To-morrow then (Wednesday 8th) 11 a.m.—wish me a happy passage. Yours ever truly,
T. Carlyle.
Chelsea, 23 Augt. 1855.
Dear Fitzgerald,
Here, after a good deal of bothering to improve it, above all to abridge it, is the proposed Inscription for the Pillar at Naseby. You need not scruple a moment to make any change that strikes you; I am well aware
it is good for nothing except its practical object, and that I have no skill in lapidary literature.
The worst thing will be, discovering the date of your Naseby diggings. I ought to have it here; and probably I have,—in some remote dusty trunk, whither it is a terror to go looking for it! Try you what you can, and the Naseby Farmer too (if he is still extant); then I will try. At worst we can say ‘Ten years ago’; but the exact date would be better.
The figure of the stone ought to be of Egyptian simplicity: a broadish parallelopipedon (or rather octaedron; the corners well chamfered off, to avoid breakages, will make it 8-faced, I think); in the substance of the stone there is one quality to be looked for, durability; and the letters ought to be cut deep,—and by no means in lapidary lines (attend to that!), but simply like two verses of the Bible, so that he who runs may read. I rather like the Siste Viator,—yet will let you blot it out,—it is as applicable as to any Roman Tomb, and more so than to ours, which are in enclosed places, where any ‘Traveller,’ if he either ‘stop’ or go, will presently have the constable upon him. This is all I have to say about the stone; and I recommend that it be now done straightway, before you quit hold of that troublesome locality.
I find I must not promise to myself to go thither with you; alas, nor at all. I cannot get to sleep again since I came out of Suffolk: the stillness of Farlingay is unattainable in Chelsea for a second sleep, so I have to be content with the first, which is oftenest about 5 hours, and a very poor allowance for the afflicted son of Adam. I feel privately confident I have got good by my Suffolk
visit, and by all the kindness of my beneficent brother mortals to me there: but in the meanwhile it has ‘stirred up a good deal of bile,’ I suppose; and we must wait.