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Carlyle in America

by Sarah Orne Jewett


Introduction

This document contains manuscript transcriptions from this folder held by the Houghton Library at Harvard University:  MS Am 1743.22: [Other stories and articles.] 133 A.MS. and TS. as follows:  (13) Carlyle in America. A.MS.(unsigned); [n.p., n.d.]. 48s.(49p.) With a later draft, A.MS.(unsigned); [n.p., n.d.]. 46s.(46p.) and notes, 4s.(9p.).      Link to digital copy of the folder contents.
    The second of the two drafts of this Sarah Orne Jewett story was transcribed and published previously, with an introduction:  Rodger Tarr and Carol Anita Clayton. "'Carlyle in America': An Unpublished Short Story by Sarah Orne Jewett." American Literature 54.1 (Mar. 1982): 101-15.
    Included in this new transcription are the two manuscripts, beginning with the second "later draft" and annotations, and followed by the first, earlier manuscript and a few more annotations.  The folder also contains a few pages of notes and fragments of drafting related to the story.  Comments on these with a few transcriptions appear here and in the annotations.

Dating Composition

Jewett's narrator specifies the events he describes took place the winter after Emerson's death, 1882-3.  Yet the narrator speaks to his older friends about the Froude biography of Carlyle and the Carlyle / Emerson correspondence, both of which were completed in 1884.  This apparent anachronism could be the narrator's error -- remembering to have read in 1882 books he actually read later, but it also is possible Jewett made an error. 
    Jewett's work on the piece is firmly established, however, in late 1885. She writes in a letter to Annie Adams Fields almost certainly from November of 1885, reporting that she has completed a draft that she likes.

Dating Carlyle's Supposed Visit to America

As the annotations demonstrate, Jewett has provided a range of possible dates for Carlyle's American summer sojourn, ranging from about 1831 until 1847.  The hints she supplies are contradictory.  He may have come shortly after his first removal to London in 1831, or more likely after 1834, when his wife moved with him to London, or about the time he began work on Cromwell (1845), or during Thoreau's Walden Pond retreat (1845-47).  To participate in the debates surrounding establishment of the Massachusetts common school system, he would have had to arrive in or after 1837.
    Jewett deleted from the later manuscript a sentence in the earlier that suggested Carlyle's views of slavery were well-known, which would not have been the case until after the 1849 publication of his "Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question."
    That Jewett has presented such a range of possible dates may indicate one way in which the story remains unfinished.  It seems likely that she finally would have chosen to retain her humorous account of Carlyle's visit with Thoreau at Walden Pond and, therefore, would have settled on the 1845-47 range.

Notes on the Presentation of Manuscript Materials

^  ^ :  The author has inserted text.
abc :  The author has deleted text.
[  ]  :  Editorial comments and descriptions.
{ }  :  Editorial insertions in pursuit of clarity.

    Jewett's periods often appear as dashes, and also often are indistinguishable from commas.  Where her intentions seem clear, I have placed commas and periods; when not sure I have given the dashes or included a note.
    She is not consistent in using apostrophes.  I have presented words needing apostrophes as she presents them.
    She varies and is ambiguous about placing end punctuation within or outside quotation marks.  Where she is ambiguous, I have placed end punctuation outside quotation marks.
    She does not manage quotation marks consistently.  I have tried to present them as she does, adding notes when it seems necessary to insure clarity.
    Jewett did not number the manuscript pages, though the pages of the later text are numbered apparently by another hand, beginning by assigning 2 to the third page.  I have ignored the penciled-in numbers and have separated and numbered the pages of each of the manuscripts.
    In the folder as reproduced at the Houghton library link above, the pages appear in this order.

1     Title page reads at the top, "Carlyle in America."
2     A pair of blank pages.
3 - 50       The earlier manuscript.
51     Draft text apparently meant for insertion on p. 13 of the earlier ms.
52 - 97     The later manuscript.
98 - 195     Miscellaneous notes related to the story.

---

Carlyle in America
The later manuscript

     (The writer of this paper wishes to say in the beginning that he has been a close student of certain of Carlyle's works and that he is a great admirer and enjoyer of the late revelation of the private life of that great historian and philosopher. He has followed the fortunes of the Craigenputtoch Episode with eager sympathy having been isolated from society at the most sensitive period of his ^own^ life. Somewhat affected and limited in his opportunities and by the late war as well as through physical infirmity which has caused him to be a defeated member of the legal profession, he has been led to seek employment and amusement in literary interests and directions.

[ p. 2 ]

He has had the curiosity to write to a friend who has an intimate acquaintance with Mr. Froude and who has been sufficiently honoured with his confidence to be allowed to inspect some of the Carlyle papers{.} The report has lately been received [correction written over] that a small piece of paper has lately been ^been^ discovered in a volume of sermons written by one of Cromwell's parsons ^clergymen^ who went later to America and ^afterward^ preached and died there. Carlyle must have bought the book himself in Boston. The bit of paper was lying between the leaves and had puzzled Mr. Froude exceedingly. The only words upon it were Boston July_ 18 __  and some affectionate words to his wife like the informal beginning of a letter.

[ p. 3 ]

[= sign, perhaps in another hand]  It is by no means common that the lives of two persons are thrown open to the intimate observation of strangers as the lives of Carlyle and his wife have been, and from the writer's delight in possessing himself of such a friendship, he has been led into singular familiarity with the series of volumes edited by Mr. Froude, and beyond those has taken great pleasure in collecting much information from acquaintances more or less remote who have come in contact with the Carlyles.  indeed [not capitalized] he has succeeded in [ deleted word ] bringing together many delightful and suggestive souvenirs of the Chelsea housekeeping; household treasures, personal property, specimens of manuscript +c +c{.} He means [means has been corrected] at some future time to properly arrange both the biographical and other material, for the benefit of later

[ p. 4 ]

worshippers at the shrine of the great author's evergrowing fame.
    From these admissions it will be easily understood, that no one, unless ^except^ Mr. Froude himself, could ^have^ more eagerly followed the thread of a discovery which was thrust suddenly into hand, a tangled but intensely interesting and exciting clue. The results of the writer's search [correction written over], and following out of what might have been a baffling or entirely fruitless suggestion are now placed with entire lack of reserve and great satisfaction before the reader -- )

---

    In the course of a visit to Boston, my first [ deleted word ] journey northward since the breaking out of the war between the Confederate and United States Governments (when I was in my sophomore year at Harvard College,) I was fortunate

[ p. 5 ]

enough to make one [ deleted word ] ^of^ a small dinner company on a certain winter evening at the house of a well-known, elderly literary gentleman to whom has come by right many of the most valuable and notable friendships and social experiences of his time. Two of the guests were obliged to take leave early in the evening to meet later engagements, but one famous gentleman whom I had long wished to meet, ^know,^ and myself, (no longer the stranger and ^almost^ foreigner who had entered that hospitable home a few hours earlier) were asked to follow our host to his cosy inner library. There, seated before a bright wood fire we resumed the former subject of conversation, which, greatly to my pleasure, happened to be Carlyle. One of the ^latest^ volumes of Mr. Froude's series had just been issued, and we discussed with great spirit the propriety of certain inclusions in the text, both of criticisms and letters. I was pleased to

[ p. 6 ]

find that both my companions had been more or less acquainted with Carlyle and his wife in former years, and I was more than contented to find de sit quietly in my place listening carefully to the discussion, only asking a leading question now and then to start the talk afresh since no other topic could be at that time, so interesting to me.
    My host was a good deal offended by the publicity given to certain matters which my fellow-guest inclined to condone on the ground, that where perfect frankness was the rule of the biography, and the subject himself had shown no reticence in speaking of his family affairs, in, for instance, the Reminiscences; it would be unfair to withhold whole passages and experiences whose ^subsequent^ effects were so marked.  I will not pause to relate this controversy

[ p. 7 ]

interesting as it was to one usually deprived of listening to the eloquent conversation upon [upon corrected over other letters.] such questions -- literary or biographical, -- I must at once pass to the quiet declaration of our host, who, driven off his ground by his opponent said quietly excitedly, with a half laugh -- "Well, there was one Episode of which the world was defrauded thank Heaven -- and some of Carlyle's friends have kept [kept is corrected] that secret!" -- I
    I was amazed at the hearty peal of laughter and renewal of good-fellowship which followed; but there was so long [ deleted letter ]  a silence afterward, that I feared the next words would inaugurate a new departure of thought and speech. I ventured hastily to repeat my own opinion that for once we

[ p. 8 ]

had a man's life completely displayed and mapped out, reflected in literature as if in a mirror. We were able to find out what Carlyle and Mrs. Carlyle might be doing and even thinking about at any given time. I asked if there were another such instance in the field of biography or even auto-biography. "Here we have before us -- " I continued to say "not only the Reminiscences, and the Froude series but the Letters of Emerson and Carlyle, beside the histories and essays which are dated for us by the memoirs. There are so many sentences and paragraphs in these letters ^Carlyle's^ works which are made to shine with new meaning if we grow familiar with the date and circumstances under which the writing was done. 'A man is never so confidential as when he addresses the whole world.' {"} I quoted,

