The Collected Letters, Volume 27


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE ; 19 December 1852; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18521219-TC-MAC-01; CL 27: 368-369


Chelsea, 19 decr 1852—

My dear good Mother,

I intended to write you a much longer Letter; but, alas, my time is completely up; and you must, as in so many other case, take the will for the deed. This poor word will be better than none at all.

I have got now upon a little bit of work, suitable to my confused condition and mood,—a kind of Translation relating to Frederic, which I can work at steadily in any humour; and for the last week I am busy indeed! It will last me about another 8 days or more, and by that time, I shall perhaps see better ahead a little. Who knows? At any rate this thing needed to be done; and the doing of it is a noticeable contentment to me.

We have now again a prospect of getting done with this endless wet weather! Such weather was never seen in these parts before; nothing but mud, dark skies and soaking rain or drizzle. I shall be right glad when it ends; for it seems my back, withal, won't get properly well till the skies clear: it is now nothing to speak of, nor indeed ever was, and, the worst form of it only lasted 3 days; but the dirty feeling that lodges in the part (and indeed comes out of the liver, as I perceive) shall be very welcome to go, and will do it, I calculate, so soon as the weather mends. Jane is pretty well for her; and goes out almost daily (in some fair blink) in spite of the weather.

Our scandalous Protection Ministry, we rejoice to know, is gone again! It was turned out on Friday (or rather Thursday night); and the Whigs are now trying to form a “Coalition” &c: tho' nothing is settled yet.1 Whatever they form, it will hardly be so ugly as that vile Jew swindler was;—“lineal descendant of the Impenitent Thief,” as O'Connel2 once called him!— About all that, however, I really care but little; we stay very solitary here, and try to mind our own work.

From the Doctor we have heard nothing since Jamie saw him, when he wrote us a Note about you. Isabella's Note came also; for which our kind thanks. We long much to hear of you dear Mother; and are continually sensible of our mercy in your respect. Oh take care of yourself; I intreat them all to take care of you! I shall get another Note before long? I will myself write one before long.— The very daylight is now leaving me, and I must s[ay] Adieu. Perhaps you won't get this tomorrow after all? Never mind, never mind! my thoughts will be with you whether or not!—Blessings on you all. T. Carlyle