July-December 1855

The Collected Letters, Volume 30


TC TO LADY ASHBURTON ; 15 November 1855; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18551115-TC-LA-01; CL 30: 116-117


Chelsea, 15 Novr, 1855—

Dear Lady,—Do you care to read that Note (from the remote parts of society),1 and take my salutations along with it. I hope you have a bright day on that quiet sea-beach, so well known to me once,—strange to me now, and almost preternatural, as the river Gihon in Eden Garden,2 or the River Giallar in Hela's Death-Kingdom might be!3 For the natural is all preternatural, except to creatures without thought.— But any way, you are still there for me, thank God, and coming up on Wednesday; and I trust your sky is not of the colour of grey pig-iron as ours is (grown to unscoured pewter about 2 p.m.); but has a bright sun out on it, whh makes the frost welcome to your thin skin.

I am still fairly below par; not happy weltering amid rubbish up here. Last thursday we went to Milnes's to dinner; willing to see the faces of fellow creatures again. Good enough people, one Thomson of Oxford4 who brags to be known to you (singularly like Duffy, in skin, eyes and physiognomy, only that Duffy has bigger lips, features, and a find5 voice, and probably more genius in proportion); then Roundel Palmer, a scraggy subject, with clear logic of his sort; then one Buxton, and silly pretty Mrs Do6 &c &c: the Lowes7 and others came to tea: Milnes himself was very good,—the excellent fat soul. But I was not happy,—when am I?—and I caught a detestable feverish mood, sore-throat &c (besides the remorse of talking instead of keeping silence); whh phenomena last with me still: pity the poor white man;8 it is fair, if you like!—

The Twisletons are come home; the Petite lame of rheumatism to a sad degree, tho' now out of pain, and getting better.— The other day I found Ly Sandwich invisible, “had got a cold”; but yesternight she was clear and bright beyond common, all right again, and busy as a bee. I have seen none other.

The “Miss Lowe Subscriptn” had mounted to above £150 and sixpence; a steady small rain (the Clerk said, who recommended us to leave it quite alone for the present. Ld Overstone9 had given £10, and I heard of one or two others of like amount; fives more numerous, and ones;—judge by that poor Weaver's letter (from the slopes of Plinlimmon)10 what the smaller sums are! Please keep me that Letter, till Wedy, and warn me of that day.

Out upon it, here is Lady W. Russel,11 sent up her card, sent £5 (for Lowe) &c &c

I am blown to pieces like chaff in a high wind! Warn me of Wedy, will you not? May all the Powers be good to you—Sun among the rest.

Yours ever /