TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE; 5 September 1851; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18510905-TC-JWC-01; CL 26: 155
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Scotsbrig, 5 Septr, 1851—
My dear little Jeannie,—Are you so busy, then, or too idle; or is your little bit of pride up against me? I tried yesterday by a Letter under cover to Miss Jewsbury “care of of A. Ireland Esq, Examr Office”; Jack too, it seems, has written by the Address “Manchester” under Miss J's cover: so one way or other, you will know what a precious predicament I am here in!— By Jack's Note today there has come a singular little Printed Note from Espinasse, by which I learn Frank Jewsbury's Address; and by him also, to make assurance doubly sure, I now adventure.— On the whole I make certain of hearing news from you tomorrow. Espinasse's Note you will see at any rate; so I have returned my copy to John: it is like the “old shoe of Carlyle”1 (mum about this, I pray!)—exciting a melancholy but authentic smile.— Alan Ker2 croaks hoarse thanks; hopes now that “you are his friend for life”—on what grounds appears not!
My poor old Mother is a little out of order today, and keeps her bed; otherwise there is not the vestige of news or change. I walk every morning my vigorous hour; sit very silent and idle thro' the day; walk however another hour duly after tea, and after dusk,—favourable hour for a contemplation which is gloomy but need not at least be angry (no human being generally coming in sight at all): after which to bed; but not yet to any effectual length of sleep. Enclose me two of your pills, if you can remember. I begin to judge that the Water Cure has simply been zero in my case; no good at all, and no ill at all. Very well, then; be that so. Only we need not jumble towards Malvern, on such terms, for that again.— I am reading the Life of Chalmers: an excellt Christian “man of genius,” about as great a contrast to me in all ways as could be found in these epochs under the same sky! Give my regards to Geraldine. Tomorrow I hope with confidence to hear from you. God bless you. Ever your affectionate T. Carlyle
I am just going out to ride (1½ p.m.), and in great haste. No Letters, no news, no nothing:—tant mieux [so much the better].