The Collected Letters, Volume 27


TC TO WILLIAM MACCALL ; 3 March 1852; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18520303-TC-WM-01; CL 27: 59-60


Chelsea, 3 March, 1852—

Dear Maccall,

I got the Hutten;1 which is all right,—and ought to be thankful if it have been privileged to get read again, and to do you any service.

I have more than once been in the Streatham region2 since you became such a stranger; but it was always on horseback, and in bitterly cold weather; and tho', with a mixture of affection and remorse, I generally remembered that you were in the neighbourhood, I found too that I had lost the specific address, or left it behind, and that in the circumstances there could be no discovery attempted. Now, it appears, you are coming nearer us again; for which in spite of the trouble it will cost you, I confess myself not sorry. We shall then hope to see a little more of you than for these late months!—

Various things of yours have come to me in the interim; in most or all of which I find somewhat not only to agree with, but to prize as very high and rare:—pearls, alas, flung out to the swine,3 who are expecting and desiring nothing else but sound (or spoiled) pot-barley, and who grant accordingly with natural disappointment! The old story, alas; which is very old now, and yet ever new.

I perceive you will have a fierce fight still; but I suppose you do not in the least mean to give in;—and one day, I think, you too will get these blockheads on the hip, and let them feel a little what you are. Time does bring roses,4—if, with pious silence, pious valour, we can endeavour and endure.——Yours always,

T. Carlyle