TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 25 July 1853; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18530725-TC-JWC-01; CL 28: 219-220
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Chelsea, 25 july, 1853—
Poor little soul, you are in a bad way, with those false doses of morphine, with those sad etceteras. I am quite grieved to think of such sleeplessness and botheration! There will be nothing for it, but come home to me, come home. Your room shall be as clean as a new penny; air in abundance, without noise of any kind till 9 a.m. (and this morning, I refused all cocks till almost 10,—having smoked between six and 7): furthermore the weather is temperate and pleasant;—and the “Town is getting empty, ” and quiet Autumn just at hand. Lastly, Edwardes “the little Darling”1 has trimmed up all the garden for you; I let him in, this morning, myself, the little Darling, and he is just finishing, and all is very nice indeed. Come, come and see,—at once, if you are not sleeping; but surely, I hope, last night has been a little better; surely I shall hear a little better news tomorrow, and from your own hand, at 11 o'clock? If you are getting well, if you find it useful, of course stay for a day or two; but I think you won't.
Yesterday I passed profitably, writing, in perfect solitude; went out by the Kensington lanes at half past four, met Fk Elliot;2 walked with him in the Park till Fergus-time; was punctually at Fergusdom by six (in grey trowsers, yet found a party)—and greatly daring, dined! On the whole it was not so bad at all: a rational Scotch advocate of my own years, called Innes,—talked history &c:3 am wonderfully well today, considering; nay am to dine, a second time, it wd appear, with Brookfield and a “Miss Campbell” (a very sublime young Scotch-woman), only Mrs B. & Doyle besides! Read the Letter B's flunkey was sitting with, this morning when I came down.4 He was at the Ashburton Asiatic Soiree (which was not very agitating) on Saturday night; there asked, there entreated;—hang it, I wish I had said, determinedly No; but alas, I did n't! You were my excuse; but you also were to come. In sheer despair, I5 promised to come unless I shd refuse by note before 4 p.m.;—and in the interim here has been my little soundless Builder again, a most ingenious swift little fellow; and we are to decide clearly, when you come. I tremble at more building; but this room really were a conquest.— And, in short, it is now towards 5; and there is nothing for me but Brookfield! Well well, it will not be to do when you come.
I have a long letter from Neuberg this morng; Würzburg (his Mother's); very poorly with all sorts of ailments; printing the German Book; not to be here for a two months yet. Weber is never yet paid for the Bath-House Prints:6 so the Letter must go that way first,—tho' the theory is, they were to go to Addiscombe as yesterday, and are perhaps there just now.—— Adieu, Dearest; sleep, O sleep; and then come to me! Five o'clock strikes. Haste, haste!— T. C.
(Did you get the Letter at Scotsbrig? Thanks, thanks, for Sophie's bright news from that quarter;—and all manner of compliments &c to the said Sophie, and A.7 and Uncle, one and all)