print all the verses, which you select, and those 
 shall be withdrawn from the volume we print. Pos- 
 sibly Channing may send you new poetry, for I have 
 waited in vain for it for this pacquet. 
 
VIII 
 
 Phila. April 20, 43. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 / also rejoiced in heart to find that you consid- 
 ered Mr. Carey's fee generous. He is a princely fel- 
 low & submits silently to most exorbitant demands 
 on the part of the contributors to the Gift, & is espe- 
 cially content when the price wh. he sets satisfies. I 
 doubt whether any book made in these days is more 
 purely the offspring of a love of Art than the Gift. 
 
 Mr. C. returned me 'The Warning' & 'An Arab- 
 ian Song.' The other pieces he kept, 'Soldiers Graves ' 
 'Restlessness ' 'The Italian Painter's Song,' & an- 
 other piece, I forget. — 
 
 I translated one of Zschocke's stories the other 
 day, partly as an exercise in German. It is ' Leaves 
 from the Journal of a poor Vicar in Wiltshire ' & pro- 
 fesses to be translated from the English of Goldsmith. 
 It is to be sure the Vicar of Wakefield in different 
 circumstances, but if it is an original English story, 
 I don't understand how it has been let die in our 
 mother tongue. I gave it to Mr. Carey to read, & he 
 cried over it, & proposes to put it into the Gift, even 
 
C 23 ;] 
 
 if it should turn out English revived. So I shall be 
 happy to appear a joint contributor with you & other 
 worthies of the Gift. 
 
 I read yr * Europe & European books,' with satis- 
 faction & was pleased to recognise it. What think you 
 of that young man Whipple, yvho, I hear is in an Ex- 
 change Office in Boston, & who wrote that notice of 
 Macaulay in the Boston Miscellany ? Is n't he prom- 
 ising? 
 
 With a thousand good wishes 
 
 heartily yrs, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
IX 
 
 Concord 12 Feb^ 1844 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I am very sorry that you should have to ask 
 twice for anything which it seems so easy .that I 
 should supply. But I have just looked through in 
 memory all my known repositories of prose & nu- 
 merous verses, to uncover something that should be 
 fit for Mr. Carey's elegant book, but without a clear 
 & satisfactory result. 
 
 Here, however, are some verses from my friend 
 Channing, — new virgin poems. If you like his poetry 
 only half as well as I do, you will think me honour- 
 ably represented by such a proxy, but I do not mean 
 to decline a personal appearance in such good com- 
 pany, & so challenged ; and if you will give me as long 
 a day as last year, namely, to 15 March, (I think it 
 was), I will send you some prose or verse, the best I 
 can by that day. The bargain shall be the same as last 
 year, that whatever fee Mr. Carey judges suitable 
 to Channing's and mine united, shall be forwarded to 
 Channing, as the price of his alone. I long to see you 
 in New England, and am 
 
 Your affectionate old friend, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 Yes, print anything from the Dial you will. 
 
Phila:Feb. 15, 1844. 
 My dear friend. 
 
 You are caught beyond the possibility of escape — 
 Mr. Carey adopts Timothy Dexter's ' method. No 
 warming pans, however well they may serve for mo- 
 lasses ladles, shall a soul have, unless a pair of skates 
 be taken in the bargain. Mr. Channing's verses de- 
 pend for admission into the Gift & for the conse- 
 quent pay, upon an article, prose or poetry, from you. 
 Take your own time (the 1 5th of March ) but do pray 
 be inspired & sing us a song. Pray don't think I would 
 wheedle you out of a contribution, for I am bursting 
 to tell you that though we have many that are called 
 poets, — the politeness of the world is great, — yet 
 you are my American Poet. In this opinion I only 
 
 ^ An eccentric character, half knave and half fool, who amassed a 
 large fortune after the close of the Revolutionary War, — an incar- 
 nation of Midas, whatever he touched turned to gold. As a practical 
 joke, it is said, he was induced to send to Jamaica a solid cargo of 
 warming pans and skates. It turned out that the warming pans could 
 be converted into most convenient and expeditious skimmers for the 
 vats of boiling sugar, and became at once in extraordinary demand at 
 a large profit, but no one was permitted to purchase one unless with it 
 he also bought a pair of skates. The venture proved to be extremely 
 profitable. — Ed. 
 
i 26 2 
 
 return to my first love — to the time when the Con- 
 stitution frigate found her Homer in Mr. Webb's 
 writing school. How I wish I could repay you in kind 
 your kindling influence, but I can give you nothing 
 but my most affectionate homage. I have tried hard 
 to like Channing's poetry half as well as you do. In 
 this piece which you send me occurs aline about which 
 I have got sadly perplexed or it is all wrong. 
 
 ' ' Hopeless to see no future joy, no more ' ' 
 
 How is this ? Do tell me. Hopeless of seeing any 
 future joy — is that the meaning? And if it is, where 's 
 the English ? And how is it with the 'no more ' I Again 
 
 "For by the cottage fire most happy hours, 
 After the day's stern toil, dear evening come " 
 
 What is to be done with the ' dear evening ? ' After 
 all I recognise a poetic vein in Channing. He is plainly 
 distinguishable from the herd of imitators & me- 
 chanics. There [^are^ 4 or 5 lines of his, entitled 
 "Soldiers Graves" in the last Gift I like & partly 
 stopped a friend's mouth with them when she was 
 ridiculing your poet. Have you seen any of Anna 
 Lynch's lines? You will find some verses of hers 
 « The Ideal " in a late number of the Democratic Re- 
 view. She is a very interesting person & very musical 
 in her verses. I hope to induce Mr. Carey to put into 
 
c: 27 2 
 
 the Gift a Journal of hers some 5 & 20 pages which 
 I admire greatly — I have undertaken to edit an An- 
 nual for Mr. C. but I wish to be very anonymous, so 
 please don't tell. I shall make it up with things old & 
 new — Miss Osgood promises me some translations. 
 If any fine old things occur to you, let me know, do. 
 I find in the matter of jokes that many of Joe Miller's 
 are new to this generation which kiiows not Joseph. 
 It is the same, I take it, with poetry — I find in an old 
 commonplace book George Herbert's lines "Sweet 
 Rose, whose hue angry & brave " in your handwrit- 
 ing — I shall put these in. I shall not go to the Dial; 
 for the lines, which I had in my mind, Mr, Griswold 
 tells me, he has published in some book of 5 or 6000 
 copies so spoilt them for my purposes. — Here are 
 some verses which Miss Osgood & I concocted to- 
 gether, translated from the German — It is only once 
 in an age that I attempt a rhyme. If they please your 
 ear, please me by letting me know it, & throw them 
 into the fire. They are to go into next year's Gift & 
 are no longer mine — They are very literal 
 
 TO COLUMBUS DYING. 
 
 Soon with thee will all be over, 
 Soon the voyage will be begun, 
 That shall bear thee to discover 
 Far away a land unknown. 
 
Land, that each alone must visit 
 But no tidings bring to men, 
 For no sailor, once departed 
 Ever hath return'd again. 
 
 No carv'd wood, no broken branches 
 Come drifting o'er the billows wild. 
 He, who on that ocean launches, 
 Meets no corse of angel-child. 
 
 All is mystery before thee. 
 But in peace & love & faith 
 And with hope attended, sails't thou 
 Off upon the ship of Death. 
 
 Undismayed, my noble sailor. 
 Spread then, spread thy canvas wide, 
 Spirit ! on a sea of Ether 
 Soon shalt thou serenely ride. 
 
 Where the deeps no plummet soundeth, 
 Fear no hidden breakers there. 
 And the fanning wings of angels 
 Shall thy bark right onward bear. 
 
 Quit now, full of heart & comfort. 
 These Azores — they are of Earth, 
 Where the rosy clouds are parting 
 There the blessed Isles loom forth 
 
C 29 3 
 
 Seest thou now thy San Salvador ? 
 Him, thy Saviour, thou shalt hail 
 When no storms of Earth shall reach thee 
 Where thy hope shall no more fail. 
 
 There! Isn't it pretty? Remember the nth of 
 
 March. 
 
 Ever yours 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XI 
 
 Concord 12 March 1844 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 It is really very droll that I who am only an 
 amateur poet should be preferred in your councils 
 as sponsor and godfather of one who is interiorly & 
 legitimately a poet. Channing has the true fire 
 dimmed by some obvious defects in his intellectual 
 character; the soul & the temperament of a Poet, 
 though these do not extend utterly to the uttermost 
 papillse of the fingers' end, so as to give quite that 
 precision & finish which the art demands. And in re- 
 spect to me I can easily understand how the abound- 
 ing love in the old schoolmate's heart exalts the long 
 accustomed jingler with a talent for veneers & var- 
 nish into a true bard. Well, I must make much of 
 the lovers of my verse, as they are few, & I think 
 may be fewer, and so have strained a point to send 
 you what you ask for. May you not regret your 
 rashness ! . 
 
 I send you a rude dirge which was composed or 
 rather hummed by me one afternoon, years ago, as I 
 walked in the woods & on the narrow plain through 
 
I 31 2 
 
 which our Concord River flows, not far from my 
 grandfather's house, and remembered my brothers 
 Edward & Charles, to whom as to me this place was 
 in boyhood & youth all "the Country" which we 
 knew. At the time of this walk, I was thirtyfive years 
 old, and the verses began in a different metre, — 
 
 I reached the middle of the mount 
 Up which the incarnate soul must climb, 
 And paused for them & looked around 
 With me who walked through space & dme. 
 
 So it went on for a verse or two more, then the metre 
 changed into that which I send you, & a critical ear 
 will easily find varieties in that. 
 
 My sister Elizabeth Hoar, who first persuaded me 
 to print some rhymes, is fond of these verses, so I draw 
 them out of their sad recess for you. Their cadence 
 was so agreeable to me that I should have printed them 
 in the Dial perhaps, but for their personality. 
 
 I think to insert also a little piece called the 'Poet's 
 Apology,' lest this poem should look too sombre. 
 
 In regard to the obnoxious lines in Channing's poem, 
 he has furnished me with a variation for each. 
 
 1 St for [Rafter the day's stern toil, dear evening 
 come^ 
 read [[When silent frost has shut in house & 
 field.;] 
 
c 32 : 
 
 2nd /or [^Hopeless to see no future joy, no more.'^ 
 
 read [^Patient yet heartsick, waiting for the 
 
 tomb.^ 
 
 Thanks for the* brave hymn to Columbus, the San 
 
 Salvador rings nobly in my ear. Continue to be the 
 
 friend of 
 
 Your friend. 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
 I cannot decide whether to omit the fourth stanza 
 in the "Poet's Apology" : if you use it you may omit 
 or keep that verse at pleasure. I find a spare copy of 
 Channing in the house & am resolved to leave you 
 without excuse for your blindness to the best Ameri- 
 can poet, so it shall go herewith. 
 
XII 
 
 Concord, April 4, 1844. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Your letter & its order for twentyfive dollars 
 of coined money arrived safely three days ago to the 
 wonder & satisfaction of all parties. I heartily hope 
 Mr. Carey may not have occasion to rue his liberal 
 dealing with us & others. But you must win him to 
 the best opinion he can entertain of EUery's Poems 
 and I trust he will publish at least one of them, as his 
 name will accredit the " Gift " to some good North- 
 erners. I have just done with the Dial. Its last number 
 is printed; & having lived four years, which is a Pres- 
 idential term in America, it may respectably end. I 
 have continued it for some time against my own judg- 
 ment to please other people, and though it has now 
 some standing & increasing favour in England, it 
 makes a very slow gain at home, and it is for home that 
 it is designed. It is time that each of the principal con- 
 tributors to it, should write in their own names, and go 
 to their proper readers. In New England its whole 
 quadrennium will be a pretty historiette in literary 
 annals. I have been impatient to dismiss it as I am a 
 
C 34 n 
 
 very unable editor, and only lose good time in my 
 choosing & refusing & patching, that I want for more 
 grateful work. Now I shall get my new book ready 
 without delay. I have heard of a professor who when 
 the joys of life were enumerated in a thoughtful 
 company, told them they had omitted the writing of 
 a Hebrew Grammar, I dream of glad weeks to come 
 in putting together what belong together of papers 
 old & new. 
 
 I received last week a sermon from you that 
 breathed a generous air, and now this simple friendly 
 German hymn, gifts of good omen both : and I am 
 glad that so many Muses sacred & more sacred con- 
 tend for you : unless it is better that one Muse should 
 monopolize you wholly : then it will so be. I wish you 
 had told me how it sped with that stately boy of yours 
 in his foreign journey ? ' And how with his sweet sis- 
 ter at home ? Argument for a new letter which you 
 will have to write to 
 
 Your friend 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
 ^ This refers to W. H. F.'s eldest son William ; ' his sweet sister ' 
 was afterward Mrs. Caspar Wister. — Ed. 
 
XIII 
 
 Concord, 7 February, 1845 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I will do something, so help me the Muses ! 
 for the Diadem ; but a more invita Minerva than that 
 of my experience is not between the Delaware & the 
 Merrimac rivers. However I have been spirited up 
 lately from several sides to collect my verses, and in 
 all the medley or motley, something may turn up that 
 I can send, I have written to Carlyle by the Cambria, 
 reciting to him Mr. Carey's good intentions, & my 
 concurrence with the same, and that Mr. Carey comes 
 to us like a Deus ex machina, to save us in these last 
 days from all pirates. I told him of the design of the 
 picture, and urged his compliance with the request to 
 sit. I have not heard from him for two months. — 
 
 I have not sent any advertisement such as was 
 agreed, to signify Carlyle's approbation of the new 
 edition, as I suppose you may not want it yet. But I 
 will not be wanting in my part to so good a design. 
 Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
XIV 
 
 Phila.,March3l,45'. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I thank you for Carlyle's letter & for the op- 
 portunity you give me to say that I am beginning to 
 think of the Diadem, & shall be glad to receive any 
 jewels you have to send. But after all, don't be an- 
 noyed. If your pigeon holes furnish nothing in prose 
 or rhyme — if your Minerva is unwilling, do not so 
 sin against your philosophy as to try to write out of 
 mere friendship, & yet the Muses by whom you 
 swore to help me, obey Fate, & Necessity has an urn 
 of inspiration. The best things I ever did, that is, the 
 things that I have been most interested in doing, were 
 crushed out of me by my professional necessities & 
 my experience bids me kiss the rod under which I so 
 often writhe. What do you find worth listening to ? I 
 am one with Carlyle when he says that the Concord 
 voice alone instructs him. Please tell him by the way 
 that my friend Carey deserves all his good thoughts 
 of him, & that the ^50 was the offer of the man not 
 the tradesman. 
 
 With hearty salutations, 
 
 Yr friend, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
i: 37 3 
 
 Since writing the foregoing, I have seen the water- 
 colour copy of Lawrence's Carlyle — It is capital. I '11 
 be sworn it's an excellent likeness. Sartain (who is a 
 London boy ) will do his best in engraving it, & Carlyle 
 shall be satisfied. 
 
 The Miscellanies are printing, & Mr. Carey will be 
 glad to have your " Advertisement " whenever you 
 please. Mr. Carey would like also to have the ' Crom- 
 well ' & publish it, when it comes. Mr. Carey would 
 like also to keep this letter of Carlyle's. Can you part 
 with it ? or send another ? 
 
XV 
 
 Concord, 8 April, 1845. 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I send you a letter to Messieurs Carey & Lea, 
 which I suppose will serve the purpose of an Adver- 
 tisement, if it be printed to follow the title-page in 
 their edition of Carlyle. As to the request of Mr. 
 Carey to retain Carlyle's letter, I am not quite ready 
 to grant it, as I do not carry accurately in my memory 
 its contents. If Mr. C. only wants a specimen of his 
 writing to lithograph or otherwise copy for publica- 
 tion, he is at liberty to use all that part of the letter 
 which respects this edition. But I should not like to 
 have the whole letter published — as well as I can 
 remember its contents, & perhaps can find a letter of 
 mere business. If Mr. Carey however only wants an 
 autograph for his private satisfaction, I think I will 
 leave him in quiet possession of this, at least for the 
 present, if he will have it transcribed & send me a 
 copy of it. For I cannot bear to be wanting to so good 
 a friend of Carlyle, as he appears to be. 
 
 For the Diadem, I am in good hope to find or make 
 something yet that will not be wholly unworthy, but 
 it cannot be ready today. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
XVI 
 
 Gjncord, 9 May, 1845. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I send you two or three little pieces, garnets 
 for your " Diadem," — if not too late. But I think you 
 gave me into May in your first communication on the 
 subject, for latest day. My wife & my mother have 
 become a little uneasy at the long detention of my 
 miniature effigy which your compatriot Mr. Griswold 
 borrowed of the former, and insist that I shall inquire 
 if it is safe, or has at some time been returned in our 
 direction & has miscarried. Will you, if you meet Mr. 
 G., say so much to him. I dare say it is quite safe & 
 will come back in good time. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
XVII 
 
 Concord 2 June 
 Monday MornS [l845] 
 My dear friend. 
 
 My note to Mr. Carey was shockingly care- 
 less, and the insertion of the * of,' a prank of the imps. 
 I find in my drawer a draft of the note without that 
 superfluity. If the new note, which I enclose, does 
 not end as well as the old one, print from the old one. 
 Also the address was a carelessness : I knew better, & 
 never have confounded the person of the benevolent 
 gentleman who took so much pains that I should see 
 his pictures in good lights, — with any other, though 
 I knew nothing of the history of his partners. 
 
 As for the head, which, with your letter, only 
 reached me on Sat. night, (for Munroe kept it, & I 
 have not been in town for weeks, ) I like the head very 
 well, and though I dare not confide in my memory 
 of a face which I saw for one day twelve years ago, 
 yet this agrees well with my impressions. I go to town 
 today & I think I must take the head with me, & try to 
 find some one who has seen C. recently. Dr. Russell, 
 or Parker or Mrs. Lee. I could heartily wish he had 
 not been drawn with the left arm so placed ; or is it 
 ill-drawn, or a little prolonged ? I think it a strong 
 likeness: but Carlyle ought not to be as contented 
 
c: 41 ] 
 
 with it as he seems to be in his letter, for it certainly 
 does not give the ideal of the grim literary sanscu- 
 lotte, though this is far better than D'Orsay's. Some- 
 body will yet draw a more characteristic sketch. As 
 an engraving, it seems to me excellent, & the best of 
 Mr Sartain's that I have seen. It is almost painted. 
 And so clear & strong, & without that pomp of dark- 
 ness. — 
 
 I have not yet recovered mycopy of "Dr. Francia." 
 If I do, & I have sent for it, I will send it you though 
 I cannot think Mr. Carey can find any difficulty in 
 finding it in some library which binds & keeps the 
 Quarterly Reviews. It was in the Westminster, was 
 it not? — 
 
 I may have an errand for Dr. Hering; but if I have 
 not, I shall not write a letter. 
 
 For I have grown churlish about introductions, & 
 EngUshman-like never introduce until I have been 
 introduced. But it is a great refreshment that you are 
 ever so kind & indulgent to me. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 Let Mr. Carey keep the letter with all my heart 
 but he shall send me a copy. The ladies say they are 
 not content with Mr. Griswold's answer. They will 
 have the picture. What to say to the ladies ? 
 
