On the table of the London Library, voted in by some unknown
benefactor whom I found afterwards to be Richard Milnes, there
lay one thing highly gratifying to me: the last two Numbers of
the _Dial._ It is to be one of our Periodicals henceforth; the
current Number lies on the Table till the next arrive; then the
former goes to the Binder; we have already, in a bound volume,
all of it that Emerson has had the editing of. This is right.
Nay, in Edinburgh, and indeed wherever ingenuous inquisitive
minds were met with, I have to report that the said Emerson could
number a select and most loving public; select, and I should say
fast growing: for good and indifferent reasons it may behove the
man to assure himself of this. Farther, to the horror of poor
Nickerson (Bookseller Fraser's Successor), a certain scoundrel
interloper here has reprinted _Emerson's Essays_ on grayish
paper, to be sold at two shillings,--distracting Nickerson with
the fear of change! I was glad at this, if also angry: it
indicates several things. Nickerson has taken his measures, will
reduce the price of his remaining copies; indeed, he informs me
the best part of his edition was already sold, and he has even
some color of money due from England to Emerson through me! With
pride enough will I transmit this mournful, noble peculium: and
after that, as I perceive, such chivalrous international doings
must cease between us. _Past and Present,_ some one told me,
was, in spite of all your precautions, straightway sent forth in
modest gray, and your benevolent speculation ruined. Here too,
you see, it is the same. Such chivalries, therefore, are now
impossible; for myself I say, "Well, let them cease; thank God
they once were, the Memory of that can never cease with us!"