January-July 1843

The Collected Letters, Volume 16


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 20 July 1843; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18430720-TC-JWC-01; CL 16: 303-304


Abergwili, 20 july 1843 (Thursday)


It is late, 11 o'clock or after; I have ridden about forty miles, to look at nonsense of views &c; and have to be off tomorrow morning on the coach roof at eight: I therefore will not write a word here; I will carry the sheet on with me, and try to despatch it from Gloucester if I get happily there.

We had our grand dinner last night: a Judge called Baron Rolfe,1 and about 20 advocates; a dreadful explosion of dulness, champagne, and ennui; which however I took little hand in, being empowered by His Reverence2 to “go out and smoke whenever I found it dull.” Rolfe, first fiddle on this occasion, was a man I had seen at Stanley's3 (or some such place) playing fourth or fifth fiddle. The Advocates generally filled me with a kind of shudder—to think that had I once had £200 I should perhaps have been that!4 One of them named Vaughan pleased me not a little.5 They went all off soon,—and then I had a long questionable bout of prints to front! Sound sleep for a few hours, and a lackey to awaken you at half past six. It is over now, all that lackeying, thank God!

The Bishop received your compliments (did I tell you) with much modesty and gratitude; mumbled something about you being here, how happy &c &c.

He has been most kind to me. Poor fellow, think of a solid Bishop riding post as we had to do today! It was literally altogether very good. Our talk has been extensive; rather interesting occasionally; always worth its wind or nearly so. Peace be with Abergwili,—and may it be a while before I run athwart such a mask of forms again, requiring such a curb-bridle on your liberties to observe them rightly.6 For what we have received Lord make us thankful. Today handling the Tinder-box, I found your Letter in a pocket of the Tweed, and Crawfurds Address there!7 It is Monmouth, and would not have done.—

Adieu, adieu, dear Jeannie; wish me a good ride to Glo'ster;—and sleep sound, my Bairn. Thine ever—

T. C.

Gloucester. Friday Evg near 8 o'clock (waiting for dinner). I am arrived here safe, thro' the pleasantest country, some 120 miles gone over at full gallop. I am hungry, wasted, weary woebegone; but waiting for dinner. Uncertain whether I shall not go on to Wor'ster this very night; for this house is swarming with assize people. Dinner here!


Adieu Dearest, ach Gott, adieu. I wish I wish I were with thee!