TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE; 2 September 1846; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18460902-TC-JWC-02; CL 21:38-40.
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Dumfries, 2 Septr, 1846—
Dearest, You had a Note today already, which was to reach you on Thursday Night, and bid you expect this for Friday morning. Your best plan will be to get Darwin, who will teach you what to do (there is a small thing to fill up at the bottom, and sign with your name); the money is payable at once; and Darwin, after you have seen him, and done the needful in the way of signing, can manage the matter with his own Banker without troubling you farther. Failing Darwin, you must get Craik; and go with him to the Payne & Smith people themselves;1 they hold out just one door beyond the Mangen 'Ouse (Mansion House); an Omnibus takes you to the very place, and you transact the Affair in a minute, and come home again,—only taking care not to be robbed!— On the whole, I had better fill it up myself, and then you have nothing to do but to sign and date. Take Fifty Pounds for household money, and lay by the other Fifty till I come. Voilà tout
I hope you are home at Chelsea hours ago,—it is now ten at night. Heart's welcome to your own house again, dear Goody! And sleep well this night for my sake, as well as for your own. Let me find you able to eat some breakfast again when I return. And may all be well—O Heavens, may all be well once more!— —for the rest you are to write to me immediately; immediately, were it but one word to say that you are at home, and that the cash is come. I expect to be at Dublin on Sunday morning. Write immediately: “Post-Office, Dublin”; I can give you no better address: I have heard nothing precise of Duffy, and cannot yet read his Landlord's name with confidence. “Post-Office Dublin” will be best; and I shall get it on Sunday, I think if you write on Friday. Do not disappoint me as you did once at Edinr!—
Today I have had but an unfortunate day; Jack who is still with me has the hapless art of creating or causing chagrin to me in due plenty, and makes very bad company for a man in such a mood as mine. He likes me too, and is himself very unhappy, poor creature! But in fact this land is all full of sorrow for me; little other than a cave of Death now. Let me not complain.— I saw Adamson; all right on his side, and more money than I expected to find. M'Queen doing well with Craigenputtoch: I meant to go thither today,—but it was too late before we got all settled. Tomorrow if it again prove fair will do. A drive round by Caerlaverock (a mournful old moated pile, like a black skeleton of the Past),2—that was all the exercise today. But the route to Ireland is settled;—and I am to get a horse-cloth to wrap my feet in, for the outside of Coaches! My route, after investigation, is thus: Friday morning at 8, Coach to Ayr (by Dunscore, Moniaive &c) 60 miles, arrive about 5 p.m; then rail to Ardrossan (some ten miles), and there at 10 p.m. get on board a Steamer to Belfast: reach Belfast “in 6 hours,”—early on Saturday morning; then by some Coach or other get to Drogheda that night (some 70 and odd miles,—30 from Dublin by rail remain), where I expect to hear of Duffy, to whom I write tonight: would to Heaven I were safe there, and all that botheration over; I have not in me the strength of half a hen in the matter of resolution at present! But we shall get it done too, I suppose. God bless thee, dear Goody. Thine Ever
I saw M'Diarmid last night;3 he was drunk—pah! I pay no more visits here.
Of course you will slit off this leaf,4 before you go farther! The Banker has no need to see this one!—