If the interest of Mr. Cabot‟s pencilled portrait is incon-testable and yet does not spring from variety, it owes nothing either to a source from which it might have bor-rowed much and which it is impossible not to regret a lit-tle that he has so completely neglected: I mean a greater reference to the social conditions in which Emerson moved, the company he lived in, the moral air he breathed. If his biographer had allowed himself a little more of the ironic touch, had put himself once in a way under the protection of Sainte-Beuve and had attempted something of a general picture, we should have felt that he only went with the occasion.
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