TC TO LADY ASHBURTON ; 16 February 1853; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18530216-TC-LA-01; CL 28: 43-44
TC TO LADY ASHBURTON
Chelsea, 16 feby, 1853—
The British Quarterly is certainly out, and an Article on one Giusti is in it;—in the London Library, where it has to lie for 3 months for personal inspection by the curious, I have seen it lying.1 But Cawthorne would tell you, last night, that in him was no resource for it, nor would be.2 Ascertaining this fact yesterday, I proceeded to two Bookshops, with a view of settling the small matter, there and by aid of the Post: unluckily neither of them had the Pamphlet, nor could it be got, that evening in time for Post, except by going to “St Paul's Churchyard” (the Publisher's place); and for that weighty adventure I had not time left,—nor durst I give orders for the morrow, lest you yourself might today give such, and so get a double copy of the stupid waste. For stupid I fear it is like to be: the Editor, called “Dr Vaughan,” is Ld Carlisle's favourite Dissenting Preacher; was once a Playactor (and is so essentially still, under other conditions and in much fataller form), a windy unsound blockhead,—tho' I suppose, he sometimes stumbles on a man of talent to write for him, too.3
But in short I was quite unfortunate yesterday, and took my measures ill;—and the brief fact is, if you have not written to Cawthorne to get you the Book and send it by Post, and will bid me do you that small service,—what need of more? Even a Vaughan, shone upon by bright human eyes, is worth something; and the entire cost is but 7/ ; not ruinous, unless one is quite near bankruptcy!— Do your sovereign pleasure, therefore, and follow your star!4
We have sunshine today; after new snow, and new frost. Spring is struggling on, in spite of obstacles, as usual. When is “Lady-Day” to be, I wonder!5 That too is struggling on.— —Keep Clough for me—a gentle mildly satirical, nice rational creature. Montégut, please, burn:6 I have seen nothing of him since, merely sent him the Note he asks,—and pray Heaven for him. My respects to Sambo,7 and to all the Rooks with their faces to the sunset.
Adieu, dear Lady; good be ever with you. T.C.