EARLY LETTERS 
 
 JANE WELSH CARLYLE
 
 !5n'5n!5n!5nltoi!5ni5ni5nSiSi^§i^iSiSi§ikmSili§i^^ 
 
 FACSIMILK OF SILHOUETTE TORTRAIT OF JANE WELSH 
 
 FORMKRLY IN THIC POSSESSION OF ELIZA STODART. 
 
 [Froiithpiccc.
 
 EARLY LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 JANE WELSH CARLYLE 
 
 TOGETHER UTTH A FEW OF LATER YEARS 
 
 AND SOME OF 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE 
 
 %\\ l^itljcrlo tinpublisljcir 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 DAVID G. RITCHIE, M.A. 
 
 Felloxv a?id Tutor of Jesus College, Oxford 
 
 ILontJon 
 
 SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO. 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 '^
 
 BUTLEB & TANNEB, 
 
 THE SELWOOD PRINTING -WORKS, 
 
 FEOUE, AND LONDON.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 It was in the beginning of last October that I first 
 saw any of the following letters. Most of them are 
 addressed to Eliza Stodart, my great-aunt. I knew 
 of the existence of letters from Mrs. Carlyle to her, 
 but until they came into the hands of my mother and 
 myself I could not know that it would seem a duty to 
 English literature to make them public. The desire 
 to do so might have been overbalanced by other con- 
 siderations, had not the private life of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Carlyle been already so much exposed to the general 
 gaze ; but since the case has, so to speak, come before 
 the court (whether rightly or wrongly I need not dis- 
 cuss), it is only fair that important evidence should 
 not be withheld. It will be noticed that nearly four- 
 fifths of these letters belong to the years before 1834, 
 the date at which the letters published by Mr. Froude 
 in Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle begin : 
 so that here, for the first time, may be read an account, 
 brief and yet abounding in detail, of the earlier years 
 of Jane "Welsh, from her father's death till her mar- 
 riage, and of the life at Craigenputtoch, as seen from 
 her own point of view and described in her own words. 
 I have, indeed, the less hesitation in publishing these 
 letters, because of the pleasing light in which, on the 
 whole, they show both Carlyle and his wife ; and, in 
 saying this, I would call attention to the fact, that all 
 the letters to Eliza Stodart are printed without omis- 
 sions. Any omission, even of what might be thought 
 
 h
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 trivialities, would have little justification on purely 
 literary grounds, and would certainly have diminished 
 the value of the letters as materials for the proper 
 estimation of the intellect and character of this sin- 
 gularly brilliant woman. It has indeed been thought 
 unnecessary to give in full some names of persons, who 
 have not already been brought before the world in 
 Carlyle's Reminisceiices and in the other Carlyle litera- 
 ture, at least where such names could be suppressed or 
 concealed without loss and without risk of ambiguity. 
 Again, it would only have irritated the reader to repro- 
 duce all the oddities of Jane AVelsh's spelling and 
 punctuation.^ The spelling has been retained where 
 there could be the slightest uncertainty as to the per- 
 sons and places meant. Her frequent underlinings 
 have been carefully followed ; and in many instances 
 her rather wavering use of capitals (which she some- 
 times, apparently, employs for emphasis) — though in 
 this matter it is difficult to find any perfectly satis- 
 factory principle. In the case of the twelve letters of 
 Carlyle, which came into my hands along with those 
 of his wife, every detail has been reproduced as 
 exactly as possible. 
 
 Very few of Jane Welsh's letters are dated, and most 
 
 ' " Persue," " dimest," " seperation," " comit," " colera," 
 "gohst," "staid" (for "stayed"), "died" (for "dyed"), 
 " earings," " abomminations," may serve as specimens, and as 
 consolation for those whose souls are vexed by English ortho- 
 graphy. The spelling of proper names is frequently even more 
 eccentric; e.g. " Carslile," " Pailej^," " Lacedbmnians," " Walen- 
 stein." I call attention to such matters, because they prove the 
 rapidity and carelessness with which the most brilliant letters 
 were dashed off.
 
 Preface. vii 
 
 of the earlier ones are without postmarks. Hence 
 the arrangement has been, to a great extent, matter 
 of conjecture, and not always very easy, I am fairly 
 satisfied with the results reached. The only cases in 
 which I still feel any uncertainty are those of Letters 
 III., v., IX., XXIX., LII. But this element of 
 uncertainty is so slight, that the letters as arranged 
 may be safely taken to represent the mental history 
 of the writer. As merely the editor, I think that my 
 duty ends with putting the material in a convenient 
 shape before the reader, and that it is better that I 
 should say nothing here in the somewhat painful con- 
 troversy that has raged round the characters of Carlyle 
 and his wife. 
 
 "What was the cousinship between Jane Welsh and 
 her correspondent Eliza Stodart I do not know, nor 
 in what way their youthful friendship began. Eliza 
 Stodart lived mostly at 22 Greorge Square, Edinburgh, 
 with her maternal uncle, Mr. John Bradfute,- known 
 to his young relatives as " Bradie." Mr. Bradfute 
 belonged to the firm of Bell & Bradfute, booksellers. 
 
 2 " Mrs. Bradfute," in a passage quoted from Carlyle by Mr. 
 Froude {Thomas Carlyle^ A. i., p. 129) must be a misreading. 
 Mr. Bradfute was unmarried, and Eliza Stodart kept house for 
 him. In a letter of 1833, during the Edinburgh visit, Carlyle 
 writes to his brother John, " I am to go and dine witli old uncle 
 Bradfute (at a precise moment) " : on which passage Prof. Nor- 
 ton's note {Letters [Second Series], ii., p. 72) is as follows: "A 
 relation of Mrs. Carlyle, a partner in the firm of Bell & Brad- 
 fute," etc. There viay have been a relationship with Jane Welsh ; 
 but I do not think Carlyle's words necessarily imply that. In 
 writing to Eliza Stodart, Jane Welsh always calls him " Your 
 Uncle."
 
 viii Preface. 
 
 Bank Street, Edinburgh. The business of the firm 
 "was, in Mr. Bradfute's old age, mostly carried on by- 
 Mr. Sam Aitken, frequently mentioned in these letters. 
 He was a cousin (more or less) of the Rev. David 
 Aitken, who married Eliza Stodart in 1836, So far 
 as I know, he was not related to the Dumfriesshire 
 Aitkens, with whom the Carlyles were and are con- 
 nected. My grandmother, the " Maggie " (and after- 
 wards the " Mrs. John," i.e. Mrs. John Dudgeon) of 
 these letters, who was a sister of Eliza Stodart, but 
 considerably younger, told my mother that Jane 
 Welsh " used to go to 22 George Square on Saturdays 
 from school, and took her gloves and stockings to be 
 mended." But the school time in Edinburgh is a 
 doubtful feature in this tradition, though the " gloves 
 and stockings" suggest some residence of a not home- 
 like kind. There is no allusion to any Edinburgh 
 school in these letters, nor in anything already pub- 
 lished about Jane Welsh. And the opinion among 
 some Haddington correspondents, who have kindly 
 answered questions of mine, is that she never was at 
 any school except at Haddington. She was taught at 
 the Grammar School, partly along with the boys, by 
 Edward Irving and his successor, the Rev. James 
 Brown. Carlyle in his Reminiscences tells of her being 
 for a short time at a boarding school, but in Hadding- 
 ton itself. " Once," he says, " I cannot say in what 
 year, nor for how many months, — but perhaps about 
 six or eight, her age perhaps eight or nine, — her 
 mother thinking it good, she was sent away to another 
 House of the Town, to hoard with some kind of Ex- 
 Governess Person, who had married some Ex-Military 
 ditto, and professed to be able to educate youug ladies
 
 Preface, ix 
 
 and form their manners (' better' thought the mother, 
 ' than with nothing but men as here at home ! ') — and 
 in this place, with a Miss Something, a friend and 
 playmate of like age, she was fixed down, for a good 
 few months, and suffered, she and the companion 
 manifold disgust, even hardships, even want of proper 
 food ; wholly without complaining (too proud and 
 loyal for that) ; till it was by some accident found out, 
 and instantly put an end to."^ I have no reason to 
 think that Eliza Stodart was the companion in this 
 unhappy experience. If Carlyle is right in placing 
 this "House" in Haddington, this teacher of "young 
 ladies " cannot be the Mrs. Seton referred to in Letter 
 III., p. 9. Perhaps Jane Welsh may have spent some 
 time in Edinburgh, partly amusing herself,* but partly 
 acquiring " accomplishments," such as music and draw- 
 ing, which would fall outside the usual course of the 
 Haddington Grammar School. 
 
 But this is mere conjecture. From these letters 
 themselves it can only be inferred that there was some 
 claim of kinship and the custom of mutual visits 
 as the basis of an intimate friendship, which lasted 
 through many years, though in later life it suffered 
 diminution, as, alas ! too easily happens, through long 
 separation, long silence, and divergence of interests. 
 The few references to " Bess Stodart " in Letters and 
 Memorials^ display (to say the least) no strong feeling 
 of affection ; but the letter written by Mrs. Carlyle 
 
 ^ lieniiniscences, ed. Norton, i., p. 74. The passage is omitted 
 in Mr. Froude's edition. 
 
 •* " I liked Edinburgh last time as well as I did at sixteen (you 
 know how well that was)." — Letter XXIV., p. 149. 
 
 » i., p. 103 ; ii., pp. 47, 357 ; iii., p. 313.
 
 X Preface. 
 
 (numbered LY. in this book) in the month before her 
 death proves that the old days were not forgotten. 
 
 There may have been some other letters to Eliza 
 Stodart besides those preserved (see note at beginning 
 to Letter XL VI.) ; but I think it is clear from the 
 letters themselves that hardly anything can have been 
 destroyed. 
 
 The letters here numbered LI. and LII. I am 
 allowed to use by the kindness of Mr. R. Scot Skirving, 
 of Edinburgh, about whom and to whom they were 
 written. Letter LI. has only been preserved in a copy, 
 the original apparently being lost. Of all the other 
 letters I have had the originals before me. For Lettei 
 LIV., which contains an interesting reminiscence of 
 childhood, I have to thank Mrs. Pott, of Knowe- 
 south in Teviotdale, to whom it was addressed. She 
 is a cousin of Mrs. Carlyle, and was then Mrs. Pringle, 
 and living in Dumfriesshire. The earlier part of this 
 letter, — condolences on the death of a relative,— I have 
 omitted, solely because it would have required explana- 
 tions about persons not otherwise mentioned in this 
 volume. This is the only case in which I have left 
 out any part of a letter. 
 
 The silhouette which is reproduced as the frontispiece 
 belongs to a set of three in my mother's possession, 
 about which there is an unwavering tradition that one 
 of them is a portrait of Jane Welsh. They were sub- 
 mitted to the judgment of several experts, who decided 
 without hesitation in favour of this one, by comparing 
 them with a profile photograph of Mrs. Carlyle, and 
 with the engraving of the early portrait which forms 
 the frontispiece of the second volume of Mr. Froude's
 
 Preface. xi 
 
 Life of Carhjle and of the second volume of Professor 
 Norton's Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle. 
 
 Tlie notes liave been intended, in the first place, to 
 enable those who are familiar with the already consi- 
 derable mass of Carlyle correspondence and biography 
 to fit this new material into its proper position, and, in 
 the second place, to throw light upon the numerous 
 literary and other allusions in the letters. In referring 
 to Mr. Froude's Life of Carlyle^ I have, for the sake of 
 brevity, described the History of the First Forty Years 
 as A., and the History of his Life in London as B. In 
 referring to the Reminiscences^ I have given the pages 
 in the editions both of Mr. Froude and of Professor 
 Norton ; where this is not done, it is because the 
 passage is not to be found in Mr. Froude's edition. I 
 have called the two volumes of Carlyle's Letters^ lately 
 published by Professor Norton, " Second Series," to 
 distinguish them from the Early Letters. Some mat- 
 ters I have been unable to explain. Many, who could 
 easily have solved my difficulties, have in recent years 
 passed into silence. Doubtless, by using much more 
 time, and by troubling many more persons, I could 
 have made the commentary more complete ; but there 
 are, perhaps, some readers who will even be grateful 
 to me that the notes are not more numerous : and I, 
 in turn, shall be grateful to any one who will point 
 out errors or clear up obscurities. 
 
 I have to thank many kind correspondents in Scot- 
 land, who answered queries contained in two letters 
 which I sent to the Editor of the ScotsmanJ^ I am also 
 
 ^ Note 2 on Letter XI. (p. 80) and Note 3 on Letter XLIV. 
 (p. 264) are entirely due to answers received to these letters.
 
 xii Preface. 
 
 indebted to some of my friends for help and suggestion 
 on special points ; amongst others, to Professor W. P. 
 Ker and Mr. C. H. Firth. I have had the great advan- 
 tage of consulting Dr. J. A. H. Murray with regard to 
 man}'- of the interesting Scotticisms which Mrs. Carlyle 
 uses. Some of my obligations to others who have given 
 me valuable assistance are acknowledged in the notes 
 concerned. Above all, I owe a debt of gratitude and 
 thanks to Dr. Gr. Birkbeck Hill, who has read through 
 all my proofs, supplied me with a clue to many of the 
 literary allusions, and generously given me throughout 
 the benefit of his experience as an editor and of his 
 knowledge of English literature. 
 
 I have also to thank Mr. Froude for kindly consent- 
 ing, as the executor of Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle, to the 
 publication of these letters ; and my sister-in-law. Miss 
 Macdonell, for carefully transcribing them for the 
 printer under my direction. 
 
 DAVID G. RITCHIE. 
 
 Oxford, . 
 
 May Wth, 1889.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 LBTTJiR PAGE 
 
 I. [Autumn. 1819.] From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. Her father's 
 recent death. — At church with her 
 mother ....... 1 
 
 n. [Autumn, 1819.] From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. The loss of her 
 father. — His grave in the ruins . . -1 
 
 III. [Early in 1820?] From Haddington. Jane 
 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. Teaching her 
 aunt and two other pupils. — The memory 
 
 of her father. — Visitors, Benjamin B 
 
 and others ...•••• ^ 
 
 IV. Oct. 14, 1820. From Liverpool. Jane Welsh 
 
 to Eliza Stodart. The journey to Liver- 
 pool.— Her uncle Eobert.— The uncle and 
 aunt at Liverpool. — Remarks on Liver- 
 pool and Carlisle 1^ 
 
 V. March 8 [1821?]. From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. Haddington is 
 very dull, but full of childhood's memo- 
 ries. — A quondam lover's visit. — Dr. 
 Pyfle.— A hubbub in church.— On letter- 
 writing.— A P.S. on marmalade and other 
 
 VI. [1821 or 1822.] From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. Impressions of 
 La Nouvelle He lolse.—^V anted a " Wol- 
 mar " or a " St. Preux."— " I will write a 
 novel."— Mr. Buchanan.— Thomas Carlyle 
 considered as a St. Preux.— George Eennie 29 
 VII. [Early in 1822.] From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. La Nouvelle 
 i/eZor.se.— George Rennie's last visit. — 
 Reading German with Mr. Carlyle.— A 
 story promised. — A postscript . . . B7 
 VIII. Mar. 3 [1822]. From Haddington. Jane Welsh 
 to Eliza Stodart. The story of a literary 
 proposal.— Stormy weather. — Thoughts 
 of George Rennie.— Shopping commis- 
 sions.— News of Irving and Carlyle . .'11
 
 xiv Contents. 
 
 LETTER PA.GB 
 
 IX. July 22 [1822 or 23?]. From Templaiid. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. A dull time in 
 Dumfriesshire. — Boreland in wet weather. 
 
 — Sees Benjamin B , but — on the 
 
 wrong side of the river. — Irving's tri- 
 umph in London 60 
 
 X. [Jan., 1823.] From Haddington. Jane Welsh 
 to Eliza Stodart. Unwelcome Visitors. 
 — Shandy's reception of the town dog. — 
 Changed opinion of her uncle. — A visit 
 to Edinburgh in prospect^i . — The binding 
 of Cicero. — A plagiarist of Toin Moore . 67 
 XI. March, 1823. From Haddington. Jane Welsh 
 to Eliza Stodart. A foolish but graceful 
 admirer. — Dulness tempered by Carlyle's 
 letters. — A genius found, and — found 
 out. — An Irish packman. — Looking for- 
 ward to a visit to Edinburgh. — George 
 Eennie . . .... 76 
 
 Xn. April 18 [1824?]. From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. The Miss Welsh. 
 — Thomas Carlyle has left Moray Street 
 for the country. — Mother ill. — The man 
 of medicine. — George Hennie. — " Get me 
 a ' jemmv ' hat " 88 
 
 XIII. Sept. 27, 1824. From Templand. Jane Welsh 
 
 to Eliza Stodart. James Baillie has all 
 good qualities except geniiis. — Disillu- 
 sioned about Benjamin B . — A plea- 
 sant time in the country. — The gossip of 
 a " man from Edinbux'gh " ... 90 
 
 XIV. Jan. 18 [1825?]. From Haddington. Jane 
 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. A visit from 
 
 Dugald G . — Letter from James Baillie 
 
 about his affairs, and from Carljde, with 
 autographs of Goethe and Byron. — A 
 cake from Templand. — Music wanted . 98 
 XV. April 11, 1825. From Haddington. Jane 
 Welsh to Eliza Stodart. A visit from 
 
 Benjamin B . — Mr. Carljde and the 
 
 tea-kettle. — Music wanted . . . 106 
 
 XVI. Aug. 13, 1825. From Templand. Jane Welsh 
 to Eliza Stodart. Alternately ill and at 
 parties. — James Baillie's affairs. — Going 
 
 to Annandale 112 
 
 XVII. Sept., 1826. From Templand. Jane Welsh 
 to Eliza Stodart. Marriage and marriage 
 presents 116.
 
 Contents. xv 
 
 "TTFE 
 
 XVIII. Feb. 17, 1827. From 21 Comely Bank, Edin- 
 burgli. Thomas Carlyle to David Aitken. 
 Enclosint; a Testimonial .... 120 
 
 XIX. June 29 [1827]. From 21 Comely Bank, Edin- 
 burgh. Thomas Carlyle to David Aitken. 
 A parcel from Goethe . . . . 124 
 
 XX. July, 1828. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Commissions. 
 — Life at Craigenputtoch . . . .127 
 
 XXI. [Oct., 1828.] From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Sending money 
 
 bv Mrs. Jeffrey 133 
 
 XXII. Nov. 21, 1828. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Alone in the 
 moors. — Feeding poultry, but not farm- 
 ing. — A^isitors in the autumn. — Learning 
 Spanish. — Perhaps coming to Edinburgh. 
 — Carlyle's sister ill . . . . . 135 
 
 XXIII. Dec, 1828. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Prelude to 
 commissions. — A connoisseur in paper. 
 — A brown coffee-pot to replace the 
 broken one. — About packing . . . 142 
 
 XXIV. Nov. 11, 1829. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Back from 
 Edinburgh to the desert. — Happy in both. 
 — Visit of George Moir. — Portrait of Mr. 
 
 Donaldson 143 
 
 XXV. Dec. 21, 1829. From Craigenputtoch. Thomas 
 Carlyle to David Aitken. Projected 
 History of German Literature. — Borrow- 
 ing books. — Winter at Craigenputtoch. — 
 Dr. Carlyle. — Sir W. Hamilton. — Dr. 
 Brewster ....... 154 
 
 XXVI. Jan. 26, 1830. From Craigenputtoch. Thomas 
 Carlyle to David, Aitken. Books con- 
 nected with History of German Litera- 
 ture. — " Come and see Craigenputtoch in 
 summer ".....,. IGl 
 
 XXVIL Feb. 5 [1830]. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Death of a pig 
 and other disaster's. — A carrier's mistake. 
 — Craigenputtoch in snow . . . 168 
 
 XXVIIL [Dec, 18.30, or Jan., 1831 ?] From Craigen- 
 puttoch. Mrs. Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. 
 Eecovering from a sore throat. — "Winter 
 solitude ....... 173 
 
 XXIX. Jan. 16 [1831?]. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs.
 
 xvi Contents. 
 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. The late poli- 
 tical changes. — Digression on a rare 
 moth. — An Irish packman's compliment. 
 — Old Esther of Carstamin . . . 177 
 XXX. April, 1831. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. A MS. for 
 Cochrane. — A spring morning. — A flighty 
 goose and a steadfast turkey. — A visitor 
 from Haddington. — A tale of a nettle. 
 P.S. From. Thoma.'i Carlyle to Mr. Brad- 
 fute. On cigai'S. — An invitation seconded 
 
 by Mrs. Carlyle 185 
 
 XXXI. June 28, 1831. From Craigenputtoch. Thoma.^ 
 Carlyle to Sam. Aitken. About Mr. David 
 Aitken's candidature for a Church History 
 chair. — Probablv going to London . . 193 
 XXXII, Oct., 1832. From Craigenputtoch. 3Trs. Car- 
 lyle to Eliza Stodart. — On the duty of 
 keeping up a correspondence. — "The 
 remains of a fine woman." — Wanted a 
 house in Edinburgh for the winter. — 
 Sober enough now. — Cholera in Dumfries 197 
 
 XXXIII. [Oct. or Nov., 1832.] From Craigenputtoch. 
 
 Mrs. Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. A present 
 of pheasants. — Her mother's illness. — 
 About the Edinburgh house . . . 20G 
 
 XXXIV. Dec, 1832. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. After her 
 grandfather's death. — About the Edin- 
 burgh house. — Her mother's plans . . 210 
 XXXV. Dec, 1832. From Templand. Mrs. Carlyle 
 to Eliza Stodart. About the house in 
 Edinburgh 216 
 
 XXXVI. Dec 22, 1832. From Templand. Thovms 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart, About the 
 house in Edinburgh ..... 221 
 XXXVII. Dec. 26, 1832. From Craigenputtoch. Thomas 
 Cai'lyle to Eliza Stodart. About the 
 house in Edinbiirgh ... . 223 
 XXXVIII. [Mar., 1833.] From 18 Carlton Street, Edin- 
 burgh. Mrs. Carlyle to Eliza Stodart, 
 The flight of Sapio the singer and its 
 consequences. — A disreputable neigh- 
 bour. — 111 for two days. — Bidding for an 
 easy chair. — Jeffrey's opinion of Harriet 
 Martineau 227 
 
 XXXIX. May 24, 1833. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart, Missed the
 
 Content.'^. xvii 
 
 coach. — Influenza. — Back at Craigenput- 
 toch. — Burning of a wood . . . , 233 
 XL. July 28, 1833. From Craigenputtoch.— ilf/-.s-. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. Better health. 
 — Needlework and cheesemaking. — Dr. J. 
 Carlyle. — Perhaps going abroad next 
 summer. — Looking back on last winter 
 
 in Edinburgh 240 
 
 XLI. Nov., 1833. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. 
 Carlyle to Eliza Stodart. A frame- 
 maker's excellent memory. — The Moffat 
 expedition. — Bad health traced back to 
 1817. — Crumbs from Carlyle's table. — The 
 Barjarg library. — Books borrowed from 
 it. — Millinery and dressmaking. — On 
 writing and handwriting , . , 246 
 XLII. Jan., 1834. From Craigenputtoch. Mrs. Car- 
 lyle to Eliza Stodart. A vehement remon- 
 strance 254 
 
 XLIII. July 29, 1834. From 5 Cheyne Eow, Chelsea. 
 Thomas Carlyle to John Bradfute. The 
 house in Chelsea. — State of litei'ature. — 
 Writing The French Revolution. — Death 
 of Coleridge. — Celebrated literary women 25(5 
 
 XLIV. [1834.] From Chelsea. Mrs. Carhjle to 
 
 Eliza Stodart. How to knit up a ravelled 
 correspondence. — Settled in London. — 
 Noise after the silence of Craigenputtoch. 
 — Better health. — The house in Chelsea. 
 — Neighbours, Leigh Hunt and others. — 
 George Eennie again. — London friends. 
 — An affectionate reception . . . 262 
 XLV. Feb., 1836. From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle to 
 Eliza Stodart. Friendships in youth and 
 middle age. — Recollections of childhood. 
 — -London friends : the Sterlings, Pepoli, 
 the Countess DegliAntoni. — An invitation 273 
 
 XLA'I. Mar., 1837. _ From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle to 
 Mrs. Aitken. Influenza. — Carlyle's Lec- 
 tures on German Literature. The charm 
 of London life. — Harriet Martineau. — 
 Fanny Kemble. — No idle condolences . 282 
 XLVII. Sept. 8, 1840. From Chelsea. Thomas Carlyle 
 to David Aitken. Peterkin's Booke of the 
 Urhiversall I^irk . '^00 
 
 XLTIII. Dec. 9, 1840. From Chelsea. Thomas Carlyle 
 to David Aitken. Baillie's Letters 
 wanted. — Book-borrowing. — Books about
 
 xviii Contents. 
 
 LEITEB PAGE 
 
 Scotch Covenanting. — Mark Napier's 
 
 Montrose. — Young D .... 292 
 
 XLIX. Feb. 22, 1841. From Chelsea. Thomas Car- 
 Jyle to David Aitken. Baillie's Letters. — 
 
 Young D 297 
 
 L. [Soon after March 30, 1841.] From Chelsea. 
 
 Mrs. Carlyle to Airs. Aitken. Mr. D 's 
 
 enthusiastic letter. — George Eennie. — 
 Curing a sore throat. — Mr. Carlyle, Fas- 
 
 senger to ? 300 
 
 LI. [Spring of 1841.] From Chelsea. Mrs. Car- 
 lyle to Miss Scot. Influenza. — G. Eufhni 
 and Mazzini. — Tried between " fierce 
 extremes." — Old Haddington friends. — 
 Mr. Keppenwitch. — A. Ruffini's letter. — 
 Intended visit to Haddington. — Erasmus 
 Darwin and his carriage .... 303 
 LII. May 11 [1847?]. From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle 
 to B. Scot Skirving. An aching head. — 
 How to get to Chelsea. — " Dissolving 
 views." — Thoughts of East Lothian . . 311 
 [Mr. Skirving's reminiscences of the Carlyles 303, 315] 
 LIII. June. 1842. From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle to 
 Mrs. Aitken. Her mother's death. — The 
 iourney to Liverpool. — ^A changed Scot- 
 land 317 
 
 LIV, [Late in 1858.] From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle 
 to Mrs. Pringle. Lord Ashburton's pic- 
 ture. — A cold in consequence. — No plea- 
 sure without pain. — A story of her 
 
 childhood 322 
 
 LV. March 15 [1866]. From Chelsea. Mrs. Carlyle 
 to David Aitken. Acknowledging invi- 
 tation. — Mr. Carlvle going to stay with 
 Mr. Erskine ^ 326
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Silhouette of Jane Welsh Frontispiece 
 
 Dr. Welsh's House at Haddington, the Home of 
 
 Jane Welsh To face page 1 
 
 Seals used by Jane Welsh (1-3) , ,, 18 
 
 Facsimile of Part of Letter VI ,, ,,34: 
 
 Seals used by Jane Welsh (•1-6) ....,, ,, ll'J 
 
 Seals used by Carlyle and his Wife (7-9) . . ,, ,, 192 
 
 Facsimile of Part of Letter XLV. . . . ,, ,, 275 
 The Ruined Chancel of Haddington Church, with 
 
 THE Grave of Dr. Welsh and Mrs. Carlyle . ,, ,, 329
 
 c\\^ 
 
 I. 
 
 [This and tlie following letter must belong to the 
 autumn of 1819, when Jane "Welsh was between 
 eighteen and nineteen years of age. Her father, Dr. 
 Welsh, died in September, 1819. See Carlyle, Remi- 
 niscences^ ed. Froude, ii., p. 94 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 74 ; 
 Froude, Thomas Carlyle^ A. i., p. 115.] 
 
 [No address preserved. — To Miss Eliza Stodart.] 
 
 My dear Bess, — 
 
 I think I may say that my mother is a 
 good deal better since I last wrote to you. She 
 still sleeps very badly at night, but she generally 
 has a sound sleep after breakfast. Her appetite 
 is considerably improved ; for two or three days 
 she has been almost entirely free of sickness. 
 To-day however she vomited a great deal of bile, 
 but that might proceed from the exertion she 
 made yesterday. We were at church yesterday, 
 the first time we have been out. Oh, how changed 
 everything appeared ! We went in a carriage, 
 as my mother would not have been able to 
 have walked; the very sight of the street was 
 
 ' B
 
 2 The Loss of her Father. [i. 
 
 hateful to me. I only looked out once, when I 
 thought we were going to stop, and I thought 
 the stones seemed covered with snow, every- 
 thing looked so white and bleak. AYe were 
 all three once more under the same roof, and 
 this [is] all that I can ever hope for in this 
 world. No, there is something more. I will 
 one day (and perhaps that day may not be far 
 off) be in the same grave. I have no wish 
 to live, except for two purposes — to be a 
 comfort to my poor mother, and to make 
 myself worthy of being reunited to my adored 
 father. To my many kind relations and friends 
 I am not ungrateful, I love them dearly : 
 but I confess I would with pleasure submit 
 to be separated from them for a time, as that 
 separation is to restore me to him ; for he was 
 dearer to me than the whole world. I will 
 never cease to be grateful for the sympathy 
 and kindness which we have met with. Among 
 those who will always hold the highest place 
 in my regard I must rank Mrs. Lorimer. 
 The affectionate interest in us which she has
 
 il.] The Loss of her Father. 3 
 
 displayed, and the sincere distress which his 
 loss has occasioned her, have endeared her to 
 me beyond measure. She is very much with 
 us. She would not allow us to go alone yester- 
 day, and it was well we had some one to support 
 us through such an exertion. Her husband,^ who 
 has also been exceedingly kind, preached a most 
 excellent sermon on thai subject which he knew 
 to be the only one that could excite our interest 
 at such a moment. 
 
 I have never heard from Robert ^ yet, so I 
 am still ignorant at what time we may visit 
 Dumfriesshire. I hope to hear from you soon. 
 Excuse this hurried scrawl. With kindest love to 
 your uncle, believe me your affectionate friend. 
 
 [No Signature.] 
 
 ^ Rev. Robert Lorimer, one of the two ministers of the 
 parish of Haddington from 179G till he " went out " in 
 the Disruption of 1843. 
 
 2 Her uncle. See Letter IV., p. 16.
 
 II. 
 
 [No address preserved. — To Miss- Eliza Stodai't.] 
 
 Sunday Night. 
 Mr DEAR Bess, — 
 
 I am happy to say that my mother is no 
 worse than when you left us in her bodily 
 health ; for her spirits I cannot say much. 
 
 The dreadful loss which we have sustained is 
 one which can never be less deeply felt. Indeed 
 time seems only to show it in more distressing 
 colours. We are all exceedingly obliged to you 
 for your kindness in coming to us at such a 
 time ; but we still cannot help thinking that you 
 have some other reason than the one you gave 
 us for leaving us so soon. Both my mother and 
 self are perfectly unconscious of having offended 
 you. Had we had the smallest idea that such was 
 your intention, it would have been the last thing 
 we would have thought of to ask you to go to 
 Edinburgh on our business, or at least to return 
 for so very short a period. I do not think that
 
 II.] Her Father^s Grave. 
 
 we can possibly be in Dumfriesshire for tliree or 
 four weeks from this date, nor do I expect to be 
 in town before that time. Indeed, it is astonish- 
 ing how httle desire I feel to leave this place, even 
 for a short time. The memory of what has been, 
 and the melancholy pleasure in the reflection 
 that I am still near the being that I loved more 
 than all the world besides, although he is no 
 longer conscious of my affection, are the feelings 
 which constitute the little happiness I now can 
 feel. When you was ^ here I did not know that 
 he was buried in the ruin of the church.^ I 
 cannot tell you how it pleased me. Last night, 
 when the moon was shining so brightly, I felt 
 the most anxious wish tr visit his grave ; and I 
 will not feel satisfied till I ha^, done so. Those 
 ruins appear to me now to possess a sublimits 
 
 1 " Were " was originally written, and then " was " sub- 
 stituted for it. 
 
 2 Cf. the beautiful account of her visit to her father's 
 grave in 1849 in Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh 
 Carlyle, ii., p. 59 ff. The choir of Haddington church is in 
 ruins, the nave being used as the present parish church.
 
 6 Her Father* s Grave. [ii. 
 
 with whicli my fancy never before vested them. 
 I feel that I never can leave this place. May 
 God bless you, and preserve you from such a 
 loss as mine, is the prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate Friend, 
 
 JANE WELSH.
 
 III. 
 
 [The position assigned to Letters III. and V. is purely 
 conjectural. There is nothing by which I can defi- 
 nitely fix the dates. I have adopted the order that 
 seemed most plausible and most convenient to the 
 reader.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinhurgli. 
 
 [Early in 1820?] 
 
 My dear Bess, — 
 
 This is not intended to be a letter 
 of friendship, but merely one to give trouble. 
 My Aunt Elizabeth is seized with a wondrous 
 passion to grow clever — or, perhaps I ought 
 to say, to be accomplished. She has com- 
 menced drawing, French, and geography under 
 my auspices. As she has no drawing materials, 
 I must request that you will talve the trouble 
 to get from White a paint-box (I think they 
 come to about twelve shillings) containing the 
 usual number of paints, only, instead of light
 
 Painting Materials Wanted. [iii. 
 
 blue and ligiit green, I would like a small cake 
 of carmine, and a cake of king's yellow; also 
 a few liair brushes of different sizes, and four 
 small sheets of thin, white pasteboard (I think it 
 is called Bristol sheet), for painting single flowers 
 on. For myself I would thank you to get a 
 small cake of carmine, two very fine hair brushes, 
 and the same number of sheets of small, thin 
 pasteboard. Be so good as cause him to make 
 the note distinct, that is to say separate (as the 
 young lady is particularly particular). To be 
 done with my commissions at once, I would also 
 thank you to send my Mother black feathers. I 
 will send my buff one to be dyed black the first 
 opportunity. I have been very busy for some 
 time past with Italian, Frencli, etc., etc. Tell 
 Mr. Aitken^ that I am quite pleased with the 
 Testament. Besides myself I have got three 
 pupils, Elizabeth, Ellen Howden, and her cousin 
 Christina. The first is clever, but much too 
 
 1 Qu. Sam Aitken or David Aitken ? I think the " Mr." 
 proves it to be the former, as " David Aitken " does not 
 receive that title in the earlier letters. See Pref.^ p. viii.
 
 III.] Her Pupils. 9 
 
 confident in her own powers ; the second is 
 exceed Inghj clever, but careless; the third is 
 stupid and anxious, and, what is worst, I am 
 more anxious about her than any of them. 
 She is my pupil for everything, and lives with 
 us. Her father and mother died within three 
 months ; and when we invited her here, it gave 
 me a melancholy pleasure to think that the care 
 and anxiety which my adored father spent on 
 my education might be of use to one, like me, 
 left destitute of this first blessing. Her father 
 was ill four days, and died on the Sunday before 
 that fatal one which blasted all my prospects of 
 happiness in this world. She too was going 
 to Mrs. Seaton's ^ ; and she was thus, before I saw 
 her, connected to me by the strongest of all 
 possible ties — sympathy. She is beautiful and 
 very interesting — about fourteen years of age ; 
 fortunately for herself she is either not come 
 
 2 Haddington correspondents tell me that a widow lady, 
 Mrs. Seton, kept a girls' boarding-school at Ballincrieff 
 House, near Aberlady, and afterwards at Seton House (on 
 the site of the ancient palace), not far from Prestonpans.
 
 10 The Memory of her Father. [iii. 
 
 to the age in which one feels keenly, or is not 
 naturally endowed with very keen feelings. I con- 
 fess I am a little disappointed in this respect ; 
 but it is wrong in me to be so, for it is cer- 
 tainly a blessing to the poor child. 
 
 He used always to tell me that in giving 
 
 me a good education he was leaving me the 
 
 greatest good. Of this I have found the truth, 
 
 and too late I have begun to feel towards 
 
 him gratitude, which only adds to my sorrow 
 
 for having it no longer in my power to make 
 
 any returns. The habits of study in which I 
 
 have been brought up have done much to 
 
 support me, I never allow myself to be one 
 
 moment unoccupied. I read the books he 
 
 wished me to understand. I have engaged in 
 
 the plan of study he wished me to pursue ; 
 
 and to the last moment of my life it shall be 
 
 my endeavour to act in all things exactly 
 
 as he would have desired. When I am giving 
 
 his sister and Christina their lessons, I seem to 
 
 be filling his place; and the recollection of his 
 
 anxiety and kindness and unwearied exertions
 
 III.] Visitors. 11 
 
 for my improvement and for the improvement of 
 those who have so soon forgot him is sometimes 
 like to break my heart.^ 
 
 My Grandfather is a kind old man to come so 
 far at this season. He is very anxious that we 
 should accompany us [? him] to Edinburgh ; but 
 to that I am certain my mother will never con- 
 sent. We have just had a card from John to say 
 that he is coming to tea ; I must therefore close 
 this hurried, stupid, troublesome letter. I must 
 beg that you will take the trouble to send out 
 my things as soon as you c.onvenienth/ can, as 
 all my pupils^ . . . want carmine. Robert 
 arrived to-day, looking divine ; I do like him 
 dearly. We had a call yesterday from George 
 
 B and his son Benjamin, who is one of 
 
 the most frank, unaffected young men I have 
 seen. By the bye Benjamin had a party some 
 
 3 " The brave man himself [her father] I never saw : but 
 my poor Jeannie, in her best moments, often said to me, 
 about this or that, ' Yes, he would have done it so ! ' ' Ah, 
 he would have liked you ! ' as her highest praise." — Carlyle, 
 Reminiscences, ed, Fronde, ii., p. 115; ed. Norton, i., p. 144. 
 
 * The paper is torn here.
 
 12 Personal News Deferred. [in. 
 
 time ago of young doctors from Edinburgh, 
 amongst whom was my old Barkly ^ Museum 
 friend, Mowbray Thomson, who does not seem 
 to have forgot me. He is immensely im- 
 proved. I dare say you are a little curious to 
 know the state of my affairs at present. I 
 must defer all communications till we meet, 
 which I think will be in summer ; and indeed 
 you have not much to learn. My sentiments 
 and vieivs are very much changed, and I be- 
 lieve in time I shall be really sensible. Tell 
 Mr. Aitken that I can read two pages of Italian 
 at a time. 
 
 Burn this scrawl, I will not say before you 
 read it, but immediately after. By the bye 
 you was with me when I told Muir that I 
 wanted the music at different times. He means 
 to make me take 9£ worth of stuff all at once ; 
 the thing is quite absurd, and as it will be 
 long, long before I require it, it would really be 
 
 ■^ Sic. The museum of liumau and comparative anatomy 
 formed by John Barclay (d. 182G) now forms part of the 
 collection of the Edinburgh College of Surgeons.
 
 HI.] Commissions. 13 
 
 a loss to me. I wish you would go with Robert 
 some day and tell him about it; he has given 
 me a great deal of trouble. I have no room for 
 loves. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 JANE B. WELSH.
 
 IV. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square^ Edinhirglij 
 
 N.B. 
 
 Liverpool, 
 
 October 14th, 1820. 
 
 My dear Bess, — 
 
 You may perhaps remember tlie name of 
 tlie person who now address [es] you; more of me, 
 I think, you can scarcely recollect. 
 
 I know not how it is that we are such bad 
 correspondents. I believe it is I who am in 
 fault at present ; but the shortness of your last 
 must be some excuse for me, for I really expected 
 you would have written to me again, without wait- 
 ing for an answer to it. But I suspect the real 
 cause of my negligence will be with more justice 
 found in something which I dare scarcely name 
 (I mean your goodnature) : for there are many 
 persons, whom I don't like half so well, whose 
 letters I answer pretty regularly, because I know, 
 were I not to do so, I should never be forgiven ; 
 
 14
 
 IV.] Journeij to Liverpool. 15 
 
 but from you I always make myself sure of a 
 pardon as soon as I acknowledge my offence. I 
 have now, according to custom, filled my first 
 page with apologies, and so I will proceed to 
 give you some account of our motions. We left 
 Strathmilligan about a fortnight ago, and a sad 
 morning we had of it ; but this world is made 
 up of little else than partings. Mr. Robert 
 McTurk, our Landlord's eldest son, drove us in 
 his gig to Dumfries, from whence we posted to 
 Carlisle,^ and there we took the coach, or rather 
 the coach took us, to Liverpool. Mr. McTurk 
 accompanied us to Penrith, on his way to Brugli- 
 hill.^ At Dumfries we drank tea, and slept at Mr. 
 Kirkpatric[k]'s. Roger is a kind, kind man in his 
 
 1 She spells it " Carslile " here and at the end of the 
 letter. In her first written communication to Carlyle 
 (June, 1821) she spelt his name in the same way. See 
 Norton, Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle^ i., p. 354: " Miss 
 Welsh's ' compliments ' to Mr. Carslile, a gentleman in 
 whom it required no small sagacity to detect my own 
 representative ! " 
 
 - Sic. This must be Brough Hill, near Brough, in West- 
 moreland. A horse and cattle fair is held there annually at 
 the end of September.
 
 16 Uncle Robert. ' [iv. 
 
 own house, and his wife, though not very taking 
 in her appearance, is no less so. Captain Thor- 
 burn was there, just the same sentimental-look- 
 ing person with the open mouth that used to go 
 about catching flies in Edinburgh. My uncle 
 Robert was also there. We had the pleasure of 
 his company for two days at Strathmilligan. It 
 would be rather foolish in me to fill my paper 
 with an eulogium on my own uncle, but I never 
 can resist praising Robert to those who I think 
 place any value on my opinion. His kindness 
 and attention to us merits^ my warmest gratitude. 
 I have lost my dearest and my best friend, whose 
 love was my most valuable blessing; and the 
 blank he has made to me must be felt till the last 
 moment of my existence, were my life to be much 
 longer than I wish it to be. But had it been 
 possible for the loss of such a father to be 
 supplied, it would have been supplied by his 
 brother : but oh ! Bess, you knew him, and you 
 know how impossible it is that I should ever 
 
 3 Sic.
 
 IV.] The Liverpool Household. 17 
 
 love any human being as I loved him. My 
 Mother's health, I am glad to say, continues 
 pretty good, and everybody says she is look- 
 ing well. We expect to be at Haddington some- 
 time next month. What a return will it be ! no 
 one to welcome us. When I think of home, 
 all the pleasure that I feel at the prospect of 
 seeing so many kind friends again is damped 
 by that thought. My Uncle ^ and Mary are very 
 kind, but, between ourselves, I don't like her. 
 She is certainly a well-principled woman; but 
 good jDrinciples cannot in my opinion make up 
 for the total want of all feminine graces of mind. 
 She is very fond of argument, and invariably 
 loses her temper. She is a great j)olitician, which 
 in a lady is detestable. In fact, she cannot bear 
 to be contradicted in anything. AYe have walked 
 about the town frequently. It is a neat, clean- 
 looking place. It is much larger than Edinburgh ; 
 but, the houses being all built of brick, there is 
 
 ^ "Uncle John," her mother's brother. See Carlyle, 
 Ee77iiniscences, ed.Yi'OMde, ii., pp. 142-145; ed. Norton, i., 
 pp. 166-168.
 
 18 Liverpool — Carlisle. [iv. 
 
 nothing at all grand-looking about it. I liked 
 tlie appearance of Carlisle^ very mucli ; the castle 
 has a very fine effect. There are some people 
 coming here to tea, so I must close this stupid 
 letter with a promise to be more particular next 
 time. Do write to me soon. My Mother joins 
 me in kindest love to your uncle and yourself. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH. 
 
 [P. 5'.] — Address to me to the care of 
 
 Leishman & Welsh in Co., 
 
 Red Cross Street, 
 
 Liverpool. 
 
 5 Cf. note 1, p. 15.
 
 SEALS USED BY JANE WELSH. 
 (Double the Size of llic Oiiginals.) 
 
 Seal used on Letters between 1S20 and 1823 
 
 [A I'Ainislh, "To Fiiendsliip." , Seal used on Letter IV. 
 
 :eil used on Letters IX., .Xlll., XVI. all written rniii Teuipland. "J. 1'.. W. ' 
 most probalily means " Jaiu I'.aillii- Welsh ; " but what is " K. K." .•■ 
 
 [r„cr f.
 
 V. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Haddington, 
 Sth March [1821 ?]. 
 
 "Well, my beloved Cousin, here I am once more 
 at the bottom of the pit of clulness, hemmed in 
 all round, straining my eyeballs and stretching 
 my neck to no purpose. 
 
 Was ever starling in a more desperate plight?^ 
 But I ivill ''get out'' — by the wife of Job, I will! 
 Here is no sojourn for me. I must dwell in the 
 open world, live amid life ; but here is no life, 
 no motion, no variety. It is the dimmest, deadest 
 spot (I verily believe) in the Creator's universe ; 
 
 1 Ci. Letter XLVIT., p. 291, where Carlyle says : " Like 
 Sterne's Starling, one has to say mournfully, 'I can't get 
 out ! ' " The starling comes from the Sentimental Journey 
 (vol. ii., p. 24, in edition of 1775). 
 
 19
 
 20 Her Native Place is Dull, [v. 
 
 to look round in it, one migflit imao^ine that time 
 had made a stand : the shopkeepers are to be 
 seen standing at the doors of their shops, in the 
 very same postures in which they have stood 
 there ever since I was born. " The thing that 
 hath been is that also which shall he " ; everything 
 is the same, everything is stupid ; the very air one 
 breathes is impregnated with stupidity. Alas, 
 my native place ! the Groddess of dulness has 
 strewed it with all her poppies I 
 
 But it is my native place still ! and, after all, 
 there is much in it that I love. I love the 
 bleaching green, where I used to caper and roll, 
 and tumble, and make go wan ^ necklaces, and 
 chains of dandelion stalks, in the days of my 
 " tvee existence ^^ ; and the schoolhouse where I 
 carried away prizes, and signalized myself, not 
 more for the quickness of my parts than for 
 the valour of my arm, above all the boys of the 
 
 - The " gowan " is tlie daisy. Readers of Dickens will 
 remember how Mr. Micawber was puzzled by the word in 
 Auld Layig Sync.
 
 v.] hut Dear to Memory. 21 
 
 community;^ and the mill-dam too, where I per- 
 formed feats of agility which it was easier to 
 extol than to imitate, and which gained me at 
 the time the reputation of a sticket callant* (im 
 g argon assassine), which I believe I have main- 
 tained with credit up to the present hour ; and, 
 above all, I feel an affection for a field by the 
 side of the river, where corn is growing now, 
 and where a hayrick once stood — you remember 
 it ? ^ For my part I shall never forget that sum- 
 mer's day ; but cherish it " ivithin the secret cell 
 of the heart " as long as I live — the sky was so 
 bright, the air so balmy, the whole universe so 
 beautiful ! I was very happy then ! all my little 
 world lay glittering in tinsel at my feet ! But 
 years have passed over it since ; and storm after 
 
 3 Cf. Carlyle, Reminiscences, ed. Froude, ii., p. 73 ; ed. Nor- 
 ton, i., p. 5G; Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. i., pp. 119, 120. 
 
 * I.e. one who has stuck in the process of becoming a lad 
 (" callant " is Fr. gallant) — a phrase formed on the analogy 
 of " sticket minister," which a French translator of Scott is 
 said to have turned into " un ministre assassind,^^ a render- 
 ing here adapted by Miss Welsh. 
 
 5 Cf. Letter XLV., p. 276.
 
 22 A quondam Lover. [v. 
 
 storm lias stripped it of mucli of its finery. 
 Allons, ma chere ! — let us talk of tlie " goosish. " 
 man, my quondam lover. ^ 
 
 He came ; arrived at the George Inn at eleven 
 o'clock at night, twelve hours after he received 
 my answer to his letter; slept there '^^ more 
 soundly, ^^ according to his own statement, " than 
 was to have been exjJeded, all the circumstances of 
 the case considered/^ and in the morning sent a 
 few nonsensical lines to announce his nonsensical 
 arrival. Mother and I received him more politely 
 " than was to have been expected, all the cir- 
 cumstances of the case considered"; and we 
 proceeded to walk, and play at battledoor, and 
 talk inanities, about new novels, and new belles, 
 and what had gone on at a splendid party the 
 night before, where he had been (he told us) for 
 half an hour ivlth his arm under his hat; and 
 
 « Which of them? Is this "Dugald G " (cf. pp. 96, 
 
 99)? or is it "John W " (cf. p. 76)? or is it rather a 
 
 third person, a Mr. A (to whom the remark, "All the 
 
 circumstances," etc., is ascribed on p. 99) ? or is it some 
 one else ?
 
 v.] His Attire. 23 
 
 then lie corrected himself, and said, ivith his head 
 linden- his arm! It was of very little consequence 
 where his head was ; it is not much worth ; but 
 the Lord defend me from visitors so equipped, 
 when I come to give parties ! Before dinner he 
 retired to his Inn, and vapoured back, in the 
 course of an hour or so, in all the pride of two 
 waistcoats (one of figured velvet, another of sky- 
 blue satin), gossamer silk stockings, and morocco 
 leather slippers — " these little things are great to 
 little men.^^'^ I should not like to pay his tailor's 
 bill however. Craigenputtock^ could not stand 
 
 " Carlyle, writing to his brother Alexander in 1831 
 about the difficulty of getting a farm, says, " Little things 
 are great to little men, to little man " (Froude, Thomas 
 Carlyle, A. ii., p. 143) — a less remote application of the line 
 (from Goldsmith's Traveller), " These little things are great 
 to little man." 
 