[ p. 9 ]

and then stopped, for something was evidently amusing my associates -- and as I hesitated the host turned away and devoted himself to mending the fire, as if to conceal his uncontrollable laughter. My own view of the question had been listened to with extreme courtesy but the previous suggestion had in some way touched a hidden spring of long-pent reminiscence and amusement. ''What should you say to our friend's certainty?" said asked the host when he turned toward us ^us^ again, and his guest said nothing, but smiled significantly and shook his head. It instantly became evident to me that they not only believed that Carlyle's biography did not cover the entire ground of his experience but that they were well aware of some important omission. But neighbe neither gentleman offered me any explanation{.} So presently I went on to say that one

[ p. 10 ]

thought ^point^ that had always been persistently interesting to me, was the idea that of Carlyle's having been so near, at one time to coming over to America. He would have been sure to become prominent in our national affairs, not taking any public position, I hastened to explain, but as a strong color on an artists palette dominates the weaker ones. He would have been sure to make himself felt. With his clear judgment upon the vexed question of Slavery, just in its fierce early ferment in those days, he would have been sure either to delay or to precipitate public excitement in some way. Nothing interests ^impresses^ me more than the change which our climate, especially in the Northeastern States, makes in the immigrants from the old world. They at once begin to live at much higher pressure, thought and action become easier, and an exactly opposite reasoning shows how good it is for ourselves,

[ p. 11 ]

overbraced and stimulated, to go to England where our nervous activity is quieted down. I felt it in a marked way in my only visit, now many years ago.
    "Good heavens"! exclaimed my fellow guest{.} "think {Think} for one instant of Carlyle's being made more impetuous and still further electrified! What a tempestuous, impossible" -- but I could not help observing that both the ^speaker^ and the host were more amused than ever at some suggestion beyond the mere words repeated above. I could not have guessed then that my own ^unconscious^ allusion to the fact, had quite upset their gravity. The friends looked at each other once more, and went off into uncharacteristic peals of laughter. I could not help joining them for very sympathy, but I was extremely desirous to know their "exquisite reason," and I suppose

[ p. 12 ]

 that my countenance made a strenuous appeal.
    "Dear, dear," -- gasped the master of the house at length -- "If the old days could only come back! I must remind you of the midnight excursion to the wharves with our departing friend" -- but a glance of surprised and imperative meaning from his companion checked him -- I could not after this, be beaten off my  the track so easily --
    "Do you mean to say that Thomas Carlyle ever did come over to this country?" I burst forth with almost impertinent ardour --
    The cheerful occasion was extremely favourable to story-telling, even to secret-telling as I remember it. I could see that my friends were much tempted not only by a desire to surprise and

[ p. 13 ]

kindly entertain a guest, but by an inclination to indulge in mirthful [ deleted letters ] retrospect on their own account. Whatever vow they were bound by was their own bond, not mine; I was possessed by an intense curiosity and grew hungrier every moment for the bit of history they were concealing, but I was afraid I was not to be gratified and I mustered all my store of a detective's shrewdness --
[= possibly in another hand ]    "How easy --" I spoke as carelessly as I could --
    "How easy it would be to supply such an experience to the history of a man's life. I wonder that it has not been oftener tried," reflected my chief listener with singular zest. "What could be more simple. Think of it! A very few weeks are sure to be left unaccounted for by the biographer, and any sort of uncharacteristic escapade might be

[ p. 14 ]

invented and insisted upon" --
    "There are lies enough told unavoidably in the honestest biography" -- answered the other.#  I suppose you and I are the only survivors of those [ written over these ?] events who kept the secret. I must own that I looked with great concern at the story of that year -- but I am convinced that Carlyle made one exception when he gave his [ if indeed he appears above his ] biographer permission to be entirely frank ^if indeed, he knew the tale at all^. He was exceedingly sensitive upon the subject of that particular absence -- in Scotland." And here again there were knowing glances and great sense of humour displayed between my entertainers, they counted up how many years had passed, and insisted that they

---

    #The writer wishes that he felt at liberty to print two names which would lend a much greater interest to his paper. 

[ p. 15 ]

were old fogies, but they had forgotten more capital things than some of the young-fellows would ever know in their whole lifetimes. They agreed that it was impossible [impossible is corrected ] for the world to know ^get^ the whole story of any man's lifetime, and while I knew from their manner that there was no use then in putting further questions -- yet they were not averse to my drawing certain inferences from what they had already admitted.

    The conversation presently turned upon Emerson (the date of this evening was early in the winter that followed his death) and my companions spoke of him with deep affection and reverence. Their listener must have quickly betrayed his gratification at

[ p. 16 ]

this, and there was unfolded the most charming series of personal memories, which made me, a far-away scholar and devout admirer of the great man feel almost like his personal friend and neighbour. I could only repeat the short story of my ^first and^ only sight of Emerson (while I was an undergraduate at Harvard) and I venture to print here the imperfect verse, which I put on paper long afterward, as being one mans fragmentary harvesting from so grand a nature's presence and influence:

[ p. 17 ]

---

    Right here, where noisiest, narrowest is the street,
    Where flaunting shops bedeck the crowded way;
    Where idle newsboys in vindictive play
    Dart to and fro with venturesome bare feet;
    Here, where the bulletins from fort and fleet
    Tell gaping readers what's amiss today,
    Where sin bedizens, folly makes too gay
    And all are victims of their own conceit;
    With these ephemeral insects of an hour
    That fret and flutter as they downward float
    In some pale sunbeam that the spring has brought,
    Where this vain world is revelling in power
    I met great Emerson; serene, remote,
    Like one adventuring on seas of thought.

---

[ p. 18 ]

     "Yes" -- said one of my small audience, {"}I remember that look of Emersons his most vividly. Oftener he was [ deleted letters ] alert and watchful but people made way for him unconsciously as he went along the pavement -- whether he was regarding the sky or the roofs of the houses, or not. His concerns were [ were written over a word ] very apt to be with some higher level of earthly things. I have often seen people look at him with interest and wonder, who could not have known him or his look. He put his feet down carefully enough. As for Thoreau, he walked like an Indian, and saw the objects nearest to him with a stealthy curiosity that would have their secrets whether or no -- But it appeared to me as if men were to him, only a less-interesting

[ p. 19 ]

sort of tree that foolishly moved itself too much about the world{.}"
    The name of Thoreau suggested something to my fellow listener and his grave eyes for once fairly sparkled with fun.
    "Do you remember our friend Mr. [ deleted word Thoreau's ? ] Thomas's experience with Thoreau?" he asked, and hastily explained to me that Mr. Thomas was a well-informed Scotchman, [ deleted words ] ^who came to this country many^ years ago, filled with enthusiasm about America, being something of a writer and reformer; and that to everybody's amusement he insisted upon joining the hermit in his seclusion at Walden Pond. "Thoreau was not overpleased at the prospect of having a guest, so Emerson told me, and the responsibility fretted him, but Thomas made himself

[ p. 20 ]

very agreeable and they got on famously the first afternoon and evening, and the hermit thought ^that^ nothing could be more rewarding and congenial than such companionship. But next morning Mr. Thoreau announced his plans which included a dinner with Emerson and tea with his own family. The Scotchman was shocked at such a sham way of going into retreat and objected with considerable alarm, whereupon Thoreau was sulky and took him far afield through bush and briar to dine upon unripe blueberries in an easterly rain and finally they became separated from each other in a swamp and poor Thomas of course was lost. and Late that night he somehow found his way to Emerson's door where he roused

[ p. 21 ]

the whole family by desperate knocking and appeals for food and shelter" --
    (It is impossible to give the reader any notion of the spirit and humour with which this anecdote was told -- but I was not sure that I was right in suspecting that only half the Scotchman's name was spoken until I heard the next words from the master of the house.)
    "I remember that Emerson said he had never seen such a supper eaten or heard such brilliant talk afterward. He used to quote sometimes from that nocturnal adventurer. 'Anything -- anything to fill this indescribable, gloomy and haunted chaos, on which alas, depends the efficiency of my soul' -- How one would have liked to hear their talk! Midnight revels were

[ p. 22 ]

not so common with either man that they could pass like ordinary festivals" --
    "Do you mean to say that Carlyle really did come to America?" I demanded for this was all too exciting to pass unchallenged -- "So much time has elapsed, -- it surely can do no harm now."
    The friends glanced at each other to see if either wavered, and I thought that I detected [detected is corrected ] an inclination to indulge me -- "How long was Mr. -- Thomas in this country?" I asked boldly and to my satisfaction the host answered with perfect composure that the absence from his native land -- only lasted altogether something less than two months. "He expected

[ p. 23 ]

too much of us -- Some writings of his had found more favor just then with the American public than with his own compatriots and he naturally expected to find a large following of opinions here.  He thought at least that we should listen freely and gladly to the simple truth but he was disappointed; it was quite as dangerous to tell the truth here as anywhere else, if people were not ready for it. What a thankless task it is to be in advance of one's time! Matthew Arnold has found it so for one, and a hundred others -- Tennyson's last year's poem is always a classic, but this year's must be cried upon as doggerel" -- 
    "It must have been evident before the first two days were spent that

[ p. 24 ]

Mr. Thomas's coming was a great responsibility to Emerson" -- resumed my [ host ? ] fellow-guest. "You see," (turning to me{ ) } "that your idea of the effect of the American climate was practically illustrated. Poor Thomas insisted upon coming, for the first weeks at any rate, as an observer only and preserved his incognito with infinite care. Even when I saw him afterward in his own house at Chelsea -- I found that he desired to ignore the whole affair" --
    "But how was it possible to keep the secret? {"} I asked{.} "He was well-known, even famous, in Boston then, you say -- "
    "Yes, but ^known^ by comparatively few persons after all, and you must remember

