April 1849-December 1849

The Collected Letters, Volume 24


JWC TO THOMAS CARLYLE; 3 July 1849; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18490703-JWC-TC-01; CL 24: 90-92


Cheyne Row / Tuesday [3 July 1849]

Well! Here I am at home, my poor Dear; if home it may be called under the circumstances, but “it is fair to state” that the whole thing looks rather disgusting this morning, after the roses, and cream, and “wits” and other “blandishments” of Addiscombe— For the circumstance which is annoying me most however the poor Cheyne Row establishment is not to blame; but the other establishment, in many respects so superior—the letter which should have gone to you yesterday is not gone—when I took it to the Butler yesterday to be despatched to the post office, he looked as if I had proposed to him a crusade in the Holy Land—“nobody was going to Croydon”—wherever I applied, the same answer!— I would not go with it myself for I was already quite done with the Archbishops rough ground—and when I got to London it was too late—within a quarter of eight—and so you will get two letters together, that's all—

Bölte was waiting for me when I arrived in my cab (they put me into a cab at Vauxhall)1—and the “airs” from Chancellor's dunghill2 were a waiting me!— I really believe Lady A is right about that stable yard having a great deal to do with my nausea—when I felt it last night “with an entirely fresh NOSE,” I wondered how we could live beside it, for the mere unpleasantness of [the]3 thing—to say nothing of health—I was not the least bit sick at Addiscombe—whatever else—and could eat like other people. This morning again it is the old story— But on Monday I shall wave my lilly hand to it (the dunghill) and cry adieu4—by Saturday I could hardly get ready but on Monday I must be off—I feel just now as if nothing less than my life depended on incessant movement in the fresh air—I sometimes wish you could know what a weight of physical illness I am carrying—that you might wonder less at the little way I make—but—“it will come all to the same utlimately”!

I think Miss Wynn must have been out of her mind yesterday—I found a note from her last night to “prepare me for not hearing from you so soon as I expected” Mrs Lindsay5 had told her these steamers “never kept their time by many days; so that the passengers were often short of provisions (!!)” she “thought it best to tell me this in case of my being uneasy”!! I shall really be relieved to know you on dry land again.

The Examiner is come as usual—was I to take any steps about it?— I send it on to your Mother this time— Moreover Elizabeth told me that “there is a new letter of Mr Oliver Cromwell for Master—which the gentleman who has it does not think is yet published”!!— “What Gentleman?” “a Mr Payne6 I think but I cant be positive—his letter might be something but I dont think himself was much!

Hartman has been to paint me since I began this letter—Bolte begged so hard last night that I would yield her that “last consolation”— He was to come at eleven and kept his time for once—it is now after three—and I am painted—quite done with; “ThankS God”!—and an excellent little sketch he has made of me—I think—a side face again but the other side from Lawrence's—quite as sorrowful looking but hardly so severe— I must wind up anyhow—here has Darwin and Mrs Wedgwood been for near an hour—interrupting me— I finish in their presence that they may take my letter to the post office—how bothered I have been! not a step of exercise this day!

Ever yours /

Jane W C

You forgot t[o] mend me any pens and so you must take the consequences—

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Carlyle's Journey in Ireland in 1849: A Diagrammatic Map