 8 She here spells Craigenputtock (which was now her own 
 property) with a ck. In all the rest of these letters it seems 
 (when written in full) to be invariably spelt with a ch. Did 
 Carlyle ultimately prefer the spelling ck (which is adopted 
 by Mr. Troude, except in his edition of the Reminiscences, 
 and by Prof. Norton) because of the etymological connexion 
 with " puttock," a hawk ? See passage from Reminiscences 
 quoted in note on Letter XXXIX., p. 237.
 
 24 "I Change my Mind ! " [v. 
 
 it. Next morning lie took himself away, leaving 
 us more impressed with the idea of his imbecility 
 than ever. In a day or two after his return to 
 town, there came a huge parcel from him, con- 
 taining a letter for Mother expressed with a still 
 greater command of absurdity than any of the 
 preceding ones, and a quantity of music for me 
 {pour parenthese, I shall send you a sheet of it, 
 having another copy of " Home, Sweet Home," 
 beside), and in two days more another letter, and 
 another supply of music. Hitherto there had 
 been nothing of hope, nothing more of love or 
 marrying ; but now my gentleman presumed to 
 flatter himself, in the expansion of the folly of 
 his heart, that I might jwssibhj change my mind. 
 Ass ! I change my mind, indeed ! and for him ! 
 Upon my word, to be an imbecile as he is, he 
 has a monstrous stock of modest assurance ! 
 However I very speedily relieved him of any 
 doubts which he might have upon the matter. 
 I told him " ce que j'ai fait je le ferois e7icore," 
 in so many words as must (I think) have brought 
 him to his senses — if he has any. He has since
 
 v.] A Hubbub in Church. 25 
 
 written to Mother, begging of lier to deprecate 
 my displeasure. There the transaction rests, and 
 peace be with us ! 
 
 I have neither heard nor seen anything of 
 "Doctor Fieff"^ — the Lord be praised ! He not 
 only wasted a very unreasonable proportion of 
 my time, but his fuffs and explosions were very 
 hurtful to my nervous system. 
 
 Talking of nerves, we got a horrible fright in 
 church on Saturday. An old lady dropt down 
 in the adjoining seat, and was carried out as 
 dead. Mother screamed out "Oh" so stoutly, 
 that Mr. Gordon was obliged to stop in his 
 prayer, and sit down. She seems destined to 
 make a distinguished figure in all church hub- 
 bubs. Witness the scene of the repenting-stool. 
 The old lady has got better. 
 
 What of Willi ? is he coming out soon ? A 
 visit from any man with brains in his head would 
 really be an act of mercy to us here. 
 
 ^ Dr. TyfTe. Carlyle spells it " Fyfe." See Reminiscences, 
 ed. Froude, ii., p. 93 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 70.
 
 26 On Letter -writing. [v. 
 
 There is a long letter for you ! Now will you 
 write to me soon ? I cannot recollect your ex- 
 cuse without some feeling of displeasure — " You 
 cannot ivrlte letters that I ivill care about.^' 
 Surely this compliment to my understanding (if 
 it was meant as such) is at the expense of my 
 heart. It is not for the sake of grammar or 
 rhetorick (I should think) that friends, like you 
 and I, write to one another. When your letters 
 cease to interest me, credit me, I will not ask 
 them. 
 
 My mother has quite got rid of her cold. It 
 was as bad as need be after we came home. For 
 myself I am quite well, still suffering a little from 
 the maladie des adieux ; but that is all. 
 
 Both of us unite in kindest love to your Uncle 
 and yourself. Will you kiss him for me ? 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH.
 
 v.] On Marmalade. 27 
 
 [P.S.] Mother bids me say that all the diffe- 
 rence betwixt your manner of making marmalade 
 and hers is, that she gives double the quantity 
 of sugar to the fruit. If you think however that 
 she has any art in it which you are not up to, 
 she will be exceedingly happy to make it for 
 you. Speaking of marmalade, will you give my 
 compliments to William Watson ? 
 
 Mother is never to be done with bidding 
 me say. She bids me say next that Betty's ^'^ 
 Mama's hens stand very much in need of pills. 
 However she means to look about on Monday 
 (there's one of my old blunders) to see if the 
 hens are more laxative in another quarter — how 
 dirty ! 
 
 Will you put the note and the letter into the 
 post office ? The Lord give me patience ! 
 Mother bids me say again that there is abun- 
 dance of fruit and sugar to be had here, so that 
 if she is to have the pleasure of making the 
 
 10 The old servant, I suppose, frequently referred to in 
 Letter's and Memorials • e.g. ii., p. 78.
 
 28 On Marmalade. [v. 
 
 marmalade for Bradie, you need not send any. 
 Moreover — oli — she has plenty of cursed ugly wee 
 black pigs^^ at your service. Not one word more 
 will T write for her, by Grod ! 
 
 11 I.e. eartlienware jars — to put the marmalade in. This 
 Scotch word "pig" has been a fruitful source of mystery to 
 unaccustomed Southerners.
 
 VI. 
 
 [ Carlyle was introduced to Miss Welsh by Edward 
 Irving in the end of May, 1821. It may have been 
 Carlyle who first induced her to read Rousseau (see 
 letter of Irving in Froude, Thomas Carlyle^ i., p. 135). 
 In another letter (i&., p. 155) Irving may jwssibli/ be 
 referring to La NouveUe Heloise under the name 
 " Rousseau's Letters." This letter must be later than 
 July 14th, 1821 ; and, as the two following letters 
 must come at no very great interval, and as Letter 
 VIII. is dated "March," this one probably belongs to 
 the end of 1821 or beginning of 1822.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart. 
 
 Haddington. 
 My dear Bess, — 
 
 I returned the two first volumes of Julia,^ 
 with many thanks. It seems to me, that the 
 most proper way of testifying my gratitude to 
 the amiable Jean Jacques for the pleasure he 
 has afforded me is to do what in me lies to 
 extend the circle of his admirers. I shall begin 
 
 ^ I.e. La NouveUe Ih'loise, of which Julie fitange is the 
 heroine.
 
 30 La Nouvelle Heloise. [vi. 
 
 with you. Do read this book. You will find it 
 tedious in many of its details, and in some of 
 its scenes culpably indelicate ; but for splendour 
 of eloquence, refinement of sensibility, and ardour 
 of passion it has no match in the French lan- 
 guage. Fear not that by reading Heloise you 
 will be ruined, or undone, or whatever adjective 
 best suits that fallen state into which women 
 and angels luill stumble at a time. I promise you 
 that you will rise from the Heloise with a deeper 
 impression of whatever is most beautiful and 
 most exalted in virtue than is left upon your 
 mind by Blair's Sermons, Paley's Theology, or 
 the voluminous Jeremy Taylor himself.^ I never 
 felt my mind more prepared to brave temptation 
 of every sort than when I closed the second 
 volume of this strange book. I believe if the 
 Devil himself had waited upon me [in] the shape 
 of Lord Byron,^ I would have desired Betty to 
 
 2 She spells tlie names " Pailey " and " Tailor." Below 
 she writes " Johnny-groats." 
 
 ^ For her intense admiration of Lord Byron, of. Letter 
 XIV., pp. 101, 102, and note 6.
 
 VI.] La Nouvelle Helo'ise. 31 
 
 show him out. Sages say that every work which 
 presents vice in the colours of virtue has a 
 tendency to corrupt the morals. They are with- 
 out doubt in the right ; but when they say that 
 Julia Etange is vicious, they are in a most 
 egregious mistake. Read the book, and ask 
 your heart, or rather your judgment, if Jalia be 
 vicious. I do not wish to countenance such irre- 
 gularities among mnj female acquaintances ; but 
 I must confess, were any individual of them 
 to meet with SJbch a man, to struggle as she 
 struggled, to endure as she endured, to ijield as 
 she yielded, and to repent as she repented, I 
 would love that woman better than the chastest, 
 coldest prude between John o' Groat's House 
 and Land's End. One serious bad consequence 
 will result to you from reading Helo'ise — at least, 
 if your soul-strings are screwed up to the same 
 key as mine. You will never marry ! Alas ! 
 I told you I should die a virgin, if I reached 
 twenty in vain} Even so will it prove. This 
 
 * She was twenty on July 14tli, 1821.
 
 32 La Nouvelle Helo'ise. [vi. 
 
 Book, this fatal Book, has given me an idea of 
 a love so j;?rre (yes, you may laugh! but I repeat 
 it), so pure, so constant, so disinterested, so 
 exalted, that no love the men of this world can 
 offer me will ever fill up the picture my ima- 
 gination has drawn with the help of Rousseau. 
 No lover will Jane Welsh ever find like St. 
 Preux, no husband like Wolmar (I don't mean 
 to insinuate that I should like both) ; and to no 
 man will she ever give her heart and pretty 
 hand who bears to these no resemblance. 
 Greorsfe Rennie ! James Aitken ! Robert Mac- 
 Turk!^ James Baird ! ! I'' Robby Angus ! — 
 Lord, Lord ! where is the St. Preux ? Where 
 
 ^ Robert MacTurk is referred to in Letters and Memorials 
 of Jane Welsh Carlyle, ii., p. 392, where (in a letter of 1858) 
 she speaks of sending him a present {qu. a photograph of 
 " our interior " at Chelsea ?) as " a sort of amende honorable 
 for having failed to give him myself — Good God ! when 
 he had some right to expect it — long ago, when I was an 
 extremely absurd little girl. His good feeling towards me, 
 after all, deserves a certain esteem from me, and a certain 
 recognition, which, I hope, has been put into an acceptable 
 form for him in the peep-show ! " 
 
 c Cf. Letter VIII., p. 46.
 
 VI.] La Nouvelle Heloise. 33 
 
 is the Wolmar? Bess, I am in earnest — I shall 
 never marry ; and, after having laughed so at old 
 maids, it will be so dreadful to be one of the 
 very race at whom I have pointed the finger of 
 scorn. Virtuous, venerable females ! how my 
 heart smites me for the ill-judged ridicule I have 
 cast on their pure names ! What atonement can 
 I make? What punishment shall I undergo? 
 Let me think! I will — I will write a novel, and 
 make my Heroine a Beauty, a Wit, a very 
 monster of perfection, an Empress of a thousand 
 male hearts ; and — she shall live a Maid, and 
 die in an elegant little garret. But I will talk 
 no more on this melancholy subject. So you 
 saw my Aunt ! What did you think of her ? 
 Poor thing ! she does not understand love. She 
 never read Heloise ; but she has got a husband 
 — such as he is. 
 
 Mr. Craig Buchanan has put me to the ex- 
 pense of postage^ twice within the last fort- 
 
 7 That is to say, of course, by sending letters. Prepayment 
 was unusual in the days before the penny post. 
 
 D
 
 34 Carhjle as a St. Prefix. [vi. 
 
 night. He is improving in his style, and 
 displays some ingenuity in finding out subjects 
 to write upon. He threatens me with a visit 
 in a week or two. It will surely come to a 
 crisis : what do you think of it ? He is about 
 the age of Wolmar; but Wolmar had not a 
 bald head, nor a lame leg, neither did Wolmar 
 make puns or pay compliments. I have just 
 had a letter from Thomas Carlyle : he too speaks 
 of cominof. He is somethinof liker to St. Preux 
 than George Craig is to Wolmar. He has his 
 talents, his vast and cultivated mind, his vivid 
 imagination, his independence of soul, and his 
 high-souled principles of honour. But then — 
 Ah, these buts ! — St. Preux never kicked the 
 fire-irons, nor made puddings in his teacup. 
 Want of Elegance ! Want of Elegance, Rousseau 
 says, is a defect which no woman can overlook.^ 
 It is the decree of fate ! dear Eliza, it is the 
 decree of fate ! so look about for a nice, pleasant, 
 
 ^ " La privation des graces est un defaut, que les femmes 
 ne pardonnent point." — La Nouvelle H^lo'ise, Part i., 
 Lettre 45. [This reference I owe to Mr. Saintsbury.]
 
 ^1 1^ ^^^ 
 
 ^ ^ ., .J ^K n SI 

 
 VI.] George Bennie. 35 
 
 little garret that has a fine view unclouded by 
 the town smoke and out of reach of the camera 
 obscura, and we will take up house together. 
 When I commenced this letter I did not intend 
 to write above three lines ; the determined and 
 somewhat unkind manner in which you declared 
 you would carry on no further correspondence 
 with me still sticks in my thrapple.^ I allow 
 you however an opportunity of mending your 
 manners ; take care that you do not abuse it. 
 My Mother sends her kind compliments, and 
 will be glad to hear from you. Love to Brady 
 and Maggy. Send me, if you please, with first 
 opportunity, the third volume of Julia. 
 
 I have never seen him^^ since I came home. 
 
 5 I.e. wind-pipe. 
 
 1" George Rennie apparently. " The most serious-looking 
 of these affairs was that of George Rennie, the Junior (not 
 Heir, but Cadet) of Phantassie, Nephew of the first Engineer 
 Rennie ; a clever, decisive, very ambitious, but quite un- 
 melodious young fellow ; whom we knew afterwards here as 
 sculptor, as M.P. (for a while), — finally as retired Governor 
 of the Falkland Islands, in which latter character he died 
 here, seven or eight years ago." — Carlyle, Reminiscences, 
 ed. Norton, i., p. 70 ; ed. Froude, ii., p. 92.
 
 36 George Rennie. [vi. 
 
 His Mother and Janet called one day, and I 
 saw John at the foxhounds. Oh wretch ! I 
 wish I could hate him, but I cannot; I despise 
 him, but I do not hate him ; and when Friday 
 comes, I always think how neatly I used to 
 be dressed, and sometimes I give my hair an 
 additional brush and put on a clean frill, just 
 from habit. Oh ! the devil take him ! he has 
 wasted all the affections of my poor heart, and 
 now there is not a vestige of a flirt about me : 
 but I will vex that renegade heart of his yet. 
 
 \_No Signature.~\
 
 VII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square. 
 
 [Early in 1822.] 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 I tliank you for your letter, wliicli gave 
 me mucli pleasure, and would have given me 
 still more, liad it wanted the professions of 
 humility at the beginning. Once for all. Miss 
 Eliza Stodart, I give you to understand that 
 sincerity is my favourite virtue. You know 
 whether it could be consistent with sincerity to 
 ask — nay, urge a person to write to me whose 
 letters afford me neither pleasure nor amusement. 
 I have finished Julia — divine Julia ! What a 
 finished picture of the most sublime virtue ! If 
 ever I have a child (which God forbid ! my reso- 
 lutions against matrimony holding out) she sliall 
 " read it by day, and meditate by night." If 
 ever I am rich enough to furnish a library, it 
 shall be the first book I buy, and shall occupy 
 the same shelf with Chalmers and my Bible. 
 
 37
 
 38 La Nouvelle Helo'ise. [vii. 
 
 This is no joking. Julia is decidedly the most 
 moral book I ever read. We quite mistook its 
 nature formerly. In the second and third 
 volumes there is not one word that the most 
 squeamish woman could be ashamed of. Julia 
 never relapses ! To the last hour, last minute 
 of her life, she is pure and bright, as the silver 
 moon when the dark cloud that obscured it for a 
 moment has passed away. Oh, she is a glorious 
 creature ! — is ? would to God she really ivas ! I 
 would travel far to see her ! I would never leave 
 her till she vowed to be my friend. But, 
 alas ! she is a vision ! like everything j^erfectly 
 glorious and beautiful, she is a vision ! 
 
 But back to beings of this world ! Greorge 
 Rennie — read, wonder, but be silent — Greorge 
 Rennie is on the sea ! and will soon be in Italy ! 
 What does he seek there ? you will ask. His 
 friends answer, " Improvement in the art of sculp- 
 ture." I answer — "Ruin." Yes! the die is cast 
 — his fate is decided ! This liberty, this fatal 
 liberty, that his too indulgent Father allows him 
 can lead only to ruin. False, heartless as he is,
 
 VII.] George Bennie. 39 
 
 I tremble to tliink on all the dangers, the allure- 
 ments to which he is about to be exposed — and in 
 such a frame of mind ! How little fit to offer any 
 resistance ! It is some weeks ago since Nancy 
 Wilkie told my Mother that he meditated going 
 abroad for the purpose of improving his taste in 
 this stucco business, which it seems, he means to 
 prosecute as a profession. Chantry and Joseph 
 have cruelly told him he has a genius for it ; and 
 who is unwilling to believe himself a genius ? 
 This report was afterwards confirmed by Dr. 
 Thomson, who had been at Phantassie, and told 
 us he thought of inviting Benjamin by a Dr. Quin 
 or G-eorge Rennie, who was to leave Phantassie 
 on the Saturday following. Can you believe it ? 
 this intelligence afflicted me. We had not seen 
 each other for months, and yet it seemed that we 
 were now for the first time to be quite parted. «I 
 had not heard his voice for many a day ; but 
 then I had heard those who had conversed with 
 him, I had seen objects he had looked on, 
 I had breathed the air that he had breathed. 
 But now seas and countries were to lie betwixt
 
 40 George Bennie. [vii. 
 
 us. The sun and tlie moon were to be tlie 
 only objects we could behold in common. This 
 looked like separation ! Yet do not blame me 
 or think me weak : it was the recollection of 
 the past that made me weep at his departure, 
 and not the pain of the present. I supped at 
 the Davidsons' that night ; James Wilkie told me 
 he had called with George at our house some 
 days before ! but found us out. I had not heard 
 of this. My mother had concealed it from me. 
 What did she fear ? absurd ! Next day was the 
 day preceding his departure. I resolved to 
 return him his letters, lest I might never have 
 another opportunity, and I seemed to keep them 
 like a sword over his head. I sealed them, and 
 scarcely had finished when I heard a rap. I 
 knew it at once ; long, long I had not heard it, 
 and yet I recognised it in an instant to be his. 
 I ran out of the room. On the stairs I met 
 Janet Ewart, who was staying here. She is 
 very nervous, and thought proper to utter a loud 
 scream. " I looked so pale," she said ; " she took 
 me for a ghost " ! Idiot ! You may suppose such
 
 vii.] George Bennie. 41 
 
 a folly, wliicli must have had a most strange 
 appearance to him (for he could not but hear the 
 scream), was not calculated to restore my com- 
 posure. I told her that the hurry in which I had 
 run out of the room to change my shoes had 
 made me sick; but I added as resolutely as a 
 Roman, " As I hear it is onli/ Greorge Rennie, 
 we may go down." Down we accordingly went. 
 He half advanced to shake hands with me ; I 
 made him a cold bow. He placed a chair for me, 
 and went on conversing with my Mother. He 
 looked well — handsome — quite in high health and 
 seemingly in high spirits. I scarcely heard a 
 word he said, my o^vn heart beat so loud. At 
 length he rose. He took leave of my mother ; 
 then looked at me as if uncertain what to do. I 
 held out my hand ; he took it, and said " Good- 
 bye ! " I answered him, " Farewell.'" He left 
 the house ! Such was the concluding scene of our 
 Romance ! Grreat God ! he left the house — the 
 verii room where — no matter — as if he had never 
 been in it in his life before — unfeeling wretch ! 
 It was a dreadful trial to me to be oblio^ed to
 
 42 Mr. Carhjle. [vii. 
 
 save appearances even for some minutes after he 
 was gone ; but I went through it bravely ! I 
 returned his letters that night with a note (on 
 account of which you would have blushed for me), 
 so that he might receive them just immediately 
 before his setting out, Avhich would effectually 
 prevent any reply : and now am I done with him 
 for ever. 
 
 Mr. Buchanan has not yet been here. I forgot 
 to answer his letters. No wonder he has not 
 come, when I never said he would be welcome. 
 Mr. Carlyle was with us two days, during the 
 greater part of which I read German with him. 
 It is a noble language ! I am getting on famously. 
 He scratched the fender dreadfully. I must 
 have a pair of carpet-shoes and handcuffs pre- 
 pared for him the next time. His tongue only 
 should be left at liberty : his other members are 
 most fantastically awkward. 
 
 A very laughable thing happened to me lately ; 
 but as my fingers are cramped with writing so 
 long, I will delay the recital till another time. H 
 you have any curiosity (and what woman is with-
 
 vil] a Postscript. 43 
 
 out ?) you will write me forthwith, for you shall 
 not have this good story till you ash it. 
 
 Kindest love to Maggy and your Uncle. She 
 and you have quite mistaken my character, since 
 you laugh at my chaste views. I will be hap- 
 joier contemplating my " beau ideaV^ than a real, 
 substantial, eating, drinking, sleeping, honest 
 husband. My mother joins my kind wishes for 
 you all. 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 JANE BAIL^ 
 
 They say a postscript is the most important 
 part of a lady's letter.^ If this be a general 
 maxim, I need not make an apology for writing 
 what I am about to say outside my letter. My 
 Mother and I anxiously desire — hope — expect — • 
 that you and Maggy will come out for a week or 
 so before she leaves town. She has never been 
 here yet, and it will be very unkind in you if you 
 do not bring her. 
 
 1 The signature is unfinished. 
 
 2 Cf, Edith Bellenden's letter in Old Mortality, chap. x.
 
 VIII. 
 
 [No address preserved. — To Miss Eliza Stodart.] 
 
 Haddington, 
 
 Srd March [1822]. 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 You have paid the price of my story, so 
 you shall have it, though I fear that, like other 
 good things, it will lose sadly in the telling. 
 
 Some days before I last wrote to you, I 
 received a letter, addressed to me in a copper- 
 plate hand, folded with mathematical exactness, 
 and sealed with the most scrupulous nicety. As 
 the hand was new to me, I turned the letter 
 round and round, and thought on every possible 
 quarter whence it could have come, till at length 
 it striiclc me all of a heap that by breaking the 
 seal I might penetrate into the interior and satisfy 
 my curiosity. Within an envelope I found the 
 followinof card : 
 
 o 
 
 " Mr. George — Cunningham presents his most
 
 VIII.] A Literary Proposal. 45 
 
 respectful compliments to Miss Welsli, and will 
 do himself the honour of waiting upon her, at 
 any time she may appoint, for the purpose of 
 holding some conversation respecting a projected 
 literary work, in which the young lady's assis- 
 tance would be peculiarly useful." 
 
 This billet puzzled me exceedingly, its writer 
 being a person with whom I was not even on 
 bowing terms. Mr. George Cunningham^ is an 
 orphan, who has been brought up in Haddington 
 with his uncle, Mr. Ainsley — a good-looking man 
 without an arm, who sits in the chapel,^ has a 
 
 1 If this be the " George Cunningham " mentioned in 
 the account of her visit to Haddington in 1849 {Letters and 
 Memorials, ii., p. 73)— "the boy of our school who never got 
 into trouble, and never helped others out of it " — she must 
 at that time have forgotten all about this interview ; for 
 she there says she had seen him onee since school days, " at 
 Craik's, some twelve years ago." Mr. William Ainsley is 
 referred to on the same page as some one she did not know, 
 or at least recollect having known. 
 
 2 I.e. (I suppose) is an Episcopalian, as distinct from a 
 frequenter of the parish church or of a Seceder " meeting- 
 house." In Letters and Memorials, ii., p. 31G, is a reference 
 to " the chapel " at Haddington.
 
 46 A Literary Proposal. [viii. 
 
 bald head that shines like glass, lives very 
 retiredly, and once poisoned all Mrs. Cunning- 
 ham the thread- woman's hens, for which mis- 
 demeanour he was fined twenty pounds to the 
 School of Industry. The said George was, when 
 a very young boy, in the mathematical class with 
 me ; but during the latter part of his existence, 
 which has (I understand) been spent in Mr. 
 Davidson's office, he had quite worn out of my 
 acquaintance, and almost out of my recollection. 
 After various musings I came to this decision, 
 that the Creature (who was really clever at school, 
 and won a prize from me) had written some 
 mathematical work for which he wanted sub- 
 scribers, and thought to engage my interest by 
 submitting his labours to my criticism ; or else, 
 said the imp of vanity within (not to be silenced, 
 it would seem, by the most humiliating rebuffs), 
 or else he has, like James Baird, fallen in love 
 with me from hearsay, and takes this extraordi- 
 nary method of getting himself introduced into 
 my presence. The card however required an 
 answer, so I forthwith wrote :
 
 ^^II.] A Literary Proposal. 47 
 
 "Miss Welsh will be at home all this evening, 
 and glad to hear from Mr. Cunningham of any 
 project which may, in its results, prove advan- 
 tageous to an old school-fellow, though she is 
 greatly at a loss to conjecture what assistance 
 towards any ' literary work ' can lie with her, an 
 individual utterly unknown in the Literary world, 
 and little qualified to attain any distinction there." 
 
 This last clause was put in merely for modesty's 
 sake, for even then I was planning the immor- 
 talizing of old maids.^ 
 
 After sitting in expectation for some hours (my 
 Mother ever and anon repeating that I was really 
 a very great character), it came into my head that 
 the card was probably a quiz written by some of 
 his companions. My Mother and I fell into fits 
 of laughter at the idea of the effect my answer 
 would produce upon the poor lad if he was un- 
 conscious of having said or written anything to 
 call it forth ; and just when our mirth was at the 
 loudest the door opened, and the said George, in 
 
 3 Cf. p. 33.
 
 48 A Literary Projwsal. [viii, 
 
 propria persona, stood before us. The terrible 
 agitation visible in liis deportment at his entrance 
 strengthened my suspicions of his heart. I held 
 out my hand to him with a most winning smile of 
 condescension, but even my smile did not restore 
 him to composure. He seated himself with his 
 eyes most religiously fixed upon the carpet, and 
 there was silence. My Mother vouchsafed a 
 remark upon the weather ; the imfortunate 
 Creature replied in a quavering voice, and again 
 there was silence. At length my Mother, com- 
 passionating the deplorable stagnation of his 
 intellect, withdrew. The door closed on us. 
 The literary man looked into the fire, and I 
 looked at the literary man; and a queer, little, 
 odd-shaped man it was. He coughed sundry 
 times, and at length began : 
 
 "You, no doubt, expect. Madam, that I am 
 going to produce a novel or tragedy of my 
 own composition for jour perusal, but— but 
 really I have no such thing." 
 
 So ! (thought I) it is as I suspected. This 
 odd Thing is really in love with me !
 
 VIII. J A Literary Proposal. 49 
 
 "The subject," lie continued, "wliicli I wish 
 to mention to you is — it is — a Magazine." 
 
 The last word came out of his throat bolt, as if 
 a bullet had been at its back, and the Creature 
 seemed much relieved. 
 
 " A Magazine ? " I repeated with surprise, the 
 intelligence conveyed by this important word not 
 being so luminous as he seemed to have antici- 
 pated. "A Magazine here — in Haddington ? Do 
 you mean to write a Magazine ? " 
 
 " I mean to assist," he replied somewhat 
 peevishly ; " and I am of opinion that this county 
 affords local interest sufficient to render a work 
 of that sort, published by Mr. Tait, extremely 
 acceptable. All that is wanting is jpeople to 
 write ity (What a desideratum ! !) 
 
 "I do not doubt," I replied, "if you can find 
 people to write it, and people to read it, Taifs 
 Magazine will do just as well as Blackwood's or 
 Waugh's,^ or anybody else's." 
 
 ^ Waugh, an Edinburgh bookseller, was the publisher of 
 the Neiv Edinburgh Eevietv, which died before the end of 
 1823. Carlyle contributed an article on Joanna Baillie's 
 
 E
 
 50 A Literary Proposal. [vTii. 
 
 " If you and those who are qualified would only 
 stejo foriuai^d," said the George. 
 
 " But really, sir, I do not feel myself qualified 
 to engage in such an undertaking." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Welsh," exclaimed the Creature, 
 growing very bold, " you must not tell that here ; 
 we all know well (with a sigh) for what you are 
 qualified.''^ 
 
 I had nothing to reply to such a compliment. 
 The solemn Thing twinkled its eyes, rolled its 
 head about like a china Mandarin, and, when it 
 seemed firmly balanced on its shoulders, continued 
 with a smile of ineffable self-complacency, — 
 
 " You are thinking who are the Editors ? " 
 
 Really I was thinking no such thing ; but he 
 looked so well-pleased, I had not the heart to 
 contradict him. 
 
 Metrical Legends to vol. i. in 1821, and one on Goethe's 
 Faust to vol. ii. in 1822 (Mr. Anderson's " Bibliography " 
 appended to Dr. Garnett's Life of Thomas Carlyle). See 
 Norton, Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle^ ii., pp. 53, 252. 
 " The Neiv Edinburgh Revieiv, Waugh's, is with the spirits 
 of its Fathers ! They gave it up last number " : he says, 
 " so perish all Queen Common-sense's enemies ! "
 
 VIII.] A Literary Proposal. 51 
 
 " And pray, Sir, who are they ? " 
 
 " We do not wish ourselves to be known," said 
 he ; " but I may mention to you that Peter Dodds 
 and I are to be principal Editors." 
 
 " And who is Peter Dodds ? " 
 
 " Provost Dodds' son." 
 
 " Indeed ! I thought I had been at school with 
 all his family. I did not know he had a son of 
 that name." 
 
 " Oh ! Peter went to school long after you left 
 
 itr 
 
 " What ! You do not mean that the hoy who 
 is in Mr. Davidson's office is going to be Editor 
 of a Magazine ? " 
 
 " The same ! He is a very clever young many 
 
 " Mr. Cunningham," said I, with all the gravity 
 I could muster, " Mr. Tait is a decent, indus- 
 trious lad, and I am of opinion that the first step 
 to be taken in this business is to secure him 
 against being ruined." 
 
 " Oh ! Peter Dodds and I mean to do that. 
 There is no fear of Mr. Tait." 
 
 I next proceeded to exercise all my powers of
 
 52 A Literary Proposal. [viii. 
 
 argument in trying to convince this candidate for 
 literary fame, that it would be more advisable 
 for the hitherto latent genius of Haddington to 
 distribute itself among the various jDcriodical 
 works in the Metropolis, when, if not admired, 
 the strength of others would sustain their weak- 
 ness, and they might Jiope to pass unobserved, 
 instead of, by uniting in a body, rendering dark- 
 ness visible. 
 
 And the Creature, on his side, used every 
 argument he was master of to induce me to 
 take an active part in this most unpromising 
 Magazine ; which however I positively declined, 
 at least till I was assured by the success of 
 the first number that it would not go to the 
 Devil. 
 
 We jDarted nuitually amused (I believe) after 
 an intei'view of more than an hour's length. And 
 here ends my story. It may not seem to you 
 so laughable as I led you to expect, for words 
 cannot do it justice ; but to me, who saw the 
 Creature's pompous absurdity in all the vividness 
 of reality, and who am moreover gifted with a
 
 viTi.] A Literary Proposal. 53 
 
 somewhat too lively perception of the ridiculous — 
 it was more than laughable — it was really over- 
 jpowering. One night when it was very stormy, 
 I lay awake till four o'clock in the morning, 
 thinking on the perils of such a night at sea, and 
 then the George and his Magazine came into my 
 head, and the multitude of odd conceits my 
 imagination suggested, operating on the nervous- 
 ness occasioned by want of sleep, threw me into 
 the most ungovernable fit of mirth I ever in my 
 life experienced. The noise I made awoke my 
 Mother, who, finding me lying at her side in a 
 state of utter helplessness, sending forth loud and 
 repeated " shouts of joy," fancied first I was 
 dreaming, and then that I had gone mad; and 
 she was really in a state of serious alarm before 
 I could compose myself sufficiently to explain the 
 occasion of my ill-timed transports. A tolerably 
 well-expressed, printed plan of the work has been 
 distributed among the inhabitants. I am sorry I 
 have lost my copy. Mr. C. promised me a sight 
 of the manuscript papers, from which I anticipate 
 great delight. If the first number (which I dare
 
 54 George Bennie. [viii. 
 
 swear will be the last) ever gets out, I will send 
 it you.^ 
 
 What dreadful weather this is ! The very 
 elements seem to have leagued with that Wretch 
 against me; for it is impossible to hear such 
 winds and not to thinl- of him. God grant he may 
 not be drowned ! and that he may return to Scot- 
 land alive ! Were he dead, you know I should 
 forget \\\^ faults ; and that — that would be dread- 
 ful. Could I ever forget his faults ? He might 
 then indeed have the glory of having made the 
 proudest heart in Britain hreah. But do not — for 
 mercy's sake do not ''pity^' me. I would almost as 
 soon that people should hate as ^liy me. And shall 
 I not be revenged ? My revenge shall be great as 
 his fault is great, and noble as his fault is base. 
 
 ^ In spite of Miss Welsh's unfavourable opinion, it ap- 
 pears that Mr. George Tait " from 1822 to 1828 published 
 and conducted The East Lothian Magazine, published 
 monthly. It was supported by a number of the young 
 literati of the locality, who contributed articles of ability 
 in historical, agricultural, and general literature. It had a 
 considerable circulation." — J. Martine, Reminiscences of 
 Haddington (Edin., 1883), p. 12.
 
 VIII.] George Bennie. 55 
 
 I fors'ot to mention one instance of his 
 
 o 
 
 effrontery at our last meeting. Thinking that 
 Janet Ewart might remark my silence, I sum- 
 moned forth my fortitude, and enquired for 
 Margaret. " She is very unwell," said he, "and 
 wearying exceedingly to see you. We have been 
 expecting you at ' Phantassie ' for a long time, I 
 wish you would go to-day. The carriage is up. I 
 brought it for a Miss Wilson who has come from 
 Edinburgh ; so you had best just go with us.'' 
 Oh the Devil incarnate ! I have been once at 
 Phantassie since he left it. It was trijing, but I 
 went through it hravehj. Poor Margaret is now 
 confined to bed — to all appearances dying. How 
 could he leave her at such a time ? — his favourite 
 she was too. And yet perhaps it was to save 
 
 his feelings from the melancholy But he 
 
 has no feeling — none. 
 
 I have sacrificed a German lesson to you 
 to-day, so I may perhaps be excused if I re- 
 quire a little of your time in return. Now, my 
 dear, dear Angel Bessy (God help thee!), will 
 you take the trouble to go to Brown's and pur-
 
 56 SJiopping Commissions. [viii. 
 
 chase for me a pair of very handsome crystal 
 jelly glasses"! ! ! as the comb is rather beyond 
 the dimensions of my purse, or rather of my 
 Mother's (for you know I never carry one). I 
 mean to ornament my head with these. (How 
 could you suppose I would be so extravagant 
 as to buy a coronet for myself ?) My Mother 
 got beautiful jelly glasses from him for Mrs. W. 
 (who by the way has not written me 07ie word 
 since she got married). Perhaps Mr. Brown 
 may remember them. And will you also, my 
 ever-adored Bessy (This is further off), go to Gall 
 and Spurzheim'^ — no, Gall and Leckky, or some 
 such thing, and prevail on them to give you two 
 modest little floivers or a little wreath of white in 
 exchange for this monster. Janet Ewart heard 
 me complaining of having nothing to put on my 
 head at a party here one night, and when she re- 
 
 ^ Can this be some kind of head-dress ? Commentators differ. 
 
 " The phrenologists. Spurzheim had been in Scotland 
 " examining heads " not long before. See Norton, Early 
 Letters of Thomas Carlyle, i., pp. 91, 94, 95, 136 ; ii., p. 252. 
 " Leckky " is Jane Welsh's spelling : qu. Leckie ?
 
 VIII.] Other Requests. 57 
 
 turned to town very attentively sent me this; but 
 it is far too fashionable for me — my head is quite 
 lost in it. If you take one a little higher, they 
 may perhaps be more willing to exchange it. 
 And when all this is done, my good Bessy, send me 
 the amount of my debt and Aggy's[?]. I would 
 enclose money if I had it, but my mother's notes 
 " be all done " ! I send you some lines I got 
 lately ; give them to Mr. Aitken. They are more 
 in his ivaij than the cheese. Return him also my 
 thanks for the fun he procured me. Ask David 
 Ritchy,^ if within reach of oracular communica- 
 
 ^ This, I suppose, is David Ritchie, afterwards minister 
 of Tarbolton, Ayrshire. He was nephew and from 1826-29 
 assistant to Dr. William Ritchie, minister of the High 
 Church and Professor of Divinity in the University of Edin- 
 burgh, on whom Carlyle has written a note in Letters and 
 Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle^ i., p. 196. He (David 
 Ritchie) must at this time have been a student. He once 
 told me that Jane Welsh lent him her tragedy to read, on 
 condition that he gave " a written criticism." He could 
 recollect nothing about it, except that it was "very wild 
 and bloody," and that in the last act none of the dramatis 
 jjcrsona' remained alive to speak the epilogue ! (This must 
 have been the tragedy written " before she was fourteen." 
 " She used to speak of it ' as just an explosion,' " says Miss
 
 58 Irving and Garhjle. [viii. 
 
 tion, what Treatise on punctuation it was, wliicli 
 was recommended to him. Mr. Irving is making 
 a horrible noise in London, where he has got a 
 church. He tells me, in his last, that his head is 
 quite turned with the admiration he has received; 
 and really I believe him. The boys Mr. Carlyle 
 is attending are Bullers (or some such name) 
 with Dr. Fleming.^ They are great Boys, singu- 
 larlij great. But I will tell you all about my two 
 learned friends in my next, for I am beginning to 
 feel some remorse for having consumed such a 
 quantity of vellum joaper. Kiss Maggy and your 
 Uncle for me ! Give ray compliments to Mr. 
 
 Jewsbury 'xa. Reminiscences^ ed. Froude, ii., p. 79; ed. Norton, 
 i., p. 60). He told me also — what is quite irrelevant, but 
 is worth, putting on record — that people thought it very 
 wicked of Sam Aitken (often mentioned in these letters) to 
 have a statuette of Napoleon in his room and to admire " the 
 national enemy." 
 
 ^ See Fronde, Thomas Carlyle, A.i., p. 146 ; Reminiscences, 
 ed. Froude, i., p. 193 ff. ; ed. Norton, ii., p. 102 ff. This allu- 
 sion and the reference to Irving (cf. Froude, Thomas Carlyle, 
 A. i., p. 152 ff.) fix the date of this letter. The promise to 
 tell " all about " Irving and Carlyle can hardly be said to be 
 fulfilled in any of the following letters ; but see pp. 65 and 
 78 in Letters IX. and XI.
 
 VIII. J Dreaming of Dr. Chalmers. 59 
 
 McLerotli (I like him mucli better since I saw how 
 his name is spelled), and tell him he is a person 
 of 110 enterprise. Mr. Gordon is to preach to us 
 on Wednesday, our fast-day. I have fished much 
 for an invitation to dinner at the Doctor's, but I 
 am beginning to despair. I dreamt of Dr. Chal- 
 mers all last night. 
 
 Yours very affectionately, 
 
 JANE WELSH. 
 
 You will be very ungrateful if you do not write 
 me soon and long.
 
 IX. 
 
 To Miss Stodartf 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 Favoured by Mr. McMim} 
 
 Templand, 
 
 227id July [1822 or 23 ?] 
 
 My beloved Cousin, — 
 
 I have one excuse to offer for my ap- 
 parent forgetfulness of you, and of my promise. 
 It is rather metaphysical in its nature, but 
 there is " common sense " in it for all that. 
 
 1 Mr. McMim must be the same person as tlie " Pi-ofessor 
 of Silence " referred to at the end of the letter {3Iim-= 
 " mum.") One is tempted to suppose that this may be Carlyle. 
 But Carlyle does not seem to have left Edinburgh at all in 
 July of 1822 (see Norton, Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle, 
 ii., pp. 93, 98), and he visited Dumfriesshire in October 
 (Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. i., p. 1G9). All through the 
 summer of 1823 he appears to have been with the BuUers 
 at Kinnaird House in Perthshire (Froude, Thomas Carlyle, 
 A. i., p. 18G). So that the tempting conjecture must be put 
 aside. The reference to Ii'ving would suit either year, but 
 is rather more appropriate in the earlier. I cannot settle 
 the date from the affairs of Benjamin B . 
 
 60
 
 IX.] A Dull Time in Dumfriesshire. 61 
 
 However, as it would require at least two pages 
 of my paper to explain it fully, and as I have 
 other matters more interesting to discuss, I shall 
 rely on your Christian charity in the meantime, 
 confident of obtaining your full forgiveness when 
 we meet. 
 
 If ever my excellent Mother gets me wheedled 
 here again ! Three weeks indeed ! I conjectured 
 how it would be from the very first. Oh my 
 beloved German, my precious, precious time ! 
 Were there only some definite prospect of a re- 
 lease ! but there is none. As long as our friends 
 here press us to stay, my Mother will not stir ; 
 my only hope is in tiring them. 
 
 We have got my Uncle from Liverpool, 
 his wife, the most horrid woman on the face 
 of the earth, and five such children ! in 
 addition to our family-^arty ; and what with the 
 mother's scolding and the children's squalling, 
 and my Uncle's fighting, and my Grandfather 
 fidgetting, I am half-demented ; and if some 
 speedy alteration for the better does not take 
 place in my condition, you may expect to
 
 62 Boreland in Wet Weather. [ix. 
 
 liear of me being found drowned in the Nitli 
 or hanged in my garters.^ 
 
 Now and then a visit to Penfillan or some- 
 where has afforded a httle variety to my exist- 
 ence. The week before last I spent with my 
 Uncle George at Boreland;^ and such a week! 
 There Avas no amusement within doors, and the 
 weather precluded the possibility of finding any 
 without. The only book in the house {Coelebs 
 ill Search of a Wife) was monopolized by a 
 young lady who, I strongly suspect, had come 
 there upon Coelebs's errand ; and the rest of us 
 had no sort of weapon whatever to combat time 
 with. For four whole days I had nothing for 
 it but to count the drops of rain that fell from 
 the ceiling into a basin beneath ; or to make a 
 *'6ztr&/e"^ of my watch-chain, for the satisfaction 
 of undoing it. Oh Plato, Plato ! wdiat tasks ! 
 
 2 See note 3 to Letter XIII., p. 92. 
 
 2 This is not a fictitious name. 
 
 ^ Burble = con.i\xs,\on^ disorder (Fr. barbouiller). The word 
 is used metaphorically by Carlyle in Letter XXXVII., 
 p. 223.
 
 ix.J On the Wrong Side of the River. 63 
 
 At length in a phrensy of ennui I mounted a 
 brute of a horse that could do nothing but trot, 
 and rode thirty-two miles just for diversion. 
 I left the good people at Boreland wondering, 
 when it would be fair ? they had wondered for 
 four days, and when I came back they were 
 still wondering. How few people retain their 
 faculties in rainy weather ! 
 
 I spent two days in Dumfries on my way 
 back, and these two days were more interesting 
 than the three hundred and sixty-five preced- 
 ing ones. AVho do you think was there at the 
 selfsame time ? My own gallant artist ! Ben- 
 jamin B himself ! I fancied him still in- 
 haling the atmosphere of Goethe, when I learned 
 he was within a stone-cast of the spot I sat 
 on ! But I did not see him ! ! ! or rather I did 
 not speak with him ; for I actually saw him — 
 on the opposite bank of the river ! Let any 
 human being conceive a more tantalizing situa- 
 tion ! saw him — and durst not make any effort 
 to attract his notice, though, had my will alone 
 been consulted in the matter, to have met him
 
 64 071 the Wrong Side of the liiver. [ix. 
 
 " eyes to eyes and soul to soul,^^ I would have 
 swam — ay, swam across, at the risk of being 
 dosed with water-gruel for a month to come. 
 Oil this everlasting etiquette ! how many, and 
 how ungrateful are the sacrifices it requires ! 
 Providence has surely some curious design 
 respecting this youth and me ! It was on my 
 birthday^ we parted a year ago ; it was on my 
 birthday we met or (but for that confounded 
 river) should have met again. And there are 
 many strange coincidences in our histories be- 
 sides. Something 7nust come out of all this ! 
 And yet it was strange in Providence, after 
 bringing us together from such a distance, 
 to leave us on the opposite banks of a river ! 
 I declare I do not know what to make of it; 
 but time, time unravels all mysteries. And now 
 whither is he gone ? to the north, or to the 
 south? I learned that his father had taken a 
 seat in the English mail ; but was it for himself 
 or for his son ? 
 
 5 July 14 (" Bastille day ").
 
 IX.] Irving in London. 65 
 
 I wonder wliat the devil keeps my Mother 
 here ? 
 
 We are off asfain to-morrow on another visit 
 — to the Crichtons'' at Dabton. Mrs. C. is one 
 of my first favourites. I hear "Wilham Grordon 
 is to be married to a cousin of his own in 
 Dumfries. I declare I cannot hear of these 
 marryings and givings in marriage, without 
 some feeling of irritation ; but esperance ! it is 
 my motto. 
 
 What think you of the " Great centre of at- 
 traction," ^Hhe Spanish Adonis,^^ "the renowned 
 Edward Irving ? '' Did I not tell you how it would 
 be ? Oh ! I do share in his triumph ! but I fear — 
 
 ^ The Criclitons of Dabton (she spells it " Chrighton " 
 here) are mentioned in Letters and Meviorials of Jane 
 Welsh Carlyle, i., p. 74. 
 
 7 Cf. Froude, TJiomas Carhjle, A. i., p. 152 ff. " Spanish 
 Adonis " must refer to Irving' s appearance. Here is Car- 
 lyle's description of him, as he first saw him in 1808 : 
 " Looked very neat, self-possessed, and enviable : a flourish- 
 ing slip of a youth, with coal-black hair, swarthy clear 
 complexion ; very straight on his feet ; and, except for the 
 glaring squint alone, decidedly handsome." — Reminiscences, 
 ed. Froude, i., p. 88 ; ed. Norton, ii., p. 17.
 
 66 Boohs and Shoes. [ix. 
 
 I greatly fear he has not a head for these London 
 flatteries ! 
 
 This travels by the " Processor (one f) of 
 silence," as also Mr. Aitken's books and two 
 pairs of shoes. The shoes I will thank you to 
 get transmitted to Anderson ; and I will like- 
 wise thank you remember me to Mr. Aitken, 
 and to apologise to him for my having detained 
 these books so long. I never liked risking 
 them by the coach, and this is the first oppor- 
 tunity that has occurred. The parcel will be left 
 at the shop. 
 
 Everybody here except the woman — who 
 knows nothing at all about you — unites with me 
 in kind love to yourself and Brady. Remem- 
 ber me, according to your discretion, to all my 
 acquaintances you know. 
 
 Write to me, if you can forgive me, and 
 believe me 
 
 Always affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE B. WELSH.
 
 X. 
 
 [Tliis letter must belong to the latter part of January, 
 1823. King George IV. visited Edinburgh in the 
 latter part of August, 1822.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 Honored by Mr. John W . 
 
 Haddington, 
 
 Tuesday, 
 
 It is over ! my dearest cousin ! Heaven be 
 praised, the " grand veesit " is over ! They — 
 to wit, that pattern of a wise man, my Uncle 
 Robert, his big, bouncing brute of a dog, and 
 pretty, proper, prosai'c wife— took themselves off 
 last Saturday morning. Since Miss Betty Grey, 
 of curious memory, stept into " The Good In- 
 tent,^^^ summer was a year, I think I have not 
 
 1 A Haddington correspondent informs me that " The 
 Good Intent " was the name of a coach which ran between 
 Haddington and Edinburgh. "It took about three hours and 
 more sometimes to perform the journey with the same pair 
 of horses." — J. Martine, Reminiscences of Haddington, p. 18. 
 
 67
 
 68 Umvelcome Visitors. [x. 
 
 sent so liearty a "get ye good morning, Audrey" 
 after any departing visitor. 
 