[ p. 25 ]

that his face was not familiar as faces are now in these days of photographs. He wished to meet the American public as a stranger speaking to strangers. He wished to be unhindered by any prejudices or traditions, private or public, and coming, as he did to Boston, introduced simply as a scholarly traveler, by Emerson, interested in our republican institutions and all that sort of thing, the little world was ready to treat him kindly and further him in his ways. He was very characteristic in ^his behaviour^ and constantly stood on the verge of betraying himself -- though there have been more noted persons ^than he^ in America than he whose [whose written over whom ] ^presence^ America knew nothing about -- I saw him first one evening at the L____ 's{.}
    "We have always had a most sacred feeling about making the details
   

[ p. 26 ]

of the visit public, for not only his sake but Emerson's, who felt that his friend's reputation would be sure to suffer if he had to answer for the actual follies, together with ^ all^ the town gossip and malicious lies -- But I dare say that there are not a half dozen persons living who will remember the [the is corrected] visit ^details^ now with any real definiteness. You must promise not to betray the secret, at any rate during our lifetimes" --
    To which I assented and we drew nearer together with renewed cheerfulness and lighted fresh cigars.
    "He arrived here early in the summer" -- I was told " -- the ^very^ first of the visit I do not know much about. He was with Emerson at Concord I suppose, and the Thoreau Episode

[ p. 27 ]

came in; but it was within a week after he landed that I saw him first. I noticed the delicacy of his hands, and ^was wonderstruck by his^ eloquence and impetuosity and I grew more and more puzzled about him until the truth flashed through my mind, and I was pretty ^sure^ in whose company I was lucky enough to find myself. I waylaid Emerson and accused him of lending himself to a deception and he at once swore me to secresy. It really was strange, all things considered, that so few persons did suspect: -- I remember that very evening, his first in society, a ^young^ lady who was making immense pretensions to literary position, asked in so many words: "Mr. [Mr. written over letters] Thomas, cannot you give us news an account of our new literary literary planet, Carlyle Carlyle?" -- but with extraordinary self-possession he here  answered in a

[ p. 28 ]

bewildering Scotch accent to which he was apt to retreat in moments of discomfiture: "Madam, I am but little lightened by the rays of him or any mon. He means well, let us hope!" The lady retreated contemptuously; I daresay she called the foreigner a pretender to literary companionships -- "
    "I have always believed," said the host, "that he may have had ^a^ design of staying here altogether, when he first arrived. You must remember that he had lately come to London after an awful siege of hard work, poverty and disappointment at Craigenputtoch. The English publishers were wary and indifferent, the reading-public slow to appreciate his great powers. His wife was half an invalid even then and on that side of the sea his

[ p. 29 ]

outlook would be dark enough. I have forgotten which of his long works was [ was written over were] just begun; it might have been the Cromwell but it was a far cry to the time his pockets would be filled by it and Emerson was making him remittances from time to time. It would not be surprising that he should try to better his fortunes in the new world. Our friend here remembers better than I do some of his experiences -- mistakes and accidents they were, poor fellow!"
    "The best affair was that charity meeting," responded the host ^guest^ eagerly. "Surely that has not faded from your mind? -- He had us all by the ears that night. I daresay it is well reported among the scandals of the day in some old newspaper file. There was a Reverend Mr. ___ who

[ p. 30 ]

was thought by his admirers to have a great talent for soliciting gifts of money for benevolent ^charitable^ objects; a perfect windbag of conceit and hypocrisy, who liked nothing better than to hear the holy tones of his own voice, and this man had called together a great public meeting in aid of some institution that I dare say the city would have been better without. The old Odeon was crammed with people, many of them otherwise sensible, but as mistakenly benevolent as any in Boston, and speeches were going on gloriously. Mr. Thomas sat on the platform, as distinguished guest; I suppose somebody had brought him by way of compliment, and ^but^ suddenly he rose like a Jack in the box, his eyes glittering with rage and excitement and insisted upon usurping the next speaker's place. I dont think

[ p. 31 ]

 the whole assembly could quite make out the entire flow of his eloquence, but he felt it to be his duty to warn the citizens of Boston and of America against the deliberate education and fostering of paupers by unwise charity -- I must say that it was one of the noblest speeches I have ever heard any man make, and I suppose that good seed never fell upon stonier soil. You know that we used to think Emerson himself difficult to understand, until time brought us a little nearer to his [ deleted word ] point of view. I must confess that I have been all these years since, getting toward Carlyle's outlook summing up of the principles of true charity. I dont find him saying much about it afterward; I suppose that the occasion roused his great fierce intellect.  At any rate, he

[ p. 32 ]

attacked that poor parson like a lion, and kept piling on argument after argument against his appeal for funds. I began to hear^d^ people whispering objections and deprecations all about in my vicinity, and I am grieved to say that I myself thought it no time to start a debating society, but Carlyle had the right of it! We are just learning the same thing now and trying to undo the harm that came from not listening to him and feeling the importance of his warning forty or fifty years ago -- [Jewett uses double-quotation marks for the following quotations.] "Dont think ye have done ye're [ ye're written over your ? ] whole duty to your neebor when ye have given him saxpence" -- he said, "See what he wants a saxpence for and whether he needs it at all without working for it, and whether

[ p. 33 ]

you do not owe him something better than the saxpence; ^something of your time and thought^ that you have been too stingy to give, and ^whether you must not^ lead him to the work that belongs to him in this busy world!" [Previous quotation mark may be altered from double to single. ] "But more than all that," said the narrator laughing, "he had possessed himself of a story which he may or may not have known was much to the discredit of the presiding parson. Some money had been collected for an experiment in industrial education long before the rest of the world had caught at the idea, [ deleted words ] ^of^ starting a small industrial school, and the fund had been deposited in the hands of a committee with the parson for chairman -- ^but^ when [ w in when was originally capitalized ] the painstaking ladies were ready to begin to draw upon it they discovered that the treasury was empty, for the benefit

[ p. 34 ]

if you please of the printing of some sentimental tracts composed by the worthy chairman himself. Great Caesar! how he writhed in his chair while Carlyle told the story -- and depicted in most glowing periods the far-reaching benefits advantages of a school which should teach poor children the things they ought to know, and make them equal to taking care of themselves and ^being^ useful to society. 'A sneeviling tract for all this!' says he over and over; {"}Wretten I misdoubt ^not^ by a mon whose own soul is dwarfed and dislocated into culpable imbecility, a self-glorifying quack in the greatest of healing professions! '
    "That sounds characteristic," said I, and we laughed as heartily as if we had just come from the meeting itself.

[ p. 35 ]

    "He probably would have gone on much farther, but somebody whispered that he must be crazy, and he discovered presently that he was not carrying his audience with him as a whole, and something was amiss, so he sat down looking very dangerous. There was a great deal about our avoiding the wrong paths that had led the countries of the old world into such pitfalls -- that we had a new country and the making, and more than that, the enforcing, of sensible laws within our power. I daresay if we had followed his advice literally, uphill and down dale, we should have been saved a great deal of misery and waste -- dear, dear! how long it takes the world to see straight and to move forward one step. Somebody is always trying to pull us along, and

[ p. 36 ]

gets only sneers for his pains, until he is dead and we come up with him, as I say; then we [ deleted letter ] make a bad statue in honor of him."
    "Tell me all ^of the visit^ that you can remember", I begged earnestly and the guest went on [ deleted marks ] to give a delicious description of a ward meeting where the great man cast an amazing shadow, quoting his friend Mr. Leigh Hunt's opinion that republics are never desired for their own sakes, that they are usually originated in some despair caused by the misconduct of kings.#  [ Jewett uses double quotation marks for the following quotation. ] "You must take thought of ornaments" -- he urged that astonished audience. "You will not be contented without ornament as well as utility; the pomps and vanities of government

[ p. 37 ]

have their place, they appeal to the imagination; it is not in nature to dispense with her glory of flowers and colours -- You must not swing the pendulum too far back on the side of meanness and disrespect. Grace and courtesy and good-breeding; teach your children these as well as rebellion and insolence, and freedom from social bonds, private or international." --
    "I was there that night," interrupted the other. "I was afraid they would pull him down and stamp on him, but the honesty of the man, somehow challenged respect and attention until he declared that from his observation he had become convinced that the States would have done better to wait twenty years at least before they broke faith with the mother country; that

[ p. 38 ]

was a little too strong doctrine for us! 'Ye might have had patience' says he, {'}ye would have got what ye wanted without fighting for it, and wasting your men and your money. I can see ye are just getting on your feet again now after the loss ye made in your silly Revolution, and your cold-tea making down in yonder harbor. Patience, patience! but there are some among ye that must show their own importance and fret the quiet-loving people into wars that bring nobody any gain. Ye would have your rights -- mind ^that^ ye give other [ deleted word ] folk theirs!' Good heavens, we got him out the best way we could! I ruined a new suit of clothes in the push and scramble -- and thought it ^them^ ill-lost then, too! --"