XVIII 
 
 Phila. Oct. 8, '45. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I shall send some things to you today or to- 
 morrow to the care of J. Munroe & Co. Mr. Hart 
 requests yr acceptance of the watercolour copy of 
 Carlyle's portrait from which the engraving was 
 made. The plates of the Diadem are miserably 
 printed — in mezzotint a great deal depends on the 
 printing — & I am disappointed. Nevertheless I shall 
 be glad to hear what you think of Leutze's title 
 page. I anticipate the greatest things of L. We have 
 his last picture here 'The Landing of the Northmen' 
 full of poetry. — I spoke to Mr. Hart about the £50 
 for Carlyle. He thinks C. must have received it & 
 would like to know. 
 
 I had a letter the other day from a noble lady-cor- 
 respondent of mine from New Zealand who speaks 
 with enthusiasm of the 7 leaves of your Essays which 
 a friend had sent her in a letter. I sympathise in Charles 
 Lamb's skepticism (you see I have eaten C. Lamb) 
 about sending letters so far. But there's a triumph in 
 boring through to the Antipodes, and a romance in 
 
C 43 J 
 
 getting a letter written in a cave hollowed out of a 
 mountain & in hearing of the breakers roaring four 
 miles off & all this on the other side of the world. I 
 want to hear what you have to say about the Diadem 
 — Are not Hedge's translations all but perfect ? The 
 Bean was translated by W. H. F. Jr., and the Rose 
 by a fine girl of the Norwich Taylor stock. When is 
 that volume of your poems coming? Won't you pub- 
 lish it here in Phila ? 
 
 Affectionately, 
 Yrs. 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XIX 
 
 Concord, Oct. 15, 1845. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I should have answered your letter so richly 
 accompanied too, immediately but that I saw that the 
 best answer to a part of it would be to send you 
 the last letter which I had from Carlyle, and which I 
 had lent to a friend here who must & will read his let- 
 ters. I enclose it that you may not only read its good 
 news of himself, but see his answer to my remark (in 
 a letter written before I saw you in Boston) that I 
 had heard nothing from Philadelphia respecting the 
 promised £50, since the death of Mr. Carey, and 
 that I hesitated about writing to you on the subject. 
 You will see by his letter that he has not received the 
 money. Pray do not afflict Mr. Sartain with C.'s grim 
 humours, into which he is always relapsing, — about 
 the picture. 
 
 Thanks, and very humble thanks too, for the fine 
 book you send me, so rich & stately that my poor 
 little verses look very few & short, — and I wish 
 they had been better. Great is your art & skill. 
 
 I enclose also a note of thanks, (which read) to 
 
Mr. Hart, for his generous gift. I doubt not also that 
 my first thanks are due to you in the matter. And as 
 far back as I can remember in life you ever stand in 
 the shape of a benefactor to me. I shall write a hymn 
 to you one day. 
 
 You must send me back this letter of T. C. ; and 
 also remind some right person, friend of Mr. Carey, 
 that the copy of the letter I gave him was never sent 
 tome. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo E. 
 
XX 
 
 Concord, Feby, 25, 1846 
 
 My dear Fumess, 
 
 To pass over my gross omissions of epistolary 
 duty to you ward, dum tacent clamant, — & come 
 immediately to the errand of today — be it known to 
 you; that Carlyle had been repeatedly charged by me 
 to send his Cromwell book over to us in MS. which 
 Munroe & Co. were ready to print advantageously 
 for him. At the last, he was driven a good deal, & the 
 printers there would not let him wait for a MS. copy ; 
 so he apologized to us & did the best he could ; sent 
 me a letter, saying, " I have sent you by last steamer 
 an early copy of the whole work, which you will get, 
 at least a month before any bookseller in America 
 can have it " &c. sent thro Wiley & Putnam. I had not 
 received any such parcel by that last steamer. I sent 
 Horace Greeley Esq. to demand such copy of Wiley 
 & P. They " declined giving it up, until their edition, 
 then in press, should be ready ; & had their authority 
 from Carlyle's publishers, of whom they had bought 
 a copy." So we were baulked, & angry, without sin. 
 I sent Carlyle an account of this matter. He went 
 down to his " Chapman & Hall " there, & got an 
 explanation, which was provoking enough truly, but 
 
c: 47 3 
 
 exculpated Wiley & Putnam. It seems, he had gone 
 into their shop, & written my name on a blank leaf, 
 & ordered an early copy bound up & forwarded to me 
 by the going steamer. Chapman said, "If it is to be 
 reprinted by Mr. E., why bind it ? send it in sheets." 
 Carlyle, they say, made reply, " O I will not bother 
 him with that ; bind it." 
 
 He did not wish to send it me in a form that seemed 
 to expect us to reprint. But Chapman bethought him- 
 self — & went immediately over to W. & Putnam, 
 & offered them an early copy for agio. They said, 
 "But you must send no other." He said, "Only one 
 for Mr. E., who will not print, Mr. C. says." " Yes, 
 but he may give it to one who will — " "Then you 
 need not hasten his copy — " said Chapman — 
 
 And thus was our learned & witty friend defrauded 
 by little & little of all advantage here from his most 
 saleable book. He was very much vexed at the whole 
 affair. 
 
 Chapter Second. 
 
 Now he has a second edition preparing, and be- 
 thinks him that he can make possibly, out of that, some 
 reparation to Munroe, who was to have shared with 
 him the advantage of the first edition, and he sends us 
 the letter which I conclude to enclose to you. 
 
 I have gone to Munroe, with this letter, & said. 
 
C 48 ;] 
 
 What will you give for the new edition ? Is it worth 
 anything to you ? Munroe & Co do not seem inclined 
 to meddle with it at all, fearing that not only the Ap- 
 pendix, but what new matter shall be inserted in the 
 text of the book, will be instantly reprinted from them. 
 It occurs to me, that the next party — (I have yet 
 mentioned it to no other,) is your friend Mr. Hart. 
 Perhaps he may see how the work may be printed 
 once more here with some security from pirates. If 
 he cannot in the existing circumstances attempt any- 
 thing for the mutual advantage of Carlyle & himself, 
 he is at liberty if he chooses, to receive & print the 
 proofs or such part as he will. And I know Carlyle 
 will be gratified to have this disposition made of them, 
 as he is very sensible of the liberality of Carey & 
 Hart's behaviour in their edition of his Miscellanies. 
 
 Will you now add to all your loveliness this new 
 merit of considering & properly communicating this 
 affair, & sending me an early reply, as the days are 
 few in which anything can be done. And send me 
 home my Carlyle letters, of which now you will have 
 1, 2, 3, is it not ? & I no copy. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 All is clear in respect to Wiley & Putnam. They 
 explained very circumstantially their part in the af- 
 
c; 49 ;] 
 
 fair to me, & I wrote to them acquitting them of all 
 charges, & I printed a paragraph to the same effect 
 in the Boston D. Advertiser. But they were told, at 
 the same time, how vexed we were to be thus hon- 
 orably plundered by them. Of course, we owe them 
 & their editions no respect. 
 
XXI 
 
 Phila. March 2, '46 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 Mr. Hart says that if, under the circumstances, 
 there were any inducement to take the sd Edition of 
 Cromwell he would print it & share with Mr. Carlyle 
 or pay him a certain sum, but it would be folly to touch 
 it, as W- & P. have themselves been pirated upon & 
 compelled to print the book in the cheapest possible 
 form. Mr. H. advises that the book be surrendered at 
 once & entirely to W. & P. & this you may do, he 
 thinks, in such a manner as to awaken their honour & 
 induce them to acknowledge the author's rights to 
 some small share at least of the profits. Mr. Carlyle, 
 so Mr. H. thinks, should hereafter reserve to himself 
 the American Market, &then he might make satisfac- 
 tory arrangements with some American publisher. — 
 I have yr Carlyle letters all safe and will send them 
 on some day. It always delights me to see your hand- 
 writing, & I should have rejoiced to see your face some 
 few days ago when I hovered over Boston, hardly 
 alighting anywhere. I havejust conducted the funeral 
 of a fine old woman here, some eightyyears old, whom 
 
i: 51 ] 
 
 I mention to you, because she verified an expression 
 of 3nrs. She was a dear lover of Carlyle & all good 
 men & things, a sharer in the terrors of the French 
 Revolution, when her husband had Danton etc. as 
 pupils in English. She could not however read much 
 of Carlyle at once, as it destroyed sleep, so she said. 
 Let me serve you or Carlyle if I may. It is always 
 pleasant, — but take heed how you write business let- 
 ters to me, as I must always give you a httle gossip in 
 return. I have had unusual delight in Cromwell — had 
 not meant to read it yet, but Providence put it in my 
 hands & I read it at a heat. I have a dim idea of the 
 labour, but he, Carlyle, has washed the materials so 
 clean that they look as good as new. 
 
 Heartily yrs. 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XXII 
 
 Phila. March 20 1846 
 Dear Emerson, 
 
 Here am I begging again — I am thinking of 
 the Diadem for '47 — I don't wish to get anything 
 from you out of that volume of poems of which I have 
 heard for some time past that it was forthcoming. 
 Haven't you got some little bit or bits of Prose, some 
 scraps or shavings which you can make nothing else 
 out of & which will suit my purpose ? You speak some- 
 times as if you were obliged to me. Pray don't have 
 such thoughts, but give from your own large soul & 
 add to my obligations. The more I read of yours, the 
 more I seem to recognise your thoughts as old friends, 
 tho' when or where they & I were acquainted, I can- 
 not tell. I lost them I suppose in my passage from the 
 other world into this. They dropt into the sea & you 
 have fished them out, or you picked my pockets when 
 we sate side by side at Mr. Webb's school. I only 
 claim my own & will give a large reward in thanks 
 for the recovery of a few to meet the present occa- 
 sions. ,r , ., 
 
 Very heartily yrs, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 I shall be particularly thankful for Verses if you 
 have any to spare. 
 
XXIII 
 
 Concord, 22 May, 1846. 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have nothing to send to the new Diadem. 
 I am sorry for it But I have promised to do what I 
 can to make a volume of Poems, and those which I can 
 suffer to pass for publication are so few, that I dare 
 not diminish the number by a single quatrain or coup- 
 let. Then for prose, I am like some bookdealers who 
 will never sell me the thing I want, for it will break 
 a set. With the most vigorous recollections, I cannot 
 remember that I ever wrote anything detached & of 
 reasonable dimensions. You see my desperate imbe- 
 cility, & will leave me to time & my tub for recovery. 
 I am trying to put into printable condition my seven 
 Lectures on Representative Men; but the topics were 
 so large, & seem to require such spacious & solid read- 
 ing, that what might pass to be spoken, does not 
 promise to be fit to print in a hurry. 
 
 Your abominable 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
XXIV 
 
 Gjncord lo June 1846 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I enclose a piece, which, for want of a better 
 name, I call " the World Soul," Anima Mundi was 
 the name, but we are bound at least in poetry to speak 
 English. I had the poem when I wrote before, but in 
 the smallness of my portfolio of new pieces, dared 
 not send away one of so many lines, until you tell me 
 that I may print it in my new book, if I have one, in 
 spite of you. Yours, however, will, I suppose, appear 
 first. — I have heard that Margaret Fuller printed a 
 verse or two of this piece once in the Tribune, but I 
 never saw them. She printed, if she printed, from a 
 copy~ I had lent to Elizabeth Hoar. I am almost 
 tempted to send you another copy of the same piece, 
 that you may select your own reading from the Vari- 
 orum. But I will not bother you. I will only say, that 
 in the copy from which I now transcribe this, the 8th 
 stanza has only one quatrain, and I have just added 
 four lines to make it complete. And now it strikes me 
 that the poem was a little more inteUigible before. If 
 you think so, leave out the quatrain. 
 
My wife insists that you shall hear once more of 
 Mr Griswold. He wrote me in April, I think, that 
 he should be in Phila. in May, & would immediately 
 send home the lady's miniature. If he is at home, jog 
 his elbow for the lady's sake. 
 
 Yours gladly 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 THE WORLD-SOUL. 
 
 Thanks to the morning light ! 
 
 Thanks to the seething [' foaming ' ed. 1884] sea, 
 
 To the uplands of New Hampshire, 
 
 To the greenhaired forest free ; 
 
 Thanks to each man of courage, 
 
 To the maids of holy mind, 
 
 To the boy with his games undaunted, 
 
 Who never looks behind ! 
 
 Cities of proud hotels, 
 Houses of rich & great, 
 Vice nestles in your chambers, 
 Beneath your roofs of slate. 
 It cannot conquer folly — 
 Time-&-space-conquering steam 
 And the light-outspeeding telegraph 
 Bears nothing on its beam. 
 
[ 56 3 
 
 The politics are base, 
 The letters do not cheer, 
 And 'tis far in the deeps of history 
 The voice that speaketh clear ; 
 Trade & the streets ensnare us, 
 Our bodies are weak 8c worn, 
 We plot, & corrupt each other. 
 And we despoil the unborn. 
 
 Yet there in the parlour sits 
 Some figure of noble guise. 
 Our angel, in a stranger's form. 
 Or woman's pleading eyes. 
 Or only a flashing sunbeam 
 In at the window-pane. 
 Or Music pours on mortals 
 Its beautiful disdain. 
 
 The inevitable morning 
 Finds them who in cellars be. 
 And be sure the all-loving Nature 
 Will smile in a factory. 
 Yon ridge of purple landscape, 
 Yon sky between the walls 
 Hold all the hidden wonders 
 In scanty intervals. 
 
 Alas, the Sprite that haunts us 
 Deceives our rash desire. 
 It whispers of the glorious gods. 
 And leaves us in the mire ; 
 
e: 57 ] 
 
 We cannot learn the cipher 
 
 That 's writ upon our cell, 
 
 Stars help [' taunt ' ib."] us by a mystery 
 
 Which we could never spell 
 
 If but one hero knew it, 
 The world would blush in flame, 
 The sage till he hit the secret, 
 Would hang his head for shame ; 
 But our brothers have not read it, 
 Not one has found the key. 
 And henceforth we are comforted. 
 We are but such as they. — 
 
 Still, still, the secret presses, 
 The nearing clouds draw down. 
 The crimson morning flames into 
 The fopperies of the town ; 
 [Within, without the idle earth, 
 Stars weave eternal rings, 
 The sun himself shines heartily 
 And shares the joy he brings.'] 
 
 And what if Trade sow cities, 
 Like shells along the shore, 
 , And thatch with towns the prairie broad 
 With railways ironed o'er.; — 
 They are but sailing foam-bells 
 Along thought's causing stream, 
 
 * The quatrain referred to, in preceding letter, p. 54. 
 
C 58 ] 
 
 And take their shape & sun-colour 
 From him that sends the dream. 
 
 For Destiny does not like [' never swerves]' ib.^ 
 
 To yield [' Nor yields ' ib.^ to men the helm, 
 
 And [' He ' ibJJ shoots his thought by hidden nerves 
 
 Throughout the solid realm ; 
 
 The patient Daemon sits 
 
 With roses and a shroud, 
 
 He has his way, &. deals his gifts, — 
 
 But ours is not allowed. 
 
 He is no churl or trifler, 
 
 And his viceroy is none, 
 
 Love-without-weakness, 
 
 Of Genius, sire and son. 
 
 And his will is not thwarted ; 
 
 The seeds of land & sea 
 
 Are the atoms of his body bright, 
 
 And his behest obey. 
 
 He serveth the servant. 
 The brave he loves amain. 
 He kills the cripple & the sick, 
 And straight begins again ; 
 For gods delight in gods, 
 And thrust the weak aside, 
 To him who scorns their charities, 
 Their arms fly open wide. 
 
C 59 2 
 
 When the old world is sterile, 
 
 And the ages are effete, 
 
 He wiU from wrecks & sediment 
 
 The fairer world complete. 
 
 He forbids to despair, 
 
 His cheeks mantle with mirth, 
 
 And the unimagined good of men 
 
 Is yeaning at the birth. 
 
 Spring still makes spring in the mind 
 
 When sixty years are told, 
 
 Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, 
 
 And we are never old. 
 
 Over the winter glaciers 
 
 I see the summer glow. 
 
 And through the wild-pUed snowdrift 
 
 The warm rosebuds below. 
 
XXV 
 
 Concord, 6 August, 184/. 
 
 Dear FumeSs, 
 
 It was very wrong in you not to come & see 
 me in any of these your northern flights. The last of 
 your Boston visits, for example, I set down as a clear 
 case of contumacy, that you would neither come to me 
 nor be at home where I went to see you, I hope you 
 had my card, which I left at Dr. Gannett's. But now 
 I write because Henry D. Thoreau has a book to print. 
 Henry D. Thoreau is a great man in Concord, a man 
 of original genius & character, who knows Greek, & 
 knows Indian also, — not the language quite as well as 
 John Eliot — but the history monuments & genius of 
 the Sachems, being a pretty good Sachem himself, 
 master of all woodcraft, & an intimate associate of the 
 birds, beasts, & fishes, of this region. I could tell you 
 many a good story of his forest life. — He has v^ritten 
 what he calls "A week on the Concord & Merrimack 
 Rivers," which is an account of an excursion made 
 by himself & his brother (in a boat which he built) 
 some time ago, from Concord, Mass., down the Con- 
 
C 61 2 
 
 cord river & up the Merrimack, to Concord, N. H. — 
 I think it a book of wonderful merit, which is to go 
 far & last long. It will remind you of Izaak Walton, 
 and, if it have not all his sweetness, it is rich, as he is 
 not, in profound thought. — Thoreau sent the manu- 
 script lately to Duyckinck, — Wiley & Putnam's lit- 
 erary Editor, who examined it, & "gave a favorable 
 opinion of it to W. & P." They have however de- 
 clined publishing it. And I have promised Thoreau 
 that I would inquire a little in N. Y. & Philadelphia 
 before we begin to set our own types. Would Mr. 
 Hart, or Mr. Kay like to see such a manuscript? It 
 will make a book as big as my First Series of Essays. 
 They shall have it on half profits or on any reason- 
 able terms. Thoreau is mainly bent on having it print- 
 ed in a cheap form for a large circulation. 
 
 You wrote me once & asked about Hedge. I esteem 
 & respect him always more & more. He is best seen 
 at Bangor. I saw him there last October & heard him 
 preach all day. He is a solid person who cannot be 
 spared in a whole population of levities. I think he is 
 like one of those slow growing pear trees whose fruit 
 is finer every year & at last becomes a Beurri Incom- 
 parable. I bade him goodbye, seven or eight weeks 
 ago, on board the " Washington Irving," & expect to 
 see him in England next spring. Do you know that I 
 am going thither in October? 
 
n 63 :\ 
 
 Will not Henry Thoreau serve as well as another 
 apology for writing to you. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 It may easily happen that you have too many affairs 
 even to ask the question of the booksellers. Then 
 simply say that you do not ; for my party is Anarcharsis 
 the Scythian, and as imperturbable as Osceola. 
 
XXVI 
 
 Phila. Aug. 16, 1847. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Mr. Hart is out of the city & will not return 
 till the last of the week. I will do my best with him 
 for your friend's book. But I am doubtful of success. 
 There are other respectable publishers here to whom, 
 with your good- will, I will apply. I spoke to one this 
 morning by the name of Moore, who is now printing 
 an edition, as he tells me, of Burton's Anatomy of 
 Melancholy "unearthing the bones of that old great 
 man." Mr. Moore expressed a desire to see the MS 
 of your book. I will write you again shortly. 
 