 After keeping two honest Linton hens in an 
 indescribable state of anxiety for a whole fort- 
 night, and precluding us from enjoying any 
 Christmas civilities our neighbours might prefer 
 us, they came just on the day we did not ex- 
 pect them, for it rained atrociously, and just on 
 the day we did not want them, for my Mother 
 and I were particularly engaged. She — that is 
 our Mother — was making nice things, and our- 
 self was in the act of toasting a clean, cold 
 handkerchief before the fire — in preparation for 
 the last scene of Schiller's Wallenstein,^ the most 
 tragical of tragedies — ^when the door burst open, 
 and the young person who has the honour to be 
 our Aunt-in-Law, sailed in in all the pride of 
 
 2 Seems to be a vague reminiscence of As Ton Like It, 
 Act v., Sc. i. where Audrey says, " God ye good even, 
 William." 
 
 '' Si^elt with one J. She had cried over Wallenstein some 
 wee\s before this. " You did well to cry so heartily over 
 Wallenstein,^^ writes Carlyle to her on Dec. 2.5th, 1822 
 (Norton, Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle, ii., p. 156).
 
 X.] Shandy versus Dargo. 69 
 
 furs and feathers, followed by her Husband, in 
 a shooting dress, and proceeded by the inimi- 
 table Dargo— that Dog of Dogs, " la liuiUhne 
 meruellle da monde " — prancing, capering, and 
 overthrowing, with all the boldness and impu- 
 dence to be expected in a town dog on a visit 
 to friends in the country. However, to do Dargo 
 justice, he seems the most kindly disposed of 
 the three ; for he no sooner descried Shandy, 
 than he made straight up to him, and com- 
 menced kissing and caressing him with great 
 good-will. Shandy, unacquainted with town 
 manners, approved not of such freedom, nor 
 was he slow in showing his resentment, for that 
 brief morsel, like the offspring of the bass- 
 fiddle,* has a bigger soul than his size entitled 
 him to : his eyes lightened, his back bristled, 
 like a very cat's, and he poured forth such a 
 volley of indignation, that the canine Goliath, 
 quite astounded by his eloquence, made a rapid 
 retreat with his tail between his legs. This 
 hub-bub deserves the notice I have taken of 
 
 ■^ The little fiddle being the child of the big fiddle.
 
 70 Unwelcome Visitors. [x. 
 
 it ; for it was the only moment of excitement 
 I experienced during tlieir stay. 
 
 Oil ! I have been endu»ring the pains of purga- 
 tory for the last fortnight.^ The sweet people 
 hereabouts, fiddling, feasting, and capering away 
 their wits, as if they had heard a blast from 
 Oberon's horn — all for joy that they have got 
 one step nearer to the close of their pitiful exist- 
 ence — were of themselves sufficient to have 
 thrown me into a wonderful state of quandary ; 
 and then within doors ! " Gemini and gilli- 
 flower water! " could you have had a peep within ! 
 There was my precious Uncle, sneezing, snarling, 
 and sometimes snoring; the Lady dressing, yawn- 
 ing, and practising postures ; our Mother weary- 
 ing her heart to entertain them — all in vain ; 
 and our sorrowful self casting many a wistful 
 glance towards the little table, where our good 
 friends Schiller and Alfieri lay neglected, and 
 wishing from time to time our cold visitors in 
 hotter quarters than they might have found to 
 their liking. 
 
 5 The " new year " tinae.
 
 X.] Uncle Robert. 71 
 
 You may think me bitter — perhaps inconstant 
 towards these gentry — may be so ! I certainly 
 once loved Robert truly — for no reason I can 
 discover, but his being my uncle. I looked 
 to him as a protector and a friend when I 
 'needed both; and I have found him as indif- 
 ferent to my interests as any stranger. The 
 warm affection I offered him deserved some- 
 thing better than bare toleration, and even that 
 it hath scarcely found. " Slighted love is ill to 
 hear,'^ ^ as the song says, and I am no miracle 
 of patience. I have knocked at the door of 
 his " hard and stony heart " till my knuckles 
 are sore ; it hath not been ope7ied unto me, and 
 of a verity I will knock no longer. As for 
 the Lady, with her cold routine of looks and 
 words, her affectation and insipidities, she de- 
 lights not me; ^^ my soul is above her^ More- 
 over she once called a certain witty, dashing, 
 accomplished friend of mine " a heavy-loohing 
 LAD." Oh, the indiscriminating ass ! I will 
 
 ^ " Slighted love is sair to bide," occurs in Burns's Duncan 
 Gray.
 
 '72 Unwelcome Visitors. [x. 
 
 never forgive her for it ! never ! But what 
 could be expected from Port Grlasgow ? She 
 may look on the physiognomy of muslins, and 
 understand, but of " the luminous characters of 
 the soul, impressed upon the broiv,^^ her obtuse 
 mind hath no conception ! Away with them ! 
 it is an unworthy subject. 
 
 David S is to be speedily married to 
 
 Miss R 's thousand pounds. Esperance, ma 
 
 chere ! When such women as Miss R get 
 
 Lieutenants, we shall have generalissimos at 
 least. Thomas Gillespie is to be here next 
 week. Captain Spalding'' is waiting till next 
 month for a friend, whom Miss Mair says I 
 know well ; but I do not know well, nor can I 
 
 " " Captain Spalding " is mentioned in a letter of Carlyle 
 to Miss Welsh (Jan. 20th, 1823), given in Norton's Early 
 Letters of Thomas Carlyle, ii., p. 178. " I am sorry for 
 you with your Highland cousin and the gallant Captain 
 Spalding. But it is wrong in you to take these things 
 so much to heart. A little interruption does no harm 
 at all, and these visits, as they bring you more in contact 
 with the common world, are in your case absolutely bene- 
 ficial." She had evidently complained of their visitors to 
 Carlyle, as she does at the beginning of this letter.
 
 X.] " When we Went to See the King." 73 
 
 imagine who she alludes to. If it is somebody 
 coming to woo, I will send him to you, for I 
 mean to be a belle for these eighteen months to 
 come. What a bright creature Hope is, after 
 all ! But to the point. I suppose our visit to 
 town must remain in prospecta for some weeks 
 longer, till these good people are come and gone. 
 Well, time flies swift enough; it is already six 
 months to-day since the day before we went to 
 Edinburgh to see the King.^ I expect to like 
 Edinburgh next time, which I have not done 
 in my late visits there. For God's sake, Bess, 
 never let there be any more coolnesses betwixt 
 
 8 George IV. landed on Aug. 15tli, 1822, and left Edin- 
 biTrgh on Aug. 29th. Carlyle's reflections on the royal visit 
 will be found in Reniiniscencxs^ ed, Froude, i., p. 173 ; ed. 
 Norton, ii., p. 85. " Reading, one day, on a public Placard 
 from the Magistrates (of which there had been several), 
 That on His Majesty's Advent it was to be expected that 
 everybody would be carefully well dressed, ' black coat and 
 white duck trousers,' if at all convenient, — I grumbled to 
 myself ' Scandalous flunkeys, I, if I were changing my dress 
 at all, should incline rather to be in white coat and black 
 trousers ! " — but resolved rather to quit the City alto- 
 gether, and be absent and silent in such ef&orescence of 
 flunkeyisms."
 
 74 Poetry and Plagiarism. [x. 
 
 us ; they go to my heart, tho' I can look proud 
 enough all the time. Give Jane Welsh's respect- 
 ful compliments to Mr. Aitken, and request of 
 him to display his best taste in the beautifying 
 of my wee, wee Cicero. The ])igmo2i race are 
 likely to be in fashion this season, and I am 
 desirous to have the little elf superbly dressed. 
 Have you seen the Simpson lately ? Do you 
 know he has been guilty of plagiarism, or, at best, 
 of most servile imitation, in one of those poems of 
 his. You remember "as the core-blasted tree," 
 etc., etc. ? It is the best thing he ever wrote. 
 Well, in looking over some scraps of verse the 
 other day, I found a beautiful passage from 
 Moore's Melodies, that has indubitably been the 
 mother of "the core-blasted tree." How pro- 
 voking ! 
 
 " As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, 
 While the tide runs in coldness and dai^kness below ; 
 So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, 
 While the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while." ^ 
 
 ^ The first stanza of a song in Moore's Irish Melodies^ the 
 first line serving as title. In the second line Moore wrote 
 " in darkness and coldness."'
 
 X.] Poetry and Plagiarism. 75 
 
 Pray ask him which he thinks has expressed 
 the sentiment best, he or Moore ? Adieu, my 
 darhng! my play time is done, or I would not 
 take leave of you yet, for I am in a scribbling 
 humor to-day. My piano has been tuned, and 
 " The Blue Bell " sounds divinely. Ta-ta ; kisses 
 to Brady and Maggie. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE B. WELSH. 
 
 What a pity but Mr. Micklew (oh ! I have 
 forgot to spell it again) roth^'' (I think) had a 
 right look of me ! He seeiDS to be labouring 
 under a strange mistake. 
 
 ^" Cf. p. 59
 
 XI. 
 
 To Misf! Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Haddington, 
 Sunday [Postmark, March ^Ist, 1823]. 
 
 My deaeest Cousin, — 
 
 I have commenced two letters for you 
 during the last two weeks, and each time I have 
 "been interrupted by that Ass of Asses, John 
 
 W" , To-day I am safe till the church comes 
 
 out. Was there ever anything more provoking ? 
 We are to have no war after all ; our travellers 
 on the continent will be exposed to no incon- 
 veniences ; and so — well ! no matter ! it is better 
 to keep company with Schiller and De Stael for 
 one half year, than to " sucJde fools and chronicle 
 heer^'^ for half a century. 
 
 I am going to forget him immediately. I could 
 have done so long ago, but for one little action, 
 
 1 " To suckle fools and chronicle small beer," — Othello, 
 Act ii., Sc. i. Is George Rennie the " traveller on the con- 
 tinent"? 
 
 76
 
 XI.] The Charm of an Attitude. 77 
 
 that has made a strange impression on my senses. 
 My spur required to be shifted from my left foot 
 to my right ; and you cannot think with what 
 inimitable grace this small manoeuvre was accom- 
 plished. Whenever his idea occurs to me, I 
 fancy him with one knee on the earth, his horse's 
 bridle flung across his arm, his hands employed 
 in fastening the spur, and his eloquent eyes fixed 
 assuredly not on what he was doing. Dear Bess, 
 is it not very extraordinary that a philosopher, 
 as I am or pretend to be, should be so taken 
 with an attitude ? However I toill forget him. 
 Hitherto I have been twice as constant as Pene- 
 lope ; she was encouraged by the assurance that, 
 as soon as Ulysses catne, her troubles were at an 
 end : but I have no such comfortable certainty. 
 
 E-eally there is nothing at all amusing in 
 one's mode of existence here. A tea-party, a 
 quarrel, or a report of a marriage now and then, 
 are the only excitements this precious little 
 borough affor(Js. However I battle away with 
 Time pretty successfully ; my lessons employ the 
 greater part of the day, and a little trifling with
 
 78 Mr. Carlyle's brilliant Letters. [xi. 
 
 the "professional callers, ^^ or a game at chess or 
 battledoor with our constant man of physic, Dr. 
 Fyffe, consumes the rest. Often at the end of 
 the week my spirits and my industry begin to 
 flag ; but then comes one of Mr. Carlyle's bril- 
 liant letters, that inspires me with new resolution, 
 and brightens all my hopes and prospects with 
 the golden hues of his own imagination. He is a 
 very Phoenix of a Friend ! Sometimes too Pro- 
 vidence prepares me a little extra entertainment. 
 For instance, about a month ago, in one of the 
 dirtiest, darkest lanes in a most untidy part of 
 the town, I found — you could never guess what ! 
 I actually found a Genius ! The said Glenius is 
 a beggar-boy about fifteen years of age ; he lives 
 with his mother (an ugly old sinner) in a sort of 
 cell about four feet square. Never had Genius 
 a more unpromising abode ! A palsied table, a 
 one-legged stool, the wreck of a bed, and a sort 
 of wooden press are all the articles of furniture 
 it contains. But in spite of its abject poverty the 
 place has a look of comfort, I may almost say of 
 taste. Its black mud walls are plastered over
 
 XI.] A Genius Found. 79 
 
 with heads, maps, landscapes, and caricatures ; a 
 neat little model of a man-of-war is mounted on 
 brackets above the chimney; and the table is 
 oppressed with books so smoked and so tattered 
 they might to all appearance date their antiquity 
 from Noah's Ark. All the drawings and the man- 
 of-war are the boy's own work; and the most 
 of his time, in spite of the obstacles of poverty 
 and ignorance, is devoted to the cultivation of 
 taste far superior to his state and education. 
 
 My ideas of talent are so associated with 
 everything great and noble, that while I admired 
 the boy's ardour and ambition, it never once 
 occurred to me a Grenius might possibly be a 
 knave ; and so I spent my leisure time for one 
 whole fortnight in laying plans for his improve- 
 ment in the arts, and anticipating the splendid 
 career of successful enterprise that lay before 
 him. But about the end of that time I began 
 to suspect my subject might disappoint my lofty 
 expectations. He discovered a mortal aversion to 
 all kinds of vulgar labour — that was genius-like ; 
 he had never undergone the operation of baptism
 
 80 The Genius Found out. [xi. 
 
 — that was quite romantic : but there were other 
 points of his character and history which I could 
 not so easily away with. He is greedy, cunning, 
 and ungrateful ; this disgusted nie, and when I 
 found no power on earth could prevail with him 
 to refrain from lying or to wash his face, I lost 
 all patience. My plans had given him so much 
 eclat that my patronage was no longer necessary, 
 and so I left the patient in the hands of his new 
 admirers. The genius was succeeded in my 
 aifection by an Irish packman with a broken 
 back — eight years old and a few inches high — 
 a calm, correct, decided character, the very re- 
 verse of the artist. He hops about with a crutch 
 under one arm and a basket on the other ; and 
 with his profits on tape and chapel needles^ helps 
 to maintain three sisters younger than himself. 
 
 - " Chapel needles," i.e. Whitechapel needles. I have 
 before me the label of a packet of needles, kindly sent by 
 a correspondent from Alyth, on which " White Chapel " is 
 printed as two separate words. Another correspondent tells 
 me that her mother, now over ninety, remembers an old 
 woman who " liked a darning needle to sew everything 
 with." She used to say, " Awa' wi' your whites and chapels I
 
 XI. J A Marriage for Money. 81 
 
 But my paper is getting filled, and I have not 
 given you one word of news. Poor Jane Lorimer, 
 Margaret's only sister, is just dying of fever ; she 
 has been past hope for the last week. Miss 
 
 R ^ is to be married on the first of April. The 
 
 unfortunate couple have shown the little sense 
 they have in selecting that day. Poor girl ! she 
 is apparently in a galloping consumption, and 
 it will be a miracle if ever she set her foot on 
 Indian ground ; but if her purse is safe, David 
 will not vex himself about her lungs. I had a 
 letter from Mrs. Keith the other day; she is quite 
 in the second heaven. I wonder you have not 
 heard of Dr. Keith. He is brother to the Knight 
 Marischal,^ and has a library as famous as the 
 
 Commend me to the derner." Another tells me of a pedlar- 
 woman who went about the Lothians, and used to say : " Ye 
 may brag as ye like o' your chapels and your sharps. Com- 
 mend me to the darner for our Jock's sarks [i.e. shirts]." 
 For the fame of Whitechapel needles, compare Dickens's 
 Christmas Carol: "For the sharpest needle, best AVhite- 
 chapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper 
 than Scrooge." 
 
 3 See preceding letter, p. 72. 
 
 * Alexander Keith, Knight-Marischal of Scotland, is men- 
 
 G '
 
 82 Looking forward to Edinburgh. [xi. 
 
 Marisdial's little pony. He is very clever and 
 frightfully plain ; but then he has a carriage and 
 a fine footman, and what defects do not these 
 supply ? My Mother has said nothing of the day, 
 though we are always speaking of the grand visit, 
 I am so out of humour about it, that I am re- 
 solved I shall not ask again ; but I fervently hope 
 she will tell you whe7i before long. Kind love and 
 kisses to Bradie and Maggie. I fear you will 
 not be able to decipher this fearful scrawl. Do 
 you know? I have got a fine head of hair 
 lately ; altogether I am looking rather more cap- 
 tivating than usual. I pray Venus it may last 
 till I get to town. 
 
 Yours affectionately for ever and ever, 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH. 
 There is some chance of George Rennie paying 
 a visit to Phantassie during the spring or sum- 
 mer. I was surprised to hear it, but I do not 
 believe he will come. 
 
 tioned in Lockhart's Life of Scott in connexion witli the 
 visit of Greorge IV.
 
 XII. 
 
 To Miss Bess Stodart of the Easton,^ etc., etc., etc. 
 
 Haddington, 
 
 18th April [1824^?]. 
 
 My sweetest Coz, — 
 
 I have been meaning to write to thee for 
 these last three weeks — but "man proposeth 
 and God disposeth ! " I do not know how it is, 
 for all such a miser as I am as to the article of 
 time, I have very seldom an hour to spare. I 
 am busy just now translating German — as busy 
 as if my fortune in this world, and my salvation 
 in that which is to come, depended on my pro- 
 ficiency in that enchanting tongue; and then there 
 has been Miss Grace ^ here for a whole month, 
 and she needs the entertainment of walks and 
 tea-parties. At the first she was quite intoler- 
 
 ^ A farm near Biggar, in Lanarkshire, where Eliza Stodart 
 was born. 
 2 Her aunt. 
 
 83
 
 84 The Miss Welsh. [xii. 
 
 able with lier fine-lady airs, and " toplofticar*^ 
 notions. She thought (I suppose) that she was 
 to carry it over me with as high a hand here as 
 she had done at Penfillan ; but I was not just in 
 the humour to let her. " My foot is on my native 
 h,eath, and my name is McGregor!""^ There no one 
 shall play the Miss Welsh but me. She decamps 
 to-morrow — Praise be to God in the highest ! for 
 I am " side of imitating Job " for this bout. We 
 have had Miss Macmillan too for ten days, and 
 her brother for two, both of them right worthy 
 persons in their way, whom one does not grudge 
 to " behave pretty " to. 
 
 Speaking of pretty behaviour, you may tell 
 Mr. Tiger ^ that I should think he has behaved 
 very ugly indeed. What was the use of making 
 such a hubbub about my friend's address unless 
 he meant to call for him ? Moray Street is 
 
 ^ Top-loft — top storey, highest gallery ; so toploftical — 
 high and mighty. 
 
 * Roh Roy, chap, xxxiv. 
 
 5 Perhaps this is her coi;sin " Teeger Wull," Tiger Will 
 — William Dunlop, referred to in Letters and Memorials, 
 ii., p. 335.
 
 XII.] " Mr. Thomas. 
 
 neither a habitation in the moon nor in the 
 centre of the earth. As far as my geography 
 helps me, it is a new street half way down Leith 
 Walk ; but it is no matter now where it is ! Mr. 
 Thomas has been in the country this month back, 
 and the information he wished to obtain from 
 Mr. Grillies by means of the Tiger's introduction 
 he has long ago gotten from another quarter.^ 
 
 I have had a horrible fright with Mother. She 
 was taken last Monday with a violent pain in 
 
 ^ Carlyle writes from 3 Moray Street on April 2nd, 1824; 
 lie writes from Mainliill on April 15tli (Froude, Thomas 
 Carlyle, A. i., pp. 210, 212), Likely enough she may exag- 
 gerate the time he has been out of town. The reference to 
 Mr. Gillies points to 1824 as the date of this letter ; for Car- 
 lyle writes to his brother Alexander on March 2nd, 1824, from 
 1 Moray Street : " There is one Pearse Gillies, an advocate 
 here, who knows of me, and whom I am to see on the 
 subject of this book [Wilhehn 3Ieistcr]; he being a great 
 German scholar, and having a fine library of books, one or 
 two of which I wish to examine " (Norton, Early Letters of 
 T. Carlyle, ii., p. 2G7). " Mr. Robert Pearse Gillies," says 
 Prof. Norton, " was a man of much culture, who had resided 
 in Germany, and seen Goethe and other celebrities. He had 
 a large acquaintance with literary people in England and 
 Scotland, and his Memoirs of a Literally Veteran, pub- 
 lished in three volumes in 1851, contains many entertaining 
 sketches and anecdotes." Moray Street is now Spey Street.
 
 86 Ser Mother's Illness. [xii. 
 
 her head and retching. Mr. Howden^ bled her, 
 employed all sorts of vigorous remedies ; but in 
 spite of everything that was done she remained 
 for more than three hours in a state of agony 
 that I never saw the like of. Since then she has 
 had no return of violent illness, but she is still 
 plagued with headache and sickness at times. 
 However, as it is visibly bile that is at the 
 bottom of all the mischief, I expect with the 
 help of a few abominations to have her quite 
 put to rights in a day or two. 
 
 I need not say how happy we were to hear of 
 your Uncle's amendment. Is it not very odd that, 
 sensible man as he is, he cannot take care of him- 
 self ? You never quit him that he is not laid up. 
 As a little Dunlop said of her Father once when 
 he had put them all in a panic by staying out, 
 " Jf any body lund lialii^^d his hands, I ivould cuff 
 his lugs^ to him."" In the meantime you may 
 give him a kiss. 
 
 7 Mr. Thomas Howden, surgeon, wlao had been Dr. Welsh's 
 partner, afterwards Hved in her old Haddington home {Letters 
 and Memorials, ii., p. 321). ^ I.e. box his ears.
 
 XII.] The Man of Medicine. 87 
 
 I have run against the little gunpowder man 
 of medicine/ in the entry, several times. We 
 " mo we "^^ to one another. I toss my head ' top- 
 loftically ' ; he looks as if he could eat me ; and 
 that is all. A week or two after we came from 
 Edinburgh he tried another fit of illness ; but it 
 did nothing for him, and as we neither sent to 
 enquire for him, nor testified sympathy for him 
 in any way, his sins were vert/ soon forgiven him ; " 
 that is to say, after having kept his bed for a 
 week, one day dabbling with leeches, and the 
 next plashing in warm water, he all at once rose 
 up in goodhealth, dressed himself, and drove 
 to town to be present at an operation performed 
 on his uncle, not the musical genius of St. Giles' 
 Steeple, but a fat old gentleman who has a fine 
 house with a "jffa/Z" and saloons ?ind grounds 
 about it in the vicinity of Moffat. Now, when 
 
 9 Dr. Fyffe. See Letter V., p. 25. 
 
 !'• i>/o?f = "to make mouths" — smile or grin, as tlie case 
 may be. 
 
 n it ]?oj. whether is easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven 
 thee ; or to say, Arise, and walk ? " (Matt. ix. 5.)
 
 88 The Man of Medicine. [xii. 
 
 he perceives tliat lie may bleed or boil himself 
 to the day of Pentecost without interesting this 
 hard and stony heart of mine in the least in his 
 favour, he is adopting another mode of attack. 
 Instead of shaving his luhishers and using all 
 possible expedients to give him the aspect of a 
 woebegone man, he is now trying to dazzle my 
 wits with a white hat, silver-headed jockey whip, 
 and bits of leggings of so bright a yellow that it 
 does me ill to look at them : but c^est assez ! 
 
 George Rennie is to be home on a visit in the 
 beginning of June ; that is nothing either to you 
 or me. 
 
 Now, my dear, dear angel Bessie, will you do 
 me tAvo tremendous favours ? Will you send the 
 book in the first place to Doctor Carlyle's^^ lodg- 
 ings, where Betty ^^ was before, as I have forgot 
 the name of the people ? I dare not commit it 
 to the indiscretion of a porter. Next, you are to 
 
 1- Thomas Carlyle's brother John, then a student of medi- 
 cine in Edinburgh. 
 
 13 Probably the old Haddington nurse. See note 10 to 
 Letter V., p. 27.
 
 XII.] A '^Je7nmy" Hat. 89 
 
 be so very kind as order for me at Gibson ^^ and 
 Craig's one of the best gentleman's hats, of the 
 most fashionable cut, not broadrimmed. The out- 
 side measure is inclosed. It is to be a present 
 to my intended husband ; so do see that they send 
 a Jemmy^^ one. I am in haste, as this insipid 
 scrawl bears ample witness. Mother joins in 
 kind, kind love to Bradie and you. 
 
 Ever, dearly beloved, your affectionate friend, 
 
 JANE B. WELSH. 
 
 Mr. Howden has not called to-night, so I 
 cannot get at the measure of his head; but I 
 will send it by the first opportunity. ^'^ 
 
 1^ She spells it with two b's. Above, " abomination " had 
 two m's — perhaps through a sort of emphasis, as I have 
 known a soldier write to his mother from India, " It is very 
 hottt here." 
 
 ^^ I.e. spruce, dandyish. 
 
 1^ This P.S. is written outside, and she has afterwards 
 drawn her pen through it. If " my intended husband " 
 means Carlyle, she must have taken Eliza Stodart into her 
 confidence (as seems to be implied in Letter XI., p. 77). 
 But then one must conjecture that Carlyle's head was of the 
 same size as Mr. Howden's, which appears to be doubtful. 
 If the odd present of '■^s, jemmy hat" had been a joke, 
 " intended husband " would have been underlined.
 
 XIII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Templand, 
 27th September [Postmark, 1824]. 
 
 My dearest Eliza, — 
 
 I promised to write to you as soon as I 
 was settled. "Lord! how this world is given to 
 lying ! "^ I have been settled now near a month, 
 and you are still without your letter. Eh bien ! 
 fortunately for me, you are too good to get 
 crunfh'py.^ 
 
 The Fates have been indifferently kind to me 
 since we parted. During the two weeks my 
 Cousin stayed with us I never wearied once. I 
 played chess or ecarte with him ; paid morning 
 
 1 Falstaff. "Lord, Lord, how this world is given to 
 lying! " {First Part of King Henry IV., Act v., Sc. 4.) 
 
 2 Crumpie is explained by Jamieson " crisp," " brittle " : 
 so, figuratively, it would mean " irritable." But probably 
 the meaning is influenced by grnmpy.
 
 XIII.] Cousin James Baillie. 91 
 
 visits with him ; strolled thro' the woods and 
 fields with him, or sat on a green bank and 
 talked sentiment with him. You will stare to 
 hear of Mr. Baillie talking sentiment : I assure 
 you nevertheless, this man with moustaches and 
 four rings on his fingers is as sentimental as the 
 Prince of Denmark. But it is only in confidential 
 intercourse that he lays aside his dress-manner 
 of indifference, and suffers all the sensibility of 
 his heart to appear : even then he seems to take 
 pleasure in gainsaying his nature. Often in our 
 conversations, when his imagination had risen 
 to the highest pitch, when his fine eyes full of 
 tears, and the melancholy, impassioned tones of 
 his voice showed he was ready to be overpowered 
 by his feelings, he would start away to some 
 theme of ridicule or folly, and efface the impres- 
 sion he had just made with the laugh of a 
 Mephistopheles. How ill I understood him 
 before we came here ! His character has received 
 such a fictitious colouring from the associations 
 to which it has been exposed, that it might well 
 deceive so unpractised an observer as I am !
 
 92 Cousin James Baillie. [xiii. 
 
 " You were sure that lie was not a person at 
 all to my taste." Lord help your simplicity I 
 how you mistook the matter ! He is my very 
 heau-ideal in all respects but one. His nature 
 is the most affectionate I ever knew, his spirit 
 the most magnificent; he has a clear, quick 
 intellect, a lively fancy : with beauty, brilliance, 
 sensibility, native gracefulness, and courtly 
 polish, he wants but genius to be — the destiny of 
 my life. What a pity that Heaven should have 
 denied him this sine qua non ! or rather what a 
 mercy ! for he will soon be married (I suppose) 
 to that vexatious " somebody," and I have not, 
 like my " unfortunate " namesake in the song, 
 any fancy for dangling in my garters.^ Well! 
 
 ^ This is an allusion to the ballad of The Unfortunate 
 Miss Bailey, popular about 1805, and said to have first 
 appeared in George Colman's Love Laughs at Locksmiths. 
 It is to be found in Ingledew's Ballads and Songs of York- 
 shire (1860), p. 241. The first stanza is as follows : 
 
 " A captain bold of Halifax, who dwelt in country quarters, 
 Seduced a maid, who hanged herself one morning in her garters. 
 His wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily. 
 He took to drinking ratafia, and thought upon Miss Bailey. 
 Oh, Miss Bailey ! Unfortunate Miss Bailey ! " 
 
 [For this note I am indebted to my friend Mr. C. H. Firth.]
 
 XIII.] Descent from the Ideal. 93 
 
 I begin to think men and women may be very 
 charming, without having any genius. Who 
 knows but I shall grow reasonable at last, 
 descend from my ideal heaven to the real earth, 
 marry, and — Oh Plato ! — make a pudding ? I 
 do not say puddings ; for sure I am, the first 
 would be the death of me. 
 
 Eh hien ! happen what may, I do not think I 
 
 shall ever be Mrs. Benjamin B . Oh, Jupiter ! 
 
 that broad-brimmed hat and calico great-coat ! 
 I shall never forget how he looked, so different 
 from the long-cherished picture of him in my 
 
 Jane Welsh was called " Baillie " after her mother's 
 mother, " a good and beautiful Miss Baillie," " of somewhat 
 noted kindred in Biggar country " {Reminiscences^ ed. 
 Froude, ii., pp. 117, 128 ; ed. Norton, i., pp. 134, 154). " My 
 Jeanie was called ' Jane Baillie Welsh ' at the time of our 
 marriage ; but after a good few years, when she took to 
 signing, ' Jane Welsh Carlyle,' in which I never hindered 
 her, [why should he ?] dropped the ' Baillie,' I suppose as too 
 long. I have heard her quiz about ' the unfortunate Miss 
 Baillie ' of the song at a still earlier time " (i&., ed. Froude, 
 ii., p. 128 ; ed. Norton, i., pp. 154, 155). Did she not perhaps 
 drop the name " Baillie," because of associations connected 
 with it, or, rather, because afterwards it interested her no 
 more ? It is underlined in the signature to this letter.
 
 94 Illusions Dispelled. [xiii. 
 
 mind ! And so tlie meeting I so much desired 
 lias dispelled the illusion of more than two years ! 
 Do you know? the vulgar cast of his countenance, 
 and the volley of nonsense he overwhelmed me 
 with gave a shock to my nervous system, which 
 it did not recover for four and twenty hours. 
 Indeed to this day I turn sick at heart when I 
 think of him. Mais nHiwporte ! it is only one 
 more Spanish castle^ demolished ; another may 
 start up like a mushroom in its place ! 
 
 I long for the last week of October, tho' I 
 like the country better this season than I ever 
 did before. Our popularity here is not a whit 
 diminished; which is rather to be wondered at, 
 as we are no novelty now. Ever since Mr. 
 Baillie went away we have been " on the transit 
 from one friend's house to another " ; and as our 
 acquaintances here are, for the most part, 
 pleasant people, and see a deal of good company, 
 I have no doubt that, could I be happy in idle- 
 ness, I should find my present mode of life 
 
 * Chateau en Espagne.
 
 XIII.] A Pleasant Time in the Country. 95 
 
 agreeable enough. But the thought that " life 
 is sJiort and art is long " ^ will not leave me at 
 rest in idleness ; it flashes upon my mind in 
 the midst of amusement, and turns "earth's vain, 
 fading, vulgar shoiv " to weariness and vexation 
 of spirit. The Menteitli family have been 
 wonderfully affectionate to me since I came here. 
 The eldest son and daughter are amiable, intelli- 
 gent, and particularly pleasing in their manners. 
 Miss Menteith reads G-erman, and is almost as 
 fond of it as I am. The rest I hardly like. We 
 have likewise received great attention from 
 another family, whom we did not visit last season 
 — the Gordons at Eccles. Captain Grordon is 
 a well-looked,*' kind-hearted, gentlemanly man ; 
 his Lady is unlovely, but clever and well in- 
 formed. She would be uncommonly agreeable, 
 if she had not the misfortune to be born a Duke's 
 
 '' The familiar Ars longa, vita hrevis comes originally 
 from Hippocrates, 'O /Stos ftpaxy<s, ■^ 8k rexyq [laKp-q — where the 
 " art " is properly the art of medicine. The next quotation 
 I cannot recognise. 
 
 '"' I.e. well-favoured (cf. " well-spoken ").
 
 96 A Man from Edinburgh. [xiii. 
 
 niece. I heard of Burns'" being in our neigh- 
 bourlioocl the other day, and entertaining a party 
 with the private history o£ the Baillies. I wish 
 to Heaven he had had a banknote plaster on his 
 mouth ! ® I have gone nowhere since without 
 being assailed with " Is so and so the case ? I 
 was told it by a man fr om Edinburgh J ^ A pretty 
 like man from Edinburgh to be sure ! Will 
 you remember me to Sam Aitken, and bid him 
 send my little books by one of the coaches ? 
 I will return those he lent me as soon as I can 
 possibly get done with them. There was a 
 letter from Dugald the other day, full of inani- 
 ties. I think he appears to be out of love. 
 Kiss your Uncle for me. All here join in kindest 
 regards to you and him. Write soon, and 
 believe me always your attached friend 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH. 
 
 7 Probably not Gilbert Burns, the poet's* brother, whom 
 Carlyle saw on his first visit to Haddington (Norton, 
 Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle^ i., p. 353 ; cf. ii., p. 327 ; 
 Letters [Second Series], i., p. 57), but an Edinburgh " writer." 
 
 ^ Query ^ " a douceur to make him keep his mouth shut " ? 
 or is the wish to be taken more literally ?
 
 XIII.] ''How d d Odd!'' 97 
 
 P.S. — Miss B • is in Glasgow! she wrote 
 
 to me from Versailles about six weeks ago, 
 assuring me that she would never visit Scotland 
 
 again. " Hoiv d d odd ! " ^ I am tired out 
 
 with her imprudence and instability. Has 
 Maggy ^^ got a pair of boys yet ? 
 
 9 Seems to have been a pet phrase of James Baillie (see 
 Letter XIV., pp. 103, 104: and XVI., p. 114); and he per- 
 vades this letter. 
 
 1'^ Margaret Stodart, Eliza's sister, was married on July 
 28th, 1824, to John Dudgeon (cf. Letter XVI., p. 115, and 
 Letter XX., p. 131). She is generally referred to, after this, 
 as "Mrs. John."
 
 XIY. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square. 
 
 Haddington, 
 
 I8th January [1825?]. 
 
 Amiable Cousin, — 
 
 I said to myself, weeks ago, that I would 
 write to you with the books. Now then the 
 books are finished, and here I am writing. I 
 might perhaps have been tempted to anticipate 
 my purpose, if I had had anything worth while 
 to communicate ; but my history, since we parted, 
 has been uninteresting to the last degree ; and 
 it would only have been ennuying you to send 
 you any fragments of it. 
 
 From this you may conclude that I have been 
 rather happy as otherwise. I have had no cause 
 of rejoicing, neither have I had any of complaint. 
 My little universe has been at rest from all sorts 
 of commotion ; has been " calm and unruffled as 
 a summer'' s sea when not a breath of ivind flies
 
 XIV.] A Cringing Lover. 99 
 
 o''er its surface " ; ^ or as a summer's quagmire (to 
 use a more appropriate simile). The only event 
 whicli has jarred the music of my soul for any 
 
 length of time was a visit from Dugald Gr , 
 
 a most impudent and improper visit, ^^ all the 
 circumstances of the case considered^' ^ (as Mr. 
 
 A would say). He came uninvited, and 
 
 stayed a week, stomaching the most dii haul en has 
 treatment from me all the while. One would 
 have thought that even the patience of an Indian 
 must have rebelled under it ; but this Dugald 
 creatur^ belongs to the spaniel genus (I opine); 
 the more he is kicked about, the more he fawns 
 and cringes. I told him, among other things, 
 in tolerably plain English, that he was given to 
 lying ! (and good reason I had for saying so.) In 
 reply, he kissed my hand ! This was obeying 
 the Scriptures with a vengeance. If I had bid 
 
 ^ " Calm and unruffled as a summer sea, 
 
 When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface." 
 
 Addison, Cato^ Act i., Sc. 4. 
 2 Cf. Letter V., p. 22. 
 ^ Allusion to Roh Roy, chap. xxii.
 
 100 Goethe's Letter. [xiv. 
 
 him get out at the door, I suppose he would have 
 taken me in his arms. Drivelhng, meanspirited, 
 " thrice doubled ass " ! He is sunk immeasur- 
 able fathoms deep in my disdain ! " Mais douce- 
 ment, Mademoiselle ! there is no use of putting 
 yourself in a passion. The young gentleman is 
 a mooncalf, that nobody will deny you ; but he 
 is at present sixteen miles off, and not likely to 
 disturb your equanimity again " — c'est Men ! 
 
 On the other hand, the most pleasurable thing 
 which has befallen me was receiving ttvo packets 
 from England in the same night : the one, a 
 letter of fifteen pages from Mr. Baillie ; the other 
 a collection of autographs from his Opposite. 
 What do you think ? among these were a letter 
 from Groethe,^ and a fragment of a letter from 
 
 * Writing to Miss Welsh from Loudon on December 20th, 
 1824, Carlyle says of this letter of Goethe : " I will copy it, 
 for it is in a character you cannot read ; and send it to you 
 with the original, which you are to keep as the most precious 
 of your literary relics. Only the last line and the signature 
 are in Goethe's hand : I understand he constantly employs 
 an amanuensis. Do you transcribe my copy and your own 
 translation of it into the blank leaf of that German paper,
 
 XIV.] Byvon^s Handivriting . 101 
 
 Byron ! Goetlie's was written to Mr. Carlyle 
 liimself. It is liighly complimentary; and com- 
 ing from the man wliom lie honours, almost to 
 idolatry, must have gratified him beyond mea- 
 sure. I question if a charter of nobility could 
 have gratified him as much. The other was 
 given him by Procter (Barry Cornwall).^ You 
 cannot think how it affected me ! This, then, 
 was his handwriting ! liis whose image had 
 haunted my imagination for years and years ; 
 whose wild, glorious spirit had tinctured all the 
 poetry of my being ! he, then, had seen and 
 touched this very paper. I could almost fancy 
 that his look and touch were visible on it ! And 
 he — where was he now? All the sentiment in 
 me was screwed up to the highest pitch ; I could 
 
 before you lay it by ; that the same sheet may contain some 
 traces of him whom I most venerate and her whom I most 
 love in this strangest of all possible worlds." — Norton, 
 Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle, ii., p. 292 ; of. Froude, 
 Thomas Carlyle, A. i., p. 265. 
 
 •^ She spells them " Proctor," " Cornwal." For Carlyle's 
 acquaintance with Procter, cf. Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. i., 
 p. 220; Norton, Early Letters, ii., p. 289; Reminiscences^ 
 ed. Froude, i., p. 233 ; ed. Norton, ii., pp. 133, 134.
 
 102 Byron. [xiv. 
 
 hardly help crying like a child or Dugald G , 
 
 and I kissed the seal with a fervour which would 
 have graced the most passionate lover.*^ 
 
 ^ Cf. Letter VL, p. 30, where tlie greatest of tempters 
 would, take the shape of Lord Byron, For her feelings 
 on hearing of Byron's death (1824) see Froude, Thomas 
 Carlyle^ A. i., p. 214. Along with these letters I found some 
 verses on Byron in Jane Welsh's writing, dated " 1816." 
 The date was originally written 1817, and then corrected to 
 1816. In 1816 she was fifteen years old. They are as 
 follows : 
 
 Still, my loved Minstrel, I admire 
 
 The strains of thy enchanted lyre : 
 
 Still thy sad lays, so wildly sweet, 
 
 I read, and while I read I weep. 
 
 Nor do I check the burning tear, 
 
 For 'tis a silent tribute, dear 
 
 To souls like thine, which would inspire 
 
 Each breast with sympathetic fire. ' 
 
 Byron, thy noble, lofty mind 
 
 Has been the sport of passions blind ; 
 
 Phrenzy has havocked in thy brain. 
 
 With all her desolating train. 
 
 But that is past — -and now you roam 
 
 Far from your wife, your child, your home, 
 
 Joys which might still have been your own. 
 
 But shall I love my Byron less. 
 
 Because he knows not happiness ? 
 
 Ah, no ! tho' worlds condemn him now. 
 
 Though sharp-tongued fame has sunk him low. 
 
 The hapless wand'rer still must be 
 
 Pitied, revered, adored by me. 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH.
 
 XIV.] Cousin James Baillie. 103 
 
 But to be done with sentiment for the present, 
 is not this a " d d odd " affair of our hand- 
 some cousin's ? He does not write as if anything 
 was decided yet ; on the contrary, his matri- 
 monial fate seems to be poised in the scales of 
 Fortune, with the most beautiful nicety. I can 
 form no conjecture to which end the beam will 
 incline. In the meantime he wishes me to come 
 and keep house with him and Phoebe in Sussex- 
 shire, that I may be present at his marriage, if 
 it does take jDlace, or comfort him if it does not 
 — comfort the most bewitching man "in all Eng- 
 land " ! There ivould be an office ! — if I were 
 foolhardy enough to try it ; but no ! no ! Mr. 
 Baillie, I will stay at home here, and read my 
 Grerman books, which is dull work in comparison, 
 but infinitely better for me. 
 
 The baskets are come, and have relieved my 
 Mother from a great deal of anxiety about you. 
 Present your Uncle with the united thanks of the 
 family for the beautiful oranges. The hamper- 
 looking thing was the parcel which my Mother 
 spoke of ; it contained a jelly-glass and a butter-
 
 104 A CaJce. — Music. [xiv. 
 
 plate! which the Gilchrist was commissioned to 
 buy for her. Moreover, I am desired to intimate 
 to you, that you are to consider the calce from 
 Templand the same as a cake from my mother, 
 it having been made at her request ; but this is 
 a theorem which I do not pretend to demon- 
 strate. Now, my dear, dear Angel Bessy, will 
 you get for me at Wood & Small's, the first 
 time you are in his neighbourhood, Dolce con- 
 cento (Mozart), and The Huntsman's Best (both 
 of them Duets) ; Best, Warrior, Best (a song) ; 
 also The last Bose of Summer, and Boi/s Wife 
 of Aldivalloch, with introductions and variations 
 by Kiallmark.'' If you do not like the commis- 
 sion, perhaps George Stodart will execute it for 
 me. Did my Mother tell you that I had a letter 
 from Lady Lenox ? She is in a most interest- 
 ing situation, James Baillie says. How d d 
 
 odd! 
 
 My kindest love to your Uncle, your Mother, 
 
 " A Swedish violinist (but born in England), who composed 
 music for piano and violin. See Bi'own's Biogv. Diet, of 
 Musicians (Paisley, 1886).
 
 XIV.] Messages. 105 
 
 and the wee Lady,^ in which my Mother joins. 
 You can say to all the people who ask for me, 
 that I desired particidar remembrances to tJiem. 
 If it were not very late, and my pen very bad, 
 I woidd write you another sheet, since I am 
 about it. Grood-night, dear. Grod bless you ! 
 Never forget me, and believe me always 
 
 Your faithfully attached Friend, 
 
 JANE BAILLIE WELSH. 
 
 ^ I do not know who this can be. This letter must 
 (because of Groethe's autograph) be assigned to 1825 : so it 
 cannot be "the child" mentioned in Letter XVI., p. 115, 
 who was not born till June of this year.
 
 XV. 
 
 To Miss Stoclart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Haddington, 
 11th April [Postmark, 1825]. 
 My deaeest Eliza, — 
 
 I do not think any one can accuse me of 
 idle letterwriting, or you either, if I may judge 
 from my own experience. Well " charity " (they 
 say) " may exist without giving of alms," ^ and 
 friendship without the expressing of it by letters, 
 so there is no great need for either apologizing 
 or finding fault. I write to you when I have 
 got anything to say ; and am grateful for your 
 letters when you are pleased to write them. 
 
 On the present occasion I have got something 
 to say with a vengeance ! "Who do you think is 
 living at the George Inn, and here every day ? 
 Himself! Mr. Benjamin B ! Had anybody 
 
 1 " Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, 
 . . . and have not charity " (1 Cor. xiii. 3). But here 
 she states the converse. 
 
 106
 
 XV.] Mr. B. and Mr. G. 107 
 
 told me some montlis ago that tliis thing would 
 come to pass, I believe I should have leaped over 
 the moon for very gladness ; but " times are 
 changed, and we are changed in them."^ Mr. 
 Benjamin B is become about the most dis- 
 agreeable person on this planet, and I am become 
 — a fraction of a Philosopher ! (This is no joke, 
 as I hope to convince you by-and-by. In the 
 meantime you may be as sceptical on the matter 
 as you please.) Mr. B.'s sojourn in this quarter 
 is very agreeable to me however, in one respect 
 — it affords me opportunities of repaying that 
 memorable hoiv with courtesies after a similar 
 fashion. Oh ! it would have done your heart 
 good to have seen how I received him. It was 
 half dark when he came ; my Mother and Cathe- 
 rine were working at the window, and I was 
 talking with Mr. Carlyle by the fireside; con- 
 ceive my astonishment at so unlooked for an 
 apparition ! Hhnself suddenly stood before me, 
 
 2 Tempora mutantur^ etc. The origin of tliis seems to 
 be, " Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis " (Matthias 
 Borbonius in the Delicice Poctarum Gcrmanovum, i., G85).
 
 108 Mr. B. and Mr. G. [xv. 
 
 all smiles and cordiality, and held out liis hand. 
 I opened my eyes very wide, but my heart beat 
 no faster; I rose deliberately from my seat, and 
 made him such a decidedly ceremonious courtesy, 
 that I almost threw myself off my balance. He 
 looked — just as I did when he passed me on the 
 Waterloo Bridge ; and I felt that I was revenged ! 
 He was come, he said, to reside among us for 
 some time, to recruit his strength ; he had been 
 ill — confined to bed for three months. It was 
 necessary that he should leave town, and his 
 acquaintance with us and Dr. Fyffe had induced 
 him to fix on Haddington as the place of his 
 retreat. How d d odd ! This curious an- 
 nunciation was addressed to my Mother. I 
 kept talking to Mr. Carlyle all the while about 
 the Peak of Teneriffe. Meanwhile the tea-kettle 
 commenced a song " most musical, most melan- 
 choly, ^^^ which quite distracted my Mother's atten- 
 tion ; she would not believe such sounds could 
 
 3 " Sweet bird, that sliunn'st the noise of folly, 
 Most musical, most melancholy ! " 
 
 Milton, II Penseroso, 61, 62,
 
 XV.] Mr. B. and Mr. G. 109 
 
 be produced by a mere tea-kettle. Mr. C. lifted 
 it to convince lier of the fact ; lie replaced it 
 again. He tried it in various positions, but the 
 kettle would not be prevailed upon. " It was 
 
 chagrined," he said, and so was Mr. B . He 
 
 talked for two hours however, with a miraculous 
 command of absurdity, and then departed, after 
 promising to be exceedingly troublesome to us. 
 I behaved to him then, and every time I have 
 seen him since, in the most pococurante manner 
 imaginable. I suspect he will soon be conva- 
 lescent enough to return to the city. What a 
 winding up of our romance ! I would never 
 have imagined that three years could have so 
 metamorphosed any human l:)eing ; from a frank- 
 hearted, tasteful, promising young man, he is 
 grown into a perfect personification of vanity 
 and emptiness. NHmporte ! It is but one more 
 bubble melted into thin air ! ^ 
 
 Speahing of bubbles, 1 do not go to London this 
 
 ■* " Are melted into air, into thin air." 
 
 Tempest, Act iv., Sc. 1.
 
 110 ''Not Mr. Irving's Fault:' [xv. 
 
 season either, for reasons wliicli I have not room 
 to explain. It is not Mr. Irving's fault tJiis time.^ 
 There was a letter from James Baillie the other 
 night. " His destiny is still undecided :' Lord 
 help him ! He is certainly anything but wise, and 
 his innamorata must be downright mad. Cathe- 
 rine G is not gone yet. She is quite a bug 
 
 in her habits. There is no dislodging her. 
 
 Will you take the trouble to get some more 
 music for me ? Any time : I am ^in no hurry. 
 I want Tanti Palpiti (with variations), Ah jper- 
 dona (with variations), The Carnival of Venice, 
 Luther s Hymn, Theme from The Creation, Favourite 
 Airs from Der FreyschUtz, Christchurch Bells, Gli 
 innocenti giuochi nostri ; and anything else you 
 can recommend. Did you hear Miss Pola [?] had 
 
 5 "It had been intended that Miss Welsh should pay 
 Irving and his wife a visit in London as soon as they were 
 settled. But Irving could not face the trial ; he only hoped 
 that a time might come when he might be able to face it. 
 . . . ' Before another year [he wrote, apparently in 1823] 
 I shall be worthy in the eye of my own conscience to receive 
 you into my house and iinder my care, which till then I 
 should hardly be.' " — Froude, Thomas Carlylc, A. i., p. 190.
 
