unknown) volume of Wordsworth, nothing nameworthy doing.--Did I
tell you that I _saw_ Wordsworth this winter? Twice, at
considerable length; with almost no disappointment. He is a
_natural_ man (which means whole immensities here and now);
flows like a natural well yielding mere wholesomeness,--though,
as it would not but seem to me, in _small_ quantity, and
astonishingly _diluted._ Franker utterance of mere garrulities
and even platitudes I never heard from any man; at least never,
whom I could _honor_ for uttering them. I am thankful for
Wordsworth; as in great darkness and perpetual _sky-rockets_ and
_coruscations,_ one were for the smallest clear-burning farthing
candle. Southey also I saw; a far _cleverer_ man in speech, yet
a considerably smaller man. Shovel-hatted; the shovel-hat is
_grown_ to him: one must take him as he is.

The second leaf is done; I must not venture on another. God
bless you, my worthy Friend; you and her who is to be yours! My
Wife bids me send heartiest wishes and regards from her too
across the Sea. Perhaps we shall all meet one another some day,
--if not Here, then Yonder!

Faithfully always,
T. Carlyle




VIII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, London, 27 June, 1835