April-December 1844

The Collected Letters, Volume 18


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 26 June 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440626-TC-JWC-01; CL 18: 85-86


Chelsea, Wednesday [26 June 1844]. 3 o'clock

Poor Goodykin! What a wretched passage to the North: and I fancied you all the day sitting sad indeed, but still, and growing ever more composed by the sight of the kind green Earth, in the front of the rail-carriage there!— You must really get sleep; take all pains to be quiet, and secure some sleep, or you will spoil everything.

I have had a day of insignificant stupid labour again (tea to breakfast about seven, being very bilious), and must now be off for a little exercise, and to ‘leave cards,’ at the Lord Stanley's &c,1 the burden of which duty is really lying heavy on me. This day is clear-grey, cool and very beautiful; a day on which one can walk. Thank Heaven for the rain

Nobody has called here, and I wish nobody to call. I am much better ‘in a place by mysel’2 at present. I have a cartload of Books on the floor about me, and work forever.

Ellen is very busy and quiet. I am to dine today again on cold-boiled, bought out of the shop. She is cleaning your bedroom these two days, has the carpet now on the green &c. No ‘Numbers’3 have troubled us hitherto. Poor Mrs Lambert, she tells me, is in bed; the Deceased old person being her mother.

I saw Mrs Buller last night; also Lady Harriet,4 by whom I am invited with Charles Buller to their place in the Country on Saturday. C. and I are to go together. Mrs Buller looks considerably improved, tho' still very weak. Miss Bölte was there too,—just finishing off an engagement to go to Italy with the Bullers! All parties seem to be heartily delighted at it, as I was, and as you will be. She had not seen Mrs Macready5 Mrs Strachey considers that there “has been a Special Providence in it.”— Lady Graham appears to be an entire goose: one of the crimes of poor Bölte was that when the children asked her, “What the Holy Ghost was like?” she said with all circumspection, she could not tell! Can you?— Mrs Buller (observe that, you little Cutty!) had strictly charged everybody not to whisper a word of Sir James Graham's proceedings to Bölte. Charles confessed he had “told Lady Harriet,” but under oath of secrecy. Of course all the world will know it.— Buller had been too ill for speaking;6 he says the business is by no means done yet. The Peel concern altogether seems to be considered in a staggering state, not long for this world7

My own little Bairn, take care of thyself! Accept this paltry scrap of paper and all my love. / T. C