 XV.] "Pen." in 
 
 got twins ? AYliat of Mrs. John ? My kindest 
 love to Bradie and your mother. Pray write 
 soon like a good girl. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE BAILLIE PEN« WELSH. 
 
 ^ " Pen was her little name there, from Paternal Grrand- 
 fatlier's house, Penfillan, to distinguish her from the other 
 Welshes of Walter's household " [Walter Welsh being her 
 maternal grandfather]. — Carlyle, Reminiscences, ed, Fronde, 
 ii., p. 101 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 78.
 
 XVI. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinhurgh. 
 
 Templand, 
 13^/;. August [Postmark, 1825]. 
 
 My deae, dear Angel Bessy, — 
 
 (Don't be frightened, there is no commis- 
 sion in the wind.) We were grieved to hear of 
 your indisposition, and, as people have always 
 most sympathy for the inflictions to which them- 
 selves are liable, we pitied you the more that 
 your illness proceeded from bile. We hope how- 
 ever that the enemy is fairly overcome, and if 
 so, my dear, you may sing a Te Deum for your 
 deliverance. Think of me ! I have been en- 
 gaged in this same warfare, now, several years, 
 and have never been able to w^ork out more than 
 a few weeks of truce. Eh Men ! " ye shall 
 become perfect thro' sufferings," says the Scrip- 
 ture^ — a wholesome, comfortable doctrine for a 
 bilious subject ! 
 
 1 The " ye shall become " is not " Scripture,' 
 Hebrews ii. 10.
 
 XVI.] Headaches and Visiting. 113 
 
 My life is passing on liere in the usual alter- 
 nating manner. One day I am ill, and in bed; 
 the next, in full puff at an entertainment. On 
 the whole, however, I feel myself better since I 
 came here, than I had done for several months. 
 What pains me most is that between headaches 
 and visiting my education is completely at a 
 stand. Every day my conscience reminds me of 
 this in no gentle terms ; calls me fool, and idler, 
 and all sorts of injurious appellations : but I 
 try to drown its clamours with promises of better 
 behaviour in the time to come. And, after all, 
 I am not verij blameable on the score of idleness ; 
 it is in vain to think of toiling up the steep of 
 knowledge with a burden of sickness on one's 
 shoulders, and hardly less difficult for a young 
 person with my attractions to lead the life of a 
 recluse, however much I wish it. I dined at a 
 club dinner the other day, consisting (not the 
 dinner, but the company) of all the Justices 
 (Just Asses) in the district with their wives. 
 
 Mrs. , of B , was among them, a d d 
 
 odd woman. She drank a bottle of wine dur-
 
 114 James Baillie. [xvi. 
 
 ing dinner, and was never a whit the worse 
 
 for it. Speaking of " d d odd " ^ — James 
 
 Baillie's matcli is entirely broken off, and himself 
 on the road to Scotland ! ! At least so says Cap- 
 tain Gordon, a friend of his sister's and whole- 
 sale gossip in these parts. There was a letter 
 from the dear gentleman to my Mother since we 
 saw you ; but it was after the manner of the 
 Lacedsemonians, and not a word of his affairs 
 in it from beginning to end. Your Uncle will 
 be glad to see some prospect of fingering the 
 eighteen pounds. " James, James, vos dis- 
 cours ressemblent a des cypres; Us sont grands et 
 hauts, mais ne 'portent 'point des fruits.''^ 
 
 1 purpose going to Dumfries in a week or 
 two on a visit to my Grrandmother, and after- 
 wards into — the lower district of Annandale to 
 see^ the country. How is Bradie ? Quite re- 
 established, I hope. It is matter of great regret 
 here that you and he cannot, or ivill not, come. 
 
 2 Cf. Letter XIII., note 9, p. 97. 
 
 3 She went to visit the Carlyles at Hoddam Hill. See 
 Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. i., p. 308 iF.
 
 XVI.] Restless in Mind. 115 
 
 And liow is your half of the child ? ^ Write to 
 me vite, vite. The box arrived, but, alas ! not in 
 safety; in spite of your careful packing it was 
 damaged in a great many places. N'importe. I 
 should be but a young apprentice in philosophy 
 if such things disturbed my equanimity much. 
 I cannot tell you what has made me write so 
 hurriedly and so ill, for I am not at all pressed 
 for time — a restlessness in my mind I suppose. 
 Love and a kiss to your uncle. 
 
 I am ever your faithfully attached friend, 
 
 JANE B. WELSH. 
 
 ■^ " The cliild " was the first baby of Eliza's sister 
 '• Maggie " (see Letter XIII., note 10), and was named 
 '■'Elizabeth" after her aunt and "Bradfiite " after her 
 aunt's uncle. She was a great deal with her aunt.
 
 XYII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Templand, 
 September [Postmark, Sei^t. 2nd, 1826]. 
 
 Dear Eliza, — 
 
 You must think me at least graceless, 
 perhaps downright uncivil; and, in truth, it is 
 shameful that so fair a gift should be still to 
 acknowledge. But this much I have to say, 
 with all humility, in my own defence, that here, 
 the source of offending lies in weakness of the 
 flesh, not [un?] willingness of spirit, and the thanks, 
 which I have been so overbackward to express, 
 I have been anything but backward to feel. 
 
 Still I was sorry as much as glad about these 
 ear-rings ; for, while they pleased me as an 
 emblem of friendly feelings on your part, of 
 which, for reasons long and broad, I have of 
 late been doubtful, I nevertheless wished them 
 back again in Marshall's shop, when they glit- 
 tered before my eyes under the form of a mar- 
 
 116
 
 XVII.] Marriage Prese^its. 117 
 
 riage present. Not that I would keep the idea 
 of my marriage out of mind. No, truly ! it is 
 fully more attractive for me now than ever — the 
 greenest, sunniest spot in all my being. But 
 marriage presents, I do think, are the most un- 
 reasonable species of taxation that could be 
 devised. You remember Uncle Adam Ramsay's 
 exposition of the matter to Miss Bell Black : 
 
 " There canna be a mair needless, daftlike 
 thing, than to gie presents to a woman at the 
 very height of mortal happiness. It is she rather 
 should gie to puir single folk, that ha' na Major 
 Waddely to set them up." 
 
 We got here last Monday — escaped alive from 
 the thousand and one miseries of these last 
 four weeks. I wonder that among all the evils 
 deprecated in the Liturgy, no one thought of in- 
 serting flitting. Is there any worse thing ? Oh 
 no, no ! From flitting, then, Good Lord, deliver 
 us ! ^ But while the Avay has been rough and 
 
 1 Carlyle in a letter to his brother John on the occasion 
 of the removal to Craigenputtoch (June 10th, 1828) has 
 worked out this suggestion (unless, indeed, it originated
 
 118 Marriage. [xvii. 
 
 very fearful, it leads to " another and better 
 world than this " — to a Heaven of truth and 
 love and peaceful action, " a sober certainty of 
 waking bliss," ^ in which the temptation in the 
 wilderness will be all forgotten, or remembered 
 but as a troubled dream. 
 
 To you, however, I had best not proceed in 
 this strain ; your views of men and things " have 
 little sympathy with mine." So that what I 
 write for the finest sense in the world, you will 
 perhaps throw in the fire as " a pach o' nonsense.''^ 
 
 Farewell then, my dear cousin. This most 
 likely is the last letter you will receive from 
 Jane Welsh ; ^ but no change of name can work 
 
 with him) : " From all packers and carpenters, and flittings 
 by night or day, Good Lord, deliver ns " (Froude, Thomas 
 Carlyle, A. ii., p. 25). Prof. Norton lias left out the part of 
 the letter in which this occurs. 
 
 ~ " Such sober certainty of waking bliss." 
 
 Milton, Comus, 263. 
 ^ The marriage took place on October 17th. Mr. Froude 
 (lb., A. i., p. 364) says they were married in Templand church; 
 Prof. Norton {Early Letters^ ii., p. 366), that they were 
 married in the bride's home, her gx'andfather's house at 
 Templand, " according to the practice of the Scotch Church."
 
 Face p. 1 19.]
 
 XVII.] Marriage. 119 
 
 in me the slightest change of heart — I mean 
 towards those who are indeed my friends. My 
 Mother, I suppose, will write to you in her own 
 good time. 
 
 With kind regards to your Uncle, 
 
 I am always your affectionate 
 
 JANE B. WELSH. 
 
 —No : according to the practice wliich had become pre- 
 valent in Scotland: that is all.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 [This undated note clearly goes along witli the 
 " Testimonial."] 
 
 To Bevd. David Aitken, 35 George Street^ 
 
 [_Edinhurgh.~\ 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 I with great pleasure send you the " few 
 lines " ; and along with them my truest wishes 
 for your success ; wishes not ungenerous in 
 themselves, as to ns selfishly speaking your 
 success can only be loss. 
 
 Let us know the moment anything is fixed : 
 my wife is no less anxious than I. 
 
 Believe me ever. 
 
 Most truly your's, 
 
 T. CARLYLE. 
 
 [The following docnment is endorsed by Rev. D. 
 Aitken, " Testimonial from Mr. Carlyle, Author of the 
 Life of Schiller and Translation of Wilhelm Meister, etc." 
 It is given here, as it shows how, even in this form 
 of literature, Carlyle's individuality asserted itself.]
 
 XVIII.] Testimonial for a Clergyman. 121 
 
 21 CoMLEY^ Bank, 
 
 l7tliFehy.,lS27. 
 
 Of Mr. Aitken's talent in the pulpit I can speak 
 only by Report; the good testimony of which, 
 however, every other indication tends to con- 
 firm. In private society, Mr. A. appears as a 
 courteous, sincere, and highly intelligent man ; 
 of mild constant temper ; of manners at once 
 frank, cheerful, and gentlemanly: his conversa- 
 tion bespeaks a mind naturally clear, elegant, 
 ingenious ; now cultivated by sound temperate 
 habits of thought, and in no ordinary degree, 
 by manifold study and observation. In know- 
 ledge of Art, of Literature Ancient and Modern 
 he has made distinguished acquirements : in Ger- 
 man Literature especially, for which his long and 
 varied residence in that country gave him peculiar 
 
 1 In these letters of Carlyle, liis spelling, use of capitals 
 (though from his handwriting that is not always certain), 
 and punctuation have been reproduced as nearly as possible. 
 The place is, now at least, always spelt " Comely Bank." It 
 is still, as in those days, in the countr}', althougli in 
 Edinburgh.
 
 122 Testimonial for a ClergytncLn. [xviii. 
 
 opportunities, liis knowledge, I believe, could be 
 rivalled by few in Scotland, perliaps in Britain. 
 His tastes also are still intellectual, and liis habits 
 regular and studious. 
 
 I have known Mr. A. only three months:^ of 
 his Moral Disposition, therefore, which only a 
 long series of doings and forbearings can bring 
 to the test, I have perhaps little right to speak ; 
 but I am mucli mistaken if Time do not prove 
 it to be sterling, do not show him in all duties 
 he may undertake acting with that mild judicious 
 fidelity, and deep tho' unobtrusive regard to 
 principle, which seems so accordant with his 
 whole form of character. As a Clergyman, 
 especially in an intellectual neighbourhood, he 
 promises to be peculiarly suitable : for his re- 
 ligious persuasions seem to be at once earnest, 
 unostentatious, and tolerant; and in point of 
 
 ~ Having made his acquaintance through Mrs. Carlyle, 
 whose friend, Eliza Stodart, Mr. Aitken married in 1836. 
 This testimonial was not written in vain. Mr. Aitken was 
 presented in April of this year (1827) to the parish of Minto 
 in Teviotdale by the patron, the Earl of Minto.
 
 XVIII.] Testimonial for a Clergyman. 123 
 
 culture, and polish of mind, I can say without 
 reserve that I have found few men in any pro- 
 fession, and certainly in his no one, that de- 
 served to be compared with him. 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE.
 
 XIX. 
 
 To Bevd. Davil Althen,, oO Georr/e Street, 
 
 [_Edinburgh.~\ 
 
 21. CoMLY^ Bank, 
 
 29th June [1827], 
 My Dear Sir, — 
 
 I am very sorry tliat I missed you yester- 
 day, and cannot now expect to meet witli yon 
 till after our return from Dumfriesshire,^ some 
 weeks hence. 
 
 I had a letter from Dr. Julius,^ Avhich I will 
 show you; and a very brief Note from Goethe, 
 intimating that he had sent (or rather on the 
 
 1 Sic. See note 1 to Letter XVIII. 
 
 2 Cf. Fronde, Thomas Carhjle, A. i., p. 408 : " In the 
 summer [of 1827] lie and his wife ran down for a short 
 holiday at Scotsbrig [where his parents were], giving a few 
 brief days to Templand [where her mother was living], and 
 a glance at Craigenputtock. By August they had again 
 settled at Comely Bank." 
 
 ^ Dr. Julius was an acr[uaintance of Mr. Aitken, who had 
 lived some time in Hamburg, Prof. Norton {Early Letters 
 of Thomas Carlyle, ii., p. 321) describes him as " a widely 
 travelled scholar and philanthropist."
 
 XIX.] A Parcel from Goethe. 125 
 
 17th of May was about " ndchstens " to send) 
 a parcel^ hither, *' gleichfalls ilber Hamburg.^* 
 Now I know by experience how very negligent 
 these Lieth^ and Hamburg people are ; nay, I 
 am not without an opinion that the packet has 
 already arrived, tho' on inquiring the other 
 day at their Office I could get no information, 
 the parcels being ' still all in the ship. Yet 
 would it not be a jDroper vexation if a message 
 of friendly tendency from " The Poet " were to 
 be lost in such a despicable spot as the Lieth^ 
 Custom house ? Knowing your experience in 
 these matters, and your constant readiness to 
 oblige, might I request that after your return 
 you would some day make the necessary in- 
 
 ^ The parcel here expected must be that so joyfully 
 received in August, containing wedding presents for '' the 
 valued marriage pair Carlyle " (as Carlyle translates in a 
 letter to his mother), and a long letter, dated July 20th, 
 given in extenso in German and English by Mr. Froude, 
 Thomas Carlyle, A. i., pp. 399^05 ; and by Prof. Norton, 
 Correspondence heticeen Goethe and Carlyle, p. 13 ff. At 
 page 11 will be found Goethe's brief note of May 17th, here 
 referred to. 
 
 ^ Spelling apparently affected by much reading of German.
 
 126 A Parcel from Goethe. [xix. 
 
 vestigations, and if unsuccessful in tliis instance, 
 be afterwards on the outlook for this same 
 precious Sendung ? It would give us real plea- 
 sure to receive it in Dumfriesshire, and not the 
 less that we owed it in part to your good- 
 ness. The Servant remains here, and knows 
 our address. 
 
 With best regards from Mrs. C, I remain 
 always. 
 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 Very truly your's, 
 
 THOMAS CAHLYLE.
 
 XX. 
 
 [The removal to Craigenputtoch. took place in May, 
 1828.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 Monday [Postmark, July 29th, 1828]. 
 
 " My dear, dear Angel Bessy " ! ! ! — 
 
 What a world of trouble is in these words 
 announced to you ! In fact, my tea is done, 
 and my coffee is done, and my sugar, white 
 and brown ; and without a fresh supply of these 
 articles my Husband would soon be done also. 
 It might be got at Dumfries — but bad ; and so 
 I have bethought myself of your kind offer to 
 do my commissions as of old, and find it come 
 more natural for me to employ you in this way 
 than another. 
 
 To proceed then, at once, to business, that so 
 I may afterwards proceed with freedom to more
 
 128 Sugar and Tea. [xx. 
 
 grateful topics. Will you order for me at Pol- 
 land's, in North Hanover Street (nearly opposite 
 Miss Grey's), two stones of brown sugar at 8c?., 
 and one stone, very brown, at 6|ti ; as also a 
 small loaf of white at 12d., with five pounds 
 of ground rice. Then, Angel Bess, you must 
 not go home by the Mound, but rather along 
 the Bridges, that you may step into the new 
 tea establishment in Waterloo Place, and get 
 me four pounds of tea at five and four pence 
 per pound, two pounds at seven shillings, and 
 two pounds of ground coffee at two shillings : 
 this the Cockneys must be instructed to wrap 
 up in strong paper and carry to Polland's, 
 addressed to Mrs. Carlyle, Craigen etc., etc., 
 and you will have the goodness to tell Polland 
 beforehand that such a parcel will be sent to 
 him to forward along with his sugar, and that 
 he must j^ack the whole nicely up in a box and 
 send it to the first Dumfries carrier, addressed to 
 me, to the care of Mr. Aitken, Academy Street, 
 Dumfries. Now one thing more, thou Arch- 
 angel Bessy; you will pay these things (some-
 
 XX.] Life at Craig enputtoch. 129 
 
 where about 4 pounds, as I calculate) in the 
 trembling hope of being repaid by the earliest 
 opportunity, and unless it goes hard with me I 
 will take good care that you are not disap- 
 pointed. The truth is I have no five pound 
 note to send you, and four small ones would 
 make rather a bulky letter.^ And here you may 
 draw your breath, as I do mine ; for I have 
 nothing farther to trouble you with (except, on 
 recollection, half a pound of Dickson's mustard), 
 not even a longwinded apology for the trouble 
 already given. 
 
 By this writing you will know that I have 
 survived my astonishing change ; and the talk 
 about tea, etc., will show you that I even look 
 hopefully into life. Indeed, Craigenputtoch is 
 no such frightful place as the people call it. 
 Till lately, indeed, our existence here has been 
 made black with smoke ; and confusion un- 
 speakable was nearly turning our heads. But 
 
 ^ For each enclosure the full postage of a letter would 
 have been charged. See Dr. G. Birkbeck Hill's Life of Sir 
 Rowland Hill, i., p. 238. 
 
 K
 
 130 Life at Craig enputtocli. [xx. 
 
 we are beginning to get a settlement made at 
 last, and see a distinct prospect of being more 
 than tolerably comfortable. The solitude is not 
 so irksome as one might think. If we are cut 
 off from good society, we are also delivered 
 from bad ; the roads are less pleasant to walk 
 on than the pavement of Princes Street, but we 
 have horses to ride, and, instead of shopping and 
 making calls, I have bread to bake and chickens 
 to hatch. I read and work, and talk with my 
 Husband, and never weary. 
 
 I ride over to Templand occasionally, and my 
 Mother and Agnes Ferguson were here last week. 
 They seemed content with the aspect of things, 
 but my Mother is so confined at home now ! 
 She cannot be absent one night ; and that home, 
 I fear, is no peaceful place for her. I am sadly 
 vexed about her ; she is looking so ill and so 
 unhappy. 
 
 You will write and tell me how all is going 
 on at 22, and in Edinburgh generally. Dear 
 Edinburgh ! I was very happy there, and shall 
 always love it, and hope to see it again often
 
 XX.] Life at Craig enputtocli. 131 
 
 and often before I die. AVill you give my kind 
 regards to Mr. Simpson when you see liim, and 
 tell him I was well pleased to hear of his suc- 
 cess ? Remember us also to Mr. Aitken, and 
 most affectionately to your Uncle. Do you know 
 of any good habitmaker in Edinburgh (not very 
 expensive) ? I have got fine cloth for a habit, 
 and am almost afraid to risk the making of it 
 in Dumfries. Perhaps you could make inquiry 
 for me, and let me know the charge, and whether 
 a habit could be made from a pattern gown or 
 pelisse. Grace Macdonald^ is turning out a most 
 excellent servant, and seems the carefullest, lion- 
 estest creature living. She broke her arm soon 
 after she came hither, but it is now almost 
 quite strong again. I never miss a drop of 
 " broth,^' and my linens are all entire. 
 
 My best wishes for Maggy and her new child, 
 and '' I hope Mr. Dudgeon is (jiiite well .^"^ Let- 
 ters from Grermany and all parts of the earth 
 
 " Cf. Reminiscences, ed. Froude, ii., p. 149 ; ed, Norton, 
 i., p. 80. 
 
 3 Cf. Letter XIII., note 10, p. 97.
 
 132 Craig enputtoch. [xx. 
 
 reach us here just as before. It is so strange to 
 see " Craigenputtoch " -sTritten in Goethe's hand ! 
 But my paper is done. 
 
 Ever truly your friend, 
 
 J. W. CARLYLE.
 
 XXI. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, Mr. Bradfute^s, 22 George 
 
 Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 [Oct., 1828.''] 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 I know not whether the highly economical 
 consideration of saving you double postage/ to- 
 gether with excessive occupation of late weeks, 
 be reasonable apologies for not sooner paying my 
 debt to you of money and thanks. At all events, 
 I rely on your known goodnature to make the 
 best of them. 
 
 You did not mention the amount of the said 
 debt, but I calculated it was somewhere within 
 five pounds, which I now take the opportunity of 
 sending safely by Mrs. Jeffrey. 
 
 1 Oct., 1828, was the date of the Jeffreys' first visit to 
 Craigenputtoch, the second being in Sept., 1830 (Froude, 
 Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., pp. 40, 125). If the £5 be, as is 
 likely, in payment of the purchases caused by Letter XX., 
 this letter must belong to the former date. Jeffrey is, of 
 course, Francis Jeffrey of the Edinburgh Revieiv. 
 
 2 See Letter XX., note 1. 
 
 133
 
 134 Visit of the Jeffreys. [xxt. 
 
 I meant to have added a long letter, having 
 (which is not often the case with me) materials 
 enough just at present to render a letter from 
 Craigenputtoch tolerably interesting; but my 
 good intention cannot be carried into effect at this 
 time, the horses being come to take away our 
 visitors earlier than we looked for, and a great 
 bustle the usual consequence. 
 
 Excuse this being a scrawl then, till I send you 
 a better specimen of my wits and my penmanship. 
 And, if you please, acknowledge the receipt of it, 
 that I may have no fear about its being mis- 
 carried. God bless you. Love to your Uncle. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 
 Friday morning.
 
 XXII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square^ Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 21s^ November [Postmark, 1828]. 
 
 My deae Eliza, — 
 
 Could you but see how it stands with me 
 just at present, you would not be too much elated 
 by this favour. For I am sitting here com- 
 panionless, "like owl in desert,"^ with nothing- 
 pressing to do, having learnt my daily task of 
 Spanish,^ and also finished a shirt — let me speak 
 
 ^ She seems to have in her mind both the versions of 
 Psalm cii. 6, 7, in the " Scotch " metrical Psalms. 
 
 " I like an owl in desert am, 
 
 That nightly there doth moan ; 
 I watch, and like a sparrow am 
 On the house-top alone." 
 
 " The pelican of wilderness, 
 The owl in desert I do match ; 
 And sparrow-like, companiouless 
 Upon the house's top, I watch." 
 
 2 Cf. Proude, Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., pp. 48, 50 ; Norton, 
 Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 176. 
 
 135
 
 136 Life at Craig enjputtocTi. [xxtt. 
 
 trutli, a nightsliirt — I was making for my Hus- 
 band, and it is come into my head as a resource 
 from ennui tliat I should write somebody a letter ; 
 and thus, dear, all you have to be proud of is, 
 that my choice of an object has fallen on you. 
 I tell you this out of my natural love of plain 
 dealing. 
 
 You would know what I am doing in these 
 moors? Well, I am feeding poultry (at long 
 intervals, and merely for form's sake), and I am 
 galloping over the country on a bay horse, and 
 baking bread, and improving my mind, and eat- 
 ing, and sleeping, and making, and mending, and, 
 in short, wringing whatever good I can from the 
 ungrateful soil of the world. On the whole, I 
 was never more contented in my life ; one enjoys 
 such freedom and quietude here. Nor have we 
 purchased this at the expense of other accommo- 
 dations ; for Ave have a good house to live in, 
 with all the necessaries of life, and even some 
 touch of the superfluities. " Do you attempt to 
 raise any corn ? " the people ask us. Bless their 
 hearts ! we are planning strawberry-banks, and
 
 XXII.] Life at Craig enputtoch. 137 
 
 shrubberies, and beds of roses, with the most 
 perfect assurance that they will grow. As to 
 the corn, it grows to all lengths, without ever 
 consulting the public about the matter. Another 
 question that is asked me, so often as I am 
 abroad, is, how many cows I keep; which ques- 
 tion, to my eternal shame as a housewife, I have 
 never yet been enabled to answer, having never 
 ascertained, up to this moment, whether there 
 are seven cows or eleven. The fact is, I take 
 no delight in cows, and have happily no concern 
 with them. Carlyle and I are not playing 
 farmers here, which were a rash and unnatural 
 attempt. My brother-in-law'^ is the farmer, and 
 fights his own battle, in his own new house, 
 which one of his sisters manages for him. 
 
 In the autumn I had enough to mind without 
 counting cows, the house being often full of 
 visitors. There was Robert (my uncle) and Ann, 
 a Mr. Graham of Burnswark,^ Jeffrey, with wife 
 
 ^ Alexander Carlyle. 
 
 '^ For an account of this Mr. Graham, see Reminiscences, 
 ed. Froude, i., p. 164; ed. Norton, ii., p. 81.
 
 138 J^ff'n'^y <^i Craigenputtoch. [xxii. 
 
 and child and maid and lap-dog, George and 
 Ms wife, our dear Henry Inglis, and several 
 others whom you do not know. And how on 
 earth did Mr. Jeffrey get himself amused at 
 Craigenputtoch ? Why, in the simplest manner. 
 He talked — talked from morning till night, nay, 
 till morning again. I never assisted at such a 
 talking since I came into the world, either in 
 respect of quantity or quality. 
 
 Mrs. Richardson ^ is getting out a new edition 
 of that weary book, and fitting out her daughter 
 Willie for India ; neither ware, I am afraid, will 
 find a ready market. 
 
 John Carlyle is still in Germany. We looked 
 for him home, but he has found that he could 
 neither have peace in his lifetime, nor sleep quiet 
 in his grave, had he missed studying six months 
 in Vienna. Little Jane is gone back to Scots- 
 brig, where she could not be well spared, 
 another sister being here with Alick. So that 
 
 5 Probably the novelist, referred to in Norton, Letters of 
 Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 202 ; Reminiscences, 
 ed. Froude, ii., pp. 34, 140 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 164 ; ii., p. 247.
 
 XXII.] Life at Craig enjputtoch. 139 
 
 Carlyle and I are quite by ourselves at present, 
 moralizing together, and learning Spanish to- 
 gether, and in short, living in the most confi- 
 dential manner imaginable. You never saw so 
 still a house : we have just one servant (Grace 
 Macdonald), and not even a cat in addition (for 
 we find mousetraps answer much better). By 
 the way, this Grace is just the cleverest servant 
 I ever had occasion to know, and would be a 
 perfect paragon in her line were it not for 
 certain " second table " airs ^ about her, which 
 without doubt she must have picked up at the 
 Manners's. 
 
 My Mother dined here ten days ago, and 
 stayed a night, her second and longest visit since 
 we came. But she is of necessity much confined 
 at home now, and also imagines the necessity to 
 be greater than it is. You inquire if I will be 
 in Edinburgh this winter. I think the chances 
 
 ^ " Second-table airs" ; i.e. airs of an upper servant in a 
 large house, where the upper servants have a table of their 
 own, known as " the second table."
 
 140 Invitation from the Jeffreys. [xxii. 
 
 are about two to one that I shall. We are press- 
 ingly invited to spend some time with the 
 Jeffreys ; and Carlyle has agreed to go, provided 
 he gets three papers, promised to the Foreign 
 Bevieiv, finished by then. Should he be belated 
 with these, he would have me go without him; 
 but that I shall not dream of doing. It would 
 be poor entertainment for one in Edinburgh or 
 anywhere else to think one's husband was here 
 in the desert alone, his stockings get[ting] all 
 into holes, and perhaps even his tea running 
 down. 
 
 Remember me in the kindest manner to your 
 Uncle, and say to him that, if he will come and 
 see us in the summer, the fatted calf shall be 
 slain to make him welcome, to say nothing of 
 lambs and poultry. 
 
 Remember me also to Sam, and to David 
 Aitken when you see him. You talk of Mr. 
 Simpson as an invalid. I hope he is recovered. 
 Will you write to me soon ? A letter from 
 Edinburgh is such a treat to one here. 
 
 Carlyle is away in Annandale at present. His
 
 XXII.] Garlyle's Eldest Sister. 141 
 
 eldest sister '^ has been ill for some time, and he 
 is gone to see what can be done for her. I am 
 afraid she is in a very bad way. Do write. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, 
 
 J. W. CARLYLE. 
 
 7 Margaret Carlyle (cf. Froude, Tliomas Carlyle, A. ii., 
 pp. 60, 61). She became better in the following summer, 
 but died June 22nd, 1830 (ib., pp. 109-113).
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, Mr. Bradfutes, 22 George 
 Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch 
 [Postmark, Bee. 22nd, 1828]. 
 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 ^'Misfortunes seldom come single "; so here 
 is another letter for you, and of the most vexa- 
 tious sort too, being all in the commission way. 
 For, alas ! dear, I can no longer hide the sad 
 truth from myself, and as little would I conceal 
 it from you, my early friend, that my tea and 
 sugar are drawing fast to a close. And should 
 a fall of snow take place in this state of things, 
 blocking up the passes, and cutting off our im- 
 ports — the idea is too horrible ! But you will 
 " do the impossible " to help me, for are you 
 not '' obliging ^^ and '' goodnatured^^ to a pro- 
 verb ? And yet if you had to begin the world 
 again, I doubt whether (with your country 
 cousins at least) you would cultivate so praise- 
 worthy a reputation. Just see what it involves
 
 XXIII.] Prelude to Commissions. 143 
 
 you in ! Here must you tramp away to Polland's, 
 to the Waterloo tea warehouse, the Register 
 paper warehouse, the St. Andrew's Square china 
 warehouse, and buy and arrange and dispatch, 
 and all through no fault of yours, but because 
 you have the merit of being the most obliging 
 person of my acquaintance ! Such a reward for 
 virtue ! but the Moralists say virtue is its own 
 reward; and the Transcendentalists go a step 
 further, and maintain that virtue must have no 
 view to reward whatever, else it is no virtue but 
 merely a cunning calculation of profit and loss. 
 This last, I take it, is the opinion which would 
 stand you in most stead on the present occasion. 
 
 Having preluded so long, it is time I were 
 coming to the tune, which runs thus : Six pounds 
 of tea (from the Waterloo company), at 5s. 4(Z., 
 and two pounds of coffee. From Polland's, three 
 stones of sugar, at 8d., and two stones at 6^(?., 
 also eight pounds of rice (whole). And here 
 there is a sort of " Da Capo " to be performed, 
 for in addition to what is already set down, you 
 will have the goodness to get other two pounds
 
 144 A Connoisseur in Paper. [xxiii. 
 
 of tea (of the same quality), and one otlier stone 
 of 8d. sugar — packed up by themselves, being 
 for a separate purpose. Then we are woefully 
 off here as to pens and paper, which for people 
 who live by writing are as essential as sugar and 
 tea. So that it is earnestly desired, and (your 
 "goodnature" being so notorious) even pretty 
 confidently expected, that you will proceed to a 
 certain paper-warehouse in Register Street, and 
 procure us the supply as follows : Eight slips 
 of post paper, wove, bluish, without any Bath 
 stamp ^ — the same, in short, as this I am writing 
 on, only a degree smaller (for me [? I], or rather 
 my Husband, is "a great connoisseur in paper^^). 
 He used to buy such at the above mentioned place 
 [at] about a halfpenny a sheet. I mention this to 
 help you to the right sort — not to tie you down in 
 the matter of a halfpenny. Secondly, three quires 
 of long paper — twenty-four sheets each ; this 
 also to be blue, and a ragged edge no objection. 
 The sort he used to buy was called " scrolling 
 
 1 The stamp put by stationers on the top left-hand corner 
 of the quarto letter paper known as " Bath post." She 
 writes the word " bath."
 
 XXIII.] A Broion Coffee-pot. 145 
 
 paper," or broken paper, and cost between a 
 farthing and a halfpenny a sheet. Now the Lord 
 help you through this transaction, for, as you 
 perceive, it is of the most delicate nature. A 
 quarter hundred made pens of the best sort, 
 and two sticks of red sealingwax, in addition to 
 the above, will put us in a situation for holding 
 correspondence with the home world all winter. 
 And now comes my last want, which I am sure 
 you will icelcome with your choicest mood^ as his 
 gracious Majesty did the youngest of the Misses 
 Titler [? Tytler] — a brown earthenware coffee- 
 pot, such as they sell in china shops for three and 
 sixpence or four shillings ; they are all made one 
 shape, but of different sizes, and I would prefer 
 the largest. For you must know that some morn- 
 ings ago there came a letter to Grrace Macdonald 
 from some absent lover with " hast " on the out- 
 side, and Heaven knows what within — but things 
 of moment, evidently, from the consequences — 
 as she all at once bolted up from her peaceful 
 
 2 Phrase of the court chronicler, I suppose, regarding 
 something connected with George IV.'s visit. The name 
 probably should be Tytler. 
 
 L
 
 146 A Domestic Disaster. [xxiii. 
 
 cccupation of toasting bread for breakfast, and 
 daslied the poor old coffee-pot with its precious 
 contents on the kitchen floor — one more proof, 
 if any such were wanting, that " accidents will 
 happen in the best regulated families." ^ 
 
 Now as to the packing of these things. I am 
 really, without any l^larney, seriously vexed to 
 put you to so much trouble, but I see no other 
 way for it except that you should pack them at 
 your own house in some box of my Mother's (if 
 you have such a thing), or of your own (and it will 
 be returned by the first opportunity), and sending 
 [? send] it from thence to the Dumfries carrier 
 (charging the porterage, etc., to my account, if 
 you would ever have me to employ you again), 
 addressed as formerly to Mr. Aitken's, Academy 
 Street. For the last supply was sent off by 
 Polland's in the thinnest of sacks, so that had it 
 rained, as it does almost continually at present, 
 it must have been entirely spoiled by the way. 
 
 ^ This same disaster is recounted by Carlyle in a letter of 
 Dec. 11 til to Mr. Henry Inglis. — Norton, Letters of Thomas 
 Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 180.
 
 XXIII.] As to the PacJcing. 147 
 
 And should I find my sugar all melted, and the 
 paper all blotted, and the coffee-pot broken, I 
 might be tempted to do some desperate thing 
 that would haunt your conscience to the end of 
 your life ! You will do this then for the love 
 you bear me, or at all events for the love of 
 doing a good action ; and you will believe that, 
 if our situations were exchanged, I would do as 
 much for you in return ? We have resolved on 
 deferring our visit to Edinburgh until the spring,* 
 when it will be in all respects more convenient. 
 Why do you not write ? 
 
 My kindest regards to your Uncle. I shall 
 remain some shillings in your debt, but always 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE WELSH CARLYLE. 
 
 * The visit to Edinburgh apparently did not take place till 
 autumn. Carlyle, writing in August [?], 1829 (Norton, Letters 
 of Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 203), says : " It 
 seems to be settled that we are to go and see Edinburgh, 
 and the Jeffreys, so soon as they return ; which will not be 
 for six weeks or so." See, also, the beginning of Mrs. 
 Carlyle's next letter (XXIV.).
 
 XXIY. 
 
 Miss Stodartj 22 George Square^ Edinburgh. 
 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 lltli November [Postmark, 1829]. 
 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 You know, or miglit know, tliat I rarely 
 avail myself of opportunities, choosing to write as 
 the Quakers preach, only when the spirit moves 
 me. But in the present instance the opportunity 
 and the inspiration are come together — a happy 
 chance ! which makes you richer by eightpence 
 halfpenny, money saved being money won. 
 
 AYell, it is all over (the visit to Edinburgh I 
 mean), and we are gradually subsiding into our 
 old still-life — no longer " in the midst of every- 
 thing that is intellectual and delightful,^^ but 
 in the midst of a pretty extensive peat-moss. 
 Which mode of livins' is best ? In the sun or 
 in the shade ? I declare I cannot tell ; my mind 
 seems to have a peculiar knack of adapting
 
 XXIV.] Back in the Desert. 149 
 
 itself to either. I liked Edinburgh last time 
 as well as I did at sixteen (you know how well 
 that was), and I cried as much at leaving it; 
 yet, returned to our desert, it affrighted me only 
 the first day. The next day it became toler- 
 able, and [the] next again positively pleasant. 
 On the whole, the mere outward figure of one's 
 place of abode seems to be a matter of moon- 
 shine in the long run. You learn (if you are 
 not an entire goose) to pronounce it, once for 
 all, ''particular neat,'* or, as it may happen, 
 particular unnesii ; and then naturally betake 
 yourself into some other train of speculation. 
 The only thing which makes one place more 
 attractive to me than another is the quantity of 
 heart I find in it ; it is this which, in default of 
 a self-dependent mind, " can make a Heaven of 
 Hell" for me, "a Hell of Heaven."^ I was 
 happy in Edinburgh, because you, and your 
 Uncle, and the Jeffreys, and one or two more 
 
 1 " The mind is its own place, and in itself 
 
 Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." 
 
 Paradise Lost, i. 253.
 
 160 Bach in the Desert. [xxiv. 
 
 were so friendly towards us, so very kind ! And 
 now I am liappy here also, because Carlyle 
 always likes me best at home, wherever that 
 happens to be. And then the kindness which 
 I experienced among you, and felt so gratifying, 
 is not a fixture to be made over to the next 
 comer, on my removal, but personal property, to 
 be carried away, and treasured up, and enjoyed 
 here in the moors of Dunscore, or wherever else 
 I please, so that the best charm of Edinburgh 
 is still present with me; though its pavements 
 and ashlar houses, its fine companies and "fine 
 wines " are exchanged for sheep-tracks, blocks 
 of granite, solitariness, and spring water. 
 
 Mr. Moir stayed only two days with us, and 
 both were rainy; but he made his sketches for 
 Goethe nevertheless.^ Carlyle took him to Temp- 
 
 2 Cf. Reminiscences^ ed. Froude, ii., p. 154 ; ed. Norton, i., 
 p. 85. " The Sketch of Craigeuputtock [two sketches sent 
 to Goethe at his request, and engraved for the German trans- 
 lation of Carlyle's Life of Schiller] was taken by G. Moir, 
 Advocate (ultimately Sheriff, Professor, etc., ' little Geordie 
 Moir,' as we called him), who was once and no more with 
 us." George Moir was Professor of "Rhetoric and Belles
 
 XXIV.] Mr. Moirs Visit. 151 
 
 land on his way back, where they stayed all 
 night; and my Mother, with her characteristic 
 liberality, presented him with a bag of oatmeal ! ! 
 It was their first interview, and I think little 
 Moir will remember it. 
 
 Indeed this " raising not of blach mail, bnt 
 ivhite meal " (as he expressed it), must have 
 gratified him not a little. I question if he ever 
 made so successful a descent into the country in 
 his life. I had a letter from her this morning, 
 wishing me over ; and I purpose going the first 
 dry day. 
 
 The gloves and thistle and picture frames 
 arrived all safe, and the umbrella, which has 
 been in constant action ever since ; but I was 
 disappointed that you did not send a line, just 
 to say you were sorry I was gone. However 
 I do trust you will write soon, for we must not 
 
 Lettres " (" Rhetoric and English Literature " is the title 
 now) in Edinburgh University from 1835 to 1840. He gave 
 up the chair to become Sheriff of Ross-shire. He was after- 
 wards Professor of Scots Law from 1863 to 1865 (Sir A. 
 Grant, The Story of the University of Edinbiiryh, ii., pp. 
 359, 375).
 
 152 A Portrait. [xxiv. 
 
 lose sight of each other again. I never loved 
 you better than I do at this moment, never half 
 so well; for, as I told yon in Edinburgh, my 
 affections are not getting feeble with my in- 
 creasing years, but are rather, now for the first 
 time, unfolding themselves into right activity. 
 
 And Carlyle too loves you more than you 
 are aware. He has talked over and over again 
 of your and your Uncle's kindness to us while 
 we stayed with you, for not one of your un- 
 ceasing attentions were lost on him for all that 
 he looks so impenetrable. 
 
 I have hung up Sandy Donaldson^ over the 
 mantlepiece in my own room, whence he looks 
 down upon me with the most bewitching simper 
 night and morning. The first time I had occa- 
 sion to dress in his presence I found myself 
 unconsciously stepping behind the curtains. 
 Carlyle could hardly keep his hands off him 
 at first, and declared " there he should not 
 
 ^ Mr. Donaldson of Sunnybank, Haddington, I suppose. 
 The family are often referred to in Letters and Memorials.
 
 XXIV.] A Portrait. 153 
 
 hang " ; but he now professes to be rather 
 luae^ for him (he is so exceedingly ugly) and 
 has taken up a sort of patronage of him. And 
 so God bless you, dear. A kiss to your Uncle. 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 My kindest regards to both.— T. C 
 
 * Wae, i.e. sorry, grieved, as in Burns's Address to the 
 Deil, " I'm wae to think upo' yon den " ; and in tlie story 
 told in Letters and Memorials, i., p. 260, note 1, about the 
 man who said to another, "I's wae for yon," and met the 
 retort, " Damn ye, be wae for yersel." 
 
 '^ Postscript by Carlyle.
 
 XXV. 
 
 To the Bevd. David Aithen, of Minto hij Melrose} 
 
 Ceaigenpdttoch, Dumfries, 
 
 21st December, 1829. 
 
 My Dear Sir, — 
 
 If tliis letter ever reach Minto Manse, 
 you will have little cause to rejoice in the 
 arrival ; for it will only cost you postage, and 
 give you trouble. 
 
 You must know I have partly engaged with 
 certain London Booksellers to produce some sort 
 of Historical Vieio of German Literature,^ for 
 some " Cabinet Library " or other; and am busy 
 
 ^ Carlyle's mistake, instead of " Hawick." See P.S. to 
 next letter, p. 167. 
 
 - This projected History never appeared. The materials 
 collected for it were used by Carlyle for his first course 
 of lectures (T'roude, Thomas Carlyle, B. i., p. 98) and in 
 various articles for the Edinburgh, Foreign Quarterly, 
 and Westminster Revieivs, afterwards published in the Cin- 
 tieal and Miscellaneous Essays. See the "Bibliography" 
 appended to Dr. Garnett's Life of Carlyle.
 
 XXV.] History of German Literature. 155 
 
 at this very time in laying in all manner of pro- 
 vision for that undertaking. It is to be in four 
 volumes, and the first should appear in spring. 
 Whittaker's people^ have promised me seas and 
 mountains in the way of furnishing Books : but 
 in the meanwhile nothing whatever has come 
 to hand; nay, I know such promises, at any 
 rate, too well to slacken my endeavours after 
 help elsewhere. 
 
 If in your Collection there is anything that 
 you can spare for me, I know it will be lent 
 me with your old frankness. There is one 
 little series of yellow-coloured volumes, con- 
 taining a short Life and some Specimen (one in 
 each volume) of the chief German writers, in 
 their order ; Hans Sachs, Santa Clara, etc., 
 
 ^ Does this imply that Whittaker was the publisher who 
 was to bring out the work ? In 1831 Carlyle speaks of 
 Dr. Larclner's offer to publish it in his Cabinet CyclopcecUa 
 as a new proposal (Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle 
 [Second Series], i., pp. 379, 389). In 1839 he writes, " The 
 unfortunate Cabinet Library Editor . . . broke down " 
 {Correspondence of Carlyle and Emerson, i., p. 228), refer- 
 ring apparently to this first scheme.
 
 156 History of German Literature. [xxv. 
 
 etc., I recollect having read : the whole of these 
 little volumes would be highly convenient for me. 
 I suppose you have no special Life of Ulrich 
 Hutten, nor any considerable portion of his 
 Works ? I am also gleaning everything about 
 Luther, Sebastian Brandt, etc., etc. Bouter- 
 weck's and Eichhorn's Histories I expect from 
 the South. The last three volumes of the Con- 
 versations-Lexicon (from " Schubart," where my 
 own last Lieferung stops) I would also ask, if 
 it were not a shame. Unhappy Conversations- 
 Lexicon ! It has taken twenty months to come 
 from Miinchen; and that fraction of it is still 
 wandering the wide world ! 
 
 Now if you could take those little yellow 
 volumes, with whatever else you think useful, 
 and can want for six or seven months ; and 
 have them forwarded to your worthy namesake 
 " Sam. Aitken," of Bank Street, he will send 
 them on to me without delay. At all events, 
 let me hear from you, at great length; and 
 fail not to give me your counsel, and grpruftes 
 Wort in this unspeakable enterprise. I will
 
 XXV.] Alas, for the Wednesday -nights ! 157 
 
 tell Mr. Aitken to wait for your packet about 
 eight days; and after tkat to transmit what he 
 may have got ; for the London Books also are 
 to be consigned to him : the Minto stock, should 
 any hindrance have occurred, may follow at any 
 other time. But do not fail to write, however 
 it may be : the Post will convey your tidings, 
 and we will warmly welcome them, now as well 
 as afterwards. 
 
 We rejoice to learn in general that you 
 prosper in Minto ; and often we hoped last 
 summer that some lucky wind would blow you 
 into Nithsdale, and up to these moors for one 
 happy week. Alas, for the Wednesday-nights ! * 
 
 "^ In a letter of 1827, from 21 Comely Bank, Carlyle 
 writes to his brother Alexander : " We give no dinners and 
 take none ; and by the blessing of Heaven design to persist 
 in this C3ars3 as long as we shall see it to be best. 
 Only to som3 three or four chosen people we give notice 
 that on Wednesday nights we shall always be at home, 
 and glad if they will call and talk for two hours with no 
 other entertainment but a cordial welcome and a cup of 
 innocent tea " (Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second 
 Series], i., p. 29). But apparently coffee also was provided 
 for those who preferred it and did not find tea " innoceot."
 
 T58 Winter in the Wilderness. [xxv. 
 
 Alas, and alackaday ! But Time goes on his 
 stern course, and treads our little card-castles 
 into shivers, and the Past will not give up its 
 dead ! — Surely you will come this Spring, and 
 let us recal old times. Write, and say that 
 you are no craven, but stand to your word. 
 
 We live in a strange, quite original position 
 here, environed with " solitude and primeval 
 Nature." To-night there is [snow] ^ and black 
 haze, and deepest silence all round for miles ; 
 but within is a blazing fire, and a cap-making 
 Wife, and Books and Paper, and Time and Space 
 to employ worthily or unworthily. Come and 
 see, if you would understand it. 
 
 My Brother John returned last spring with won- 
 derful accounts of Munich and Vienna and Stras- 
 burg and Paris, and the other phenomena of this 
 Earth. He is gone two weeks ago to settle in 
 
 See end of this letter ; and cf. Reminiscences, ed. Norton, 
 i., p. 79. 
 
 '" The paper is torn. The word may be " frost," but I 
 think the fragment of the first letter is more like one of 
 Carlyle's s's.
 
 XXV.] Hamilton and Brewster. 159 
 
 Warwick where some friends of his and mine hold 
 out fair offers. I have not heard of him yet. 
 
 Did you read Sir W. Hamilton^ on Cousin's 
 Metaphysics in the last Edinburgh Beview ? And 
 what inferences are we to draw from it ? Pity 
 that Sir W. had not the gift of delivery ! He 
 has real knowledge on those matters ; but all 
 unsorted, and tumbled topsyturvy like a " bank- 
 rupt stock." 
 
 If you ever see Dr. Brewster/ pray assure him 
 that he is not forgotten here ; but that best 
 wishes for him dwell in the Nithsdale wilderness, 
 which is a strange residence for them. 
 
 ^ In 1833, during the Edinburgh visit, he writes: "The 
 best man I see here, indeed the only man I care much 
 about, is Sir William Hamilton ; in whom alone of all these 
 people I find an earnest soul, an openness for truth : I really 
 think him a genuine kind of man " (Norton, Letters of 
 Thomas Cavlyle [Second Series], ii., p. 82. Cf Froude, 
 Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., pp. 329, 332, 343, 34G). The article 
 on Cousin is republished in Hamilton's Discussions. 
 
 "' Afterwards Sir David Brewster and Principal of Edin- 
 burgh University. At this time he was still editing the 
 Edinburgh Encycloj^o'dia, begun in 1808, and not completed 
 till 1830.
 
 160 The Wednesday Nights. [xxv. 
 
 Your ancient " Wednesday-niglit " hostess here 
 would skip for joy to make you coffee once 
 more ! She bids me send you her affectionate 
 regards ; she too would fain hear from you soon. 
 Believe me ever, 
 
 Most sincerely your's, 
 
 T. CARLYLE.
 
 XXVI. 
 