 Why do you go so far away ? I see nothing of you 
 & talk with you only through your works, & yet I 
 cannot bear to have you & Hedge etc. go out of the 
 country. It seems as if the best people were quitting 
 the company. I wished to see you greatly, but the 
 fates forbade. I could not get to Concord. I have been 
 rusticating with my family in the woods among people 
 who hardly know that there is such a place as Mexico, 
 let alone the war, people so subdued to the quality of 
 their condition, that the woods & fields " adopt them 
 as their own," & they are as simple & good & loving 
 as Nature herself. It is a great refreshment to us, city 
 
c 64 :\ 
 
 manufactures; — & I have read Jean Paul's Titan for 
 the first time. You told me, I recollect, that you did 
 not & do not take to Richter. How is it? Is he not full 
 of the purest humour? And is it not a curious fact in 
 literature, in life, the twin-like resemblance between 
 him & Carlyle. Carlyle is no imitator & yet he is, in 
 his fancy & his fun J. Paul over again. 
 
 Do come back soon & stay here — let us know^that 
 you are in these parts. One likes to have his treasures 
 within reach tho' he never sees them. I am glad to 
 have your opinion of Hedge — Will you take out a 
 copy of his book' to him if we get it ready? Do you 
 go on the i st of October ? 
 
 I hoped to have you here in Phila. some time & Nan 
 singing her old ballads to you. I am foolish about this 
 daughter of mine — She is not yet 1 7 & is a full grown 
 woman & an excellent German so far as the language 
 is concerned & reads it like a native, & we have lots 
 of pleasure together — Won't you come to see us 
 after you get over this ugly voyage — business first 
 & pleasure afterwards — But goodbye — I love to 
 hear from you when the spirit moves you. 
 With all good vdshes. 
 
 Affectionately yrs. 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 ' Prose Writers of Germany. By Frederic H. Hedge. Phila- 
 delphia. Carey and Hart. 184ir. 
 
XXVII 
 
 Phila. Sept. 19, 1847. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Coming out of Church this morning, I reed a 
 word of love from you through Mrs. Morrison, & it 
 quickens a small purpose I have had to write a line to 
 you before you go across the water & assure you of 
 the hearty good wishes of an old friend. May the 
 blessing of Heaven go with you ! I wonder whether 
 I am not prouder of you than you are of yourself. Per- 
 haps if I had lived near you all this while & seen you 
 often, I might not have had quite so much veneration 
 for you. But now I know you only through your writ- 
 ings & these show your inspired moments. I think 
 of you in your high office as prophet & priest. Per- 
 haps I should have made a particular effort in spme 
 one of my recent visits to get at you for a while but 
 the impression is strong upon me that you are hunt- 
 ed, run down by a host of people, who think they 
 must see you. And so I have thought that I should 
 best show you my love by not wasting your good 
 hours or inflicting any tediousness upon you under 
 the plea of old friendship. I hold myself none the less 
 
c; 66 :i 
 
 near to you. What pleasant dreams I lose myself in 
 of Mrs. Whitwell's school & Mr. Webb's desks & 
 your generous appreciation of my art of Drawing & 
 my admiration of your art of Poetry. The beauty, the 
 boundless hopefulness of that early time — I must 
 have it again. I cannot part with a faith I have that 
 our friendships here are but the beginnings of better 
 things, that by & by space will be taken away & there 
 shall be no obstacle to a full communion. Once more, 
 God bless you. I shall be happy to hear of you & 
 your doings in the old country. You will do great 
 good I know. 
 
 I applied to Mr Hart about your friend's book but 
 he will have none of it. He is run down, he says, with 
 applications to print. 
 
 You will tell Carlyle what a presence he is here. 
 
 Affectionately yours 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XXVIII 
 
 Concord, 16 December, 1848. 
 
 My dear Fumess, 
 
 I am very glad to see your faithful hand again, 
 always of the best omen to me & to whomsoever it 
 concerns itself for. 
 
 But I hardly dare accept the opportunity you offer 
 me of printing a chapter on Montaigne. All that I 
 know, or, all that I know how to say, about him, is 
 written in one of Seven Lectures, which, together, I 
 call "Representative Men," & Montaigne there stands 
 for the Class Skeptic. I mean some day to print these 
 together, whenever I shall have more adequately fin- 
 ished the resisting figures of Plato & of Swedenborg. 
 
 I am much obliged to you for the pleasing & most 
 readable tract on the Art-Union, which you sent me, 
 the other day. It gave me exact & agreeable informa- 
 tion. It would give me the greatest pleasure to see the 
 Author of that tract. Do you think I ever shall ? 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
XXIX 
 
 Concord, 10 January, 1849. 
 
 My dear Furness, 
 
 Here is a curious coil in Carlyle's last letter, 
 which I know not how to begin to unwind except by 
 letting him tell his own story, and to you, poor you, 
 who were bom for a benefactor to him & to me. You 
 must even go through patiently with your destiny. — 
 Thus runs the letter, under date ' Chelsea, 6 Decem- 
 ber, 1848.' 
 
 [^Hereupon follows a long extract from a letter of 
 Carlyle, wherein a history is given of a draft for £50, 
 drawn by Mr. Hart on Brown, Shipley & Co., in fa- 
 vour of Mr. Carlyle and cashed by Lord Ashburton, 
 but by the carelessness of the latter, as it turned out, 
 never entered as paid in his bankers' account. What- 
 ever interest the story may have ever had has long 
 ago evaporated ; it is rehearsed at full length, I be- 
 lieve, in Carlyle's published Correspondence with 
 Emerson. — Ed.^ 
 
 So far the Homeric Carlyle. I think you must carry 
 the matter to Mr. Hart for him ; though certainly Mr. 
 Baring's carelessness is inexcusable. But he is a good 
 
c 69 :\ 
 
 man, I saw him two or three times, & found him very 
 friendly & hospitable, and he has been for many years 
 a valuable friend to Carlyle. 
 
 "And so I leave my burden with you, for this pres- 
 ent ; and am as ever 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
XXX 
 
 Phila. Jan. 15, '49. 
 
 My dear Emerson, 
 
 I called on Mr Hart this morning & he turned 
 to a copy of a letter, addressed by him to you under 
 date of Oct. 27, '45, authorizing Mr Carlyle to draw 
 upon Brown, Shipley & Co. of Liverpool for 5^50. 
 He then showed me, in his account with Brown, Ship- 
 ley & Co., T. Carlyle 's draft for £60 payable in 
 April 1846, charged to Carey & Hart, as accepted 
 Dec. 2, 1846. So the state of the case may be readily 
 ascertained by asking the Liverpool House about it. 
 They can tell, I suppose, to whom they paid the 
 money. Pray don't magnify such very small services. 
 I wish I could do something great for you or Carlyle, 
 pay you in kind for the infinite satisfaction I have got 
 from you both. Shall I ever again have such delight 
 in this world as I have had in reading you & Carlyle 
 & a very few others ? My chief hobby for years past, 
 you know, has been the life of Christ, in a literary 
 point of view perhaps rather than religious, & my 
 light has come from Carlyle for which God bless 
 him ! But how httle remains readable. Will there ever 
 
c; 71 3 
 
 again be a book in which one can lose himself? The 
 great fun of life now is in growing old — the con- 
 trasts, continually coming up, between Mrs. Whit- 
 well's school & Mr. Webb's desks on the one hand, 
 & things as they daily occur on the other. I burst 
 into a ridiculous laugh the other day in the street 
 when I recognised my son in a young gentleman at 
 a distance, my son ! Every day brings some curious 
 note of the passage of time, & I can hardly tell 
 whether I have lived the past or dreamed it. . . . 
 
 How I should love to see you and yours, but I see 
 no one as I would when I go Eastward. My time 
 is broken up there & you should come here. Why 
 not? Come & lecture & have a room under our roof 
 & be free as the wind. Sam Bradford is close by — 
 good & prosperous. How vivid is my remembrance 
 of your mother ! — but goodbye 
 
 Your ancient friend 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XXXI 
 
 Phila. Dec, 27, '49. 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I send you a couple of copies of the translation 
 of the Song of the Bell, one of which, if it can be done 
 without a shadow of trouble or objection, I shall be 
 pleased to send Mr. Carlyle through you. A true man 
 like you will have no constraint in doing just as you 
 please about it. This translation possessed me for 
 some four weeks, & I put it in print to be satisfied it 
 was out of me, as the demoniac wished to see the devils 
 depart by having them sent into the swine. The day 
 I arrived in Boston last Fall upon a very brief visit, I 
 found you had just gone home, & I was almost 
 tempted to follow you. I revolved very seriously the 
 idea of giving a day to Concord but I could not ar- 
 range it. I must manage it next time. I buy your vol- 
 umes as they come out, but still I always want one 
 from you that "dying I may bequeath it " &c. I passed 
 a pleasant night a year ago with your brother Wil- 
 liam. Do you know that sweet boy of mine is set up 
 as an Artist in Boston. Shall I send him to see you ? 
 Are you bored as much as ever by visitors ? Heaven 
 bless you ! 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XXXII 
 
 Concord 3 January 1850 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I was heartily glad to see your dear handwrit- 
 ing once more, glad of all it signified, & of the fine 
 little book that came with it. I am today (as too often, 
 & all but always) the hack of petty engagements, & 
 am besides forced to some caution in the use of my 
 eyes, but must write, though so tardily, a few lines. 
 Schiller's Song of the Bell, I may as well avow, I have 
 always been content to take on trust; I have never 
 read it in German ; I do not like it very well : have 
 even fancied that it owed something of its wide cur- 
 rency to its illustrations by Retsch, & to the music 
 which has been added. More of my stupidity I will 
 not now parade : but since you have been drawn to 
 praise it with such faithful work, I shall give it one 
 more chance to captivate me and have already read 
 your gay translation once through, — which to me is 
 only learning my way. All joy & peace & honor 
 dwell with you, whatever you attempt to do ! 
 
 I learn with great interest that your son is in Bos- 
 ton. I had never heard of it : — only last summer, 
 that he was in N. Y. Why did you not send him to 
 me at once ? I beg you to do so now ; or send me his 
 address, & I will immediately be at one with him. 
 
l 74 -} 
 
 I am going however, next week to Albany, & the 
 whole of the following week am to be in the City of 
 New York. Immediately thereafter, I shall be per- 
 manently here, and will not be deprived of my share 
 of beauty & art, do you tell him. I sent you my new 
 book to the care of Mr Hart. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, 
 
 Waldo Emerson. 
 
XXXIII 
 
 Astor House, New Yorft 
 24 March, 1850 
 
 My dear Fumess, 
 
 Since you are pleased to be peremptory & 
 foolhardy in your good nature, I think I must even try 
 your project. I must hold you to your own terms, & it 
 is the bookseller & not you who shall shoulder the af- 
 fair, even though the audience should so be reduced 
 one half. I do not think I can come to Philadelphia 
 until Tuesday or Wednesday, — for safety, Wednes- 
 day, — of next week. It would be safe to advertise 
 for Wednesday evening, 3d April. We can promise 
 two or three lectures per week, as you think best ; two 
 probably. Here, I am in the hands of a good friend of 
 mine, Henry James, & of Parke Godwin, and they 
 settled that it should be a two shilhng [^twenty-five 
 cents^ audience. I incline to this cheaper ticket; 
 though it is a moot point, & many advisers said. Fifty 
 cents. The booksellers must decide that, too. Here, 
 we have had no course announced, but only a series of 
 unconnected lectures, from night to night. Did I give 
 you the titles of such as I have here that are pro- 
 nounced producible? 
 
C 76 ] 
 
 ^ • • r u T,- ]■ read here at my last visit. 
 Spirit of the Times j ■' 
 
 Natural Aristocracy. Eloquence. Books. The 
 Superlative in manners, character & races. 
 
 Of all these I think the fourth seemed to be best 
 received here, though perhaps each has had its friends. 
 I am promising to read one lecture here, as I believe 
 I told you, to please myself, called " Instinct & Inspi- 
 ration." And so, awaiting your commands with con- 
 fidence & love, I am 
 
 Yours, 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Perhaps I shall mend my programme tomorrow. 
 Meantime I shall tread securer if you can ascertain 
 for me whether the five Lectures which I read in 
 1849-50 were severally these: — 1. England 2. 
 Natural Aristocracy 3. Eloquence 4, Spirit of the 
 Age, or XIX Century 5. Books. 
 
 I read a sixth on " Instinct & Inspiration " by day- 
 light ; but I should gladly know if any youth or maid 
 have a memory so incredibly tenacious as to verify 
 this list. Or was there, instead of one of these topics, 
 a Lecture called the "Superlative." 
 
XXXIV 
 
 Astor House, New York ' 
 20 April, 1850 
 
 My dear Fumess, 
 
 William Emerson sent me yesterday your 
 kind note, an autograph within & without very re- 
 freshing to behold. I should like extremely to come 
 to Philadelphia, and have at this moment but one ob- 
 jection, and that the gravest ; namely, that you, you 
 & your friends, but chiefly you, will feel a certain 
 conscience to shoulder my affair, — a thing painful, 
 nay intolerable, to think of, and which shall not be 
 done. But if you can think of a Bookseller who would 
 undertake the charge, and would do all but read the 
 lectures, I should like very well to read four or five, 
 and should come with the more courage that they 
 have been unexpectedly successful here. I am quite 
 clear that there should be a functionary in each of our 
 cities who would be General Undertaker & Factor for 
 Lectures, and who should transact for Agassiz, Dana, 
 Mitchell, & me. But it is now too late in the season, 
 or will be before I can leave N. Y. ; where I must still 
 read three lectures, it seems, (tomorrow, Thursday, 
 Tuesday, & probably Thursday, ) or certainly two. 
 
i: 78 3 
 
 We will talk of it for next winter, and, meantime, 
 our aesthetic broker can be ripening. The blessings 
 of all the days fall on that roof which invites me so 
 hospitably ! but I am |^an ?J inveterate churl, & never 
 carry my tediousness to the houses of my friends. If, 
 however, you can send me some disengaged worldly 
 opinion that the experiment is still worth trying, I 
 shall be heartily glad of an apology for coming to a 
 faithful gossip with you. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
XXXV 
 
 Phila. Jan. 14th '52. 
 
 Dear friend, 
 
 I will relieve you. It has been decided to put 
 ofFour famous, world-moving course of Liberty-Lec- 
 tures till next season. We think it best to do nothing 
 in this way unless we can move strongly, Altho' two 
 or three of the gentlemen addressed have returned 
 half-compliant answers, yet our hope is small of get- 
 ting the overpowering array we had set our hearts 
 upon. But isn't the time rich — dramatic — histori- 
 cal ? Who is Talbot of East Machias who has written 
 that admirable "Nulla vestigia retrorsum " in * The 
 Liberty Bell ? ' It does one good to hear such voices 
 coming from such Nazareths — If we can only wean 
 ourselves from the fond expectation of millennial re- 
 sults, & just content ourselves with observing how the 
 upper power uses the course of events as a discipline 
 & ' crisis ' of the human soul, the enjo3mient is com- 
 plete. 
 
 If you could only come & see us. It would give me 
 almost as much pleasure as I anticipate in having our 
 children at home again this week. What do you think 
 
C 80 ;] 
 
 of our Hungarian [^Kossuth^ ? He touched me very 
 deeply, but I am very touchable as you know. I have 
 excused his apparent dodging of the great cause on 
 this side of the v^^orld by supposing that he is under 
 the impression that we are in the process of Abolition. 
 But I wish for his own |^sake^ he were less political. 
 
 Ever yrs. 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
XXXVI 
 
 Concord, 6 April, 1852. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 My affections always silently flowing toward 
 you are sure to receive a shock of acceleration every 
 month or two by some good office of yours. It was 
 always so, and these active virtues accuse my sloth 
 & silence. The last of these sunstrokes was a letter 
 or a pair of letters which Miss Osgood showed me in 
 whole or in part, and, on the instant I promised ex- 
 plicit thanks. Yet I was puzzled by being quoted as 
 having said to Scherb something quite impossible for 
 me to say. Scherb has forgotten, or misconceived. I 
 found Philadelphia unexpectedly kind & open. Yet I 
 may have said that my Philadelphia audiences always 
 have a look as of your gathering, & not mine, — 
 which I fancy to be the fact. 
 
 As for Goethe, you are clean wrong altogether, — 
 as you will at once feel, if you will sit down to Ecker- 
 mann's Conversations for half an hour. Wise, mel- 
 low, adequate talk, on all topics indifferently, always 
 up to the mark. He is among the Germans what 
 
[ 82 :\ 
 
 Webster was among the lawyers, as easily superior 
 to the great as to the small. 
 
 Medford is a suburb of yours, and I find myself 
 gladly your parishioner there, & brag that I am 
 Your friend, 
 
 Waldo Emerson. 
 
XXXVII 
 
 Phila. Aprils, '52. 
 
 My dear Emerson, 
 
 Running about lecturing & acting so power- 
 fully upon other people's minds, you give me the im- 
 pression of a man too busy to be interrupted by my 
 tediousness, & so I always write to you very gingerly. 
 Besides one does not like to intrude upon the great 
 thoughts with which you keep company. But this af- 
 fectionate little note of yours clamors for a word in 
 reply. If you have pulled a house down about your 
 ears, it is your own fault, I must write to you & as 
 much at length as if I knew every word of mine were 
 water to your thirsty soul, I am just in the humor. 
 Please observe it was no concern for the reputation 
 of Phila. but fear lest we were to lose the hope of 
 having you here some time that induced me to report 
 Mr. Scherb's report. You do mean to come to us by 
 &by? 
 
 I spent half the day yesterday with you & Miss 
 Margaret F[[uller^ & enjoyed you very much. Pass- 
 ing as you do with the multitude for the veritable man 
 in the moon, you must puzzle people with your com- 
 mon sense. 
 
c: 84 ] 
 
 I am tyrannized over by little things. When 
 Margaret F. speaks of Powers as a man of genius 
 idealizing things, it is fatal to my respect for her 
 judgement in matters of Art at least. Powers I con^ 
 sider nothing, not a jot more, than an admirable 
 mechanic. His Greek Slave is an abomination. He 
 cannot create. If his bust of Webster be better than 
 Clevenger's, it must be because Webster was in bet- 
 ter trim when he sat to him. He can express only 
 what he sees with the bodily eye. Again the incident 
 of the Concert Room when Margaret rebuked the 
 giddy girl so gently, did she speak the truth when she 
 said she hoped the thoughtless child would never 
 suffer what she had inflicted on the lovers of music 
 that evening ? The very aim of the remark was to cut 
 the girl to the quick, & she suffered infinitely more 
 than Margaret had suffered in the loss of the music. 
 These are small criticisms I know. When she talks of 
 her mother & writes to her, then she interests me, — 
 & her husband & child — they made her lovely. I 
 am attracted & repelled by all this talk & speculation 
 about things unseen & unseeable. How continually 
 does it degenerate into a wisdom of words, & how 
 hard is it to keep humble & self-forgetting. It is a 
 favorite idea of mine that the all-ministering Provi- 
 dence gives us these speculations & theology & relig- 
 ious forms &c. &c. to occupy us & divert our attention 
 
c 85 :\ 
 
 from the work going on within us which our self- 
 conceit, if it meddles with it, is sure to spoil ; just as 
 we rattle a bunch of keys before a baby when it's 
 being vaccinated. I say, as I recollect Carlyle has said 
 in one of his letters to you which you let me read, 
 your voice is the only one I hear. I don't like Miss 
 M. any the better for having been exalted above you 
 by some people formerly, not merely because I love 
 you, but for the offence to my own judgment. 
 
