The Collected Letters, Volume 12


TC TO JOHN FORSTER ; 12 March 1840; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18400312-TC-JF-01; CL 12: 73


Chelsea, Thursday [12 March 1840]—

Dear Mr Forster,

You are very kind to send after me. Nothing, happily, has befallen, not even oblivion; nothing but dark clouds of atrabiliarism, and impossibility to profit by remembrance!

By that Note of Christie's1 you will see how the Library business hangs upon the slide; does not launch itself handsomely, yet will launch itself. There is still motion in the thing! Agitate, agitate, agitate!

To ascertain more precisely, could not you come down to us tonight, any time after five o'clock, when the Macreadies2 are to be here! They did not come the other day. Do, if possible.

Or failing that, can you appear here on horseback, precisely at 2 o'clock on Saturday, equipt for a canter of two hours? I have got my horse back again;3 and have twice seen the blue sky; ascertained, to my infinite satisfaction, that God's Universe is not all a puddle of dust, smoke, uproar and mad gabblement, but has fields, trees, silence and eternal azure over it!

One or other of these things I will count on your doing, if I hear nothing of you. Both of them will be still better. Tomorrow I am, conditionally, engaged to go with Milnes and stir up Pusey into proper Book-madness.

I am literally horribly bilious (reading the Koran too!);—but will ride it out of me.

Always truly yours /

T. Carlyle—

Read Darley's Play of Thomas À Becket4