 To the Bevd. David Altken, of Minto hij Melrose. 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 
 26th Januarij, 1830. 
 My Dear Sir, — 
 
 Your very kind Letter arrived liere in due 
 time ; and shortly afterwards, tlie Packet it liad 
 announced, containing (if I liave counted riglitly) 
 16 volumes of Bassmann, 6 of the Conversa- 
 tions-Lexicon, with Gleim and Koch, all of which 
 were highly welcome, and shall be properly cared 
 for, and, I hope, turned to use in their season. 
 No less valuable to me were your friendly offers 
 of farther help ; and your counsels and indica- 
 tions, which agree perfectly with my own views 
 on the matter, so far as I yet have any views. 
 That your good wishes may be turned forthwith 
 into good deeds, I purpose applying to you again ; 
 and often, as I proceed in my little enterprize, 
 which for me will be great enough. 
 
 The "History of German Literature," for which 
 I only bargained finally last Wednesday, is to 
 
 1" M
 
 162 " History of German Literature." [xxvi. 
 
 consist of Four small volumes, and ought to in- 
 clude whatever, at this epoch, is most interesting 
 to us of England in the past and present condi- 
 tion of that wide province; not, of course, a 
 minute chronicle-detail, of the Eichhorn fashion, 
 for which neither I nor my readers are in any 
 measure qualified ; but views of the more promi- 
 nent and, as it were, universal features (ivelt- 
 historisch) of that huge subject ; wherein it will 
 be most of all important that they be real views, 
 seen into with my own eyes (tho' from this 
 distance), not hallucinations, and hearsays, and 
 Trughilder, seen into with other people's eyes, 
 perhaps never seen into at all. I propose, like 
 Rabelais' Ram, to commencer par le commence- 
 ment ; ^ not omitting even the Mdhrchen of pri- 
 
 1 Mi\ George Saintsbury suggests tliat Carlyle has mixed up 
 tlie Ram of Dindenault (Rabelais, book iv., cli. vi.-viii.) with 
 a passage in Antoine Hamilton's Le Belier, where the giant 
 Moulineau says to the Ram, who was beginning to tell a story 
 in the middle, " Belier, mon ami, si tu voulais bien com- 
 mencer par le commencement, tu me ferais plaisir" ((Euvres 
 ii., p. 153 ; ed, 1812). The story is translated into English. 
 See Count Hamilton's Fairy Tales (Bohn's series), p. 474.
 
 XXVI.] "History of German Literature.'" 103 
 
 meval centuries, about Etzel and Dietrich of Bern ; 
 still less the Heldenbuch and Nihelungen Lied, or 
 the Minnesmiger, or Me ister Sanger, or any other 
 picturesque or characteristic aspect of the Ger- 
 man mind. Judge then if I shall welcome your 
 antiquarian collections, whether printed or manu- 
 script, in this my almost total dearth of informa- 
 tion on those matters ! Pray let me have all that 
 you can spare : the Nihelungen ; Tieck's Schwa- 
 bischen Zeitalter^ of which I understand the Pre- 
 face is highly instructive ; the Epistolce ohscurorum 
 Virorum, Beinike^ de Vos; and everything else that 
 your charity can furnish. Flogel's History of 
 Comic Literature I must contrive to get : the era 
 of the Reformation will of course be one of the 
 very highest "culminations" of the subject; and, 
 indeed, on other grounds I have long been striv- 
 ing (with little success) to represent it to myself 
 under all possible points of view. If Flogel can- 
 not be had in Edinburgh, I have little hope of 
 
 - This, of course, should be Schwab isches Zeitaltcr. 
 ^ Should be Eeinekc.
 
 .1G4 ^^ History of German Literature.^' [xxvr. 
 
 it in London, and must send for it to Grermany, 
 were this frost once away. Koch seems to be 
 an excellent person of his kind : I fear you have 
 not the second volume, which I find was pub- 
 lished two years later, and completes the poetical 
 department of his task. Eichhorn, whose terrific 
 farrago now lies beside me, is surely the most 
 unspeakably stupid man of Learning that has 
 lived in modern centuries : " like an ass whose 
 back with ingots bows," ^ he is no richer than if 
 he carried pot-metal, and cannot bring himself 
 the smallest necessary. I hope and trust, Bouter- 
 weck will prove a little better. 
 
 You perceive, I am casting myself altogether 
 on your discretion ; leaving you not only to pro- 
 vide me with help, ])ut to judge also what liel]) 
 I shall most need. Since you have " unrolled 
 your pack " before me in such courteous style, 
 I can only request you to choose for me, by your 
 own skill; with the assurance, hardly necessarj^ 
 i'l this case, that too much can produce no incon- 
 
 * Measure for Measure, Act iii., Sc. 1.
 
 XXVI.] " Ilisforif of German Literature.'^ 165 
 
 venience, and too little may cost me serious 
 trouble. If, besides the Works you liave men- 
 tioned, regarding the Reformation-period, and 
 prior (to whicli, if it were not shameless to ask 
 them, your own Notes and Extracts would be a 
 valuable accession), you can think of anything 
 else that would prove instructive, I shall receive 
 it, and employ it, with true thankfulness. Luther, 
 I think, must terminate the first volume, l^efore 
 whom come all the Fablers and Satyrists, and 
 Swabian Minne-singers, and Niirnberg Master- 
 singers, a motley horde which I do pray devoutly 
 I had marshalled into something like clear order. 
 A work, or even the name of a good work, on 
 the Meistersdngerei would be a special blessing to 
 me : I can find none but one of Grimm's, which 
 I fear will be but a shallow one. Do you know 
 Docen's and Hagen's Hist, of German Poetry ? 
 I have seen it in the Edin"". College Library, but 
 read only a few pages of it. Or Biisching's ILuis 
 Sachs, and whether there is a Life prefixed to it ? 
 But I must draw bridle here ; for the Paper 
 is exhausted, to say nothing of your Patience.
 
 166 '' Eistovij of German Literature.'' [xxvi. 
 
 You will have the " luxury of doing good " ^ for 
 your reward of all tins trouble ; other reward I 
 dare not for the present promise you. Alas, I 
 am a sorely straitened man ! This same Historij, 
 the first volume of it, was to go to press in April, 
 and here am I with empty bookshelves, and head 
 " to be let unfurnished ! " But guild-brethren 
 will prove kind, in the loan of tools, which our 
 brave Sjjed it ions-handler'^ of Bankstreet will faith- 
 fully forward me ; and for the head, we may 
 sweep if we cannot garnish it. So allons ! 
 
 The Brown cann,'' or a perfect resemblance of 
 it, is still here ; and will hold itself bound to per- 
 form, in first order, for an old friend. You 
 positively must not let this summer slip without 
 an expedition hither. The scene, it is true, be- 
 longs to the class of Bog and Hill scenery, and 
 has little but heath and whinstone and peat-pits 
 
 5 " And learn the luxury of doing good." 
 
 Goldsmith, Traveller, 22. 
 ^ Should be SjjecUtionshdridlcr. 
 
 7 Has a suggestion of the German Kannc (Mid. Eng. 
 canne), made him spell thus? He means the cofFee-pot 
 evidently. See Letter XXIII., p. 145.
 
 XXVI.] Bog and Hill Scenery. 167 
 
 to recommend it : nevertheless, it is a scene ; 
 under the everlasting vault, and has two hearts 
 that honestly take interest in you, and always 
 remember you with affection. Consider this, and 
 fulfil your purpose. Meanwhile, write to me 
 when[ev]er you have leisure : nay, for the present 
 you have real " business " to write on. Also, be 
 careful of your health in these wild winter 
 months ; and be well when I come to Minto, 
 which I mean to do the very first time I am in 
 Edin^ Mrs. Carlyle bids me "be sure to send 
 her love." I remain always. 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 T. CARLYLE. 
 
 You do not mention your Post-town, and I see 
 Hawiclc on your Letter. However, Melrose found 
 you last time, so wollen wir heifm^ Alien bleiben. 
 
 Mr. Aitken will probably send me a Parcel 
 on Tuesday week, — to be here on Wednesday, 
 which is our market and packet day : of j^osts 
 we have one other on Saturday, and that is all. 
 
 ^ Would be written hcim now.
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 5th February [Postmark, 1830]. 
 Deaeest Eliza, — 
 
 This lias been the unluckiest new year to 
 me ! Every day some Job's-post or other tempts 
 me to curse my stars ! It began with the death 
 of my pig — my sweet, wise, httle pig, who was the 
 apple of my eye ; he got a surfeit one evening, 
 and next morning I was pigless ! and just when 
 my long-cherished hopes of him were approaching 
 their fulfilment, and a few weeks more would 
 have plumped him out into such delicate bacon ! 
 So the glory of this world passeth away ! ^ On 
 the back of this severe family- affliction followed 
 a disaster occasioned by a quite opposite cause, 
 being the consequence, not of overfeeding, but 
 
 1 Sic transit gloria mioncli, the beginning of a "sequence" 
 in the Roman Church, and said to have been formerly used 
 at the inauguration of the popes (Bohn's Diet, of Latin 
 Quotations). But probably 1 Corinthians vii. 31 was in her 
 mind : " For the fashion of this world passeth away." 
 
 168
 
 XXVII.] An JJnluchy New Year. 169 
 
 pure starvation : a stranger cat under the pangs 
 of famine rushed wildly into our larder one day, 
 making straight in the direction of a beefsteak ; 
 and, before you could bless yourself, snack went 
 the steak, and smash went a corner-dish, which 
 you know was as bad as if the whole four corner- 
 dishes had been broken, or at least a pair of 
 them. And, alas ! this was only a beginning. 
 This smash, it seemed, was but a signal for the 
 breakage of all the crockery, glass, and china 
 about the house. For now Xancy became as it 
 were suddenly possessed with a demon of destruc- 
 tion which shivered everything she laid hands on ; 
 nay, the supper-tra}^, with all its complement of 
 bowls, plates, etc., etc., she " soojnt ower ivi her 
 tails ".' ^ one fell soop ! But already I must have 
 filled your eyes with tears, and will not tax your 
 sympathy with a detail of all my gi'ievances ; 
 indeed, one sheet would not hold them. Only 
 attend to the last, which you must help me to 
 remedy, being in truth the main cause of my 
 writing again so soon. 
 
 " I.e. swept over with tlie tail of her petticoats.
 
 170 A Cameras Mistalce. [xxvii. 
 
 Last Aveek we were despatching a boxfull of 
 l30oks to Sam to be transmitted to tlieir various 
 owners in Edinburgh. None of our own people 
 being " at the town "^ that "Wednesday, it was en- 
 trusted to the Carrier, who naturally was charged 
 lo j[)ay it; but, our ill luck pursuing us even in 
 this small matter, the carrier either misunder- 
 stood or proved oblivious ; and so the package 
 was despatched, with all its charges to be de- 
 frayed at Bank Street. Now, tho' intrinsically 
 considered the damage done by this mistake be 
 trifling, yet you will understand how one should 
 find it abundantly vexatious ; and I beseech you 
 to explain to Mr. Aitken how the omission, which 
 must have appeared to him so singularly incon- 
 siderate, occurred, and to charge him (by his Lady's 
 love or whatever he values most) to place this, 
 with every expense which these book commissions 
 cost him, to Carlyle's account. If he does not, 
 we shall not be able to apply to him with any 
 freedom, and I doubt if in all Edinburgh we 
 could find another as helpful. 
 
 ^ Dumfries.
 
 XXVII.] Craig enputtoch in Winter. 171 
 
 And now, contrary to my iisual practice, " I 
 must plant a remark " or two on the weather. 
 It is well we have meat and fire " ivitliin our- 
 selves " (as Mrs. Roughhead used to say), other- 
 wise we should live in hourly apprehension of 
 being snowed up, and consequently starved to 
 death without even the mournful alternative of 
 " eating our own children.''^ Oh for a sight of 
 the green fields again, or even the black peat- 
 moss — anything rather than this wide waste of 
 blinding snow ! The only time when I can en- 
 dure to look out {going out is not to be dreamt of) 
 is by moonlight, when the enclosure before the 
 house is literally filled with hares, and then the 
 scene is really very joicturesque, the little dark 
 forms skipping and bounding over the white 
 ground so witch-like ! A still more novel spec- 
 tacle exhibited itself the other day at broad noon. 
 Seven blackcocks, " as fine (or perhaps finer) as 
 ever stepped the streets of Greenock,'^ ^ came run- 
 
 * Cf. Letters and MemoriaU of Jane Welsh Carlylc, ii., 
 p. 335. " I should have been as astonished to meet him in 
 Kirkcaldy as to meet Tiger "VVull's ' finest blackcock that
 
 172 Cralgenpattodi in Whiter. [xxvii. 
 
 ning down the wood to within a few yards of the 
 door. Such are the pleasing varieties of life here. 
 You will allow they are extremely innocent. 
 
 Carlyle inquired if I had sent his love the last 
 time, and charges me to remember it now. We 
 speak of your Uncle and you over our evening 
 fire both often and kindly. My kindest regards 
 are with you both. My Grandfather continues 
 much the same. God bless you ! 
 
 Always affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 A good new year, and many of them. — T. C. 
 
 ever stepped the streets of Greenock ' ! " On which passage 
 Carlyle's annotation runs : " ' Teeger Wull,' Tiger Will^ 
 William Dunlop, a well known cousin of hers, one of the 
 strangest men of his age, with an inexhaustible sense of fun. 
 One friend promised another (according to Wull) ' the 
 finest blackcock that,' etc." But may there not be a further 
 joke, hidden behind the mere incongruity of this remark ? 
 A correspondent jDoints out that "blackcoats" (/.<?. ministers, 
 clergymen) might easily or wilfully be mispronounced 
 " blackcocks." But perhaps " an inexhaustible sense of fun " 
 is needed to see this joke, whatever it is.
 
 XXYIIT. 
 
 To Miss Stodarf, 22 George Square. 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 Day of the month nnhiown. 
 [End of Dec, 1830, or Beginning of Jan., 1831 ?] 
 
 Dearest Eliza, — ■ 
 
 It is almost worth while to have a sore 
 throat " ai a time " ^ to rouse lethargic friends 
 into natnrality. I had quite lost all expectation 
 of hearing from you, and what is more, lost all 
 acquaintance of your handwriting, so that I 
 could not conjecture from the address on your 
 letter from whom it came. The seal I thought 
 I had seen before, hut could not possibly recollect 
 where ; and when I " tooh a i^ee}) into the inside " 
 my perplexity was only increased. " New adnii' 
 
 1 I.e. occasionally (of. p. 30). Mr. Froude mentions " a 
 violent sore-throat " " at the close of Dec," 1830 {T/wma!> 
 Carlyle, A., ii., p. G7). 
 
 173
 
 174 Recovering from a Sore Throat, [xxviii. 
 
 nidratio7i," "Duke of B " " dam7iableheresu,"^ 
 
 — wlio could it be at all ? At length, to my 
 great relief (for I could find no signature) my 
 eye lighted on a wee, unforgetable " Braclle," and 
 then I was as glad as might be, and astonished 
 at my own stupidity. It is a real hardship that 
 you will not write oftener ; it is only through 
 your letters that any tone of the old time ever 
 reaches me, all the rest of my young companions, 
 if they have not got new faces, having at least 
 got new dialects. And then you have such 
 plenty of interesting matter lying on all hands. 
 If you were in mij place, you would have more 
 excuse, who have to produce letters as the silk- 
 worm spins, all out of my own inside. 
 
 We have been very solitary for a long while, 
 our only visitors are now and then a stray pack- 
 man, and the last of these pronounced the place 
 
 - Lord Grey's ministry came into office in Nov., 1830, and 
 included the Duke of Richmond, as Postmaster-general. 
 Eliza Stodart was probably quoting her uncle, who may have 
 used the phrase " damnable heresy " about the Reform 
 agitation.
 
 xxv'iii.] Recovering from a Sore Throat. 175 
 
 " altogether heathenish,^^ so there is no hope of 
 our being favoured with his company another 
 time. Nevertheless, I keep up my heart. There 
 is nothing like a good bit of pain for taking 
 the conceit out of one. Had I been newly 
 returned from Edinburgh, my thoughts still 
 wandering on the mountain tops of vanity, it 
 is probable I should have found life here, in 
 this grimmest of weather, almost intolerable ; but 
 being newly recovered from a sore throat, I am 
 quite content beside a good fire, with a book or 
 work, and the invaluable capacity of swallowing, 
 though the desert around looks the very head- 
 quarters of winter, and our knocker hangs a 
 useless ornament. 
 
 My Grandfather was no worse when my 
 Mother wrote last week ; and her luck seemed 
 to be taking a favourable turn : she had got a 
 visitor, than whom " no siveeter ever crossed a 
 threshold.'^ I mean to spend a week with her 
 so soon as I am able to ride ; but I am not quite 
 well yet — at least, I am still wearing signals of 
 distress, a nightcap and shawl — that, partly, I
 
 176 Itecoverlng from a Sore Throat, [xxviii. 
 
 confess, from a secret persuasion tliat these 
 equipments render my appearance more interest- 
 ing. But, Mercy ! here is a dark night come 
 upon me, and a box has yet to be packed with 
 which a man has to ride six miles thro' the 
 snow. I will write you at more length another 
 time ; and in the meanwhile this Avill show my 
 good intentions. God bless you, dear. A kiss 
 to your Uncle. 
 
 In breakneck haste, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE.
 
 XXIX. 
 
 [If "the late political changes" are the same as 
 those referred to in Letter XXVIII., this letter belongs 
 to 1831. If the change be only the Duke of Welling- 
 ton taking office in October, 1828, it would have to be 
 assigned to 1829. Carlyle {Reminiscences^ ed. Froude, 
 ii., p. 156 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 87) says the death of 
 Esther of Carstamin occurred "one of our early winters 
 [i.e. at Craigenputtoch]." This might seem to suit 
 1829 better ; but 1831 was before the winter in 
 London, and might therefore be so described. On the 
 whole I prefer the later date ; although, indeed, Eliza 
 Stodart was, if possible, less likely to "go into office," 
 even as " Court-Marmalade-Maker," under a Whig 
 than under a Tory administration. She was brought 
 up among Tories, though she married a AVhig. For the 
 marmalade-making, cf. Postscript to Letter V., p. 27.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 Craig o' putta, 
 
 Wth January [1831?]. 
 
 " The Lord bless thee," Eliza ! ^ 
 
 It is long since I got your letter, and it was 
 also very long before I got it. 
 
 ^ Edward Irving'a salutation. Cf. Norton, Letters of 
 
 177 j^
 
 178 The Late Political Changes. [xxix. 
 
 Never say I was not ready to correspond at 
 any rate you pleased. Your pleasure seems to be 
 a very languid rate ; and so be it ! 
 
 1 find myself in tolerable health, and sound 
 mind. How do you find yourself ? Have the late 
 political changes any way affected your destiny ? 
 Have you gone into office, my dear friend ? 
 
 The Edinburgh news travel hither so slowly 
 — often via London — that you may even have 
 been appointed Court-Marmalade-Maher without 
 my hearing a word of the matter. Jeffrey writes 
 faithfully and fully — no one else in Edinburgh; 
 but his local information never passes the garden 
 walls of Craig-crook.^ You used to send me 
 "sundry news of every kind," and often has a 
 letter from you recovered me out of dolefullest 
 dumps. But, alas ! you have either lost your 
 talent, or hidden it in a napkin ! A letter from 
 you now-a-days is as rare a curiosity as yon 
 
 Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 156 : " Cant and 
 enthusiasm are strangely commingled in him : ... in 
 place of ordinary salutation [he] bids ' the Lord bless you.' " 
 
 2 Jeffrey's house, near Edinburgh.
 
 XXIX.] Digression 07i a Moth. 179 
 
 big Moth whicli my Mother presented to the 
 Museum. Mercy, what think you is come of 
 it? Our Mother was shabbily used about that 
 "little Eagle ^'^ of hers. I remember she had 
 engaged to the Postmaster at Fort Augustus 
 that he should see his windfall in the news- 
 papers, and was making sure of at least one 
 silver ticket of admission, which would enable 
 her, without the charge of half-a-crown, to re- 
 gale herself with a view of the " valuable addi- 
 tion presented by Mrs. Welsh," as often as she 
 pleased. The Professor, I think, merely " won- 
 dered what the Moth was doing so far north at 
 that season of the year " ; on Avhicli somebody 
 else suggested a second wonder, " what Mrs. 
 Welsh was doing so far north at that season of 
 the year." And so the whole Moth-speculation 
 died a natural death, and only the bottled up 
 Moth-Eagle, or Eagle-Moth, remains (if indeed it 
 do remain), a memorial to coming time of Moth- 
 
 3 My friend Mr. E, B. Poulton suggests that it was pro- 
 bably a large hawk-moth.
 
 180 An Irish PaclcmarCs Gomjpliment. [xxix. 
 
 inquisitiveness, female pliilantliropy, and pro- 
 fessorial ingratitude. 
 
 But where were we ? I was saying that a 
 letter from you was a rare curiosity, and the 
 words, Heaven knows how, instantaneously 
 brought back the image of that ill-fated little 
 being which has not been once in my head 
 these half dozen years. Well ! it is vain to 
 reason with you further on the subject of writing, 
 for you will not hearken to the voice of the 
 charmer, charm she ever so wisely! 
 
 I should like to spend another week with 
 you, and renew my years, as in my last visit; 
 not that I am looking any older than when you 
 saw me. On the contrary, notwithstanding my 
 prediction that I should fall off rapidly after 
 twenty, I keep my looks surprisingly well. An 
 old Irish packman met me riding alone the other 
 day, and modestly insinuated that I should buy 
 an almanack of him. 
 
 " By no means." 
 
 "But I have travelled all day, Lady, and got 
 nothing to pay my lodging ! "
 
 XXIX.] An Irish Pachnaii's Compliment. 181 
 
 "Well, for God's sake, there's a penny to you." 
 
 " Thank you, young Lady — thank you most 
 kindly ; and " — his gratitude and his voice 
 mounting higher and higher, till they reached 
 the pitch of enthusiasm — " and the Lord send 
 you a Husband according to your heart ! " 
 
 "Amen, friend." 
 
 From which passage one may infer one of two 
 things — either that an Irish packman thought me 
 too youthful looking to be already provided with 
 a Husband ; or that he conceived the provision 
 of a Husband incompatible with galloping over 
 the country alone. I saw in one of your letters 
 to my Mother that you were living very quietly ; 
 yet gentlemen bring you nice nosegays. We, I 
 imagine, are yet quieter; a gentleman either 
 with or without a nosegay is a thing we never 
 dream of. Yet let it not be forgotten that 
 no later than yesterday, an old woman — " old 
 Esther of Carstamin," ^ the likest thing to a 
 
 * Cf. Reminiscences^ ed. Froude, ii., pp. 15G-159; ed. 
 Norton, i., pp. 87-89.
 
 182 Old Esther of Carsfamin. [xxix. 
 
 witcli that this district has to boast of — pre- 
 sented me with two old plates ! I was to keep 
 them "as a memorandum ^^ ; but so long as she 
 is on foot, I shall not want for a living me- 
 morandum. Poor old creature ! her father was 
 Laird of Carstamin, and " took lump sugar to 
 his toddy." But the Devil was busy with him — 
 and with Esther too — for she had a child " by 
 chance'' (she told us), and then two Husbands, 
 also hij chance it would seem, for one after the 
 other left her so soon as the ready money was 
 spent, and there she sits in a half-roofed hovel 
 on the moor — " a monument of wrath," — " a 
 widow, yet a wife," — nay, twice a widow and 
 twice a wife. She totters about people's houses, 
 where she can find them, and picks up scraps 
 either in honesty or dishonesty. If she hear a 
 swine squealing (and her hearing is wonderfully 
 acute in this particular), away she posts in that 
 direction, to try what windfall of tripes or livers 
 may come her way. But, alas ! alas ! they killed 
 four swine within a gunshot the other day, and 
 " 7iane vms ever at the pains to say — Hae^ Esther ^
 
 XXIX.] A Mysterious Business. 183 
 
 there's a pjidclin te'e."^ Mercy, how I have clat- 
 tered thro' four pages ! 
 
 What are they thinking in Edinburgh about 
 
 Mrs. M ? We are deeply interested in 
 
 Henry, and he has not written since she loas 
 found. Grod grant he may not get into any 
 duel. The newspapers throw no light on the 
 business. 
 
 I was at Templand last week. My Mother 
 was surprisingly well, considering how she has 
 been harassed of late. My Grandfather was 
 peaceable, tho' still lying in bed. A Mr. Gibson 
 was there. 
 
 Sam is requested to settle a small account 
 for Carlyle, and to give you the balance. Get 
 me a pair of very strong shoes from Rutherford : 
 he has my measure. There is no hurry about 
 them — only leave them, or, more properly speak- 
 ing, have the goodness to cause them to be 
 left with Sam, who, with his accustomed helpful- 
 ness, will forward them to me. I was sorry to 
 
 5 I.e. " tae ye " = to you, for you.
 
 184 Good Wishes. [xxix. 
 
 hear of his cold ; but as he made no mention of 
 it in his note, I trust he is quite recovered. 
 My kindest remembrances to your Uncle. Car- 
 lyle joins me in wishing you both very many 
 happy years. 
 
 And believe me, ever your affectionate friend 
 till death, 
 
 JANE WELSH CARLYLE.
 
 XXX. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, EdinhurgJt. 
 
 [" Speed " in corner, bnt Carlyle has added, " Need 
 not be forwarded."] 
 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 
 Some time in April [Postmark, 
 
 April 20th, 1831]. 
 
 My dearest Eliza, — 
 
 My first determination, after reading your 
 letter and tasting your barley-sugar, was to 
 write the very next week along with a manu- 
 script for Cochrane.^ But the manuscript for 
 Cochrane did not go the next week, nor the next 
 again, nor is it gone at this hour, but rather 
 doubts are rising in men's minds whether it 
 is ever to go at all. In which circumstances, 
 " necessity, mother of invention," has put me on 
 the discovery that there is no indissoluble con- 
 
 ^ Coclirane was editor of the Foreign Quarterly Reviexc. 
 
 185
 
 186 A Goose of the World. [xxx. 
 
 nection between the said manuscript and the 
 said letter ; and this fact being once clearly 
 demonstrated to my understanding, I lose not 
 another moment in courteously saluting you — as 
 in duty and affection bound — " Get ye good 
 morning, Audrey ! " ^ and a fine sunshiny 
 spring morning it is. Our woods have put on 
 their green again, and blackbirds are sweetly 
 singing, and hens profitably cackling, and the 
 Bubbly ^ goggeling neither sweetly nor profit- 
 ably ; and, in short, even here one feels oneself 
 still in the land of the living [and] in the place 
 of hope. 
 
 My Cousin ! did you ever watch a goose 
 hatching, or a turkey, or any hatching thing ? 
 If not, you can form no adequate conception of 
 the hopes and fears which at present agitate my 
 breast. I have a goose sitting on five eggs — a 
 rather flighty sort of character — quite a goose of 
 the world in fact, who from time to time drives 
 
 3 Cf. p. 68, note 2, on Letter X. 
 
 2 " Bubbly- Jock " is a Scotch term for the turkey-cock.
 
 XXX.] An Idiotic Tuvheij. 187 
 
 me to the brink of despair by following lier 
 pleasures whole hours with the other geese to 
 the manifest danger of cooling her eggs. I 
 hover about the nest during these long absences 
 with a solicitude quite indescribable, and it will 
 end, I believe, in my sitting down on the eggs 
 myself. My turkey again sits like a very vege- 
 table (indeed, she could not well do otherwise, 
 being secured under an inverted crate) ; but she 
 is a born idiot, and I dread that the offspring 
 will be all creatures of weak intellect also — nay, 
 more — that one by one they will be overlaid or 
 otherwise " die from neglect " like Robert's little 
 daughter. " The troubles that afflict the just," 
 etc., etc. ! " Noiv this comes of having the 
 world I'''' as Carlyle's G-randmother said, when by 
 some miracle she found herself in possession of 
 an entire gold guinea, and was at her wits' end 
 where on all the earth to secure it from thieves.^ 
 When I had no stock, I was comparatively 
 tranquil. 
 
 '^ Cf. Letters and Memorials^ i., p. 161, note.
 
 188 A Haddington Face. [xxx. 
 
 " Angels and ministers of grace defend ns. 
 Art thou a Spirit of health or goblin damned ? " ^ 
 
 Eliza, Eliza ! We were sitting at breakfast 
 yesterday morning, expecting nor evil nor good, 
 — sipping a highly nutritive beverage of tea and 
 whipt egg, and talking pleasantly enough on 
 some transcendental subject, when suddenly — an 
 unusual sound of carriage wheels, louder and 
 louder, nearer and nearer, interrupted the whole 
 operation. I thought it could be no one else but 
 Miss Anderson, of Sanquhar, and ran to receive 
 her "in my choicest mood!"*' But, Lord have 
 mercy ! what was I come out for to see ? Seated 
 in an open gig, muffled curiously in Indian 
 shawls, my astonished eyes rested on the large 
 
 muscular figure of — Miss ! Yes, Mary , 
 
 of Haddington. "J?ee, /^ee, hee ! Mrs. Gaarlile ! 
 Hee, hee, hee ! " But it was no hee-heeing to 
 me ! The intensity of my astonishment quite 
 
 ^ " Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! 
 
 Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned," etc. 
 
 Hamlet^ Act, i., Sc. 4. 
 6 Cf. p. 145, note 2 on Letter XXIII.
 
 XXX.] A Tale of a Nettle. 189 
 
 paralyzed me, and it was minutes before I could 
 express the joy wliicli I really always feel at 
 recognising a Haddington face, belong to whom 
 it may. She was obliged to be off the same 
 evening. But we made the best use of our time. 
 I took nothing in hand the whole day but milk- 
 ing news from her (a rather rural metaphor), 
 which she with unabating copiousness supplied; 
 and could I tell you but a tenth of the facts 
 wherewith I in this way stored my mind, you 
 would wonder equally at the capacity of the In- 
 structor and the Learner. Nothing, I think, in 
 her whole budget amused me so much as a Tale 
 of a nettle — a still more serious nettle-feud than 
 the ^"^ Jenny Nettles ^^'^ of ancient times. Mary 
 Davidson one day stuck a fine fresh little nettle 
 in the back part of Dr. Fyffe's hat, while he 
 was paying a professional visit. The Dr. clapped 
 
 '^ The precise allusion I cannot explain. According to 
 Jamieson's Scottish Dictionary^ "jenny-nettle " is a Lanark- 
 shire term for the "daddy-long-legs," called also "jenny- 
 spinner." " The prettiest little Jenny Spinner," says 
 Carlyle, picturing to himself Jane Welsh in her childhood 
 {Reminiscences, ed. Froude, ii., p. 98 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 75).
 
 190 A Tale of a Nettle. [xxx. 
 
 on the hat without noticing the emblem, walked 
 thro' the whole town with it, and finally mounted 
 and rode off thro' the country. But he detected 
 it at last — the hateful, ridiculous, too appropriate 
 nettle — and then what were his feelings, his 
 boiling rage ! " Indignation (they say) makes 
 verses."^ Accordingly, the Dr. indited "one of 
 the most impertinent," and, I will be bound to 
 say, unintelligible poems ever penned, against the 
 fair offender, whom he styled " a flirting fool,'^ 
 and sent it to the house instead of his further 
 medical attendance. Here is a Doctor for you of 
 a right independent spirit ! 
 
 Do you know anything of our Mother ? She 
 is gone out of sight, for two weeks at least out 
 of my sight; and if I do not hear tell of her 
 soon, I must be after advertising her. 
 
 Carlyle was for writing a letter to your Uncle 
 on his own bottom, but I advised him to add a 
 postscript here by way of saving postage, and 
 
 ^ " Si natura negat, facit indignatio versum," 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. i., 79.
 
 XXX.] Carhjle on Cigars. 191 
 
 now " from thee, Eliza, I must go," being con- 
 strained by what is called the iron law of neces- 
 sity, to take steps (as many as are between here 
 and the next farm toio7i) towards getting the 
 above written sent off. 
 God bless you ! 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, 
 JANE BAILLIE PENMVELSH CARLYLE. 
 
 To Mr. Bradfute. 
 My dear Sir, — 
 
 Your present of the Cigar Box was no 
 less well-timed than kind ; it came on me when 
 my former stock were within a dozen of the end, 
 like a gift of Providence, as well as friend's gift. 
 Many thanks for it ! I have tasted the Narcotic, 
 and find it of the right sort ; thus, not once, but 
 many times, will I thank you, and if not drinh, 
 yet heartily smoke your health. You who are no 
 smoker cannot understand the force of this. But 
 will you not come hither this Summer and see 
 
 9 Cf. p. Ill, note 6 on Letter XV.
 
 192 " Come to the Wilderness.'' [xxx. 
 
 the House of the Wilderness, and the strange wild- 
 people (towards you very tame and loving) that 
 dwell therein ? I think you might easily drive 
 a worse road. I could promise you (and your 
 Eliza) a quiet sheltered lodging in a country neiv 
 at least ; and the warmest welcome from friends 
 that are not so new. 
 
 Believe me always, 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Faithfully your's, 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE. 
 
 [Postscript added by Mrs. Carlyle.] 
 
 Aye ! will you not come ? and eat home-grown 
 strawberries on my Birthday?^*' I know not 
 when I shall see you imless you come hither. 
 My kind regards and C.'s to Sam. The Barley 
 sugar was a precious goody. ^^ I had not tasted 
 a morsel for three years. 
 
 ^0 July 14th. 
 
 ^^ I.e. sweetmeat.
 
 SEALS USED BY CARLYLE AND HIS WIFE. 
 (Double the Size of the Originals.) 
 
 MfP^ 
 
 Carlyle sketched the emblem ol the 
 wasting candle, with the motto written 
 on it, ' Tcror diini pioaiui,' ' May I be 
 wasted, so that I am ot use."" — Froude, 
 T/ioiiias Carlyle, A. I., p. 197. 
 
 
 " -'■'S^a^^A^v^- ' 
 
 Carlyle, writing to his brother Alexander, 
 irom London, in January 1825, says : " I 
 have purchased me a small seal and the 
 Carlyles' crest with HiiiinlitatL' and all 
 the rest of it engraven on it.'" — Norton, 
 Eailv Letters ofT. Carlyle, II., p. 300. 
 
 This must be a copy ot the seal sent to Goethe, in 1S31, by fifteen English r.dmirers — 
 " The serpent of eternity encircling a star." The motto is taken from Goethe"s 
 verses — 
 
 " iVic das Gestiri! 
 Olinc Hast 
 A her olnie Rast, 
 Ihehe slcli jeder 
 Uiii die eigne I.ayt" — 
 
 which Carl3'le roughly renders — 
 
 " Like as a star 
 That maketh not haste, 
 I hat taketh not rest. 
 Be each one fulfilling 
 His god-given Hest '" — 
 
 jn the Essay on "Goethe's Works " in his Miscellanies, ^f'or/^s. Library Edition, 
 IX., p. 161. " See also Norton, Letters 0/ T. Carlyle (Second Series), I., p. 285 ; and 
 Lewes, Lije 0/ Goetlie, p. 559. 
 
 [Face p. 192.
 
 XXXI. 
 
 To Samuel Aithen, Esr/.y Messrs. Bell and 
 Bradfute^s, Bank Street, Edin''. 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 
 2Sth Ju7ie, 1831. 
 My Deae Sir, — 
 
 I learn witli very great satisfaction that 
 our Friend of Minto^ has come home so much 
 stronger and heartier ; and hope the improvement 
 will continue with him and increase. 
 
 To you also I am obliged for letting me know 
 about his Candidateship : I need not say that no 
 such important enterprise on his part can be 
 indifferent to me, that no little service I could 
 conscientiously render him, here or elsewhere, 
 should be wanting. It will always be a most 
 
 1 The Rev. David Aitken tlio-aght of becoming a candidate 
 for the chair of Church History in Edinburgh University, 
 which had fallen vacant in this year. The town council of 
 Edinburgh were the patrons, but in those days of unre- 
 formed corporations were very much under Government 
 influence. I cannot otherwise explain Carlyle's reference to 
 Crown preferments. 
 
 193 Q
 
 194 A Churc/i Histori/ Chair. [xxxi. 
 
 pleasant duty to bear testimony of all tliat I 
 know concerning liim (wherein is niucli good), 
 whensoever or wheresoever I am called npon. 
 
 I must warn you, however, that, as matters 
 stand, my writing specially to the Lord Advocate^ 
 can hardly do much good. In the first place, I 
 myself am very ignorant of Church History, and 
 of who would be a good Professor of it ; secondly, 
 I do not know whether our Friend is the best 
 that will present himself, but only that I believe 
 him better than most Scotch Clergymen ; thirdly, 
 I should fondly trust that mth a Riissel-Purge^ 
 Administration, Crown preferments will be dis- 
 tributed on public views only, the old Dundas 
 System^ having become noisome in the nostrils of 
 
 " Francis Jeffrey. 
 
 ^ Lord John Hussell brouglit in the Reform Bill on 
 March 1st, 1831, which wonkl have disfranchised sixty 
 " rotten boroughs " and abolished 168 borough seats ; so 
 that he is here compared to Colonel Pride " purging " the 
 House of Commons in 1648. 
 
 * Henry Dundas, first Viscount Melville (1742-1811), was 
 practically the ruler of Scotland under Pitt. Por an 
 account of the " Dundas System," from the Whig point of 
 view, see Cockburn's Life of J<^ff>'cy, p. 74 (ed. 1872) ; it
 
 XXXI.] Purer Patronage. 195 
 
 allmen; so tliat tlie circumstance of Mr. Aitken's 
 being mij Friend, tlio' never so emphatically stated, 
 could have no weight here. 
 
 On these grounds, more especially as the 
 matter cannot be decided for a good Avhile, I 
 think it will be better at all events to wait. If, 
 in the course matters take, I see any prospect 
 of doing Mr. A. an honest service (which will be 
 doing Justice herself one), then depend upon it 
 no one will more 'zeaJouslij endeavour. Will you, 
 as anything decisive occurs of a promising sort, 
 be so good as let me know : a Letter (perhaps 
 an old Newspaper), always welcome, will show me 
 how it stands. It is not impossible that I may 
 be in London^ before the thing is settled and see 
 the Lord Advocate. 
 
 should be remembered that Cockburn was allied tlirougli 
 his family to the Dnndases. In his Memorials he says : 
 " Within this pandemonium [the old council chamber] sat 
 the town council, omnipotent, corrupt, impenetrable. 
 Nothing was beyond its grasp ; no variety of opinion dis- 
 turbed its unanimity, for the pleasiire of Dundas was the 
 sole rule for every one of them " (p. 83, ed. 1872). 
 
 '" Carlyle went up to London in August. See Froude, 
 Tho7uas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 1G3 fif.
 
 196 A Call to Tea. [xxxi. 
 
 We are well liere; and send our best regards 
 to Greorge Sq : 
 
 Many thanks for your punctuality in all 
 Business matters. — In great liaste with both a 
 Wife and Maidservant calling on me to Tea, 
 
 I remain, 
 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 Faithfully your's, 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE.
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 Somewhere about the beginning of October. 
 [Postmark, Oct. 10th, 1832.] 
 
 My dearest Eliza, — • 
 
 " It is surprising to see all how they ach* 
 i' the various places," as Mr. Jeffrey's maid, 
 who now, poor creature, acts no longer on this 
 planet, used to preface her travels' history on 
 the dicky of her Master's chaise — an ominous 
 beginning, which, like our Mother's, " 0, I must 
 tell you about Aberdeen ! " had always the effect 
 of instantaneously scattering her fellow-servants 
 to the four winds as if a bombshell had been 
 thrown into the midst of them. It is really 
 surprising how they ack', not knowing but the 
 next hour may be their last — certain that a 
 last must come soon, yet leaving the most pal- 
 
 197
 
 198 About Letter-icriting . [xxxii. 
 
 pable duties undone as if there were all eternity 
 to do them in. You may guess I am incited 
 to this highly novel and striking reflection by 
 the consideration that my last letter to you has 
 been left unanswered for one year and [a] half, 
 that from anything I hear you are not even 
 remotely purposing to answer it — have not a 
 single compunctious visiting^ about the matter. 
 Yet how many years and half, think you, even 
 at the longest allowance, shall we remain so- 
 journers together on the same earth ? and how 
 will the survivor like to remember periods of 
 silence like this, when the possibility of friendly 
 intercourse, then for the first time, like all 
 things jpast, not only rightly estimated, but over- 
 estimated, will exist no more for ever? Nor 
 in censurmg you do I pretend altogether to 
 clear myself. I should have written again and 
 again ; not only Scripture, which bids you turn 
 the other cheek when one is smitten, but my 
 
 1 " That no compunctious visi tings of nature 
 Shake my fell purpose." 
 
 Macbeth, Act i., Sc. 5.
 
 XXXII.] Passing for a Remains. 199 
 
 own experience of liow naturally one may fall 
 into a fault from wliicli it is extremely difficult 
 to get out, as well as kindness, whicli is con- 
 tinually reminding me that you are my earliest 
 friend — all counselled this, but pride and in- 
 dolence carried the day. In prolonged bad 
 health and worse spirits, I judged there could 
 be small call upon [me] to be sending letters out, 
 as it were, into infinite space, no sounds of 
 them ever more heard. Still vainer seemed it 
 to apply for sympathy to one who was appar- 
 ently nowise concerning herself whether I re- 
 mained behind in a nice, flower-potted London 
 churchyard, or returned in a state of total 
 wreck to my own country. A few days before 
 I left London a certain Dr. Allan said to 
 Carlyle in a complimentary tone, as I left the 
 room, " Mrs, Carlyle has the remains of a fine 
 woman." ^ Think of that now! at thirty to pass 
 
 2 Mrs. Carlyle was in London with her husband during 
 all the winter of 1831-32. See Froude, Thomas Carlyle^ A. 
 ii., pp. 203 fF. " There's the remains of a fine woman about
 
 200 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxir. 
 
 for a remains ! Judge if I must not have 
 suffered somewhat, and if loss of health and 
 loss of looks were not a decent sort of excuse 
 at least for not enacting the amiable part of 
 turning the second cheek, or in other words 
 writing the second letter. The short and the 
 long of the matter is, we are both in fault ; let 
 us mutually forgive, kiss and be friends, and 
 draw this practical inference that indolence, as the 
 copy line says, is truly the root of all evil.^ 
 
 The special object of my breaking silence 
 this day is to give you a commission which I 
 think will gratify you, not of the petty needle 
 and stay-lace sort, but what think you? To 
 look about in your walks between this and the 
 beginning of winter for a little furnished house 
 to contain my Husband, self, and a maid for as 
 many months as we see good to exchange our 
 
 Sairah," says Mr. Bailey junior, in Martin Chuzzlewif, of 
 Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 •^ Seems to be " Satan finds some mischief still," etc., 
 paraphrased on the analogy of " The love of money is the 
 root of all evil."
 
 XXXII.] Three Limitations. 201 
 
 country life for your town one. The grim 
 prospect of anotlier winter in tliis solitude is 
 too frightful for my Husband, who finds that 
 it is absolutely essential for carrying on, not 
 only his craft, but his existence, to hear from 
 time to time a little human speech.* Accordingly, 
 we are to neighbour you this winter, and let 
 us see to make better of it than on [a]^ former 
 occasion. As to the manner of house, I may 
 begin by restricting your quest by three limita- 
 tions : first, it must be free of bugs ; secondly, 
 of extraordinary noises ; and lastly, of a high 
 rent ; such a place as that my Mother tenanted 
 of Miss Sheriff would answer well enough ; 
 perhaps Miss Dora, if it were modestly sug- 
 gested to her, might make another migration 
 into the country. She never seemed to s[t]ay 
 
 4 "I must to Edinburgh in winter; the solitude here, 
 generally very irksome, is threatening to get injurious, to 
 get intolerable." — Carlyle in his journal of September (?) 
 1832 (Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 310). 
 
 5 Perhaps " the " was the word she meant to put. It will 
 be observed that several words have been omitted in this 
 letter, showing weariness in the writer.
 
 202 A House in Edlnhurr/h. [xxxii. 
 
 at home on any account but because slie had a 
 house on [her] hands. Henry Inglis represented 
 Comely Bank as being inhabited now by strange, 
 haggard, ruffian-looking people, whose calling 
 was questionable. In that case it were no 
 longer pleasant, but otherwise I should still 
 prefer it to any part of the new toAvn; a floor 
 in the heart of the town were my last re- 
 source ; any sahurhan situation — especially if 
 self-contained, were preferable; the nearer your- 
 self the better, and" . . . With respect to 
 house-room, there would be required, at least, 
 a sitting room and bedroom, with some sort of 
 adjunct that might be slept in "at a time " ; 
 a kitchen, and six feet for the maid; a small 
 patch outdoors accommodation were extremely 
 desirable, where my husband might smoke. It 
 was most piteous to see him reduced to perform 
 that process in London on the top of a cistern ! 
 looking, as he stood perched aloft " on that bad 
 
 ^ Some words have been deleted here, and " Second 
 thoughts are best " is written under them.
 
 XXXII.] .Effectually Tamed. 203 
 
 eminence,"^ with tlie long pipe in liis month, 
 for all the world like the emblem over a tabac- 
 conist's door. Now look round yon and see 
 what is to be had, and on what terms, and 
 report progress ; and, as the time draws on and 
 my knowledge increases, I will give yon more 
 definite instructions. 
 
 Does your Uncle ever make the smallest 
 mention of me ? ever inquire if the mischievous 
 creature who broke his folder^ is still working 
 devilry on this planet ? Alas, no ! she is sober 
 enough now — a long succession of bad days 
 
 7 " Higli on a throne of royal state, which far 
 Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
 Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
 Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
 Satan exalted sat, by merit raised 
 To that bad eminence." 
 
 Milton, Paradise Lost, ii. 1-G. 
 8 Mr. Bradfute used always to employ a folding paper- 
 knife. This I learn from my mother, Eliza Stodart's niece, 
 who has frequently told me of one memorable occasion when 
 Jane Welsh was on a visit to Eliza Stodart at Mr. Bradfute's. 
 The two girls, after saying "Good-night," went, as they often 
 did, to " Uncle Bradie's " bedroom, where a fire was burning, 
 to " do up " their hair and chat before themselves going to
 
 204 Cholera. [xxxii. 
 
 and sleepless nights have effectually tamed her. 
 Bess, for one good laugh with you, for the 
 sake of old times ! I do not remember the 
 time when I laughed. Crying is now the order 
 of the day. Cholera is raging in Dumfries, and 
 the whole town and county in a state of dis- 
 traction — as if death were now presented to 
 them for [the] first time, because it is presented 
 in a new shape ! As if God had not appointed 
 to all men once to die !^ 
 
 bed. They had placed his looking-glass on the hearth-rug, 
 and were sitting very comfortably by it, when suddenly 
 they heard the old gentleman coming upstairs rather earlier 
 than usual. Hastily getting up and rushing out, they upset 
 the mirror, and it was broken. Next morning they met him 
 at breakfast time, trembling. But he only remarked, " The 
 glass was very loiv, last night, my dears," and was content 
 to take his revenge in a pun. 
 
 ^ Cf. Carlyle's journal of November, 1831, quoted by Mr. 
 Froude {Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 226). " All the world is 
 in apprehension about the cholera pestilence, which, indeed, 
 seems advancing towards us with a frightful, slow, unswerv- 
 ing constancy. For myself I cannot say that it costs me 
 great suffering ; we are all appointed once to die. Death is 
 the grand sum total of it all." Again in the entry of July 
 22nd, 1832, when the disease was approaching Dumfriesshire, 
 he writes : " The cowardice or bravery of the world mani-
 
 XXXII.] Cholera. 205 
 
 A kiss to your Uncle, kind regards to Sam. 
 What is Mr. Simpson doing? Your cousins? 
 everybody ? For God['s] sake write to me soon. 
 My Mother is bilious and terrified ; my Grand- 
 father as usual. I am going over to-morrow 
 to rouse her. 
 
 God bless you ! 
 
