Carlyle
CLVIII. Emerson to Carlyle
Concord, 6 May, 1856
Dear Carlyle,--There is no escape from the forces of time and
life, and we do not write letters to the gods or to our friends,
but only to attorneys, landlords, and tenants. But the planes
and platforms on which all stand remain the same, and we are ever
expecting the descent of the heavens, which is to put us into
familiarity with the first named. When I ceased to write to you
for a long time, I said to myself,--If anything really good
should happen here,--any stroke of good sense or virtue in our
politics, or of great sense in a book,--I will send it on the
instant to the formidable man; but I will not repeat to him
every month, that there are no news. Thank me for my resolution,
and for keeping it through the long night.--One book, last
summer, came out in New York, a nondescript monster which yet had
terrible eyes and buffalo strength, and was indisputably
American,--which I thought to send you; but the book throve so
badly with the few to whom I showed it, and wanted good morals so
much, that I never did.
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