The Collected Letters, Volume 25


TC TO CHARLES REDWOOD ; 20 July 1850; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18500720-TC-CR-01; CL 25: 122-123


Chelsea, 20 july, 1850—

Dear Redwood,

I am seriously thinking of a flight in your direction now. The last of these Pamphlets (we are to end with No 8) is about off my hands,—with a terrible struggle; for really in my life I was hardly ever in a more broken heavy-laden, and every-way worn out condition: some repose is most pressingly demanded for this weary soul and body: and, as usual, the quiet nook of St Donat's1 rises as an asylum on my bewilderment. Occasionally I think of Scotland too, of various lands, and localities and arrangements; for all is perplexity, and my strength is so low at present, even plain paths are beset by brambles and lions for me. Perhaps it were wisest of all to come for three weeks of sleep and sea-bathing into your friendly hermitage? If it were but a little nearer!— But you cannot bring it “nearer”; that is a respect in which you cannot mend it for me!—

Well, at all events, tell me what are the Days, within the next ten, in which I could accomplish the journey witht stopping over-night at Bristol: a sleepless night in that respectable old city is a bugbear that could be avoided. Say at what hours one goes from Paddington:2 I really must make an effort, and lift anchor; and the sooner now I set about the process the better. Tell me also if there are not Steamers from Swansea to Liverpool: I could go to Annandale by that route, after you had done with me at Boverton. Temperance, Silence, horse-exercise, sea-bathing: these, with a friend's welcome, might surely do me good!

You will not get this (owing to Lord Ashley and the Judaizing Shamchristians) till Monday:3 so about Wednesday I will look for your answer.

My Brother is home to Annandale a month ago; my Wife continues here while I wander. I decide to try for a long ramble (perhaps over seas too) before I return.— The “universal dogkennel” makes such a bowowing over these Pamphlets as never was heard before: but the sale continues brisk and wide; and there will, by and by, a little good be got of them after all.

Till Wedy or Thursday, then—

Yours ever truly /

T. Carlyle—