candlestick

April-December 1844


The Collected Letters, Volume 18


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JWC TO JEANNIE WELSH ; 12 July 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440712-JWC-JW-01; CL 18: 129-130


JWC TO JEANNIE WELSH

Friday [12 July 1844]

Dearest Babbie

Thanks for your letter,—doubly welcome that I was not expecting it. for the justice of the matter was clearly that I should write rather than you— My cold is not quite gone—at least I do not feel it safe to take the smallest liberty with myself—durst no more, for instance, drink two tumblers of porter and two glasses of champaign and a glass of maidera all in one day than eat fire; but I am able to keep out of bed and go a little into the open air which is here very open indeed—and am no longer the miserable being I was in the first days—

I have had another trial of temper however substituted for the cold in my head—an out-break—in practical form of what Geraldine rightly termed her tiger-jealousy— I will tell you all about it when I come on Monday, suffice to say meanwhile that Mrs Jordan in The Jealous Wife1 acted no more astounding vagaries than Geraldine has been treating us to here the last twentyfour hours.— Thanks god—my temper happened to be in an unusually placid state—and the thing has been got put down without any poisonings or suicides tho' not without great annoyance to Mrs Paulet and the whole household— Really the fondly cares of those who love us are more agreeable proofs of their passion than tiger jealousies

Frank Jewsbury and the Spaniard Montero2 were here last night and the Spaniard played on the guitar and sang—fandangos and “all that sort of thing”— I take him to be somewhat of a pinch-beck Hero this Spaniard but he does very well for the provinces— Mrs Amies (?)3 was here also yesterday forenoon, and sang like an angel and talked “like—like—anything”!4— I never heard such talking since I was born—it is quite a thing worth hearing once and away, just to know what a woman, merely human, can do in that line!

I am very sad about Mazzini the two young Bandieri are shot! God help their poor Mother.

Love to you all and kisses—till Monday—adieu—

Ever your affectionate

Jane Carlyle