candlestick

January-September 1845


The Collected Letters, Volume 19


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 27 September 1845; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18450927-TC-JWC-01; CL 19: 219-220


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

No 2 Scotsbrig, 27 Septr, 1845—

Yesternight that other Letter was written, and had lain some time in the pocket of the Messenger, when I reflected that it was Friday; that the Letter would fall on your Postless Sunday,—that it might as well wait here another day for additions. This is the “other” day; one of the wettest; during the whole of which I have sat busy with my Index; a job not yet finished. Battering rains, howling moaning winds, and no fire permitted in this room: such is all my history,—of no use to trouble Goody with. I am not far from thro' the Index; it shall be done, and then the whole business is done. I have had no walking yet: the rain has broken itself into showers some hours ago, into a scudding strong harvest-wind: if tea were over, I will out. I have dined;—might as well not, for any joy it gives me! In fact, I ought to go and walk, and hold my peace: that is the English of it.

Will you yourself send the Newspaper on Monday; before 4 o'clock into the Chelsea Post-Office: it has never yet come at the regular time. The Nation1 did not come till yesterday, three days after date. I supposed John might have something to do with it.— A small Letter from Goody along with them will be very welcome! I partly hope for one tomorrow even, tho' it is more than I deserve.

A wet day is very serious here; means imprisonment under difficult circumstances! Nothing of regularity is to be seen about our premises, or very little, except it be Jenny's two little children. These she combs, washes, dresses; sets to read, to sew even; and keeps wonderfully trim, and remote out of one's way. Poor little Jenny!— Heart-kindness, too, that is to be seen and felt on all hands; that makes, and ought to make, amends for everything.— At all vacant times I have my Preuss's Friedrich der Grosse; very tolerable reading, and worth reflecting on. “Better than I deserve!” as Coleridge had it: what do I deserve? To be in Purgatory!2

My health does improve too; Country quiet, even without fair weather or accommodation, is important for one. O Goody, how art thou, my little woman! Write,—gemüthlich [good-naturedly], whether “entertainingly” or not.— Thine ever, T.C.