
That piece of writing of yours in the last "Critic" is to me very impressive. It is seldom you have fallen into such a noble & lofty
strain. As I am myself trying to write a little these days, it makes me sad. It is
like a great ship that comes to windward of me & takes the breeze out of the sail
of my little shallop. I shall have to lay by today & let the impression wear off. I think you
have hit it exactly with that word physiological. It lets in a flood of light. The
whole essay is one to be long conned over.
I went down to N.Y. to hear Arnold on Emerson Friday night. Curtis—the
pensive Curtis introduced the lecturer. I wonder if you have heard Curtis
speak? Tis a pity he is not a little more robust & manly. He fairly leans &
languishes on the bosom of the Graces, one after another. Arnold looked hearty &
strong & spoke in a foggy, misty English voice, that left the outlining of his
sentences pretty
obscure, but which had a certain charm after all. The lecture contained nothing new.
The Tribune report you sent me, is an admirable
summary—the pith of the whole lecture. He does not do full justice to Emerson
as I hope to show in my essay. At least Emerson can be shorn of these things &
left a more impressive figure than Arnold leaves him. He had much to say about
Carlyle too, but would not place him with the great
writers! Because he was more than a great literary man he denied him literary
honors. Drop me a line when you feel like it. Winter
is in full blush up here & the
river snores & groans like an uneasy sleeper.