October 1831-September 1833

The Collected Letters, Volume 6


TC TO MISS ANDERSON; 24 May 1832; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18320524-TC-MISSA-01; CL 6:165-166.


Craigenputtoch, Dumfries, / 24th May, 1832—

My Dear Madam,

While in London, I furnished myself with this poor Copy of my poor “first Book,”1 with intent to put you in mind of me by means of it: which intent will you now give me leave to realise? If that lean fruit of Sickness and Sorrow do in addition yield you, or your worthy Mother, an hour of endurable reading, it will be so much over and above.

We miss you both here very much; and are like to do: it often seems to us as if the want of such a neighbourhood were the main shadow in our sunshine. A shadow there will always be so long as there is a Sun: this ought to quiet us, to satisfy us. We can hope also to hear good news of you from Moffat, as we have already heard: from persons whom God has favoured with clearness of head and bravery of heart no bad news, properly speaking, can come; but all either is good, or will turn to good. Perhaps too you will not always be personally such a stranger: surely when you look into Nithsdale, Craigenputtoch will not be altogether forgotten.

My Wife is about writing, and will tell you all our news: how we sat begrimed and benoised, all winter, in that monstrous “Cesspool of the Universe”; and are now escaped into the free air and the natural health; not displeased that we went, or that we returned; and view (every Wednesday Night) the Revolutions and Parliamentary Debates of this mad world wi[th] a composure which only Dwellers in the Desart can experience.2

We have long had some excursion to Moffat in our eye: but things will not answer; the new day brings its new difficulty, which is to be its new duty: this summer too I see work enough before me. However, we will still hope, still keep scheming.

I beg particularly to express my respect, & affectionate wishes for your worthy Mother: may all that is good and of good report still lie in her lot! You also are not, in any case, to forget us; you are to write soon, and come and see us. Believe me always,

My Dear Madam, / Affectionately Your's /

T. Carlyle—