[ p. 39 ]

said the old gentleman with a return of his youthful fire.
    "He was plunged into the deepest disgrace of all by his opinions upon American schools; we were just congratulating ourselves upon the famous Massachusetts system, but he got with an assembly of the wise and great of course, and he made himself very disagreeable by complaining that they were unjustly conceived and arranged, and would do more harm than good.  Then he took the wrong tack upon question after question, and at last the days of his eloquence and antagonism came to an end. I think he was here only [ only here changed to here only ] two or three weeks, was he not? -- I know that he boarded ^lodged^ the last of the time at a decent old woman's house near the May's in High St., and used to complain of sleeplessness

[ p. 40 ]

and go out and wring the necks of some poultry to which the old lady was deeply attached -- "
    "At his old tricks" -- said I.
    "She had a little garden spot and was a thrifty soul. He could neither bear exile, nor the climate and complained continually. Emerson, I believe it was he, told me that from the moment his friend landed he was longing for a sufficient excuse to return. The American Experiment proved a disastrous failure."
    "It would gratify me to know the manner of his departure?" I asked rising to my feet for I was ashamed to look the clock in the face, now that such a bewilderingly interesting interview was at its close. "You said, I think that he " --

[ p. 41 ]

    "Yes yes! -- sit down again for a few minutes. You may as well hear the whole story. And then we will have a glass of wine together before we [we written over you] say good night.
    "Emerson came to me one morning looking unwontedly disturbed, and confessed that the celebrated Mr. Thomas was fairly in ^in danger of^ the town jail for defamation of character, libel and other transgressions of the law; having thought best to publicly call to account in the daily press, the motives of a certain silly fellow, a petty politician.  I cannot possibly recall the exact circumstances now, but it seems to me, as I look back, that all his vague complaints of general wrongs and foolishness on the other side of the sea -- had become very particular and personal over here. You may divine what an excitement a few

[ p. 42 ]

of us were in, and how we talked over the matter, Emerson and I and one or two other friends whom we went to consult on the legal aspects of the question. We concluded finally, that for the sake of Carlyle's reputation we must send him out of the country as soon as possible and let him hence-forth work among us by ^the leaven of^ his writings.
    {"}Of course if he came to trial it would be next to impossible to conceal his personality, so we clubbed together and bailed him out ^made all needful arrangements^, and that very night we ran him down through the unlighted lanes and byways to Long Wharf where a small brig was just ready to sail for Glasgow in ballast. Two of us carried his little trunk and Emerson walked with him arm in arm trying to console him

[ p. 43]

 I suppose. We were delayed and the captain was swearing like a trooper so there was no time for leave-taking when we reached the wharf. I must say that I wished we were going to keep him, tactless as he had been. The man had a great soul in him. 'We'll bury the memory of this fool's holiday,' he said, 'but I've told ye some things ye'll remember too late, I fear me' -- and with a 'God bless ye gentlemen!' across the plank he went, and waved his hand to us as he drifted out into the darkness of that summer night. How well I recall it [it written over another word ] -- the look of the place! The wet wharves, and a few skulking fellows about, watching us as if we

[ p. 44 ]

had been bent on murder."
    "And you said that he would never refer to his visit afterward when you saw him later in London?" I asked lingering, I fear, unkindly.
    "No -- No!" said my host -- "we buried it as he wished. I never happened to be with him when there were not strangers present. I dare say he laughed over it with Emerson. Mrs. Carlyle gave me a merry broad hint of it once or twice, but the Sage looked very uneasy and black after. It was an unfortunate summer altogether for she had arranged to spend the time in Scotland, [ deleted word ] ^at^ Templand her mother's place, but Carlyle's sudden appearance put an

[ p. 45 ]

end to all such plans and she gave up her visit and went back to London. You can see that life went very hard with them after the story of that summer in the Memoirs. Poor fellow, he went back poorer than ever, and yet he speaks again from time to time of visiting America as if the Experiment [Experience ?] had never been tried. I can pick out a good many allusions in his letters to Emerson -- to [ deleted word ] ^some^ pictures of Concord ^he had^, and that sort of thing."

---

---

    The writer has striven to give a faithful record of a most enchanting evening with two gentlemen who have both since then left this world for a better. He has felt at liberty to make public a long kept secret believing that it will interest

[ p. 45 ]

and astonish the world at large as much as it has himself. He wishes to add that he obtained slight confirmation, though that were needless, from the local press of the time in question, but no doubt lingers in his mind of the perfect veracity and actual experience of his informers. Their hearty laughter rings yet in his [ deleted word ] ^ears;^ it was evident that much amusing reminiscence lingered in their memories beyond the main facts which are here stated. It might be added that if the fashion of interviewing notabilities had been then in vogue, the soi disant Mr. Thomas would have figured to a greater extent in the dusty files of newspapers which the writer has taken considerable pains to consult.
#
    He will be glad to answer questions in the relation to the subject.  [ deleted word ]

    P. L. B.

---

NOTES

Craigenputtock:  Thomas Carlyle (4 December 1795 – 5 February 1881) is characterized in Wikipedia as a "Scottish philosopher, satirical writer, essayist, historian and teacher."  In 1826, he married Jane Baillie Welsh, also a skilled writer, and soon after moved to a home belonging to her family, Craigenputtock in Scotland.  He lived and worked there with considerable success until 1831, when the couple moved to Chelsea, in London, and he became friends with John Stuart Mill and Leigh Hunt.

    His works mentioned in this story are:

the Reminiscences:  Reminiscences published by J. A. Froude soon after Carlyle's death (1881), controversial in part because they revealed what many considered inappropriate private details about the Carlyle marriage.

the Memoirs:  Memoirs of the life and writings of Thomas Carlyle, with personal reminiscences and selections from his private letters to numerous correspondents, by Richard Herne Shepherd, (1842-1895), ed; Williamson, C. N. (Charles Norris), (1859-1920), joint ed, 1881.

the Cromwell:  Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, with Elucidations, 3 vol., 1845.  The "guest" indicates that at the time of Carlyle's supposed visit to America, Carlyle had not yet published "his Cromwell."  This indicates that Carlyle's visit preceded Thoreau's sojourn at Waldon Pond, making the "Thoreau incident" impossible.  See further notes below.

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the late war:  The American Civil War 1861-1865, as confirmed later in the text.
    In notes following the manuscript in the Houghton folder, Jewett says her narrator is "a southerner, ^son of^ classmate of one gentleman."  The narrator also says that the stay in Boston he describes here was the result of his first journey northward since the outbreak of the war, during his second  year at Harvard University in Cambridge, MA.

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Mr. Froude:  Wikipedia says: "James Anthony Froude (23 April 1818 – 20 October 1894) was an English historian, novelist, biographer, and editor of Fraser's Magazine.... Inspired by Thomas Carlyle, Froude's historical writings were often fiercely polemical, earning him a number of outspoken opponents. Froude continued to be controversial up until his death for his Life of Carlyle, which he published along with personal writings of Thomas and Jane Welsh Carlyle. These publications illuminated Carlyle's often selfish personality, and led to persistent gossip and discussion of the couple's marital problems."

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one of Cromwell's clergymen:  Wikipedia says: "Oliver Cromwell (25 April 1599 – 3 September 1658) was an English military and political leader and later Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland."  After the restoration of Charles II of England in 1660, most dissenting clergy who had supported Cromwell were driven from the Church of England and suffered persecution.  These events forced many of them into exile, some to the American colonies.

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the series of volumes edited by Mr. Froude:  The volumes Froude produced related to Carlyle included:

1881    Reminiscences of Jane Welsh Carlyle
1882-84    Thomas Carlyle (biography)
1883    Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle
1903    My Relations with Carlyle  (Published posthumously, but composed in 1887.)

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the Letters of Emerson and Carlyle:  The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson appeared in two volumes in 1884, edited by Charles Eliot Norton.
    Link to Volume 1
    Link to Volume 2

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'A man is never so confidential as when he addresses the whole world':  Jewett identifies this as an "old proverb" in "The Quiet Scholar," The Christian Union 34:7 (August 17, 1881) pp. 148-150.

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vexed question of Slavery:  Carlyle's views of slavery in "Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question" (1849) were highly controversial.  The narrator's interest in Carlyle's argument may stem from Jewett's thinking of him as a southerner (see note above).  Carlyle's views would seem to clash with those of the many abolitionist friends of Jewett and Annie Fields, as well as those of Emerson and Thoreau, though, like him, they sometimes questioned the motives and sincerity of philanthropists.
    In the earlier manuscript included in the Houghton folder, the elder of the men says that Carlyle "took the wrong tack on the slavery question of course, we all knew what he thought about that ..."  This suggests that Carlyle's supposed visit took place after his views on slavery were widely known, presumably after the 1849 publication of the "Occasional Discourse."

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"exquisite reason":  Sir Andrew Aguecheek in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night (II:iii), says "I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough."

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Emerson (the date of this evening was early in the winter that followed his death):  Wikipedia says:  "Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803 - April 27, 1882) was an American essayist, lecturer, and poet who led the Transcendentalist movement of the mid-19th century."  Jewett, therefore, has dated the story fairly precisely as taking place in the winter of 1882-83.

