TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 5 July 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440705-TC-JWC-01; CL 18: 106-107
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Chelsea, 5 july, 1844—
What ails my little Goody? Nothing important, I hope! But let me hear tomorrow, or I shall begin to imagine various things.
Our Maurice Soiree proved to have no Wilberforces in it; only the Coleridges, and two big German Priests;1 company of little interest, at the best: I longed to be back at my Books again. The one big German however did turn out to have something in him:—and the walk home again was not far. I also saw [in]2 their Times of the day some fresh thunder against poor Graham. Flunky thunder, crushing still lower him who is already down!3
Nothing can be done for poor Bell the Annandale India Doctor; I I had a Note from Strachey, I saw Bell himself just now.4 I think of speaking to Anthony Sterling about him, with an eye to the West Indies,—tho' I am afraid that also will come to nothing.
Did I ever mention to you that Mrs Widow Gray, now Mrs Something-else,5 called here about a week ago; insisted on seeing me, and left a card for you. She is the same wooden character as ever; looks very white, somewhat crowfooted around the eyes when you have her in clear light; rattles along, as if nothing had happened. Her new husband is about the Antipodes at present, a Sea-Officer,—Heaven pity him. It was a Brother that came with her, and they staid only a few minutes.
The rain is abundant; today it is raining even now, and I decide on waiting Dinner before any walk be attempted. I got my hair cut yesterday,—with an effort! Nobody can conceive the indolence that weighs me down; otherwise I am now well enough,—purposing to dine on chop soon.
You have the Punch here, as much of it as will go for twopence.
I have been all day and yesterday over stupid Cromwelliana; do you think I shall ever get that Book done, Jeannie? “Nev-a, Sir!”—
Well, you will be off to Pauletdom in another Letter or two. Do not go till you are tired, do not stay after you are tired. Take care of your little necessary-evil of a self; that is the point!— — Do you happen to be near anybody that possesses a Plan of the environs of Preston, or any local knowledge there? Not you! I cannot understand C's Battle ‘on the Moor’ there.6 Adieu, Dearest!