The good Miss Fuller has painted us all en beau, and your smiling imagination has added new colors. We have not a triumphant life here; very far indeed from that, ach Gott!—as you shall see. But Margaret is an excellent soul: in real regard with both of us here. Since she went, I have been reading some of her Papers in a new Book we have got: greatly superior to all I knew before; in fact the undeniable utterances (now first undeniable to me) of a true heroic mind;—altogether unique, so far as I know, among the Writing Women of this generation; rare enough too, God knows, among the writing Men. She is very narrow, sometimes; but she is truly high: honor to Margaret, and more and more good-speed to her.—Adieu dear Emerson. I am ever yours,
—T.C.
CXIX. Carlyle to Emerson
Chelsea, 18 March, 1847
Dear Emerson,—Yesterday morning, setting out to breakfast with Richard Milnes (Milnes’s breakfast is a thing you will yet have to experience) I met, by the sunny shore of the Thames, a benevolent Son of Adam in blue coat and red collar, who thrust into my hand a Letter from you. A truly miraculous Son of Adam in red collar, in the Sunny Spring Morning!—The Bill of Seventeen Pounds is already far on its way to Dumfries, there to be kneaded into gold by the due artists: today is American Post-day; and already in huge hurry about many things, I am scribbling you some word of answer.... The night before Milnes’s morning, I had furthermore seen your Manchester Correspondent, Ireland,—an old Edinborough acquaintance too, as I found. A