August-December 1842

The Collected Letters, Volume 15


TC TO [JEAN CARLYLE AITKEN] ; 29 October 1842; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18421029-TC-JCA-01; CL 15: 151


[29 October 1842]

two neighbours, felt still farther alarm at the Prize judgeship; and, after a little meditation,—“declined from eet.”1 Their prize-essays, I have no doubt, are going on; but will turn out to be one and all of them duds;—and whatever hope the foolish public embarked on the business will turn into disappointment. People expect that some kind of Morrison's Pill could be devised, some Act of Parlt or the like, by which the whole rotten dying System of Society could be made whole again, and then all go well.2 They are great blockheads.———

I am a fool to sit here scribbling, while my own poor sheet is lying without a word on it! The Picture-framers, and then also a Shoemaker put me out. An hour or two of work—ah me!—may perhaps still remain! There is but one man blessed: he that can do his work.3

Adieu, dear Jean

Yours ever

T. Carlyle

Beautiful sunny weather: perhaps I had better run into the country, and walk?