The Collected Letters, Volume 28


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 28 March 1853; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18530328-TC-JWC-01; CL 28: 91-92


The Grange, 28 March / 1853—

Thanks, Dearest; I got your nice little Letter this morning, the first thing, and read it in bed: I will have tonight one of the three,—alas, I have need enough of that or something that will be medicinal to a mind diseased!1— There was a second smallest Note from John; reporting from Isabella that my poor old Mother was in good order in spite of the weather; which certainly is a singular blessing to me, if I reflect upon it, as here in the solitary woodpaths, and also there on the crowded streets, I often enough do. My poor old Mother!—

Saffi must in fact have been a very glad phenomenon to you; poor Saffi, after all. I will especially take care to be silent about that chap[t]er2 of things while in this circle of persons and ideas.

Our grand Italians are not yet come,3 but expected this evening (within few minutes, I shd fancy now, for it is past 5, and I have had my ride); but yesterday the Bear, Poodle, Venables, Miss Farrar all came within short space of one another, and this forenoon the German Professor (to my regret in some measure) went away. As usual, utter idleness is the history of our career here. Venables is very stiff-tied in the neck region again, and rather full of dogmatic convictions and prepossessions. He went with me riding today however; and has been better company. Miss Farrar can walk;4 with a slight halt she skips about quite nimbly; today I had to escort all about the fruit garden &c and to and from, “seeking Farthing.” Her thanks to you (she declares) are beyond expressing in words or arithmetic, so kind were you to her. At lunch (before going out to ride), I would have taken an orange; but Lady An had “got a letter” from you to prohibit irregular eating: is that so? For nobody can guess in these nonsenses, and “streams of jokes,” as Bölte defines the staple of modish talk to be, Ach Gott!— — We saw Trench, emerging from a lane, and spoke to him,—V. galloping up to do it, I obliged to follow: “Buller, I'll poke your eye out!”5— — Adieu, Dear Jeannie mine; next Note shall be more deliberate.

Yours ever affectionate

T. Carlyle