The Collected Letters, Volume 10


TC TO JAMES SPEDDING ; 30 July 1838; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18380730-TC-JS-01; CL 10: 140


Chelsea, Monday morning— [30? July 1838]

Dear Spedding,

I grieve to say I cannot come.1 My purpose was good; but alas, alas!— Nay, a certain German2 is coming to me that same evening: invited inadvertently before your notice made its appearance.— Werterism retires; yet Parthian—like, wounding as it flies.3 “Thou canst not minister unto a mind diseased?”4

One toast only I will beg of you on that festive occasion: “The memory of Pickwick,”5 drunk in solemn silence.

My Brother John is coming home, after all, in September from Italy. It is possible or probable we may still take a run Northward then; in that case, Bassenthwaite lying almost in sight will surely not be out of mind. Kind remembrances thitherward: tell your Brother6 there are few men I should like so well to see again.

Ever faithfully your's, /

T. Carlyle

If you can come hither at any time, why don't you? I am always glad to see your face here, in a world such as this.