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[197] Longfellow, Holmes, Lowell, and Whittier, the critics were quite wrong in denying it to Thoreau, who was generally regarded as a mere reflection of Emerson. Mrs. Thoreau, the mother, thought with quite as much justice that it was Emerson who reflected her son; but the weight of opinion was on the other side. Many could not understand why anybody should really wish Thoreau's letters to be published; but the final publication of his journal is acknowledged to be an important literary event; and it is probable that his fame will for some time increase; and will thereafter safely hold its own. Thoreau died at forty-four, without having achieved fame or fortune. For years his life was commonly spoken of as a failure; but it now proves, with all its drawbacks, to have been a great and eminent success. Even testing it only by the common appetite of authors for immortality, his seems already a sure and enviable place. Time is rapidly melting away the dross from his writings, and exhibiting their gold. But his standard was higher than the mere desire for fame, and he has told it plainly. “There is nowhere recorded,” he complains, “a simple ”
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