My Dear Emerson,--Your Letter from Concord, of the 31st of July,
had arrived duly in London; been duly forwarded to my transient
address at Buxton in Derbyshire,--and there, by the faithless
Postmaster, _retained_ among his lumber, instead of given to me
when I called on him! We staid in Buxton only one day and night;
two Newspapers, as I recollect, the Postmaster did deliver to me
on my demand; but your Letter he, with scandalous carelessness,
kept back, and left me to travel forwards without: there
accordingly it lay, week after week, for a month or more; and
only by half-accident and the extraordinary diligence and
accuracy of our Chelsea Postman, was it recovered at all, not
many days ago, after my Wife's return hither. Consider what kind
of fact this was and has been for us! For now, if all have gone
right, you are approaching the coast of England; Chelsea and
your fraternal House _hidden_ under a disastrous cloud to you;
and I know not so much as whitherward to write, and send you a
word of solution. It is one of the most unpleasant mistakes that
ever befell me; I have no resource but to enclose this Note to
Mr. Ireland, and charge him by the strongest adjurations to
have it ready for you the first thing when you set foot upon
our shores.*
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* Mr. Ireland, in his Recollections of Emerson's Visit to
England, p. 59, prints Carlyle's note to himself, enclosing this
letter, and adds: "The ship reached Liverpool on the 22d of
October, and Mr. Emerson at once proceeded to Manchester. After
spending a few hours in friendly talk, he was 'shot up,' as
Carlyle had desired, to Chelsea, and at the end of a week
returned to Manchester, to begin his lectures."
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Know then, my Friend, that in verity your Home while in England
is _here;_ and all other places, whither work or amusement may
call you, are but inns and temporary lodgings. I have returned
hither a day or two ago, and free from any urgent calls or
businesses of any kind; my Wife has your room all ready;--and
here surely, if anywhere in the wide Earth, there ought to be a
brother's welcome and kind home waiting you! Yes, by Allah!--An
"Express Train" leaves Liverpool every afternoon; and in some
six hours will set you down here. I know not what your
engagements are; but I say to myself, Why not come at once, and
rest a little from your sea-changes, before going farther? In
six hours you can be out of the unstable waters, and sitting in
your own room here. You shall not be bothered with talk till you
repose; and you shall have plenty of it, hot and hot, when the
appetite does arise in you. "No. 5 Great Cheyne Row, Chelsea":
come to the "London Terminus," from any side; say these magic
words to any Cabman, and by night or by day you are a welcome
apparition here,--foul befall us otherwise! This is the fact:
what more can I say? I make my affidavit of the same; and
require you in the name of all Lares and Penates, and Household
Gods ancient and modern which are sacred to men, to consider it
and take brotherly account of it!--
Shall we hear of you, then, in a day or two: shall we not
perhaps see you in a day or two! That depends on the winds and
the chances; but our affection is independent of such. Adieu;
_au revoir,_ it now is! Come soon; come at once.
Ever yours,
T. Carlyle