III.  Emerson to Carlyle *

Concord, Mass., 20 November, 1834

My Dear Sir,—­Your letter, which I received last week, made a bright light in a solitary and saddened place.  I had quite recently received the news of the death of a brother** in the island of Porto Rico, whose loss to me will be a lifelong sorrow.  As he passes out of sight, come to me visible as well as spiritual tokens of a fraternal friendliness which, by its own law, transcends the tedious barriers of custom and nation; and opens its way to the heart.  This is a true consolation, and I thanked my jealous [Greek] for the godsend so significantly timed.  It, for the moment, realizes the hope to which I have clung with both hands, through each disappointment, that I might converse with a man whose ear of faith was not stopped, and whose argument I could not predict.  May I use the word, “I thank my God whenever I call you to remembrance.”

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* This letter was printed in the Athenaeum, London, June 24,
1882.   It, as well as three others which appeared in the same
journal, is now reprinted, through the courtesy of its editor,
from the original.

** Edward Bliss Emerson, his next younger brother, “brother of the brief but blazing star,” of whom Emerson wrote In Memoriam:—­

     “There is no record left on earth,
     Save in tablets of the heart,
     Of the rich, inherent worth,
     Of the grace that on him shone,
     Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit;
     He could not frame a word unfit,
     An act unworthy to be done.

     On his young promise Beauty smiled,
     Drew his free homage unbeguiled,
     And prosperous Age held out his hand,
     And richly his large future planned,
     And troops of friends enjoyed the tide,—­
     All, all was given, and only health denied.”
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I receive with great pleasure the wonderful Professor now that first the decent limbs of Osiris are collected.* We greet him well to Cape Cod and Boston Bay.  The rigid laws of matter prohibit that the soul imprisoned within the strait edges of these types should add one syllable thereto, or we had adjured the Sage by every name of veneration to take possession by so much as a Salve! of his Western World, but he remained inexorable for any new communications.

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* The four copies of Sartor which Carlyle had sent were a
“stitched pamphlet,” with a title-page bearing the words:  “Sartor
Resartus:  in Three Books.   Reprinted for Friends, from Fraser’s
Magazine.  London, 1834.”
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I feel like congratulating you upon the cold welcome which you say Teufelsdrockh* has met.  As it is not earthly happy, it is marked of a high sacred sort.  I like it a great deal better than ever, and before it was all published I had eaten nearly all my words of objection.  But do not think