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I met great Emerson:  Elizabeth Silverthorne in Sarah Orne Jewett says that Jewett became acquainted with Emerson and his family while visiting friends in Concord, MA during the 1870s (p. 72).
    As for Thoreau: Silverthorne points out that Jewett did not meet Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), who died when she was 13.  Thoreau is remembered for his experiment in transcendental individualism at Walden Pond, near Concord, which eventuated in his book, Walden (1854).
    That Carlyle spent a day or so with Thoreau at Walden Pond would suggest that the summer of his visit came between July 5, 1845 and September 6, 1847.

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'Anything ... to fill this indescribable, gloomy and haunted chaos':   This and other quotations from Carlyle's American speeches and conversation do sound a good deal like Carlyle's voice, but I have not located exact quotations in his works.

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What a thankless task it is to be in advance of one's time! Matthew Arnold has found it so for one, and a hundred others -- Tennyson's last year's poem is always a classic, but this year's must be cried upon as doggerel": 
    Wikipedia says: "Matthew Arnold (24 December 1822 – 15 April 1888) was an English poet and cultural critic who worked as an inspector of schools."
    Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson, FRS (6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892) was Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland during much of Queen Victoria's reign and remains one of the most popular British poets.

    In an April 18, 1888 letter to Lilian Aldrich, Jewett reflects on the death of Matthew Arnold:  "It is a thankless task for any man to be ahead of his time and people resent anybodys suggestion that they might think otherwise than they do, or that they might behave better, or live their lives for higher ends.,,,"

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daresay:  Jewett is not consistent in these manuscripts, using both "daresay" and "dare say."

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lately come to London:  According to Froude, Carlyle spent six months in London beginning in August 1831; he and his wife moved there permanently in 1834.  This suggests that the date of Carlyle supposed visit to America in the early-to-middle 1830s.  This does not square well with the information that Carlyle spent a day with Thoreau at Walden Pond in 1846 or 1847 or that he visited America after the publication of his essay on slavery in 1849.

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The old Odeon:  Wikipedia says "The Odeon (1835-c. 1846) of Boston, Massachusetts, was a lecture and concert hall on Federal Street in the building also known as the Boston Theatre."

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deliberate education and fostering of paupers by unwise charity:  While Jewett is unlikely to have agreed with Carlyle's critique of universal education (see note below on the Massachusetts system), she quite likely did share his distrust of unwise charity.  She was intimately acquainted with the theory and practice of the Associated Charities of Boston, where a number of her close friends and associates were active, including Annie Fields, author of How to Help the Poor (1884), and Mrs. James [Mary Greenwood] Lodge (1829-1889).

that good seed never fell upon stonier soil:  See Mark 4:3-9 for one text of Jesus's Parable of the Sower.

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"Dont think ye have done [ your ? ] whole duty to your neebor when ye have given him saxpence":  The idea that true charity extends in various ways beyond the simple giving of alms appears repeatedly in the Christian gospels.  That a major goal of charity should be helping people to become self-sufficient was at the core of the philosophy of the Associated Charities of Boston and of Fields's handbook, How to Help the Poor (see note above on unwise charity).  Emerson repeats a similar idea, for example, in "Self-Reliance": "Men do what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world, — as invalids and the insane pay a high board. Their virtues are penances."  Thoreau agrees in Walden, particularly in his opening chapter, "Economy."  In this passage, Carlyle seems particularly to echo Thoreau.

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small industrial school:  Industrial schools (later reform schools) were established in England and the United States beginning in the early 19th century to provide housing and training for poor and delinquent youth.  Young people were removed from their homes to a boarding school, where they were to receive training and education.

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some sentimental tracts:  In the earlier draft included in the Houghton folder, the parson is said to have misused the funds entrusted to him to publish "brimstone tracts."  For examples of religious tracts of the period, see The First Series Tracts, Volume 11, Religious Tract Society, 1850.

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Wretten I misdoubt ^not^:  It seems likely that when Jewett inserted "not," she also meant to change "misdoubt" to "doubt."

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quoting his friend Mr. Leigh Hunt's opinion that republics are never desired for their own sakes:   "#" indicates that Jewett meant to include a note on this passage, but it does not appear on this page of the manuscript.  In notes that follow the manuscripts in the Houghton folder, this passage appears: "See Leigh Hunt's Autobiography I 230."
    James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784  - 1859) was an English critic, essayist, poet, and writer.  The passage Jewett refers to appears as she indicates, in Hunt's Autobiography (1850).

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cold-tea making down in yonder harbor:  Wikipedia says: "The Boston Tea Party (initially referred to by John Adams as "the Destruction of the Tea in Boston" was a political protest by the Sons of Liberty in Boston, on December 16, 1773.  The demonstrators, some disguised as American Indians, destroyed an entire shipment of tea sent by the East India Company, in defiance of the Tea Act of May 10, 1773. They boarded the ships and threw the chests of tea into Boston Harbor, ruining the tea."  The "Tea Party" precedes the "silly Revolution," which is thought to open with the Battles of Lexington and Concord in 1775 and to become official with the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

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fret the quiet-loving people into wars that bring nobody any gain: Two examples in American history may reflect more directly Carlyle's opinion about the American Revolution as fomented by a minority interest, The Mexican-American War (1846-48) and the Spanish-American War (1898).  Because we do not know the exact composition date for this piece, it is at least possible that Jewett and her readers would think of both wars.

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the famous Massachusetts system:  Massachusetts was the first of the United States to establish a state board of education (1837) to oversee the state's common schools, which were to provide universal public education (established in 1852).  Instrumental in passing the enabling legislation was Josiah Quincy,  Jr.  Horace Mann provided leadership in establishing the state public school system.
    According to Wikipedia, "In 1838, [Mann] founded and edited The Common School Journal. In this journal, Mann targeted the public school and its problems. His six main principles were: (1) the public should no longer remain ignorant; (2) that such education should be paid for, controlled, and sustained by an interested public; (3) that this education will be best provided in schools that embrace children from a variety of backgrounds; (4) that this education must be non-sectarian; (5) that this education must be taught by the spirit, methods, and discipline of a free society; and (6) that education should be provided by well-trained, professional teachers. Mann worked for more and better equipped school houses, longer school years (until 16 years old), higher pay for teachers, and a wider curriculum."

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at a decent old woman's house near the May's in High St.:  The May family was prominent in New England before the civil war, various members living in Boston at various times.  Samuel May (d. 1870) and his children Samuel Joseph, Abigail and John Joseph, all were noted reformers and abolitionists.  According to The Journals of Louisa May Alcott (daughter of Abigail May and Bronson Alcott), the Alcott family lived briefly on High Street, Boston, during the autumn of 1851 (p. xviii).  John Joseph May, a successful businessman, lived at 57 High Street until 1843, according to Schools and Schoolboys of Old Boston, by Arthur Wellington Brayley (1894, pp. 385-7).  Whether contemporary readers would have known a specific May family as residents of High Street has not yet been determined.  Assistance is welcome.

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to Long Wharf:  Wikipedia says "Long Wharf (built 1710-1721) is a historic pier in Boston, Massachusetts which once extended from State Street nearly a half-mile into Boston Harbor."

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Templand her mother's place:  Templand, near Thornill in Scotland, was the family estate and residence of Jane Welsh Carlyle's parents. See The Life of Jane Welsh Carlyle by Mrs. Alexander Ireland (1891).

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soi disant:  French: so-called.

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P. L. B.:  Whether Jewett connected any specific persons with the narrator and the two gentlemen who remember Carlyle in America would seem doubtful.  However, in notes that follow the manuscript in the Houghton folder, she includes this line:  "E. G. Loring -- Phillips. Perkins Quincy."  While this is fairly obscure, it could point to two men of whom Jewett had some knowledge, and of whom she may have been thinking as she developed her characters.

    Ellis Gray Loring (1803-1858) was a Boston attorney and abolitionist.  Jewett was acquainted with his daughter, Anna, who married Otto Dresel and became the mother of one of Jewett's close friends, Louisa Loring Dresel.
    Josiah Phillips Quincy (1829-1910) was a Boston attorney and author of various works, including several volumes of poetry, at least two of which were published by James T. Fields's (Annie's spouse):
        Lyteria: A Dramatic Poem (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1854)
        Charicles: A Dramatic Poem (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1856)
In the Journal of Psychic Research 1:1 (January 1907) p. 65, he is listed as a member and his address is given as 82 Charles St., Boston, making him a neighbor of Annie Fields, at 148.
    Link to a list of his books available on-line.

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---

Carlyle in America
The earlier draft

[Areas where substantial changes were made between the earlier and later drafts are indicated in blue text.  Added page numbers are for this draft only.]

[ p. 1 ]

     The writer of this paper must confess ^say^ in the beginning that he has been a close student of certain of Carlyle's works, and that he is a great admirer and enjoyer of the late revelation of the private life of that great  philosopher and historian. He has followed the fortunes of the Craigenputtoch episode with eager sympathy -- having been isolated from society at the most sensitive period of his life.  Having been an unsuccessful writer ^politician^ and a defeated member of the legal ^clerical^ profession through physical infirmity he

[ p. 2 ]

has been led to seek consolation and employment in literary interests and directions.
    It is by no means a common occurence that the lives of two people are thrown open to the inspection, the intimate observation of strangers as the ^in^ their ^cases^ lives of [probably meant to change their to the ?] Carlyle and his wife ^have been^ and from my ^the writers^ own delight in possessing himself of such a friendship he [he written over as] has grown into [into written over letters] a singularly familiarity with these books of reminiscence and letters.
    Forbidden active ^public^ employment and ^fortunately^ removed from any need of money making he has taken great pleasure in collecting

[ p. 3 ]

such outside information  ^of the Carlyles^ and indeed many delightful souvenirs in the shape of household treasures as could be obtained in London or elsewhere, by solicitation or purchase ^have become his own^.  From this it will easily be understood that no one could have more eagerly followed the thread of discovery, which was thrust suddenly into hand, a tangled but intensely interesting and exciting clue -- The results of the writer's search and following of what might have been a baffling or entirely fruitless suggestion are now placed with entire lack of reserve and a great satisfaction and pleasure ^confidence^, before the reader.

