January-September 1845

The Collected Letters, Volume 19


TC TO EDWARD FITZGERALD ; 27 June 1845; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18450627-TC-EF-01; CL 19: 86-87


Chelsea, 27 june 1845—

Dear Fitzgerald,

The Horse, I believe, does me on the whole some essential good; for I ride him two hours daily, about six times every week, and see the green fields by means of him: but at bottom he is still rather a dangerous piece of goods for me! He improves in strength; has excellent paces (when he likes to put them forth), hoofs of brass; is fleet as a roe;—neither do I think the creature has any radical vice or ill-nature in him: but he is in fact unbroken; and would require to be ridden half a year by a man far more expert than I am in the delicacies of that business, and with far more time than I have at present to attend to the whims of such an animal. He has “decided preferences” as to the roads he wishes to go; needs occasionally to be forcibly flogged and kicked along, or he will not go at all;—goes then, as the Scotch say, like a cat travelling on hot iron!— He has never got me off him again; but once or twice has, at a careless moment, approached that result. The day before yesterday, to ease my long legs I had got the stirrups lengthened a hole; and twice over was very nearly in the dirt;—some explosion of a start, at something, at nothing,—the pace a walk. I was glad to dismount, and shorten my stirrups again.— On the other hand, yesterday I had a most glorious view of Richmond Park1 in the june sunshine, by means of this poor brute! So stands the account balanced.

On the whole, I think of asking you by and by to ask Brown2 to take him away from me again,—to sell him or buy him; and leave me to crawl along on two feet again. I am so overwhelmed with confusion and Printers' Devils in these weeks I really have no moment to bestow on anything. For which reason too I have never yet got Brown's money lodged with his City Banker, but it still lies here in the shape of Bank Notes merely;—I have no Banker of my own nearer than Dumfries, cannot ride into the City on such mounting, cannot get leave to go; and have daily been expecting some man with a Banker who could do the business instead of me.

Oliver is now made Protector—God be thanked! I know the Iter Carolinum3 and the Ffx[?] Memorials,4—a very wooden piece the last.

Good be with you, dear F.

Yours always truly /

T. Carlyle

Will you have a Copy of a certain Life of Schiller,5 which is not worth reading? If yea, mention how it can be sent—