July-December 1855

The Collected Letters, Volume 30


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 6 September 1855; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18550906-TC-JWC-01; CL 30: 58-59


Addiscombe Farm, 6 Septr, 1855—

Here is the sorry produce of this morning's post to me. You do not write a word: why not have charity to send me one or two, in my hermithood here! I only know by negatives that you got home at all.— Will you go to the Library,1 however; and consult Jones or Donne himself, as to what I am to do about those Books he sends for? It is very pleasant to me to see Mr Donne, like a careful shepherd, gently but steadily hounding in his sheep into a mass in that way: but some of these Books (Büsching2 for example, and Voltaire's Letters, not very likely to be in actual demand) are in a high degree useful to me for a time. Of course if others want them they must be returned: I can shift still, even when they are. But see a little what can be done. My hand going like a shuttle; and cannot write at all with these sad materials! I have sat all morning, hunting thro' the 65 volumes of Voltaire for some small objects,—nearly without effect too,—and my nerves are much out. I have done with that part of my job; luckily enough, for even my eyes were getting cloudy.

The Commissariat affairs go on quite well here; mutton good enough, well enough dressed, and twice as much in quantity as I need: pudding too, yesterday, when it was little wanted. I walk a good deal; I ride punctually,—last two rides seemed to intimate that my little Beast wd like a rest again, which he shall have:—I am of course solitary as owl in desart,3 and the thoughts that keep me company are not of a laughing character at all! But it is good to be honestly sad now and then, and let one's evil genius say the worst he can to one.— — I think you ought to drop in upon me, thro' the window again, about Saturday Evg, and have a country sunday, Nero and we? I shall want a flannel shirt for Sunday, item Nightshirt for Thursday next; and I have nothing else to demand me back. Better I should do my bit of Latrappism in a lump, perhaps, and not resume at all till it is over? Pity the poor white man;4—as I do the poor white woman, in a way she wd not dislike if she knew it (whh she does not). God bless thee ever, dear little Jeannie

T. C