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The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1834-1872, Vol. I by Ralph Waldo Emerson;Thomas Carlyle
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itself, and prove a _favor_ of the Upper Powers: _tomorrow_ to
fresh fields and pastures new! This monstrous London has taught
me several things during the past year; for if its Wisdom be of
the most uninstructive ever heard of by that name of wisdom, its
Folly abounds with lessons,--which one ought to learn. I feel
(with my burnt manuscript) as if defeated in this campaign;
defeated, yet not altogether disgraced. As the great Fritz said,
when the battle had gone against him, "Another time we will
do better."

As to Literature, Politics, and the whole multiplex aspect of
existence here, expect me not to say one word. We are a singular
people, in a singular condition. Not many nights ago, in one of
those phenomenal assemblages named routs, whither we had gone to
see the countenance of O'Connell and Company (the Tail was a
Peacock's tail, with blonde muslin women and heroic Parliamentary
men), one of the company, a "distinguished female" (as we call
them), informed my Wife "O'Connell was the master-spirit of this
age." If so, then for what we have received let us be thankful,
--and enjoy it _without_ criticism.--It often painfully seems to
me as if much were coming fast to a crisis here; as if the
crown-wheel had given way, and the whole horologe were rushing
rapidly down, down, to its end! Wreckage is swift; rebuilding
is slow and distant. Happily another than we has charge of it.

My new American Friends have come and gone. Barnard went off
northward some fortnight ago, furnished with such guidance and
furtherance as I could give him. Professor Longfellow went about
the same time; to Sweden, then to Berlin and Germany: we saw
him twice or thrice, and his ladies, with great pleasure; as one
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