April-December 1844

The Collected Letters, Volume 18


TC TO HORACE GRANT ; 23 June 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440623-TC-HGR-01; CL 18: 79


Chelsea, 23 june, 1844—

Dear Grant,

Many thanks for your remembrance of us: you should come down in spite of the sick head; the sight of old friends would do it good.— I hope something from this German Spa; and still more from the six months of better climate,—six months of freedom from London tumult and hard work, in any climate.

The Yerba has been theoretically known to me for some time, as Dr. Francia's favourite.1 We are to make an infusion of it this Night, and try whether it does resemble the taste of incidental “twine chewed in the mouth,” or some more exhilarating substance!

My poor Cromwell gets along in the sorrowfullest manner; weighed down by my own stupidity, and the general funded stupidity of England, such as we have been accumulating on him for these two hundred years. I [am]2 in general despair of ever making a Book of Cromwell; yet I never entirely give it up,—and in fact must do it or do worse.

The Goethe you gave me long since has been framed and conspicuously hung up here, and meets with great approval from judges: unfortunately the Frame-maker has entirely clipt away the Painters or Engraver's name;—of which, I am afraid, you kept no remembrance more than I?—

The Post-Office affair is abundantly scandalous. I wish they would get up some meeting or demonstration about it, in the City or elsewhere; I think all men ought to denounce it, according to their opportunity, and damn it, and declare that they would not endure it.—

Well, a right happy journey to you, dear Grant: come back soon, and report that it has healed you!—

Yours ever truly, /

T. Carlyle