TC TO LADY ASHBURTON ; 11 November 1853; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18531111-TC-LA-01; CL 28: 308
TC TO LADY ASHBURTON
11 Novr 1853
Dear Lady,—(Was there ever such a pen in any human clubroom!)1
Accept the will for the deed; and this hurried word here, among the infidels, under dim lamplight,—instead of none at all. These two days I have been prevented writing, and it seems as if it were going to become a habit with me. I have written six notes too at Chelsea today, not one of them on the least vestige of business belonging to myself;—and it seems, to you there shall be no writing! Patience, patience!—
I sent you yesterday a little Book; the best-written French Book I have seen for years past. Most smoothflowing female Book: hardly Goethe with the highest could make a more harmonious composition than that Frenchwoman by inspiration of Nature alone. For the rest, nothing in the Book (except perhaps that death scene at the end);2 let it entertain some idle hour and half for you as it can.
Nothing is wrong with us at Chelsea; nothing is worse anywhere than usual,—better perhaps rather: I am even trying (tho' unsuccessfully) to work a little, real working, after a sort. Ach Gott!—— —— I will write tomorrow or soon, in spite of Fate!
There came a Note from you today, as I accidentally perceived; but by singular ill-luck I have not got a reading of it yet.
God bless you, dear Lady
Yours ever /