 I am always your affectionate friend, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 fests itself best in such a season. Nothing lies in cholera, 
 with all its collapses, spasms, blueness of skin, and what 
 else you like, except death, which may lie equally in a 
 common catarrh — in the wheel of the nearest hackney 
 coach. Yet here death is original ; the dunce, who, blinded 
 by custom, has looked at it in the usual forms, heedless, 
 unreasoning, now sees it for the first time, and shudders 
 at it as a novelty " {ib., p. 285). In a footnote on the 
 same page is a reference to the severity of the pestilence in 
 Dumfries. Cf. Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second 
 Series], ii., p. 69, note 2. Mrs. Carlyle writes to Carlyle's 
 mother [in 1833?] about cholera: "The answer to all such 
 terrors is simply what Carlyle said a year ago to some one 
 who told him in London : ' Cholera is here ' : ' When is 
 death not here?' " (Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 351.)
 
 XXXITI. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 Mondaii [Oct. or Nov.? 1832].' 
 
 My dearest Eliza, — 
 
 I was in the hurry of packing and pre- 
 paring for a little journey, when Carlyle told 
 me he was sending a parcel to Sam, if I had 
 anything to add. To be sure I had several 
 things, but found myself obliged to wait a more 
 convenient season. I have been on my travels 
 ever since, first to Templand, thence to Scotsbrig, 
 back to Templand again, and home the night 
 before last; and now before setting out again 
 I take advantage of this short breathing space 
 to acknowledge your favour and despatch a wind- 
 fall of pheasants that is come in my way, one 
 
 1 The pheasants and the reference to Martinmas (p. 208), 
 taken together, fix this letter after Oct. 1st, and some time 
 l^efoie Nov. 11th (or, rather, 22nd — the "old " term-day). 
 
 200
 
 XXXIII.] Her Mother's Illness. 207 
 
 of which have the kindness to give to Sam 
 with my love. I must be back to Templand 
 this week; for my Mother is ailing, and, tho' 
 Isabella Mactnrk is there, I am not at all easy 
 in leaving her. Her ailment is singular enough. 
 She has no sickness, no pain, looks as well as 
 ever she did in her life, takes her food as usual, 
 only from time to time, perhaps twice or thrice 
 in the course of the day (always when she 
 " sits up for any length of time "), a " feeling 
 of sinking" comes over her, which, tho' it lasts 
 but a few minutes, and never goes the length 
 of complete fainting away, terrifies her to such 
 a degree that she lies almost constantly in bed. 
 Dr. Russel[l] calls it nervous debility, and seems 
 to have no serious apprehension about it. I 
 have a theory of my own about it, and tho' 
 not positively alarmed am anxious and uneasy. 
 Indeed, I am harassed on all sides at present; 
 for, when there, I fancy everything going to 
 wreck at home, the maid to whom I am obliged 
 to commit my Husband and house, cow, hens, 
 etc., etc., being a creature without sense or
 
 208 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxiii. 
 
 principle, whose depredations are only to be 
 checked by lielp of blacksmith's fingers. 
 
 I liked your description of Miss Eraser's 
 house, and am inclined to think it would suit 
 very well ; the quantity of accommodation is 
 suitable, the rent is suitable, and so far as I 
 recollect the situation is suitable. I should p7'e- 
 fer an upper flat, provided there was nothing 
 above. But your plan is good, to ascertain 
 what is to be had, and then for me to see and 
 fix with my own eyes ; no, see with my own 
 eyes and fix with my own volition (the school- 
 master of South wick asked an Irishman if he 
 could read : " Yes, your honour, some little ; but 
 not so well as you, thank God"). The only 
 thing is my weak nervous state of body, which 
 makes me boggle at anything like active exer- 
 tion ; indeed, I never go a journey from home 
 without being worse for days after; but I may 
 be stronger when the time comes — about three 
 weeks or so after Martinmas, we calculate. 
 
 And now, having said the needful, I shall 
 not strive with this worst of pens any longer,
 
 XXXIII.] Looldng forward to Edinburgh. 209 
 
 having to write to my Mother, and make a cheese 
 before bedtime. There will be time in the long 
 winter nights to turn one's whole interior inside 
 out. My kindest love to your Uncle. God bless 
 you, Dear. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE.
 
 XXXIY. 
 
 [Mrs. Welsh's father, "Walter Welsh, died in the latter 
 part of November, 1832. See Fronde, Thomas Carlyle, 
 A. ii., pp. 316, 317.] 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 Tuesday Night [Postmark, Dec. 6th, 1832]. 
 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 We returned from Templand last week, 
 our presence there being no longer needful, but 
 rather disconvenient, every bed being occupied 
 with new comers, and the sofa to boot. Want of 
 consideration in the male half of the creation is 
 no novelty, so one need not wonder at these 
 individual men ; but it is a pity that my mother 
 should have her hands full of tJtat sort of occupa- 
 tion, when it were so much better for her that
 
 XXXIV.] After her Grandfather's Death. 211 
 
 she were folding tliem to sleep. Mercifully there 
 has been no return of her nervous disorder, but 
 she is bilious and weak, and likely to be worse, 
 when the excitement from so many causes ceases 
 to act on her. My uncle and Alick spoke of leav- 
 ing a day or two ago. Walter and a Mr. G 
 
 from Glasgow (a recent acquaintance whom I 
 saw on this occasion for the first time with small 
 emotion of thankfulness) were expected to go 
 sooner ; but, as neither my Mother nor Isabella 
 McTurk (who also is still there) wrote on Wed- 
 nesday according to promise, to tell us when we 
 should return, I conclude them to be all still 
 there : and till I hear to the contrary, shall mind 
 my affairs at home, which a three weeks' absence 
 and a change of servants in the interim had 
 brought into extreme disorder. The Edinburgh 
 project has of course been lying quite dormant in 
 the midst of all this distress and serious business. 
 It is only within the last two days we are re- 
 4;urned to the consideration of it. Carlyle thinks 
 we should remove about the time when the 
 Christmas dinners are eaten and done. Will you
 
 212 A House in Edlnhiirgh. [xxxiv. 
 
 write and tell me what success lias attended your 
 house -hunting ? — whether Miss Fraser's be still 
 vacant ? hoAV soon we could enter after fixing ? 
 As my experience of furnished houses is very 
 slight, it would also throw considerable light on 
 my packing operations if you would give me a 
 sort of abridged history of the goods and chattels ! 
 (not of each individual house, but the likeliest 
 among them.) For instance, should I need to 
 bring bed and table-linen, spoons, etc.? Have you 
 remarked any pressing dearth in the crockery 
 line ? Knives and forks, tablecovers, and such- 
 like items were easily transported. Is there 
 anything on the mantlepieces ? That is a leading 
 question — silly as it may look ; for the answer 
 will give me a sort of notion of the character of 
 the whole apartment. I have often seen meagre, 
 cold-looking places that a warm table-cover, a 
 box or two, a few trifles tastefully arranged 
 could in a few seconds, at almost no cost, make 
 plenished and home-looking. 
 
 Would to Heaven the little flitting were well 
 over: " af imj time of life and with my cough, going
 
 XXXIV.] Her Mothers Plans. 213 
 
 irp to Jerusalem "^ is an enterprise of weight and 
 danger. 
 
 My Mother will surely come to ns in the course 
 of the winter, and resume her old connexions. I 
 have not made the proposal yet ; one I did make 
 — to come hither for a week or two — being vio- 
 lently waved ^ aside, in a way which showed me 
 she should have leisure left her to collect herself 
 before any proposed change would meet a favour- 
 able hearing. Her plans are unknown to me, and 
 I believe uncertain to herself. It seems likely 
 she will give up the farm, retaining the house, 
 the garden, and a park ;^ for she has gained no- 
 thing by the farming hitherto except annoyance. 
 
 1 " Going up to Jerusalem," may be taken from Carlyle's 
 father, Carlyle, writing to his brother Alexander, in 1827, 
 says, "Though I should go to Jerusalem seeking health, 
 and die by the road " (Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlijle 
 [Second Series], i., p. 68). Prof. Norton refers to Remini- 
 scences, i., p. 49 (i., p. 62, in ed. Froude), where Carlyle's 
 father says, " I will rather go to Jerusalem, seeking farms, 
 and die without finding one." 
 
 2 Sic. Qu. waived ? 
 
 2 "A park" in Scotland means simply an enclosed field, 
 a paddock.
 
 214 Her Mothey^s Plans. [xxxiv. 
 
 A house of lier own she should always have 
 somewhere, however little she may occupy it, and 
 as well there as elsewhere. We live here very 
 comfortably, keeping one maid, a boy, two horses, 
 and a cow on considerably less money than her 
 yearly income ; and Templand is a cheaper place 
 for living than this, being nearer all necessary 
 things. But my Uncle will probably get some 
 arrangement set on foot before he leaves. Her 
 present affliction is likely to be severely felt, and 
 just for the very reason that will make it seem 
 to others comparatively light, the long period of 
 confinement, fatigue, and anxiety by which it was 
 preceded. She now feels that dreariest of all 
 feelings — that her occupation is gone, that her 
 last evident duty in the world lias been fulfilled. 
 But, so long as one lives, new duties show them- 
 selves, and by-and-by she will find something to 
 exercise her unwearied activity and feelings of 
 kindness. In the meantime God help her and 
 all of us. 
 
 You received a letter from me with the books, 
 in which I expressed my predilection for Miss
 
 XXXIV.] A House in Edinburgh. 215 
 
 Fraser's house ?^ If not, you will hardly see the 
 propriety of the present. God bless you, dear ! 
 My love to Bradie, in which my Husband joins. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE W. AVELSH.^ 
 
 "*■ See preceding Letter, pp. 206, 208. 
 
 ° Sic. Apparently slie was going to write " Jane W. 
 Carlyle," but wrote " Welsh " instead of Carlyle.
 
 xxxy. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Templand, 
 Thursday [Postmark, Bee. 2lst, 1832]. 
 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 Owing to the singularity of our relation 
 with the Post office, as with all the other insti- 
 tutions of active life, your letter only reached me 
 last night, nearly a whole week after date. I 
 am certainly greatly indebted hj the trouble you 
 have, and are so readily taking about us ; and 
 have also reason to commend the punctuality 
 and distinctness of your communications. It is 
 a grand, and, I am sorry to say, a rare quality 
 in a female letter to carry its meaning on its 
 face; so much so, indeed, that one thinks one- 
 self fortunate to find any meaning at all, after 
 the most puzzling study. But you tell a plain 
 story always, from which one is at no loss to 
 deduce a plain conclusion ; and this, however 
 
 216
 
 XXXV.] A House in Edinhurgh. 217 
 
 meanly yoii esteem yom^self as a correspondent, 
 makes you to me always an agreeable one. 
 
 They say a weak person generally gives three 
 reasons where one is all that is required. Ac- 
 cordingly I have three reasons for being sorry 
 we have missed the Grrame Street^ house. I think 
 the climate there healthier than in the New Town; 
 I was pleased with the prospect of being so near 
 to Greorge Square ; and finally, I have of late 
 weeks been living there in idea, and got used to 
 the place, as if I had been there in the body. 
 However delays are dangerous, and now there 
 is nothing to be done but to thank our stars 
 that so feasible a looking substitute is cast up, 
 and to put off no time in securing it. I think, 
 in all but situation, the Widow's house seems 
 most suitable, and if yon can get it at the rent 
 you speah of, £4, I beg you will come to a final 
 arrangement with her without delay. I cannot 
 at this moment fix a day for entering, but you 
 
 1 Graliame Street, Lauriston, must be meant. It is not 
 far from George Square.
 
 218 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxv. 
 
 may say some day of the first week after New 
 Year's day. Nothing better could be accom- 
 phshed by my coming in beforehand ; and really 
 the notion of going ten miles, without my Hus- 
 band, is frightful to me, I am so very fecJdess^ 
 grown. Tlie best plan is for you, as I have 
 said, to take this tenement — and — take posses- 
 sion ! the day we are to come, with my old Betty,^ 
 if you know where to find her, or any other 
 honest woman that could put on a fire, and have 
 a kettle boiling on it. I mean to bring a little 
 black maid along with me, who will sort^ the 
 beds for us in no time ; and next day, when we 
 have all our luggage out of the way, we will 
 willingly go home with you to dine with Bradie, 
 if he be willing. You would need to order in 
 a temporary supply of coals, and leave all the 
 rest to my forecasting spirit. The Lady, if she 
 know her own interest, should not hesitate to 
 
 2 I.e. helpless. 
 
 3 See p. 27, Letter V., note 10. 
 
 •*■ I.e. arrange, make tidy, make read}'. Is it necessary to 
 explain that " black " does not imply " negro " ?
 
 XXXV.] A House in Edinburgh. 219 
 
 let her house to sucJo tenants, even at a reduced 
 rent, for I am sure more careful people, more 
 free of children and nuisances of all sorts, are 
 not easy to be fallen in with. 
 
 I came hither last Sunday, and found my 
 Mother alone, and not worse than when I left 
 her. But she is still delicate, and suffering ex- 
 ceedingly from the cold weather. I think she 
 will come to us before long, but the air of Stock- 
 bridge^ will be a new objection. She hopes to 
 hear from you soon, and sends her kind love, 
 as also does my Husband. We go home on 
 
 ^ A part of Edinburgh, lying in the valley of the Water 
 of Leith. Carlyle gives a pleasing description of this house 
 (18 Carlton Street) in a letter of January 8th, 1833, to his 
 brother John (Norton, Letters [Second Series], ii., p. 74) : 
 " You remember Stockbridge, and a smart street, with large 
 trees growing through the pavement, looking into the river 
 (Water of Leith), called Dean Street ? You just cross the 
 Bridge, from Edinburgh, and Dean Street sti^etches to the 
 left. Now Carlton Street is the first street at right angles 
 to that : our house is the corner one (the corner farthest 
 from the River), and fronts two ways ; both beautiful, one of 
 them into a sort of circus or double-crescent [St. Bernard's 
 Crescent], where are such trees that a rookery has estab- 
 lished itself in them."
 
 220 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxv. 
 
 Saturday to commence a liousehold earthquake. 
 If you camiot read this, blame my mother's 
 infamous pens. A kiss to Bradie. God bless 
 you both. 
 
 Ever your affectionate 
 
 JANE.
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22. George Square, Edin\ 
 
 Templand, Thoenhill, 
 
 227id Deer., 1832. 
 
 My Dear Miss Stodart, — 
 
 Jane wrote you a very long letter ; but I 
 find on inquiry that two of tlie most important 
 items are forgotten. My Brother told her long 
 ago that Forgetfulness was stealing over her; 
 that a general " breaking up of the faculties " had 
 become visible. 
 
 The two things forgotten are : first, that at 
 Craigenputtoch we have only one post day in the 
 lueeJc ; the day that corresponds to your Tuesday 
 afternoon : a Letter sent from you (I think, 
 before 5 o'clock) reaches us next night in that 
 way ; if missed then, it must lie, in all human 
 probability, for another week. Let this therefore 
 be a word to the wise. The second thing I had 
 to remind you of, " dearly beloved," as we of the 
 Pulpit say, is that you must in no wise forget to
 
 222 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxvi. 
 
 give us tlie precise address of tlie House in your 
 next letter; so that we may be able to write 
 carrier directions, post-office directions, and so 
 forth, without loss of time. 
 
 If anything else is forgotten, do you by 
 natural sagacity find it out and accomplish it ! 
 Could you want any wider commission ? 
 
 We are here till Monday; Mrs. Welsh ap- 
 peared too weak to-day for leaving. She will not 
 consent to accompany us to Edin""., but I think 
 will join us there. What new arrangements are 
 to be made at Templand does not yet altogether 
 appear : there is time enough for considering. 
 
 Now let us find you at your post, well and 
 giving welcome; — and so be a glad meeting 
 appointed for us all ! 
 
 With kind remembrances to " Uncle," whom 
 we hope to see often, 
 
 I remain. 
 
 Dear Eliza, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE.
 
 XXXYII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22. George Square, EtUn\ 
 
 Craigenputtoch, Dumfries, 
 
 26^/i Dec\, 1832. 
 
 My Dear Eliza, — 
 
 YoTir very punctual and distinct Communi- 
 cation has just come to hand ; and the whole 
 burble^ into which the jolly Widow's peculiar 
 quality of brain has thrown you becomes mani- 
 fest. Jane seems so thunderstruck and over- 
 awed in glancing into the profundities of that 
 matter (wherein she can see no bottom), that I, 
 at her most earnest request, have undertaken 
 to reply to you, as Edward Irving says, " with 
 my own hand." ' 
 
 Two worJs, it may be hoped, after all will 
 bring us fairly thro'. The first word is that we 
 
 1 See p. 62, note 4 to Letter IX. 
 
 - One of Irving's " Apostolic " affectations (see Gal. vi. 11, 
 2 Thess. iii. 17), alluded to also in Letters and Memorials ; 
 e.g. i. p. 5.
 
 224 A House in Edinburgh. [xxxvii. 
 
 intend to stay some three months, and shall of 
 course need a house for that time. Take No. 18 
 for us then, if the woman will engage to let it 
 (and not again to change her mind) on the 
 following principle : That if during the first 
 fortnight we give her warning that the place 
 does not suit, we are to pay her the Six Pounds 
 for one month ; and that if no such warning is 
 given, the rent is to be Four Pounds per month all 
 the way, or Twelve Pounds for twelve weeks. If 
 she do not like these terms, wish her good 
 morning, and let her find a tenant elsewhere. 
 
 The second word is that as Mrs. appears 
 
 to be (I grieve to say) a Lady of very peculiar 
 habits of doing business, it will be needful for 
 you to be doubly and trebly accurate, and see 
 with your own eyes that all minor arrange- 
 ments (such as that of "getting things" — -which 
 I do not well understand) be placed on such a 
 footing that even a Goose cannot mistake them. 
 " Folly to Folly," saith the Proverb, " makes 
 nothing but Melancholy." The proper way is 
 Wisdom to Folly. — As to Beds, I hear Missus
 
 XXXVII.] " The Luxury of doing Good.^' 225 
 
 say that she can do without feather-beds, if all 
 the rest be right ; and that as to the " gettmg of 
 things," her expectations are by no means high. 
 
 Now this is the answer. I grieve very much 
 for all the trouble you are getting ; but you are 
 well known as a most friendly being ; and to the 
 heart of sensibility that feels for others' woes,^ all 
 these things are light and but the luxury of 
 doing good. 
 
 I add only that if this negociation take effect, 
 you are likely to have the inexpressible pleasure 
 of seeing us, on the evening of Monday (I think, 
 the 7th of January) by the Thornhill coach ; and 
 that we shall hope to hear from you, in any case, 
 this day week. 
 
 We left Mrs. Welsh tolerably well yesterday 
 
 3 " Teach me to feel another's woe," occurs in Pope's 
 Universal Prayer, of which Carlyle wrote in 1868 : " No 
 prayer, I find, can be more appropriate still to express one's 
 feelings, ideas, and wishes in the highest direction " (Froude, 
 Thomas Carlyle, B. ii., p. 371. The passage is quoted by 
 Prof. Masson in his second lecture on Carlyle, p. 82). 
 " Luxury of doing good," is Goldsmith's ; cf. p. IGG, Letter 
 XXVL, note 5. 
 
 Q
 
 226 A Christmas Dinner. [xxxvii. 
 
 (the day before having proved a tempest), and 
 came hear^ to eat a Christmas Dinner, which 
 differed in no visible particular from any other 
 of the year. 
 
 With kind regards to Mr. Bradfute ; and 
 hoping soon to see you and thank you, 
 
 I remain. 
 Dear Eliza, 
 
 Always faithfully yours, 
 
 T. CARLYLE. 
 
 Sic.
 
 XXXYIII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, 
 
 [Early in March,i 1833.] 
 My beloved Cousin, — 
 
 It would have been hard to conjecture 
 how the flight of Sapio^ the Singer to the Abbey ^ 
 could produce any perceptible effect on the 
 
 1 Carlyle writes from 4 Great King Street, on March 26th, 
 1833 (Norton, Letters^ etc. [Second Series], ii., p. 91), and he 
 and his wife leave in May after " two months " (see foot of 
 next page). 
 
 - " An Italian vocalist of this name was professor of 
 singing in Paris, and the vocal instructor of the Empress 
 [sic !] Maria Antoinette. He emigrated to England during 
 the French Revolution. His son A. Sapio, b. London, 1792, 
 held a commission in the army for a short time, afterwards 
 became a tenor vocalist, and made his debut in the 
 ' Messiah ' in 1822. He sang also at York and Edinburgh, 
 and sang on the stage from 1824. Appeared at Drury Lane 
 Theatre, London, 1824, and afterwards sang chiefly in opera. 
 Died (?)." — James D. Brown, Biographical Dictionary of 
 Musicians^ Paisley, 1886. In Oxberry's Dramatic Bio- 
 grajyhij, vol. i., p. 252 (London, 1825), is a contemporary 
 account of this, the younger, Sapio, and a portrait of him as 
 " Carlos." 
 
 ^ The precincts of Holyrood were a debtors' sanctuary. 
 
 227
 
 228 Sa]pio the Singer. [xxxviii. 
 
 destinies of Thomas Carlyle and liis amiable and 
 excellent wife ! Yet so strangely are things 
 woven and warped together in this world. "We 
 who never saw Mr. Sapio with our eyes or 
 heard him with our ears are proved to have 
 had a lively interest in his running in debt, 
 the consequence of which has been his running 
 to the Abbey, and the consequence of his run- 
 ning to the Abbey has been the evacuation of 
 a furnished house belonging to my old school- 
 fellow Mrs. Blacky, and the consequence of the 
 evacuation of the furnished house has been an 
 offer on the party of Mrs. Blacky of the said 
 house to me at any rent I liked, and the con- 
 sequence of the offer has been my acceptance of 
 the same ; and thus, thro' the intervention of Mr. 
 Sapio, or rather, to go to the root of the matter, 
 of the Devil who tempted Mr. Sapio, we find our- 
 selves on the eve of removing to No. 4 G-reat King 
 Street, with the blessed prospect of remaining in 
 town two months longer than the appointed time ; 
 and what may be the consequence of our remain- 
 ing so long, no mortal can predict.
 
 XXXVIII.] A Landlady's Conscience. 229 
 
 Our charming young friend upstairs lias been 
 creating such an infernal disturbance of late,^ 
 that we were resolved, should any resource 
 present itself, to leave her the house to herself. 
 Accordingly, so soon as I had heard of and 
 seen the King Street floor and found that we 
 could mahe it do, I despatched a highly diplo- 
 matic note to Mrs. stating our grievance 
 
 and "making no doubt that she would allow 
 our agreement to terminate at the end of the 
 present week ! " The Lady called next day ; I 
 was out, but Carlyle received her; she was in 
 the most accommodating mood — " we were quite 
 at liberty to leave whenever it suited us." She 
 made no secret of her participation in the 
 matter. " She was quite aware of the night- 
 noises. — had left the house in consequence 
 of having such disagreeable and disreputable 
 neighbours ! " So you and I know what to do, 
 dear, when we happen to have a house we can 
 no longer occupy ourselves — just swear it is all 
 
 4 Cf. Fronde, Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 326.
 
 230 III for Two Day.^. [xxxviii. 
 
 right and tight, and let it to some innocent 
 third party. 
 
 No further word from Templand. I wrote 
 again to-day. It is not so much matter now 
 ivlieyi she comes, but no thanks to her for the 
 respite. 
 
 We are invited to dine at your cousin John's 
 on Friday. I must send an apology to the 
 Thomsons' to-night. I have been very ill for 
 two days ; on Thursday night the pain in my 
 head was so intense that I fainted entirely away 
 under it. 
 
 But " it will not be permanent," as Carlyle 
 tells me; as if I could fancy it would be per- 
 manent without instantly cutting my throat. 
 
 I am sorry to leave this sweet neighbourhood, 
 and nice, well-aired house. But "what could 
 the fellow do, Sir ? " Just that night I was so 
 ill, there was a bacchanalian party over me till 
 three in the morning. I wonder if Mr. Sapio 
 has left any bugs behind him ? that is my next 
 terror. I went into a sale of furniture the 
 other day, and partly for the , figi of hearing
 
 XXXVIII.] At a Sale of Furniture. 231 
 
 myself bidy I bade for an easy cliair, and to 
 my infinite surprise it was knocked down to 
 me at 17 shillings. For a moment I was 
 pleased with my bargain, when my Aunt Ann 
 asked, " God bless me, Jeanie, what do you 
 want with that; are you sure there are no 
 bg^ in it ? " A mortal fright came over me, 
 but just then a Lady thought proper to affirm 
 that she also had bade 17 shillings for the 
 chair; and, according to the rules of the sale, 
 it must be put up again. Next time I was more 
 prudent, and kept my tongue quiet, and saw 
 the foolish people bid it up to 28 shillings. 
 
 Did I leave one of my bracelets at the Square ? 
 if not, I lost it on the road home, the more's ths 
 pity. Mr. Fletcher was here the other day — 
 
 very charming. " Mrs. from the country," 
 
 just the old compound of levity and sentimen- 
 tality. I like Cooper's novels. Jeffrey writes to 
 me that he has seen Harriet Martineau,^ and 
 
 ^ For Harriet Martineau's kindlier opinion of Jeffrey, see 
 her Autobiography^ i., pp. 314-317.
 
 232 Jeffreij and Miss Martineau. [xxxviii. 
 
 does not like her at all : " firstly, because she 
 is most excessively ugly ; and secondly, because 
 there is nobody good enough for her to admire," 
 —not even himself, I presume. And now God 
 bless you. Love to your uncle. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 18, Carlton Street, 
 Saturday.
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 To Miss Stodart^ 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 
 24th May [Postmark 1833]., 
 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 You have been thinking doubtless (for 
 the heart of woman is prone to evil thoughts) 
 that I did not display alacrity enough in writing 
 to you. But judge not without knowledge ; first 
 hear the dolorous tale I have to tell, and you 
 will find that my friendship has in this case 
 been without reproach. 
 
 You have first to learn that we were in 
 Edinburgh two days after you and all our 
 acquaintance supposed us gone ! actually secreted 
 in Mrs. Blackey's house, with feelings which 
 I should suppose akin to a ghosts — for, tell "^ 
 it not in Gratli, Eliza ! we had — missed the 
 coach ! The old horror had been transacted 
 anew ! And well might we keep ourselves
 
 234 Missed the Coach. [xxxix. 
 
 secret ! well might we hide our diminished 
 heads,^ and shun the cheerf iil face of a friend ! 
 You know my way of being always too early — 
 perhaps you do not know that my Husband 
 always puts off till the last moment : this, almost 
 the only, discrepancy in our habits has produced 
 many little argumentations betwixt us which 
 on that ill-fated morning I for the first time 
 determined to evade. Accordingly, tho' up 
 in good time (indeed, I did not close my eyes 
 the whole night), dressed and breakfasted in 
 good time, we somehow trifled away five minutes 
 over and above what there was to work on, 
 and on reaching the starting-place, bag and 
 baggage, saw our " convenience " (as Mrs. Rennie 
 used modestly to call her carriage) vanishing at 
 the far end of Princes Street!^ Let us drop a 
 veil over the disgraceful home-march! Enough to 
 
 1 ", 
 
 • at whose sight all the stars 
 
 Hide their diminished heads." 
 
 (In Satan's address to the sun : Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 34.) 
 
 2 Cf. Carlyle Reminiscences, ed. Fronde, ii., p. 168; ed. 
 
 Norton, i., p. 96; Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second 
 
 Series], ii., p. 96. In a letter of 1815, Carlyle calls a coach
 
 XXXIX.] Influenza. 235 
 
 say that I was fortliwith deposited in bed with 
 the dreadfuUest headache, and remained there 
 most of the time we had to wait; glad my 
 existence was unknown, that so I might be left 
 in quiet. It was now too apparent to me that 
 I had got Influenza, I only hoped that I might 
 brave it out, and keep up till I was landed at 
 home. But I could get no further than Temp- 
 land, after suffering by the way such misery as 
 I shall not soon forget. There I had to keep my 
 bed for a week. My Mother too was laid up 
 with it for three days, so I had the additional 
 vexation of being looked on as a pestilence. On 
 Monday I took the road again, reached the 
 goal of all my wishes, for the time being ; again 
 had a bad turn that confined me in bed, and 
 only yesterday felt myself like living, and to- 
 day eat half of a salt-herring to breakfast, 
 
 a " leathern-conveniency " (in quotation marks). — Norton, 
 Early Letters^ i., p. 28. " Leathern convenience " is used 
 by Scott in The Antiquary (181G), chap. i. " Convenience " 
 was applied to vehicles by Smollett and others before him. 
 Dr. J. A. H. Murray tells me of modern monks, in Huugaiy, 
 calling a carriage " opportunitasy
 
 236 A Plantation Burnt. [xxxix. 
 
 on the strength of which I write. So confess 
 that I have lost no time, but on the contrary 
 am displaying a most satisfactory ardour in the 
 matter. We found the house not merely stand- 
 ing, but in the best order. The woman who 
 had charge of it thro' the winter had kept 
 the damp out, and Nancy had sorted^ it to a 
 wonder without my superintendence. My cow 
 is at the point of calving; my little horse is in 
 high mettle ; my hens are fat and laying ; and 
 all have returned from their diverse winter- 
 quarters, making together with ourselves a " re- 
 union " of the most idyllic description. So far 
 we have cause to be thankful. 
 
 But as there is always some confounded drag 
 on the contentment that is of this world, so a 
 spectacle presented itself on our return enough 
 to have made a passionate person explode^ but 
 me, who am an example of patience and submis- 
 sion, it only moved to tears. One of the woods 
 (just think of it), the one on your left as 
 
 3 Cf. p. 218, Letter XXXV., note 4.
 
 XXXIX.] A Plantation Burnt. 237 
 
 you approach the house, was burnt to cinders ! 
 A melancholy mass of blackened stumps, while 
 all around was shining in new verdure. The 
 tenant had been burning heather. The trees 
 had caught fire, and he simply retired into his 
 house and left it to burn ! ^ Eliza, I could 
 cry yet to think of this — to think of my 
 Father taking such a world of pains to plant 
 these woods — to think they have had rain and 
 sunshine vouchsafed them for more than twenty 
 years, to be finally consumed in one night 
 thro' the car elessness of a lout like Macadam ! 
 
 ■* Cf. Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], 
 ii., p. 101. " The only thing of any consequence that has 
 gone out of joint is one of the Plantations which M' Adam's 
 people have burnt, in burning their heather. The careless 
 lumber!" See also Carlyle, Reminiscences, ed. Froude, ii., 
 p. 157 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 87 : "I remember one frosty kind 
 of forenoon, while walking meditative to the top of our Hill 
 (now a mass of bare or moorclad whinstone Crag, once a 
 woody wilderness, with woody mountain in the middle of it, 
 ' Craigen^jititocA;,' or the stone-mountain ' Craig ' of the 
 ' Puttock,' — puttock being a sort of Haick, both in Galloway 
 Speech, and in Shakespeare's Old English [see CymhcUnc, 
 Act. i., Sc. i., line 140] ; ' Hill-Forest of the Puttocks ') now 
 a very bare place," etc.
 
 238 A Plantation Burnt. [xxxix. 
 
 But lie pays his rent, and that is everything : 
 the appearance of Craigenputtoch is of conse- 
 quence only to us. Well, be it so ! we shall 
 not stay to see it reduced to its original desola- 
 tion. I wish its improvement had not been 
 my Father's work, and then I should not care 
 tlio' it were let on a nineteen years' lease 
 to the Devil himself. One thing, however, I 
 shall insist on ; namely, that I should hereafter 
 have the melancholy privilege of being informed 
 when my property is burnt or otherwise de- 
 stroyed, instead of having the fact concealed from 
 me till it could be concealed no longer — even 
 my own servant commanded by my Mother not 
 to tell me of it. You see I am angry — more 
 so, perhaps, than becomes a pretender to some 
 Philosophy. But I am giving vent to my feel- 
 ings on the occasion here for the first time, as 
 a way of getting in some measure rid of them. 
 To turn to a more agreeable topic. Will you 
 give our affectionate regards to your Uncle, of 
 whose kindness to us during our stay in town, 
 from the first day to the last (a sort of kind-
 
 XXXIX.] Too III to Call 239 
 
 ness so much after our hearts), my Husband and 
 I have many times gratefully commemorated? 
 Do you too, my dear Eliza, accept our kind 
 remembrances of your kindness. Write to me 
 soon, and love me always. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 When you see Mrs. John, pray apologize to 
 her in my name for my incivility in going off 
 without seeing her after her manifold civilities 
 towards me. I did not give up the intention 
 of calling, till ten o'clock on Monday night, 
 when I found I had still so much to do that 
 it was impossible ; for the whole day had 
 been taken up with callers. During the two 
 subsequent private days I was too ill ; besides, 
 I could not have made my neighbourhood known 
 to one without offence to my Aunts and you 
 and others.
 
 XL. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Ceaigenputtoch, 
 28th July [Postmark 1833]. 
 Dearest, — 
 
 I salute you with undiminislied regard, 
 and sincerely thank you for your letter. It is 
 the only "voice from Edinburgh" that has 
 reached us since we left, save a hysterical giggle 
 
 from John G about his marriage. If we 
 
 were not in closer connexions with London, 
 whence we have news every week, we should 
 remain in total ignorance " how they ack' i' the 
 various places,"^ and might come in time to be 
 as great curiosities of innocence as the king 
 and queen of the Sandwich Islands, who, poor 
 things ! stuffed themselves to death, if you 
 remember : a more touching instance of over- 
 eating is nowhere on record.^ 
 
 1 Cf. Letter XXXIL, p. 197. 
 
 - In 1824 the king and queen of the Sandwich Islands
 
 XL.] Improved Health and Looks. 241 
 
 From overeating the association is natural to 
 digesting, so I shall take the present p[a]ragrapli 
 to inform you that of late I have been digesting 
 not ill. 
 
 If you were at all instrumental in giving me 
 Influenza, you have the satisfaction to think 
 you gave me a good thing; for I am certainly 
 indebted to it for a considerable improvement 
 in my health, which has been better ever since, 
 than at any time for two years previous. It 
 has even seemed as if my beauty would emerge 
 from its premature eclipse ; at least it has occa- 
 sionally struck me that my glass reflected some- 
 thing more than "the remains of a fine woman," ^ 
 the animated presence of an average sort of 
 
 visited England, and both died in a London hotel of measles 
 — said to be aggravated bj'- change and excess of diet. A 
 correspondent, writing from Aberdeen, tells me she Las 
 heard the late Mr. S. C. Hall relate that Theodore Hook 
 made a couplet on the occasion ; 
 
 " ' Waiter, two Sandwiches ! ' cried Death ; 
 And straight their Majesties resigned their breath." 
 
 The same event is alluded to in Letters and Memorials^ ii., 
 p. 154. 
 
 3 Cf. Letter XXXII., p. 199..
 
 242 Worh. [xl. 
 
 woman. Nothing indeed that to found conceit 
 upon; but like the penny roll it may be ^' made 
 to do,'' and better thus perhaps than to be " ower 
 fou hadin,"^ as tlie proverb goes. For instance, 
 had the queen of the Sandwich Islands been 
 but restricted to a penny roll ! 
 
 On the whole this summer has passed away 
 pleasantly; when I wake in the morning, and 
 wink my eyes, and ascertain that I have still 
 no headache, I spring up in good humour for 
 the day, prepared to take the rest as I find 
 it. The ivork I have done would go little way 
 in furnishing out a set of dining tables (Mrs. 
 Davies's were exhibited to her acquaintance, for 
 three days, before the sale of Ladies' work, 
 spread over with twenty pounds' worth of nick- 
 nacks !) ; but it is enough to keep my hand in, 
 and the Devil out, who "is always," they say, 
 "at the elbow of an idle man," still more of 
 an idle woman. I am more intent in getting 
 all the good possible from the free access one 
 
 * " Over full holden,'' i.e. too well off.
 
 XL.] Cheese-mahing . 243 
 
 has here to the open air. I am out and in all 
 day long; neither walking nor working with 
 any continuance, but combining all sorts of 
 exercise and all sorts of tasks in the most 
 rapid alternation. A well-fitting gown and a 
 rather stylish bonnet have received beginning 
 and finish in this way; also one cap, one collar, 
 and one shift. Nor has my hand forgot its 
 cunning in kneading dough and ^'pressing the 
 snoivij curd '' (no good sign of curd, by the 
 way, which is the better the yellower it is). 
 Accordingly there is a cheese lying in state for 
 your Uncle, with which I have had much sorrow ; 
 once, twice, thrice the inice assaulted it, and so 
 often left the impression of their " beautiful 
 dents " (as Captain Robinson at Pitca[i]thly used 
 to say), and Lord Minto was not more beside 
 himself when the rats assaulted the cheek of his 
 last born, than I under these audacious attempts. 
 I could have fired a pistol ; I did better — baited 
 a trap. 
 
 Young Himt is not come nor coming. He 
 got the length of Edinburgh, where he was
 
 244 Dr. JoJm Garlyle. [xl. 
 
 kindly entertained by Henry Inglis, as we had 
 arranged for him. But the fatigue of the 
 journey and the separation — his first separation 
 — from his own people increased his nervous 
 ailments to such a degree, that he could resolve 
 on nothing but to go back with all despatch 
 the way he came. AYe have had my Brother- 
 in-law with us for some six weeks ; but he soon 
 leaves to return with Lady Clare ^ to Italy, for 
 two years, so that our movements will not for 
 the present be determined by his choice of a 
 settlement. Most probably we shall remain 
 where we are next winter, and go somewhere, 
 perhaps abroad, in the spring or summer.'' We 
 have had no other visitors except my Mother- 
 in-law, for two weeks ; and my Mother, Walter, 
 and Helen, for a fly.'' My Mother has mounted 
 an equipage of a rather fanciful sort ; namely 
 
 ^ Dr. John Carlyle was travelling physician to the 
 Countess of Clare. Cf. Froude, Thomas Carlyle^ A. ii., pp. 
 180, 348. 
 
 6 "We think of France next summer." Letter to Eliza 
 Miles, z&., pp. 351-353. 
 
 7 I.e. for a flight, a flying visit.
 
 XL.] Remenfibering last Winter. 245 
 
 a cuddy ^ and carfc ! which travels at the rate of 
 two miles an hour. The whole apparatus, I 
 confess, looks less useful than absurd. 
 
 Do you see anything of my Aunts, of anybody 
 belonging to me ? My Mother will have told 
 you all about the Donaldsonian expedition, 
 which I forgot in the list of our visitors. 
 
 "We sadly miss your Uncle's books, and we 
 sadly miss your Uncle's self and his niece. Grive 
 him our kindest love. I shall not forget his 
 goodness to us last winter, which had been as 
 great perhaps on former occasions, but which 
 I was more sensible of last winter that at any 
 other time, from seeing how tiresome a person 
 always ailing becomes to ordinary friends. God 
 bless you. Dear. Write soon — all sorts of news, 
 great and small. Unless you had lived here 
 a while, you can have no idea how passionately 
 one desires to be told something. 
 
 [No Signature.] 
 
 ^ Cuddy, the usual word in Scotland for a donkey. It is 
 of Gypsy origin.
 
 XLI. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 [Postmark, Nov. 9th, 1833.] 
 
 My dearest Eliza, — 
 
 I was aware of your absence and tlie 
 captivity in which my letter was likely to remain, 
 but I considered it was in excellent quarters, and 
 gave myself no concern either on its account or 
 my own. In any case it would not have occurred 
 to me to accuse you of carelessness, however 
 neglectful you may be about ivriting. I should 
 be a wretch not to entertain a deep sense of your 
 willingness and alacrity whenever there is any- 
 thing to be done, and not to give you credit for 
 such on the ground of past experience, in spite of 
 any incidental appearances that might argue the 
 contrary. 
 
 The frame I find quite suitable to its contained 
 — good and plain, just as I could have wished it ; 
 the tea proves an excellent article at the money; 
 for the barley sugar I have to return the chil-
 
 XLi.] The Moffat Expedition. 247 
 
 dren's joyful thanks. You were kind to think of 
 them, but you are always mindful. ]S!ota Bene: 
 The next time there is a sixpence over, you may 
 give it to the poor. 
 
 It filled me with astonishment that Taylor 
 should have recollected my name and address, 
 having transacted with him only once in my life, 
 and to so very limited an extent. What a pity 
 that such a singular business talent should be 
 employed in frame-making, and so little, appar- 
 ently, to its possessor's profit, even there ! I take 
 your congratulations on the benefit received from 
 my Moffat expedition^ in good part, tho' nothing 
 in the world could be more misplaced. The 
 expedition was ennuyante while it lasted, and 
 injurious in its effects. I am hardly yet so well 
 as before I went thither. However, I am much 
 better now than I was last year at this time, and 
 have a sort of moderate hope that I shall by 
 degrees get quite well, or rather as well as ever I 
 was ; for, to say the truth, my whole life has been 
 
 1 Cf. Froude, Thomas Carhjle, A. ii., p. 364.
 
 248 A B.uined Constitution. [xli. 
 
 a sort of puddling as to health. Too much of 
 schooling haclst thou, poor Ophelia !^ and perhaps 
 too much of dissipation also, if we credit our 
 friend of Kirknewton, who pronounced my 
 " morals corrupted and my constitution ruined," 
 so far back as the year 1817, by means of one 
 Leith Assembly ! To a certainty my " charming 
 naivete " was then lost for ever and a day, which 
 was the greater pity, since so little charmingness 
 of any other sort remained behind. So I say 
 myself in sincerity of heart, tho' I should not 
 exactly like that another said it. 
 
 And here I must positively digress from my 
 digression, just to observe that I wonder I do not 
 send to you a letter once a week instead of once 
 in the six months. It is so pleasant to talk with 
 you about old times, whether by the fireside or on 
 paper, with the profoundest disregard of all sense 
 or ceremony. But so it is. "Man," as Carlyle 
 was saying last night, " is a mass of contradic- 
 
 " " Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia." 
 
 Hamlet, Act. iv., Sc. 7.
 
 XLi.J Grumhs from CcirlyWs Tahle. 249 
 
 tions." What a quantity of wisdom, new and 
 old, falls from liis lips in tlie course of one solar 
 day ! Had I but Mr. Taylor's memory to keep 
 hold of it. On the crumbs that fall from his table 
 I might positively set up a respectable little bread 
 shop of my own, if I were not too indolent to 
 gather them up into a whole. Just figure me 
 dealing out cats^-meat after this sort, and realiz- 
 ing a name (over mij door), (most Authors have no 
 more), and a snug little pin-money to boot ! This 
 indeed would be, not " lighting the candle at both 
 ends,^^ as we see some improvident couples do, but 
 a notable invention for hurning the candle tivice 
 over. But I am all too rapidly approaching the 
 end of my paper, so must "cease this funning "^ (of 
 the loershest^), and tell you seriously what I am 
 about, not doubting but both your Uncle and your- 
 self, so long and intimately acquainted with my 
 many amiable qualities, are dying with curiosity 
 on this head at all seasons of the year. Know, 
 
 * " Cease your funning " — the first words of a song in 
 Gay's Beggar's Opera^ Act ii., Air 37, 
 
 * TP'crs/i = insipid.
 
 250 The Barjarg Library. [xli. 
 
 then (to give the Devil his due, meaning by the 
 Devil not yon but myself), that I have really 
 been a tolerably good child for some weeks back. 
 My time (of which valuable commodity the people 
 here have perhaps more at their own disposal than 
 any other individuals on the habitable globe) has 
 been spent more satisfactorily and profitably than 
 usual. A great Grodsend has befallen my Hus- 
 band this autumn, in which, as in all his other 
 Godsends and Devilsends, I heartily participate. 
 John Hunter (who never saw him) has been 
 induced to confide to him the keys of the Barjarg 
 Library^ (an extensive and valuable collection), 
 with leave to borrow therefrom at discretion. 
 You cannot figure what an inestimable benefit it 
 is, in our situation nearly impracticable on this 
 side, or what exhalations of gratitude rise from my 
 
 5 John Hunter was at this time the minister of the Tron 
 Church in Edinburgh, and was a younger brother of Mr. 
 Hunter Arundell of Barjarg, some eight miles from Craigen- 
 puttoch. This permission to use the library at Barjarg is 
 i-eferred to in Froude, Thomas Carlyle, A. ii., p. 370 ; Nor- 
 ton, Letters of Thomas Carhjle [Second Series], ii., p. 121. 
 See also Prof. Norton's note in his edition of the Remi- 
 niscenceSj i., p. 83.
 
 XLi.] French Revolution Literature, 251 
 
 Husband's soul towards the Minister of the Tron. 
 I verily believe if he were in Edinburgh, he would 
 even go and hear him preach, to show his sense 
 of the kindness. Two gig-boxfulls of excellent 
 books have already been brought over and con- 
 sumed by one party like reek, while I have se- 
 ^ lected therefrom Memoirs of Marie Antoinette 
 (by Mr. Campan), CEuvres de M[^tiie'] Roland 
 (the very best woman I ever scraped acquain- 
 tance with). Memoir es de M\rii\e de Sta'el, a 
 clever, spirited, little creature, quite superior to 
 the sentimental de Stael-Holstein that I used to 
 make such work about in my ' wee eicistence ' ; 
 and finally a Life of Cook[e] the Actor,*' as a warn- 
 ing against drunkenness. I have also put thro' 
 hands at the same time a modicum of useful 
 needlework, with the greatest possible despatch; 
 a little gingham frock for my Brother's daughter 
 that is my name-child — the old cloak, rehabilita- 
 tion thereof (this article of apparel is establishing 
 its claims to the French epithet eternel. Carlyle 
 
 6 G. F. Cooke, 1755-1812. The Diet, of National Bio- 
 graphy refers to an anonymous Life of him published in 1813.
 
 252 Dressmalcing and Millinery. [xli. 
 
 bought liandkercliiefs in tlie Palais Royal with 
 that recommendation) — a night-cap not of the 
 "the'' sort, but a night-cap in ordinary — and lastly, 
 not finished yet, a pellerine, quite a chef d'oeuvre 
 of its kind. It is cut out of some old lavender 
 popelin[e] which you must have seen officiating 
 as a gown, not on one, but several members of 
 our family, something like twenty years ago, the 
 gowns of that period being inadequate to make 
 more than a sleeve in the present. I realized out 
 of it in the beginning of summer a singularly 
 elegant bonnet ; and the residue is now combin- 
 ing itself into a pelerine, which, lined with wad- 
 ding and part of the old (villanously bad) crimson 
 persian'' of the old cloak, will in the gracefullest 
 manner protect my shoulders thro' the ap- 
 proaching inclemencies of the season. my 
 dear cousin, what a fine thing is a fine natural 
 taste, especially for the wife of an Author, at a 
 time when the booksellers' trade is so low ! But, 
 
 7 Persian = '^ a tliin, plain silk, much used for linings" 
 (Beck's Drapcr^s Dictionary).
 
 XLi.] Writing and Handwriting. 253 
 
 alas ! I am at the end of my sheet, while yet far 
 from the end of my good works. May the 
 Powers of Friendship bless what we have heard ; 
 and with our united affection and good wishes to 
 your Uncle, and the like for yourself, 
 
 I remain, your obedient humble servant, 
 
 JANE ^Y. CARLYLE. 
 
 AYhat a shame ! I have not mentioned my 
 Mother, and perhaps you have not heard from 
 herself. I have twice. She professes to be 
 better than usual as to health, but I fear she 
 cannot long be happy in Liverpool. They wish 
 to make their guests entirely so, but thro' mis- 
 calculation fail lamentably of the result. Thanks 
 and remember me to Sam. Anything of Mrs. 
 John ? I often bethink me in sorrow of what 
 you said, that I once wrote a pretty hand, but it 
 was quite fallen off and indeed nearly illegible. 
 Practice, I believe, is the best means of mending 
 it. Write soon then, that I may write soon again.
 
 XLII. 
 
 To Miss Stodart, 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 [Postmark, Jan. 10th, 1834.] 
 
 Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare 
 
 All tliy fond pliglited vows fleeting as air ? 
 
 Why in the Devil's name don't you write to 
 me ? I have a quantity of things to tell you — 
 things new and strange; but what encouragement 
 have I to communicate a single iota of them, 
 since the fullest letter once committed to the 
 post office for you seems sent out into infinite 
 space, procuring me not even so much as an 
 assurance that it has reached its destination ! 
 
 No, you shall have no letter, till you alter your 
 figure as a correspondent ! I merely take the 
 opportunity of a frank to the Advocate^ (who is 
 an example of constancy to such defaulters as 
 you) to suggest to you that human patience has 
 limits, a truth which you seem to have altogether 
 
 ^ Jeffrey. 
 
 264
 
 XLir.] A Vehement Bemonstrance. 255 
 
 lost siglit of ; and that I begin to be weary of 
 the treatment I experienced here; and so Grod 
 bless you, and mend you. Your Uncle would 
 use me better, I wager, if he had ever been in 
 the habit of corresponding with me ; " but there 
 is no truth in woman's love." 
 
