candlestick

July 1847-March 1848


The Collected Letters, Volume 22


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 27 September 1847; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18470927-TC-JWC-01; CL 22: 94-95


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

Scotsbrig, Monday Night, 27 Septr, 1847—

Well, Goodykin; I hope you are safe at Addiscombe, then, according to the last figure of the program! I have just “seven minutes” allowed me, after one of the wearisomest days ever spent by mortal; and can only write you one brief word, and send you the Emerson Letter1 and your own. Particulars of my ride to Grange,—O Heaven,—they will be early enough tomorrow, or the day after the last morrow! No more boring mortal lives in this world than poor Wm Graham; and his nose (for snuff) would need Whitworth's Besom;2—and he took me to three most excellent, most dreary, aged Calvinistic Ladies,3 and I had to vanish at last as in a flash of fire, and am here! Human Life has in it chapters exceedingly miserable.

Those scandalous Buxton Postmistresses! I fear I must have got into a mess with Emerson; for such a Letter required, in the name of all Hospitalities, an immediate answer. But you will write to him before he arrive yet;4 and on the whole we must have him, the truest friend or among the truest I now have, for more than “an hour.”— — Tomorrow, unless it rain, as I hope, I shall probably have to go with my Mother to Gill: there is no rest for the wicked anywhere!5 I believe I had better bundle, and think of getting home again soon. The weather yesterday and sunday was bright as the heavenly radiance itself could make it, and of a stillness like elysium: Was hilft es Dir? Du findest dort / Tabak und böse Zungen!6— Here are the Tailors; just vanishing now for the last time. They have made me coats and flannel garnitures, equal to the climate of Siberia: all right;—and your buttons too are on.— How dost thou sleep? What cheer; how go the days till Friday? I expect very copious, wide and broad details. Good night, good night. Homages to your kind Host and Hostess; cheerful days to you and her,—tho' she never says a word to me since she went on her Travels last. Terrible poisoning of Husbands and Wives still goes on everywhere, if we believe the Newspapers!7 What are the people coming to? The Tailors will wait no longer. Adieu, Dearest. Yours ever

T. Carlyle