candlestick

October 1856-July 1857


The Collected Letters, Volume 32


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 24 July 1857; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18570724-TC-JWC-01; CL 32: 197-198


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

Chelsea, 24 july (Friday 4½ p.m.), 1857—

Here is the Letter, as I anticipated,—and at length too (almost by the stronger hand,—for Twisleton, and thro’ him Tom Wilson1 had got in upon me at the wrong moment), I have managed to get the Letter read— Thanks, thanks!— I am right glad to hear you are still keeping better so far; I reckon that degree may be safer than a too high and perfect one.

My poor Dear, you must not fret yourself abt not getting well all at once; that is clearly not possible on any terms. Above all things, do not grudge about the trouble you have taken, the expense, me &c &c. As to “the expense,” set it down frankly as zero (for such it actually is);—and as to all the rest set it down as strictly necessary and reasonable; and do not plague your poor little heart one other minute about it. If your trouble bring the least increase of health, can trouble be better bestowed? As for me, I hope to be found extant here, and even with a bit of work done,—and if you come back to me a little better, will not that make me forget everything?— The truth is, I do “pretty well, considering.” All I complain of is “gloom” &c &c; and I do not know how I shd get well rid of that at present, even if I had you, to throw some portion of it upon! Be quiet, be quiet; and take the best out of what is going. My Task is not quite done yet;—Twisleton (just for Malvern)2 got in as I told you;—I shall have to finish it, after tea. Tea is the gloomiest of all my meals; no Goody there,—I am thankful even to Nero for reminding me of you!— I have had my dinner; Horse expected every minute (comes precisely at 5): Tom Wilson & Twisleton so detained me (till I put away Tom): but I wd not let the week close witht a word. At “Craigenvilla,” Tuesday, Mornington3 Edinr, I hope to hit you again. Get any Country Schoolmaster to cut you a few goose pens;—he can do it better than I: or shall I try to send you some more?— — “6 sheets” (almost 100 pages!)4 are now, as it were, off my hands: thank God! Blessings on my poor Goody

T. Carlyle