August 1857-June 1858

The Collected Letters, Volume 33


TC TO JOHN FORSTER ; 23 June 1858; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18580623-TC-JF-01; CL 33: 248


Chelsea, 23 june, 1858—

Dear Forster,

Amid the agonies of packing, I write a word of thanks to you. I am heartily your debtor for settling that point to me as you have done; the blessing of one altogether wearied out of his life be upon you for that same!

If the Original Document (whh I never glanced at since the day you gave it me) said “500 pages” for Maximum, as your Letter of last night does, instead of “400” as I had vaguely remembered,—then this new Covenant is nearly altogether what it even by theory ought to have been: but however that may be, and all other things may be, most surely I accept what you have done as the very best that could practically be done to me, and will with gratitude to F. conform to it in every particular. So that, having put your Note in the Archives here (discoverable at once we will hope!), I dismiss the matter entirely from my mind, and till October arrive, shall instead of an arithmetical-commercial imbroglio, retain merely a pleasant thot of Forster and human help in that corner of my memory. More is the praise to Forster; may his shadow never be less!1

I lost my Horse (sent him out to grass2 with shoes off) the day after I wrote last; more than once has my walk pointed toward Mue3 Square: but alas—!— I go tonight, for Carlisle and across the Border by the Evg Mail Train (8.45); shall, by tomorrow morning, be out of this thrice-infernal element, into another better or worse. Italian Organ-boys, tepid dirtyish water, stinking river, stinking Parlt and some other particulars,—the pressure of these will at least be exchanged for that of others. I ought to go to Germany: but, alas, I dare not think of it at present.

My Wife continues still a little while; will perhaps follow northward,—must somehow get out of Town,—in a week or two.

Adieu, dear Forster;— condole with poor Macready;4 give our kind regards to Madam:5 Good be with you all, now and always. Yours truly / T. Carlyle