 A kiss to him ; to you a vehement remon- 
 strance. 
 
 Your affectionate, too placable, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, 
 
 10th January.
 
 XLIII. 
 
 [June lOtli, 1834, was tlie date of settling at 5 Clieyne 
 Row. Cf. Carlyle's letters to his mother and to his 
 brother John in Norton (Second Series), ii., pp. 167-186.] 
 
 To J. Bradfute, Esq\, 22 George Square. 
 
 5. Great Cheyne Row, Chelsea, London. 
 
 29th July, 1834. 
 My Dear Sir, — 
 
 It is surely the duty of some of us to give 
 special notice at George's Square that Craigen- 
 puttoch is desolate, and London sending up the 
 smoke of a new hearth : no doubt, you know it 
 already, but one so well-disposed towards us 
 should know it fi'om ourselves. Nevertheless, my 
 wife, I perceive, is too lazy, so I take the duty 
 in my own hand. 
 
 If you remember Battersea Bridge, and Don 
 Saltero's Coffee-house (celebrated in the Tatler^), 
 with the ancient row^ of red-brick mansions 
 
 ' Number 34. 
 
 266
 
 XLiii.] The House in Cheyne Row. 257 
 
 clad with ivy and jasmine, shaded by high old 
 lime-trees, along the bank of the River, you 
 have Cheyne Walk, and are within a cat's-leap 
 of Cheyne Boid (at right-angles to the Walk, 
 and otherwise a miniature copy of it), where in 
 my new workshop, still and clear almost as the 
 Craigenputtoch one, I now write to you. We like 
 our old House extremely ; have got it all set in 
 order, out even to the little garden and the 
 vine and walnut-tree ; have a servant of the best 
 quality, and shall begin by and by to feel once 
 more at home. We have both fair health too; 
 Jane especially is much better than before : the 
 change, so needful under every point of view, 
 is happily effected, turn out how it may. 
 
 As for Literature and Book-publishing, the 
 more I look at it hitherto, the more confused 
 it looks. Alas, of quite bottomless confusion ! 
 Meanwhile, it would seem. Booksellers can 
 actually print Books now, the Author writing 
 them gratis ; which is a great improvement 
 compared with former experiences of mine. 
 Not seeking to decipher farther, what is indeed 
 
 s
 
 258 ''The French Revolution^ [xLiii. 
 
 undecipherable, chaotic, fearful, hateful as a 
 madman's dream, I stand by this so comfortable 
 fact; and am actually busy, at all lawful hours, 
 getting ready a new Book; of which (if I be 
 spared alive some months) I hope to show you 
 a copy, and ask your favourable judgement. 
 It is about the French Revolution (but this is 
 a secret) ^ and requires immense preparation. 
 What is to follow after that, will follow. 
 
 There is nothing passing here but changes 
 of Ministry and other such daily occurences ; 
 of which the less one speaks it is perhaps 
 the more charitable. Poor Coleridge, as you 
 may have seen, died on Friday last : ^ he had 
 been sick and decaying for years ; was well 
 waited on, and one may hope prepared to die. 
 Carriages in long files, as I hear, were rushing 
 all round Highgate when the old man lay near 
 to die. Foolish carriages ! Not one of them 
 would roll near him (except to splash him with 
 their mud) while he lived; had it not been for 
 
 2 Coleridge died July 25th, 1834.
 
 XLiii.] Death of Coleridge. 259 
 
 the noble-mindedness of Oilman the Highgate 
 Apothecary, he might have died twenty years 
 ago in a hospital or in a ditch. To complete 
 the Farce- Tragedy, they have only to bury him 
 in Westminster- Abbey .^ 
 
 There is now no other Author here of a 
 better than perfectly commonplace character; 
 too many, one grieves to say, are of a worse, 
 of a dishonest and even palpably blackguard 
 character. " My soul come not into their secrets, 
 mine honour be not united to them ! "* 
 
 ^ With these reflections may well be compared Johnson's 
 words : " To insure a participation of fame with a celebrated 
 poet, many who would perhaps have contributed to starve 
 him when alive, have heaped expensive pageants xipon his 
 grave " (Boswell's Johnson^ Dr. G. B. Hill's edition, i., p. 
 227) ; and cf. the other parallels given there in note 4, 
 especially Moore's lines on Sheridan : 
 
 " How proud they can press to the funeral array 
 
 Of him whom they shunned in his sickness and sorrow ; 
 How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, 
 
 Whose pall shall be held up by Nobles to-morrow." 
 
 Coleridge however escaped the Abbey, and was buried at 
 Highgate. 
 
 * ** my soul, come not thou into their secret ; unto their 
 assembly, mine honour, be not thou united ! " (Gen. xlix. 6.)
 
 260 ''Celebrated Women:' [xliii. 
 
 We have also seen several " celebrated 
 women " of the literary sort; but felt small 
 longing to see more of them. The world in- 
 deed is wide enough for all, and each can and 
 shall wish heartily well to all, and faithfully act 
 accordingly : — meanwhile, if poor Mrs. Feather- 
 brain Irrational All-for-glory and Company are 
 walking in the western quarter, we shall do it all 
 the better by keeping ourselves in the eastern. — 
 But, in fine, there is a fraction of worth and 
 wisdom here in London such as I have found 
 nowhere else : let us use this, enjoy it, and be 
 right thankful for it. 
 
 I get hardly any news from Edinburgh, well 
 as I love and shall always love that old stone 
 Town. It is hard, but clear and strong, in 
 spirit as in outward form ; built on rocks, 
 looking out upon the everlasting sea. May it 
 
 flourish, and^ gain dominion 
 
 over it ! 
 
 You, my dear Sir, I am afraid, hardly ever 
 
 5 A " fold " of the paper has been lost.
 
 xr.iii.] Two Cigars. 261 
 
 write Bess drives a most 
 
 lively pen, and never sent us a Letter that 
 
 tell lier this (a genuine 
 
 fact), and bid her write whether my lazy . 
 Mrs. Welsh sends us intelli- 
 gence that you are both as well as . . . . 
 
 cheerfully enjoying your summer 
 
 there; and for one day at least I . . . . 
 
 us in the midst of your flowers. 
 
 As for me, are not, in these very days, " two 
 cigars " (of your giving) constantly in my coat- 
 pocket, when I go out; how should I forget 
 you? 
 
 Will you remember me very kindly to my 
 good Mr. Aitken ; for whom I think I shall 
 have a commission again by and by ? And so 
 all happiness and peacefulness be with you 
 and those dear to you ! 
 
 I remain, 
 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 T. CARLYLE.
 
 XLIY. 
 
 To Miss Stodarty 22 George Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 [This letter must be later than Carlyle's of July 
 29th, to which there is an allusion at the end of this. 
 Cf. the letters to Carlyle's mother at the beginning ot 
 vol. i. of Letters and Memorials (Sept. and Nov., 1834).] 
 
 OlTR WELL-BELOVED FrIEND AND COUSTN, 
 
 Mrs. Montagu,^ who has made " the fine 
 arts^^ her peculiar study, has a pretty and ori- 
 ginal way of knitting up a ravelled^ correspond- 
 ence. Instead of outraging the already outraged 
 with a lengthened apology, she commences with 
 a lively attack, — " is astonished that you have not 
 written to inquire the reason of her silence," 
 " thinks it strange that you should adopt with her 
 
 1 Mrs. Basil Montagu, referred to in Reminiscences (ed. 
 Froude, ii., p. 163 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 92) as a correspondent 
 and friend of Mrs. Carlyle. Carlyle's portrait of her comes 
 in the account of Edwai'd Irving {ib.^ ed. Froude, i., p. 227 ; 
 ed. Norton, ii., p. 128). 
 
 " " Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care." 
 
 Macbeth, Act. ii., Sc. 2.
 
 xi.LV.] Mrs. Montagu's Method. 263 
 
 the formal letter for letter system," "is hurt," 
 " is angry," is everything but what you expected, 
 — namely, ashamed of herself, — and you find 
 yourself suddenly, much to your surprise, trans- 
 formed into the offending party, and thankful 
 for the kind forgiveness with which she ends. 
 This beats out and out our old simple fashion 
 of making confessions of indolence, etc., etc., or 
 telling lies about excessive occupation, and so 
 forth. But, having let you into the secret, I 
 need not play it off upon you this time, only I 
 let you see what I might do if I liked; and I 
 give you, instead of a useless apology, a useful 
 hint, which you may find your account in against 
 enraged correspondents. 
 
 Well ! is it not very strange that I am here ; 
 sitting in my own hired house by the side of 
 the Thames, as if nothing had happened; with 
 fragments of Haddington, of Comely Bank, of 
 Craigenputtoch interweaved with cockney calities 
 into a very habitable whole ? Is it not strange 
 that I should have an everlasting sound in my 
 ears, of men, women, children, omnibuses, car-
 
 264 ''Wee Eppie Daidle.'' [xliv. 
 
 riages, glass coaches, street coaches, waggons, 
 carts, dogcarts, steeple bells, door bells, gentle- 
 men-raps, twopenny post-raps, footmen-showers- 
 of-raps, of the whole devil to pay, as if plague, 
 pestilence, famine, battle, murder, sudden death, 
 and wee Eppie Daidle ^ were broken loose to make 
 
 ' In The Heart of Midlothian, chap. iv. (near the end), 
 Mrs. Howden says : " There was my daughter's wean, little 
 Eppie Daidle — my oe [i.e. grandchild], ye ken. Miss Grizel — 
 had played the truant frae the school, as hairns will do, ye 
 ken, Mr. Butler, . . . and had just cruppen to the 
 gallows-foot to see the hanging, as was natural for a wean." 
 But Scott evidently takes " Eppie Daidle " as a characteristic 
 name for a little girl {daidle, used also in the diminutive 
 form daidlie, means " pinafore "). Lockhart, in his Life of 
 Scott, chap. xi. (ii., p. 476, ed. 1888), says of Scott himself: 
 " He had . . . his hand and his blessing for the head of 
 every little Eppie Daidle from Abbotstown or Broomielees." 
 I feel sure, therefore, that Mrs. Carlyle had in her mind a 
 nursery rhyme, of which I have received two versions from 
 correspondents, but, in both cases, with " Doockie " instead 
 of " Eppie." 
 
 " Wee Doockie Daidle 
 
 Toddles out and in, 
 Eh, but she's a cuttie, 
 
 Makin' sic a din. 
 
 Aye sae fou o' mischief, 
 
 She cares na what I say, 
 She makes my very heart loup 
 
 Fifty times a day."
 
 XLiv.] Life in London. 265 
 
 me diversion? And wliere is tlie stillness, the 
 eternal sameness, of the last six years ? Echo 
 answers, at Craigenputtoch ! There let them 
 " dwell with Melancholy " ^ and old Xancy Mac- 
 queen ; for this stirring life is more to my mind, 
 and has besides a beneficial effect on my bowels. 
 Seriously I have almost entirely discontinued 
 drugs, and look twenty per cent, better, every 
 one says, and " what every one says must be 
 true." ^ This being the case, you may infer that 
 I am tolerably content in my new position ; in- 
 deed, I am more and more persuaded that there 
 
 The other version gives details as to the din : 
 
 " Wee Duckie Daidle, 
 Puddlin' out and in, 
 Fitter patter, but and ben, 
 Makin' sic a din ; 
 
 Rattlin' in an iron jug, 
 Wi' an iron spoon." 
 {Ccetera desunt.) 
 
 •* Probably she is thinking of the last lines of II 
 
 Penseroso : 
 
 "These pleasures, Melancholy, give; 
 And I with thee will choose to live." 
 
 5 Mrs. Carlyle is, probably, not aware that slie is quoting 
 Aristotle: o ttuo-l Sokc?, tovt tlvai </)ayu.eV {Eth. Xic. X. 2 § 4),
 
 266 The House in Glieyne Bow. [xliv. 
 
 is no complete misery in the world that does not 
 emanate from the bowels. 
 
 We have got an excellent lodgment, of most 
 antique physiognomy, quite to our humour; all 
 wainscoated, carved, and queer-looking, roomy, 
 substantial, commodious, with closets to satisfy 
 any Bluebeard, a china-closet in particular that 
 would hold our whole worldly substance con- 
 verted into china ! Two weeks ago there was a 
 row of ancient trees in front, but some crazy- 
 headed Cockneys have uprooted them. Behind 
 we have a garden (so called in the language of 
 flattery) in the worst order, but boasting of two 
 vines which produced two bunches of grapes in 
 the season, which " might be eaten," and a wal- 
 nut-tree from which I have gathered almost 
 sixpence worth of walnuts. This large and com- 
 fortable tenement we have, without hugs, for 
 some two or three pounds more rent than we 
 paid for the pepper-box at Comely bank. This 
 comes of our noble contempt for fashion, Chel- 
 sea being highly unfashionable. The only prac- 
 tical disadvantage in this circumstance is that we
 
 XLiv.] Chelsea Neighbours. 267 
 
 are far from most of our acquaintances — a disad- 
 vantage which I endeavour to obviate by learning 
 to walk. My success is already considerable. I 
 have several times walked ten miles without 
 being laid up. Besides, we are not wholly iso- 
 lated. Leigh Hunt lives a few doors off. The 
 celebrated Mrs. Somerville is at Chelsea Hos- 
 pital,^ within five minutes' walk, and Mrs. Austin ^ 
 
 ^ Dr. Somerville, her (second) husband, was then physi- 
 cian to Chelsea Hospital (see Memoirs of Mary Somerville^ 
 p. 153). Miss Martineau speaks of visiting Mrs. Somerville at 
 Chelsea about this time. " It was delightful to go to tea 
 to her house in Chelsea, and find everything in order and 
 beauty ; — the walls hung with her fine drawings ; her music 
 in the corner, and her tea-table spread with good things. In 
 the midst of these household elegancies, Dr. Somerville one 
 evening pulled open a series of drawers, to find something he 
 wanted to show me. As he shut one after another, I ven- 
 tured to ask what those strange things were which filled 
 every drawer. * Oh ! they are only Mrs. Somerville's 
 diplomas,' said he, with a droll look of pride and amusement. 
 Not long after this the family went abroad, partly for Dr. 
 Somerville's health ; and great has been the concern of her 
 friends at so losing her, while it was well known that her 
 longings were for England " (Harriet Martineau's Autobio- 
 graphy, i., p. 357). 
 
 '' Carlyle's remarks on her will be found in his Remi- 
 niscences, ed. Froude, ii., p. 207 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 172.
 
 268 An Old Acquaintance, [xliv. 
 
 is coming to introduce me to her to-morrow ; and 
 within a mile I have a circle of acquaintances. 
 One of these who lives in prodigious shine with 
 wife and family, you may happen to recollect 
 something about — a grave, handsome man, who 
 has been here repeatedly, and treats me with 
 infinite respect, and takes immensely to my 
 Husband — a sort of person with whom one talks 
 about " the condition of art " in this country, 
 and such-like topics of general interest, and 
 studies to support the reputation of a rather 
 intellectual and excessively reasonable woman. 
 Can you divine who I mean ? Impossible. 
 George Rennie ! How has it happened ? Quite 
 simply. I am one of the most amiable women 
 living, tho', like your Uncle, " my virtues are 
 unknown." 
 
 I am incapable of cherishing resentment, even 
 against a faithless lover. I heard he was there. 
 I wondered what he was like. I sent him my 
 address. He came instantaneously with his sister 
 Margaret. Bess, did I feel awkward ? To be 
 sure I did, and looked awkward, for I was within
 
 XLiv.] George Rennie ! 269 
 
 an ace of fainting, and he looked like one of liis 
 own marbles. But neither of us, I believe, 
 entertained a particle of tenderness for the other ; 
 nevertheless, it was mere queeziness from the 
 intense sensation of the flight of time, which 
 such a meeting occasioned one. Fifteen years ! 
 only think ! He is much improved by age, in 
 appearance, manner, and also, I think, in charac- 
 ter; but he lives in the wretchedest atmosphere 
 of ^' gigmanitij y ^ His wife is a perfect fool — the 
 whole kin of them are fools — and poor Greorge 
 
 * Carlyle's word for " respectability," " gentility." Cf. 
 Norton, Letters of Thomas Carlyle [Second Series], i., p. 299 : 
 "I have a deep, irrevocable, all-comprelieuding Ernnlplius 
 Curse to read upon — GtIGMANITY ; that is tbe Baal Worship 
 of this time." Gigmania is a variation of the word. Cf. the 
 letter in Froude, Thomas Carlyle^ A. ii., pp. 121, 122 (not in 
 Norton), where he says : " Cod is still in Heaven, whether 
 Henry Brougham and Jeremiah Bentham know it or not ; 
 and the gig, and gigmania must rot or start into thousand 
 shivers, and bury itself in the ditch, that Man may have 
 clean roadway towards the goal whither through all ages he 
 is tending." In Mr. Fronde's note the word is explained 
 as an " allusion to Thurtell's trial : ' I always thought him 
 a respectable man.' ' What do you mean by respectable ? ' 
 'He kept a gig.' " Another version makes "gentleman " the 
 term so defined. Thurtell was the Elstree murderer (1823).
 
 Q7 
 
 70 London Friends. [xliv. 
 
 must either go in with their folly to a certain 
 extent, or break his heart, or blow up his whole 
 household sky-high. Moreover, he is still self- 
 willed and vain enough to show me as often as 
 I see him that I made an escape. I go often 
 to Margaret's, who lives in style also, but seems 
 to feel rather out of her element here. Lady 
 Kinloch is close by the Rennies ; she was amazed 
 to see me, and is very kind. I am glad she is 
 not " dead." 
 
 For the rest our society, with a few additions, 
 and [? is] much the same that we had when here 
 formerly, only I find it much pleasanter now, 
 being in better case for enjoying it. John Mill, 
 Leigh Hunt, and Mrs. Austin remain my favour- 
 ites. I know some Elliots, acquaintances of 
 David Aitken, who are very agreeable people. 
 By the by, did Mr. Aitken tell you what a fran- 
 tically affectionate reception I gave him at Crai- 
 genputtoch ? He looked rather fearful for the 
 consequences to his cloth. I shall never learn 
 to give up these outbreakings of the old woman 
 in me from time to time. The other morning
 
 XLiv.] An Affectionate Reception. 271 
 
 ■when Mr. Terrot ^ came in (who is to carry this ?), 
 I sprang into his arms, and I believe almost 
 stifled him with the ardour of my embrace. He 
 returned it, however, with more sympathy than 
 was to have been anticipated. I have wondered 
 at my audacity ever since, for the thought of 
 such an attempt in a cool moment would have 
 made me quake. For God['s]sake Avrite and tell 
 me what everybody in Edinburgh is doing, espe- 
 cially my own relations, whom methinks I ought 
 to know something about. I so seldom hear out 
 of Scotland. My Mother is most scrupulous 
 about putting me to the expense of postage. I 
 shall be down perhaps next year, and then it 
 will be hard if I do not see you. But will you 
 never come here ? I declare to Heaven there 
 is nobody except my Mother I should welcome 
 with such delight. After all, you are the only 
 
 ^ Probably the clergyman of the Scottish Episcopal 
 Church, afterwards Bishop of Edinburgh, who is referred to 
 in Letters and Memorials, ii., p. 286, and elsewhere. He had 
 been incumbent of the " chapel " at Haddington from 1814 
 to 1817 (Martine, Reminiscences of Haddington, p. 82).
 
 272 Carlyle's Letter. [xliv. 
 
 right female friend I ever had in the world — the 
 only one I can to all lengths, and without the 
 least misg-ivinof, talk nonsense to — and that I 
 consider a pretty good test of friendship. Here 
 I must be always so sensible, it is really quite 
 frightful. Carlyle wrote to your Uncle and sent 
 a book ; did he get either letter or parcel ? He 
 now sends his constant regards. God bless you, 
 my dear Eliza. I am always, in spite of neglect 
 in the article of writing. 
 
 Your truly attached Friend, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 You will remark again, " Jane once wrote a 
 beautiful hand." "Well, it cannot be helped ; the 
 pen is bad, and I am in haste. 
 
 Kisses without number to your Uncle. Love 
 to your Mother. 
 
 Does old Dr. Hamilton yet live ? If so, do call 
 on him, or write him a note, and say that I am 
 here, and love him, and am almost quite well. 
 
 Is Benjamin B (as we hear) divorced and 
 
 mad ?
 
 XLY. 
 
 To Miss Stodartf 22 George Scptare, Edinburgh. 
 [Postmark, Feb. 2dth, 1836.] 
 
 Dear, deae Eliza, — 
 
 It has several times occurred to me of 
 late, with a painful force of apprehension, that 
 I am what is called bewitched. I sit here week 
 after week, month after month, looking at things 
 which I have the most evident call to do, and 
 with apparently no more power to bestir myself 
 than the Lady in Comiis ! For instance, with 
 respect to yourself; I have wished to tell you, 
 have meant to tell you, and by all laws of 
 good loving ought to have told you, ages ago, 
 that I am still alive, and true to you as in the 
 days of my " ivee existence " ; and yet for no 
 visible reason, I have gone on telling you no- 
 thing of the sort — nothing of any sort, but leaving 
 you to suppose me a heartless renegade, unless 
 indeed your faith be greater than that of woman. 
 Well ! believe it or no, as you like and can ; 
 
 273 J
 
 274 FiHendships Old and Neiv. [xlv. 
 
 I love you still with all the ardour of my young 
 enthusiasm — much more heartily and trustfully 
 than I am apt to love nowadays with my 
 middle-aged discretion ! Yet I have set my- 
 self very seriously to the business of loving 
 since I came here, conscious that my long 
 sojourn in the wilderness had developed certain 
 misanthropical tendencies in me that were 
 leading me rather devilward — into the region 
 of hatred and all uncharitableness ! With a 
 good deal of effort I have got up a sentiment for 
 several men and women, which has a good right 
 to go by the name of friendship in these days. 
 I have even executed two or three innocent 
 flirtations with good effect, and on the whole 
 live in great amity with my fellow creatures. 
 They call me " sweet/' and " gentle " ; and 
 some of the men go the length of calling 
 me " ENDEARING," and I laugh in my sleeve,^ 
 and think, Oh Lord ! if you but knew what 
 
 1 Here there is a very rude little sketch, in the " sym- 
 bolical " stage of art, representing a female figure, whose 
 extended fingers touch the nose.
 
 ..\^^ 
 
 1 " "^^
 
 XLV.] Friendships Old and New. 275 
 
 a brimstone of a creature I am behind all tbis 
 beautiful amiability ! But my sentiment for you^ 
 dearest, is not "got up,^^ but grown np with 
 me out of my sunny cliildhood, and wears 
 always a sunny, healthful look, that these half- 
 literary, half-sentimental intimacies, contracted 
 after thirty, can never match. The fault, how- 
 ever, is not in the people, but in the time. 
 " You great fool," said my Uncle Robert once 
 to me, when I was flying into somebody's 
 arms on the North Bridge, " you will surely 
 learn some time or other that everybody is not 
 in such ecstasies to see you as you are in to see 
 everybody ! " My judicious Uncle ! you were 
 there and then a true prophet. I have long 
 ago learnt to distrust the ecstasies produced at 
 sight of me in others, and consequently ceased 
 to give way to any sort of ecstasy in myself. 
 When I fly into any one's arms now and " swear 
 ever-lasting friendship, ^^ ^ it is always with a 
 
 3 Cf. Hookham Frere's Eovers, Act. i., Sc. 1 : "A sudden 
 thought strikes me. Let us swear an eternal friendship." 
 More cautious was the suggestion of a South American
 
 276 " The Days when I ivas Youngs [xlv. 
 
 secret inisgi\dng, and a secret and almost risible 
 conscious [ness] of a certain theatricality in the 
 transaction. The words '^ for ever,'' " eternal,'' 
 "constant," "faithful," and such like, applied to 
 the friendships and loves that one begins at the 
 years of discretion, never fall on my ears except 
 accompanied by something like the distant laugh 
 of malicious fiends. Melancholy effects of age ! ! 
 " the days when I was young! " and confident 
 and foolish ! Do you like to be wise, Bess ? I 
 don't at all ! but one is obliged to put a good 
 face on the matter, and so I sit here in No. 5, 
 Cheyne E-ow, and make grave pantomime, and 
 grave speech in acknowledgment of all the 
 wisdom I hear uttered by the celebrated men 
 and women of the age, thinking my own thought 
 all the while, which is often this or something 
 like this: "Was not sitting under a hay-stack^ 
 
 student at Edinburgh, who, having been on a committee 
 at the time of a rectorial election, proposed to the other 
 members of it to " have a supper, and swear eternal friend- 
 ship for three years " (the remaining part of his curriculum). 
 ' Cf. Letter V., p. 21.
 
 XLV.] London Friends. 277 
 
 in a summer's day with Bess and G-eorge Rennie, 
 or even weeping childlike, purely a"ffectionate 
 tears at the sound of the Castle bugles,^ — when, 
 in reply to my demand to be allowed to marry, 
 they sent me two half-crowns and some barley- 
 sugar, — worth a whole eternity of this idle 
 speculation and barren logic ? " But the people 
 here are good people, and with many noble 
 gifts in them, and to me they have been quite 
 incomprehensibly kind, so that I ought not to 
 feel discontent with them, because the magic of 
 the imagination in me has got impaired by years, 
 and no spectacles that reason can invent does 
 anything at making the world so green and 
 glorious for me as it once was. My chief 
 intimates are a family of Sterlings : the Father, 
 known by the name of " the thunderer of the 
 
 * From Letter V., it is clear the hayfield was near her 
 home, so that Edinburgh Castle is ont of the question. A 
 Haddington correspondent tells me that " from 1803-1814 a 
 large body of troops were stationed in Haddington in per- 
 manent barracks." Cf. Martine, Reminiscences of Hadding- 
 ton^ pp. 122-127. It is probably to their bugles that Mrs. 
 Carlyle alludes. She would be thirteen years old in 1814.
 
 278 The Sterlings. [xlv, 
 
 Times," a clever, tumultuous vap ^ . . . sort of 
 a half- Irishman ; the Mother, a kind, sincere, 
 well-enough cultivated, most motherly half- 
 Scotchwoman ; the Son ! an angel of Heaven — 
 ostensibly a Clergyman of the Church of Eng- 
 land, and Author of Arthur Coningsby, a highly 
 original novel ; he has also a wife, very fat and 
 good-natured and fine-ladyish in the best sense 
 of the term. These people, as the elder Sterling 
 told Susan Hunter when she was here, " all 
 adore me." Certainly they load me with kind- 
 nesses, and treat me as if I were a sort of 
 necessary to their existence. The very footman 
 and lady's-maid "have been quite anxious" if I 
 have stayed away half a week. Mrs. Sterling's 
 portrait in oil hangs over my mantlepiece, and 
 the whole thing is in the most flourishing con- 
 dition, if it do but last. Then I have an 
 Italian Conte,^ one of the first poets of Italy, 
 
 ^ Part of the word destroyed by the seal. Query 
 
 vapouring 
 
 "9 
 
 ^ " Pepoli has been twice, and is gliding into a flirtation 
 with — mia niadre ! who presented him, in a manner molto
 
 XLv.] Italian Friends. 279 
 
 the liandsomest and best mannered of men, who 
 comes twice a week or so and makes my 
 thoughts melodious for the rest of the day. 
 He was my Mother's chief, indeed I think only, 
 favourite here among all our people ; which was 
 curious, as they had no medium of communica- 
 tion but their eyes ! For my part, I speak 
 Italian now like a nightingale, and ivill, I 
 am told, soon write it " better than any native 
 Signora " ! Like the man and the fiddle, nobody 
 knows what he can do till he try. Did you 
 hear tell of my Darling Degli Antoni ? '' jour 
 recent distress prevented me introducing her to 
 you among the rest of my Edinburgh friends. 
 She is another of my special friends ; it is so 
 delightful to be called " carissima arnica/^ etc., 
 
 graziosa, with, lier tartan scarf" (Letter to lier husband of 
 October 12th, 1835 : Letters and Memorials^ i. p. 35). " II 
 Conte ' Pepoli,' " says Carlyle, " was from Bologna, exile 
 and dilettante, a very pretty man ; married, some years 
 hence, Elizabeth Fergus of Kirkcaldy (elderly, moneyed, 
 and fallen in love with the romantic in distress) ; and now, 
 as widower, lives in Bologna again " {ib. p. 33). 
 7 Cf. Letters and Memorials, i., p. 27.
 
 280 The Ill-fated Book. [xlv. 
 
 etc., that it is worth while to keep up an 
 Itahan friendship or two for the purpose. But 
 oh, my dear Eliza, would you but come and 
 see all that I have, in the way of friends, in 
 the way of house room, in the way of heart 
 room ! What glorious days we might still have 
 together, after all that is come and gone ! Your 
 Uncle, I rejoice to hear, is better again ; can 
 you not come then ? the journey is a mere 
 trifle, the welcome would be a great reality ! 
 To me you would indeed be welcome as flowers 
 in May, or rather were it not better to say as 
 flowers in December ; and to my Husband you 
 would be welcome, as a cigar in a land destitute 
 of tobacco ! ! Bess, will you, will you come ? 
 Kisses to your Uncle. My Husband is pretty 
 well, almost thro' the second volume of his 
 ill-fated book ; ^ thinks of your Uncle and you 
 with grateful affection, — is on the whole the 
 cleverest man I meet with still and the truest. 
 
 8 The French Revolution, vol. i. of whicli had been burnt, 
 and had to be all rewritten. See Reminiscences, ed. Norton, 
 i., p. 106, note • Proude, Thomas Carlyle, B. i., p. 27.
 
 XLV.] Beautiful StocJcings. 281 
 
 I have never yet thanked you with my own 
 hand^ for your beautiful stockings, but I never 
 wear them without thanking you silently. Grod 
 bless you, Dearest. Write to me soon, tho' I 
 do not deserve it, and love me always. 
 
 Your own 
 
 JANE WELSH.i*^ 
 
 9 Cf. p. 223, Letter XXXVII., note 2. 
 10 Sic.
 
 XLVI. 
 
 [Eliza Stodart was married on July 13tli, 1836, to 
 David Aitken. I have found no letter from Mrs. Car- 
 lyle to her on the occasion, though it is likely that 
 there was one.] 
 
 Mrs. D. AitJcen, Minto Manse, HmvicJc. 
 
 [Postmark, 3Iarc7i Gth, 1837.] 
 
 Dearest Eliza, — 
 
 Your husband's letter written in Influenza 
 found me in the sanie.^ I have had it severely 
 and long, and am only now getting out in the 
 heat of the day (if there be any such thing) ; 
 while my head, when it does not absolutely ache, 
 continues to feel much as if it had been brayed 
 in a mortar. Happily, myself and the cat are 
 the only individuals that have been laid up in this 
 house ; and as neither it nor I have anything 
 at press, or are acting upon the public in any 
 particular way, " the prevailing malady " could 
 
 1 Cf. Froude, Thomas Carlyle, B. i., p. 100 ; Letters and 
 Memorials, i., p. 64 ff. For " Influenza," cf. Letter LI., note 1.
 
 XLVi.] Garlyle's Booh and Lectures, 283 
 
 not have made a more judicious election. Indeed, 
 I would rather have the whole to do over again a 
 dozen times myself, than that my husband should 
 have anything to say to it at present ; he is so 
 worried with other matters. Two printers are 
 on his book at the same time, and the life he 
 leads between them puts me in mind of those un- 
 happy '' fish, fish " in the Arabian Nights that were 
 always a-frying and required to be "at their datij.'" ^ 
 Besides this, he has a course of lectures on Ger- 
 man Literature^ hanging over him, which it is 
 evident to me he will not have an hour's leisure 
 to prepare, and how he is to get thro' them 
 successfully without preparation, or what is to 
 become of poor me if he break down in the midst, 
 are questions of no light concern to my forecast- 
 ing mind. But " I hope better things tho' I thus 
 speak." A lady was suggesting to me the other 
 day that the danger of all dangers for him would 
 
 2 " Story of the Fisherman." In Lane's translation the 
 words run : " fish, fish, are ye remaining faithful to your 
 covenant ? " 
 
 '' Cf. Froucle, Thomas Carlyle, B. i., p. 97 if.
 
 284 Carlyles Lectures. [xlvi. 
 
 be at tlie very outset, that if lie only escaped say- 
 ing " Gentlemen and Ladies," instead of " Ladies 
 and Grentlemen," the rest would be all plain 
 sailing. And he promised that he will certainly 
 say neither the one thing nor the other.* So I 
 await what May shall bring forth with tolerable 
 composure ; the more, as it is the people who have 
 asked him to speak, rather than he who has asked 
 the people to hear. A¥lien the Book ^ is done with, 
 and the Lectures done with, he proposes going to 
 Scotland or somewhere for a long rest. But I 
 do not think of accompanying him, having almost 
 a cat-like attachment to my own house, as well as 
 a constitutional incapacity for travelling, to say 
 nothing of the preference I give to London before 
 all other places. It is, in fact, a jewel of a place, 
 for this reason, that if you want to be solitary 
 you may have your humour out as completely as 
 if you were at Craigenputtoch, and if you are 
 socially disposed you may have society to all 
 
 * Cf. Letters and Memorials, i., p. 72. 
 5 The French Revolution. It was published in this year 
 (1837).
 
 XLVi.] Charm of London. 285 
 
 lengths and of every possible cut, so that it is 
 strange if you do not find something to suit you. 
 For my part, I go upon the principle that variety 
 is charming ; and as somebody was telling me of 
 myself the other day, I have a whole humanum 
 genus (human race) of friends. 
 
 In fact, if there is any one thing to be learnt 
 more than another by living in London, it is a 
 due Catholicism of taste. One sees so many 
 things which one has been used to consider 
 antagonist and irreconcilable existing alongside 
 of one another in peace and harmony ; and still 
 more one learns to lassen gelten ^ (ask your Hus- 
 band — happy that you have one who knows 
 Grerman), by the fair appreciation you find from 
 people as different as possible from yourself and 
 from one another. Never has it happened to me to 
 hear in London that phrase which in small towns, 
 and even in Edinburgh, one is constantly hear- 
 ing: such and such people "are not in nuj way." 
 
 ^ Lit. " allftw to have value," " to let pass (as current 
 coin)." It should be gelten lassen.
 
 286 Harriet Martineau. [xlvi. 
 
 People are content here with simply having ways, 
 without trying to persuade their neighbours that 
 they are the only ones that lead to salvation. 
 They have ascertained that from the centre to 
 the circumference there are many more radii 
 than one, and they are only moved to astonish- 
 ment and disapprobation when a fellow-creature 
 flies over the circumference into the infinite Inane. 
 But this is unbearable, to philosophize and meta- 
 phorize all in a breath ! You will agree, however, 
 that it is not easy to keep oneself " a plain human 
 creature " in the midst of so much example to the 
 contrary. Positively for weeks together, some- 
 times, I do not set eyes on or exchange words 
 with one " plain human creature," but only with 
 human creatures more or less ornamented, or — 
 perverted. Of all these ornamented human 
 creatures the one I take most delight in is Harriet 
 Martineau. The horrid picture in Fraser"^ with 
 
 ''' Vol. viii. (1833), p. 576. It is a frightful caricature — 
 especially the cat. [These portraits and notices have been 
 republished in 1874 and 1883.] Cf. Froude, Thomas Car- 
 lyle, B.i., p. 97; Reminiscences, ed. Froude, ii., pp.212-
 
 XLVi.] Harriet Martineau. 287 
 
 the cat looking over its shoulder was not a bit 
 like; and the Artist deserved to have been 
 hanged and quartered for so vile a calumny. 
 Neither does the idea generally formed of the 
 woman merely from her reputation as a Political 
 Economist do her more justice than that picture ! 
 They may call her what they please, but it is 
 plain to me and to everybody of common sense (as 
 my Uncle Robert said) that she is distinctly good- 
 looking, warm-hearted even to a pitch of romance, 
 witty as well as wise, very entertaining and 
 entertainable in spite of the deadening and kill- 
 ing appendage of an ear-trumpet, and finally, as 
 "our Mother" used to finish off a good character, 
 " very fond of me." I had a fly at Fanny Kemble 
 (Mrs. Butler) ® also this winter, but it would not 
 do. She is Green-room all over, and with a heart 
 all tossed up into blank verse — blank verse, too, 
 
 217 ; ed. Norton, i., pp. 176-180 ; Correspondence of Carlyle 
 and Emerson^ i., p. 12G. For Miss Martineau's impressions 
 of the Carlyles and their circle, cf. her Autobiography^ i., 
 pp. 377-387. 
 
 ^ Cf. Letters and 3Iemorials, i., p. 67; Harriet Martineau's 
 Autobiography, i., p. 365.
 
 288 No Idle Condolences. [xlvi. 
 
 of the " fish — be it ev — er so salt, is ne' — er too 
 salt for me " sort. The longer I live, the more I 
 want naturalness in people. I think Mr. Simp- 
 son would say I keep " my charming naivete " ^ 
 to a wonder. 
 
 I have filled my paper without a word on the 
 subject nearest your heart, and nearest mine 
 while I have been wi'iting.^" But I do as I would 
 be done by. I offer no idle condolences, for I 
 never found such of any comfort to myself, and 
 my regard for your Uncle is well enough known 
 to you to make any assurances of sympathy from 
 me superfluous. I hoped to have seen him again. 
 It was not to be. He is gone from us all, but the 
 memory of his worth and his kindness will abide 
 with some of us while we live. 
 
 I should have written this to your Husband, but 
 it is not lost what a friend gets. Perhaps, too, I 
 
 9 Cf. Letter XLI., p. 248. 
 
 10 According to his tombstone in the Grreyfriars' Churcli- 
 yard, Edinburgh, "John Bradfute died 16th January, 1837, 
 aged seventy-three." Sam. Aitken, who died October 4th, 
 1847, is buried beside him.
 
 XLvi.] Apologij for Bad Writing. 289 
 
 should have written it more legibly, but " the 
 weather is cold^ and I am grown old,^^ and so I 
 have the paper on my knees in front of the fire, 
 which is not a way to make copperplate. Pray 
 write soon, for I am anxious to hear that your 
 health is quite restored. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 u
 
 XLVII. 
 
 [Xo address preserved. — To the Rev. David Aitken.] 
 
 Chelsea, 
 
 8 Septr., 1840. 
 My dear Sie, — 
 
 This morning, by the " Parcels DeHvery 
 Company," there was duly put into my hand a 
 copy of Peterkin's BooJce of the Universal KirJc,^ 
 the origin of which phenomenon, as I find by the 
 fly-leafe " of said BooJce, is well known to you ! 
 Every phenomenon has its origin. There are 
 certain companies in which [it] is not very safe to 
 speak ; if you speak, none can warrant you but 
 
 1 The Booke of the Universall Kirk of Scotland : icherein 
 the headis and conclusionis devysit he the ministers and 
 commissionaris of the jmrticular kirks thereof are specially 
 expressed and contained. Edited by Alexander Peterkin, 
 Esq., late Sheriff-substitute of Orkney. Edin. 1839. [The 
 full title of this book, which is not in the Bodleian Library, 
 has been kindly sent me by Mr. G. K. Fortescue, of the 
 British Museum, to whom I am also indebted for note 5 on 
 Letter XL VIII.]. 
 
 2 Sic.
 
 XLvii.] " Tlie Boohe of the Universall Kirhr 291 
 
 straightway it shall be done ! I return many 
 kind thanks. I have already taken a day's 
 reading out of the Boohe ; and expect to read it 
 all, with a pleasure increased by the way in 
 which it comes to me. 
 
 You are in the pleasant vale of Esk by this 
 time; or perhaps almost home at Minto. May 
 good go with you both ; and peaceful pleasant 
 days await you among the Hills ! My own 
 movement Northward is vaguer than ever, per- 
 haps doubtful now altogether. I am sick, the 
 weather is cold ; like Sterne's Starling, one has 
 h to say mournfully, " I can't get out ! " ^ 
 ■ ' We imite in many kind wishes to you and 
 Mrs. Aitken. I remain always 
 
 Yours very truly 
 
 T. CARLYLE. 
 
 ^ Cf. p. 19, Letter V., note 1. Carlyle introduces the 
 Starling into his Frederick the Great, book xi., chap. i. 
 (voh iii., p. 37, in original edition).
 
 XLYIII. 
 
 [No address prc'ierved. — To the Rev. David AitTcen.\ 
 
 Chelsea, 
 
 9 Beer., 1840. 
 My dear Sir, — 
 
 Partly connected witli tlie Boolce of the Kirk, 
 which you were kind enough to leave me as a 
 legacy when you last went hence, there is another 
 Book, BaiUie's Letters and Journals,^ which I 
 want very greatly to get, and cannot fall in with 
 here for love or money. I have looked on it in 
 the British Museum, but it is beyond my faculty 
 to read it there ; and nowhere else, in Bookshops, 
 Cambridge Libraries,^ or the shelves of private 
 friends, can I discover more than traditions 
 and provoking rumours of it. I am told the 
 Book is common in Scotland : who knows but 
 you may have it, or may in some way have access 
 to it, and could let me have a loan of it for a 
 
 1 See note 2 on next letter. 
 
 " Cf. Froude, Thomas Carlyle, B. i., p. 152.
 
 xlviil] ''Baillie's Letters:' 203 
 
 little ? I boast of the virtue of returning books 
 lent me, in a faithful manner ! Our friend Sam 
 could easily find means of conveyance, — to the 
 care of Eraser in Regent Street. On the whole, 
 letters being so cheap ^ and you so helpful, I find 
 I may at least ask you about it. — Literary men 
 borrow books sub rosd, it is said, from the 
 Advocates' and Signet and all manner of open 
 Libraries, and have them sent hither and sent 
 thither, punctually restoring them ; it is a thing 
 not entirely unknown to myself of old ; but I am 
 out of all their Ledgers there for a long while 
 past. 
 
 Baillie's is not the only Book I want; the 
 History of Scotch Covenanting, which is the 
 History of Scotland altogether in Charles First's 
 time, is the point I drive at. Much that perhaps 
 is common in Edinburgh is unattainable here. 
 Did not some " Stevenson " ^ or other lately put 
 
 ^ Penny postage had been introduced on January 10th of 
 this year. 
 
 * Carlyle probably refers to 21ie History of the Church 
 and State of Scotland froDi the Accession of King Charles
 
 294 " Hidory of the Covenanters ^ [xlviii. 
 
 forth a publication on that subject ? I have now 
 by me a very trivial History of the Covenanters, 
 published by Waugh and Innes in 1830, two 
 small volumes ; ^ but it tells me nothing which I 
 did not long ago know, or even know the con- 
 trary of. Did Peterkin promulgate nothing on 
 this ? Do no Pamphets, Records, State Trials 
 
 /, to the Restoration of King Charles IL, in 4 vols., by- 
 Andrew Stevenson (the editor of Baillie's Letters. See 
 p. 298, Letter XLIX, note 2). Only three vols, actually 
 appeared (1753-1757), bringing the work down to 1649. 
 Principal Tairbairn has shown me an edition, " complete 
 in one volume " (with " the year 1649 " substituted in the 
 title for " the Restoration of King Charles 11^), published 
 by T. Nelson (Edin., 1840), without any indication that it 
 is merely a reprint of an old book ; and this has pro- 
 bably misled Carlyle, who has only heard of it, into the use 
 of the term " lately." It is possible, but less likely, that he 
 may have heard of some of the works published by Thomas 
 G. Stevenson, of Princes Street, Edinburgh. In a catalogue 
 of his of 1848 are several books relating to ecclesiastical 
 affairs in Scotland in the Seventeenth Century, published 
 between 1825 and 1840 ; e.g. Biographia Preshyteriana 
 and Historical Fragments relative to Scotch Affairs from 
 1635-1664. 
 
 " History of the Covenanters in Scotland. By the author 
 of the Histories of the Reformation, Christian Church, etc. 
 [William Sime]. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 12mo.
 
 XLViiT.] MarJc Naplpr's " Montrose.'' 295 
 
 or the like exist, wliicli can help one to represent 
 to himself those actual Scottish years from 1637- 
 1660, especially the earlier portion of them? 
 AYliat for example, is known about Jenny Geddes 
 and her performance in St. Giles's in that summer 
 Sunday of 1637 ? Do not laugh, I pray you ; 
 but ask some Dr. Lee^ or other, if so be any 
 Dr. can tell. You will oblige me greatly. Poor 
 old Sjpalding "^ is but a kind of triviality ; yet he 
 is worth all the rest to me hitherto. I read 
 Mark Napier's first Book on Montrose^ too, — 
 with astonishment, confusion and despair. What 
 I learnt of new was the colour of Montrose's 
 stockings when they hanged him ; this and almost 
 
 ^ Dr. Lee became Principal of Edinburgh University in 
 this year. " Arclideacon Meadows," in Hill Burton's Book- 
 Hunter, is a kindly caricature of him. 
 
 '^ John Spalding's History of the Troubles and Memorable 
 Transactions in Scotland, 1624-45, was published in 2 vols., 
 Aberdeen, 1792, and republished by the Bannatyne Club in 
 1828-1829 (also by the Spalding Club in 1850). 
 
 ^ Napier's " first book on Montrose " must mean his 
 Montrose and the Covenanters, London, 1838. In this year 
 (1840) he published The Life and Times of Montrose (Edin.). 
 Napier was a vehement defender of the Royalist side.
 
 296 The Divine Office of Helping. [xLviii. 
 
 nothing more from Mark. In short, I am very 
 ill oi¥ indeed; and could be right thankful for 
 charitable help from any quarter of the sky. 
 
 Did you ever see the young man D ? He 
 
 wrote me a long letter, in my answer to which I 
 inserted a card to introduce him if he liked. No 
 word since. I am interested in this forlorn 
 
 D , and find traces of a valiant, substantial 
 
 heart in him ; a man perhaps capable of being 
 helped (which so few are), if one knew hoAV ! It 
 is a divine office ; the divinest we have here 
 below, that of helping. Tell me whether I have 
 procured you such a luxury in this man's acquain- 
 tance ; or only a new trouble and futility. 
 
 My Wife is better than usual this winter : we 
 join in many cordial salutations to you and 
 Mrs. A. 
 
 Yours always truly, 
 
 T. CARLYLE.
 
 XLIX. 
 
 [No address preserved. — To the Rev. David AitJcen.] 
 
 Chelsea, 22 Feb., 1841. 
 My dear Sir, — 
 
 Above two months ago I was on the point 
 of writing to you, and ought not to have heeded 
 the fallacious whispers of Indolence, but actually 
 to have written, that Baillle's Letters had actually 
 come into my possession. A certain Dr. Murray,^ 
 an early acquaintance of mine in Edinburgh, 
 happened to possess the Book ; and lent it me for 
 an unlimited time. I have read it ; with unusual 
 interest and profit. One wonders that such a 
 Book ever fell into such a state of rarity, of un- 
 procur ability. It is scandalously edited too, or 
 
 1 " Thomas Murray [one of Carlyle's early correspondents] 
 became a minister, wrote a respectable literary history of 
 Galloway, his native county, was for a time editor of the 
 Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle^ and lived to a good old age." 
 — Prof. Norton, Early Letters of Thomas Carlyle, i., p. ix. 
 He wrote a Life of Samuel Rutherford {ib., ii., p. 360), and 
 would thus be specially interested in Scotch history of the 
 seventeenth century. 
 
 297
 
 298 ''Baillie's Letters:' [xlix. 
 
 rather not edited at all, only printed, — and that 
 also in an entirely scandalous manner. — The 
 Bannatyne people, I am very glad to find, are 
 getting out a proper reprint of Baillie, to be 
 accompanied with Notes. ^ He is a great block- 
 head B., but he carried a pair of eyes in his head; 
 which so few do. I have got Turner"^ from Cam- 
 bridge ; I can get a variety of things : but all 
 that has been suspended for some time with 
 Proofsheets ^ and chaotic etceteras. 
 
 What you say of D corresponds pretty 
 
 exactly with all I have been able to learn or sur- 
 mise about him. The other day he sends me a 
 most tumultuous, boisterous explosion of a letter ; 
 good in the heart of it, something almost like 
 genius in the heart of it ; but wild as the woods. 
 
 2 Baillie's Letters were printed at Edinburgh in 3 vols, 
 small 8vo, 1753-1757, edited by Andrew Stevenson. They 
 were edited by David Laing for the Bannatyne Club in 3 
 vols., in 1841. 
 
