the reader with the conviction that
Carlyle himself has the truest love for everything old and
excellent, and a genuine respect for the basis of truth in those
whom he exposes. Gulliver among the Lilliputians...

"Carlyle must write thus or nohow, like a drunken man who can
run, but cannot walk. What a man's book is that! no prudences,
no compromises, but a thorough independence. A masterly
criticism on the times. Fault perhaps the excess of importance
given to the circumstance of today. The poet is here for this,
to dwarf and destroy all merely temporary circumstance, and to
glorify the perpetual circumstance of men, e.g. dwarf British
Debt and raise Nature and social life.

"But everything must be done well once; even bulletins and
almanacs must have one excellent and immortal bulletin and
almanac. So let Carlyle's be the immortal newspaper."
----------

LXXXIV. Carlyle to Emerson

27 August, 1843

Dear Emerson,--The bearer of this is Mr. Macready, our celebrated
Actor, now on a journey to America, who wishes to know you. In
the pauses of a feverish occupation which he strives honestly to
make a noble one, this Artist, become once more a man, would like
well to meet here and there a true American man. He loves Heroes
as few do; and can recognize them, you will find, whether they
have on the _Cothurnus_ or not. I recommend him to you; bid
you forward him as you have opportunity, in this department of
his pilgrimage.

Mr. Macready's deserts to the English Drama are notable here to
all the world; but his dignified, generous, and every-way
honorable deportment in private life is known fully, I believe,
only to a few friends. I have often said, looking at him as a
manager of great London theatres, "This Man, presiding over the
unstablest, most chaotic province of English things, is the one
public man among us who has dared to take his stand on what he
understood to be _the truth,_ and expect victory from that: he
puts to shame our Bishops and Archbishops." It is literally so.

With continued kind wishes, yours as of old.
T. Carlyle

LXXXV. Emerson to Carlyle

Concord, 30 October, 1843

My Dear Friend,--I seize the occasion of having this morsel of
paper for twenty-five pounds sterling from the booksellers to
send you, (and which fail not to find enclosed, as clerks say,)
to inquire whether you still exist in Chelsea, London, and what
is th