Milnes, with general co-operation, got him a Pension; and he has bread and tobacco: but that is a poor outfit for such a soul.

He wants a _task;_ and, alas, that of spinning rhymes, and naming it "Art" and "high Art," in a Time like ours, will never furnish him.

For myself I have been entirely _idle,_--I dare not even say, too abstrusely _occupied;_ for I have merely been _looking_ at the Chaos even, not by any means working in it. I have not even read a Book,--that I liked. All "Literature" has grown inexpressibly unsatisfactory to me. Better be silent than talk farther in this mood.

We are going off, on Sat.u.r.day come a week, into Hampshire, to certain Friends you have heard me speak of. Our address, till the beginning of February, is "Hon. W.B. Baring, Alverstoke, Gosport, Hants." My Wife sends you many kind regards; remember us across the Ocean too;--and be well and busy till we meet.

Yours ever, T. Carlyle

Last night there arrived No. 1 of the _Ma.s.sachusetts Review:_ beautiful paper and print; and very promising otherwise. In the Introduction I well recognized the hand; in the first Article too,--not in any of the others. _Faustum sit._

Cx.x.xII. Emerson to Carlyle

Ambleside, 26 February, 1848

My Dear Carlyle,--I am here in Miss Martineau's house, and having seen a good deal of England, and lately a good deal of Scotland too, I am tomorrow to set forth again for Manchester, and presently for London. Yesterday, I saw Wordsworth for a good hour and a half, which he did not seem to grudge, for he talked freely and fast, and--bating his cramping Toryism and what belongs to it--wisely enough. He is in rude health, and, though seventy-seven years old, says he does not feel his age in any particular. Miss Martineau is in excellent health and spirits, though just now annoyed by the hesitations of Murray to publish her book;* but she confides infinitely in her book, which is the best fortune. But I please myself not a little that I shall in a few days see you again, and I will give you an account of my journey. I have heard almost nothing of your late weeks,--but that is my fault,--only I heard with sorrow that your wife had been ill, and could not go with you on your Christmas holidays.

Now may her good days have come again! I say I have heard nothing of your late days; of your early days, of your genius, of your influence, I cease not to hear and to see continually, yea, often am called upon to resist the same with might and main.

But I will not pester you with it now.--Miss Martineau, who is most happily placed here, and a model of housekeeping, sends kindest remembrances to you both.

Yours ever, R. W. Emerson.

--------- * "Eastern Life, Past and Present."

Cx.x.xIII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, 28 February, 1848

Dear Emerson,--We are delighted to hear of you again at first hand: our last traditions represented you at Edinburgh, and left the prospect of your return hither very vague. I have only time for one word tonight: to say that your room is standing vacant ever since you quitted it,--ready to be lighted up with all manner of physical and moral _fires_ that the place will yield; and is in fact _your_ room, and expects to be accounted such.--I know not specially what your operations in this quarter are to be; but whatever they are, or the arrangements necessary for them, surely it is here that you must alight again in the big Babel, and deliberately adjust what farther is to be done.

Write to us what day you are to arrive; and the rest is all already managed.

Jane has never yet got out since the cold took her; but she has at no time been so ill as is frequent with her in these winter disorders; she is now steadily improving, and we expect will come out with the sun and the green leaves,--as she usually does.

I too caught an ugly cold, and, what is very uncommon with me, a kind of cough, while down in Hampshire; which, with other inarticulate matters, has kept me in a very mute abstruse condition all this while; so that, for many weeks past, I have properly had no history,--except such as trees in winter, and other merely pa.s.sive objects may have. That is not an agreeable side of the page; but I find it indissolubly attached to the other: no historical leaf with me but has them _both!_ Reading does next to nothing for me at present, neither will thinking or even dreaming rightly prosper; of no province can I be quite master except of the _silent_ one, in such a case. One feels there, at last, as if quite annihilated; and takes up arms again (the poor goose-quill is no great things of a weapon to arm with!) as if in a kind of sacred despair.

All people are in a sort of joy-dom over the new French Republic, which has descended suddenly (or shall we say, _ascended_ alas?) out of the Immensities upon us; showing once again that the righteous G.o.ds do yet live and reign! It is long years since I have felt any such deep-seated pious satisfaction at a public event. Adieu: come soon; and warn us when.

Yours ever, T. Carlyle

Cx.x.xIV. Emerson to Carlyle

2 Fenny St., Manchester, 2 March, Thursday [1848]

Dear Friend,--I hope to set forward today for London, and to arrive there some time tonight. I am to go first to Chapman's house, where I shall lodge for a time. If it is too noisy, I shall move westward. But I hope you are to be at home tomorrow, for if I prosper, I shall come and beg a dinner with you,--is it not at five o'clock? I am sorry you have no better news to tell me of your health,--your own and your wife's. Tell her I shall surely report you to Alcott, who will have his revenge. Thanks that you keep the door so wide open for me still. I shall always come in.

Ever yours, R.W.E.

Cx.x.xV. Emerson to Carlyle Monday, P.M., 19 June, 1848

Dear Carlyle,--Mrs. Crowe of Edinburgh, an excellent lady, known to you and to many good people, wishes me to go to you with her.

I tell her that I believe you relax the reins of labor as early as one hour after noon, and I propose one o'clock on Thursday for the invasion. If you are otherwise engaged, you must send me word. Otherwise, we shall come.

It was sad to hear no good news last evening from Jane Carlyle.

I heartily hope the night brought sleep, and the morning better health to her.

Yours always, R.W. Emerson

Cx.x.xVI. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, 20 June, 1848

Dear Emerson,--We shall be very glad to become acquainted with Mrs. Crowe, of whom already by report we know many favorable things. Brown (of Portobello, Edinburgh) had given us intimation of her kind purposes towards Chelsea; and now on Thursday you (please the Pigs) shall see the adventure achieved. Two o'clock, not one, is the hour when labor ceases here,--if, alas, there be any "labor" so much as got begun; which latter is often enough the sad case. But at either hour we shall be ready for you.

I hope you penetrated the Armida Palace, and did your devoir to the sublime d.u.c.h.ess and her Luncheon yesterday! I cannot without a certain internal amus.e.m.e.nt (foreign enough to my present humor) represent to myself such a conjunction of opposite stars! But you carry a new image off with you, and are a gainer, you. _Allons._

My Papers here are in a state of distraction, state of despair!

I see not what is to become of them and me.

Yours ever truly, T. Carlyle

My Wife arose without headache on Monday morning; but feels still a good deal beaten;--has not had "such a headache" for several years.

Cx.x.xVII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, Friday [23 June, 1848]

Dear Emerson,--I forgot to say, last night, that you are to dine with us on Sunday; that after our call on the Lady Harriet* we will take a stroll through the Park, look at the Sunday population, and find ourselves here at five o'clock for the above important object. Pray remember, therefore, and no excuse!

In haste.

Yours ever truly, T. Carlyle