[ p. 4 ]

    In the course of a visit to Boston I was fortunate enough to make one of a small dinner company of people on a certain Sunday ^winter^ evening at the house of a wellknown [two words apparently run together] elderly literary gentleman to whom has come by right many of the most [ deleted word] valuable  ^social^ experiences of his time. Several of the guests had been were obliged to ^take^ leave early in the evening, but two ^one famous^ gentleman [changed from gentlemen by writing a over e] whom I had long been wishing to meet, and myself ^were asked to^ followed, our host to his cosy inner library and there, gathered ^seated^ before a cheerful wood fire we resumed the ^former^ subject of conversation, which greatly to my pleasure

[ p. 5 ]

 happened to be the Carlyles. One of the volumes of Mr. Froude's series had just been issued, and we discussed with great spirit the propriety of certain admissions, both of criticisms and letters. I was so fortunate as to find that not only the older member of the little circle who had been somewh an intimate friend of Carlyle and his wife as I already knew, but the other guest and  my host also had met the great man and his wife on several occasions.
    This was what I had always longed for and I was contented to sit quietly in my place listening with utmost eagerness to the delightful

[ p. 6 ]

talk of my companions --  only asking a leading question now and then to start the talk afresh since no other topic could be to say the least, more interesting to me.

[Jewett adds  material here in the later draft.]

-    After a round of laughter over the ^an^ amusing report of the complete crushing of an irreverent conceited visitor ^once in London^ there was so long a pause that I feared the next words would inaugurate [inaugurate written over some letters] a new departure of thought and speech.  I ventured hastily to repeat [two deleted words] my opinion that, for once, we had a man's life completely displayed and mapped out for inspection -- reflected in literature as if in a mirror.  We were able to find out what Carlyle

[ p. 7 ]

(and, usually, his wife) might be doing and even thinking at any given time. I asked if there were another ^such^ instance in the world of biography or even auto-biography. Here we have the Letters of Emerson and Carlyle and all the rest of the ^delightful series of^^ books -- As I looked up at this point and hesitated a moment my host glanced at his nearest neighbor, and gave a queer laugh, and hastened to poke the fire as if to conceal a most amused expression.

[Jewett adds material at this point to the later draft.]

    ''What should you say to that?" he gravely asked -- and the guest said nothing, but smiled in reply and shook his head. It

[ p. 8 ]

instantly became evident to me that they not only believed that Carlyle's biography did not cover the entire ground of his experience but that they were well aware of some important omission. But neither said anything -- and not wishing to appear ^too^ curious I went on [ deleted word ] to say that one point ^thought^ that had always been interesting to me, was the idea of Carlyle's having been so near, at one time to coming to America. He would have been sure to become prominent in our national affairs, not taking any public place, I hastened to explain, but as a strong colour on an artists palette affects the weaker ones. [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.] Nothing is

[ p. 9 ]

more interesting, too ^said I^ than the change which our climate makes in a immigrants from the old world. They can live at higher pressure{.} Thought and action become easier, and ^an^ exactly opposite reasoning shows how good it is for ourselves, over braced and stimulated, to go to England where our nervous activity is quieted down.
    "Good heavens!" said the elder guest ^turning toward me^ "Think for one instant of Carlyle's being made more impetuous and still further electrified! What a tempestuous" -- but I observed that our host was immensely amused at some suggestion beyond the mere words quoted above and the two gentlemen looked at each

[ p. 10 ]

other again and went off in^to^ uncharacteristic peals of laughter.
--    I could not help joining them for very sympathy, but I was extremely desirous to know their "exquisite reason," and I suppose my countenance made a strenuous appeal.

    "Dear, dear, --" gasped the master of the house at last -- "How those old days come back!" [an extra quotation mark] -- You remember the midnight excursion to the wharves I suppose?  --" but a glance of imperative warning from his companion checked him --
    I could not after this, be beaten off the

[ p. 11 ]

th track so easily.  "Do you mean to say that Carlyle ever did ^really^ come over here?" I burst forth with almost impertinent eagerness.
    The cheerful little occasion was extremely favorable to story-telling, even secret-telling as I remember it. I could see that my companions were much tempted -- not only by a desire to surprise and ^kindly^ entertain a guest, but by an inclination to indulge old in  [in written over something] amusing reminiscences of their own..
    What vow they were bound by, was their own bond, not mine; I was possessed by an

[ p. 12 ]

insatiable hunger for whatever bit of history they were concealing, ^but I received no answer from either^.

#   [link for this sign]

 --    "Dear dear!" the guest said again.  "I suppose we are the only two people left.  I must confess that I looked with great curiosity at a certain chapter in one of the Froude volumes.  I am convinced that Carlyle never even hinted the truth of the matter to Froude. [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]  He was terribly sensitive about it -- that ^particular^ absence in Scotland." -- And they laughed again immoderately and said how many years ago it was, and what old fogies they were getting to be and there  [there written over a word] was a secret that must die with them.  There was no
 

[ p. 13 ]

use in saying yet that the world knew the whole story of any man's life.  I knew from their manner that there was not the slightest use in putting further questions and yet that they were perfectly willing and even desirous that I should draw certain inferences from what they had already said.


--    The date of this evening was [ deleted word ]  early in the winter following Emerson's death and my friends presently spoke of him with deep affection and reverence. I ^Their listener^ must have quickly betrayed his satisfaction at this new subject, which

[ p. 14 ]

presently unfolded the most charming series of personal reminiscence, which ^have^ made me -- a far away scholar and devout admirer of the great man, feel almost like another friend and neighbour. From Emerson it was [ deleted word ] natural enough to recall Thoreau but it was not until afterward) [Entire previous sentence deleted.] I could only repeat the short story of my only sight of Emerson one day ^many years before^ when I was hurrying along a crowded business street.  In fact I venture to repeat ^print^ here the imperfect verse, I repeated then, as being one man's own fragmentary ^harvesting^ from so generous a nature's gifts:

[Jewett's sonnet does not appear in this draft.]

[ p. 15 ]

     "Yes," said one of my friends, {"}I can see Emerson this moment as he used to look. Everybody seemed to make way for him unconsciously as he came along the pavement -- but his eyes were apt to be regarding the sky or the roofs of the houses, as if his concerns were with some higher level of even earthly things.
     But he put his feet down carefully for all that --". [Quotation mark appears misplaced] As for Thoreau he walked like an Indian, seeing the objects closest to him with a stealthy curiosity that would have [deleted insertion]  their secrets whether or no -- "
    Our companion seemed to be vastly

[ p. 16 ]

amused by something connected with the mention of Thoreau's [names ?] and his eyes fairly sparkled with glee ^fun^.  "Do you remember our friend John ^Thomas^ Smith's experience with Thoreau?" he asked, mentioning the name with a little effort and hesitation that gave me to understand its complete falsity ^that it was assumed for the occasion^ -- "Emerson told me about it himself" (turning to me and explaining hastily that Mr. Smith was a well informed Scotchman who came to this country many years ago filled with enthusiasms, being something of a writer and reformer in fact, and that to everybody's amusement he insisted upon joining Thoreau in his seclusion at Walden Pond.  Thoreau was not over pleased

[ p. 17 ]

with the prospect of having this ^entertaining a^ guest and the consequent responsibility, but Smith made himself very agreeable and [and is written over a word] talked nearly all night and [three deleted words] ^Thoreau^ thought nothing could be more congenial and rewarding.  But, to give Smith's account of it, next morning Thoreau announced certain of his plans which included a dinner with his own family that day and a [two deleted words] claim upon Emerson's hospitality the day following.  [Deleted word] The foreigner was shocked at such a sham way of going into retreat and objected with considerable alarm whereupon Thoreau sulkily took him far afield through bush and briar to dine upon unripe blueberries in an easterly rain and finally they became separated from each other in a

[ p. 18 ]

swamp and poor Smilth was lost ^of course was lost for a time^ and late that night found his way to the door of  Emersons house where he roused the whole family by desperate knocking and appeals for food and shelter.

[Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]
 
    I remember that Emerson said he never heard such brilliant talk in his life or [Jewett meant to delete or ?] saw such a^n^ ^enormous^  supper eaten or heard in his life or heard such brilliant talk afterward.  Emerson used to quote sometimes ^[this deleted?]^ a sentence "Anything to fill this indescribable, gloomy and haunted chaos of the hollow agonies [agonies written over agony] beneath [intended to delete beneath ? ] ^on which depends^ my soul.{"}  How one would have liked to hear them ^talk^.  Midnight revels were not so common with either man that they could pass like common ^ordinary^ festivals--" said the host, "warming [with or into ?] excitement."

