"_July 6th_.--No books have come in my way but Emerson's,which Ivalue full as much as you,though as yet I have read only some corners of it.We have had an Election here,of the usual stamp;to me a droll 'realized Ideal,'after my late metrical adventures in that line.But the oddest sign of the Times I know,is a cheap Translation of Strauss's _Leben Jesu_,now publishing in numbers,and said to be circulating far and wide.What does--or rather,what does not--this portend?"--With the Poem called _The Election_,here alluded to,which had been more than once revised and reconsidered,he was still under some hesitations;but at last had well-nigh resolved,as from the first it was clear he would do,on publishing it.This occupied some occasional portion of his thoughts.But his grand private affair,Ibelieve,was now _Strafford_;to which,or to its adjuncts,all working hours were devoted.Sterling's notions of Tragedy are high enough.This is what he writes once,in reference to his own task in these weeks:"Few,I fancy,know how much harder it is to write a Tragedy than to realize or be one.Every man has in his heart and lot,if he pleases,and too many whether they please or no,all the woes of OEdipus and Antigone.But it takes the One,the Sophocles of a thousand years,to utter these in the full depth and harmony of creative song.Curious,by the way,how that Dramatic Form of the old Greek,with only some superficial changes,remains a law not only for the stage,but for the thoughts of all Poets;and what a charm it has even for the reader who never saw a theatre.The Greek Plays and Shakspeare have interested a hundred as books,for one who has seen their writings acted.How lightly does the mere clown,the idle school-girl,build a private theatre in the fancy,and laugh or weep with Falstaff and Macbeth:with how entire an oblivion of the artificial nature of the whole contrivance,which thus compels them to be their own architects,machinists,scene-painters,and actors!In fact,the artifice succeeds,--becomes grounded in the substance of the soul:and every one loves to feel how he is thus brought face to face with the brave,the fair,the woful and the great of all past ages;looks into their eyes,and feels the beatings of their hearts;and reads,over the shoulder,the secret written tablets of the busiest and the largest brains;while the Juggler,by whose cunning the whole strange beautiful absurdity is set in motion,keeps himself hidden;sings loud with a mouth unmoving as that of a statue,and makes the human race cheat itself unanimously and delightfully by the illusion that he preordains;while as an obscure Fate,he sits invisible,and hardly lets his being be divined by those who cannot flee him.The Lyric Art is childish,and the Epic barbarous,compared to this.But of the true and perfect Drama it may be said,as of even higher mysteries,Who is sufficient for these things?"--On this _Tragedy of Strafford_,writing it and again writing it,studying for it,and bending himself with his whole strength to do his best on it,he expended many strenuous months,--"above a year of his life,"he computes,in all.
For the rest,what Falmouth has to give him he is willing to take,and mingles freely in it.In Hare's Collection there is given a _Lecture_which he read in Autumn,1841(Mr.Hare says "1842,"by mistake),to a certain Public Institution in the place,--of which more anon;--a piece interesting in this,if not much in any other respect.Doubtless his friends the Foxes were at the heart of that lecturing enterprise,and had urged and solicited him.Something like proficiency in certain branches of science,as I have understood,characterized one or more of this estimable family;love of knowledge,taste for art,wish to consort with wisdom and wise men,were the tendencies of all;to opulent means superadd the Quaker beneficence,Quaker purity and reverence,there is a circle in which wise men also may love to be.
Sterling made acquaintance here with whatever of notable in worthy persons or things might be afoot in those parts;and was led thereby,now and then,into pleasant reunions,in new circles of activity,which might otherwise have continued foreign to him.The good Calvert,too,was now here;and intended to remain;--which he mostly did henceforth,lodging in Sterling's neighborhood,so long as lodging in this world was permitted him.Still good and clear and cheerful;still a lively comrade,within doors or without,--a diligent rider always,--though now wearing visibly weaker,and less able to exert himself.
