The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1883-03-03

not quit her; but It seems he has honestly
surrendered all his money to her, except
q bare annuity for furnished lodgings: and
now lives at Bath, solitary sexagenaran,
in that manner. He visits London in MAY,
but says always 1t would kill him soon: alas,
/ can well believe that! They say he has a
kind heart; nor does it seem uAlikely; a per-
fectly honest heart, free and fearless, dwell
ling amid such Authorizations, excitations,
tempestuous COMMISSIONS, can see he has.
Enough of him! Me he likes well enough.
more thanks to him; but two hours of such
speech as his leave me giddy and undone. /
have seen some other Lions, and Lion s-pro.
viders; bat consider them worthless species.
EMERsoN's SORROW AND cARLYLE's SYM
PATTY.
Emerson to Carlyle, 1912. MY dear
friend, you should have had this letter and
these messages by the last steamer; but
when 1t sailed, my son, perfect little boy
of five years and three months, had ended
his earthly life. You can never sympathize
with me; you can never know how much Of
me such young child can take away. A few
weeks ago | accounted myself very rich
man, and now the poorest of all. What
sweet and wonderful boy, such as we solace
and sadden ourselves with at home every
morning. From perfect health and as
happy life and as happy influences as ever
child enjoyed, be was hurried out of my
arms in three short days by Scarlatina We
have two babes yet-one girl of three years,
and one girl of three months and a week,
but a promise like that Boys 1 shall never
see. How oftel | have pleased myself that
dav ghOnld sand r. ,los
Star of mine, and stay at home SO gladly be-
hind such representative. dare not faith
ON the Invisible aud Untold to enquire what
relation TO my departed ones / vet sustain.
Ldian, the poor Lidian, means at home by
day and by night. You, too will grieve for
us, after.
iCarlyle to Emerson. This is heavy news
that you send me; the heaviest outward be-
reavement that can befal man has over
taken you. Your calm tone of deep, quiet
sorrow, coming in on the rear of poor, trivi-
al worldly businesses, all punctually de-
spatched and recorded, too, as If the Higher
and Highest had not been busy with you,
tells me sad tale. What can we say in
these cases? There is nothing to be said
nothing but what the wild son of Ishmael,
and every thinking heart, from of old, have
learned to say:-God is great! He is terri
Die and stern; but we know also He is good
Though He slay me, yet will l trust in
Him" Your bright little boy, chief of your
possessions here below, is rapt away from
you; but of very truth he is with God, even
as we that yet live are-and surely in the
way that was best for him and for you, and
for all of us. Poor Lidian Emerson, poor
mother! To her / have no word. Such
poignant, unspeakable grief, believe, visits
no creature as that of mother bereft of her
child. The poor sparrow in the bush
fects one with pity, mourning for its young;
how much more the human soul Of ones
friend! | cannot bid her be of comfort, for
there is as yet no comfort. May good infiu-
snces watch over her, bring her some as
suagemelt. As the Hebrew David said -
I'VE shall go to him, he will not return to
u.s.
ALCOTT.
lCarlyle to Emerso' 1912. He is geu-
ial, innocent, smple-hearled man, of much
natural intelligence and goodness, with all
air Of rusticity, yeracity and dignity withal
which in many ways appeals to one. The
| good Alcott, with bis long lean face and
figure, with his grey worn temples, and
mild radiant eyes; all bent on saving the
world by return to acorns and the golden
| age; be comes before one like the venerable
| Don Quxote, whom nobody can even laugh
at without loving.
Emerson to Carlyle. las for Alcott, yo1
have discharged your conscience of him
manfully and knightfully; I absolve you
| well. He is a great man, and was
made for what is greatest; but now feal
that he has already tonched what best he
| can, and through his more than prophets
! eeotism, and the absence of all useful recon-
CLING talents will bring nothing to pass, and
be but voice In the wilderness. As you do
not seem to have seen in him his pure and
noble intellect, l fear that it lies under some
| new and denser clouds.
Carlyle to Emerson. What you say of
Alcolt seems to me altogether just He is
| man who has got into the highest intellec-
| tual region-if that be the highest Though
in that, too, there are. many stages) wherein
! man can believe and discern for himself.
| without need of help from any other, and
| even in opposition to all others; but con-
| slider him entirely unlikely to accomplish
anything considerable, except some kind o.
Grabbed, semi-perverse, though still manful
| existence of his own, which indeed is no
despicable thing. His s.more than prophet
! ic egotism''-alas yesl 1t is of such mate
rial that Thobold Eremites, Sect founders,
| and all manner of cross grained, fanatical
monstroslties have fashioned themselves-in
! very high, and in the highest regions, for
that matter. Sect-founders withal are
class do not like. No truly great man
from Jesus Christ downward, ss Inften say,
| ever founded sect mean wilfully inten-
ded founding one. What view must a
man have Of this universe, who thinks The
can swallow it all" who is not doubly and
trebly happy that he can keep it from swat
lowing him! On the whole / sometimes
hope we have now done with fanatics and
| agonistic Posture-makers in this poor world
II VIII be an immense improvement on the
past; and the New Ideas,'' as Alcott calls
them, will prosper greatly the better on that
account. The old gloomy gothic Cathedrals
were good; but the great blue Domo that
hangs over all is better than any Cologne
one. On the whole, do not tell the good
Alcott a word of all this; but let him love
me as he can, and live on vegetables in
peace; as ], living partly ON vegetables, will
continue to love him
TENNYSoN.
Carlyle to Emerson. To-day get an
swer about Alfred Tennyson; all is right on
that side Moyop infnrroo mo that +bo D.