The Collected Letters, Volume 2


TC TO JANE BAILLIE WELSH; 18 October 1822; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18221018-TC-JBW-01; CL 2:177-178.


3. Moray-street, Friday [18 October 1822].

My dear Friend,

I should not have disobeyed your command about not writing again till I heard from you, had it not been that the Bullers are greatly in want of O'Meara,—which accordingly I have promised to give them to-morrow. If you want to examine the Book farther, tell me, and I will send you another copy—

I thank you a thousand times for your highland letter. It is the most elegant, lively, kind, mischieveous little thing I ever read. I do not believe there are three men in Edinr that have such a correspondent as I have. Heaven grant I may long be so happy!

You are not to write to-morrow unless perfectly at leisure. That were to defraud me of a pleasure which I have been calculating on for the last three weeks; and which I am as loth as ever to forego. What are the merits of your new friend?1—that the old may try to rival him—or if that be hopeless at least to love him. Tell me also what your plans are for the winter—what you wish to study or to write: above all, tell me how in some shape or other I may be of service to you. Do not neglect to send me your verses: but for your concurrence I am almost ready to abandon that enterprise forever. Witness those truly Della-cruscan lines from the “German of Goethe.”2

There is a new Periodical Work coming out;3 in which it is said Byron is to take a large share. It will be the cleverest performance extant in that case. I will send it to you whenever it arrives.

Excuse this feeblest and stupidest and most hurried of Notes. I am going to submit to you all my views and projects, the very first day I may. Believe me to be at all times

Most affectionately Your's /

Thomas Carlyle—

In speaking of O'Meara, I calculated on your being returned to Haddington; which perhaps I had no right to-do. If the Book do not come tomorrow, I shall infer that I have been wrong; and next day I may possibly extend my ride a few miles eastward, and bring the “voice” home in my hand.

If [I] fear you will not care about Milman's poems. I send them only by way of vehicle: and it is no matter when they be returned.