[ p. 19 ]

    "Do you mean to say that Carlyle really did come to this country?" I demanded ^again^ of my elderly friends, for this was all too interesting to pass unchallenged -- "Don't betray [deleted word] any secrets, but I am on fire with curiosity.  So much time has elapsed, -- it surely can do no harm."
    The friends glanced at each other to see if either wavered, and I thought that I detected an inclination to indulge my wish to hear more.
    "How long was Mr. Smith in this country?" I asked boldly, and to my delight the host answered with perfect composure that his

[ p. 20 ]

absence from his native country altogether only lasted something less than two months. "He expected great things.  Some small writings of his had found more favor [May be a comma here.] with the American public than with his own compatriots and he hoped to find a large following here.  He thought Americans would listen freely and gladly to the simple truth, but he was disappointed -- it was quite as dangerous to tell the truth here as anywhere else if people were not ready to hear it. It is truly a thankless task to be in advance of one's time! Matthew Arnold has found it so for one, ^+^ a hundred others  ^Tennyson's last years poem is a classic, but this years must be cried upon as doggerel --
     "It was evident to Emerson

[ p. 21 ]

before the first two days were spent that he had shouldered a tremendous responsibility." said ^resumed^ my fellow-guest. "You see ^that^ your idea of the effect of the American climate was practically illustrated (turning to me){.} Poor Mr. Smith insisted upon coming, for the first few months ^weeks^ at any rate, as an observer only and preserved his incognito with infinite care. Even when I saw him in Chelsea ^England^ afterward and was a visitor with him at the Ashburtons  -- (Mr Thomas Smith! forsooth! said I thought one delighted listener) [said I was deleted first; then the whole phrase was deleted.]  He really made me feel one day that the whole experience was a delusion.  Mrs. Carlyle [Carlyle written over Smith] even tried, I suppose under severe pressure [Probably Jewett intended to delete both of the previous two sentences.]

[ p. 22 ]

    "But how was it possible to keep the secret? {"} I asked{.} "He was well known in Boston then, you say" --
    "Yes, but by comparatively few persons after all, and his face was not familiar at any rate.  That was long before the day of photographs. He wished to meet the American public as a stranger speaking to strangers -- he wished to be unhindered by any prejudices or traditions private or public and coming as he did, to Boston, introduced simply as a scholarly Englishman ^Scotchman^ a  traveler and observer, by Emerson.  The little world ^was ready to^ treated him kindly and let him go his ways. He was very characteristic in^his behavior, when I saw him on evening at _____s where

   

[ p. 23 ]

[This page is blank except for a single deleted line, which appears to be upside down at the bottom of the page.]
to behave as if he were ignorant

[ p. 24 ]

Emerson had brought him { -- } he scolded constantly about the discomforts of the voyage and bewailed his dismal homesickness.  But there was something manly and charming about his wit his simplicity  and his abominable truthfulness.  America never knew what she had missed in not being willing to listen to him" ----
    "Our friend here," interrupted the host, his face beaming with a sudden access of generosity and good intent.  "Our friend here knows or can guess so much already that we might as well make a clean breast of our part of the affair and have no Mr. Thomas Smith's [deleted word] about it!"

[ p. 25 ]

[Jewett adds material here in the later draft.] {"}We had" -- addressing me " -- a most sacred feeling for a long time about keeping the secret for not only Carlyle's but Emerson's sake, who felt that Carlyle's reputation here would be sure to suffer if he had to answer for the actual misdemeanors and the town gossip and sensational lies concerning Mr. Thomas Smith -- But I dare say there are not a half dozen persons living beside ourselves [ourselves written over ourself] who will remember the affair with any sort of definiteness. You must [must written over may ? ] promise not to betray [betray written over letters ] the long kept secret, at any rate during our my friends lifetime and my own?"  To which I eagerly assented, and we drew nearer

[ p. 26 ]

 together, with renewed cheerfulness.
    "He landed ^arrived^ here about the tenth of July" -- the host went on.  I dont know much about the first days of [the written over something] ^visit^ {.}  Emerson had him at Concord and the Thoreau Episode came in then; but it was within a week or ten days after he landed that I saw him first as I have just told you. I noticed his delicate hands, and was puzzled a good deal about him until it flashed through my mind in whose company I had unexpectedly found myself. I waylaid Emerson in the hall outside where he went to get something from and accused him of lending himself to a deception -- and he swore me to secresy [deleted word] on the instant. It really was

[ p. 27 ]

strange, all things considered that so few persons really did suspect ^the truth^.  I remember that very evening, his first in society, a lady who had made immense pretensions to literary [ deleted word value ?] position, asked him Carlyle, in so many words,  "Sir can you not give us news of our new planet, Carlyle?" -- and with extraordinary self possession he answered -- [deleted word] in a most bewildering Scotch accent to which he was apt to retreat in moments of discomfort. "Madam, I am but little lightened myself by the rays of him or any mon. He means well, may be -- I canna' say" and the lady retreated contemptuously{.} I dare say she called Carlyle ^the visitor^  a pretender to literary companionships".

[ p. 28 ]

 
    "I daresay --" said the guest, {"}that he may have had designs of staying here altogether, when he first came. You must remember that he had lately come to London after an awful siege of loneliness, poverty and disappointment at Craigenputtoch. The ^English^ publishers were wary and indifferent -- the ^reading^ public even more so. His wife was [deleted letter] half an invalid even then; on that side of the sea his outlook was dark enough. He may have begun his Cromwell.  I'm sure I cant say at just what stage his work was, but I found one of the Em letters to Emerson that was ^must have been ^ written to Concord from Boston not Chelsea ^London^!  Emerson had

[ p. 29 ]

made him some [deleted words] ^remittances^ and he was disposed to try ^seek^  his [corrected from he ?] fortunes in the new world. Now ______ you  remember better than I some of his accidents and mistakes poor fellow, so you can go on while I light another cigar."
    "The best affair, I always thought, was that charity meeting that he had by the ears one night.  Dear me, you will find a report of it, I daresay, in some old file of newspapers. There was a Reverend Mr. ___ who was thought to have a great gift ^talent^ for soliciting donat ^gifts^ of money for benevolent objects; a [a written over something] perfect windbag of conceit and hypocrisy who liked nothing better than to hear the holy tones of his

[ p. 30 ]

own voice, and this man had called together a great public meeting in aid of some institution that I daresay the city would have always been better without. The old Odeon was crammed with people, many of them as sensible and ^mistakenly^ benevolent as any in Boston. And speeches were going on gloriously. When Mr. Thomas Smith, who sat on the platform -- I suppose somebody had put him there by way of compliment -- got up like a Jack in the box, his eyes glittering with rage and excitement and begged to be allowed to say a few words.  I dont think the whole assembly could quite make out the whole of what he said at first -- but he felt it to be his

[ p. 31 ]

duty to warn the citizens of Boston against the education and fostering of paupers by unwise charity -- I must say that it was one of the noblest speeches I have ever heard any man make, and I suppose that good seed never fell upon stonier soil. You know that we used to think that Emerson himself was difficult to understand, until within the last ten or fifteen years, when the  times had brought us up to somewhere near his own standpoint.  I have been all these years since getting [getting written over something] toward Carlyle's outlook upon true charity. I dont find him saying much about it afterward in any of his books; I suppose that the occasion roused his great fierce intellect -- at any rate,

[ p. 32 ]

he went for ^attacked^ that poor parson like a lion, [ deleted word ] and kept piling on argument after argument against his appeal for funds. I heard people whispering objections to Mr. Thomas Smith all about and I am grieved to say that I ^myself^ thought it no time to start a debating society, but Carlyle had the right of it. We all say the same thing now he said forty or fifty years ago -- 'Dont think ye have done ye're whole duty to your neebor when you have given him saxpence' he said. [deleted word] {'}See what he wants a saxpence for and whether he needs it at all without working for it, and whether you cant

[ p. 33 ]

give him something better than a saxpence and lead him to the work that belongs to him in this busy world!" [Jewett adds material about here in the later draft.]  And somehow he ^Carlyle^ had got [he was deleted before the whole previous phrase was deleted.]
    {"}And somehow Mr. Thomas Smith had possessed himself of a story which he may or may not have known was much to the discredit of the presiding parson.
-- Some money had been collected for an experiment, long before the rest of the world had caught at the idea, of starting a small industrial school -- and  deposited in the hands of a committee of which the parson was chairman and when the the painstaking ladies were all ready to begin to use their

[ p. 34 ]

funds it was discovered that they had already been used for the printing of some brimstone tracts composed by the worthy chairman himself -- Good Caesar! how he writhed in his chair while Carlyle ^Thomas Smith^ told the story -- and depicted in most glowing periods the far-reaching benefits of a school which should teach children to be useful and reasonable -- and independent, and to have a true appreciation of their duty to society and their accountability to heaven -- {'}A sneeviling tract for all this!' he repeated over and over; "written I dare say by a mon whose own soul is dwarfed and dislocated into the merest imbecility -- a self-glorifying

[ p. 35 ]

quack in the greatest of healing professions --"
    "That sounds characteristic," said I, and we laughed as heartily as if we had just come from the lecture ^meeting^ itself --
    "I dare say He [He written over we] ^probably^ would have gone on for an hour or two" [Quotation mark not intended?] but somebody said that he must be crazy and ought to be put out, and somehow or other the poor fellow found something was amiss and sat down. It killed the reverend -- he disappeared shortly, and I have a vague notion that he really did turn out something of a swindler.  [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.] I have often wondered whether if we had taken Carlyle's advice literally and followed it uphill and down dale, we shouldn't

