candlestick

August 1857-June 1858


The Collected Letters, Volume 33


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TC TO JOSEPH NEUBERG ; 22 August 1857; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18570822-TC-JN-01; CL 33: 45-46


TC TO JOSEPH NEUBERG

Chelsea, 22 Augt, 1857

Dear Neuberg,

Your message from the Seaside1 came duly; I am glad to think of you sauntering about in the fresh saltwater breezes, in so desirable a solitude, till you get the Town dust blown out of you all. Some day or other I shall have a bout at that too; all years, one may hope, will not be as this year. I did not note those three Books nor indeed anything at all out of Heuschrecke's [Grasshopper's]2 Work: you will get me a real bit of help from it if you can hunt them up into any definite result,—that is to say, find that all or any of them are both attainable & worth attaining. I now write to bid you try, according as there may be opportunity.

Berenhorst's Nachlass cannot be the Betrachtungen übr die Kers Kunst;3 for that was published in his lifetime. Orlich's Book4 is in the Athenaeum Club Library (sent by the Author, who is a Prussian Major,—I doubt, of no great length of head): I read an hour in it; found many Letters of the Old-Dessauer5 whh were of course objects of curiosity to me; no great evidence of any intrinsic knowledge, or depth of study, about the War:—probably it will be worth purchasing; but you can inquire; I had forgotten it again for the present. Bülow I never saw or heard of; unless he be this loud rather flimsy Bülow of whom we got some specimens from Decker?6 Possible enough: the Herr Professor seldom tells one clearly what Book he is drawing from;—being in fact considerably a Grasshopper to my experience.

The news from Scotland are slightly improving; I expect Madam home, a little better in reality, about the end of the month. Tait is for Scotland, by Manchester, Sunday next; Wilson is off to Weimar. I see half a million persons daily; but communicate with absolutely nobody but my Horse, and that in a very limited style of conversation as you may suppose.

Yours always truly / T. Carlyle