August 1843-March 1844

The Collected Letters, Volume 17


TC TO EDWARD FITZGERALD ; 3 March 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440303-TC-EF-01; CL 17: 293-294


CHELSEA, Sunday [3 March 1844]


With real reluctance I have written that Note to the Lincoln Doctor;1 which, I think, you will perhaps be as wise to burn as to forward: —beforehand I know almost for certain that there will nothing come of it but bad corresponding and botheration. Nobody does “know” anything,—especially as to that unfortunate subject! However, that you may not call me cross and wilful, there is for you; do as you like.

What is become of your influenza; and when are you coming to Town?— My work is still sticking fast in bottomless clammy mud, and Sloughs of Despond!2

I dare not borrow anybody's horse, tho' I study always to ride conscientiously, and our Livery-Stable people seemed very careful: I dare not borrow;—and who, as you say, dare buy? My health seems sometimes to grow better, and then suddenly again it grows worse than ever: I am in the medium state at present.

The Town is getting terribly throng; the sky more and more vernal;—one wishes one had wings! Fly you the other way tho'!

Yours ever truly /