October 1831-September 1833

The Collected Letters, Volume 6


TC TO JOHN BADAMS; 20 November 1832; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18321120-TC-JOBA-01; CL 6:264-265.


Craigenputtoch, Dumfries, / 20th Novr 1832—

My Dear Badams,

Many a long month has passed since we left you: the visit to Craigenputtoch has not been paid, to my knowledge; not the smallest message comes from you. I do not even know your address, or I had made inquiry (with my own pen) long ago. Once by some such opportunity as this, I charged Holcroft with wishes and questions for you; Brother Tom, being a trustworthy punctual man, would no doubt do his duty.

Send me your address at any rate. Write, were it a Letter no longer than this, to let me know how it stands with you, what you are doing, what thinking and enduring. Alas, in this world, ‘each has his wierd [sic] to dree.’1 My Dear Badams; would it were now in my power to repay what you of old did for me! It is so little one man can help another; yet ever (ever, this is a great truth) the brave heart can help itself; our world too is called the Place of Hope.2

Brother John has been in Naples all summer; is now (I suppose) in Rome for the winter. We hear from him pretty regularly: he makes frequent inquiries about you; to which, as you see, I can make no answer.

We are for Edinburgh this winter; are about hiring some small furnished house there; so, in some five weeks hence, you may figure on the verge of the Meadows, somewhere about George-Square yonder. A Letter directed hither will at any time find us out: but indeed Holcroft always has our address, for we get a weekly Newspaper from him.

My Wife is not here this week, or she would beg to be kindly remember[ed to yo]u and yours. She is greatly improved in health since the Fogs were so far behind us; she still complains a little, but seems to be improving and like to improve.

I have but a few moments left; and another Note to write. Do not forget me. Speak to me. Why will you keep silence.

My best remembrances to Mrs Badams: my best wishes for you both; for you and all that are yours.

Believe me Ever, / My Dear Badams, / Your faithful Friend, /

T. Carlyle—