I hasten to thank you for your letter, and above all for you most prompt application in my behalf to the Chancellor. But what can I say in apology for having thus interested you, when I regret that I addressed you on the subject. The sole gratification it affords me is, that I am assured of your steady substantial friendship—for, as respects my being a candidate for the Museum Print Room it is out of the question. Mr. William Young Ottley2 applies for it. Were I sure of success I should not persevere, because I should prevent a better man than myself. Mr. Ottley is the most erudite man in Chalcography, Printing, and Painting, of any Antiquary in Europe— he ought to have the place—the Trustees will do themselves and the Museum an honour by appointing him without delay. No claim ought to stand for an hour against Mr. Ottley's—I would be the rival of any man but this gentleman, with whom I have no intimacy; yet whom, I dare not conscientiously oppose, and who will remain perfectly ignorant that my humble testimony in his favor may be added, perhaps, to the strong recommendations his merits enable him to command.
Alas! my dear Sir, I "did not recollect" you were on circuit—one of the qualities of paralysis is to suspend mental as well as bodily faculties—this, unhappily, I know—My memory has been as water spilt on the earth—my right side powerless—and, now, though I am rapidly recovering a dividend of my former self, it is by small weekly instalments, and I shall never "be myself" again. I had contemplated, and prepared, to struggle for, and carry the office of Bridgemaster upon the next vacancy, but this I must not think of for a moment—my great chance of success would be from hustings speaking, and now a speech of five minutes would kill me. I cannot, and shall not be able to bear physical exertion, but I find my mind fast recruiting, and there are certainly little things dropping, here and there, which I might tend to advantage. At present I am not able to walk more that a mile out and in, though I feel, on this sunny day with a S.W. zephyr, that a fortnight of real Summer may enable me to a real stroll, and to risk converse with strangers. May God keep you, my friend, from this awful disturbance of the frame and spirit. I now live as with a sense of having been buried, and being out of my grave upon furlough—and with this consciousness I am not the less qualified for some employment which may require diligence and attention, if such a thing can be got, without mixing in turmoil. My children, and my poor wife, lie heavy at my heart—You know my hatred to Attornies, and my love for the law—is there nothing suitable to me about the Courts?!
I'll tell you what would just suit me—A fellowship at Oxford, Magdalen Coll. gardens, and the Bodleian Library!