July 1847-March 1848

The Collected Letters, Volume 22


TC TO CHARLES REDWOOD ; 27 December 1847; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18471227-TC-CR-01; CL 22: 183-184


Chelsea, 27 decr, 1847—

Dear Redwood,

We duly received, on Christmas Evening, your annual Bounty; excellent as ever; silent, friendly, and acceptable as ever. Many thanks to you; and kind wishes, such as beseem the season, none anywhere sincerer. May the worst of our days be past;1 may some good days for us still be coming!

I have sent by the Bookseller a Copy of the F. Revolution,—a new edition which they have just got out: it contains an Index, and is better printed than the others: set it on your shelves, as a small useless memorial of me,—silent, which will not bother you unless you bother it.— I am busy with nothing new in the speaking way; in the way of silence, not yet come to speech, if they ever come, many things more or less busy me. The harvest is great, and the labourers are few.2

In spite of Influenzas, we have hitherto escaped wonderfully well here; in some ten days, we go into Hampshire, to some friends, for a week or two; at the beginning of February we return, and then abide.— Did you see in Fraser's Magazine for Decr certain new Letters of Oliver? They will rather interest you, in proportion to their bulk,—being indeed small in that latter particular.

We hope you feel yourself adjusted at Boverton; and doing, in a calm and customary manner, daily the day's journey. Is there no chance of seeing you here shortly? My Wife says, there is a room for you at Chelsea when you please to come.

We had the American Emerson lately with us: he is still somewhere in the Yorkshire regions, lecturing to Mechanics Institutes. A man of elevated views;—elevated, but airy, idle; made of moonshine mostly, alas! To a man intent on work as his one duty, such idle wire-drawing, and weaving of Gymnosophist cobwebs,3 is worse than afflicting! America, I begin to find everywhere, is a Country given up to the Torpors, to the Cants; as good as vacant for me. Dollars abound, and drawling religious or quasi-religious Twaddle; but these I want not.

Live mindful of us, as heretofore, and manfully under the sky.

Yours ever truly /

T. Carlyle