The Collected Letters, Volume 28


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 23 July 1853; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18530723-TC-JWC-01; CL 28: 218


Chelsea, 23 july, 1853—

Welcome to Liverpool again, my good little Jeannie, where I hope this scrap will be given you tomorrow morning. I am sorry thy bit Tour has been so curtailed and obstructed: but right glad thou art on the way home again! It is an “unprotected” household, and but a desolate way of living, otherwise.

I wrote yesterday, at greater length, to Scotsbrig; but I know not whether you were still there to get the Letter: yours from the North don't arrive till 6; after which date all is already underway, and no answer to be sent.— — Judge if I was glad of last night's Letter! It was like balm to my wounded life. Fanny making some delay, I started up from my dinner; snatched the precious Note: “all well” round the seal, how good and considerate; thanks especially for those two words! My poor old Mother seems better for the present; and this view of her state, and innocent feeble way of existence, which I have got thro' your eyes, is truly a possession to me,—better than if I had got it with my own eyes, in my present state of infirmity of nerves.— Come home; tell us by what train; and I will be in waiting for you at the station, and all shall be trimmed up here according to Fanny's best skill. Of her really (considering that she is Irish, and the truth or the tidiness not in her) I have nothing but praise to give since you went away: she has really served me well, and with her best ability always.

The Town is getting very thin, within the last week,—thank Heaven for such prospect of quiet! Perhaps we shall get a little work done, were the noise once laid; a poor human creature has then a better chance, I hope!— Tonight I have an Asiatic-Society Reunion at Bath House (Lord A. Presidt of said society), I fancy a very flat thing; tomorrow at 6 the sad Fergus dinner;—and then nothing more of that kind. The weather, not witht rain till very lately, is dry and bright today; beautiful in an extreme degree, as I took my short morning run: two of my outer blinds are closed, not more, for there is yet no heat to be sick under. Poor Fuz's Note came this morning; we will go together to him.1 Other news I have none.— I am but ill in the liver regions; have scantily, with difficulty made out my stint of work; and cannot boast of exuberant capabilities, but they will do. Come quickly, come! Perhaps I shall hear tonight? Regards to the wretch Nero;—and blessings ever! T. Carlyle