 My time for Goethe will come, if he is what you 
 say. But in your heathen days you once pronounced 
 him a great quiz or charlatan — before you knew him, 
 and this has delayed my salvation. I do not attempt 
 anything in German deeper than Richter. Lessing 
 early inspired me with a sincere veneration, & I have 
 recently been reading his dramatical criticisms with 
 great delight. The man shows himself so plainly be- 
 hind & above the writer. His speech is action & his 
 words works & weapons. How he pours out his heart 
 in contempt of Voltaire for introducing the practice of 
 showing himself to the theatre upon a successful re- 
 presentation of one of his plays^a practice that became 
 disgustingly prevalent with authors until some writer 
 of very moderate talent refused to obey the call of the 
 pit. *I would rather have been he ' exclaims Lessing, 
 'than have written ten Meropes ! ' 
 
 I am fluttering still about that one work of my life 
 
C 86 ] 
 
 which has always interested me chiefly as a work 
 of Art. Into this — statue, poem, or what shall it be 
 called, my St. Peters ? the Life of Christ, has run all 
 the drawing of horses & knights in which you used to 
 sympathise so generously. Could I work out & ade- 
 quately finish that beautiful fact, I would be willing 
 that it should be buried like an ancient statue for a 
 thousand years. All I have attempted thus far in print 
 seems to me but a hint. I cried over almost every page 
 of that last little book of mine from a pure sense of 
 reality, nature, & beauty. 
 
 One has great satisfaction in living in one's chil- 
 dren. Mendelssohn's father was the son of Mendels- 
 sohn, the famous Jew, & when he, the son and father 
 of a great man, was young, he was pointed at as the 
 son of the great Mendelssohn, and when he grew up 
 and became a father, he was pointed at as the father 
 of the great Mendelssohn. How much more enviable 
 his place than that of either of the two between whom 
 he stood ! — 
 
 I forgot — you have been seeing my faithful old 
 friends. Miss Lucy &Miss Mary [^Osgood^. What 
 wonders they are — learned beyond compare. 
 
 Won't you some time go & sit to William H. 
 Should he get a good sketch of you, it would save you 
 so much trouble. You could have ever so many da- 
 guerreotypes of it Please do it on my account. Wil- 
 
C 87 ] 
 
 liam H. has given no evidence of creative power, but 
 he is so childUke & so good, & so often there creeps 
 into his drawings an expression independent of lines 
 & shadows, that I think he is at least under the care of 
 a good genius. 
 
 But I '11 detain you no longer. For goodness' sake 
 don't dream of answering this unless you can't help it. 
 With fervent good wishes for you & yours. 
 Very heartily yours, 
 
 W- H. FURNESS. 
 
 I am glad to write Concord on the back of this. I 
 fancy you, when away from home, as bearing your 
 Cross. 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 Concord 12 May 1853 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 This is your old malice prepense, & I know it 
 for such, — always in conspiracy to inflict benefits & 
 hatching good will into deeds, and, to be sure, tis 
 none of your work, but only a sudden fortuitous con- 
 course of lovers & aiders, such as is, I suppose, at any 
 time sporadic in the air of Philadelphia ! Well, you 
 are a wonderful man, & an honor to Dame Whit- 
 well's a-b, ab school, & will make her famous to all 
 time, though I see she was partial, & taught you 
 something she taught no other ; for I cannot remem- 
 ber that Sam B [Bradford]] or that Walter Langdon sat 
 on the bench, though I never see them now without 
 belief that you must have given them private re- 
 hearsals, & probably showed them the red handker- 
 chief (ah beautiful beautiful in my memory!) on 
 which the House that Jack built, was depicted. But 
 to all others to whom you have not opened your & 
 Mrs. Whitwell's heresy, it is still sealed. 
 
 But for your project itself, — it is really very grati- 
 fying to me, &, if it prove feasible, I shall not be want- 
 
C 89 2 
 
 ing to it. It will be a great advantage to me to know 
 of it thus early, and to hold it before me. I am work- 
 ing just now on my little English Book & when that 
 is done I will think of this. And yet I have often 
 thought lately, I should leave the Lyceum to the 
 juniors. 
 
 I will write you again. 
 
 Goodbye for today. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
XXXIX 
 
 Concord, 18 Dec. 1853 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I am afflicted with a fast growing terror lest I 
 should fail to meet these fine fortunes you are pre- 
 paring for me, so you must mix a little wormwood 
 from some quarter, that it may not turn my head. Far 
 be it from me to murmur or interfere in any manner, 
 but, on the contrary, I dispose myself to obey you & 
 the gods with all docility. Only I hope I may have 
 something good & fit to say to such beneficent im- 
 mortals & mortals. For "tickets to the press," O 
 certainly ; as, perhaps, by sending them, they may be 
 moved to stay away, or, if they come, may listen to 
 good counsel & make short reports. For a boarding 
 house, I shall be very glad to be provided if you know 
 one without seeking. I have uniformly gone to hotels 
 — in Cincinnnati, St. Louis, New York, but this would 
 be far better. 
 
 You speak of my Mother. I cannot tell you how 
 much my house has suffered by the loss of that one 
 more room, one more home in it for me & each of us. 
 Mamma was made to live, & her death at 85 years 
 
C 91 '2 
 
 took us by surprise, & my wife mourns so many 
 undone things. There was something majestic in one 
 of those old strong frames built to live so tranquilly 
 usefully & kindly. The later generation seem to me 
 to spend faster. But one of these days we too shall be 
 better than now. Then now & ever 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 Waldo Emerson 
 
 I see that your date is 12th. I only got home last 
 night from an absence of three days to find your note. 
 
XL 
 
 Concord ) 14 March 
 Mass"s j 1854 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I carried all the kind words and deeds of Phila- 
 delphia as stock to think on in my northwestern 
 journey, and the wonder of them is not less, nor the 
 blessing, unto this day. I have never told you that I 
 went as far as Milwaukee, and, fault of broken rail- 
 road, the last 65 miles in an open carriage; and found 
 true what a settler told me, that " the world was done 
 up in large lots, in Wisconsin." I am afraid the space 
 is the most interesting feature. And yet the farmer 
 is also a colonist, & draws great doses of energy 
 from his local necessities. One looks around heed- 
 fully, too, because it is plainly the heroic age of Wis- 
 consin, and we are spectators Anno Urbis Conditse. 
 I came home near three weeks ago, with good hope 
 to write a plea for Freedom addressed to my set ; which, 
 of course, like a Divinity Collegian's first sermon, was 
 to exhaust the subject & moral science generally; but 
 I fared much as those young gentlemen do, got no 
 answer to my passionate queries — nothing but the 
 
c: 93 n 
 
 echo of my own cries, and had to carry to New York 
 a makeshift instead of an oracle. Yet I am still so 
 foohsh as to believe again that the thing I wished can 
 be done, & I shall not cease to try — after a time. I 
 have not been to Boston yet with a free hour. As soon 
 as I do, I shall try to get my head of Carlyle copied 
 for you, as I said. In New York I found there Sam 
 Lawrence the London artist, who, you will remember, 
 had painted a head of Carlyle, which Mr Carey had 
 copied. He had brought a letter to me from C. and 
 is painting prosperously in N. Y. He is taking Ban- 
 croft's head, & Miss L3nich's &c. &c. I find myself 
 too much in arrears to my tasks here, to think quite 
 yet of making my hoped visit to Philadelphia. Yet I 
 shall gladly come. Meantime I am going down to 
 Cambridge to learn what good news I can from 
 Horace. When is it, what week, what day, that you 
 are to come there, & here? 
 
 Did you read in Littell's Living Age, a little story 
 or novellette, called "Art, a Dramatic Sketch." by 
 Read, Esq. — I found Dr. Kane's book excel- 
 lent. 
 
 Your affectionate, 
 
 Waldo Emerson. 
 
XLI 
 
 Concord, Saturday Noon July 15 1854 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have just learned with surprise and to me mor- 
 tification that your Discourse to the College is set for 
 tomorrow. It was set in my mind a week from to- 
 morrow ; and I was to see & hear. In this blunder, I 
 have acted for our town in getting Theodore Parker 
 up here, who is to read his Fourth of July Discourse 
 to us tomorrow evening, & is to be my guest. 
 
 It is an absurd Contretemps, & I the victim — ir- 
 reparable now. What remains but to beseech you, out 
 of the greatness of your heart & mind & misericord, 
 to come up to me Monday morning, bringing Horace 
 with you, & spend Monday with me. I will try to keep 
 Parker, in that hope. If you are engaged Monday then 
 Tuesday will do ; only send me some word, as soon 
 as you pass by a Post Office, that you will come, & 
 when, & do not fail me, I entreat. 
 
 Ever your affectionate 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
XLII 
 
 Concord 22 Aug 1854 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 You must often have wondered where that da- 
 guerre of Carlyle loitered that was destined for you. 
 I carried the primitive plate to Boston three times but 
 such is my dread of having more copies taken, than I 
 wish, that I could never trust it in the hands of the 
 chattering operators. At last William E. offered to 
 get it done in N. Y. & as there is security in a multi- 
 tude, I consented & he tells me it is a perfect copy. I 
 hope you have already got it. That was a cruel mis- 
 .hap to me — that you could not come to me nor I 
 to you lately. I was truly grieved that it was a calam- 
 ity in your brother's house. I am afraid I shall never 
 gee you in mine. And you have given away Annie, 
 & sent William abroad, & now Horace ; and when 
 Frank comes to College, I think your ties must be 
 looser, & you can come also and see your friends, & 
 renovate Massachusetts. I have had kind notes lately 
 from Randolph, & really thought at one time I 
 should go to Phila. this summer, but I fear I shall not. 
 
i: 96 ] 
 
 You must not, — I had almost forgot to say, — let 
 this particular Carlyle be duplicated again, — with- 
 out extreme reasons. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
XLIII 
 
 Phila. Aug. 25, '54. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I thank you heartily for the Daguerre, [[of Car- 
 lyle]] altho' I have not yet reed it. It is safe however, 
 if it is in 3n: brother William's hands. I shall have it in 
 time & will not suffer it to be copied. 
 
 I never told you of Frank's great pleasure in the 
 stereoscope. It was in his hand for days — 
 
 Nan is very happy in her new & pretty home with 
 her devoted husband. Dr. Wister. He amused us yes- 
 terday with an acc°t of a professional visit he had just 
 
 made over night at our friend F 's at his country 
 
 seat in Jersey, from which he rides 7 miles every way 
 on his own estate ! Our Quaker son-in-law told us of 
 Friend F 's family prayers conducted by F. him- 
 self under difficulties occasioned by great sleepiness & 
 the necessity of keeping clear of the Abolitionism 
 which was slightly sprinkled through his prayer book. 
 In the morning, Mr. F. employs a chaplain a worthy 
 man who preaches to his tenants. On the morning, 
 however, when Dr. WQster] was present, they all 
 overslept themselves, & prayers were omitted ; the 
 
C 98 : 
 
 family, as the Dr observed, 'having to go upon luck 
 for that day, without any special security ' — 
 
 I certainly must see you & yours in Concord, before 
 the evil days of old age come. Indeed Life is speeding 
 away. Yesterday I attended the funeral of W. Mcll- 
 henny of our Athenaeum whom you must recollect. 
 He was 74 but did not look 60 — I have recently en- 
 joyed Whe well's ' Plurality of worlds ' particularly 
 the chapters on the Nebulae, Fixed Stars, & Planets. 
 How bewitching Astronomy is ! I am waiting for cool 
 weather to prepare for you 
 
 With love for yours 
 Affectionately 
 
 Yr friend W. H. Furness. 
 
XLIV 
 
 Concord, 13 Oct. 1854. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 There was a talk between us of lectures, this 
 winter, on the incredible & truth-stranger-than-fiction 
 pattern of the last. But I have been so drowsy and im- 
 placable, or, at all events so unsuccessful about the 
 httle book I have had in hand, that it has neither got 
 done itself, nor allowed any other thing to be done. 
 Setting aside the natural impossibilities of the lecture- 
 project, as being the very wax you like to mould, I 
 beg you will allow this plea of a badly preoccupied 
 workman, & take no step in the affair, for this winter. 
 In the course of the summer, I will take care to ripen 
 the best I can, various hopeful buds in my conserva- 
 tory, whose growth has long been arrested, & so I 
 shdl have the better hope to justify your habitually 
 exaggerating good opinion of your friends 
 [[Autograph cut off.]] 
 
XLV 
 
 Phila. Oct. 18, 54, 
 
 My dear Waldo E., 
 
 I was just about moving in the matter of the Lec- 
 tures when yr letter came. I am sorry you cannot give 
 us the unexpected pleasure & profit, as there would 
 be no difficulty in furnishing you with the pecuniary 
 inducement. Nevertheless circumstances have oc- 
 curred to reconcile me in some measure to yr deci- 
 sion. Poor F , with whom we dined, has suffered 
 
 utter wreck of property & character. He has lost all 
 his own estate & his wife's, & is reported to have 
 forged the signatures of near relatives involving them 
 to large amounts. His father is one of the rich men 
 of our city, being rated at millions. He attempted to 
 help his son out of his difficulties & lost $180,000. It 
 is a very sad affair. I knew very little of this young 
 man. The little I knew of him prepossessed me, I 
 liked his liberal ways & unpretending manners. He 
 is understood to have gone to Europe. 
 
 As you have given up lecturing here this winter 
 you will come & give us that promised summer visit 
 & perhaps put a lecture or two in yr trunk ? Do ! 
 
Why not come & spend a week in our pleasant 
 winter climate & bring yr household with you ? 
 
 Did I ever tell you how much Frank was pleased* 
 with the Stereoscope ? It lasted an unusually long 
 time with him — 
 
 I have never acknowledged my obligations to you. 
 If you saw any Report of the Anti-Slavery meeting in 
 N. Y. last May, you must have seen that I stole some 
 of 3rr -thunder & how it reverberated through the 
 whole meeting. Almost every speaker that followed 
 me took the thought & insisted not on speeches but 
 sides. 
 
 Commend me to all yrs & account me 
 
 always one of yr oldest & most devoted friends 
 
 W. H. FURNESS 
 
 A friend, just returned from two years travel in 
 Europe tells me he met a Russian gentleman on the 
 Danube who inquired about Thay-o-dore Parker, a 
 volume of whose [[sermons] he had picked up in a 
 Roman Catholic bookstore in Vienna & for whom he 
 expressed great admiration. 
 
 And William writes from Berlin that Steinbriick 
 the painter of that beautiful picture of the * Visit of 
 the Magi ' in the Diisseldorf Collection in N. Y. & 
 of my little picture of 'The Tares & the Wheat* 
 (over my front mantel) upon hearing of our being 
 
Unitarians remarked: "My daughter raves about 
 Channing," 
 
 So it looks as if some little drops were trickling 
 back to the old world. 
 
 If the next No. of the Christian Examiner should 
 come in yr way, glance over it & see whether it con- 
 tain an Article on a portion of Gliddon's 'Types of 
 Mankind.' The article is written by a Hungarian 
 Jew, a friend of Kossuth's now at Meadville, a hearty 
 lover of yours. 
 
For Form or Outline, my father had a quick eye and retentive 
 memory. Down to the last year of his life, stray scraps of paper, empty 
 envelopes, even fly-leaves in books were embellished by likenesses, gen- 
 erally profiles, of friends and acquaintances. Of course they all verged 
 on caricature, as, it is to be hoped, is the case with this profile of Mr. 
 Thoreau ; but they were all unmistakable. That this talent of my 
 father is not the exaggeration of filial love, let one noteworthy in- 
 stance suffice : — From a recollection of certainly fift)- or sixty years, 
 he drew for the daughters of the Rev. Dr Osgood a likeness, not at 
 all a caricature, of their father which they pronounced good and satis-- 
 factory. 
 
 Even if a profile likeness of Mr. Thoreau be in existence, this sketch 
 may serve to recall him, it is sincerely hoped, not unpleasantly, to his 
 surviving friends. — Ed. 
 
/^'l.^^., 4y^ ^^J(f 
 
 
XLVI 
 
 Phila. Nov. 26, 54, 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 We depend upon hearing the N. Y. Lecture 
 here. 
 
 I was glad to see Mr. Thoreau. He was full of in- 
 teresting talk for the little while that we saw him, & 
 it was amusing to hear your intonations. And then he 
 looked so differently from my idea of him. . . . He 
 had a glimpse of the Academy [|of Natural Sciences] 
 as he will tell you — I could not hear him lecture for 
 which I was sorry. Miss Caroline Haven heard him, 
 & from her report I judge the audience was stupid & 
 did not appreciate him. 
 
 With much love 
 Yr 
 
 W. H. FURNESS 
 
 Our friend, W [falter] Langdon is in a very deli- 
 cate — I might almost say critical state of health — 
 
 5 weeks confined to his room, but reported better 
 
 6 very slowly improving for 2 or 3 days past — a se- 
 vere inflammation of one lung — pneumonia I believe 
 they call it. 
 
XLVII 
 
 Concord 26 Jan. 1855. 
 My dear Furness, 
 
 Something was said, months ago, of my read- 
 ing an Anti-slavery Lecture in Philadelphia. I said, I 
 can come 2 Feby, Friday. But it was left hanging a 
 little loosely. Is it set down in anybody's programme 
 or intention that I shall come & on that day } If so, 
 write me immediately, for I have a pretty good lec- 
 ture this time, — good for me, or good " consider- 
 ing," and can come : Good, you understand me, if I 
 am engaged ; but not good enough to create an occa- 
 sion for, if it is not already settled. I beg you to put a 
 strong yoke on that blessed constitutional tenderness 
 of yours towards me, and answer officially. 
 
 I should like well to come to Philadelphia before I 
 set forth on a promised circuit in N. Y. ; and yet the 
 absence of Walter Langdon darkens the broad hos- 
 pitable City for me. Where has he carried all that 
 tenderness and strength ? Where shall I find him 
 again ? And for you — you draw all people unto you 
 — but I know you must want him day by day. 
 
 I trust you have good news from your travellers. 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Waldo Emerson. 
 
XLVIII 
 
 Concord s Feby 1855 
 
 You dear good William, friend of me, I tell 
 you I am heartily disappointed that since I am to go 
 to Phila. & appear before your solemn Antislavery 
 Society, I cannot go as I had counted with advantage 
 in having three days before me. I offered you long 
 since 2 Feb^. with that view. Then I had not this luck- 
 less 8th day to dispose of. It was promised some- 
 where, & has been released. Now I am to arrive at 
 Phila only on the p.m. of the 8, to leave it on the a.m. 
 of the 9th to go up the Hudson river, somewhere. 
 How am I to see you and your pictures ? How to hear 
 the story of them? How to see Sam B and weave my 
 annual excuse for not going to his house with bag 
 & basket, how to see Philip Randolph, & find why I 
 did not come in summer days ? 
 
 Well I am glad the boys are happy in Germany, 
 happy in the arts. Who has better right ? Who so 
 good ? I am going to La Pierre [[a hotel^. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
XLIX 
 
 Concord, Oct. 1 1855 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 It is my part always to meet your worth with 
 unworthiness, and so now. I believe I make the worst 
 Antislavery discourses that are made in this country. 
 They are only less bad than Slavery. I incline this 
 winter to promise none. And have not dared to ac- 
 cept any new invitation. Besides, I could not come to 
 Phila. — I know not when. I am to keep by the 
 printers for six weeks or more ; then I am to go to 
 Illinois, once more, & for many weeks, in December 
 and before I go and after I return my days are mostly 
 promised. Pity me and forgive. Each of us is in a 
 prison house whose secrets it were a new crime to 
 afflict his brothers with. 
 
