"
There is a brief note among the few letters I have found concerning
the poetry of some other writer whose name does not appear, but in the
publication of whose work Emerson was evidently interested. He writes:
"I have made the fewest changes I could. So do not shock the _amour
propre_ of the poet, and yet strike out the bad words. You must,
please, if it comes to question, keep my agency out of sight, and he
will easily persuade himself that your compositor has grown critical,
and struck out the rough syllables."
Emerson stood, as it were, the champion of American letters, and
whatever found notice at all challenged his serious scrutiny. The soul
and purpose must be there; he must find one line to win his sympathy,
and then it was given with a whole heart. He said one day at breakfast
that he had found a young man! A youth in the far West had written
him, and inclosed some verses, asking for his criticism. Among them
was the following line, which Emerson said proved him to be a poet,
and he should watch his career in future with interest:
"Life is a flame whose splendor hides its base."
We can imagine the kindly letter which answered the appeal, and how
the future of that youth was brightened by it. "Emerson's young man"
was a constant joke among his friends, because he was constantly
filled with a large hope; and his friend of the one line was not by
any means his only discovery.
His feeling respecting the literary work of men nearer to him was not
always one of satisfaction.
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