ationality,--some of them incredibly irrational (if that matter
had not altogether become a barking of dogs among us);--but I
always believe there are in the mute state a great number of
thinking English souls, who can recognize a Thinker and a Sayer,
of perennially human type and welcome him as the rarest of
miracles, in "such a spread of knowledge" as there now is:--one
English soul of that kind there indubitably is; and I certify
hereby, notarially if you like, that such is emphatically his
view of the matter. You have grown older, more pungent,
piercing;--I never read from you before such lightning-gleams of
meaning as are to be found here. The finale of all, that of
"Illusions" falling on us like snow-showers, but again of "the
gods sitting steadfast on their thrones" all the while,--what a
_Fiat Lux_ is there, into the deeps of a philosophy, which the
vulgar has not, which hardly three men living have, yet dreamt
of! _Well done,_ I say; and so let that matter rest.

I am still twelve months or so from the end of my Task; very
uncertain often whether I can, even at this snail's pace, hold
out so long. In my life I was never worn nearly so low, and seem
to get _weaker_ monthly. Courage! If I do get through, you
shall hear of me, again.

Yours forever,
T. Carlyle

CLXVIII. Emerson to Carlyle

Concord, 16 April, 1861

My Dear Carlyle,--...I have to thank you for the cordial note
which brought me joy, many weeks ago. It was noble and welcome
in all but its boding account of yourself and your task. But I
have had experience of your labors, and these deplorations I have
long since learned to distrust. We have settled it in America,
as I doubt not it is settled in England, that _Frederick_ is a
history which a beneficent Providence is not very likely to
interrupt. And may every kind and tender influence near you and
over you keep the best head in England from all harm.

Affectionately,
R.W. Emerson

CLXIX. Emerson to Carlyle*

Concord, 8 December, 1862

My Dear Friend,--Long ago, as soon as swift steamers could bring
the new book across the sea, I received the third volume of
_Friedrich,_ with your autograph inscription, and read it with
joy. Not a word went to the beloved author, for I do not write
or think. I would wait perhaps for happier days, as our
President Lincoln will not even emancipate slaves, until on the
heels of a victory, or the semblance of such.