January 1829-September 1831

The Collected Letters, Volume 5


JWC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE; 10 September 1831; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18310910-JWC-MAC-01; CL 5:409-410.


[Ca. 10 September 1831]

A Thousand thanks my dear kind Mother for sending Jane and Alick to my rescue— If some such mercy had not been vouchsafed me I think I must soon have worked myself into a fever or other violent disorder—for my talent for fancying things which is quite as great as your own had so entirely got the upper hand of me that I could neither sleep by night nor rest by day— I have slept more since they came and have kept me from falling into dreams than I had done for a fortnight before—

I have news if you have not heard it already more joyful to me I suspect than it will prove to you. I am going to my Husband; and as soon as I can get ready for leaving—

Now do not grieve that he is not to return so soon as we expected. I am sure it is for his good and therefore for all our goods. Here he was getting more and more unhappy—more and more disatisfied [sic] with the world and himself—I durst not have counselled him to such a step—but whenever he proposed it himself, I cordially approved it.

But I will tell you all about this and other matters when I come: will indeed bring his long letters to me and read them—for I must come and see you all again before I set out.— I calculate on getting down the beginning of the week after next.

Carlyle wants me to bring some butter oatmeal &c with me—which are not to be got good in London for love or money— And without the smallest remorse I apply to you to help me. I have some butter of our own cow's but it is scattered about in various little pots—and could not be conveniently taken—besides being salted in small quantities—sometimes in warm weather—and by my own hands which are not the most expert in that department. I am afraid it will not be good enough to carry so far—at all rates inferior to the Scotsbrig thing— If you would fill this pig1 for me (which holds twenty heavy pounds) at your next churning—it would be doing Carlyle a great service and me also in as much as it would relieve my mind of a heavy responsibility. Jane says it could be churned all at once—and expedition is a great object with me.

Jane is going with me to Templand today, as a sort of protection against my Mother's agitations— Next week she will help me to pack—

I send you my cloth pelisse which may perhaps be useful to yourself—if not give it to whom you please.

Your affectionate

Jane W Carlyle


Sartor can't be published in London,—“at least, not during these Reform-Bill agitatns” say excusatory friends (the Author hardly says);— Author decides to examine and experience the big Babel for a winter; and has written for his Egeria to come and join him. How strange, thrice strange, and mournfully beautifully all this looks to me today! (18 fby 1869)