 I should have answered your kindest note at once, 
 but I had an address on my hands for the Consecration 
 of our Cemetery here in this town which I made on 
 Saturday. . . . \jic2 You should have added one line 
 of the welfare of Annie Wister, & of the boys away 
 & at home. My eldest girl* Ellen goes daily to school 
 
 to Agassiz. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 Waldo Emerson. 
 
Sidney Smith's memoirs though so feebly edited, 
 — they should have applied to you, instead, -.- must 
 yet have rejoiced your heart. Have you read that 
 wonderful book — with all its formlessness & faults 
 "Leaves of Grass " ? — 
 
PhilaOct. 3, 1855. 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Remember your own good word. It is not the 
 speech that one makes in these days that profits, but 
 the side he takes. Even if you could satisfy yourself 
 with a lecture & it were the best possible, still you 
 would be better & more weighty than it. This is one 
 of the great precepts I have got from you & I return 
 it to you for your own use in the present case. It ap- 
 plies beautifully, don't it ? 
 
 What a privilege it is the next generation is enjoy- 
 ing — to be instructed daily by Agassiz. Horace 
 writes us he saw Agassiz's name signed on the rocks 
 near some glaciers, date '38, they were illustrating 
 his theory. . . . 
 
 But do think once more of speaking a word for 
 Freedom among these dry bones. Passmore Wil- 
 liamson is still in prison & the stones in the streets 
 have not cried out. It is dismaying, the stupor & 
 death of the public. Every moment makes it worse. 
 
 The wrong which K has done, is not done, but 
 
 doing, sweUing out & belittling Neapolitan despo- 
 tism. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
LI 
 
 Concord, 10 Oct. 1855 
 
 Ah if you knew how puny & unproductive I 
 am ! the pain of Slavery & detestation of our politics 
 only working the wrong way to make me more dumb 
 & sterile. I see at this moment neither arguments nor 
 days to say them in. I am pinned to a printer prob- 
 ably till 1 December, and thence onward I have a 
 long western journey to the Mississippi back & forth 
 for a month or 6 weeks more. The places only are 
 fixed, the dates not. After that, new engagements fol- 
 low here, tis ignominious to think of. I wait & moan 
 and if in the meantime any word of the p^ should 
 come into me like a sharp sword as it came aforetime 
 to good men I shall be as swift as now I am slow to 
 carry it to Philadelphia. Indeed, it lies in my heart to 
 bring some thing solidly good to that city, before I 
 die : as I have said & done nothing there that was con- 
 tenting to me. You deserve well of all, best of me. I re- 
 joice in the volley of good news you send of the boys. 
 Ellen is to tell Agassiz of Horace's finding, today.' 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 __. TT TT Waldo E. 
 
 William H. F. 
 
 ' While on a walking tour in Switzerland, more than fifty years 
 ago, as I approached the Rosenlaui Glacier I noticed on a flat shelving 
 
LII 
 
 Phila. Sept. 29 1856 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I bought a copy of yr last vol. & gave it to 
 Dr. Jackson on the Allegheny Mts., expecting to re- 
 ceive my copy from you. It has not come yet. Where 
 is it? It is a pity it is so shabbily printed. I have writ- 
 ten to Horace whom we expect to see about a month 
 hence to bring home English copies of your vols, 
 atho'none can be so valuable as these I have — They 
 all came from you. 
 
 Charles Sumner is still here, we mean to keep 
 him as long as possible — Friend Sam, who you know 
 is a childlike inquirer, whether trying to ascertain yr 
 faith as to immortality, or to decide how he shall 
 vote, has been determined for Fremont by talk with 
 
 C.S. 
 
 Affectionately 
 
 Yrs 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 rock innumerable proofs of Professor Agassiz's Glacial Theory; and 
 called my companion's attention to them. I had not gone a dozen 
 paces further when I was thrilled at the sight of the name, deeply 
 graven in the rock, of him who, in my recent college days, I had wor- 
 shipped as a demi-god : — ' L. Agassiz. 1838.' — Ed, 
 
LIII 
 
 Oct. 18 '56 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 When we were children together I did not 
 hesitate to beg from you whatever I wanted & you 
 had to give. Why should I hesitate now? I thank you 
 for the copy of your book that I reed some days ago. 
 Handsomely as it was bound, it is not what I wanted. " 
 All your other vols I have — all uniformly bound & 
 adorning my bookshelves — all with your autograph 
 enriching every vol. I want a copy of ' English traits ' 
 to correspond, & must receive it from you unbound 
 as it would never do to tear off the pretty 'jacket' of 
 this copy that you have sent me. You see my neces- 
 sities. 
 
 Yr publishers wrote me & referred me to half a 
 dozen booksellers, some one of whom had in charge, 
 they said, a copy for me, 'from the author.' I caused 
 inquiries to be made but the copy has not appeared, 
 & I am not sorry, as, since it came through 3rr pub- 
 lishers, it probably had not that written leaf which is 
 to make my set of your works as valuable as that ele- 
 gant copy of Junius bound for the author, which has 
 never been found. 
 
In my old age there is reviving in me a love of 
 handsome books, handsome inside & out. That mag- 
 nificent Boy dell's Shakespeare which was given me 
 some few years since is the cause of this revival. I 
 have one splendid bookcasefull containing very few 
 books which no gentleman's library should be with- 
 out. Your works are not the least valued among 
 these treasures. 
 
 To turn from great things to little — what a mess 
 the country is & how the elements spit & sputter! I 
 have already reconciled myself to the non-election of 
 Fremont. If he should be Pres*. good man as he may 
 be, would he not naturally try to pacify the Slave 
 Power & show how constitutional he is? I fear it. 
 
 The struggle is tremendous. It is the world's 
 battle. The regeneration of Europe is to be decided 
 here. How grand it is to see the cause of God & man 
 making its way against the passions, the interests, the 
 will of man ! How sublimely the banner streams out 
 against the wind ! Nearly all the Republican speak- 
 ers begin with vigorously disclaiming Abolitionism. 
 Don't you want to make an Anti Slavery Speech 
 which shall be "the terror of the earth" ? I do. 
 
 Heaven bless you and yours. 
 
 Affectionately yrs 
 
 W. H. FURNESS, 
 
LIV 
 
 Concord 9 June 1857 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have been slow in writing, for I did not find 
 my bibliopolic friends, Phillips & Sampson, at all 
 courageous about Heine. They have the usual terror 
 of booksellers at any new name, & Heine's name is 
 totally new to them. Tis very sad, & often weakens 
 my sympathy for the craft in this country, — their 
 total unacquaintance with the wares they deal in, & 
 the makers of the wares. They know only those of 
 their own shop, & those which come to them from 
 known shops. These particular men, — P. & S. — 
 are much less acquainted with books than is usual ; 
 for, though bold & able business men, they were not 
 bred, I believe, to this business, & having printed 
 one or two books which advertising, — their cheval de 
 hataille, — could not carry, they have resolved to 
 believe henceforward in nothing but Mr Prescotf & 
 Mrs Stowe ; who were both proved, before they en- 
 gaged with them. They told me, they had printed no 
 new book, but Jackwood, I think, this year. But let 
 not Horace halt a moment. If he gets ready a book of 
 
thoughts & pictures which interest him, he can rely 
 that they will interest others, and he will readily find 
 a publisher, a month sooner or later. Perhaps these 
 very men of ours be eager for the book after a little 
 while. 
 
 I have been shut up at home for days & only got 
 a chance to go speak to Phillips, the other day. Mun- 
 roe I do not now go to; and Field of F. & Ticknor, 
 was away. But I shall be in town again, perhaps to- 
 morrow, & will make further inquiries. Have you 
 taken your Bible oath never to come to Massachu- 
 setts, or never with time enough to see my little vil- 
 lage & my girls & boy ? My house, to which I am 
 making some important addition of convenience, lacks 
 one of the best titles to my love & respect, so long as 
 it has not held you. Tell me when you will come & 
 I will have Hedge & more good men to meet you. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo E. 
 
LV 
 
 Concord, 15 Jan. 1858 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I am to be in Philadelphia on the 2 February, 
 and certainly shall be glad to obey Mrs. Furness in 
 anything she shall command on the following day or 
 days : and without reward if she will take the night 
 of the 3d, I am glad if you like the Atlantic. We hope 
 when it shall be better. Clough's Autobiography be- 
 gins in the next number. One would think it would 
 be easy to find good criticism ; but this department it 
 is hard to fill. Then what I call the Zoroastrian ele- 
 ment, & which I think essential to a good American 
 journal. Lord Bacon would " note as deficient." And 
 I believe further that we have not had a single cor- 
 respondent from Philadelphia. I hope we shall yet 
 supply all these deficiencies. 
 
 Ever yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo E. 
 
LVI 
 
 Sept. 14, '59. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 How are you ? I have been for a long time in- 
 tending to write to you. You must come & read us 
 some lectures this winter. We shall make arrange- 
 ments therefore. How are you supplied } 
 
 In looking over some old letters today I came 
 across one from you written more than 20 years ago, 
 in which you ask me about an old friend & pupil of 
 yours, B. P. Hunt, who is now one of my cherished 
 ones. You bid me if I meet him salute ' the good an- 
 gel ' in him. I delight in him greatly. I have had the 
 pleasure of seeing him every Sunday & of being ani- 
 mated by his presence & sympathy for a year or more 
 past. Like his dwelling, which is a suburban spot, 
 that the city has grown round without destroying its 
 fresh rural character, he keeps a heart in unison with 
 Truth & good, & when I wish to regale myself of a 
 Monday morning, I jump into a Passenger Car (or 
 King's coach) & go out to see Mr. Hunt & talk about 
 you & New England. He labours under heart disease 
 & is timid about coming to church, fearing that the 
 close air may bring on a paroxysm. 
 
i: 117 1 
 
 These old letters, you see, have spoken to me 
 across the great gap of time as if just from the Post, 
 & I am answering them again. I send you some poor 
 words of mine now & then merely as a nod across the 
 street, not to inflict upon you the necessity of reading 
 what I send. You ought to receive one of these mis- 
 sives by this same mail. I am always imposing some 
 office of kindness upon you. Whether I am returning 
 to my childhood & getting garrulous I know not, but 
 for some time past I have had great satisfaction in 
 writing & preparing my weekly homily. The ' one 
 idea ' of which I am accounted the victim, is won- 
 drously prolific. It rays out in all directions. 
 
 I depend upon sending your daughter soon a copy 
 of a new edition of my * Gems of German Verse ' 
 greatly enlarged. 
 
 We are to have a celebration of Schiller's birthday 
 here (loth November) & the Song of the Bell is to 
 be sung, & there is to be an address in German & I 
 am to say something in English. 
 
 How that old letter has set me babbling. Sam was 
 in to see us the other evening, the same simple- 
 hearted loyal man, a little in the dark about immor- 
 tality, or rather disturbed about other folks' darkness, 
 immortal himself however in his goodness. 
 
 Are you not amused at this novel experience of 
 growing old ? I am in my 58th year, a grandfather, 
 
& William H. expects to be married in 2 or 3 weeks. 
 You are I believe a year my junior, but whether that 
 is being behind or before me in time, I cannot tell. 
 
 Please let me know how you stand affected about 
 Lectures & hold me as ever 
 
 heartily yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
LVII 
 
 Concord — Sept. 22, 1859 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 May you live always, as you will; but may 
 you live on the earth to keep it bright and warm as 
 long as I have a part here ! I always think better of 
 myself when I see your letters & that your kindness 
 endures. 
 
 And you have taken, as you must, the right part 
 in this Unitarian brawl, & have said better what I 
 tried to say yesterday to Bartol about Bellows & 
 Parker. I met Bellows the other day, & told him how 
 wrong I tho't him about Parker. He said, he tho't less 
 of men, more of institutions. Certainly, I said, you 
 must prefer the putty to the painter. But he could not 
 even see that Horace Mann & Parker trained in the 
 same company. 
 
 I am heartily glad to see the good gravitation, & 
 that you & Hunt have joined. I have owed very happy 
 days to him when he was but an overgrown boy, and 
 I have ever regretted that he was whirled out of my 
 vicinage, & I have met him too rarely to restore our 
 relations. It warms my heart to think that you have 
 him. 
 
How dare you ask me again for lectures ? Could 
 ever a singer learn to say No, when invited to warble ? 
 Certainly I should come to you 
 
 [^The rest gone.]] 
 
LVIII 
 
 Sept. 26, '59. 
 
 My dear Ralph, 
 
 You must let me, even should the privilege be 
 exclusive, name you so, for so I called you at Miss 
 Nancy D.'s & at Mr. Webb's. It identifies you. 
 
 You will not make any arrangements for January 
 before consulting us. We must have that new Boston 
 course here. That 's decided. 
 
 Your words about our Unitarian * brawl ' refresh 
 me. Our miserable little talents are constantly in our 
 way. Bellows is one of the many, whose talents, 
 ready and instant, anticipate their genius. New York 
 too acts upon him mightily, & he is hurried into 
 positions which his generous spirit would never 
 choose. He seems to me to trifle with the great Truth 
 not through levity but impatience & a desire for ef- 
 fect, beginning where if one begins he is likely to end, 
 outside. A man should think & preach for himself, 
 treating himself as representative. So you have taught 
 us. 
 
 The unconscious arrogance with which we Chris- 
 tians assume to be in the right is getting to be a nui- 
 
[ 122 ] 
 
 sance, W[^endell]] Phillips says nothing can exceed 
 the impudence of a Church member, e.g. H. W. Bee- 
 cher & H. W. Bellows, in talking about Theodore 
 Parker. 
 
 P[^arker]] says things that are annoying to us or- 
 thodox, but through God's grace I look at him in the 
 rough, sketchy, M. Angelo fashion, without picking 
 at particulars, & he is a noble fact in our day & will 
 illustrate Boston in history. I was grieved that Hedge 
 should impugn Conway's motive, calling the Resolu- 
 tion an 'imposition.' Had the alumni been genial & 
 humane, they would have owed thanks to C. for a 
 means of grace. I do not believe there is a man of 
 them that does not like P[^arkerJ in his heart. But 
 the ' fool's word, consistency' tript them. 
 
 It is worth your coming to us to see our friend 
 Hunt's cosy country collegelike library in the midst 
 of a city. I have the photograph of that admirable 
 crayon of you hanging on my wall, dear to me for 
 your sake & Hunt's, who gave it to me. 
 
 Heartily yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS, 
 
LIX 
 
 Concord 6 October 1859 
 
 My dear William, — 
 
 And if I called you so two and fifty years ago, 
 tell your wife that her rights to the name are recent 
 beside mine. Tell her, too, what she believes already, 
 that your heart is no older now than it was then. And 
 I find that this affectionate memory of yours which 
 spans so vigorously the whole term from Mrs. Whit- 
 well's to 1859, makes & keeps the blood warmer in 
 all your company. I feel, indeed, in looking at this- 
 long stretch, what Jonathan Phillips once said to me, 
 " Sir, I have lived a very long time." But I also feel 
 that Philadelphia is a large town, chiefly distinguished 
 as the residence of William Fumess & Sam Brad- 
 ford. These are the golden ; in the silver class are 
 Hunt and Randolph. 
 
 But let me not forget the instant occasion of my 
 writing. You say I shall come to Phila. in January. It 
 is pleasant to think of. But if I were really thinking to 
 come and read, — is January the best time? In Boston, 
 I have found, of late years, March, & April, & even 
 May, quite as good. The people, are pleased to fancy 
 
somewhat exceptional in my course, which the pre- 
 vious excess of lectures does not affect. I ask because 
 it is not easy at this time, in my correspondence, to 
 keep January sacred. Already it is mortgaged from 
 23rd to 31st. But I could hold the first 20 days. 
 Another point ; I have already an application for a 
 lecture in Phila. It is not comity, is it ? to come to 
 singulars when one is coming to the Public? But 
 neither of these questions can you answer, & there- 
 fore I shall probably decide to refuse the Phila. ap- 
 plicants, & on the other hand invade the sacred Jan- 
 uary. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Ralph. 
 
LX 
 
 Oct 11, 59 
 
 My dear Ralph, 
 
 When I talk of January for your Lecture, I 
 suppose that time to be most agreeable to you. Why 
 not suit yourself, we expect to be independent of 
 seasons & public humors, as our purpose is to gather 
 your company & to have them ready for you ? You 
 need not refuse any invitation to read a single Lecture 
 here previously; that will not injure but help a course 
 of 5 or 6 afterwards. 
 
 What stirring words have been spoken of late — 
 S. Johnson's Sermon in last week's Liberator, & W. 
 Phillips' Lecture. J. F. Clarke grows visibly. Truth is 
 not a shadow, but full of a divine virtue. The very or 
 rather the bare touch of it electrifies & expands. I 
 have had O. B. Frothingham here, a wise, calm & 
 selfunderstanding young man. New York is the 
 better for him. He tells me his father & Theodore 
 P[^arker] have been hobnobbing in Switzerland ! 
 Is n't it funny? If there is a man whom the soul of 
 Dr. F [frothingham]] thought it abhorred, it is Theo- 
 dore Parker. How he used to denounce him ! I know 
 
not why, unless it was for letting his cat out of the bag 
 (Dr. F. being you know in former times our clerical 
 infidel), but now they meet, countrymen in a foreign 
 land, & theological differences become frivolous. How 
 good & strong the heart is, tho' we try it sadly with 
 our endeavours to make it go our narrow ways in- 
 stead of its own broad ones. But goodbye. 
 
 I cherish all your affectionate words. They ring 
 of the past. It is pleasant when life is contracting in 
 front of us to have it lengthen away into the past, & 
 the old playground and school benches become visi- 
 ble again. 
 
 Heaven bless you dear friend. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 1426 Pine St. 
 
LXI 
 
 Concord 23 Dec 1859 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Certainly I will come to the Revere House on 
 Thursday 39th at noon, and with joy. That day I am 
 promised to dine with Mrs. Lowell Putnam in town. 
 But if irresistible magnetism of Phila. can be inter- 
 cepted on these last days of the year, I will bring you 
 to my house the next morning, & keep you ten- 
 derly, and all Concord shall ring with joy, and you 
 shall dine on Saturday with our Club that I have 
 bragged to you, Lowell, Agassiz, Longfellow, & the 
 rest. 
 
 Be good & bring your mind to it, my dear William, 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
LXII 
 
 Jan. 9, 60 
 
 My dear Ralph, 
 
 I am filled with sorrow at not seeing you. But 
 who can stand before your cold ? It assaulted me so 
 fiercely, leaving its marks upon my head & eyes that, 
 an old vegetable as I am, I fled before it, fearing that 
 erysipelas or something of the sort was going to de- 
 tain me. The affection or infliction was new, and as I 
 did not know what it portended, I felt I should be at 
 home. But I promised to return in a few weeks and 
 then I must see you, if all the rest of New England 
 goes unseen. I was bound to Medford that Saturday 
 by a long pre-engagement. Miss Lucy Osgood had 
 lost her sister 3 months since. 
 
 I left a note & book for you with C. Sumner, who 
 promised to hand them to you. I fear they are still 
 on his centre table. 
 
 I depended upon talking with you about the Lec- 
 tures. About five & twenty persons (elect & such as 
 are to be saved) have agreed to pay $10 each for the 
 course. I think the number may be doubled. When 
 all are got, then you will decide the time & come & 
 
C 129 ] 
 
 inspire us & enjoy yourself. By all the tender memo- 
 ries of our childhood, do not, I beseech you, breathe a 
 word about my taking trouble &c. I do no such thing. 
 You offend against friendship & betray distrust if you 
 dare to whisper a word of apology. I want you to 
 come & lecture for your sake & my sake & every- 
 thing's & everybody's. If there is any trouble to be 
 taken, P. Randolph will mind all that. 
 
