October 1845-July 1846

The Collected Letters, Volume 20


JWC TO JEANNIE WELSH ; 28 December 1845; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18451228-JWC-JW-01; CL 20: 81-82


5 Cheyne Row / Sunday evening [28 December 1845]

Dearest Babbie

Your letter and the beautiful purse were a great Godsend to me on the Christmas morning—it was my only letter—and away there—amongst entirely new people and new things I felt dreary to death on that day, so unlike any Christmas day that I had ever lived before; and your letter was a link between past and present that I could have ill dispensed with. On Friday I was on the road—yesterday I rushed off immediately after breakfast, to see Mrs Paulet meaning to go be home in time to write you a word by yesterdays post—but I found on reaching Hanover Street that Mrs Paulet had set off exactly at the same moment for Chelsea—so I had to await her return and when I got home finally at three I was blind with headach and had to spend the rest of the day in bed— Today I have still been in a bad way with my head—up however and not a moment free from company till now betwixt dinner and tea that Carlyle has carried off John to smoke— Mrs Paulet came after breakfast in a cab thro' the rain—then Mr Fleming then Plattnauer mad again—and then old Sterling far from sane.1 They went one after another Plattnauer last—at dinner time—when John arrived to eat the Welshman's2 mutton And so me voila in a very pounded condition indeed—but I will try this early post they are always telling me off by which letters put in the post office on Sunday night reach Liverpool on Monday night—tell me if it be a fact— I will write by and by God willing at more leisure than I have been able to command these many weeks meanwhile my conscience is not easy till I have written a simple acknowledgement of your kind remembrance

Carlyle is as cross as the Devil since we came back because—they already want a new Edition of his cromwell—the whole twelve hundred being almost sold off!! An odd thing to be cross about one would say—in as much as a new edition will bring him in some three hundred pounds—but he abhors the trouble of new correcting of proofs— There is no satisfying of that man—bless you love to all / your own / J C