 ^ Memoirs of his oxen Life and TimeSj by Sir James 
 Turner, 1G32-1670 ; published by the Bannatyne Club in 
 1829. 
 
 ■^ Of the Lectures On Heroes.
 
 XLix,] Ilelj) to the Help-needing. 299 
 
 Such an Orson will take terrible shaving and 
 tawing ! 
 
 On the whole, I wish you saw the man, to re- 
 port about him. A poor brother struggling in 
 that same Orson-state, if he be aidable at all, 
 appeals to one. Help is due to the help-needing ! 
 
 I want your report about D as soon as you 
 
 can. 
 
 We are not ill here ; glad in some gleams of 
 returning Spring. The tumult of London, ever 
 onwards from this season, gets triple and tenfold ; 
 more and more hateful to me, fatal to me. Were 
 the weather once warm, I seriously meditate 
 running off somewhither. 
 
 We unite in all kind regards to Mrs. Aitken. 
 As for you, you must take care of the Edinburgh 
 East-winds. It is a serious sad fate to be " seldom 
 free from pain " ;— to be never free from it : ah 
 me ! — • 
 
 Commend us also in the kindest manner to our 
 right trusty and well beloved Sam. 
 
 Yours always truly 
 
 T. CARLYLE.
 
 L. 
 
 [No address preserved. — To Mrs. Aitken, Mitito.] 
 [The letter enclosed is dated March 30th^ 1841.] 
 
 .5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea. 
 My dear Eliza, — 
 
 We have Scripture for it : " Woe unto you 
 when all men speak well of you ! " but when one 
 man speaks extravagantly well of you — that I 
 hope does not imply woe, otherwise your husband 
 and you run a terrible risk ! It seems to me 
 that I should be very hard-hearted, if I suffered 
 the flowery raptures of that enthusiastic Mr. 
 
 D to be turned to the baseness of setting 
 
 tallow candles, etc., etc. ; and as to laying them 
 by with select letters, I should be afraid of their 
 igniting the whole mass, so I enclose them to 
 you, whom they chiefly concern. I advise you 
 to put them under glass in a frame, and hang 
 them up over your sideboard, as Greorge Rennie 
 did with an address from some borough, which 
 was ambitious of having him for its representa- 
 tive in Parliament. 
 
 By the way, George Rennie has been here
 
 L.] George Bennie. 301 
 
 three times within the last ten days, which I 
 impute to his having had Influenza. Illness 
 softens his heart always, and in rendering the 
 present extremely disgusting to him, inclines him 
 to seek consolation from the past. The same 
 phenomena occurred after his smallpox. 
 
 For the rest we are going on here much in 
 the old way. Severe as the winter was, it did not 
 reach my chest; I "took time by the forelock," 
 (do you remember him ?) and shut myself up 
 before being ill, which saved me from becoming 
 ill. Some weeks ago I was taken to bed with a 
 sore throat, which I cured myself by flaying it 
 pretty effectually with a blister. Helen declared 
 I " should never be Jit to be seen in this world 
 again ;" but it mended in no time, and now 
 merely looks excessively dirty, and dirty necks 
 in London are much more frequent than clean 
 ones. Carlyle groiuls along, but does no practical 
 mischief^ — the most unmanageable feature of his 
 
 ' In a letter to Carlyle's mother (autumn, 1840) she says : 
 " Carlyle is reading voraciously [about Cromwell, etc.], pre- 
 paratory to writing a new book. For the rest, lie growls
 
 302 Mr. Carlyhy Passenger to ? [l. 
 
 actual manner of being is that lie is always 
 crying out to be away somewhere, and never 
 goes. His portmanteau has been standing on a 
 chair, half packed, for the last four weeks, with a 
 
 direction on it — Mr. Carlyle, Passenger but 
 
 passenger in ivhat, or ivhither, no man, least of 
 all himself, has the faintest idea ; and if I were 
 required, with a loaded pistol at my breast, to fill 
 up the card, the only thing I could put with a 
 shadow of probability would be passenger into 
 Infinite space !^ What is to become of us thro'- 
 out the summer I know as little. " White men 
 know nothing " f white women less than nothing. 
 Grod bless you, anyhow. 
 
 Ever your affectionate 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 away much in the old style ; but one gets to feel a certain 
 indifference to liis growling ; if one did not, it would be the 
 worse for one " {Letters and Memorials, i., p. 126). 
 
 2 He did finally go to " Milnes's [E. Monckton Milnes, 
 afterwards Lord Houghton], at Fryston in Yorkshire " 
 {Letters and Memorials, i., p. 132, note 1). 
 
 3 Allusion unknown. It may be somethin2; in a novel. 
 A correspondent tells me he remembers reading of some 
 Australian native, who says, " White fellow, foolish fellow."
 
 LI. 
 
 [This and the following letter I am allowed to print 
 by the kind permission of R. Scot Skirving, Esq. 
 Letter LT. was written to his aunt about him, and 
 Letter LII, is one of several which were written by 
 Mrs. Carlyle to himself. Mr. Skirving gives me a most 
 interesting account of the first time he saw Mrs. 
 Carlyle, who was a friend of his family. "When 
 a schoolboy," he says, "I was one day following the 
 congenial occupation of robbing sparrows' nests in the 
 ruined portion of the grand old church of Hadding- 
 ton — ' The Lantern of the Lothians ' — when, to my 
 horror, I saw Mrs. Carlyle come and seat herself on 
 her father's tombstone (which is flat), and then she 
 bowed her head and prayed and meditated for at least 
 half-an-hour. I hesitated a moment, when she came, 
 whether to make myself known, and be over with it ; 
 but I preferred to slink into a corner close up to the 
 wall, and there I stood during the whole time she 
 remained. I recognised her, because I had heard my 
 mother and aunt talk about her, and I knew she was 
 staying with her friends, the Donaldsons. I afterwards 
 heard she had been that day to visit the old church." 
 Mr. Skirving thinks the date of this visit must have 
 been 1833 or 1834. It would seem extremely probable 
 that Mrs. Carlyle should have gone out from Edin- 
 burgh, where she was staying in the spring of 1833 
 (see p. 227 ff.), to visit Haddington. I find no trace of
 
 304 Influenza. [li. 
 
 her having been in the east of Scotland in the spring 
 of 1834, before the removal to London. Mr. Fronde 
 must be in error, when he says that Mrs. Carlyle 
 never revisited Haddington after her marriage until 
 1849 {Letters and Memorials^ ii., p. 51, note).] 
 
 [To Miss Scot of Haddington.'] 
 
 5, Cheyne Row, 
 
 Wednesday. 
 
 [Spring of 1841.] 
 My deae Miss Scot, — 
 
 Your letter found me in bed, transacting 
 that abomination to which they have given the 
 mellifluous Italian name Influenza^ — the hardest 
 mouthful of German gutturals would better suit 
 it. But it would lead one into endless quarrel 
 with the world if one should insist on everything 
 going by its right name : so let Influenza remain 
 Influenza; and many other things besides sound 
 musically, so that an unexperienced person would 
 almost desire to have them, while they are — what 
 
 1 Influenza received its name because Italian physicians 
 ascribed the epidemic to the influence of the stars. See Art. 
 in Encyc, Brit. (9th edit.).
 
 LI.] Biiffini. 305 
 
 we know. What I had to tell you, more to the 
 purpose, is, that I got out of bed a day sooner 
 than I should otherwise have done for fear of 
 missing your young Hopeful; and this is fact, and 
 not blarney. He had sent on the letter by post, 
 with no other indication of his whereabouts than 
 the tolerably vague one contained in the post- 
 mark ' Cheapside ' ; so I expected from day to day 
 that he would come to justify this unnatural 
 proceeding. But no ; and now it is so long, that 
 I fear he is actually gone on his way, and I am 
 not to see him at all. This is really a consider- 
 able hetise which the young gentleman has com- 
 mitted at the very outset of his travels. There 
 was Giovanni Ruffini,^ asking me continually 'was 
 
 " Author of Doctor Antonio and other English novels. 
 Lorenzo Bcnoni is partly autobiographical. The Ruffinis 
 were connected with Mazzini in the Association of " Young 
 Italy." One of them, Jacopo, to escape the moral torture 
 inflicted by Charles Albert's government, opened a vein in 
 his neck with a nail from the door of his prison, and " with 
 this last pi'otest against tyranny," says Mazzini, " he took 
 refuge in the bosom of his Creator." Mazzini camfe to 
 London in 1837.
 
 306 Mazzini. [li. 
 
 he come V ' having been instructed by his brother 
 in Edinburgh to show him all the second-hand 
 gratitude in his power to show ; and Mazzini him- 
 self, the first of Italian men, the young chief of 
 Giovane Italia, had offered me some letters for 
 him, to Florence and elsewhere. And then, only 
 think of the stupidity of not coming to see my 
 Husband ! one of the most popular London sights 
 at i^resent, which he might have seen 'for notJiing'; 
 not to speak of the interest which he ought to 
 have felt in myself, who knew him before he was 
 liorn, and whom he must all his life have heard 
 tell of as an ornament to Humanity ! 
 
 By the time he comes back from Italy, he will 
 have learned, it is to be hoped, to look a little 
 sharper to his own interests. Meanwhile, what 
 can one do but recommend him to Providence ? 
 
 I wish you had come along with him to see him 
 safe out of the kingdom; not that I have any fears 
 about his safety, but that I should like to have 
 had you here, and I know that people so rational 
 as you are never fatigue themselves, except for 
 the benefit of others. If you who saw me in the
 
 LI.] Old Haddington Friends. 307 
 
 Desert saw me in Chelsea, you would admit that 
 never was a poor woman so tried between " fierce 
 extremes " ;^ and I would like you should, that I 
 might have a confidential fit of laughter with you 
 over this melodramatic life which has been ap- 
 pointed me to live here below, or a fit of crying, 
 whichever you liked best. 
 
 But among all the people I see it is so seldom 
 I look upon a face that speaks to me of long ago 
 — so seldom I hear a voice with a tone of home 
 in it. The few people I know here connected with 
 Haddington are so disconnected, so incompatible 
 with the sort of thing we live in, that I have long 
 since renounced all attempts to piece them into it. 
 James Aitken makes me a visit once a year or 
 so, and brings me news tolerably out of date ; 
 and Greorge Rennie, whom I have more of, looks 
 always so out of humour when I speak of East 
 Lothian ! — as is natural perhaps in him. 
 
 ^ " Thither, by harpy-footed Furies haled, 
 At certain revolutions all the damned 
 Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change 
 Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce," etc. 
 Milton's Paradise Lost, ii., 59G fF.
 
 308 " Mr. Keppenwitch.'' [li. 
 
 Ann Veitch and her brother James called for 
 me two days ago, and I had not seen them for 
 two years. Ann looks worn, poor soul, bnt not 
 hrohen ; looks as if she made a good fight against 
 bad luck : and I have no doubt but she does. 
 Captain Yeitch, or (as my maid announced him, 
 familiar with foreign names, ^ and taking him on 
 the strength of his own pronunciation for some 
 Russian), Mr. Keppenivitcli, seems to me since I 
 saw him last to have been " learning himself to 
 be gay/'^ the result, like such attempts [at] the 
 falsifying [of] nature, is rather odd, to say the 
 least of it. 
 
 '^ " Sprinklings of Foreigners, ' Political Refugees,' had 
 already begun to come about ns. . . . Only two of tbem 
 had any charm for me as men : Mazzini . . . and 
 Godefroi Cavaignac." — Carlyle, Reminiscences, ed. Fronde, 
 ii., pp. 181, 182 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 110. 
 
 ° Cf. the story told by Boswell " of a hea\^ German baron, 
 who had lived much with the young English at Geneva, and 
 was ambitious to be as lively as they ; with which view, he, 
 with assidu.ous exertion, was jumping over the tables and 
 chairs in his lodgings ; and when the people of the house ran 
 in and asked, with surprize, what was the matter, he 
 answered ' SK apprcns fetrc fif^ " — Boswell's Johnson, Dr. 
 G. B. Hill's edition, ii., p. 462.
 
 Lr.] Darwingium Cabhum. 309 
 
 I do not know what Augustine Ruffini wrote 
 to you, but I know that of you he wrote such 
 things as I, who do not myself deal in couleur de 
 rose, should feel it indecent to repeat. Had Mar- 
 garet read the letter which he wrote to me about 
 your treatment of him, your manner of being, 
 etc., etc., she would have proposed sending him 
 two turkeys, or even tliree. I thank you for that 
 little notice of her; it brought all the woman 
 before me better than the best drawn picture 
 could have done. How I should like to assist at 
 the eating of one of the said turkeys ! Some day 
 perhaps I may. The first summer I am in Scot- 
 land I WILL go to Haddington, whether this 
 summer or no is uncertain. Here is somebody 
 come to take me a drive — Erasmus Darwin : ^ not 
 the old doctor, of course, but his Grandson, who 
 
 ^ The elder brother of Charles Darwin, " to whom," says 
 Carlyle, " I rather prefer him for intellect, had not his health 
 quite doomed him to silence and patient idleness ; — Grand- 
 sons both of the first famed Erasmus (' Botanic Garden,' 
 etc.) . , . My Dear One had a great favour for this 
 honest Darwin always ; many a road, to shops and the like, 
 he drove her in his Cab (' Darwingium Cabbum,' compara-
 
 310 Erasmus Darwin. [li. 
 
 is the best friend I have here — in fact, the likest 
 thing to a brother I ever had in the world, not 
 even excepting my brother-in-law. 
 
 Moreover, my pen is practically protesting 
 against writing any more. 
 
 Give my love to all the people. Do write to 
 me when you are idle and would do a good action. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 ble to Georgium Sidus) in those early days, when even the 
 charge of Omnibuses was a consideration." — Reyniniscences^ 
 ed. Froude, ii., p. 208 ; ed. Norton, i., p. 173.
 
 LII. 
 
 [Mr. Scot Skirving tliinks the date of this letter 
 must be ISiT ; but I have placed it here because of its 
 connexion with the preceding. The letter which Mrs. 
 Carlyle wrote to him in 1841 (referred to in this, p. 313), 
 Mr. Skirving is unable to find ; but he recollects some 
 
 parts very distinctly. It began : " My dear , 
 
 what on earth shall I call you.? '■Robert'' to one I 
 never saw seems odd ; yet what else can I call a man 
 I knew before he was born ? So you passed through 
 London on your way to Italy and did not come to see 
 me ! It was very wrong of you. I am exactly the 
 sort of woman a young man ought to know. I would 
 have done you much good." Then followed a descrip- 
 tion of herself. In concluding she said : " My husband 
 carried me last summer to a vile place on the shore 
 of the Solway, where I could think of nothing by day 
 for the eternal moan-moaning of the sea, and nothing 
 by night for industrious fleas." The " place on the 
 Solway " was Annan. See Correspondence of Carlyle 
 and Emerson^ i., pp. 336, 337.] 
 
 \_To Bohert Scot Slclrdng, Esq.^ 
 
 5 Chetne Row, Chelsea, 
 
 11th May [1847 r]. 
 
 My deak — Robert, then, since you protest against 
 
 " Sir " and " Mr." 
 
 When your letter came I was in the 
 
 311
 
 312 An Aching Head. [[,it. 
 
 country, for a week ; and my maid, after her 
 fashion of doing precisely what she is told to do 
 — neither more nor less — kept all my letters 
 during that time lying on the table here, I, in 
 the unbounded confidence of my nature, having 
 given her no express injunction to forward them. 
 Since my return two days ago, the head of me has 
 been " too bad for anything " (as the Lancashire 
 phrase is), aching in fact as if it were about 
 giving birth to a young " Sin " or young 
 ^' Wisdom,'"'^ all thro' having come part of the way 
 by steamboat in a straw bonnet that cost two 
 sliiJJings. I give you these particulars, that you 
 may see I have lost no time that could be helped. 
 To-day I am rather better, and write to you the 
 first thing I do. I am glad that j^ou are coming 
 to London, especially since you have got over 
 the crisis of " detestability." ^ It would have gone 
 against my feelings to have detested you, and I 
 
 1 Cf. Milton's Paradise Lost ii., 747 if., where Sin 
 reminds Satan how she sprang from his aching head " a 
 goddess armed " (like Minerva from tlie head of Jove). 
 
 - See Sartor Ecsartus, Look ii., chap. iv.
 
 Lir.] " Bealised Ideah.'' 313 
 
 could not have helped it had I seen jou m your 
 " first pangs of finding " — that is to say fearing 
 " you were to be nobody and nothing." One only 
 begins to be really something after those pangs 
 have been happily transacted ; it is a sort of moral 
 cutting of one's teeth. 
 
 My Xo. is 5, and my street spells itself Ghei/ne 
 Row ; and there is even, contrary to London 
 etiquette, a brass plate with the name upon the 
 door, A Chelsea omnibus will bring you within 
 a gunshot for sixjjence, or you may come by 
 steamboat at the easy rate of twoj^ence ! If 
 with all these helps you fail to arrive at me with 
 perfect ease you must be the stupidest of mortals. 
 When you come, let it be early ; after one, every- 
 body here goes out to call for everybody, every- 
 body wishing to find everybody " not at home." 
 How you will llhe me when you see me heaven 
 knows. Realised ideals^ are always dreadfully 
 precarious. Nor do I remember the least in the 
 
 ^ " Realised Ideals " is the title of book i., cliap, ii., 
 in Carlyle's French Revolution.
 
 314 ^^ Dissolving Vieivs.^^ [_Lir. 
 
 world. Avhat sort of a sketch of myself I gave you 
 in '41. Most likely it was wide of the mark; 
 would depend more on Jiow I had slept the 
 previous night than on " the fact of things." My 
 views of myself are a sort of " dissolving views," 
 never the same for many minutes together. 
 To-day, for example, I find myself horrid — in a 
 second epoch of detestablliti/. Our next-door 
 neighbour having given a ball last night, the 
 noise of which thro' the thin partition kept me 
 awake till six in the morning ; and so to-day I 
 am in a state of " protest and appeal to Pos- 
 terity " ^ against everybody and everything, my- 
 
 ■* The same phrase is used in a letter of Aug., 1842, in 
 Letters and Memorials, i., p. 1G9. Carlyle in a note says 
 that the allusion is to a story of Cavaignac's about a drunken 
 man, who exclaimed, when boys were annoying him : " Vous 
 etes des injustes ; je m'en appelle a la posterite." It should 
 also be noticed that " protest and appeal " is an echo from 
 the Scotch ecclesiastical courts. When an appeal is made 
 from a kirk session to a presbytery, or from a presbytery 
 to a synod, or from a synod to the General Assembly, the 
 aggrieved member " protests and appeals and craves ex- 
 tracts," and must " table his shilling " (to pay for official 
 extracts from the minutes).
 
 LIT.] Tliouglits of East Lotldan. 315 
 
 self included. Will you tell your Father that one 
 day not long ago, in a roomful of people, Frank 
 Charteris ^ happening to name your Father, 
 apropos of something about farming, I shouted 
 out in the joyfullest tone, " Oh, dear me ! " which 
 caused quite a sensation ? 
 
 My kindest love to your Mother and Aunt. 
 How I should like to see them all again ! I often 
 meditate going to survey once more with bodily 
 eyes what is still all vivid enough in memory ; 
 but when it comes to the point my courage fails 
 me : ^ and so, 
 
 Yours with great faith, 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 •^ Afterwards Earl of Wemyss. 
 
 •' Mrs. Cai'lyle revisited Haddington in 1849. See Letters 
 and Memorials, ii. 51 ff. 
 
 [Mr. Skirving went, in accordance with this and 
 other invitations, to call on the Carlyles, but found the 
 lion in a very growling mood. After he had sat and 
 talked with Mrs. Carlyle and Miss Jewsbury, who was 
 with her, for some time, Carlyle entered " in a flowered 
 dressing-gown, and a pipe a foot long." Mr. Skirving
 
 316 A Visit to Carhjie. [lii. 
 
 happening to mention that his mother and he had been 
 reading DisraeH's last novel, " Then," said Carlyle, 
 " your mother and you are fools." 
 
 " You cannot deny," answered Mr. Skirving, " that 
 he is a great speaker, if not a great novelist." 
 
 "Young maaiij'^ replied Carlyle, "I hope you will 
 live to get sense, and learn that words are no good 
 at all ; it is deeds, and deeds only." 
 
 Mr. Skirving, not feeling inclined to give way 
 blindly to this utterance of the oracle, appositely quoted 
 from a translation of the Philoctetes of Sophocles the 
 passage where Ulysses says to Neoptolemus (1. 96 fif.) : 
 
 " Son of a noble sire ! I too in youth 
 Had a slow tongue and an impatient arm ; 
 But now, time-tried, I see in words, not deeds, 
 The universal ruler of mankind." 
 
 These lines Mr. Skirving, as he still well remembers, 
 quoted with the preface, " You do not agree with one 
 of the wisest of the Greeks, Mr. Carlyle." 
 
 " I see what you are now," thundered Carlyle, " a 
 damned impudent whelp of an Edinburgh Advocate ! " 
 (a mistaken inference.) 
 
 Carlyle became more kindly after this, went with 
 his visitor to the door, and held his hand some time at 
 parting. Mr. Skirving met Mrs. Carlyle afterwards in 
 Scotland, and she apologized for Carlyle's treatment 
 of him; but he never saw Carlyle again till he stood 
 beside him, as a pall-bearer at Mrs. Carlyle's funeral in 
 the ruined chancel of "the Lantern of the Lothians," 
 where he had first seen her, when she visited her 
 father's grave.]
 
 LIII. 
 
 [Mrs. Welsh died in February, 1842. According to 
 Carlyle's Reminiscences (ed. Fronde, ii., p. 194 ; eel. 
 Norton, i., p. 122) she died on Feb. 20th. But, accord- 
 ing to Carlyle"s note in Letters and Memorials^ i., p. 
 141, she died on Feb. 26th. The account there is much 
 more circumstantial, and is apparently followed by 
 Mr. Froude in his Life of Carhjle, B. i., pp. 233, 234. 
 Probably the date in the Reminiscences is a slip or 
 a misreading.] 
 
 To Mrs. AitJcerij Minto Manse, Havnch. 
 
 5 Cheyne Row, 
 Friday [Postmark, June 3rt^ 1842]. 
 
 My deae Eliza, — 
 
 I hioiv that I wrote part of a letter to 
 you some few weeks ago, immediately after re- 
 ceiving your last; but whether I finished it and 
 sent it off, or whether it shared the fate of 
 many others of my late undertakings and came 
 to an untimely close, I cannot remember, tlio' it 
 were to save my life. From this you may infer 
 that my memory is tolerably bad; indeed, all 
 
 317
 
 318 Her Mother's Death. [liii. 
 
 about me has l)een tolerably bad this long while, 
 and I do not feel as if I could ever gather myself 
 up into the old state again in this world. Parted 
 as I had been from my Mother so many years, 
 and with so many new objects of interest about 
 me, it was not to have been foreseen that her loss 
 could have so completely changed the whole face 
 of my existence ; indeed, I had never thought 
 about losing her — her life seemed always better 
 than my own. What I had thought about, and 
 always the longer the more anxiously, was getting 
 her beside me again, that 1 might show her more 
 love and care in her old age than in the thought- 
 lessness of my heart I had done heretofore; and 
 she had promised me not to keep me unquiet by 
 passing any more winters in that lonely place — 
 had just promised me that, "if it pleased God 
 we should meet this summer, it should be all 
 arranged according to my wish." So many fine 
 schemes I had in my head for her future com- 
 fort ! — too late, for her death was already on her, 
 and I did not know it. She had taken every 
 pains, and forced those about her to take every
 
 LTii.] Ber Mother's Death. 319 
 
 pains, to keep me in ignorance of lier state — " a 
 journey at that season would be so dangerous 
 for me ! " All her last weeks seemed one con- 
 tinued thought about me — to ward off anxiety 
 from me while she lived, and to soften the shock 
 for me should she die. In a letter she wrote to 
 Dr. Eussel[l], after many directions about what 
 was to be done for me if I must be sent for, she 
 concluded with these words, which stick for ever 
 in my heart : " For Jeannie must be saved in everij 
 way, or there is much to be dreaded." And 
 when the first stroke came upon her, Margaret 
 Macqueen being by, she uttered no thought for 
 her own future, only in sinking down exclaimed, 
 " I am dying, Margaret ! Oh, my poor Jeannie " 
 On the Saturday I received a letter from her — 
 tender and cheerful as all her late letters had 
 been. She had written the day before, she said, 
 and had nothing new to tell me. But as there 
 was no post in London on Sunday, I was kept 
 waiting till Monday. I " would be making my- 
 self uneasy again ! " — and at the time I read 
 that letter, she was already dead ! On the Mon-
 
 320 A Mothers Love. [liii. 
 
 day came no letter from lier as promised, but 
 one from the Dr., stating her to be dangerously 
 ill, yet not precluding all hope, for he feared the 
 blow for me, altho' at the time he wrote he had 
 no hope himself. Of course I set out by the next 
 railway train, not despairing — oh no, or I coidd 
 not have gone. I thought I had little hope ; but 
 when all hope was taken from me, I found that I 
 had had much. You know the rest. I travelled 
 all night in the cruellest suspense, and arriving 
 in Liverpool in the morning, was told that my 
 Uncle and Walter were already gone to her 
 funeral ! Oh, Bess, is it not a wonder that I 
 kept my senses ? I am better in health now, but 
 still very feeble and nervous, and so sad ! Oh, 
 there is such a perpetual weight on my heart as 
 I cannot describe to you. I feel as helpless and 
 desolate as a little child turned adrift in the 
 world ! I who have so many friends ! But what 
 are friends ? What is a husband even, compared 
 with one's Mother ? Of Jie7- love one is always so 
 sure ! It is the only love that nothing — not even 
 misconduct on our part — can take away from us.
 
 liil] a Changed Scotland. 321 
 
 If tlie letter I began went to you, I have said 
 all this before, for it is the only sort of thing I 
 have to say to any one, and accordingly I write 
 none at all excej^t to the few whose sympathy 
 I have perfect confidence in. 
 
 "When shall I see yon again P here, I mean ; for 
 I do not think I shall ever have the heart to 
 set foot in Scotland any more. Alas ! alas ! 
 what a changed Scotland for me — a place of 
 graves ! 
 
 My sweet little Cousin Jeannie^ is still here 
 with me — a comfort so far [as] any companion- 
 ship can he 2i comfort to me. 
 
 Write to me, dear Eliza, and do not mind my 
 silences. That I thought of you much during 
 tliis time is a sufficient proof of the constancy of 
 [my?] regard. 
 
 Ever your affectionate 
 
 JANE CARLYLE. 
 
 ' Her coiTsiu from Liverpool {Letters and Memorials, i. 
 p. 145).
 
 LIV. 
 
 Extract from Letter to Mrs. Pringle. 
 
 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea. 
 
 [Late ill 1858.] 
 My dear Mks. Peingle, — 
 
 ^ 5f ^ w t!s 
 
 It is rather vexatious, don't you think? 
 to have gone and laid myself up so early in the 
 winter. It was Lord Ashburton's Picture that 
 was the innocent ostensible cause. I told you, 
 I think, of the beautiful Picture of little Fritz 
 and his sister Wilhelmina,^ which Lord A. tvould 
 ^o^ive me, and which I had no place for in all 
 
 1 A plate entitled, "The Little Drummer," and described 
 as being " engraved by Francis Hall from a copy in Lord 
 Ashburton's possession of the picture at Charlottenburg by 
 Antoine Pesne," forms the frontispiece to vol. i. of Carlyle's 
 Frederick the Great^ of which the first two volumes appeared 
 in September of this year ; and in Book vi., chap, vi., will be 
 found Carlyle's description of the picture. He bequeathed 
 this "large oil painting" to Lord Ashburton's widow and 
 daughter. (See the codicil to his will in Norton's edition 
 of the Reminiscences, i., p. 276.) 
 
 322
 
 Liv.] Lord Ashburton*s Picture. 323 
 
 my house, unless I removed the great bookcase 
 from the drawing-room to the room below. It 
 was sent on his return to London, exactly at 
 the wrong moment, when the weather had be- 
 come intensely cold : at least at the wrong 
 moment, when there was a remarkably impatient 
 Husband in the case. I would have let it stand 
 on the parlour floor, for my part, until there was 
 fitter weather for a household earthquake. But 
 every day Mr. C. suggested, "My Dear, when 
 are you thinking of, " etc. ? " Is the paper made 
 yet for that wall?" "Are you never going to," 
 etc., etc. ? till mortal patience could stand it 
 no longer ! and I sent for the carpenter and the 
 paperhanger, and the staircase window had to l)e 
 taken out, and all the doors flying, and myself 
 flying to direct ]jlockheads, for a whole day. So 
 at night I went to bed in a high fever — quite 
 another sort of " fever " from any yoic ever saw 
 me in — and for three successive nights I never 
 closed my eyes, and was in agonies of face-ache, 
 etc., etc., and now I am shut up for six months, 
 I expect, with my cough, and all the rest of it.
 
 324 No Sunshine ivitliout Shadoiv. [liv. 
 
 But the cough is not so bad as last year, and I 
 hav^e more strengtli to bear it — thanks to Bay 
 House and Lann Hall.^ Pity there is no sunshine 
 in this world without shadow. That Picture is 
 very charming to look at from my sofa, l^ut sucli 
 a cold is a heavy }Drice for the pleasure ! I 
 remember, as if it were yesterday, travelling all 
 night in a postchaise with my Mother and an 
 old East Lothian farmer, who was going to meet 
 my Father at Craigenputtoch, and advise about 
 drains. My Mother and I were to be dropt at 
 my Grandfather's. I was mad with joy to go 
 on my first journey, but oh, so slch in a close 
 carriage always ! one minute I was chattering 
 like a magpie, the next, vomiting out of the 
 window. In the course of the night I lay down 
 at the bottom of the chaise, my head on my 
 Mother's knees, and whimpered and moaned. 
 The old farmer got tired of me — naturally — and 
 said, with a certain sharpness, words that cut 
 into my small heart with a sudden, mysterious 
 
 2 Cf. Letters and Memorials^ ii., pp. 365, 377.
 
 Liv.] The Dark Side of Life. 325 
 
 liorror. " Little girl," lie said, " don't you know 
 there is no pleasure to be had in this world with- 
 out pain ? " No, I didn't know it. But it was 
 dreadful to hear ; for, somehow, I thought he who 
 was old must be speaking truth, and I believed 
 him, all in shrinking from him as a sort of cruel 
 ogre ! 
 
 That was m?/ initiation into the dark side of 
 life. What was yours ? 
 
 Now good-night. 
 
 Love to the l)oys. Is the nursemaid gone to 
 fulfil her Destiny ? 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 JANE C. WELSH 3— 
 Oh, I mean Jane W. Carlyle ! 
 
 •■* Cf. signature to Letter XXXIV., p. 215.
 
 LV. 
 
 [No address preserved. — To the Rev. D. Aitken^ 4 Char- 
 lotte Square^ Edhidurgh.] 
 
 5 Cheyne Eow, Chelsea, 
 15^/6 March [1866]. 
 
 Thanks, dear Mr. Aitken, your kind letter^ made 
 our BreaJifast this morning quite pleasant ! and 
 in cases of bad sleepers, it takes a good deal to 
 do that, as you may perliaps know ! 
 
 It was indeed a most agreeable surprise, to 
 receive sucli a friendly letter from you and 
 Eliza! Tlie more shame to — which of us that 
 it should have surprised as well as pleased ? 
 
 But there is no time to go into that, at the 
 present writing ! 
 
 1 This is the letter referred to iu Letters and Memorials 
 of Jane Welsh Carlylc, iii., p. 313. " One of the letters of 
 invitation I had quite surprised me by its warmth and 
 eagerness, being from a quarter where I hardly believed 
 myself remembered— David Aitken and Eliza Stodart ! 
 They had both grown into sticks, I was thinking." Dr. 
 Aitken had resigned the living of Minto in 18G4, and gone 
 to live in Edinburgh. 
 
 326
 
 Lv.] Mr. Ershlnes House. 327 
 
 That we cannot either or botli of us accept 
 your friendly invitation so cordially given, makes 
 no difference in our gratification at receiving it. 
 
 Mr. C. lias already engaged himself, it seems 
 to me, to five different places ! ! and lastly and 
 most particularly to our old Friend Thomas 
 Erskine. What reason he (Mr. C.) has for 
 believing that he will be safer from railway 
 whistles (!) in Mr. Erskine's house than in any 
 other in Edinburgh or about it, I really don't 
 know ; but that does seem to be the consideration 
 which is directing his choice ! ^ 
 
 As for me, I have taken fright at the cold 
 weather, the long journey, and the fuss and 
 agitation of attending my Husband thro' an 
 operation little more agreeable to him than l^eing 
 
 2 In the letter (to one of her aunts) quoted in the previous 
 note, she also says : " Mr. C. is going to stay, while in 
 Edinburgh, at Thomas Erskine's, our dear old friend ; not, 
 however, because of liking him better than any one else 
 there, but because of his being most out of the way of — 
 railway whistles ! " Mr. Erskine, of Linlathen, was then 
 living at 11 Great Stuart Street, from which he dates 
 a letter on March 30th, asking Dr. and Mrs. Aitken for the 
 following Monday " to meet your friend Mr. Carlyle."
 
 328 At a Safe Distance. [lv. 
 
 hanged ! Indeed, I am sure many a thick- 
 skinned Palmer or Pritchard^ have had the rope 
 "adjusted" about their necks with less horror 
 than poor Mr. C. will let them put that "robe 
 and cap " on him!'* 
 
 "What the eye sees not the heart grieves not !" 
 So I mean to keep at a safe distance. 
 My kind love to Eliza, whom I hope to see 
 some day, tho' not just now. How I should 
 like a long, long talk with her about " dear old 
 long ago " ! What would she think of ashing me 
 in the warm weather ? I am not bad at travelling 
 now, in ordinary circimistances ! indeed, I have 
 l^een better last Avinter than for many jDreceding 
 
 ones, tho' I couldiiH go to Miss R 's evening 
 
 parties ! 
 
 Yours affl^:, with thanks 
 
 And kind regards from Mr. C, 
 
 JANE W. CARLYLE. 
 
 •^ Physicians and poisoners, of Rugeley and Glasgow, 
 hanged in 1856 and 18G5 respectively. 
 
 ^ At his installation as Lord Rector of Edinburgh Uni- 
 versity.
 
 Q
 
 Lv.] In hei' Father's Grave. 329 
 
 [Mrs. Carlyle died on Saturday, April 21st, 1866, and 
 was buried, according to lier early wish (see Letter I.) 
 and " according to covenant of forty years back," ^ in 
 the same grave with her father.] 
 
 ^ Carlyle, Reminiscences^ ed. Norton, i., p. 254 ; Fronde, 
 Thomas Carlyle^ B. ii., p. 316. It is strange that Carlyle 
 says " in the nave of the old Abbey Kirk." The grave is in 
 the chancel. 
 
 ADDENDA TO THE NOTES. 
 
 Page 12, note 5. For an accoixnt of John Barclay and his 
 Museum, see Prof. Struthers' Historical Sketch of the Edin- 
 burgh Anatotnical School (Edin., 1867), pp. 56-70. The 
 Museum contained skeletons of the elephant, boar, camel, 
 etc. Jane Welsh may have been taken by her father to see 
 these curiosities. 
 
 Page 35, note 10. An account of George Rennie will be 
 found in Men of the Reign (edited by T. H. Ward, London, 
 1885), from which Carlyle's remarks may be supplemented. 
 He " was in early life a sculptor, and produced in Rome 
 some remarkable works, of which the ' Grecian Archer ' he 
 presented to the Athenteum Club. In 1836 he suggested 
 to Mr. William Ewart, M.P., the Parliamentary Committee 
 which led to the formation of schools of design, and in con- 
 junction with Mr. Joseph Hume, M.P., he secured free 
 access for students to the public art galleries in London. In 
 1841 Mr. Rennie was returned for Ipswich in the Liberal 
 interest ; but retired at the ensuino; general election in
 
 330 Addenda to the Kates. 
 
 favour of tlie local candidate. Shortly afterwards he was 
 offered the government of the Falkland Islands, a colony he 
 succeeded in raising from the most abject condition to one 
 of the greatest prosperity. He died in London, March 22nd, 
 1860." 
 
 Page 39, line 8. " Joseph," named along with Chantry, is 
 probably Samuel Joseph, R.S.A., a sculptor who died in 
 1850. See 3{en of the Ecign. 
 
 Page 84, oiote 5. A portrait of " The Tiger " appeared in 
 Froser and will be found in The Maclise Portrait Gallery, 
 ed. by William Bates (1883), p. 163. It is a most admirable 
 drawing, and brings out a likeness between his head and the 
 picture of a Tiger's head on the wall. From the very brief 
 account of AVilliam Dunlop, it appears that he was an Edin- 
 burgh medical man who went to London in 1825. In 1826 
 he assisted John Gait in the formation of the Canada Com- 
 pany, and went out with him to Ontario. In 1832 he pub- 
 lished Letters of a Backiooodsman. Probably the " Wull " 
 referred to as a man " with brains in his head " in Letter V. 
 (p. 25) is the same person. 
 
 Page 90, 91. I suppose this cousin James Baillie must be 
 the " Captain Baillie," Miss Jewsbury's account of whom has 
 been omitted by Mr. Froude and also by Prof. Norton, who 
 mentions the omission in his edition of the Reminiscences, 
 i,, p. 62, note.
 
 INDEX OF PROPER NAMES. 
 
 Roman numerals denote Lettei's ; Arabic numerals denote pages ; « means 
 that the reference is only to the Editor's notes. For incidents and details, 
 see the Table of Contents. 
 
 AiTKEN, Rev. David, Letters of Car- 
 lyle to, XVIII., XIX., XXV., 
 XXVI., XLVII., XLVIII., 
 XLIX.; Letter of Mrs. Carlyle 
 to, LV. ; Letter of Carlyle about, 
 XXXI. ; Pref. p. viii., 2/0. 
 
 Aitken, James, 32, 307- 
 
 Aitken, Sam., Letter to, from Car- 
 lyle, XXXI. ; Pref. p. viii. ; 8, 12, 
 58?!., 166, 170, 2881!. 
 
 Ainsley, W., 45. 
 
 Alfieri, 70. 
 
 Annan, Visit to, 311 n. 
 
 Ashburton, Lord, 322. 
 
 Austin, Mrs., 267, 270. 
 
 Baillie, James, 90-92, 97 n., 103, 
 104, 114, 330 n. 
 
 "Baillie" in name of Jane Welsh, 
 92, 93 n., 96. 
 
 Baillie's Letters, 292, 297. 
 
 Bannatyne Club, 298. 
 
 Barclay Museum, 12. 
 
 Barjarg Library, 250. 
 
 Blackwood' s Magazine, 49. 
 
 Boreland, 62. 
 
 Bradfute, John, Letters of Carlyle 
 to, P.S. to XXX. (191), XLIll. ; 
 Pref. p. vii., 203 n., 288. 
 
 Brewster, Sir David, 159. 
 
 British Museum, 292. 
 
 Bullers (Carlyle's pupils), 58, 60 n. 
 
 Byron, Lord, 30, 101 ; Verses on, by 
 Jane Welsh, 102 n. 
 
 Cambridge University Library, 292, 
 298. 
 
 Campan's Memoirs of Marie An- 
 toinette, 251. 
 
 Carlisle, 15, 18. 
 
 Carlton Street, Edinburgh, 219 n. ; 
 XXXVIII. (232). 
 
 Carlyle, Alexander, 137. 
 
 Carlyle, Dr. John, 88, 138, 158, 244, 
 310 (?). 
 
 Carlyle, Margaret, 141. 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas, Letters of, XVIII., 
 XIX., XXV., XXVI., P.S. to 
 XXX., XXXI., XXXVL, 
 XXXVII., XLIIL, XLVII., 
 XLVIII., XLIX. More important 
 references to, in Letters of Jane 
 Welsh Carlyle, 34, 42, 58, 60 n., 
 77 (?), 78, 85, 89(?), 100, 101, 107- 
 109,114, 117, 118, 137, 139, 140, 144, 
 150, 152, 201, 202, 230, 234, 248, 
 249, 250, 252, 2S0, 283, 284, 301, 
 302, 306, 323, 327, 328 ; Carlyle's 
 
 father, 213 n. ; Carlyle's gi-and- 
 mother, 187 ; his Frederick the 
 Great, 291 «., 322 n. ; French Re- 
 volution, 258, 280, 283, 284, 313 n ; 
 German Literature, projected His- 
 tory of, XXV-, XXVI. ; Lectures 
 on, 283, 284; On Heroes, 298 n. ; 
 Sartor Resartus, 312 n. Mr. Scot 
 Skirving's interview with, 315')!., 
 316 «. 
 
 Chalmers, Rev. Dr., 37, 59. 
 
 Chantry, 39. 
 
 Charteris, Hon. Francis, 315. 
 
 Chelsea (5 Cheyne Row). House 
 described by Carlyle, 256, 257 ; by 
 Mrs. Carlyle, 266 ; Letters written 
 from, XLIII. to end. 
 
 Chelsea Hospital, 267. 
 
 Cicero, 74. 
 
 Clare, Countess of, 244. 
 
 Cochrane (Editor of Foreign Qnar- 
 terly), 185. 
 
 Coleridge, Death of, 258, 259. 
 
 Comely Bank, Edinburgh ; Letters 
 from, XVIII., XIX.; 202, 263. 
 
 Cooke, the actor, 251. 
 
 Cooper's Novels, 231. 
 
 Craigenputtoch, Letters written 
 from, XX.-XXXIV., XXXVII., 
 XXXIX.-XLII. ; more important 
 references to, 23 n., 129, 132, 136, 
 158, 166, 171, 174, 191, 237, 265, 324. 
 
 Crichtons, of Dabton, 65. 
 
 Cunningham, George, 45. 
 
 Darwin, Erasmus, 309. 
 
 Degli Antoni, Countess, 279. 
 
 De Stael, Madame, 76, 251. 
 
 Disraeli, Beniamin, 316 n. 
 
 Dodds (? Dods), Peter, 51. 
 
 Donaldson, Alexander, 152 ; The 
 Donaldsons, 245, 303 n. 
 
 Dumfries, 63, 131, 170, 204. 
 
 Dundas, Henry (Viscount Melville), 
 194. 
 
 Dunlop, William (the "Tiger"), 
 84 u., 171 «., 330 u. 
 
 EniNBURGH, 130, 149, 260, 285, 32", 
 328 ; University Libi-ary, 165. 
 
 Erskine, Thomas, of Linlathen, 327. 
 
 Fleming, Dr., 58. 
 
 Fraser's Magazine, 286. 
 
 Frederick the Great, Carlyle's, 291 n., 
 322 ». 
 
 French Revolution, Carlyle's, 258, 
 280, 283, 284, 313 n. 
 
 Fyffe, Dr., 25, 78, 87, 108, 189, 190.
 
 INDEX OF PEOPER NAMES. 
 
 Gall (the phrenologist), 56. 
 
 GedJes, Jenuy, 295. 
 
 George IV., visit to Edinburgh, 
 
 G7 '/I., 73 5i. 
 German Literature, Carlyle's pro- 
 jected History of, XXV., XXVI. ; 
 
 Lectures on, 283, 284. 
 Gillies, R. Pearse, 85. 
 Goethe, CS, 100, 101, 124-126, 132. 
 " Good Intent, The " (coach), 67. 
 Graham, William, 137- 
 Haddington, Letters fi-om, I.-III., 
 
 V.-VIII., X.-XIL, XIV., XV.; 
 
 more important references to, 19- 
 
 21, 189, 277, 307, 309 ; the church 
 
 of, 5, 303 n., 316 n. 
 Hamilton, Count Anthony, 162 ii. 
 Hamilton, Sir William, 159. 
 Howden, Thomas, 86, 89. 
 Hunt, Leigh, 267, 270. 
 Hunter- Arundell, Mr., of Barjarg, 
 
 250 n. 
 Hunter, Rev. John, 250. 
 Hunter, Susan, 278. 
 Inglis, Henry, 138, 202, 244. 
 Irving, Edward, 29 ?i., 58, 65, 110, 
 
 177 n., 223. 
 Jeffrey, Francis, 133, 137, 138, 140, 
 
 149, 178, 194, 195, 197, 231, 254. 
 Jewsbury, Miss, 57 "--, 315 n. 
 Joseph, Samuel (sculptor), 39, 33071. 
 Julius, Dr., 124. 
 Keith, Sir Alexander (Knight- 
 
 Marischal), 81, 82. 
 Kemble, Fanny, 287. 
 Kialhnark, 104. 
 Lardxer, Dr., 155 n. 
 Lee, Principal, 295. 
 Libraries, 292, 293. 
 Liverpool, Letter fi-om, IV. ; 17, 253, 
 
 320. 
 London, 195, 199, 284, 285, 299, 301. 
 Lorimer, Rev. R., 3. 
 Macturk, R., 15, 32. 
 Martiiieaa, Harriet, 231, 232, 286, 287. 
 Mazzini, Joseph, 305 n., 306. 
 Mill, J. S., 270. 
 Minto, Lord, 122 n., 243. 
 Moffat, visit to, 247. 
 ISIoir, George (Professor), 150, 151. 
 Montagu, Mrs. Basil, 262. 
 Montrose (M. Napier's Life of), 295. 
 Moore's Irish Melodies, 74. 
 Moray Street, Edinburgh, 85. 
 Murray, Dr. Thomas, 297. 
 Napier, Mark, 295. 
 Penfillan, 62, 111 n. 
 Pepoli, Count, 278, 279. 
 Peterkin, A., 290, 294. 
 Pringle, Mrs., Letter to, LIV. 
 
 Procter, B. W. (Barry Cornwall), 101. 
 
 Rabelais, phrase wrongly ascribed 
 to, by Carlyle, 162. 
 
 Rennie, George, 32, 35, 38-42, 54, 55, 
 82, 88, 268-270, 277, 300, 307, 3^9 n. 
 
 Richardson, Mrs., 138. 
 
 Richmond (?), Duke of, 174. 
 
 Ritchie, Rev. D., 57: his account of 
 Jane Welsh's " Tragedy," 57 n. 
 
 Roland, Madame, 251. 
 
 Rousseau's La Nouvelle Helo'ise, 29- 
 35, 37, 38. 
 
 Ruffini, Augustine, 309. 
 
 Ruffini, Giovanni, 305. 
 
 Russell, Lord John, 194. 
 
 Russell, Dr., 207, 319. 
 
 Sandwich Islands, King aad Queen 
 of, 240. 
 
 Sapio (opera singer), 227. 
 
 Sartor Resartus, allusion to, 312. 
 
 Schiller, 68, 70, 76. 
 
 Scot, Miss, Letter to, LI. 
 
 Seton, Mrs., 9. 
 
 Shandy (Miss Welsh's dog), 69. 
 
 Skirving, Mr. Scot, Letter to, LII. ; 
 Reminiscences of Carlyle and Mrs. 
 Carlyle, 303 n., 311 n., 315 n. 
 
 Somerville, Mary, 267. 
 
 Sophocles, Philoctetes of, 316 n. 
 
 Spalding, John, 295. 
 
 Spurzheini, 50. 
 
 Sterhng, John, 278. 
 
 Sterne's " starliug," 19, 291. 
 
 Stevenson, Andrew, 293 (and note), 
 298. 
 
 Strathmilligan, 15, 16. 
 
 Tait, George (bookseller in Had- 
 dington), 49, 54 n. 
 
 Templand, Letters from, IX., XIII., 
 XVI., XVII., XXXV., XXXVI. 
 
 Terrot, Rev. C. H. (Bishop of Edin- 
 burgh), 271. 
 
 Turner, Sir James, 298. 
 
 Veitch, Captain, 308. 
 
 Waugh (publisher), 49, 294. 
 
 Welsh, Dr. John (Jane Welsh's 
 father), 2, 4-6, 9, 10, 16, 237, 238, 
 303 n., 324, 329 n. 
 
 Welsh, John (maternal uncle), 17, 61. 
 
 Welsh, Mrs. (her mother), more im- 
 portant references to, 1, '25, 27, 47, 
 61, 85, 1.30, 139, 179, 190, 197, 207, 
 213, 214, 238, 244, 271, 279, 317- 
 320, 324, 
 
 Welsh, Robert (paternal uncle), 3, 
 11, 16, 67, 71, 137, 275. 
 
 Welsh, Walter (maternal grand- 
 father), 210 n. 
 
 Wemyss, Earl of, 315 n. 
 
 Whittaker (publisher), 155 n. 
 
 332
 
 
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