I copy the foregoing from page 709, in the May number of the Contemporary Review in an article:
"The Interpretation of Litterature " by
Professor Dowden,1 thinking you may not have seen it, and it may give you
pleasure to see it. At Venice, a year ago, I met Mr. Symmonds,2 an English
author of eminence, who greatly admired your writings and was eager to hear of you. Whenever I
hear your works mentioned it is with a frank and outspoken admiration formerly more rare. And
though you
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must hear this now from all sides, still there may be moments when a friendly reiteration of it
coming unexpectedly may not be uncheering to you. I think your works are doing good in the world.
The revelation which is in the life all around us and in ourselfs
is more listened to, more respected. What is true, then, is more respected; what is natural is
more respected; less violence is done to nature, or at any rate urged and insisted on as what ought
to be done. Happiness is increased, increasing, & is to be probably immeasurably more increased.
To have had a share, and so large a share, in this work must be a great happiness & cause of
thankfulness for you. Excuse so long a letter. I meant it to be shorter. It calls for no answer. I
hope all goes well with you. That you
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are in fair health and fair spirits, without pains of body or spirit, or cares or anxieties. I
remember you always with gratitude & affection—both for your books and yourself.
"We can point to no writer who drew early to his side a small band of eminent disciples and at the same time suffered shame and scoffing or total neglect from the crowd, who did not in the end prove a power in literature and gradually win acceptance from the world. Such was Wordsworth's3 position in the opening years of this century; such a little later was Shelley's4 position. Such was Carlyle's5 half a century since, and Mr. Browning's6 at a date more recent. Such also was Mr. Whitman's position until of late, when a considerable7 company has gathered to his side and the voice of opposition has almost fallen silent."
Correspondent:
Edward Tuckerman Potter
(1831–1904), a native of Schenectady, New York, was a prominent American
architect. He is known for designing the Mark Twain House (1871) in Hartford,
Connecticut. He married Julia Maria Blatchford (1834–1922), and the couple
lived abroad in London and Paris for many years, before Edward's retirement,
after which they remained primarily in Newport, Rhode Island.