 And then how I longed to talk with you about the 
 times. What a Day of Judgment it is, not only for this 
 country but for the world. Milton's fight between 
 Heaven & Hell is but a skirmish to the hand to hand 
 battle into which we [|are] plunging with the Powers 
 of Darkness. 
 
 How I envy Mrs. Mott who does her duty & leaves 
 the Almighty to do his. But I want to precipitate re- 
 sults. 
 
 God bless you, dear friend. 
 
 Affectionately 
 
 William H. F. 
 
LXIII 
 
 Concord, 14 Jan. i860 
 
 Dear William, 
 
 You should have stayed a little longer in the 
 native air which thought it no wrong to give an 
 own son a taste of its quality. It softened in the next 
 days & my letter lies still I suppose at the "Revere," 
 urging you to come pass the Tuesday or Wednesday 
 with me, for I had heard that you were to stay till 
 Sunday and testify at the Music Hall. Now it has all 
 gone wrong for me who go westward in a few days, 
 and, I fear, shall not be at home for a month, say 
 about 20th February. Write you immediately to the 
 Music Hall, that you can not come till the last Sun- 
 day in February. Then will I receive & hear you. I 
 knew nothing of the death of Miss Osgood, & did not 
 dream that anyone had claims like mine. But come 
 on the last Sunday of February, & you shall be at the 
 Club (which you slighted now,) on the last Saturday 
 of February. Sumner brought the fair tinted book & 
 I brought it home to Ellen, who will, (if she has not 
 already) give her own account of her dealings with 
 it. She read to me the other day, the graceful version 
 
I 131 ] 
 
 of " the Giant's Pla3rthing," & set me guessing on 
 the initials A. L. W- Is that your Annie ? ? 
 
 For the Philadelphia visit of March I read what 
 you say, with great eyes. The forces of gravity & of 
 caloric joined will draw me and I shall come, there 
 can be no doubt. But I will write you again on the 
 matter. 
 
 And am ever your bounden 
 
 Waldo E. 
 
 I shall hear the Plea of Peace at the Music Hall? 
 
LXIV 
 
 The following extract, from a letter -written by her father, 
 •was most kindly sent to me by Mr. Emerson's daughter, Mrs. 
 Forbes, in the assured belief that its affectionate reference to his 
 old friend would be always prized by that friend'' s descendants. 
 
 The letter is addressed to Miss Russell, in May, 1860, on 
 the eve of her departure, for health' s sake, to a milder climate. 
 —Ed. 
 
 ' I heartily wish to hear that you find the climate 
 of Philadelphia kinder and gladder than ours in Mas- 
 sachusetts for the late weeks, and healing and inspir- 
 ing to yourself. I delight in that city and reckon it a 
 good hospital. William Furness (senior of course,) 
 has a face like a benediction, and a speech like a bene- 
 faction, and his stories more curative than the Phila. 
 Faculty of Medicine. I entreat you to put yourself 
 under his treatment.' 
 
LXV 
 
 Dec. 2, '61. 
 
 My dear R. W. 
 
 I send you a copy of some verses which, when 
 read to me the other day by Mrs. Wister, struck me 
 as smooth & lively enough to grace the pages of the 
 Atlantic. They are the work of a young doctor here 
 who makes no pretensions (Mitchell by name, he 
 married the only daughter of Alfred Elwyn whom 
 you recollect) He does not wish to put his name to 
 them. So please to regard them as anonymous. If you 
 think them worthy will you send them to the Editor 
 — I don't know who the Editor is. If I did I think I 
 should still send them thro' you as I have pleasure in 
 sending you a greeting. I hear of you now & then 
 that you are all well except that boy of yours whose 
 studies I hear are interrupted by lack of health. I 
 trust he is very soon to be all right again. 
 
 And so, as my sister Mary tells me, you are talk- 
 ing about old Age — I do not wonder. I do not won- 
 der an old man grows garrulous, having so novel an 
 experience at hand. So many people have grown old 
 & yet nobody ever told me what a new strange thing 
 
C 134 ] 
 
 it is. Approaching the end of my 6oth year, I do not 
 get used to it. Sometimes when I look at my children, 
 grown men & a woman, I laugh outright at such a 
 boy as I, invested with such venerable relations — 
 wig & spectacles on a baby head. It is hard to get up 
 the appropriate dignity. I suppose Nature disables us 
 as we grow old, to assist us to maintain the due 
 gravity & keep us from irreverend antics. 
 
 And you are of good cheer about the times I know. 
 It 's a great day when men are brought perforce in 
 contact with ideas that electrify & re-create them. No 
 delays nor disasters have yet extinguished in me the 
 delight of discovering that we are not a mob accident- 
 ally brought together but really a people — that a 
 national heart is here beating, very irregularly but 
 still beating. 
 
 Sam B. has been living rent free in a rural palace 
 the last summer, which I think has comforted him 
 in the midst of the great trouble. He would send his 
 love to you were he at hand. 
 
 With all good wishes 
 
 Ever & heartily yrs 
 
 W. H. FURNESS 
 
LXVI 
 
 Concord, 13 February.' 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I passed through Philadelphia very sadly the 
 other day that I could not stop. I had thought that I 
 had engaged to be one night at some " Spring Gar- 
 den," in your purlieus; but, at Washington, I had a 
 letter proposing a later day, to which I could not ar- 
 range myself, and then found myself using the time 
 at Washington I had hoped for Phila. &, in conse- 
 quence, dragged on to N. Y., through your sacred 
 precinct, without seeing one friendly face. I was the 
 more vexed, because I had hived some quite novel 
 experiences at Washington for your ear. But the in- 
 stant errand was to exculpate myself of neglect of 
 your letter. I had at once carried the verses on "Stras- 
 burg Clock " to Fields, who agreed to print them, & 
 they were to appear in the March number. But some- 
 thing hindered this, & they are, I understand, to ap- 
 
 ' 'I am almost sure from the text that this refers to the visit to 
 Washington in 1862 (Jan.) when he gave his address " Civilization 
 at a Pinch," in which he urged Emancipation before the Southerners.' 
 — E. W. E. 
 
pear in April. And now I find at home "John Brown,"' 
 which is excellent, & ought to be the most effective 
 song that theme has found. I take it to be your own, 
 — as much as anything so good can be any one's 
 own. And are these lines published? If not, they 
 should go to the « Atlantic " at once. If they have not 
 appeared in any journal, send me word at once. How 
 much there is to say of times & men ! Conway's state- 
 ment, on his return, of his Emancipation Argument, I 
 thought of great importance, but I fear he does not so 
 much justice to it in public, as in t^te a t^te. I still hope 
 that I may yet see you ere long. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 R. Waldo E. 
 
 ' Some verses composed by my father. — Ed. 
 
LXVII 
 
 Feb. 17 '62 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Thanks for your kind care of the * Strasburg 
 Clock' — The author, an unpretending & right love- 
 able man, is son-in-law of Alfred Elw}^! whom you 
 remember. I was taken with the verses partly because 
 they came from so unexpected a quarter. 
 
 As to the John Brown song I 'm pleased that you 
 like it. I should like it better — good Saxon that it is, 
 if W. H. F. did not think so well of it. His judgement 
 is not worth a pin in a case in which he is so deeply 
 interested. I sent a copy to Foster the man who com- 
 poses the popular negro melodies in the hope that it 
 may sing itself in his heart & ear. Mrs. Wister makes 
 
 it go to "A man's a man for a' that " — & M 
 
 F has set it to a very taking old Scotch march, a 
 
 little too lively. It appeared, I see, in last week's 
 Anti-Slavery Standard, with the vexatious omission 
 of a word — But let it go, whatever of the kind is alive, 
 always puts out legs or wings. 
 
 How glad we should have been to see you. But we 
 had but faint hopes of it. It's a pity we missed your 
 
L 140 ] 
 
 in obscure scraps scattered in every journal; 'Eman- 
 cipation in Maryland,' 'in Louisiana,' 'in Tenessee,' 
 ' in Missouri,' &c. And yet I know well how meekly 
 you will wear your dazzling crown. May Peace and 
 Love and Prosperity lacquey your steps! — on one 
 condition, however, that you come to see 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
LXIX 
 
 Phila. March 31, '67. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Our sorrow has countless alleviations.' We 
 are lifted up & sustained by the sympathy which has 
 come to us from so many who knew our boy & ap- 
 preciated him. It is a happiness that you knew him & 
 that he knew you. The last luxury he gave himself 
 was having his wellworn copy of 3n* Poems very 
 handsomely bound. With what delicious intelligence 
 did he read the "Woodnotes," his favorite — His 
 tones sound in my ears at the remembrance — I can- 
 not think I deceive myself — More than all he had 
 done, more than all I looked for him to do,& my ex- 
 pectation knew no bounds, I delighted in his spirit 
 & divine quality as an artist. I think I could not have 
 been so interested in his work, had I discerned in him 
 the slightest disposition to seek compensation either 
 in fame or money. He had no need to obey your in- 
 junction to throw away his paint, & kneel with the 
 worshippers. He painted on his knees. His portraits 
 
 ' Written after the sudden death of his eldest son, W. H. F., jr, — 
 an artist of unusual promise. — Ed. 
 
were not made, they grew. He was every day feeling 
 more & more that they came of themselves. He saw 
 faults in the best of them & yet the poorest were 
 sacred to him — 
 
 But I must restrain myself & not talk of him too 
 much. His death changes life for us. The new 
 world into which it has led us is not gloomy. I can- 
 not tell you what it is like. It has a strange charm. 
 We move about as in a dream which the thought of 
 him makes ^ad & tender & bright 
 
 I will send you a photograph of him from a da- 
 guerreotype taken when he was about 30 — It is so 
 beautiful that I please myself with thinking that you 
 will pin it up under the portrait of Edith — If you do 
 not receive it directly, I will send it to Little, Brown & 
 Go's where, when you go to the city, please call for it. 
 
 Remember me to your brother W™. & all yours 
 
 Heaven bless & keep us all 
 
 Lovingly Yr lifelong friend 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 I do not consider his portrait of you (you see af- 
 fection does not blind me) as good as he would have 
 made it — I advised him not to finish it, to keep it on 
 hand indefinitely & work upon it as he might have 
 opportunity. 
 
LXX 
 
 Sept 15 '68 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I have this moment heard of the death of yr 
 brother. It shocks me. I knew his health was feeble, 
 but I never tho't that we were so soon to lose him. I 
 held him in great respect & whenever I was in N. Y. 
 for a day or two, I loved to look in upon him & have 
 a little chat. What a fine sense he had of everything 
 good. The last time I was in N. Y. I heard of him but 
 I did not go to see him because my stay was so short 
 & he seemed so far distant — I am very sorry now. 
 I have a little book just coming out, & he was one of 
 the few persons that I wished to send it to — I think 
 he would have given it such a kind reception — 
 Heaven bless him — 
 
 Our hold is loosening, dear friend. There is some- 
 thing more than comfort in living among these 
 blessed memories — How large is my debt to you, & 
 my children's ! I cannot speak of it without becoming 
 incoherent, voice & heart are choked. What a deli- 
 cious breathing of natural piety 'Terminus' is ! A 
 thousand blessings on you too, dear, admirable 
 
friend. This wave which has landed yr brother before 
 us — this too you know is ' charmed * 
 
 Affectionately 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
LXXI 
 
 Phila Sept. 21 '69 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have seen our friend T. B. Pugh once or 
 twice lately & he has asked me to write to you & as- 
 sure you, as I can with confidence, that there will be 
 no lack of a crowd if you will come & make one of 
 his 'Star Course of Lectures ' 
 
 He has an excellent faculty of getting up such 
 things & you can come in perfect faith 
 
 We are growing old, dear friend, & it seems to 
 me all the deaths in the newspapers are of persons 
 about our age between 60 & 65 & 70. I long to see 
 your kind face once more — I hate travelling & hav- 
 ing been some 5 & 40 years or thereabouts in this 
 place, my roots have struck deep, I can't bear to be 
 away lest some old friend should drop off. 
 
 Wm's wife & child are at home again & she lets 
 me keep this portrait of you, & for 3^* sake & the art- 
 ist's it is a perpetual comforter — I have half a dozen . 
 grandchildren & they are so fine that the world may 
 go now as it will, a generation is coming that will set 
 all right — I am as much interested as ever in my old 
 
c; 146 3 
 
 hobby, the historical facts of the Life of Jesus. Since 
 the world has been disputing about him for so many 
 centuries, I can't think it's the waste of a life to give 
 it to the attempt to establish the truth about him — 
 I should have sent you my last little book but I was 
 afraid it might create in you a feeling that you must 
 read it. 
 
 I have spent the Summer Vacation at Horace's 
 eleven miles away. As when relaxation is the order 
 of the day, one must have a little work by way of 
 amusement, I have been at the dear old subject again 
 & believe now that I have set the case in such a light 
 that our radicals must see it, not that I have any seri- 
 ous design of publishing any more. Its good stuff for 
 preaching. 
 
 I rode a few squares in the street cars v^th Sam B. 
 this morning & he is' immortally the same. Heaven 
 bless him ! 
 
 Glad as I must be to hear from you, don't write 
 unless you can't help it but take my word for the 
 success of the Lecture & hold me about your oldest 
 friend alive 
 
 Affectionately 
 
 W. H. FURNESS 
 
LXXII 
 
 Concord — Tuesday, Eve. 23 Nov.' 
 
 My dear William, 
 
 You are very welcome to Massachusetts & to 
 me. In the first place, keep yourself safe from all en- 
 gagements for Saturday, when you must dine with 
 the Saturday Club, who all are or will be your friends. 
 Secondly, though first in time, you must come up 
 into the November pastures on Thursday, in the 1 1 
 o'clock Fitchburg train, & spend a day with me ; & 
 my wife & Ellen Emerson, & Edith Forbes — who is 
 here for a week, — & Edith Forbes's picture,^ which 
 is a perpetual ornament &.memorial dearly prized, — 
 shall greet you well. I passed through Cambridge 
 this morning without a guess of the sojourner within 
 the gates. Yet cannot at this moment fix the hour 
 when I can come to you. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 ' Probably about 1 868 or 1 869. — E. W. E. 
 
 ' A portrait of Mrs. Forbes, by W. H. F., jr. — Ed, 
 
LXXIII 
 
 Boston, Thursday, [November?] 1869. 
 
 11.30 A. M. 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 I have been following [jou] since early morn- 
 ing with a houndlike closeness which deserved a better 
 success. At no expected point will you appear. I was 
 to bring you home with me at ii o'c. Now I wish at 
 least to make it certain that you will dine with me at 
 the Saturday Club at 2.30 p.m. at the Parker House 
 day after tomorrow and if possible go home with me 
 thereafter. Today I will come to this Unitarian Office 
 at 1 . o'clock & shall be at the Athenaeum mainly till 
 then. 
 
 Yours always, 
 
 R. W. E. 
 
Samuel Bradford 
 
LXXIV 
 
 Concord 4 February, 1870.' 
 
 My dear Sam, 
 
 I have just received your kind note, & am al- 
 most ashamed to say, as often before, that when I go 
 on these professional errands I am very bad company, 
 & must go to an inn. A lecture is a nervous disorder 
 & hides itself like other distempers in a chamber. But 
 I am glad to have the hope of seeing you & your 
 household once again. Tis long since I have heard 
 from you except through your loving note, after my 
 brother's death. 
 
 For William Fumess when he was here never 
 showed me his face though I pursued him in Cam- 
 bridge & Boston for two days in vain. He had his 
 grandchild with him (as well as his own affairs,) & 
 the poor little boy must suddenly be carried home to 
 die. I almost fear to see him after such griefs as he 
 has had. 
 
 ' Through the kindness of Miss Annie Bradford I am enabled to 
 print this letter to her father ; and also another dated ' 1 1 March 
 '75.^ Thp triple friendship would be insubstantial without this tan- 
 gible proof. — Ed. 
 
C 150 3 
 
 I hope to be in the Lapierre House some time on 
 Monday, perhaps early in the afternoon and depend 
 on seeing you there as well as in your own house. 
 
 With kind remembrances to your wife & children, 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 Samuel Bradford. 
 
LXXV 
 
 I am very sorry to trouble you, my dear 
 Waldo, but I fear that you have not received a print 
 which I sent you more than a week ago, and of which 
 I am anxiously waiting to have your judgment and 
 Mrs. Emerson's. 
 
 I do not at present intend to print more than a 
 dozen or two. Altho' the few of your friends who 
 have seen it here are entirely pleased with it, yet I 
 shall not consider that I have an official imprimatur 
 without the favourable opinion of your family circle. 
 It does not, no engraving can, come up to the pre- 
 cious original portrait but does Miss Emily S[]artain] 
 great credit. 
 
 Ever cordially yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 Phila.,Dec. 15, 'ri. 
 
LXXVI 
 
 Concord, 17 Dec^ 1871. 
 
 My dear Fumess, 
 
 I have just now returned from an unexpected 
 visit, — say rather untimed visit, to the West, which I 
 had promised for a certain date, which date I must 
 think the local Committee altered — (I hope' by mis- 
 take) to a date more convenient to them, & then as- 
 sured me by repeated telegrams that they had my 
 own si^ature to their date, & so led me from my 
 Thanksgiving party just gathered for the morrow, to 
 the doleful journey. Then it appeared no such signa- 
 ture could be found. At home again, I found your 
 letter, & your Sartain copy ' of William Fumess's pic- 
 ture, safely arrived. I have, as I suppose all old people 
 have, a little terror at facing one's own face, — nay, I 
 think I have a good deal of unwillingness, increasing 
 on each experiment. But I will not quote to you 
 Richard III.'s soliloquy — Well, my alarm was not a 
 little relieved on drawing out & positing the head. It 
 was certainly a kinder & more desirable figure & ex- 
 
 ' A mezzotint engraving of the portrait of Mr. Emerson by W. 
 H.F.,jr. — Ed. 
 
C 153 2 
 
 pression than I fear any photograph would give me. 
 My wife was called, & instantly adopted it, & declared 
 it was not only a good picture, but an excellent like- 
 ness, — better than any other. My daughter EUen 
 found it good, & Elizabeth Hoar found in it a hkeness 
 of all the Emersons ; — so that nothing is left me but 
 to express my thanks to Miss Sartain, the artist, & to 
 yourself for your steadfast tenderness to your friend, 
 which led your son to this work, which it seems was 
 so skilfully & masterly done. All the year round I re- 
 member him as a benefactor in the admirable picture 
 of Edith E. Forbes which beams his praise in my 
 parlor. So you shall do what you & Miss Sartain think 
 proper with this drawing, with the goodwill of this 
 household. If she prints copies, I shall be glad to have 
 her send me, say 12 copies at the fixed price. For- 
 yourself — if you do not come to see me, I shall 
 come & see you. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
LXXVII 
 
 My dear Waldo, 
 
 I am amply rewarded for waiting. Altho' we 
 all rejoiced in Miss Sartain's success, yet I feared 
 your innermost circle might not be as well pleased. 
 I am under an obligation to you & Mrs. Emerson & 
 Miss Ellen for liking the print. It is such a precious 
 souvenir on so many dear accounts that I have no 
 mind to sell it. I desire even to guard it against the 
 photographers. You give me gratifying proof of your 
 liking by wishing for so many. You shall have 12 
 copies, but they are not for sale. The steel plate is 
 my property. Sam B[radford]] shall have it & Benj. 
 Hunt & some others of our friends, yours & mine. 
 
