candlestick

January-September 1845


The Collected Letters, Volume 19


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 1 August 1845; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18450801-TC-JWC-01; CL 19: 122-123


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

Chelsea, Friday 1 August / 1845—

Thanks, Dearest, many thanks; thy bright little Missives are a real consolation to me in my solitude here. A solitary wrestle with the Blockheadisms, that is what I have just now; and there is need of some consolation at times, if it could be had! Ellen had stuck out the little blue-bordered Note of today; set it on the top of the Letter-box, that I might see it when I came down to smoke. The Leech is very well: I went and saw it this morning; it has an allowance of fresh water every day, and complains of nothing. Lying all glued together against the top of the glass, the little villain, and leading a very quiet life of it,—never even asking, “What is Taxes?”—

Wednesday, at five too, proved wet; no riding that day. Walked up to Baringdom1 in the evening: the poor Lady had cold; was sitting with a fire, even she;—we are all as cold here as you in Lancashire: I have put on my thickest winter-waistcoat, straps to my trowsers, and a dressing-gown: “sultriness” very moderate indeed. Buller had been dining at Lansdown House;2 think of the Party: The Duff Gordon, the Kay Shuttleworths, Macready,3 and Buller;—was that worth an “indigestion”? Poor Lady Lansdown, I was really sorry to hear, remembering her face as you too do,—is understood to be dying! She dislikes the Duff Gordons &c deeply; but has to sit there with a smiling face and entreat them to dine!— I walked home again very weary thro' the moist winds.

Yesterday, after “Copy” &c settled, I had a gallop equal to Gilpins;4 black Duncan in a very “fresh” state, nothing loath;—and I took it out of him; round by Acton, Kew Bridge &c,5 and home, really somewhat exhilarated and cleared. Darley in the Evening; poor Darley the wretchedest of men;—I at least made him walk with me while he stuttered. Proofsheet at my return; new Proof today. I am in frightful hurry. Dinner at 4¼; horse at 5: four has struck while I was on the second page of this. My poor Goody! But thou art very good, really; satisfied with the day of small things!6— For certain, I am not going near Fryston at present: I answered Richd7 that both of us would come some time or other. I also think Seaforth impossible, or scarcely at all likely to be possible:—but the rubbish-heap (God be thanked, the last of them now) lies before me, not to be accurately measured; I must do that; and then am ready for anything. Nothing yet decided, but that it is to be done, and that a visit to Annandale is to follow it. Be well, my dear Goody; take care of thyself, and of thy poor head; and come home to me stronger. Never mind the “Solution”:8 good Heavens I tell thee there is, was, will be, none other: “Allah akbar, God is great!” say that, and it is solved!

Today is mutton chop; the last four days have been a Hen. Tell me Paulet's first name.9 “Dinner Sir!”— God bless thee, my dear.

T. C.