[ p. 36 ]

have saved a great deal of waste and misery -- dear, dear how long it takes the world to see straight and ^or^ to move forward one step -- there is always somebody ahead who keeps calling back and trying to pull us along and he gets kicks ^sneers^ and curses for his pains, until, as I say, we come up with him --
    Then there was a ward meeting affair where he cast a great shadow -- quoting his friend Mr. Leigh Hunts opinion that Republics are never desired for their own sakes, that they always originate in some despair caused by the misconduct of kings --  "You must take thought of ornaments"  he

[ p. 37 ]

urged that astonished audience. {"}You will not be contented without ornament as well as utility; the pomps and vanities of government have their place, they appeal to the imagination -- it is not in nature to dispense with her glory of flowers and colours -- Ye must not swing the pendulum too far back on the side of meanness and disrespect. Graces and courtesy and good-breeding; teach your children these as well as to rebel^lion^ and insolence, and freedom from social [May have begun to write society] bonds -- {"}
    "I was there that night," said the elder gentleman ^eagerly^ -- . "I was afraid they would pull him down

[ p. 38 ]

and stamp on him but the honesty of the rough looking fellow somehow challenged an amazing amount of respect and even ^but^ when he declared  that from his observations he had become convinced that the States would have done better to wait twenty years at least before they broke faith with the mother country it was a little too strong doctrine {'}Ye might have had patience" [intended a single quotation mark] he said -- {'}ye would have got what ye wanted without fighting for it and wasting your men and your money. I can see ye are just getting on your feet again now after the loss ye made in your

[ p. 39 ]

silly Revolution -- and your cold tea making in your harbour -- Patience -- Patience -- but their [meaning there] was some among ye that must keep themselves important {and} fret the quiet-loving people into wars. Ye would have had your rights -- [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]  Good heavens -- we got him out the best way we could. I ruined a new suit of clothes in the scramble and thought it ill-lost [deleted word their ?] then {"} said the old gentleman with a momentary return of his youthful fire.
    {"}He was plunged into the deepest disgrace of all [deleted word] by his opinions upon American schools -- we were just beginning to inaugurate

[ p. 40 ]

the famous system then, and he somehow got into an assembly of the wise and great and made himself very disagreeable, took the wrong tack upon the Slavery question, of course, we all knew what he thought about that and Emerson saw what was coming and at last  the days of his eloquence and antagonism came to an end.
    I think he was only here about two weeks and a half, he boarded the last of the time in a decent old woman's house somewhere near church  ^the May's^ where        lived then on High Street -- and used to complain of sleeplessness I remember -- and go out and wring the necks of the old woman's poultry --  she had a little

[ p. 41 ]

garden spot, and was a thrifty soul -- He couldn't [n't written over not] bear exile ^nor the climate^ so Emerson told me -- [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]  the last week he was longing for a sufficient excuse to return. The American Experiment proved a shocking failure -- {"}
    "How did he get off?" I asked rising to my feet hastily for I was ashamed to look the clock in the face -- now that such a bewilderingly interesting interview was evidently at its close.
    "You said [May be a quotation mark here] I think that he" --
    "Yes, yes, sit down again, you may as well hear the whole story -- and then we will have a glass of wine together before you

[ p. 42 ]

  leave ^say good night^{.}
    "Emerson came to me laughing one morning looking unwontedly disturbed, and [and is written over something] confessed that the celebrated Mr. Thomas Smith was fairly in jail for defamation of character and other sins -- , having thought best to publicly call to account in the daily press the motives of a certain silly fellow -- who took some ground upon the Slavery question which I cant possibly recall now.
    You may imagine what an excitement we were in, and how we talked over the matter, Emerson and I and another friend whom we went to consult --  We concluded

[ p. 43]

finally that for the sake of Carlyle's reputation we must get him released and send him out of the country.  [Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]
    {"}Of course if he came to trial it would be next to impossible to conceal his personality --- So we clubbed together and got him out on as low bail as we could manage to have decided -- and that very night we ran him down through the unlighted lanes to Long Wharf where a small brig was just ready to sail for Glasgow. Two of us carried his trunk and Emerson walked with him arm in arm and consoled him -- The captain was waiting angrily and there was short time

[ p. 44 ]

for leave-taking when we reached the wharf, but I wished we were going to keep him, when I knew that was the last of him ^Carlyle^ tactless and foolish as he had been -- He had a great soul in him -- {'}We'll bury the memory of this fools holiday,' he said, {'}but I've said somethings ye'll remember too late I fear,{'}  and with a {'}God bless ye!{'} across the plank he went, and waved his hand to us heartily as a few minutes afterward he he drifted away into the darkness of the summer night --"

[ p. 45 ]

[Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]
    "And you said that he wouldn't [or would not] acknowledge his visit when you saw him later in London?" I asked lingering, I fear, unkindly.
    "Not in words." said my host -- {"}we buried it as he said, and I never happened to be with him alone, nor did _____ either.   I daresay he laughed over it with Emerson. Mrs. Carlyle gave me a broad hint or two once, at least I thought she did.  It was an unfortunate time all round, for she had arranged to spend the time in London with her mother for

[ p. 46 ]

company and somehow things didnot [Jewett connects the two words.] go straight and she undertook to do a piece of literary work herself in Carlyle's absence, but his sudden appearance put an end to such plans.
[Jewett adds material here in the later draft.]

----------------------   ----------------

[This ending frame is replaced with a virtually new text at the end of the later draft.  The detail given here of the mysterious letter fragment becomes part of the opening frame of the new draft.]

This is my ^the writers^ best recollection of a most enchanting evening with two delightful men who are ^have^ both since died [ died written over dead] now in the short space of time since the interview of which [deleted letter within the longer deletion, perhaps I ] he a faithful record has been made.  The local press afforded brief reports of the public occasions in which Mr. Thomas Smith

[ p. 47 ]

was a prominent figure -- but the rewards were meagre for hunting through dusty files of ancient newspapers. Except that they gave a perhaps needless confirmation of the accuracy of my friends' memory as to some details.
    I have had the curiosity to write to a friend who has an intimate acquaintance with Mr. Froude and who has been sufficiently honored with his confidence to be [be written over a word see ?] allowed to inspect some of the Carlyle papers.  He tells me that the only confirmation he can supply me is the gap

[ p. 48 ]

of time between some of the letters +c, and a small piece of letter paper which has lately been discovered in one of Carlyle's books{,} a strange old letter [intended little ? ] volume of sermons written by one of Cromwell's ministers which Carlyle may have found in America. [deleted words and tells ? ]  The bit of paper had puzzled Mr. Froude very much.  The only words written upon it were Boston July ___ 18 and some affectionate words to his wife like the informal beginning of a letter.

---

Selection from the Miscellaneous Notes

Page 104 in the Houghton folder, which is a single folded sheet containing two pages.

    page 1

    C. burns all his letters to Jeannie in disgust and to keep secresy when he gets home -- only has been gone six weeks ^two months in all^ . She has left Craigenputtock for a year when his probable absence + is going to stay at Templand with her mother.  Finds Craigenputtock more unbearable than ever when she is so unexpectedly summoned back -- Froude gives the author a solitary half sheet of one of these letters which was folded up with some ms and a whole one of Jeannies also [transpires ? ].  C goes over incog to see how he likes it gets tremendously excited over slavery --

    page 2

a loud knocking at the door of Emerson's house -- near his bedroom at the dead of night.  Carlyle enters rain soaked + famished. begs demands some hot porridge -- Scolds about Thoreau who at first suggested that they would dine one day with his people one day with Emerson +c.  C ^[should ?]^ objects wishing to live the ideal hermit life -- T. sulkily takes him far afield on a wet day to dine upon unripe blueberries.  Lost coming home through the woods +c.  ^C says^ Give me the whole of a most indigestible Yankee pie you have in the house -- anything to fill my awful ^[deleted word]^ chaos of digestion --

---

Notes for the Earlier Draft and Miscellaneous Notes

#:  The following passage, also marked with a # sign appears on a single page immediately following the earlier manuscript in the Houghton folder.  It fits smoothly enough into this part of the story to confirm that Jewett intended to add it.  Furthermore, Jewett has worked a revision into the later draft at the corresponding point:

    "How easy it would have been to supply such an experience to the history of a man's life.  I wonder that it never has been tried, reflected the my chief listener with singular zest -- What could be easier?  Think of it, a very few weeks are sure to be left unaccounted for by the biographers and any sort of uncharacteristic escapade might be described and vouched for."
    "There are lies enough told ^unavoidably^ in the honestest of biography," answered the master of the house. (I wish I felt at liberty to print two names which would lend a greater interest to my paper)

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the Ashburtons:  Thomas Carlyle developed a close friendship with Lady Harriet Baring Ashburton (1805-1857) after he moved to London.

[ Back ]

Jeannie:  It seems possible Jewett is considering having Carlyle write letters from America to his wife's beloved aunt, Jeannie Welsh.  However, in the context of this passage, his wife, Jane, seems the more likely recipient of these letters.

[ Back ]

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Transcribed and annotated by Terry Heller, Coe College.

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