 Those Western folk were not worthy of you. You 
 must never again go farther from home than Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 We had a high day last Sunday at our Church — 
 R^obert] CoUyer & Charles Ames. Do you know 
 Ames ? second to no man in the American pulpit, a 
 glorious fellow. 
 
 With loving regards for all who love you 
 
 Yours ever 
 
 W- H. FURNESS. 
 
 Phila. Dec. 20, '71. 
 
LXXVIII 
 
 Concord 11 Augt. 'r2. 
 
 My dear William Furness, 
 
 If ever man deserved well of his ff iend, it is 
 you. Yet it has happened to me again & again by 
 some inopportune chance to be hindered or disabled 
 when most I ought & most I wished to write to you. 
 It is too ridiculous that a fire should make an old 
 scholar sick: but the exposures of that morning, & the 
 necessities of the following days which kept me a large 
 part of the time in the blaze of the sun have in every 
 way demoralized me for the present, — incapable of 
 any sane or just action. 
 
 Be at rest however about the noble picture which 
 your son made of Edith Forbes. It hung in the parlor, 
 & was carried out in perfect safety before the fall of 
 a chimney broke in the ceiling of the room. We are 
 very happy in its preservation. Tomorrow we look 
 for the arrival of Edith F. with her husband & four 
 children at Boston from Liverpool — quite ignorant 
 of our disaster. 
 
 I am sorry to learn that I never acknowledged the 
 receipt of the twelve copies of Miss Sartain's copy of 
 
c: 156 ] 
 
 William F.'s picture of me. I believe they were sent 
 to my house whilst I was in California, and with the 
 firm intention to write, I suppose, as has happened to 
 me before, — that I soon persuaded myself that I had 
 written my thanks. These signal proofs of my debility 
 & decay ought to persuade you at your first northern 
 excursion to come & re-animate & renew the failing 
 powers of 
 
 Your still affectionate old friend, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
LXXIX 
 
 You are to read a lecture here on the i8th 
 prox. Now, friend beloved, do give your old friend 
 the happiness of having you once more under his roof. 
 You shall be as free as air. We have no household 
 ways to hamper you. We observe no hours. We 
 have a comfortable bedchamber, large, with a com- 
 fortable little parlor adjoining. They shall be your 
 castle. They have long been unoccupied, except by 
 occasional guests, as Frank and his family are no 
 longer dwelling with us. And besides I have ended 
 my pastorate with my fifty years, & am not a poor 
 minister. So do come to us. You will surely come, if 
 your quick conceiving imagipation will only dwell for 
 a moment on the pleasure you will give us both. Mrs. 
 Fumess joins me in every word that I say & will only 
 be too happy to welcome Mrs. Emerson and your 
 daughter with you. 
 
 Consider too whether you cannot take the oppor- 
 tunity of doing something more than giving us one 
 lecture. 
 
 I almost Mdsh I had not forgiven you for not an- 
 swering my letters. I might found some claim upon 
 you on that score. 
 
i: 158 J 
 
 You will answer this & say that 1426 Pine St. 
 shall be your home in Philadelphia. If you do not 
 answer, I shall take silence for consent & bless my- 
 self. 
 
 Heartily & faithfully 
 
 Your ancient friend, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 Philadelphia, Feb. s,'rs. 
 
 Is it possible that you have been untouched by the 
 grace with which I have resigned you on your past 
 visits to Hotels ? 
 
 Your shadow ' is on our walls, let us have the sub- 
 stance once more before we depart. 
 
 ' This Portrait of Mr. Emerson by W. H. Fumess, jr., is now, by 
 bequest, in the possession of The Academy of the Fine Arts' in Phila- 
 delphia. — Ed. 
 
LXXX 
 
 Concord, Feb. lo, 'r5. 
 
 My dear friend. 
 
 Oldest friend of all, — old as Mrs. Whitwell's 
 school, & remembered still with that red & white 
 handkerchief which charmed me with its cats & rats 
 of pre-historic art, & later with your own native 
 genius with pencil & pen, up & upward from Latin 
 School & Mr. Webb's noonday's writing, to Harvard, 
 — you, my only Maecenas, & I your adoring critic, 
 & so on & onward, but always the same, a small mu- 
 tual admiration society of two, — which we seem to 
 have founded in Summer Street, and never quite for- 
 gotten despite the 300 miles, tyrannical miles be- 
 tween Philad. & Concord — Well what shall I say in 
 my defence of my stolid silence at which you hint. 
 Why, only this, — that while you have, I believe, 
 some months advance of me in age, the gods have 
 given you some draught of their perennial cup & 
 withheld the same from me. I have for the last two 
 years, I believe, written nothing in my once diurnal 
 manuscripts & never a Jetter that I could omit (inclu- 
 sive too of some that I ought not omit) and this ap- 
 
C 160 ] 
 
 plies to none more than yours. Now comes your new 
 letter with all your affectionate memories & presence 
 fresh as roses. I had received an invitation from Mr. 
 Childs, (who had sent me for years his monthly 
 papers, until they ended though I have never seen 
 him) with large invitation to his house, & with some 
 deliberation I said Yes, & wrote him so, in spite of my 
 almost uniform practice of choosing the hotel when I 
 read lectures, for the reason that my lecture is never 
 finished, but always needs a super-final attention. 
 Then came your letter, & I must obey it. My daugh- 
 ter Ellen who goes always with my antiquity, insists 
 that we shall, and I must write no to Mr. Childs. So 
 you & Mrs. Furness receive our affectionate thanks 
 for the welcome you have sent us. My love to Sam 
 Bradford, if you meet him. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
 My Wife — too much an invalid, sends you her 
 kindest regards. 
 
LXXXI 
 
 February, 1875. 
 
 My dear old friend, 
 
 A thousand thanks for the promised favor. 
 Mrs. Emerson's words to me, that one time I was in 
 Concord, are fulfilled : Miss Ellen is 'your guide, 
 philosopher, & friend.' 
 
 I went this morning to see our friend Childs, a man 
 of marvellously sweet nature. His countenance is a 
 demonstration of the fact that his first progenitor's 
 features have re-appeared in him, the features that 
 suggested the family name, so childlike are they. 
 Twenty applications may be made to him in a day for 
 charitable objects of all sorts & not one of them but 
 will have a benefaction, & the last will be as kindly 
 met as the first. I went to see him for I was greatly in 
 his debt. He had a great entertainment the other 
 evening. Presidents & English Earls, & all manner of 
 distinguished persons were invited & special trains 
 from & to New York & Baltimore & Washington, 
 were provided for them, & if you had hinted that 
 you would come, there would have been a special car 
 for you from Concord to Philadelphia. I was invited 
 
I 162 ] 
 
 but I neither went nor did I answer the card of invi- 
 tation. That was one item against me. Then he had 
 tried to get Charles Lamb's MS. of the Dissertation 
 on Roast Pig & I have it. That was another. And 
 lastly I am taking you from him. To be sure this was 
 only taking my own property. He was as gracious & 
 cordial as possible, cancelling the whole debt in the 
 handsomest manner. 
 
 We collected a little while ago some eighty pounds 
 for Mrs. Moxon, C. Lamb's adopted daughter, who 
 with a large family was represented to us as being in 
 straitened circumstances. I went to friend Childs. 
 He had already sent her a hill for twenty-Jive pounds, 
 making the donation more than a hundred pounds 
 in all. 
 
 Be entirely at your ease. This letter is unanswer- 
 able. O those dear old times. I have not to this hour 
 become insensible to the delicious flattery of your 
 scorn of me when I once gave up one of my immortal 
 works of Art in exchange for an architectural draw- 
 ing of McClure's (do you recollect a boy of that 
 name?) His genius ran exclusively in that line. I was 
 charmed with his colonnades & ready to give a whole 
 troop of Boston Hussars for one of his sketches, 
 which, however, you did not think much of. 
 
 Please don't make any engagements that will 
 shorten your visit to us. Take it leisurely. But I have 
 
i: 163 ] 
 
 Miss Ellen in our interest. She will send us a tele- 
 gram, telling us what train you come by. Our children 
 must become acquainted, & you must give them a 
 little time. 
 
 With loving thoughts. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
 In resigning my pulpit the other day I was em- 
 boldened by your warrant. Miss Fanny Clarke who 
 travelled with you in Egypt some two years ago, told 
 me, after I had told her that purpose, that you said 
 upon her telling you that I had just completed my 
 48th year, you hoped I would resign at the end of 50 
 years. You have forgotten it, I suppose. 
 
LXXXII 
 
 Concord, 11 March, '75. 
 
 My dear Sam, 
 
 I am delighted to see your writing again, & to 
 be invited again to your home. Surely I shall come to 
 see you, but it is now settled that I am to come with 
 my daughter Ellen to William Furness's house. 
 
 You know that he & I were first acquainted at 
 Mrs. Whit well's School — aged 4 & 5, — & you & I 
 never until 5 or 6 ; so he plainly had the oldest claim. 
 Happy I that can claim two such sturdy friends in 
 my seventy first Spring. I believe all three of us have 
 agreed not to grow old, — certainly not to each other 
 — and I am glad to read what you say of Dr. Fur- 
 ness's, & what of your own family. Give my thank- 
 ful regards to the last, & I remain 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 R. W. Emerson 
 Samuel Bradford, Esq. 
 
LXXXIII 
 
 25 March, 18/5 
 
 My dear Waldo, 
 
 As I doubt not you would never have forgiven 
 Adam had he been so ungentlemanly, not to say un- 
 christian, as to refuse to take a bite of the apple which 
 had the marks of his lady's teeth in it, forbidden tho' 
 it was — we should all of us be indeed "girt in the 
 poisoned robes of hereditary depravity' * had he been 
 so base, — you will surely not find it in your heart to 
 condemn our photographic friend, Gutekunst, for 
 taking advantage of the opportunity, &, when the 
 pleasure of mankind was concerned, disregarding all 
 considerations of personal veracity, &, at one of the 
 sittings of the Three Boys, directing the attention of 
 the sun particularly to yourself. 
 
 I send you a specimen of the result. He says he 
 honestly meant to take us all three, but Sam's & 
 mine were failures, while yours was so good, he cut 
 it out, & you have it with the others which I sent by 
 this mail. Either the photographer aimed particularly 
 
 * Repeated some 60 years ago with admiring intonation 
 by R. W- E. to W. H. F. from a sermon by N. L. F[roth- 
 ingham] . 
 
C 166 ] 
 
 at you, or the divinity you wot of, which is always 
 whittling ends, got command of the instrument. 
 
 We are all so pleased with this single head that, 
 had I been an accomplice in its production, I should 
 not be ashamed of it. After all Mr. G. puts the nega- 
 tive entirely at your disposal. If you say the word, it 
 shall be destroyed. 
 
 The other specimens which I send you are num- 
 bered 1, 2, 3, (the 4th was poor) . Please let us know 
 which is liked best, & of which you prefer to have a 
 number. The photographer tells me they can be en- 
 larged. 
 
 Will you assure Mr. Charles Hudson that I am not 
 the most impudent of men. His Committee have hon- 
 ored me with an invitation to your great Celebration. 
 In answering it, I have been so bold as to ask whether 
 Horace Binney be invited, a Watertown man, born 
 five years after the Battle was fought, graduate of 
 Harvard, the Glory of our Bar. He would not think 
 of coming to you but he might send you a patriotic 
 word. He is understood to be in full possession of his 
 fine powers. 
 
 What a delightful memory we are enriched with ! 
 The happy visit ! 
 
 With the heartiest good wishes for you all 
 
 •Affectionately 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
LXXXIV 
 
 Concord, April 3, '75. 
 
 My dear William Fumess, best of boys and best of 
 men, 
 
 I never write in these days, but must rejoice in 
 your existence & perfect preservation when all your 
 Contemporaries are shedding theirs. The photographs 
 came, & I tried to compare & decide which to keep & 
 which to burn, but was too glad to leave them to Ellen 
 for judgment. Each was best to one sitter but Ellen 
 shall choose. Meantime I rejoice in the recollection 
 of your happiest family which seems never to have 
 had but one loss. With your possession & your mem- 
 ories, I count you the most favored of contemporary 
 men. After seeing your children, to find your brother 
 still at the next door to you, — was a joyful wonder. 
 I send my kindest regards to your Wife, & to all & 
 each of these; & please tell them that there is an old 
 man in the Country not far from Boston who would 
 dearly like to see their faces in his house, & to show 
 them to his neighbours, some of whom are very esti- 
 
: 168 -2 
 
 mable persons. And do not forget to give my love 
 to Sam Bradford. 
 
 [Autograph cut out.]] 
 
 I sent our Committee's card of invitation to Mr. 
 Horace Binney as you suggested. 
 
LXXXV 
 
 Concord, May 7, '75. 
 My dear William Furness, 
 
 My Wife prays me to assure you of her sincere 
 thanks for the photograph which she received from 
 you through the hands of Mr. Wilde, a few days ago. 
 She knows well the rare good fortune — no, — the 
 blessing that her husband has received in his friends, 
 
 — of whom you are the earliest, — & by us both 
 reckoned the perfect man. You may rest assured she 
 has heard in full from Ellen & me the story of what 
 we saw & heard in your house & circle, of a felicity 
 
 — I think without parallel in my observation, and she 
 rejoices with us therein. I think it would be graceful 
 in you to come once more to your mother Massa- 
 chusetts & make her proud of her too long absent 
 son. I long to see you in my rebuilded house, and our 
 growing village & its lauded " Public Library," & 
 our Saturday Club in the City (which you must time 
 your visit to embrace,) Mem. last Saturday of each 
 month.) 
 
 With kindest regards to Sam Bradford, whom it 
 was a comfort to see, and grateful remembrances to 
 your family. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 R. W. Emerson. 
 
LXXXVI 
 
 Concord, June 2. 
 
 Dearest Friend, 
 
 I hear with joy that you are near and will come 
 nearer to me. Come at once on the receipt of this 
 prayer, and come to stay generously. My wife insists 
 that I shall add her eager wishes to mine. 
 
 Your oldest friend, 
 
 R. W. Emerson, 
 
LXXXVII 
 
 June 20, 'rs. 
 Lindenshade. 
 
 May I make bold, my dear Waldo, to remind 
 you of your kind offer to send Horace, Herman 
 Grimm's word about Hamlet, after you had possessed 
 yourself of its purport ? 
 
 We came home something more than a week ago 
 with most pleasant memories of Concord & our New 
 England visit altogether. I suppose I should go there 
 oftener if I would escape missing sadly so many that 
 I loved & venerated. Everything there seemed to me 
 to be in the hands of boys, very good & bright boys 
 indeed, but I would fain have seen the fathers. 
 
 Mrs. Fumess joins me in friendliest remem- 
 brances. With hearty good wishes for you & yours. 
 Affectionately your oldest friend, 
 
 W. H. FURNESS. 
 
LXXXVIII 
 
 My dear William 
 
 You are not to be forgiven for failing me on 
 Saturday, — as if anybody in nature except alone 
 your brother James, could prove pre-engagement 
 over me. Your only plea is that it was you who did it, 
 & that I must admit as sovran. 
 
 But I cannot come to town today ; am held not 
 with "light irons" to my house & study, — and for 
 days ; yet Thursday or Friday I am to go thro Boston 
 to a " Brown Meeting " in Salem. You will then come 
 out & spend Wednesday with me. A train comes at 1 1 
 o'c from Fitchburg Depot. That is a good William 
 F. We shall greet you dearly, 
 
 Ralph Waldo E. 
 
LXXXIX 
 
 Concord, Dec. 23.' 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Your beautiful gift has come safely to me, and 
 charms us all in this house. I think I must carry it to 
 the Town Library for some days to give every one a 
 sight. Happy was the day for me when your father 
 removed his family into Summer Street at the next 
 door to the First Church mipister's house which my 
 mother was still allowed to hold long after my father's 
 death. 
 
 I believe thatyou and I had met before in the dame's 
 school in Summer Street, to read and spell ; after that, 
 at the Latin School, — and I recall visits to your house 
 on Fort hill. In this long memory I cannot recall any 
 fault in my friend ; but a great heart, as well as great 
 powers. I rejoice in the perfect preservation of his 
 faculties when younger men are losing theirs. Receive 
 the thanks of my wife and daughter & son with 
 
 R. W. E.'s. 
 
 ' Date unknown, and impossible to fix. Nor is there any clue to the 
 ' beautiful gift.' — Ed. 
 
xc 
 
 Ellen asks me what message I wish to send 
 you. I tell her immortal love, & the gladness that, 
 though you count more months than I, you have not 
 & shall not, like me, lose the names, when you wish 
 to call them, of your contemporary or antecedent 
 friends & teachers. 
 
 Ralph Waldo E, 
 
APPENDIX 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 FORTUS 
 
 The original MS of this ' Poem' is now owned by the chil- 
 dren of the Rev. Daniel Parker Noyes, of Byfield, Massa- 
 chusetts, to whom it came by bequest from his Aunt, Miss 
 Hannah, daughter of Dr Elijah Parish, Minister of Byfield 
 parish. How it came into the possession of Miss Parish is 
 not known. She was a woman, however, of literary tastes, 
 in touch with the writers of her day, and a ' snapper up of 
 unconsidered trifles.' 
 
 The MS, whereof the size is reproduced in the photo- 
 graphs, is enclosed in a paper wrapper, bearing on the inside 
 of the last page the following note : — ' This whimsical em- 
 ployment of my time was begun at Bennett Str. when I was 
 10 years old & completed by various dates to 1816. Cam- 
 bridge 1821.' 
 
 This 'Completion' consists of what are, in the MS itself, 
 termed 'Editors Notes,' appended to the Poem. These 
 'Notes' are written in. a script more mature than that of the 
 Poem itself, and to me are not pleasing. They do not suggest 
 that reverence for youth and the 'angel' therein, which was 
 later a characteristic of Mr. Emerson. They hold up to ridi- 
 cule certain youthful expressions in the poem, and quite 
 needlessly point out certain obvious defects. The touch is 
 not light, and shows an apparent lack of general appreciation 
 which is unpleasant, and allowable only in the author him- 
 self. I have therefore omitted them. We want to see nothing 
 
I 178 ] 
 
 to the right or to the left, but, directly in front, a little boy 
 in blue nankeen, with frowzled hair, most sunny smile, 
 and his quill pen in a hand not over clean. 
 
 On the title-page, after the word ' Emendations ' there is 
 in the MS the addition ' & Notes ' partly erased. It has been 
 expunged from the photograph. I cannot but believe that 
 the words ' Eighth Edition with Emendations ' are also late 
 additions. Not only from the character of the writing, but 
 because the fun of the exaggeration, feeble at best, is not 
 boys' fun at the age of ten. 
 
 The History of 
 FORTUS 
 
 In days of chivalry of old 
 
 When knights perform'd atcheivments bold 
 
 Tortus the great the strong and brave 
 
 Who oft had stretch'd his hand to save 
 
 A helpless damsel from a foe 
 
 And laid full many a ruffian low 
 
 Travers'd the earth an errant knight 
 
 And always conquering in fight. 
 
