The Collected Letters, Volume 12


TC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE ; 17 September 1840; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18400917-TC-JAC-01; CL 12: 261-262


Chelsea, 17 Septr 1840

My dear Brother,

To avoid all possibility of disappointment I despatch this half-word to wait for you at Stirling; where, if you have taken due measures, two other Letters of mine must also be found lying. They were directed as of old to Oban. They indicated, alas, that I was not to get out of London this year. Except for the sight of my friends, indeed, especially of my Mother, I need not regret the arrangement much: all of a sudden our weather has changed here, and blustery rain, cold almost as winter, has come upon us. Travelling, in these circumstances, would have been very miserable.

I spend my time in lonely reading, with all manner of reflexions and prospections. I got my windows repaired yesterday, so that they cannot any longer jingle upon me! I meditate Books again; my Lectures are not worth a snuff, but I can still write a Book, I think. Let us try.——— I had a Letter from Emerson yesterday: some little cash coming soon from the Yanke[e] F. Revn (which you recollect of, last year); it has cleared its heavy harbour-dues, and seems to promise some £50 or so, forthwith.1— Except to let me get away out of this London, and be alone, and a little healthier, I do not see what good more cash could do me.

You are lucky to have a rural winter on the sea-coast before you; and yet, ah me, I know well enough, that too has its evils. We must compose ourselves.——— You passed close by the gate of Kinnaird,2 about a mile on this side of Logierait (where Tummel & Tay join); at a strait pass in the road hard by the foot of a wooded hill rising steep on your left.

Write me a word when you can.

Yours ever /

T. Carlyle

I have written to Erskine: did you see him?