TC TO WILLIAM GLEN; 6 July 1836; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18360706-TC-WGL-01; CL 9:4-5.
TC TO WILLIAM GLEN
5. Cheyne Row, Chelsea, / London, 6th July 1836
My Dear Sir,
Will you excuse this smallest scrap of thinnest paper; for really the Frank will hold no more. I must assure you of our continued welfare, of our continued interest in yours; two things, I think, which on no scrap of paper could be indifferent to you. John also writes the other day, making all manner of inquiries about you. When we hear Di tanti palpiti,1 which now that the Piano has got into tune again is almost nightly, your sullen wilderness, your wild sojourn in it, come vividly before us. Take comfort! By God's blessing, it is only for a time.
Know that you are not forsaken of all the Earth, then: nay, if all the Earth had forsaken you, is not Heaven'[s] ear open to all the unhappy? Cry to Heaven (I entreat you do); for there only is there mercy that will avail.
O my friend, we shall meet again, when these infernal clouds shall have rolled away; and the over-haughty heart, tamed by fiery suffering into meekness and patient humbleness, is what it was meant to [corner of letter torn away] … and working one.
Give our regards to Peter's2 peo[ple;] tell them we sympathize deeply in that late sore bereavement. May it be tempered to them, may it be blessed!
When you write to your Brother3 send him our Address.
London is still as dusty and hot and tumultuous as of old. I study to gather myself together in the midst of it, and see what faculty I have for doing something. “Some useful plan or Book to make, or sing a sang at least.”4
God bless you!
I am ever, / your affectionate /