August 1846-June 1847

The Collected Letters, Volume 21


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE; 19 January 1847; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18470119-TC-MAC-01; CL 21:138-139.


Bay House, Alverstoke / Tuesday 19 jany 1847

My dear Mother,

I rather fear I am in a little too late today to keep my word; however, I have still hope that there will yet be a communication with the Post, therefore I write as the best I can.

We got quite safe down yesterday; comfortably and without the smallest accident; had the carriage all to ourselves, and did the whole 80 miles in two hours time. The day was dim, silent, and decidedly cold: but Jane was wrapped in such a way as to exclude frost: she never complained of cold; but sat quite quiet, and even fell asleep for half an hour among her plaids! The Lady's Carriage was duly waiting for us; a quiet cordial welcome was duly waiting: and so here we are, established for a week or two. Jane, in spite of the new bed says she slept better last night than usual; I myself did not make much of a sleep in my little warm crib (but that was not its fault); nevertheless I too seem to feel a little fresher today. There is no vestige of “sunshine”! The country is grey, calm, dry; really very agreeable when one can walk all day, as I have been doing, with one's plaid on, by the shore of the sea, with tobacco to smoke! I persuade myself we shall do very well here, and really gather some new strength, especially poor Jane who is really quite numbed, as it were, with this long continued dark hard weather. We are the quietest party in the world; in fact absolutely nobody but the Lady Harriet herself and we two at present, Baring having gone off this morning (till Saturday next) to attend the opening of Parliament. A certain Lady Anne Charteris (also an acquaintance of ours,—her husband is also gone off today to Parlt) lives in a Sea-cottage close by: she is our only “neighbour,”—has been with Jane all morning, while I went out to call for Dr Richardson,1 a wealthy Dumfries man, whom John knows,—whom I have found accordingly.— — This, dear Mother, is all I have of “news”; not by any means all I had to say: no, but the pen is deplorable, the little table shakes, and indeed the time and paper are done! Bid Jack write to me,—one word to say that you are well, how precious would it be! Give my affectionate regards to him, to Jamie and Isabella,—and keep out of the cold, dear Mother.—— Ever yours T. Carlyle