The Collected Letters, Volume 12


JWC TO FRANCES WEDGWOOD ; June 1840; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18400600-JWC-FW-01; CL 12: 156-157


[June 1840]

My dear!

Whither did you go! Down thro' a trap-door? or aloft? Or did you melt into thin air. I turned my head one moment, and next there was not a square inch of you left. I asked everybody where is the Lady who was speaking to me—and everybody answered like stupid apes—what Lady? a young Lady? an old Lady?—till I gave up inquiries and took to running about like a mouse in a trap.1 At last I betook myself into Oxford Street to find Erasmus hoping to find you at the same time but no Erasmus was perceptible to the naked eye or even to the most ingenious imagination— I said to myself after ten minutes “what will I do?”—and then it struck me perhaps there is another Pantheon door and sure enough there was and to my amazement it opened into Marlbro' Street I having gone a quarter of a mile round in the first instance—but all this is not to the question—serves merely to throw new light on my stupidity in small things—which all the world already knows— The question is when will you come—on Tuesday or Thursday or any day after— We go to Mrs Booth2 on the Wednesday and E says you are engaged for Monday— If your number exceeds a dozen and a half you must bring some tea cups—otherwise we shall want for nothing. Carlyle does want excessively to see Sismondi. The translation of a book of his was one of his first literary exploits.3

Your affectionate / and rather unfortunate /

Jane Carlyle.