The Collected Letters, Volume 26


TC TO JOHN FORSTER; 7 March 1851; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18510307-TC-JF-01; CL 26: 42-43


Chelsea, 7 March, 1851—

Dear Forster,— Can you by chance in any way assist this man towards his small object? I know not the least how he acquitted himself in the Daily News; or whether there really is any go in him in that direction at all.1 I know him only as Bamford the Radical, and a fine stalwart gray old Lancashire Weaver,—a piece of very good human stuff, and worth assisting if one could. So I leave him to your bounty and good judgement:—if nothing can be done, why then nothing: I have already answered him that there is nothing; so that any Editor opening the wicket to him wd come with all the grace of surprise. Do not even bother yourself answering me: if the thing is nothing (as I rather fear) let it be at once annihilated, as the true and thriftiest method.

We are ill of Influenza here; I for the last two days, and hoping to get shortly better; my poor Wife for almost a week, and without certainty of that cheering omen. One of the most degrading diseases,—sheer misery without dignity, your very nose refusing to hold water and tears flowing in the unpathetic manner! Add to which, here is an Italian Artist under my window busy with his organ,—would he were in Wiseman's bosom!—and I have got no work done at all these two days.

You did not come:—indeed we never looked for you—it was of no use, and better not. I wish I had been in a cheerier mood, and could have more definitely explained to you what I meant: but that also you will accurately enough make out;—so not another word on it.

Yours ever truly /

T. Carlyle