August 1857-June 1858

The Collected Letters, Volume 33


TC TO JWC ; 7 August 1857; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18570807-TC-JWC-01; CL 33: 10-11


Chelsea (friday nr 4 p. m) 6 or 7 Augt, 1857–

Thanks for my poor Jeannie's kind little remembrance; and may I get a better bulletin tomorrow. You will get mine at last today. It is a most unhandy place for posts; best part of a day lost at each end of it,—some 38 hours or so lost on the whole journey. You will be above a day nearer me in Edinbg.

The inclosed, from Miss Wilson1 I perceive, came this morning: probably not momentous. Miss Wn called the day before yesterday,—to my surprise (on seeing her card), for I thot she had been in Italy!2— The Baden Powells3 called lately, too, in full state; and had left a card, addressed to you, inviting us to dinner of very short notice. Seeing it a card, I opened; ansd in the due civilly negative manner. I am absolutely alone; never was lonelier all my days;—and if I cd get on with my dismal task, shd not mind; but that too I cannot. The very “Beauty,” I believe, is gone with his Sister to the Sea-side.4 Yesterday on the street I met Chorley; gone to a wretched yellow wreck,—dysenteries, colics &c,—poor soul I was really sorry to see him, tho' his tempers are not lovely to me. We have had a cooling deluge of rain; the “Lammas flood”5 I suppose it will be: thanks Heaven for it. And in yr wanderings, I think you may now fancy the back of the Heat as broken;—and that in yr own shop at Chelsea here the lodging will not be so intolerable henceforth on that score.

Anne has had “a cold” since the night I was at Addiscombe;—“dreadfully ill, Sir!” on Monday morning when I returned. I said nothing of it last time,—not thinking it of much depth at any time;—but now it is as good as over: so there it is for you; you know her intense sympathy for herself, and the figure of such things with her! The chief sufferer was Nero for two nights: I let her go to bed at 8 p.m., and poor Nero got no evening walk; whh much grieved him. However, all is now right again.

Tait is painting away; has it “all to tone yet,” —every spot of the carpet to pourtray6 first: I suppose he will end before the “hundred years” are out; but one's imaginn feels as if not.7 No matter; he does no ill, rather the contrary.

— — At the bottom of last page “Beauty” came in,—not going to the sea-side till tomorrow; brings me a big map &c;—he is paddling about the room (garret today, after rain) while I write. Adieu my one little Friendie, Dear Goody mine:—and take care of yourself! Yours T. Carlyle

(Did I say 4d stamp for the Fraser? It is 2d rather!)