The Collected Letters, Volume 12


TC TO JANE WILSON ; 3 November 1840; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18401103-TC-JWI-01; CL 12: 312


Chelsea, Tuesday Morning [3 November 1840]

Dear Miss Wilson,

Unhappily a certain Mrs Sigourney, a travelling American literary Lady, of which sort there are too many in this epoch, is coming to us on your evening: we must take our destiny.

It is good news that there are 60,000 volumes elsewhere than in Finsbury Circus; the Mr Tite, who has rule over matters there,1 will not give me so much as a meeting;—suspicious, I suppose, of what is in the wind. Pray encourage your Brother and Mr Elliot2 and all persons to look after that new speculation; I am chained down here amid endless folios, and can look after nothing.

I hope you like my esteemed friend Sewell! Last week I read an ancient folio Life of Laud, not without danger of locked-jaw. A more distracted Cobweb never came athwart the eye of my mind;—nor ever shall, if it please Heaven. Ah me, and I am now deep in another folio Life of one Bishop Williams:3 the very Infinite of Dulness seems to open round one. Courage!

I am ever, / Yours most truly /

T. Carlyle