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"The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1834-1872, Vol II."

--Pity me, pity
me; I know not on what hand to turn; and have such a Chaos
filling all my Earth and Heaven as was seldom seen in British or
Foreign Literature! Add to which, the Sacred Entity, Literature
itself, is not growing more venerable to me, but less and ever
less: good Heavens, I feel often as if there were no madder set
of bladders tumbling on the billows of the general Bedlam at this
moment than even the Literary ones,--dear at twopence a gross, I
should say, unless one could _annihilate_ them by purchase on
those easy terms! But do not tell this in Gath; let it be a sad
family secret.
I smile, with a kind of grave joy, over your American
speculations, and wild dashing portraitures of things as they are
with you; and recognize well, under your light caricature, the
outlines of a right true picture, which has often made me sad and
grim in late years. Yes, I consider that the "Battle of Freedom
and Slavery" is very far from ended; and that the fate of poor
"Freedom" in the quarrel is very questionable indeed! Alas,
there is but one _Slavery,_ as I wrote somewhere; and that, I
think, is mounting towards a height, which may bring strokes to
bear upon it again! Meanwhile, patience; for us there is
nothing else appointed.


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