The Collected Letters, Volume 13


TC TO HENRIETTA MARIA STANLEY ; 26 April 1841; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18410426-TC-HMS-01; CL 13: 116


Scotsbrig, Ecclefechan, N.B. 26 April, 1841—

Dear Mrs Stanley,

Your pretty little Note finds me here, far off in rude Annandale regions,—“impossible” stamped evidently on the face of it! How strange that little bit of paper looks to me in this environment. There is “Grosvenor Crescent”1 and the fair signature of a “Henrietta Maria”;—in the middle of wet spring tempests, wild moorland solitudes, and the earliest facts of my existence. The Cumberland Mountains, when the clouds leave them, stand blue and beautiful, the Solway sea-water glitters, ever as of old: it is all the old Earth, and the Son of it is such a changed one! “Allah akbar,” as our friend Mahomet says, “God is great.”

I have been with Richard Milnes in Yorkshire:—he is a good little fellow, in spite of all they say or sing. I have been in Leeds; was tumbled along, thro' Manchester, Liverpool, hitherward, thro' the volcanic Cotton-land, a true Terra di Lavoro;2 in wondrous humour, tied to the tail of their demon Steam-horse;—entirely a wondrous business! Whether my health is much mended may remain uncertain. But in about a week I expect to be in London again, there to abide till the fervours of June despatch me somewhither. I hope still to see the little Boy;3 and the little Boy's Lady Mother,—bright as the Southern May!

I beg you to believe me always there or here,

Yours with great regard, /

T. Carlyle.