 When travelling with his squire one day 
 
 Beneath the burning sunny ray 
 
 A damsel not far off he saw 
 
 Standing before a castle door 
 
 Brave Fortus tum'd his courser straight 
 
 And ask'd admission at the gate 
 
 His small request was not denie4 
 
 And in the knight and squire hied 
 
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A table then was quickly set 
 The hungry knight : sat down to eat 
 And when refresh'd and cool'd they brought 
 His steed with trappings richly wrought 
 The damsel coming to him said 
 Swear by the honors of that head 
 To grant the boon that I demand 
 And bring it me with thine own hand 
 " I grant thy boon " the warrior cries 
 And to his steed impatient flies 
 Then ask'd her wish " It is to bring " 
 ' Within these walls a golden ring " 
 ' The expedition sure is hard ' ' 
 ' The precious ring is under guard " 
 ' Of knights and hosts and lions too ' ' 
 ' And winged dragons not a few " 
 ' But if thou find a certain cord " 
 ' Then shalt thou conquer with thy sword " 
 ' The ring is in a gloomy wood " 
 ' Which many a century has stood " 
 ' The cord on which depends thy all " 
 ' Whether thou stand or whether fall " 
 ' Is near and fastened on a tree ' ' 
 ' Cut that and gain the ring for me ' ' 
 ' When thou the fatal cord dost cleave " 
 ' Thy mettled steed at distance leave ' ' 
 ' For if thy courser thou dost bring ' ' 
 ' Thou canst not cut th' enchanted string " 
 The damsel then mark'd out the way 
 In which his expedition lay 
 Swift mounted then our fearless knight 
 
And quickly he was out of sight 
 
 He took his path and soon he found 
 
 Himself upon the woody ground 
 
 He then alighted from his horse 
 
 And swift pursued his destin'd course 
 
 He found the cord without delay 
 
 He rais'd his sword and it gave way 
 
 Nor that alone for while he stood 
 
 A groan ascended from the wood 
 
 The forest fell and quick display'd 
 
 Hosts knights and squires in arms array'd 
 
 Brave Tortus stood as still as death 
 
 But soon recovering his breath 
 
 A knight stepp'd forward from the host 
 
 Who seem'd to be the army's boast 
 
 And with his frowns and lowering look 
 
 Courageous Fortus he bespoke 
 
 "Whoe'er thou art who durst appear " 
 
 " Before our soldiers faces here " 
 
 " Tell unto me thy true intent " 
 
 " To get a gold ring art thou sent ? " 
 
 ' ' For if thou art I challenge thee ' ' 
 
 ' ' Within the lists to combat me ' ' 
 
 ' ' And if thou take my life away ' ' 
 
 " The ring I freely give to thee " 
 
 Fortus accepts this challenge fair 
 
 And both the combatants prepare. 
 
 While Fortus sought his horse behold 
 
 A sword of solid burnish'd gold 
 
 Appeared before his ravish'd sight 
 
 And scatter'd round it radiant light 
 
C 181 ] 
 
 While round his head a Phantom flew 
 
 Whose garments were of shining blue 
 
 " Take it and use it 'gainst your foe 
 
 She said and vanish'd in a airy show 
 
 He took the sword and in a scabbard plac'd 
 
 Which in a belt hung dangling at his waist 
 
 Then mounted on his fiery steed 
 
 He rode up to the lists with speed 
 
 Where his opponent arm'd did stand 
 
 With sword uplifted in his hand 
 
 Then fierce together they engage 
 
 Like lions fighting in a rage 
 
 Doubtful the combat long remain'd 
 
 Nor were the blows at all restrain'd 
 
 Both with glory's love inspired 
 
 Both with equal courage fir'd 
 
 Both were obstinate to yield 
 
 Neither would give up the field 
 
 And now the strength of the strange knight 
 
 Begins to fail in bloody fight 
 
 Fortus observes — his strength renew 'd 
 
 The knight he flies, & is pursu'd 
 
 The flying knight could not withstand 
 
 The force of Fortus' steady hand 
 
 But conquer'd fell by Fortus' sword 
 
 Threw down his blade and own'd him lord 
 
 Fortus, Compassion in his eyes 
 
 Assists the fall'n knight to rise 
 
 Gives healing balms — it was too late 
 
 His sword had done the work of fate 
 
 The knight fell down upon the plain 
 
i: 182 -2 
 
 Never to rise on earth again. 
 One hostile knight now being dead 
 Fortus proceeds with steady tread 
 Not far he went before another 
 The fall'n knight's revengeful brother 
 Approach'd & challeng'd — fought & bled 
 And soon lay number 'd with the dead 
 The Hosts now see their Champions lay 
 Dead in the field from bloody fray 
 Unmov'd in silence long they stood 
 Doubting to go again to blood, 
 Or to make peace with Fortus bold 
 By giving the ring of solid gold 
 But now their Generals pointing out 
 Their strength, remov'd their doubt 
 They show'd two Dragons in their ire 
 Snorting thick clouds of smoke & fire 
 They look'd and in each strengthen'd hand 
 They place sword dagger, lance, or brand 
 With coward step along they go 
 To meet a single but a dreadful foe. 
 Fortus beholds — recovers breath 
 Then arms, to do the work of death, 
 Then like a Lion bounding oer his foes 
 Swift as the lightning, he to combat rose 
 Fairies unseen now hover o'er his head 
 Whilst he sends thousands to the gloomy dead 
 Unhurt he stands amid ten thousand foes 
 And deals unwearied & effectual blows ; 
 Six score & twenty thousand 'gan the fray 
 Six score alone surviv'd that dreadful day 
 
C 183 ] 
 
 Ah ! hear the groans of those that bled 
 
 In that sad plain, o'erlaid with dead 
 
 Ah ! hear those brothers & those sons deplore 
 
 Their brothers, fathers, slain in cruel war 
 
 Oh hear those heartfelt & those saddest groans 
 
 Here one for father & for brother moans. 
 
 Fortus who would not quit the field 
 Till every foe was forc'd to yeild 
 To tender Pity now transform'd his wrath 
 And from the bloody field pursued his path 
 As he from downcast look uptumd his eyes 
 He sees the ramparts of a castle rise 
 In adamantine chains two dragons stood 
 Snorting thick smoke and thirsting dire for blood 
 ' ' Another trial yet ! " brave Fortus cried 
 " Have I O damsel not enough been tried 
 " Yet still at this I will not yet repine 
 " If I can conquer then shalt thou be mine 
 Thus having said he added not a word 
 But straight for Conquest drew his pondrous sword. 
 Then on he rush'd upon them in his pow'r 
 Who can describe that wonder-working hour 
 My Muse is weak O how then could she tell 
 The wondrous things which at that time befel 
 Suffice it then to say long time they fought 
 And Fortus' conquest with his blood was bought 
 The dragons lay extended on the ground 
 Deep peirc'd with many a fatal wound 
 And Fortus' conquer'd — Generous Muse 
 No praises to the brave refuse 
 In tuneful notes his name prolong 
 
C 184 J 
 
 Be that the burthen of your song 
 Fortus though bloody would not wait 
 But flew into the castle gate 
 Before his face the Phantom blue 
 Bade, & the gates wide open flew 
 He enter'd when before his sight 
 Appear'd a lady heav'nly bright 
 She held the ring without alloy 
 Who can describe brave Tortus' joy 
 He flew as on the eagle's wing 
 The lady rose & gave the ring 
 He bow'd, departed, heard a bell 
 As soon as which — the castle fell 
 He look'd but not a trace was found 
 The place was level with the ground 
 Fortus now mounts his mettled steed 
 And rides along at fullest speed 
 O'er rising hills & sinking vales 
 Oer pleasant plains & flowery dales 
 And now before his happy eyes 
 The Damsel's towers at length arise 
 The steed his master's voice perceives 
 And bounding on each forest leaves 
 Fortus now leaping from his steed 
 Leaves him in open plains to feed 
 He lingers not he cannot wait 
 But knocks at the high castle gate 
 The castle's portals open'd wide 
 And in the noble Fortus hied 
 He gave the ring to her he lov'd 
 For now his constancy was prov'd 
 

 1^ 
 
 »^.3!2,:t. 
 
 .x^.jL-Jii 
 

 ^'^'^^^-n^r^n.'i 
 
 i^JSlL^ 
 
C 185 ] 
 
 They lov'd — & soon in wedlock's bands 
 In nuptial vows were join'd their hands 
 
 FINIS 
 
 R W Emerson. 
 
CONTRIBUTIONS 
 
 TO 
 
 'THE GIFT' AND 'THE DIADEM' 
 
 BY 
 
 R. W. EMERSON 
 
 The Garden of Plants 
 
 The Gift 
 
 1844 
 
 The Poet's Apology 
 
 K (( 
 
 1845 
 
 Dirge 
 
 (( (( 
 
 1845 
 
 Loss and Gain 
 
 The Diadem 
 
 1846 
 
 A Fable 
 
 (( (( 
 
 1846 
 
 The Fore-Runners 
 
 (< (( 
 
 1846 
 
 The World-Soul 
 
 (( a 
 
 1847 
 
INDEX 
 
 AGASSIZ, L. 
 
 77, 127 
 
 his name on a rock in Switzerland, 
 
 108, 109 
 
 Agent for Lectures, 
 
 77 
 
 Alcott, A. B. 
 
 3,12 
 
 Ames, Charles G. 
 
 154 
 
 Anti-Slavery lecture only less bad than Slavery,' 
 
 106 
 
 Art Union, 
 
 67 
 
 AUantic Monthly, The, 
 
 115 
 
 BANCROF 1, GEORGE, 
 
 93 
 
 Bartol, Rev. Dr. 
 
 119 
 
 Beecher, Rev. H. W. 
 
 122 
 
 Bellows, Rev. H. W. 
 
 119,121,122 
 
 Binney, Horace, 
 
 166, 168 
 
 Bradford, S., 1, 3, 8, 9, 12, 88, 105,^110, 116, 11/, 123, 134, 
 
 146, 165, 168, 169 
 
 Letter to him 149, i64 
 
 Brazer vs. Cicero, 14 
 
 Brown, John, Verses on, 136, 137 
 
 Brown Meeting in Salem, 1 72 
 
 CAREY, E. L., 40, 44 
 
 his generosity, 22 
 
 sand The Gift, 18,24 
 
 Carlyle, T., 35, 56, S7, 38, 40, 66, 72 
 
 Hist, of French Revolution, 2 
 
 Miscellanies, Bargain for,, 4 
 
 his coming to America, 5 
 
[ 19° ] 
 
 Carlyle, T. (continued) 
 
 
 profits from Hist, of French Revolution, 
 
 10 
 
 Lawrence's portrait of. 
 
 sr 
 
 his portrait, 
 
 40 
 
 and early copy of Cromwell, 
 
 46 
 
 and his Cromwell, 
 
 50,51 
 
 and Richter, 
 
 64 
 
 and draft for £50, 
 
 68,70 
 
 'Emerson's voice the only one he hears,' 
 
 85 
 
 his daguerreotype, 
 
 95, 96, 97 
 
 Channing, W. E., 18, 
 
 20,21,24,32,33 
 
 Obscurity of his Poetry, 
 
 26 
 
 Eminence as a Poet, 
 
 30 
 
 Emendation 
 
 31 
 
 Chapman and Hall, 
 
 46,47 
 
 Childs, Geo. W., 
 
 160, 161 
 
 Clark, Miss Frances, 
 
 163 
 
 Clarke, Rev. Dr. J. F., 
 
 125 
 
 Clough, A. H., his autobiography. 
 
 115 
 
 CoUyer, Robert, 
 
 154 
 
 Columbus dying. To, 
 
 27,32 
 
 Communion, Observance of. 
 
 15 
 
 Conway, Moncure D., 
 
 122, 136, 138 
 
 DANA, 
 
 77 
 
 Dexter, Timothy, 
 
 25 
 
 Diadem, The, 33, 
 
 36, 38, 39, 52, 53 
 
 Dial, The, 
 
 19,24 
 
 its last Number, 
 
 33 
 
 Dickson, Miss Nancy, 
 
 3,121 
 
 Dirge, The, its origin, 
 
 30 
 
 D'Orsay, his portrait of Carlyle, 
 
 41 
 
 Duyckinck, E. A., ' 
 
 61 
 
i 191 3 
 
 EMERSON, EDWARD, 6 
 
 Emerson, Miss Ellen, 106, 109, 130, 160, 161, 163, 
 
 164, 167, 169, 1/4 
 
 Emerson, Mrs., the mother of R. W. E., 90 
 
 Emerson, R. W., as the American poet, 25 
 
 his unproductiveness, 109 
 
 contributions to The Gift and to The Diadem, 187 
 
 Emerson, William, 72, 77, 95 
 
 his death, 143 
 
 FIELDS, J. T., 114 
 
 Forbes, Mrs., Letter of R. W. E. to Miss Russell, 132 
 
 her portrait by W. H. F. jr., 142, 147, 153 
 
 her portrait saved from fire, 155 
 
 Fortus, The History of, 1 78 
 
 Fremont, J. C, 110,112 
 
 Frothingham, Rev. Dr., 125 
 
 Frothingham, Rev. O. B., * 125 
 
 Fuller, Margaret, 54, 83 
 
 incident at a concert, 84 
 
 Fumess, Frank, 95 
 
 Fumess, W. H., jr.. 43, 84, 95 
 
 engraving of portrait of R. W. E. and approval of family, 152 
 
 present location of portrait, 158 
 
 GANNETT, Rev. Dr. E. S., 60 
 
 Gift, The, • 18 
 
 Gilman, S., 1 6 
 
 Godwin, Parke, 75 
 
 Goethe, 85 
 
 Farbenlehre, 8 
 
 his greatness, 8 1 
 
 Greeley, Horace, 46 
 
Griswold, Rufus W., 27, 39, 41, SS 
 
 Gutekunst, F., . 165 
 
 HANDKERCHIEF with House that Jack built, 88 
 
 Hart, A., 42,45,48,50,61,63,66 
 
 Hedge, F. H., 1, 43, 61, 63, 64, 114, 122 
 
 Heeren's Egypt, 8 
 
 Heine, H., 113 
 
 Hering, Dr. C, 41 
 
 Hilliard & Gray, 2 
 
 Hoar, Miss Elizabeth, 3 1 , 54 
 
 Hudson, Charles, 16/ 
 
 Hunt,Benj. P., 2, 116, 119, 122, 123 
 
 JACKSON, Dr., 
 
 110 
 
 James, Henry, 
 
 75 
 
 Johnson, Rev. S., 
 
 125 
 
 KANE, Dr. E. K., his book. 
 
 93 
 
 Kay, James, 
 
 61 
 
 Kossuth, Louis, 
 
 80 
 
 LAMB, CHART, ES, 
 
 1,42 
 
 MS. of Dissertation on Roast Pig, 
 
 162 
 
 Langdon, Walter, 
 
 88, 103, 104 
 
 Lawrence, S., the artist, 
 
 93 
 
 Leaves of Grass, 
 
 107 
 
 Lectures, ' a nervous disorder,' 
 
 149 
 
 Lectures and Western telegrams. 
 
 152 
 
 Lee, Mrs., 
 
 40 
 
 Lessing and Voltaire, 
 
 85 
 
 Leutze, E., 
 
 42 
 
 Little and Brown, 
 
 4 
 
[ 193 :\ 
 
 L.ongtellow, H. W., 
 
 127 
 
 Lowell, J. R., 
 
 127 
 
 Lynch, Miss Annie, 
 
 26,93 
 
 MANN, HORACE, 
 
 119 
 
 Mendelssohn, Father, Son, and Grandson, 
 
 86 
 
 Mitchell, D. G., 
 
 77 
 
 Mitchell, Dr. S. W., and The Atlantic, 
 
 133 
 
 verses on The Strasburg Clock, 
 
 135, 13/ 
 
 Montaigne, 
 
 67 
 
 Morrison, Mrs. A. D. 
 
 65 
 
 Mott, Mrs. Lucretia, 
 
 129 
 
 Moxon, Mrs., 
 
 162 
 
 Munroe, 
 
 2,46,47,48, 114 
 
 Mcllhenney, W., of The Athenaeum, 
 
 98 
 
 OLD AGE, a novel experience, 
 
 133 
 
 Osgood, Miss Lucy, 
 
 27,81,86,128, 130 
 
 PARKER, THEODORE, 
 
 40,119,122,125 
 
 Thay-o-dore, 
 
 101 
 
 Parsons, Theophilus, 
 
 8 
 
 Phillips and Sampson, 
 
 113 
 
 Phillips, Jonathan, 
 
 123 
 
 Phillips, Wendell, 
 
 122, 125 
 
 Plato, 
 
 67 
 
 Powers, his * Greek Slave ' ; bust of Webster, 
 
 84 
 
 ' Preferring the putty to the painter,' 
 
 119 
 
 Prescott, Mr., 
 
 113 
 
 Price of tickets to Lectures, 
 
 75 
 
 Pugh, T, B., 
 
 145 
 
 Putnam, Mrs. Lowell, 
 
 127 
 
L 194. ] 
 
 RALPH, 
 
 121, 125 
 
 Randolph, P. S., 
 
 95, 105, 123, 129 
 
 Reade, Charles, 
 
 93 
 
 Resurrection, The, 
 
 16 
 
 Richter, Jean Paul, 
 
 85 
 
 and Carlyle, 
 
 64 
 
 Russell, Dr., 
 
 40 
 
 Russell, Miss, on going to Philadelphia, 
 
 132 
 
 SARTAIN, JOHN, 
 
 37,41,44 
 
 Sartain, Miss Emily, 
 
 151, 153, 155 
 
 Sartor Resartus, 
 
 2 
 
 Saturday Club, 
 
 127, 14r, 148, 169 
 
 Scherb, 
 
 81,83 
 
 Schiller's Birthday, 
 
 117 
 
 Smith, Sidney, Memoirs, 
 
 107 
 
 and no-Popery people. 
 
 138 
 
 Song of the Bell, translation of the. 
 
 72, 73 
 
 Star Course of Lectures, 
 
 145 
 
 Steinbriick, the artist, his daughter's admiration for Channing, 101 
 
 Sterling, John. 7 
 
 Storax, 1 3 
 
 Stowe, Mrs., 113 
 
 Sumner, Charles, 128, 130 
 
 in Philadelphia, 110 
 
 Swedenborg, 67 
 
 TALBOT of East Machias, 79 
 
 Tennyson, a beautiful half of a poet, 7 
 
 Thoreau, H. D., 60, 62, 103 
 
 Tickets to Lectures, the price of, 75 
 
C 195 2 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS arrogance of Christians, 1 2 1 
 
 Unitarian brawl, 119 
 
 VERY, JONES, 8 
 
 WF.RB, Mr., his school, 
 
 6, 26, 52,66, ri, 121, 159 
 
 Whewell's Plurality of Worlds, 
 
 98 
 
 Whipple, E. P., 
 
 23 
 
 Whitman, Walt, Leaves of Grass. 
 
 107 
 
 Whitwell, Mrs., her school, 
 
 66, 71, 88, 123, 159, 164 
 
 Wilde, H. G., 
 
 169 
 
 Wiley and Putnam, 
 
 46, 47, 48, 50, 61 
 
 Williamson, Passmore, 
 
 108 
 
 Wisconsin, The Heroic Age of. 
 
 92 
 
 Wister, Dr. Caspar, 
 
 97 
 
 Wister, Mrs. A. L., 
 
 95, 106, 131, 133 
 
 World-Soul, The, 
 
 55 
 
 ZOROASTRIAN element. 
 
 115 
 
 Zschocke's Journal of a Poor Vicar, 
 
 22 
 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A 
 
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